SELF-HELP OMNIBUS
By
ELIZA HAYWOOD

Comprising

A Present for a Servant Maid (1743)
The Wife (1756)
The Husband (1756)


Published by The Ex-Classics Project, 2026
Public Domain



A PRESENT FOR A SERVANT MAID

First Published 1743



Title Page
A
PRESENT
FOR A
Servant Maid.
OR, THE
Sure Means of gaining LOVE and ESTEEM,
Under the following Heads:
Observance.
Avoiding Sloth.
Sluttishness.
Staying on Errands.
Telling Family Affairs.
Secrets among Fellow-Servants.
Entering into their Quarrels. 
Tale-bearing.
Being an Eye-Servant.
Carelesness of Children.
Of Fire, Candle, Thieves.
New Acquaintance.
Fortune-Tellers.
Giving saucy Answers.
Liquorishness.
Aping the Fashion.
Dishonesty.
The Market-Penny.
Delaying to give Change.
Giving away Victuals.
Bringing in Charwomen.
Waiting Victuals.
Quarrels with Fellow-Servants.
Behaviour to the Sick.
Hearing Things against a
Master or Mistress.
Being too free with Men-
Servants.
Conduct towards Apprentices.
Misspending Time.
Public Shows.
Vails.
Giving Advice too freely.
Chastity.
Temptations from the Master.
If a single Man.
If a married Man.
If from the Master's Son.
If from Gentlemen Lodgers.
To which are added,
DIRECTIONS for going to MARKET
ALSO,
For Dressing any Common Dish, whether FLESH, FISH or FOWL.
With some Rules for WASHING, &c.
______________________________________________________________
The whole calculated for making both the Mistresss and
the Maid happy.
---------------------------------------------------------------
DUBLIN:
Printed by and for GEORGE FAULKNER, 1744.




Preface.

It is not to be wondered at, that in an age abounding with
luxury, and over-run with pride, servants should be in general
so bad, that it is become one of our calamities not to be able
to live without them: corruption, though it begins at the head,
ceases not its progress till it reaches the most inferior parts,
and it is high time to endeavour a cure of so growing an evil. I
am certain no undertaking whatever can be more useful to the
public, and I flatter myself will meet with greater
encouragement. A due observance of the rules contained in this
little treatise, cannot fail of making every mistress of a
family perfectly contented, and every servant-maid both happy
and beloved; and I hope whoever of the latter shall read what I
have set down, will find it so much her interest, as well as her
duty, to behave in a contrary manner from what too many for some
years have done; that she will make it her whole study to avoid
the errors she may see in others, and reform such as she has
been guilty of herself: this is the sole end proposed by the
publication of these sheets, and if the attempt succeeds, I
think my labour well bestowed.



Introduction.


DEAR GIRLS,

I think there cannot be a greater service done to the
commonwealth, (of which you are a numerous body) than to lay
down some general rules for your behaviour, which, if observed,
will make your condition so happy to yourselves as it is
necessary to others. Nothing can be more melancholy, than to
hear continual complaints for faults which a very little
reflection would render it almost as easy for you to avoid as to
commit; most of the mistakes laid to your charge proceeding at
first only from a certain indolence and inactivity of the mind,
but if not rectified in time, become habitual, and difficult to
be thrown off.



Personal Behaviour

Caution against bad houses] As the first step therefore towards
being happy in service, you should never enter into a place, but
with a view of staying in it; to which end I think it highly
necessary, that (as no mistress worth serving will take you
without a character) you should also make some enquiry into the
place before you suffer yourself to be hired.

There are some houses which appear well by day, that it would be
little safe for a modest maid to sleep in at night: I do not
mean those coffee-houses, bagnios, &c. which some parts of the
town, particularly Covent Garden, abound with; for in those the
very aspect of the persons who keep them are sufficient to show
what manner of trade they follow; but houses which have no
public show of business, are richly furnished, and where the
mistress has an air of the strictest modesty, and perhaps
affects a double purity of behaviour: yet under such roofs, and
under the sanction of such women as I have described, are too
frequently acted such scenes of debauchery as would startle even
the owners of some common brothels. Great regard is therefore to
be had to the character of the persons who recommend you, and
the manner in which you heard of the place; for those sort of
people have commonly their emissaries at inns, watching the
coming in of the waggons, and, if they find any pretty girls who
come to town to go to service, presently hire them in the name
of some person of condition, and by this means the innocent
young creature, while she thanks God for her good fortune, in
being so immediately provided for, is ensnared into the service
of the devil. Here temptations of all kinds are offered her; she
is not treated as a servant but a guest; her country habit is
immediately stripped off, and a gay modish one put on in its
stead; and then the designed victtim, willing or unwilling, is
exposed to sale to the first lewd supporter of her mistress's
grandeur that comes to the house: if she refuses the shameful
business for which she was hired, and prefers the preservation
of her virtue to all the promises can be made her, which way can
she escape? She is immediately confined, close watched,
threatened, and at last forced to compliance. Then by a
continued prostitution withered in her bloom, she becomes
despised, no longer affords any advantage to the wretch who
betrayed her, and is turned out to infamy and beggary, perhaps
too with the most loathsome of all diseases, which ends her
miserable days in an hospital or work-house, in case she can be
admitted, though some have not had even that favour, but found
their death-bed on a dunghill.

Nor are these artifices confined to country girls alone, those
cunning wicked ones have their spies in every corner of the
town, who lie in wait to entrap the innocent and unwary; it
behoves you therefore to know very well, for what, and to whom
you hire yourself, and be satisfied, at least, that it is for
honest purposes, and that the persons you serve are people of
reputation.

An honest service a great blessing.] Having given you this
necessary caution, I must also remind you, that you ought to
rejoice when received into an house, to be seen in which can
call no blush in your face; and as there is no perfect happiness
in this world, even in the highest stations, much less ought you
to expect to find everything exactly to your mind, but to
resolve to make everything so, as much as possible; and not say
as some of you are apt to do, There are more places than parish
churches, and on the least occasion presently give warning.
Those who speak or act in this manner will scarce succeed in any
service; they will be continually roaming from house to house,
oftener out of place than in, without character, without money,
without friends or support, in case of sickness or any other
exigence, all which, those who have lived any time in a family
have a right to demand. If therefore you would seriously
consider the miseries that threaten you on the one hand, and the
certain advantages which offer to you on the other, none of you
would have any disposition to change; but on the contrary,
endeavour to avoid doing anything that might occasion your being
turned away.

I know there are people of very odd humours in the world, but
then those humours have all of them a certain way of being
soothed; which if you hit, as a little attention will teach you
how to do, you will find more kindness from those very persons,
than you might from others of a more even temper.

Studying to give Content.] Possessed with a strong desire of
pleasing you will rarely fail of doing it; a good temper will be
charmed with your readiness, and a bad one disarmed of great
part of its harshness; and though you should be a little awkward
in things you are employed in, when they see it is not
occasioned by obstinacy or indolence, they will rather instruct
you in what they find you ignorant, than be angry that you are
so. Whereas if you really perform all the duties of a servant
with the utmost exactness, yet if you seem careless whether what
you do is agreeable or not, your services will lose great part
of their merit. Their manner of doing anything is as much to be
regarded as the thing itself; and because the humours of people
are vastly different, it is your interest to study by what sort
of behaviour you can most ingratiate yourself, as the scripture
says, The eye of the handmaid looks up to her mistress, so you
ought diligently to observe not only what she says, but also how
she looks, in order to give content. On this you may depend,
that if you are fearful of offending, you can scarce offend at
all; because that very timidity is an indication of your respect
for those you serve, and a real ambition of deserving their
approbation; than which there is nothing more engaging.

Sloth.] One of the greatest impediments to the practice of this
lesson is sloth; which though it proceeds at first from a
heaviness in the blood, and is no more than a distemper, if
indulged grows up into a vice, and renders you incapable of
doing your duty either to God or man: the Roman Catholics place
it among the number of the deadly sins, and can really give a
better reason for so doing than for most of their other tenets;
for it is, as I may say, the principal source of all the evils a
person in any station can be guilty of, but more especially in
yours. Sloth occasions a falling off from everything that is
commendable, and a general defection of the animal spirits; so
that you become unable as well as unwilling to perform even what
would otherwise be most pleasing to you. Take care, therefore,
how you give way to the love of idleness, or too much sleep,
both of which dull the spirits, and fill the body full of gross
humours; you should therefore make use of your utmost endeavours
against these potent enemies of your health, your happiness,
your virtue. There are many recipes in physic for this evil,
but, believe me, the best prescription is a willing mind.
Whenever you find yourself inclined to sleep beyond those hours
which nature requires, rise, though it be before the time
expected from you: make business for yourself if you can find
none, and stir nimbly about till the fit is entirely gone off.
This method frequently practised will wear off in time whatever
sluggishness you may have from constitution or custom, and
render you strong and lively.

Temperance in eating and drinking.] 	I must also add, that
temperance in eating, and drinking is very conducive to this
end: you should remember you do not live to eat, but eat to
live; and whatever goes down your throats beyond what is
requisite for that purpose, only engenders crudities, which
naturally occasion sloth: neither should you sit too long at
meals. It is an old, but very true saying, Quick at meat, Quick
at work, and nothing is more unbecoming in a young person,
especially a servant, whose time is not her own, than to indulge
herself in this. The affectation of following your mistress's
example, has corrupted but too many of you; you imagine it shows
a delicacy, and looks pretty in you, to be able to breakfast on
nothing but tea and coffee, whereas both these liquors,
especially the former, diminish your strength, waste your time,
and, for the most part, draw on a more pernicious consequence,
which is dram-drinking. I have known several who have loathed
the very smell of any spirituous liquor, become at last to love
them to their ruin, merely by drinking of tea, which, by too
much cooling and weakening the stomach, seems to render it
necessary to have something warm. You begin with a little, and
think you will never exceed a certain bound, but by degrees
increase the proportion; you crave still for more, till by
frequent use it becomes too habitual to be refrained. The
consequences of these intoxicating spirits, none of you but have
sense enough to see, if you would give yourselves the trouble of
considering, and the horrible objects which the streets every
day afford you, methinks, should make it impossible for you not
to do so.

Sluttishness.] The constant attendant on sloth is sluttishness:
she who gives her mind to idleness, can neither be thoroughly
clean in her own person nor the house; and though her pride may
sometimes force her to prink herself up, when she is to go
abroad, or her fear of being turned away make her keep those
rooms in order, in which her neglect, if otherwise, would be
most conspicuous; yet all her neatness will be outside; there
will always be some dirty thing about the one, and some unswept
corners in the other. Sloth suggests to you, that this, or that,
will not be taken notice of, and you may sit still and indulge
yourself a little, and work the harder for it next day; but,
when the next day comes, you are as unwilling as before, and by
putting off your business, make it become too heavy for you go
through, even though you had the best inclination; and
everything infallibly shows the slut, than which there cannot be
a more scandalous character, or that will more effectually
disqualify you for any good service.

