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[Illustration: Very sincerely yours, Annie S. Swan.]
Twenty-fourth thousand.
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE
And the Gentle Art of Home-Making.
by
ANNIE S. SWAN (Mrs. Burnett-Smith),
Author of "A Bitter Debt," "Homespun," "Aldersyde," Etc., Etc.
"_Love is the incense that doth sweeten earth._"
"_Be it ever so humble,
There's no place like home._"
London, 1894:
Hutchinson & Co., 34, Paternoster Row.
* * * * * *
New Books
By ANNIE S. SWAN.
A BITTER DEBT.
A TALE OF THE BLACK COUNTRY.
_In large crown 8vo, handsome cloth gilt binding, with
illustrations by D. Murray-Smith. Price 5s._
Thirty-second Thousand.
HOMESPUN:
A STUDY OF A SIMPLE FOLK.
_In cloth, gilt, 1s. 6d., paper, 1s. With Illustrations._
"The language is perfect; the highest strings of humanity
are touched."--_Athenaeum._
"'Homespun' is excellent, a masterpiece. It is told with
great skill, and quiet but genuine power. The story will
long be a favourite in Scotland, and is sure to be widely
read in England."--_British Weekly._
"Power and felicity are in evidence on every page."--_Glasgow
Herald._
London: HUTCHINSON & Co., 34, Paternoster Row.
* * * * * *
TO
The Loved Memory
OF
MY FATHER.
"An honest man--the noblest work of God."
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE LOVERS 7
II. THE IDEAL WIFE 19
III. THE IDEAL HUSBAND 30
IV. THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIED LIFE 43
V. THE IDEAL HOME 56
VI. KEEPING THE HOUSE 64
VII. THE TRUEST ECONOMY 72
VIII. ON KEEPING UP APPEARANCES 80
IX. MOTHERHOOD 90
X. THE SON IN THE HOME 99
XI. THE DAUGHTER IN THE HOME 109
XII. THE EDUCATION OF OUR DAUGHTERS 117
XIII. THE SERVANT IN THE HOME 128
XIV. RELIGION IN THE HOME 136
[Illustration]
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.
I.
_THE LOVERS._
Of this truly gentle art we do not hear a great deal. It has no
academies connected with its name, no learned body of directors or
councillors, no diplomas or graduation honours; yet curiously enough it
offers more enduring consequences than any other art which makes more
noise in the world. Its business is the most serious business of life,
fraught with the mightiest issues here and hereafter--viz., the moulding
of human character and the guiding of human conduct. It is right and
fitting, then, that it should demand from us some serious attention,
and we may with profit consider how it can best be fostered and made
competent to bless the greatest number, which, I take it, is the _ultima
Thule_ of all art. To trace this gentle art from its early stages we
must first consider, I think, the relation to each other before marriage
of the young pair who aim at the upbuilding of a home, wherein they
shall not only be happy themselves, but which, in their best moments,
when the heavenly and the ideal is before them, they hope to make a
centre of influence from which shall go forth means of grace and
blessing to others.
I do not feel that any apology is required for my desire to linger a
little over that old-fashioned yet ever-new phase of life known as
courting days. It is one which is oftener made a jest of than a serious
study; yet such is its perennial freshness and interest for men and
women, that it can never become threadbare; and though there cannot be
much left that is new or original to say about it, yet a few thoughts
from a woman's point of view may not be altogether unacceptable. We are
constantly being told that we live in a hard, prosaic age, that romance
has no place in our century, and that the rush and the fever of life
have left but little time or inclination for the old-time grace and
leisure with which our grandfathers and grandmothers loved, wooed, and
wed.
This study of human nature is my business, and it appears to me that the
world is very much as it was--that Eden is still possible to those who
are fit for it; and it is beyond question that love, courtship, and
marriage are words to conjure with in the garden of youth, and that a
love-story has yet the power to charm even sober men and women of middle
age, for whom romance is mistakenly supposed to be over.
Every man goes to woo in his own way, and the woman he woos is apt to
think it the best way in the world; it would be superfluous for a mere
outsider to criticise it. Examples might be multiplied; in the novels we
read we have variety and to spare. We know the types well. Let me
enumerate a few. The diffident youth, weighed down with a sense of his
own unworthiness, approaching his divinity with a blush and a stammer;
and in some extreme cases--these much affected by the novelists of an
earlier decade--going down upon his knees; the bold wooer, who believes
in storming the citadel, and is visited by no misgiving qualms; the
cautious one, who counts the cost, and tries to make sure of his answer
beforehand,--the only case in which I believe that a woman has a right
to exercise the qualities of the coquette; then we have also the victim
of extreme shyness, who would never come to the point at all without a
little assistance from the other side. There are other types,--the
schemer and the self-seeker, whose matrimonial ventures are only
intended to advance worldly interests. We need not begin to dissect
them--it would not be a profitable occupation.
