Modern Love and Poems of the English Roadside, with Poems and Ballads

by George Meredith

  It may be easily imagined how an ignorant, or selfish woman, never can be able to understand all this, and how she may consequently make shipwreck of her husband’s happiness, and her own peace, simply from never having known, observed, or felt, what belongs to the nature of the human heart in these its most exquisite touches of light and shade; while, on the other hand, not the highest intellectual attainments, with the noblest gifts of nature, nor all the importance and distinction which these attributes obtain for their possessor in the world, will be able to efface for a moment the delicate perceptions of a truly sensitive woman, or to render her, in the deep and fervent love of which she is capable, otherwise than humble, and easily subdued; especially when she comes with child-like simplicity, to consult the dial of her husband’s love, and to read there the progress of the advancing or receding shadows, which indicate her only true position through the lapse of every hour.

  It is an act of injustice towards women, and one which often brings its own punishment upon talented men, when they select as their companions for life, the ignorant or the imbecile of the other sex, believing that because they are so, they must be more capable of loving. If to be incapable of any thing else, implies this necessity, it must be granted that they are so. But of what value is that love which exists as a mere impulse of nature, compared with that, which, with an equal force of impulse, combines the highest attributes of an enlightened mind, and brings them all with their rich produce, like flowers from a delicious garden, a welcome and appropriate offering at the shrine whereon the heart is laid.

  Still, I must repeat, that it is not the superiority of talent, but the early and the best use of such as we possess, which gives this power and beauty to affection, by directing it to its appropriate end. For as in other duties of woman’s life, without knowledge she cannot, if she would, act properly; so in the expression and bestowment of her love, without an intimate acquaintance with the human heart, without having exercised her faculties of observation and reflection, and without having obtained by early discipline some mastery over her own feelings, she will ever be liable to rush blindly upon those fatal errors, by which the love of married life so often has been wrecked.

  In connection with this subject, there is one consideration to which sufficient weight is seldom given; and that is, the importance of never trifling with affection after the nuptial knot is tied. To do this at any time, or in any way, is scarcely consistent with the feelings of a deeply sensitive and delicate mind; but leaving the display of caprice to those who think it gives zest to the familiarity of courtship, it cannot be too deeply impressed upon the female mind, that with the days of courtship it must end.

  There are innumerable tests which might be applied to the love of married life, so as to ascertain the degree of its intensity, or the progress of its declension;3 but who would wish to apply them?—or who, even if they did, would dare to make so critical an experiment? If there be any cause for its existence, the consciousness comes soon enough, that the wife is not all to her husband which the flattering promises of early love prepared her to expect; and if there be no cause for the slightest shadow of suspicion that her star is beginning to go down, why trouble her own repose, and that of her husband, by questioning the reality of what it would be worse than death to doubt?

  All teasing, all caprice, all acting for the purpose of renewing an agreeable effect, are therefore inimical to the mutual trust, and the steady confidence in reciprocal affection, which are, or ought to be, enjoyed by individuals thus bound together by an indissoluble tie. Not that the writer would for a moment wish to discountenance that harmless vivacity which some women know so well how to charm; or to speak of the privacy of married life as consisting of dull and sombre scenes. So far from this, it is her firm belief, that nothing tends more to animate and renew the feeling of affection in the mind of man, than the cheerfulness of his fireside companion.

  Notes

  1. Sarah Stickney Ellis, “The Love of Married Life,” in The Wives of England: Their Relative Duties, Domestic Influence, and Social Obligations (New York: D. Appleton, 1843), 106–13, 117–23.

  2. rills: small streams

  3. declension: decline

  William Cobbett, from Advice to Young Men, and (Incidentally) to Young Women, in the Middle and Higher Ranks of Life (1862)1

  William Cobbett (1763–1835), an agitator for radical parliamentary reform, was an English farmer and prolific writer who lived and worked in Britain and the United States. First published in 1829, his Advice to Young Men went through a number of editions and was reissued in 1862. Cobbett’s advice on the subject of adultery, excerpted here, is notable for its account of shared responsibility. Although Cobbett insists that infidelity is “much worse in the wife” than in the husband, he nevertheless concedes that husbands must work to avoid being “the cause of temptation to the wife to be unfaithful” or reacting in kind. Meredith—whose “Modern Love” turns upon the fact that both husband and wife are to blame for their marital unhappiness—was a fan of Cobbett’s work; he encouraged his friend William Hardman to write Cobbett’s biography. The numbers preceding each section are from Cobbett’s original; we retain them here for readers’ convenience.

