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_.