Well, while not seeking or attempting to lay down rules or offer any
proposition as final, there are sundry large and general principles
which may be touched upon to aid us in looking at this interesting
subject from a sympathetic and common-sense point of view.
Most people, looking back, think their own romance the most beautiful in
the world, even if it sometimes lacked that dignity which the onlooker
thought desirable.
It is a crisis in the life of a young maiden when she becomes conscious
for the first time that she is an object of special interest to a member
of the opposite sex; that interest being conveyed in a thousand delicate
yet unmistakable ways, which cause a strange flutter at her heart, and
make her examine her own feelings to find whether there be a responsive
chord. The modest, sensible, womanly girl, who is not yet extinct, in
spite of sundry croakers, will know much better than anybody can tell
her how to adjust her own conduct at this crisis in her life. Her own
innate delicacy and niceness of perception will guide her how to act,
and if the attentions be acceptable to her she will give just the right
meed of encouragement, so that the course of true love may run smoothly
towards consummation. Of course the usual squalls and cross currents
must be looked for--else would that delightful period of life be robbed
of its chief zest and charm, to say nothing of the unhappy novelist's
occupation, which would undoubtedly be gone for ever.
There have occasionally been discussions as to the desirability of long
engagements, and there are sufficient arguments both for and against;
but the best course appears to be, as in most other affairs of life, to
try and strike the happy medium. Of necessity, circumstances alter
cases. When the young pair have known each other for a long period of
years, and there are no obstacles in the way, the long engagement is
then superfluous.
But in cases where an attachment arises out of a very brief
acquaintance, I should think it desirable that some little time should
be given for the pair to know something of each other before incurring
the serious responsibility of life together. Of course it is true that
you cannot thoroughly know a person till you live with him or her; yet
it is surely possible to form a fair estimate of personal character
before entering on that crucial ordeal, and there is no doubt that fair
opportunity given for such estimate considerably reduces the matrimonial
risk. That the risk is great and serious even the most giddy and
thoughtless will not deny. No doubt both men and maidens are on their
best behaviour during courting days; still, if a mask be worn, it must
of necessity sometimes be drawn aside, and a glimpse of the real
personality obtained.
It is not for me to say what should or should not be the conduct of a
young man during his period of probation, though of course I may be
allowed my own ideas concerning it. One thing, however, is very sure,
and that is, that if he truly and whole-heartedly love the woman he
desires to make his wife, this pure and ennobling passion, which I
believe to be a "means of grace" to every man, will arouse all that is
best and purest and highest in him,--that is, if the woman be worthy his
regard, and capable of exercising such an influence over him. It is
possible for a man to deteriorate under the constant companionship of a
light-minded, frivolous woman, who by force of her personal attractions
and fascinations can keep him at her side, even against his better
judgment. But only for a time: the woman who has beauty only, and does
not possess those lasting qualities, stability of mind and purity of
heart, will not long retain her hold upon the affections she has won.
I will do men credit to believe that they desire something more in a
wife than mere physical attractions, though these are by no means to be
despised. I am sure every unmarried man hopes to find in the wife he may
yet marry a companion and a sympathiser, who will wear the same
steadfast and lovely look on grey days as well as gold.
I once heard a young Scotch working man give his definition of a good
wife--"A woman who will be the same to you on off-Saturday as pay
Saturday." Nor was he very wide of the mark. I have no sort of
hesitation in laying down a law for the guidance of young women during
that halcyon time "being engaged." She knows very well, without any
telling from me, that her influence is almost without limit. In these
days before marriage the haunting fear of losing her is before her
lover's mind, making him at once humble and pliable, and it is then
that the wise, womanly girl sows the seed which will bear rich harvest
in the more prosaic days of married life, when many engrossing cares are
apt to wean her from the finer shading of higher things.
And here I would wish to emphasise one inexorable fact, which is too
often passed by or made light of. I do not set it down in a bitter or
pessimistic spirit, but simply stating what men and women of larger
experience know to be true: what a man will not give up for a woman
before marriage, he never will after. Therefore no young girl can make a
more profound mistake than to marry a man of doubtful habits in the hope
of reforming him after she is his wife. The reformation must be begun,
if not ended before, or the risks are perilous indeed. She will probably
repent her folly in sadness and tears. And here I would protest, and
solemnly, against that view, held by some women, I believe, though I
hope they are few: that a man is none the worse for having been a little
fast. It is a most dangerous creed, and one which has done much to lower
the morals of this and other days. Let us reverse the position, and ask
whether any man in his right mind will admit as much in regarding the
woman he would make his wife. If it is imperative that she should be
blameless and pure, let him see to it that his record also is
clean--that he is fit to mate with her. And I would implore the mistaken
and foolish girls who entertain an idea so false to every principle of
righteousness and purity to put it from them for ever, and exact from
the men to whom they give themselves so absolutely and irrevocably, a
standard of purity as high as that set for them. I speak strongly on
this subject because it is one on which I feel so very strongly. There
is no necessity for priggishness or preaching; the womanly woman, true
to the highest ideal, the ideal which God has set for her, can surround
herself with that atmosphere, indescribable, undefinable, but in the
presence of which impurity and lightness of speech or behaviour cannot
live. I believe women are our great moral teachers--would that more of
them would awaken to the stupendous greatness of their calling!