  When we consider what a young woman gives up on her wedding-day; she makes a surrender, an absolute surrender, of her liberty, for the joint lives of the parties; she gives 178. the husband the absolute right of causing her to live in what place, and in what manner and in what society, he pleases; she gives him the power to take from her, and to use for his own purposes, all her goods, unless reserved by some legal instrument; and, above all, she surrenders to him her person. Then, when we consider the pains which they endure for us, and the large share of all the anxious parental cares that fall to their lot; when we consider their devotion to us, and how unshaken their affection remains in our ailments, even though the most tedious and disgusting; when we consider the offices that they perform, and cheerfully perform, for us, when, were we left to one another, we should perish from neglect; when we consider their devotion to their children, how evidently they love them better, in numerous instances, than their own lives; when we consider these things, how can a just man think anything a trifle that effects their happiness? . . .

  182. But though all the aforementioned considerations demand from us the kindest possible treatment of a wife, the husband is to expect dutiful deportment at her hands. He is not to be her slave; he is not to yield to her against the dictates of his own reason and judgment; it is her duty to obey all his lawful commands; and, if she have sense, she will perceive that it is a disgrace to herself to acknowledge as a husband a thing over which she has an absolute control. It should always be recollected that you are the party whose body must, if any do, lie in jail for debts, and for debts of her contracting, too, as well as of your own contracting. Over her tongue, too, you possess a clear right to exercise, if necessary, some control; for if she use it in an unjustifiable manner, it is against you, and not against her, that the law enables, and justly enables, the slandered party to proceed; which would be monstrously unjust, if the law were not founded on the right which the husband has to control, if necessary, the tongue of the wife, to compel her to keep it within the limits prescribed by the law. A charming, a most enchanting life, indeed, would be that of a husband, if he were bound to cohabit with and to maintain one for all the debts and all the slanders of whom he was answerable, and over whose conduct he possessed no compulsory control. . . .

  186. Am I recommending tyranny? Am I recommending disregard of the wife’s opinions and wishes? Am I recommending a reserve towards her that would seem to say that she was not trustworthy, or not a party interested in her husband’s affairs? By no means: on the contrary, though I would keep anything disagreeable from her, I should not enjoy the prospect of good without making her a participator. But reason says, and God has said, that it is the duty of wives to be obedient to their husbands; and the very nature of things prescribes that there
must be a head of every house, and an undivided authority. And then it is so clearly just that the authority should rest with him on whose head rests the whole responsibility, that a woman, when patiently reasoned with on the subject, must be a virago2 in her very nature not to submit with docility to the terms of her marriage vow. . . .

  189. “A house divided against itself,” or, rather, in itself, “cannot stand”; and it is divided against itself if there be a divided authority. The wife ought to be heard, and patiently heard; she ought to be reasoned with, and, if possible, convinced; but if, after all endeavours in this way, she remain opposed to the husband’s opinion, his will must be obeyed, or he at once becomes nothing; she is, in fact, the master, and he is nothing but an insignificant inmate. As to matters of little comparative moment; as to what shall be for dinner; as to how the house shall be furnished; as to the management of the house and of menial servants: as to those matters, and many others, the wife may have her way without any danger; but when the questions are, what is to be the calling to be pursued; what is to be the place of residence; what is to be the style of living and scale of expense; what is to be done with property; what the manner and place of educating children; what is to be their calling or state of life; who are to be employed or entrusted by the husband; what are the principles that he is to adopt as to public matters; whom he is to have for coadjutors3 or friends; all these must be left solely to the husband; in all these he must have his will; or there never can be any harmony in the family. . . .

  195. Now I would advise a young man, especially if he have a pretty wife, not to commit her unnecessarily to the care of any other man; not to be separated from her in this studious and ceremonious manner; and not to be ashamed to prefer her company and conversation to that of any other woman. I never could discover any good-breeding in setting another man, almost expressly, to poke his nose up in the face of my wife, and talk nonsense to her; for, in such cases, nonsense it generally is. It is not a thing of much consequence, to be sure; but when the wife is young, especially, it is not seemly, at any rate, and it cannot possibly lead to any good, though it may not lead to any great evil. And, on the other hand, you may be quite sure that, whatever she may seem to think of the matter, she will not like you the better for your attentions of this sort to other women, especially if they be young and handsome; and as this species of fashionable nonsense can do you no good, why gratify your love of talk, or the vanity of any woman, at even the risk of exciting uneasiness in that mind of which it is your most sacred duty to preserve, if you can, the uninterrupted tranquility. . . .

  199. . . . [B]ad as is conjugal infidelity in the husband, it is much worse in the wife: a proposition that it is necessary to maintain by the force of reason, because the women, as a sisterhood, are prone to deny the truth of it. They say that adultery is adultery, in men as well as in them; and that, therefore, the offence is as great in the one case as in the other. As a crime, abstractedly considered, it certainly is; but, as to the consequences, there is a wide difference. In both cases there is the breach of a solemn vow, but there is this great distinction, that the husband, by his breach of that vow, only brings shame upon his wife and family; whereas the wife, by a breach of her vow, may bring the husband a spurious offspring to maintain, and may bring that spurious offspring to rob of their fortunes, and in some cases of their bread, her legitimate children. So that here is a great and evident wrong done to numerous parties, besides the deeper disgrace inflicted in this case than in the other.

