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diff --git a/16205-0.txt b/16205-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3ea709 --- /dev/null +++ b/16205-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12838 @@ +Project Gutenberg’s The Physiology of Marriage, Complete, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Physiology of Marriage, Complete + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Katharine Prescott Wormeley + +Release Date: July 4, 2005 [EBook #16205] +Posting Date: March 7, 2010 +Last Updated: November 22, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MARRIAGE *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MARRIAGE; + +OR, THE MUSINGS OF AN ECLECTIC PHILOSOPHER + +ON THE HAPPINESS AND UNHAPPINESS OF MARRIED LIFE + + +By Honore De Balzac + + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +“Marriage is not an institution of nature. The family in the east is +entirely different from the family in the west. Man is the servant of +nature, and the institutions of society are grafts, not spontaneous +growths of nature. Laws are made to suit manners, and manners vary. + +“Marriage must therefore undergo the gradual development towards +perfection to which all human affairs submit.” + +These words, pronounced in the presence of the Conseil d’Etat by +Napoleon during the discussion of the civil code, produced a profound +impression upon the author of this book; and perhaps unconsciously +he received the suggestion of this work, which he now presents to the +public. And indeed at the period during which, while still in his youth, +he studied French law, the word ADULTERY made a singular impression upon +him. Taking, as it did, a prominent place in the code, this word +never occurred to his mind without conjuring up its mournful train of +consequences. Tears, shame, hatred, terror, secret crime, bloody wars, +families without a head, and social misery rose like a sudden line of +phantoms before him when he read the solemn word ADULTERY! Later on, +when he became acquainted with the most cultivated circles of society, +the author perceived that the rigor of marriage laws was very generally +modified by adultery. He found that the number of unhappy homes was +larger than that of happy marriages. In fact, he was the first to notice +that of all human sciences that which relates to marriage was the least +progressive. But this was the observation of a young man; and with him, +as with so many others, this thought, like a pebble flung into the +bosom of a lake, was lost in the abyss of his tumultuous thoughts. +Nevertheless, in spite of himself the author was compelled to +investigate, and eventually there was gathered within his mind, little +by little, a swarm of conclusions, more or less just, on the subject of +married life. Works like the present one are formed in the mind of the +author with as much mystery as that with which truffles grow on the +scented plains of Perigord. Out of the primitive and holy horror which +adultery caused him and the investigation which he had thoughtlessly +made, there was born one morning a trifling thought in which his ideas +were formulated. This thought was really a satire upon marriage. It was +as follows: A husband and wife found themselves in love with each other +for the first time after twenty-seven years of marriage. + +He amused himself with this little axiom and passed a whole week in +delight, grouping around this harmless epigram the crowd of ideas which +came to him unconsciously and which he was astonished to find that he +possessed. His humorous mood yielded at last to the claims of serious +investigation. Willing as he was to take a hint, the author returned to +his habitual idleness. Nevertheless, this slight germ of science and +of joke grew to perfection, unfostered, in the fields of thought. Each +phase of the work which had been condemned by others took root and +gathered strength, surviving like the slight branch of a tree which, +flung upon the sand by a winter’s storm, finds itself covered at morning +with white and fantastic icicles, produced by the caprices of nightly +frosts. So the sketch lived on and became the starting point of myriad +branching moralizations. It was like a polypus which multiplies itself +by generation. The feelings of youth, the observations which a favorable +opportunity led him to make, were verified in the most trifling events +of his after life. Soon this mass of ideas became harmonized, took life, +seemed, as it were, to become a living individual and moved in the midst +of those domains of fancy, where the soul loves to give full rein to its +wild creations. Amid all the distractions of the world and of life, the +author always heard a voice ringing in his ears and mockingly revealing +the secrets of things at the very moment he was watching a woman as she +danced, smiled, or talked. Just as Mephistopheles pointed out to Faust +in that terrific assemblage at the Brocken, faces full of frightful +augury, so the author was conscious in the midst of the ball of a demon +who would strike him on the shoulder with a familiar air and say to him: +“Do you notice that enchanting smile? It is a grin of hatred.” And then +the demon would strut about like one of the captains in the old comedies +of Hardy. He would twitch the folds of a lace mantle and endeavor to +make new the fretted tinsel and spangles of its former glory. And then +like Rabelais he would burst into loud and unrestrainable laughter, and +would trace on the street-wall a word which might serve as a pendant +to the “Drink!” which was the only oracle obtainable from the heavenly +bottle. This literary Trilby would often appear seated on piles of +books, and with hooked fingers would point out with a grin of malice +two yellow volumes whose title dazzled the eyes. Then when he saw he had +attracted the author’s attention he spelt out, in a voice alluring as +the tones of an harmonica, _Physiology of Marriage_! But, almost always +he appeared at night during my dreams, gentle as some fairy guardian; +he tried by words of sweetness to subdue the soul which he would +appropriate to himself. While he attracted, he also scoffed at me; +supple as a woman’s mind, cruel as a tiger, his friendliness was more +formidable than his hatred, for he never yielded a caress without also +inflicting a wound. One night in particular he exhausted the resources +of his sorceries, and crowned all by a last effort. He came, he sat on +the edge of the bed like a young maiden full of love, who at first keeps +silence but whose eyes sparkle, until at last her secret escapes her. + +“This,” said he, “is a prospectus of a new life-buoy, by means of which +one can pass over the Seine dry-footed. This other pamphlet is the +report of the Institute on a garment by wearing which we can pass +through flames without being burnt. Have you no scheme which can +preserve marriage from the miseries of excessive cold and excessive +heat? Listen to me! Here we have a book on the _Art_ of preserving +foods; on the _Art_ of curing smoky chimneys; on the _Art_ of making +good mortar; on the _Art_ of tying a cravat; on the _Art_ of carving +meat.” + +In a moment he had named such a prodigious number of books that the +author felt his head go round. + +“These myriads of books,” says he, “have been devoured by readers; and +while everybody does not build a house, and some grow hungry, and others +have no cravat, or no fire to warm themselves at, yet everybody to some +degree is married. But come look yonder.” + +He waved his hand, and appeared to bring before me a distant ocean where +all the books of the world were tossing up and down like agitated waves. +The octodecimos bounded over the surface of the water. The octavos as +they were flung on their way uttered a solemn sound, sank to the bottom, +and only rose up again with great difficulty, hindered as they were by +duodecimos and works of smaller bulk which floated on the top and melted +into light foam. The furious billows were crowded with journalists, +proof-readers, paper-makers, apprentices, printers’ agents, whose hands +alone were seen mingled in the confusion among the books. Millions of +voices rang in the air, like those of schoolboys bathing. Certain men +were seen moving hither and thither in canoes, engaged in fishing out +the books, and landing them on the shore in the presence of a tall man, +of a disdainful air, dressed in black, and of a cold, unsympathetic +expression. The whole scene represented the libraries and the public. +The demon pointed out with his finger a skiff freshly decked out with +all sails set and instead of a flag bearing a placard. Then with a peal +of sardonic laughter, he read with a thundering voice: _Physiology of +Marriage_. + +The author fell in love, the devil left him in peace, for he would have +undertaken more than he could handle if he had entered an apartment +occupied by a woman. Several years passed without bringing other +torments than those of love, and the author was inclined to believe that +he had been healed of one infirmity by means of another which took its +place. But one evening he found himself in a Parisian drawing-room where +one of the men among the circle who stood round the fireplace began the +conversation by relating in a sepulchral voice the following anecdote: + + +A peculiar thing took place at Ghent while I was staying there. A lady +ten years a widow lay on her bed attacked by mortal sickness. The three +heirs of collateral lineage were waiting for her last sigh. They did +not leave her side for fear that she would make a will in favor of the +convent of Beguins belonging to the town. The sick woman kept silent, +she seemed dozing and death appeared to overspread very gradually her +mute and livid face. Can’t you imagine those three relations seated in +silence through that winter midnight beside her bed? An old nurse is +with them and she shakes her head, and the doctor sees with anxiety that +the sickness has reached its last stage, and holds his hat in one hand +and with the other makes a sign to the relations, as if to say to them: +“I have no more visits to make here.” Amid the solemn silence of the +room is heard the dull rustling of a snow-storm which beats upon the +shutters. For fear that the eyes of the dying woman might be dazzled by +the light, the youngest of the heirs had fitted a shade to the candle +which stood near that bed so that the circle of light scarcely reached +the pillow of the deathbed, from which the sallow countenance of the +sick woman stood out like a figure of Christ imperfectly gilded and +fixed upon a cross of tarnished silver. The flickering rays shed by the +blue flames of a crackling fire were therefore the sole light of this +sombre chamber, where the denouement of a drama was just ending. A +log suddenly rolled from the fire onto the floor, as if presaging some +catastrophe. At the sound of it the sick woman quickly rose to a sitting +posture. She opened two eyes, clear as those of a cat, and all present +eyed her in astonishment. She saw the log advance, and before any one +could check an unexpected movement which seemed prompted by a kind of +delirium, she bounded from her bed, seized the tongs and threw the coal +back into the fireplace. The nurse, the doctor, the relations rushed to +her assistance; they took the dying woman in their arms. They put her +back in bed; she laid her head upon her pillow and after a few minutes +died, keeping her eyes fixed even after her death upon that plank in the +floor which the burning brand had touched. Scarcely had the Countess Van +Ostroem expired when the three co-heirs exchanged looks of suspicion, +and thinking no more about their aunt, began to examine the mysterious +floor. As they were Belgians their calculations were as rapid as their +glances. An agreement was made by three words uttered in a low voice +that none of them should leave the chamber. A servant was sent to fetch +a carpenter. Their collateral hearts beat excitedly as they gathered +round the treasured flooring, and watched their young apprentice giving +the first blow with his chisel. The plank was cut through. + +“My aunt made a sign,” said the youngest of the heirs. + +“No; it was merely the quivering light that made it appear so,” replied +the eldest, who kept one eye on the treasure and the other on the +corpse. + +The afflicted relations discovered exactly on the spot where the brand +had fallen a certain object artistically enveloped in a mass of plaster. + +“Proceed,” said the eldest of the heirs. + +The chisel of the apprentice then brought to light a human head and some +odds and ends of clothing, from which they recognized the count whom all +the town believed to have died at Java, and whose loss had been bitterly +deplored by his wife. + + +The narrator of this old story was a tall spare man, with light eyes and +brown hair, and the author thought he saw in him a vague resemblance to +the demon who had before this tormented him; but the stranger did not +show the cloven foot. Suddenly the word ADULTERY sounded in the ears of +the author; and this word woke up in his imagination the most mournful +countenances of that procession which before this had streamed by on the +utterance of the magic syllables. From that evening he was haunted and +persecuted by dreams of a work which did not yet exist; and at no period +of his life was the author assailed with such delusive notions about the +fatal subject of this book. But he bravely resisted the fiend, although +the latter referred the most unimportant incidents of life to this +unknown work, and like a customhouse officer set his stamp of mockery +upon every occurrence. + +Some days afterwards the author found himself in the company of two +ladies. The first of them had been one of the most refined and the most +intellectual women of Napoleon’s court. In his day she occupied a +lofty position, but the sudden appearance of the Restoration caused her +downfall; she became a recluse. The second, who was young and beautiful, +was at that time living at Paris the life of a fashionable woman. They +were friends, because, the one being forty and the other twenty-two +years old, they were seldom rivals on the same field. The author was +considered quite insignificant by the first of the two ladies, and since +the other soon discovered this, they carried on in his presence the +conversation which they had begun in a frank discussion of a woman’s +lot. + +“Have you noticed, dear, that women in general bestow their love only +upon a fool?” + +“What do you mean by that, duchess? And how can you make your remark fit +in with the fact that they have an aversion for their husbands?” + +“These women are absolute tyrants!” said the author to himself. “Has the +devil again turned up in a mob cap?” + +“No, dear, I am not joking,” replied the duchess, “and I shudder with +fear for myself when I coolly consider people whom I have known in other +times. Wit always has a sparkle which wounds us, and the man who has +much of it makes us fear him perhaps, and if he is a proud man he will +be capable of jealousy, and is not therefore to our taste. In fact, we +prefer to raise a man to our own height rather than to have to climb +up to his. Talent has great successes for us to share in, but the fool +affords enjoyment to us; and we would sooner hear said ‘that is a very +handsome man’ than to see our lover elected to the Institute.” + +“That’s enough, duchess! You have absolutely startled me.” + +And the young coquette began to describe the lovers about whom all the +women of her acquaintance raved; there was not a single man of intellect +among them. + +“But I swear by my virtue,” she said, “their husbands are worth more.” + +“But these are the sort of people they choose for husbands,” the duchess +answered gravely. + +“Tell me,” asked the author, “is the disaster which threatens the +husband in France quite inevitable?” + +“It is,” replied the duchess, with a smile; “and the rage which +certain women breathe out against those of their sex, whose unfortunate +happiness it is to entertain a passion, proves what a burden to them is +their chastity. If it were not for fear of the devil, one would be Lais; +another owes her virtue to the dryness of her selfish heart; a third to +the silly behaviour of her first lover; another still--” + +The author checked this outpour of revelation by confiding to the two +ladies his design for the work with which he had been haunted; they +smiled and promised him their assistance. The youngest, with an air of +gaiety suggested one of the first chapters of the undertaking, by saying +that she would take upon herself to prove mathematically that women who +are entirely virtuous were creatures of reason. + +When the author got home he said at once to his demon: + +“Come! I am ready; let us sign the compact.” + +But the demon never returned. + +If the author has written here the biography of his book he has not +acted on the prompting of fatuity. He relates facts which may furnish +material for the history of human thought, and will without doubt +explain the work itself. It may perhaps be important to certain +anatomists of thought to be told that the soul is feminine. Thus +although the author made a resolution not to think about the book which +he was forced to write, the book, nevertheless, was completed. One +page of it was found on the bed of a sick man, another on the sofa of a +boudoir. The glances of women when they turned in the mazes of a waltz +flung to him some thoughts; a gesture or a word filled his disdainful +brain with others. On the day when he said to himself, “This work, which +haunts me, shall be achieved,” everything vanished; and like the three +Belgians, he drew forth a skeleton from the place over which he had bent +to seize a treasure. + +A mild, pale countenance took the place of the demon who had tempted +me; it wore an engaging expression of kindliness; there were no sharp +pointed arrows of criticism in its lineaments. It seemed to deal more +with words than with ideas, and shrank from noise and clamor. It was +perhaps the household genius of the honorable deputies who sit in the +centre of the Chamber. + +“Wouldn’t it be better,” it said, “to let things be as they are? Are +things so bad? We ought to believe in marriage as we believe in the +immortality of the soul; and you are certainly not making a book to +advertise the happiness of marriage. You will surely conclude that among +a million of Parisian homes happiness is the exception. You will find +perhaps that there are many husbands disposed to abandon their wives to +you; but there is not a single son who will abandon his mother. Certain +people who are hit by the views which you put forth will suspect your +morals and will misrepresent your intentions. In a word, in order +to handle social sores, one ought to be a king, or a first consul at +least.” + +Reason, although it appeared under a form most pleasing to the author, +was not listened to; for in the distance Folly tossed the coxcomb of +Panurge, and the author wished to seize it; but, when he tried to catch +it, he found that it was as heavy as the club of Hercules. Moreover, the +cure of Meudon adorned it in such fashion that a young man who was less +pleased with producing a good work than with wearing fine gloves could +not even touch it. + +“Is our work completed?” asked the younger of the two feminine +assistants of the author. + +“Alas! madame,” I said, “will you ever requite me for all the hatreds +which that work will array against me?” + +She waved her hand, and then the author replied to her doubt by a look +of indifference. + +“What do you mean? Would you hesitate? You must publish it without fear. +In the present day we accept a book more because it is in fashion than +because it has anything in it.” + +Although the author does not here represent himself as anything more +than the secretary of two ladies, he has in compiling their observations +accomplished a double task. With regard to marriage he has here arranged +matters which represent what everybody thinks but no one dares to say; +but has he not also exposed himself to public displeasure by expressing +the mind of the public? Perhaps, however, the eclecticism of the present +essay will save it from condemnation. All the while that he indulges in +banter the author has attempted to popularize certain ideas which are +particularly consoling. He has almost always endeavored to lay bare the +hidden springs which move the human soul. While undertaking to defend +the most material interests of man, judging them or condemning them, he +will perhaps bring to light many sources of intellectual delight. But +the author does not foolishly claim always to put forth his pleasantries +in the best of taste; he has merely counted upon the diversity of +intellectual pursuits in expectation of receiving as much blame +as approbation. The subject of his work was so serious that he is +constantly launched into anecdote; because at the present day anecdotes +are the vehicle of all moral teaching, and the anti-narcotic of every +work of literature. In literature, analysis and investigation prevail, +and the wearying of the reader increases in proportion with the egotism +of the writer. This is one of the greatest misfortunes that can befall +a book, and the present author has been quite aware of it. He has +therefore so arranged the topics of this long essay as to afford resting +places for the reader. This method has been successfully adopted by a +writer, who produced on the subject of Taste a work somewhat parallel to +that which is here put forth on the subject of Marriage. From the former +the present writer may be permitted to borrow a few words in order +to express a thought which he shares with the author of them. This +quotation will serve as an expression of homage to his predecessor, +whose success has been so swiftly followed by his death: + +“When I write and speak of myself in the singular, this implies a +confidential talk with the reader; he can examine the statement, +discuss it, doubt and even ridicule it; but when I arm myself with +the formidable WE, I become the professor and demand +submission.”--Brillat-Savarin, Preface to the _Physiology of Taste_. + +DECEMBER 5, 1829. + + + + +FIRST PART. A GENERAL CONSIDERATION. + + +We will declaim against stupid laws until they are changed, and in the +meantime blindly submit to them.--Diderot, _Supplement to the Voyage of +Bougainville_. + + + + +MEDITATION I. THE SUBJECT. + +Physiology, what must I consider your meaning? + +Is not your object to prove that marriage unites for life two beings who +do not know each other? + +That life consists in passion, and that no passion survives marriage? + +That marriage is an institution necessary for the preservation of +society, but that it is contrary to the laws of nature? + +That divorce, this admirable release from the misfortunes of marriage, +should with one voice be reinstated? + +That, in spite of all its inconveniences, marriage is the foundation on +which property is based? + +That it furnishes invaluable pledges for the security of government? + +That there is something touching in the association of two human beings +for the purpose of supporting the pains of life? + +That there is something ridiculous in the wish that one and the same +thoughts should control two wills? + +That the wife is treated as a slave? + +That there has never been a marriage entirely happy? + +That marriage is filled with crimes and that the known murders are not +the worst? + +That fidelity is impossible, at least to the man? + +That an investigation if it could be undertaken would prove that in the +transmission of patrimonial property there was more risk than security? + +That adultery does more harm than marriage does good? + +That infidelity in a woman may be traced back to the earliest ages +of society, and that marriage still survives this perpetuation of +treachery? + +That the laws of love so strongly link together two human beings that no +human law can put them asunder? + +That while there are marriages recorded on the public registers, there +are others over which nature herself has presided, and they have +been dictated either by the mutual memory of thought, or by an utter +difference of mental disposition, or by corporeal affinity in the +parties named; that it is thus that heaven and earth are constantly at +variance? + +That there are many husbands fine in figure and of superior intellect +whose wives have lovers exceedingly ugly, insignificant in appearance or +stupid in mind? + +All these questions furnish material for books; but the books have been +written and the questions are constantly reappearing. + +Physiology, what must I take you to mean? + +Do you reveal new principles? Would you pretend that it is the right +thing that woman should be made common? Lycurgus and certain Greek +peoples as well as Tartars and savages have tried this. + +Can it possibly be right to confine women? The Ottomans once did so, and +nowadays they give them their liberty. + +Would it be right to marry young women without providing a dowry and +yet exclude them from the right of succeeding to property? Some English +authors and some moralists have proved that this with the admission of +divorce is the surest method of rendering marriage happy. + +Should there be a little Hagar in each marriage establishment? There is +no need to pass a law for that. The provision of the code which makes +an unfaithful wife liable to a penalty in whatever place the crime +be committed, and that other article which does not punish the +erring husband unless his concubine dwells beneath the conjugal roof, +implicitly admits the existence of mistresses in the city. + +Sanchez has written a dissertation on the penal cases incident to +marriage; he has even argued on the illegitimacy and the opportuneness +of each form of indulgence; he has outlined all the duties, moral, +religious and corporeal, of the married couple; in short his work would +form twelve volumes in octavo if the huge folio entitled _De Matrimonio_ +were thus represented. + +Clouds of lawyers have flung clouds of treatises over the legal +difficulties which are born of marriage. There exist several works on +the judicial investigation of impotency. + +Legions of doctors have marshaled their legions of books on the subject +of marriage in its relation to medicine and surgery. + +In the nineteenth century the _Physiology of Marriage_ is either an +insignificant compilation or the work of a fool written for other fools; +old priests have taken their balances of gold and have weighed the most +trifling scruples of the marriage consciences; old lawyers have put on +their spectacles and have distinguished between every kind of married +transgression; old doctors have seized the scalpel and drawn it over all +the wounds of the subject; old judges have mounted to the bench and have +decided all the cases of marriage dissolution; whole generations have +passed unuttered cries of joy or of grief on the subject, each age has +cast its vote into the urn; the Holy Spirit, poets and writers have +recounted everything from the days of Eve to the Trojan war, from Helen +to Madame de Maintenon, from the mistress of Louis XIV to the woman of +their own day. + +Physiology, what must I consider your meaning? + +Shall I say that you intend to publish pictures more or less skillfully +drawn, for the purpose of convincing us that a man marries: + +From ambition--that is well known; + +From kindness, in order to deliver a girl from the tyranny of her +mother; + +From rage, in order to disinherit his relations; + +From scorn of a faithless mistress; + +From weariness of a pleasant bachelor life; + +From folly, for each man always commits one; + +In consequence of a wager, which was the case with Lord Byron; + +From interest, which is almost always the case; + +From youthfulness on leaving college, like a blockhead; + +From ugliness,--fear of some day failing to secure a wife; + +Through Machiavelism, in order to be the heir of some old woman at an +early date; + +From necessity, in order to secure the standing to _our_ son; + +From obligation, the damsel having shown herself weak; + +From passion, in order to become more surely cured of it; + +On account of a quarrel, in order to put an end to a lawsuit; + +From gratitude, by which he gives more than he has received; + +From goodness, which is the fate of doctrinaires; + +From the condition of a will when a dead uncle attaches his legacy to +some girl, marriage with whom is the condition of succession; + +From custom, in imitation of his ancestors; + +From old age, in order to make an end of life; + +From _yatidi_, that is the hour of going to bed and signifies amongst +the Turks all bodily needs; + +From religious zeal, like the Duke of Saint-Aignan, who did not wish to +commit sin?[*] + + [*] The foregoing queries came in (untranslatable) alphabetic order in + the original.--Editor + +But these incidents of marriage have furnished matter for thirty +thousand comedies and a hundred thousand romances. + +Physiology, for the third and last time I ask you--What is your meaning? + +So far everything is commonplace as the pavement of the street, familiar +as a crossway. Marriage is better known than the Barabbas of the +Passion. All the ancient ideas which it calls to light permeate +literature since the world is the world, and there is not a single +opinion which might serve to the advantage of the world, nor a +ridiculous project which could not find an author to write it up, a +printer to print it, a bookseller to sell it and a reader to read it. + +Allow me to say to you like Rabelais, who is in every sense our master: + +“Gentlemen, God save and guard you! Where are you? I cannot see you; +wait until I put on my spectacles. Ah! I see you now; you, your wives, +your children. Are you in good health? I am glad to hear it.” + +But it is not for you that I am writing. Since you have grown-up +children that ends the matter. + +Ah! it is you, illustrious tipplers, pampered and gouty, and you, +tireless pie-cutters, favorites who come dear; day-long pantagruellists +who keep your private birds, gay and gallant, and who go to tierce, +to sexts, to nones, and also to vespers and compline and never tire of +going. + +It is not for you that the _Physiology of Marriage_ is addressed, for +you are not married and may you never be married. You herd of bigots, +snails, hypocrites, dotards, lechers, booted for pilgrimage to Rome, +disguised and marked, as it were, to deceive the world. Go back, you +scoundrels, out of my sight! Gallows birds are ye all--now in the +devil’s name will you not begone? There are none left now but the good +souls who love to laugh; not the snivelers who burst into tears in prose +or verse, whatever their subject be, who make people sick with their +odes, their sonnets, their meditation; none of these dreamers, but +certain old-fashioned pantagruellists who don’t think twice about it +when they are invited to join a banquet or provoked to make a repartee, +who can take pleasure in a book like _Pease and the Lard_ with +commentary of Rabelais, or in the one entitled _The Dignity of +Breeches_, and who esteem highly the fair books of high degree, a quarry +hard to run down and redoubtable to wrestle with. + +It no longer does to laugh at a government, my friend, since it has +invented means to raise fifteen hundred millions by taxation. High +ecclesiastics, monks and nuns are no longer so rich that we can drink +with them; but let St. Michael come, he who chased the devil from +heaven, and we shall perhaps see the good time come back again! There is +only one thing in France at the present moment which remains a laughing +matter, and that is marriage. Disciples of Panurge, ye are the only +readers I desire. You know how seasonably to take up and lay down a +book, how to get the most pleasure out of it, to understand the hint in +a half word--how to suck nourishment from a marrow-bone. + +The men of the microscope who see nothing but a speck, the +census-mongers--have they reviewed the whole matter? Have they +pronounced without appeal that it is as impossible to write a book on +marriage as to make new again a broken pot? + +Yes, master fool. If you begin to squeeze the marriage question you +squirt out nothing but fun for the bachelors and weariness for the +married men. It is everlasting morality. A million printed pages would +have no other matter in them. + +In spite of this, here is my first proposition: marriage is a fight to +the death, before which the wedded couple ask a blessing from heaven, +because it is the rashest of all undertakings to swear eternal love; the +fight at once commences and victory, that is to say liberty, remains in +the hands of the cleverer of the two. + +Undoubtedly. But do you see in this a fresh idea? + +Well, I address myself to the married men of yesterday and of to-day; to +those who on leaving the Church or the registration office indulge the +hope of keeping their wives for themselves alone; to those whom some +form or other of egotism or some indefinable sentiment induces to say +when they see the marital troubles of another, “This will never happen +to me.” + +I address myself to those sailors who after witnessing the foundering +of other ships still put to sea; to those bachelors who after witnessing +the shipwreck of virtue in a marriage of another venture upon wedlock. +And this is my subject, eternally now, yet eternally old! + +A young man, or it may be an old one, in love or not in love, has +obtained possession by a contract duly recorded at the registration +office in heaven and on the rolls of the nation, of a young girl with +long hair, with black liquid eyes, with small feet, with dainty tapering +fingers, with red lips, with teeth of ivory, finely formed, trembling +with life, tempting and plump, white as a lily, loaded with the most +charming wealth of beauty. Her drooping eyelashes seem like the points +of the iron crown; her skin, which is as fresh as the calyx of a white +camelia, is streaked with the purple of the red camelia; over her +virginal complexion one seems to see the bloom of young fruit and the +delicate down of a young peach; the azure veins spread a kindling warmth +over this transparent surface; she asks for life and she gives it; she +is all joy and love, all tenderness and candor; she loves her husband, +or at least believes she loves him. + +The husband who is in love says in the bottom of his heart: “Those eyes +will see no one but me, that mouth will tremble with love for me alone, +that gentle hand will lavish the caressing treasures of delight on me +alone, that bosom will heave at no voice but mine, that slumbering soul +will awake at my will alone; I only will entangle my fingers in those +shining tresses; I alone will indulge myself in dreamily caressing that +sensitive head. I will make death the guardian of my pillow if only I +may ward off from the nuptial couch the stranger who would violate it; +that throne of love shall swim in the blood of the rash or of my own. +Tranquillity, honor, happiness, the ties of home, the fortune of my +children, all are at stake there; I would defend them as a lioness +defends her cubs. Woe unto him who shall set foot in my lair!” + +Well now, courageous athlete, we applaud your intention. Up to the +present moment no geographer has ventured to trace the lines of +longitude and latitude in the ocean of marriage. Old husbands have +been ashamed to point out the sand banks, the reefs, the shallows, the +breakers, the monsoons, the coasts and currents which have wrecked their +ships, for their shipwrecks brought them shame. There was no pilot, no +compass for those pilgrims of marriage. This work is intended to supply +the desideratum. + +Without mentioning grocers and drapers, there are so many people +occupied in discovering the secret motives of women, that it is really +a work of charity to classify for them, by chapter and verse, all the +secret situations of marriage; a good table of contents will enable them +to put their finger on each movement of their wives’ heart, as a table +of logarithms tells them the product of a given multiplication. + +And now what do you think about that? Is not this a novel undertaking, +and one which no philosopher has as yet approached, I mean this attempt +to show how a woman may be prevented from deceiving her husband? Is +not this the comedy of comedies? Is it not a second _speculum vitae +humanae_. We are not now dealing with the abstract questions which we +have done justice to already in this Meditation. At the present day in +ethics as in exact science, the world asks for facts for the results of +observation. These we shall furnish. + +Let us begin then by examining the true condition of things, by +analyzing the forces which exist on either side. Before arming our +imaginary champion let us reckon up the number of his enemies. Let us +count the Cossacks who intend to invade his little domain. + +All who wish may embark with us on this voyage, all who can may laugh. +Weigh anchor; hoist sail! You know exactly the point from which you +start. You have this advantage over a great many books that are written. + +As for our fancy of laughing while we weep, and of weeping while we +laugh, as the divine Rabelais drank while he ate and ate while he drank; +as for our humor, to put Heraclitus and Democritus on the same page +and to discard style or premeditated phrase--if any of the crew mutiny, +overboard with the doting cranks, the infamous classicists, the dead and +buried romanticists, and steer for the blue water! + +Everybody perhaps will jeeringly remark that we are like those who say +with smiling faces, “I am going to tell you a story that will make you +laugh!” But it is the proper thing to joke when speaking of marriage! +In short, can you not understand that we consider marriage as a trifling +ailment to which all of us are subject and upon which this volume is a +monograph? + +“But you, your bark or your work starts off like those postilions who +crack their whips because their passengers are English. You will not +have galloped at full speed for half a league before you dismount to +mend a trace or to breathe your horses. What is the good of blowing the +trumpet before victory?” + +Ah! my dear pantagruellists, nowadays to claim success is to obtain +it, and since, after all, great works are only due to the expansion of +little ideas, I do not see why I should not pluck the laurels, if only +for the purpose of crowning those dirty bacon faces who join us in +swallowing a dram. One moment, pilot, let us not start without making +one little definition. + +Reader, if from time to time you meet in this work the terms virtue or +virtuous, let us understand that virtue means a certain labored facility +by which a wife keeps her heart for her husband; at any rate, that the +word is not used in a general sense, and I leave this distinction to the +natural sagacity of all. + + + + +MEDITATION II. MARRIAGE STATISTICS. + +The administration has been occupied for nearly twenty years in +reckoning how many acres of woodland, meadow, vineyard and fallow are +comprised in the area of France. It has not stopped there, but has also +tried to learn the number and species of the animals to be found there. +Scientific men have gone still further; they have reckoned up the cords +of wood, the pounds of beef, the apples and eggs consumed in Paris. But +no one has yet undertaken either in the name of marital honor or in the +interest of marriageable people, or for the advantage of morality and +the progress of human institutions, to investigate the number of honest +wives. What! the French government, if inquiry is made of it, is able to +say how many men it has under arms, how many spies, how many employees, +how many scholars; but, when it is asked how many virtuous women, it can +answer nothing! If the King of France took into his head to choose his +august partner from among his subjects, the administration could not +even tell him the number of white lambs from whom he could make his +choice. It would be obliged to resort to some competition which awards +the rose of good conduct, and that would be a laughable event. + +Were the ancients then our masters in political institutions as in +morality? History teaches us that Ahasuerus, when he wished to take a +wife from among the damsels of Persia, chose Esther, the most virtuous +and the most beautiful. His ministers therefore must necessarily +have discovered some method of obtaining the cream of the population. +Unfortunately the Bible, which is so clear on all matrimonial questions, +has omitted to give us a rule for matrimonial choice. + +Let us try to supply this gap in the work of the administration by +calculating the sum of the female sex in France. Here we call the +attention of all friends to public morality, and we appoint them judges +of our method of procedure. We shall attempt to be particularly liberal +in our estimations, particularly exact in our reasoning, in order that +every one may accept the result of this analysis. + +The inhabitants of France are generally reckoned at thirty millions. + +Certain naturalists think that the number of women exceeds that of men; +but as many statisticians are of the opposite opinion, we will make the +most probable calculation by allowing fifteen millions for the women. + +We will begin by cutting down this sum by nine millions, which stands +for those who seem to have some resemblance to women, but whom we are +compelled to reject upon serious considerations. + +Let us explain: + +Naturalists consider man to be no more than a unique species of the +order bimana, established by Dumeril in his _Analytic Zoology_, page +16; and Bory de Saint Vincent thinks that the ourang-outang ought to be +included in the same order if we would make the species complete. + +If these zoologists see in us nothing more than a mammal with thirty-two +vertebrae possessing the hyoid bone and more folds in the hemispheres +of the brain than any other animal; if in their opinion no other +differences exist in this order than those produced by the influence of +climate, on which are founded the nomenclature of fifteen species whose +scientific names it is needless to cite, the physiologists ought also +to have the right of making species and sub-species in accordance with +definite degrees of intelligence and definite conditions of existence, +oral and pecuniary. + +Now the nine millions of human creatures which we here refer to present +at first sight all the attributes of the human race; they have the hyoid +bone, the coracoid process, the acromion, the zygomatic arch. It is +therefore permitted for the gentlemen of the Jardin des Plantes to +classify them with the bimana; but our Physiology will never admit that +women are to be found among them. In our view, and in the view of those +for whom this book is intended, a woman is a rare variety of the human +race, and her principal characteristics are due to the special care men +have bestowed upon its cultivation,--thanks to the power of money and +the moral fervor of civilization! She is generally recognized by the +whiteness, the fineness and softness of her skin. Her taste inclines +to the most spotless cleanliness. Her fingers shrink from encountering +anything but objects which are soft, yielding and scented. Like the +ermine she sometimes dies for grief on seeing her white tunic soiled. +She loves to twine her tresses and to make them exhale the most +attractive scents; to brush her rosy nails, to trim them to an almond +shape, and frequently to bathe her delicate limbs. She is not satisfied +to spend the night excepting on the softest down, and excepting on +hair-cushioned lounges, she loves best to take a horizontal position. +Her voice is of penetrating sweetness; her movements are full of grace. +She speaks with marvelous fluency. She does not apply herself to any +hard work; and, nevertheless, in spite of her apparent weakness, there +are burdens which she can bear and move with miraculous ease. She avoids +the open sunlight and wards it off by ingenious appliances. For her to +walk is exhausting. Does she eat? This is a mystery. Has she the needs +of other species? It is a problem. Although she is curious to excess she +allows herself easily to be caught by any one who can conceal from her +the slightest thing, and her intellect leads her to seek incessantly +after the unknown. Love is her religion; she thinks how to please the +one she loves. To be beloved is the end of all her actions; to excite +desire is the motive of every gesture. She dreams of nothing excepting +how she may shine, and moves only in a circle filled with grace and +elegance. It is for her the Indian girl has spun the soft fleece of +Thibet goats, Tarare weaves its airy veils, Brussels sets in motion +those shuttles which speed the flaxen thread that is purest and most +fine, Bidjapour wrenches from the bowels of the earth its sparkling +pebbles, and the Sevres gilds its snow-white clay. Night and day she +reflects upon new costumes and spends her life in considering dress and +in plaiting her apparel. She moves about exhibiting her brightness and +freshness to people she does not know, but whose homage flatters her, +while the desire she excites charms her, though she is indifferent to +those who feel it. During the hours which she spends in private, in +pleasure, and in the care of her person, she amuses herself by caroling +the sweetest strains. For her France and Italy ordain delightful +concerts and Naples imparts to the strings of the violin an harmonious +soul. This species is in fine at once the queen of the world and the +slave of passion. She dreads marriage because it ends by spoiling her +figure, but she surrenders herself to it because it promises happiness. +If she bears children it is by pure chance, and when they are grown up +she tries to conceal them. + +These characteristics taken at random from among a thousand others are +not found amongst those beings whose hands are as black as those of apes +and their skin tanned like the ancient parchments of an _olim_; whose +complexion is burnt brown by the sun and whose neck is wrinkled like +that of a turkey; who are covered with rags; whose voice is hoarse; +whose intelligence is nil; who think of nothing but the bread box, +and who are incessantly bowed in toil towards the ground; who dig; who +harrow; who make hay, glean, gather in the harvest, knead the bread and +strip hemp; who, huddled among domestic beasts, infants and men, dwell +in holes and dens scarcely covered with thatch; to whom it is of little +importance from what source children rain down into their homes. Their +work it is to produce many and to deliver them to misery and toil, and +if their love is not like their labor in the fields it is at least as +much a work of chance. + +Alas! if there are throughout the world multitudes of trades-women who +sit all day long between the cradle and the sugar-cask, farmers’ wives +and daughters who milk the cows, unfortunate women who are employed like +beasts of burden in the manufactories, who all day long carry the loaded +basket, the hoe and the fish-crate, if unfortunately there exist these +common human beings to whom the life of the soul, the benefits of +education, the delicious tempests of the heart are an unattainable +heaven; and if Nature has decreed that they should have coracoid +processes and hyoid bones and thirty-two vertebrae, let them remain for +the physiologist classed with the ourang-outang. And here we make no +stipulations for the leisure class; for those who have the time and +the sense to fall in love; for the rich who have purchased the right +of indulging their passions; for the intellectual who have conquered a +monopoly of fads. Anathema on all those who do not live by thought. We +say Raca and fool to all those who are not ardent, young, beautiful +and passionate. This is the public expression of that secret sentiment +entertained by philanthropists who have learned to read and can keep +their own carriage. Among the nine millions of the proscribed, the +tax-gatherer, the magistrate, the law-maker and the priest doubtless see +living souls who are to be ruled and made subject to the administration +of justice. But the man of sentiment, the philosopher of the boudoir, +while he eats his fine bread, made of corn, sown and harvested by these +creatures, will reject them and relegate them, as we do, to a place +outside the genus Woman. For them, there are no women excepting those +who can inspire love; and there is no living being but the creature +invested with the priesthood of thought by means of a privileged +education, and with whom leisure has developed the power of imagination; +in other words that only is a human being whose soul dreams, in love, +either of intellectual enjoyments or of physical delights. + +We would, however, make the remark that these nine million female +pariahs produce here and there a thousand peasant girls who from +peculiar circumstances are as fair as Cupids; they come to Paris or to +the great cities and end up by attaining the rank of _femmes comme +il faut_; but to set off against these two or three thousand favored +creatures, there are one hundred thousand others who remain servants +or abandon themselves to frightful irregularities. Nevertheless, we +are obliged to count these Pompadours of the village among the feminine +population. + +Our first calculation is based upon the statistical discovery that in +France there are eighteen millions of the poor, ten millions of people +in easy circumstances and two millions of the rich. + +There exist, therefore, in France only six millions of women in whom +men of sentiment are now interested, have been interested, or will be +interested. + +Let us subject this social elite to a philosophic examination. + +We think, without fear of being deceived, that married people who have +lived twenty years together may sleep in peace without fear of having +their love trespassed upon or of incurring the scandal of a lawsuit for +criminal conversation. + +From these six millions of individuals we must subtract about two +millions of women who are extremely attractive, because for the last +forty years they have seen the world; but since they have not the power +to make any one fall in love with them, they are on the outside of +the discussion now before us. If they are unhappy enough to receive no +attention for the sake of amiability, they are soon seized with ennui; +they fall back upon religion, upon the cultivation of pets, cats, +lap-dogs, and other fancies which are no more offensive than their +devoutness. + +The calculations made at the Bureau of Longitudes concerning population +authorize us again to subtract from the total mentioned two millions of +young girls, pretty enough to kill; they are at present in the A B C +of life and innocently play with other children, without dreading that +these little hobbledehoys, who now make them laugh, will one day make +them weep. + +Again, of the two millions of the remaining women, what reasonable man +would not throw out a hundred thousand poor girls, humpbacked, plain, +cross-grained, rickety, sickly, blind, crippled in some way, well +educated but penniless, all bound to be spinsters, and by no means +tempted to violate the sacred laws of marriage? + +Nor must we retain the one hundred thousand other girls who become +sisters of St. Camille, Sisters of Charity, monastics, teachers, ladies’ +companions, etc. And we must put into this blessed company a number of +young people difficult to estimate, who are too grown up to play with +little boys and yet too young to sport their wreath of orange blossoms. + +Finally, of the fifteen million subjects which remain at the bottom of +our crucible we must eliminate five hundred thousand other individuals, +to be reckoned as daughters of Baal, who subserve the appetites of the +base. We must even comprise among those, without fear that they will +be corrupted by their company, the kept women, the milliners, the shop +girls, saleswomen, actresses, singers, the girls of the opera, the +ballet-dancers, upper servants, chambermaids, etc. Most of these +creatures excite the passions of many people, but they would consider +it immodest to inform a lawyer, a mayor, an ecclesiastic or a laughing +world of the day and hour when they surrendered to a lover. Their +system, justly blamed by an inquisitive world, has the advantage of +laying upon them no obligations towards men in general, towards the +mayor or the magistracy. As these women do not violate any oath made +in public, they have no connection whatever with a work which treats +exclusively of lawful marriage. + +Some one will say that the claims made by this essay are very slight, +but its limitations make just compensation for those which amateurs +consider excessively padded. If any one, through love for a wealthy +dowager, wishes to obtain admittance for her into the remaining +million, he must classify her under the head of Sisters of Charity, +ballet-dancers, or hunchbacks; in fact we have not taken more than five +hundred thousand individuals in forming this last class, because it +often happens, as we have seen above, that the nine millions of peasant +girls make a large accession to it. We have for the same reason omitted +the working-girl class and the hucksters; the women of these two +sections are the product of efforts made by nine millions of female +bimana to rise to the higher civilization. But for its scrupulous +exactitude many persons might regard this statistical meditation as a +mere joke. + +We have felt very much inclined to form a small class of a hundred +thousand individuals as a crowning cabinet of the species, to serve as +a place of shelter for women who have fallen into a middle estate, +like widows, for instance; but we have preferred to estimate in round +figures. + +It would be easy to prove the fairness of our analysis: let one +reflection be sufficient. + +The life of a woman is divided into three periods, very distinct from +each other: the first begins in the cradle and ends on the attainment +of a marriageable age; the second embraces the time during which a +woman belongs to marriage; the third opens with the critical period, +the ending with which nature closes the passions of life. These three +spheres of existence, being almost equal in duration, might be employed +for the classification into equal groups of a given number of women. +Thus in a mass of six millions, omitting fractions, there are about +two million girls between one and eighteen, two millions women between +eighteen and forty and two millions of old women. The caprices of +society have divided the two millions of marriageable women into three +main classes, namely: those who remain spinsters for reasons which we +have defined; those whose virtue does not reckon in the obtaining of +husbands, and the million of women lawfully married, with whom we have +to deal. + +You see then, by the exact sifting out of the feminine population, that +there exists in France a little flock of barely a million white lambs, a +privileged fold into which every wolf is anxious to enter. + +Let us put this million of women, already winnowed by our fan, through +another examination. + +To arrive at the true idea of the degree of confidence which a man ought +to have in his wife, let us suppose for a moment that all wives will +deceive their husbands. + +On this hypothesis, it will be proper to cut out about one-twentieth, +viz., young people who are newly married and who will be faithful to +their vows for a certain time. + +Another twentieth will be in ill-health. This will be to make a very +modest allowance for human infirmities. + +Certain passions, which we are told destroy the dominion of the man over +the heart of his wife, namely, aversion, grief, the bearing of children, +will account for another twentieth. + +Adultery does not establish itself in the heart of a married woman with +the promptness of a pistol-shot. Even when sympathy with another rouses +feelings on first sight, a struggle always takes place, whose duration +discounts the total sum of conjugal infidelities. It would be an insult +to French modesty not to admit the duration of this struggle in +a country so naturally combative, without referring to at least a +twentieth in the total of married women; but then we will suppose that +there are certain sickly women who preserve their lovers while they +are using soothing draughts, and that there are certain wives whose +confinement makes sarcastic celibates smile. In this way we shall +vindicate the modesty of those who enter upon the struggle from motives +of virtue. For the same reason we should not venture to believe that a +woman forsaken by her lover will find a new one on the spot; but this +discount being much more uncertain than the preceding one, we will +estimate it at one-fortieth. + +These several rebates will reduce our sum total to eight hundred +thousand women, when we come to calculate the number of those who are +likely to violate married faith. Who would not at the present moment +wish to retain the persuasion that wives are virtuous? Are they not +the supreme flower of the country? Are they not all blooming creatures, +fascinating the world by their beauty, their youth, their life and their +love? To believe in their virtue is a sort of social religion, for they +are the ornament of the world, and form the chief glory of France. + +It is in the midst of this million we are bound to investigate: + +The number of honest women; + +The number of virtuous women. + +The work of investigating this and of arranging the results under two +categories requires whole meditations, which may serve as an appendix to +the present one. + + + + +MEDITATION III. OF THE HONEST WOMAN. + +The preceding meditation has proved that we possess in France a floating +population of one million women reveling in the privilege of inspiring +those passions which a gallant man avows without shame, or dissembles +with delight. It is then among this million of women that we must carry +our lantern of Diogenes in order to discover the honest women of the +land. + +This inquiry suggests certain digressions. + +Two young people, well dressed, whose slender figures and rounded arms +suggest a paver’s tool, and whose boots are elegantly made, meet one +morning on the boulevard, at the end of the Passage des Panoramas. + +“What, is this you?” + +“Yes, dear boy; it looks like me, doesn’t it?” + +Then they laugh, with more or less intelligence, according to the nature +of the joke which opens the conversation. + +When they have examined each other with the sly curiosity of a police +officer on the lookout for a clew, when they are quite convinced of the +newness of each other’s gloves, of each other’s waistcoat and of the +taste with which their cravats are tied; when they are pretty certain +that neither of them is down in the world, they link arms and if they +start from the Theater des Varietes, they have not reached Frascati’s +before they have asked each other a roundabout question whose free +translation may be this: + +“Whom are you living with now?” + +As a general rule she is a charming woman. + +Who is the infantryman of Paris into whose ear there have not dropped, +like bullets in the day of battle, thousands of words uttered by the +passer-by, and who has not caught one of those numberless sayings which, +according to Rabelais, hang frozen in the air? But the majority of men +take their way through Paris in the same manner as they live and +eat, that is, without thinking about it. There are very few skillful +musicians, very few practiced physiognomists who can recognize the key +in which these vagrant notes are set, the passion that prompts +these floating words. Ah! to wander over Paris! What an adorable +and delightful existence is that! To saunter is a science; it is the +gastronomy of the eye. To take a walk is to vegetate; to saunter is to +live. The young and pretty women, long contemplated with ardent eyes, +would be much more admissible in claiming a salary than the cook who +asks for twenty sous from the Limousin whose nose with inflated nostrils +took in the perfumes of beauty. To saunter is to enjoy life; it is to +indulge the flight of fancy; it is to enjoy the sublime pictures of +misery, of love, of joy, of gracious or grotesque physiognomies; it is +to pierce with a glance the abysses of a thousand existences; for the +young it is to desire all, and to possess all; for the old it is to +live the life of the youthful, and to share their passions. Now how +many answers have not the sauntering artists heard to the categorical +question which is always with us? + +“She is thirty-five years old, but you would not think she was more than +twenty!” said an enthusiastic youth with sparkling eyes, who, freshly +liberated from college, would, like Cherubin, embrace all. + +“Zounds! Mine has dressing-gowns of batiste and diamond rings for the +evening!” said a lawyer’s clerk. + +“But she has a box at the Francais!” said an army officer. + +“At any rate,” cried another one, an elderly man who spoke as if he +were standing on the defence, “she does not cost me a sou! In our +case--wouldn’t you like to have the same chance, my respected friend?” + +And he patted his companion lightly on the shoulder. + +“Oh! she loves me!” said another. “It seems too good to be true; but she +has the most stupid of husbands! Ah!--Buffon has admirably described the +animals, but the biped called husband--” + +What a pleasant thing for a married man to hear! + +“Oh! what an angel you are, my dear!” is the answer to a request +discreetly whispered into the ear. + +“Can you tell me her name or point her out to me?” + +“Oh! no; she is an honest woman.” + +When a student is loved by a waitress, he mentions her name with pride +and takes his friends to lunch at her house. If a young man loves a +woman whose husband is engaged in some trade dealing with articles +of necessity, he will answer, blushingly, “She is the wife of a +haberdasher, of a stationer, of a hatter, of a linen-draper, of a clerk, +etc.” + +But this confession of love for an inferior which buds and blows in +the midst of packages, loaves of sugar, or flannel waistcoats is always +accompanied with an exaggerated praise of the lady’s fortune. The +husband alone is engaged in the business; he is rich; he has fine +furniture. The loved one comes to her lover’s house; she wears a +cashmere shawl; she owns a country house, etc. + +In short, a young man is never wanting in excellent arguments to prove +that his mistress is very nearly, if not quite, an honest woman. This +distinction originates in the refinement of our manners and has become +as indefinite as the line which separates _bon ton_ from vulgarity. What +then is meant by an honest woman? + +On this point the vanity of women, of their lovers, and even that of +their husbands, is so sensitive that we had better here settle upon some +general rules, which are the result of long observation. + +Our one million of privileged women represent a multitude who are +eligible for the glorious title of honest women, but by no means all are +elected to it. The principles on which these elections are based may be +found in the following axioms: + + + + +APHORISMS. + + I. + An honest woman is necessarily a married woman. + + II. + An honest woman is under forty years old. + + III. + A married woman whose favors are to be paid for is not an honest + woman. + + IV. + A married woman who keeps a private carriage is an honest woman. + + V. + A woman who does her own cooking is not an honest woman. + + VI. +When a man has made enough to yield an income of twenty thousand francs, +his wife is an honest woman, whatever the business in which his fortune +was made. + + VII. +A woman who says “letter of change” for letter of exchange, who says +of a man, “He is an elegant gentleman,” can never be an honest woman, +whatever fortune she possesses. + + VIII. + An honest woman ought to be in a financial condition such as forbids + her lover to think she will ever cost him anything. + + IX. + A woman who lives on the third story of any street excepting the Rue + de Rivoli and the Rue de Castiglione is not an honest woman. + + X. +The wife of a banker is always an honest woman, but the woman who sits +at the cashier’s desk cannot be one, unless her husband has a very large +business and she does not live over his shop. + + XI. +The unmarried niece of a bishop when she lives with him can pass for +an honest woman, because if she has an intrigue she has to deceive her +uncle. + + XII. + An honest woman is one whom her lover fears to compromise. + + XIII. + The wife of an artist is always an honest woman. + + +By the application of these principles even a man from Ardeche can +resolve all the difficulties which our subject presents. + +In order that a woman may be able to keep a cook, may be finely +educated, may possess the sentiment of coquetry, may have the right to +pass whole hours in her boudoir lying on a sofa, and may live a life of +soul, she must have at least six thousand francs a year if she lives +in the country, and twenty thousand if she lives at Paris. These two +financial limits will suggest to you how many honest women are to be +reckoned on in the million, for they are really a mere product of our +statistical calculations. + +Now three hundred thousand independent people, with an income of fifteen +thousand francs, represent the sum total of those who live on pensions, +on annuities and the interest of treasury bonds and mortgages. + +Three hundred thousand landed proprietors enjoy an income of three +thousand five hundred francs and represent all territorial wealth. + +Two hundred thousand payees, at the rate of fifteen hundred francs each, +represent the distribution of public funds by the state budget, by the +budgets of the cities and departments, less the national debt, church +funds and soldier’s pay, (i.e. five sous a day with allowances for +washing, weapons, victuals, clothes, etc.). + +Two hundred thousand fortunes amassed in commerce, reckoning the capital +at twenty thousand francs in each case, represent all the commercial +establishments possible in France. + +Here we have a million husbands represented. + +But at what figure shall we count those who have an income of fifty, of +a hundred, of two, three, four, five, and six hundred francs only, from +consols or some other investment? + +How many landed proprietors are there who pay taxes amounting to no more +than a hundred sous, twenty francs, one hundred francs, two hundred, or +two hundred and eighty? + +At what number shall we reckon those of the governmental leeches, who +are merely quill-drivers with a salary of six hundred francs a year? + +How many merchants who have nothing but a fictitious capital shall we +admit? These men are rich in credit and have not a single actual sou, +and resemble the sieves through which Pactolus flows. And how many +brokers whose real capital does not amount to more than a thousand, two +thousand, four thousand, five thousand francs? Business!--my respects to +you! + +Let us suppose more people to be fortunate than actually are so. Let +us divide this million into parts; five hundred thousand domestic +establishments will have an income ranging from a hundred to three +thousand francs, and five thousand women will fulfill the conditions +which entitle them to be called honest women. + +After these observations, which close our meditation on statistics, we +are entitled to cut out of this number one hundred thousand individuals; +consequently we can consider it to be proven mathematically that there +exist in France no more than four hundred thousand women who can furnish +to men of refinement the exquisite and exalted enjoyments which they +look for in love. + +And here it is fitting to make a remark to the adepts for whom we write, +that love does not consist in a series of eager conversations, of nights +of pleasure, of an occasional caress more or less well-timed and a spark +of _amour-propre_ baptized by the name of jealousy. Our four hundred +thousand women are not of those concerning whom it may be said, “The +most beautiful girl in the world can give only what she has.” No, +they are richly endowed with treasures which appeal to our ardent +imaginations, they know how to sell dear that which they do not possess, +in order to compensate for the vulgarity of that which they give. + +Do we feel more pleasure in kissing the glove of a grisette than in +draining the five minutes of pleasure which all women offer to us? + +Is it the conversation of a shop-girl which makes you expect boundless +delights? + +In your intercourse with a woman who is beneath you, the delight of +flattered _amour-propre_ is on her side. You are not in the secret of +the happiness which you give. + +In a case of a woman above you, either in fortune or social position, +the ticklings of vanity are not only intense, but are equally shared. +A man can never raise his mistress to his own level; but a woman always +puts her lover in the position that she herself occupies. “I can make +princes and you can make nothing but bastards,” is an answer sparkling +with truth. + +If love is the first of passions, it is because it flatters all the +rest of them at the same time. We love with more or less intensity in +proportion to the number of chords which are touched by the fingers of a +beautiful mistress. + +Biren, the jeweler’s son, climbing into the bed of the Duchesse de +Courlande and helping her to sign an agreement that he should be +proclaimed sovereign of the country, as he was already of the young and +beautiful queen, is an example of the happiness which ought to be given +to their lovers by our four hundred thousand women. + +If a man would have the right to make stepping-stones of all the heads +which crowd a drawing-room, he must be the lover of some artistic woman +of fashion. Now we all love more or less to be at the top. + +It is on this brilliant section of the nation that the attack is made by +men whose education, talent or wit gives them the right to be considered +persons of importance with regard to that success of which people of +every country are so proud; and only among this class of women is the +wife to be found whose heart has to be defended at all hazard by our +husband. + +What does it matter whether the considerations which arise from the +existence of a feminine aristocracy are or are not equally applicable +to other social classes? That which is true of all women exquisite +in manners, language and thought, in whom exceptional educational +facilities have developed a taste for art and a capacity for feeling, +comparing and thinking, who have a high sense of propriety and +politeness and who actually set the fashion in French manners, ought +to be true also in the case of women whatever their nation and whatever +their condition. The man of distinction to whom this book is dedicated +must of necessity possess a certain mental vision, which makes +him perceive the various degrees of light that fill each class and +comprehend the exact point in the scale of civilization to which each of +our remarks is severally applicable. + +Would it not be then in the highest interests of morality, that we +should in the meantime try to find out the number of virtuous women who +are to be found among these adorable creatures? Is not this a question +of marito-national importance? + + + + +MEDITATION IV. OF THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN. + +The question, perhaps, is not so much how many virtuous women there are, +as what possibility there is of an honest woman remaining virtuous. + +In order to throw light upon a point so important, let us cast a rapid +glance over the male population. + +From among our fifteen millions of men we must cut off, in the first +place, the nine millions of bimana of thirty-two vertebrae and exclude +from our physiological analysis all but six millions of people. The +Marceaus, the Massenas, the Rousseaus, the Diderots and the Rollins +often sprout forth suddenly from the social swamp, when it is in a +condition of fermentation; but, here we plead guilty of deliberate +inaccuracy. These errors in calculation are likely, however, to give all +their weight to our conclusion and to corroborate what we are forced to +deduce in unveiling the mechanism of passion. + +From the six millions of privileged men, we must exclude three millions +of old men and children. + +It will be affirmed by some one that this subtraction leaves a remainder +of four millions in the case of women. + +This difference at first sight seems singular, but is easily accounted +for. + +The average age at which women are married is twenty years and at forty +they cease to belong to the world of love. + +Now a young bachelor of seventeen is apt to make deep cuts with his +penknife in the parchment of contracts, as the chronicles of scandal +will tell you. + +On the other hand, a man at fifty-two is more formidable than at any +other age. It is at this fair epoch of life that he enjoys an experience +dearly bought, and probably all the fortune that he will ever require. +The passions by which his course is directed being the last under whose +scourge he will move, he is unpitying and determined, like the man +carried away by a current who snatches at a green and pliant branch of +willow, the young nursling of the year. + + + XIV. + Physically a man is a man much longer than a woman is a woman. + + +With regard to marriage, the difference in duration of the life of love +with a man and with a woman is fifteen years. This period is equal to +three-fourths of the time during which the infidelities of the woman +can bring unhappiness to her husband. Nevertheless, the remainder in our +subtraction from the sum of men only differs by a sixth or so from that +which results in our subtraction from the sum of women. + +Great is the modest caution of our estimates. As to our arguments, they +are founded on evidence so widely known, that we have only expounded +them for the sake of being exact and in order to anticipate all +criticism. + +It has, therefore, been proved to the mind of every philosopher, however +little disposed he may be to forming numerical estimates, that there +exists in France a floating mass of three million men between seventeen +and fifty-two, all perfectly alive, well provided with teeth, quite +resolved on biting, in fact, biting and asking nothing better than the +opportunity of walking strong and upright along the way to Paradise. + +The above observations entitle us to separate from this mass of men a +million husbands. Suppose for an instant that these, being satisfied +and always happy, like our model husband, confine themselves to conjugal +love. + +Our remainder of two millions do not require five sous to make love. + +It is quite sufficient for a man to have a fine foot and a clear eye in +order to dismantle the portrait of a husband. + +It is not necessary that he should have a handsome face nor even a good +figure; + +Provided that a man appears to be intellectual and has a distinguished +expression of face, women never look where he comes from but where he is +going to; + +The charms of youth are the unique equipage of love; + +A coat made by Brisson, a pair of gloves bought from Boivin, elegant +shoes, for whose payment the dealer trembles, a well-tied cravat are +sufficient to make a man king of the drawing-room; + +And soldiers--although the passion for gold lace and aiguillettes has +died away--do not soldiers form of themselves a redoubtable legion of +celibates? Not to mention Eginhard--for he was a private secretary--has +not a newspaper recently recorded how a German princess bequeathed her +fortune to a simple lieutenant of cuirassiers in the imperial guard? + +But the notary of the village, who in the wilds of Gascony does not draw +more than thirty-six deeds a year, sends his son to study law at Paris; +the hatter wishes his son to be a notary, the lawyer destines his to be +a judge, the judge wishes to become a minister in order that his sons +may be peers. At no epoch in the world’s history has there been so eager +a thirst for education. To-day it is not intellect but cleverness that +promenades the streets. From every crevice in the rocky surface of +society brilliant flowers burst forth as the spring brings them on the +walls of a ruin; even in the caverns there droop from the vaulted +roof faintly colored tufts of green vegetation. The sun of education +permeates all. Since this vast development of thought, this even and +fruitful diffusion of light, we have scarcely any men of superiority, +because every single man represents the whole education of his age. We +are surrounded by living encyclopaedias who walk about, think, act and +wish to be immortalized. Hence the frightful catastrophes of climbing +ambitions and insensate passions. We feel the want of other worlds; +there are more hives needed to receive the swarms, and especially are we +in need of more pretty women. + +But the maladies by which a man is afflicted do not nullify the sum +total of human passion. To our shame be it spoken, a woman is never so +much attached to us as when we are sick. + +With this thought, all the epigrams written against the little sex--for +it is antiquated nowadays to say the fair sex--ought to be disarmed +of their point and changed into madrigals of eulogy! All men ought to +consider that the sole virtue of a woman is to love and that all women +are prodigiously virtuous, and at that point to close the book and end +their meditation. + +Ah! do you not remember that black and gloomy hour when lonely and +suffering, making accusations against men and especially against your +friends, weak, discouraged, and filled with thoughts of death, your head +supported by a fevered pillow and stretched upon a sheet whose white +trellis-work of linen was stamped upon your skin, you traced with your +eyes the green paper which covered the walls of your silent chamber? +Do you recollect, I say, seeing some one noiselessly open your door, +exhibiting her fair young face, framed with rolls of gold, and a bonnet +which you had never seen before? She seemed like a star in a stormy +night, smiling and stealing towards you with an expression in which +distress and happiness were blended, and flinging herself into your +arms! + +“How did you manage it? What did you tell your husband?” you ask. + +“Your husband!”