ON WIDOWS
Women do have grievances--Various specimens of widows--The jolly
widow--The inconsolate widow--The plump widow--Marriageable
widows--Mourning and black--Last wills and testaments--How long
should a widow mourn her husband?--'You should have seen me
yesterday!'
Mothers-in-law are for ever a target for men's sarcasms. Stepmothers
are supposed to be the embodiment of everything that is mean. On the
other hand, I have never heard fathers-in-law turned into ridicule, and
stepfathers are invariably painted by novelists as unselfish, devoted
men who come to the rescue of widows, and help them to bring up their
children in comfort and happiness.
Poor women do have grievances, and no mistake!
And the widows--oh, the widows! Now, what have they done that they
should be the butts for the jokes that are made at their expense? Why
should they provoke the sarcasms and excite the scorn of men instead of
their pity or, at all events, their kind sympathy?
If a widow's grief is great and she wears the deepest mourning, she is
called an 'inconsolable, desolate widow,' and people smile, saying with
a sneer: 'She will soon be cured.' If she bears up bravely and well,
she is called a 'jolly widow,' and people say: 'She is already better.'
If she remains amiable and attractive, she is immediately baptized a
'wily widow,' and if her good constitution is such that even her
sorrows and worries do not make her get thin, but the contrary, she is
called a 'plump widow,' and people wink. And all the time the widower
escapes scot-free. Men respect his sadness, are prepared to write odes
about him if he remain faithful to the memory of his wife, and send him
hearty congratulations if he remarry. Never a smile; no sarcasm, no
scorn!
What awful cowards men are! And what surpasses me is that, as a rule,
women are to be found who join them in all the jovial remarks that are
passed on widows.
* * * * *
However, widows are not altogether without their revenge. They get many
advantages. They have the best of young girls in the matrimonial
market. The most-courted woman in the world is the rich young widow.
She has a fascination that very few unmarried women possess, and many
men prefer her. Why? Don't ask me. Widows know the world, have
experience in dealing with men. There are teachers, destitute of
patience, who prefer advanced pupils to beginners. Mere laziness, my
dear friends, nothing else!
Men are so conceited, too! If they were not, how would they dare marry
a widow and constantly run the risk of being found far less loving,
pleasant, and attractive than number one was? It is true that if, after
a quarrel, a man's wife should exclaim, 'How I do regret my first
husband!' he would have a chance to cure her of that expression, by
remarking quietly: 'My dear, you will never regret him as much as I
do!' But all this does not suggest to the mind a happy condition of
matrimonial affairs.
* * * * *
Widows are less marriageable in England than in other countries, for
this reason: that their husbands, in their wills, almost invariably
stipulate that they leave so much to their wives on the condition that
they will not remarry. If they do, they forfeit everything. Of course,
to a certain extent, I understand that a man does not feel anxious to
know that if, by his industry and carefulness, he has succeeded in
amassing a plump little fortune, Smith, Brown, or Robinson will one day
enjoy it in the company of his wife. Still, why not? What does it
matter? If his wife has been good to him and she is still young when he
dies, why should he condemn her to solitude for the rest of her days?
What good does it do to him, when he is under the grass, to have his
wife lonely and miserable? If I were a woman ever so fond of my
husband, I would so much resent that stipulation that I would tear his
will in pieces and marry the first respectable and attractive man who
sought my hand.
Compared to the Englishman who makes such a will, how I admire that
Frenchman who penned the following one: 'I leave to my dear wife, for
her sole and absolute use, everything I possess and everything I may
become possessed of. She may remain a widow or remarry, just as she
pleases. I am not afraid of competition!' I cannot help thinking that
this is the proper way to treat a woman who has been a true friend to
you, the partaker of your pleasures, of your joys and sorrows, and
that, on leaving her, you may as well pay her the compliment of taking
it for granted that she will know what is best for her and act
accordingly.
In France, a widow wears deep mourning for her husband during a year,
and half mourning during another year. Many a French widow wears
mourning during her lifetime. For that matter, there is no country in
the world where mourning is worn so long as in France, in the provinces
especially, where half the population is in black for somebody or
other. This outside show of grief may be exaggerated, for real mourning
is worn in the heart, not in the clothes; yet if a French widow in a
small provincial town should shorten her widow's veil by an inch,
people would say: 'If she never cared for her husband, she might have
the decency not to advertise the fact and fish already for another!'
And you have to conform to the usages of a country, especially when you
live in one which, like provincial France, is built of glass houses.
* * * * *
How long should a widow mourn the loss of her husband?
Two days after the funeral of her husband, a young widow received the
visit of a friend, who remarked, on seeing the sadness engraven on her
face:
'Poor dear! how sad, how haggard you look!'
'Ah, dear, that's nothing,' sighed the young widow; 'you should have
seen me yesterday!'
As a rule husbands are mourned as long as they deserve.
And so are we all.