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_.