The Physiology of Marriage, Part III. - Honore de Balzac
THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MARRIAGE
THIRD PART
BY
HONORE DE BALZAC
RELATING TO CIVIL WAR.
"Lovely as the seraphs of Klopstock,
Terrible as the devils of Milton."
--DIDEROT.
MEDITATION XXIII.
OF MANIFESTOES.
The Preliminary precepts, by which science has been enabled at this
point to put weapons into the hand of a husband, are few in number; it
is not of so much importance to know whether he will be vanquished, as
to examine whether he can offer any resistance in the conflict.
Meanwhile, we will set up here certain beacons to light up the arena
where a husband is soon to find himself, in alliance with religion and
law, engaged single-handed in a contest with his wife, who is
supported by her native craft and the whole usages of society as her
allies.
LXXXII.
Anything may be expected and anything may be supposed of a woman who
is in love.
LXXXIII.
The actions of a woman who intends to deceive her husband are almost
always the result of study, but never dictated by reason.
LXXXIV.
The greater number of women advance like the fleas, by erratic leaps
and bounds, They owe their escape to the height or depth of their
first ideas, and any interruption of their plans rather favors their
execution. But they operate only within a narrow area which it is easy
for the husband to make still narrower; and if he keeps cool he will
end by extinguishing this piece of living saltpetre.
LXXXV.
A husband should never allow himself to address a single disparaging
remark to his wife, in presence of a third party.
LXXXVI.
The moment a wife decides to break her marriage vow she reckons her
husband as everything or nothing. All defensive operations must start
from this proposition.
LXXXVII.
The life of a woman is either of the head, of the heart, or of
passion. When a woman reaches the age to form an estimate of life, her
husband ought to find out whether the primary cause of her intended
infidelity proceeds from vanity, from sentiment or from temperament.
Temperament may be remedied like disease; sentiment is something in
which the husband may find great opportunities of success; but vanity
is incurable. A woman whose life is of the head may be a terrible
scourge. She combines the faults of a passionate woman with those of
the tender-hearted woman, without having their palliations. She is
destitute alike of pity, love, virtue or sex.
LXXXVIII.
A woman whose life is of the head will strive to inspire her husband
with indifference; the woman whose life is of the heart, with hatred;
the passionate woman, with disgust.
LXXXIX.
A husband never loses anything by appearing to believe in the fidelity
of his wife, by preserving an air of patience and by keeping silence.
Silence especially troubles a woman amazingly.
XC.
To show himself aware of the passion of his wife is the mark of a
fool; but to affect ignorance of all proves that a man has sense, and
this is in fact the only attitude to take. We are taught, moreover,
that everybody in France is sensible.
XCI.
The rock most to be avoided is ridicule.--"At least, let us be
affectionate in public," ought to be the maxim of a married
establishment. For both the married couple to lose honor, esteem,
consideration, respect and all that is worth living for in society, is
to become a nonentity.
These axioms relate to the contest alone. As for the catastrophe,
others will be needed for that.
We have called this crisis _Civil War_ for two reasons; never was a
war more really intestine and at the same time so polite as this war.
But in what point and in what manner does this fatal war break out?
You do not believe that your wife will call out regiments and sound
the trumpet, do you? She will, perhaps, have a commanding officer, but
that is all. And this feeble army corps will be sufficient to destroy
the peace of your establishment.
"You forbid me to see the people that I like!" is an exordium which
has served for a manifesto in most homes. This phrase, with all the
ideas that are concomitant, is oftenest employed by vain and
artificial women.
The most usual manifesto is that which is proclaimed in the conjugal
bed, the principal theatre of war. This subject will be treated in
detail in the Meditation entitled: _Of Various Weapons_, in the
paragraph, _Of Modesty in its Connection with Marriage_.
Certain women of a lymphatic temperament will pretend to have the
spleen and will even feign death, if they can only gain thereby the
benefit of a secret divorce.
But most of them owe their independence to the execution of a plan,
whose effect upon the majority of husbands is unfailing and whose
perfidies we will now reveal.
