are those who love according to the _rules of arithmetic_, or who
measure their matrimonial expectations by the _chain of the
land-surveyor_. These are not love and marriage; they are bargain and
sale. Young men will naturally, and almost necessarily, fix their choice
on young women in their own rank in life; because from habit and
intercourse they will know them best. But, if the length of the girl's
purse, present or contingent, be a consideration with the man, or the
length of his purse, present or contingent, be a consideration with her,
it is an affair of bargain and sale. I know that kings, princes, and
princesses are, in respect of marriage, restrained by the law: I know
that nobles, if not thus restrained by positive law, are restrained, in
fact, by the very nature of their order. And here is a disadvantage
which, as far as real enjoyment of life is concerned, more than
counterbalances all the advantages that they possess over the rest of
the community. This disadvantage, generally speaking, pursues rank and
riches downwards, till you approach very nearly to that numerous class
who live by manual labour, becoming, however, less and less as you
descend. You generally find even very vulgar rich men making a sacrifice
of their natural and rational taste to their mean and ridiculous pride,
and thereby providing for themselves an ample supply of misery for life.
By preferring '_provident_ marriages' to marriages of love, they think
to secure themselves against all the evils of poverty; but, _if poverty
come_, and come it may, and frequently does, in spite of the best laid
plans, and best modes of conduct; _if poverty come_, then where is the
counterbalance for that ardent mutual affection, which troubles, and
losses, and crosses always increase rather than diminish, and which,
amidst all the calamities that can befall a man, whispers to his heart,
that his best possession is still left him unimpaired? The
WORCESTERSHIRE BARONET, who has had to endure the sneers of fools on
account of his marriage with a beautiful and virtuous servant maid,
would, were the present ruinous measures of the Government to drive him
from his mansion to a cottage, still have a source of happiness; while
many of those, who might fall in company with him, would, in addition to
all their other troubles, have, perhaps, to endure the reproaches of
wives to whom poverty, or even humble life, would be insupportable.
86. If marrying for the sake of money be, under any circumstances,
despicable, if not disgraceful; if it be, generally speaking, a species
of legal prostitution, only a little less shameful than that which,
under some governments, is openly licensed for the sake of a tax; if
this be the case generally, what ought to be said of a young man, who,
in the heyday of youth, should couple himself on to a libidinous woman,
old enough, perhaps, to be his grandmother, ugly as the nightmare,
offensive alike to the sight and the smell, and who should pretend to
_love_ her too: and all this merely for the sake of her money? Why, it
ought, and it, doubtless, would be said of him, that his conduct was a
libel on both man and womankind; that his name ought, for ever, to be
synonymous with baseness and nastiness, and that in no age and in no
nation, not marked by a general depravity of manners, and total absence
of all sense of shame, every associate, male or female, of such a man,
or of his filthy mate, would be held in abhorrence. Public morality
would drive such a hateful pair from society, and strict justice would
hunt them from the face of the earth.
87. BUONAPARTE could not be said to marry for _money_, but his motive
was little better. It was for dominion, for power, for ambition, and
that, too, of the most contemptible kind. I knew an American Gentleman,
with whom BUONAPARTE had always been a great favourite; but the moment
the news arrived of his divorce and second marriage, he gave him up.
This piece of grand prostitution was too much to be defended. And the
truth is, that BUONAPARTE might have dated his decline from the day of
that marriage. My American friend said, 'If I had been he, I would, in
the first place, have married the poorest and prettiest girl in all
France.' If he had done this, he would, in all probability, have now
been on an imperial throne, instead of being eaten by worms at the
bottom of a very deep hole in Saint Helena; whence, however, his bones
convey to the world the moral, that to marry for money, for ambition, or
from any motive other than the one pointed out by affection, is not the
road to glory, to happiness, or to peace.