But though cleanliness in your own person, and the goods
committed to your charge, be highly commendable, yet it is more
especially so in dressing of victuals. To see anything nasty
about what is to go into the mouth, creates a loathing, even in
those who are the least nice in other particulars. All the
utensils in the kitchen, therefore, ought to be kept free from
any kind of dirt, or rust, and your hands very well washed, and
your nails close pared, before you touch the meat: for this
reason it is very odious for servants to use themselves to the
taking of snuff. The most careful cannot answer that what they
are dressing may not be spiced with some of this powder, which
is so fine ground, especially that which they call Scotch or
Spanish, that in the very opening the box that contains it, you
may see the dust fly out. As the taking it is nothing but a
custom, and a very bad one too, because it clogs both the brain
and the passages to the stomach, soils the linen and the skin,
indulges sloth, and is some expense, though a small one, without
anyone good property to atone for all these inconveniencies, I
would advise you by all means to refrain from it.

Staying when sent on errands.] Another very great fault I have
observed in many of you, which, if not proceeding always from
downright sloth, does from something so like it, that the effect
is scarce to be distinguished from the cause: it shows at least
sloth of the mind, a want of diligence, a carelessness of
pleasing, which, as I have already said, is the source of almost
all the faults you can be guilty of; and this is staying when
you are sent on an errand; a crowd gathered about a pickpocket,
a pedlar, a mountebank, or a ballad-singer; has the power to
detain too many of you, though when sent on the most important
business to those you serve; and which, perhaps, may greatly
suffer by a moment's delay. How cruel, therefore, how unjust is
it to sacrifice to a little impertinent curiosity, the interest
of those who give you bread! But supposing the affair you go
upon is in itself immaterial, it is not so to those who send
you: nobody sends for anything they do not want, nor on any
message which they would not have immediately delivered; and the
suspense they are in while waiting beyond the time they might
expect you back, creates an uneasiness of mind which no
confederate person would give to anyone much less to a master or
mistress. Sometimes, perhaps, you have the excuse of meeting an
acquaintance, a friend, or one who knows the family you lived in
before, and has a thousand things to tell you concerning what
happened since you went away, and what is said of yourself; but
you ought to remember, that no intelligence that detains you
from your business can be worth your while to hear, or an
equivalent for disobliging those you serve; and that none are
truly your friends that would hold you by the ears with an idle
story: for while you are in the condition of a servant, your
time belongs to those who pay you for it; and all you waste from
the employment they set you about, is a robbery from them.

Telling the affairs of the family.] But infinitely worse is it
when you suffer yourselves to be detained in order to discover
the affairs of the family where you live. The smallest and most
trivial action there should never escape your lips, because you
cannot be a judge what are really such, and what are the
contrary. Things that may seem to you matters of perfect
indifference, may happen to prove of great importance to those
concerned in them, and sometimes a single word, inadvertently
let fall, may so coincide with what has been said by others as
to give room to prying people for conjectures which you are not
aware of. Neither is it sufficient you inviolably preserve what
secrets are intrusted to you, to maintain your character of
fidelity; if you are found guilty of blabbing small things, you
will be suspected of not being more retentive in greater; so
that as what you can say can be of no service to yourselves, and
may be of prejudice to those you live with, I would advise you
to be extremely circumspect how you mention either their humour,
circumstances, or behaviour.

Speaking of your fellow servants.] It will be likewise prudent
in you to be as silent in what relates to your fellow servants,
if you have any: if they are good, they stand in no need of
anything you can say; and if bad, it is not your business to
search into their faults, for fear of provoking them to be on
the watch for yours, and even lay those to your charge of which
you may be perfectly innocent. Indeed, if you find them guilty
of any flagrant injustice, such as may touch the life or.
property of your matter or mistress, to conceal it from them
would be no less than to partake of their crime; but you must be
well assured of this before you venture to speak; say nothing on
surmise, for to give even the least hint of what you cannot
prove, will make you be looked upon only as an incendiary and an
envious person, and excite the hatred of the whole family.

Secrets among fellow-servants.] Neither would I have you be
desirous of being trusted with the secrets of your fellow-
servants: you can gain nothing by the confidence of such as
they, and when any two are observed to be continually
whispering, it not only raises a jealousy in the rest, but also
is apt to give your master and mistress a suspicion that you are
carrying on something to their detriment.

Entering into their quarrels.] Nothing can lay you more open to
ill-will than interfering in any dispute among them; by so
doing, you are sure to incur the displeasure of one party, and
often of both, when the quarrel being made up, it shall be
discovered what hand you had in it.

Tale-bearing.] Much less ought you to report every little word
you hear among them. Many things if heard out of the mouth that,
first speaks them, would be wholly inoffensive, carry a stronger
meaning when repeated by another: besides those who cannot help
telling all they hear, are very apt to tell more than they hear;
and even though they do not, are suspected of it. Neither ought
you to meddle with what is not properly your province, in a
family where there are several servants, each has her business
assigned, and it is sufficient for you, that you do your own;
when others neglect theirs, leave to those to whom it belongs to
find out and blame it; by this means you will preserve peace,
and acquire the love of all of them, without running any danger
of disobliging your master and mistress, who, whatever use they
may make of the tales you bring, will not in their hearts
approve such a propensity in you.

Being an eye-servant.] I would also warn you against being what
they call an eye-servant. To appear diligent in sight, and be
found neglectful when out of it, show you both deceitful and
lazy, and when once discovered to be so, as this is a fault
cannot be long concealed, how irksome will it be to you to hear
the just reproaches made you on this score, and to be watched
and followed in everything you do, and how great a trouble must
you give your mistress in forcing her to it! People, who keep
servants, keep them for their ease, not to increase their. care;
and nothing can be more cruel, as well as more unjust, than to
disappoint them in a view they have so much right to expect. The
taking any liberties when your master and mistress are abroad,
which are not allowed you when they are at home, comes also
under this head; and, however innocent you may think them, or
they in reality may be in themselves, are still a breach of duty
which you ought by no means to be guilty of. To avoid all
mistakes of this kind, it would be well for you to calculate,
the first thing you do in the morning (after having said your
prayers) the business of the day, and contrive it so as it may
come within as little compass of time as possible, and then go
cheerfully about it, without taking notice whether you are
observed or not. Contrivance is half work they say, and I am
certain you will find it so; everything will go easily and
smoothly on, and no mistress but will look on such a servant as
a jewel, when she finds that waking or sleeping, abroad or at
home, she may depend on her business being regularly done.

Carelessness of children.] There is no negligence you can be
guilty of less pardonable than that concerning children
committed to your charge. If you happen to live in a family
where the mistress either suckles, or brings an infant up by
hand at home; part of the duty of a nurse will fall to your
share; and to use the little innocent with any harshness, or
omit giving it food, or any other necessary attendance, is a
barbarity which nothing can excuse. It was by diligence and
tenderness you yourselves were reared to what you are; and it is
by the same dispositions you must bring up your own children
when you come to have them. Practice, therefore, if it falls in
your way, those lessons, which it will behove you to be perfect
in when you come to be mothers: but above all things be careful,
whether the child be yet in arms, or goes in leading-strings,
that it gets no falls; and as such accidents may sometimes
happen in spite of the greatest caution in the world, never let
your fear of offending prevail on you to conceal it: do not,
because perhaps you may see no outward scarification, assure
yourselves there is no harm done: internal damages are of the
worst consequence: a bone may be slipped which you do not
perceive, and which if not timely rectified, can no way
afterwards be set to rights. You must not defer discovering what
has happened one moment; but if your mistress is absent, run
immediately to some skilful person, and have the infant
examined. Reflect within yourselves how great a shock it would
be to you to find, when it was too late for remedy, that a child
committed to your care, should be lame, crook-backed, or have
any other personal defect entailed on it for life, merely
through your neglect. Nature makes few mistakes, and I dare
answer, that of the many unhappy objects we see of this kind,
ninety-nine in a hundred owe their misfortune to the
disingenuity of those who attended them in their infancy. The
eldest son of an alderman in the city, with whom I am well
acquainted, by a fall his nurse had as she was carrying him down
stairs, had his back-bone broke at six weeks old: the poor woman
presently undressed and examined him according to the best of
her judgment; but perceiving nothing appear outwardly, imagined
no hurt had come to him. The misfortune discovered not itself
till some weeks after, when perceiving that he had no other
strength in his back than what the stays afforded him, and that
when naked, he fell quite forward, a surgeon was sent for, who
presently found the truth; but there was in art no prospect of
relief: the afflicted parents spared no cost for that purpose,
but all in vain; and the young gentleman could never walk
without a crutch under each arm. I know a gentleman also, whose
little daughter of much the same age, and by a fall of the like
nature, had one arm and one leg broke, which, by not being set
in time, could never after be repaired; and she has no use, nor
ever can have, of either of those limbs: another being let fall,
had both her knee-pans slipped, and never knew the pleasure of
walking; but to the day of her death (and she lived to be
upwards of twenty) was obliged to be carried wherever she went,
in a footman's arms. How melancholy a thing was this, for a fine
young lady to be deprived of all the pleasures, all the
advantages of her rank and age, and not to be able to taste in
youth those satisfactions which age regrets the loss of; yet how
much more unhappy would it have been, how would the misfortune
have been doubled, had it befallen a person whose parents had it
not in their power to bequeath her a handsome subsistence.
Cripple as she was, the must then have been obliged to the
hospital, or workhouse, for a wretched support. Consider
therefore, how miserable you must have been, had any such
accident rendered you incapable of getting your bread; and let
no false modesty, or unreasonable timidity, make you ashamed or
afraid of revealing anything of this nature: you may, perhaps,
receive a little hasty word at first, but your integrity and
good-will for the child will afterward be praised, and you will
besides enjoy the innate satisfaction of having discharged your
duty.

Fire, candle.] There are also some other things in which it will
become you to be extremely cautious, most of the dreadful
accidents which have happened through fire, have been occasioned
by the too little circumspection of servants; I once lived in a
house, which, but by the strangest providence in the world, must
infallibly have been consumed, and probably many others with it,
by the maid taking the cinders off the kitchen fire, and putting
them into a coal scuttle, which she set under the dresscr, and
then went upstairs to bed. One of the family happening to be
taken ill in the night, ran down for some water, and found the
dresser and shelves over it in a blaze: on this timely discovery
an alarm was given, and, proper methods being immediately taken,
the fire was happily extinguished, which, had it continued but a
very small time longer, would have reached the main beam of the
house, all had been in flames, and the means perhaps never
guessed at by the unhappy sufferers. Innumerable have been the
mischiefs that have been done by the servants letting a candle
burn after they are in bed, and even by snuffing it among linen,
paper, or shavings: a spark flying off, and happening to fall on
some very dry thing, has often proved of the most dreadful
consequence, and there cannot be too much caution used in this
particular; and I would recommend it to you to see everything of
fire utterly extinguished before you venture to lie down to
sleep.

