PART V

HOW TO BE HAPPY THOUGH MARRIED

'To dwell happily together they should be versed in the niceties of the heart and born with a faculty for willing compromise.'

'Goodness in marriage is a more intricate problem than mere single virtue, for in marriage there are two ideals to be realised.'

--R. L. STEVENSON.

I

A FEW SUGGESTIONS FOR REFORM

Within the last twenty-five years the worst injustices of our marriage laws have been rectified, and compared with them the remaining grievances appear relatively mild. It is scarcely credible in these days of advanced women that only a few years ago a husband could take possession of his wife's property and spend it as he liked, or, what is still more monstrous, could appoint a stranger as sole guardian to his children after his death, entirely ignoring the natural rights of the mother.

The most serious injustice remaining is that the relief of divorce is more accessible to men than to women. This obviously is a law made by men for their own advantage, but its existence is a blot on the fair fame of English justice, and also of English morality, that a husband's infidelity should be so lightly regarded. Let us hope the day is not far off when the conditions of divorce will be exactly the same for both parties.

The opinion is almost universally held nowadays that a dissolution of marriage should be obtainable if either party be a confirmed drunkard, or a lunatic, or be sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. How degrading it is to the best instincts of our s.e.x that a woman can get a decree of nullity of marriage by proving certain physical disabilities on the part of the husband, which in no way affect her happiness, health, or self-respect, yet can only obtain the partial relief of separation if her husband be a drunkard, an adulterer, and a criminal--so long as she cannot additionally prove cruelty or desertion!

It is also an injustice that divorce should be so expensive that only people with money or the very poor (by means of proceedings _in forma pauperis_) can afford it.

Perhaps the most necessary reform of all is that the marriage of the mentally and physically unfit be legally prevented, or rather that they should be prevented from having children, which is all that really matters. It would be perfectly feasible to ensure the sterilisation of the unfit, though a law to this effect would require the most delicate handling, and one can hardly imagine a parliament of men blundering through it with any degree of success. Perhaps it may come to pa.s.s in the day when we have the ideal Government that represents both s.e.xes and all cla.s.ses. A health certificate signed by doctors in the service of the State should certainly be compulsory before any marriage could be ratified. When cancer, tubercle, insanity, and all the attendant ills of alcoholism and of riotous living have infected every family in the land, our far-seeing lawgivers may begin to realise the necessity for some restriction of this kind. At present, the liberty of the subject is preserved at too heavy a cost to the race.

Another much-needed reform is that children born out of wedlock should be legitimised by subsequent marriage of the parents, as in many other countries. This would hurt no one, could not possibly encourage vice, and would enable many grievous wrongs to be righted. The present regulation is unreasonable in the extreme.

England is almost the only European country where no attempt is made to provide a dowry for the daughters, except among the wealthy cla.s.ses.

Quite well-to-do Englishmen think it unnecessary to give their daughters anything during their lifetime, though they are willing to seriously inconvenience themselves to start their sons well in life. English fathers give everything to their sons; in many of the Continental countries the daughters are rightly considered first, and among all cla.s.ses, rich and poor alike, the parents strive to provide some kind of a dowry for them, beginning to save from the day of the child's birth.

I feel sure that if _dots_ for daughters became the custom in this country an enormous impetus would be given to marriage, and much trouble between husband and wife would be avoided if the woman had some means of her own, however small. It is surely most humiliating and unpleasant for a well-bred woman to be dependent on her husband for every omnibus fare and packet of hairpins!

English people, however, are apt to pride themselves on their faults, and are moreover so incurably sentimental that they take credit to themselves for being the exception in this respect to other countries, and boast that there is no inducement but love for them to marry. In the same absurd and improvident spirit is the customary disinclination to ask for settlements on our daughters. Only of very rich men is this expected, whereas it is but right that every man should make a settlement on his wife, if only of the furniture and the policy of life insurance.

A chapter on marriage reforms would not be complete without some reference to our barbarous marriage service. Is it any good complaining about it, though? Ever since I learnt to read I have been reading attacks on it; apparently no one has a good word to say for it, not even clergymen, yet still it remains in use, unamended, just as it was written in the days of James I. If ever a man-made religious formula required revising to suit the progress of ideas it is this one. How can the Church expect us to regard marriage as a sacrament when its conditions are expressed in such coa.r.s.e language and from so false a standpoint. Is it not false to glorify by inference those persons who have 'the gift of continency,' a 'gift' which, if common to the majority, would soon result in the extinction of the human race? This special clause is a horrible insult to a pure-minded, innocent bride, and is wholly unnecessary. Surely if no other improvement is made, this opening explanation of the 'causes' for which marriage was ordained might well be omitted, if only for the fact that it places last the princ.i.p.al reason for marrying--_i.e._ 'for the mutual society, help and comfort.' The Church of England might well take a lesson from the Quakers or from the New Jerusalem Church, a religious community founded on the writings of that great mystic, Emanuel Swedenborg. In the case of the Society of Friends, the procedure is simple in the extreme. After a time spent in silent prayer, the parties stand and, holding hands, say solemnly in turn: 'Friends, I take this my friend, A. B., to be my _wife_, promising, through divine a.s.sistance, to be unto _her_ a loving and faithful _husband_, until it shall please the Lord by death to separate us.' The New Church formula is longer, but equally beautiful and free from objectionable matter.