88. Let me now turn from these two descriptions of lovers, with whom it
is useless to reason, and address myself to you, my reader, whom I
suppose to be a _real_ lover, but not so smitten as to be bereft of your
reason. You should never forget, that marriage, which is a state that
every young person ought to have in view, is a thing to last _for life_;
and that, generally speaking, it is to make life _happy_, or
_miserable_; for, though a man may bring his mind to something nearly a
state of _indifference_, even _that_ is misery, except with those who
can hardly be reckoned amongst sensitive beings. Marriage brings
numerous _cares_, which are amply compensated by the more numerous
delights which are their companions. But to have the delights, as well
as the cares, the choice of the partner must be fortunate. I say
_fortunate_; for, after all, love, real love, impassioned affection, is
an ingredient so absolutely necessary, that no _perfect_ reliance can
be placed on the judgment. Yet, the judgment may do something; reason
may have some influence; and, therefore, I here offer you my advice with
regard to the exercise of that reason.
89. The things which you ought to desire in a wife are, 1. Chastity; 2.
sobriety; 3. industry; 4. frugality; 5. cleanliness; 6. knowledge of
domestic affairs; 7. good temper; 8. beauty.
90. CHASTITY, perfect modesty, in word, deed, and even thought, is so
essential, that, without it, no female is fit to be a wife. It is not
enough that a young woman abstain from everything approaching towards
indecorum in her behaviour towards men; it is, with me, not enough that
she cast down her eyes, or turn aside her head with a smile, when she
hears an indelicate allusion: she ought to appear _not to understand_
it, and to receive from it no more impression than if she were a post. A
loose woman is a disagreeable _acquaintance_: what must she be, then, as
a _wife_? Love is so blind, and vanity is so busy in persuading us that
our own qualities will be sufficient to ensure fidelity, that we are
very apt to think nothing, or, at any rate, very little, of trifling
symptoms of levity; but if such symptoms show themselves _now_, we may
be well assured, that we shall never possess the power of effecting a
cure. If _prudery_ mean _false_ modesty, it is to be despised; but if it
mean modesty pushed to the utmost extent, I confess that I like it. Your
'_free and hearty_' girls I have liked very well to talk and laugh with;
but never, for one moment, did it enter into my mind that I could have
endured a 'free and hearty' girl for a wife. The thing is, I repeat, to
_last for life_; it is to be a counterbalance for troubles and
misfortunes; and it must, therefore, be perfect, or it had better not be
at all. To say that one _despises_ jealousy is foolish; it is a thing to
be lamented; but the very elements of it ought to be avoided. Gross
indeed is the beast, for he is unworthy of the name of man; nasty indeed
is the wretch, who can even entertain the thought of putting himself
between a pair of sheets with a wife of whose infidelity he possesses
the proof; but, in such cases, a man ought to be very slow to believe
appearances; and he ought not to decide against his wife but upon the
clearest proof. The last, and, indeed, the only effectual safeguard is,
to _begin_ well; to make a good choice; to let the beginning be such as
to render infidelity and jealousy next to impossible. If you begin in
grossness; if you couple yourself on to one with whom you have taken
liberties, infidelity is the natural and _just_ consequence. When a
_Peer of the realm_, who had not been over-fortunate in his matrimonial
affairs, was urging MAJOR CARTWRIGHT to seek for nothing more than
'_moderate_ reform,' the Major (forgetting the domestic circumstances of
his Lordship) asked him how he should relish '_moderate_ chastity' in a
wife! The bare use of the two words, thus coupled together, is
sufficient to excite disgust. Yet with this '_moderate_ chastity' you
must be, and ought to be, content, if you have entered into marriage
with one, in whom you have ever discovered the slightest approach
towards lewdness, either in deeds, words, or looks. To marry has been
your own act; you have made the contract for your own gratification; you
knew the character of the other party; and the children, if any, or the
community, are not to be the sufferers for your gross and corrupt
passion. '_Moderate_ chastity' is all that you have, in fact, contracted
for: you have it, and you have no reason to complain. When I come to
address myself to the _husband_, I shall have to say more upon this
subject, which I dismiss for the present with observing, that my
observation has convinced me, that, when families are rendered unhappy
from the existence of '_moderate_ chastity,' the fault, first or last,
has been in the man, ninety-nine times out of every hundred.