One of the greatest of human errors springs from the belief that our
honor and our reputation are founded upon our actions, or result from
the approbation which the general conscience bestows upon on conduct.
A man who lives in the world is born to be a slave to public opinion.
Now a private man in France has less opportunity of influencing the
world than his wife, although he has ample occasion for ridiculing it.
Women possess to a marvelous degree the art of giving color by
specious arguments to the recriminations in which they indulge. They
never set up any defence, excepting when they are in the wrong, and in
this proceeding they are pre-eminent, knowing how to oppose arguments
by precedents, proofs by assertions, and thus they very often obtain
victory in minor matters of detail. They see and know with admirable
penetration, when one of them presents to another a weapon which she
herself is forbidden to whet. It is thus that they sometimes lose a
husband without intending it. They apply the match and long afterwards
are terror-stricken at the conflagration.
As a general thing, all women league themselves against a married man
who is accused of tyranny; for a secret tie unites them all, as it
unites all priests of the same religion. They hate each other, yet
shield each other. You can never gain over more than one of them; and
yet this act of seduction would be a triumph for your wife.
You are, therefore, outlawed from the feminine kingdom. You see
ironical smiles on every lip, you meet an epigram in every answer.
These clever creatures force their daggers and amuse themselves by
sculpturing the handle before dealing you a graceful blow.
The treacherous art of reservation, the tricks of silence, the malice
of suppositions, the pretended good nature of an inquiry, all these
arts are employed against you. A man who undertakes to subjugate his
wife is an example too dangerous to escape destruction from them, for
will not his conduct call up against them the satire of every husband?
Moreover, all of them will attack you, either by bitter witticisms, or
by serious arguments, or by the hackneyed maxims of gallantry. A swarm
of celibates will support all their sallies and you will be assailed
and persecuted as an original, a tyrant, a bad bed-fellow, an
eccentric man, a man not to be trusted.
Your wife will defend you like the bear in the fable of La Fontaine;
she will throw paving stones at your head to drive away the flies that
alight on it. She will tell you in the evening all the things that
have been said about you, and will ask an explanation of acts which
you never committed, and of words which you never said. She professes
to have justified you for faults of which you are innocent; she has
boasted of a liberty which she does not possess, in order to clear you
of the wrong which you have done in denying that liberty. The
deafening rattle which your wife shakes will follow you everywhere
with its obtrusive din. Your darling will stun you, will torture you,
meanwhile arming herself by making you feel only the thorns of married
life. She will greet you with a radiant smile in public, and will be
sullen at home. She will be dull when you are merry, and will make you
detest her merriment when you are moody. Your two faces will present a
perpetual contrast.
Very few men have sufficient force of mind not to succumb to this
preliminary comedy, which is always cleverly played, and resembles the
_hourra_ raised by the Cossacks, as they advance to battle. Many
husbands become irritated and fall into irreparable mistakes. Others
abandon their wives. And, indeed, even those of superior intelligence
do not know how to get hold of the enchanted ring, by which to dispel
this feminine phantasmagoria.
Two-thirds of such women are enabled to win their independence by this
single manoeuvre, which is no more than a review of their forces. In
this case the war is soon ended.
But a strong man who courageously keeps cool throughout this first
assault will find much amusement in laying bare to his wife, in a
light and bantering way, the secret feelings which make her thus
behave, in following her step by step through the labyrinth which she
treads, and telling her in answer to her every remark, that she is
false to herself, while he preserves throughout a tone of pleasantry
and never becomes excited.
Meanwhile war is declared, and if her husband has not been dazzled by
these first fireworks, a woman has yet many other resources for
securing her triumph; and these it is the purpose of the following
Meditations to discover.
MEDITATION XXIV.
PRINCIPLES OF STRATEGY.
The Archduke Charles published a very fine treatise on military under
the title _Principles of Strategy in Relation to the Campaigns of
1796_. These principles seem somewhat to resemble poetic canons
prepared for poems already published. In these days we are become very
much more energetic, we invent rules to suit works and works to suit
rules. But of what use were ancient principles of military art in
presence of the impetuous genius of Napoleon? If, to-day, however, we
reduce to a system the lessons taught by this great captain whose new
tactics have destroyed the ancient ones, what future guarantee do we
possess that another Napoleon will not yet be born? Books on military
art meet, with few exceptions, the fate of ancient works on Chemistry
and Physics. Everything is subject to change, either constant or
periodic.