Thieves.] Neither is it enough that you are careful in barring
all the doors and windows to guard against the house being
robbed: the night is not the only season in which those invaders
of the properties of others are in search for prey. Experience
teaches us, that the day has sometimes been no less favourable
to them: the vizard and the formidable dark lanthorn they have
then indeed no occasion for; but by appearing less themselves,
are not the less dangerous. It is not then their business to
affright, but to deceive; and so many stratagems they abound
with for compassing this end, that you cannot be too much warned
against them. Where lodgings are to be let, they frequently
watch an opportunity of the family being gone abroad, and under
the pretence of seeing some apartment, get entrance, bind, gag,
or perhaps murder the maid, and plunder the house of everything
valuable in it. On Sundays, in the time of divine service, when
the family are at church, it is very dangerous to open the door
to anyone that knocks, especially in squares, or streets where
many people are not continually passing, or sitting at doors or
windows, as they are apt to do in little lanes and courts: I
would therefore advise you to answer all strangers that shall
come at that time, from an upper window; for several houses have
been robbed by the inadvertency of a servant, who on opening the
door, has given admittance to villains in the shape of
gentlemen. It would not be only endless, but likewise impossible
to recount the various stratagems they put in practice; I shall
therefore content myself with reminding you, to let no person,
who is not perfectly known to you, into the house, either when
you are alone in it, or early in the morning before the family
is up: they have come sometimes as footmen, with a message from
some person whole name they make use of as a sanction: sometimes
as porters with a basket from an inn, with a present from the
country: sometimes as a neighbour's servant, (especially if you
are lately come, and unacquainted) desiring leave to light a
candle; but whatever their pretences be, let them wait; better
to seem unmannerly, than by your carelessness expose your matter
and mistress to be robbed, and yourself murdered. There are your
little pilferers too no less impudent nor artful than those who
rob by wholesale, who watch the opportunity of a sash being up
in a parlour window, to snatch out anything within their reach;
and some of them have long sticks with hooks, which will easily
bring out a cloak, hat, or any other thing that happens to hang
up. Some of these have had the boldness to knock, and ask to
speak with the mistress of the family, when they have seen she
has been in an upper room, and on being asked to walk into the
parlour, and left alone while the maid goes up to inform her
mistress, have swept away whatever the buffet afforded; so that
on no account, nor at any time, can you safely give entrance to
one you know not.

New Acquaintance.] To be easily drawn into a familiarity with
persons who scrape acquaintance with you, is often of ill
consequence both to yourselves and those you live with.
Particularly those you will frequently meet with at chandler's
shops, and at some markets, where there are always idle people
hanging about, who will in a manner force themselves upon you,
ask you a thousand questions about your place, tell you that you
deserve a better, and that if you should go away, they can
recommend you where you will have more wages and less work, be
very officious in offering to carry anything for you and omit
nothing that may make you think they have taken a great fancy to
you, in order that you may ask them to come to see you, when
your master and mistress are abroad. These are a sort of
sharpers of your own sex but not a whit less dangerous than
those of the other, as many of you, who have been unwarily drawn
in by them, have sadly experienced.

Listening to fortune-tellers.] Telling of fortunes has been one
of the pretences the wretches above mentioned have found very
successful for the bringing about their wicked designs; by no.
means, therefore, give way to any insinuations of that sort; I
know no path that more readily leads to destruction: like
Macbeth in the play, who, by being told he should be a king,
became guilty of all manner of villainies to make himself so.
There is no vice whatever but you may fall an easy prey to, if
you are once made to believe it is your fate, and that though
you should strive against it never so much, it is unavoidable;
and I believe as many girls have been corrupted by this one
artifice, as by a thousand others. But supposing no efforts are
made on your own honesty this way, nor you should even suffer by
their want of it, whom you thus imprudently introduce, you at
least mis-spend your time, and have your head filled with a
thousand vain imaginations, which render you thoughtless and
forgetful of what is really your interest; and if no worse comes
of it, (as is seldom the case) that of itself is bad enough.

Folly of it.] It must be confessed a desire of prying into
future events is very much ingrafted in human nature, especially
in your sex; yet sure nothing can be more silly than an
endeavour to penetrate into them by looking into a cup, as if
the decrees of heaven were written in the grounds of coffee, and
intelligible to such poor ignorant wretches as those who make a
practice of this pretended art. It is no excuse for you, that
you see your betters sometimes guilty of this weakness; you are
not to imitate them in their errors: besides, what they do of
this kind is only for amusement; they cannot but have more sense
than to place any dependence on the absurd things foretold them
by these people, nor can run the hazards you do by bringing them
into the, house, where when you happen to be called away, they
are often left alone in a room, and as I said before, 'tis great
odds if they do not make use of that opportunity to pilfer
something, for which afterwards you will have the blame. Though
I have only mentioned the prognosticators in coffee-grounds, the
calculators of nativity, resolvers of horary questions, palming,
geomancy-mongers, card-cutters, gipsies, and all the other
pretenders to divination, come under the same head, and are in
general to be discouraged and avoided by all discreet and honest
servants.

Lying.] But there is scarce anyone thing I would more
strenuously recommend to you than speaking the exact truth: if
at any time taxed with a fault which you are conscious of being
guilty of, never attempt to screen it with a lie; for the last
fault is in addition to the former, and renders it more
inexcusable: to acknowledge you have been to blame is the surest
way both to merit and obtain forgiveness, and establishes an
opinion that you will be careful to avoid the like trespass for
the future. Whereas, if you are once detected in a lie, you will
never after be believed; and though wrongfully accused, all your
protestations of innocence go for nothing. Some have by nature
so strong a propensity to this vice, that they cannot refrain it
in the most trivial concerns, and even where speaking the truth
would be of equal, if not more advantage. But this is a most
dangerous habit; for supposing that either through your own
artful manner of delivering what you say, or the easy credulity
of those you impose upon, whatever you allege for a long time
should gain belief and repeated falsehoods be looked upon as
sacred truths, the success might be of worse consequence to you
than the detection: emboldened by having never yet been found
out, you might be lulled into a fatal security that you never
should be so; and in that confidence venture to be guilty of
things which no invention or dissimulation would have the power
to screen, and an attempt of that kind only add greater weight
to the crime, and shame to the aggressor. So that to indulge it
on any motive, or in any shape, is not only base to others, but
pernicious to yourselves.

Giving pert or saucy answers.] It is also very becoming in you
to be modest and humble in your deportment, never pretending to
argue the case, even though your mistress should be angry
without a cause. A soft answer puts away wrath, says Solomon.
And if she is a discreet woman she will reflect after her
passion is over, and use you the more kindly; whereas going
about to defend yourself by a saucy reply, gives her a real
occasion of offence, justifies her ill humour, and perhaps will
be more severely resented by her than the fault she accused you
of would be, had you been guilty of it.

Liquorishness.] As small errors frequently lead on to greater,
there are two things I would advise you not to give way to: the
first is a desire or craving after dainties, by which I mean
such things as either are not in the house, or are not allowed
to come to your table: it looks silly and childish in a servant
to be laying out her money in baubling cakes, nuts, and things
which she has no real occasion for, and can do her no good; and
no less impudent to presume to touch anything her mistress has
ordered to be set by; who, though she may not be of so cruel a
disposition as a certain lady, who not long since, sent her maid
to Bridewell for taking a slice of pudding, has reason to be
angry at having anything diminished she reserved for her own
eating, or those on whom she intended to bestow it.

Aping the fashion.] The second of these errors, or failings, for
I think neither of them simply in themselves can be called a
vice, is the ambition of imitating your betters in point of
dress, and fancying that though you cannot have such rich
clothes, it becomes you to put them on in the same manner:
whereas nothing looks so handsome in a servant as a decent
plainness. Ribbons, ruffles, necklaces, fans, hoop-petticoats,
and all those superfluities in dress, give you but a tawdry air,
and cost you that money, which perhaps you may hereafter have
occasion for. This folly is indeed so epidemic among you, that
few of you but lay out all you get in these imagined ornaments
of your person: the greatest pleasure you take is in being
called Madam by such as do not know you; and you fear nothing so
much as being taken for what you are: I wish you would seriously
consider how very preposterous all this is. Enquire of your
mothers and grandmothers how the servants of their times were
dressed, and you will be told that it was not by laying out
their wages in these fopperies they got good husbands, but by
the reputation of their honesty, industry and frugality, in
saving what they got in service. Besides, can you believe any
mistress can be pleased to find, that she no sooner puts on a
new thing, than her maid immediately jumps into something as
like it as she can? Do you think it is possible for her to
approve, that the time she pays and feeds her for, and expects
should be employed in her business, shall be trifled away in
curling her own hair, pinching her caps, tying up her knots, and
setting herself forth as though she had no other thing to do,
but to prepare for being looked at? This very failing, without
the help of any other, I take to be the cause that so very few
of you are able to continue long in a place and have so little
money to support yourselves when out. Yet this, my dear girls,
bad as it is, is not the worst: there is an evil behind that is
much more to be dreaded, and may be laid to be an almost
unavoidable consequence, and that is, your honesty is likely to
be called in question: people will be apt to examine, how much
you gave for such or such a thing, compare your profits with
your purchases, and if the calculation of the expense amounts to
a scruple more than they can account for your receiving, will
presently place it to the score of those you live with, and say,
you owe your finery to your fraud: if innocent, your character
inevitably suffers; and if guilty, you pay dearly for the crime
your vanity has ensnared you into, by a sooner or later sad
remorse.

Dishonesty.] Let not, therefore, any temptations, much less
those idle ones I have mentioned, prevail upon you to become
dishonest. To cheat or defraud anyone is base and wicked; but
where breach of trust is added, the crime is infinitely
enhanced: nor flatter yourselves, that because you do not
actually break locks, or take anything out of your master or
mistress's trunks, you are faithful servants. There are other
kinds of thieving you may be guilty of, which are of worse
consequence to the losers, though less perceptible, and, when
discovered, show you refrain from more public robberies only for
fear of the penalties of the law.