91. SOBRIETY. By _sobriety_ I do not mean merely an absence of _drinking
to a state of intoxication_; for, if that be _hateful_ in a man, what
must it be in a woman! There is a Latin proverb, which says, that wine,
that is to say, intoxication, _brings forth truth_. Whatever it may do
in this way, in men, in women it is sure, unless prevented by age or by
salutary ugliness, to produce a moderate, and a _very moderate_, portion
of chastity. There never was a drunken woman, a woman who loved strong
drink, who was chaste, if the opportunity of being the contrary
presented itself to her. There are cases where _health_ requires wine,
and even small portions of more ardent liquor; but (reserving what I
have further to say on this point, till I come to the conduct of the
husband) _young_ unmarried women can seldom stand in need of these
stimulants; and, at any rate, only in cases of well-known definite
ailments. Wine! '_only_ a _glass or two_ of wine at dinner, or so'! As
soon as have married a girl whom I had thought liable to be persuaded to
drink, habitually, '_only_ a glass or two of wine at dinner, or so;' as
soon as have _married_ such a girl, I would have taken a strumpet from
the streets. And it has not required _age_ to give me this way of
thinking: it has always been rooted in my mind from the moment that I
began to think the girls prettier than posts. There are few things so
disgusting as a guzzling woman. A gormandizing one is bad enough; but,
one who tips off the liquor with an appetite, and exclaims '_good!
good!_' by a smack of her lips, is fit for nothing but a brothel. There
may be cases, amongst the _hard_-labouring women, such as _reapers_, for
instance, especially when they have children at the breast; there may be
cases, where very _hard-working_ women may stand in need of a little
_good_ beer; beer, which, if taken in immoderate quantities, would
produce intoxication. But, while I only allow the _possibility_ of the
existence of such cases, I deny the necessity of any strong drink at all
in every other case. Yet, in this metropolis, it is the general custom
for tradesmen, journeymen, and even labourers, to have regularly on
their tables the big brewers' poison, twice in every day, and at the
rate of not less than a pot to a person, women, as well as men, as the
allowance for the day. A pot of poison a day, at fivepence the pot,
amounts to _seven pounds and two shillings_ in the year! Man and wife
suck down, in this way, _fourteen pounds four shillings_ a year! Is it
any wonder that they are clad in rags, that they are skin and bone, and
that their children are covered with filth?
92. But by the word SOBRIETY, in a young woman, I mean a great deal more
than even a rigid abstinence from that love of _drink_, which I am not
to suppose, and which I do not believe, to exist any thing like
generally amongst the young women of this country. I mean a great deal
more than this; I mean _sobriety of conduct_. The word _sober_, and its
derivatives, do not confine themselves to matters of _drink_: they
express _steadiness, seriousness, carefulness, scrupulous propriety of
conduct_; and they are thus used amongst country people in many parts of
England. When a Somersetshire fellow makes too free with a girl, she
reproves him with, 'Come! be _sober_!' And when we wish a team, or any
thing, to be moved on _steadily_ and with _great care_, we cry out to
the carter, or other operator, '_Soberly, soberly_.' Now, this species
of sobriety is a great qualification in the person you mean to make your
wife. Skipping, capering, romping, rattling girls are very amusing where
all costs and other consequences are out of the question; and they _may_
become _sober_ in the Somersetshire sense of the word. But while you
have _no certainty_ of this, you have a presumptive argument on the
other side. To be sure, when girls are _mere children_, they are to play
and romp like children. But, when they arrive at that age which turns
their thoughts towards that sort of connexion which is to be theirs for
life; when they begin to think of having the command of a house, however
small or poor, it is time for them to cast away the levity of the child.