This, in a few words, is the history of our work.
So long as we have been dealing with a woman who is inert or lapped in
slumber, nothing has been easier than to weave the meshes with which
we have bound her; but the moment she wakes up and begins to struggle,
all is confusion and complication. If a husband would make an effort
to recall the principles of the system which we have just described in
order to involve his wife in the nets which our second part has set
for her, he would resemble Wurmser, Mack and Beaulieu arranging their
halts and their marches while Napoleon nimbly turns their flank, and
makes use of their own tactics to destroy them.
This is just what your wife will do.
How is it possible to get at the truth when each of you conceals it
under the same lie, each setting the same trap for the other? And
whose will be the victory when each of you is caught in a similar
snare?
"My dear, I have to go out; I have to pay a visit to Madame So and So.
I have ordered the carriage. Would you like to come with me? Come, be
good, and go with your wife."
You say to yourself:
"She would be nicely caught if I consented! She asks me only to be
refused."
Then you reply to her:
"Just at the moment I have some business with Monsieur Blank, for he
has to give a report in a business matter which deeply concerns us
both, and I must absolutely see him. Then I must go to the Minister of
Finance. So your arrangement will suit us both."
"Very well, dearest, go and dress yourself, while Celine finishes
dressing me; but don't keep me waiting."
"I am ready now, love," you cry out, at the end of ten minutes, as you
stand shaved and dressed.
But all is changed. A letter has arrived; madame is not well; her
dress fits badly; the dressmaker has come; if it is not the dressmaker
it is your mother. Ninety-nine out of a hundred husbands will leave
the house satisfied, believing that their wives are well guarded,
when, as a matter of fact, the wives have gotten rid of them.
A lawful wife who from her husband cannot escape, who is not
distressed by pecuniary anxiety, and who in order to give employment
to a vacant mind, examines night and day the changing tableaux of each
day's experience, soon discovers the mistake she has made in falling
into a trap or allowing herself to be surprised by a catastrophe; she
will then endeavor to turn all these weapons against you.
There is a man in society, the sight of whom is strangely annoying to
your wife; she can tolerate neither his tone, his manners nor his way
of regarding things. Everything connected with him is revolting to
her; she is persecuted by him, he is odious to her; she hopes that no
one will tell him this. It seems almost as if she were attempting to
oppose you; for this man is one for whom you have the highest esteem.
You like his disposition because he flatters you; and thus your wife
presumes that your esteem for him results from flattered vanity. When
you give a ball, an evening party or a concert, there is almost a
discussion on this subject, and madame picks a quarrel with you,
because you are compelling her to see people who are not agreeable to
her.
"At least, sir, I shall never have to reproach myself with omitting to
warn you. That man will yet cause you trouble. You should put some
confidence in women when they pass sentence on the character of a man.
And permit me to tell you that this baron, for whom you have such a
predilection, is a very dangerous person, and you are doing very wrong
to bring him to your house. And this is the way you behave; you
absolutely force me to see one whom I cannot tolerate, and if I ask
you to invite Monsieur A-----, you refuse to do so, because you think
that I like to have him with me! I admit that he talks well, that he
is kind and amiable; but you are more to me than he can ever be."
These rude outlines of feminine tactics, which are emphasized by
insincere gestures, by looks of feigned ingenuousness, by artful
intonations of the voice and even by the snare of cunning silence, are
characteristic to some degree of their whole conduct.
There are few husbands who in such circumstances as these do not form
the idea of setting a mouse-trap; they welcome as their guests both
Monsieur A----- and the imaginary baron who represents the person whom
their wives abhor, and they do so in the hope of discovering a lover
in the celibate who is apparently beloved.