--Ah! this brings us back again into the depths of our +subject. + + + XV. + Morally the man is more often and longer a man than the woman is a + women. + + +On the other hand we ought to consider that among these two millions of +celibates there are many unhappy men, in whom a profound sense of their +misery and persistent toil have quenched the instinct of love; + +That they have not all passed through college, that there are many +artisans among them, many footmen--the Duke of Gevres, an extremely +plain and short man, as he walked through the park of Versailles saw +several lackeys of fine appearance and said to his friends, “Look how +these fellows are made by us, and how they imitate us”--that there are +many contractors, many trades people who think of nothing but money; +many drudges of the shop; + +That there are men more stupid and actually more ugly than God would +have made them; + +That there are those whose character is like a chestnut without a +kernel; + +That the clergy are generally chaste; + +That there are men so situated in life that they can never enter the +brilliant sphere in which honest women move, whether for want of a coat, +or from their bashfulness, or from the failure of a mahout to introduce +them. + +But let us leave to each one the task of adding to the number of these +exceptions in accordance with his personal experience--for the object +of a book is above all things to make people think--and let us instantly +suppress one-half of the sum total and admit only that there are one +million of hearts worthy of paying homage to honest women. This number +approximately includes those who are superior in all departments. Women +love only the intellectual, but justice must be done to virtue. + +As for these amiable celibates, each of them relates a string of +adventures, all of which seriously compromise honest women. It would be +a very moderate and reserved computation to attribute no more than three +adventures to each celibate; but if some of them count their adventures +by the dozen, there are many more who confine themselves to two or three +incidents of passion and some to a single one in their whole life, +so that we have in accordance with the statistical method taken the +average. Now if the number of celibates be multiplied by the number of +their excesses in love the result will be three millions of adventures; +to set against this we have only four hundred thousand honest women! + +If the God of goodness and indulgence who hovers over the worlds does +not make a second washing of the human race, it is doubtless because so +little success attended the first. + +Here then we have a people, a society which has been sifted, and you see +the result! + + + XVI. + Manners are the hypocrisy of nations, and hypocrisy is more or less + perfect. + + + XVII. + Virtue, perhaps, is nothing more than politeness of soul. + + +Physical love is a craving like hunger, excepting that man eats all the +time, and in love his appetite is neither so persistent nor so regular +as at the table. + +A piece of bread and a carafe of water will satisfy the hunger of +any man; but our civilization has brought to light the science of +gastronomy. + +Love has its piece of bread, but it has also its science of loving, that +science which we call coquetry, a delightful word which the French alone +possess, for that science originated in this country. + +Well, after all, isn’t it enough to enrage all husbands when they think +that man is so endowed with an innate desire to change from one food +to another, that in some savage countries, where travelers have landed, +they have found alcoholic drinks and ragouts? + +Hunger is not so violent as love; but the caprices of the soul are more +numerous, more bewitching, more exquisite in their intensity than the +caprices of gastronomy; but all that the poets and the experiences +of our own life have revealed to us on the subject of love, arms us +celibates with a terrible power: we are the lion of the Gospel seeking +whom we may devour. + +Then, let every one question his conscience on this point, and search +his memory if he has ever met a man who confined himself to the love of +one woman only! + +How, alas! are we to explain, while respecting the honor of all the +peoples, the problem which results from the fact that three millions +of burning hearts can find no more than four hundred thousand women on +which they can feed? Should we apportion four celibates for each woman +and remember that the honest women would have already established, +instinctively and unconsciously, a sort of understanding between +themselves and the celibates, like that which the presidents of royal +courts have initiated, in order to make their partisans in each chamber +enter successively after a certain number of years? + +That would be a mournful way of solving the difficulty! + +Should we make the conjecture that certain honest women act in dividing +up the celibates, as the lion in the fable did? What! Surely, in that +case, half at least of our altars would become whited sepulchres! + +Ought one to suggest for the honor of French ladies that in the time of +peace all other countries should import into France a certain number of +their honest women, and that these countries should mainly consist of +England, Germany and Russia? But the European nations would in that +case attempt to balance matters by demanding that France should export a +certain number of her pretty women. + +Morality and religion suffer so much from such calculations as this, +that an honest man, in an attempt to prove the innocence of married +women, finds some reason to believe that dowagers and young people are +half of them involved in this general corruption, and are liars even +more truly than are the celibates. + +But to what conclusion does our calculation lead us? Think of our +husbands, who to the disgrace of morals behave almost all of them like +celibates and glory _in petto_ over their secret adventures. + +Why, then we believe that every married man, who is at all attached +to his wife from honorable motives, can, in the words of the elder +Corneille, seek a rope and a nail; _foenum habet in cornu_. + +It is, however, in the bosom of these four hundred thousand honest women +that we must, lantern in hand, seek for the number of the virtuous women +in France! As a matter of fact, we have by our statistics of marriage so +far only set down the number of those creatures with which society has +really nothing to do. Is it not true that in France the honest people, +the people _comme il faut_, form a total of scarcely three million +individuals, namely, our one million of celibates, five hundred thousand +honest women, five hundred thousand husbands, and a million of dowagers, +of infants and of young girls? + +Are you then astonished at the famous verse of Boileau? This verse +proves that the poet had cleverly fathomed the discovery mathematically +propounded to you in these tiresome meditations and that his language is +by no means hyperbolical. + +Nevertheless, virtuous women there certainly are: + +Yes, those who have never been tempted and those who die at their first +child-birth, assuming that their husbands had married them virgins; + +Yes, those who are ugly as the Kaifakatadary of the Arabian Nights; + +Yes, those whom Mirabeau calls “fairy cucumbers” and who are composed +of atoms exactly like those of strawberry and water-lily roots. +Nevertheless, we need not believe that! + +Further, we acknowledge that, to the credit of our age, we meet, ever +since the revival of morality and religion and during our own times, +some women, here and there, so moral, so religious, so devoted to their +duties, so upright, so precise, so stiff, so virtuous, so--that the +devil himself dare not even look at them; they are guarded on all sides +by rosaries, hours of prayer and directors. Pshaw! + +We will not attempt to enumerate the women who are virtuous from +stupidity, for it is acknowledged that in love all women have intellect. + +In conclusion, we may remark that it is not impossible that there exist +in some corner of the earth women, young, pretty and virtuous, whom the +world does not suspect. + +But you must not give the name of virtuous woman to her who, in her +struggle against an involuntary passion, has yielded nothing to her +lover whom she idolizes. She does injury in the most cruel way in which +it can possibly be done to a loving husband. For what remains to him of +his wife? A thing without name, a living corpse. In the very midst of +delight his wife remains like the guest who has been warned by Borgia +that certain meats were poisoned; he felt no hunger, he ate sparingly or +pretended to eat. He longed for the meat which he had abandoned for that +provided by the terrible cardinal, and sighed for the moment when the +feast was over and he could leave the table. + +What is the result which these reflections on the feminine virtue lead +to? Here they are; but the last two maxims have been given us by an +eclectic philosopher of the eighteenth century. + + + XVIII. + A virtuous woman has in her heart one fibre less or one fibre more + than other women; she is either stupid or sublime. + + + XIX. + The virtue of women is perhaps a question of temperament. + + + XX. +The most virtuous women have in them something which is never chaste. + + + XXI. +“That a man of intellect has doubts about his mistress is conceivable, + but about his wife!--that would be too stupid.” + + + XXII. + “Men would be insufferably unhappy if in the presence of women they +thought the least bit in the world of that which they know by heart.” + + +The number of those rare women who, like the Virgins of the Parable, +have kept their lamps lighted, will always appear very small in the eyes +of the defenders of virtue and fine feeling; but we must needs exclude +it from the total sum of honest women, and this subtraction, consoling +as it is, will increase the danger which threatens husbands, will +intensify the scandal of their married life, and involve, more or less, +the reputation of all other lawful spouses. + +What husband will be able to sleep peacefully beside his young and +beautiful wife while he knows that three celibates, at least, are on +the watch; that if they have not already encroached upon his little +property, they regard the bride as their destined prey, for sooner or +later she will fall into their hands, either by stratagem, compulsive +conquest or free choice? And it is impossible that they should fail some +day or other to obtain victory! + +What a startling conclusion! + +On this point the purist in morality, the _collets montes_ will +accuse us perhaps of presenting here conclusions which are excessively +despairing; they will be desirous of putting up a defence, either for +the virtuous women or the celibates; but we have in reserve for them a +final remark. + +Increase the number of honest women and diminish the number of +celibates, as much as you choose, you will always find that the result +will be a larger number of gallant adventurers than of honest women; you +will always find a vast multitude driven through social custom to commit +three sorts of crime. + +If they remain chaste, their health is injured, while they are the +slaves of the most painful torture; they disappoint the sublime ends of +nature, and finally die of consumption, drinking milk on the mountains +of Switzerland! + +If they yield to legitimate temptations, they either compromise the +honest women, and on this point we re-enter on the subject of this book, +or else they debase themselves by a horrible intercourse with the five +hundred thousand women of whom we spoke in the third category of the +first Meditation, and in this case, have still considerable chance of +visiting Switzerland, drinking milk and dying there! + +Have you never been struck, as we have been, by a certain error of +organization in our social order, the evidence of which gives a moral +certainty to our last calculations? + +The average age at which a man marries is thirty years; the average age +at which his passions, his most violent desires for genesial delight +are developed, is twenty years. Now during the ten fairest years of his +life, during the green season in which his beauty, his youth and his wit +make him more dangerous to husbands than at any other epoch of his life, +his finds himself without any means of satisfying legitimately that +irresistible craving for love which burns in his whole nature. During +this time, representing the sixth part of human life, we are obliged to +admit that the sixth part or less of our total male population and the +sixth part which is the most vigorous is placed in a position which is +perpetually exhausting for them, and dangerous for society. + +“Why don’t they get married?” cries a religious woman. + +But what father of good sense would wish his son to be married at twenty +years of age? + +Is not the danger of these precocious unions apparent at all? It would +seem as if marriage was a state very much at variance with natural +habitude, seeing that it requires a special ripeness of judgment in +those who conform to it. All the world knows what Rousseau said: “There +must always be a period of libertinage in life either in one state or +another. It is an evil leaven which sooner or later ferments.” + +Now what mother of a family is there who would expose her daughter to +the risk of this fermentation when it has not yet taken place? + +On the other hand, what need is there to justify a fact under whose +domination all societies exist? Are there not in every country, as +we have demonstrated, a vast number of men who live as honestly as +possible, without being either celibates or married men? + +Cannot these men, the religious women will always ask, abide in +continence like the priests? + +Certainly, madame. + +Nevertheless, we venture to observe that the vow of chastity is the most +startling exception to the natural condition of man which society makes +necessary; but continence is the great point in the priest’s profession; +he must be chaste, as the doctor must be insensible to physical +sufferings, as the notary and the advocate insensible to the misery +whose wounds are laid bare to their eyes, as the soldier to the sight +of death which he meets on the field of battle. From the fact that the +requirements of civilization ossify certain fibres of the heart and +render callous certain membranes, we must not necessarily conclude that +all men are bound to undergo this partial and exceptional death of the +soul. This would be to reduce the human race to a condition of atrocious +moral suicide. + +But let it be granted that, in the atmosphere of a drawing-room the most +Jansenistic in the world, appears a young man of twenty-eight who has +scrupulously guarded his robe of innocence and is as truly virginal +as the heath-cock which gourmands enjoy. Do you not see that the most +austere of virtuous women would merely pay him a sarcastic compliment +on his courage; the magistrate, the strictest that ever mounted a +bench, would shake his head and smile, and all the ladies would hide +themselves, so that he might not hear their laughter? When the heroic +and exceptional young victim leaves the drawing-room, what a deluge of +jokes bursts upon his innocent head? What a shower of insults! What is +held to be more shameful in France than impotence, than coldness, than +the absence of all passion, than simplicity? + +The only king of France who would not have laughed was perhaps Louis +XIII; but as for his roue of a father, he would perhaps have banished +the young man, either under the accusation that he was no Frenchman or +from a conviction that he was setting a dangerous example. + +Strange contradiction! A young man is equally blamed if he passes life +in Holy Land, to use an expression of bachelor life. Could it possibly +be for the benefit of the honest women that the prefects of police, and +mayors of all time have ordained that the passions of the public shall +not manifest themselves until nightfall, and shall cease at eleven +o’clock in the evening? + +Where do you wish that our mass of celibates should sow their wild oats? +And who is deceived on this point? as Figaro asks. Is it the governments +or the governed? The social order is like the small boys who stop their +ears at the theatre, so as not to hear the report of the firearms. Is +society afraid to probe its wound or has it recognized the fact that +evil is irremediable and things must be allowed to run their course? But +there crops up here a question of legislation, for it is impossible to +escape the material and social dilemma created by this balance of public +virtue in the matter of marriage. It is not our business to solve this +difficulty; but suppose for a moment that society in order to save a +multitude of families, women and honest girls, found itself compelled to +grant to certain licensed hearts the right of satisfying the desire of +the celibates; ought not our laws then to raise up a professional body +consisting of female Decii who devote themselves for the republic, +and make a rampart of their bodies round the honest families? The +legislators have been very wrong hitherto in disdaining to regulate the +lot of courtesans. + + + XXIII. + The courtesan is an institution if she is a necessity. + + +This question bristles with so many ifs and buts that we will bequeath +it for solution to our descendants; it is right that we shall leave them +something to do. Moreover, its discussion is not germane to this work; +for in this, more than in any other age, there is a great outburst of +sensibility; at no other epoch have there been so many rules of conduct, +because never before has it been so completely accepted that pleasure +comes from the heart. Now, what man of sentiment is there, what celibate +is there, who, in the presence of four hundred thousand young and pretty +women arrayed in the splendors of fortune and the graces of wit, rich in +treasures of coquetry, and lavish in the dispensing of happiness, would +wish to go--? For shame! + +Let us put forth for the benefit of our future legislature in clear and +brief axioms the result arrived at during the last few years. + + + XXIV. + In the social order, inevitable abuses are laws of nature, in + accordance with which mankind should frame their civil and political + institutes. + + + XXV. +“Adultery is like a commercial failure, with this difference,” says +Chamfort, “that it is the innocent party who has been ruined and who +bears the disgrace.” + + +In France the laws that relate to adultery and those that relate to +bankruptcy require great modifications. Are they too indulgent? Do they +sin on the score of bad principles? _Caveant consules_! + +Come now, courageous athlete, who have taken as your task that which is +expressed in the little apostrophe which our first Meditation addresses +to people who have the charge of a wife, what are you going to say about +it? We hope that this rapid review of the question does not make you +tremble, that you are not one of those men whose nervous fluid congeals +at the sight of a precipice or a boa constrictor! Well! my friend, he +who owns soil has war and toil. The men who want your gold are more +numerous than those who want your wife. + +After all, husbands are free to take these trifles for arithmetical +estimates, or arithmetical estimates for trifles. The illusions of life +are the best things in life; that which is most respectable in life is +our futile credulity. Do there not exist many people whose principles +are merely prejudices, and who not having the force of character to form +their own ideas of happiness and virtue accept what is ready made for +them by the hand of legislators? Nor do we address those Manfreds who +having taken off too many garments wish to raise all the curtains, that +is, in moments when they are tortured by a sort of moral spleen. By +them, however, the question is boldly stated and we know the extent of +the evil. + +It remains that we should examine the chances and changes which each man +is likely to meet in marriage, and which may weaken him in that struggle +from which our champion should issue victorious. + + + + +MEDITATION V. OF THE PREDESTINED. + +Predestined means destined in advance for happiness or unhappiness. +Theology has seized upon this word and employs it in relation to the +happy; we give to the term a meaning which is unfortunate to our elect +of which one can say in opposition to the Gospel, “Many are called, many +are chosen.” + +Experience has demonstrated that there are certain classes of men more +subject than others to certain infirmities; the Gascons are given to +exaggeration and Parisians to vanity. As we see that apoplexy attacks +people with short necks, or butchers are liable to carbuncle, as +gout attacks the rich, health the poor, deafness kings, paralysis +administrators, so it has been remarked that certain classes of husbands +and their wives are more given to illegitimate passions. Thus they +forestall the celibates, they form another sort of aristocracy. If any +reader should be enrolled in one of these aristocratic classes he will, +we hope, have sufficient presence of mind, he or at least his wife, +instantly to call to mind the favorite axiom of Lhomond’s Latin Grammar: +“No rule without exception.” A friend of the house may even recite the +verse-- + + “Present company always excepted.” + +And then every one will have the right to believe, _in petto_, that +he forms the exception. But our duty, the interest which we take in +husbands and the keen desire which we have to preserve young and pretty +women from the caprices and catastrophes which a lover brings in +his train, force us to give notice to husbands that they ought to be +especially on their guard. + +In this recapitulation first are to be reckoned the husbands whom +business, position or public office calls from their houses and detains +for a definite time. It is these who are the standard-bearers of the +brotherhood. + +Among them, we would reckon magistrates, holding office during pleasure +or for life, and obliged to remain at the Palace for the greater portion +of the day; other functionaries sometimes find means to leave their +office at business hours; but a judge or a public prosecutor, seated on +his cushion of lilies, is bound even to die during the progress of the +hearing. There is his field of battle. + +It is the same with the deputies and peers who discuss the laws, of +ministers who share the toils of the king, of secretaries who work with +the ministers, of soldiers on campaign, and indeed with the corporal +of the police patrol, as the letter of Lafleur, in the _Sentimental +Journey_, plainly shows. + +Next to the men who are obliged to be absent from home at certain fixed +hours, come the men whom vast and serious undertakings leave not +one minute for love-making; their foreheads are always wrinkled with +anxiety, their conversation is generally void of merriment. + +At the head of these unfortunates we must place the bankers, who toil +in the acquisition of millions, whose heads are so full of calculations +that the figures burst through their skulls and range themselves in +columns of addition on their foreheads. + +These millionaires, forgetting most of the time the sacred laws of +marriage and the attention due to the tender flower which they have +undertaken to cultivate, never think of watering it or of defending +it from the heat and cold. They scarcely recognize the fact that the +happiness of their spouses is in their keeping; if they ever do remember +this, it is at table, when they see seated before them a woman in rich +array, or when a coquette, fearing their brutal repulse, comes, gracious +as Venus, to ask them for cash--Oh! it is then, that they recall, +sometimes very vividly, the rights specified in the two hundred and +thirteenth article of the civil code, and their wives are grateful +to them; but like the heavy tariff which the law lays upon foreign +merchandise, their wives suffer and pay the tribute, in virtue of the +axiom which says: “There is no pleasure without pain.” + +The men of science who spend whole months in gnawing at the bone of an +antediluvian monster, in calculating the laws of nature, when there is +an opportunity to peer into her secrets, the Grecians and Latinists who +dine on a thought of Tacitus, sup on a phrase of Thucydides, spend their +life in brushing the dust from library shelves, in keeping guard over a +commonplace book, or a papyrus, are all predestined. So great is their +abstraction or their ecstasy, that nothing that goes on around them +strikes their attention. Their unhappiness is consummated; in full light +of noon they scarcely even perceive it. Oh happy men! a thousand times +happy! Example: Beauzee, returning home after session at the Academy, +surprises his wife with a German. “Did not I tell you, madame, that +it was necessary that I shall go,” cried the stranger. “My dear sir,” + interrupted the academician, “you ought to say that I _should_ go!” + +Then there come, lyre in hand, certain poets whose whole animal strength +has left the ground floor and mounted to the upper story. They know +better how to mount Pegasus than the beast of old Peter, they rarely +marry, although they are accustomed to lavish the fury of their passions +on some wandering or imaginary Chloris. + +But the men whose noses are stained with snuff; + +But those who, to their misfortune, have a perpetual cold in their head; + +But the sailors who smoke or chew; + +But those men whose dry and bilious temperament makes them always look +as if they had eaten a sour apple; + +But the men who in private life have certain cynical habits, ridiculous +fads, and who always, in spite of everything, look unwashed; + +But the husbands who have obtained the degrading name of “hen-pecked”; + +Finally the old men who marry young girls. + +All these people are _par excellence_ among the predestined. + +There is a final class of the predestined whose ill-fortune is almost +certain, we mean restless and irritable men, who are inclined to meddle +and tyrannize, who have a great idea of domestic domination, who openly +express their low ideas of women and who know no more about life than +herrings about natural history. When these men marry, their homes have +the appearance of a wasp whose head a schoolboy has cut off, and who +dances here and there on a window pane. For this sort of predestined +the present work is a sealed book. We do not write any more for those +imbeciles, walking effigies, who are like the statues of a cathedral, +than for those old machines of Marly which are too weak to fling +water over the hedges of Versailles without being in danger of sudden +collapse. + +I rarely make my observations on the conjugal oddities with which the +drawing-room is usually full, without recalling vividly a sight which I +once enjoyed in early youth: + +In 1819 I was living in a thatched cottage situated in the bosom of the +delightful valley l’Isle-Adam. My hermitage neighbored on the park of +Cassan, the sweetest of retreats, the most fascinating in aspect, the +most attractive as a place to ramble in, the most cool and refreshing +in summer, of all places created by luxury and art. This verdant +country-seat owes its origin to a farmer-general of the good old times, +a certain Bergeret, celebrated for his originality; who among other +fantastic dandyisms adopted the habit of going to the opera, with his +hair powdered in gold; he used to light up his park for his own solitary +delectation and on one occasion ordered a sumptuous entertainment there, +in which he alone took part. This rustic Sardanapalus returned from +Italy so passionately charmed with the scenery of that beautiful country +that, by a sudden freak of enthusiasm, he spent four or five millions +in order to represent in his park the scenes of which he had pictures in +his portfolio. The most charming contrasts of foliage, the rarest trees, +long valleys, and prospects the most picturesque that could be brought +from abroad, Borromean islands floating on clear eddying streams like so +many rays, which concentrate their various lustres on a single point, on +an Isola Bella, from which the enchanted eye takes in each detail at +its leisure, or on an island in the bosom of which is a little house +concealed under the drooping foliage of a century-old ash, an island +fringed with irises, rose-bushes, and flowers which appears like an +emerald richly set. Ah! one might rove a thousand leagues for such a +place! The most sickly, the most soured, the most disgusted of our men +of genius in ill health would die of satiety at the end of fifteen days, +overwhelmed with the luscious sweetness of fresh life in such a spot. + +The man who was quite regardless of the Eden which he thus possessed +had neither wife nor children, but was attached to a large ape which +he kept. A graceful turret of wood, supported by a sculptured column, +served as a dwelling place for this vicious animal, who being kept +chained and rarely petted by his eccentric master, oftener at Paris +than in his country home, had gained a very bad reputation. I recollect +seeing him once in the presence of certain ladies show almost as much +insolence as if he had been a man. His master was obliged to kill him, +so mischievous did he gradually become. + +One morning while I was sitting under a beautiful tulip tree in flower, +occupied in doing nothing but inhaling the lovely perfumes which the +tall poplars kept confined within the brilliant enclosure, enjoying +the silence of the groves, listening to the murmuring waters and the +rustling leaves, admiring the blue gaps outlined above my head by clouds +of pearly sheen and gold, wandering fancy free in dreams of my future, +I heard some lout or other, who had arrived the day before from Paris, +playing on a violin with the violence of a man who has nothing else to +do. I would not wish for my worst enemy to hear anything so utterly +in discord with the sublime harmony of nature. If the distant notes of +Roland’s Horn had only filled the air with life, perhaps--but a noisy +fiddler like this, who undertakes to bring to you the expression of +human ideas and the phraseology of music! This Amphion, who was +walking up and down the dining-room, finished by taking a seat on the +window-sill, exactly in front of the monkey. Perhaps he was looking for +an audience. Suddenly I saw the animal quietly descend from his little +dungeon, stand upon his hind feet, bow his head forward like a swimmer +and fold his arms over his bosom like Spartacus in chains, or Catiline +listening to Cicero. The banker, summoned by a sweet voice whose silvery +tone recalled a boudoir not unknown to me, laid his violin on the +window-sill and made off like a swallow who rejoins his companion by a +rapid level swoop. The great monkey, whose chain was sufficiently long, +approached the window and gravely took in hand the violin. I don’t know +whether you have ever had as I have the pleasure of seeing a monkey try +to learn music, but at the present moment, when I laugh much less than +I did in those careless days, I never think of that monkey without a +smile; the semi-man began by grasping the instrument with his fist and +by sniffing at it as if he were tasting the flavor of an apple. The +snort from his nostrils probably produced a dull harmonious sound in the +sonorous wood and then the orang-outang shook his head, turned over the +violin, turned it back again, raised it up in the air, lowered it, held +it straight out, shook it, put it to his ear, set it down, and picked it +up again with a rapidity of movement peculiar to these agile creatures. +He seemed to question the dumb wood with faltering sagacity and in his +gestures there was something marvelous as well as infantile. At last he +undertook with grotesque gestures to place the violin under his chin, +while in one hand he held the neck; but like a spoiled child he soon +wearied of a study which required skill not to be obtained in a moment +and he twitched the strings without being able to draw forth anything +but discordant sounds. He seemed annoyed, laid the violin on the +window-sill and snatching up the bow he began to push it to and fro +with violence, like a mason sawing a block of stone. This effort only +succeeded in wearying his fastidious ears, and he took the bow with +both hands and snapped it in two on the innocent instrument, source of +harmony and delight. It seemed as if I saw before me a schoolboy holding +under him a companion lying face downwards, while he pommeled him with a +shower of blows from his fist, as if to punish him for some delinquency. +The violin being now tried and condemned, the monkey sat down upon the +fragments of it and amused himself with stupid joy in mixing up the +yellow strings of the broken bow. + +Never since that day have I been able to look upon the home of +the predestined without comparing the majority of husbands to this +orang-outang trying to play the violin. + +Love is the most melodious of all harmonies and the sentiment of love +is innate. Woman is a delightful instrument of pleasure, but it is +necessary to know its trembling strings, to study the position of them, +the timid keyboard, the fingering so changeful and capricious which +befits it. How many monkeys--men, I mean--marry without knowing what a +woman is! How many of the predestined proceed with their wives as the +ape of Cassan did with his violin! They have broken the heart which +they did not understand, as they might dim and disdain the amulet whose +secret was unknown to them. They are children their whole life through, +who leave life with empty hands after having talked about love, about +pleasure, about licentiousness and virtue as slaves talk about liberty. +Almost all of them married with the most profound ignorance of women and +of love. They commenced by breaking in the door of a strange house and +expected to be welcomed in this drawing-room. But the rudest artist +knows that between him and his instrument, of wood, or of ivory, there +exists a mysterious sort of friendship. He knows by experience that it +takes years to establish this understanding between an inert matter and +himself. He did not discover, at the first touch, the resources, the +caprices, the deficiencies, the excellencies of his instrument. It did +not become a living soul for him, a source of incomparable melody until +he had studied for a long time; man and instrument did not come to +understand each other like two friends, until both of them had been +skillfully questioned and tested by frequent intercourse. + +Can a man ever learn woman and know how to decipher this wondrous strain +of music, by remaining through life like a seminarian in his cell? Is +it possible that a man who makes it his business to think for others, +to judge others, to rule others, to steal money from others, to feed, to +heal, to wound others--that, in fact, any of our predestined, can spare +time to study a woman? They sell their time for money, how can they give +it away for happiness? Money is their god. No one can serve two masters +at the same time. Is not the world, moreover, full of young women who +drag along pale and weak, sickly and suffering? Some of them are the +prey of feverish inflammations more or less serious, others lie under +the cruel tyranny of nervous attacks more or less violent. All the +husbands of these women belong to the class of the ignorant and the +predestined. They have caused their own misfortune and expended as +much pains in producing it as the husband artist would have bestowed in +bringing to flower the late and delightful blooms of pleasure. The time +which an ignorant man passes to consummate his own ruin is precisely +that which a man of knowledge employs in the education of his happiness. + + + XXVI. + Do not begin marriage by a violation of law. + + +In the preceding meditations we have indicated the extent of the evil +with the reckless audacity of those surgeons, who boldly induce the +formation of false tissues under which a shameful wound is concealed. +Public virtue, transferred to the table of our amphitheatre, has lost +even its carcass under the strokes of the scalpel. Lover or husband, +have you smiled, or have you trembled at this evil? Well, it is with +malicious delight that we lay this huge social burden on the conscience +of the predestined. Harlequin, when he tried to find out whether his +horse could be accustomed to go without food, was not more ridiculous +than the men who wish to find happiness in their home and yet refuse to +cultivate it with all the pains which it demands. The errors of women +are so many indictments of egotism, neglect and worthlessness in +husbands. + +Yet it is yours, reader, it pertains to you, who have often condemned +in another the crime which you yourself commit, it is yours to hold the +balance. One of the scales is quite loaded, take care what you are going +to put in the other. Reckon up the number of predestined ones who may be +found among the total number of married people, weigh them, and you will +then know where the evil is seated. + +Let us try to penetrate more deeply into the causes of this conjugal +sickliness. + +The word love, when applied to the reproduction of the species, is the +most hateful blasphemy which modern manners have taught us to utter. +Nature, in raising us above the beasts by the divine gift of thought, +had rendered us very sensitive to bodily sensations, emotional +sentiment, cravings of appetite and passions. This double nature of ours +makes of man both an animal and a lover. This distinction gives the key +to the social problem which we are considering. + +Marriage may be considered in three ways, politically, as well as from +a civil and moral point of view: as a law, as a contract and as an +institution. As a law, its object is a reproduction of the species; as a +contract, it relates to the transmission of property; as an institution, +it is a guarantee which all men give and by which all are bound: +they have father and mother, and they will have children. Marriage, +therefore, ought to be the object of universal respect. Society can +only take into consideration those cardinal points, which, from a social +point of view, dominate the conjugal question. + +Most men have no other views in marrying, than reproduction, property or +children; but neither reproduction nor property nor children constitutes +happiness. The command, “Increase and multiply,” does not imply love. To +ask of a young girl whom we have seen fourteen times in fifteen days, to +give you love in the name of law, the king and justice, is an absurdity +worthy of the majority of the predestined. + +Love is the union between natural craving and sentiment; happiness in +marriage results in perfect union of soul between a married pair. Hence +it follows that in order to be happy a man must feel himself bound by +certain rules of honor and delicacy. After having enjoyed the benefit of +the social law which consecrates the natural craving, he must obey also +the secret laws of nature by which sentiments unfold themselves. If +he stakes his happiness on being himself loved, he must himself love +sincerely: nothing can resist a genuine passion. + +But to feel this passion is always to feel desire. Can a man always +desire his wife? + +Yes. + +It is as absurd to deny that it is possible for a man always to love the +same woman, as it would be to affirm that some famous musician needed +several violins in order to execute a piece of music or compose a +charming melody. + +Love is the poetry of the senses. It has the destiny of all that which +is great in man and of all that which proceeds from his thought. Either +it is sublime, or it is not. When once it exists, it exists forever and +goes on always increasing. This is the love which the ancients made the +child of heaven and earth. + +Literature revolves round seven situations; music expresses everything +with seven notes; painting employs but seven colors; like these three +arts, love perhaps founds itself on seven principles, but we leave this +investigation for the next century to carry out. + +If poetry, music and painting have found infinite forms of expression, +pleasure should be even more diversified. For in the three arts which +aid us in seeking, often with little success, truth by means of analogy, +the man stands alone with his imagination, while love is the union of +two bodies and of two souls. If the three principal methods upon which +we rely for the expression of thought require preliminary study in those +whom nature has made poets, musicians or painters, is it not obvious +that, in order, to be happy, it is necessary to be initiated into the +secrets of pleasure? All men experience the craving for reproduction, +as all feel hunger and thirst; but all are not called to be lovers +and gastronomists. Our present civilization has proved that taste is a +science, and it is only certain privileged beings who have learned how +to eat and drink. Pleasure considered as an art is still waiting for its +physiologists. As for ourselves, we are contented with pointing out that +ignorance of the principles upon which happiness is founded, is the sole +cause of that misfortune which is the lot of all the predestined. + +It is with the greatest timidity that we venture upon the publication +of a few aphorisms which may give birth to this new art, as casts have +created the science of geology; and we offer them for the meditation of +philosophers, of young marrying people and of the predestined. + + + CATECHISM OF MARRIAGE. + + + XXVII. + Marriage is a science. + + + XXVIII. +A man ought not to marry without having studied anatomy, and dissected + at least one woman. + + + XXIX. + The fate of the home depends on the first night. + + + XXX. +A woman deprived of her free will can never have the credit of making +a sacrifice. + + + XXXI. +In love, putting aside all consideration of the soul, the heart of a +woman is like a lyre which does not reveal its secret, excepting to him +who is a skillful player. + + + XXXII. +Independently of any gesture of repulsion, there exists in the soul of +all women a sentiment which tends, sooner or later, to proscribe all +pleasure devoid of passionate feeling. + + + XXXIII. +The interest of a husband as much as his honor forbids him to indulge +a pleasure which he has not had the skill to make his wife desire. + + + XXXIV. +Pleasure being caused by the union of sensation and sentiment, we can +say without fear of contradiction that pleasures are a sort of material +ideas. + + + XXXV. +As ideas are capable of infinite combination, it ought to be the same + with pleasures. + + + XXXVI. +In the life of man there are no two moments of pleasure exactly alike, + any more than there are two leaves of identical shape upon the same + tree. + + + XXXVII. +If there are differences between one moment of pleasure and another, a + man can always be happy with the same woman. + + + XXXVIII. +To seize adroitly upon the varieties of pleasure, to develop them, to +impart to them a new style, an original expression, constitutes the +genius of a husband. + + + XXXIX. +Between two beings who do not love each other this genius is +licentiousness; but the caresses over which love presides are always +pure. + + + XL. + The married woman who is the most chaste may be also the most + voluptuous. + + + XLI. + The most virtuous woman can be forward without knowing it. + + + XLII. +When two human beings are united by pleasure, all social +conventionalities are put aside. This situation conceals a reef on which +many vessels are wrecked. A husband is lost, if he once forgets there is +a modesty which is quite independent of coverings. Conjugal love +ought never either to put on or to take away the bandage of its eyes, +excepting at the due season. + + + XLIII. + Power does not consist in striking with force or with frequency, but + in striking true. + + + XLIV. +To call a desire into being, to nourish it, to develop it, to bring +it to full growth, to excite it, to satisfy it, is a complete poem of +itself. + + + XLV. +The progression of pleasures is from the distich to the quatrain, from +the quatrain to the sonnet, from the sonnet to the ballad, from the +ballad to the ode, from the ode to the cantata, from the cantata to the +dithyramb. The husband who commences with dithyramb is a fool. + + + XLVI. + Each night ought to have its _menu_. + + + XLVII. + Marriage must incessantly contend with a monster which devours + everything, that is, familiarity. + + + XLVIII. + If a man cannot distinguish the difference between the pleasures of + two consecutive nights, he has married too early. + + + XLIX. + It is easier to be a lover than a husband, for the same reason that it +is more difficult to be witty every day, than to say bright things from +time to time. + + + L. + A husband ought never to be the first to go to sleep and the last to + awaken. + + + LI. + The man who enters his wife’s dressing-room is either a philosopher or + an imbecile. + + + LII. + The husband who leaves nothing to desire is a lost man. + + + LIII. + The married woman is a slave whom one must know how to set upon a + throne. + + + LIV. + A man must not flatter himself that he knows his wife, and is making + her happy unless he sees her often at his knees. + + +It is to the whole ignorant troop of our predestined, of our legions +of snivelers, of smokers, of snuff-takers, of old and captious men that +Sterne addressed, in _Tristram Shandy_, the letter written by Walter +Shandy to his brother Toby, when this last proposed to marry the widow +Wadman. + +These celebrated instructions which the most original of English writers +has comprised in this letter, suffice with some few exceptions to +complete our observations on the manner in which husbands should behave +to their wives; and we offer it in its original form to the reflections +of the predestined, begging that they will meditate upon it as one of +the most solid masterpieces of human wit. + + + “MY DEAR BROTHER TOBY, + + “What I am going to say to thee is upon the nature of women, and of + love-making to them; and perhaps it is as well for thee--tho’ not + so well for me--that thou hast occasion for a letter of + instructions upon that head, and that I am able to write it to + thee. + + “Had it been the good pleasure of Him who disposes of our lots, and + thou no sufferer by the knowledge, I had been well content that + thou should’st have dipped the pen this moment into the ink + instead of myself; but that not being the case--Mrs. Shandy being + now close beside me, preparing for bed--I have thrown together + without order, and just as they have come into my mind, such hints + and documents as I deem may be of use to thee; intending, in this, + to give thee a token of my love; not doubting, my dear Toby, of + the manner in which it will be accepted. + + “In the first place, with regard to all which concerns religion in + the affair--though I perceive from a glow in my cheek, that I + blush as I begin to speak to thee upon the subject, as well + knowing, notwithstanding thy unaffected secrecy, how few of its + offices thou neglectest--yet I would remind thee of one (during + the continuance of thy courtship) in a particular manner, which I + would not have omitted; and that is, never to go forth upon the + enterprise, whether it be in the morning or in the afternoon, + without first recommending thyself to the protection of Almighty + God, that He may defend thee from the evil one. + + “Shave the whole top of thy crown clean once at least every four or + five days, but oftener if convenient; lest in taking off thy wig + before her, thro’ absence of mind, she should be able to discover + how much has been cut away by Time--how much by Trim. + + “‘Twere better to keep ideas of baldness out of her fancy. + + “Always carry it in thy mind, and act upon it as a sure maxim, + Toby-- + + “_‘That women are timid.’_ And ‘tis well they are--else there would + be no dealing with them. + + “Let not thy breeches be too tight, or hang too loose about thy + thighs, like the trunk-hose of our ancestors. + + “A just medium prevents all conclusions. + + “Whatever thou hast to say, be it more or less, forget not to utter + it in a low soft tone of voice. Silence, and whatever approaches + it, weaves dreams of midnight secrecy into the brain: For this + cause, if thou canst help it, never throw down the tongs and + poker. + + “Avoid all kinds of pleasantry and facetiousness in thy discourse + with her, and do whatever lies in thy power at the same time, to + keep from her all books and writings which tend there to: there + are some devotional tracts, which if thou canst entice her to + read over, it will be well: but suffer her not to look into + _Rabelais_, or _Scarron_, or _Don Quixote_. + + “They are all books which excite laughter; and thou knowest, dear + Toby, that there is no passion so serious as lust. + + “Stick a pin in the bosom of thy shirt, before thou enterest her + parlor. + + “And if thou art permitted to sit upon the same sofa with her, and + she gives thee occasion to lay thy hand upon hers--beware of + taking it--thou canst not lay thy hand upon hers, but she will + feel the temper of thine. Leave that and as many other things as + thou canst, quite undetermined; by so doing, thou wilt have her + curiosity on thy side; and if she is not conquered by that, and + thy Asse continues still kicking, which there is great reason to + suppose--thou must begin, with first losing a few ounces of blood + below the ears, according to the practice of the ancient + Scythians, who cured the most intemperate fits of the appetite by + that means. + + “_Avicenna_, after this, is for having the part anointed with the + syrup of hellebore, using proper evacuations and purges--and I + believe rightly. But thou must eat little or no goat’s flesh, nor + red deer--nor even foal’s flesh by any means; and carefully + abstain--that is, as much as thou canst,--from peacocks, cranes, + coots, didappers and water-hens. + + “As for thy drink--I need not tell thee, it must be the infusion of + Vervain and the herb Hanea, of which Aelian relates such effects; + but if thy stomach palls with it--discontinue it from time to + time, taking cucumbers, melons, purslane, water-lilies, woodbine, + and lettuce, in the stead of them. + + “There is nothing further for thee, which occurs to me at present-- + + “Unless the breaking out of a fresh war.--So wishing everything, + dear Toby, for the best, + + “I rest thy affectionate brother, + + “WALTER SHANDY.” + + +Under the present circumstances Sterne himself would doubtless have +omitted from his letter the passage about the ass; and, far from +advising the predestined to be bled he would have changed the regimen of +cucumbers and lettuces for one eminently substantial. He recommended the +exercise of economy, in order to attain to the power of magic liberality +in the moment of war, thus imitating the admirable example of the +English government, which in time of peace has two hundred ships in +commission, but whose shipwrights can, in time of need, furnish double +that quantity when it is desirable to scour the sea and carry off a +whole foreign navy. + +When a man belongs to the small class of those who by a liberal +education have been made masters of the domain of thought, he ought +always, before marrying, to examine his physical and moral resources. To +contend advantageously with the tempest which so many attractions tend +to raise in the heart of his wife, a husband ought to possess, besides +the science of pleasure and a fortune which saves him from sinking +into any class of the predestined, robust health, exquisite tact, +considerable intellect, too much good sense to make his superiority +felt, excepting on fit occasions, and finally great acuteness of hearing +and sight. + +If he has a handsome face, a good figure, a manly air, and yet falls +short of all these promises, he will sink into the class of the +predestined. On the other hand, a husband who is plain in features +but has a face full of expression, will find himself, if his wife once +forgets his plainness, in a situation most favorable for his struggle +against the genius of evil. + +He will study (and this is a detail omitted from the letter of Sterne) +to give no occasion for his wife’s disgust. Also, he will resort +moderately to the use of perfumes, which, however, always expose beauty +to injurious suspicions. + +He ought as carefully to study how to behave and how to pick out +subjects of conversation, as if he were courting the most inconstant +of women. It is for him that a philosopher has made the following +reflection: + +“More than one woman has been rendered unhappy for the rest of her +life, has been lost and dishonored by a man whom she has ceased to +love, because he took off his coat awkwardly, trimmed one of his nails +crookedly, put on a stocking wrong side out, and was clumsy with a +button.” + +One of the most important of his duties will be to conceal from his wife +the real state of his fortune, so that he may satisfy her fancies and +caprices as generous celibates are wont to do. + +Then the most difficult thing of all, a thing to accomplish which +superhuman courage is required, is to exercise the most complete control +over the ass of which Sterne speaks. This ass ought to be as submissive +as a serf of the thirteenth century was to his lord; to obey and be +silent, advance and stop, at the slightest word. + +Even when equipped with these advantages, a husband enters the lists +with scarcely any hope of success. Like all the rest, he still runs the +risk of becoming, for his wife, a sort of responsible editor. + +“And why!” will exclaim certain good but small-minded people, whose +horizon is limited to the tip of their nose, “why is it necessary to +take so much pains in order to love, and why is it necessary to go +to school beforehand, in order to be happy in your own home? Does the +government intend to institute a professional chair of love, just as it +has instituted a chair of law?” + +This is our answer: + +These multiplied rules, so difficult to deduce, these minute +observations, these ideas which vary so as to suit different +temperaments, are innate, so to speak, in the heart of those who are +born for love; just as his feeling of taste and his indescribable +felicity in combining ideas are natural to the soul of the poet, the +painter or the musician. The men who would experience any fatigue in +putting into practice the instructions given in this Meditation are +naturally predestined, just as he who cannot perceive the connection +which exists between two different ideas is an imbecile. As a matter of +fact, love has its great men although they be unrecognized, as war has +its Napoleons, poetry its Andre Cheniers and philosophy its Descartes. + +This last observation contains the germ of a true answer to the question +which men from time immemorial have been asking: Why are happy marriages +so very rare? + +This phenomenon of the moral world is rarely met with for the reason +that people of genius are rarely met with. A passion which lasts is a +sublime drama acted by two performers of equal talent, a drama in which +sentiments form the catastrophe, where desires are incidents and the +lightest thought brings a change of scene. Now how is it possible, in +this herd of bimana which we call a nation, to meet, on any but rare +occasions, a man and a woman who possess in the same degree the genius +of love, when men of talent are so thinly sown and so rare in all other +sciences, in the pursuit of which the artist needs only to understand +himself, in order to attain success? + +Up to the present moment, we have been confronted with making a forecast +of the difficulties, to some degree physical, which two married people +have to overcome, in order to be happy; but what a task would be ours +if it were necessary to unfold the startling array of moral obligations +which spring from their differences in character? Let us cry halt! The +man who is skillful enough to guide the temperament will certainly show +himself master of the soul of another. + +We will suppose that our model husband fulfills the primary conditions +necessary, in order that he may dispute or maintain possession of his +wife, in spite of all assailants. We will admit that he is not to be +reckoned in any of the numerous classes of the predestined which we have +passed in review. Let us admit that he has become imbued with the spirit +of all our maxims; that he has mastered the admirable science, some of +whose precepts we have made known; that he has married wisely, that +he knows his wife, that he is loved by her; and let us continue the +enumeration of all those general causes which might aggravate the +critical situation which we shall represent him as occupying for the +instruction of the human race. + + + + +MEDITATION VI. OF BOARDING SCHOOLS. + +If you have married a young lady whose education has been carried on at +a boarding school, there are thirty more obstacles to your happiness, +added to all those which we have already enumerated, and you are exactly +like a man who thrusts his hands into a wasp’s nest. + +Immediately, therefore, after the nuptial blessing has been pronounced, +without allowing yourself to be imposed upon by the innocent ignorance, +the frank graces and the modest countenance of your wife, you ought to +ponder well and faithfully follow out the axioms and precepts which we +shall develop in the second part of this book. You should even put into +practice the rigors prescribed in the third part, by maintaining an +active surveillance, a paternal solicitude at all hours, for the very +day after your marriage, perhaps on the evening of your wedding day, +there is danger in the house. + +I mean to say that you should call to mind the secret and profound +instruction which the pupils have acquired _de natura rerum_,--of the +nature of things. Did Lapeyrouse, Cook or Captain Peary ever show so +much ardor in navigating the ocean towards the Poles as the scholars of +the Lycee do in approaching forbidden tracts in the ocean of pleasure? +Since girls are more cunning, cleverer and more curious than boys, their +secret meetings and their conversations, which all the art of their +teachers cannot check, are necessarily presided over by a genius a +thousand times more informal than that of college boys. What man has +ever heard the moral reflections and the corrupting confidences of +these young girls? They alone know the sports at which honor is lost in +advance, those essays in pleasure, those promptings in voluptuousness, +those imitations of bliss, which may be compared to the thefts made by +greedy children from a dessert which is locked up. A girl may come +forth from her boarding school a virgin, but never chaste. She will +have discussed, time and time again at secret meetings, the important +question of lovers, and corruption will necessarily have overcome her +heart or her spirit. + +Nevertheless, we will admit that your wife has not participated in these +virginal delights, in these premature deviltries. Is she any better +because she has never had any voice in the secret councils of grown-up +girls? No! She will, in any case, have contracted a friendship with +other young ladies, and our computation will be modest, if we attribute +to her no more than two or three intimate friends. Are you certain that +after your wife has left boarding school, her young friends have not +there been admitted to those confidences, in which an attempt is made to +learn in advance, at least by analogy, the pastimes of doves? And then +her friends will marry; you will have four women to watch instead of +one, four characters to divine, and you will be at the mercy of four +husbands and a dozen celibates, of whose life, principles and habits you +are quite ignorant, at a time when our meditations have revealed to +you certain coming of a day when you will have your hands full with the +people whom you married with your wife. Satan alone could have thought +of placing a girl’s boarding school in the middle of a large town! +Madame Campan had at least the wisdom to set up her famous institution +at Ecouen. This sensible precaution proved that she was no ordinary +woman. There, her young ladies did not gaze upon the picture gallery of +the streets, the huge and grotesque figures and the obscene words drawn +by some evil-spirited pencil. They had not perpetually before their eyes +the spectacle of human infirmities exhibited at every barrier in France, +and treacherous book-stalls did not vomit out upon them in secret the +poison of books which taught evil and set passion on fire. This wise +school-mistress, moreover, could only at Ecouen preserve a young lady +for you spotless and pure, if, even there, that were possible. Perhaps +you hope to find no difficulty in preventing your wife from seeing +her school friends? What folly! She will meet them at the ball, at the +theatre, out walking and in the world at large; and how many services +two friends can render each other! But we will meditate upon this new +subject of alarm in its proper place and order. + +Nor is this all; if your mother-in-law sent her daughter to a boarding +school, do you believe that this was out of solicitude for her +daughter? A girl of twelve or fifteen is a terrible Argus; and if your +mother-in-law did not wish to have an Argus in her house I should be +inclined to suspect that your mother-in-law belonged undoubtedly to the +most shady section of our honest women. She will, therefore, prove for +her daughter on every occasion either a deadly example or a dangerous +adviser. + +Let us stop here!--The mother-in-law requires a whole Meditation for +herself. + +So that, whichever way you turn, the bed of marriage, in this +connection, is equally full of thorns. + +Before the Revolution, several aristocratic families used to send their +daughters to the convent. This example was followed by a number of +people who imagined that in sending their daughters to a school where +the daughters of some great noblemen were sent, they would assume the +tone and manners of aristocrats. This delusion of pride was, from +the first, fatal to domestic happiness; for the convents had all the +disadvantages of other boarding schools. The idleness that prevailed +there was more terrible. The cloister bars inflame the imagination. +Solitude is a condition very favorable to the devil; and one can +scarcely imagine what ravages the most ordinary phenomena of life are +able to leave in the soul of these young girls, dreamy, ignorant and +unoccupied. + +Some of them, by reason of their having indulged idle fancies, are led +into curious blunders. Others, having indulged in exaggerated ideas of +married life, say to themselves, as soon as they have taken a husband, +“What! Is this all?” In every way, the imperfect instruction, which is +given to girls educated in common, has in it all the danger of ignorance +and all the unhappiness of science. + +A young girl brought up at home by her mother or by her virtuous, +bigoted, amiable or cross-grained old aunt; a young girl, whose steps +have never crossed the home threshold without being surrounded by +chaperons, whose laborious childhood has been wearied by tasks, albeit +they were profitless, to whom in short everything is a mystery, even the +Seraphin puppet show, is one of those treasures which are met with, here +and there in the world, like woodland flowers surrounded by brambles so +thick that mortal eye cannot discern them. The man who owns a flower +so sweet and pure as this, and leaves it to be cultivated by others, +deserves his unhappiness a thousand times over. He is either a monster +or a fool. + +And if in the preceding Meditation we have succeeded in proving to +you that by far the greater number of men live in the most absolute +indifference to their personal honor, in the matter of marriage, is +it reasonable to believe that any considerable number of them are +sufficiently rich, sufficiently intellectual, sufficiently penetrating +to waste, like Burchell in the _Vicar of Wakefield_, one or two years in +studying and watching the girls whom they mean to make their wives, when +they pay so little attention to them after conjugal possession during +that period of time which the English call the honeymoon, and whose +influence we shall shortly discuss? + +Since, however, we have spent some time in reflecting upon this +important matter, we would observe that there are many methods of +choosing more or less successfully, even though the choice be promptly +made. + +It is, for example, beyond doubt that the probabilities will be in your +favor: + +I. If you have chosen a young lady whose temperament resembles that of +the women of Louisiana or the Carolinas. + +To obtain reliable information concerning the temperament of a young +person, it is necessary to put into vigorous operation the system which +Gil Blas prescribes, in dealing with chambermaids, a system employed by +statesmen to discover conspiracies and to learn how the ministers have +passed the night. + +II. If you choose a young lady who, without being plain, does not belong +to the class of pretty women. + +We regard it as an infallible principle that great sweetness of +disposition united in a woman with plainness that is not repulsive, form +two indubitable elements of success in securing the greatest possible +happiness to the home. + +But would you learn the truth? Open your Rousseau; for there is not a +single question of public morals whose trend he has not pointed out in +advance. Read: + +“Among people of fixed principles the girls are careless, the women +severe; the contrary is the case among people of no principle.” + +To admit the truth enshrined in this profound and truthful remark is +to conclude, that there would be fewer unhappy marriages if men wedded +their mistresses. The education of girls requires, therefore, important +modifications in France. Up to this time French laws and French manners +instituted to distinguish between a misdemeanor and a crime, have +encouraged crime. In reality the fault committed by a young girl is +scarcely ever a misdemeanor, if you compare it with that committed by +the married woman. Is there any comparison between the danger of giving +liberty to girls and that of allowing it to wives? The idea of taking a +young girl on trial makes more serious men think than fools laugh. The +manners of Germany, of Switzerland, of England and of the United States +give to young ladies such rights as in France would be considered +the subversion of all morality; and yet it is certain that in these +countries there are fewer unhappy marriages than in France. + + + LV. + “Before a woman gives herself entirely up to her lover, she ought to +consider well what his love has to offer her. The gift of her esteem and +confidence should necessarily precede that of her heart.” + + +Sparkling with truth as they are, these lines probably filled with light +the dungeon, in the depths of which Mirabeau wrote them; and the keen +observation which they bear witness to, although prompted by the most +stormy of his passions, has none the less influence even now in solving +the social problem on which we are engaged. In fact, a marriage sealed +under the auspices of the religious scrutiny which assumes the existence +of love, and subjected to the atmosphere of that disenchantment which +follows on possession, ought naturally to be the most firmly-welded of +all human unions. + +A woman then ought never to reproach her husband for the legal right, +in virtue of which she belongs to him. She ought not to find in this +compulsory submission any excuse for yielding to a lover, because some +time after her marriage she has discovered in her own heart a traitor +whose sophisms seduce her by asking twenty times an hour, “Wherefore, +since she has been given against her will to a man whom she does not +love, should she not give herself, of her own free-will, to a man +whom she does love.” A woman is not to be tolerated in her complaints +concerning faults inseparable from human nature. She has, in advance, +made trial of the tyranny which they exercise, and taken sides with the +caprices which they exhibit. + +A great many young girls are likely to be disappointed in their hopes of +love!--But will it not be an immense advantage to them to have escaped +being made the companions of men whom they would have had the right to +despise? + +Certain alarmists will exclaim that such an alteration in our manners +would bring about a public dissoluteness which would be frightful; that +the laws, and the customs which prompt the laws, could not after all +authorize scandal and immorality; and if certain unavoidable abuses do +exist, at least society ought not to sanction them. + +It is easy to say, in reply, first of all, that the proposed system +tends to prevent those abuses which have been hitherto regarded as +incapable of prevention; but, the calculations of our statistics, +inexact as they are, have invariably pointed out a widely prevailing +social sore, and our moralists may, therefore, be accused of preferring +the greater to the lesser evil, the violation of the principle on which +society is constituted, to the granting of a certain liberty to girls; +and dissoluteness in mothers of families, such as poisons the springs of +public education and brings unhappiness upon at least four persons, to +dissoluteness in a young girl, which only affects herself or at the +most a child besides. Let the virtue of ten virgins be lost rather than +forfeit this sanctity of morals, that crown of honor with which the +mother of a family should be invested! In the picture presented by +a young girl abandoned by her betrayer, there is something imposing, +something indescribably sacred; here we see oaths violated, holy +confidences betrayed, and on the ruins of a too facile virtue innocence +sits in tears, doubting everything, because compelled to doubt the love +of a father for his child. The unfortunate girl is still innocent; she +may yet become a faithful wife, a tender mother, and, if the past is +mantled in clouds, the future is blue as the clear sky. Shall we not +find these tender tints in the gloomy pictures of loves which violate +the marriage law? In the one, the woman is the victim, in the other, +she is a criminal. What hope is there for the unfaithful wife? If God +pardons the fault, the most exemplary life cannot efface, here below, +its living consequences. If James I was the son of Rizzio, the crime of +Mary lasted as long as did her mournful though royal house, and the fall +of the Stuarts was the justice of God. + +But in good faith, would the emancipation of girls set free such a host +of dangers? + +It is very easy to accuse a young person for suffering herself to be +deceived, in the desire to escape, at any price, from the condition of +girlhood; but such an accusation is only just in the present condition +of our manners. At the present day, a young person knows nothing about +seduction and its snares, she relies altogether upon her weakness, and +mingling with this reliance the convenient maxims of the fashionable +world, she takes as her guide while under the control of those desires +which everything conspires to excite, her own deluding fancies, which +prove a guide all the more treacherous, because a young girl rarely ever +confides to another the secret thoughts of her first love. + +If she were free, an education free from prejudices would arm her +against the love of the first comer. She would, like any one else, be +very much better able to meet dangers of which she knew, than perils +whose extent had been concealed from her. And, moreover, is it necessary +for a girl to be any the less under the watchful eye of her mother, +because she is mistress of her own actions? Are we to count as nothing +the modesty and the fears which nature has made so powerful in the +soul of a young girl, for the very purpose of preserving her from the +misfortune of submitting to a man who does not love her? Again, what +girl is there so thoughtless as not to discern, that the most immoral +man wishes his wife to be a woman of principle, as masters desire their +servants to be perfect; and that, therefore, her virtue is the richest +and the most advantageous of all possessions? + +After all, what is the question before us? For what do you think we +are stipulating? We are making a claim for five or six hundred thousand +maidens, protected by their instinctive timidity, and by the high price +at which they rate themselves; they understand how to defend themselves, +just as well as they know how to sell themselves. The eighteen millions +of human beings, whom we have excepted from this consideration, almost +invariably contract marriages in accordance with the system which we +are trying to make paramount in our system of manners; and as to the +intermediary classes by which we poor bimana are separated from the men +of privilege who march at the head of a nation, the number of castaway +children which these classes, although in tolerably easy circumstances, +consign to misery, goes on increasing since the peace, if we may believe +M. Benoiston de Chateauneuf, one of the most courageous of those savants +who have devoted themselves to the arid yet useful study of statistics. +We may guess how deep-seated is the social hurt, for which we propound +a remedy, if we reckon the number of natural children which statistics +reveal, and the number of illicit adventures whose evidence in high +society we are forced to suspect. But it is difficult here to make quite +plain all the advantages which would result from the emancipation of +young girls. When we come to observe the circumstances which attend a +marriage, such as our present manners approve of, judicious minds must +appreciate the value of that system of education and liberty, which we +demand for young girls, in the name of reason and nature. The prejudice +which we in France entertain in favor of the virginity of brides is the +most silly of all those which still survive among us. The Orientals take +their brides without distressing themselves about the past and lock them +up in order to be more certain about the future; the French put +their daughters into a sort of seraglio defended by their mothers, by +prejudice, and by religious ideas, and give the most complete liberty +to their wives, thus showing themselves much more solicitous about a +woman’s past than about her future. The point we are aiming at is to +bring about a reversal of our system of manners. If we did so we should +end, perhaps, by giving to faithful married life all the flavor and the +piquancy which women of to-day find in acts of infidelity. + +But this discussion would take us far from our subject, if it led us +to examine, in all its details, the vast improvement in morals which +doubtless will distinguish twentieth century France; for morals are +reformed only very gradually! Is it not necessary, in order to produce +the slightest change, that the most daring dreams of the past century +become the most trite ideas of the present one? We have touched upon +this question merely in a trifling mood, for the purposes of showing +that we are not blind to its importance, and of bequeathing also to +posterity the outline of a work, which they may complete. To speak more +accurately there is a third work to be composed; the first concerns +courtesans, while the second is the physiology of pleasure! + +“When there are ten of us, we cross ourselves.” + +In the present state of our morals and of our imperfect civilization, +a problem crops up which for the moment is insoluble, and which renders +superfluous all discussion on the art of choosing a wife; we commend it, +as we have done all the others, to the meditation of philosophers. + + + + PROBLEM. + +It has not yet been decided whether a wife is forced into infidelity by +the impossibility of obtaining any change, or by the liberty which is +allowed her in this connection. + +Moreover, as in this work we pitch upon a man at the moment that he +is newly married, we declare that if he has found a wife of sanguine +temperament, of vivid imagination, of a nervous constitution or of an +indolent character, his situation cannot fail to be extremely serious. + +A man would find himself in a position of danger even more critical if +his wife drank nothing but water [see the Meditation entitled _Conjugal +Hygiene_]; but if she had some talent for singing, or if she were +disposed to take cold easily, he should tremble all the time; for it +must be remembered that women who sing are at least as passionate as +women whose mucous membrane shows extreme delicacy. + +Again, this danger would be aggravated still more if your wife were less +than seventeen; or if, on the other hand, her general complexion were +pale and dull, for this sort of woman is almost always artificial. + +But we do not wish to anticipate here any description of the terrors +which threaten husbands from the symptoms of unhappiness which they read +in the character of their wives. This digression has already taken +us too far from the subject of boarding schools, in which so many +catastrophes are hatched, and from which issue so many young girls +incapable of appreciating the painful sacrifices by which the honest man +who does them the honor of marrying them, has obtained opulence; young +girls eager for the enjoyments of luxury, ignorant of our laws, ignorant +of our manners, claim with avidity the empire which their beauty yields +them, and show themselves quite ready to turn away from the genuine +utterances of the heart, while they readily listen to the buzzing of +flattery. + +This Meditation should plant in the memory of all who read it, even +those who merely open the book for the sake of glancing at it or +distracting their mind, an intense repugnance for young women educated +in a boarding school, and if it succeeds in doing so, its services to +the public will have already proved considerable. + + + + +MEDITATION VII. OF THE HONEYMOON. + +If our meditations prove that it is almost impossible for a married +woman to remain virtuous in France, our enumeration of the celibates and +the predestined, our remarks upon the education of girls, and our +rapid survey of the difficulties which attend the choice of a wife +will explain up to a certain point this national frailty. Thus, after +indicating frankly the aching malady under which the social slate is +laboring, we have sought for the causes in the imperfection of the laws, +in the irrational condition of our manners, in the incapacity of our +minds, and in the contradictions which characterize our habits. A single +point still claims our observation, and that is the first onslaught of +the evil we are confronting. + +We reach this first question on approaching the high problems suggested +by the honeymoon; and although we find here the starting point of all +the phenomena of married life, it appears to us to be the brilliant +link round which are clustered all our observations, our axioms, our +problems, which have been scattered deliberately among the wise quips +which our loquacious meditations retail. The honeymoon would seem to be, +if we may use the expression, the apogee of that analysis to which +we must apply ourselves, before engaging in battle our two imaginary +champions. + +The expression _honeymoon_ is an Anglicism, which has become an idiom in +all languages, so gracefully does it depict the nuptial season which is +so fugitive, and during which life is nothing but sweetness and rapture; +the expression survives as illusions and errors survive, for it contains +the most odious of falsehoods. If this season is presented to us as a +nymph crowned with fresh flowers, caressing as a siren, it is because in +it is unhappiness personified and unhappiness generally comes during the +indulgence of folly. + +The married couple who intend to love each other during their whole life +have no notion of a honeymoon; for them it has no existence, or rather +its existence is perennial; they are like the immortals who do not +understand death. But the consideration of this happiness is not germane +to our book; and for our readers marriage is under the influence of two +moons, the honeymoon and the Red-moon. This last terminates its course +by a revolution, which changes it to a crescent; and when once it rises +upon a home its light there is eternal. + +How can the honeymoon rise upon two beings who cannot possibly love each +other? + +How can it set, when once it has risen? + +Have all marriages their honeymoon? + +Let us proceed to answer these questions in order. + +It is in this connection that the admirable education which we give to +girls, and the wise provisions made by the law under which men marry, +bear all their fruit. Let us examine the circumstances which precede and +attend those marriages which are least disastrous. + +The tone of our morals develops in the young girl whom you make your +wife a curiosity which is naturally excessive; but as mothers in France +pique themselves on exposing their girls every day to the fire which +they do not allow to scorch them, this curiosity has no limit. + +Her profound ignorance of the mysteries of marriage conceals from this +creature, who is as innocent as she is crafty, a clear view of the +dangers by which marriage is followed; and as marriage is incessantly +described to her as an epoch in which tyranny and liberty equally +prevail, and in which enjoyment and supremacy are to be indulged in, +her desires are intensified by all her interest in an existence as yet +unfulfilled; for her to marry is to be called up from nothingness into +life! + +If she has a disposition for happiness, for religion, for morality, +the voices of the law and of her mother have repeated to her that this +happiness can only come to her from you. + +Obedience if it is not virtue, is at least a necessary thing with +her; for she expects everything from you. In the first place, society +sanctions the slavery of a wife, but she does not conceive even the wish +to be free, for she feels herself weak, timid and ignorant. + +Of course she tries to please you, unless a chance error is committed, +or she is seized by a repugnance which it would be unpardonable in you +not to divine. She tries to please because she does not know you. + +In a word, in order to complete your triumph, you take her at a moment +when nature demands, often with some violence, the pleasure of which you +are the dispenser. Like St. Peter you hold the keys of Paradise. + +I would ask of any reasonable creature, would a demon marshal round the +angel whose ruin he had vowed all the elements of disaster with more +solicitude than that with which good morals conspire against the +happiness of a husband? Are you not a king surrounded by flatterers? + +This young girl, with all her ignorance and all her desires, committed +to the mercy of a man who, even though he be in love, cannot know her +shrinking and secret emotions, will submit to him with a certain sense +of shame, and will be obedient and complaisant so long as her young +imagination persuades her to expect the pleasure or the happiness of +that morrow which never dawns. + +In this unnatural situation social laws and the laws of nature are in +conflict, but the young girl obediently abandons herself to it, and, +from motives of self-interest, suffers in silence. Her obedience is a +speculation; her complaisance is a hope; her devotion to you is a +sort of vocation, of which you reap the advantage; and her silence is +generosity. She will remain the victim of your caprices so long as she +does not understand them; she will suffer from the limitations of your +character until she has studied it; she will sacrifice herself without +love, because she believed in the show of passion you made at the first +moment of possession; she will no longer be silent when once she has +learned the uselessness of her sacrifices. + +And then the morning arrives when the inconsistencies which have +prevailed in this union rise up like branches of a tree bent down for +a moment under a weight which has been gradually lightened. You have +mistaken for love the negative attitude of a young girl who was waiting +for happiness, who flew in advance of your desires, in the hope that +you would go forward in anticipation of hers, and who did not dare +to complain of the secret unhappiness, for which she at first accused +herself. What man could fail to be the dupe of a delusion prepared at +such long range, and in which a young innocent woman is at once the +accomplice and the victim? Unless you were a divine being it would +be impossible for you to escape the fascination with which nature and +society have surrounded you. Is not a snare set in everything which +surrounds you on the outside and influences you within? For in order to +be happy, is it not necessary to control the impetuous desires of your +senses? Where is the powerful barrier to restrain her, raised by the +light hand of a woman whom you wish to please, because you do not +possess? Moreover, you have caused your troops to parade and march by, +when there was no one at the window; you have discharged your fireworks +whose framework alone was left, when your guest arrived to see them. +Your wife, before the pledges of marriage, was like a Mohican at +the Opera: the teacher becomes listless, when the savage begins to +understand. + + + LVI. + In married life, the moment when two hearts come to understand each +other is sudden as a flash of lightning, and never returns, when once it +is passed. + + +This first entrance into life of two persons, during which a woman is +encouraged by the hope of happiness, by the still fresh sentiment of her +married duty, by the wish to please, by the sense of virtue which begins +to be so attractive as soon as it shows love to be in harmony with duty, +is called the honeymoon. How can it last long between two beings who are +united for their whole life, unless they know each other perfectly? If +there is one thing which ought to cause astonishment it is this, that +the deplorable absurdities which our manners heap up around the nuptial +couch give birth to so few hatreds! But that the life of the wise man +is a calm current, and that of the prodigal a cataract; that the child, +whose thoughtless hands have stripped the leaves from every rose upon +his pathway, finds nothing but thorns on his return, that the man who +in his wild youth has squandered a million, will never enjoy, during his +life, the income of forty thousand francs, which this million would have +provided--are trite commonplaces, if one thinks of the moral theory of +life; but new discoveries, if we consider the conduct of most men. You +may see here a true image of all honeymoons; this is their history, this +is the plain fact and not the cause that underlies it. + +But that men endowed with a certain power of thought by a privileged +education, and accustomed to think deliberately, in order to shine in +politics, literature, art, commerce or private life--that these men +should all marry with the intention of being happy, of governing a wife, +either by love or by force, and should all tumble into the same pitfall +and should become foolish, after having enjoyed a certain happiness for +a certain time,--this is certainly a problem whose solution is to be +found rather in the unknown depths of the human soul, than in the quasi +physical truths, on the basis of which we have hitherto attempted to +explain some of these phenomena. The risky search for the secret laws, +which almost all men are bound to violate without knowing it, under +these circumstances, promises abundant glory for any one even though he +make shipwreck in the enterprise upon which we now venture to set forth. +Let us then make the attempt. + +In spite of all that fools have to say about the difficulty they have +had in explaining love, there are certain principles relating to it +as infallible as those of geometry; but in each character these are +modified according to its tendency; hence the caprices of love, which +are due to the infinite number of varying temperaments. If we were +permitted never to see the various effects of light without also +perceiving on what they were based, many minds would refuse to believe +in the movement of the sun and in its oneness. Let the blind men cry +out as they like; I boast with Socrates, although I am not as wise as +he was, that I know of naught save love; and I intend to attempt the +formulation of some of its precepts, in order to spare married people +the trouble of cudgeling their brains; they would soon reach the limit +of their wit. + +Now all the preceding observations may be resolved into a single +proposition, which may be considered either the first or last term in +this secret theory of love, whose statement would end by wearying us, if +we did not bring it to a prompt conclusion. This principle is contained +in the following formula: + + + LVII. + Between two beings susceptible of love, the duration of passion is in +proportion to the original resistance of the woman, or to the obstacles +which the accidents of social life put in the way of your happiness. + + +If you have desired your object only for one day, your love perhaps will +not last more than three nights. Where must we seek for the causes of +this law? I do not know. If you cast your eyes around you, you will find +abundant proof of this rule; in the vegetable world the plants which +take the longest time to grow are those which promise to have the +longest life; in the moral order of things the works produced yesterday +die to-morrow; in the physical world the womb which infringes the laws +of gestation bears dead fruit. In everything, a work which is permanent +has been brooded over by time for a long period. A long future requires +a long past. If love is a child, passion is a man. This general law, +which all men obey, to which all beings and all sentiments must submit, +is precisely that which every marriage infringes, as we have plainly +shown. This principle has given rise to the love tales of the Middle +Ages; the Amadises, the Lancelots, the Tristans of ballad literature, +whose constancy may justly be called fabulous, are allegories of the +national mythology which our imitation of Greek literature nipped in the +bud. These fascinating characters, outlined by the imagination of the +troubadours, set their seal and sanction upon this truth. + + + LVIII. + We do not attach ourselves permanently to any possessions, excepting +in proportion to the trouble, toil and longing which they have cost us. + + + All our meditations have revealed to us about the basis of the +primordial law of love is comprised in the following axiom, which is at +the same time the principle and the result of the law. + + + LIX. + In every case we receive only in proportion to what we give. + + +This last principle is so self-evident that we will not attempt to +demonstrate it. We merely add a single observation which appears to +us of some importance. The writer who said: “Everything is true, and +everything is false,” announced a fact which the human intellect, +naturally prone to sophism, interprets as it chooses, but it really +seems as though human affairs have as many facets as there are minds +that contemplate them. This fact may be detailed as follows: + +There cannot be found, in all creation, a single law which is not +counterbalanced by a law exactly contrary to it; life in everything is +maintained by the equilibrium of two opposing forces. So in the present +subject, as regards love, if you give too much, you will not receive +enough. The mother who shows her children her whole tenderness calls +forth their ingratitude, and ingratitude is occasioned, perhaps, by +the impossibility of reciprocation. The wife who loves more than she is +loved must necessarily be the object of tyranny. Durable love is that +which always keeps the forces of two human beings in equilibrium. Now +this equilibrium may be maintained permanently; the one who loves the +more ought to stop at the point of the one who loves the less. And is it +not, after all the sweetest sacrifice that a loving heart can make, that +love should so accommodate itself as to adjust the inequality? + +What sentiment of admiration must rise in the soul of a philosopher +on discovering that there is, perhaps, but one single principle in the +world, as there is but one God; and that our ideas and our affections +are subject to the same laws which cause the sun to rise, the flowers to +bloom, the universe to teem with life! + +Perhaps, we ought to seek in the metaphysics of love the reasons for the +following proposition, which throws the most vivid light on the question +of honeymoons and of Red-moons: + + + THEOREM. + + Man goes from aversion to love; but if he has begun by loving, and + afterwards comes to feel aversion, he never returns to love. + + +In certain human organisms the feelings are dwarfed, as the thought may +be in certain sterile imaginations. Thus, just as some minds have the +faculty of comprehending the connections existing between different +things without formal deduction; and as they have the faculty of seizing +upon each formula separately, without combining them, or without +the power of insight, comparison and expression; so in the same way, +different souls may have more or less imperfect ideas of the various +sentiments. Talent in love, as in every other art, consists in the power +of forming a conception combined with the power of carrying it out. The +world is full of people who sing airs, but who omit the _ritornello_, +who have quarters of an idea, as they have quarters of sentiment, but +who can no more co-ordinate the movements of their affections than +of their thoughts. In a word, they are incomplete. Unite a fine +intelligence with a dwarfed intelligence and you precipitate a disaster; +for it is necessary that equilibrium be preserved in everything. + +We leave to the philosophers of the boudoir or to the sages of the +back parlor to investigate the thousand ways in which men of different +temperaments, intellects, social positions and fortunes disturb this +equilibrium. Meanwhile we will proceed to examine the last cause for the +setting of the honeymoon and the rising of the Red-moon. + +There is in life one principle more potent than life itself. It is a +movement whose celerity springs from an unknown motive power. Man is +no more acquainted with the secret of this revolution than the earth is +aware of that which causes her rotation. A certain something, which +I gladly call the current of life, bears along our choicest thoughts, +makes use of most people’s will and carries us on in spite of ourselves. +Thus, a man of common-sense, who never fails to pay his bills, if he is +a merchant, a man who has been able to escape death, or what perhaps is +more trying, sickness, by the observation of a certain easy but daily +regimen, is completely and duly nailed up between the four planks of his +coffin, after having said every evening: “Dear me! to-morrow I will not +forget my pills!” How are we to explain this magic spell which rules all +the affairs of life? Do men submit to it from a want of energy? Men who +have the strongest wills are subject to it. Is it default of memory? +People who possess this faculty in the highest degree yield to its +fascination. + +Every one can recognize the operation of this influence in the case of +his neighbor, and it is one of the things which exclude the majority of +husbands from the honeymoon. It is thus that the wise man, survivor of +all reefs and shoals, such as we have pointed out, sometimes falls into +the snares which he himself has set. + +I have myself noticed that man deals with marriage and its dangers +in very much the same way that he deals with wigs; and perhaps the +following phases of thought concerning wigs may furnish a formula for +human life in general. + +FIRST EPOCH.