It is natural, nor is it very wrong, that I know of, for children to
like to gad about and to see all sorts of strange sights, though I do
not approve of this even in children: but, if I could not have found a
_young woman_ (and I am sure I never should have married an _old_ one)
who I was not _sure_ possessed _all_ the qualities expressed by the word
sobriety, I should have remained a bachelor to the end of that life,
which, in that case, would, I am satisfied, have terminated without my
having performed a thousandth part of those labours which have been, and
are, in spite of all political prejudice, the wonder of all who have
seen, or heard of, them. Scores of gentlemen have, at different times,
expressed to me their surprise, that I was '_always in spirits_;' that
nothing _pulled me down_; and the truth is, that, throughout nearly
forty years of troubles, losses, and crosses, assailed all the while by
more numerous and powerful enemies than ever man had before to contend
with, and performing, at the same time, labours greater than man ever
before performed; all those labours requiring mental exertion, and some
of them mental exertion of the highest order; the truth is, that,
throughout the whole of this long time of troubles and of labours, I
have never known a single hour of _real anxiety_; the troubles have been
no troubles to me; I have not known what _lowness of spirits_ meaned;
have been more gay, and felt less care, than any bachelor that ever
lived. 'You are _always in spirits_, Cobbett!' To be sure; for why
should I not? _Poverty_ I have always set at defiance, and I could,
therefore, defy the temptations of riches; and, as to _home_ and
_children_, I had taken care to provide myself with an inexhaustible
store of that '_sobriety_,' which I am so strongly recommending my
reader to provide himself with; or, if he cannot do that, to deliberate
long before he ventures on the life-enduring matrimonial voyage. This
sobriety is a title to _trust-worthiness_; and _this_, young man, is the
treasure that you ought to prize far above all others. Miserable is the
husband, who, when he crosses the threshold of his house, carries with
him doubts and fears and suspicions. I do not mean suspicions of the
_fidelity_ of his wife, but of her care, frugality, attention to his
interests, and to the health and morals of his children. Miserable is
the man, who cannot leave _all unlocked_, and who is not _sure_, quite
certain, that all is as safe as if grasped in his own hand. He is the
happy husband, who can go away, at a moment's warning, leaving his house
and his family with as little anxiety as he quits an inn, not more
fearing to find, on his return, any thing wrong, than he would fear a
discontinuance of the rising and setting of the sun, and if, as in my
case, leaving books and papers all lying about at sixes and sevens,
finding them arranged in proper order, and the room, during the lucky
interval, freed from the effects of his and his ploughman's or
gardener's dirty shoes. Such a man has no _real cares_; such a man has
_no troubles_; and this is the sort of life that I have led. I have had
all the numerous and indescribable delights of home and children, and,
at the same time, all the bachelor's freedom from domestic cares: and to
this cause, far more than to any other, my readers owe those labours,
which I never could have performed, if even the slightest degree of want
of confidence at home had ever once entered into my mind.
93. But, in order to possess this precious _trust-worthiness_, you must,
if you can, exercise your _reason_ in the choice of your partner. If she
be vain of her person, very fond of dress, fond of _flattery_, at all
given to gadding about, fond of what are called _parties of pleasure_,
or coquetish, though in the least degree; if either of these, she never
will be trust-worthy; worthy; she cannot change her nature; and if you
marry her, you will be _unjust_ if you expect trust-worthiness at her
hands. But, besides this, even if you find in her that innate
'_sobriety_' of which I have been speaking, there requires on your part,
and that at once too, confidence and trust without any limit. Confidence
is, in this case, nothing unless it be reciprocal. To have a trust-worthy
wife, you must begin by showing her, even before you are married, that
you have no suspicions, no fears, no doubts, with regard to her. Many a
man has been discarded by a virtuous girl, merely on account of his
querulous conduct. All women despise jealous men; and, if they marry
such their motive is other than that of affection. Therefore, _begin_ by
proofs of unlimited confidence; and, as _example_ may serve to assist
precept, and as I never have preached that which I have not practised, I
will give you the history of my own conduct in this respect.