The Market-penny.] To purloin or secrete any part of what is put
into your hands in order to be laid out to the best advantage,
is as essentially a theft, as though you took the money out of
the pockets of those who entrust you; and in doing this you are
guilty of a double wrong, first to your master or mistress who
sends you to market, by making them pay more than they ought,
and to the tradesman from whom you buy, by making them appear as
guilty of imposition in exacting a greater price than the
commodity is worth. Do not imagine, that by taking pains to find
out where you can buy cheapest, you are entitled to that
overplus you must have given in another place; for this is no
more than your duty, and the time it takes to search out the
best bargains, is the property of those to whom you belong.
Those among you of any spirit, methinks, should value the praise
of a good market-woman, far beyond those scandalous and pitiful
advantages, which cannot be made without proclaiming you either
fools or cheats; for depend upon tt, you can live with very few
who will not examine into the market prices. They will enquire
of those who buy for themselves, and, as some people have a
foolish way of belying their pockets one way or other, those who
pretend to buy the cheapest, will be the most readily believed;
so that do the best you can, you will be able to give but bare
satisfaction in this point. You will, however, have that innate
pleasure in a consciousness of having discharged your duty,
which not the most secret and advantageous breach of it could
afford. Dishonest practices, even in the most trivial matters,
fill the breast with a thousand apprehensions of discovery;
every accident alarms; and a word sometimes spoke without design
calls a blush in the guilty cheek, and is taken as a kind of
oblique accusation. But what shame, what confusion, must you be
involved in, if ever detected in a crime of this nature? This
puts a final end to all your hopes; if you are forgiven, you
will no more be trusted; no more be recommended, and your
character utterly destroyed: it is a great chance, if you are
not reduced to get your bread by those infamous practices by
which you lost it; and from petty frauds proceed to greater, and
such as may bring you to the most shameful death. Dare not,
therefore, to harbour the least thought of converting to your
own use what is the property of another, much less that which is
committed to your charge. Buy for your master and mistress as
you would for yourself; and as to what remains, look on it as a
rust that would consume all you have, and get rid of it by
returning it to the owner the moment you come home.

Delaying to give change.] A very foolish custom, to say no worse
of it, has been observed in some of you; and that is, when you
are sent to buy anything with a larger piece of money than it
can possibly cost, you do not immediately give back the
remainder: I once knew a maid so negligent in this particular,
that whenever her mistress gave her any money to change, she was
obliged to stick two pins across in her sleeve as a memorandum
to ask for it, without which, she told me, the expected never to
have it, and believed she had lost frequently that way, when the
hurry of business had made her forget. You may be sure, no
mistress would long be under such a confinement for the sake of
any servant, the silly girl was turned away at the month's end,
and though in other respects I heard the behaved well enough,
yet this gave so strong a suspicion of her dishonesty, that she
was trusted with nothing the little time she stayed in that
service, .nor could obtain any recommendation to another.

It is very possible, that neither this young woman, nor many
others who may have been guilty of the same folly, had any real
intention of keeping or embezzling this money; but it shows at
least a great carelessness of a mistress's concerns, when they
can forget to give her an account of what money was entrusted
with them, which of itself is a very great fault, as I have
already fully remonstrated. But who will believe that a servant
who constantly keeps money in her hands till it is demanded, can
do it with any other view than that of making it her own, in
case it should happen to be forgotten? By all means, therefore,
avoid what gives so just an occasion for suspicion; be not only
strictly honest, but do nothing that may give the least room to
doubt your being so. Besides, 'tis both weak and sinful to lay
yourself under a temptation of this kind. When you have money of
another's in your pocket, have kept it for some days, and find
it is totally forgotten, may not the devil, who is watchful for
such opportunities of seducing the unwary mind, suggest to you,
that as you want a thousand necessaries, which the smallness of
your wages will not supply you with, there is no harm in making
use of a trifle, which the owner can very well spare, and will
do you so great a service; and can you be assured your honesty
will be able to hold out against the insinuations of this subtle
fiend? That you will despise the bait, and unasked refund what
you imagine you have so much occasion for, and might preserve
with so much security? Why, therefore, should you voluntarily
run into a danger, which, when if you escape, can afford you
neither pleasure nor profit, or is indeed any merit in you?

Giving away victuals.] Giving away anything without consent or
privity of your matter or mistress, is a liberty you ought not
to take; for though charity and compassion for the wants of our
fellow-creatures are very amiable virtues, they are not to be
indulged at the expense of other people's property, and your own
honesty: when you find there is anything to spare, and that it
is in danger of being spoiled by being kept too long, it is very
commendable in you to ask leave to dispose of it while it is fit
for Christians to eat; if such a permission is refused, the sin
lies at their doors, you have nothing to answer for on that
account: but must on no score bestow the least morsel in
contradiction to the will of those to whom it belongs.

Bringing in charwomen.] But infinitely more blameable are you,
when, unknown to the matter or mistress of the family, you bring
charwomen into the house, and give them victuals for helping you
in that work you have undertaken to do alone. This action is a
complication of hypocrisy, deceit, and injustice to those you
serve, and may be attended with very ill consequences to
yourselves: can you answer that nothing of what is committed to
your charge will be pilfered? You cannot surely be without some
apprehensions of this sort, when you trust a person, whose
character and principles sometimes are little known to you, with
goods, which, if lost, you, must not only be blamed for, but
obliged to pay for, as far as is in your power. Does not your
reputation, your means of getting bread in the world, and even
your life, depend on the fidelity of the person you thus
clandestinely introduce? But you'll say, perhaps, that the
person you employ is a very honest though poor woman; that she
has been trusted in the best houses, and where the richest
things have been, and nothing was ever missing. All this may be
true, but you ought to remember, that what has not yet happened,
a moment may produce: scarce can we know our own hearts beyond
the present moment, much less those of others; and many people
who have behaved well for a long time, have been at last found
guilty of what they were least suspected capable of. Far be it
from me to impeach the integrity of these poor creatures:
doubtless many of them are perfectly honest; but that is still
more than you can be ascertained of, and it is running a hazard
to take them in, which it would be prudence in you to avoid; and
the more so as you are guilty of an injustice to those you
serve, which deserves some punishment. You should not undertake
more work than you think you can perform; but if you find
yourself mistaken, and that it is heavier than you imagined, or
your strength will enable you to go through, you ought modestly
to remonstrate it to your mistress, and if she insists on it,
and will not give leave for anyone to assist you, it is much
better to give warning than to deceive her in this point:
perhaps this sincerity may so much win upon her that the will
find some way to ease you; but if this should not be the case,
she has at least no fault to lay to your charge, and cannot
refuse giving you a character.

Wasting of victuals.] To make any waste of what God has given
for the support of his creatures, is a crime of a much deeper
dye, than those imagine who dare be guilty of it; and to say
nothing of another world, rarely goes without its punishment in
this, by the severe want of that which they have so lavishly
confounded. What they call the kitchen-stuff is the usual
appurtenance of the cook, and I have heard that in large
families, where a great quantity of everything is ordered in,
some have been base enough to melt whole pounds of butter into
oil, on purpose to increase that perquisite: I should scarce 
believe this to be fact, if I did not know that several, who are
very far from being of a niggardly disposition towards their
servants, have denied them the profits of the kitchen-stuff
merely on this score. Others also among you have been so dainty,
that you could not eat of a joint of meat the second day,
especially if your matter and mistress had any little thing for
their own table. Suppose a fricass e, a fowl, the remains of
which they would be glad to have set by for supper; but this you
cannot allow of, you must have your share you think, and besides
a bit or two purloined in the dressing, make sure of all they
leave, and then the poor cat or dog has the blame, who, before
you were aware, stole all out of the dish. Indeed there is
something very mean and vile in such paltry pretences, and as
they are easily seen through, make you suspected of worse
practices; but, as I have before taken notice to you, banish
pride and liquorishness and you will have no occasion for these
little subterfuges. I do not deny but you have the same
appetites with your superiors, and a good mistress will
doubtless allow her servants taste of everything in season; but
then you are not to expect it as often, or in as full proportion
as she has it herself; that were to destroy all disparity, and
put you too much on a level with those you serve.

This, perhaps, you think a hard lesson; but yet were you to know
the real pinches some endure who keep you, you would find the
balance of happiness wholly on your side. The exorbitant taxes,
and other severities of the times, have, for some years past,
reduced our middling gentry, as well as tradesmen, to very great
straits; and the care of providing for you, and paying your
wages, is much more than an equivalent for your care of obliging
them, and doing your duty by them. It often costs many a bitten
lip and aching heart, to support the rank they have been
accustomed to hold in the world, while you, entirely free from
all encumbrances, all distraction of mind, have only to do your
duty quietly in the stations God has placed you. Whatever
changes happen in public affairs, your circumstances are
unaffected by them. Whether provisions are dear or cheap is the
same thing to you. Secure of having all your real necessities
supplied, you rise without anxiety, and go to bed without danger
of having your repose disturbed. And as to your labour, if you
consider the difference of education, it is no more to you, than
those exercises which are prescribed to your superiors for the.
sake of health.

Methinks, if you would thoroughly weigh the comforts of your
condition, you could not help having an affection for those
under whose roof and protection you enjoy them, especially when
they behave to you with any tolerable degree of affability and
sweetness; for then not to love them would be the highest
ingratitude: but supposing they are a little harsh in their
expressions, use you with haughtiness, and keep you at the
greatest distance, yet still you should remember it is their bed
you lie upon, their food that sustains you, and their money
clothes you.

Hearing anything said against your master or mistress.] So far
from ever speaking against them yourself, you should never
listen to any idle stories to their prejudice; should always
vindicate their reputation from any open aspersions, or
malicious insinuations: never mention their names in a familiar
manner yourself, nor suffer others to treat them
disrespectfully; magnify their virtues, and what failings they
may have, shadow over as much as possibly you can: this, when
known, will not only endear you to them, but also gain you the
esteem of those who hear you talk: for though many people have
the ill-nature to be pleased with picking out what they can to
the prejudice of their neighbour, yet none in their hearts
approve of the person who makes the report, as we love the
treason but hate the traitor. Listening without contradiction to
an ill thing, is tacitly acknowledging the truth of it, and is
little less base and cruel, than the inventing and telling it
yourself. But though I would have you defend those you serve by
all the arguments that truth, and reason will admit, yet I would
not advise you to give the least intimation to themselves of
whit you have heard; to repeat a rude thing said of anyone,
would be rude in you, and give so great a shock to the person
concerned in it, as is not easily forgiven. Besides, to recite
what replies you made  would only serve to make you look like a
pickthank, and the service you have done lose all its merit,
perhaps give occasion to suspect, that nobody would have taken,
the liberty to say such things to you, if you had not given room
for it by some complaints of your own. You must therefore be
quite silent on this head; it is better it should be heard from
others than yourself, and it seldom happens that such things go
no further than the mouth which speaks them. Those you have
defended will one time or another be made acquainted with it,
and your discretion and disinterestedness in concealing it, be
reckoned of equal value with your fidelity.

