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.