II

SOME PRACTICAL ADVICE TO HUSBANDS AND WIVES

'One doesn't want a lot of fine sentiments in married life--they don't work.' --W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM.

The most valuable piece of advice it is possible to give a couple starting on the 'long and straight and dusty road' of matrimony is: 'Blessed are they who expect little.' The next best is 'Strive to realise your ideal, but accept defeat philosophically.' It is difficult to live happily with a person who has a very high ideal of us; somehow it creates in us an unholy longing to do our worst. Miranda often says to me: 'The reason Lysander and I are so perfectly happy is because we never mind showing our worst side to each other, we never feel we need pretend to be better than we are.' Mark this, Bride and Bridegroom; remember a pedestal is a very uncomfortable place to settle on, and don't a.s.sign this uncomfortable elevation to your life's partner. More marriages have been ruined by one expecting too much of the other than by any vice or failing.

On the other hand, at the risk of being tedious, I must repeat that the most essential thing in Marriage is respect. It is above love, above compatibility, above even the priceless sense of humour. Respect will hold the tottering edifice of matrimony together when pa.s.sion is dead and even love has faded. Respect will make even the 'appalling intimacy'

endurable, and will bring one through the most trying disagreements, with no bruise on the soul, whatever wounds there may be in the heart.

Therefore, Bride and Bridegroom, cultivate respect between you at all costs and, men and women, never _never_ marry anyone you don't really respect, however pa.s.sionately you may love. I believe one can be fairly happy in marriage without love, once the ardours and madness of extreme youth have pa.s.sed. Without respect one can never be anything but wretched.

'There is always one who loves and one who is beloved.' If you find you are the one who loves, remember--_it is the better part_, especially for a woman. Don't weary your companion with constant claims, with scenes and reproaches, tears and prayers, it will serve you no purpose, and probably only alienate the beloved from you. And, while on the subject of tears, let me urgently warn all wives against giving way to this natural feminine weakness. The sensible, hard-headed, athletic girls of to-day as a rule scorn to do so; but after marriage occasions for weeping occur that these self-reliant young spinsters never dream of.

But the old idea that tears prevailed against a man, and served to soften the harder male heart, is entirely exploded; and, if women only realised it, tears distil a poison that acts as a fateful irritant to love and often causes its death. Just at first, when he is quite young and in the height of his ardour, tears may influence a man, but not for long, and very seldom after marriage. They frequently gain their end, however, as exceptionally tender-hearted men often so dread tears that they immediately concede the point at issue on the appearance of this danger-signal. But their irritation is none the less, and they often end in disliking the woman who has traded on their gentleness, and taken what they consider is an unfair advantage of them. The wife who weeps perpetually, whenever things go wrong, does not command anyone's respect or sympathy, and generally drives her husband to seek the society of other women. Men detest a sad face in their home--other than their own, that is. If they are ever miserable, they feel ent.i.tled to let themselves go, but their wives must not, or when they do, it must certainly not take the form of tears. The brilliant anonymous author of _The Truth about Man_ advises women to remember that men 'must never be contradicted, reproached, or censured.' To this I would add emphatically that he must never on any account be cried at.

Is it necessary to advocate the cultivation of the most perfect courtesy between you? Not at first possibly, but it certainly will be. The time may even come when Perseus may raise his voice and roar out his disapproval of Persephone. A certain type of man always shouts when annoyed, not at his friends or clients of course; merely to his clerks and his servants and his wife and the people who are afraid of him. This was a nasty habit of our grandfathers--modern wives are hardly meek enough to stand much of it. However, if Perseus by some freak of atavism ever should so far forget himself in this way, Persephone will find the Biblical soft answer more efficacious than the loudest returning volume of sound. To speak in an exaggeratedly gentle voice always shames the shouter of either s.e.x into silence.