Quarrels with fellow-servants.] Preserve as much as possibly you
can the good-will of your fellow-servants; let it not be in the
power of every trifle to ruffle you, or occasion you to treat
them with any grating reflections, even though they should be
the first aggressors; it is better to put up with a small
affront than by returning it, provoke yet greater; and raise any
disturbance in the family. When quarrels in the kitchen are loud
enough to be heard in the parlour, both parties are blamed, and
it is not always the justest side finds the most favour. If
injured, the less passion you discover, the more advantage you
gain over your adversary; and if you happen to have given the
first ground for animosity, confessing it in time is the surest
way to have it no more remembered. But of all things, I would
advise you not to throw severe or biting jests on anyone; they
sink deeper into the mind than even foul names; and though you
may fancy you show your wit in them, and excite the laughter of
the standers-by, you may excite a spirit of revenge in the
person you deride, which may draw many tears of repentance from
yourself. Any reflection on personal defects, as they are
obvious, and consequently prove the truth of your satire, are
the least to be endured, and not only create you an implacable
enemy in the person you insult, but show the little generosity
of your own nature, that can suffer you to reproach what is not
a fault but a misfortune. Besides, it is impious, instead of
thanking God for making you more perfect, to find fault with his
handiwork in your fellow-creature.

If you are once discovered to be of a peevish or quarrelsome
disposition, all the good-natured part of the family will shun
all conversation with you, as much as possible; and those of the
same humour with yourself be continually throwing something in
your way to occasion contention, on purpose to try your spirit,
and see which of you shall get the better; so that perpetual
wrangling will ensue, all your business will be neglected, and
everything in confusion till the house is rid of the authors of
it. Believe me, there is nothing so engaging as a mild affable
behaviour, especially to people of the same family; and of all
policies, that is of the most consequence which reaches us to
acquire the love and good wishes of those we converse, or have
any business with.

Behaviour to the sick.] If any of the family happen to be sick,
let all animosity, all former displeasure they may have given
you be forgot: visit, attend, and comfort them all you can,
whether you are ordered by your mistress to do so or not; you
have a superior authority for this act of compassion, 'tis a
duty enjoined by God, and owing to humanity, and which you know
not how soon you may stand in need of yourself. If it falls to
your share to administer any prescription to them, content not
yourself with barely giving the medicines regularly, but add to
your attendance a softness of behaviour which may convince them
you are truly concerned for them. A tender assiduity about a
sick person is half a cure; it is a balsam to the mind, which
has a powerful effect over the body; it sooths, it composes, it
ease the sharpest pains, and strengthens beyond the richest
cordial: by seeming to feel their anguish, you relieve it.
People never think themselves truly unhappy, while their
sufferings, are treated with pity and gentleness. If good
nature, therefore, be so necessary to alleviate misfortunes,
and, of all misfortunes sickness is allowed to be the greatest,
how shocking, how stinging must a contrary behaviour be to a
poor wretch, both incapable and fearful of resenting any insult
in a proper manner. Let no toil, therefore, you may happen to
have about a person in this circumstance, weary you out so far
as to make you answer with any peevishness; let what you do,
seem a pleasure to yourself, or it will greatly lessen the merit
of the obligation; but to reproach them with anything is highly
savage, and what on their recovery, they will scarcely forgive
or forget. It is indeed affliction enough to languish under the
chastisement of heaven; and for a fellow-creature to add to it
by harsh expressions, sullenness, or any other act of
unkindness, shows the person guilty of it to have thrown off all
humanity; and to be capable of everything that is ill.

Being too free with men-servants.] If you are in the house of a
person of condition where there are many men-servants, it
requires a great deal of circumspection how to behave. As these
fellows live high; and have little to do, they are for the most
part very pert and saucy where they dare, and apt to take
liberties on the least encouragement; you ought therefore to
carry yourself at a distance towards them; I do not mean with a
proud or prudish air: you are neither to look as if you thought
yourself above them, or to seem as if you imagined every word
they spoke to you had a design upon you; no, the one would make
them hate and affront you, and the other would be turned into
ridicule. On the contrary, you must behave with an extreme
civility mixed with seriousness, but never be too free. To
suffer them to toy or romp with you, will embolden them,
perhaps, to actions unbecoming modesty to bear, and the least
rebuff provoke them to use you ill, whereas a cold reserve at
first will prevent both the one and the other. You must also
observe an exact equality in your deportment; for if you show
the least distinction in favour of anyone, you will not only
make him too presuming, but also draw the resentment of all the
others upon you, who will be continually twitting you concerning
him, and it may be construe everything you do into meanings very
foreign from the truth.

Conduct toward apprentices.] With regard to apprentices a
different conduct is to be observed. If there be more than one,
he who has served longest is to be treated with the most
respect, but you ought by no means to use the other in a saucy,
and imperious manner; you are to consider, that they are
servants only to become masters, and are often of a better.
birth and education than those they serve, therefore should be
treated not only with kindness, but civility: it may hereafter
lie in their power to recompense any little favour you do them,
such as mending their linen, or other office of that kind, when
you have a leisure hour; but then this good nature must not
proceed too far when they grow up towards manhood, lest the
vanity of youth should make them imagine you have other motives
for it, which to prevent, you must behave with the same reserve
I advised to servants of a different class. If an apprentice
should be what they call sweet upon you, and make any overtures
of love, you ought to check the progress of his solicitations in
the beginning; and not think, as some of you have done, to draw
him into marriage, by encouraging his addresses: young men of
that age are incapable of knowing their own minds; his may alter
before his time is out, and should he marry you before, he
forfeits his indentures; is not perhaps half master of his
trade, his parents are disobliged, will do nothing for him, and
you both run a very great risk of being miserable for life. Yet
is not this the greatest danger: his designs may be of a
different nature from his pretensions, and while you imagine he
is falling into the snare you lay for him, may be entangled in
one yourself to your utter ruin. So that on all accounts, and
which way soever his passion tends, all engagements with an
apprentice are to be avoided: if he truly loves you, and
continues to do so when his years of servitude are expired, it
will then be time enough to listen to his offers, and consider
what returns you ought to make; if he then marries you, he will
value you the more for the prudence you have shown in his
regard, and make the better husband.

Though I have advised you to use an apprentice with a great deal
of good-nature, I do not mean that you should extend so far as
to encourage any rakish disposition in him; if you find he stays
out late, and desires you to sit up for him after the family are
in bed, you may do it for once or twice; but if he continue to
make a practice of it, you ought not only to refuse, but also to
threaten him with acquainting your master; and this you must not
fail to do in reality if he still persists, and gives no ear to
your admonitions. No promises, no bribes, should make you
countenance such a behaviour; for as no laudable business, nor
innocent recreation, could make him transgress in this manner,
whatever wrong he does himself or master, or whatever mischief
may ensue, you are accessory to it, by concealing what you know,
and thereby preventing any step being taken to keep him within
the bounds of duty and regularity.

Mis-spending your own time.] The condition of a servant would be
too severe, were they not allowed some time which they may call
their own; and it is according to their well or ill employing
this time, that their dispositions are to be known. In all well-
governed families, a maid-servant has the liberty every Sunday,
or every other Sunday, at least, in the afternoon, of going to
church, which if she neglects, it discovers she has little sense
of true religion, and may well be suspected of failing in her
duty to an earthly master or mistress, when she fails in that to
her Maker. And yet, how many of you had rather walk in the
fields, go to drink tea with an acquaintance, or even lie down
to sleep! Unhappy choice! And which can never expect to be
attended: with any blessings either here or hereafter: whatever
you do, therefore, never omit divine worship. If you are so
unhappy as to live with people who have no devotion themselves,
and expect you to be always at home, entreat humbly at first
permission to go to Church; if you find that will not prevail,
insist upon it as your right, and rather quit your place than be
refused. If you lose one, that God, for whose sake you have
left, it, will doubtless provide another, and perhaps a better
for you.

But beware how you make use of the sacred name of religion as a
pretence to cover your going to any other place. Remember what
you are told by the great oracle of truth, concerning the place
allotted for hypocrites in another world; never say you have
been at church, unless you have, but if you have gone out with
that intention, and been diverted from it, by any accident or
persuasions, confess the truth, if asked.

There are, however, some occasions which will render the
omission of this duty excusable; and that is when you can get
leave on no other day to show that love and tenderness which
ought never to be forgotten by children to their parents; as the
only recompense they can make for the love and tenderness
received from them: if they are good, they will entertain you
with such conversation as may atone for your missing the
precepts delivered from the pulpit; and if they have not that
consideration for your eternal welfare, and talk to you only on
worldly matters, you must visit them less often, though not
totally neglect them; want of respect to the persons of parents, 
or disobedience to their commands, being one of the first steps
which lead to an abandoned life; and we rarely find that those
who are guilty of it have not a multiplicity of other vices
also.

But those you live with must be very unreasonable indeed
(without they have some more than ordinary motive that requires
your continual attendance) that would not permit you sometimes
to see your friends on other days than those which ought to be
devoted to heaven alone: few servants but are allowed one
holiday at each of the great festivals of the year, and in the
time of fairs; and it is then expected you should go to your
relations, or take what other recreation you think proper.
Innocent merriment will make you afterwards work with the more
alacrity, ought to be sometimes indulged, and is never
blameable, but when the heart is set too much upon it; that is,
when your impatience for the day makes you unable to think on
anything else, and your mistress's business suffers by it.

But this is not what I mean by mis-spending time: some of you
who have enough upon your hands either loiter it away at the
door or windows, or sit idle at the fire-side, as if it were a
crime to do any more than they were compelled to; but she who
would endeavour to oblige her mistress, or prove herself a good
housewife, should after the common affairs of the family are
over, ask if she has anything to employ her in, and if she
answers in the negative, can scarce be without somewhat to do
for herself. Industry and frugality are two very amiable parts
of a woman's character, and I know no readier way than attaining
them, to procure you the esteem of mankind, and get yourselves
good husbands. Consider, my dear girls, that you have no
portions, and endeavour to supply the deficiencies of fortune by
mind. You cannot expect to marry in such a manner as neither of
you shall have occasion to work, and none but a fool will take a
wife whose bread must be earned solely by his labour, and who
will contribute nothing towards it herself.