Love is the most wonderful educator in the world; it opens up worlds and
possibilities undreamed of to those to whom it comes, the gift of God. I
am speaking of love which is worthy of the name, not of its many
counterfeits. The genuine article only, based upon respect and esteem,
can stand the test of time, the wear and tear of life; the love which is
the wine of life, more stimulating and more heart-inspiring when the
days are dark than at any other time,--the love which rises to the
occasion, and which many waters cannot quench.
Blessed be God that it is still as possible to us men and women of
to-day as to the pair that dwelt in Eden!
[Illustration]
II.
_THE IDEAL WIFE._
Now having brought our young pair so far on the road, we must needs go a
step farther, and see what grit is in them for the plain prose of daily
life; not that we admit or hint for a moment that poetry must be laid
aside, only the prose may, very likely will, demand their first
consideration. If the novels most eagerly read, most constantly sought
after at the libraries and book-shops, are any sign of the times, we may
feel very certain that marriage has caused no diminution of interest in
those looking on, but rather the reverse, so we may follow them without
hesitation across the threshold of their new home.
And as the wife is properly supposed to be the light and centre of the
home, we must first consider her position in it, and her fitness for it.
It is by no means so easy to fill the position successfully as the
uninitiated are apt to suppose; and I have no hesitation in saying that
the first year of married life is a crucial test of a woman's
disposition and character. It brings out her individuality in bold
relief, shows her at her worst and best. She has to give herself so
entirely and unreservedly, and in many cases to merge her individuality
in that of another, that to do it with grace requires a considerable
drain on her fund of unselfishness. It is even more difficult in cases
where the wife has come from a home where she was idolised, and perhaps
indulged a great deal more than was good for her.
It seems to me that one of the most valuable qualities the new wife can
take with her is unselfishness. Equipped with that, everything else will
come easily.
While it is true that she is required, to a certain extent, sometimes
greater and sometimes less, to take a back place, she must be careful
not to lose her individuality, to become merely an echo of her husband,
to render herself insipid. It is a fine distinction, perhaps, but
necessary to observe, because I am sure there is no man here present,
married or unmarried, or anywhere else, unless a fool, who would wish to
be tied for life to a nonentity.
The woman who dearly loves her husband will never seek to usurp his
place as head of the house; nay, she will delight to keep herself in the
background if by so doing he can show to more advantage. Even if nature
has endowed her with gifts more richly than her spouse, she will be
careful, out of the very wealth of her love, not to make the contrast
observable.
It has been said that men prefer as wives women whose intelligence is
not above the average; but is that not a libel on the sex? The higher
the intelligence the more satisfactory the performance of the duties
required of a reasonable being; and I would therefore insist that the
woman of large brain power, provided she has well-balanced judgment, and
a heart as expansive as her brain, will more nearly approach the ideal
in matrimony than the more frivolous woman, who has no thought beyond
her personal aggrandisement and adornment, and who buys her new bonnet
with a kiss.
The woman who looks with intelligent interest upon the large questions
affecting the welfare of the world is likely to bring a more wide and
loving sympathy to bear upon the concerns of more immediate moment to
her, and which affect the welfare of all within the walls of her home.
I am old-fashioned enough to think these latter should be her first
concern, but in her large heart she may have room for many more; for
when the outlook is narrow and mean, when nothing is deemed of
consequence except what affects self and those circled by selfish
interest, life becomes a poor thing, and human nature a stunted and
miserable quality. I have known, as, I daresay, you also have known,
women whose whole talk is "my home," "my husband," "my children," until
one grows weary of the selfish iteration, and prays to be delivered from
it.
We have of late years had much amusing and perhaps, in some remote
degree, profitable newspaper discussion on the subject of married life,
and the respective merits of wives. On the whole, the wife, I think, has
fared but badly at the hands of her critics. She is a great grievance to
some, it would appear, from the minuteness with which her faults and
failings have been enumerated. That she may have her uses has been
somewhat grudgingly admitted; that she may in some rare instances
sweeten the desert of life for her mate is not absolutely denied; but in
the main she is judged to have fallen short--in a word, she is _not_
ideal. Of course such discussion and such verdict is but the froth on a
passing wave; still, it serves to illustrate my contention that there is
no subject on earth of more surpassing interest to men and women than
this very theme we are considering. The men who have written on the
subject lay great stress on a loving disposition and an amiable temper,
which are indeed two most powerful factors in the scene of wedded
happiness. An amiable temper is a gift of God which cannot be too highly
prized, since those who have it not must be constantly at war with self.
