Part 19 (1/2)
Most newly married people require some time to settle quietly down together. Even those whose married life has been the happiest, arrive at peace and repose through a period of little struggles and bewilderments.
The husband does not all at once find his place, nor the wife hers. One of the very happiest women we know has told us, that the first year of her married life was the most uncomfortable of all. She had so much to learn--was so fearful of doing wrong--and had not yet found her proper position. But, feeling their way, kind and loving natures will have no difficulty in at last settling down comfortably and peacefully together.
It was not so with the supposed young man and his pretty ”face.” Both entered upon their new life without thinking; or perhaps with exaggerated expectations of its unalloyed happiness. They could not make allowances for lovers subsiding into husband and wife; nor were they prepared for the little ruffles and frettings of individual temper; and both felt disappointed. There was a relaxation of the little attentions which are so novel and charming to lovers. Then the pretty face, when neglected, found relief in tears.
There is nothing of which men tire sooner, especially when the tears are about trifles. Tears do not in such cases cause sympathy, but breed repulsion. They occasion sourness, both on the one side and the other.
Tears are dangerous weapons to play with. Were women to try kindness and cheerfulness instead, how infinitely happier would they be. Many are the lives that are made miserable by an indulgence in fretting and carking, until the character is indelibly stamped, and the rational enjoyment of life becomes next to a moral impossibility.
Mental qualities are certainly admirable gifts in domestic life. But though they may dazzle and delight, they will not excite love and affection to anything like the same extent as a warm and happy heart.
They do not wear half so well, and do not please half so much. And yet how little pains are taken to cultivate the beautiful quality of good temper and happy disposition! And how often is life, which otherwise might have been blessed, embittered and soured by the encouragement of peevish and fretful habits, so totally destructive of everything like social and domestic comfort! How often have we seen both men and women set themselves round about as if with bristles, so that no one dared to approach them without the fear of being p.r.i.c.ked. For want of a little occasional command over one's temper, an amount of misery is occasioned in society which is positively frightful. Thus is enjoyment turned into bitterness, and life becomes like a journey barefooted, amongst p.r.i.c.kles, and thorns, and briars.
In the instance we have cited, the pretty face soon became forgotten.
But as the young man had merely bargained for the ”face”--as it was that to which he had paid his attentions--that which he had vowed to love, honour, and protect.--when it ceased to be pretty, he began to find out that he had made a mistake. And if the home be not made attractive,--if the newly married man finds that it is only an indifferent boarding-house,--he will gradually absent himself from it. He will stay out in the evenings, and console himself with cigars, cards, politics, the theatre, the drinking club; and the poor pretty face will then become more and more disconsolate, hopeless, and miserable.
Perhaps children grow up; but neither husband nor wife know much about training them, or keeping them healthy. They are regarded as toys when babies, dolls when boys and girls, drudges when young men and women.
There is scarcely a quiet, happy, hearty hour spent during the life of such a luckless couple. Where there is no comfort at home, there is only a succession of petty miseries to endure. Where there is no cheerfulness,--no disposition to accommodate, to oblige, to sympathize with one another,--affection gradually subsides on both sides.
It is said, that ”When poverty comes in at the door, loves flies out at the window.” But it is not from poor men's houses only that love flies.
It flies quite as often from the homes of the rich, where there is a want of loving and cheerful hearts. This little home might have been snug enough; with no appearance of want about it; rooms well furnished; cleanliness pervading it; the table well supplied; the fire burning bright; and yet without cheerfulness. There wanted the happy faces, radiant with contentment and good humour. Physical comfort, after all, forms but a small part of the blessings of a happy home. As in all other concerns of life, it is the moral state which determines the weal or woe of the human condition.
Most young men think very little of what has to follow courts.h.i.+p and marriage. They think little of the seriousness of the step. They forget that when the pledge has once been given, there is no turning back, The knot cannot be untied. If a thoughtless mistake has been made, the inevitable results will nevertheless follow. The maxim is current, that ”marriage is a lottery.” It may be so if we abjure the teachings of prudence--if we refuse to examine, inquire, and think--if we are content to choose a husband or a wife, with less reflection than we bestow upon the hiring of a servant, whom we can discharge any day--if we merely regard attractions of face, of form, or of purse, and give way to temporary impulse or to greedy avarice--then, in such cases, marriage does resemble a lottery, in which you _may_ draw a prize, though there are a hundred chances to one that you will only draw a blank.
But we deny that marriage has any necessary resemblance to a lottery.
When girls are taught wisely how to love, and what qualities to esteem in a companion for life, instead of being left to gather their stock of information on the subject from the fict.i.tious and generally false personations given to them in novels; and when young men accustom themselves to think of the virtues, graces, and solid acquirements requisite in a wife, with whom they are to spend their days, and on whose temper and good sense the whole happiness of their home is to depend, then it will be found that there is very little of the ”lottery ” in marriage; and that, like any concern of business or of life, the man or woman who judges and acts wisely, with proper foresight and discrimination, will reap the almost certain consequences in a happy and prosperous future. True, mistakes may be made, and will be made, as in all things human; but nothing like the grievous mistake of those who stake their happiness in the venture of a lottery.