Courtesy is more necessary between husband and wife than in any other relation in life. A great deal of bitterness would be saved if this were studiously remembered. Nothing is more painful than to hear a married couple _being rude_ to one another, and the claims of courtesy would prevent all sorts of remarks that belong to the category of the better-left-unsaid. Women, especially, have sometimes a most objectionable habit of hurling home-truths at their husband's head whenever temper runs a little high; and most men are sensitive enough under their shield of cultivated indifference to resent this acutely, and remember stinging sentences of this kind for years. The fact that they are generally pointedly true does not make them less objectionable.

Some wives who are in reality devoted to their husbands, nevertheless make a point of invariably belittling them in private and public, and, though he would rarely admit it, this takes the heart out of a man more than one unversed in the hearts of men could possibly believe. The truth is, men like admiration and praise just as much as women do, though it is part of their strange code to conceal this. They resent a snub just as bitterly as a woman does; why shouldn't they?

And while we are on this subject, let me whisper to Persephone what a wonderfully soothing effect a little judicious flattery has on the race of husbands, and how smoothly it makes the marital wheels go round.

I don't mean false, blatant, absurd flattery, such as men often bestow on us when desirous to please, not realising that compliments laid on with a trowel are an insult to one's intelligence. Nothing of that kind, of course, but delicate, subtle, loving flattery. An att.i.tude of gentle admiration toward your Perseus, subdued a little possibly for public use, but none the less markedly appreciative, will not only endear you more to him than any protestation of your love could do, but will have an excellent effect on him mentally and morally. Just as you always feel dazzling when in company of people who admire you and always talk brilliantly when with those who think you clever, similarly Perseus will be spurred on by your admiration (real or a.s.sumed) to try to justify it.

The same thing applies to you, gallant Perseus. A compliment to your Persephone's bright eyes, a word of awed adulation for her new hat, or of praise for her conduct as a hostess will not only make her absurdly happy but will materially increase your capital in Love's Bank, by laying up treasure for you in Persephone's heart.

By way of ill.u.s.tration, I will quote two real conversations I heard not long ago. The first was between a young couple, Pelleas and Nicolette, who had recently started housekeeping on a small income. They had been giving an afternoon party, and all the guests had left but me. (I am a privileged person, as you must have noticed; n.o.body minds being natural before me.)

Nicolette heaved a sigh of relief as the front door shut for the last time, and turned with sparkling eyes to Pelleas.

'_Hasn't_ it been a success?' she said enthusiastically.

'Not bad,' said Pelleas.

'Aren't the flowers lovely, and haven't I made the rooms look sweet?

Don't you think it was all done very nicely, dear? I did work so hard!'

she added, longing for a word of praise.

'Pooh! d'you call cutting up a few cakes work?' was the answer.

Nicolette happens to be a discreet woman who knows when to be silent, but she looked sad, and all her natural pleasure in her little entertainment was spoiled. How delighted she would have been if Pelleas had kissed her, and told her she had made a charming hostess, and all her arrangements had been perfection. The annoying part of it is that this is what he really _did_ think. He was bursting with pride of his home and his wife, and inclined to think himself a very fine fellow for having won such a charming and clever woman. Only it wasn't his way to say so!

The second instance was when I had been trying to reconcile Geraint and his wife. I was always very fond of dear old Geraint, and the utter misery of his married life was a source of great trouble to me. On this occasion we talked freely, and from the depths of his sore heart he brought up woe upon woe. 'Here's another instance,' he said at length.

'It's rather ridiculous, but you won't laugh at me, I know. Of course it's absurd of me to have remembered it, but--well, I have. She was sitting up in bed brushing her hair, I came into the room to ask if there was anything I could bring her from town, and I happened to stand at her dressing-table and straighten my tie. We were both reflected in the mirror and she said, suddenly, with a little laugh: "What an ugly brute you are!" ... that's all, she said it quite politely, but--well, it hurt me absurdly, it was so devilish unnecessary. And I suppose it's true, too, I'd never thought of it before, but I often have since... .'

Yet another example of how not to do it: 'If I'm shabby,' a despairing wife told me once, 'he says: "Why can't you look decent." When I'm smart, it's "More new clothes! I don't know who's going to pay for them." If the _menu_ is exceptional he says: "This extravagance will ruin me," and when it's ordinary he asks: "Is that all?"'

I have previously referred to men's clubs as a boon to wives, and so they have always appeared to me. But evidently this opinion is not generally held, as a number of women have recently expressed in print their intention--when they get the vote--of agitating for complete abolition, or at least compulsorily early closing, of all men's clubs.

It seems sadly ridiculous that women should want their husbands compelled by Act of Parliament to return to them at a fixed hour. Let me endeavour to convert these misguided wives, if any of them should deign to read this book.