156. In London, or near it, a maid servant cannot be kept at an expense

so low as that of _thirty pounds a year_; for, besides her wages, board

and lodging, there must be a _fire_ solely for her; or she must sit with

the husband and wife, hear every word that passes between them, and

between them and their friends; which will, of course, greatly add to

the pleasures of their fire-side! To keep her tongue still would be

impossible, and, indeed, unreasonable; and if, as may frequently happen,

she be prettier than the wife, she will know how to give the suitable

interpretation to the looks which, to a next to a certainty, she will

occasionally get from him, whom, as it were in mockery, she calls by the

name of '_master_.' This is almost downright bigamy; but this can never

do; and, therefore, she must have a _fire to herself_. Besides the blaze

of coals, however, there is another sort of _flame_ that she will

inevitably covet. She will by no means be sparing of the coals; but,

well fed and well lodged, as _she_ will be, whatever you may be, she

will naturally sigh for the fire of love, for which she carries in her

bosom a match always ready prepared. In plain language, you have a man

to keep, a part, at least, of every week; and the leg of lamb, which

might have lasted you and your wife for three days, will, by this

gentleman's sighs, be borne away in one. Shut the door against this

intruder; out she goes herself; and, if she go empty-handed, she is no

true Christian, or, at least, will not be looked upon as such by the

charitable friend at whose house she meets the longing soul, dying

partly with love and partly with hunger.

157. The cost, altogether, is nearer fifty pounds a year than thirty.

How many thousands of tradesmen and clerks, and the like, who might have

passed through life without a single embarrassment, have lived in

continual trouble and fear, and found a premature grave, from this very

cause, and this cause alone! When I, on my return from America, in 1800,

lived a short time in Saint James's Street, following my habit of early

rising, I used to see the servant maids, at almost every house,

dispensing charity at the expense of their masters, long before they,

good men, opened their eyes, who thus did deeds of benevolence, not only

without boasting of them, but without knowing of them. Meat, bread,

cheese, butter, coals, candles; all came with equal freedom from these

liberal hands. I have observed the same, in my early walks and rides, in

every part of this great place and its environs. Where there is _one_

servant it is worse than where there are _two_ or more; for, happily for

their employers, they do not always agree. So that the oppression is

most heavy on those who are the least able to bear it: and particularly

on _clerk_, and such like people, whose wives seem to think, that,

because the husband's work is of a genteel description, they ought to

live the life of _ladies_. Poor fellows! their work is not hard and

rough, to be sure; but, it is _work_, and work for many hours too, and

painful enough; and as to their income, it scarcely exceeds, on an

average, the double, at any rate, of that of a journeyman carpenter,

bricklayer, or tailor.

158. Besides, the man and wife will live on cheaper diet and drink than

a servant will live. Thousands, who would never have had beer in their

house, have it for the servant, who will not live without it. However

frugal your wife, her frugality is of little use, if she have one of

these inmates to provide for. Many a hundred thousand times has it

happened that the butcher and the butter-man have been applied to solely

because there was a servant to satisfy. You cannot, with this clog

everlastingly attached to you, be frugal, if you would: you can save

nothing against the days of expense, which are, however, pretty sure to

come. And why should you bring into your house a trouble like this; an

absolute annoyance; a something for your wife to watch, to be a

constraint upon her, to thwart her in her best intentions, to make her

uneasy, and to sour her temper? Why should you do this foolish thing?

Merely to comply with corrupt fashion; merely from false shame, and

false and contemptible pride? If a young man were, on his marriage, to

find any difficulty in setting this ruinous fashion at defiance, a very

good way would be to count down to his wife, at the end of every week,

the amount of the expense of a servant for that week, and request her to

deposit it in her drawer. In a short time she would find the sum so

large, that she would be frightened at the thoughts of a servant; and

would never dream of one again, except in case of absolute necessity,

and then for as short a time as possible.