--Is it possible that I shall ever have white hair? + +SECOND EPOCH.--In any case, if I have white hair, I shall never wear a +wig. Good Lord! what is more ugly than a wig? + +One morning you hear a young voice, which love much oftener makes to +vibrate than lulls to silence, exclaiming: + +“Well, I declare! You have a white hair!” + +THIRD EPOCH.--Why not wear a well-made wig which people would not +notice? There is a certain merit in deceiving everybody; besides, a wig +keeps you warm, prevents taking cold, etc. + +FOURTH EPOCH.--The wig is so skillfully put on that you deceive every +one who does not know you. + +The wig takes up all your attention, and _amour-propre_ makes you every +morning as busy as the most skillful hairdresser. + +FIFTH EPOCH.--The neglected wig. “Good heavens! How tedious it is, to +have to go with bare head every evening, and to curl one’s wig every +morning!” + +SIXTH EPOCH.--The wig allows certain white hairs to escape; it is put on +awry and the observer perceives on the back of your neck a white line, +which contrasts with the deep tints pushed back by the collar of your +coat. + +SEVENTH EPOCH.--Your wig is as scraggy as dog’s tooth grass; and--excuse +the expression--you are making fun of your wig. + +“Sir,” said one of the most powerful feminine intelligences which have +condescended to enlighten me on some of the most obscure passages in my +book, “what do you mean by this wig?” + +“Madame,” I answered, “when a man falls into a mood of indifference with +regard to his wig, he is,--he is--what your husband probably is not.” + +“But my husband is not--” (she paused and thought for a moment). “He is +not amiable; he is not--well, he is not--of an even temper; he is not--” + +“Then, madame, he would doubtless be indifferent to his wig!” + +We looked at each other, she with a well-assumed air of dignity, I with +a suppressed smile. + +“I see,” said I, “that we must pay special respect to the ears of the +little sex, for they are the only chaste things about them.” + +I assumed the attitude of a man who has something of importance to +disclose, and the fair dame lowered her eyes, as if she had some reason +to blush. + +“Madame, in these days a minister is not hanged, as once upon a time, +for saying yes or no; a Chateaubriand would scarcely torture Francoise +de Foix, and we wear no longer at our side a long sword ready to avenge +an insult. Now in a century when civilization has made such rapid +progress, when we can learn a science in twenty-four lessons, everything +must follow this race after perfection. We can no longer speak the +manly, rude, coarse language of our ancestors. The age in which are +fabricated such fine, such brilliant stuffs, such elegant furniture, and +when are made such rich porcelains, must needs be the age of periphrase +and circumlocution. We must try, therefore, to coin a new word in place +of the comic expression which Moliere used; since the language of this +great man, as a contemporary author has said, is too free for ladies who +find gauze too thick for their garments. But people of the world +know, as well as the learned, how the Greeks had an innate taste for +mysteries. That poetic nation knew well how to invest with the tints +of fable the antique traditions of their history. At the voice of their +rhapsodists together with their poets and romancers, kings became +gods and their adventures of gallantry were transformed into immortal +allegories. According to M. Chompre, licentiate in law, the classic +author of the _Dictionary of Mythology_, the labyrinth was ‘an enclosure +planted with trees and adorned with buildings arranged in such a way +that when a young man once entered, he could no more find his way out.’ +Here and there flowery thickets were presented to his view, but in the +midst of a multitude of alleys, which crossed and recrossed his path and +bore the appearance of a uniform passage, among the briars, rocks and +thorns, the patient found himself in combat with an animal called the +Minotaur. + +“Now, madame, if you will allow me the honor of calling to your mind +the fact that the Minotaur was of all known beasts that which Mythology +distinguishes as the most dangerous; that in order to save themselves +from his ravages, the Athenians were bound to deliver to him, every +single year, fifty virgins; you will perhaps escape the error of good M. +Chompre, who saw in the labyrinth nothing but an English garden; and +you will recognize in this ingenious fable a refined allegory, or we may +better say a faithful and fearful image of the dangers of marriage. The +paintings recently discovered at Herculaneum have served to confirm +this opinion. And, as a matter of fact, learned men have for a long time +believed, in accordance with the writings of certain authors, that +the Minotaur was an animal half-man, half-bull; but the fifth panel +of ancient paintings at Herculaneum represents to us this allegorical +monster with a body entirely human; and, to take away all vestige of +doubt, he lies crushed at the feet of Theseus. Now, my dear madame, why +should we not ask Mythology to come and rescue us from that hypocrisy +which is gaining ground with us and hinders us from laughing as our +fathers laughed? And thus, since in the world a young lady does not very +well know how to spread the veil under which an honest woman hides her +behavior, in a contingency which our grandfathers would have roughly +explained by a single word, you, like a crowd of beautiful but +prevaricating ladies, you content yourselves with saying, ‘Ah! yes, +she is very amiable, but,’--but what?--‘but she is often very +inconsistent--.’ I have for a long time tried to find out the meaning of +this last word, and, above all, the figure of rhetoric by which you +make it express the opposite of that which it signifies; but all my +researches have been in vain. Vert-Vert used the word last, and was +unfortunately addressed to the innocent nuns whose infidelities did not +in any way infringe the honor of the men. When a woman is _inconsistent_ +the husband must be, according to me, _minotaurized_. If the +minotaurized man is a fine fellow, if he enjoys a certain esteem,--and +many husbands really deserve to be pitied,--then in speaking of him, you +say in a pathetic voice, ‘M. A--- is a very estimable man, his wife +is exceedingly pretty, but they say he is not happy in his domestic +relations.’ Thus, madame, the estimable man who is unhappy in his +domestic relations, the man who has an inconsistent wife, or the husband +who is minotaurized are simply husbands as they appear in Moliere. Well, +then, O goddess of modern taste, do not these expressions seem to you +characterized by a transparency chaste enough for anybody?” + +“Ah! mon Dieu!” she answered, laughing, “if the thing is the same, +what does it matter whether it be expressed in two syllables or in a +hundred?” + +She bade me good-bye, with an ironical nod and disappeared, doubtless to +join the countesses of my preface and all the metaphorical creatures, +so often employed by romance-writers as agents for the recovery or +composition of ancient manuscripts. + +As for you, the more numerous and the more real creatures who read my +book, if there are any among you who make common cause with my conjugal +champion, I give you notice that you will not at once become unhappy in +your domestic relations. A man arrives at this conjugal condition +not suddenly, but insensibly and by degrees. Many husbands have even +remained unfortunate in their domestic relations during their whole life +and have never known it. This domestic revolution develops itself in +accordance with fixed rules; for the revolutions of the honeymoon are as +regular as the phases of the moon in heaven, and are the same in every +married house. Have we not proved that moral nature, like physical +nature, has its laws? + +Your young wife will never take a lover, as we have elsewhere said, +without making serious reflections. As soon as the honeymoon wanes, you +will find that you have aroused in her a sentiment of pleasure which you +have not satisfied; you have opened to her the book of life; and she has +derived an excellent idea from the prosaic dullness which distinguishes +your complacent love, of the poetry which is the natural result when +souls and pleasures are in accord. Like a timid bird, just startled by +the report of a gun which has ceased, she puts her head out of her nest, +looks round her, and sees the world; and knowing the word of a charade +which you have played, she feels instinctively the void which exists in +your languishing passion. She divines that it is only with a lover that +she can regain the delightful exercise of her free will in love. + +You have dried the green wood in preparation for a fire. + +In the situation in which both of you find yourselves, there is no +woman, even the most virtuous, who would not be found worthy of a +_grande passion_, who has not dreamed of it, and who does not believe +that it is easily kindled, for there is always found a certain +_amour-propre_ ready to reinforce that conquered enemy--a jaded wife. + +“If the role of an honest woman were nothing more than perilous,” + said an old lady to me, “I would admit that it would serve. But it is +tiresome; and I have never met a virtuous woman who did not think about +deceiving somebody.” + +And then, before any lover presents himself, a wife discusses with +herself the legality of the act; she enters into a conflict with her +duties, with the law, with religion and with the secret desires of a +nature which knows no check-rein excepting that which she places upon +herself. And then commences for you a condition of affairs totally +new; then you receive the first intimation which nature, that good and +indulgent mother, always gives to the creatures who are exposed to any +danger. Nature has put a bell on the neck of the Minotaur, as on the +tail of that frightful snake which is the terror of travelers. And then +appear in your wife what we will call the first symptoms, and woe to +him who does not know how to contend with them. Those who in reading our +book will remember that they saw those symptoms in their own domestic +life can pass to the conclusion of this work, where they will find how +they may gain consolation. + +The situation referred to, in which a married couple bind themselves for +a longer or a shorter time, is the point from which our work starts, +as it is the end at which our observations stop. A man of intelligence +should know how to recognize the mysterious indications, the obscure +signs and the involuntary revelation which a wife unwittingly exhibits; +for the next Meditation will doubtless indicate the more evident of the +manifestations to neophytes in the sublime science of marriage. + + + + +MEDITATION VIII. OF THE FIRST SYMPTOMS. + +When your wife reaches that crisis in which we have left her, you +yourself are wrapped in a pleasant and unsuspicious security. You +have so often seen the sun that you begin to think it is shining over +everybody. You therefore give no longer that attention to the least +action of your wife, which was impelled by your first outburst of +passion. + +This indolence prevents many husbands from perceiving the symptoms +which, in their wives, herald the first storm; and this disposition +of mind has resulted in the minotaurization of more husbands than have +either opportunity, carriages, sofas and apartments in town. + +The feeling of indifference in the presence of danger is to some +degree justified by the apparent tranquillity which surrounds you. +The conspiracy which is formed against you by our million of hungry +celibates seems to be unanimous in its advance. Although all are enemies +of each other and know each other well, a sort of instinct forces them +into co-operation. + +Two persons are married. The myrmidons of the Minotaur, young and old, +have usually the politeness to leave the bride and bridegroom entirely +to themselves at first. They look upon the husband as an artisan, whose +business it is to trim, polish, cut into facets and mount the diamond, +which is to pass from hand to hand in order to be admired all around. +Moreover, the aspect of a young married couple much taken with each +other always rejoices the heart of those among the celibates who are +known as _roues_; they take good care not to disturb the excitement by +which society is to be profited; they also know that heavy showers to +not last long. They therefore keep quiet; they watch, and wait, with +incredible vigilance, for the moment when bride and groom begin to weary +of the seventh heaven. + +The tact with which celibates discover the moment when the breeze begins +to rise in a new home can only be compared to the indifference of those +husbands for whom the Red-moon rises. There is, even in intrigue, a +moment of ripeness which must be waited for. The great man is he who +anticipates the outcome of certain circumstances. Men of fifty-two, whom +we have represented as being so dangerous, know very well, for example, +that any man who offers himself as lover to a woman and is haughtily +rejected, will be received with open arms three months afterwards. But +it may be truly said that in general married people in betraying their +indifference towards each other show the same naivete with which they +first betrayed their love. At the time when you are traversing with +madame the ravishing fields of the seventh heaven--where according to +their temperament, newly married people remain encamped for a longer or +shorter time, as the preceding Meditation has proved--you go little or +not at all into society. Happy as you are in your home, if you do go +abroad, it will be for the purpose of making up a choice party and +visiting the theatre, the country, etc. From the moment you the newly +wedded make your appearance in the world again, you and your bride +together, or separately, and are seen to be attentive to each other at +balls, at parties, at all the empty amusements created to escape the +void of an unsatisfied heart, the celibates discern that your wife comes +there in search of distraction; her home, her husband are therefore +wearisome to her. + +At this point the celibate knows that half of the journey is +accomplished. At this point you are on the eve of being minotaurized, +and your wife is likely to become inconsistent; which means that she is +on the contrary likely to prove very consistent in her conduct, that she +has reasoned it out with astonishing sagacity and that you are likely +very soon to smell fire. From that moment she will not in appearance +fail in any of her duties, and will put on the colors of that virtue in +which she is most lacking. Said Crebillon: + + “Alas! + Is it right to be heir of the man who we slay?” + +Never has she seemed more anxious to please you. She will seek, as +much as possible, to allay the secret wounds which she thinks about +inflicting upon your married bliss, she will do so by those little +attentions which induce you to believe in the eternity of her love; +hence the proverb, “Happy as a fool.” But in accordance with the +character of women, they either despise their own husbands from the very +fact that they find no difficulty in deceiving them; or they hate them +when they find themselves circumvented by them; or they fall into a +condition of indifference towards them, which is a thousand times worse +than hatred. In this emergency, the first thing which may be diagnosed +in a woman is a decided oddness of behavior. A woman loves to be saved +from herself, to escape her conscience, but without the eagerness shown +in this connection by wives who are thoroughly unhappy. She dresses +herself with especial care, in order, she will tell you, to flatter your +_amour-propre_ by drawing all eyes upon her in the midst of parties and +public entertainments. + +When she returns to the bosom of her stupid home you will see that, at +times, she is gloomy and thoughtful, then suddenly laughing and gay as +if beside herself; or assuming the serious expression of a German +when he advances to the fight. Such varying moods always indicate the +terrible doubt and hesitation to which we have already referred. There +are women who read romances in order to feast upon the images of love +cleverly depicted and always varied, of love crowned yet triumphant; +or in order to familiarize themselves in thought with the perils of an +intrigue. + +She will profess the highest esteem for you, she will tell you that she +loves you as a sister; and that such reasonable friendship is the only +true, the only durable friendship, the only tie which it is the aim of +marriage to establish between man and wife. + +She will adroitly distinguish between the duties which are all she has +to perform and the rights which she can demand to exercise. + +She views with indifference, appreciated by you alone, all the details +of married happiness. This sort of happiness, perhaps, has never been +very agreeable to her and moreover it is always with her. She knows it +well, she has analyzed it; and what slight but terrible evidence comes +from these circumstances to prove to an intelligent husband that this +frail creature argues and reasons, instead of being carried away on the +tempest of passion. + + + LX. + The more a man judges the less he loves. + + +And now will burst forth from her those pleasantries at which you will +be the first to laugh and those reflections which will startle you +by their profundity; now you will see sudden changes of mood and the +caprices of a mind which hesitates. At times she will exhibit extreme +tenderness, as if she repented of her thoughts and her projects; +sometimes she will be sullen and at cross-purposes with you; in a word, +she will fulfill the _varium et mutabile femina_ which we hitherto have +had the folly to attribute to the feminine temperament. Diderot, in his +desire to explain the mutations almost atmospheric in the behavior of +women, has even gone so far as to make them the offspring of what he +calls _la bete feroce_; but we never see these whims in a woman who is +happy. + +These symptoms, light as gossamer, resemble the clouds which scarcely +break the azure surface of the sky and which they call flowers of the +storm. But soon their colors take a deeper intensity. + +In the midst of this solemn premeditation, which tends, as Madame de +Stael says, to bring more poetry into life, some women, in whom virtuous +mothers either from considerations of worldly advantage of duty or +sentiment, or through sheer hypocrisy, have inculcated steadfast +principles, take the overwhelming fancies by which they are assailed +for suggestions of the devil; and you will see them therefore trotting +regularly to mass, to midday offices, even to vespers. This false +devotion exhibits itself, first of all in the shape of pretty books of +devotion in a costly binding, by the aid of which these dear sinners +attempt in vain to fulfill the duties imposed by religion, and long +neglected for the pleasures of marriage. + +Now here we will lay down a principle, and you must engrave it on your +memory in letters of fire. + +When a young woman suddenly takes up religious practices which she has +before abandoned, this new order of life always conceals a motive highly +significant, in view of her husband’s happiness. In the case of at least +seventy-nine women out of a hundred this return to God proves that they +have been inconsistent, or that they intend to become so. + +But a symptom more significant still and more decisive, and one that +every husband should recognize under pain of being considered a fool, is +this: + +At the time when both of you are immersed in the illusive delights of +the honeymoon, your wife, as one devoted to you, would constantly carry +out your will. She was happy in the power of showing the ready will, +which both of you mistook for love, and she would have liked for you to +have asked her to walk on the edge of the roof, and immediately, nimble +as a squirrel, she would have run over the tiles. In a word, she found +an ineffable delight in sacrificing to you that _ego_ which made her a +being distinct from yours. She had identified herself with your nature +and was obedient to that vow of the heart, _Una caro_. + +All this delightful promptness of an earlier day gradually faded away. +Wounded to find her will counted as nothing, your wife will attempt, +nevertheless, to reassert it by means of a system developed gradually, +and from day to day, with increased energy. + +This system is founded upon what we may call the dignity of the married +woman. The first effect of this system is to mingle with your pleasures +a certain reserve and a certain lukewarmness, of which you are the sole +judge. + +According to the greater or lesser violence of your sensual passion, you +have perhaps discerned some of those twenty-two pleasures which in +other times created in Greece twenty-two kinds of courtesans, devoted +especially to these delicate branches of the same art. Ignorant and +simple, curious and full of hope, your young wife may have taken +some degrees in this science as rare as it is unknown, and which we +especially commend to the attention of the future author of _Physiology +of Pleasure_. + +Lacking all these different kinds of pleasure, all these caprices of +soul, all these arrows of love, you are reduced to the most common of +love fashions, of that primitive and innocent wedding gait, the calm +homage which the innocent Adam rendered to our common Mother and which +doubtless suggested to the Serpent the idea of taking them in. But a +symptom so complete is not frequent. Most married couples are too good +Christians to follow the usages of pagan Greece, so we have ranged, +among the last symptoms, the appearance in the calm nuptial couch of +those shameless pleasures which spring generally from lawless passion. +In their proper time and place we will treat more fully of this +fascinating diagnostic; at this point, things are reduced to a +listlessness and conjugal repugnance which you alone are in a condition +to appreciate. + +At the same time that she is ennobling by her dignity the objects of +marriage, your wife will pretend that she ought to have her opinion and +you yours. “In marrying,” she will say, “a woman does not vow that she +will abdicate the throne of reason. Are women then really slaves? Human +laws can fetter the body; but the mind!--ah! God has placed it so near +Himself that no human hand can touch it.” + +These ideas necessarily proceed either from the too liberal teachings +which you have allowed her to receive, or from some reflections which +you have permitted her to make. A whole Meditation has been devoted to +_Home Instruction_. + +Then your wife begins to say, “_My_ chamber, _my_ bed, _my_ apartment.” + To many of your questions she will reply, “But, my dear, this is no +business of yours!” Or: “Men have their part in the direction of +the house, and women have theirs.” Or, laughing at men who meddle in +household affairs, she will affirm that “men do not understand some +things.” + +The number of things which you do not understand increases day by day. + +One fine morning, you will see in your little church two altars, where +before you never worshiped but at one. The altar of your wife and +your own altar have become distinct, and this distinction will go +on increasing, always in accordance with the system founded upon the +dignity of woman. + +Then the following ideas will appear, and they will be inculcated in you +whether you like it or not, by means of a living force very ancient +in origin and little known. Steam-power, horse-power, man-power, and +water-power are good inventions, but nature has provided women with a +moral power, in comparison with which all other powers are nothing; we +may call it _rattle-power_. This force consists in a continuance of the +same sound, in an exact repetition of the same words, in a reversion, +over and over again, to the same ideas, and this so unvaried, that from +hearing them over and over again you will admit them, in order to be +delivered from the discussion. Thus the power of the rattle will prove +to you: + +That you are very fortunate to have such an excellent wife; + +That she has done you too much honor in marrying you; + +That women often see clearer than men; + +That you ought to take the advice of your wife in everything, and almost +always ought to follow it; + +That you ought to respect the mother of your children, to honor her and +have confidence in her; + +That the best way to escape being deceived, is to rely upon a wife’s +refinement, for according to certain old ideas which we have had the +weakness to give credit, it is impossible for a man to prevent his wife +from minotaurizing him; + +That a lawful wife is a man’s best friend; + +That a woman is mistress in her own house and queen in her drawing-room, +etc. + +Those who wish to oppose a firm resistance to a woman’s conquest, +effected by means of her dignity over man’s power, fall into the +category of the predestined. + +At first, quarrels arise which in the eye of wives give an air of +tyranny to husbands. The tyranny of a husband is always a terrible +excuse for inconsistency in a wife. Then, in their frivolous discussions +they are enabled to prove to their families and to ours, to everybody +and to ourselves, that we are in the wrong. If, for the sake of peace, +or from love, you acknowledge the pretended rights of women, you yield +an advantage to your wife by which she will profit eternally. A husband, +like a government, ought never to acknowledge a mistake. In case you do +so, your power will be outflanked by the subtle artifices of feminine +dignity; then all will be lost; from that moment she will advance from +concession to concession until she has driven you from her bed. + +The woman being shrewd, intelligent, sarcastic and having leisure to +meditate over an ironical phrase, can easily turn you into ridicule +during a momentary clash of opinions. The day on which she turns you +into ridicule, sees the end of your happiness. Your power has expired. +A woman who has laughed at her husband cannot henceforth love him. A man +should be, to the woman who is in love with him, a being full of +power, of greatness, and always imposing. A family cannot exist without +despotism. Think of that, ye nations! + +Now the difficult course which a man has to steer in presence of such +serious incidents as these, is what we may call the _haute politique_ of +marriage, and is the subject of the second and third parts of our book. +That breviary of marital Machiavelism will teach you the manner in which +you may grow to greatness within that frivolous mind, within that soul +of lacework, to use Napoleon’s phrase. You may learn how a man may +exhibit a soul of steel, may enter upon this little domestic war without +ever yielding the empire of his will, and may do so without compromising +his happiness. For if you exhibit any tendency to abdication, your wife +will despise you, for the sole reason that she has discovered you to be +destitute of mental vigor; you are no longer a _man_ to her. + +But we have not yet reached the point at which are to be developed those +theories and principles, by means of which a man may unite elegance of +manners with severity of measures; let it suffice us, for the moment, +to point out the importance of impending events and let us pursue our +theme. + +At this fatal epoch, you will see that she is adroitly setting up a +right to go out alone. + +You were at one time her god, her idol. She has now reached that height +of devotion at which it is permitted to see holes in the garments of the +saints. + +“Oh, mon Dieu! My dear,” said Madame de la Valliere to her husband, “how +badly you wear your sword! M. de Richelieu has a way of making it hang +straight at his side, which you ought to try to imitate; it is in much +better taste.” + +“My dear, you could not tell me in a more tactful manner that we have +been married five months!” replied the Duke, whose repartee made his +fortune in the reign of Louis XV. + +She will study your character in order to find weapons against you. Such +a study, which love would hold in horror, reveals itself in the thousand +little traps which she lays purposely to make you scold her; when a +woman has no excuse for minotaurizing her husband she sets to work to +make one. + +She will perhaps begin dinner without waiting for you. + +If you drive through the middle of the town, she will point out certain +objects which escaped your notice; she will sing before you without +feeling afraid; she will interrupt you, sometimes vouchsafe no reply to +you, and will prove to you, in a thousand different ways, that she is +enjoying at your side the use of all her faculties and exercising her +private judgment. + +She will try to abolish entirely your influence in the management of +the house and to become sole mistress of your fortune. At first this +struggle will serve as a distraction for her soul, whether it be empty +or in too violent commotion; next, she will find in your opposition a +new motive for ridicule. Slang expressions will not fail her, and in +France we are so quickly vanquished by the ironical smile of another! + +At other times headaches and nervous attacks make their appearance; +but these symptoms furnish matter for a whole future Meditation. In the +world she will speak of you without blushing, and will gaze at you with +assurance. She will begin to blame your least actions because they are +at variance with her ideas, or her secret intentions. She will take no +care of what pertains to you, she will not even know whether you have +all you need. You are no longer her paragon. + +In imitation of Louis XIV, who carried to his mistresses the bouquets of +orange blossoms which the head gardener of Versailles put on his table +every morning, M. de Vivonne used almost every day to give his wife +choice flowers during the early period of his marriage. One morning he +found the bouquet lying on the side table without having been placed, as +usual, in a vase of water. + +“Oh! Oh!” said he, “if I am not a cuckold, I shall very soon be one.” + +You go on a journey for eight days and you receive no letters, or you +receive one, three pages of which are blank.--Symptom. + +You come home mounted on a valuable horse which you like very much, and +between her kisses your wife shows her uneasiness about the horse and +his fodder.--Symptom. + +To these features of the case, you will be able to add others. We shall +endeavor in the present volume always to paint things in bold fresco +style and leave the miniatures to you. According to the characters +concerned, the indications which we are describing, veiled under +the incidents of ordinary life, are of infinite variety. One man may +discover a symptom in the way a shawl is put on, while another needs to +receive a fillip to his intellect, in order to notice the indifference +of his mate. + +Some fine spring morning, the day after a ball, or the eve of a country +party, this situation reaches its last phase; your wife is listless +and the happiness within her reach has no more attractions for her. Her +mind, her imagination, perhaps her natural caprices call for a +lover. Nevertheless, she dare not yet embark upon an intrigue whose +consequences and details fill her with dread. You are still there for +some purpose or other; you are a weight in the balance, although a very +light one. On the other hand, the lover presents himself arrayed in all +the graces of novelty and all the charms of mystery. The conflict which +has arisen in the heart of your wife becomes, in presence of the enemy, +more real and more full of peril than before. Very soon the more dangers +and risks there are to be run, the more she burns to plunge into that +delicious gulf of fear, enjoyment, anguish and delight. Her imagination +kindles and sparkles, her future life rises before her eyes, colored +with romantic and mysterious hues. Her soul discovers that existence has +already taken its tone from this struggle which to a woman has so much +solemnity in it. All is agitation, all is fire, all is commotion within +her. She lives with three times as much intensity as before, and judges +the future by the present. The little pleasure which you have lavished +upon her bears witness against you; for she is not excited as much by +the pleasures which she has received, as by those which she is yet to +enjoy; does not imagination show her that her happiness will be keener +with this lover, whom the laws deny her, than with you? And then, she +finds enjoyment even in her terror and terror in her enjoyment. Then +she falls in love with this imminent danger, this sword of Damocles hung +over her head by you yourself, thus preferring the delirious agonies +of such a passion, to that conjugal inanity which is worse to her than +death, to that indifference which is less a sentiment than the absence +of all sentiment. + +You, who must go to pay your respects to the Minister of Finance, to +write memorandums at the bank, to make your reports at the Bourse, or to +speak in the Chamber; you, young men, who have repeated with many others +in our first Meditation the oath that you will defend your happiness in +defending your wife, what can you oppose to these desires of hers which +are so natural? For, with these creatures of fire, to live is to feel; +the moment they cease to experience emotion they are dead. The law in +virtue of which you take your position produces in her this involuntary +act of minotaurism. “There is one sequel,” said D’Alembert, “to the +laws of movement.” Well, then, where are your means of defence?--Where, +indeed? + +Alas! if your wife has not yet kissed the apple of the Serpent, the +Serpent stands before her; you sleep, we are awake, and our book begins. + +Without inquiring how many husbands, among the five hundred thousand +which this book concerns, will be left with the predestined; how +many have contracted unfortunate marriages; how many have made a bad +beginning with their wives; and without wishing to ask if there be many +or few of this numerous band who can satisfy the conditions required for +struggling against the danger which is impending, we intend to expound +in the second and third part of this work the methods of fighting the +Minotaur and keeping intact the virtue of wives. But if fate, the devil, +the celibate, opportunity, desire your ruin, in recognizing the progress +of all intrigues, in joining in the battles which are fought by every +home, you will possibly be able to find some consolation. Many people +have such a happy disposition, that on showing to them the condition of +things and explaining to them the why and the wherefore, they scratch +their foreheads, rub their hands, stamp on the ground, and are +satisfied. + + + + +MEDITATION IX. EPILOGUE. + +Faithful to our promise, this first part has indicated the general +causes which bring all marriages to the crises which we are about to +describe; and, in tracing the steps of this conjugal preamble, we have +also pointed out the way in which the catastrophe is to be avoided, for +we have pointed out the errors by which it is brought about. + +But these first considerations would be incomplete if, after endeavoring +to throw some light upon the inconsistency of our ideas, of our manners +and of our laws, with regard to a question which concerns the life of +almost all living beings, we did not endeavor to make plain, in a short +peroration, the political causes of the infirmity which pervades all +modern society. After having exposed the secret vices of marriage, would +it not be an inquiry worthy of philosophers to search out the causes +which have rendered it so vicious? + +The system of law and of manners which so far directs women and controls +marriage in France, is the outcome of ancient beliefs and traditions +which are no longer in accordance with the eternal principles of reason +and of justice, brought to light by the great Revolution of 1789. + +Three great disturbances have agitated France; the conquest of the +country by the Romans, the establishment of Christianity and the +invasion of the Franks. Each of these events has left a deep impress +upon the soil, upon the laws, upon the manners and upon the intellect of +the nation. + +Greece having one foot on Europe and the other on Asia, was influenced +by her voluptuous climate in the choice of her marriage institutions; +she received them from the East, where her philosophers, her legislators +and her poets went to study the abstruse antiquities of Egypt and +Chaldea. The absolute seclusion of women which was necessitated under +the burning sun of Asia prevailed under the laws of Greece and Ionia. +The women remained in confinement within the marbles of the gyneceum. +The country was reduced to the condition of a city, to a narrow +territory, and the courtesans who were connected with art and religion +by so many ties, were sufficient to satisfy the first passions of the +young men, who were few in number, since their strength was elsewhere +taken up in the violent exercises of that training which was demanded of +them by the military system of those heroic times. + +At the beginning of her royal career Rome, having sent to Greece to seek +such principles of legislation as might suit the sky of Italy, stamped +upon the forehead of the married woman the brand of complete servitude. +The senate understood the importance of virtue in a republic, hence +the severity of manners in the excessive development of the marital +and paternal power. The dependence of the woman on her husband is found +inscribed on every code. The seclusion prescribed by the East becomes +a duty, a moral obligation, a virtue. On these principles were raised +temples to modesty and temples consecrated to the sanctity of marriage; +hence, sprang the institution of censors, the law of dowries, the +sumptuary laws, the respect for matrons and all the characteristics +of the Roman law. Moreover, three acts of feminine violation either +accomplished or attempted, produced three revolutions! And was it not +a grand event, sanctioned by the decrees of the country, that these +illustrious women should make their appearances on the political +arena! Those noble Roman women, who were obliged to be either brides +or mothers, passed their life in retirement engaged in educating the +masters of the world. Rome had no courtesans because the youth of the +city were engaged in eternal war. If, later on, dissoluteness appeared, +it merely resulted from the despotism of emperors; and still the +prejudices founded upon ancient manners were so influential that Rome +never saw a woman on a stage. These facts are not put forth idly in +scanning the history of marriage in France. + +After the conquest of Gaul, the Romans imposed their laws upon the +conquered; but they were incapable of destroying both the profound +respect which our ancestors entertained for women and the ancient +superstitions which made women the immediate oracles of God. The Roman +laws ended by prevailing, to the exclusion of all others, in this +country once known as the “land of written law,” or _Gallia togata_, +and their ideas of marriage penetrated more or less into the “land of +customs.” + +But, during the conflict of laws with manners, the Franks invaded the +Gauls and gave to the country the dear name of France. These warriors +came from the North and brought the system of gallantry which had +originated in their western regions, where the mingling of the sexes did +not require in those icy climates the jealous precautions of the East. +The women of that time elevated the privations of that kind of life by +the exaltation of their sentiments. The drowsy minds of the day made +necessary those varied forms of delicate solicitation, that versatility +of address, the fancied repulse of coquetry, which belong to the system +whose principles have been unfolded in our First Part, as admirably +suited to the temperate clime of France. + +To the East, then, belong the passion and the delirium of passion, the +long brown hair, the harem, the amorous divinities, the splendor, the +poetry of love and the monuments of love.--To the West, the liberty of +wives, the sovereignty of their blond locks, gallantry, the fairy life +of love, the secrecy of passion, the profound ecstasy of the soul, the +sweet feelings of melancholy and the constancy of love. + +These two systems, starting from opposite points of the globe, have +come into collision in France; in France, where one part of the country, +Languedoc, was attracted by Oriental traditions, while the other, +Languedoil, was the native land of a creed which attributes to woman +a magical power. In the Languedoil, love necessitates mystery, in the +Languedoc, to see is to love. + +At the height of this struggle came the triumphant entry of Christianity +into France, and there it was preached by women, and there it +consecrated the divinity of a woman who in the forests of Brittany, of +Vendee and of Ardennes took, under the name of Notre-Dame, the place of +more than one idol in the hollow of old Druidic oaks. + +If the religion of Christ, which is above all things a code of morality +and politics, gave a soul to all living beings, proclaimed that equality +of all in the sight of God, and by such principles as these +fortified the chivalric sentiments of the North, this advantage was +counterbalanced by the fact, that the sovereign pontiff resided at +Rome, of which seat he considered himself the lawful heir, through the +universality of the Latin tongue, which became that of Europe during the +Middle Ages, and through the keen interest taken by monks, writers and +lawyers in establishing the ascendency of certain codes, discovered by a +soldier in the sack of Amalfi. + +These two principles of the servitude and the sovereignty of women +retain possession of the ground, each of them defended by fresh +arguments. + +The Salic law, which was a legal error, was a triumph for the principle +of political and civil servitude for women, but it did not diminish the +power which French manners accorded them, for the enthusiasm of chivalry +which prevailed in Europe supplanted the party of manners against the +party of law. + +And in this way was created that strange phenomenon which since that +time has characterized both our national despotism and our legislation; +for ever since those epochs which seemed to presage the Revolution, +when the spirit of philosophy rose and reflected upon the history of +the past, France has been the prey of many convulsions. Feudalism, the +Crusades, the Reformation, the struggle between the monarchy and the +aristocracy. Despotism and Priestcraft have so closely held the country +within their clutches, that woman still remains the subject of strange +counter-opinions, each springing from one of the three great movements +to which we have referred. Was it possible that the woman question +should be discussed and woman’s political education and marriage should +be ventilated when feudalism threatened the throne, when reform menaced +both king and barons, and the people, between the hierarchy and the +empire, were forgotten? According to a saying of Madame Necker, women, +amid these great movements, were like the cotton wool put into a case +of porcelain. They were counted for nothing, but without them everything +would have been broken. + +A married woman, then, in France presents the spectacle of a queen out +at service, of a slave, at once free and a prisoner; a collision between +these two principles which frequently occurred, produced odd situations +by the thousand. And then, woman was physically little understood, and +what was actually sickness in her, was considered a prodigy, witchcraft +or monstrous turpitude. In those days these creatures, treated by +the law as reckless children, and put under guardianship, were by the +manners of the time deified and adored. Like the freedmen of emperors, +they disposed of crowns, they decided battles, they awarded fortunes, +they inspired crimes and revolutions, wonderful acts of virtue, by the +mere flash of their glances, and yet they possessed nothing and were +not even possessors of themselves. They were equally fortunate and +unfortunate. Armed with their weakness and strong in instinct, they +launched out far beyond the sphere which the law allotted them, showing +themselves omnipotent for evil, but impotent for good; without merit in +the virtues that were imposed upon them, without excuse in their vices; +accused of ignorance and yet denied an education; neither altogether +mothers nor altogether wives. Having all the time to conceal their +passions, while they fostered them, they submitted to the coquetry of +the Franks, while they were obliged like Roman women, to stay within the +ramparts of their castles and bring up those who were to be warriors. +While no system was definitely decided upon by legislation as to the +position of women, their minds were left to follow their inclinations, +and there are found among them as many who resemble Marion Delorme as +those who resemble Cornelia; there are vices among them, but there are +as many virtues. These were creatures as incomplete as the laws which +governed them; they were considered by some as a being midway between +man and the lower animals, as a malignant beast which the laws could not +too closely fetter, and which nature had destined, with so many other +things, to serve the pleasure of men; while others held woman to be an +angel in exile, a source of happiness and love, the only creature who +responded to the highest feelings of man, while her miseries were to be +recompensed by the idolatry of every heart. How could the consistency, +which was wanting in a political system, be expected in the general +manners of the nation? + +And so woman became what circumstances and men made her, instead of +being what the climate and native institutions should have made +her; sold, married against her taste, in accordance with the _Patria +potestas_ of the Romans, at the same time that she fell under the +marital despotism which desired her seclusion, she found herself tempted +to take the only reprisals which were within her power. Then she became +a dissolute creature, as soon as men ceased to be intently occupied in +intestine war, for the same reason that she was a virtuous woman in +the midst of civil disturbances. Every educated man can fill in this +outline, for we seek from movements like these the lessons and not the +poetic suggestion which they yield. + +The Revolution was too entirely occupied in breaking down and building +up, had too many enemies, or followed perhaps too closely on the +deplorable times witnessed under the regency and under Louis XV, to pay +any attention to the position which women should occupy in the social +order. + +The remarkable men who raised the immortal monument which our codes +present were almost all old-fashioned students of law deeply imbued with +a spirit of Roman jurisprudence; and moreover they were not the founders +of any political institutions. Sons of the Revolution, they believed, in +accordance with that movement, that the law of divorce wisely restricted +and the bond of dutiful submission were sufficient ameliorations of the +previous marriage law. When that former order of things was remembered, +the change made by the new legislation seemed immense. + +At the present day the question as to which of these two principles +shall triumph rests entirely in the hands of our wise legislators. The +past has teaching which should bear fruit in the future. Have we lost +all sense of the eloquence of fact? + +The principles of the East resulted in the existence of eunuchs and +seraglios; the spurious social standing of France has brought in the +plague of courtesans and the more deadly plague of our marriage system; +and thus, to use the language of a contemporary, the East sacrifices to +paternity men and the principle of justice; France, women and +modesty. Neither the East nor France has attained the goal which their +institutions point to; for that is happiness. The man is not more loved +by the women of a harem than the husband is sure of being in France, as +the father of his children; and marrying is not worth what it costs. It +is time to offer no more sacrifice to this institution, and to amass a +larger sum of happiness in the social state by making our manners and +our institution conformable to our climate. + +Constitutional government, a happy mixture of two extreme political +systems, despotism and democracy, suggests by the necessity of blending +also the two principles of marriage, which so far clash together in +France. The liberty which we boldly claim for young people is the +only remedy for the host of evils whose source we have pointed out, by +exposing the inconsistencies resulting from the bondage in which girls +are kept. Let us give back to youth the indulgence of those passions, +those coquetries, love and its terrors, love and its delights, and that +fascinating company which followed the coming of the Franks. At this +vernal season of life no fault is irreparable, and Hymen will come +forth from the bosom of experiences, armed with confidence, stripped of +hatred, and love in marriage will be justified, because it will have had +the privilege of comparison. + +In this change of manners the disgraceful plague of public prostitution +will perish of itself. It is especially at the time when the man +possesses the frankness and timidity of adolescence, that in his pursuit +of happiness he is competent to meet and struggle with great and genuine +passions of the heart. The soul is happy in making great efforts of +whatever kind; provided that it can act, that it can stir and move, +it makes little difference, even though it exercise its power against +itself. In this observation, the truth of which everybody can see, there +may be found one secret of successful legislation, of tranquillity and +happiness. And then, the pursuit of learning has now become so highly +developed that the most tempestuous of our coming Mirabeaus can consume +his energy either in the indulgence of a passion or the study of a +science. How many young people have been saved from debauchery by +self-chosen labors or the persistent obstacles put in the way of a +first love, a love that was pure! And what young girl does not desire to +prolong the delightful childhood of sentiment, is not proud to have her +nature known, and has not felt the secret tremblings of timidity, the +modesty of her secret communings with herself, and wished to oppose them +to the young desires of a lover inexperienced as herself! The gallantry +of the Franks and the pleasures which attend it should then be the +portion of youth, and then would naturally result a union of soul, of +mind, of character, of habits, of temperament and of fortune, such as +would produce the happy equilibrium necessary for the felicity of the +married couple. This system would rest upon foundations wider and +freer, if girls were subjected to a carefully calculated system of +disinheritance; or if, in order to force men to choose only those who +promised happiness by their virtues, their character or their talents, +they married as in the United States without dowry. + +In that case, the system adopted by the Romans could advantageously +be applied to the married women who when they were girls used their +liberty. Being exclusively engaged in the early education of their +children, which is the most important of all maternal obligations, +occupied in creating and maintaining the happiness of the household, +so admirably described in the fourth book of _Julie_, they would be +in their houses like the women of ancient Rome, living images of +Providence, which reigns over all, and yet is nowhere visible. In this +case, the laws covering the infidelity of the wife should be extremely +severe. They should make the penalty disgrace, rather than inflict +painful or coercive sentences. France has witnessed the spectacle +of women riding asses for the pretended crime of magic, and many an +innocent woman has died of shame. In this may be found the secret +of future marriage legislation. The young girls of Miletus delivered +themselves from marriage by voluntary death; the senate condemned +the suicides to be dragged naked on a hurdle, and the other virgins +condemned themselves for life. + +Women and marriage will never be respected until we have that radical +change in manners which we are now begging for. This profound thought +is the ruling principle in the two finest productions of an immortal +genius. _Emile_ and _La Nouvelle Heloise_ are nothing more than two +eloquent pleas for the system. The voice there raised will resound +through the ages, because it points to the real motives of true +legislation, and the manners which will prevail in the future. By +placing children at the breast of their mothers, Jean-Jacques rendered +an immense service to the cause of virtue; but his age was too deeply +gangrened with abuses to understand the lofty lessons unfolded in those +two poems; it is right to add also that the philosopher was in these +works overmastered by the poet, and in leaving in the heart of _Julie_ +after her marriage some vestiges of her first love, he was led astray by +the attractiveness of a poetic situation, more touching indeed, but less +useful than the truth which he wished to display. + +Nevertheless, if marriage in France is an unlimited contract to which +men agree with a silent understanding that they may thus give +more relish to passion, more curiosity, more mystery to love, +more fascination to women; if a woman is rather an ornament to the +drawing-room, a fashion-plate, a portmanteau, than a being whose +functions in the order politic are an essential part of the country’s +prosperity and the nation’s glory, a creature whose endeavors in life +vie in utility with those of men--I admit that all the above theory, all +these long considerations sink into nothingness at the prospect of such +an important destiny!---- + +But after having squeezed a pound of actualities in order to obtain one +drop of philosophy, having paid sufficient homage to that passion for +the historic, which is so dominant in our time, let us turn our glance +upon the manners of the present period. Let us take the cap and bells +and the coxcomb of which Rabelais once made a sceptre, and let us pursue +the course of this inquiry without giving to one joke more seriousness +than comports with it, and without giving to serious things the jesting +tone which ill befits them. + + + + + +SECOND PART. MEANS OF DEFENCE, INTERIOR AND EXTERIOR. + + “To be or not to be, + That is the question.” + --Shakspeare, _Hamlet_. + + + + +MEDITATION X. A TREATISE ON MARITAL POLICY. + +When a man reaches the position in which the first part of this book +sets him, we suppose that the idea of his wife being possessed by +another makes his heart beat, and rekindles his passion, either by an +appeal to his _amour propre_, his egotism, or his self-interest, for +unless he is still on his wife’s side, he must be one of the lowest of +men and deserves his fate. + +In this trying moment it is very difficult for a husband to avoid making +mistakes; for, with regard to most men, the art of ruling a wife is +even less known than that of judiciously choosing one. However, marital +policy consists chiefly in the practical application of three principles +which should be the soul of your conduct. The first is never to believe +what a woman says; the second, always to look for the spirit without +dwelling too much upon the letter of her actions; and the third, not to +forget that a woman is never so garrulous as when she holds her tongue, +and is never working with more energy than when she keeps quiet. + +From the moment that your suspicions are aroused, you ought to be like a +man mounted on a tricky horse, who always watches the ears of the beast, +in fear of being thrown from the saddle. + +But art consists not so much in the knowledge of principles, as in the +manner of applying them; to reveal them to ignorant people is to put +a razor in the hand of a monkey. Moreover, the first and most vital of +your duties consists in perpetual dissimulation, an accomplishment in +which most husbands are sadly lacking. In detecting the symptoms of +minotaurism a little too plainly marked in the conduct of their wives, +most men at once indulge in the most insulting suspicions. Their +minds contract a tinge of bitterness which manifests itself in their +conversation, and in their manners; and the alarm which fills their +heart, like the gas flame in a glass globe, lights up their countenances +so plainly, that it accounts for their conduct. + +Now a woman, who has twelve hours more than you have each day to reflect +and to study you, reads the suspicion written upon your face at the very +moment that it arises. She will never forget this gratuitous insult. +Nothing can ever remedy that. All is now said and done, and the +very next day, if she has opportunity, she will join the ranks of +inconsistent women. + +You ought then to begin under these circumstances to affect towards your +wife the same boundless confidence that you have hitherto had in her. If +you begin to lull her anxieties by honeyed words, you are lost, she will +not believe you; for she has her policy as you have yours. Now there is +as much need for tact as for kindliness in your behavior, in order to +inculcate in her, without her knowing it, a feeling of security, which +will lead her to lay back her ears, and prevent you from using rein or +spur at the wrong moment. + +But how can we compare a horse, the frankest of all animals, to a being, +the flashes of whose thought, and the movements of whose impulses +render her at moments more prudent than the Servite Fra-Paolo, the most +terrible adviser that the Ten at Venice ever had; more deceitful than +a king; more adroit than Louis XI; more profound than Machiavelli; as +sophistical as Hobbes; as acute as Voltaire; as pliant as the fiancee of +Mamolin; and distrustful of no one in the whole wide world but you? + +Moreover, to this dissimulation, by means of which the springs that move +your conduct ought to be made as invisible as those that move the world, +must be added absolute self-control. That diplomatic imperturbability, +so boasted of by Talleyrand, must be the least of your qualities; his +exquisite politeness and the grace of his manners must distinguish your +conversation. The professor here expressly forbids you to use your whip, +if you would obtain complete control over your gentle Andalusian steed. + + + LXI. + If a man strike his mistress it is a self-inflicted wound; but if he + strike his wife it is suicide! + + +How can we think of a government without police, an action without +force, a power without weapons?--Now this is exactly the problem which +we shall try to solve in our future meditations. But first we must +submit two preliminary observations. They will furnish us with two other +theories concerning the application of all the mechanical means which we +propose you should employ. An instance from life will refresh these arid +and dry dissertations: the hearing of such a story will be like laying +down a book, to work in the field. + +In the year 1822, on a fine morning in the month of February, I was +traversing the boulevards of Paris, from the quiet circles of the Marais +to the fashionable quarters of the Chaussee-d’Antin, and I observed for +the first time, not without a certain philosophic joy, the diversity +of physiognomy and the varieties of costume which, from the Rue du +Pas-de-la-Mule even to the Madeleine, made each portion of the boulevard +a world of itself, and this whole zone of Paris, a grand panorama of +manners. Having at that time no idea of what the world was, and little +thinking that one day I should have the audacity to set myself up as +a legislator on marriage, I was going to take lunch at the house of a +college friend, who was perhaps too early in life afflicted with a wife +and two children. My former professor of mathematics lived at a short +distance from the house of my college friend, and I promised myself the +pleasure of a visit to this worthy mathematician before indulging my +appetite for the dainties of friendship. I accordingly made my way to +the heart of a study, where everything was covered with a dust which +bore witness to the lofty abstraction of the scholar. But a surprise was +in store for me there. I perceived a pretty woman seated on the arm of +an easy chair, as if mounted on an English horse; her face took on the +look of conventional surprise worn by mistresses of the house towards +those they do not know, but she did not disguise the expression of +annoyance which, at my appearance, clouded her countenance with the +thought that I was aware how ill-timed was my presence. My master, +doubtless absorbed in an equation, had not yet raised his head; I +therefore waved my right hand towards the young lady, like a fish moving +his fin, and on tiptoe I retired with a mysterious smile which might be +translated “I will not be the one to prevent him committing an act of +infidelity to Urania.” She nodded her head with one of those sudden +gestures whose graceful vivacity is not to be translated into words. + +“My good friend, don’t go away,” cried the geometrician. “This is my +wife!” + +I bowed for the second time!--Oh, Coulon! Why wert thou not present to +applaud the only one of thy pupils who understood from that moment the +expression, “anacreontic,” as applied to a bow?--The effect must have +been very overwhelming; for Madame the Professoress, as the Germans say, +rose hurriedly as if to go, making me a slight bow which seemed to say: +“Adorable!----” Her husband stopped her, saying: + +“Don’t go, my child, this is one of my pupils.” + +The young woman bent her head towards the scholar as a bird perched on a +bough stretches its neck to pick up a seed. + +“It is not possible,” said the husband, heaving a sigh, “and I am going +to prove it to you by A plus B.” + +“Let us drop that, sir, I beg you,” she answered, pointing with a wink +to me. + +If it had been a problem in algebra, my master would have understood +this look, but it was Chinese to him, and so he went on. + +“Look here, child, I constitute you judge in the matter; our income is +ten thousand francs.” + +At these words I retired to the door, as if I were seized with a wild +desire to examine the framed drawings which had attracted my attention. +My discretion was rewarded by an eloquent glance. Alas! she did not know +that in Fortunio I could have played the part of Sharp-Ears, who heard +the truffles growing. + +“In accordance with the principles of general economy,” said my master, +“no one ought to spend in rent and servant’s wages more than two-tenths +of his income; now our apartment and our attendance cost altogether +a hundred louis. I give you twelve hundred francs to dress with” [in +saying this he emphasized every syllable]. “Your food,” he went on, +takes up four thousand francs, our children demand at lest twenty-five +louis; I take for myself only eight hundred francs; washing, fuel +and light mount up to about a thousand francs; so that there does +not remain, as you see, more than six hundred francs for unforeseen +expenses. In order to buy the cross of diamonds, we must draw a thousand +crowns from our capital, and if once we take that course, my little +darling, there is no reason why we should not leave Paris which you love +so much, and at once take up our residence in the country, in order to +retrench. Children and household expenses will increase fast enough! +Come, try to be reasonable!” + +“I suppose I must,” she said, “but you will be the only husband in Paris +who has not given a New Year’s gift to his wife.” + +And she stole away like a school-boy who goes to finish an imposed duty. +My master made a gesture of relief. When he saw the door close he rubbed +his hands, he talked of the war in Spain; and I went my way to the Rue +de Provence, little knowing that I had received the first installment +of a great lesson in marriage, any more than I dreamt of the conquest of +Constantinople by General Diebitsch. I arrived at my host’s house at the +very moment they were sitting down to luncheon, after having waited for +me the half hour demanded by usage. It was, I believe, as she opened a +_pate de foie gras_ that my pretty hostess said to her husband, with a +determined air: + +“Alexander, if you were really nice you would give me that pair of +ear-rings that we saw at Fossin’s.” + +“You shall have them,” cheerfully replied my friend, drawing from his +pocketbook three notes of a thousand francs, the sight of which made his +wife’s eyes sparkle. “I can no more resist the pleasure of offering them +to you,” he added, “than you can that of accepting them. This is the +anniversary of the day I first saw you, and the diamonds will perhaps +make you remember it!----” + +“You bad man!” said she, with a winning smile. + +She poked two fingers into her bodice, and pulling out a bouquet of +violets she threw them with childlike contempt into the face of my +friend. Alexander gave her the price of the jewels, crying out: + +“I had seen the flowers!” + +I shall never forget the lively gesture and the eager joy with which, +like a cat which lays its spotted paw upon a mouse, the little woman +seized the three bank notes; she rolled them up blushing with pleasure, +and put them in the place of the violets which before had perfumed her +bosom. I could not help thinking about my old mathematical master. I did +not then see any difference between him and his pupil, than that which +exists between a frugal man and a prodigal, little thinking that he +of the two who seemed to calculate the better, actually calculated the +worse. The luncheon went off merrily. Very soon, seated in a little +drawing-room newly decorated, before a cheerful fire which gave warmth +and made our hearts expand as in spring time, I felt compelled to make +this loving couple a guest’s compliments on the furnishing of their +little bower. + +“It is a pity that all this costs so dear,” said my friend, “but it +is right that the nest be worthy of the bird; but why the devil do +you compliment me upon curtains which are not paid for?