  200. And why is the disgrace deeper? Because here is a total want of delicacy; here is, in fact, prostitution; here is grossness and filthiness of mind; here is everything that argues baseness of character. Women should be, and they are, except in a few instances, far more reserved and more delicate than men: nature bids them be such; the habits and manners of the world confirm this precept of nature; and therefore, when they commit this offence, they excite loathing, as well as call for reprobation. In the countries where a plurality of wives is permitted, there is no plurality of husbands. It is there thought not at all indelicate for a man to have several wives; but the bare thought of a woman having two husbands would excite horror. The widows of the Hindoos burn themselves in the pile that consumes their husbands;4 but the Hindoo widowers do not dispose of themselves in this way. . . .

  201. For these plain and forcible reasons it is that this species of offence is far more heinous in the wife than in the husband; and the people of all civilized countries act upon this settled distinction. Men who have been guilty of the offence are not cut off from society, but women who have been guilty of it are; for, as we all know well, no woman, married or single, of fair reputation, will risk that reputation by being ever seen, if she can avoid it, with a woman who has ever, at any time, committed this offence, which contains in itself, and by universal award, a sentence of social excommunication for life.

  202. If, therefore, it be the duty of the husband to adhere strictly to his marriage vow: if his breach of that vow be naturally attended with the fatal consequences above described: how much more imperative is the duty on the wife to avoid even the semblance of a deviation from that vow! If the man’s misconduct, in this respect, bring shame on so many innocent parties, what shame, what dishonour, what misery follow such misconduct in the wife! Her parents, those of her husband, all her relations, and all her friends, share in her dishonour. And her children! how is she to make atonement to them! They are commanded to honour their father and their mother; but not such a mother as this, who, on the contrary, has no claim to anything from them but hatred, abhorrence, and execration. It is she who has broken the ties of nature; she has dishonoured her own offspring; she has fixed a mark of reproach on those who once made a part of her own body: nature shuts her out of the pale of its influence, and condemns her to the just detestation of those whom it formerly bade love her as their own life.

  203. But as the crime is so much more heinous, and the punishment so much more severe, in the case of the wife than it is in the case of the husband, so that caution ought to be greater in making the accusation, or entertaining the suspicion. Men ought to be very slow in entertaining such suspicions: they ought to have clear proof before they can suspect; a proneness to such suspicions is a very unfortunate turn of the mind; and, indeed, few characters are more despicable than that of a jealous-headed husband; rather than be tied to the whims of one of whom, an innocent woman of spirit would earn her bread over the washing-tub, or with a hay-fork, or a reap-hook. With such a man there can be no peace; and, as far as children are concerned, the false accusation is nearly equal to the reality. When a wife discovers her jealousy, she merely imputes to her husband inconstancy and breach of his marriage vow: but jealousy in him imputes to her a willingness to palm a spurious offspring upon him, and upon her legitimate children, as robbers of their birthright; and, besides this, grossness, filthiness, and prostitution. She imputes to him injustice and cruelty: but he imputes to her that which banishes her from society; that which cuts her off for life from everything connected with female purity; that which brands her with infamy to her latest breath.

  204. Very slow, therefore, ought a husband to be in entertaining even the thought of this crime in his wife. He ought to be quite sure before he take the smallest step in the way of accusation; but if unhappily he have the proof, no consideration on earth ought to induce him to cohabit with her one moment longer. Jealous husbands are not despicable because they have grounds; but because they have not grounds; and this is generally the case. When they have grounds, their own honour commands them to cast off the object, as they would cut out a corn or a cancer. It is not the jealousy in itself which is despicable; but the continuing to live in that state. It is no dishonour to be a slave in Algiers, for instance; the dishonour begins only where you remain a slave voluntarily; it begins the moment you can escape from slavery, and do not. It is despicable unjustly to be jealous of your wife; but it is infamy to cohabit with her if you know her to
be guilty.

  205. I shall be told that the law compels you to live with her, unless you be rich enough to disengage yourself from her; but the law does not compel you to remain in the same country with her; and, if a man have no other means of ridding himself of such a curse, what are mountains or seas to traverse? And what is the risk (if such there be) of exchanging a life of bodily ease for a life of labour? What are these, and numerous other ills (if they happen) superadded? Nay, what is death itself, compared with the baseness, the infamy, the never-ceasing shame and reproach of living under the same roof with a prostituted woman, and calling her your wife? But there are children, and what are to become of these? To be taken away from the prostitute, to be sure; and this is a duty which you owe to them: the sooner they forget her the better, and the farther they are from her, the sooner that will be. There is no excuse for continuing to live with an adulteress: no inconvenience, no loss, no suffering, ought to deter a man from delivering himself from such a state of filthy infamy; and to suffer his children to remain in such a state is a crime that hardly admits of adequate description; a jail is paradise compared with such a life, and he who can endure this latter, from the fear of encountering hardship, is a wretch too despicable to go by the name of man.