When combined with these sweet qualities is a large meed of common
sense, which accepts the inevitable, even if it bring disappointment and
disillusionment in its train, with a cheerful philosophy, then is the
happiness of married life secured. The buffets of fortune cannot touch
it--its house is builded on a rock.
It is Lady Henry Somerset, I think, who has said that sentimentality
has been from time immemorial the curse of woman. There is a great deal
of truth in the remark. We want women to be delivered from this sickly
thrall of sentimentality--which word I use as distinct from sentiment, a
very different quality indeed; we desire them to take wider, healthier,
sounder views of life.
In fiction it is no longer considered necessary to bring one's heroine
to the very verge of a decline in order to make her interesting; and
nobody now has much sympathy with Thackeray's favourite Amelia, and
other limp young women who are dissolved in tears on the smallest
provocation, sometimes on none at all.
No, we want a more robust womanhood than that, sound of body and sound
of mind, in order that our homes may be happy and well regulated, our
children born and reared fit for the battle of life. A well-known
novelist, lecturing recently on the younger generation of
fiction-writers, remarked that Robert Louis Stevenson, in ignoring
woman so much in his works, had passed by the most picturesque part of
human life. The contention was perfectly unimpeachable from the artistic
point of view; but we aim, I trust, at being something more than
picturesque. While not disdaining the high privilege of giving the
romance and sweetness to life, we would desire also to be strong,
capable, serviceable to our day and generation. So and so only can we
hope to be the equal and the friend of man. But in this worthy aim we
have to steer clear of many quicksands; we must avoid the very semblance
of usurpation or imitation.
Surely we are sufficiently endowed with our own gifts and graces, so
powerful in their influence, that I need not enumerate or expatiate upon
them here.
Let us not forget that in true womanliness is our strength, and that the
end of our being is to comfort and bless and love--never to usurp.
What can be more melancholy than to live with a grumbler, to sit
opposite a face prematurely wrinkled at the brows and down-drooped at
the lips? I have in my mind's eye, as perhaps you have in yours, such a
woman, tied to the best of good fellows, who, through no fault of his
own, has not as yet made such headway in life as was expected of him.
And his Nemesis sits at home, querulous and fretful because her
establishment is more modest than her ambition, her possessions than her
pretensions. Life is embittered to him; hope has died: if love follow it
sadly to the bier, who can blame him? Certainly not the woman who has
been a hindrance and not a help, one whose reproaches, tacit and
acknowledged, have caused the iron to enter into his soul. It is such
women who send men to mental and moral destruction, nor is their
punishment lacking.
The ideal wife, then, will sedulously cultivate the happy spirit of
contentment, and make the best of everything, not seeking to add to the
burden an already overworked husband may have to carry. It is not the
abundance of worldly possessions which makes happiness. I can speak from
personal experience, and I could tell you a story of a young pair who
began life in very humble circumstances, in the face of much opposition,
and who, by dint of honest, faithful, united endeavours, overcame
obstacles over which Experience shook her head and called
insurmountable. And the struggle being over, the memory of it is sweet
beyond all telling,--the little shifts to make ends meet, the constant
planning and striving, the simple pleasures won by waiting and hard
work, are possessions which they would not barter for untold gold.
The woman who loves and is beloved finds herself strong to bear the ills
that may meet her from day to day. We have much to bear physically, and
it is hard to carry always a bright spirit in a frail body; but we have
our compensations, which are many. They will at once occur to every
sympathetic and discerning heart, but are they not after all summed up
in the eloquent words of Holy Writ, "The heart of her husband doth
safely trust in her;" "Her children arise and call her blessed"?
And these, after all, are the heavenliest gifts for women here below,
and the wise woman, so blessed, will always feel that her possessions
are greater than her needs, and in her loving service, for her own
first, and afterwards for all whom her blessed influence can reach, will
as near as possible approach the ideal. With God, tender to Woman
always, we may safely leave the rest.
[Illustration]
III.
_THE IDEAL HUSBAND._
The duties and obligations of the husband in the house are surely not
less binding than those of the wife; he has to contribute his share
towards its happiness or misery. The ideal husband, from a woman's point
of view, is a many-sided creature; but his outstanding characteristic
must of necessity be his power to make the home of which he is the head
come as near to the heavenly type as may be in this mundane sphere.
However wise and wifely and absolutely conscientious in her endeavour
the wife may be, she cannot unaided make the perfect home--it must be a
joint concern. The pity of it is we so often see two, bound together by
the closest and most indissoluble of all earthly ties, walking their
separate ways, forgetful of both spirit and letter of their marriage
vows. This home-making and home-keeping quality is the very wherefore of
the man's existence as a husband; for his home with its shelter,
adequate or inadequate, is all he has to offer in exchange for the woman
who has given him herself. If she be cheated of her birthright here, she
may consider herself poor indeed.