Another great point is, to be able to say No on proper occasions. When enticements allure, or temptations a.s.sail, say No at once, resolutely and determinedly. ”No; I can't” afford it.” Many have not the moral courage to adopt this course. They consider only their selfish gratification. They are unable to practise self-denial. They yield, give way, and ”enjoy themselves.” The end is often defalcation, fraud, and ruin. What is the verdict of society in such cases? ”The man has been living beyond his means.” Of those who may have been entertained by him, not one of them will thank him, not one of them will pity him, not one of them will help him.
Every one has heard of the man who couldn't say No. He was everybody's friend but his own. His worst enemy was himself. He ran rapidly through his means, and then called upon his friends for bonds, bails, and ”promises to pay.” After spending his last guinea, he died in the odour of harmless stupidity and folly.
His course in life seemed to be directed by the maxim of doing for everybody what everybody asked him to do. Whether it was that his heart beat responsive to every other heart, or that he did not like to give offence, could never be ascertained; but certain it is, that he was rarely asked to sign a requisition, to promise a vote, to lend money, or to endorse a bill, that he did not comply. He couldn't say ”No;” and there were many who knew him well, who said he had not the moral courage to do so.
His father left him a snug little fortune, and he was at once beset by persons wanting a share of it. Now was the time to say ”No,” if he could; but he couldn't. His habit of yielding had been formed; he did not like to be bored; could not bear to refuse; could not stand importunity; and almost invariably yielded to the demands made upon his purse. While his money lasted, he had no end of friends. He was a universal referee--everybody's bondsman. ”Just sign me this little bit of paper,” was a request often made to him by particular friends, ”What is it?” he would mildly ask; for, with all his simplicity, he prided himself upon his caution! Yet he never refused. Three months after, a bill for a rather heavy amount would fall due, and who should be called upon to make it good but everybody's friend--the man who couldn't say ”No.”
At last a maltster, for whom he was bondsman--a person with whom he had only a nodding acquaintance--suddenly came to a stand in his business, ruined by heavy speculations in funds and shares; when the man who couldn't say ”No” was called upon to make good the heavy duties due to the Crown. It was a heavy stroke, and made him a poor man. But he never grew wise. He was a post against which every needy fellow came and rubbed himself; a tap, from which every thirsty soul could drink; a flitch, at which every hungry dog had a pull; an a.s.s, on which every needy rogue must have his ride; a mill, that ground everybody's corn but his own; in short, a ”good-hearted fellow,” who couldn't for the life of him say ”No.”
It is of great importance to a man's peace and well-being that he should be able to say ”No” at the right time. Many are ruined because they cannot or will not say it. Vice often gains a footing within us, because we will not summon up the courage to say ”No.” We offer ourselves too often as willing sacrifices to the fas.h.i.+on of the world, because we have not the honesty to p.r.o.nounce the little word. The duellist dares not say ”No,” for he would be ”cut.” The beauty hesitates to say it, when a rich blockhead offers her his hand, because she has set her ambition on an ”establishment.” The courtier will not say it, for he must smile and promise to all.
When pleasure tempts with its seductions, have the courage to say ”No”
at once. The little monitor within will approve the decision; and virtue will become stronger by the act. When dissipation invites, and offers its secret pleasures, boldly say ”No.” If you do not, if you acquiesce and succ.u.mb, virtue will have gone from you, and your self-reliance will have received a fatal shock. The first time may require an effort; but strength will grow with use. It is the only way of meeting temptations to idleness, to self-indulgence, to folly, to bad custom, to meet it at once with an indignant ”No.” There is, indeed, great virtue in a ”No,”
when p.r.o.nounced at the right time.
A man may live beyond his means until he has nothing left. He may die in debt, and yet ”society” does not quit its hold of him until he is laid in his grave. He must be buried as ”society” is buried. He must have a fas.h.i.+onable funeral. He must, to the last, bear witness to the power of Mrs. Grundy. It is to please her, that the funeral cloaks, hatbands, scarves, mourning coaches, gilded hea.r.s.es, and processions of mutes are hired. And yet, how worthless and extravagant is the mummery of the undertaker's grief; and the feigned woe of the mutes, saulies, and plume bearers, who are paid for their day's parade!
It is not so much among the wealthy upper cla.s.ses that the mischiefs of this useless and expensive mummery are felt, as amongst the middle and working cla.s.ses. An expensive funeral is held to be ”respectable.”
Middle-cla.s.s people, who are struggling for front places in society, make an effort to rise into the region of mutes and nodding plumes; and, like their ”betters,” they are victimised by the undertakers. These fix the fas.h.i.+on for the rest; ”we must do as Others do;” and most people submit to pay the tax. They array themselves, friends, and servants, in mourning; and a respectable funeral is thus purchased.