159. But the wife may not be _able_ to do all the work to be done in the

house. Not _able_! A young woman not able to cook and wash, and mend and

make, and clean the house and make the bed for one young man and

herself, and that young man her husband too, who is quite willing (if he

be worth a straw) to put up with cold dinner, or with a crust; to get up

and light her fire; to do any thing that the mind can suggest to spare

her labour, and to conduce to her convenience! Not _able_ to do this?

Then, if she brought no fortune, and he had none, she ought not to have

been _able to marry_: and, let me tell you, young man, a _small fortune_

would not put a servant-keeping wife upon an equality with one who

required no such inmate.

160. If, indeed, the work of a house were _harder_ than a young woman

could perform without pain, or great fatigue; if it had a tendency to

impair her health or deface her beauty; then you might hesitate: but, it

is not too hard, and it tends to preserve health, to keep the spirits

buoyant, and, of course, to preserve beauty. You often hear girls, while

scrubbing or washing, singing till they are out of breath; but never

while they are at what they call _working_ at the needle. The American

wives are most exemplary in this respect. They have none of that false

pride, which prevents thousands in England from doing that which

interest, reason, and even their own inclination would prompt them to

do. They work, not from necessity; not from compulsion of any sort; for

their husbands are the most indulgent in the whole world. In the towns

they go to the market, and cheerfully carry home the result: in the

country, they not only do the work in the house, but extend their

labours to the garden, plant and weed and hoe, and gather and preserve

the fruits and the herbs; and this, too, in a climate far from being so

favourable to labour as that of England; and they are amply repaid for

these by those gratifications which their excellent economy enables

their husbands to bestow upon them, and which it is their universal

habit to do with a liberal hand.

161. But did I _practise_ what I am here preaching? Aye, and to the full

extent. Till I had a second child, no servant ever entered my house,

though well able to keep one; and never, in my whole life, did I live in

a house so clean, in such trim order, and never have I eaten or drunk,

or slept or dressed, in a manner so perfectly to my fancy, as I did

then. I had a great deal of business to attend to, that took me a great

part of the day from home; but, whenever I could spare a minute from

business, the child was in my arms; I rendered the mother's labour as

light as I could; any bit of food satisfied me; when watching was

necessary, we shared it between us; and that famous GRAMMAR for teaching

French people English, which has been for thirty years, and still is,

the great work of this kind, throughout all America, and in every nation

in Europe, was written by me, in hours not employed in business, and, in

great part, during my share of the night-watchings over a sick, and then

only child, who, after lingering many months, died in my arms.

162. This was the way that we went on: this was the way that we _began_

the married life; and surely, that which we did with pleasure no young

couple, unendowed with fortune, ought to be ashamed to do. But she may

be _ill_; the time may be near at hand, or may have actually arrived,

when she must encounter that particular pain and danger of which _you

have been the happy cause_! Oh! that is quite another matter! And if you

now exceed in care, in watchings over her, in tender attention to all

her wishes, in anxious efforts to quiet her fears; if you exceed in

pains and expense to procure her relief and secure her life; if you, in

any of these, exceed that which I would recommend, you must be romantic

indeed! She deserves them all, and more than all, ten thousand times

told. And now it is that you feel the blessing conferred by her economy.

That heap of money, which might have been squandered on, or by, or in

consequence of, an useless servant, you now have in hand wherewith to

procure an abundance of that skill and that attendance of which she

stands in absolute need; and she, when restored to you in smiling

health, has the just pride to reflect, that she may have owed her life

and your happiness to the effects of her industry.

163. It is the _beginning_ that is every thing in this important case;

and you will have, perhaps, much to do to convince her, not that what

you recommend is advantageous; not that it is right; but to convince her

that she can do it without sinking below the station that she ought to

maintain. She would cheerfully do it; but there are her _next-door

neighbours_, who do not do it, though, in all other respects, on a par

with her. It is not laziness, but pernicious fashion, that you will have

to combat. But the truth is, that there ought to be _no combat_ at all;

this important matter ought to be settled and fully agreed on

_beforehand_. If she really love you, and have common sense, she will

not hesitate a moment; and if she be deficient in either of these

respects; and if you be so mad in love as to be unable to exist without

her, it is better to cease to exist at once, than to become the toiling

and embarrassed slave of a wasting and pillaging servant.