There are undoubtedly very many selfish and purely self-seeking women,
who starve the atmosphere about them; but as a rule the beauty of true
unselfishness is oftener found adorning the female character than the
male. Nobody attempts to deny this, therefore when we meet a truly
unselfish man we must regard him with reverence, as a being truly great.
It is without doubt a more arduous task for a man to cultivate the
unselfish spirit, because the training of the race for centuries has
rather tended to the fostering of selfishness in him--woman having for
long been cheated of her lawful place and power in the scheme of
creation.
The quality most of all admired by woman in man is manliness: she can
forgive almost anything but his lack of courage.
The manly man, conscious of his strength, is of necessity tender and
considerate towards those weaker than himself, and so wins their
confidence and love. When he marries, therefore, he takes a wife to
shield her from the rude blasts of the world; all that his care and
tenderness can do will be done to make lighter for her the ordinary
burdens of life. Nor will he expect impossibilities, nor growl because
he finds he has married a very human woman, with a great many needs and
wants. Angels do not mate with mortals, the contrast would be too
one-sided.
It is well with the man who has in his wife not only a bright companion
for his days of sunshine, but who in the crises of his life finds in her
heart the jewel of common sense and the pearl of a quick understanding.
The wife who comprehends him at once when he says expenditure has been
too heavy, that it must be reduced to meet the altered finances, and who
not only comprehends, but cheerfully acquiesces, planning with him how
retrenchment can best be carried out; the wife to whom the lack of the
new bonnet or the new carpet is a matter of small moment,--she it is who
makes glad the heart of her husband. Ay, but what kind of a husband? He
must first deserve this jewel before he can expect her to display those
qualities which money cannot buy, but which prevent marriage from being
the failure sundry croakers would have us believe. How is he to deserve
her? how win her to this most desirable height of perfection? By
treating her as an entirely reasonable being, which most women are, in
spite of many affirmations to the contrary.
The monetary basis of the engagement matrimonial is not, unfortunately,
always sound. How common it is for a man to keep his wife in utter
ignorance of the state of his affairs, thus depriving her of the only
safe guide she can have in the conduct of her domestic affairs! If a
woman is to be a man's true helpmeet, she must stand shoulder to
shoulder with him in everything, sharing as far as is possible his
anxieties and his hopes, and by judicious expenditure of his means
aiding him to the best position it is possible for him to attain. Of
course there are poor silly creatures fit to be wife to no man, who do
not deserve and could not appreciate confidence, and who are lamentably
ignorant of the value of L _s. d._ But the majority of wives, I would
hope, possess sufficient common sense to comprehend the simple questions
of income and expenditure when candidly placed before them. How
delightful, as well as imperative, to go into a committee of ways and
means periodically, talking over everything confidentially, and feeling
the sweet bond of union growing closer and dearer because of the cares
and worries none can escape, though love and sympathy can make them
light!
There is a type of husband--unfortunately rather common--who begrudges
his wife, whatever her character and disposition, every penny she
spends, even though it is spent primarily for his own comfort, and who
has never in his life cheerfully opened out to her his purse, whatever
he may have done with the thing he calls his heart. This is a very
serious matter, and one which presses heavily on the hearts of many
wives. It is hard for a young girl, who may in her father's house have
had pocket money always to supply her simple needs, to find herself
after marriage practically penniless--having to ask for every penny she
requires, and often to explain minutely how and where it is to be spent.
I have known a man who required an absolute account of every halfpenny
spent by his wife, and who took from her change of the shilling he had
given her for a cab fare. We must pray, for the credit of the sex, that
there are few so lost to all gentlemanly feeling, to speak of nothing
else; but it is certain that, through thoughtlessness as much as
stinginess often, many sensitive women suffer keenly from this form of
humiliation. It ought not to be. If a woman is worthy to be trusted with
a man's honour, which is supposed to be more valuable to him than his
gold, let her likewise be trusted with a little of the latter, without
having to crave it and answer for it as a servant sent on an errand
counts out the copper change to her master on her return. There are many
little harmless trifles a woman wants, many small kindnesses she would
do on the impulse of the moment, had she money in her purse; and though
she may sometimes not be altogether wise, she is blessed in the doing,
and nobody is the poorer. However small a man's income, there are surely
a few odd shillings the wife might have for her very own, if only to
gratify her harmless little whims, and to make her feel that she
sometimes has a penny to spare. It is quite desirable, I think, that
there should be, even where means are limited (I am not of course
alluding to working people whose weekly wage is barely sufficient for
family needs), some arrangement whereby the wife may have something,
however small, upon which she can depend, and which she can spend when
and how she pleases.
Some indulgent fathers, foreseeing the possibility of their daughters
feeling the lack of a little money, continue their allowance to their
married daughters; but there are very few husbands, one would think, who
would care to leave their wives so dependent for little luxuries it
should be their privilege to supply.
The labourer is surely worthy of his hire; and the wife, upon whose
shoulders the domestic load presses most heavily, is as justly entitled
to her payment as her housemaid, whose duties are more clearly defined.