--You make me +remember, just at the time I am digesting lunch, that I still owe two +thousand francs to a Turk of an upholsterer.” + +At these words the mistress of the house made a mental inventory of +the pretty room with her eyes, and the radiancy of her face changed to +thoughtfulness. Alexander took me by the hand and led me to the recess +of a bay window. + +“Do you happen,” he said in a low voice, “to have a thousand crowns to +lend me? I have only twelve thousand francs income, and this year--” + +“Alexander,” cried the dear creature, interrupting her husband, while, +rushing up, she offered him the three banknotes, “I see now that it is a +piece of folly--” + +“What do you mean?” answered he, “keep your money.” + +“But, my love, I am ruining you! I ought to know that you love me so +much, that I ought not to tell you all that I wish for.” + +“Keep it, my darling, it is your lawful property--nonsense, I shall +gamble this winter and get all that back again!” + +“Gamble!” cried she, with an expression of horror. “Alexander, take back +these notes! Come, sir, I wish you to do so.” + +“No, no,” replied my friend, repulsing the white and delicious little +hand. “Are you not going on Thursday to a ball of Madame de B-----?” + +“I will think about what you asked of me,” said I to my comrade. + +I went away bowing to his wife, but I saw plainly after that scene that +my anacreontic salutation did not produce much effect upon her. + +“He must be mad,” thought I as I went away, “to talk of a thousand +crowns to a law student.” + +Five days later I found myself at the house of Madame de B-----, whose +balls were becoming fashionable. In the midst of the quadrilles I saw +the wife of my friend and that of the mathematician. Madame Alexander +wore a charming dress; some flowers and white muslin were all that +composed it. She wore a little cross _a la Jeannette_, hanging by a +black velvet ribbon which set off the whiteness of her scented skin; +long pears of gold decorated her ears. On the neck of Madame the +Professoress sparkled a superb cross of diamonds. + +“How funny that is,” said I to a personage who had not yet studied the +world’s ledger, nor deciphered the heart of a single woman. + +That personage was myself. If I had then the desire to dance with those +fair women, it was simply because I knew a secret which emboldened my +timidity. + +“So after all, madame, you have your cross?” I said to her first. + +“Well, I fairly won it!” she replied, with a smile hard to describe. + +“How is this! no ear-rings?” I remarked to the wife of my friend. + +“Ah!” she replied, “I have enjoyed possession of them during a whole +luncheon time, but you see that I have ended by converting Alexander.” + +“He allowed himself to be easily convinced?” + +She answered with a look of triumph. + +Eight years afterwards, this scene suddenly rose to my memory, though +I had long since forgotten it, and in the light of the candles I +distinctly discerned the moral of it. Yes, a woman has a horror of being +convinced of anything; when you try to persuade her she immediately +submits to being led astray and continues to play the role which nature +gave her. In her view, to allow herself to be won over is to grant a +favor, but exact arguments irritate and confound her; in order to guide +her you must employ the power which she herself so frequently employs +and which lies in an appeal to sensibility. It is therefore in his +wife, and not in himself, that a husband can find the instruments of +his despotism; as diamond cuts diamond so must the woman be made to +tyrannize over herself. To know how to offer the ear-rings in such a way +that they will be returned, is a secret whose application embraces +the slightest details of life. And now let us pass to the second +observation. + +“He who can manage property of one toman, can manage one of an hundred +thousand,” says an Indian proverb; and I, for my part, will enlarge upon +this Asiatic adage and declare, that he who can govern one woman can +govern a nation, and indeed there is very much similarity between these +two governments. Must not the policy of husbands be very nearly the same +as the policy of kings? Do not we see kings trying to amuse the people +in order to deprive them of their liberty; throwing food at their heads +for one day, in order to make them forget the misery of a whole year; +preaching to them not to steal and at the same time stripping them +of everything; and saying to them: “It seems to me that if I were the +people I should be virtuous”? It is from England that we obtain the +precedent which husbands should adopt in their houses. Those who have +eyes ought to see that when the government is running smoothly the +Whigs are rarely in power. A long Tory ministry has always succeeded an +ephemeral Liberal cabinet. The orators of a national party resemble the +rats which wear their teeth away in gnawing the rotten panel; they close +up the hole as soon as they smell the nuts and the lard locked up in the +royal cupboard. The woman is the Whig of our government. Occupying the +situation in which we have left her she might naturally aspire to the +conquest of more than one privilege. Shut your eyes to the intrigues, +allow her to waste her strength in mounting half the steps of your +throne; and when she is on the point of touching your sceptre, fling her +back to the ground, quite gently and with infinite grace, saying to +her: “Bravo!” and leaving her to expect success in the hereafter. The +craftiness of this manoeuvre will prove a fine support to you in the +employment of any means which it may please you to choose from your +arsenal, for the object of subduing your wife. + +Such are the general principles which a husband should put into +practice, if he wishes to escape mistakes in ruling his little kingdom. +Nevertheless, in spite of what was decided by the minority at the +council of Macon (Montesquieu, who had perhaps foreseen the coming of +constitutional government has remarked, I forget in what part of his +writings, that good sense in public assemblies is always found on the +side of the minority), we discern in a woman a soul and a body, and we +commence by investigating the means to gain control of her moral nature. +The exercise of thought, whatever people may say, is more noble than +the exercise of bodily organs, and we give precedence to science over +cookery and to intellectual training over hygiene. + + + + +MEDITATION XI. INSTRUCTION IN THE HOME. + +Whether wives should or should not be put under instruction--such is +the question before us. Of all those which we have discussed this is the +only one which has two extremes and admits of no compromise. Knowledge +and ignorance, such are the two irreconcilable terms of this problem. +Between these two abysses we seem to see Louis XVIII reckoning up +the felicities of the eighteenth century, and the unhappiness of the +nineteenth. Seated in the centre of the seesaw, which he knew so well +how to balance by his own weight, he contemplates at one end of it the +fanatic ignorance of a lay brother, the apathy of a serf, the shining +armor on the horses of a banneret; he thinks he hears the cry, “France +and Montjoie-Saint-Denis!” But he turns round, he smiles as he sees the +haughty look of a manufacturer, who is captain in the national guard; +the elegant carriage of a stock broker; the simple costume of a peer of +France turned journalist and sending his son to the Polytechnique; then +he notices the costly stuffs, the newspapers, the steam engines; and +he drinks his coffee from a cup of Sevres, at the bottom of which still +glitters the “N” surmounted by a crown. + +“Away with civilization! Away with thought!”--That is your cry. You +ought to hold in horror the education of women for the reason so well +realized in Spain, that it is easier to govern a nation of idiots than +a nation of scholars. A nation degraded is happy: if she has not the +sentiment of liberty, neither has she the storms and disturbances which +it begets; she lives as polyps live; she can be cut up into two or three +pieces and each piece is still a nation, complete and living, and ready +to be governed by the first blind man who arms himself with the pastoral +staff. + +What is it that produces this wonderful characteristic of humanity? +Ignorance; ignorance is the sole support of despotism, which lives on +darkness and silence. Now happiness in the domestic establishment as in +a political state is a negative happiness. The affection of a people for +a king, in an absolute monarchy, is perhaps less contrary to nature than +the fidelity of a wife towards her husband, when love between them no +longer exists. Now we know that, in your house, love at this moment has +one foot on the window-sill. It is necessary for you, therefore, to put +into practice that salutary rigor by which M. de Metternich prolongs his +_statu quo_; but we would advise you to do so with more tact and with +still more tenderness; for your wife is more crafty than all the Germans +put together, and as voluptuous as the Italians. + +You should, therefore, try to put off as long as possible the fatal +moment when your wife asks you for a book. This will be easy. You will +first of all pronounce in a tone of disdain the phrase “Blue stocking;” + and, on her request being repeated, you will tell her what ridicule +attaches, among the neighbors, to pedantic women. + +You will then repeat to her, very frequently, that the most lovable and +the wittiest women in the world are found at Paris, where women never +read; + +That women are like people of quality who, according to Mascarillo, know +everything without having learned anything; that a woman while she +is dancing, or while she is playing cards, without even having +the appearance of listening, ought to know how to pick up from the +conversation of talented men the ready-made phrases out of which fools +manufacture their wit at Paris; + +That in this country decisive judgments on men and affairs are passed +round from hand to hand; and that the little cutting phrase with which +a woman criticises an author, demolishes a work, or heaps contempt on a +picture, has more power in the world than a court decision; + +That women are beautiful mirrors, which naturally reflect the most +brilliant ideas; + +That natural wit is everything, and the best education is gained rather +from what we learn in the world than by what we read in books; + +That, above all, reading ends in making the eyes dull, etc. + +To think of leaving a woman at liberty to read the books which her +character of mind may prompt her to choose! This is to drop a spark in +a powder magazine; it is worse than that, it is to teach your wife to +separate herself from you; to live in an imaginary world, in a Paradise. +For what do women read? Works of passion, the _Confessions_ of Rousseau, +romances, and all those compositions which work most powerfully on +their sensibility. They like neither argument nor the ripe fruits of +knowledge. Now have you ever considered the results which follow these +poetical readings? + +Romances, and indeed all works of imagination, paint sentiments and +events with colors of a very different brilliancy from those presented +by nature. The fascination of such works springs less from the desire +which each author feels to show his skill in putting forth choice and +delicate ideas than from the mysterious working of the human intellect. +It is characteristic of man to purify and refine everything that he lays +up in the treasury of his thoughts. What human faces, what monuments of +the dead are not made more beautiful than actual nature in the artistic +representation? The soul of the reader assists in this conspiracy +against the truth, either by means of the profound silence which it +enjoys in reading or by the fire of mental conception with which it +is agitated or by the clearness with which imagery is reflected in +the mirror of the understanding. Who has not seen on reading the +_Confessions_ of Jean-Jacques, that Madame de Warens is described as +much prettier than she ever was in actual life? It might almost be said +that our souls dwell with delight upon the figures which they had met in +a former existence, under fairer skies; that they accept the creations +of another soul only as wings on which they may soar into space; +features the most delicate they bring to perfection by making them their +own; and the most poetic expression which appears in the imagery of an +author brings forth still more ethereal imagery in the mind of a reader. +To read is to join with the writer in a creative act. The mystery of +the transubstantiation of ideas, originates perhaps in the instinctive +consciousness that we have of a vocation loftier than our present +destiny. Or, is it based on the lost tradition of a former life? What +must that life have been, if this slight residuum of memory offers us +such volumes of delight? + +Moreover, in reading plays and romances, woman, a creature much more +susceptible than we are to excitement, experiences the most violent +transport. She creates for herself an ideal existence beside which all +reality grows pale; she at once attempts to realize this voluptuous +life, to take to herself the magic which she sees in it. And, without +knowing it, she passes from spirit to letter and from soul to sense. + +And would you be simple enough to believe that the manners, the +sentiments of a man like you, who usually dress and undress before your +wife, can counterbalance the influence of these books and outshine the +glory of their fictitious lovers, in whose garments the fair reader sees +neither hole nor stain?--Poor fool! too late, alas! for her happiness +and for yours, your wife will find out that the _heroes_ of poetry are +as rare in real life as the _Apollos_ of sculpture! + +Very many husbands will find themselves embarrassed in trying to prevent +their wives from reading, yet there are certain people who allege that +reading has this advantage, that men know what their wives are about +when they have a book in hand. In the first place you will see, in the +next Meditation, what a tendency the sedentary life has to make a woman +quarrelsome; but have you never met those beings without poetry, who +succeed in petrifying their unhappy companions by reducing life to its +most mechanical elements? Study great men in their conversation and +learn by heart the admirable arguments by which they condemn poetry and +the pleasures of imagination. + +But if, after all your efforts, your wife persists in wishing to read, +put at her disposal at once all possible books from the A B C of her +little boy to _Rene_, a book more dangerous to you when in her hands +than _Therese Philosophe_. You might create in her an utter disgust for +reading by giving her tedious books; and plunge her into utter idiocy +with _Marie Alacoque_, _The Brosse de Penitence_, or with the chansons +which were so fashionable in the time of Louis XV; but later on you will +find, in the present volume, the means of so thoroughly employing your +wife’s time, that any kind of reading will be quite out of the question. + +And first of all, consider the immense resources which the education of +women has prepared for you in your efforts to turn your wife from her +fleeting taste for science. Just see with what admirable stupidity girls +lend themselves to reap the benefit of the education which is imposed +upon them in France; we give them in charge to nursery maids, to +companions, to governesses who teach them twenty tricks of coquetry and +false modesty, for every single noble and true idea which they impart +to them. Girls are brought up as slaves, and are accustomed to the idea +that they are sent into the world to imitate their grandmothers, to +breed canary birds, to make herbals, to water little Bengal rose-bushes, +to fill in worsted work, or to put on collars. Moreover, if a little +girl in her tenth year has more refinement than a boy of twenty, she +is timid and awkward. She is frightened at a spider, chatters nonsense, +thinks of dress, talks about the fashions and has not the courage to be +either a watchful mother or a chaste wife. + +Notice what progress she had made; she has been shown how to paint +roses, and to embroider ties in such a way as to earn eight sous a day. +She has learned the history of France in _Ragois_ and chronology in the +_Tables du Citoyen Chantreau_, and her young imagination has been set +free in the realm of geography; all without any aim, excepting that of +keeping away all that might be dangerous to her heart; but at the same +time her mother and her teachers repeat with unwearied voice the lesson, +that the whole science of a woman lies in knowing how to arrange the fig +leaf which our Mother Eve wore. “She does not hear for fifteen years,” + says Diderot, “anything else but ‘my daughter, your fig leaf is on +badly; my daughter, your fig leaf is on well; my daughter, would it not +look better so?’” + +Keep your wife then within this fine and noble circle of knowledge. +If by chance your wife wishes to have a library, buy for her Florian, +Malte-Brun, _The Cabinet des Fees_, _The Arabian Nights_, Redoute’s +_Roses_, _The Customs of China_, _The Pigeons_, by Madame Knip, the +great work on Egypt, etc. Carry out, in short, the clever suggestion +of that princess who, when she was told of a riot occasioned by the +dearness of bread, said, “Why don’t they eat cake?” + +Perhaps, one evening, your wife will reproach you for being sullen and +not speaking to her; perhaps she will say that you are ridiculous, +when you have just made a pun; but this is one of the slight annoyances +incident to our system; and, moreover, what does it matter to you that +the education of women in France is the most pleasant of absurdities, +and that your marital obscurantism has brought a doll to your arms? As +you have not sufficient courage to undertake a fairer task, would it not +be better to lead your wife along the beaten track of married life in +safety, than to run the risk of making her scale the steep precipices of +love? She is likely to be a mother: you must not exactly expect to have +Gracchi for sons, but to be really _pater quem nuptiae demonstrant_; +now, in order to aid you in reaching this consummation, we must make +this book an arsenal from which each one, in accordance with his wife’s +character and his own, may choose weapons fit to employ against the +terrible genius of evil, which is always ready to rise up in the soul of +a wife; and since it may fairly be considered that the ignorant are the +most cruel opponents of feminine education, this Meditation will serve +as a breviary for the majority of husbands. + +If a woman has received a man’s education, she possesses in very truth +the most brilliant and most fertile sources of happiness both to herself +and to her husband; but this kind of woman is as rare as happiness +itself; and if you do not possess her for your wife, your best course is +to confine the one you do possess, for the sake of your common felicity, +to the region of ideas she was born in, for you must not forget that +one moment of pride in her might destroy you, by setting on the throne a +slave who would immediately be tempted to abuse her power. + +After all, by following the system prescribed in this Meditation, a +man of superiority will be relieved from the necessity of putting his +thoughts into small change, when he wishes to be understood by his +wife, if indeed this man of superiority has been guilty of the folly of +marrying one of those poor creatures who cannot understand him, instead +of choosing for his wife a young girl whose mind and heart he has tested +and studied for a considerable time. + +Our aim in this last matrimonial observation has not been to advise all +men of superiority to seek for women of superiority and we do not wish +each one to expound our principles after the manner of Madame de Stael, +who attempted in the most indelicate manner to effect a union between +herself and Napoleon. These two beings would have been very unhappy in +their domestic life; and Josephine was a wife accomplished in a very +different sense from this virago of the nineteenth century. + +And, indeed, when we praise those undiscoverable girls so happily +educated by chance, so well endowed by nature, whose delicate souls +endure so well the rude contact of the great soul of him we call _a +man_, we mean to speak of those rare and noble creatures of whom Goethe +has given us a model in his Claire of _Egmont_; we are thinking of those +women who seek no other glory than that of playing their part well; who +adapt themselves with amazing pliancy to the will and pleasure of those +whom nature has given them for masters; soaring at one time into the +boundless sphere of their thought and in turn stooping to the simple +task of amusing them as if they were children; understanding well the +inconsistencies of masculine and violent souls, understanding also their +slightest word, their most puzzling looks; happy in silence, happy also +in the midst of loquacity; and well aware that the pleasures, the +ideas and the moral instincts of a Lord Byron cannot be those of a +bonnet-maker. But we must stop; this fair picture has led us too far +from our subject; we are treating of marriage and not of love. + + + + +MEDITATION XII. THE HYGIENE OF MARRIAGE. + +The aim of this Meditation is to call to your attention a new method +of defence, by which you may reduce the will of your new wife to a +condition of utter and abject submission. This is brought about by +the reaction upon her moral nature of physical changes, and the wise +lowering of her physical condition by a diet skillfully controlled. + +This great and philosophical question of conjugal medicine will +doubtless be regarded favorably by all who are gouty, are impotent, or +suffer from catarrh; and by that legion of old men whose dullness we +have quickened by our article on the predestined. But it principally +concerns those husbands who have courage enough to enter into those +paths of machiavelism, such as would not have been unworthy of that +great king of France who endeavored to secure the happiness of the +nation at the expense of certain noble heads. Here, the subject is the +same. The amputation or the weakening of certain members is always to +the advantage of the whole body. + +Do you think seriously that a celibate who has been subject to a +diet consisting of the herb hanea, of cucumbers, of purslane and the +applications of leeches to his ears, as recommended by Sterne, would be +able to carry by storm the honor of your wife? Suppose that a diplomat +had been clever enough to affix a permanent linen plaster to the head +of Napoleon, or to purge him every morning: Do you think that Napoleon, +Napoleon the Great, would ever have conquered Italy? Was Napoleon, +during his campaign in Russia, a prey to the most horrible pangs of +dysuria, or was he not? That is one of the questions which has weighed +upon the minds of the whole world. Is it not certain that cooling +applications, douches, baths, etc., produce great changes in more or +less acute affections of the brain? In the middle of the heat of July +when each one of your pores slowly filters out and returns to the +devouring atmosphere the glasses of iced lemonade which you have drunk +at a single draught, have you ever felt the flame of courage, the vigor +of thought, the complete energy which rendered existence light and sweet +to you some months before? + +No, no; the iron most closely cemented into the hardest stone will +raise and throw apart the most durable monument, by reason of the secret +influence exercised by the slow and invisible variations of heat and +cold, which vex the atmosphere. In the first place, let us be sure that +if atmospheric mediums have an influence over man, there is still +a stronger reason for believing that man, in turn, influences the +imagination of his kind, by the more or less vigor with which he +projects his will and thus produces a veritable atmosphere around him. + +It is in this fact that the power of the actor’s talent lies, as well +as that of poetry and of fanaticism; for the former is the eloquence of +words, as the latter is the eloquence of actions; and in this lies the +foundation of a science, so far in its infancy. + +This will, so potent in one man against another, this nervous and fluid +force, eminently mobile and transmittable, is itself subject to the +changing condition of our organization, and there are many circumstances +which make this frail organism of ours to vary. At this point, our +metaphysical observation shall stop and we will enter into an analysis +of the circumstances which develop the will of man and impart to it a +grater degree of strength or weakness. + +Do not believe, however, that it is our aim to induce you to put +cataplasms on the honor of your wife, to lock her up in a sweating +house, or to seal her up like a letter; no. We will not even attempt +to teach you the magnetic theory which would give you the power to +make your will triumph in the soul of your wife; there is not a single +husband who would accept the happiness of an eternal love at the price +of this perpetual strain laid upon his animal forces. But we shall +attempt to expound a powerful system of hygiene, which will enable you +to put out the flame when your chimney takes fire. The elegant women +of Paris and the provinces (and these elegant women form a very +distinguished class among the honest women) have plenty of means of +attaining the object which we propose, without rummaging in the arsenal +of medicine for the four cold specifics, the water-lily and the thousand +inventions worthy only of witches. We will leave to Aelian his herb +hanea and to Sterne the purslane and cucumber which indicate too plainly +his antiphlogistic purpose. + +You should let your wife recline all day long on soft armchairs, in +which she sinks into a veritable bath of eiderdown or feathers; you +should encourage in every way that does no violence to your conscience, +the inclination which women have to breathe no other air but the scented +atmosphere of a chamber seldom opened, where daylight can scarcely enter +through the soft, transparent curtains. + +You will obtain marvelous results from this system, after having +previously experienced the shock of her excitement; but if you are +strong enough to support this momentary transport of your wife you will +soon see her artificial energy die away. In general, women love to live +fast, but, after their tempest of passion, return to that condition of +tranquillity which insures the happiness of a husband. + +Jean-Jacques, through the instrumentality of his enchanting Julie, must +have proved to your wife that it was infinitely becoming to refrain from +affronting her delicate stomach and her refined palate by making chyle +out of coarse lumps of beef, and enormous collops of mutton. Is there +anything purer in the world than those interesting vegetables, always +fresh and scentless, those tinted fruits, that coffee, that fragrant +chocolate, those oranges, the golden apples of Atalanta, the dates of +Arabia and the biscuits of Brussels, a wholesome and elegant food which +produces satisfactory results, at the same time that it imparts to a +woman an air of mysterious originality? By the regimen which she chooses +she becomes quite celebrated in her immediate circle, just as she would +be by a singular toilet, a benevolent action or a _bon mot_. Pythagoras +must needs have cast his spell over her, and become as much petted by +her as a poodle or an ape. + +Never commit the imprudence of certain men who, for the sake of putting +on the appearance of wit, controvert the feminine dictum, _that the +figure is preserved by meagre diet_. Women on such a diet never grow +fat, that is clear and positive; do you stick to that. + +Praise the skill with which some women, renowned for their beauty, have +been able to preserve it by bathing themselves in milk, several times +a day, or in water compounded of substances likely to render the skin +softer and to lower the nervous tension. + +Advise her above all things to refrain from washing herself in cold +water; because water warm or tepid is the proper thing for all kinds of +ablutions. + +Let Broussais be your idol. At the least indisposition of your wife, and +on the slightest pretext, order the application of leeches; do not even +shrink from applying from time to time a few dozen on yourself, in order +to establish the system of that celebrated doctor in your household. You +will constantly be called upon from your position as husband to discover +that your wife is too ruddy; try even sometimes to bring the blood to +her head, in order to have the right to introduce into the house at +certain intervals a squad of leeches. + +Your wife ought to drink water, lightly tinged with a Burgundy wine +agreeable to her taste, but destitute of any tonic properties; every +other kind of wine would be bad for her. Never allow her to drink water +alone; if you do, you are lost. + +“Impetuous fluid! As soon as you press against the floodgates of the +brain, how quickly do they yield to your power! Then Curiosity comes +swimming by, making signs to her companions to follow; they plunge into +the current. Imagination sits dreaming on the bank. She follows the +torrent with her eyes and transforms the fragments of straw and reed +into masts and bowsprit. And scarcely has the transformation taken +place, before Desire, holding in one hand her skirt drawn up even to +her knees, appears, sees the vessel and takes possession of it. O ye +drinkers of water, it is by means of that magic spring that you have so +often turned and turned again the world at your will, throwing beneath +your feet the weak, trampling on his neck, and sometimes changing even +the form and aspect of nature!” + +If by this system of inaction, in combination with our system of diet, +you fail to obtain satisfactory results, throw yourself with might and +main into another system, which we will explain to you. + +Man has a certain degree of energy given to him. Such and such a man or +woman stands to another as ten is to thirty, as one to five; and there +is a certain degree of energy which no one of us ever exceeds. The +quantity of energy, or willpower, which each of us possesses diffuses +itself like sound; it is sometimes weak, sometimes strong; it modifies +itself according to the octaves to which it mounts. This force is +unique, and although it may be dissipated in desire, in passion, in +toils of intellect or in bodily exertion, it turns towards the object to +which man directs it. A boxer expends it in blows of the fist, the baker +in kneading his bread, the poet in the enthusiasm which consumes and +demands an enormous quantity of it; it passes to the feet of the dancer; +in fact, every one diffuses it at will, and may I see the Minotaur +tranquilly seated this very evening upon my bed, if you do not know as +well as I do how he expends it. Almost all men spend in necessary toils, +or in the anguish of direful passions, this fine sum of energy and of +will, with which nature has endowed them; but our honest women are all +the prey to the caprices and the struggles of this power which knows not +what to do with itself. If, in the case of your wife, this energy has +not been subdued by the prescribed dietary regimen, subject her to some +form of activity which will constantly increase in violence. Find some +means by which her sum of force which inconveniences you may be carried +off, by some occupation which shall entirely absorb her strength. +Without setting your wife to work the crank of a machine, there are a +thousand ways of tiring her out under the load of constant work. + +In leaving it to you to find means for carrying out our design--and +these means vary with circumstances--we would point out that dancing is +one of the very best abysses in which love may bury itself. This point +having been very well treated by a contemporary, we will give him here +an opportunity of speaking his mind: + + + “The poor victim who is the admiration of an enchanted audience + pays dear for her success. What result can possibly follow on + exertions so ill-proportioned to the resources of the delicate + sex? The muscles of the body, disproportionately wearied, are + forced to their full power of exertion. The nervous forces, + intended to feed the fire of passions, and the labor of the brain, + are diverted from their course. The failure of desire, the wish + for rest, the exclusive craving for substantial food, all point to + a nature impoverished, more anxious to recruit than to enjoy. + Moreover, a denizen of the side scenes said to me one day, + ‘Whoever has lived with dancers has lived with sheep; for in their + exhaustion they can think of nothing but strong food.’ Believe me, + then, the love which a ballet girl inspires is very delusive; in + her we find, under an appearance of an artificial springtime, a + soil which is cold as well as greedy, and senses which are utterly + dulled. The Calabrian doctors prescribed the dance as a remedy for + the hysteric affections which are common among the women of their + country; and the Arabs use a somewhat similar recipe for the + highbred mares, whose too lively temperament hinders their + fecundity. ‘Dull as a dancer’ is a familiar proverb at the + theatre. In fact, the best brains of Europe are convinced that + dancing brings with it a result eminently cooling. + + “In support of this it may be necessary to add other observations. + The life of shepherds gives birth to irregular loves. The morals + of weavers were horribly decried in Greece. The Italians have + given birth to a proverb concerning the lubricity of lame women. + The Spanish, in whose veins are found many mixtures of African + incontinence, have expressed their sentiments in a maxim which is + familiar with them: _Muger y gallina pierna quebrantada_ [it is + good that a woman and a hen have one broken leg]. The profound + sagacity of the Orientals in the art of pleasure is altogether + expressed by this ordinance of the caliph Hakim, founder of the + Druses, who forbade, under pain of death, the making in his + kingdom of any shoes for women. It seems that over the whole + globe the tempests of the heart wait only to break out after the + limbs are at rest!” + + +What an admirable manoeuvre it would be to make a wife dance, and to +feed her on vegetables! + +Do not believe that these observations, which are as true as they +are wittily stated, contradict in any way the system which we have +previously prescribed; by the latter, as by the former, we succeed in +producing in a woman that needed listlessness, which is the pledge of +repose and tranquility. By the latter you leave a door open, that the +enemy may flee; by the former, you slay him. + +Now at this point it seems to us that we hear timorous people and those +of narrow views rising up against our idea of hygiene in the name of +morality and sentiment. + +“Is not woman endowed with a soul? Has she not feelings as we have? +What right has any one, without regard to her pain, her ideas, or +her requirements, to hammer her out, as a cheap metal, out of which a +workman fashions a candlestick or an extinguisher? Is it because the +poor creatures are already so feeble and miserable that a brute claims +the power to torture them, merely at the dictate of his own fancies, +which may be more or less just? And, if by this weakening or heating +system of yours, which draws out, softens, hardens the fibres, you cause +frightful and cruel sickness, if you bring to the tomb a woman who is +dear to you; if, if,--” + +This is our answer: + +Have you never noticed into how many different shapes harlequin and +columbine change their little white hats? They turn and twist them so +well that they become, one after another, a spinning-top, a boat, a +wine-glass, a half-moon, a cap, a basket, a fish, a whip, a dagger, a +baby, and a man’s head. + +This is an exact image of the despotism with which you ought to shape +and reshape your wife. + +The wife is a piece of property, acquired by contract; she is part of +your furniture, for possession is nine-tenths of the law; in fact, the +woman is not, to speak correctly, anything but an adjunct to the man; +therefore abridge, cut, file this article as you choose; she is in every +sense yours. Take no notice at all of her murmurs, of her cries, of +her sufferings; nature has ordained her for your use, that she may bear +everything--children, griefs, blows and pains from man. + +Don’t accuse yourself of harshness. In the codes of all the nations +which are called civilized, man has written the laws which govern +the destiny of women in these cruel terms: _Vae victis!_ Woe to the +conquered! + +Finally, think upon this last observation, the most weighty, perhaps, of +all that we have made up to this time: if you, her husband, do not break +under the scourge of your will this weak and charming reed, there will +be a celibate, capricious and despotic, ready to bring her under a yoke +more cruel still; and she will have to endure two tyrannies instead +of one. Under all considerations, therefore, humanity demands that you +should follow the system of our hygiene. + + + + +MEDITATION XIII. OF PERSONAL MEASURES. + +Perhaps the preceding Meditations will prove more likely to develop +general principles of conduct, than to repel force by force. They +furnish, however, the pharmacopoeia of medicine and not the practice of +medicine. Now consider the personal means which nature has put into your +hands for self-defence; for Providence has forgotten no one; if to the +sepia (that fish of the Adriatic) has been given the black dye by which +he produces a cloud in which he disappears from his enemy, you should +believe that a husband has not been left without a weapon; and now the +time has come for you to draw yours. + +You ought to have stipulated before you married that your wife should +nurse her own children; in this case, as long as she is occupied in +bearing children or in nursing them you will avoid the danger from one +or two quarters. The wife who is engaged in bringing into the world and +nursing a baby has not really the time to bother with a lover, not to +speak of the fact that before and after her confinement she cannot +show herself in the world. In short, how can the most bold of the +distinguished women who are the subject of this work show herself under +these circumstances in public? O Lord Byron, thou didst not wish to see +women even eat! + +Six months after her confinement, and when the child is on the eve +of being weaned, a woman just begins to feel that she can enjoy her +restoration and her liberty. + +If your wife has not nursed her first child, you have too much sense +not to notice this circumstance, and not to make her desire to nurse +her next one. You will read to her the _Emile_ of Jean-Jacques; you will +fill her imagination with a sense of motherly duties; you will excite +her moral feelings, etc.: in a word, you are either a fool or a man of +sense; and in the first case, even after reading this book, you will +always be minotaurized; while in the second, you will understand how to +take a hint. + +This first expedient is in reality your own personal business. It will +give you a great advantage in carrying out all the other methods. + +Since Alcibiades cut the ears and the tail of his dog, in order to do a +service to Pericles, who had on his hands a sort of Spanish war, as well +as an Ouvrard contract affair, such as was then attracting the notice of +the Athenians, there is not a single minister who has not endeavored to +cut the ears of some dog or other. + +So in medicine, when inflammation takes place at some vital point of +the system, counter-irritation is brought about at some other point, by +means of blisters, scarifications and cupping. + +Another method consists in blistering your wife, or giving her, with a +mental needle, a prod whose violence is such as to make a diversion in +your favor. + +A man of considerable mental resources had made his honeymoon last for +about four years; the moon began to wane, and he saw appearing the fatal +hollow in its circle. His wife was exactly in that state of mind which +we attributed at the close of our first part to every honest woman; she +had taken a fancy to a worthless fellow who was both insignificant in +appearance and ugly; the only thing in his favor was, he was not her +own husband. At this juncture, her husband meditated the cutting of some +dog’s tail, in order to renew, if possible, his lease of happiness. His +wife had conducted herself with such tact, that it would have been very +embarrassing to forbid her lover the house, for she had discovered some +slight tie of relationship between them. The danger became, day by day, +more imminent. The scent of the Minotaur was all around. One evening the +husband felt himself plunged into a mood of deep vexation so acute as +to be apparent to his wife. His wife had begun to show him more kindness +than she had ever exhibited, even during the honeymoon; and hence +question after question racked his mind. On her part a dead silence +reigned. The anxious questionings of his mind were redoubled; his +suspicions burst forth, and he was seized with forebodings of future +calamity! Now, on this occasion, he deftly applied a Japanese blister, +which burned as fiercely as an _auto-da-fe_ of the year 1600. At +first his wife employed a thousand stratagems to discover whether the +annoyance of her husband was caused by the presence of her lover; it +was her first intrigue and she displayed a thousand artifices in it. Her +imagination was aroused; it was no longer taken up with her lover; had +she not better, first of all, probe her husband’s secret? + +One evening the husband, moved by the desire to confide in his loving +helpmeet all his troubles, informed her that their whole fortune was +lost. They would have to give up their carriage, their box at the +theatre, balls, parties, even Paris itself; perhaps, by living on their +estate in the country a year or two, they might retrieve all! Appealing +to the imagination of his wife, he told her how he pitied her for her +attachment to a man who was indeed deeply in love with her, but was now +without fortune; he tore his hair, and his wife was compelled in honor +to be deeply moved; then in this first excitement of their conjugal +disturbance he took her off to his estate. Then followed scarifications, +mustard plaster upon mustard plaster, and the tails of fresh dogs were +cut: he caused a Gothic wing to be built to the chateau; madame +altered the park ten time over in order to have fountains and lakes +and variations in the grounds; finally, the husband in the midst of her +labors did not forget his own, which consisted in providing her with +interesting reading, and launching upon her delicate attentions, etc. +Notice, he never informed his wife of the trick he had played on her; +and if his fortune was recuperated, it was directly after the +building of the wing, and the expenditure of enormous sums in making +water-courses; but he assured her that the lake provided a water-power +by which mills might be run, etc. + +Now, there was a conjugal blister well conceived, for this husband +neither neglected to rear his family nor to invite to his house +neighbors who were tiresome, stupid or old; and if he spent the winter +in Paris, he flung his wife into the vortex of balls and races, so that +she had not a minute to give to lovers, who are usually the fruit of a +vacant life. + +Journeys to Italy, Switzerland or Greece, sudden complaints which +require a visit to the waters, and the most distant waters, are pretty +good blisters. In fact, a man of sense should know how to manufacture a +thousand of them. + +Let us continue our examination of such personal methods. + +And here we would have you observe that we are reasoning upon a +hypothesis, without which this book will be unintelligible to you; +namely, we suppose that your honeymoon has lasted for a respectable time +and that the lady that you married was not a widow, but a maid; on the +opposite supposition, it is at least in accordance with French manners +to think that your wife married you merely for the purpose of becoming +inconsistent. + +From the moment when the struggle between virtue and inconsistency +begins in your home, the whole question rests upon the constant and +involuntary comparison which your wife is instituting between you and +her lover. + +And here you may find still another mode of defence, entirely personal, +seldom employed by husbands, but the men of superiority will not fear +to attempt it. It is to belittle the lover without letting your wife +suspect your intention. You ought to be able to bring it about so that +she will say to herself some evening while she is putting her hair in +curl-papers, “My husband is superior to him.” + +In order to succeed, and you ought to be able to succeed, since you have +the immense advantage over the lover in knowing the character of your +wife, and how she is most easily wounded, you should, with all the tact +of a diplomat, lead this lover to do silly things and cause him to annoy +her, without his being aware of it. + +In the first place, this lover, as usual, will seek your friendship, +or you will have friends in common; then, either through the +instrumentality of these friends or by insinuations adroitly but +treacherously made, you will lead him astray on essential points; and, +with a little cleverness, you will succeed in finding your wife ready to +deny herself to her lover when he calls, without either she or he being +able to tell the reason. Thus you will have created in the bosom of +your home a comedy in five acts, in which you play, to your profit, the +brilliant role of Figaro or Almaviva; and for some months you will amuse +yourself so much the more, because your _amour-propre_, your vanity, +your all, were at stake. + +I had the good fortune in my youth to win the confidence of an old +_emigre_ who gave me those rudiments of education which are generally +obtained by young people from women. This friend, whose memory will +always be dear to me, taught me by his example to put into practice +those diplomatic stratagems which require tact as well as grace. + +The Comte de Noce had returned from Coblenz at a time when it was +dangerous for the nobility to be found in France. No one had such +courage and such kindness, such craft and such recklessness as this +aristocrat. Although he was sixty years old he had married a woman of +twenty-five, being compelled to this act of folly by soft-heartedness; +for he thus delivered this poor child from the despotism of a capricious +mother. “Would you like to be my widow?” this amiable old gentleman had +said to Mademoiselle de Pontivy, but his heart was too affectionate not +to become more attached to his wife than a sensible man ought to be. +As in his youth he had been under the influence of several among the +cleverest women in the court of Louis XV, he thought he would have no +difficulty in keeping his wife from any entanglement. What man excepting +him have I ever seen, who could put into successful practice the +teachings which I am endeavoring to give to husbands! What charm +could he impart to life by his delightful manners and fascinating +conversation!--His wife never knew until after his death what she then +learned from me, namely, that he had the gout. He had wisely retired to +a home in the hollow of a valley, close to a forest. God only knows +what rambles he used to take with his wife!--His good star decreed that +Mademoiselle de Pontivy should possess an excellent heart and should +manifest in a high degree that exquisite refinement, that sensitive +modesty which renders beautiful the plainest girl in the world. All of a +sudden, one of his nephews, a good-looking military man, who had escaped +from the disasters of Moscow, returned to his uncle’s house, as much for +the sake of learning how far he had to fear his cousins, as heirs, as in +the hope of laying siege to his aunt. His black hair, his moustache, +the easy small-talk of the staff officer, a certain freedom which was +elegant as well as trifling, his bright eyes, contrasted favorably with +the faded graces of his uncle. I arrived at the precise moment when the +young countess was teaching her newly found relation to play backgammon. +The proverb says that “women never learn this game excepting from their +lovers, and vice versa.” Now, during a certain game, M. de Noce had +surprised his wife and the viscount in the act of exchanging one of +those looks which are full of mingled innocence, fear, and desire. In +the evening he proposed to us a hunting-party, and we agreed. I never +saw him so gay and so eager as he appeared on the following morning, in +spite of the twinges of gout which heralded an approaching attack. The +devil himself could not have been better able to keep up a conversation +on trifling subjects than he was. He had formerly been a musketeer +in the Grays and had known Sophie Arnoud. This explains all. The +conversation after a time became so exceedingly free among us three, +that I hope God may forgive me for it! + +“I would never have believed that my uncle was such a dashing blade?” + said the nephew. + +We made a halt, and while we were sitting on the edge of a green forest +clearing, the count led us on to discourse about women just as Brantome +and Aloysia might have done. + +“You fellows are very happy under the present government!--the women of +the time are well mannered” (in order to appreciate the exclamation of +the old gentleman, the reader should have heard the atrocious stories +which the captain had been relating). “And this,” he went on, “is one of +the advantages resulting from the Revolution. The present system gives +very much more charm and mystery to passion. In former times women were +easy; ah! indeed, you would not believe what skill it required, what +daring, to wake up those worn-out hearts; we were always on the _qui +vive_. But yet in those days a man became celebrated for a broad joke, +well put, or for a lucky piece of insolence. That is what women love, +and it will always be the best method of succeeding with them!” + +These last words were uttered in a tone of profound contempt; he +stopped, and began to play with the hammer of his gun as if to disguise +his deep feeling. + +“But nonsense,” he went on, “my day is over! A man ought to have the +body as well as the imagination young. Why did I marry? What is most +treacherous in girls educated by mothers who lived in that brilliant era +of gallantry, is that they put on an air of frankness, of reserve; they +look as if butter would not melt in their mouths, and those who know +them well feel that they would swallow anything!” + +He rose, lifted his gun with a gesture of rage, and dashing it to the +ground thrust it far up the butt in the moist sod. + +“It would seem as if my dear aunt were fond of a little fun,” said the +officer to me in a low voice. + +“Or of denouements that do not come off!” I added. + +The nephew tightened his cravat, adjusted his collar and gave a jump +like a Calabrian goat. We returned to the chateau at about two in the +afternoon. The count kept me with him until dinner-time, under the +pretext of looking for some medals, of which he had spoken during our +return home. The dinner was dull. The countess treated her nephew with +stiff and cold politeness. When we entered the drawing-room the count +said to his wife: + +“Are you going to play backgammon?--We will leave you.” + +The young countess made no reply. She gazed at the fire, as if she had +not heard. Her husband took some steps towards the door, inviting me by +the wave of his hand to follow him. At the sound of his footsteps, his +wife quickly turned her head. + +“Why do you leave us?” said she, “you will have all tomorrow to show +your friend the reverse of the medals.” + +The count remained. Without paying any attention to the awkwardness +which had succeeded the former military aplomb of his nephew, the +count exercised during the whole evening his full powers as a charming +conversationalist. I had never before seen him so brilliant or so +gracious. We spoke a great deal about women. The witticisms of our host +were marked by the most exquisite refinement. He made me forget that +his hair was white, for he showed the brilliancy which belonged to a +youthful heart, a gaiety which effaces the wrinkles from the cheek and +melts the snow of wintry age. + +The next day the nephew went away. Even after the death of M. de Noce, I +tried to profit by the intimacy of those familiar conversations in which +women are sometimes caught off their guard to sound her, but I could +never learn what impertinence the viscount had exhibited towards his +aunt. His insolence must have been excessive, for since that time Madame +de Noce has refused to see her nephew, and up to the present moment +never hears him named without a slight movement of her eyebrows. I did +not at once guess the end at which the Comte de Noce aimed, in inviting +us to go shooting; but I discovered later that he had played a pretty +bold game. + +Nevertheless, if you happen at last, like M. de Noce, to carry off a +decisive victory, do not forget to put into practice at once the system +of blisters; and do not for a moment imagine that such _tours de force_ +are to be repeated with safety. If that is the way you use your talents, +you will end by losing caste in your wife’s estimation; for she will +demand of you, reasonably enough, double what you would give her, and +the time will come when you declare bankruptcy. The human soul in its +desires follows a sort of arithmetical progression, the end and origin +of which are equally unknown. Just as the opium-eater must constantly +increase his doses in order to obtain the same result, so our mind, +imperious as it is weak, desires that feeling, ideas and objects should +go on ever increasing in size and in intensity. Hence the necessity of +cleverly distributing the interest in a dramatic work, and of graduating +doses in medicine. Thus you see, if you always resort to the employment +of means like these, that you must accommodate such daring measures to +many circumstances, and success will always depend upon the motives to +which you appeal. + +And finally, have you influence, powerful friends, an important post? +The last means I shall suggest cuts to the root of the evil. Would you +have the power to send your wife’s lover off by securing his promotion, +or his change of residence by an exchange, if he is a military man? You +cut off by this means all communication between them; later on we will +show you how to do it; for _sublata causa tollitur effectus_,--Latin +words which may be freely translated “there is no effect without a +cause.” + +Nevertheless, you feel that your wife may easily choose another lover; +but in addition to these preliminary expedients, you will always have +a blister ready, in order to gain time, and calculate how you may bring +the affair to an end by fresh devices. + +Study how to combine the system of blisters with the mimic wiles of +Carlin, the immortal Carlin of the _Comedie-Italienne_ who always held +and amused an audience for whole hours, by uttering the same words, +varied only by the art of pantomime and pronounced with a thousand +inflections of different tone,--“The queen said to the king!” Imitate +Carlin, discover some method of always keeping your wife in check, so +as not to be checkmated yourself. Take a degree among constitutional +ministers, a degree in the art of making promises. Habituate yourself to +show at seasonable times the punchinello which makes children run after +you without knowing the distance they run. We are all children, and +women are all inclined through their curiosity to spend their time +in pursuit of a will-o’-the-wisp. The flame is brilliant and quickly +vanishes, but is not the imagination at hand to act as your ally? +Finally, study the happy art of being near her and yet not being near +her; of seizing the opportunity which will yield you pre-eminence in her +mind without ever crushing her with a sense of your superiority, or even +of her own happiness. If the ignorance in which you have kept her does +not altogether destroy her intellect, you must remain in such relations +with her that each of you will still desire the company of the other. + + + + +MEDITATION XIV. OF APARTMENTS. + +The preceding methods and systems are in a way purely moral; they share +the nobility of the soul, there is nothing repulsive in them; but now we +must proceed to consider precautions _a la Bartholo_. Do not give way to +timidity. There is a marital courage, as there is a civil and military +courage, as there is the courage of the National Guard. + +What is the first course of a young girl after having purchased a +parrot? Is it not to fasten it up in a pretty cage, from which it cannot +get out without permission? + +You may learn your duty from this child. + +Everything that pertains to the arrangement of your house and of your +apartments should be planned so as not to give your wife any advantage, +in case she has decided to deliver you to the Minotaur; half of all +actual mischances are brought about by the deplorable facilities which +the apartments furnish. + +Before everything else determine to have for your porter a _single man_ +entirely devoted to your person. This is a treasure easily to be +found. What husband is there throughout the world who has not either a +foster-father or some old servant, upon whose knees he has been dandled! +There ought to exist by means of your management, a hatred like that of +Artreus and Thyestes between your wife and this Nestor--guardian of +your gate. This gate is the Alpha and Omega of an intrigue. May not all +intrigues in love be confined in these words--entering and leaving? + +Your house will be of no use to you if it does not stand between a +court and a garden, and so constructed as to be detached from all other +buildings. You must abolish all recesses in your apartments. A cupboard, +if it contain but six pots of preserves, should be walled in. You are +preparing yourself for war, and the first thought of a general is to cut +his enemy off from supplies. Moreover, all the walls must be smooth, in +order to present to the eye lines which may be taken in at a glance, +and permit the immediate recognition of the least strange object. If you +consult the remains of antique monuments you will see that the beauty of +Greek and Roman apartments sprang principally from the purity of their +lines, the clear sweep of their walls and scantiness of furniture. The +Greeks would have smiled in pity, if they had seen the gaps which our +closets make in our drawing-rooms. + +This magnificent system of defence should above all be put in active +operation in the apartment of your wife; never let her curtain her bed +in such a way that one can walk round it amid a maze of hangings; be +inexorable in the matter of connecting passages, and let her chamber be +at the bottom of your reception-rooms, so as to show at a glance those +who come and go. + +_The Marriage of Figaro_ will no doubt have taught you to put your +wife’s chamber at a great height from the ground. All celibates are +Cherubins. + +Your means, doubtless, will permit your wife to have a dressing-room, +a bath-room, and a room for her chambermaid. Think then on Susanne, +and never commit the fault of arranging this little room below that of +madame’s, but place it always above, and do not shrink from disfiguring +your mansion by hideous divisions in the windows. + +If, by ill luck, you see that this dangerous apartment communicates with +that of your wife by a back staircase, earnestly consult your architect; +let his genius exhaust itself in rendering this dangerous staircase as +innocent as the primitive garret ladder; we conjure you let not this +staircase have appended to it any treacherous lurking-place; its stiff +and angular steps must not be arranged with that tempting curve which +Faublas and Justine found so useful when they waited for the exit of +the Marquis de B-----. Architects nowadays make such staircases as are +absolutely preferable to ottomans. Restore rather the virtuous garret +steps of our ancestors. + +Concerning the chimneys in the apartment of madame, you must take care +to place in the flue, five feet from the ground, an iron grill, even +though it be necessary to put up a fresh one every time the chimney is +swept. If your wife laughs at this precaution, suggest to her the number +of murders that have been committed by means of chimneys. Almost all +women are afraid of robbers. The bed is one of those important pieces +of furniture whose structure will demand long consideration. Everything +concerning it is of vital importance. The following is the result of +long experience in the construction of beds. Give to this piece of +furniture a form so original that it may be looked upon without disgust, +in the midst of changes of fashion which succeed so rapidly in rendering +antiquated the creations of former decorators, for it is essential that +your wife be unable to change, at pleasure, this theatre of married +happiness. The base should be plain and massive and admit of no +treacherous interval between it and the floor; and bear in mind always +that the Donna Julia of Byron hid Don Juan under her pillow. But it +would be ridiculous to treat lightly so delicate a subject. + + + LXII. + The bed is the whole of marriage. + + +Moreover, we must not delay to direct your attention to this wonderful +creation of human genius, an invention which claims our recognition much +more than ships, firearms, matches, wheeled carriages, steam engines +of all kinds, more than even barrels and bottles. In the first place, +a little thought will convince us that this is all true of the bed; +but when we begin to think that it is our second father, that the most +tranquil and most agitated half of our existence is spent under its +protecting canopy, words fail in eulogizing it. (See Meditation XVII, +entitled “Theory of the Bed.”) + +When the war, of which we shall speak in our third part, breaks out +between you and madame, you will always have plenty of ingenious excuses +for rummaging in the drawers and escritoires; for if your wife is trying +to hide from you some statue of her adoration, it is your interest to +know where she has hidden it. A gyneceum, constructed on the method +described, will enable you to calculate at a glance, whether there is +present in it two pounds of silk more than usual. Should a single closet +be constructed there, you are a lost man! Above all, accustom your wife, +during the honeymoon, to bestow especial pains in the neatness of her +apartment; let nothing put off that. If you do not habituate her to be +minutely particular in this respect, if the same objects are not always +found in the same places, she will allow things to become so untidy, +that you will not be able to see that there are two pounds of silk more +or less in her room. + +The curtains of your apartments ought to be of a stuff which is quite +transparent, and you ought to contract the habit in the evenings of +walking outside so that madame may see you come right up to the window +just out of absent-mindedness. In a word, with regard to windows, let +the sills be so narrow that even a sack of flour cannot be set up on +them. + +If the apartment of your wife can be arranged on these principles, you +will be in perfect safety, even if there are niches enough there to +contain all the saints of Paradise. You will be able, every evening, +with the assistance of your porter, to strike the balance between +the entrances and exits of visitors; and, in order to obtain accurate +results, there is nothing to prevent your teaching him to keep a book of +visitors, in double entry. + +If you have a garden, cultivate a taste for dogs, and always keep at +large one of these incorruptible guardians under your windows; you will +thus gain the respect of the Minotaur, especially if you accustom your +four-footed friend to take nothing substantial excepting from the +hand of your porter, so that hard-hearted celibates may not succeed in +poisoning him. + +But all these precautions must be taken as a natural thing so that they +may not arouse suspicions. If husbands are so imprudent as to neglect +precautions from the moment they are married, they ought at once to sell +their house and buy another one, or, under the pretext of repairs, alter +their present house in the way prescribed. + +You will without scruple banish from your apartment all sofas, ottomans, +lounges, sedan chairs and the like. In the first place, this is the +kind of furniture that adorns the homes of grocers, where they are +universally found, as they are in those of barbers; but they are +essentially the furniture of perdition; I can never see them without +alarm. It has always seemed to me that there the devil himself is +lurking with his horns and cloven foot. + +After all, nothing is so dangerous as a chair, and it is extremely +unfortunate that women cannot be shut up within the four walls of a bare +room! What husband is there, who on sitting down on a rickety chair is +not always forced to believe that this chair has received some of the +lessons taught by the _Sofa_ of Crebillion junior? But happily we have +arranged your apartment on such a system of prevention that nothing +so fatal can happen, or, at any rate, not without your contributory +negligence. + +One fault which you must contract, and which you must never correct, +will consist in a sort of heedless curiosity, which will make you +examine unceasingly all the boxes, and turn upside down the contents +of all dressing-cases and work-baskets. You must proceed to this +domiciliary visit in a humorous mood, and gracefully, so that each time +you will obtain pardon by exciting the amusement of your wife. + +You must always manifest a most profound astonishment on noticing any +piece of furniture freshly upholstered in her well-appointed apartment. +You must immediately make her explain to you the advantages of the +change; and then you must ransack your mind to discover whether there be +not some underhand motive in the transaction. + +This is by no means all. You have too much sense to forget that your +pretty parrot will remain in her cage only so long as that cage is +beautiful. The least accessory of her apartment ought, therefore, to +breathe elegance and taste. The general appearance should always present +a simple, at the same time a charming picture. You must constantly renew +the hangings and muslin curtains. The freshness of the decorations +is too essential to permit of economy on this point. It is the fresh +chickweed each morning carefully put into the cage of their birds, that +makes their pets believe it is the verdure of the meadows. An apartment +of this character is then the _ultima ratio_ of husbands; a wife has +nothing to say when everything is lavished on her. + +Husbands who are condemned to live in rented apartments find themselves +in the most terrible situation possible. What happy or what fatal +influence cannot the porter exercise upon their lot? + +Is not their home flanked on either side by other houses? It is true +that by placing the apartment of their wives on one side of the house +the danger is lessened by one-half; but are they not obliged to learn by +heart and to ponder the age, the condition, the fortune, the character, +the habits of the tenants of the next house and even to know their +friends and relations? + +A husband will never take lodgings on the ground floor. + +Every man, however, can apply in his apartments the precautionary +methods which we have suggested to the owner of a house, and thus the +tenant will have this advantage over the owner, that the apartment, +which is less spacious than the house, is more easily guarded. + + + + +MEDITATION XV. OF THE CUSTOM HOUSE. + +“But no, madame, no--” + +“Yes, for there is such inconvenience in the arrangement.” + +“Do you think, madame, that we wish, as at the frontier, to watch +the visits of persons who cross the threshold of your apartments, or +furtively leave them, in order to see whether they bring to you articles +of contraband? That would not be proper; and there is nothing odious in +our proceeding, any more than there is anything of a fiscal character; +do not be alarmed.” + +The Custom House of the marriage state is, of all the expedients +prescribed in this second part, that which perhaps demands the most tact +and the most skill as well as the most knowledge acquired _a priori_, +that is to say before marriage. In order to carry it out, a husband +ought to have made a profound study of Lavater’s book, and to be imbued +with all his principles; to have accustomed his eye to judge and to +apprehend with the most astonishing promptitude, the slightest physical +expressions by which a man reveals his thoughts. + +Lavater’s _Physiognomy_ originated a veritable science, which has won +a place in human investigation. If at first some doubts, some jokes +greeted the appearance of this book, since then the celebrated Doctor +Gall is come with his noble theory of the skull and has completed the +system of the Swiss savant, and given stability to his fine and luminous +observations. People of talent, diplomats, women, all those who are +numbered among the choice and fervent disciples of these two celebrated +men, have often had occasion to recognize many other evident signs, by +which the course of human thought is indicated. The habits of the body, +the handwriting, the sound of the voice, have often betrayed the woman +who is in love, the diplomat who is attempting to deceive, the clever +administrator, or the sovereign who is compelled to distinguish at +a glance love, treason or merit hitherto unknown. The man whose soul +operates with energy is like a poor glowworm, which without knowing it +irradiates light from every pore. He moves in a brilliant sphere where +each effort makes a burning light and outlines his actions with long +streamers of fire. + +These, then, are all the elements of knowledge which you should possess, +for the conjugal custom house insists simply in being able by a rapid +but searching examination to know the moral and physical condition of +all who enter or leave your house--all, that is, who have seen or intend +to see your wife. A husband is, like a spider, set at the centre of an +invisible net, and receives a shock from the least fool of a fly who +touches it, and from a distance, hears, judges and sees what is either +his prey or his enemy. + +Thus you must obtain means to examine the celibate who rings at your +door under two circumstances which are quite distinct, namely, when he +is about to enter and when he is inside. + +At the moment of entering how many things does he utter without even +opening his mouth! + +It may be by a slight wave of his hand, or by his plunging his +fingers many times into his hair, he sticks up or smoothes down his +characteristic bang. + +Or he hums a French or an Italian air, merry or sad, in a voice which +may be either tenor, contralto, soprano or baritone. + +Perhaps he takes care to see that the ends of his necktie are properly +adjusted. + +Or he smoothes down the ruffles or front of his shirt or evening-dress. + +Or he tries to find out by a questioning and furtive glance whether his +wig, blonde or brown, curled or plain, is in its natural position. + +Perhaps he looks at his nails to see whether they are clean and duly +cut. + +Perhaps with a hand which is either white or untidy, well-gloved or +otherwise, he twirls his moustache, or his whiskers, or picks his teeth +with a little tortoise-shell toothpick. + +Or by slow and repeated movements he tries to place his chin exactly +over the centre of his necktie. + +Or perhaps he crosses one foot over the other, putting his hands in his +pockets. + +Or perhaps he gives a twist to his shoe, and looks at it as if he +thought, “Now, there’s a foot that is not badly formed.” + +Or according as he has come on foot or in a carriage, he rubs off or he +does not rub off the slight patches of mud which soil his shoes. + +Or perhaps he remains as motionless as a Dutchman smoking his pipe. + +Or perhaps he fixes his eyes on the door and looks like a soul escaped +from Purgatory and waiting for Saint Peter with the keys. + +Perhaps he hesitates to pull the bell; perhaps he seizes it negligently, +precipitately, familiarly, or like a man who is quite sure of himself. + +Perhaps he pulls it timidly, producing a faint tinkle which is lost +in the silence of the apartments, as the first bell of matins in +winter-time, in a convent of Minims; or perhaps after having rung with +energy, he rings again impatient that the footman has not heard him. + +Perhaps he exhales a delicate scent, as he chews a pastille. + +Perhaps with a solemn air he takes a pinch of snuff, brushing off with +care the grains that might mar the whiteness of his linen. + +Perhaps he looks around like a man estimating the value of the staircase +lamp, the balustrade, the carpet, as if he were a furniture dealer or a +contractor. + +Perhaps this celibate seems a young or an old man, is cold or hot, +arrives slowly, with an expression of sadness or merriment, etc. + +You see that here, at the very foot of your staircase, you are met by an +astonishing mass of things to observe. + +The light pencil-strokes, with which we have tried to outline this +figure, will suggest to you what is in reality a moral kaleidoscope with +millions of variations. And yet we have not even attempted to bring any +woman on to the threshold which reveals so much; for in that case our +remarks, already considerable in number, would have been countless and +light as the grains of sand on the seashore. + +For as a matter of fact, when he stands before the shut door, a man +believes that he is quite alone; and he would have no hesitation in +beginning a silent monologue, a dreamy soliloquy, in which he revealed +his desires, his intentions, his personal qualities, his faults, his +virtues, etc.; for undoubtedly a man on a stoop is exactly like a young +girl of fifteen at confession, the evening before her first communion. + +Do you want any proof of this? Notice the sudden change of face and +manner in this celibate from the very moment he steps within the house. +No machinist in the Opera, no change in the temperature in the clouds or +in the sun can more suddenly transform the appearance of a theatre, the +effect of the atmosphere, or the scenery of the heavens. + +On reaching the first plank of your antechamber, instead of betraying +with so much innocence the myriad thoughts which were suggested to you +on the steps, the celibate has not a single glance to which you could +attach any significance. The mask of social convention wraps with its +thick veil his whole bearing; but a clever husband must already have +divined at a single look the object of his visit, and he reads the soul +of the new arrival as if it were a printed book. + +The manner in which he approaches your wife, in which he addresses her, +looks at her, greets her and retires--there are volumes of observations, +more or less trifling, to be made on these subjects. + +The tone of his voice, his bearing, his awkwardness, it may be his +smile, even his gloom, his avoidance of your eye,--all are significant, +all ought to be studied, but without apparent attention. You ought to +conceal the most disagreeable discovery you may make by an easy manner +and remarks such as are ready at hand to a man of society. As we are +unable to detail the minutiae of this subject we leave them entirely +to the sagacity of the reader, who must by this time have perceived the +drift of our investigation, as well as the extent of this science which +begins at the analysis of glances and ends in the direction of such +movements as contempt may inspire in a great toe hidden under the satin +of a lady’s slipper or the leather of a man’s boot. + +But the exit!--for we must allow for occasions where you have omitted +your rigid scrutiny at the threshold of the doorway, and in that case +the exit becomes of vital importance, and all the more so because this +fresh study of the celibate ought to be made on the same lines, but from +an opposite point of view, from that which we have already outlined. + +In the exit the situation assumes a special gravity; for then is the +moment in which the enemy has crossed all the intrenchments within which +he was subject to our examination and has escaped into the street! At +this point a man of understanding when he sees a visitor passing under +the _porte-cochere_ should be able to divine the import of the whole +visit. The indications are indeed fewer in number, but how distinct +is their character! The denouement has arrived and the man instantly +betrays the importance of it by the frankest expression of happiness, +pain or joy. + +These revelations are therefore easy to apprehend; they appear in the +glance cast either at the building or at the windows of the apartment; +in a slow or loitering gait, in the rubbing of hands, on the part of a +fool, in the bounding gait of a coxcomb, or the involuntary arrest of +his footsteps, which marks the man who is deeply moved; in a word, you +see upon the stoop certain questions as clearly proposed to you as if a +provincial academy had offered a hundred crowns for an essay; but in the +exit you behold the solution of these questions clearly and precisely +given to you. Our task would be far above the power of human +intelligence if it consisted in enumerating the different ways by which +men betray their feelings, the discernment of such things is purely a +matter of tact and sentiment. + +If strangers are the subject of these principles of observation, you +have a still stronger reason for submitting your wife to the formal +safeguards which we have outlined. + +A married man should make a profound study of his wife’s countenance. +Such a study is easy, it is even involuntary and continuous. For him the +pretty face of his wife must needs contain no mysteries, he knows how +her feelings are depicted there and with what expression she shuns the +fire of his glance. + +The slightest movement of the lips, the faintest contraction of the +nostrils, scarcely perceptible changes in the expression of the eye, an +altered voice, and those indescribable shades of feeling which pass over +her features, or the light which sometimes bursts forth from them, are +intelligible language to you. + +The whole woman nature stands before you; all look at her, but none can +interpret her thoughts. But for you, the eye is more or less dimmed, +wide-opened or closed; the lid twitches, the eyebrow moves; a wrinkle, +which vanishes as quickly as a ripple on the ocean, furrows her brow for +one moment; the lip tightens, it is slightly curved or it is wreathed +with animation--for you the woman has spoken. + +If in those puzzling moments in which a woman tries dissimulation in +presence of her husband, you have the spirit of a sphinx in seeing +through her, you will plainly observe that your custom-house +restrictions are mere child’s play to her. + +When she comes home or goes out, when in a word she believes she is +alone, your wife will exhibit all the imprudence of a jackdaw and will +tell her secret aloud to herself; moreover, by her sudden change of +expression the moment she notices you (and despite the rapidity of +this change, you will not fail to have observed the expression she wore +behind your back) you may read her soul as if you were reading a book +of Plain Song. Moreover, your wife will often find herself just on the +point of indulging in soliloquies, and on such occasions her husband may +recognize the secret feelings of his wife. + +Is there a man as heedless of love’s mysteries as not to have admired, +over and over again, the light, mincing, even bewitching gait of a woman +who flies on her way to keep an assignation? She glides through the +crowd, like a snake through the grass. The costumes and stuffs of the +latest fashion spread out their dazzling attractions in the shop windows +without claiming her attention; on, on she goes like the faithful animal +who follows the invisible tracks of his master; she is deaf to all +compliments, blind to all glances, insensible even to the light touch +of the crowd, which is inevitable amid the circulation of Parisian +humanity. Oh, how deeply she feels the value of a minute! Her gait, +her toilet, the expression of her face, involve her in a thousand +indiscretions, but oh, what a ravishing picture she presents to the +idler, and what an ominous page for the eye of a husband to read, is the +face of this woman when she returns from the secret place of rendezvous +in which her heart ever dwells! Her happiness is impressed even on the +unmistakable disarray of her hair, the mass of whose wavy tresses has +not received from the broken comb of the celibate that radiant lustre, +that elegant and well-proportioned adjustment which only the practiced +hand of her maid can give. And what charming ease appears in her gait! +How is it possible to describe the emotion which adds such rich tints to +her complexion!