Public shows.] But these two virtues will agree with an
immoderate love of pleasure, and this town at present abounds
with such variety of allurements, that a young heart cannot be
too much upon its guard: it is those expensive ones, I mean,
which drain your purse as well as waste your time: such as
plays, the wells, and gardens, and other public shows and
entertainments; places which it becomes nobody to be seen often
at, and more especially young women in your station, all things
that are invented merely for the gratification of luxury, and
are of no other service than temporary delight, ought to be
shunned by those who have their bread to get: nor is it any
excuse for you that a friend gives you tickets, and it costs you
nothing; it costs you at least what is more precious than money,
your time; not only what you pass in seeing the entertainments,
but what the idea and memory of them will take up. They are a
kind of delicious poison to the mind, which pleasingly
intoxicates and destroys all relish for anything besides: if you
could content yourselves with one sight and no more, of any, or
even all these shows; or could you answer that they would
engross your thoughts no longer than while you were spectators,
the curiosity might be excusable; but it rarely happens that you
have this command over yourselves; the music, the dances, the
gay clothes and scenes make too strong an impression on the
senses, not to leave such traces behind as are entirely
inconsistent either with good housewifery, or the duties of your
place. Avoid, therefore, such dangerous amusements; and that it
may be the more easy for you to do so, refrain the society of
those who either belong to them, or are accustomed to frequent
them.

Vails.] Never conceal from your mistress neither the whole or
any part of what is given you: for as what is bestowed on you is
out of respect to her, it is an inexcusable piece of ingratitude
to her, as well as to the donor, not to acknowledge the bounty.
And as whatever you receive this way, be it little or much, is
more than you can demand, or could be ascertained of when you
were hired, I would also advise you to lay it carefully by,
(without some extraordinary emergency obliges you to break into
it) and never lay out more upon yourself than your bare wages,
if so much; for as your wages will be according to the place you
hold in the family, whether an upper or under servant, so ought
your expenses in clothes, and everything else (as I have before
observed) to be also proportioned according to both. To prevent
any temptation from prevailing on you to diminish this little
bank, it would be prudent in you to deposit whatever is given
you from time to time in your mistress's hands: by this means
the snowball will increase by degrees to an heap, and, if you
continue to behave so as to deserve frequent favours of this
sort, amount to more than you can imagine.

But should your gains be very small this way, and you receive
few vails, or even none at all, it will be extremely unbecoming
in you to murmur at it, to go about your work discontentedly, or
throw any reflections on persons who dine and sup often at the
house without remembering the servant; for this would be
affronting your mistress, who cannot enforce the liberality of
others. She will, however, if she be of generous temper herself,
take notice of it, and perhaps make up this deficiency another
way; provided she sees you modest and patient, and not in the
least wanting in your obsequiousness to her, for the neglect of
her friends. But however slow she is in her consideration, you
are still not to grumble. Remember that you have your agreement,
and as you can demand no more, must not only seem contented, but
endeavour to be so. A sordid mercenary disposition is hateful
both to God and man; and to give any indication of it, will
instead of bettering your condition, render it much worse; by
depriving you of all that affection which else might, sooner or
later, on some occasion or other, exert itself in your favour
when you least expected it, and perhaps might stand in most need
of it.

Giving your opinion too freely.] To give your opinion either of
persons or affairs unasked, is saucy if directed to your
superiors, and impertinent if to your equals: I would therefore
have you refrain it to both; and even if desired, nay pressed to
it, to be very cautious how you speak: such questions are often
proposed to you as a trap, either to sound your inclinations or
sincerity, and may turn to ill-consequence to yourselves. There
is an old saying, that a close mouth makes a wise head; to which
I think may also be subjoined, that it makes an easy mind. But
you ought chiefly to be upon your guard, if consulted in this
manner by your mistress, (as I have known some, who, to gratify
their curiosity, will throw aside all disparity, and seem
willing to take the judgment of a servant.) In such a case it
will behove you to reply with all humility, and excuse yourself
from answering to the point with modesty, telling her you are
utterly incapable of giving any reasons either for or against
the affair in question; and if she insists on your speaking, let
it be as evasively as possible. This is an innocent artifice,
and the only medium you can take; for if guessing at her mind,
to flatter it, you answer contrary to your own, you are guilty
of dissimulation; and if ignorant of it, you chance to
contradict her sentiments, she will not like you the better for
not being of the same opinion with herself. Numberless
reproaches you may afterwards incur by complying, but can hazard
nothing by refusing; and those, who attempt to sift you in this
manner, will have the higher idea of your discretion, by failing
in their design upon you.

Chastity.] I come now to warn you against all those dangers
which may threaten that branch of honesty which concerns your
own persons, and is distinguished by the name of chastity. If
you follow the advice I have already given you, concerning going
as frequently as you can to hear sermons, and reading the holy
scripture, and other good books, I need not be at the pains to
inform you how great the sin is of yielding to any unlawful
solicitations; but if you even look no further than this world,
you will find enough to deter you from giving the least
encouragement to any addresses of that nature, though
accompanied with the most soothing and flattering pretences:
every street affords you instances of poor unhappy creatures,
who once were innocent, till seduced by the deceitful promises
of their undoers; and then ungratefully thrown off, they become
incapable of getting their bread in any honest way, and so by
degrees are abandoned to the lowest degree of infamy. The
lessons I have given you concerning the manner of passing your
time, your temperance, your fidelity, the obligations you lie
under to those you serve, if duly observed, will also be no
inconsiderable defence against the snares laid for you on this
score; but I would have you not only be strictly virtuous in
rejecting all the temptations offered you, but likewise prudent
in the manner of doing it. There might be some circumstances in
which you will have occasion to vary your denials, according to
the different characters of the persons who solicit you: I shall
begin with one which happens but too frequently, and that is,
when the temptation proceeds from your master.

Temptations from your master.] Being so much under his command,
and obliged to attend him at any hour, and at any place he is
pleased to call you, will lay you under difficulties to avoid
his importunities, which must be confessed are not easy to
surmount; yet a steady resolution will enable you; and as a
vigorous resistance is less to be expected in your station, your
persevering may, perhaps, in time, oblige him to desist, and
acknowledge you have more reason than himself: it is a duty,
however, owing to yourself to endeavour it.

Behaviour to him, if a single man.] If he happens to be a single
man, and is consequently under less restraint, be as careful as
you can, opportunities will not be wanting to prosecute his aim;
and as you cannot avoid hearing what he says, must humbly, and
in the most modest terms you can, remonstrate to him the sin and
shame he would involve you in; and omit nothing to make him
sensible how cruel it is to go about to betray a person whom it
is his duty to protect; add that nothing shall ever prevail on
you to forfeit your virtue; and take care that all your looks
and gestures correspond with what you say: let no wanton smile,
or light coquette air give him room to suspect you are not so
much displeased with the inclination he has for you as you would
seem; for if he once imagines you deny but for the sake of form,
it will the more inflame him, and render him more pressing than
ever. Let your answers, therefore, be delivered with the
greatest sedateness; show that you are truly sorry, and more
ashamed than vain, that he finds anything in you to like: how
great will be your glory, if, by your behaviour, you convert the
base design he had upon you, into an esteem for your virtue!
Greater advantages will accrue to you from the friendship he
will afterwards have for you, than you would ever have obtained
from the gratification of his wild desire, even though he should
continue an affection for you much longer than is common in such
intrigues. But if you fail in this laudable ambition, if he
persists in his importunities, and you have reason to fear he
will make use of other means than persuasions to satisfy his
brutal appetite, (as what may not lust seconded by power
attempt, and there is no answering for the honour of some men on
such occasions) you have nothing to do, but, on the first
symptom, that appears of such a design, to go directly out of
his house: he will not insist on your forfeiting a month's wages
for his own sake, for fear you should declare the cause of your
quitting his service; and if he should be even so hardened in
vice, as to have no regard for his character in this point, it
is much better you should lose a month's wages, than continue a
moment longer in the power of such a one.

If a married man.] Greater caution is still to be observed, if
he is a married man: as soon as he gives you the least
intimation of his design, either by word or action, you ought to
keep as much as possible out of his way, in order to prevent his
declaring himself more plainly; and if, in spite of all your
care, he find an opportunity of telling you his mind, you must
remonstrate the wrong he would do his wife, and how much he
demeans both himself and her by making such an offer to his own
servant. If this is ineffectual, and he continues to persecute
you still, watching you wherever you go, both abroad and at
home, and is so troublesome in his importunities, that you
cannot do your business quietly and regularly, your only way
then is to give warning; but be very careful not to let your
mistress know the motive of it: that is a point too tender to be
touched upon even in the most distant manner, much less plainly
told: such a discovery would not only give her an infinite
uneasiness, (for in such cases the innocent suffer for the
crimes of the guilty) but turn the inclination your master had
for you into the extremest hatred. He may endeavour to clear
himself by throwing the odium on you, for those who are unjust
in one thing, will be so in others; and you cannot expect, that
he who does not scruple to wrong his wife, and indeed his own
soul, will make any to take away your reputation when he
imagines his own will be secured by it. He may pretend you threw
yourself in his way when he was in liquor, or that having taken
notice of some indecencies in your carriage, and suspecting you
were a loose creature, he had only talked a little idly to you,
as a trial how you would behave; and that it was because he did
not persist as you expected, and offer you money, that you had
made the discovery; partly out of malice, and partly to give
yourself an air of virtue. But though he should not be
altogether so unjust and cruel, nor allege anything of this kind
against you, it would be a thing which you never ought to
forgive yourself for, if by any imprudent hint you gave occasion
for a breach of that amity and confidence which is the greatest
blessing of the married state, and when once dissolved,
continual jarring and mutual discontent are the unfailing
consequence.

Temptations from your master's son.] But there is yet a greater
trial of your virtue than these I have mentioned, which you may
probably meet with; and that is when your young master happens
to take a fancy to you, flatters your vanity with praise of your
beauty, your avarice with presents; perhaps, if his
circumstances countenance such a proposal, the offer of a
settlement for life, and, it may be, even a promise of marrying
you as soon as he shall be at his own disposal. This last bait
has reduced some who have been proof against all the others: it
behoves you therefore to be extremely on your guard against it,
and not flatter yourselves, that because such matches have
sometimes happened, it will be your fortune: examples of this
kind are very rare, and as seldom happy. Suppose he should even
keep his word, which it is much more than a thousand to one he
never intended, what you would suffer from the ill-usage of his
friends, and 'tis likely from his own remorse for what he has
done, would make you wish, in the greatest bitterness of heart,
that it were possible for you to loose the indissoluble knot,
which binds you to a man who no longer loves you and return to
your first humble station. Such a disparity of birth, of
circumstances, and education, can produce no lasting harmony;
and where you see any such couples paired, all the comforts they
enjoy are mere outside show; and though they may wear a face of
contentment, to blind the eyes of the world, and keep them from
prying into the merits of their choice; their bosoms are full of
disquiet and repining. Suffer not therefore, your hearts, much
less your innocence, to be tempted with: a prospect wherein the
best that can arrive is bad enough. What then must be the worst!
Eternal ruin; every misery you endure rendered more severe by
the stings of disappointment, and a too late repentance.