164. The next thing to be attended to is, your _demeanor_ towards a

young wife. As to oldish ones, or widows, time and other things have, in

most cases, blunted their feelings, and rendered harsh or stern demeanor

in the husband a matter not of heart-breaking consequence. But with a

young and inexperienced one, the case is very different; and you should

bear in mind, that the first frown that she receives from _you_ is a

dagger to her heart. Nature has so ordered it, that men shall become

less ardent in their passion after the wedding day; and that women shall

not. Their ardour increases rather than the contrary; and they are

surprisingly quick-sighted and inquisitive on this score. When the

_child_ comes, it divides this ardour with the father; but until then

you have it all; and if you have a mind to be happy, repay it with all

your soul. Let what may happen to put you out of humour with others, let

nothing put you out of humour with her. Let your words and looks and

manners be just what they were before you called her wife.

165. But now, and throughout your life, show your affection for her, and

your admiration of her, not in nonsensical compliment; not in picking up

her handkerchief, or her glove, or in carrying her fan or parasol; not,

if you have the means, in hanging trinkets and baubles upon her; not in

making yourself a fool by winking at, and seeming pleased at, her

foibles, or follies, or faults; but show them by acts of real goodness

towards her; prove by unequivocal deeds the high value that you set on

her health and life and peace of mind; let your praise of her go to the

full extent of her deserts, but let it be consistent with truth and with

sense, and such as to convince her of your sincerity. He who is the

flatterer of his wife only prepares her ears for the hyperbolical stuff

of others. The kindest appellation that her Christian name affords is

the best you can use, especially before faces. An everlasting '_my

dear_' is but a sorry compensation for a want of that sort of love that

makes the husband cheerfully toil by day, break his rest by night,

endure all sorts of hardships, if the life or health of his wife demand

it. Let your deeds, and not your words, carry to her heart a daily and

hourly confirmation of the fact, that you value her health and life and

happiness beyond all other things in the world; and let this be manifest

to her, particularly at those times when life is always more or less in

danger.

166. I began my young marriage days in and near Philadelphia. At one of

those times to which I have just alluded, in the middle of the burning

hot month of July, I was greatly afraid of fatal consequences to my wife

for want of sleep, she not having, after the great danger was over, had

any sleep for more than forty-eight hours. All great cities, in hot

countries, are, I believe, full of dogs; and they, in the very hot

weather, keep up, during the night, a horrible barking and fighting and

howling. Upon the particular occasion to which I am adverting, they made

a noise so terrible and so unremitted, that it was next to impossible

that even a person in full health and free from pain should obtain a

minute's sleep. I was, about nine in the evening, sitting by the bed: 'I

do think,' said she, 'that I could go to sleep _now_, if it were not

_for the dogs_.' Down stairs I went, and out I sallied, in my shirt and

trowsers, and without shoes and stockings; and, going to a heap of

stones lying beside the road, set to work upon the dogs, going backward

and forward, and keeping them at two or three hundred yards' distance

from the house. I walked thus the whole night, barefooted, lest the

noise of my shoes might possibly reach her ears; and I remember that the

bricks of the causeway were, even in the night, so hot as to be

disagreeable to my feet. My exertions produced the desired effect: a

sleep of several hours was the consequence; and, at eight o'clock in the

morning, off went I to a day's business, which was to end at six in the

evening.