--which robs her eyes of all their assurance and gives to +them an expression of mingled melancholy and delight, of shame which is +yet blended with pride! + +These observations, stolen from our Meditation, _Of the Last Symptoms_, +and which are really suggested by the situation of a woman who tries to +conceal everything, may enable you to divine by analogy the rich crop +of observation which is left for you to harvest when your wife arrives +home, or when, without having committed the great crime she innocently +lets out the secrets of her thoughts. For our own part we never see +a landing without wishing to set up there a mariner’s card and a +weather-cock. + +As the means to be employed for constructing a sort of domestic +observatory depend altogether on places and circumstances, we must +leave to the address of a jealous husband the execution of the methods +suggested in this Meditation. + + + + +MEDITATION XVI. THE CHARTER OF MARRIAGE. + +I acknowledge that I really know of but one house in Paris which is +managed in accordance with the system unfolded in the two preceding +Meditations. But I ought to add, also, that I have built up my system on +the example of that house. The admirable fortress I allude to belonged +to a young councillor of state, who was mad with love and jealousy. + +As soon as he learned that there existed a man who was exclusively +occupied in bringing to perfection the institution of marriage in +France, he had the generosity to open the doors of his mansion to me and +to show me his gyneceum. I admired the profound genius which so cleverly +disguised the precautions of almost oriental jealousy under the elegance +of furniture, beauty of carpets and brightness of painted decorations. I +agreed with him that it was impossible for his wife to render his home a +scene of treachery. + +“Sir,” said I, to this Othello of the council of state who did not seem +to me peculiarly strong in the _haute politique_ of marriage, “I have no +doubt that the viscountess is delighted to live in this little Paradise; +she ought indeed to take prodigious pleasure in it, especially if you +are here often. But the time will come when she will have had enough of +it; for, my dear sir, we grow tired of everything, even of the sublime. +What will you do then, when madame, failing to find in all your +inventions their primitive charm, shall open her mouth in a yawn, and +perhaps make a request with a view to the exercise of two rights, both +of which are indispensable to her happiness: individual liberty, that +is, the privilege of going and coming according to the caprice of her +will; and the liberty of the press, that is, the privilege of writing +and receiving letters without fear of your censure?” + +Scarcely had I said these words when the Vicomte de V----- grasped my +arm tightly and cried: + +“Yes, such is the ingratitude of woman! If there is any thing more +ungrateful than a king, it is a nation; but, sir, woman is more +ungrateful than either of them. A married woman treats us as the +citizens of a constitutional monarchy treat their king; every measure +has been taken to give these citizens a life of prosperity in a +prosperous country; the government has taken all the pains in the world +with its gendarmes, its churches, its ministry and all the paraphernalia +of its military forces, to prevent the people from dying of hunger, to +light the cities by gas at the expense of the citizens, to give warmth +to every one by means of the sun which shines at the forty-fifth degree +of latitude, and to forbid every one, excepting the tax-gatherers, to +ask for money; it has labored hard to give to all the main roads a more +or less substantial pavement--but none of these advantages of our fair +Utopia is appreciated! The citizens want something else. They are not +ashamed to demand the right of traveling over the roads at their own +will, and of being informed where that money given to the tax-gatherers +goes. And, finally, the monarch will soon be obliged, if we pay any +attention to the chatter of certain scribblers, to give to every +individual a share in the throne or to adopt certain revolutionary +ideas, which are mere Punch and Judy shows for the public, manipulated +by a band of self-styled patriots, riff-raff, always ready to sell their +conscience for a million francs, for an honest woman, or for a ducal +coronet.” + +“But, monsieur,” I said, interrupting him, “while I perfectly agree with +you on this last point, the question remains, how will you escape giving +an answer to the just demands of your wife?” + +“Sir” he replied, “I shall do--I shall answer as the government answers, +that is, those governments which are not so stupid as the opposition +would make out to their constituents. I shall begin by solemnly +interdicting any arrangement, by virtue of which my wife will be +declared entirely free. I fully recognize her right to go wherever it +seems good to her, to write to whom she chooses, and to receive letters, +the contents of which I do not know. My wife shall have all the rights +that belong to an English Parliament; I shall let her talk as much +as she likes, discuss and propose strong and energetic measures, but +without the power to put them into execution, and then after that--well, +we shall see!” + +“By St. Joseph!” said I to myself, “Here is a man who understands the +science of marriage as well as I myself do. And then, you will see, +sir,” I answered aloud, in order to obtain from him the fullest +revelation of his experience; “you will see, some fine morning, that you +are as big a fool as the next man.” + +“Sir,” he gravely replied, “allow me to finish what I was saying. Here +is what the great politicians call a theory, but in practice they can +make that theory vanish in smoke; and ministers possess in a greater +degree than even the lawyers of Normandy, the art of making fact +yield to fancy. M. de Metternich and M. de Pilat, men of the highest +authority, have been for a long time asking each other whether Europe is +in its right senses, whether it is dreaming, whether it knows whither it +is going, whether it has ever exercised its reason, a thing impossible +on the part of the masses, of nations and of women. M. de Metternich and +M. de Pilat are terrified to see this age carried away by a passion for +constitutions, as the preceding age was by the passion for philosophy, +as that of Luther was for a reform of abuses in the Roman religion; +for it truly seems as if different generations of men were like those +conspirators whose actions are directed to the same end, as soon as the +watchword has been given them. But their alarm is a mistake, and it is +on this point alone that I condemn them, for they are right in their +wish to enjoy power without permitting the middle class to come on a +fixed day from the depth of each of their six kingdoms, to torment +them. How could men of such remarkable talent fail to divine that the +constitutional comedy has in it a moral of profound meaning, and to see +that it is the very best policy to give the age a bone to exercise its +teeth upon! I think exactly as they do on the subject of sovereignty. +A power is a moral being as much interested as a man is in +self-preservation. This sentiment of self-preservation is under the +control of an essential principle which may be expressed in three +words--_to lose nothing_. But in order to lose nothing, a power must +grow or remain indefinite, for a power which remains stationary is +nullified. If it retrogrades, it is under the control of something else, +and loses its independent existence. I am quite as well aware, as are +those gentlemen, in what a false position an unlimited power puts itself +by making concessions; it allows to another power whose essence is +to expand a place within its own sphere of activity. One of them will +necessarily nullify the other, for every existing thing aims at the +greatest possible development of its own forces. A power, therefore, +never makes concessions which it does not afterwards seek to retract. +This struggle between two powers is the basis on which stands the +balance of government, whose elasticity so mistakenly alarmed the +patriarch of Austrian diplomacy, for comparing comedy with comedy the +least perilous and the most advantageous administration is found in +the seesaw system of the English and of the French politics. These two +countries have said to the people, ‘You are free;’ and the people have +been satisfied; they enter the government like the zeros which give +value to the unit. But if the people wish to take an active part in the +government, immediately they are treated, like Sancho Panza, on that +occasion when the squire, having become sovereign over an island on +terra firma, made an attempt at dinner to eat the viands set before him. + +“Now we ought to parody this admirable scene in the management of our +homes. Thus, my wife has a perfect right to go out, provided she tell +me where she is going, how she is going, what is the business she is +engaged in when she is out and at what hour she will return. Instead of +demanding this information with the brutality of the police, who will +doubtless some day become perfect, I take pains to speak to her in the +most gracious terms. On my lips, in my eyes, in my whole countenance, +an expression plays, which indicates both curiosity and indifference, +seriousness and pleasantry, harshness and tenderness. These little +conjugal scenes are so full of vivacity, of tact and address that it is +a pleasure to take part in them. The very day on which I took from +the head of my wife the wreath of orange blossoms which she wore, I +understood that we were playing at a royal coronation--the first scene +in a comic pantomime!--I have my gendarmes!--I have my guard royal!--I +have my attorney general--that I do!” he continued enthusiastically. “Do +you think that I would allow madame to go anywhere on foot unaccompanied +by a lackey in livery? Is not that the best style? Not to count the +pleasure she takes in saying to everybody, ‘I have my people here.’ +It has always been a conservative principle of mine that my times of +exercise should coincide with those of my wife, and for two years I have +proved to her that I take an ever fresh pleasure in giving her my arm. +If the weather is not suitable for walking, I try to teach her how to +drive with success a frisky horse; but I swear to you that I undertake +this in such a manner that she does not learn very quickly!--If either +by chance, or prompted by a deliberate wish, she takes measures to +escape without a passport, that is to say, alone in the carriage, have I +not a driver, a footman, a groom? My wife, therefore, go where she will, +takes with her a complete _Santa Hermandad_, and I am perfectly easy in +mind--But, my dear sir, there is abundance of means by which to annul +the charter of marriage by our manner of fulfilling it! I have remarked +that the manners of high society induce a habit of idleness which +absorbs half of the life of a woman without permitting her to feel that +she is alive. For my part, I have formed the project of dexterously +leading my wife along, up to her fortieth year, without letting her +think of adultery, just as poor Musson used to amuse himself in leading +some simple fellow from the Rue Saint-Denis to Pierrefitte without +letting him think that he had left the shadows of St. Lew’s tower.” + +“How is it,” I said, interrupting him, “that you have hit upon those +admirable methods of deception which I was intending to describe in +a Meditation entitled _The Act of Putting Death into Life!_ Alas! I +thought I was the first man to discover that science. The epigrammatic +title was suggested to me by an account which a young doctor gave me of +an excellent composition of Crabbe, as yet unpublished. In this work, +the English poet has introduced a fantastic being called _Life in +Death_. This personage crosses the oceans of the world in pursuit of a +living skeleton called _Death in Life_--I recollect at the time very +few people, among the guests of a certain elegant translator of English +poetry, understood the mystic meaning of a fable as true as it was +fanciful. Myself alone, perhaps, as I sat buried in silence, thought of +the whole generations which as they were hurried along by life, passed +on their way without living. Before my eyes rose faces of women by the +million, by the myriad, all dead, all disappointed and shedding tears +of despair, as they looked back upon the lost moments of their ignorant +youth. In the distance I saw a playful Meditation rise to birth, I heard +the satanic laughter which ran through it, and now you doubtless are +about to kill it.--But come, tell me in confidence what means you have +discovered by which to assist a woman to squander the swift moments +during which her beauty is at its full flower and her desires at their +full strength.--Perhaps you have some stratagems, some clever devices, +to describe to me--” + +The viscount began to laugh at this literary disappointment of mine, and +he said to me, with a self-satisfied air: + +“My wife, like all the young people of our happy century, has been +accustomed, for three or four consecutive years, to press her fingers on +the keys of a piano, a long-suffering instrument. She has hammered out +Beethoven, warbled the airs of Rossini and run through the exercises of +Crammer. I had already taken pains to convince her of the excellence of +music; to attain this end, I have applauded her, I have listened without +yawning to the most tiresome sonatas in the world, and I have at last +consented to give her a box at the Bouffons. I have thus gained three +quiet evenings out of the seven which God has created in the week. I am +the mainstay of the music shops. At Paris there are drawing-rooms which +exactly resemble the musical snuff-boxes of Germany. They are a sort of +continuous orchestra to which I regularly go in search of that surfeit +of harmony which my wife calls a concert. But most part of the time my +wife keeps herself buried in her music-books--” + +“But, my dear sir, do you not recognize the danger that lies in +cultivating in a woman a taste for singing, and allowing her to yield +to all the excitements of a sedentary life? It is only less dangerous to +make her feed on mutton and drink cold water.” + +“My wife never eats anything but the white meat of poultry, and I always +take care that a ball shall come after a concert and a reception after +an Opera! I have also succeeded in making her lie down between one +and two in the day. Ah! my dear sir, the benefits of this nap are +incalculable! In the first place each necessary pleasure is accorded +as a favor, and I am considered to be constantly carrying out my wife’s +wishes. And then I lead her to imagine, without saying a single word, +that she is being constantly amused every day from six o’clock in the +evening, the time of our dinner and of her toilet, until eleven o’clock +in the morning, the time when we get up.” + +“Ah! sir, how grateful you ought to be for a life which is so completely +filled up!” + +“I have scarcely more than three dangerous hours a day to pass; but she +has, of course, sonatas to practice and airs to go over, and there are +always rides in the Bois de Boulogne, carriages to try, visits to pay, +etc. But this is not all. The fairest ornament of a woman is the most +exquisite cleanliness. A woman cannot be too particular in this respect, +and no pains she takes can be laughed at. Now her toilet has also +suggested to me a method of thus consuming the best hours of the day in +bathing.” + +“How lucky I am in finding a listener like you!” I cried; “truly, sir, +you could waste for her four hours a day, if only you were willing to +teach her an art quite unknown to the most fastidious of our modern +fine ladies. Why don’t you enumerate to the viscountess the astonishing +precautions manifest in the Oriental luxury of the Roman dames? Give her +the names of the slaves merely employed for the bath in Poppea’s palace: +the _unctores_, the _fricatores_, the _alipilarili_, the _dropacistae_, +the _paratiltriae_, the _picatrices_, the _tracatrices_, the swan +whiteners, and all the rest.--Talk to her about this multitude of slaves +whose names are given by Mirabeau in his _Erotika Biblion_. If she tries +to secure the services of all these people you will have the fine times +of quietness, not to speak of the personal satisfaction which will +redound to you yourself from the introduction into your house of the +system invented by these illustrious Romans, whose hair, artistically +arranged, was deluged with perfumes, whose smallest vein seemed to have +acquired fresh blood from the myrrh, the lint, the perfume, the douches, +the flowers of the bath, all of which were enjoyed to the strains of +voluptuous music.” + +“Ah! sir,” continued the husband, who was warming to his subject, “can +I not find also admirable pretexts in my solicitude for her heath? Her +health, so dear and precious to me, forces me to forbid her going out +in bad weather, and thus I gain a quarter of the year. And I have also +introduced the charming custom of kissing when either of us goes out, +this parting kiss being accompanied with the words, ‘My sweet angel, I +am going out.’ Finally, I have taken measures for the future to make +my wife as truly a prisoner in the house as the conscript in his sentry +box! For I have inspired her with an incredible enthusiasm for the +sacred duties of maternity.” + +“You do it by opposing her?” I asked. + +“You have guessed it,” he answered, laughing. “I have maintained to her +that it is impossible for a woman of the world to discharge her duties +towards society, to manage her household, to devote herself to fashion, +as well as to the wishes of her husband, whom she loves, and, at the +same time, to rear children. She then avers that, after the example of +Cato, who wished to see how the nurse changed the swaddling bands of the +infant Pompey, she would never leave to others the least of the services +required in shaping the susceptible minds and tender bodies of these +little creatures whose education begins in the cradle. You understand, +sir, that my conjugal diplomacy would not be of much service to me +unless, after having put my wife in solitary confinement, I did not also +employ a certain harmless machiavelism, which consists in begging her to +do whatever she likes, and asking her advice in every circumstance and +on every contingency. As this delusive liberty has entirely deceived +a creature so high-minded as she is, I have taken pains to stop at no +sacrifice which would convince Madame de V----- that she is the freest +woman in Paris; and, in order to attain this end, I take care not to +commit those gross political blunders into which our ministers so often +fall.” + +“I can see you,” said I, “when you wish to cheat your wife out of some +right granted her by the charter, I can see you putting on a mild and +deliberate air, hiding your dagger under a bouquet of roses, and as +you plunge it cautiously into her heart, saying to her with a friendly +voice, ‘My darling, does it hurt?’ and she, like those on whose toes you +tread in a crowd, will probably reply, ‘Not in the least.’” + +He could not restrain a laugh and said: + +“Won’t my wife be astonished at the Last Judgment?” + +“I scarcely know,” I replied, “whether you or she will be most +astonished.” + +The jealous man frowned, but his face resumed its calmness as I added: + +“I am truly grateful, sir, to the chance which has given me the pleasure +of your acquaintance. Without the assistance of your remarks I should +have been less successful than you have been in developing certain ideas +which we possess in common. I beg of you that you will give me leave to +publish this conversation. Statements which you and I find pregnant with +high political conceptions, others perhaps will think characterized by +more or less cutting irony, and I shall pass for a clever fellow in the +eyes of both parties.” + +While I thus tried to express my thanks to the viscount (the first +husband after my heart that I had met with), he took me once more +through his apartments, where everything seemed to be beyond criticism. + +I was about to take leave of him, when opening the door of a little +boudoir he showed me a room with an air which seemed to say, “Is there +any way by which the least irregularity should occur without my seeing +it?” + +I replied to this silent interrogation by an inclination of the +head, such as guests make to their Amphytrion when they taste some +exceptionally choice dish. + +“My whole system,” he said to me in a whisper, “was suggested to me +by three words which my father heard Napoleon pronounce at a crowded +council of state, when divorce was the subject of conversation. +‘Adultery,’ he exclaimed, ‘is merely a matter of opportunity!’ See, +then, I have changed these accessories of crime, so that they become +spies,” added the councillor, pointing out to me a divan covered with +tea-colored cashmere, the cushions of which were slightly pressed. +“Notice that impression,--I learn from it that my wife has had a +headache, and has been reclining there.” + +We stepped toward the divan, and saw the word FOOL lightly traced upon +the fatal cushion, by four + + + Things that I know not, plucked by lover’s hand + From Cypris’ orchard, where the fairy band + Are dancing, once by nobles thought to be + Worthy an order of new chivalry, + A brotherhood, wherein, with script of gold, + More mortal men than gods should be enrolled. + + +“Nobody in my house has black hair!” said the husband, growing pale. + +I hurried away, for I was seized with an irresistible fit of laughter, +which I could not easily overcome. + +“That man has met his judgment day!” I said to myself; “all the barriers +by which he has surrounded her have only been instrumental in adding to +the intensity of her pleasures!” + +This idea saddened me. The adventure destroyed from summit to foundation +three of my most important Meditations, and the catholic infallibility +of my book was assailed in its most essential point. I would gladly have +paid to establish the fidelity of the Viscountess V----- a sum as great +as very many people would have offered to secure her surrender. But +alas! my money will now be kept by me. + +Three days afterwards I met the councillor in the foyer of the Italiens. +As soon as he saw me he rushed up. Impelled by a sort of modesty I tried +to avoid him, but grasping my arm: “Ah! I have just passed three cruel +days,” he whispered in my ear. “Fortunately my wife is as innocent as +perhaps a new-born babe--” + +“You have already told me that the viscountess was extremely ingenious,” + I said, with unfeeling gaiety. + +“Oh!” he said, “I gladly take a joke this evening; for this morning I +had irrefragable proofs of my wife’s fidelity. I had risen very early +to finish a piece of work for which I had been rushed, and in looking +absently in my garden, I suddenly saw the _valet de chambre_ of a +general, whose house is next to mine, climbing over the wall. My wife’s +maid, poking her head from the vestibule, was stroking my dog and +covering the retreat of the gallant. I took my opera glass and examined +the intruder--his hair was jet black!--Ah! never have I seen a Christian +face that gave me more delight! And you may well believe that during the +day all my perplexities vanished. So, my dear sir,” he continued, “if +you marry, let your dog loose and put broken bottles over the top of +your walls.” + +“And did the viscountess perceive your distress during these three days? + +“Do you take me for a child?” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I have +never been so merry in all my life as I have been since we met.” + +“You are a great man unrecognized,” I cried, “and you are not--” + +He did not permit me to conclude; for he had disappeared on seeing one +of his friends who approached as if to greet the viscountess. + +Now what can we add that would not be a tedious paraphrase of the +lessons suggested by this conversation? All is included in it, either +as seed or fruit. Nevertheless, you see, O husband! that your happiness +hangs on a hair. + + + + +MEDITATION XVII. THE THEORY OF THE BED. + +It was about seven o’clock in the evening. They were seated upon the +academic armchairs, which made a semi-circle round a huge hearth, on +which a coal fire was burning fitfully--symbol of the burning subject of +their important deliberations. It was easy to guess, on seeing the grave +but earnest faces of all the members of this assembly, that they were +called upon to pronounce sentence upon the life, the fortunes and the +happiness of people like themselves. They had no commission excepting +that of their conscience, and they gathered there as the assessors of +an ancient and mysterious tribunal; but they represented interests much +more important than those of kings or of peoples; they spoke in the +name of the passions and on behalf of the happiness of the numberless +generations which should succeed them. + +The grandson of the celebrated Boulle was seated before a round table +on which were placed the criminal exhibits which had been collected with +remarkable intelligence. I, the insignificant secretary of the meeting, +occupied a place at this desk, where it was my office to take down a +report of the meeting. + +“Gentlemen,” said an old man, “the first question upon which we have to +deliberate is found clearly stated in the following passage of a letter. +The letter was written to the Princess of Wales, Caroline of Anspach, +by the widow of the Duke of Orleans, brother of Louis XIV, mother of +the Regent: ‘The Queen of Spain has a method of making her husband say +exactly what she wishes. The king is a religious man; he believes that +he will be damned if he touched any woman but his wife, and still +this excellent prince is of a very amorous temperament. Thus the queen +obtains her every wish. She has placed castors on her husband’s bed. +If he refuses her anything, she pushes the bed away. If he grants her +request, the beds stand side by side, and she admits him into hers. And +so the king is highly delighted, since he likes -----’ I will not go any +further, gentlemen, for the virtuous frankness of the German princess +might in this assembly be charged with immorality.” + +Should wise husbands adopt these beds on castors? This is the problem +which we have to solve. + +The unanimity of the vote left no doubt about the opinion of the +assembly. I was ordered to inscribe in the records, that if two married +people slept on two separate beds in the same room the beds ought not to +be set on castors. + +“With this proviso,” put in one of the members, “that the present +decision should have no bearing on any subsequent ruling upon the best +arrangement of the beds of married people.” + +The president passed to me a choicely bound volume, in which was +contained the original edition, published in 1788, of the letters of +Charlotte Elizabeth de Baviere, widow of the Duke of Orleans, the only +brother of Louis XIV, and, while I was transcribing the passage already +quoted, he said: + +“But, gentlemen, you must all have received at your houses the +notification in which the second question is stated.” + +“I rise to make an observation,” exclaimed the youngest of the jealous +husbands there assembled. + +The president took his seat with a gesture of assent. + +“Gentlemen,” said the young husband, “are we quite prepared to +deliberate upon so grave a question as that which is presented by the +universally bad arrangement of the beds? Is there not here a much wider +question than that of mere cabinet-making to decide? For my own part I +see in it a question which concerns that of universal human intellect. +The mysteries of conception, gentlemen, are still enveloped in a +darkness which modern science has but partially dissipated. We do not +know how far external circumstances influence the microscopic beings +whose discovery is due to the unwearied patience of Hill, Baker, Joblot, +Eichorn, Gleichen, Spallanzani, and especially of Muller, and last of +all of M. Bory de Saint Vincent. The imperfections of the bed opens up a +musical question of the highest importance, and for my part I declare +I shall write to Italy to obtain clear information as to the manner in +which beds are generally arranged. We do not know whether there are in +the Italian bed numerous curtain rods, screws and castors, or whether +the construction of beds is in this country more faulty than everywhere +else, or whether the dryness of timber in Italy, due to the influence of +the sun, does not _ab ovo_ produce the harmony, the sense of which is to +so large an extent innate in Italians. For these reasons I move that we +adjourn.” + +“What!” cried a gentleman from the West, impatiently rising to his feet, +“are we here to dilate upon the advancement of music? What we have to +consider first of all is manners, and the moral question is paramount in +this discussion.” + +“Nevertheless,” remarked one of the most influential members of the +council, “the suggestion of the former speaker is not in my opinion to +be passed by. In the last century, gentlemen, Sterne, one of the writers +most philosophically delightful and most delightfully philosophic, +complained of the carelessness with which human beings were procreated; +‘Shame!’ he cried ‘that he who copies the divine physiognomy of man +receives crowns and applause, but he who achieves the masterpiece, +the prototype of mimic art, feels that like virtue he must be his own +reward.’ + +“Ought we not to feel more interest in the improvement of the human race +than in that of horses? Gentlemen, I passed through a little town of +Orleanais where the whole population consisted of hunchbacks, of glum +and gloomy people, veritable children of sorrow, and the remark of the +former speaker caused me to recollect that all the beds were in a very +bad condition and the bedchambers presented nothing to the eyes of the +married couple but what was hideous and revolting. Ah! gentlemen, how is +it possible that our minds should be in an ideal state, when instead of +the music of angels flying here and there in the bosom of that heaven +to which we have attained, our ears are assailed by the most detestable, +the most angry, the most piercing of human cries and lamentations? We +are perhaps indebted for the fine geniuses who have honored humanity to +beds which are solidly constructed; and the turbulent population which +caused the French Revolution were conceived perhaps upon a multitude of +tottering couches, with twisted and unstable legs; while the Orientals, +who are such a beautiful race, have a unique method of making their +beds. I vote for the adjournment.” + +And the gentleman sat down. + +A man belonging to the sect of Methodists arose. “Why should we change +the subject of debate? We are not dealing here with the improvement of +the race nor with the perfecting of the work. We must not lose sight of +the interests of the jealous husband and the principles on which moral +soundness is based. Don’t you know that the noise of which you complain +seems more terrible to the wife uncertain of her crime, than the trumpet +of the Last Judgment? Can you forget that a suit for infidelity could +never be won by a husband excepting through this conjugal noise? I will +undertake, gentlemen, to refer to the divorces of Lord Abergavenny, of +Viscount Bolingbroke, of the late Queen Caroline, of Eliza Draper, of +Madame Harris, in fact, of all those who are mentioned in the twenty +volumes published by--.” (The secretary did not distinctly hear the name +of the English publisher.) + +The motion to adjourn was carried. The youngest member proposed to make +up a purse for the author producing the best dissertation addressed to +the society upon a subject which Sterne considered of such importance; +but at the end of the seance eighteen shillings was the total sum found +in the hat of the president. + +The above debate of the society, which had recently been formed in +London for the improvement of manners and of marriage and which Lord +Byron scoffed at, was transmitted to us by the kindness of W. Hawkins, +Esq., cousin-german of the famous Captain Clutterbuck. The extract may +serve to solve any difficulties which may occur in the theory of bed +construction. + +But the author of the book considers that the English society has given +too much importance to this preliminary question. There exists in fact +quite as many reasons for being a _Rossinist_ as for being a _Solidist_ +in the matter of beds, and the author acknowledges that it is either +beneath or above him to solve this difficulty. He thinks with Laurence +Sterne that it is a disgrace to European civilization that there exist +so few physiological observations on callipedy, and he refuses to state +the results of his Meditations on this subject, because it would be +difficult to formulate them in terms of prudery, and they would be but +little understood, and misinterpreted. Such reserve produces an hiatus +in this part of the book; but the author has the pleasant satisfaction +of leaving a fourth work to be accomplished by the next century, to +which he bequeaths the legacy of all that he has not accomplished, a +negative munificence which may well be followed by all those who may be +troubled by an overplus of ideas. + +The theory of the bed presents questions much more important than those +put forth by our neighbors with regard to castors and the murmurs of +criminal conversation. + +We know only three ways in which a bed (in the general sense of this +term) may be arranged among civilized nations, and particularly among +the privileged classes to whom this book is addressed. These three ways +are as follows: + + + 1. TWIN BEDS. + 2. SEPARATE ROOMS. + 3. ONE BED FOR BOTH. + + +Before applying ourselves to the examination of these three methods of +living together, which must necessarily have different influences upon +the happiness of husbands and wives, we must take a rapid survey of +the practical object served by the bed and the part it plays in the +political economy of human existence. + +The most incontrovertible principle which can be laid down in this +matter is, _that the bed was made to sleep upon_. + +It would be easy to prove that the practice of sleeping together was +established between married people but recently, in comparison with the +antiquity of marriage. + +By what reasonings has man arrived at that point in which he brought +in vogue a practice so fatal to happiness, to health, even to +_amour-propre_? Here we have a subject which it would be curious to +investigate. + +If you knew one of your rivals who had discovered a method of placing +you in a position of extreme absurdity before the eyes of those who were +dearest to you--for instance, while you had your mouth crooked like +that of a theatrical mask, or while your eloquent lips, like the copper +faucet of a scanty fountain, dripped pure water--you would probably stab +him. This rival is sleep. Is there a man in the world who knows how he +appears to others, and what he does when he is asleep? + +In sleep we are living corpses, we are the prey of an unknown power +which seizes us in spite of ourselves, and shows itself in the oddest +shapes; some have a sleep which is intellectual, while the sleep of +others is mere stupor. + +There are some people who slumber with their mouths open in the silliest +fashion. + +There are others who snore loud enough to make the timbers shake. + +Most people look like the impish devils that Michael Angelo sculptured, +putting out their tongues in silent mockery of the passers-by. + +The only person I know of in the world who sleeps with a noble air is +Agamemnon, whom Guerin has represented lying on his bed at the moment +when Clytemnestra, urged by Egisthus, advances to slay him. Moreover, I +have always had an ambition to hold myself on my pillow as the king of +kings Agamemnon holds himself, from the day that I was seized with dread +of being seen during sleep by any other eyes than those of Providence. +In the same way, too, from the day I heard my old nurse snorting in her +sleep “like a whale,” to use a slang expression, I have added a petition +to the special litany which I address to Saint-Honore, my patron saint, +to the effect that he would save me from indulging in this sort of +eloquence. + +When a man wakes up in the morning, his drowsy face grotesquely +surmounted by the folds of a silk handkerchief which falls over his left +temple like a police cap, he is certainly a laughable object, and it +is difficult to recognize in him the glorious spouse, celebrated in the +strophes of Rousseau; but, nevertheless, there is a certain gleam of +life to illume the stupidity of a countenance half dead--and if you +artists wish to make fine sketches, you should travel on the stage-coach +and, when the postilion wakes up the postmaster, just examine the +physiognomies of the departmental clerks! But, were you a hundred times +as pleasant to look upon as are these bureaucratic physiognomies, at +least, while you have your mouth shut, your eyes are open, and you have +some expression in your countenance. Do you know how you looked an hour +before you awoke, or during the first hour of your sleep, when you were +neither a man nor an animal, but merely a thing, subject to the dominion +of those dreams which issue from the gate of horn? But this is a secret +between your wife and God. + +Is it for the purpose of insinuating the imbecility of slumber that the +Romans decorated the heads of their beds with the head of an ass? +We leave to the gentlemen who form the academy of inscriptions the +elucidation of this point. + +Assuredly, the first man who took it into his head, at the inspiration +of the devil, not to leave his wife, even while she was asleep, should +know how to sleep in the very best style; but do not forget to reckon +among the sciences necessary to a man on setting up an establishment, +the art of sleeping with elegance. Moreover, we will place here as +a corollary to Axiom XXV of our Marriage Catechism the two following +aphorisms: + + + A husband should sleep as lightly as a watch-dog, so as never to + be caught with his eyes shut. + + + A man should accustom himself from childhood to go to bed + bareheaded. + + +Certain poets discern in modesty, in the alleged mysteries of love, some +reason why the married couple should share the same bed; but the fact +must be recognized that if primitive men sought the shade of caverns, +the mossy couch of deep ravines, the flinty roof of grottoes to protect +his pleasure, it was because the delight of love left him without +defence against his enemies. No, it is not more natural to lay two heads +upon the same pillow, than it is reasonable to tie a strip of muslin +round the neck. Civilization is come. It has shut up a million of men +within an area of four square leagues; it has stalled them in streets, +houses, apartments, rooms, and chambers eight feet square; after a +time it will make them shut up one upon another like the tubes of a +telescope. + +From this cause and from many others, such as thrift, fear, and +ill-concealed jealousy, has sprung the custom of the sleeping together +of the married couple; and this custom has given rise to punctuality and +simultaneity in rising and retiring. + +And here you find the most capricious thing in the world, the feeling +most pre-eminently fickle, the thing which is worthless without its own +spontaneous inspiration, which takes all its charm from the suddenness +of its desires, which owes its attractions to the genuineness of its +outbursts--this thing we call love, subjugated to a monastic rule, to +that law of geometry which belongs to the Board of Longitude! + +If I were a father I should hate the child, who, punctual as the clock, +had every morning and evening an explosion of tenderness and wished me +good-day and good-evening, because he was ordered to do so. It is in +this way that all that is generous and spontaneous in human sentiment +becomes strangled at its birth. You may judge from this what love means +when it is bound to a fixed hour! + +Only the Author of everything can make the sun rise and set, morn and +eve, with a pomp invariably brilliant and always new, and no one here +below, if we may be permitted to use the hyperbole of Jean-Baptiste +Rousseau, can play the role of the sun. + +From these preliminary observations, we conclude that it is not natural +for two to lie under the canopy in the same bed; + +That a man is almost always ridiculous when he is asleep; + +And that this constant living together threatens the husband with +inevitable dangers. + +We are going to try, therefore, to find out a method which will bring +our customs in harmony with the laws of nature, and to combine custom +and nature in a way that will enable a husband to find in the mahogany +of his bed a useful ally, and an aid in defending himself. + + + 1. TWIN BEDS. + +If the most brilliant, the best-looking, the cleverest of husbands +wishes to find himself minotaurized just as the first year of his +married life ends, he will infallibly attain that end if he is unwise +enough to place two beds side by side, under the voluptuous dome of the +same alcove. + +The argument in support of this may be briefly stated. The following are +its main lines: + +The first husband who invented the twin beds was doubtless an +obstetrician, who feared that in the involuntary struggles of some dream +he might kick the child borne by his wife. + +But no, he was rather some predestined one who distrusted his power of +checking a snore. + +Perhaps it was some young man who, fearing the excess of his own +tenderness, found himself always lying at the edge of the bed and in +danger of tumbling off, or so near to a charming wife that he disturbed +her slumber. + +But may it not have been some Maintenon who received the suggestion from +her confessor, or, more probably, some ambitious woman who wished to +rule her husband? Or, more undoubtedly, some pretty little Pompadour +overcome by that Parisian infirmity so pleasantly described by M. de +Maurepas in that quatrain which cost him his protracted disgrace and +certainly contributed to the disasters of Louis XVI’s reign: + + + “Iris, we love those features sweet, + Your graces all are fresh and free; + And flowerets spring beneath your feet, + Where naught, alas! but flowers are seen.” + + +But why should it not have been a philosopher who dreaded the +disenchantment which a woman would experience at the sight of a man +asleep? And such a one would always roll himself up in a coverlet and +keep his head bare. + +Unknown author of this Jesuitical method, whoever thou art, in the +devil’s name, we hail thee as a brother! Thou hast been the cause of +many disasters. Thy work has the character of all half measures; it is +satisfactory in no respect, and shares the bad points of the two other +methods without yielding the advantages of either. How can the man of +the nineteenth century, how can this creature so supremely intelligent, +who has displayed a power well-nigh supernatural, who has employed the +resources of his genius in concealing the machinery of his life, in +deifying his necessary cravings in order that he might not despise them, +going so far as to wrest from Chinese leaves, from Egyptian beans, from +seeds of Mexico, their perfume, their treasure, their soul; going so far +as to chisel the diamond, chase the silver, melt the gold ore, paint +the clay and woo every art that may serve to decorate and to dignify the +bowl from which he feeds!--how can this king, after having hidden under +folds of muslin covered with diamonds, studded with rubies, and buried +under linen, under folds of cotton, under the rich hues of silk, under +the fairy patterns of lace, the partner of his wretchedness, how can +he induce her to make shipwreck in the midst of all this luxury on the +decks of two beds. What advantage is it that we have made the whole +universe subserve our existence, our delusions, the poesy of our life? +What good is it to have instituted law, morals and religion, if the +invention of an upholsterer [for probably it was an upholsterer who +invented the twin beds] robs our love of all its illusions, strips it +bare of the majestic company of its delights and gives it in their +stead nothing but what is ugliest and most odious? For this is the whole +history of the two bed system. + + + LXIII. + That it shall appear either sublime or grotesque are the alternatives + to which we have reduced a desire. + + +If it be shared, our love is sublime; but should you sleep in twin beds, +your love will always be grotesque. The absurdities which this half +separation occasions may be comprised in either one of two situations, +which will give us occasion to reveal the causes of very many marital +misfortunes. + +Midnight is approaching as a young woman is putting on her curl +papers and yawning as she did so. I do not know whether her melancholy +proceeded from a headache, seated in the right or left lobe of her +brain, or whether she was passing through one of those seasons of +weariness during which all things appear black to us; but to see her +negligently putting up her hair for the night, to see her languidly +raising her leg to take off her garter, it seemed to me that she would +prefer to be drowned rather than to be denied the relief of plunging her +draggled life into the slumber that might restore it. At this instant, +I know not to what degree from the North Pole she stands, whether +at Spitzberg or in Greenland. Cold and indifferent she goes to bed +thinking, as Mistress Walter Shandy might have thought, that the morrow +would be a day of sickness, that her husband is coming home very late, +that the beaten eggs which she has just eaten were not sufficiently +sweetened, that she owes more than five hundred francs to her +dressmaker; in fine, thinking about everything which you may suppose +would occupy the mind of a tired woman. In the meanwhile arrives her +great lout of a husband, who, after some business meeting, has drunk +punch, with a consequent elation. He takes off his boots, leaves his +stockings on a lounge, his bootjack lies before the fireplace; and +wrapping his head up in a red silk handkerchief, without giving himself +the trouble to tuck in the corners, he fires off at his wife certain +interjectory phrases, those little marital endearments, which form +almost the whole conversation at those twilight hours, where drowsy +reason is no longer shining in this mechanism of ours. “What, in bed +already! It was devilish cold this evening! Why don’t you speak, my pet? +You’ve already rolled yourself up in bed, then! Ah! you are in the dumps +and pretend to be asleep!” These exclamations are mingled with yawns; +and after numberless little incidents which according to the usage of +each home vary this preface of the night, our friend flings himself into +his own bed with a heavy thud. + +Alas! before a woman who is cold, how mad a man must appear when desire +renders him alternately angry and tender, insolent and abject, biting as +an epigram and soothing as a madrigal; when he enacts with more or less +sprightliness the scene where, in _Venice Preserved_, the genius of +Orway has represented the senator Antonio, repeating a hundred times +over at the feet of Aquilina: “Aquilina, Quilina, Lina, Aqui, Nacki!” + without winning from her aught save the stroke of her whip, inasmuch +as he has undertaken to fawn upon her like a dog. In the eyes of every +woman, even of a lawful wife, the more a man shows eager passion under +these circumstances, the more silly he appears. He is odious when he +commands, he is minotaurized if he abuses his power. On this point I +would remind you of certain aphorisms in the marriage catechism from +which you will see that you are violating its most sacred precepts. +Whether a woman yields, or does not yield, this institution of twin beds +gives to marriage such an element of roughness and nakedness that the +most chaste wife and the most intelligent husband are led to immodesty. + +This scene, which is enacted in a thousand ways and which may originate +in a thousand different incidents, has a sequel in that other situation +which, while it is less pleasant, is far more terrible. + +One evening when I was talking about these serious matters with the +late Comte de Noce, of whom I have already had occasion to speak, a tall +white-haired old man, his intimate friend, whose name I will not give, +because he is still alive, looked at us with a somewhat melancholy air. +We guessed that he was about to relate some tale of scandal, and we +accordingly watched him, somewhat as the stenographer of the _Moniteur_ +might watch, as he mounted the tribune, a minister whose speech had +already been written out for the reporter. The story-teller on this +occasion was an old marquis, whose fortune, together with his wife +and children, had perished in the disasters of the Revolution. The +marchioness had been one of the most inconsistent women of the past +generation; the marquis accordingly was not wanting in observations on +feminine human nature. Having reached an age in which he saw nothing +before him but the gulf of the grave, he spoke about himself as if the +subject of his talk were Mark Antony or Cleopatra. + +“My young friend”--he did me the honor to address me, for it was I who +made the last remark in this discussion--“your reflections make me think +of a certain evening, in the course of which one of my friends conducted +himself in such a manner as to lose forever the respect of his +wife. Now, in those days a woman could take vengeance with marvelous +facility--for it was always a word and a blow. The married couple I +speak of were particular in sleeping on separate beds, with their head +under the arch of the same alcove. They came home one night from a +brilliant ball given by the Comte de Mercy, ambassador of the emperor. +The husband had lost a considerable sum at play, so he was completely +absorbed in thought. He had to pay a debt, the next day, of six thousand +crowns!--and you will recollect, Noce, that a hundred crowns couldn’t be +made up from scraping together the resources of ten such musketeers. +The young woman, as generally happens under such circumstances, was in +a gale of high spirits. ‘Give to the marquis,’ she said to a _valet de +chambre_, ‘all that he requires for his toilet.’ In those days people +dressed for the night. These extraordinary words did not rouse the +husband from his mood of abstraction, and then madame, assisted by her +maid, began to indulge in a thousand coquetries. ‘Was my appearance to +your taste this evening?’ ‘You are always to my taste,’ answered the +marquis, continuing to stride up and down the room. ‘You are very +gloomy! Come and talk to me, you frowning lover,’ said she, placing +herself before him in the most seductive negligee. But you can have no +idea of the enchantments of the marchioness unless you had known her. +Ah! you have seen her, Noce!” he said with a mocking smile. “Finally, in +spite of all her allurements and beauty, the marchioness was lost sight +of amid thoughts of the six thousand crowns which this fool of a husband +could not get out of his head, and she went to bed all alone. But women +always have one resource left; so that the moment that the good husband +made as though he would get into his bed, the marchioness cried, ‘Oh, +how cold I am!’ ‘So am I,’ he replied. ‘How is it that the servants have +not warmed our beds?’--And then I rang.” + +The Comte de Noce could not help laughing, and the old marquis, quite +put out of countenance, stopped short. + +Not to divine the desire of a wife, to snore while she lies awake, to +be in Siberia when she is in the tropics, these are the slighter +disadvantages of twin beds. What risks will not a passionate woman run +when she becomes aware that her husband is a heavy sleeper? + +I am indebted to Beyle for an Italian anecdote, to which his dry and +sarcastic manner lent an infinite charm, as he told me this tale of +feminine hardihood. + +Ludovico had his palace at one end of the town of Milan; at the +other was that of the Countess of Pernetti. At midnight, on a certain +occasion, Ludovico resolved, at the peril of his life, to make a rash +expedition for the sake of gazing for one second on the face he +adored, and accordingly appeared as if by magic in the palace of his +well-beloved. He reached the nuptial chamber. Elisa Pernetti, whose +heart most probably shared the desire of her lover, heard the sound of +his footsteps and divined his intention. She saw through the walls of +her chamber a countenance glowing with love. She rose from her marriage +bed, light as a shadow she glided to the threshold of her door, with a +look she embraced him, she seized his hand, she made a sign to him, she +drew him in. + +“But he will kill you!” said he. + +“Perhaps so.” + +But all this amounts to nothing. Let us grant that most husbands sleep +lightly. Let us grant that they sleep without snoring, and that they +always discern the degree of latitude at which their wives are to be +found. Moreover, all the reasons which we have given why twin beds +should be condemned, let us consider but dust in the balance. But, after +all, a final consideration would make us also proscribe the use of beds +ranged within the limits of the same alcove. + +To a man placed in the position of a husband, there are circumstances +which have led us to consider the nuptial couch as an actual means of +defence. For it is only in bed that a man can tell whether his wife’s +love is increasing or decreasing. It is the conjugal barometer. Now to +sleep in twin beds is to wish for ignorance. You will understand, +when we come to treat of _civil war_ (See Part Third) of what extreme +usefulness a bed is and how many secrets a wife reveals in bed, without +knowing it. + +Do not therefore allow yourself to be led astray by the specious good +nature of such an institution as that of twin beds. + +It is the silliest, the most treacherous, the most dangerous in the +world. Shame and anathema to him who conceived it! + +But in proportion as this method is pernicious in the case of young +married people, it is salutary and advantageous for those who have +reached the twentieth year of married life. Husband and wife can then +most conveniently indulge their duets of snoring. It will, moreover, +be more convenient for their various maladies, whether rheumatism, +obstinate gout, or even the taking of a pinch of snuff; and the cough or +the snore will not in any respect prove a greater hindrance than it is +found to be in any other arrangement. + +We have not thought it necessary to mention the exceptional cases which +authorize a husband to resort to twin beds. However, the opinion of +Bonaparte was that when once there had taken place an interchange of +life and breath (such are his words), nothing, not even sickness, +should separate married people. This point is so delicate that it is not +possible here to treat it methodically. + +Certain narrow minds will object that there are certain patriarchal +families whose legislation of love is inflexible in the matter of two +beds and an alcove, and that, by this arrangement, they have been happy +from generation to generation. But, the only answer that the author +vouchsafes to this is that he knows a great many respectable people who +pass their lives in watching games of billiards. + + + 2. SEPARATE ROOMS. + +There cannot be found in Europe a hundred husbands of each nation +sufficiently versed in the science of marriage, or if you like, of life, +to be able to dwell in an apartment separate from that of their wives. + +The power of putting this system into practice shows the highest degree +of intellectual and masculine force. + +The married couple who dwell in separate apartments have become either +divorced, or have attained to the discovery of happiness. They either +abominate or adore each other. We will not undertake to detail here the +admirable precepts which may be deduced from this theory whose end is to +make constancy and fidelity easy and delightful. It may be sufficient +to declare that by this system alone two married people can realize the +dream of many noble souls. This will be understood by all the faithful. + +As for the profane, their curious questionings will be sufficiently +answered by the remark that the object of this institution is to give +happiness to one woman. Which among them will be willing to deprive +general society of any share in the talents with which they think +themselves endowed, to the advantage of one woman? Nevertheless, the +rendering of his mistress happy gives any one the fairest title to glory +which can be earned in this valley of Jehosaphat, since, according to +Genesis, Eve was not satisfied even with a terrestrial Paradise. She +desired to taste the forbidden fruit, the eternal emblem of adultery. + +But there is an insurmountable reason why we should refrain from +developing this brilliant theory. It would cause a digression from the +main theme of our work. In the situation which we have supposed to be +that of a married establishment, a man who is sufficiently unwise to +sleep apart from his wife deserves no pity for the disaster which he +himself invites. + +Let us then resume our subject. Every man is not strong enough to +undertake to occupy an apartment separate from that of his wife; +although any man might derive as much good as evil from the difficulties +which exist in using but one bed. + +We now proceed to solve the difficulties which superficial minds may +detect in this method, for which our predilection is manifest. + +But this paragraph, which is in some sort a silent one, inasmuch as we +leave it to the commentaries which will be made in more than one home, +may serve as a pedestal for the imposing figure of Lycurgus, that +ancient legislator, to whom the Greeks are indebted for their +profoundest thoughts on the subject of marriage. May his system be +understood by future generations! And if modern manners are too much +given to softness to adopt his system in its entirety, they may at least +be imbued with the robust spirit of this admirable code. + + + 3. ONE BED FOR BOTH. + +On a night in December, Frederick the Great looked up at the sky, whose +stars were twinkling with that clear and living light which presages +heavy frost, and he exclaimed, “This weather will result in a great many +soldiers to Prussia.” + +The king expressed here, by a single phrase, the principal disadvantage +which results from the constant living together of married people. +Although it may be permitted to Napoleon and to Frederick to estimate +the value of a woman more or less according to the number of her +children, yet a husband of talent ought, according to the maxims of the +thirteenth Meditation, to consider child-begetting merely as a means of +defence, and it is for him to know to what extent it may take place. + +The observation leads into mysteries from which the physiological Muse +recoils. She has been quite willing to enter the nuptial chambers +while they are occupied, but she is a virgin and a prude, and there are +occasions on which she retires. For, since it is at this passage in my +book that the Muse is inclined to put her white hands before her eyes so +as to see nothing, like the young girl looking through the interstices +of her tapering fingers, she will take advantage of this attack of +modesty, to administer a reprimand to our manners. In England the +nuptial chamber is a sacred place. The married couple alone have the +privilege of entering it, and more than one lady, we are told, makes her +bed herself. Of all the crazes which reign beyond the sea, why should +the only one which we despise be precisely that, whose grace and mystery +ought undoubtedly to meet the approval of all tender souls on this +continent? Refined women condemn the immodesty with which strangers +are introduced into the sanctuary of marriage. As for us, who have +energetically anathematized women who walk abroad at the time when they +expect soon to be confined, our opinion cannot be doubted. If we wish +the celibate to respect marriage, married people ought to have some +regard for the inflammability of bachelors. + +To sleep every night with one’s wife may seem, we confess, an act of the +most insolent folly. + +Many husbands are inclined to ask how a man, who desires to bring +marriage to perfection, dare prescribe to a husband a rule of conduct +which would be fatal in a lover. + +Nevertheless, such is the decision of a doctor of arts and sciences +conjugal. + +In the first place, without making a resolution never to sleep by +himself, this is the only course left to a husband, since we have +demonstrated the dangers of the preceding systems. We must now try to +prove that this last method yields more advantage and less disadvantage +than the two preceding methods, that is, so far as relates to the +critical position in which a conjugal establishment stands. + +Our observations on the twin beds ought to have taught husbands that +they should always be strung into the same degree of fervor as that +which prevails in the harmonious organization of their wives. Now it +seems to us that this perfect equality in feelings would naturally +be created under the white Aegis, which spreads over both of them its +protecting sheet; this at the outset is an immense advantage, and really +nothing is easier to verify at any moment than the degree of love and +expansion which a woman reaches when the same pillow receives the heads +of both spouses. + +Man [we speak now of the species] walks about with a memorandum always +totalized, which shows distinctly and without error the amount of +passion which he carries within him. This mysterious gynometer is +traced in the hollow of the hand, for the hand is really that one of +our members which bears the impress most plainly of our characters. +Chirology is a fifth work which I bequeath to my successors, for I +am contented here to make known but the elements of this interesting +science. + +The hand is the essential organ of touch. Touch is the sense which +very nearly takes the place of all the others, and which alone is +indispensable. Since the hand alone can carry out all that a man +desires, it is to an extent action itself. The sum total of our vitality +passes through it; and men of powerful intellects are usually +remarkable for their shapely hands, perfection in that respect being a +distinguishing trait of their high calling. + +Jesus Christ performed all His miracles by the imposition of hands. +The hand is the channel through which life passes. It reveals to the +physician all the mysteries of our organism. It exhales more than any +other part of our bodies the nervous fluid, or that unknown substance, +which for want of another term we style _will_. The eye can discover the +mood of our soul but the hand betrays at the same time the secrets of +the body and those of the soul. We can acquire the faculty of imposing +silence on our eyes, on our lips, on our brows, and on our forehead; but +the hand never dissembles and nothing in our features can be compared to +the richness of its expression. The heat and cold which it feels in such +delicate degrees often escape the notice of other senses in thoughtless +people; but a man knows how to distinguish them, however little time he +may have bestowed in studying the anatomy of sentiments and the affairs +of human life. Thus the hand has a thousand ways of becoming dry, moist, +hot, cold, soft, rough, unctuous. The hand palpitates, becomes supple, +grows hard and again is softened. In fine it presents a phenomenon which +is inexplicable so that one is tempted to call it the incarnation of +thought. It causes the despair of the sculptor and the painter when they +wish to express the changing labyrinth of its mysterious lineaments. +To stretch out your hand to a man is to save him, it serves as a +ratification of the sentiments we express. The sorcerers of every age +have tried to read our future destines in those lines which have nothing +fanciful in them, but absolutely correspond with the principles of each +one’s life and character. When she charges a man with want of tact, +which is merely touch, a woman condemns him without hope. We use the +expressions, the “Hand of Justice,” the “Hand of God;” and a _coup de +main_ means a bold undertaking. + +To understand and recognize the hidden feelings by the atmospheric +variations of the hand, which a woman almost always yields without +distrust, is a study less unfruitful and surer than that of physiognomy. + +In this way you will be able, if you acquire this science, to wield vast +power, and to find a clue which will guide you through the labyrinth of +the most impenetrable heart. This will render your living together free +from very many mistakes, and, at the same time, rich in the acquisition +of many a treasure. + +Buffon and certain physiologists affirm that our members are more +completely exhausted by desire than by the most keen enjoyments. +And really, does not desire constitute of itself a sort of intuitive +possession? Does it not stand in the same relation to visible action, +as those incidents in our mental life, in which we take part in a dream, +stand to the incidents of our actual life? This energetic apprehension +of things, does it not call into being an internal emotion more +powerful than that of the external action? If our gestures are only the +accomplishment of things already enacted by our thought, you may easily +calculate how desire frequently entertained must necessarily consume the +vital fluids. But the passions which are no more than the aggregation +of desires, do they not furrow with the wrinkle of their lightning the +faces of the ambitious, of gamblers, for instance, and do they not wear +out their bodies with marvelous swiftness? + +These observations, therefore, necessarily contain the germs of a +mysterious system equally favored by Plato and by Epicurus; we will +leave it for you to meditate upon, enveloped as it is in the veil which +enshrouds Egyptian statues. + +But the greatest mistake that a man commits is to believe that love +can belong only to those fugitive moments which, according to the +magnificent expression of Bossuet, are like to the nails scattered over +a wall: to the eye they appear numerous; but when they are collected +they make but a handful. + +Love consists almost always in conversation. There are few things +inexhaustible in a lover: goodness, gracefulness and delicacy. To feel +everything, to divine everything, to anticipate everything; to reproach +without bringing affliction upon a tender heart; to make a present +without pride; to double the value of a certain action by the way in +which it is done; to flatter rather by actions than by words; to make +oneself understood rather than to produce a vivid impression; to touch +without striking; to make a look and the sound of the voice produce the +effect of a caress; never to produce embarrassment; to amuse without +offending good taste; always to touch the heart; to speak to the +soul--this is all that women ask. They will abandon all the delights of +all the nights of Messalina, if only they may live with a being who will +yield them those caresses of the soul, for which they are so eager, and +which cost nothing to men if only they have a little consideration. + +This outline comprises a great portion of such secrets as belong to the +nuptial couch. There are perhaps some witty people who may take this +long definition of politeness for a description of love, while in any +case it is no more than a recommendation to treat your wife as you would +treat the minister on whose good-will depends your promotion to the post +you covet. + +I hear numberless voices crying out that this book is a special advocate +for women and neglects the cause of men; + +That the majority of women are unworthy of these delicate attentions and +would abuse them; + +That there are women given to licentiousness who would not lend +themselves to very much of what they would call mystification; + +That women are nothing but vanity and think of nothing but dress; + +That they have notions which are truly unreasonable; + +That they are very often annoyed by an attention; + +That they are fools, they understand nothing, are worth nothing, etc. + +In answer to all these clamors we will write here the following phrases, +which, placed between two spaces, will perhaps have the air of a +thought, to quote an expression of Beaumarchais. + + + LXIV. + A wife is to her husband just what her husband has made her. + + +The reasons why the single bed must triumph over the other two methods +of organizing the nuptial couch are as follows: In the single couch we +have a faithful interpreter to translate with profound truthfulness the +sentiments of a woman, to render her a spy over herself, to keep her at +the height of her amorous temperature, never to leave her, to have +the power of hearing her breathe in slumber, and thus to avoid all the +nonsense which is the ruin of so many marriages. + +As it is impossible to receive benefits without paying for them, you are +bound to learn how to sleep gracefully, to preserve your dignity under +the silk handkerchief that wraps your head, to be polite, to see that +your slumber is light, not to cough too much, and to imitate those +modern authors who write more prefaces than books. + + + + +MEDITATION XVIII. OF MARITAL REVOLUTIONS. + +The time always comes in which nations and women even the most stupid +perceive that their innocence is being abused. The cleverest policy +may for a long time proceed in a course of deceit; but it would be very +happy for men if they could carry on their deceit to an infinite period; +a vast amount of bloodshed would then be avoided, both in nations and in +families. + +Nevertheless, we hope that the means of defence put forth in the +preceding Meditations will be sufficient to deliver a certain number +of husbands from the clutches of the Minotaur! You must agree with +the doctor that many a love blindly entered upon perishes under the +treatment of hygiene or dies away, thanks to marital policy. Yes [what +a consoling mistake!] many a lover will be driven away by personal +efforts, many a husband will learn how to conceal under an impenetrable +veil the machinery of his machiavelism, and many a man will have better +success than the old philosopher who cried: _Nolo coronari!_ + +But we are here compelled to acknowledge a mournful truth. Despotism has +its moments of secure tranquillity. Her reign seems like the hour which +precedes the tempest, and whose silence enables the traveler, stretched +upon the faded grass, to hear at a mile’s distance, the song of the +cicada. Some fine morning an honest woman, who will be imitated by a +great portion of our own women, discerns with an eagle eye the clever +manoeuvres which have rendered her the victim of an infernal policy. +She is at first quite furious at having for so long a time preserved her +virtue. At what age, in what day, does this terrible revolution occur? +This question of chronology depends entirely upon the genius of each +husband; for it is not the vocation of all to put in practice with the +same talent the precepts of our conjugal gospel. + +“A man must have very little love,” the mystified wife will exclaim, “to +enter upon such calculations as these! What! From the first day I have +been to him perpetually an object of suspicion! It is monstrous, even a +woman would be incapable of such artful and cruel treachery!” + +This is the question. Each husband will be able to understand the +variations of this complaint which will be made in accordance with the +character of the young Fury, of whom he has made a companion. + +A woman by no means loses her head under these circumstances; she holds +her tongue and dissembles. Her vengeance will be concealed. Only you +will have some symptoms of hesitation to contend with on the arrival of +the crisis, which we presume you to have reached on the expiration of +the honeymoon; but you will also have to contend against a resolution. +She has determined to revenge herself. From that day, so far as regards +you, her mask, like her heart, has turned to bronze. Formerly you were +an object of indifference to her; you are becoming by degrees absolutely +insupportable. The Civil War commences only at the moment in which, like +the drop of water which makes the full glass overflow, some incident, +whose more or less importance we find difficulty in determining, has +rendered you odious. The lapse of time which intervenes between this +last hour, the limit of your good understanding, and the day when +your wife becomes cognizant of your artifices, is nevertheless quite +sufficient to permit you to institute a series of defensive operations, +which we will now explain. + +Up to this time you have protected your honor solely by the exertion of +a power entirely occult. Hereafter the wheels of your conjugal machinery +must be set going in sight of every one. In this case, if you would +prevent a crime you must strike a blow. You have begun by negotiating, +you must end by mounting your horse, sabre in hand, like a Parisian +gendarme. You must make your horse prance, you must brandish your sabre, +you must shout strenuously, and you must endeavor to calm the revolt +without wounding anybody. + +Just as the author has found a means of passing from occult methods to +methods that are patent, so it is necessary for the husband to justify +the sudden change in his tactics; for in marriage, as in literature, art +consists entirely in the gracefulness of the transitions. This is of the +highest importance for you. What a frightful position you will occupy +if your wife has reason to complain of your conduct at the moment, which +is, perhaps, the most critical of your whole married life! + +You must therefore find some means or other to justify the secret +tyranny of your initial policy; some means which still prepare the mind +of your wife for the severe measures which you are about to take; some +means which so far from forfeiting her esteem will conciliate her; some +means which will gain her pardon, which will restore some little of that +charm of yours, by which you won her love before your marriage. + +“But what policy is it that demands this course of action? Is there such +a policy?” + +Certainly there is. + +But what address, what tact, what histrionic art must a husband possess +in order to display the mimic wealth of that treasure which we are about +to reveal to him! In order to counterfeit the passion whose fire is to +make you a new man in the presence of your wife, you will require all +the cunning of Talma. + +This passion is JEALOUSY. + +“My husband is jealous. He has been so from the beginning of our +marriage. He has concealed this feeling from me by his usual refined +delicacy. Does he love me still? I am going to do as I like with him!” + +Such are the discoveries which a woman is bound to make, one after +another, in accordance with the charming scenes of the comedy which +you are enacting for your amusement; and a man of the world must be an +actual fool, if he fails in making a woman believe that which flatters +her. + +With what perfection of hypocrisy must you arrange, step by step, your +hypocritical behavior so as to rouse the curiosity of your wife, to +engage her in a new study, and to lead her astray among the labyrinths +of your thought! + +Ye sublime actors! Do ye divine the diplomatic reticence, the gestures +of artifice, the veiled words, the looks of doubtful meaning which +some evening may induce your wife to attempt the capture of your secret +thoughts? + +Ah! to laugh in your sleeve while you are exhibiting the fierceness of +a tiger; neither to lie nor to tell the truth; to comprehend the +capricious mood of a woman, and yet to make her believe that she +controls you, while you intend to bind her with a collar of iron! O +comedy that has no audience, which yet is played by one heart before +another heart and where both of you applaud because both of you think +that you have obtained success! + +She it is who will tell you that you are jealous, who will point out to +you that she knows you better than you know yourself, who will prove to +you the uselessness of your artifices and who perhaps will defy you. +She triumphs in the excited consciousness of the superiority which she +thinks she possesses over you; you of course are ennobled in her eyes; +for she finds your conduct quite natural. The only thing she feels is +that your want of confidence was useless; if she wished to betray, who +could hinder her? + +Then, some evening, you will burst into a passion, and, as some trifle +affords you a pretext, you will make a scene, in the course of which +your anger will make you divulge the secret of your distress. And here +comes in the promulgation of our new code. + +Have no fear that a woman is going to trouble herself about this. She +needs your jealousy, she rather likes your severity. This comes from the +fact that in the first place she finds there a justification for her own +conduct; and then she finds immense satisfaction in playing before other +people the part of a victim. What delightful expressions of sympathy +will she receive! Afterwards she will use this as a weapon against you, +in the expectation thereby of leading you into a pitfall. + +She sees in your conduct the source of a thousand more pleasures in her +future treachery, and her imagination smiles at all the barricades with +which you surround her, for will she not have the delight of surmounting +them all? + +Women understand better than we do the art of analyzing the two human +feelings, which alternately form their weapons of attack, or the weapons +of which they are victims. They have the instinct of love, because it is +their whole life, and of jealousy, because it is almost the only +means by which they can control us. Within them jealousy is a genuine +sentiment and springs from the instinct of self-preservation; it is +vital to their life or death. But with men this feeling is absolutely +absurd when it does not subserve some further end. + +To entertain feelings of jealousy towards the woman you love, is to +start from a position founded on vicious reasoning. We are loved, or +we are not loved; if a man entertains jealousy under either of these +circumstances, it is a feeling absolutely unprofitable to him; jealousy +may be explained as fear, fear in love. But to doubt one’s wife is to +doubt one’s self. + +To be jealous is to exhibit, at once, the height of egotism, the error +of _amour-propre_, the vexation of morbid vanity. Women rather encourage +this ridiculous feeling, because by means of it they can obtain cashmere +shawls, silver toilet sets, diamonds, which for them mark the high +thermometer mark of their power. Moreover, unless you appear blinded by +jealousy, your wife will not keep on her guard; for there is no pitfall +which she does not distrust, excepting that which she makes for herself. + +Thus the wife becomes the easy dupe of a husband who is clever enough +to give to the inevitable revolution, which comes sooner or later, the +advantageous results we have indicated. + +You must import into your establishment that remarkable phenomenon whose +existence is demonstrated in the asymptotes of geometry. Your wife will +always try to minotaurize you without being successful. Like those knots +which are never so tight as when one tries to loosen them, she will +struggle to the advantage of your power over her, while she believes +that she is struggling for her independence. + +The highest degree of good play on the part of a prince lies in +persuading his people that he goes to war for them, while all the time +he is causing them to be killed for his throne. + +But many husbands will find a preliminary difficulty in executing this +plan of campaign. If your wife is a woman of profound dissimulation, the +question is, what signs will indicate to her the motives of your long +mystification? + +It will be seen that our Meditation on the Custom House, as well as that +on the Bed, has already revealed certain means of discerning the thought +of a woman; but we make no pretence in this book of exhaustively stating +the resources of human wit, which are immeasurable. Now here is a +proof of this. On the day of the Saturnalia the Romans discovered more +features in the character of their slaves, in ten minutes, than they +would have found out during the rest of the year! You ought therefore +to ordain Saturnalia in your establishment, and to imitate Gessler, who, +when he saw William Tell shoot the apple off his son’s head, was forced +to remark, “Here is a man whom I must get rid of, for he could not miss +his aim if he wished to kill me.” + +You understand, then, that if your wife wishes to drink Roussillon +wine, to eat mutton chops, to go out at all hours and to read the +encyclopaedia, you are bound to take her very seriously. In the first +place, she will begin to distrust you against her own wish, on seeing +that your behaviour towards her is quite contrary to your previous +proceedings. She will suppose that you have some ulterior motive in this +change of policy, and therefore all the liberty that you give her will +make her so anxious that she cannot enjoy it. As regards the misfortunes +that this change may bring, the future will provide for them. In a +revolution the primary principle is to exercise a control over the evil +which cannot be prevented and to attract the lightning by rods which +shall lead it to the earth. + +And now the last act of the comedy is in preparation. + +The lover who, from the day when the feeblest of all first symptoms +shows itself in your wife until the moment when the marital revolution +takes place, has jumped upon the stage, either as a material creature or +as a being of the imagination--the LOVER, summoned by a sign from her, +now declares: “Here I am!” + + + + +MEDITATION XIX. OF THE LOVER. + +We offer the following maxims for your consideration: + +We should despair of the human race if these maxims had been made +before 1830; but they set forth in so clear a manner the agreements +and difficulties which distinguish you, your wife and a lover; they so +brilliantly describe what your policy should be, and demonstrate to you +so accurately the strength of the enemy, that the teacher has put +his _amour-propre_ aside, and if by chance you find here a single new +thought, send it to the devil, who suggested this work. + + + LXV. + To speak of love is to make love. + + + LXVI. + In a lover the coarsest desire always shows itself as a burst of + honest admiration. + + + LXVII. + A lover has all the good points and all the bad points which are + lacking in a husband. + + + LXVIII. + A lover not only gives life to everything, he makes one forget life; + the husband does not give life to anything. + + + LXIX. + All the affected airs of sensibility which a woman puts on invariably +deceive a lover; and on occasions when a husband shrugs his shoulders, a +lover is in ecstasies. + + + LXX. + A lover betrays by his manner alone the degree of intimacy in which he + stands to a married woman. + + + LXXI. + A woman does not always know why she is in love. It is rarely that a +man falls in love without some selfish purpose. A husband should +discover this secret motive of egotism, for it will be to him the lever +of Archimedes. + + + LXXII. + A clever husband never betrays his supposition that his wife has a + lover. + + + LXXIII. + The lover submits to all the caprices of a woman; and as a man is +never vile while he lies in the arms of his mistress, he will take the +means to please her that a husband would recoil from. + + + LXXIV. + A lover teaches a wife all that her husband has concealed from her. + + + LXXV. + All the sensations which a woman yields to her lover, she gives in +exchange; they return to her always intensified; they are as rich in +what they give as in what they receive. This is the kind of commerce in +which almost all husbands end by being bankrupt. + + + LXXVI. + A lover speaks of nothing to a woman but that which exalts her; while +a husband, although he may be a loving one, can never refrain from +giving advice which always has the appearance of reprimand. + + + LXXVII. + A lover always starts from his mistress to himself; with a husband the + contrary is the case. + + + LXXVIII. + A lover always has a desire to appear amiable. There is in this +sentiment an element of exaggeration which leads to ridicule; study how +to take advantage of this. + + + LXXIX. + When a crime has been committed the magistrate who investigates the +case knows [excepting in the case of a released convict who commits +murder in jail] that there are not more than five persons to whom he can +attribute the act. He starts from this premise a series of conjectures. +The husband should reason like the judge; there are only three people in +society whom he can suspect when seeking the lover of his wife. + + + LXXX. + A lover is never in the wrong. + + + LXXXI. + The lover of a married woman says to her: “Madame, you have need of +rest. You have to give an example of virtue to your children. You have +sworn to make your husband happy, and although he has some faults--he +has fewer than I have--he is worthy of your esteem. Nevertheless you +have sacrificed everything for me. Do not let a single murmur escape +you; for regret is an offence which I think worthy of a severer +penalty than the law decrees against infidelity. As a reward for +these sacrifices, I will bring you as much pleasure as pain.” And the +incredible part about it is, that the lover triumphs. The form which his +speech takes carries it. He says but one phrase: “I love you.” A lover +is a herald who proclaims either the merit, the beauty, or the wit of a +woman. What does a husband proclaim? + + +To sum up all, the love which a married woman inspires, or that which +she gives back, is the least creditable sentiment in the world; in her +it is boundless vanity; in her lover it is selfish egotism. The lover of +a married woman contracts so many obligations, that scarcely three men +in a century are met with who are capable of discharging them. He +ought to dedicate his whole life to his mistress, but he always ends by +deserting her; both parties are aware of this, and, from the beginning +of social life, the one has always been sublime in self-sacrifice, the +other an ingrate. The infatuation of love always rouses the pity of the +judges who pass sentence on it. But where do you find such love genuine +and constant? What power must a husband possess to struggle successfully +against a man who casts over a woman a spell strong enough to make her +submit to such misfortunes! + + + +We think, then, as a general rule, a husband, if he knows how to use +the means of defence which we have outlined, can lead his wife up to her +twenty-seventh year, not without her having chosen a lover, but without +her having committed the great crime. Here and there we meet with men +endowed with deep marital genius, who can keep their wives, body and +soul to themselves alone up to their thirtieth or thirty-fifth year; +but these exceptions cause a sort of scandal and alarm. The phenomenon +scarcely ever is met with excepting in the country, where life is +transparent and people live in glass houses and the husband wields +immense power. The miraculous assistance which men and things thus give +to a husband always vanishes in the midst of a city whose population +reaches to two hundred and fifty thousand. + +It would therefore almost appear to be demonstrated that thirty is the +age of virtue. At that critical period, a woman becomes so difficult +to guard, that in order successfully to enchain her within the conjugal +Paradise, resort must be had to those last means of defence which remain +to be described, and which we will reveal in the _Essay on Police_, the +_Art of Returning Home_, and _Catastrophes_. + + + + +MEDITATION XX. ESSAY ON POLICE. + +The police of marriage consist of all those means which are given you +by law, manners, force, and stratagem for preventing your wife in her +attempt to accomplish those three acts which in some sort make up the +life of love: writing, seeing and speaking. + +The police combine in greater or less proportion the means of defence +put forth in the preceding Meditations. Instinct alone can teach in what +proportions and on what occasions these compounded elements are to be +employed. The whole system is elastic; a clever husband will easily +discern how it must be bent, stretched or retrenched. By the aid of +the police a man can guide his wife to her fortieth year pure from any +fault. + +We will divide this treatise on Police into five captions: + + + 1. OF MOUSE-TRAPS. + 2. OF CORRESPONDENCE. + 3. OF SPIES. + 4. THE INDEX. + 5. OF THE BUDGET. + + + 1. OF MOUSE-TRAPS. + +In spite of the grave crisis which the husband has reached, we do not +suppose that the lover has completely acquired the freedom of the city +in the marital establishment. Many husbands often suspect that their +wives have a lover, and yet they do not know upon which of the five or +six chosen ones of whom we have spoken their suspicions ought to fall. +This hesitation doubtless springs from some moral infirmity, to whose +assistance the professor must come. + +Fouche had in Paris three or four houses resorted to by people of the +highest distinction; the mistresses of these dwellings were devoted to +him. This devotion cost a great deal of money to the state. The minister +used to call these gatherings, of which nobody at the time had any +suspicion, his _mouse-traps_. More than one arrest was made at the end +of the ball at which the most brilliant people of Paris had been made +accomplices of this oratorian. + +The act of offering some fragments of roasted nuts, in order to see your +wife put her white hand in the trap, is certainly exceedingly delicate, +for a woman is certain to be on her guard; nevertheless, we reckon +upon at least three kinds of mouse-traps: _The Irresistible_, _The +Fallacious_, and that which is _Touch and Go_. + + + _The Irresistible._ + +Suppose two husbands, we will call them A and B, wish to discover who +are the lovers of their wives. We will put the husband A at the centre +of a table loaded with the finest pyramids of fruit, of crystals, of +candies and of liqueurs, and the husband B shall be at whatever point of +this brilliant circle you may please to suppose. The champagne has gone +round, every eye is sparkling and every tongue is wagging. + +HUSBAND A. (peeling a chestnut)--Well, as for me, I admire literary +people, but from a distance. I find them intolerable; in conversation +they are despotic; I do not know what displeases me more, their faults +or their good qualities. In short (he swallows his chestnut), people of +genius are like tonics--you like, but you must use them temperately. + +WIFE B. (who has listened attentively)--But, M. A., you are very +exacting (with an arch smile); it seems to me that dull people have as +many faults as people of talent, with this difference perhaps, that the +former have nothing to atone for them! + +HUSBAND A. (irritably)--You will agree at least, madame, that they are +not very amiable to you. + +WIFE B. (with vivacity)--Who told you so? + +HUSBAND A. (smiling)--Don’t they overwhelm you all the time with their +superiority? Vanity so dominates their souls that between you and them +the effort is reciprocal-- + +THE MISTRESS OF THE HOUSE. (aside to Wife A)--You well deserved it, my +dear. (Wife A shrugs her shoulders.) + +HUSBAND A. (still continuing)--Then the habit they have of combining +ideas which reveal to them the mechanism of feeling! For them love is +purely physical and every one knows that they do not shine. + +WIFE B. (biting her lips, interrupting him)--It seems to me, sir, that +we are the sole judges in this matter. I can well understand why men of +the world do not like men of letters! But it is easier to criticise than +to imitate them. + +HUSBAND A. (disdainfully)--Oh, madame, men of the world can assail the +authors of the present time without being accused of envy. There is many +a gentleman of the drawing-room, who if he undertook to write-- + +WIFE B. (with warmth)--Unfortunately for you, sir, certain friends of +yours in the Chamber have written romances; have you been able to +read them?