Gentlemen lodgers.] If it be your chance to live where they take
in lodgers or boarders, especially such gentlemen, as do not
keep servants of their own to sit up for them, you may be
subjected to some inconvenience, when they stay out after the
family are gone to bed, come home in liquor, or without being
so, take this opportunity of making offers to you. If the
attempt goes no further than words, get out of their way, as
fast as you can, and show that though you are a servant, yet
have a spirit above bargaining for your virtue: but if they once
proceed to rudeness, acquaint your mistress with it, who, if a
woman of reputation, will resent it as an affront to herself,
and rather lose her lodger, than permit any indecency in her
house. But if you give any ear at first to the solicitations
made you, or accept of any presents given on that score, even
though you neither make nor intend any return, you will be
accounted a jilt, used ill by the person you impose upon, and if
it comes to your mistress's knowledge, infallibly lose your
place, with the same disgrace as though you had yielded to the
act of shame.

Conclusion.] Having thus run through, in as brief a manner as I
could, the several obligations you lie under to God, to those
you serve, and to yourselves, I shall only add a few words to
remind you of the advantages of a great while in a family. Those
of you who go young to service, and continue in one place eight
or ten years, will be then of a fit age to marry, and besides
being entitled to the advice of your mistress, will be certain
of her assistance in any business you take up; your children, if
you have any, partake her favour, perhaps some of them be taken
onto the family, and both you and yours receive a succession of
good offices. If your husbands behave well to you, they will be
encouraged for your sakes and if ill, you may depend on
protection from them. An old and tried servant is looked upon as
a relation, is treated with little less respect, and perhaps a
more hearty welcome. This you cannot but be sensible of
yourselves, and I shall therefore conclude as I began, with
exhorting you to make use of the understanding God has given
you, in a serious consideration of the hints I have thrown
together, in order to reader you both valuable, and happy.



Directions for a Young Woman to Qualify Herself for any Common
Service.


If you truly design to make a good servant, and to gain the
affection and esteem of those you live with, it is absolutely
necessary you should endeavour, before you venture out into the
world, to have some little skill in those things you must expect
to be employed in, and which practice afterward will make easy
to you. To this end have annexed some few rules which, if you
carefully observe, will make you fit for any common service.



First, for going to market.

How to choose flesh.

Beef.] The right ox beef is best, and that which is so has a
fine open grain: if it be young, it has a kind of oily
smoothness, and if you dent it with your finger will immediately
rise again; but if old, it will be rough and spongy, and the
dent remain. Cow beef is less boned than that of the ox, the
flesh closer grained, the lean of it somewhat paler, and the fat
whiter; but if young, the dent you make with your finger will
rise again. Bull beef is closer grained than either, more
coarse, and if you pinch it, feels rough: the fat is hard and
skinny, and has a certain rankness us the scent, though it be
ever so fresh killed.
Mutton.]  When mutton is young, the flesh will pinch tender, and
the fat part easily from the lean; but if old, the one will
wrinkle and remain so for some time; and the other not be pulled
off without difficulty, by reason of a great number of little
strings: old mutton may also be known when the flesh shrinks
from the bones, and the skin is loose: in ewe mutton the flesh
is of a paler colour than the wether, and of a closer grain. If
there happens to be a rot among the sheep, the fat will be
inclining to yellow, and the flesh very pale, loose from the
bone, and if you squeeze it hard, a dew like sweat will rise
upon it.

Veal] The flesh of a bull calf is more red, and has a firmer
grain than that of a cow calf, and the fat will be harder. The
butchers about London have so many arts in blowing up their
veal, and keeping in wet cloths, that you cannot be too careful
in examining the scent: for what looks beautiful to the eye may
prove musty.

Lamb.] House lamb, when good, is very fat, the lean of it looks
of a pale pink colour, And the fat is exceeding white. Grass
lamb is somewhat of a higher colour, but the fat is also white
in a fore-quarter, of either you must observe the neck vein ; if
it looks of a fine light blue, it is fresh killed, but if
greenish or yellowish, it is stale. In a hind quarter, smell
under the kidney, and try the knuckle, if it be limber, and you
meet with a faint scent, do not venture to buy it.

Pork] If it be young and fresh, the flesh will look of a fine
bright colour, but not too red; the skin will be thin, and if
you nip it with your nails the impression will remain; but if
the lean be high coloured, the fat flabby, and the rind hard, it
is old; or if any part feel clammy, it is stale. If you find
many small kernels in the fat, like hail-shot, it is certainly
measly, and dangerous to be eaten.

Bacon.] Bacon may also be known, if young or old, by the
thickness or thinness of the rind. Always choose that, the fat
of which has a reddish cast; for if it look quite white, like
tallow or inclined to yellowish, it is stark naught. That bacon
which gives, and becomes flabby in moist weather, has not been
well cured, and is either reasty, or will very soon be so.

Westphalia, or English Hams] Both these are to be tried by
putting a knife under the bone that sticks out; and if it comes
out in a manner clean, and has a curious flavour, the ham is
sweet and good; if, on the contrary, it is much smeared and
sullied and smells rank, the ham was either tainted before it
was dried, or grown rusty afterwards.

How to choose fish


All sorts of fresh fish may be judged by the redness of their
gills, if no deceit be used; but as there is sometimes an
imposition by wetting them with blood, you must observe whether
they are stiff, if their eyes stand out and full, and their fins
and tails are not shrivelled; for if these symptoms do not
answer, they are stale, notwithstanding the redness of their
gills.

Plaice and Flounders.] As plaice and flounders will live a long
time out of the water, whoever buys them after they are dead,
may find them sweet, but their substance will be so far spent,
that they will almost dissolve in the water they are boiled in,
and afford neither an agreeable relish to the palate, nor
nourishment to the stomach To distinguish plaice from flounders,
the latter are somewhat thicker, are of a darker brown, and have
small specks of orange colour; the plaice have spots too, but
they are not so bright, and of a larger size The best sort of
both are blueish on the belly.

Whitings.] These are a fish, which if not extremely stiff when
you buy them, will neither broil nor boil.

Salmon.] To buy this fish you must examine the grain and colour
as you do in butcher's meat; if the one be fine, and the other
high and florid, the salmon is good; but if coarse and pale, it
is bad. When it is perfectly new, a great quantity of blood will
issue from it when it is cut, and the liver look very clear,
almost transparent.

How to choose Poultry

Capon.] If a capon be young, his spurs are short, and his legs
smooth; if a true capon, a fat vein on the side of the breast,
the comb pale, and a thick belly and rump; if new, a close hard
vent; if stale a loose open one.

Cock and hen.] If young, his spurs are short and dubbed; but you
must be careful in taking notice whether they are not pared or
scraped by the poulterer, in order to deceive you. You may know
if he is new by the vent, in the same manner as you do judge of
capon, and so also of a hen; but if young, her legs and comb are
smooth, if old they are tough.

Cock or Hen Turkey, Turkey Poults.] If the cock be young, his
legs will be black and smooth, and his spurs short; if old the
contrary: if stale, his eyes will be sunk, and his feet hard and
dry; and if new, the eyes will look lively, and the feet
pliable. The like observation you may make of the hen; and
moreover, if she be with egg, she will have an open vent, if
not, a hard close vent. Turkey poults are known the same way, as
to being new or stale, and you cannot be deceived in their age.

Goose.] If the bill of a goose be yellow, and she have but few
hairs, she is young; but if there are many, and the bill and
feet red, she is old: if new, limber; if stale, hard and stiff
in all her parts. Never choose a goose that is not very fleshy
on the breast, and fat in the rump.

Duck.] A duck is every way to be judged in the same manner as a
goose.

Chicken.] You cannot well be deceived in chickens; only take
this for a rule, that the white-legged are in general the best,
and taste the sweetest.

Wild duck.] A right wild duck has a reddish foot, and smaller
than the tame one; the marks of being young or old, new or
stale, are the same as with the others.

Woodcock or snipe.]  A woodcock ought to be thick, fat, and the
flesh firm; the nose dry, and the throat clear, otherwise they
are naught. Snipe if young and fat, has a full vein under the
wing, and feels thick in the vent. As for the rest like the
woodcock.

Partridge.] When the bill of a partridge is white, and the legs
look blueish, it shows age; for if young, the bill is black, and
the legs yellowish. To know if new or stale, smell at their
mouths.

Pigeons.] Old pigeons have generally red legs, and are blackish
in some parts, if young and new, the flesh looks all of one
colour, and are fat in the vent.
And thus of grey or green plover, fieldfare, blackbirds, thrush,
larks, and wild fowl in general.

Hare.] A hare is white and stiff when new and clean killed; if
stale, the flesh will have a blackish hue. If the cleft in her
lips spread very much, and her claws are wide and ragged, she is
old; the contrary when young.

Leveret.] To know a true leveret, feel on the fore leg near the
foot, and if there be a small bone or knob, it is right; if not,
it is no leveret but a hare; and for the rest of the marks, you
must judge as of a hare.

Rabbit.] The wild rabbit is better than the tame; to distinguish
the one from the other, you must observe the head, which is more
picked in the wild than the tame. If it is old, there will be a
great deal of yellowish fat about the kidneys, the claws will be
long, and the wool rough and mottled with grey hairs; if young
the reverse. For being new killed, you must judge by the scent.

Butter.] When you buy fresh butter, trust not to the taste the
person gives you; for they often patch a piece of good butter at
the end, when the rest is naught; but run your knife into the
middle, and if it comes out with a fine sweet flavour, the
butter is good. You must also observe that there are no
crumblings stuck about the knife; for if so, the butter, though
it may be well tasted at present, has not been well worked up,
and will not keep. As for salt butter, having tasted it, and
found it to your palate, make them cut you what quantity you
want out of the middle; for the tub is apt to give an ill
flavour to that part which touches it. If one cheesemonger
refuses to do this, go to another; but if you carry ready money,
there is no danger of his turning you away; but those who go on
credit take up with it.

Cheese.] The best cheese, whether of Cheshire, Gloucester, or
Warwickshire, has generally a rough moist coat, but if too much
of the latter, is apt to breed maggots Always choose that which
has a fine yellow cast, and is close made.

Eggs.] The best eggs are those which have a clear thin shell,
are of the longest oval, and most picked at the ends. As for the
newness of them, hold them before the light, and if the white is
clear, and the yolk flows regularly in the midst, you may depend
on their being good, and the contrary when the white looks
cloudy, and the yolk sinks which way soever you hold it.



Cooking.

Now, that you may not disgrace your marketing, and spoil by bad
dressing what you have well catered, take the following rules,
which, without being ordered to the contrary, by those who love
their victuals over-much or over-little done, you ought not to
transgress in.

Boiling butcher's meat

Beef.] Let your pot be large enough to contain a sufficient
quantity of water for it to have room to wobble about, and be
sure, before you put it on, to make up a good strong fire, so as
it may never cease boiling from the minute it begins, till it is
thoroughly done, as for the time of boiling, you may allow a
quarter of an hour to every pound of beef, except brisket, which
requires more by reason of its being so very fibrous.