Some high-flown personages may think this a very gross view of the case,
and say, perchance, that where love is there can never be any hardship
felt. But I know that I touch upon what is a sore point with many women,
and I can only hope that if any stingy husbands read these words they
will try a little experiment on their own account, and see how the
unexpected gift of a little money, offered lovingly, can bring the light
back to eyes which have grown a little weary, and smooth the lines away
from a brow which care has wrinkled before its time.
The ideal husband we are considering will also be a home-keeping
husband. Let me not here be misunderstood. No sensible woman will desire
to keep her husband always at her side, nor can any woman make a more
profound mistake than to try and wean the man she has married away from
all his old friends and associations. I am speaking of good men, of
course, whose friends and associations are such as she need not regard
with apprehension. Yet it is a mistake which many women make, and it is
a common saying with the bachelors who may miss a certain bright spirit
from their midst, "Oh, nobody ever sees him now, he's married!" And
there is a peculiar emphasis on the last word which you must hear to
appreciate, but it signifies that he is as good as dead.
Now why should this be? The wise wife, instead of being so small-minded
and jealous, should try to remember that there is a side of man's nature
which demands sympathy and contact with his own sex--and also that her
husband knew and loved these old friends of his perhaps before he ever
saw her. Let her try instead to make them all so welcome in her home
that they will come and come again, and instead of pitying her husband
because he has got his head into a noose will go away thinking him a
lucky fellow. This is not an impossibility. It can be done.
But while this husband of ours does not give up his old friends of his
own sex, nor abjure all the manly pursuits and recreations so dear to
his soul in his state of bachelorhood, he will take care that they do
not absorb an undue share of his leisure, but will prefer home and wife
to them all, and _let her know it_. He will not be above expressing his
satisfaction when his home suddenly strikes him with more force than
usual as being the sweetest place on earth; he will say so just as
frankly as he finds fault when there is just cause for complaint; and
she will return it by a loving interest pressed down and running over,
or I am neither woman nor wife.
The ideal husband, then, is no more perfect than the ideal wife; nor
would she wish him to be other than he is, manly, generous,
kindly-hearted, well-conditioned, and, above all things, true as steel.
That he occasionally loses his temper, and does many thoughtless and
stupid things, makes no difference so long as his heart is pure and
tender and true.
The ideal relationship betwixt husband and wife has always appeared to
me to be comradeship,--a standing shoulder to shoulder, upholding each
other through thick and thin, and above all keeping their inner
sanctuary sacred from the world. What says one of our greatest teachers
in "Romola"?--"She who willingly lifts the veil from her married life
transforms it from a sanctuary into a vulgar place." These are solemn
words, solemn and true. We have in these strange days too much
publicity--the fierce light beats not only on the throne but on the
humbler home. The craving for details relating to the private life of
those who may in any degree stand out among their fellows has developed
into a species of disease. Kept within due bounds this curiosity is in
itself harmless, and may be to a certain extent gratified, but the
privacy of domestic life cannot be too sacredly guarded; the home ought
to be to tired men and women a veritable sanctuary where they can be at
peace.
[Illustration]
IV.
_THE FIRST YEAR OF MARRIED LIFE._
This is the crucial period in the lives of most married people; the test
which decides the wisdom or the folly of the step they have taken. Now,
when the irrevocable words have been said, the vow taken for better or
for worse, and the door shut upon the outside world, if any mask has
been worn it is laid aside and true self revealed. To some this means
disillusionment, and disappointment is inevitable, since marriage is
entered on from a great variety of motives, and love is not always the
first and most potent. With these, meanwhile, we do not propose to deal;
their punishment is certain, since there can be no misery on earth more
hopeless and more galling than the misery of a loveless marriage.
But even ordinary happy and sensible people, who have married for love,
and who honestly desire to make their home as far as possible an earthly
paradise, cannot escape the inevitable strain of this first year of
married life. To begin with, it is a trite saying that you cannot know a
person until you live with him or her; and people come to years of
maturity have formed habits of thought and action which may, in some
cases must, clash with those of the other with whom they are brought
into contact every day. Contact, too, from which it is impossible to
escape. You meet in business and society many persons with whom you find
it difficult to agree, whose opinions jar upon you, and who rub you the
wrong way, and you find it irksome enough to meet such a person even
occasionally; imagine, then, what it would be like were you placed in,
or forced to endure, his or her companionship every day. Yet such is the
experience of some married persons, who have rushed into matrimony
without due knowledge or consideration.
But leaving these extreme cases out of the question, meanwhile let us
think of the test of perpetual companionship as applied to an ordinary
pair who enter on married life with the ordinary prospect of happiness.