Oh yes, I have often met in the world young men who were absolutely
starlings in love and complete dupes of a friendship which women
pretended to show them, women who felt themselves obliged to make a
diversion and to apply a blister to their husbands as their husbands
had previously done to them! These poor innocents pass their time in
running errands, in engaging boxes at the theatre, in riding in the
Bois de Boulogne by the carriages of their pretended mistresses; they
are publicly credited with possessing women whose hands they have not
even kissed. Vanity prevents them from contradicting these flattering
rumors, and like the young priests who celebrate masses without a
Host, they enjoy a mere show passion, and are veritable
supernumeraries of love.
Under these circumstances sometimes a husband on returning home asks
the porter: "Has no one been here?"--"M. le Baron came past at two
o'clock to see monsieur; but as he found no one was in but madame he
went away; but Monsieur A----- is with her now."
You reach the drawing-room, you see there a young celibate, sprightly,
scented, wearing a fine necktie, in short a perfect dandy. He is a man
who holds you in high esteem; when he comes to your house your wife
listens furtively for his footsteps; at a ball she always dances with
him. If you forbid her to see him, she makes a great outcry and it is
not till many years afterwards [see Meditation on _Las Symptoms_] that
you see the innocence of Monsieur A----- and the culpability of the
baron.
We have observed and noted as one of the cleverest manoeuvres, that of
a young woman who, carried away by an irresistible passion, exhibited
a bitter hatred to the man she did not love, but lavished upon her
lover secret intimations of her love. The moment that her husband was
persuaded that she loved the _Cicisbeo_ and hated the _Patito_, she
arranged that she and the _Patito_ should be found in a situation
whose compromising character she had calculated in advance, and her
husband and the execrated celibate were thus induced to believe that
her love and her aversion were equally insincere. When she had brought
her husband into the condition of perplexity, she managed that a
passionate letter should fall into his hands. One evening in the midst
of the admirable catastrophe which she had thus brought to a climax,
madame threw herself at her husband's feet, wet them with her tears,
and thus concluded the climax to her own satisfaction.
"I esteem and honor you profoundly," she cried, "for keeping your own
counsel as you have done. I am in love! Is this a sentiment which is
easy for me to repress? But what I can do is to confess the fact to
you; to implore you to protect me from myself, to save me from my own
folly. Be my master and be a stern master to me; take me away from
this place, remove me from what has caused all this trouble, console
me; I will forget him, I desire to do so. I do not wish to betray you.
I humbly ask your pardon for the treachery love has suggested to me.
Yes, I confess to you that the love which I pretended to have for my
cousin was a snare set to deceive you. I love him with the love of
friendship and no more.--Oh! forgive me! I can love no one but"--her
voice was choked in passionate sobs--"Oh! let us go away, let us leave
Paris!"
She began to weep; her hair was disheveled, her dress in disarray; it
was midnight, and her husband forgave her. From henceforth, the cousin
made his appearance without risk, and the Minotaur devoured one victim
more.
What instructions can we give for contending with such adversaries as
these? Their heads contain all the diplomacy of the congress of
Vienna; they have as much power when they are caught as when they
escape. What man has a mind supple enough to lay aside brute force and
strength and follow his wife through such mazes as these?
To make a false plea every moment, in order to elicit the truth, a
true plea in order to unmask falsehood; to charge the battery when
least expected, and to spike your gun at the very moment of firing it;
to scale the mountain with the enemy, in order to descend to the plain
again five minutes later; to accompany the foe in windings as rapid,
as obscure as those of a plover on the breezes; to obey when obedience
is necessary, and to oppose when resistance is inertial; to traverse
the whole scale of hypotheses as a young artist with one stroke runs
from the lowest to the highest note of his piano; to divine at last
the secret purpose on which a woman is bent; to fear her caresses and
to seek rather to find out what are the thoughts that suggested them
and the pleasure which she derived from them--this is mere child's pay
for the man of intellect and for those lucid and searching
imaginations which possess the gift of doing and thinking at the same
time. But there are a vast number of husbands who are terrified at the
mere idea of putting in practice these principles in their dealings
with a woman.
Such men as these prefer passing their lives in making huge efforts to
become second-class chess-players, or to pocket adroitly a ball in
billiards.