94. When I first saw my wife, she was _thirteen years old_, and I was
within about a month of _twenty-one_. She was the daughter of a Serjeant
of artillery, and I was the Serjeant-Major of a regiment of foot, both
stationed in forts near the city of St. John, in the Province of
New-Brunswick. I sat in the same room with her, for about an hour, in
company with others, and I made up my mind that she was the very girl
for me. That I thought her beautiful is certain, for that I had always
said should be an indispensable qualification; but I saw in her what I
deemed marks of that sobriety of _conduct_ of which I have said so much,
and which has been by far the greatest blessing of my life. It was now
dead of winter, and, of course, the snow several feet deep on the
ground, and the weather piercing cold. It was my habit, when I had done
my morning's writing, to go out at break of day to take a walk on a hill
at the foot of which our barracks lay. In about three mornings after I
had first seen her, I had, by an invitation to breakfast with me, got up
two young men to join me in my walk; and our road lay by the house of
her father and mother. It was hardly light, but she was out on the snow,
scrubbing out a washing-tub. 'That's the girl for me,' said I, when we
had got out of her hearing. One of these young men came to England soon
afterwards; and he, who keeps an inn in Yorkshire, came over to Preston,
at the time of the election, to verify whether I were the same man. When
he found that I was, he appeared surprised; but what was his surprise,
when I told him that those tall young men, whom he saw around me, were
the _sons_ of that pretty little girl that he and I saw scrubbing out
the washing-tub on the snow in New-Brunswick at day-break in the
morning!
95. From the day that I first spoke to her, I never had a thought of her
ever being the wife of any other man, more than I had a thought of her
being transformed into a chest of drawers; and I formed my resolution at
once, to marry her as soon as we could get permission, and to get out of
the army as soon as I could. So that this matter was, at once, settled
as firmly as if written in the book of fate. At the end of about six
months, my regiment, and I along with it, were removed to FREDERICKTON,
a distance of a _hundred miles_, up the river of ST. JOHN; and, which
was worse, the artillery were expected to go off to England a year or
two before our regiment! The artillery went, and she along with them;
and now it was that I acted a part becoming a real and sensible lover. I
was aware, that, when she got to that gay place WOOLWICH, the house of
her father and mother, necessarily visited by numerous persons not the
most select, might become unpleasant to her, and I did not like,
besides, that she should continue to _work hard_. I had saved a _hundred
and fifty guineas_, the earnings of my early hours, in writing for the
paymaster, the quartermaster, and others, in addition to the savings of
my own pay. _I sent her all my money_, before she sailed; and wrote to
her to beg of her, if she found her home uncomfortable, to hire a
lodging with respectable people: and, at any rate, not to spare the
money, by any means, but to buy herself good clothes, and to live
without hard work, until I arrived in England; and I, in order to induce
her to lay out the money, told her that I should get plenty more before
I came home.
96. As the malignity of the devil would have it, we were kept abroad
_two years longer_ than our time, Mr. PITT (England not being so tame
then as she is now) having knocked up a dust with Spain about Nootka
Sound. Oh, how I cursed Nootka Sound, and poor bawling Pitt too, I am
afraid! At the end _of four years_, however, home I came; landed at
Portsmouth, and got my discharge from the army by the great kindness of
poor LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD, who was then the Major of my regiment. I
found my little girl _a servant of all work_ (and hard work it was), at
_five pounds a year_, in the house of a CAPTAIN BRISAC; and, without
hardly saying a word about the matter, she put into my hands _the whole
of my hundred and fifty guineas unbroken_!
97. Need I tell the reader what my feelings were? Need I tell
kind-hearted English parents what effect this anecdote _must_ have
produced on the minds of our children? Need I attempt to describe what
effect this example ought to have on every young woman who shall do me
the honour to read this book? Admiration of her conduct, and
self-gratulation on this indubitable proof of the soundness of my own
judgment, were now added to my love of her beautiful person.
98. Now, I do not say that there are not many young women of this
country who would, under similar circumstances, have acted as my wife
did in this case; on the contrary, I hope, and do sincerely believe,
that there are. But when _her age_ is considered; when we reflect, that
she was living in a place crowded, literally _crowded_, with
gaily-dressed and handsome young men, many of whom really far richer and
in higher rank than I was, and scores of them ready to offer her their
hand; when we reflect that she was living amongst young women who put
upon their backs every shilling that they could come at; when we see her
keeping the bag of gold untouched, and working hard to provide herself
with but mere necessary apparel, and doing this while she was passing
from _fourteen to eighteen years of age_; when we view the whole of the
circumstances, we must say that here is an example, which, while it
reflects honour on her sex, ought to have weight with every young woman
whose eyes or ears this relation shall reach.