During the days of courtship and engagement they, of course, saw a good
deal of each other, and got to know, as they thought, every peculiarity
and characteristic. Sometimes, even, they had quarrels arising out of
trifles, foolish misunderstandings which caused serious heart-burnings,
none of which, however, were of long duration; and the making up was
invariably sweet enough to atone for the temporary misery, and help to
make up the poetry of life. But the lovers' quarrel and the quarrel
matrimonial are entirely different; and while the former is usually but
a passing breeze, the latter is more serious, and to be avoided almost
at any cost. We want fair winds always, if possible, to speed our
matrimonial barque; we do not wish its timbers shaken by the whirlwind
of passion.
We have all our little peculiarities, excrescences of character which
are apt to rub roughly against our neighbours' sensibilities, let us
not, when feeling these drawbacks, forget our own. We are so apt to
magnify in others, and to minimise in ourselves.
It is easy to be on good behaviour with a person we only see
occasionally, even every day, so long as the cares and worries of life
are in the background, never obtruded, however heavily they press,
because these short moments are too precious to be clouded in any way.
It is easy to be unselfish for a little while; to bow, now and then,
absolutely to another's will; to suffer discomfort once a week, if
necessary, to make a dear one comfortable. All such little sacrifices
during courting days seem but a privilege, and make up the poetry of
that happy time.
But the day comes sooner or later to the married pair, when the prose
pages must be turned, and poetry relegated to the background, days on
which the reality of life, in all its grim nakedness, seems to banish
romance, and when love needs all its strength and staying power for the
fight. The common-sense man or woman, of which type a few examples yet
remain with us, will prepare themselves for the slight disappointments
which are inevitable, when two people, regarding each other from an
adoring distance, and having invested each other with many exaggerated
gifts and graces, put themselves voluntarily to the test of everyday
life, with all its prosaic details, its crosses and losses, its silences
and its tears. It is like making a new acquaintance, having to meet
each other in all situations, and in various unromantic and sometimes
supremely trying conditions. Edwin pacing his chamber floor
anathematising a buttonless shirt is a picture our comic journals have
made familiar to us; and Angelina in her curl-papers and untidy morning
gown looks a different being from the sylph in evening attire all smiles
and blushes. These extreme examples serve only to illustrate my
contention, that the closeness of the marriage relation carries its
peril with it. To the man or woman, however, who marries for that love
which is based on the qualities of both head and heart, and who knows
that daily life, with its rubs and scrubs, will sometimes mar the
sweetest temper and cloud the serenest brow, there cannot come any
serious disillusionment. Loving each other dearly, they remember they
are but human; and as perfection is not inborn in humanity, they accept
each other's faults and shortcomings gracefully, not magnifying them
sourly and grumblingly, but bearing with them, and rejoicing in and
accepting the good.
Domestic life to the young and untried housekeeper is something of an
ordeal. She may have had her own place in her father's home, her own
special duties to attend to, even her own share of responsibility.
Still, it is an altogether different matter to have the entire care of a
household, to guide all its concerns, and be responsible for the
domestic comfort of all within the four walls of the house. Happy the
young wife who had a wise mother, and came well-equipped from the
parental home.
There is no more fruitful source of the disappointment and
disillusionment of which we have been speaking than incapacity on the
part of the young wife to steer the domestic boat. All men like creature
comforts, and are more keenly sensible perhaps than women to the
advantages of a well-ordered home. We all know how women living alone
are apt to neglect themselves in the matter of preparing regular and
substantial meals; and how many suffer thereby. A good dinner is more to
a man than it is to a woman; and, for my part, I do not see why it
should be necessary to sneer at a man because he desires and can enjoy a
wholesome, well-cooked meal. It is a sign of a healthy body and a sound
mind, and the true housewife is never happier than when she caters
successfully for the members of her household, and beholds the hearty
appreciation of her labours.
It is the custom in certain quarters in these days to decry this special
department of woman's work, and to belittle its importance, but I am
old-fashioned enough to hold that one of the most essential points of
fitness for the married life in woman is her ability to keep house
economically, wisely, and successfully. Nothing will ever convince me
that such fitness is not one of her solemn and binding duties; in fact,
it is one of the reasons of her existence as a wife.
Sometimes her worries and perplexities, at first, resting entirely on
her shoulders, may give to her tongue an unusually sharp edge, and she
may find it a too serious effort to smile just when her spouse may think
it right and fitting that she should.
Out of what trifles do great issues arise! Let not the sun go down upon
your wrath. My advice to the young wife when things do _not_ go well
with her, when she grows hot and tired over a weary dinner, which does
not turn out the success she wishes, or when she has been tried beyond
all patience with her "help",--my advice is, Don't nag. Be cheerful.
Swallow the pill in the kitchen at any cost, but, above all, don't nag!
A man will stand almost anything but nagging. Don't save up a long
string of miseries, small and big, to pour on to him the moment he puts
his head in at the door.