--But really, in these days, in order to attain the least +originality, you must undertake historic research, you must-- + +HUSBAND B. (making no answer to the lady next him and speaking +aside)--Oh! Oh! Can it be that it is M. de L-----, author of the _Dreams +of a Young Girl_, whom my wife is in love with?--That is singular; I +thought that it was Doctor M-----. But stay! (Aloud.) Do you know, my +dear, that you are right in what you say? (All laugh.) Really, I +should prefer to have always artists and men of letters in my +drawing-room--(aside) when we begin to receive!--rather than to see +there other professional men. In any case artists speak of things about +which every one is enthusiastic, for who is there who does not believe +in good taste? But judges, lawyers, and, above all, doctors--Heavens! +I confess that to hear them constantly speaking about lawsuits and +diseases, those two human ills-- + +WIFE A. (sitting next to Husband B, speaking at the same time)--What is +that you are saying, my friend? You are quite mistaken. In these days +nobody wishes to wear a professional manner; doctors, since you have +mentioned doctors, try to avoid speaking of professional matters. +They talk politics, discuss the fashions and the theatres, they tell +anecdotes, they write books better than professional authors do; +there is a vast difference between the doctors of to-day and those of +Moliere-- + +HUSBAND A. (aside)--Whew! Is it possible my wife is in love with Dr. +M-----? That would be odd. (Aloud.) That is quite possible, my dear, but +I would not give a sick dog in charge of a physician who writes. + +WIFE A. (interrupting her husband)--I know people who have five or six +offices, yet the government has the greatest confidence in them; anyway, +it is odd that you should speak in this way, you who were one of Dr. +M-----‘s great cases-- + +HUSBAND A. (aside)--There can be no doubt of it! + + + _The Fallacious._ + +A HUSBAND. (as he reaches home)--My dear, we are invited by Madame de +Fischtaminel to a concert which she is giving next Tuesday. I reckoned +on going there, as I wanted to speak with a young cousin of the minister +who was among the singers; but he is gone to Frouville to see his aunt. +What do you propose doing? + +HIS WIFE.--These concerts tire me to death!--You have to sit nailed to +your chair whole hours without saying a word.--Besides, you know quite +well that we dine with my mother on that day, and it is impossible to +miss paying her a visit. + +HER HUSBAND. (carelessly)--Ah! that is true. + +_(Three days afterwards.)_ + +THE HUSBAND. (as he goes to bed)--What do you think, my darling? +To-morrow I will leave you at your mother’s, for the count has returned +from Frouville and will be at Madame de Fischtaminel’s concert. + +HIS WIFE. (vivaciously)--But why should you go alone? You know how I +adore music! + + + _The Touch and Go Mouse-Trap._ + +THE WIFE.--Why did you go away so early this evening? + +THE HUSBAND. (mysteriously)--Ah! It is a sad business, and all the more +so because I don’t know how I can settle it. + +THE WIFE.--What is it all about, Adolph? You are a wretch if you do not +tell me what you are going to do! + +THE HUSBAND.--My dear, that ass of a Prosper Magnan is fighting a duel +with M. de Fontanges, on account of an Opera singer.--But what is the +matter with you? + +THE WIFE.--Nothing.--It is very warm in this room and I don’t know what +ails me, for the whole day I have been suffering from sudden flushing of +the face. + +THE HUSBAND. (aside)--She is in love with M. de Fontanges. (Aloud.) +Celestine! (He shouts out still louder.) Celestine! Come quick, madame +is ill! + +You will understand that a clever husband will discover a thousand ways +of setting these three kinds of traps. + + + 2. OF CORRESPONDENCE. + +To write a letter, and to have it posted; to get an answer, to read it +and burn it; there we have correspondence stated in the simplest terms. + +Yet consider what immense resources are given by civilization, by our +manners and by our love to the women who wish to conceal these material +actions from the scrutiny of a husband. + +The inexorable box which keeps its mouth open to all comers receives its +epistolary provender from all hands. + +There is also the fatal invention of the General Delivery. A lover finds +in the world a hundred charitable persons, male and female, who, for a +slight consideration, will slip the billets-doux into the amorous and +intelligent hand of his fair mistress. + +A correspondence is a variable as Proteus. There are sympathetic inks. A +young celibate has told us in confidence that he has written a letter on +the fly-leaf of a new book, which, when the husband asked for it of the +bookseller, reached the hands of his mistress, who had been prepared the +evening before for this charming article. + +A woman in love, who fears her husband’s jealousy, will write and read +billets-doux during the time consecrated to those mysterious occupations +during which the most tyrannical husband must leave her alone. + +Moreover, all lovers have the art of arranging a special code of +signals, whose arbitrary import it is difficult to understand. At a +ball, a flower placed in some odd way in the hair; at the theatre, a +pocket handkerchief unfolded on the front of the box; rubbing the nose, +wearing a belt of a particular color, putting the hat on one side, +wearing one dress oftener than another, singing a certain song in a +concert or touching certain notes on the piano; fixing the eyes on a +point agreed; everything, in fact, from the hurdy-gurdy which passes +your windows and goes away if you open the shutter, to the newspaper +announcement of a horse for sale--all may be reckoned as correspondence. + +How many times, in short, will a wife craftily ask her husband to do +such and such commission for her, to go to such and such a shop or +house, having previously informed her lover that your presence at such +or such a place means yes or no? + +On this point the professor acknowledges with shame that there is no +possible means of preventing correspondence between lovers. But a little +machiavelism on the part of the husband will be much more likely to +remedy the difficulty than any coercive measures. + +An agreement, which should be kept sacred between married people, is +their solemn oath that they will respect each other’s sealed letters. +Clever is the husband who makes this pledge on his wedding-day and is +able to keep it conscientiously. + +In giving your wife unrestrained liberty to write and to receive +letters, you will be enabled to discern the moment she begins to +correspond with a lover. + +But suppose your wife distrusts you and covers with impenetrable clouds +the means she takes to conceal from you her correspondence. Is it not +then time to display that intellectual power with which we armed you in +our Meditation entitled _Of the Custom House_? The man who does not see +when his wife writes to her lover, and when she receives an answer, is a +failure as a husband. + +The proposed study which you ought to bestow upon the movements, +the actions, the gestures, the looks of your wife, will be perhaps +troublesome and wearying, but it will not last long; the only point is +to discover when your wife and her lover correspond and in what way. + +We cannot believe that a husband, even of moderate intelligence, will +fail to see through this feminine manoeuvre, when once he suspects its +existence. + +Meanwhile, you can judge from a single incident what means of police and +of restraint remain to you in the event of such a correspondence. + +A young lawyer, whose ardent passion exemplified certain of the +principles dwelt upon in this important part of our work, had married a +young person whose love for him was but slight; yet this circumstance +he looked upon as an exceedingly happy one; but at the end of his first +year of marriage he perceived that his dear Anna [for Anna was her name] +had fallen in love with the head clerk of a stock-broker. + +Adolph was a young man of about twenty-five, handsome in face and +as fond of amusement as any other celibate. He was frugal, discreet, +possessed of an excellent heart, rode well, talked well, had fine black +hair always curled, and dressed with taste. In short, he would have done +honor and credit to a duchess. The advocate was ugly, short, stumpy, +square-shouldered, mean-looking, and, moreover, a husband. Anna, tall +and pretty, had almond eyes, white skin and refined features. She +was all love; and passion lighted up her glance with a bewitching +expression. While her family was poor, Maitre Lebrun had an income of +twelve thousand francs. That explains all. + +One evening Lebrun got home looking extremely chop-fallen. He went into +his study to work; but he soon came back shivering to his wife, for he +had caught a fever and hurriedly went to bed. There he lay groaning and +lamenting for his clients and especially for a poor widow whose +fortune he was to save the very next day by effecting a compromise. An +appointment had been made with certain business men and he was quite +incapable of keeping it. After having slept for a quarter of an hour, +he begged his wife in a feeble voice to write to one of his intimate +friends, asking him to take his (Lebrun’s) place next day at the +conference. He dictated a long letter and followed with his eye the +space taken up on the paper by his phrases. When he came to begin the +second page of the last sheet, the advocate set out to describe to +his confrere the joy which his client would feel on the signing of the +compromise, and the fatal page began with these words: + + + “My good friend, go for Heaven’s sake to Madame Vernon’s at once; + you are expected with impatience there; she lives at No. 7 Rue de + Sentier. Pardon my brevity; but I count on your admirable good + sense to guess what I am unable to explain. + + “Tout a vous.” + + +“Give me the letter,” said the lawyer, “that I may see whether it is +correct before signing it.” + +The unfortunate wife, who had been taken off her guard by this letter, +which bristled with the most barbarous terms of legal science, gave up +the letter. As soon as Lebrun got possession of the wily script he began +to complain, to twist himself about, as if in pain, and to demand one +little attention after another of his wife. Madame left the room for two +minutes during which the advocate leaped from his bed, folded a piece of +paper in the form of a letter and hid the missive written by his wife. +When Anna returned, the clever husband seized the blank paper, made her +address it to the friend of his, to whom the letter which he had taken +out was written, and the poor creature handed the blank letter to his +servant. Lebrun seemed to grow gradually calmer; he slept or pretended +to do so, and the next morning he still affected to feel strange pains. +Two days afterwards he tore off the first leaf of the letter and put +an “e” to the word _tout_ in the phrase “tout a vous.”[*] He folded +mysteriously the paper which contained the innocent forgery, sealed it, +left his bedroom and called the maid, saying to her: + + [*] Thus giving a feminine ending to the signature, and lending the + impression that the note emanated from the wife personally--J.W.M. + +“Madame begs that you will take this to the house of M. Adolph; now, be +quick about it.” + +He saw the chambermaid leave the house and soon afterwards he, on a +plea of business, went out, hurried to Rue de Sentier, to the address +indicated, and awaited the arrival of his rival at the house of a friend +who was in the secret of his stratagem. The lover, intoxicated with +happiness, rushed to the place and inquired for Madame de Vernon; he was +admitted and found himself face to face with Maitre Lebrun, who showed +a countenance pale but chill, and gazed at him with tranquil but +implacable glance. + +“Sir,” he said in a tone of emotion to the young clerk, whose heart +palpitated with terror, “you are in love with my wife, and you are +trying to please her; I scarcely know how to treat you in return for +this, because in your place and at your age I should have done exactly +the same. But Anna is in despair; you have disturbed her happiness, and +her heart is filled with the torments of hell. Moreover, she has told me +all, a quarrel soon followed by a reconciliation forced her to write the +letter which you have received, and she has sent me here in her place. I +will not tell you, sir, that by persisting in your plan of seduction +you will cause the misery of her you love, that you will forfeit her my +esteem, and eventually your own; that your crime will be stamped on the +future by causing perhaps sorrow to my children. I will not even speak +to you of the bitterness you will infuse into my life;--unfortunately +these are commonplaces! But I declare to you, sir, that the first step +you take in this direction will be the signal for a crime; for I will +not trust the risk of a duel in order to stab you to the heart!” + +And the eyes of the lawyer flashed ominously. + +“Now, sir,” he went on in a gentler voice, “you are young, you have a +generous heart. Make a sacrifice for the future happiness of her you +love; leave her and never see her again. And if you must needs be a +member of my family, I have a young aunt who is yet unsettled in life; +she is charming, clever and rich. Make her acquaintance, and leave a +virtuous woman undisturbed.” + +This mixture of raillery and intimidation, together with the unwavering +glance and deep voice of the husband, produced a remarkable impression +on the lover. He remained for a moment utterly confused, like people +overcome with passion and deprived of all presence of mind by a +sudden shock. If Anna has since then had any lovers [which is a pure +hypothesis] Adolph certainly is not one of them. + +This occurrence may help you to understand that correspondence is a +double-edged weapon which is of as much advantage for the defence of +the husband as for the inconsistency of the wife. You should therefore +encourage correspondence for the same reason that the prefect of police +takes special care that the street lamps of Paris are kept lighted. + + + 3. OF SPIES. + +To come so low as to beg servants to reveal secrets to you, and to fall +lower still by paying for a revelation, is not a crime; it is perhaps +not even a dastardly act, but it is certainly a piece of folly; for +nothing will ever guarantee to you the honesty of a servant who betrays +her mistress, and you can never feel certain whether she is operating +in your interest or in that of your wife. This point therefore may be +looked upon as beyond controversy. + +Nature, that good and tender parent, has set round about the mother of +a family the most reliable and the most sagacious of spies, the most +truthful and at the same time the most discreet in the world. They +are silent and yet they speak, they see everything and appear to see +nothing. + +One day I met a friend of mine on the boulevard. He invited me to +dinner, and we went to his house. Dinner had been already served, and +the mistress of the house was helping her two daughters to plates of +soup. + +“I see here my first symptoms,” I said to myself. + +We sat down. The first word of the husband, who spoke without thinking, +and for the sake of talking, was the question: + +“Has any one been here to-day?” + +“Not a soul,” replied his wife, without lifting her eyes. + +I shall never forget the quickness with which the two daughters looked +up to their mother. The elder girl, aged eight, had something especially +peculiar in her glance. There was at the same time revelation and +mystery, curiosity and silence, astonishment and apathy in that look. +If there was anything that could be compared to the speed with which the +light of candor flashed from their eyes, it was the prudent reserve with +which both of them closed down, like shutters, the folds of their white +eyelids. + +Ye sweet and charming creatures, who from the age of nine even to the +age of marriage too often are the torment of a mother even when she is +not a coquette, is it by the privilege of your years or the instinct of +your nature that your young ears catch the faint sound of a man’s voice +through walls and doors, that your eyes are awake to everything, and +that your young spirit busies itself in divining all, even the meaning +of a word spoken in the air, even the meaning of your mother’s slightest +gesture? + +There is something of gratitude, something in fact instinctive, in the +predilection of fathers for their daughters and mothers for their sons. + +But the act of setting spies which are in some way inanimate is mere +dotage, and nothing is easier than to find a better plan than that of +the beadle, who took it into his head to put egg-shells in his bed, and +who obtained no other sympathy from his confederate than the words, “You +are not very successful in breaking them.” + +The Marshal de Saxe did not give much consolation to his Popeliniere +when they discovered in company that famous revolving chimney, invented +by the Duc de Richelieu. + +“That is the finest piece of horn work that I have ever seen!” cried the +victor of Fontenoy. + +Let us hope that your espionage will not give you so troublesome a +lesson. Such misfortunes are the fruits of the civil war and we do not +live in that age. + + + 4. THE INDEX. + +The Pope puts books only on the Index; you will mark with a stigma of +reprobation men and things. + +It is forbidden to madame to go into a bath except in her own house. + +It is forbidden to madame to receive into her house him whom you suspect +of being her lover, and all those who are the accomplices of their love. + +It is forbidden to madame to take a walk without you. + +But the peculiarities which in each household originate from the +diversity of characters, the numberless incidents of passion, and the +habits of the married people give to this black book so many variations, +the lines in it are multiplied or erased with such rapidity that a +friend of the author has called this Index _The History of Changes in +the Marital Church_. + +There are only two things which can be controlled or prescribed in +accordance with definite rules; the first is the country, the second is +the promenade. + +A husband ought never to take his wife to the country nor permit her to +go there. Have a country home if you like, live there, entertain there +nobody excepting ladies or old men, but never leave your wife alone +there. But to take her, for even half a day, to the house of another man +is to show yourself as stupid as an ostrich. + +To keep guard over a wife in the country is a task most difficult +of accomplishment. Do you think that you will be able to be in the +thickets, to climb the trees, to follow the tracks of a lover over the +grass trodden down at night, but straightened by the dew in the morning +and refreshed by the rays of the sun? Can you keep your eye on every +opening in the fence of the park? Oh! the country and the Spring! These +are the two right arms of the celibate. + +When a woman reaches the crisis at which we suppose her to be, a husband +ought to remain in town till the declaration of war, or to resolve on +devoting himself to all the delights of a cruel espionage. + +With regard to the promenade: Does madame wish to go to parties, to the +theatre, to the Bois de Boulogne, to purchase her dresses, to find +out what is the fashion? Madame shall go, shall see everything in the +respectable company of her lord and master. + +If she take advantage of the moment when a business appointment, which +you cannot fail to keep, detains you, in order to obtain your tacit +permission to some meditated expedition; if in order to obtain that +permission she displays all the witcheries of those cajoleries in which +women excel and whose powerful influence you ought already to have +known, well, well, the professor implores you to allow her to win you +over, while at the same time you sell dear the boon she asks; and above +all convince this creature, whose soul is at once as changeable as water +and as firm as steel, that it is impossible for you from the importance +of your work to leave your study. + +But as soon as your wife has set foot upon the street, if she goes on +foot, don’t give her time to make fifty steps; follow and track her in +such a way that you will not be noticed. + +It is possible that there exist certain Werthers whose refined and +delicate souls recoil from this inquisition. But this is not more +blamable than that of a landed proprietor who rises at night and looks +through the windows for the purpose of keeping watch over the peaches +on his _espaliers_. You will probably by this course of action obtain, +before the crime is committed, exact information with regard to the +apartments which so many lovers rent in the city under fictitious +names. If it happens [which God forbid!] that your wife enters a house +suspected by you, try to find out if the place has several exits. + +Should your wife take a hack, what have you to fear? Is there not a +prefect of police, to whom all husbands ought to decree a crown of solid +gold, and has he not set up a little shed or bench where there is a +register, an incorruptible guardian of public morality? And does he not +know all the comings and goings of these Parisian gondolas? + +One of the vital principles of our police will consist in always +following your wife to the furnishers of your house, if she is +accustomed to visit them. You will carefully find out whether there is +any intimacy between her and her draper, her dressmaker or her milliner, +etc. In this case you will apply the rules of the conjugal Custom House, +and draw your own conclusions. + +If in your absence your wife, having gone out against your will, tells +you that she had been to such a place, to such a shop, go there yourself +the next day and try to find out whether she has spoken the truth. + +But passion will dictate to you, even better than the Meditation, the +various resources of conjugal tyranny, and we will here cut short these +tiresome instructions. + + + 5. OF THE BUDGET. + +In outlining the portrait of a sane and sound husband (See _Meditation +on the Predestined_), we urgently advise that he should conceal from his +wife the real amount of his income. + +In relying upon this as the foundation stone of our financial system we +hope to do something towards discounting the opinion, so very generally +held, that a man ought not to give the handling of his income to his +wife. This principle is one of the many popular errors and is one of the +chief causes of misunderstanding in the domestic establishment. + +But let us, in the first place, deal with the question of heart, before +we proceed to that of money. + +To draw up a little civil list for your wife and for the requirements of +the house and to pay her money as if it were a contribution, in twelve +equal portions month by month, has something in it that is a little mean +and close, and cannot be agreeable to any but sordid and mistrustful +souls. By acting in this way you prepare for yourself innumerable +annoyances. + +I could wish that during the first year of your mellifluous union, +scenes more or less delightful, pleasantries uttered in good taste, +pretty purses and caresses might accompany and might decorate the +handing over of this monthly gift; but the time will come when the +self-will of your wife or some unforeseen expenditure will compel her to +ask a loan of the Chamber; I presume that you will always grant her the +bill of indemnity, as our unfaithful deputies never fail to do. They +pay, but they grumble; you must pay and at the same time compliment her. +I hope it will be so. + +But in the crisis which we have reached, the provisions of the annual +budget can never prove sufficient. There must be an increase of fichus, +of bonnets, of frocks; there is an expense which cannot be calculated +beforehand demanded by the meetings, by the diplomatic messengers, by +the ways and means of love, even while the receipts remain the same as +usual. Then must commence in your establishment a course of education +the most odious, and the most dreadful which a woman can undergo. I know +but few noble and generous souls who value, more than millions, purity +of heart, frankness of soul, and who would a thousand times more readily +pardon a passion than a lie, whose instinctive delicacy has divined +the existence of this plague of the soul, the lowest step in human +degradation. + +Under these circumstances there occur in the domestic establishment the +most delightful scenes of love. It is then that a woman becomes utterly +pliant and like to the most brilliant of all the strings of a harp, when +thrown before the fire; she rolls round you, she clasps you, she holds +you tight; she defers to all your caprices; never was her conversation +so full of tenderness; she lavishes her endearments upon you, or rather +she sells them to you; she at last becomes lower than a chorus girl, for +she prostitutes herself to her husband. In her sweetest kisses there is +money; in all her words there is money. In playing this part her heart +becomes like lead towards you. The most polished, the most treacherous +usurer never weighs so completely with a single glance the future value +in bullion of a son of a family who may sign a note to him, than your +wife appraises one of your desires as she leaps from branch to branch +like an escaping squirrel, in order to increase the sum of money she may +demand by increasing the appetite which she rouses in you. You must not +expect to get scot-free from such seductions. Nature has given boundless +gifts of coquetry to a woman, the usages of society have increased them +tenfold by its fashions, its dresses, its embroideries and its tippets. + +“If I ever marry,” one of the most honorable generals of our ancient +army used to say, “I won’t put a sou among the wedding presents--” + +“What will you put there then, general?” asked a young girl. + +“The key of my safe.” + +The young girl made a curtsey of approbation. She moved her little head +with a quiver like that of the magnetic needle; raised her chin slightly +as if she would have said: + +“I would gladly marry the general in spite of his forty-five years.” + +But with regard to money, what interest can you expect your wife to take +in a machine in which she is looked upon as a mere bookkeeper? + +Now look at the other system. + +In surrendering to your wife, with an avowal of absolute confidence in +her, two-thirds of your fortune and letting her as mistress control the +conjugal administration, you win from her an esteem which nothing can +destroy, for confidence and high-mindedness find powerful echoes in the +heart of a woman. Madame will be loaded with a responsibility which will +often raise a barrier against extravagances, all the stronger because it +is she herself who has created it in her heart. You yourself have made a +portion of the work, and you may be sure that from henceforth your wife +will never perhaps dishonor herself. + +Moreover, by seeking in this way a method of defence, consider what +admirable aids are offered to you by this plan of finances. + +You will have in your house an exact estimate of the morality of your +wife, just as the quotations of the Bourse give you a just estimate of +the degree of confidence possessed by the government. + +And doubtless, during the first years of your married life, your wife +will take pride in giving you every luxury and satisfaction which your +money can afford. + +She will keep a good table, she will renew the furniture, and the +carriages; she will always keep in her drawer a sum of money sacred to +her well-beloved and ready for his needs. But of course, in the actual +circumstances of life, the drawer will be very often empty and monsieur +will spend a great deal too much. The economies ordered by the Chamber +never weigh heavily upon the clerks whose income is twelve hundred +francs; and you will be the clerk at twelve hundred francs in your +own house. You will laugh in your sleeve, because you will have saved, +capitalized, invested one-third of your income during a long time, like +Louis XV, who kept for himself a little separate treasury, “against a +rainy day,” he used to say. + +Thus, if your wife speaks of economy, her discourse will be equal to the +varying quotations of the money-market. You will be able to divine the +whole progress of the lover by these financial fluctuations, and you +will have avoided all difficulties. _E sempre bene._ + +If your wife fails to appreciate the excessive confidence, and +dissipates in one day a large proportion of your fortune, in the first +place it is not probable that this prodigality will amount to one-third +of the revenue which you have been saving for ten years; moreover you +will learn, from the Meditation on _Catastrophes_, that in the very +crisis produced by the follies of your wife, you will have brilliant +opportunities of slaying the Minotaur. + +But the secret of the treasure which has been amassed by your +thoughtfulness need never be known till after your death; and if you +have found it necessary to draw upon it, in order to assist your wife, +you must always let it be thought that you have won at play, or made a +loan from a friend. + +These are the true principles which should govern the conjugal budget. + + + +The police of marriage has its martyrology. We will cite but one +instance which will make plain how necessary it is for husbands who +resort to severe measures to keep watch over themselves as well as over +their wives. + +An old miser who lived at T-----, a pleasure resort if there ever was +one, had married a young and pretty woman, and he was so wrapped up in +her and so jealous that love triumphed over avarice; he actually gave up +trade in order to guard his wife more closely, but his only real change +was that his covetousness took another form. I acknowledge that I owe +the greater portion of the observations contained in this essay, which +still is doubtless incomplete, to the person who made a study of this +remarkable marital phenomenon, to portray which, one single detail will +be amply sufficient. When he used to go to the country, this husband +never went to bed without secretly raking over the pathways of his park, +and he had a special rake for the sand of his terraces. He had made +a close study of the footprints made by the different members of his +household; and early in the morning he used to go and identify the +tracks that had been made there. + +“All this is old forest land,” he used to say to the person I have +referred to, as he showed him over the park; “for nothing can be seen +through the brushwood.” + +His wife fell in love with one of the most charming young men of the +town. This passion had continued for nine years bright and fresh in the +hearts of the two lovers, whose sole avowal had been a look exchanged +in a crowded ball-room; and while they danced together their trembling +hands revealed through the scented gloves the depth of their love. From +that day they had both of them taken great delight on those trifles +which happy lovers never disdain. One day the young man led his only +confidant, with a mysterious air, into a chamber where he kept under +glass globes upon his table, with more care than he would have bestowed +upon the finest jewels in the world, the flowers that, in the excitement +of the dance, had fallen from the hair of his mistress, and the finery +which had been caught in the trees which she had brushed through in the +park. He also preserved there the narrow footprint left upon the clay +soil by the lady’s step. + +“I could hear,” said this confidant to me afterwards, “the violent and +repressed palpitations of his heart sounding in the silence which we +preserved before the treasures of this museum of love. I raised my eyes +to the ceiling, as if to breathe to heaven the sentiment which I dared +not utter. ‘Poor humanity!’ I thought. ‘Madame de ----- told me that one +evening at a ball you had been found nearly fainting in her card-room?’ +I remarked to him. + +“‘I can well believe it,’ said he casting down his flashing glance, ‘I +had kissed her arm!--But,’ he added as he pressed my hand and shot at me +a glance that pierced my heart, ‘her husband at that time had the gout +which threatened to attack his stomach.’” + +Some time afterwards, the old man recovered and seemed to take a new +lease of life; but in the midst of his convalescence he took to his +bed one morning and died suddenly. There were such evident symptoms of +poisoning in the condition of the dead man that the officers of justice +were appealed to, and the two lovers were arrested. Then was enacted at +the court of assizes the most heartrending scene that ever stirred the +emotions of the jury. At the preliminary examination, each of the two +lovers without hesitation confessed to the crime, and with one thought +each of them was solely bent on saving, the one her lover, the other his +mistress. There were two found guilty, where justice was looking for +but a single culprit. The trial was entirely taken up with the flat +contradictions which each of them, carried away by the fury of devoted +love, gave to the admissions of the other. There they were united for +the first time, but on the criminals’ bench with a gendarme seated +between them. They were found guilty by the unanimous verdict of a +weeping jury. No one among those who had the barbarous courage to +witness their conveyance to the scaffold can mention them to-day without +a shudder. Religion had won for them a repentance for their crime, +but could not induce them to abjure their love. The scaffold was their +nuptial bed, and there they slept together in the long night of death. + + + + +MEDITATION XXI. THE ART OF RETURNING HOME. + +Finding himself incapable of controlling the boiling transports of his +anxiety, many a husband makes the mistake of coming home and rushing +into the presence of his wife, with the object of triumphing over +her weakness, like those bulls of Spain, which, stung by the red +_banderillo_, disembowel with furious horns horses, matadors, picadors, +toreadors and their attendants. + +But oh! to enter with a tender gentle mien, like Mascarillo, who expects +a beating and becomes merry as a lark when he finds his master in a good +humor! Well--that is the mark of a wise man--! + +“Yes, my darling, I know that in my absence you could have behaved +badly! Another in your place would have turned the house topsy-turvy, +but you have only broken a pane of glass! God bless you for your +considerateness. Go on in the same way and you will earn my eternal +gratitude.” + +Such are the ideas which ought to be expressed by your face and bearing, +but perhaps all the while you say to yourself: + +“Probably he has been here!” + +Always to bring home a pleasant face, is a rule which admits of no +exception. + +But the art of never leaving your house without returning when the +police have revealed to you a conspiracy--to know how to return at the +right time--this is the lesson which is hard to learn. In this matter +everything depends upon tact and penetration. The actual events of life +always transcend anything that is imaginable. + +The manner of coming home is to be regulated in accordance with a number +of circumstances. For example: + +Lord Catesby was a man of remarkable strength. It happened one day that +he was returning from a fox hunt, to which he had doubtless promised to +go, with some ulterior view, for he rode towards the fence of his park +at a point where, he said, he saw an extremely fine horse. As he had +a passion for horses, he drew near to examine this one close at hand, +There he caught sight of Lady Catesby, to whose rescue it was certainly +time to go, if he were in the slightest degree jealous for his own +honor. He rushed upon the gentleman he saw there, and seizing him by the +belt he hurled him over the fence on to the road side. + +“Remember, sir,” he said calmly, “it rests with me to decide whether it +well be necessary to address you hereafter and ask for satisfaction on +this spot.” + +“Very well, my lord; but would you have the goodness to throw over my +horse also?” + +But the phlegmatic nobleman had already taken the arm of his wife as he +gravely said: + +“I blame you very much, my dear creature, for not having told me that I +was to love you for two. Hereafter every other day I shall love you for +the gentleman yonder, and all other days for myself.” + +This adventure is regarded in England as one of the best returns home +that were ever known. It is true it consisted in uniting, with singular +felicity, eloquence of deed to that of word. + +But the art of re-entering your home, principles of which are +nothing else but natural deductions from the system of politeness and +dissimulation which have been commended in preceding Meditations, +is after all merely to be studied in preparation for the conjugal +catastrophes which we will now consider. + + + + +MEDITATION XXII. OF CATASTROPHES. + +The word _Catastrophe_ is a term of literature which signifies the final +climax of a play. + +To bring about a catastrophe in the drama which you are playing is a +method of defence which is as easy to undertake as it is certain to +succeed. In advising to employ it, we would not conceal from you its +perils. + +The conjugal catastrophe may be compared to one of those high fevers +which either carry off a predisposed subject or completely restore his +health. Thus, when the catastrophe succeeds, it keeps a woman for years +in the prudent realms of virtue. + +Moreover, this method is the last of all those which science has been +able to discover up to this present moment. + +The massacre of St. Bartholomew, the Sicilian Vespers, the death of +Lucretia, the two embarkations of Napoleon at Frejus are examples of +political catastrophe. It will not be in your power to act on such a +large scale; nevertheless, within their own area, your dramatic climaxes +in conjugal life will not be less effective than these. + +But since the art of creating a situation and of transforming it, by the +introduction of natural incidents, constitutes genius; since the return +to virtue of a woman, whose foot has already left some tracks upon +the sweet and gilded sand which mark the pathway of vice, is the most +difficult to bring about of all denouements, and since genius neither +knows it nor teaches it, the practitioner in conjugal laws feels +compelled to confess at the outset that he is incapable of reducing to +definite principles a science which is as changeable as circumstances, +as delusive as opportunity, and as indefinable as instinct. + +If we may use an expression which neither Diderot, d’Alembert nor +Voltaire, in spite of every effort, have been able to engraft on our +language, a conjugal catastrophe _se subodore_ is scented from afar; so +that our only course will be to sketch out imperfectly certain conjugal +situations of an analogous kind, thus imitating the philosopher of +ancient time who, seeking in vain to explain motion, walked forward in +his attempt to comprehend laws which were incomprehensible. + +A husband, in accordance with the principles comprised in our Meditation +on _Police_, will expressly forbid his wife to receive the visits of a +celibate whom he suspects of being her lover, and whom she has promised +never again to see. Some minor scenes of the domestic interior we leave +for matrimonial imaginations to conjure up; a husband can delineate them +much better than we can; he will betake himself in thought back to those +days when delightful longings invited sincere confidences and when +the workings of his policy put into motion certain adroitly handled +machinery. + +Let us suppose, in order to make more interesting the natural scene +to which I refer, that you who read are a husband, whose carefully +organized police has made the discovery that your wife, profiting by +the hours devoted by you to a ministerial banquet, to which she probably +procured you an invitation, received at your house M. A----z. + +Here we find all the conditions necessary to bring about the finest +possible of conjugal catastrophes. + +You return home just in time to find your arrival has coincided with +that of M. A----z, for we would not advise you to have the interval +between acts too long. But in what mood should you enter? Certainly not +in accordance with the rules of the previous Meditation. In a rage then? +Still less should you do that. You should come in with good-natured +carelessness, like an absent-minded man who has forgotten his purse, +the statement which he has drawn up for the minister, his +pocket-handkerchief or his snuff-box. + +In that case you will either catch two lovers together, or your wife, +forewarned by the maid, will have hidden the celibate. + +Now let us consider these two unique situations. + +But first of all we will observe that husbands ought always to be in a +position to strike terror in their homes and ought long before to make +preparations for the matrimonial second of September. + +Thus a husband, from the moment that his wife has caused him to perceive +certain _first symptoms_, should never fail to give, time after time, +his personal opinion on the course of conduct to be pursued by a husband +in a great matrimonial crisis. + +“As for me,” you should say, “I should have no hesitation in killing the +man I caught at my wife’s feet.” + +With regard to the discussion that you will thus give rise to, you will +be led on to aver that the law ought to have given to the husband, as it +did in ancient Rome, the right of life and death over his children, so +that he could slay those who were spurious. + +These ferocious opinions, which really do not bind you to anything, will +impress your wife with salutary terror; you will enumerate them lightly, +even laughingly--and say to her, “Certainly, my dear, I would kill you +right gladly. Would you like to be murdered by me?” + +A woman cannot help fearing that this pleasantry may some day become a +very serious matter, for in these crimes of impulse there is a certain +proof of love; and then women who know better than any one else how +to say true things laughingly at times suspect their husbands of this +feminine trick. + +When a husband surprises his wife engaged in even innocent conversation +with her lover, his face still calm, should produce the effect +mythologically attributed to the celebrated Gorgon. + +In order to produce a favorable catastrophe at this juncture, you +must act in accordance with the character of your wife, either play a +pathetic scene a la Diderot, or resort to irony like Cicero, or rush to +your pistols loaded with a blank charge, or even fire them off, if you +think that a serious row is indispensable. + +A skillful husband may often gain a great advantage from a scene +of unexaggerated sentimentality. He enters, he sees the lover and +transfixes him with a glance. As soon as the celibate retires, he falls +at the feet of his wife, he declaims a long speech, in which among other +phrases there occurs this: + +“Why, my dear Caroline, I have never been able to love you as I should!” + +He weeps, and she weeps, and this tearful catastrophe leaves nothing to +be desired. + +We would explain, apropos of the second method by which the catastrophe +may be brought about, what should be the motives which lead a husband +to vary this scene, in accordance with the greater or less degree of +strength which his wife’s character possesses. + +Let us pursue this subject. + +If by good luck it happens that your wife has put her lover in a place +of concealment, the catastrophe will be very much more successful. + +Even if the apartment is not arranged according to the principles +prescribed in the Meditation, you will easily discern the place into +which the celibate has vanished, although he be not, like Lord Byron’s +Don Juan, bundled up under the cushion of a divan. If by chance your +apartment is in disorder, you ought to have sufficient discernment to +know that there is only one place in which a man could bestow himself. +Finally, if by some devilish inspiration he has made himself so small +that he has squeezed into some unimaginable lurking-place (for we may +expect anything from a celibate), well, either your wife cannot help +casting a glance towards this mysterious spot, or she will pretend to +look in an exactly opposite direction, and then nothing is easier for a +husband than to set a mouse-trap for his wife. + +The hiding-place being discovered, you must walk straight up to the +lover. You must meet him face to face! + +And now you must endeavor to produce a fine effect. With your face +turned three-quarters towards him, you must raise your head with an air +of superiority. This attitude will enhance immensely the effect which +you aim at producing. + +The most essential thing to do at this moment, is to overwhelm the +celibate by some crushing phrase which you have been manufacturing all +the time; when you have thus floored him, you will coldly show him the +door. You will be very polite, but as relentless as the executioner’s +axe, and as impassive as the law. This freezing contempt will already +probably have produced a revolution in the mind of your wife. There +must be no shouts, no gesticulations, no excitement. “Men of high social +rank,” says a young English author, “never behave like their inferiors, +who cannot lose a fork without sounding the alarm throughout the whole +neighborhood.” + +When the celibate has gone, you will find yourself alone with your wife, +and then is the time when you must subjugate her forever. + +You should therefore stand before her, putting on an air whose affected +calmness betrays the profoundest emotion; then you must choose from +among the following topics, which we have rhetorically amplified, and +which are most congenial to your feelings: “Madame,” you must say, “I +will speak to you neither of your vows, nor of my love; for you have too +much sense and I have too much pride to make it possible that I should +overwhelm you with those execrations, which all husbands have a right +to utter under these circumstances; for the least of the mistakes that I +should make, if I did so, is that I would be fully justified. I will not +now, even if I could, indulge either in wrath or resentment. It is not +I who have been outraged; for I have too much heart to be frightened +by that public opinion which almost always treats with ridicule and +condemnation a husband whose wife has misbehaved. When I examine my +life, I see nothing there that makes this treachery deserved by me, +as it is deserved by many others. I still love you. I have never been +false, I will not say to my duty, for I have found nothing onerous in +adoring you, but not even to those welcome obligations which sincere +feeling imposes upon us both. You have had all my confidence and you +have also had the administration of my fortune. I have refused you +nothing. And now this is the first time that I have turned to you a +face, I will not say stern, but which is yet reproachful. But let us +drop this subject, for it is of no use for me to defend myself at +a moment when you have proved to me with such energy that there is +something lacking in me, and that I am not intended by nature to +accomplish the difficult task of rendering you happy. But I would ask +you, as a friend speaking to a friend, how could you have the heart to +imperil at the same time the lives of three human creatures: that of the +mother of my children, who will always be sacred to me; that of the +head of the family; and finally of him--who loves--[she perhaps at these +words will throw herself at your feet; you must not permit her to do so; +she is unworthy of kneeling there]. For you no longer love me, Eliza. +Well, my poor child [you must not call her _my poor child_ excepting +when the crime has not been committed]--why deceive ourselves? Why do +you not answer me? If love is extinguished between a married couple, +cannot friendship and confidence still survive? Are we not two +companions united in making the same journey? Can it be said that during +the journey the one must never hold out his hand to the other to raise +up a comrade or to prevent a comrade’s fall? But I have perhaps said too +much and I am wounding your pride--Eliza! Eliza!” + +Now what the deuce would you expect a woman to answer? Why a catastrophe +naturally follows, without a single word. + +In a hundred women there may be found at least a good half dozen of +feeble creatures who under this violent shock return to their husbands +never perhaps again to leave them, like scorched cats that dread the +fire. But this scene is a veritable alexipharmaca, the doses of which +should be measured out by prudent hands. + +For certain women of delicate nerves, whose souls are soft and timid, it +would be sufficient to point out the lurking-place where the lover lies, +and say: “M. A----z is there!” [at this point shrug your shoulders]. +“How can you thus run the risk of causing the death of two worthy +people? I am going out; let him escape and do not let this happen +again.” + +But there are women whose hearts, too violently strained in these +terrible catastrophes, fail them and they die; others whose blood +undergoes a change, and they fall a prey to serious maladies; others +actually go out of their minds. These are examples of women who take +poison or die suddenly--and we do not suppose that you wish the death of +the sinner. + +Nevertheless, the most beautiful and impressionable of all the queens +of France, the charming and unfortunate Mary Stuart, after having seen +Rizzio murdered almost in her arms, fell in love, nevertheless, with +the Earl of Bothwell; but she was a queen and queens are abnormal in +disposition. + +We will suppose, then, that the woman whose portrait adorns our first +Meditation is a little Mary Stuart, and we will hasten to raise the +curtain for the fifth act in this grand drama entitled _Marriage_. + +A conjugal catastrophe may burst out anywhere, and a thousand +incidents which we cannot describe may give it birth. Sometimes it is a +handkerchief, as in _Othello_; or a pair of slippers, as in _Don +Juan_; sometimes it is the mistake of your wife, who cries out--“Dear +Alphonse!” instead of “Dear Adolph!” Sometimes a husband, finding out +that his wife is in debt, will go and call on her chief creditor, and +will take her some morning to his house, as if by chance, in order to +bring about a catastrophe. “Monsieur Josse, you are a jeweler and you +sell your jewels with a readiness which is not equaled by the readiness +of your debtors to pay for them. The countess owes you thirty thousand +francs. If you wish to be paid to-morrow [tradesmen should always be +visited at the end of the month] come to her at noon; her husband will +be in the chamber. Do not attend to any sign which she may make to +impose silence upon you--speak out boldly. I will pay all.” + +So that the catastrophe in the science of marriage is what figures are +in arithmetic. + + + +All the principles of higher conjugal philosophy, on which are based the +means of defence outlined in this second part of our book, are derived +from the nature of human sentiments, and we have found them in different +places in the great book of the world. Just as persons of intellect +instinctively apply the laws of taste whose principles they would find +difficulty in formulating, so we have seen numberless people of deep +feeling employing with singular felicity the precepts which we are about +to unfold, yet none of them consciously acted on a definite system. +The sentiments which this situation inspired only revealed to them +incomplete fragments of a vast system; just as the scientific men of the +sixteenth century found that their imperfect microscopes did not enable +them to see all the living organisms, whose existence had yet been +proved to them by the logic of their patient genius. + +We hope that the observations already made in this book, and in those +which follow, will be of a nature to destroy the opinion which frivolous +men maintain, namely that marriage is a sinecure. According to our view, +a husband who gives way to ennui is a heretic, and more than that, he is +a man who lives quite out of sympathy with the marriage state, of whose +importance he has no conception. In this connection, these Meditations +perhaps will reveal to very many ignorant men the mysteries of a world +before which they stand with open eyes, yet without seeing it. + +We hope, moreover, that these principles when well applied will produce +many conversions, and that among the pages that separate this second +part from that entitled _Civil War_ many tears will be shed and many +vows of repentance breathed. + +Yes, among the four hundred thousand honest women whom we have so +carefully sifted out from all the European nations, we indulge the +belief that there are a certain number, say three hundred thousand, who +will be sufficiently self-willed, charming, adorable, and bellicose to +raise the standard of _Civil War_. + +To arms then, to arms! + + + + + +THIRD PART. RELATING TO CIVIL WAR. + + “Lovely as the seraphs of Klopstock, + Terrible as the devils of Milton.” + --DIDEROT. + + + + +MEDITATION XXIII. OF MANIFESTOES. + +The Preliminary precepts, by which science has been enabled at this +point to put weapons into the hand of a husband, are few in number; it +is not of so much importance to know whether he will be vanquished, as +to examine whether he can offer any resistance in the conflict. + +Meanwhile, we will set up here certain beacons to light up the arena +where a husband is soon to find himself, in alliance with religion and +law, engaged single-handed in a contest with his wife, who is supported +by her native craft and the whole usages of society as her allies. + + + LXXXII. + Anything may be expected and anything may be supposed of a woman who + is in love. + + + LXXXIII. + The actions of a woman who intends to deceive her husband are almost + always the result of study, but never dictated by reason. + + + LXXXIV. +The greater number of women advance like the fleas, by erratic leaps +and bounds, They owe their escape to the height or depth of their +first ideas, and any interruption of their plans rather favors their +execution. But they operate only within a narrow area which it is easy +for the husband to make still narrower; and if he keeps cool he will end +by extinguishing this piece of living saltpetre. + + + LXXXV. + A husband should never allow himself to address a single disparaging + remark to his wife, in presence of a third party. + + + LXXXVI. +The moment a wife decides to break her marriage vow she reckons her +husband as everything or nothing. All defensive operations must start +from this proposition. + + + LXXXVII. +The life of a woman is either of the head, of the heart, or of passion. +When a woman reaches the age to form an estimate of life, her husband +ought to find out whether the primary cause of her intended infidelity +proceeds from vanity, from sentiment or from temperament. Temperament +may be remedied like disease; sentiment is something in which the +husband may find great opportunities of success; but vanity is +incurable. A woman whose life is of the head may be a terrible scourge. +She combines the faults of a passionate woman with those of the +tender-hearted woman, without having their palliations. She is destitute +alike of pity, love, virtue or sex. + + + LXXXVIII. +A woman whose life is of the head will strive to inspire her husband +with indifference; the woman whose life is of the heart, with hatred; +the passionate woman, with disgust. + + + LXXXIX. +A husband never loses anything by appearing to believe in the fidelity +of his wife, by preserving an air of patience and by keeping silence. +Silence especially troubles a woman amazingly. + + + XC. +To show himself aware of the passion of his wife is the mark of a fool; +but to affect ignorance of all proves that a man has sense, and this +is in fact the only attitude to take. We are taught, moreover, that +everybody in France is sensible. + + + XCI. +The rock most to be avoided is ridicule.--“At least, let us +be affectionate in public,” ought to be the maxim of a married +establishment. For both the married couple to lose honor, esteem, +consideration, respect and all that is worth living for in society, is +to become a nonentity. + + +These axioms relate to the contest alone. As for the catastrophe, others +will be needed for that. + + +We have called this crisis _Civil War_ for two reasons; never was a war +more really intestine and at the same time so polite as this war. But in +what point and in what manner does this fatal war break out? You do not +believe that your wife will call out regiments and sound the trumpet, do +you? She will, perhaps, have a commanding officer, but that is all. And +this feeble army corps will be sufficient to destroy the peace of your +establishment. + +“You forbid me to see the people that I like!” is an exordium which has +served for a manifesto in most homes. This phrase, with all the ideas +that are concomitant, is oftenest employed by vain and artificial women. + +The most usual manifesto is that which is proclaimed in the conjugal +bed, the principal theatre of war. This subject will be treated +in detail in the Meditation entitled: _Of Various Weapons_, in the +paragraph, _Of Modesty in its Connection with Marriage_. + +Certain women of a lymphatic temperament will pretend to have the spleen +and will even feign death, if they can only gain thereby the benefit of +a secret divorce. + +But most of them owe their independence to the execution of a plan, +whose effect upon the majority of husbands is unfailing and whose +perfidies we will now reveal. + +One of the greatest of human errors springs from the belief that our +honor and our reputation are founded upon our actions, or result from +the approbation which the general conscience bestows upon on conduct. A +man who lives in the world is born to be a slave to public opinion. Now +a private man in France has less opportunity of influencing the world +than his wife, although he has ample occasion for ridiculing it. Women +possess to a marvelous degree the art of giving color by specious +arguments to the recriminations in which they indulge. They never set +up any defence, excepting when they are in the wrong, and in this +proceeding they are pre-eminent, knowing how to oppose arguments by +precedents, proofs by assertions, and thus they very often obtain +victory in minor matters of detail. They see and know with admirable +penetration, when one of them presents to another a weapon which she +herself is forbidden to whet. It is thus that they sometimes lose a +husband without intending it. They apply the match and long afterwards +are terror-stricken at the conflagration. + +As a general thing, all women league themselves against a married man +who is accused of tyranny; for a secret tie unites them all, as it +unites all priests of the same religion. They hate each other, yet +shield each other. You can never gain over more than one of them; and +yet this act of seduction would be a triumph for your wife. + +You are, therefore, outlawed from the feminine kingdom. You see ironical +smiles on every lip, you meet an epigram in every answer. These clever +creatures force their daggers and amuse themselves by sculpturing the +handle before dealing you a graceful blow. + +The treacherous art of reservation, the tricks of silence, the malice +of suppositions, the pretended good nature of an inquiry, all these arts +are employed against you. A man who undertakes to subjugate his wife is +an example too dangerous to escape destruction from them, for will not +his conduct call up against them the satire of every husband? Moreover, +all of them will attack you, either by bitter witticisms, or by serious +arguments, or by the hackneyed maxims of gallantry. A swarm of celibates +will support all their sallies and you will be assailed and persecuted +as an original, a tyrant, a bad bed-fellow, an eccentric man, a man not +to be trusted. + +Your wife will defend you like the bear in the fable of La Fontaine; +she will throw paving stones at your head to drive away the flies that +alight on it. She will tell you in the evening all the things that have +been said about you, and will ask an explanation of acts which you never +committed, and of words which you never said. She professes to have +justified you for faults of which you are innocent; she has boasted of +a liberty which she does not possess, in order to clear you of the wrong +which you have done in denying that liberty. The deafening rattle which +your wife shakes will follow you everywhere with its obtrusive din. Your +darling will stun you, will torture you, meanwhile arming herself by +making you feel only the thorns of married life. She will greet you with +a radiant smile in public, and will be sullen at home. She will be dull +when you are merry, and will make you detest her merriment when you are +moody. Your two faces will present a perpetual contrast. + +Very few men have sufficient force of mind not to succumb to this +preliminary comedy, which is always cleverly played, and resembles +the _hourra_ raised by the Cossacks, as they advance to battle. Many +husbands become irritated and fall into irreparable mistakes. Others +abandon their wives. And, indeed, even those of superior intelligence do +not know how to get hold of the enchanted ring, by which to dispel this +feminine phantasmagoria. + +Two-thirds of such women are enabled to win their independence by this +single manoeuvre, which is no more than a review of their forces. In +this case the war is soon ended. + +But a strong man who courageously keeps cool throughout this first +assault will find much amusement in laying bare to his wife, in a light +and bantering way, the secret feelings which make her thus behave, in +following her step by step through the labyrinth which she treads, and +telling her in answer to her every remark, that she is false to herself, +while he preserves throughout a tone of pleasantry and never becomes +excited. + +Meanwhile war is declared, and if her husband has not been dazzled by +these first fireworks, a woman has yet many other resources for securing +her triumph; and these it is the purpose of the following Meditations to +discover. + + + + +MEDITATION XXIV. PRINCIPLES OF STRATEGY. + +The Archduke Charles published a very fine treatise on military under +the title _Principles of Strategy in Relation to the Campaigns of 1796_. +These principles seem somewhat to resemble poetic canons prepared for +poems already published. In these days we are become very much more +energetic, we invent rules to suit works and works to suit rules. But +of what use were ancient principles of military art in presence of the +impetuous genius of Napoleon? If, to-day, however, we reduce to a +system the lessons taught by this great captain whose new tactics have +destroyed the ancient ones, what future guarantee do we possess that +another Napoleon will not yet be born? Books on military art meet, with +few exceptions, the fate of ancient works on Chemistry and Physics. +Everything is subject to change, either constant or periodic. + +This, in a few words, is the history of our work. + +So long as we have been dealing with a woman who is inert or lapped in +slumber, nothing has been easier than to weave the meshes with which we +have bound her; but the moment she wakes up and begins to struggle, +all is confusion and complication. If a husband would make an effort +to recall the principles of the system which we have just described in +order to involve his wife in the nets which our second part has set for +her, he would resemble Wurmser, Mack and Beaulieu arranging their halts +and their marches while Napoleon nimbly turns their flank, and makes use +of their own tactics to destroy them. + +This is just what your wife will do. + +How is it possible to get at the truth when each of you conceals it +under the same lie, each setting the same trap for the other? And whose +will be the victory when each of you is caught in a similar snare? + +“My dear, I have to go out; I have to pay a visit to Madame So and So. +I have ordered the carriage. Would you like to come with me? Come, be +good, and go with your wife.” + +You say to yourself: + +“She would be nicely caught if I consented! She asks me only to be +refused.” + +Then you reply to her: + +“Just at the moment I have some business with Monsieur Blank, for he has +to give a report in a business matter which deeply concerns us both, and +I must absolutely see him. Then I must go to the Minister of Finance. So +your arrangement will suit us both.” + +“Very well, dearest, go and dress yourself, while Celine finishes +dressing me; but don’t keep me waiting.” + +“I am ready now, love,” you cry out, at the end of ten minutes, as you +stand shaved and dressed. + +But all is changed. A letter has arrived; madame is not well; her dress +fits badly; the dressmaker has come; if it is not the dressmaker it is +your mother. Ninety-nine out of a hundred husbands will leave the house +satisfied, believing that their wives are well guarded, when, as a +matter of fact, the wives have gotten rid of them. + +A lawful wife who from her husband cannot escape, who is not distressed +by pecuniary anxiety, and who in order to give employment to a vacant +mind, examines night and day the changing tableaux of each day’s +experience, soon discovers the mistake she has made in falling into a +trap or allowing herself to be surprised by a catastrophe; she will then +endeavor to turn all these weapons against you. + +There is a man in society, the sight of whom is strangely annoying to +your wife; she can tolerate neither his tone, his manners nor his way of +regarding things. Everything connected with him is revolting to her; she +is persecuted by him, he is odious to her; she hopes that no one will +tell him this. It seems almost as if she were attempting to oppose you; +for this man is one for whom you have the highest esteem. You like his +disposition because he flatters you; and thus your wife presumes that +your esteem for him results from flattered vanity. When you give a ball, +an evening party or a concert, there is almost a discussion on this +subject, and madame picks a quarrel with you, because you are compelling +her to see people who are not agreeable to her. + +“At least, sir, I shall never have to reproach myself with omitting +to warn you. That man will yet cause you trouble. You should put some +confidence in women when they pass sentence on the character of a man. +And permit me to tell you that this baron, for whom you have such a +predilection, is a very dangerous person, and you are doing very +wrong to bring him to your house. And this is the way you behave; you +absolutely force me to see one whom I cannot tolerate, and if I ask you +to invite Monsieur A-----, you refuse to do so, because you think that +I like to have him with me! I admit that he talks well, that he is kind +and amiable; but you are more to me than he can ever be.” + +These rude outlines of feminine tactics, which are emphasized by +insincere gestures, by looks of feigned ingenuousness, by artful +intonations of the voice and even by the snare of cunning silence, are +characteristic to some degree of their whole conduct. + +There are few husbands who in such circumstances as these do not form +the idea of setting a mouse-trap; they welcome as their guests both +Monsieur A----- and the imaginary baron who represents the person whom +their wives abhor, and they do so in the hope of discovering a lover in +the celibate who is apparently beloved. + +Oh yes, I have often met in the world young men who were absolutely +starlings in love and complete dupes of a friendship which women +pretended to show them, women who felt themselves obliged to make a +diversion and to apply a blister to their husbands as their husbands had +previously done to them! These poor innocents pass their time in running +errands, in engaging boxes at the theatre, in riding in the Bois de +Boulogne by the carriages of their pretended mistresses; they are +publicly credited with possessing women whose hands they have not even +kissed. Vanity prevents them from contradicting these flattering rumors, +and like the young priests who celebrate masses without a Host, they +enjoy a mere show passion, and are veritable supernumeraries of love. + +Under these circumstances sometimes a husband on returning home asks the +porter: “Has no one been here?”--“M. le Baron came past at two o’clock +to see monsieur; but as he found no one was in but madame he went away; +but Monsieur A----- is with her now.” + +You reach the drawing-room, you see there a young celibate, sprightly, +scented, wearing a fine necktie, in short a perfect dandy. He is a man +who holds you in high esteem; when he comes to your house your wife +listens furtively for his footsteps; at a ball she always dances with +him. If you forbid her to see him, she makes a great outcry and it is +not till many years afterwards [see Meditation on _Las Symptoms_] that +you see the innocence of Monsieur A----- and the culpability of the +baron. + +We have observed and noted as one of the cleverest manoeuvres, that of +a young woman who, carried away by an irresistible passion, exhibited a +bitter hatred to the man she did not love, but lavished upon her +lover secret intimations of her love. The moment that her husband was +persuaded that she loved the _Cicisbeo_ and hated the _Patito_, she +arranged that she and the _Patito_ should be found in a situation whose +compromising character she had calculated in advance, and her husband +and the execrated celibate were thus induced to believe that her love +and her aversion were equally insincere. When she had brought her +husband into the condition of perplexity, she managed that a passionate +letter should fall into his hands. One evening in the midst of the +admirable catastrophe which she had thus brought to a climax, madame +threw herself at her husband’s feet, wet them with her tears, and thus +concluded the climax to her own satisfaction. + +“I esteem and honor you profoundly,” she cried, “for keeping your own +counsel as you have done. I am in love! Is this a sentiment which is +easy for me to repress? But what I can do is to confess the fact to you; +to implore you to protect me from myself, to save me from my own folly. +Be my master and be a stern master to me; take me away from this place, +remove me from what has caused all this trouble, console me; I will +forget him, I desire to do so. I do not wish to betray you. I humbly ask +your pardon for the treachery love has suggested to me. Yes, I confess +to you that the love which I pretended to have for my cousin was a +snare set to deceive you. I love him with the love of friendship and no +more.