167. Women are all patriots of the soil; and when her neighbours used to

ask my wife whether _all_ English husbands were like hers, she boldly

answered in the affirmative. I had business to occupy the whole of my

time, Sundays and weekdays, except sleeping hours; but I used to make

time to assist her in the taking care of her baby, and in all sorts of

things: get up, light her fire, boil her tea-kettle, carry her up warm

water in cold weather, take the child while she dressed herself and got

the breakfast ready, then breakfast, get her in water and wood for the

day, then dress myself neatly, and sally forth to my business. The

moment that was over I used to hasten back to her again; and I no more

thought of spending a moment _away from her_, unless business compelled

me, than I thought of quitting the country and going to sea. The

_thunder_ and _lightning_ are tremendous in America, compared with what

they are in England. My wife was, at one time, very much afraid of

thunder and lightning; and as is the feeling of all such women, and,

indeed, all men too, she wanted company, and particularly her husband,

in those times of danger. I knew well, of course, that my presence would

not diminish the danger; but, be I at what I might, if within reach of

home, I used to quit my business and hasten to her, the moment I

perceived a thunder storm approaching. Scores of miles have I, first and

last, _run_ on this errand, in the streets of Philadelphia! The

Frenchmen, who were my scholars, used to laugh at me exceedingly on this

account; and sometimes, when I was making an appointment with them, they

would say, with a smile and a bow, '_Sauve la tonnerre toujours,

Monsieur Cobbett_.'

168. I never _dangled_ about at the heels of my wife; seldom, very

seldom, ever _walked out_, as it is called, with her; I never 'went _a

walking_' in the whole course of my life; never went to walk without

having some _object_ in view other than the walk; and, as I never could

walk at a slow pace, it would have been _hard work_ for her to keep up

with me; so that, in the nearly forty years of our married life, we have

not walked out together, perhaps, twenty times. I hate a _dangler_, who

is more like a footman than a husband. It is very cheap to be kind in

_trifles_; but that which rivets the affections is not to be purchased

with money. The great thing of all, however, is to prove your anxiety at

those times of peril to her, and for which times you, nevertheless,

wish. Upon those occasions I was never from home, be the necessity for

it ever so great: it was my rule, that every thing must give way to

that. In the year 1809, some English local militiamen were _flogged_, in

the Isle of Ely, in England, under a guard of _Hanoverians_, then

stationed in England. I, reading an account of this in a London

newspaper, called the COURIER, expressed my indignation at it in such

terms as it became an Englishman to do. The Attorney General, Gibbs, was

set on upon me; he harassed me for nearly a year, then brought me to

trial, and I was, by Ellenborough, Grose, Le Blanc, and Bailey,

sentenced to _two years' imprisonment_ in Newgate, to pay a fine to _the

king_ of _a thousand pounds_, and to be held in heavy bail for _seven

years_ after the expiration of the imprisonment! Every one regarded it

as a sentence of _death_. I lived in the country at the time, seventy

miles from London; I had a farm on my hands; I had a family of small

children, amongst whom I had constantly lived; I had a most anxious and

devoted wife, who was, too, in that state, which rendered the separation

more painful ten-fold. I was put into a place amongst _felons_, from

which I had to rescue myself at the price of _twelve guineas a week_ for

the whole of the two years. The _King_, poor man! was, at the close of

my imprisonment, not _in a condition_ to receive the _thousand pounds_;

but his son, the present king, punctually received it _'in his name and

behalf_;' and he keeps it still.

169. The sentence, though it proved not to be one of _death_, was, in

effect, one of _ruin_, as far as then-possessed property went. But this

really appeared as nothing, compared with the circumstance, that I must

now have _a child born in a felons' jail_, or be absent from the scene

at the time of the birth. My wife, who had come to see me for the last

time previous to her lying-in, perceiving my deep dejection at the

approach of her departure for Botley, resolved not to go; and actually

went and took a lodging as near to Newgate as she could find one, in

order that the communication between us might be as speedy as possible;

and in order that I might see the doctor, and receive assurances from

him relative to her state. The nearest lodging that she could find was

in Skinner-street, at the corner of a street leading to Smithfield. So

that there she was, amidst the incessant rattle of coaches and butchers'

