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 pa.s.s 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 gla.s.s houses and the husband wields immense power. The miraculous a.s.sistance 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_.
MEDITATION XX.
ESSAY ON POLICE.
The police of marriage consist of all those means which are given you by law, manners, force, and stratagem for preventing your wife in her attempt to accomplish those three acts which in some sort make up the life of love: writing, seeing and speaking.
The police combine in greater or less proportion the means of defence put forth in the preceding Meditations. Instinct alone can teach in what proportions and on what occasions these compounded elements are to be employed. The whole system is elastic; a clever husband will easily discern how it must be bent, stretched or retrenched. By the aid of the police a man can guide his wife to her fortieth year pure from any fault.
We will divide this treatise on Police into five captions:
1. OF MOUSE-TRAPS.
2. OF CORRESPONDENCE.
3. OF SPIES.
4. THE INDEX.
5. OF THE BUDGET.
1. OF MOUSE-TRAPS.
In spite of the grave crisis which the husband has reached, we do not suppose that the lover has completely acquired the freedom of the city in the marital establishment. Many husbands often suspect that their wives have a lover, and yet they do not know upon which of the five or six chosen ones of whom we have spoken their suspicions ought to fall.
This hesitation doubtless springs from some moral infirmity, to whose a.s.sistance the professor must come.
Fouche had in Paris three or four houses resorted to by people of the highest distinction; the mistresses of these dwellings were devoted to him. This devotion cost a great deal of money to the state. The minister used to call these gatherings, of which n.o.body at the time had any suspicion, his _mouse-traps_. More than one arrest was made at the end of the ball at which the most brilliant people of Paris had been made accomplices of this oratorian.
The act of offering some fragments of roasted nuts, in order to see your wife put her white hand in the trap, is certainly exceedingly delicate, for a woman is certain to be on her guard; nevertheless, we reckon upon at least three kinds of mouse-traps: _The Irresistible_, _The Fallacious_, and that which is _Touch and Go_.
_The Irresistible._
Suppose two husbands, we will call them A and B, wish to discover who are the lovers of their wives. We will put the husband A at the centre of a table loaded with the finest pyramids of fruit, of crystals, of candies and of liqueurs, and the husband B shall be at whatever point of this brilliant circle you may please to suppose. The champagne has gone round, every eye is sparkling and every tongue is wagging.
HUSBAND A. (peeling a chestnut)--Well, as for me, I admire literary people, but from a distance. I find them intolerable; in conversation they are despotic; I do not know what displeases me more, their faults or their good qualities. In short (he swallows his chestnut), people of genius are like tonics--you like, but you must use them temperately.
WIFE B. (who has listened attentively)--But, M. A., you are very exacting (with an arch smile); it seems to me that dull people have as many faults as people of talent, with this difference perhaps, that the former have nothing to atone for them!
HUSBAND A. (irritably)--You will agree at least, madame, that they are not very amiable to you.
WIFE B. (with vivacity)--Who told you so?
HUSBAND A. (smiling)--Don"t they overwhelm you all the time with their superiority? Vanity so dominates their souls that between you and them the effort is reciprocal--
THE MISTRESS OF THE HOUSE. (aside to Wife A)--You well deserved it, my dear. (Wife A shrugs her shoulders.)
HUSBAND A. (still continuing)--Then the habit they have of combining ideas which reveal to them the mechanism of feeling! For them love is purely physical and every one knows that they do not shine.
WIFE B. (biting her lips, interrupting him)--It seems to me, sir, that we are the sole judges in this matter. I can well understand why men of the world do not like men of letters! But it is easier to criticise than to imitate them.
HUSBAND A. (disdainfully)--Oh, madame, men of the world can a.s.sail the authors of the present time without being accused of envy. There is many a gentleman of the drawing-room, who if he undertook to write--
WIFE B. (with warmth)--Unfortunately for you, sir, certain friends of yours in the Chamber have written romances; have you been able to read them?--But really, in these days, in order to attain the least originality, you must undertake historic research, you must--
HUSBAND B. (making no answer to the lady next him and speaking aside) --Oh! Oh! Can it be that it is M. de L-----, author of the _Dreams of a Young Girl_, whom my wife is in love with?--That is singular; I thought that it was Doctor M-----. But stay! (Aloud.) Do you know, my dear, that you are right in what you say? (All laugh.) Really, I should prefer to have always artists and men of letters in my drawing-room--(aside) when we begin to receive!--rather than to see there other professional men. In any case artists speak of things about which every one is enthusiastic, for who is there who does not believe in good taste? But judges, lawyers, and, above all, doctors--Heavens!
I confess that to hear them constantly speaking about lawsuits and diseases, those two human ills--
WIFE A. (sitting next to Husband B, speaking at the same time)--What is that you are saying, my friend? You are quite mistaken. In these days n.o.body wishes to wear a professional manner; doctors, since you have mentioned doctors, try to avoid speaking of professional matters.
They talk politics, discuss the fashions and the theatres, they tell anecdotes, they write books better than professional authors do; there is a vast difference between the doctors of to-day and those of Moliere--
HUSBAND A. (aside)--Whew! Is it possible my wife is in love with Dr.
M-----? That would be odd. (Aloud.) That is quite possible, my dear, but I would not give a sick dog in charge of a physician who writes.
WIFE A. (interrupting her husband)--I know people who have five or six offices, yet the government has the greatest confidence in them; anyway, it is odd that you should speak in this way, you who were one of Dr. M-----"s great cases--
HUSBAND A. (aside)--There can be no doubt of it!
_The Fallacious._
A HUSBAND. (as he reaches home)--My dear, we are invited by Madame de Fischtaminel to a concert which she is giving next Tuesday. I reckoned on going there, as I wanted to speak with a young cousin of the minister who was among the singers; but he is gone to Frouville to see his aunt. What do you propose doing?
HIS WIFE.--These concerts tire me to death!--You have to sit nailed to your chair whole hours without saying a word.--Besides, you know quite well that we dine with my mother on that day, and it is impossible to miss paying her a visit.
HER HUSBAND. (carelessly)--Ah! that is true.
_(Three days afterwards.)_
THE HUSBAND. (as he goes to bed)--What do you think, my darling?
To-morrow I will leave you at your mother"s, for the count has returned from Frouville and will be at Madame de Fischtaminel"s concert.
HIS WIFE. (vivaciously)--But why should you go alone? You know how I adore music!
_The Touch and Go Mouse-Trap._
THE WIFE.--Why did you go away so early this evening?
THE HUSBAND. (mysteriously)--Ah! It is a sad business, and all the more so because I don"t know how I can settle it.
THE WIFE.--What is it all about, Adolph? You are a wretch if you do not tell me what you are going to do!