--Oh! forgive me! I can love no one but”--her voice was choked in +passionate sobs--“Oh! let us go away, let us leave Paris!” + +She began to weep; her hair was disheveled, her dress in disarray; it +was midnight, and her husband forgave her. From henceforth, the cousin +made his appearance without risk, and the Minotaur devoured one victim +more. + +What instructions can we give for contending with such adversaries as +these? Their heads contain all the diplomacy of the congress of Vienna; +they have as much power when they are caught as when they escape. What +man has a mind supple enough to lay aside brute force and strength and +follow his wife through such mazes as these? + +To make a false plea every moment, in order to elicit the truth, a true +plea in order to unmask falsehood; to charge the battery when least +expected, and to spike your gun at the very moment of firing it; to +scale the mountain with the enemy, in order to descend to the plain +again five minutes later; to accompany the foe in windings as rapid, as +obscure as those of a plover on the breezes; to obey when obedience is +necessary, and to oppose when resistance is inertial; to traverse the +whole scale of hypotheses as a young artist with one stroke runs from +the lowest to the highest note of his piano; to divine at last the +secret purpose on which a woman is bent; to fear her caresses and to +seek rather to find out what are the thoughts that suggested them and +the pleasure which she derived from them--this is mere child’s pay for +the man of intellect and for those lucid and searching imaginations +which possess the gift of doing and thinking at the same time. But there +are a vast number of husbands who are terrified at the mere idea of +putting in practice these principles in their dealings with a woman. + +Such men as these prefer passing their lives in making huge efforts +to become second-class chess-players, or to pocket adroitly a ball in +billiards. + +Some of them will tell you that they are incapable of keeping their +minds on such a constant strain and breaking up the habits of their +life. In that case the woman triumphs. She recognizes that in mind and +energy she is her husband’s superior, although the superiority may be +but temporary; and yet there rises in her a feeling of contempt for the +head of the house. + +If many man fail to be masters in their own house this is not from lack +of willingness, but of talent. As for those who are ready to undergo +the toils of this terrible duel, it is quite true that they must needs +possess great moral force. + +And really, as soon as it is necessary to display all the resources of +this secret strategy, it is often useless to attempt setting any traps +for these satanic creatures. Once women arrive at a point when they +willfully deceive, their countenances become as inscrutable as vacancy. +Here is an example which came within my own experience. + +A very young, very pretty, and very clever coquette of Paris had not +yet risen. Seated by her bed was one of her dearest friends. A letter +arrived from another, a very impetuous fellow, to whom she had allowed +the right of speaking to her like a master. The letter was in pencil and +ran as follows: + +“I understand that Monsieur C----- is with you at this moment. I am +waiting for him to blow his brains out.” + +Madame D----- calmly continued the conversation with Monsieur C-----. +She asked him to hand her a little writing desk of red leather which +stood on the table, and he brought it to her. + +“Thanks, my dear,” she said to him; “go on talking, I am listening to +you.” + +C----- talked away and she replied, all the while writing the following +note: + +“As soon as you become jealous of C----- you two can blow out +each other’s brains at your pleasure. As for you, you may die; but +brains--you haven’t any brains to blow out.” + +“My dear friend,” she said to C-----, “I beg you will light this candle. +Good, you are charming. And now be kind enough to leave me and let me +get up, and give this letter to Monsieur d’H-----, who is waiting at the +door.” + +All this was said with admirable coolness. The tones and intonations of +her voice, the expression of her face showed no emotion. Her audacity +was crowned with complete success. On receiving the answer from the hand +of Monsieur C-----, Monsieur d’H----- felt his wrath subside. He +was troubled with only one thing and that was how to disguise his +inclination to laugh. + +The more torch-light one flings into the immense cavern which we are now +trying to illuminate, the more profound it appears. It is a bottomless +abyss. It appears to us that our task will be accomplished more +agreeably and more instructively if we show the principles of strategy +put into practice in the case of a woman, when she has reached a high +degree of vicious accomplishment. An example suggests more maxims and +reveals the existence of more methods than all possible theories. + +One day at the end of a dinner given to certain intimate friends by +Prince Lebrun, the guests, heated by champagne, were discussing the +inexhaustible subject of feminine artifice. The recent adventure +which was credited to the Countess R. D. S. J. D. A-----, apropos of a +necklace, was the subject first broached. A highly esteemed artist, a +gifted friend of the emperor, was vigorously maintaining the opinion, +which seemed somewhat unmanly, that it was forbidden to a man to resist +successfully the webs woven by a woman. + +“It is my happy experience,” he said, “that to them nothing is sacred.” + +The ladies protested. + +“But I can cite an instance in point.” + +“It is an exception!” + +“Let us hear the story,” said a young lady. + +“Yes, tell it to us,” cried all the guests. + +The prudent old gentleman cast his eyes around, and, after having formed +his conclusions as to the age of the ladies, smiled and said: + +“Since we are all experienced in life, I consent to relate the +adventure.” + +Dead silence followed, and the narrator read the following from a little +book which he had taken from his pocket: + + +I was head over ears in love with the Comtesse de -----. I was twenty +and I was ingenuous. She deceived me. I was angry; she threw me over. +I was ingenuous, I repeat, and I was grieved to lose her. I was twenty; +she forgave me. And as I was twenty, as I was always ingenuous, always +deceived, but never again thrown over by her, I believed myself to have +been the best beloved of lovers, consequently the happiest of men. The +countess had a friend, Madame de T-----, who seemed to have some designs +on me, but without compromising her dignity; for she was scrupulous and +respected the proprieties. One day while I was waiting for the countess +in her Opera box, I heard my name called from a contiguous box. It was +Madame de T-----. + +“What,” she said, “already here? Is this fidelity or merely a want of +something to do? Won’t you come to me?” + +Her voice and her manner had a meaning in them, but I was far from +inclined at that moment to indulge in a romance. + +“Have you any plans for this evening?” she said to me. “Don’t make any! +If I cheer your tedious solitude you ought to be devoted to me. Don’t +ask any questions, but obey. Call my servants.” + +I answered with a bow and on being requested to leave the Opera box, I +obeyed. + +“Go to this gentleman’s house,” she said to the lackey. “Say he will not +be home till to-morrow.” + +She made a sign to him, he went to her, she whispered in his ear, and +he left us. The Opera began. I tried to venture on a few words, but +she silenced me; some one might be listening. The first act ended, the +lackey brought back a note, and told her that everything was ready. Then +she smiled, asked for my hand, took me off, put me in her carriage, and +I started on my journey quite ignorant of my destination. Every inquiry +I made was answered by a peal of laughter. If I had not been aware that +this was a woman of great passion, that she had long loved the Marquis +de V-----, that she must have known I was aware of it, I should have +believed myself in good luck; but she knew the condition of my heart, +and the Comtesse de -----. I therefore rejected all presumptuous ideas +and bided my time. At the first stop, a change of horses was supplied +with the swiftness of lightning and we started afresh. The matter was +becoming serious. I asked with some insistency, where this joke was to +end. + +“Where?” she said, laughing. “In the pleasantest place in the world, but +can’t you guess? I’ll give you a thousand chances. Give it up, for you +will never guess. We are going to my husband’s house. Do you know him?” + +“Not in the least.” + +“So much the better, I thought you didn’t. But I hope you will like him. +We have lately become reconciled. Negotiations went on for six months; +and we have been writing to one another for a month. I think it is very +kind of me to go and look him up.” + +“It certainly is, but what am I going to do there? What good will I be +in this reconciliation?” + +“Ah, that is my business. You are young, amiable, unconventional; you +suit me and will save me from the tediousness of a tete-a-tete.” + +“But it seems odd to me, to choose the day or the night of a +reconciliation to make us acquainted; the awkwardness of the first +interview, the figure all three of us will cut,--I don’t see anything +particularly pleasant in that.” + +“I have taken possession of you for my own amusement!” she said with an +imperious air, “so please don’t preach.” + +I saw she was decided, so surrendered myself to circumstances. I began +to laugh at my predicament and we became exceedingly merry. We again +changed horses. The mysterious torch of night lit up a sky of extreme +clearness and shed around a delightful twilight. We were approaching the +spot where our tete-a-tete must end. She pointed out to me at intervals +the beauty of the landscape, the tranquillity of the night, the +all-pervading silence of nature. In order to admire these things in +company as it was natural we should, we turned to the same window and +our faces touched for a moment. In a sudden shock she seized my hand, +and by a chance which seemed to me extraordinary, for the stone over +which our carriage had bounded could not have been very large, I found +Madame de T----- in my arms. I do not know what we were trying to see; +what I am sure of is that the objects before our eyes began in spite +of the full moon to grow misty, when suddenly I was released from her +weight, and she sank into the back cushions of the carriage. + +“Your object,” she said, rousing herself from a deep reverie, “is +possibly to convince me of the imprudence of this proceeding. Judge, +therefore, of my embarrassment!” + +“My object!” I replied, “what object can I have with regard to you? What +a delusion! You look very far ahead; but of course the sudden surprise +or turn of chance may excuse anything.” + +“You have counted, then, upon that chance, it seems to me?” + +We had reached our destination, and before we were aware of it, we had +entered the court of the chateau. The whole place was brightly lit up. +Everything wore a festal air, excepting the face of its master, who +at the sight of me seemed anything but delighted. He came forward and +expressed in somewhat hesitating terms the tenderness proper to +the occasion of a reconciliation. I understood later on that this +reconciliation was absolutely necessary from family reasons. I was +presented to him and was coldly greeted. He extended his hand to his +wife, and I followed the two, thinking of my part in the past, in the +present and in the future. I passed through apartments decorated with +exquisite taste. The master in this respect had gone beyond all the +ordinary refinement of luxury, in the hope of reanimating, by the +influence of voluptuous imagery, a physical nature that was dead. Not +knowing what to say, I took refuge in expressions of admiration. The +goddess of the temple, who was quite ready to do the honors, accepted my +compliments. + +“You have not seen anything,” she said. “I must take you to the +apartments of my husband.” + +“Madame, five years ago I caused them to be pulled down.” + +“Oh! Indeed!” said she. + +At the dinner, what must she do but offer the master some fish, on which +he said to her: + +“Madame, I have been living on milk for the last three years.” + +“Oh! Indeed!” she said again. + +Can any one imagine three human beings as astonished as we were to +find ourselves gathered together? The husband looked at me with a +supercilious air, and I paid him back with a look of audacity. + +Madame de T----- smiled at me and was charming to me; Monsieur de T----- +accepted me as a necessary evil. Never in all my life have I taken part +in a dinner which was so odd as that. The dinner ended, I thought that +we would go to bed early--that is, I thought that Monsieur de T----- +would. As we entered the drawing-room: + +“I appreciate, madame,” said he, “your precaution in bringing this +gentleman with you. You judged rightly that I should be but poor company +for the evening, and you have done well, for I am going to retire.” + +Then turning to me, he added in a tone of profound sarcasm: + +“You will please to pardon me, and obtain also pardon from madame.” + +He left us. My reflections? Well, the reflections of a twelvemonth were +then comprised in those of a minute. When we were left alone, Madame +de T----- and I, we looked at each other so curiously that, in order to +break through the awkwardness, she proposed that we should take a turn +on the terrace while we waited, as she said, until the servants had +supped. + +It was a superb night. It was scarcely possible to discern surrounding +objects, they seemed to be covered with a veil, that imagination might +be permitted to take a loftier flight. The gardens, terraced on the side +of a mountain, sloped down, platform after platform, to the banks of the +Seine, and the eye took in the many windings of the stream covered with +islets green and picturesque. These variations in the landscape made +up a thousand pictures which gave to the spot, naturally charming, a +thousand novel features. We walked along the most extensive of these +terraces, which was covered with a thick umbrage of trees. She had +recovered from the effects of her husband’s persiflage, and as we walked +along she gave me her confidence. Confidence begets confidence, and as +I told her mine, all she said to me became more intimate and more +interesting. Madame de T----- at first gave me her arm; but soon this +arm became interlaced in mine, I know not how, but in some way almost +lifted her up and prevented her from touching the ground. The position +was agreeable, but became at last fatiguing. We had been walking for +a long time and we still had much to say to each other. A bank of turf +appeared and she sat down without withdrawing her arm. And in this +position we began to sound the praises of mutual confidence, its charms +and its delights. + +“Ah!” she said to me, “who can enjoy it more than we and with less cause +of fear? I know well the tie that binds you to another, and therefore +have nothing to fear.” + +Perhaps she wished to be contradicted. But I answered not a word. We +were then mutually persuaded that it was possible for us to be friends +without fear of going further. + +“But I was afraid, however,” I said, “that that sudden jolt in the +carriage and the surprising consequences may have frightened you.” + +“Oh, I am not so easily alarmed!” + +“I fear it has left a little cloud on your mind?” + +“What must I do to reassure you?” + +“Give me the kiss here which chance--” + +“I will gladly do so; for if I do not, your vanity will lead you to +think that I fear you.” + +I took the kiss. + +It is with kisses as with confidences, the first leads to another. They +are multiplied, they interrupt conversation, they take its place; they +scarce leave time for a sigh to escape. Silence followed. We could hear +it, for silence may be heard. We rose without a word and began to walk +again. + +“We must go in,” said she, “for the air of the river is icy, and it is +not worth while--” + +“I think to go in would be more dangerous,” I answered. + +“Perhaps so! Never mind, we will go in.” + +“Why, is this out of consideration for me? You wish doubtless to save me +from the impressions which I may receive from such a walk as this--the +consequences which may result. Is it for me--for me only--?” + +“You are modest,” she said smiling, “and you credit me with singular +consideration.” + +“Do you think so? Well, since you take it in this way, we will go in; I +demand it.” + +A stupid proposition, when made by two people who are forcing themselves +to say something utterly different from what they think. + +Then she compelled me to take the path that led back to the chateau. I +do not know, at least I did not then know, whether this course was one +which she forced upon herself, whether it was the result of a vigorous +resolution, or whether she shared my disappointment in seeing an +incident which had begun so well thus suddenly brought to a close but +by a mutual instinct our steps slackened and we pursued our way gloomily +dissatisfied the one with the other and with ourselves. We knew not the +why and the wherefore of what we were doing. Neither of us had the right +to demand or even to ask anything. We had neither of us any ground for +uttering a reproach. O that we had got up a quarrel! But how could I +pick one with her? Meanwhile we drew nearer and nearer, thinking how we +might evade the duty which we had so awkwardly imposed upon ourselves. +We reached the door, when Madame de T-----said to me: + +“I am angry with you! After the confidences I have given you, not to +give me a single one! You have not said a word about the countess. +And yet it is so delightful to speak of the one we love! I should have +listened with such interest! It was the very best I could do after I had +taken you away from her!” + +“Cannot I reproach you with the same thing?” I said, interrupting her, +“and if instead of making me a witness to this singular reconciliation +in which I play so odd a part, you had spoken to me of the marquis--” + +“Stop,” she said, “little as you know of women, you are aware that their +confidences must be waited for, not asked. But to return to yourself. +Are you very happy with my friend? Ah! I fear the contrary--” + +“Why, madame, should everything that the public amuses itself by saying +claim our belief?” + +“You need not dissemble. The countess makes less a mystery of things +than you do. Women of her stamp do not keep the secrets of their loves +and of their lovers, especially when you are prompted by discretion to +conceal her triumph. I am far from accusing her of coquetry; but a prude +has as much vanity as a coquette.--Come, tell me frankly, have you not +cause of complaint against her?” + +“But, madame, the air is really too icy for us to stay here. Would you +like to go in?” said I with a smile. + +“Do you find it so?--That is singular. The air is quite warm.” + +She had taken my arm again, and we continued to walk, although I did not +know the direction which we took. All that she had hinted at concerning +the lover of the countess, concerning my mistress, together with this +journey, the incident which took place in the carriage, our conversation +on the grassy bank, the time of night, the moonlight--all made me feel +anxious. I was at the same time carried along by vanity, by desire, and +so distracted by thought, that I was too excited perhaps to take notice +of all that I was experiencing. And, while I was overwhelmed with these +mingled feelings, she continued talking to me of the countess, and my +silence confirmed the truth of all that she chose to say about her. +Nevertheless, certain passages in her talk recalled me to myself. + +“What an exquisite creature she is!” she was saying. “How graceful! On +her lips the utterances of treachery sound like witticism; an act of +infidelity seems the prompting of reason, a sacrifice to propriety; +while she is never reckless, she is always lovable; she is seldom tender +and never sincere; amorous by nature, prudish on principle; sprightly, +prudent, dexterous though utterly thoughtless, varied as Proteus in her +moods, but charming as the Graces in her manner; she attracts but she +eludes. What a number of parts I have seen her play! _Entre nous_, what +a number of dupes hang round her! What fun she has made of the baron, +what a life she has led the marquis! When she took you, it was merely +for the purpose of throwing the two rivals off the scent; they were on +the point of a rupture; for she had played with them too long, and they +had had time to see through her. But she brought you on the scene. Their +attention was called to you, she led them to redouble their pursuit, she +was in despair over you, she pitied you, she consoled you--Ah! how happy +is a clever woman when in such a game as this she professes to stake +nothing of her own! But yet, is this true happiness?” + +This last phrase, accompanied by a significant sigh, was a +master-stroke. I felt as if a bandage had fallen from my eyes, without +seeing who had put it there. My mistress appeared to me the falsest of +women, and I believed that I held now the only sensible creature in the +world. Then I sighed without knowing why. She seemed grieved at having +given me pain and at having in her excitement drawn a picture, the truth +of which might be open to suspicion, since it was the work of a woman. +I do not know how I answered; for without realizing the drift of all I +heard, I set out with her on the high road of sentiment, and we mounted +to such lofty heights of feeling that it was impossible to guess what +would be the end of our journey. It was fortunate that we also took the +path towards a pavilion which she pointed out to me at the end of the +terrace, a pavilion, the witness of many sweet moments. She described +to me the furnishing of it. What a pity that she had not the key! As she +spoke we reached the pavilion and found that it was open. The clearness +of the moonlight outside did not penetrate, but darkness has many +charms. We trembled as we went in. It was a sanctuary. Might it not be +the sanctuary of love? We drew near a sofa and sat down, and there we +remained a moment listening to our heart-beats. The last ray of the moon +carried away the last scruple. The hand which repelled me felt my heart +beat. She struggled to get away, but fell back overcome with tenderness. +We talked together through that silence in the language of thought. +Nothing is more rapturous than these mute conversations. Madame de +T----- took refuge in my arms, hid her head in my bosom, sighed and then +grew calm under my caresses. She grew melancholy, she was consoled, +and she asked of love all that love had robbed her of. The sound of the +river broke the silence of night with a gentle murmur, which seemed in +harmony with the beating of our hearts. Such was the darkness of the +place it was scarcely possible to discern objects; but through the +transparent crepe of a fair summer’s night, the queen of that lovely +place seemed to me adorable. + +“Oh!” she said to me with an angelic voice, “let us leave this dangerous +spot. Resistance here is beyond our strength.” + +She drew me away and we left the pavilion with regret. + +“Ah! how happy is she!” cried Madame de T-----. + +“Whom do you mean?” I asked. + +“Did I speak?” said she with a look of alarm. + +And then we reached the grassy bank, and stopped there involuntarily. +“What a distance there is,” she said to me, “between this place and the +pavilion!” + +“Yes indeed,” said I. “But must this bank be always ominous? Is there a +regret? Is there--?” + +I do not know by what magic it took place; but at this point the +conversation changed and became less serious. She ventured even to speak +playfully of the pleasures of love, to eliminate from them all moral +considerations, to reduce them to their simplest elements, and to +prove that the favors of lovers were mere pleasure, that there were no +pledges--philosophically speaking--excepting those which were given to +the world, when we allowed it to penetrate our secrets and joined it in +the acts of indiscretion. + +“How mild is the night,” she said, “which we have by chance picked out! +Well, if there are reasons, as I suppose there are, which compel us to +part to-morrow, our happiness, ignored as it is by all nature, will not +leave us any ties to dissolve. There will, perhaps, be some regrets, the +pleasant memory of which will give us reparation; and then there will be +a mutual understanding, without all the delays, the fuss and the tyranny +of legal proceedings. We are such machines--and I blush to avow it--that +in place of all the shrinkings that tormented me before this scene took +place, I was half inclined to embrace the boldness of these principles, +and I felt already disposed to indulge in the love of liberty. + +“This beautiful night,” she continued, “this lovely scenery at this +moment have taken on fresh charms. O let us never forget this pavilion! +The chateau,” she added smilingly, “contains a still more charming +place, but I dare not show you anything; you are like a child, who +wishes to touch everything and breaks everything that he touches.” + +Moved by a sentiment of curiosity I protested that I was a very good +child. She changed the subject. + +“This night,” she said, “would be for me without a regret if I were not +vexed with myself for what I said to you about the countess. Not that +I wish to find fault with you. Novelty attracts me. You have found me +amiable, I should like to believe in your good faith. But the dominion +of habit takes a long time to break through and I have not learned the +secret of doing this--By the bye, what do you think of my husband?” + +“Well, he is rather cross, but I suppose he could not be otherwise to +me.” + +“Oh, that is true, but his way of life isn’t pleasant, and he could +not see you here with indifference. He might be suspicious even of our +friendship.” + +“Oh! he is so already.” + +“Confess that he has cause. Therefore you must not prolong this visit; +he might take it amiss. As soon as any one arrives--” and she added with +a smile, “some one is going to arrive--you must go. You have to keep up +appearance, you know. Remember his manner when he left us to-night.” + +I was tempted to interpret this adventure as a trap, but as she noticed +the impression made by her words, she added: + +“Oh, he was very much gayer when he was superintending the arrangement +of the cabinet I told you about. That was before my marriage. This +passage leads to my apartment. Alas! it testifies to the cunning +artifices to which Monsieur de T----- has resorted in protecting his +love for me.” + +“How pleasant it would be,” I said to her, keenly excited by the +curiosity she had roused in me, “to take vengeance in this spot for the +insults which your charms have suffered, and to seek to make restitution +for the pleasures of which you have been robbed.” + +She doubtless thought this remark in good taste, but she said: “You +promised to be good!” + + * * * * * + +I threw a veil over the follies which every age will pardon to youth, +on the ground of so many balked desires and bitter memories. In the +morning, scarcely raising her liquid eyes, Madame de T-----, fairer than +ever, said to me: + +“Now will you ever love the countess as much as you do me?” + +I was about to answer when her maid, her confidante, appeared saying: + +“You must go. It is broad daylight, eleven o’clock, and the chateau is +already awake.” + +All had vanished like a dream! I found myself wandering through the +corridors before I had recovered my senses. How could I regain my +apartment, not knowing where it was? Any mistake might bring about an +exposure. I resolved on a morning walk. The coolness of the fresh air +gradually tranquilized my imagination and brought me back to the world +of reality; and now instead of a world of enchantment I saw myself in my +soul, and my thoughts were no longer disturbed but followed each other +in connected order; in fact, I breathed once more. I was, above all +things, anxious to learn what I was to her so lately left--I who knew +that she had been desperately in love with the Marquis de V-----. Could +she have broken with him? Had she taken me to be his successor, or +only to punish him? What a night! What an adventure! Yes, and what a +delightful woman! While I floated on the waves of these thoughts, I +heard a sound near at hand. I raised my eyes, I rubbed them, I could not +believe my senses. Can you guess who it was? The Marquis de V-----! + +“You did not expect to see me so early, did you?” he said. “How has it +all gone off?” + +“Did you know that I was here?” I asked in utter amazement. + +“Oh, yes, I received word just as you left Paris. Have you played your +part well? Did not the husband think your visit ridiculous? Was he put +out? When are you going to take leave? You had better go, I have made +every provision for you. I have brought you a good carriage. It is at +your service. This is the way I requite you, my dear friend. You may +rely on me in the future, for a man is grateful for such services as +yours.” + +These last words gave me the key to the whole mystery, and I saw how I +stood. + +“But why should you have come so soon?” I asked him; “it would have been +more prudent to have waited a few days.” + +“I foresaw that; and it is only chance that has brought me here. I am +supposed to be on my way back from a neighboring country house. But has +not Madame de T----- taken you into her secret? I am surprised at her +want of confidence, after all you have done for us.” + +“My dear friend,” I replied, “she doubtless had her reasons. Perhaps I +did not play my part very well.” + +“Has everything been very pleasant? Tell me the particulars; come, tell +me.” + +“Now wait a moment. I did not know that this was to be a comedy; and +although Madame de T----- gave me a part in the play--” + +“It wasn’t a very nice one.” + +“Do not worry yourself; there are no bad parts for good actors.” + +“I understand, you acquitted yourself well.” + +“Admirably.” + +“And Madame de T-----?” + +“Is adorable.” + +“To think of being able to win such a woman!” said he, stopping short in +our walk, and looking triumphantly at me. “Oh, what pains I have taken +with her! And I have at last brought her to a point where she is perhaps +the only woman in Paris on whose fidelity a man may infallibly count!” + +“You have succeeded--?” + +“Yes; in that lies my special talent. Her inconstancy was mere +frivolity, unrestrained imagination. It was necessary to change that +disposition of hers, but you have no idea of her attachment to me. But +really, is she not charming?” + +“I quite agree with you.” + +“And yet _entre nous_ I recognize one fault in her. Nature in giving her +everything, has denied her that flame divine which puts the crown on all +other endowments; while she rouses in others the ardor of passion, she +feels none herself, she is a thing of marble.” + +“I am compelled to believe you, for I have had no opportunity of +judging, but do you think that you know that woman as well as if you +were her husband? It is possible to be deceived. If I had not dined +yesterday with the veritable--I should take you--” + +“By the way, has he been good?” + +“Oh, I was received like a dog!” + +“I understand. Let us go in, let us look for Madame de T-----. She must +be up by this time.” + +“But should we not out of decency begin with the husband?” I said to +him. + +“You are right. Let us go to your room, I wish to put on a little +powder. But tell me, did he really take you for her lover?” + +“You may judge by the way he receives me; but let us go at once to his +apartment.” + +I wished to avoid having to lead him to an apartment whose whereabouts +I did not know; but by chance we found it. The door was open and there I +saw my _valet de chambre_ asleep on an armchair. A candle was going out +on a table beside him. He drowsily offered a night robe to the marquis. +I was on pins and needles; but the marquis was in a mood to be easily +deceived, took the man for a mere sleepy-head, and made a joke of the +matter. We passed on to the apartment of Monsieur de T-----. There was +no misunderstanding the reception which he accorded me, and the welcome, +the compliments which he addressed to the marquis, whom he almost forced +to stay. He wished to take him to madame in order that she might insist +on his staying. As for me, I received no such invitation. I was reminded +that my health was delicate, the country was damp, fever was in the air, +and I seemed so depressed that the chateau would prove too gloomy for +me. The marquis offered me his chaise and I accepted it. The husband +seemed delighted and we were all satisfied. But I could not refuse +myself the pleasure of seeing Madame de T----- once more. My impatience +was wonderful. My friend conceived no suspicions from the late sleep of +his mistress. + +“Isn’t this fine?” he said to me as we followed Monsieur de T-----. “He +couldn’t have spoken more kindly if she had dictated his words. He is a +fine fellow. I am not in the least annoyed by this reconciliation; they +will make a good home together, and you will agree with me, that he +could not have chosen a wife better able to do the honors.” + +“Certainly,” I replied. + +“However pleasant the adventure has been,” he went on with an air of +mystery, “you must be off! I will let Madame de T----- understand that +her secret will be well kept.” + +“On that point, my friend, she perhaps counts more on me than on you; +for you see her sleep is not disturbed by the matter.” + +“Oh! I quite agree that there is no one like you for putting a woman to +sleep.” + +“Yes, and a husband too, and if necessary a lover, my dear friend.” + +At last Monsieur de T----- was admitted to his wife’s apartment, and +there we were all summoned. + +“I trembled,” said Madame de T----- to me, “for fear you would go before +I awoke, and I thank you for saving me the annoyance which that would +have caused me.” + +“Madame,” I said, and she must have perceived the feeling that was in my +tones--“I come to say good-bye.” + +She looked at me and at the marquis with an air of disquietude; but the +self-satisfied, knowing look of her lover reassured her. She laughed +in her sleeve with me as if she would console me as well as she could, +without lowering herself in my eyes. + +“He has played his part well,” the marquis said to her in a low voice, +pointing to me, “and my gratitude--” + +“Let us drop the subject,” interrupted Madame de T-----; “you may be +sure that I am well aware of all I owe him.” + +At last Monsieur de T-----, with a sarcastic remark, dismissed me; my +friend threw the dust in his eyes by making fun of me; and I paid back +both of them by expressing my admiration for Madame de T-----, who made +fools of us all without forfeiting her dignity. I took myself off; but +Madame de T----- followed me, pretending to have a commission to give +me. + +“Adieu, monsieur!” she said, “I am indebted to you for the very great +pleasure you have given me; but I have paid you back with a beautiful +dream,” and she looked at me with an expression of subtle meaning. “But +adieu, and forever! You have plucked a solitary flower, blossoming in +its loveliness, which no man--” + +She stopped and her thought evaporated in a sigh; but she checked the +rising flood of sensibility and smiled significantly. + +“The countess loves you,” she said. “If I have robbed her of some +transports, I give you back to her less ignorant than before. Adieu! Do +not make mischief between my friend and me.” + +She wrung my hand and left me. + + + +More than once the ladies who had mislaid their fans blushed as they +listened to the old gentleman, whose brilliant elocution won their +indulgence for certain details which we have suppressed, as too erotic +for the present age; nevertheless, we may believe that each lady +complimented him in private; for some time afterwards he gave to each +of them, as also to the masculine guests, a copy of this charming story, +twenty-five copies of which were printed by Pierre Didot. It is +from copy No. 24 that the author has transcribed this tale, hitherto +unpublished, and, strange to say, attributed to Dorat. It has the merit +of yielding important lessons for husbands, while at the same time it +gives the celibates a delightful picture of morals in the last century. + + + + +MEDITATION XXV. OF ALLIES. + +Of all the miseries that civil war can bring upon a country the greatest +lies in the appeal which one of the contestants always ends by making to +some foreign government. + +Unhappily we are compelled to confess that all women make this great +mistake, for the lover is only the first of their soldiers. It may be +a member of their family or at least a distant cousin. This Meditation, +then, is intended to answer the inquiry, what assistance can each of the +different powers which influence human life give to your wife? or better +than that, what artifices will she resort to to arm them against you? + +Two beings united by marriage are subject to the laws of religion and +society; to those of private life, and, from considerations of health, +to those of medicine. We will therefore divide this important Meditation +into six paragraphs: + + + 1. OF RELIGIONS AND OF CONFESSION; CONSIDERED IN THEIR CONNECTION + WITH MARRIAGE. + 2. OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. + 3. OF BOARDING SCHOOL FRIENDS AND INTIMATE FRIENDS. + 4. OF THE LOVER’S ALLIES. + 5. OF THE MAID. + 6. OF THE DOCTOR. + + + + +1. OF RELIGIONS AND OF CONFESSION; CONSIDERED IN THEIR CONNECTION WITH +MARRIAGE. + +La Bruyere has very wittily said, “It is too much for a husband to have +ranged against him both devotion and gallantry; a woman ought to choose +but one of them for her ally.” + +The author thinks that La Bruyere is mistaken. + + + + +2. OF THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. + +Up to the age of thirty the face of a woman is a book written in a +foreign tongue, which one may still translate in spite of all the +_feminisms_ of the idiom; but on passing her fortieth year a woman +becomes an insoluble riddle; and if any one can see through an old +woman, it is another old woman. + +Some diplomats have attempted on more than one occasion the diabolical +task of gaining over the dowagers who opposed their machinations; but if +they have ever succeeded it was only after making enormous concessions +to them; for diplomats are practiced people and we do not think that you +can employ their recipe in dealing with your mother-in-law. She will be +the first aid-de-camp of her daughter, for if the mother did not take +her daughter’s side, it would be one of those monstrous and unnatural +exceptions, which unhappily for husbands are extremely rare. + +When a man is so happy as to possess a mother-in-law who is +well-preserved, he may easily keep her in check for a certain time, +although he may not know any young celibate brave enough to assail her. +But generally husbands who have the slightest conjugal genius will find +a way of pitting their own mother against that of their wife, and in +that case they will naturally neutralize each other’s power. + +To be able to keep a mother-in-law in the country while he lives in +Paris, and vice versa, is a piece of good fortune which a husband too +rarely meets with. + +What of making mischief between the mother and the daughter?--That may +be possible; but in order to accomplish such an enterprise he must have +the metallic heart of Richelieu, who made a son and a mother deadly +enemies to each other. However, the jealousy of a husband who forbids +his wife to pray to male saints and wishes her to address only female +saints, would allow her liberty to see her mother. + +Many sons-in-law take an extreme course which settles everything, +which consists in living on bad terms with their mothers-in-law. This +unfriendliness would be very adroit policy, if it did not inevitably +result in drawing tighter the ties that unite mother and daughter. These +are about all the means which you have for resisting maternal influence +in your home. As for the services which your wife can claim from her +mother, they are immense; and the assistance which she may derive from +the neutrality of her mother is not less powerful. But on this point +everything passes out of the domain of science, for all is veiled in +secrecy. The reinforcements which a mother brings up in support of a +daughter are so varied in nature, they depend so much on circumstances, +that it would be folly to attempt even a nomenclature for them. Yet you +may write out among the most valuable precepts of this conjugal gospel, +the following maxims. + +A husband should never let his wife visit her mother unattended. + +A husband ought to study all the reasons why all the celibates under +forty who form her habitual society are so closely united by ties of +friendship to his mother-in-law; for, if a daughter rarely falls in love +with the lover of her mother, her mother has always a weak spot for her +daughter’s lover. + + + + +3. OF BOARDING SCHOOL FRIENDS AND INTIMATE FRIENDS. + +Louise de L-----, daughter of an officer killed at Wagram, had been +the object of Napoleon’s special protection. She left Ecouen to marry a +commissary general, the Baron de V-----, who is very rich. + +Louise was eighteen and the baron forty. She was ordinary in face and +her complexion could not be called white, but she had a charming +figure, good eyes, a small foot, a pretty hand, good taste and abundant +intelligence. The baron, worn out by the fatigues of war and still more +by the excesses of a stormy youth, had one of those faces upon which the +Republic, the Directory, the Consulate and the Empire seemed to have set +their impress. + +He became so deeply in love with his wife, that he asked and obtained +from the Emperor a post at Paris, in order that he might be enabled to +watch over his treasure. He was as jealous as Count Almaviva, still more +from vanity than from love. The young orphan had married her husband +from necessity, and, flattered by the ascendancy she wielded over a man +much older than herself, waited upon his wishes and his needs; but +her delicacy was offended from the first days of their marriage by the +habits and ideas of a man whose manners were tinged with republican +license. He was a predestined. + +I do not know exactly how long the baron made his honeymoon last, nor +when war was declared in his household; but I believe it happened in +1816, at a very brilliant ball given by Monsieur D-----, a commissariat +officer, that the commissary general, who had been promoted head of the +department, admired the beautiful Madame B-----, the wife of a banker, +and looked at her much more amorously than a married man should have +allowed himself to do. + +At two o’clock in the morning it happened that the banker, tired of +waiting any longer, went home leaving his wife at the ball. + +“We are going to take you home to your house,” said the baroness to +Madame B-----. “Monsieur de V-----, offer your arm to Emilie!” + +And now the baron is seated in his carriage next to a woman who, +during the whole evening, had been offered and had refused a thousand +attentions, and from whom he had hoped in vain to win a single look. +There she was, in all the lustre of her youth and beauty, displaying +the whitest shoulders and the most ravishing lines of beauty. Her face, +which still reflected the pleasures of the evening, seemed to vie with +the brilliancy of her satin gown; her eyes to rival the blaze of her +diamonds; and her skin to cope with the soft whiteness of the marabouts +which tied in her hair, set off the ebon tresses and the ringlets +dangling from her headdress. Her tender voice would stir the chords of +the most insensible hearts; in a word, so powerfully did she wake up +love in the human breast that Robert d’Abrissel himself would perhaps +have yielded to her. + +The baron glanced at his wife, who, overcome with fatigue, had sunk to +sleep in a corner of the carriage. He compared, in spite of himself, the +toilette of Louise and that of Emilie. Now on occasions of this kind the +presence of a wife is singularly calculated to sharpen the unquenchable +desires of a forbidden love. Moreover, the glances of the baron, +directed alternately to his wife and to her friend, were easy to +interpret, and Madame B----- interpreted them. + +“Poor Louise,” she said, “she is overtired. Going out does not suit her, +her tastes are so simple. At Ecouen she was always reading--” + +“And you, what used you to do?” + +“I, sir? Oh, I thought about nothing but acting comely. It was my +passion!” + +“But why do you so rarely visit Madame de V-----? We have a country +house at Saint-Prix, where we could have a comedy acted, in a little +theatre which I have built there.” + +“If I have not visited Madame de V-----, whose fault is it?” she +replied. “You are so jealous that you will not allow her either to visit +her friends or to receive them.” + +“I jealous!” cried Monsieur de V-----, “after four years of marriage, +and after having had three children!” + +“Hush,” said Emilie, striking the fingers of the baron with her fan, +“Louise is not asleep!” + +The carriage stopped, and the baron offered his hand to his wife’s fair +friend and helped her to get out. + +“I hope,” said Madame B-----, “that you will not prevent Louise from +coming to the ball which I am giving this week.” + +The baron made her a respectful bow. + +This ball was a triumph of Madame B-----‘s and the ruin of the husband +of Louise; for he became desperately enamored of Emilie, to whom he +would have sacrificed a hundred lawful wives. + +Some months after that evening on which the baron gained some hopes of +succeeding with his wife’s friend, he found himself one morning at the +house of Madame B-----, when the maid came to announce the Baroness de +V-----. + +“Ah!” cried Emilie, “if Louise were to see you with me at such an hour +as this, she would be capable of compromising me. Go into that closet +and don’t make the least noise.” + +The husband, caught like a mouse in a trap, concealed himself in the +closet. + +“Good-day, my dear!” said the two women, kissing each other. + +“Why are you come so early?” asked Emilie. + +“Oh! my dear, cannot you guess? I came to have an understanding with +you!” + +“What, a duel?” + +“Precisely, my dear. I am not like you, not I! I love my husband and am +jealous of him. You! you are beautiful, charming, you have the right to +be a coquette, you can very well make fun of B-----, to whom your virtue +seems to be of little importance. But as you have plenty of lovers in +society, I beg you that you will leave me my husband. He is always +at your house, and he certainly would not come unless you were the +attraction.” + +“What a very pretty jacket you have on.” + +“Do you think so? My maid made it.” + +“Then I shall get Anastasia to take a lesson from Flore--” + +“So, then, my dear, I count on your friendship to refrain from bringing +trouble in my house.” + +“But, my child, I do not know how you can conceive that I should fall in +love with your husband; he is coarse and fat as a deputy of the centre. +He is short and ugly--Ah! I will allow that he is generous, but that is +all you can say for him, and this is a quality which is all in all only +to opera girls; so that you can understand, my dear, that if I were +choosing a lover, as you seem to suppose I am, I wouldn’t choose an old +man like your baron. If I have given him any hopes, if I have received +him, it was certainly for the purpose of amusing myself, and of giving +you liberty; for I believed you had a weakness for young Rostanges.” + +“I?” exclaimed Louise, “God preserve me from it, my dear; he is the most +intolerable coxcomb in the world. No, I assure you, I love my husband! +You may laugh as you choose; it is true. I know it may seem ridiculous, +but consider, he has made my fortune, he is no miser, and he is +everything to me, for it has been my unhappy lot to be left an orphan. +Now even if I did not love him, I ought to try to preserve his esteem. +Have I a family who will some day give me shelter?” + +“Come, my darling, let us speak no more about it,” said Emilie, +interrupting her friend, “for it tires me to death.” + +After a few trifling remarks the baroness left. + +“How is this, monsieur?” cried Madame B-----, opening the door of the +closet where the baron was frozen with cold, for this incident took +place in winter; “how is this? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself for not +adoring a little wife who is so interesting? Don’t speak to me of love; +you may idolize me, as you say you do, for a certain time, but you will +never love me as you love Louise. I can see that in your heart I shall +never outweigh the interest inspired by a virtuous wife, children, and +a family circle. I should one day be deserted and become the object of +your bitter reflections. You would coldly say of me ‘I have had that +woman!’ That phrase I have heard pronounced by men with the most +insulting indifference. You see, monsieur, that I reason in cold blood, +and that I do not love you, because you never would be able to love me.” + +“What must I do then to convince you of my love?” cried the baron, +fixing his gaze on the young woman. + +She had never appeared to him so ravishingly beautiful as at that +moment, when her soft voice poured forth a torrent of words whose +sternness was belied by the grace of her gestures, by the pose of her +head and by her coquettish attitude. + +“Oh, when I see Louise in possession of a lover,” she replied, “when I +know that I am taking nothing away from her, and that she has nothing to +regret in losing your affection; when I am quite sure that you love her +no longer, and have obtained certain proof of your indifference towards +her--Oh, then I may listen to you!--These words must seem odious to +you,” she continued in an earnest voice; “and so indeed they are, but +do not think that they have been pronounced by me. I am the rigorous +mathematician who makes his deductions from a preliminary proposition. +You are married, and do you deliberately set about making love to some +one else? I should be mad to give any encouragement to a man who cannot +be mine eternally.” + +“Demon!” exclaimed the husband. “Yes, you are a demon, and not a woman!” + +“Come now, you are really amusing!” said the young woman as she seized +the bell-rope. + +“Oh! no, Emilie,” continued the lover of forty, in a calmer voice. “Do +not ring; stop, forgive me! I will sacrifice everything for you.” + +“But I do not promise you anything!” she answered quickly with a laugh. + +“My God! How you make me suffer!” he exclaimed. + +“Well, and have not you in your life caused the unhappiness of more than +one person?” she asked. “Remember all the tears which have been shed +through you and for you! Oh, your passion does not inspire me with the +least pity. If you do not wish to make me laugh, make me share your +feelings.” + +“Adieu, madame, there is a certain clemency in your sternness. I +appreciate the lesson you have taught me. Yes, I have many faults to +expiate.” + +“Well then, go and repent of them,” she said with a mocking smile; “in +making Louise happy you will perform the rudest penance in your power.” + +They parted. But the love of the baron was too violent to allow of +Madame B-----‘s harshness failing to accomplish her end, namely, the +separation of the married couple. + +At the end of some months the Baron de V----- and his wife lived apart, +though they lived in the same mansion. The baroness was the object of +universal pity, for in public she always did justice to her husband +and her resignation seemed wonderful. The most prudish women of society +found nothing to blame in the friendship which united Louise to the +young Rostanges. And all was laid to the charge of Monsieur de V-----‘s +folly. + +When this last had made all the sacrifices that a man could make for +Madame B-----, his perfidious mistress started for the waters of Mount +Dore, for Switzerland and for Italy, on the pretext of seeking the +restoration of her health. + +The baron died of inflammation of the liver, being attended during his +sickness by the most touching ministrations which his wife could lavish +upon him; and judging from the grief which he manifested at having +deserted her, he seemed never to have suspected her participation in the +plan which had been his ruin. + +This anecdote, which we have chosen from a thousand others, exemplifies +the services which two women can render each other. + +From the words--“Let me have the pleasure of bringing my husband” up to +the conception of the drama, whose denouement was inflammation of the +liver, every female perfidy was assembled to work out the end. Certain +incidents will, of course, be met with which diversify more or less +the typical example which we have given, but the march of the drama is +almost always the same. Moreover a husband ought always to distrust the +woman friends of his wife. The subtle artifices of these lying creatures +rarely fail of their effect, for they are seconded by two enemies, who +always keep close to a man--and these are vanity and desire. + + + + +4. OF THE LOVER’S ALLIES. + +The man who hastens to tell another man that he has dropped a thousand +franc bill from his pocket-book, or even that the handkerchief is coming +out of his pocket, would think it a mean thing to warn him that some one +was carrying off his wife. There is certainly something extremely odd in +this moral inconsistency, but after all it admits of explanation. Since +the law cannot exercise any interference with matrimonial rights, +the citizens have even less right to constitute themselves a conjugal +police; and when one restores a thousand franc bill to him who has lost +it, he acts under a certain kind of obligation, founded on the principle +which says, “Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you!” + +But by what reasoning can justification be found for the help which one +celibate never asks in vain, but always receives from another celibate +in deceiving a husband, and how shall we qualify the rendering of such +help? A man who is incapable of assisting a gendarme in discovering an +assassin, has no scruple in taking a husband to a theatre, to a concert +or even to a questionable house, in order to help a comrade, whom +he would not hesitate to kill in a duel to-morrow, in keeping an +assignation, the result of which is to introduce into a family a +spurious child, and to rob two brothers of a portion of their fortune by +giving them a co-heir whom they never perhaps would otherwise have had; +or to effect the misery of three human beings. We must confess that +integrity is a very rare virtue, and, very often, the man that thinks +he has most actually has least. Families have been divided by feuds, and +brothers have been murdered, which events would never have taken place +if some friend had refused to perform what passes to the world as a +harmless trick. + +It is impossible for a man to be without some hobby or other, and all +of us are devoted either to hunting, fishing, gambling, music, money, or +good eating. Well, your ruling passion will always be an accomplice in +the snare which a lover sets for you, the invisible hand of this passion +will direct your friends, or his, whether they consent or not, to play +a part in the little drama when they want to take you away from home, or +to induce you to leave your wife to the mercy of another. A lover will +spend two whole months, if necessary, in planning the construction of +the mouse-trap. + +I have seen the most cunning men on earth thus taken in. + +There was a certain retired lawyer of Normandy. He lived in the little +town of B-----, where a regiment of the chasseurs of Cantal were +garrisoned. A fascinating officer of this regiment had fallen in love +with the wife of this pettifogger, and the regiment was leaving before +the two lovers had been able to enjoy the least privacy. It was the +fourth military man over whom the lawyer had triumphed. As he left the +dinner-table one evening, about six o’clock, the husband took a walk +on the terrace of his garden from which he could see the whole country +side. The officers arrived at this moment to take leave of him. Suddenly +the flame of a conflagration burst forth on the horizon. “Heavens! La +Daudiniere is on fire!” exclaimed the major. He was an old simple-minded +soldier, who had dined at home. Every one mounted horse. The young wife +smiled as she found herself alone, for her lover, hidden in the coppice, +had said to her, “It is a straw stack on fire!” The flank of the +husband was turned with all the more facility in that a fine courser was +provided for him by the captain, and with a delicacy very rare in the +cavalry, the lover actually sacrificed a few moments of his happiness +in order to catch up with the cavalcade, and return in company with the +husband. + +Marriage is a veritable duel, in which persistent watchfulness is +required in order to triumph over an adversary; for, if you are unlucky +enough to turn your head, the sword of the celibate will pierce you +through and through. 5. OF THE MAID. + +The prettiest waiting-maid I have ever seen is that of Madame V----y, +a lady who to-day plays at Paris a brilliant part among the most +fashionable women, and passes for a wife who keeps on excellent terms +with her husband. Mademoiselle Celestine is a person whose points of +beauty are so numerous that, in order to describe her, it would be +necessary to translate the thirty verses which we are told form an +inscription in the seraglio of the Grand Turk and contain each of them +an excellent description of one of the thirty beauties of women. + +“You show a great deal of vanity in keeping near you such an +accomplished creature,” said a lady to the mistress of the house. + +“Ah! my dear, some day perhaps you will find yourself jealous of me in +possessing Celestine.” + +“She must be endowed with very rare qualities, I suppose? She perhaps +dresses you well?” + +“Oh, no, very badly!” + +“She sews well?” + +“She never touches her needle.” + +“She is faithful?” + +“She is one of those whose fidelity costs more than the most cunning +dishonesty.” + +“You astonish me, my dear; she is then your foster-sister?” + +“Not at all; she is positively good for nothing, but she is more useful +to me than any other member of my household. If she remains with me ten +years, I have promised her twenty thousand francs. It will be money +well earned, and I shall not forget to give it!” said the young woman, +nodding her head with a meaning gesture. + +At last the questioner of Madame V----y understood. + +When a woman has no friend of her own sex intimate enough to assist +her in proving false to marital love, her maid is a last resource which +seldom fails in bringing about the desired result. + +Oh! after ten years of marriage to find under his roof, and to see all +the time, a young girl of from sixteen to eighteen, fresh, dressed with +taste, the treasures of whose beauty seem to breathe defiance, whose +frank bearing is irresistibly attractive, whose downcast eyes seem to +fear you, whose timid glance tempts you, and for whom the conjugal bed +has no secrets, for she is at once a virgin and an experienced woman! +How can a man remain cold, like St. Anthony, before such powerful +sorcery, and have the courage to remain faithful to the good principles +represented by a scornful wife, whose face is always stern, whose +manners are always snappish, and who frequently refuses to be caressed? +What husband is stoical enough to resist such fires, such frosts? There, +where you see a new harvest of pleasure, the young innocent sees an +income, and your wife her liberty. It is a little family compact, which +is signed in the interest of good will. + +In this case, your wife acts with regard to marriage as young +fashionables do with regard to their country. If they are drawn for the +army, they buy a man to carry the musket, to die in their place and to +spare them the hardships of military life. + +In compromises of this sort there is not a single woman who does not +know how to put her husband in the wrong. I have noticed that, by a +supreme stroke of diplomacy, the majority of wives do not admit their +maids into the secret of the part which they give them to play. They +trust to nature, and assume an affected superiority over the lover and +his mistress. + +These secret perfidies of women explain to a great degree the odd +features of married life which are to be observed in the world; and I +have heard women discuss, with profound sagacity, the dangers which are +inherent in this terrible method of attack, and it is necessary to +know thoroughly both the husband and the creature to whom he is to be +abandoned, in order to make successful use of her. Many a woman, in this +connection, has been the victim of her own calculations. + +Moreover, the more impetuous and passionate a husband shows himself, the +less will a woman dare to employ this expedient; but a husband caught +in this snare will never have anything to say to his stern better-half, +when the maid, giving evidence of the fault she has committed, is sent +into the country with an infant and a dowry. + + + + +6. OF THE DOCTOR. + +The doctor is one of the most potent auxiliaries of an honest woman, +when she wishes to acquire a friendly divorce from her husband. The +services that the doctor renders, most of the time without knowing it, +to a woman, are of such importance that there does not exist a single +house in France where the doctor is chosen by any one but the wife. + +All doctors know what great influence women have on their reputation; +thus we meet with few doctors who do not study to please the ladies. +When a man of talent has become celebrated it is true that he does not +lend himself to the crafty conspiracies which women hatch; but without +knowing it he becomes involved in them. + +I suppose that a husband taught by the adventures of his own youth makes +up his mind to pick out a doctor for his wife, from the first days of +his marriage. So long as his feminine adversary fails to conceive +the assistance that she may derive from this ally, she will submit in +silence; but later on, if all her allurements fail to win over the man +chosen by her husband, she will take a more favorable opportunity to +give her husband her confidence, in the following remarkable manner. + +“I don’t like the way in which the doctor feels my pulse!” + +And of course the doctor is dropped. + +Thus it happens that either a woman chooses her doctor, wins over the +man who has been imposed upon her, or procures his dismissal. But this +contest is very rare; the majority of young men who marry are acquainted +with none but beardless doctors whom they have no anxiety to procure for +their wives, and almost always the Esculapius of the household is +chosen by the feminine power. Thus it happens that some fine morning the +doctor, when he leaves the chamber of madame, who has been in bed for a +fortnight, is induced by her to say to you: + +“I do not say that the condition of madame presents any serious +symptoms; but this constant drowsiness, this general listlessness, and +her natural tendency to a spinal affection demand great care. Her lymph +is inspissated. She wants a change of air. She ought to be sent either +to the waters of Bareges or to the waters of Plombieres.” + +“All right, doctor.” + +You allow your wife to go to Plombieres; but she goes there because +Captain Charles is quartered in the Vosges. She returns in capital +health and the waters of Plombieres have done wonders for her. She has +written to you every day, she has lavished upon you from a distance +every possible caress. The danger of a spinal affection has utterly +disappeared. + +There is extant a little pamphlet, whose publication was prompted +doubtless by hate. It was published in Holland, and it contains some +very curious details of the manner in which Madame de Maintenon entered +into an understanding with Fagon, for the purposes of controlling +Louis XIV. Well, some morning your doctor will threaten you, as Fagon +threatened his master, with a fit of apoplexy, if you do not diet +yourself. This witty work of satire, doubtless the production of some +courtier, entitled “Madame de Saint Tron,” has been interpreted by the +modern author who has become proverbial as “the young doctor.” But his +delightful sketch is very much superior to the work whose title I +cite for the benefit of the book-lovers, and we have great pleasure in +acknowledging that the work of our clever contemporary has prevented us, +out of regard for the glory of the seventeenth century, from publishing +the fragment of the old pamphlet. + +Very frequently a doctor becomes duped by the judicious manoeuvres of a +young and delicate wife, and comes to you with the announcement: + +“Sir, I would not wish to alarm madame with regard to her condition; +but I will advise you, if you value her health, to keep her in perfect +tranquillity. The irritation at this moment seems to threaten the chest, +and we must gain control of it; there is need of rest for her, perfect +rest; the least agitation might change the seat of the malady. At this +crisis, the prospect of bearing a child would be fatal to her.” + +“But, doctor--” + +“Ah, yes! I know that!” + +He laughs and leaves the house. + +Like the rod of Moses, the doctor’s mandate makes and unmakes +generations. The doctor will restore you to your marriage bed with the +same arguments that he used in debarring you. He treats your wife for +complaints which she has not, in order to cure her of those which she +has, and all the while you have no idea of it; for the scientific jargon +of doctors can only be compared to the layers in which they envelop +their pills. + +An honest woman in her chamber with the doctor is like a minister sure +of a majority; she has it in her power to make a horse, or a carriage, +according to her good pleasure and her taste; she will send you away or +receive you, as she likes. Sometimes she will pretend to be ill in +order to have a chamber separate from yours; sometimes she will surround +herself with all the paraphernalia of an invalid; she will have an old +woman for a nurse, regiments of vials and of bottles, and, environed by +these ramparts, will defy you by her invalid airs. She will talk to you +in such a depressing way of the electuaries and of the soothing draughts +which she has taken, of the agues which she has had, of her plasters and +cataplasms, that she will fill you with disgust at these sickly details, +if all the time these sham sufferings are not intended to serve as +engines by means of which, eventually, a successful attack may be made +on that singular abstraction known as _your honor_. + +In this way your wife will be able to fortify herself at every point of +contact which you possess with the world, with society and with life. +Thus everything will take arms against you, and you will be alone among +all these enemies. But suppose that it is your unprecedented privilege +to possess a wife who is without religious connections, without parents +or intimate friends; that you have penetration enough to see through +all the tricks by which your wife’s lover tries to entrap you; that you +still have sufficient love for your fair enemy to resist all the Martons +of the earth; that, in fact, you have for your doctor a man who is so +celebrated that he has no time to listen to the maunderings of your +wife; or that if your Esculapius is madame’s vassal, you demand a +consultation, and an incorruptible doctor intervenes every time the +favorite doctor prescribes a remedy that disquiets you; even in that +case, your prospects will scarcely be more brilliant. In fact, even if +you do not succumb to this invasion of allies, you must not forget that, +so far, your adversary has not, so to speak, struck the decisive blow. +If you hold out still longer, your wife, having flung round you thread +upon thread, as a spider spins his web, an invisible net, will resort to +the arms which nature has given her, which civilization has perfected, +and which will be treated of in the next Meditation. + + + + +MEDITATION XXVI. OF DIFFERENT WEAPONS. + +A weapon is anything which is used for the purpose of wounding. From +this point of view, some sentiments prove to be the most cruel weapons +which man can employ against his fellow man. The genius of Schiller, +lucid as it was comprehensive, seems to have revealed all the phenomena +which certain ideas bring to light in the human organization by their +keen and penetrating action. A man may be put to death by a thought. +Such is the moral of those heartrending scenes, when in _The Brigands_ +the poet shows a young man, with the aid of certain ideas, making such +powerful assaults on the heart of an old man, that he ends by causing +the latter’s death. The time is not far distant when science will +be able to observe the complicated mechanism of our thoughts and to +apprehend the transmission of our feelings. Some developer of the occult +sciences will prove that our intellectual organization constitutes +nothing more than a kind of interior man, who projects himself with less +violence than the exterior man, and that the struggle which may take +place between two such powers as these, although invisible to our feeble +eyes, is not a less mortal struggle than that in which our external man +compels us to engage. + +But these considerations belong to a different department of study from +that in which we are now engaged; these subjects we intend to deal with +in a future publication; some of our friends are already acquainted with +one of the most important,--that, namely, entitled “THE PATHOLOGY +OF SOCIAL LIFE, _or Meditations mathematical, physical, chemical and +transcendental on the manifestations of thought, taken under all the +forms which are produced by the state of society, whether by living, +marriage, conduct, veterinary medicine, or by speech and action, etc._,” + in which all these great questions are fully discussed. The aim of this +brief metaphysical observation is only to remind you that the higher +classes of society reason too well to admit of their being attacked by +any other than intellectual arms. + +Although it is true that tender and delicate souls are found enveloped +in a body of metallic hardness, at the same time there are souls of +bronze enveloped in bodies so supple and capricious that their grace +attracts the friendship of others, and their beauty calls for a caress. +But if you flatter the exterior man with your hand, the _Homo duplex_, +the interior man, to use an expression of Buffon, immediately rouses +himself and rends you with his keen points of contact. + +This description of a special class of human creatures, which we hope +you will not run up against during your earthly journey, presents a +picture of what your wife may be to you. Every one of the sentiments +which nature has endowed your heart with, in their gentlest form, will +become a dagger in the hand of your wife. You will be stabbed every +moment, and you will necessarily succumb; for your love will flow like +blood from every wound. + +This is the last struggle, but for her it also means victory. + +In order to carry out the distinction which we think we have established +among three sorts of feminine temperament, we will divide this +Meditation into three parts, under the following titles: + + + 1. OF HEADACHES. + 2. OF NERVOUS AFFECTATIONS. + 3. OF MODESTY, IN ITS CONNECTION WITH MARRIAGE. + + + 1. OF HEADACHES. + +Women are constantly the dupes or the victims of excessive sensibility; +but we have already demonstrated that with the greater number of them +this delicacy of soul must needs, almost without their knowing it, +receive many rude blows, from the very fact of their marriage. (See +Meditations entitled _The Predestined_ and _Of the Honeymoon_.) Most of +the means of defence instinctively employed by husbands are nothing but +traps set for the liveliness of feminine affections. + +Now the moment comes when the wife, during the Civil War, traces by a +single act of thought the history of her moral life, and is irritated on +perceiving the prodigious way in which you have taken advantage of her +sensibility. It is very rarely that women, moved either by an innate +feeling for revenge, which they themselves can never explain, or by +their instinct of domination, fail to discover that this quality in +their natural machinery, when brought into play against the man, is +inferior to no other instrument for obtaining ascendancy over him. + +With admirable cleverness, they proceed to find out what chords in the +hearts of their husbands are most easily touched; and when once they +discover this secret, they eagerly proceed to put it into practice; +then, like a child with a mechanical toy, whose spring excites their +curiosity, they go on employing it, carelessly calling into play the +movements of the instrument, and satisfied simply with their success in +doing so. If they kill you, they will mourn over you with the best +grace in the world, as the most virtuous, the most excellent, the most +sensible of men. + +In this way your wife will first arm herself with that generous +sentiment which leads us to respect those who are in pain. The man +most disposed to quarrel with a woman full of life and health becomes +helpless before a woman who is weak and feeble. If your wife has not +attained the end of her secret designs, by means of those various +methods already described, she will quickly seize this all-powerful +weapon. In virtue of this new strategic method, you will see the young +girl, so strong in life and beauty, whom you had wedded in her flower, +metamorphosing herself into a pale and sickly woman. + +Now headache is an affection which affords infinite resources to a +woman. This malady, which is the easiest of all to feign, for it is +destitute of any apparent symptom, merely obliges her to say: “I have a +headache.” A woman trifles with you and there is no one in the world who +can contradict her skull, whose impenetrable bones defy touch or ocular +test. Moreover, headache is, in our opinion, the queen of maladies, the +pleasantest and the most terrible weapon employed by wives against their +husbands. There are some coarse and violent men who have been taught +the tricks of women by their mistresses, in the happy hours of their +celibacy, and so flatter themselves that they are never to be caught +by this vulgar trap. But all their efforts, all their arguments end by +being vanquished before the magic of these words: “I have a headache.” + If a husband complains, or ventures on a reproach, if he tries to resist +the power of this _Il buondo cani_ of marriage, he is lost. + +Imagine a young woman, voluptuously lying on a divan, her head softly +supported by a cushion, one hand hanging down; on a small table close at +hand is her glass of lime-water. Now place by her side a burly husband. +He has made five or six turns round the room; but each time he has +turned on his heels to begin his walk all over again, the little invalid +has made a slight movement of her eyebrows in a vain attempt to remind +him that the slightest noise fatigues her. At last he musters all his +courage and utters a protest against her pretended malady, in the bold +phrase: + +“And have you really a headache?” + +At these words the young woman slightly raises her languid head, lifts +an arm, which feebly falls back again upon her divan, raises her eyes to +the ceiling, raises all that she has power to raise; then darting at you +a leaden glance, she says in a voice of remarkable feebleness: + +“Oh! What can be the matter with me? I suffer the agonies of death! And +this is all the comfort you give me! Ah! you men, it is plainly seen +that nature has not given you the task of bringing children into the +world. What egoists and tyrants you are! You take us in all the beauty +of our youth, fresh, rosy, with tapering waist, and then all is well! +When your pleasures have ruined the blooming gifts which we received +from nature, you never forgive us for having forfeited them to you! That +was all understood. You will allow us to have neither the virtues nor +the sufferings of our condition. You must needs have children, and we +pass many nights in taking care of them. But child-bearing has ruined +our health, and left behind the germs of serious maladies.--Oh, what +pain I suffer! There are few women who are not subject to headaches; but +your wife must be an exception. You even laugh at our sufferings; that +is generosity!--please don’t walk about--I should not have expected this +of you!