Some of them will tell you that they are incapable of keeping their
minds on such a constant strain and breaking up the habits of their
life. In that case the woman triumphs. She recognizes that in mind and
energy she is her husband's superior, although the superiority may be
but temporary; and yet there rises in her a feeling of contempt for
the head of the house.
If many man fail to be masters in their own house this is not from
lack of willingness, but of talent. As for those who are ready to
undergo the toils of this terrible duel, it is quite true that they
must needs possess great moral force.
And really, as soon as it is necessary to display all the resources of
this secret strategy, it is often useless to attempt setting any traps
for these satanic creatures. Once women arrive at a point when they
willfully deceive, their countenances become as inscrutable as
vacancy. Here is an example which came within my own experience.
A very young, very pretty, and very clever coquette of Paris had not
yet risen. Seated by her bed was one of her dearest friends. A letter
arrived from another, a very impetuous fellow, to whom she had allowed
the right of speaking to her like a master. The letter was in pencil
and ran as follows:
"I understand that Monsieur C----- is with you at this moment. I am
waiting for him to blow his brains out."
Madame D----- calmly continued the conversation with Monsieur C-----.
She asked him to hand her a little writing desk of red leather which
stood on the table, and he brought it to her.
"Thanks, my dear," she said to him; "go on talking, I am listening to
you."
C----- talked away and she replied, all the while writing the
following note:
"As soon as you become jealous of C----- you two can blow out each
other's brains at your pleasure. As for you, you may die; but brains
--you haven't any brains to blow out."
"My dear friend," she said to C-----, "I beg you will light this
candle. Good, you are charming. And now be kind enough to leave me and
let me get up, and give this letter to Monsieur d'H-----, who is
waiting at the door."
All this was said with admirable coolness. The tones and intonations
of her voice, the expression of her face showed no emotion. Her
audacity was crowned with complete success. On receiving the answer
from the hand of Monsieur C-----, Monsieur d'H----- felt his wrath
subside. He was troubled with only one thing and that was how to
disguise his inclination to laugh.
The more torch-light one flings into the immense cavern which we are
now trying to illuminate, the more profound it appears. It is a
bottomless abyss. It appears to us that our task will be accomplished
more agreeably and more instructively if we show the principles of
strategy put into practice in the case of a woman, when she has
reached a high degree of vicious accomplishment. An example suggests
more maxims and reveals the existence of more methods than all
possible theories.
One day at the end of a dinner given to certain intimate friends by
Prince Lebrun, the guests, heated by champagne, were discussing the
inexhaustible subject of feminine artifice. The recent adventure which
was credited to the Countess R. D. S. J. D. A-----, apropos of a
necklace, was the subject first broached. A highly esteemed artist, a
gifted friend of the emperor, was vigorously maintaining the opinion,
which seemed somewhat unmanly, that it was forbidden to a man to
resist successfully the webs woven by a woman.
"It is my happy experience," he said, "that to them nothing is
sacred."
The ladies protested.
"But I can cite an instance in point."
"It is an exception!"
"Let us hear the story," said a young lady.
"Yes, tell it to us," cried all the guests.
The prudent old gentleman cast his eyes around, and, after having
formed his conclusions as to the age of the ladies, smiled and said:
"Since we are all experienced in life, I consent to relate the
adventure."
Dead silence followed, and the narrator read the following from a
little book which he had taken from his pocket:
I was head over ears in love with the Comtesse de -----. I was twenty
and I was ingenuous. She deceived me. I was angry; she threw me over.
I was ingenuous, I repeat, and I was grieved to lose her. I was
twenty; she forgave me. And as I was twenty, as I was always
ingenuous, always deceived, but never again thrown over by her, I
believed myself to have been the best beloved of lovers, consequently
the happiest of men. The countess had a friend, Madame de T-----, who
seemed to have some designs on me, but without compromising her
dignity; for she was scrupulous and respected the proprieties. One day
while I was waiting for the countess in her Opera box, I heard my name
called from a contiguous box. It was Madame de T-----.