Yes, I know all about it--that the day has been long and dreary, that
nothing has gone right, and you have had nobody to share it; but I want
you to let the man have his dinner or his tea in peace before you relate
the tale of your woes. It will make all the difference in the world to
his reception of it. Try to remember that he has had a long day too,
that, maybe, he has been nagged and worried in the office, or the
market, or behind the counter; and that he left it with relief, hoping
for a little fireside comfort at home. Let him enjoy first, at least,
the meal you have prepared or superintended, then, when you both have
eaten, you will be in a better mood for the discussion of the little
worries which looked so big and black all day. If they have not
disappeared altogether by this time they have at least sensibly
decreased in size and number.
Another thing I should like to impress on the young wife, and that is
the absolute necessity of being as fastidious and dainty with her
personal appearance after marriage as before. It is a poor compliment to
a man to show that you care so little for his opinion as a husband that
you can't or won't take the trouble to dress up for him. Dear girls,
contemplating the final leap, I want you to understand that you can
afford a great deal less to be careless after marriage than before;
because you have now to keep the husband you have won. Men like what is
bright and cheerful, and pleasant to behold. So far as you are concerned
see that you are never an eyesore. Even if you have your own work to do,
there is no necessity why you should be a dowdy or a slattern. Even a
cotton dress clean and daintily made can be as becoming to you as a robe
of silk and lace.
It is a great deal more important for you to keep your husband's love
and respect than it was to win them as a lover; because now your stake
is greater--in fact, it is your all.
To the husband I would say, "Be kind, be true, be appreciative always.
If you have to find fault do it gently. There are two ways of doing and
saying everything. Take time to choose the better, the kinder, the more
helpful and encouraging."
Most women are quick to respond to the slightest touch of kindness, the
sunshine their more dependent natures require. See that you, having
taken this young creature from the shelter of a loving parental home, do
not starve her in an atmosphere of cold criticism and fault-finding.
Remember that she is young, inexperienced, ignorant of many things, and
that wisdom walks with years. Little things these, you say? Yes, friend,
but great and far-reaching in their issues even to the wreck or
salvation of a human soul.
To both in the early days, "Live near to God,"--His blessing alone can
consecrate the home. So will your last days be better than your first,
and love be as sweet and soul-satisfying on the brink of the grave, at
the close of the long pilgrimage you have made together, as in the
halcyon days, "when all the world was young."
[Illustration]
V.
_THE IDEAL HOME._
A house is not a home, although it has sometimes to pass as such. There
are imposing mansions, replete with magnificence and luxury, which if
realised would provide the outward trappings of many modest domiciles,
but which offer shelter and nothing more to their possessors.
Home is made by those who dwell within its walls, by the atmosphere they
create; and if that spirit which makes humble things beautiful and
gracious be absent, then there can be no home in the full and true sense
of the word.
While each member of the household contributes more or less to the
upbuilding of the fabric, it is, of course, those at the head whose
influence makes or mars. A lesser influence may be felt in a degree
great enough to modify disagreeable elements, or intensify happy ones,
but it cannot, save in very exceptional circumstances, set aside the
influence of those at the head.
It is to them, then, that our few words under this heading must be
addressed; and, to reduce it to a still narrower basis, it is the
woman's duty and privilege, and solemn responsibility, which make this
art of home-making more interesting and important to her than any other
art in the world. Her right to study it, and to make it a glorious and
perfect thing, will never be for a moment questioned, even in this age
of fierce rivalry and keen competition for the good things of life. In
her own kingdom she may make new laws and inaugurate improvements
without let or hindrance, and as a rule she will meet with more
gratitude and appreciation than usually fall to the lot of law-givers
and law-makers. She will also find in her own domain scope for her
highest energies, and for the exercise of such originality as she may be
endowed with. I do not know of any sphere with a wider scope, but of
course it requires the open eye and the understanding heart to discern
this fact.
It seems superfluous, after the chapters preceding this, to say again
that the very first principle to be learned in this art of home-making
must be love. Without it the other virtues act but feebly. There may be
patience, skill, tact, forbearance, but without true love the home
cannot reach its perfect state. It may well be a comfortable abode, a
place where creature comforts abound, and where there is much quiet
peace of mind; but those who dwell in such an atmosphere the hidden
sweetness of home will never touch. There will be heart-hunger and vague
discontents, which puzzle and irritate, and which only the sunshine of
love can dispel.
Home-making, like the other arts, is with some an inborn gift,--the
secret of making others happy, of conferring blessings, of scattering
the sunny _largesse_ of love everywhere, is as natural to some as to
breathe. Such sweet souls are to be envied, as are those whose happy lot
it is to dwell with them. But, at the same time, perhaps they are not so
deserving of our admiration and respect as some who, in order to confer
happiness on others, themselves undergo what is to them mental and moral
privation, who day by day have to keep a curb on themselves in order to
crucify the "natural man."
It is possible, even for some whom Nature has not endowed with her
loveliest gifts, to cultivate that spirit in which is hidden the whole
secret of home happiness. It is the spirit of unselfishness. No selfish
man or woman has the power to make a happy home.