--Stop the clock; the click of the pendulum rings in my head. +Thanks! Oh, what an unfortunate creature I am! Have you a scent-bottle +with you? Yes, oh! for pity’s sake, allow me to suffer in peace, and go +away; for this scent splits my head!” + +What can you say in reply? Do you not hear within you a voice which +cries, “And what if she is actually suffering?” Moreover, almost all +husbands evacuate the field of battle very quietly, while their wives +watch them from the corner of their eyes, marching off on tip-toe and +closing the door quietly on the chamber henceforth to be considered +sacred by them. + +Such is the headache, true or false, which is patronized at your home. +Then the headache begins to play a regular role in the bosom of +your family. It is a theme on which a woman can play many admirable +variations. She sets it forth in every key. With the aid of the headache +alone a wife can make a husband desperate. A headache seizes madame when +she chooses, where she chooses, and as much as she chooses. There +are headaches of five days, of ten minutes, periodic or intermittent +headaches. + +You sometimes find your wife in bed, in pain, helpless, and the blinds +of her room are closed. The headache has imposed silence on every one, +from the regions of the porter’s lodge, where he is cutting wood, even +to the garret of your groom, from which he is throwing down innocent +bundles of straw. Believing in this headache, you leave the house, but +on your return you find that madame has decamped! Soon madame returns, +fresh and ruddy: + +“The doctor came,” she says, “and advised me to take exercise, and I +find myself much better!” + +Another day you wish to enter madame’s room. + +“Oh, sir,” says the maid, showing the most profound astonishment, +“madame has her usual headache, and I have never seen her in such pain! +The doctor has been sent for.” + +“You are a happy man,” said Marshal Augereau to General R-----, “to have +such a pretty wife!” + +“To have!” replied the other. “If I have my wife ten days in the +year, that is about all. These confounded women have always either the +headache or some other thing!” + +The headache in France takes the place of the sandals, which, in Spain, +the Confessor leaves at the door of the chamber in which he is with his +penitent. + +If your wife, foreseeing some hostile intentions on your part, wishes +to make herself as inviolable as the charter, she immediately gets up +a little headache performance. She goes to bed in a most deliberate +fashion, she utters shrieks which rend the heart of the hearer. She goes +gracefully through a series of gesticulations so cleverly executed that +you might think her a professional contortionist. Now what man is there +so inconsiderate as to dare to speak to a suffering woman about desires +which, in him, prove the most perfect health? Politeness alone demands +of him perfect silence. A woman knows under these circumstances that by +means of this all-powerful headache, she can at her will paste on her +bed the placard which sends back home the amateurs who have been allured +by the announcement of the Comedie Francaise, when they read the words: +“Closed through the sudden indisposition of Mademoiselle Mars.” + +O headache, protectress of love, tariff of married life, buckler against +which all married desires expire! O mighty headache! Can it be possible +that lovers have never sung thy praises, personified thee, or raised +thee to the skies? O magic headache, O delusive headache, blest be the +brain that first invented thee! Shame on the doctor who shall find out +thy preventive! Yes, thou art the only ill that women bless, doubtless +through gratitude for the good things thou dispensest to them, O +deceitful headache! O magic headache! + + + 2. OF NERVOUS AFFECTATIONS. + +There is, however, a power which is superior even to that of the +headache; and we must avow to the glory of France, that this power is +one of the most recent which has been won by Parisian genius. As in the +case with all the most useful discoveries of art and science, no one +knows to whose intellect it is due. Only, it is certain that it was +towards the middle of the last century that “Vapors” made their first +appearance in France. Thus while Papin was applying the force of +vaporized water in mechanical problems, a French woman, whose name +unhappily is unknown, had the glory of endowing her sex with the faculty +of vaporizing their fluids. Very soon the prodigious influence obtained +by vapors was extended to the nerves; it was thus in passing from fibre +to fibre that the science of neurology was born. This admirable science +has since then led such men as Philips and other clever physiologists +to the discovery of the nervous fluid in its circulation; they are now +perhaps on the eve of identifying its organs, and the secret of its +origin and of its evaporation. And thus, thanks to certain quackeries of +this kind, we may be enabled some day to penetrate the mysteries of that +unknown power which we have already called more than once in the present +book, the _Will_. But do not let us trespass on the territory of medical +philosophy. Let us consider the nerves and the vapors solely in their +connection with marriage. + +Victims of Neurosis (a pathological term under which are comprised all +affections of the nervous system) suffer in two ways, as far as married +women are concerned; for our physiology has the loftiest disdain for +medical classifications. Thus we recognize only: + + + 1. CLASSIC NEUROSIS. + 2. ROMANTIC NEUROSIS. + + +The classic affection has something bellicose and excitable on it. +Those who thus suffer are as violent in their antics as pythonesses, +as frantic as _monads_, as excited as _bacchantes_; it is a revival of +antiquity, pure and simple. + +The romantic sufferers are mild and plaintive as the ballads sung amid +the mists of Scotland. They are pallid as young girls carried to their +bier by the dance or by love; they are eminently elegiac and they +breathe all the melancholy of the North. + +That woman with black hair, with piercing eye, with high color, with +dry lips and a powerful hand, will become excited and convulsive; she +represents the genius of classic neurosis; while a young blonde woman, +with white skin, is the genius of romantic neurosis; to one belongs the +empire gained by nerves, to the other the empire gained by vapors. + +Very frequently a husband, when he comes home, finds his wife in tears. + +“What is the matter, my darling?” + +“It is nothing.” + +“But you are in tears!” + +“I weep without knowing why. I am quite sad! I saw faces in the clouds, +and those faces never appear to me except on the eve of some disaster--I +think I must be going to die.” + +Then she talks to you in a low voice of her dead father, of her dead +uncle, of her dead grandfather, of her dead cousin. She invokes all +these mournful shades, she feels as if she had all their sicknesses, she +is attacked with all the pains they felt, she feels her heart palpitate +with excessive violence, she feels her spleen swelling. You say to +yourself, with a self-satisfied air: + +“I know exactly what this is all about!” + +And then you try to soothe her; but you find her a woman who yawns like +an open box, who complains of her chest, who begins to weep anew, who +implores you to leave her to her melancholy and her mournful memories. +She talks to you about her last wishes, follows her own funeral, is +buried, plants over her tomb the green canopy of a weeping willow, and +at the very time when you would like to raise a joyful epithalamium, +you find an epitaph to greet you all in black. Your wish to console her +melts away in the cloud of Ixion. + +There are women of undoubted fidelity who in this way extort from their +feeling husbands cashmere shawls, diamonds, the payment of their debts, +or the rent of a box at the theatre; but almost always vapors are +employed as decisive weapons in Civil War. + +On the plea of her spinal affection or of her weak chest, a woman +takes pains to seek out some distraction or other; you see her dressing +herself in soft fabrics like an invalid with all the symptoms of spleen; +she never goes out because an intimate friend, her mother or her sister, +has tried to tear her away from that divan which monopolizes her and +on which she spends her life in improvising elegies. Madame is going to +spend a fortnight in the country because the doctor orders it. In short, +she goes where she likes and does what she likes. Is it possible that +there can be a husband so brutal as to oppose such desires, by hindering +a wife from going to seek a cure for her cruel sufferings? For it +has been established after many long discussions that in the nerves +originate the most fearful torture. + +But it is especially in bed that vapors play their part. There when a +woman has not a headache she has her vapors; and when she has neither +vapors nor headache, she is under the protection of the girdle of Venus, +which, as you know, is a myth. + +Among the women who fight with you the battle of vapors, are some more +blonde, more delicate, more full of feeling than others, and who possess +the gift of tears. How admirably do they know how to weep! They weep +when they like, as they like and as much as they like. They organize +a system of offensive warfare which consists of manifesting sublime +resignation, and they gain victories which are all the more brilliant, +inasmuch as they remain all the time in excellent health. + +Does a husband, irritated beyond all measure, at last express his wishes +to them? They regard him with an air of submission, bow their heads and +keep silence. This pantomime almost always puts a husband to rout. In +conjugal struggles of this kind, a man prefers a woman should speak and +defend herself, for then he may show elation or annoyance; but as for +these women, not a word. Their silence distresses you and you experience +a sort of remorse, like the murderer who, when he finds his victim +offers no resistance, trembles with redoubled fear. He would prefer to +slay him in self-defence. You return to the subject. As you draw near, +your wife wipes away her tears and hides her handkerchief, so as to +let you see that she has been weeping. You are melted, you implore your +little Caroline to speak, your sensibility has been touched and you +forget everything; then she sobs while she speaks, and speaks while +she sobs. This is a sort of machine eloquence; she deafens you with +her tears, with her words which come jerked out in confusion; it is the +clapper and torrent of a mill. + +French women and especially Parisians possess in a marvelous degree +the secret by which such scenes are enacted, and to these scenes their +voices, their sex, their toilet, their manner give a wonderful charm. +How often do the tears upon the cheeks of these adorable actresses give +way to a piquant smile, when they see their husbands hasten to break the +silk lace, the weak fastening of their corsets, or to restore the comb +which holds together the tresses of their hair and the bunch of golden +ringlets always on the point of falling down? + +But how all these tricks of modernity pale before the genius of +antiquity, before nervous attacks which are violent, before the Pyrrhic +dance of married life! Oh! how many hopes for a lover are there in the +vivacity of those convulsive movements, in the fire of those glances, +in the strength of those limbs, beautiful even in contortion! It is then +that a woman is carried away like an impetuous wind, darts forth like +the flames of a conflagration, exhibits a movement like a billow which +glides over the white pebbles. She is overcome with excess of love, she +sees the future, she is the seer who prophesies, but above all, she sees +the present moment and tramples on her husband, and impresses him with a +sort of terror. + +The sight of his wife flinging off vigorous men as if they were so many +feathers, is often enough to deter a man from ever striving to wrong +her. He will be like the child who, having pulled the trigger of some +terrific engine, has ever afterwards an incredible respect for the +smallest spring. I have known a man, gentle and amiable in his ways, +whose eyes were fixed upon those of his wife, exactly as if he had been +put into a lion’s cage, and some one had said to him that he must not +irritate the beast, if he would escape with his life. + +Nervous attacks of this kind are very fatiguing and become every day +more rare. Romanticism, however, has maintained its ground. + +Sometimes, we meet with phlegmatic husbands, those men whose love is +long enduring, because they store up their emotions, whose genius gets +the upper hand of these headaches and nervous attacks; but these sublime +creatures are rare. Faithful disciples of the blessed St. Thomas, +who wished to put his finger into the wound, they are endowed with an +incredulity worthy of an atheist. Imperturbable in the midst of all +these fraudulent headaches and all these traps set by neurosis, they +concentrate their attention on the comedy which is being played before +them, they examine the actress, they search for one of the springs that +sets her going; and when they have discovered the mechanism of +this display, they arm themselves by giving a slight impulse to the +puppet-valve, and thus easily assure themselves either of the reality of +the disease or the artifices of these conjugal mummeries. + +But if by study which is almost superhuman in its intensity a husband +escapes all the artifices which lawless and untamable love suggests to +women, he will beyond doubt be overcome by the employment of a terrible +weapon, the last which a woman would resort to, for she never destroys +with her own hands her empire over her husband without some sort of +repugnance. But this is a poisoned weapon as powerful as the fatal knife +of the executioner. This reflection brings us to the last paragraph of +the present Meditation. + + + 3. OF MODESTY, IN ITS CONNECTION WITH MARRIAGE. + +Before taking up the subject of modesty, it may perhaps be necessary +to inquire whether there is such a thing. Is it anything in a woman but +well understood coquetry? Is it anything but a sentiment that claims the +right, on a woman’s part, to dispose of her own body as she chooses, as +one may well believe, when we consider that half the women in the +world go almost naked? Is it anything but a social chimera, as Diderot +supposed, reminding us that this sentiment always gives way before +sickness and before misery? + +Justice may be done to all these questions. + +An ingenious author has recently put forth the view that men are much +more modest than women. He supports this contention by a great mass +of surgical experiences; but, in order that his conclusions merit +our attention, it would be necessary that for a certain time men were +subjected to treatment by women surgeons. + +The opinion of Diderot is of still less weight. + +To deny the existence of modesty, because it disappears during those +crises in which almost all human sentiments are annihilated, is as +unreasonable as to deny that life exists because death sooner or later +comes. + +Let us grant, then, that one sex has as much modesty as the other, and +let us inquire in what modesty consists. + +Rousseau makes modesty the outcome of all those coquetries which females +display before males. This opinion appears to us equally mistaken. + +The writers of the eighteenth century have doubtless rendered immense +services to society; but their philosophy, based as it is upon +sensualism, has never penetrated any deeper than the human epidermis. +They have only considered the exterior universe; and so they have +retarded, for some time, the moral development of man and the progress +of science which will always draw its first principles from the Gospel, +principles hereafter to be best understood by the fervent disciples of +the Son of Man. + +The study of thought’s mysteries, the discovery of those organs which +belong to the human soul, the geometry of its forces, the phenomena of +its active power, the appreciation of the faculty by which we seem +to have an independent power of bodily movement, so as to transport +ourselves whither we will and to see without the aid of bodily +organs,--in a word the laws of thought’s dynamic and those of its +physical influence,--these things will fall to the lot of the next +century, as their portion in the treasury of human sciences. And perhaps +we, of the present time, are merely occupied in quarrying the enormous +blocks which later on some mighty genius will employ in the building of +a glorious edifice. + +Thus the error of Rousseau is simply the error of his age. He explains +modesty by the relations of different human beings to each other instead +of explaining it by the moral relations of each one with himself. +Modesty is no more susceptible of analysis than conscience; and this +perhaps is another way of saying that modesty is the conscience of the +body; for while conscience directs our sentiments and the least movement +of our thoughts towards the good, modesty presides over external +movements. The actions which clash with our interests and thus disobey +the laws of conscience wound us more than any other; and if they are +repeated call forth our hatred. It is the same with acts which violate +modesty in their relations to love, which is nothing but the expression +of our whole sensibility. If extreme modesty is one of the conditions on +which the reality of marriage is based, as we have tried to prove [See +_Conjugal Catechism, Meditation IV._], it is evident that immodesty will +destroy it. But this position, which would require long deductions for +the acceptance of the physiologist, women generally apply, as it were, +mechanically; for society, which exaggerates everything for the benefit +of the exterior man, develops this sentiment of women from childhood, +and around it are grouped almost every other sentiment. Moreover, the +moment that this boundless veil, which takes away the natural brutality +from the least gesture, is dragged down, woman disappears. Heart, +mind, love, grace, all are in ruins. In a situation where the virginal +innocence of a daughter of Tahiti is most brilliant, the European +becomes detestable. In this lies the last weapon which a wife seizes, +in order to escape from the sentiment which her husband still fosters +towards her. She is powerful because she had made herself loathsome; and +this woman, who would count it as the greatest misfortune that her lover +should be permitted to see the slightest mystery of her toilette, is +delighted to exhibit herself to her husband in the most disadvantageous +situation that can possibly be imagined. + +It is by means of this rigorous system that she will try to banish +you from the conjugal bed. Mrs. Shandy may be taken to mean us harm in +bidding the father of Tristram wind up the clock; so long as your wife +is not blamed for the pleasure she takes in interrupting you by the most +imperative questions. Where there formerly was movement and life is now +lethargy and death. An act of love becomes a transaction long discussed +and almost, as it were, settled by notarial seal. But we have in another +place shown that we never refuse to seize upon the comic element in a +matrimonial crisis, although here we may be permitted to disdain the +diversion which the muse of Verville and of Marshall have found in the +treachery of feminine manoeuvres, the insulting audacity of their talk, +amid the cold-blooded cynicism which they exhibit in certain situations. +It is too sad to laugh at, and too funny to mourn over. When a woman +resorts to such extreme measures, worlds at once separate her from her +husband. Nevertheless, there are some women to whom Heaven has given the +gift of being charming under all circumstances, who know how to put a +certain witty and comic grace into these performances, and who have +such smooth tongues, to use the expression of Sully, that they obtain +forgiveness for their caprices and their mockeries, and never estrange +the hearts of their husbands. + +What soul is so robust, what man so violently in love as to persist +in his passion, after ten years of marriage, in presence of a wife who +loves him no longer, who gives him proofs of this every moment, who +repulses him, who deliberately shows herself bitter, caustic, sickly and +capricious, and who will abjure her vows of elegance and cleanliness, +rather than not see her husband turn away from her; in presence of a +wife who will stake the success of her schemes upon the horror caused by +her indecency? + +All this, my dear sir, is so much more horrible because-- + + + XCII. + LOVERS IGNORE MODESTY. + + +We have now arrived at the last infernal circle in the Divine Comedy +of Marriage. We are at the very bottom of Hell. There is something +inexpressibly terrible in the situation of a married woman at the moment +when unlawful love turns her away from her duties as mother and wife. As +Diderot has very well put it, “infidelity in a woman is like unbelief in +a priest, the last extreme of human failure; for her it is the greatest +of social crimes, since it implies in her every other crime besides, and +indeed either a wife profanes her lawless love by continuing to belong +to her husband, or she breaks all the ties which attach her to her +family, by giving herself over altogether to her lover. She ought to +choose between the two courses, for her sole possible excuse lies in the +intensity of her love.” + +She lives then between the claims of two obligations. It is a dilemma; +she will work either the unhappiness of her lover, if he is sincere in +his passion, or that of her husband, if she is still beloved by him. + +It is to this frightful dilemma of feminine life that all the strange +inconsistencies of women’s conduct is to be attributed. In this lies the +origin of all their lies, all their perfidies; here is the secret of all +their mysteries. It is something to make one shudder. Moreover, even as +simply based upon cold-blooded calculations, the conduct of a woman who +accepts the unhappiness which attends virtue and scorns the bliss which +is bought by crime, is a hundred times more reasonable. Nevertheless, +almost all women will risk suffering in the future and ages of +anguish for the ecstasy of one half hour. If the human feeling of +self-preservation, if the fear of death does not check them, how +fruitless must be the laws which send them for two years to the +Madelonnettes? O sublime infamy! And when one comes to think that he for +whom these sacrifices are to be made is one of our brethren, a gentleman +to whom we would not trust our fortune, if we had one, a man who buttons +his coat just as all of us do, it is enough to make one burst into a +roar of laughter so loud, that starting from the Luxembourg it would +pass over the whole of Paris and startle an ass browsing in the pasture +at Montmartre. + +It will perhaps appear extraordinary that in speaking of marriage we +have touched upon so many subjects; but marriage is not only the whole +of human life, it is the whole of two human lives. Now just as the +addition of a figure to the drawing of a lottery multiplies the chances +a hundredfold, so one single life united to another life multiplies by a +startling progression the risks of human life, which are in any case so +manifold. + + + + +MEDITATION XXVII. OF THE LAST SYMPTOMS. + +The author of this book has met in the world so many people possessed by +a fanatic passion for a knowledge of the mean time, for watches with a +second hand, and for exactness in the details of their existence, that +he has considered this Meditation too necessary for the tranquillity of +a great number of husbands, to be omitted. It would have been cruel to +leave men, who are possessed with the passion for learning the hour of +the day, without a compass whereby to estimate the last variations in +the matrimonial zodiac, and to calculate the precise moment when the +sign of the Minotaur appears on the horizon. The knowledge of conjugal +time would require a whole book for its exposition, so fine and delicate +are the observations required by the task. The master admits that his +extreme youth has not permitted him as yet to note and verify more than +a few symptoms; but he feels a just pride, on his arrival at the end of +his difficult enterprise, from the consciousness that he is leaving to +his successors a new field of research; and that in a matter apparently +so trite, not only was there much to be said, but also very many points +are found remaining which may yet be brought into the clear light of +observation. He therefore presents here without order or connection the +rough outlines which he has so far been able to execute, in the hope +that later he may have leisure to co-ordinate them and to arrange +them in a complete system. If he has been so far kept back in the +accomplishment of a task of supreme national importance, he believes, +he may say, without incurring the charge of vanity, that he has here +indicated the natural division of those symptoms. They are necessarily +of two kinds: the unicorns and the bicorns. The unicorn Minotaur is the +least mischievous. The two culprits confine themselves to a platonic +love, in which their passion, at least, leaves no visible traces among +posterity; while the bicorn Minotaur is unhappiness with all its fruits. + +We have marked with an asterisk the symptoms which seem to concern the +latter kind. + + + + +MINOTAURIC OBSERVATIONS. + + + I. + +*When, after remaining a long time aloof from her husband, a woman makes +overtures of a very marked character in order to attract his love, she +acts in accordance with the axiom of maritime law, which says: _The flag +protects the cargo_. + + + II. + +A woman is at a ball, one of her friends comes up to her and says: + +“Your husband has much wit.” + +“You find it so?” + + + III. + +Your wife discovers that it is time to send your boy to a boarding +school, with whom, a little time ago, she was never going to part. + + + IV. + +*In Lord Abergavenny’s suit for divorce, the _valet de chambre_ deposed +that “the countess had such a detestation of all that belonged to my +lord that he had very often seen her burning the scraps of paper which +he had touched in her room.” + + + V. + +If an indolent woman becomes energetic, if a woman who formerly hated +study learns a foreign language; in short, every appearance of a +complete change in character is a decisive symptom. + + + VI. + +The woman who is happy in her affections does not go much into the +world. + + + VII. + +The woman who has a lover becomes very indulgent in judging others. + + + VIII. + +*A husband gives to his wife a hundred crowns a month for dress; and, +taking everything into account, she spends at least five hundred francs +without being a sou in debt; the husband is robbed every night with a +high hand by escalade, but without burglarious breaking in. + + + IX. + +*A married couple slept in the same bed; madame was always sick. Now +they sleep apart, she has no more headache, and her health becomes more +brilliant than ever; an alarming symptom! + + + X. + +A woman who was a sloven suddenly develops extreme nicety in her attire. +There is a Minotaur at hand! + + + XI. + +“Ah! my dear, I know no greater torment than not to be understood.” + +“Yes, my dear, but when one is--” + +“Oh, that scarcely ever happens.” + +“I agree with you that it very seldom does. Ah! it is great happiness, +but there are not two people in the world who are able to understand +you.” + + + XII. + +*The day when a wife behaves nicely to her husband--all is over. + + + XIII. + +I asked her: “Where have you been, Jeanne?” + +“I have been to your friend’s to get your plate that you left there.” + +“Ah, indeed! everything is still mine,” I said. The following year I +repeated the question under similar circumstances. + +“I have been to bring back our plate.” + +“Well, well, part of the things are still mine,” I said. But after that, +when I questioned her, she spoke very differently. + +“You wish to know everything, like great people, and you have only +three shirts. I went to get my plate from my friend’s house, where I had +stopped.” + +“I see,” I said, “nothing is left me.” + + + XIV. + +Do not trust a woman who talks of her virtue. + + + XV. + +Some one said to the Duchess of Chaulnes, whose life was despaired of: + +“The Duke of Chaulnes would like to see you once more.” + +“Is he there?” + +“Yes.” + +“Let him wait; he shall come in with the sacraments.” This minotauric +anecdote has been published by Chamfort, but we quote it here as +typical. + + + XVI. + +*Some women try to persuade their husbands that they have duties to +perform towards certain persons. + +“I am sure that you ought to pay a visit to such and such a man.... We +cannot avoid asking such and such a man to dinner.” + + + XVII. + +“Come, my son, hold yourself straight: try to acquire good manners! +Watch such and such a man! See how he walks! Notice the way in which he +dresses.” + + + XVIII. + +When a woman utters the name of a man but twice a day, there is perhaps +some uncertainty about her feelings toward him--but if thrice?--Oh! oh! + + + XIX. + +When a woman goes home with a man who is neither a lawyer nor a +minister, to the door of his apartment, she is very imprudent. + + + XX. + +It is a terrible day when a husband fails to explain to himself the +motive of some action of his wife. + + + XXI. + +*The woman who allows herself to be found out deserves her fate. + + + +What should be the conduct of a husband, when he recognizes a last +symptom which leaves no doubt as to the infidelity of his wife? There +are only two courses open; that of resignation or that of vengeance; +there is no third course. If vengeance is decided upon, it should be +complete. + +The husband who does not separate himself forever from his wife is a +veritable simpleton. If a wife and husband think themselves fit for +that union of friendship which exists between men, it is odious in the +husband to make his wife feel his superiority over her. + +Here are some anecdotes, most of them as yet unpublished, which indicate +pretty plainly, in my opinion, the different shades of conduct to be +observed by a husband in like case. + +M. de Roquemont slept once a month in the chamber of his wife, and he +used to say, as he went away: + +“I wash my hands of anything that may happen.” + +There is something disgusting in that remark, and perhaps something +profound in its suggestion of conjugal policy. + +A diplomat, when he saw his wife’s lover enter, left his study and, +going to his wife’s chamber, said to the two: + +“I hope you will at least refrain from fighting.” + +This was good humor. + +M. de Boufflers was asked what he would do if on returning after a long +absence he found his wife with child? + +“I would order my night dress and slippers to be taken to her room.” + +This was magnanimity. + +“Madame, if this man ill treats you when you are alone, it is your +own fault; but I will not permit him to behave ill towards you in my +presence, for this is to fail in politeness in me.” + +This was nobility. + +The sublime is reached in this connection when the square cap of the +judge is placed by the magistrate at the foot of the bed wherein the two +culprits are asleep. + +There are some fine ways of taking vengeance. Mirabeau has admirably +described in one of the books he wrote to make a living the mournful +resignation of that Italian lady who was condemned by her husband to +perish with him in the Maremma. + + + + +LAST AXIOMS. + + + XCIII. +It is no act of vengeance to surprise a wife and her lover and to kill +them locked in each other’s arms; it is a great favor to them both. + + + XCIV. + A husband will be best avenged by his wife’s lover. + + + + +MEDITATION XXVIII. OF COMPENSATIONS. + +The marital catastrophe which a certain number of husbands cannot avoid, +almost always forms the closing scene of the drama. At that point all +around you is tranquil. Your resignation, if you are resigned, has the +power of awakening keen remorse in the soul of your wife and of her +lover; for their happiness teaches them the depth of the wound they have +inflicted upon you. You are, you may be sure, a third element in all +their pleasures. The principle of kindliness and goodness which lies at +the foundation of the human soul, is not so easily repressed as +people think; moreover the two people who are causing you tortures are +precisely those for whom you wish the most good. + +In the conversations so sweetly familiar which link together the +pleasures of love, and form in some way to lovers the caresses of +thought, your wife often says to your rival: + +“Well, I assure you, Auguste, that in any case I should like to see my +poor husband happy; for at bottom he is good; if he were not my husband, +but were only my brother, there are so many things I would do to please +him! He loves me, and--his friendship is irksome to me.” + +“Yes, he is a fine fellow!” + +Then you become an object of respect to the celibate, who would yield to +you all the indemnity possible for the wrong he has done you; but he +is repelled by the disdainful pride which gives a tone to your whole +conversation, and is stamped upon your face. + +So that actually, during the first moments of the Minotaur’s arrival, +a man is like an actor who feels awkward in a theatre where he is not +accustomed to appear. It is very difficult to bear the affront with +dignity; but though generosity is rare, a model husband is sometimes +found to possess it. + +Eventually you are little by little won over by the charming way in +which your wife makes herself agreeable to you. Madame assumes a tone of +friendship which she never henceforth abandons. The pleasant atmosphere +of your home is one of the chief compensations which renders the +Minotaur less odious to a husband. But as it is natural to man to +habituate himself to the hardest conditions, in spite of the sentiment +of outraged nobility which nothing can change, you are gradually induced +by a fascination whose power is constantly around you, to accept the +little amenities of your position. + +Suppose that conjugal misfortune has fallen upon an epicure. He +naturally demands the consolations which suit his taste. His sense of +pleasure takes refuge in other gratifications, and forms other +habits. You shape your life in accordance with the enjoyment of other +sensations. + +One day, returning from your government office, after lingering for a +long time before the rich and tasteful book shop of Chevet, hovering +in suspense between the hundred francs of expense, and the joys of a +Strasbourg _pate de fois gras_, you are struck dumb on finding this +_pate_ proudly installed on the sideboard of your dining-room. Is this +the vision offered by some gastronomic mirage? In this doubting mood you +approach with firm step, for a _pate_ is a living creature, and seem to +neigh as you scent afar off the truffles whose perfumes escape through +the gilded enclosure. You stoop over it two distinct times; all the +nerve centres of your palate have a soul; you taste the delights of a +genuine feast, etc.; and during this ecstasy a feeling of remorse seizes +upon you, and you go to your wife’s room. + +“Really, my dear girl, we have not means which warrant our buying +_pates_.” + +“But it costs us nothing!” + +“Oh! ho!” + +“Yes, it is M. Achille’s brother who sent it to him.” + +You catch sight of M. Achille in a corner. The celibate greets you, he +is radiant on seeing that you have accepted the _pate_. You look at +your wife, who blushes; you stroke your beard a few times; and, as +you express no thanks, the two lovers divine your acceptance of the +compensation. + +A sudden change in the ministry takes place. A husband, who is +Councillor of State, trembles for fear of being wiped from the roll, +when the night before he had been made director-general; all the +ministers are opposed to him and he has turned Constitutionalist. +Foreseeing his disgrace he has betaken himself to Auteuil, in search of +consolation from an old friend who quotes Horace and Tibullus to him. +On returning home he sees the table laid as if to receive the most +influential men of the assembly. + +“In truth, madame,” he says with acrimony as he enters his wife’s +room, where she is finishing her toilette, “you seem to have lost your +habitual tact. This is a nice time to be giving dinner parties! Twenty +persons will soon learn--” + +“That you are director-general!” she cries, showing him a royal +despatch. + +He is thunderstruck. He takes the letter, he turns it now one way, now +another; he opens it. He sits down and spreads it out. + +“I well know,” he says, “that justice would be rendered me under +whatever ministers I served.” + +“Yes, my dear! But M. Villeplaine has answered for you with his life, +and his eminence the Cardinal de ----- of whom he is the--” + +“M. de Villeplaine?” + +This is such a munificent recompense, that the husband adds with the +smile of a director-general: + +“Why, deuce take it, my dear, this is your doing!” + +“Ah! don’t thank me for it; Adolphe did it from personal attachment to +you.” + +On a certain evening a poor husband was kept at home by a pouring rain, +or tired, perhaps, of going to spend his evening in play, at the cafe, +or in the world, and sick of all this he felt himself carried away by an +impulse to follow his wife to the conjugal chamber. There he sank into +an arm-chair and like any sultan awaited his coffee, as if he would say: + +“Well, after all, she is my wife!” + +The fair siren herself prepares the favorite draught; she strains it +with special care, sweetens it, tastes it, and hands it to him; then, +with a smile, she ventures like a submissive odalisque to make a joke, +with a view to smoothing the wrinkles on the brow of her lord and +master. Up to that moment he had thought his wife stupid; but on hearing +a sally as witty as that which even you would cajole with, madame, he +raises his head in the way peculiar to dogs who are hunting the hare. + +“Where the devil did she get that--but it’s a random shot!” he says to +himself. + +From the pinnacle of his own greatness he makes a piquant repartee. +Madame retorts, the conversation becomes as lively as it is interesting, +and this husband, a very superior man, is quite astonished to discover +the wit of his wife, in other respects, an accomplished woman; the +right word occurs to her with wonderful readiness; her tact and keenness +enable her to meet an innuendo with charming originality. She is no +longer the same woman. She notices the effect she produces upon her +husband, and both to avenge herself for his neglect and to win his +admiration for the lover from whom she has received, so to speak, the +treasures of her intellect, she exerts herself, and becomes actually +dazzling. The husband, better able than any one else to appreciate a +species of compensation which may have some influence on his future, is +led to think that the passions of women are really necessary to their +mental culture. + +But how shall we treat those compensations which are most pleasing to +husbands? + +Between the moment when the last symptoms appear, and the epoch of +conjugal peace, which we will not stop to discuss, almost a dozen years +have elapsed. During this interval and before the married couple sign +the treaty which, by means of a sincere reconciliation of the feminine +subject with her lawful lord, consecrates their little matrimonial +restoration, in order to close in, as Louis XVIII said, the gulf of +revolutions, it is seldom that the honest woman has but one lover. +Anarchy has its inevitable phases. The stormy domination of tribunes is +supplanted by that of the sword and the pen, for few loves are met with +whose constancy outlives ten years. Therefore, since our calculations +prove that an honest woman has merely paid strictly her physiological +or diabolical dues by rendering but three men happy, it is probable +that she has set foot in more than one region of love. Sometimes it may +happen that in an interregnum of love too long protracted, the wife, +whether from whim, temptation or the desire of novelty, undertakes to +seduce her own husband. + +Imagine charming Mme. de T-----, the heroine of our Meditation of +_Strategy_, saying with a fascinating smile: + +“I never before found you so agreeable!” + +By flattery after flattery, she tempts, she rouses curiosity, she +soothes, she rouses in you the faintest spark of desire, she carries +you away with her, and makes you proud of yourself. Then the right +of indemnifications for her husband comes. On this occasion the wife +confounds the imagination of her husband. Like cosmopolitan travelers +she tells tales of all the countries which she had traversed. She +intersperses her conversation with words borrowed from several +languages. The passionate imagery of the Orient, the unique emphasis of +Spanish phraseology, all meet and jostle one another. She opens out the +treasures of her notebook with all the mysteries of coquetry, she is +delightful, you never saw her thus before! With that remarkable art +which women alone possess of making their own everything that has been +told them, she blends all shades and variations of character so as to +create a manner peculiarly her own. You received from the hands of Hymen +only one woman, awkward and innocent; the celibate returns you a dozen +of them. A joyful and rapturous husband sees his bed invaded by the +giddy and wanton courtesans, of whom we spoke in the Meditation on _The +First Symptoms_. These goddesses come in groups, they smile and sport +under the graceful muslin curtains of the nuptial bed. The Phoenician +girl flings to you her garlands, gently sways herself to and fro; the +Chalcidian woman overcomes you by the witchery of her fine and snowy +feet; the Unelmane comes and speaking the dialect of fair Ionia reveals +the treasures of happiness unknown before, and in the study of which she +makes you experience but a single sensation. + +Filled with regret at having disdained so many charms, and frequently +tired of finding too often as much perfidiousness in priestesses of +Venus as in honest women, the husband sometimes hurries on by his +gallantry the hour of reconciliation desired of worthy people. The +aftermath of bliss is gathered even with greater pleasure, perhaps, than +the first crop. The Minotaur took your gold, he makes restoration in +diamonds. And really now seems the time to state a fact of the utmost +importance. A man may have a wife without possessing her. Like most +husbands you had hitherto received nothing from yours, and the powerful +intervention of the celibate was needed to make your union complete. How +shall we give a name to this miracle, perhaps the only one wrought upon +a patient during his absence? Alas, my brothers, we did not make Nature! + +But how many other compensations, not less precious, are there, by +which the noble and generous soul of the young celibate may many a time +purchase his pardon! I recollect witnessing one of the most magnificent +acts of reparation which a lover should perform toward the husband he is +minotaurizing. + +One warm evening in the summer of 1817, I saw entering one of the rooms +of Tortoni one of the two hundred young men whom we confidently style +our friends; he was in the full bloom of his modesty. A lovely woman, +dressed in perfect taste, and who had consented to enter one of the +cool parlors devoted to people of fashion, had stepped from an elegant +carriage which had stopped on the boulevard, and was approaching on foot +along the sidewalk. My young friend, the celibate, then appeared and +offered his arm to his queen, while the husband followed holding by the +hand two little boys, beautiful as cupids. The two lovers, more nimble +than the father of the family, reached in advance of him one of the +small rooms pointed out by the attendant. In crossing the vestibule +the husband knocked up against some dandy, who claimed that he had been +jostled. Then arose a quarrel, whose seriousness was betrayed by the +sharp tones of the altercation. The moment the dandy was about to make +a gesture unworthy of a self-respecting man, the celibate intervened, +seized the dandy by the arm, caught him off his guard, overcame and +threw him to the ground; it was magnificent. He had done the very thing +the aggressor was meditating, as he exclaimed: + +“Monsieur!” + +This “Monsieur” was one of the finest things I have ever heard. It was +as if the young celibate had said: “This father of a family belongs to +me; as I have carried off his honor, it is mine to defend him. I know +my duty, I am his substitute and will fight for him.” The young woman +behaved superbly! Pale, and bewildered, she took the arm of her husband, +who continued his objurgations; without a word she led him away to the +carriage, together with her children. She was one of those women of the +aristocracy, who also know how to retain their dignity and self-control +in the midst of violent emotions. + +“O Monsieur Adolphe!” cried the young lady as she saw her friend with an +air of gayety take his seat in the carriage. + +“It is nothing, madame, he is one of my friends; we have shaken hands.” + +Nevertheless, the next morning, the courageous celibate received a sword +thrust which nearly proved fatal, and confined him six months to his +bed. The attentions of the married couple were lavished upon him. What +numerous compensations do we see here! Some years afterwards, an old +uncle of the husband, whose opinions did not fit in with those of +the young friend of the house, and who nursed a grudge against him on +account of some political discussion, undertook to have him driven from +the house. The old fellow went so far as to tell his nephew to choose +between being his heir and sending away the presumptuous celibate. It +was then that the worthy stockbroker said to his uncle: + +“Ah, you must never think, uncle, that you will succeed in making me +ungrateful! But if I tell him to do so this young man will let himself +be killed for you. He has saved my credit, he would go through fire and +water for me, he has relieved me of my wife, he has brought me clients, +he has procured for me almost all the business in the Villele loans--I +owe my life to him, he is the father of my children; I can never forget +all this.” + +In this case the compensations may be looked upon as complete; but +unfortunately there are compensations of all kinds. There are those +which must be considered negative, deluding, and those which are both in +one. + +I knew a husband of advanced years who was possessed by the demon of +gambling. Almost every evening his wife’s lover came and played with +him. The celibate gave him a liberal share of the pleasures which come +from games of hazard, and knew how to lose to him a certain number +of francs every month; but madame used to give them to him, and the +compensation was a deluding one. + +You are a peer of France, and you have no offspring but daughters. Your +wife is brought to bed of a boy! The compensation is negative. + +The child who is to save your name from oblivion is like his mother. The +duchess persuades you that the child is yours. The negative compensation +becomes deluding. + +Here is one of the most charming compensations known. One morning the +Prince de Ligne meets his wife’s lover and rushes up to him, laughing +wildly: + +“My friend,” he says to him, “I cuckolded you, last night!” + +If some husbands attain to conjugal peace by quiet methods, and carry +so gracefully the imaginary ensigns of matrimonial pre-eminence, their +philosophy is doubtless based on the _comfortabilisme_ of accepting +certain compensations, a _comfortabilisme_ which indifferent men cannot +imagine. As years roll by the married couple reach the last stage in +that artificial existence to which their union has condemned them. + + + + +MEDITATION XXIX. OF CONJUGAL PEACE. + +My imagination has followed marriage through all the phases of its +fantastic life in so fraternal a spirit, that I seem to have grown old +with the house I made my home so early in life at the commencement of +this work. + +After experiencing in thought the ardor of man’s first passion; and +outlining, in however imperfect a way, the principal incidents of +married life; after struggling against so many wives that did not belong +to me, exhausting myself in conflict with so many personages called up +from nothingness, and joining so many battles, I feel an intellectual +lassitude, which makes me see everything in life hang, as it were, in +mournful crape. I seem to have a catarrh, to look at everything through +green spectacles, I feel as if my hands trembled, as if I must needs +employ the second half of my existence and of my book in apologizing for +the follies of the first half. + +I see myself surrounded by tall children of whom I am not the father, +and seated beside a wife I never married. I think I can feel wrinkles +furrowing my brow. The fire before which I am placed crackles, as if in +derision, the room is ancient in its furniture; I shudder with sudden +fright as I lay my hand upon my heart, and ask myself: “Is that, too, +withered?” + +I am like an old attorney, unswayed by any sentiment whatever. I never +accept any statement unless it be confirmed, according to the poetic +maxim of Lord Byron, by the testimony of at least two false witnesses. +No face can delude me. I am melancholy and overcast with gloom. I know +the world and it has no more illusions for me. My closest friends have +proved traitors. My wife and myself exchange glances of profound meaning +and the slightest word either of us utters is a dagger which pierces +the heart of the other through and through. I stagnate in a dreary +calm. This then is the tranquillity of old age! The old man possesses +in himself the cemetery which shall soon possess him. He is growing +accustomed to the chill of the tomb. Man, according to philosophers, +dies in detail; at the same time he may be said even to cheat death; for +that which his withered hand has laid hold upon, can it be called life? + +Oh, to die young and throbbing with life! ‘Tis a destiny enviable +indeed! For is not this, as a delightful poet has said, “to take away +with one all one’s illusions, to be buried like an Eastern king, with +all one’s jewels and treasures, with all that makes the fortune of +humanity!” + +How many thank-offerings ought we to make to the kind and beneficent +spirit that breathes in all things here below! Indeed, the care which +nature takes to strip us piece by piece of our raiment, to unclothe the +soul by enfeebling gradually our hearing, sight, and sense of touch, in +making slower the circulation of our blood, and congealing our humors so +as to make us as insensible to the approach of death as we were to the +beginnings of life, this maternal care which she lavishes on our frail +tabernacle of clay, she also exhibits in regard to the emotions of man, +and to the double existence which is created by conjugal love. She first +sends us Confidence, which with extended hand and open heart says to us: +“Behold, I am thine forever!” Lukewarmness follows, walking with languid +tread, turning aside her blonde face with a yawn, like a young widow +obliged to listen to the minister of state who is ready to sign for her +a pension warrant. Then Indifference comes; she stretches herself on the +divan, taking no care to draw down the skirts of her robe which Desire +but now lifted so chastely and so eagerly. She casts a glance upon the +nuptial bed, with modesty and without shamelessness; and, if she longs +for anything, it is for the green fruit that calls up again to life the +dulled papillae with which her blase palate is bestrewn. Finally the +philosophical Experience of Life presents herself, with careworn and +disdainful brow, pointing with her finger to the results, and not +the causes of life’s incidents; to the tranquil victory, not to the +tempestuous combat. She reckons up the arrearages, with farmers, and +calculates the dowry of a child. She materializes everything. By a touch +of her wand, life becomes solid and springless; of yore, all was fluid, +now it is crystallized into rock. Delight no longer exists for our +hearts, it has received its sentence, ‘twas but mere sensation, a +passing paroxysm. What the soul desires to-day is a condition of fixity; +and happiness alone is permanent, and consists in absolute tranquillity, +in the regularity with which eating and sleeping succeed each other, and +the sluggish organs perform their functions. + +“This is horrible!” I cried; “I am young and full of life! Perish all +the books in the world rather than my illusions should perish!” + +I left my laboratory and plunged into the whirl of Paris. As I saw the +fairest faces glide by before me, I felt that I was not old. The first +young woman who appeared before me, lovely in face and form and dressed +to perfection, with one glance of fire made all the sorcery whose spells +I had voluntarily submitted to vanish into thin air. Scarcely had I +walked three steps in the Tuileries gardens, the place which I had +chosen as my destination, before I saw the prototype of the matrimonial +situation which has last been described in this book. Had I desired to +characterize, to idealize, to personify marriage, as I conceived it +to be, it would have been impossible for the Creator himself to have +produced so complete a symbol of it as I then saw before me. + +Imagine a woman of fifty, dressed in a jacket of reddish brown merino, +holding in her left hand a green cord, which was tied to the collar of +an English terrier, and with her right arm linked with that of a man +in knee-breeches and silk stockings, whose hat had its brim whimsically +turned up, while snow-white tufts of hair like pigeon plumes rose at its +sides. A slender queue, thin as a quill, tossed about on the back of +his sallow neck, which was thick, as far as it could be seen above the +turned down collar of a threadbare coat. This couple assumed the stately +tread of an ambassador; and the husband, who was at least seventy, +stopped complaisantly every time the terrier began to gambol. I hastened +to pass this living impersonation of my Meditation, and was surprised to +the last degree to recognize the Marquis de T-----, friend of the Comte +de Noce, who had owed me for a long time the end of the interrupted +story which I related in the _Theory of the Bed_. [See Meditation XVII.] + +“I have the honor to present to you the Marquise de T-----,” he said to +me. + +I made a low bow to a lady whose face was pale and wrinkled; her +forehead was surmounted by a toupee, whose flattened ringlets, ranged +around it, deceived no one, but only emphasized, instead of concealing, +the wrinkles by which it was deeply furrowed. The lady was slightly +roughed, and had the appearance of an old country actress. + +“I do not see, sir, what you can say against a marriage such as ours,” + said the old man to me. + +“The laws of Rome forefend!” I cried, laughing. + +The marchioness gave me a look filled with inquietude as well as +disapprobation, which seemed to say, “Is it possible that at my age I +have become but a concubine?” + +We sat down upon a bench, in the gloomy clump of trees planted at the +corner of the high terrace which commands La Place Louis XV, on the +side of the Garde-Meuble. Autumn had already begun to strip the trees of +their foliage, and was scattering before our eyes the yellow leaves +of his garland; but the sun nevertheless filled the air with grateful +warmth. + +“Well, is your work finished?” asked the old man, in the unctuous tones +peculiar to men of the ancient aristocracy. + +And with these words he gave a sardonic smile, as if for commentary. + +“Very nearly, sir,” I replied. “I have come to the philosophic +situation, which you appear to have reached, but I confess that I--” + +“You are searching for ideas?” he added--finishing for me a sentence, +which I confess I did not know how to end. + +“Well,” he continued, “you may boldly assume, that on arriving at the +winter of his life, a man--a man who thinks, I mean--ends by denying +that love has any existence, in the wild form with which our illusions +invested it!” + +“What! would you deny the existence of love on the day after that of +marriage?” + +“In the first place, the day after would be the very reason; but my +marriage was a commercial speculation,” replied he, stooping to speak +into my ear. “I have thereby purchased the care, the attention, the +services which I need; and I am certain to obtain all the consideration +my age demands; for I have willed all my property to my nephew, and as +my wife will be rich only during my life, you can imagine how--” + +I turned on the old marquis a look so piercing that he wrung my hand +and said: “You seem to have a good heart, for nothing is certain in this +life--” + +“Well, you may be sure that I have arranged a pleasant surprise for her +in my will,” he replied, gayly. + +“Come here, Joseph,” cried the marchioness, approaching a servant who +carried an overcoat lined with silk. “The marquis is probably feeling +the cold.” + +The old marquis put on his overcoat, buttoned it up, and taking my arm, +led me to the sunny side of the terrace. + +“In your work,” he continued, “you have doubtless spoken of the love of +a young man. Well, if you wish to act up to the scope which you give to +your work--in the word ec--elec--” + +“Eclectic,” I said, smiling, seeing he could not remember this +philosophic term. + +“I know the word well!” he replied. “If then you wish to keep your vow +of eclecticism, you should be willing to express certain virile ideas +on the subject of love which I will communicate to you, and I will not +grudge you the benefit of them, if benefit there be; I wish to bequeath +my property to you, but this will be all that you will get of it.” + +“There is no money fortune which is worth as much as a fortune of ideas +if they be valuable ideas! I shall, therefore, listen to you with a +grateful mind.” + +“There is no such thing as love,” pursued the old man, fixing his gaze +upon me. “It is not even a sentiment, it is an unhappy necessity, which +is midway between the needs of the body and those of the soul. But +siding for a moment with your youthful thoughts, let us try to reason +upon this social malady. I suppose that you can only conceive of love as +either a need or a sentiment.” + +I made a sign of assent. + +“Considered as a need,” said the old man, “love makes itself felt last +of all our needs, and is the first to cease. We are inclined to love in +our twentieth year, to speak in round numbers, and we cease to do so at +fifty. During these thirty years, how often would the need be felt, if +it were not for the provocation of city manners, and the modern custom +of living in the presence of not one woman, but of women in general? +What is our debt to the perpetuation of the race? It probably consists +in producing as many children as we have breasts--so that if one +dies the other may live. If these two children were always faithfully +produced, what would become of nations? Thirty millions of people +would constitute a population too great for France, for the soil is +not sufficient to guarantee more than ten millions against misery and +hunger. Remember that China is reduced to the expedient of throwing its +children into the water, according to the accounts of travelers. Now +this production of two children is really the whole of marriage. The +superfluous pleasures of marriage are not only profligate, but involve +an immense loss to the man, as I will now demonstrate. Compare then +with this poverty of result, and shortness of duration, the daily and +perpetual urgency of other needs of our existence. Nature reminds us +every hour of our real needs; and, on the other hand, refuses absolutely +to grant the excess which our imagination sometimes craves in love. +It is, therefore, the last of our needs, and the only one which may be +forgotten without causing any disturbance in the economy of the body. +Love is a social luxury like lace and diamonds. But if we analyze it as +a sentiment, we find two distinct elements in it; namely, pleasure +and passion. Now analyze pleasure. Human affections rest upon two +foundations, attraction and repulsion. Attraction is a universal feeling +for those things which flatter our instinct of self-preservation; +repulsion is the exercise of the same instinct when it tells us that +something is near which threatens it with injury. Everything which +profoundly moves our organization gives us a deeper sense of our +existence; such a thing is pleasure. It is contracted of desire, of +effort, and the joy of possessing something or other. Pleasure is a +unique element in life, and our passions are nothing but modifications, +more or less keen, of pleasure; moreover, familiarity with one pleasure +almost always precludes the enjoyment of all others. Now, love is the +least keen and the least durable of our pleasures. In what would you say +the pleasure of love consists? Does it lie in the beauty of the beloved? +In one evening you may obtain for money the loveliest odalisques; but +at the end of a month you will in this way have burnt out all your +sentiment for all time. Would you love a women because she is well +dressed, elegant, rich, keeps a carriage, has commercial credit? Do +not call this love, for it is vanity, avarice, egotism. Do you love her +because she is intellectual? You are in that case merely obeying the +dictates of literary sentiment.” + +“But,” I said, “love only reveals its pleasures to those who mingle in +one their thoughts, their fortunes, their sentiments, their souls, their +lives--” + +“Oh dear, dear!” cried the old man, in a jeering tone. “Can you show me +five men in any nation who have sacrificed anything for a woman? I do +not say their life, for that is a slight thing,--the price of a human +life under Napoleon was never more than twenty thousand francs; and +there are in France to-day two hundred and fifty thousand brave men who +would give theirs for two inches of red ribbon; while seven men have +sacrificed for a woman ten millions on which they might have slept in +solitude for a whole night. Dubreuil and Phmeja are still rarer than +is the love of Dupris and Bolingbroke. These sentiments proceed from +an unknown cause. But you have brought me thus to consider love as +a passion. Yes, indeed, it is the last of them all and the most +contemptible. It promises everything, and fulfils nothing. It comes, +like love, as a need, the last, and dies away the first. Ah, talk to +me of revenge, hatred, avarice, of gaming, of ambition, of fanaticism. +These passions have something virile in them; these sentiments are +imperishable; they make sacrifices every day, such as love only makes +by fits and starts. But,” he went on, “suppose you abjure love. At first +there will be no disquietudes, no anxieties, no worry, none of those +little vexations that waste human life. A man lives happy and tranquil; +in his social relations he becomes infinitely more powerful and +influential. This divorce from the thing called love is the primary +secret of power in all men who control large bodies of men; but this +is a mere trifle. Ah! if you knew with what magic influence a man is +endowed, what wealth of intellectual force, what longevity in physical +strength he enjoys, when detaching himself from every species of human +passion he spends all his energy to the profit of his soul! If you could +enjoy for two minutes the riches which God dispenses to the enlightened +men who consider love as merely a passing need which it is sufficient to +satisfy for six months in their twentieth year; to the men who, scorning +the luxurious and surfeiting beefsteaks of Normandy, feed on the roots +which God has given in abundance, and take their repose on a bed of +withered leaves, like the recluses of the Thebaid!--ah! you would not +keep on three seconds the wool of fifteen merinos which covers you; you +would fling away your childish switch, and go to live in the heaven of +heavens! There you would find the love you sought in vain amid the swine +of earth; there you would hear a concert of somewhat different melody +from that of M. Rossini, voices more faultless than that of Malibran. +But I am speaking as a blind man might, and repeating hearsays. If I had +not visited Germany about the year 1791, I should know nothing of all +this. Yes!--man has a vocation for the infinite. There dwells within +him an instinct that calls him to God. God is all, gives all, brings +oblivion on all, and thought is the thread which he has given us as a +clue to communication with himself!” + +He suddenly stopped, and fixed his eyes upon the heavens. + +“The poor fellow has lost his wits!” I thought to myself. + +“Sir,” I said to him, “it would be pushing my devotion to eclectic +philosophy too far to insert your ideas in my book; they would destroy +it. Everything in it is based on love, platonic and sensual. God forbid +that I should end my book by such social blasphemies! I would rather +try to return by some pantagruelian subtlety to my herd of celibates and +honest women, with many an attempt to discover some social utility in +their passions and follies. Oh! if conjugal peace leads us to arguments +so disillusionizing and so gloomy as these, I know a great many husbands +who would prefer war to peace.” + +“At any rate, young man,” the old marquis cried, “I shall never have to +reproach myself with refusing to give true directions to a traveler who +had lost his way.” + +“Adieu, thou old carcase!” I said to myself; “adieu, thou walking +marriage! Adieu, thou stick of a burnt-out fire-work! Adieu, thou +machine! Although I have given thee from time to time some glimpses of +people dear to me, old family portraits,--back with you to the picture +dealer’s shop, to Madame de T-----, and all the rest of them; take your +place round the bier with undertaker’s mutes, for all I care!” + + + + +MEDITATION XXX. CONCLUSION. + +A recluse, who was credited with the gift of second sight, having +commanded the children of Israel to follow him to a mountain top in +order to hear the revelation of certain mysteries, saw that he was +accompanied by a crowd which took up so much room on the road that, +prophet as he was, his _amour-propre_ was vastly tickled. + +But as the mountain was a considerable distance off, it happened that at +the first halt, an artisan remembered that he had to deliver a new pair +of slippers to a duke and peer, a publican fell to thinking how he had +some specie to negotiate, and off they went. + +A little further on two lovers lingered under the olive trees and forgot +the discourse of the prophet; for they thought that the promised land +was the spot where they stood, and the divine word was heard when they +talked to one another. + +The fat people, loaded with punches a la Sancho, had been wiping their +foreheads with their handkerchiefs, for the last quarter of an hour, and +began to grow thirsty, and therefore halted beside a clear spring. + +Certain retired soldiers complained of the corns which tortured them, +and spoke of Austerlitz, and of their tight boots. + +At the second halt, certain men of the world whispered together: + +“But this prophet is a fool.” + +“Have you ever heard him?” + +“I? I came from sheer curiosity.” + +“And I because I saw the fellow had a large following.” (The last man +who spoke was a fashionable.) + +“He is a mere charlatan.” + +The prophet kept marching on. But when he reached the plateau, from +which a wide horizon spread before him, he turned back, and saw no one +but a poor Israelite, to whom he might have said as the Prince de Ligne +to the wretched little bandy-legged drummer boy, whom he found on the +spot where he expected to see a whole garrison awaiting him: “Well, my +readers, it seems that you have dwindled down to one.” + +Thou man of God who has followed me so far--I hope that a short +recapitulation will not terrify thee, and I have traveled on under the +impression that thou, like me, hast kept saying to thyself, “Where the +deuce are we going?” + +Well, well, this is the place and the time to ask you, respected reader, +what your opinion is with regard to the renewal of the tobacco monopoly, +and what you think of the exorbitant taxes on wines, on the right to +carry firearms, on gaming, on lotteries, on playing cards, on brandy, on +soap, cotton, silks, etc. + +“I think that since all these duties make up one-third of the public +revenues, we should be seriously embarrassed if--” + +So that, my excellent model husband, if no one got drunk, or gambled, +or smoked, or hunted, in a word if we had neither vices, passions, nor +maladies in France, the State would be within an ace of bankruptcy; for +it seems that the capital of our national income consists of popular +corruptions, as our commerce is kept alive by national luxury. If you +cared to look a little closer into the matter you would see that all +taxes are based upon some moral malady. As a matter of fact, if we +continue this philosophical scrutiny it will appear that the gendarmes +would want horses and leather breeches, if every one kept the peace, +and if there were neither foes nor idle people in the world. Therefore +impose virtue on mankind! Well, I consider that there are more parallels +than people think between my honest woman and the budget, and I will +undertake to prove this by a short essay on statistics, if you will +permit me to finish my book on the same lines as those on which I have +begun it. Will you grant that a lover must put on more clean shirts than +are worn by either a husband, or a celibate unattached? This to me seems +beyond doubt. The difference between a husband and a lover is seen +even in the appearance of their toilette. The one is careless, he is +unshaved, and the other never appears excepting in full dress. Sterne +has pleasantly remarked that the account book of the laundress was the +most authentic record he knew, as to the life of Tristram Shandy; +and that it was easy to guess from the number of shirts he wore what +passages of his book had cost him most. Well, with regard to lovers the +account book of their laundresses is the most faithful historic record +as well as the most impartial account of their various amours. And +really a prodigious quantity of tippets, cravats, dresses, which are +absolutely necessary to coquetry, is consumed in the course of an amour. +A wonderful prestige is gained by white stockings, the lustre of a +collar, or a shirt-waist, the artistically arranged folds of a man’s +shirt, or the taste of his necktie or his collar. This will explain +the passages in which I said of the honest woman [Meditation II], +“She spends her life in having her dresses starched.” I have sought +information on this point from a lady in order to learn accurately at +what sum was to be estimated the tax thus imposed by love, and after +fixing it at one hundred francs per annum for a woman, I recollect what +she said with great good humor: “It depends on the character of the man, +for some are so much more particular than others.” Nevertheless, after +a very profound discussion, in which I settled upon the sum for the +celibates, and she for her sex, it was agreed that, one thing with +another, since the two lovers belong to the social sphere which this +work concerns, they ought to spend between them, in the matter referred +to, one hundred and fifty francs more than in time of peace. + +By a like treaty, friendly in character and long discussed, we arranged +that there should be a collective difference of four hundred francs +between the expenditure for all parts of the dress on a war footing, and +for that on a peace footing. This provision was considered very paltry +by all the powers, masculine or feminine, whom we consulted. The light +thrown upon these delicate matters by the contributions of certain +persons suggested to us the idea of gathering together certain savants +at a dinner party, and taking their wise counsels for our guidance in +these important investigations. The gathering took place. It was with +glass in hand and after listening to many brilliant speeches that I +received for the following chapters on the budget of love, a sort of +legislative sanction. The sum of one hundred francs was allowed for +porters and carriages. Fifty crowns seemed very reasonable for the +little patties that people eat on a walk, for bouquets of violets and +theatre tickets. The sum of two hundred francs was considered necessary +for the extra expense of dainties and dinners at restaurants. It was +during this discussion that a young cavalryman, who had been made almost +tipsy by the champagne, was called to order for comparing lovers to +distilling machines. But the chapter that gave occasion for the most +violent discussion, and the consideration of which was adjourned for +several weeks, when a report was made, was that concerning presents. At +the last session, the refined Madame de D----- was the first speaker; +and in a graceful address, which testified to the nobility of her +sentiments, she set out to demonstrate that most of the time the gifts +of love had no intrinsic value. The author replied that all lovers had +their portraits taken. A lady objected that a portrait was invested +capital, and care should always be taken to recover it for a second +investment. But suddenly a gentleman of Provence rose to deliver a +philippic against women. He spoke of the greediness which most women in +love exhibited for furs, satins, silks, jewels and furniture; but a lady +interrupted him by asking if Madame d’O-----y, his intimate friend, had +not already paid his debts twice over. + +“You are mistaken, madame,” said the Provencal, “it was her husband.” + +“The speaker is called to order,” cried the president, “and condemned to +dine the whole party, for having used the word _husband_.” + +The Provencal was completely refuted by a lady who undertook to prove +that women show much more self-sacrifice in love than men; that lovers +cost very dear, and that the honest woman may consider herself very +fortunate if she gets off with spending on them two thousand francs +for a single year. The discussion was in danger of degenerating into +an exchange of personalities, when a division was called for. The +conclusions of the committee were adopted by vote. The conclusions were, +in substance, that the amount for presents between lovers during +the year should be reckoned at five hundred francs, but that in this +computation should be included: (1) the expense of expeditions into the +country; (2) the pharmaceutical expenses, occasioned by the colds caught +from walking in the damp pathways of parks, and in leaving the theatre, +which expenses are veritable presents; (3) the carrying of letters, +and law expenses; (4) journeys, and expenses whose items are forgotten, +without counting the follies committed by the spenders; inasmuch as, +according to the investigations of the committee, it had been proved +that most of a man’s extravagant expenditure profited the opera girls, +rather than the married women. The conclusion arrived at from this +pecuniary calculation was that, in one way or another, a passion costs +nearly fifteen hundred francs a year, which were required to meet +the expense borne more unequally by lovers, but which would not have +occurred, but for their attachment. There was also a sort of unanimity +in the opinion of the council that this was the lowest annual figure +which would cover the cost of a passion. Now, my dear sir, since we have +proved, by the statistics of our conjugal calculations [See Meditations +I, II, and III.] and proved irrefragably, that there exists a floating +total of at least fifteen hundred thousand unlawful passions, it +follows: + +That the criminal conversations of a third among the French population +contribute a sum of nearly three thousand millions to that vast +circulation of money, the true blood of society, of which the budget is +the heart; + +That the honest woman not only gives life to the children of the +peerage, but also to its financial funds; + +That manufacturers owe their prosperity to this _systolic_ movement; + +That the honest woman is a being essentially _budgetative_, and active +as a consumer; + +That the least decline in public love would involve incalculable +miseries to the treasury, and to men of invested fortunes; + +That a husband has at least a third of his fortune invested in the +inconstancy of his wife, etc. + +I am well aware that you are going to open your mouth and talk to me +about manners, politics, good and evil. But, my dear victim of the +Minotaur, is not happiness the object which all societies should set +before them? Is it not this axiom that makes these wretched kings give +themselves so much trouble about their people? Well, the honest woman +has not, like them, thrones, gendarmes and tribunals; she has only a bed +to offer; but if our four hundred thousand women can, by this ingenious +machine, make a million celibates happy, do not they attain in a +mysterious manner, and without making any fuss, the end aimed at by a +government, namely, the end of giving the largest possible amount of +happiness to the mass of mankind? + +“Yes, but the annoyances, the children, the troubles--” + +Ah, you must permit me to proffer the consolatory thought with which one +of our wittiest caricaturists closes his satiric observations: “Man is +not perfect!” It is sufficient, therefore, that our institutions have +no more disadvantages than advantages in order to be reckoned excellent; +for the human race is not placed, socially speaking, between the good +and the bad, but between the bad and the worse. Now if the work, which +we are at present on the point of concluding, has had for its object the +diminution of the worse, as it is found in matrimonial institutions, +in laying bare the errors and absurdities due to our manners and our +prejudices, we shall certainly have won one of the fairest titles that +can be put forth by a man to a place among the benefactors of humanity. +Has not the author made it his aim, by advising husbands, to make +women more self-restrained and consequently to impart more violence +to passions, more money to the treasury, more life to commerce and +agriculture? Thanks to this last Meditation he can flatter himself that +he has strictly kept the vow of eclecticism, which he made in projecting +the work, and he hopes he has marshaled all details of the case, and yet +like an attorney-general refrained from expressing his personal opinion. +And really what do you want with an axiom in the present matter? Do you +wish that this book should be a mere development of the last opinion +held by Tronchet, who in his closing days thought that the law of +marriage had been drawn up less in the interest of husbands than of +children? I also wish it very much. Would you rather desire that this +book should serve as proof to the peroration of the Capuchin, who +preached before Anne of Austria, and when he saw the queen and her +ladies overwhelmed by his triumphant arguments against their frailty, +said as he came down from the pulpit of truth, “Now you are all +honorable women, and it is we who unfortunately are sons of Samaritan +women.” I have no objection to that either. You may draw what conclusion +you please; for I think it is very difficult to put forth two contrary +opinions, without both of them containing some grains of truth. But the +book has not been written either for or against marriage; all I have +thought you needed was an exact description of it. If an examination of +the machine shall lead us to make one wheel of it more perfect; if +by scouring away some rust we have given more elastic movement to its +mechanism; then give his wage to the workman. If the author has had +the impertinence to utter truths too harsh for you, if he has too often +spoken of rare and exceptional facts as universal, if he has omitted +the commonplaces which have been employed from time immemorial to offer +women the incense of flattery, oh, let him be crucified! But do not +impute to him any motive of hostility to the institution itself; he +is concerned merely for men and women. He knows that from the moment +marriage ceases to defeat the purpose of marriage, it is unassailable; +and, after all, if there do arise serious complaints against this +institution, it is perhaps because man has no memory excepting for +his disasters, that he accuses his wife, as he accuses his life, for +marriage is but a life within a life. Yet people whose habit it is to +take their opinions from newspapers would perhaps despise a book in +which they see the mania of eclecticism pushed too far; for then they +absolutely demand something in the shape of a peroration, it is not hard +to find one for them. And since the words of Napoleon served to start +this book, why should it not end as it began? Before the whole Council +of State the First Consul pronounced the following startling phrase, in +which he at the same time eulogized and satirized marriage, and summed +up the contents of this book: + +“If a man never grew old, I would never wish him to have a wife!” + + + + +POSTSCRIPT. + +“And so you are going to be married?” asked the duchess of the author +who had read his manuscript to her. + +She was one of those ladies to whom the author has already paid his +respects in the introduction of this work. + +“Certainly, madame,” I replied. “To meet a woman who has courage enough +to become mine, would satisfy the wildest of my hopes.” + +“Is this resignation or infatuation?” + +“That is my affair.” + +“Well, sir, as you are doctor of conjugal arts and sciences, allow me to +tell you a little Oriental fable, that I read in a certain sheet, which +is published annually in the form of an almanac. At the beginning of the +Empire ladies used to play at a game in which no one accepted a +present from his or her partner in the game, without saying the word, +_Diadeste_. A game lasted, as you may well suppose, during a week, and +the point was to catch some one receiving some trifle or other without +pronouncing the sacramental word.” + +“Even a kiss?” + +“Oh, I have won the _Diadeste_ twenty times in that way,” she laughingly +replied. + +“It was, I believe, from the playing of this game, whose origin is +Arabian or Chinese, that my apologue takes its point. But if I tell +you,” she went on, putting her finger to her nose, with a charming air +of coquetry, “let me contribute it as a finale to your work.” + +“This would indeed enrich me. You have done me so many favors already, +that I cannot repay--” + +She smiled slyly, and replied as follows: + + + +A philosopher had compiled a full account of all the tricks that women +could possibly play, and in order to verify it, he always carried it +about with him. One day he found himself in the course of his travels +near an encampment of Arabs. A young woman, who had seated herself under +the shade of a palm tree, rose on his approach. She kindly asked him to +rest himself in her tent, and he could not refuse. Her husband was then +absent. Scarcely had the traveler seated himself on a soft rug, when the +graceful hostess offered him fresh dates, and a cup of milk; he could +not help observing the rare beauty of her hands as she did so. But, in +order to distract his mind from the sensations roused in him by the fair +young Arabian girl, whose charms were most formidable, the sage took his +book, and began to read. + +The seductive creature piqued by this slight said to him in a melodious +voice: + +“That book must be very interesting since it seems to be the sole object +worthy of your attention. Would it be taking a liberty to ask what +science it treats of?” + +The philosopher kept his eyes lowered as he replied: + +“The subject of this book is beyond the comprehension of ladies.” + +This rebuff excited more than ever the curiosity of the young Arabian +woman. She put out the prettiest little foot that had ever left its +fleeting imprint on the shifting sands of the desert. The philosopher +was perturbed, and his eyes were too powerfully tempted to resist +wandering from these feet, which betokened so much, up to the bosom, +which was still more ravishingly fair; and soon the flame of his +admiring glance was mingled with the fire that sparkled in the pupils +of the young Asiatic. She asked again the name of the book in tones so +sweet that the philosopher yielded to the fascination, and replied: + +“I am the author of the book; but the substance of it is not mine: it +contains an account of all the ruses and stratagems of women.” + +“What! Absolutely all?” said the daughter of the desert. + +“Yes, all! And it has been only by a constant study of womankind that I +have come to regard them without fear.” + +“Ah!” said the young Arabian girl, lowering the long lashes of her white +eyelids. + +Then, suddenly darting the keenest of her glances at the pretended sage, +she made him in one instant forget the book and all its contents. And +now our philosopher was changed to the most passionate of men. Thinking +he saw in the bearing of the young woman a faint trace of coquetry, the +stranger was emboldened to make an avowal. How could he resist doing +so? The sky was blue, the sand blazed in the distance like a scimitar +of gold, the wind of the desert breathed love, and the woman of Arabia +seemed to reflect all the fire with which she was surrounded; her +piercing eyes were suffused with a mist; and by a slight nod of the head +she seemed to make the luminous atmosphere undulate, as she consented +to listen to the stranger’s words of love. The sage was intoxicated +with delirious hopes, when the young woman, hearing in the distance the +gallop of a horse which seemed to fly, exclaimed: + +“We are lost! My husband is sure to catch us. He is jealous as a tiger, +and more pitiless than one. In the name of the prophet, if you love your +life, conceal yourself in this chest!” + +The author, frightened out of his wits, seeing no other way of getting +out of a terrible fix, jumped into the box, and crouched down there. The +woman closed down the lid, locked it, and took the key. She ran to meet +her husband, and after some caresses which put him into a good humor, +she said: + +“I must relate to you a very singular adventure I have just had.” + +“I am listening, my gazelle,” replied the Arab, who sat down on a rug +and crossed his feet after the Oriental manner. + +“There arrived here to-day a kind of philosopher,” she began, “he +professes to have compiled a book which describes all the wiles of which +my sex is capable; and then this sham sage made love to me.” + +“Well, go on!” cried the Arab. + +“I listened to his avowal. He was young, ardent--and you came just in +time to save my tottering virtue.” + +The Arab leaped to his feet like a lion, and drew his scimitar with a +shout of fury. The philosopher heard all from the depths of the chest +and consigned to Hades his book, and all the men and women of Arabia +Petraea. + +“Fatima!” cried the husband, “if you would save your life, answer +me--Where is the traitor?” + +Terrified at the tempest which she had roused, Fatima threw herself at +her husband’s feet, and trembling beneath the point of his sword, she +pointed out the chest with a prompt though timid glance of her eye. Then +she rose to her feet, as if in shame, and taking the key from her girdle +presented it to the jealous Arab; but, just as he was about to open the +chest, the sly creature burst into a peal of laughter. Faroun stopped +with a puzzled expression, and looked at his wife in amazement. + +“So I shall have my fine chain of gold, after all!” she cried, dancing +for joy. “You have lost the _Diadeste_. Be more mindful next time.” + +The husband, thunderstruck, let fall the key, and offered her the +longed-for chain on bended knee, and promised to bring to his darling +Fatima all the jewels brought by the caravan in a year, if she would +refrain from winning the _Diadeste_ by such cruel stratagems. Then, as +he was an Arab, and did not like forfeiting a chain of gold, although +his wife had fairly won it, he mounted his horse again, and galloped +off, to complain at his will, in the desert, for he loved Fatima too +well to let her see his annoyance. The young woman then drew forth the +philosopher from the chest, and gravely said to him, “Do not forget, +Master Doctor, to put this feminine trick into your collection.” + + +“Madame,” said I to the duchess, “I understand! If I marry, I am bound +to be unexpectedly outwitted by some infernal trick or other; but I +shall in that case, you may be quite sure, furnish a model household for +the admiration of my contemporaries.” + + +PARIS, 1824-29. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Physiology of Marriage, Complete, by +Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MARRIAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 16205-0.txt or 16205-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/0/16205/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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