carts, and the noise of cattle, dogs, and bawling men; instead of being

in a quiet and commodious country-house, with neighbours and servants

and every thing necessary about her. Yet, so great is the power of the

mind in such cases, she, though the circumstances proved uncommonly

perilous, and were attended with the loss of the child, bore her

sufferings with the greatest composure, because, at any minute she could

send a message to, and hear from, me. If she had gone to Botley, leaving

me in that state of anxiety in which she saw me, I am satisfied that she

would have died; and that event taking place at such a distance from me,

how was I to contemplate her corpse, surrounded by her distracted

children, and to have escaped death, or madness, myself? If such was not

the effect of this merciless act of the government towards me, that

amiable body may be well assured that I have _taken and recorded the

will for the deed_, and that as such it will live in my memory as long

as that memory shall last.

170. I make no apology for this account of my own conduct, because

example is better than precept, and because I believe that my example

may have weight with many thousands, as it has had in respect to early

rising, abstinence, sobriety, industry, and mercy towards the poor. It

is not, then, dangling about after a wife; it is not the loading her

with baubles and trinkets; it is not the jaunting of her about from show

to show, and from what is called pleasure to pleasure. It is none of

these that endears you to her: it is the adherence to that part of the

promise you have made her: 'With my _body_ I thee _worship_;' that is to

say, _respect_ and _honour_ by personal attention and acts of affection.

And remember, that the greatest possible proof that you can give of real

and solid affection is to give her your _time_, when not wanted in

matters of business; when not wanted for the discharge of some _duty_,

either towards the public or towards private persons. Amongst duties of

this sort, we must, of course, in some ranks and circumstances of life,

include the intercourse amongst friends and neighbours, which may

frequently and reasonably call the husband from his home: but what are

we to think of the husband who is in the habit of leaving his own

fire-side, after the business of the day is over, and seeking

promiscuous companions in the ale or the coffee house? I am told that,

in France, it is rare to meet with a husband who does not spend every

evening of his life in what is called a _caffé_; that is to say, a place

for no other purpose than that of gossipping, drinking and gaming. And

it is with great sorrow that I acknowledge that many English husbands

indulge too much in a similar habit. Drinking clubs, smoking clubs,

singing clubs, clubs of odd-fellows, whist clubs, sotting clubs: these

are inexcusable, they are censurable, they are at once foolish and

wicked, even in single men; what must they be, then, in _husbands_; and

how are they to answer, not only to their wives, but to their children,

for this profligate abandonment of their homes; this breach of their

solemn vow made to the former, this evil example to the latter?

171. Innumerable are the miseries that spring from this cause. The

_expense_ is, in the first place, very considerable. I much question

whether, amongst tradesmen, a _shilling_ a night pays the average score;

and that, too, for that which is really _worth_ nothing at all, and

cannot, even by possibility, be attended with any one single advantage,

however small. Fifteen pounds a year thus thrown away, would amount, in

the course of a tradesman's life, to a decent fortune for a child. Then

there is the injury to _health_ from these night adventures; there are

the _quarrels_, there is the vicious habit of loose and filthy talk;

there are the slanders and the back-bitings; there is the admiration of

contemptible wit, and there are the scoffings at all that is sober and

serious.

172. And does the husband who thus abandons his wife and children

imagine that she will not, in some degree at least, follow his example?

If he do, he is very much deceived. If she imitate him even in drinking,

he has no great reason to complain; and then the cost may be _two

shillings_ the night instead of one, equal in amount to the cost of all

the bread wanted in the family, while the baker's bill is, perhaps,

unpaid. Here are the slanderings, too, going on at home; for, while the

husbands are assembled, it would be hard if the wives were not to do the

same; and the very least that is to be expected is, that the _tea-pot_

should keep pace with the porter-pot or grog-glass. Hence crowds of

female acquaintances and intruders, and all the consequent and

inevitable squabbles which form no small part of the torment of the life

of man.

Advice to young men, and (incidentally) to young women, in the middle and higher ranks of life · 第 10 / 22 段