Mutton.] Mutton takes not up altogether so much time nor water,
yet it must not be cramped in too small a pot; for if it is, it
will be tough, and the colour spoiled. If you make broth, put in
no more water than will just cover it, and after you have taken
the scum off, (which must be raised by throwing in some salt)
and put in what thickening the family likes, whether rice,
barley, or oatmeal, let it be close stopped till enough.

Veal.] A great inducement to the eating heartily, of boiled
veal, is the whiteness of it: you should therefore not only be
particularly careful in taking off the scum, but also tie the
meat in a cloth, and the skin will then look of a delicate
clearness.

Lamb.] The same care ought to be taken of lamb, especially
House; for it, being of a more delicate texture than the Grass,
is more liable to imbibe any disagreeable tincture. Both ought
to be well boiled, as indeed should all young Meat, or it is
unwholesome.

Pork.] Pork requires still more boiling, and should never be
dressed without salting; for there is a juice between the rind
and the fat, which, if not well purged out, breeds bad humours.

Boiling Poultry

Turkey.] Three quarters of an hour is sufficient for a middling
turkey; but you must always consult the largeness, and give time
accordingly.

Pullets, capons, and young cocks.] Pullets, especially if with
egg, take somewhat more boiling, than either a young cock or
capon; for the two latter, half an hour is sufficient, and you
must not add to the other above four minutes. When you boil fowl
and bacon, you must be sure to scrape the rind exceeding clean,
and pare off the outside of the lean, which in the best cured
bacon has an offensive smell and taste, and boil the fowl in a
cloth.

An old cock.] You can scarce boil an old cock too much; but as
it is seldom used but in broth, the best way is to cut it in
pieces.

Chicken.] A quarter of an hour is sufficient for a chicken; if
you have parsley and butter with it, let the parsley be boiled
soft, and shred very small before you put it into the butter.

Pigeon.] When you have well cleaned and trussed your pigeons,
stuff their bellies with parsley, and be sure to take off the
scum as often as it rises. A little more than a quarter of an
hour serves to boil them.


Take it for a general rule, that whatever you boil either of
flesh or fowl, should be set over a brisk fire, to the end it
may keep constantly in motion; for if it ceases, though never so
little a time, the gravy drains out into the water.

Boiling Fish

Salmon.] Wash it, and let it bleed well in the water, then lie a
little to drain, after which put it into boiling water; take out
the liver when about three parts done, and braid it with
ketchup, which mingled with the butter, will make exceeding rich
sauce. This sort of fish takes almost as much boiling as mutton.

Pike.] Wipe your pike clean, then truss it round with the tail
in its mouth, and its back scotched in three places; then throw
it into boiling water with a good deal of salt and vinegar,
three or four blades of mace, and the peel of a whole lemon: let
it boil fast at first; for that will make the pike eat firm, but
more slow afterwards. The time must be proportioned to the
bigness of the fish, but half an hour is enough for a very large
one. The best sauce for this is plain butter, with a few shrimps
and Seville orange.

Fresh Cod.] Mix a great deal of the best white wine vinegar with
the water in which you boil fresh cod, lemon peel, salt, mace
and cloves; otherwise the fish will taste waterish, be very
flabby, and liable to break in the kettle. The sauce for this
cannot be too rich, and if you are allowed it, spare neither
ketchup, the body of a lobster of crab, oysters and shrimps; but
if you have not all these at hand, put in as many of them as you
can. You will know when it is enough, as you may all fish, by
the dropping out of the eyes.

Barrel Cod, or any other Salt Fish.] All kinds of salt fish must
lie in water proportionable to its saltness: trust not therefore
to the words of those you buy it of, but taste a bit of one of
the flakes. This requires more boiling than any fresh fish. The
sauce for it is butter, eggs, mustard, and parsnips or potatoes.

Roasting Butcher's Meat.

Beef.] When you roast beef, make up a strong lifting fire, that
it may penetrate into the heart of the meat, else the inside
will be raw when the outside is overdone. When you think it is
near enough, make your fire burn brisker in order to brown it,
rub a good deal of salt upon it before you lay it down, and
while it is roasting baste it often with its own dripping, and,
flour it well. The time for roasting is the same with that of
boiling, a quarter of an hour to every pound of meat.

Mutton.] All joints of mutton, except a leg, require a brisker
fire than beef. Baste it with butter; and flour it often; but,
if it be very large, and you suspect it to be ram mutton, baste
it well on first laying it down with water and salt, and that
will take off the rankness. You must abate somewhat of a quarter
of an hour for each pound, especially when you roast a shoulder
or neck.

Lamb and veal. All young meats, as before observed, ought to be
thoroughly done; therefore do not take either lamb or veal off
the spit till you see they drop white gravy.

Pork.] Pork should lie twelve hours at least in salt, before you
put it down to roast; then flour it well, but a very little
basting will serve, except you roast it without cutting the
skin, and then you must keep it basting and turning very fast,
as you would do a pig, to preserve it from blistering, or
parting from the flesh. This is a very luscious meat, and
requires the same time as beef, and as strong a fire, for it
will be pernicious if eaten with gravy in it, that has the least
tincture of redness. The most common, as well as most wholesome
sauce is applesauce, and mustard.

Pig.] Take sage shred very small, grated bread, salt, a little
pepper, and the yolk of four eggs, wet them well with white wine
till they come to a consistency; then put them into the belly of
the pig: sew it up, and; after having rubbed the skin over with
butter, put it on the spit: keep it continually basting and
rubbing with clean cloths, and turning very fast till it is
enough An hour will roast a middling pig; if large, you must
allow more time. When it is done, take the pudding out of the
belly, mix it with gravy, and the brains of the pig: sweet sauce
is to be made the same way, only add a few currants, some sugar,
nutmeg, and a little white wine

Roasting Poultry

Capon.] Thirty minutes will roast the largest capon you can buy,
provided your fire be strong and brisk, keep it well basted, and
let it turn moderately fast, the best sauce is rich gravy, well
relished with spice and rocambole or shallot.

Pullet with eggs, or without.] A pullet with eggs will take
somewhat more roasting than a capon: egg sauce is most proper,
and most commonly eaten with it. If she be without egg she will
take less time in roasting than the capon. Gravy sauce is also
best with this.

Chicken.] A quarter of an hour will roast a handsome well-grown
chicken. The sauce is parsley and butter, or gravy.

Tame duck.] Shred some sage and onion very small, mix it with
pepper and salt, and put it into the belly of the duck: when it
is enough done, take out the stuffing, and mingle it with a good
deal of claret and gravy for sauce.

Goose.] A goose requires exactly the same seasoning as a duck:
the sauce in the dish must also be the same: but you must add a
plate of applesauce, and set mustard and sugar for those that
like it.

Turkey.] A turkey must be well floured and basted, and roasted
with a strong fire, especially if the belly be stuffed with
oysters; in that case you must take out the oysters as soon as
it comes off the spit, and put them into melted butter mixed
with gravy. If there be no oysters less time will roast it, and
you must put no butter to your gravy.

Wildfowl.] When you roast a wild duck or any other wild fowl,
you should make your spit very hot before you put them on;
otherwise the inside will be raw, and the outside too much done
and dry: they must all in general be perpetually basted with
butter and their own dripping. The sauce you make for a tame
duck serves for all kind of wildfowl except a partridge, which
must be basted with butter, and strewed with grated bread, and
the sauce made of grated bread, yolks of eggs, white wine, and
gravy well spiced.

Hare.] A hare is best when it is larded, but if this is not
thought proper, you must at least make a pudding of grated
bread, the liver of the hare minced small, parsley, thyme,
winter savory, sweet marjoram, salt, pepper, a few cloves
beaten; three yolks of eggs, and well wetted with claret, and
put it into the belly, which after you have sewed up so that
none may fall out, put it on the spit; baste it with cream till
it is half done, then with its own dripping; but take care to
keep it always moist. Mix half a pint of claret with very strong
and high-seasoned gravy for sauce. It will take an hour to roast

Rabbits.] Baste your rabbits well with butter; about forty
minutes is sufficient to keep them at the fire, which should be
brisk, but not too strong. The sauce is only melted butter, with
the liver minced small.
Stewing

Beef.] Brisket beef, thick flank, or the chuck-rib, are best for
stewing: cut it in pieces of about four or five ounces each; put
it into an earthen pipkin, with a few turnips, one carrot, one
whole onion, a little thyme, winter savory, sweet marjoram,
parsley, some corns of Jamaica pepper, salt, and black pepper,
and three or four bay leaves; then put as much water as will a
little more than cover them; stop it very close to keep any
steam as much as possible from going out, and set over a slow
fire, so that it may but just simmer; if it be brisket, it will
take four hours to do it right; if any other part, three will be
sufficient When it is enough, take out the bay leaves, and serve
up the rest altogether in a soup dish.

Neck, Breast, Knuckle, or any other Joint of Veal.] Whatever
joint of veal is to be stewed, must be put whole into a stewpan,
with parsley, winter savory, thyme, sweet marjoram, lemon peel,
mace, nutmeg, a little salt, and pepper. Mix some white wine
with the water, and put no more than will just cover it; then
stop it close, and put it over a very slow fire; when it is
enough, beat up the yolks of three or four eggs, and incorporate
them with the gravy that comes from it, and when you have put it
in the dish, strew a few mushrooms, capers, and a little
samphire over, and garnish with lemon or Seville orange. You may
also add truffles, morels, coxcombs, and artichoke bottoms, if
you have them. This is a very delicate and savoury dish, and
pleases most palates.

Neck, Breast, or any other Joint of Mutton.] Some people like
mutton stewed with potatoes; and if so, you must cut the mutton
in chops, and slice your potatoes; put a larger quantity of salt
and pepper than you do either with beef or veal, and a very
little water; because what comes from the potatoes, when they
have been a little time on the fire, will stew the mutton. You
must put in no herbs, except a bunch of thyme, and, after
covering it close, let it just simmer; an hour and a half will
do it thoroughly, provided no steam evaporates. To stew mutton
without potatoes, you must also cut it in chops, or collops,
according as the part is, and put in two or three turnips,
thyme, parsley, salt, pepper, a small onion, and as much water
as will cover it, and when done, strew it over with capers.

Fricass es

Of Veal.] Cut your veal in thin slices, beat it well with a
rolling pin; then season it with pepper, salt, nutmeg, thyme,
and lemon-peel, shred very small; fry it in butter, and when it
is enough, as it will be in six minutes, pour away the butter it
is fried in, and throw in fresh, with two eggs well beaten, and
two spoonfuls of verjuice; shake it up altogether, and then
serve it.

Of Lamb.] Lamb must also be cut into small pieces; then seasoned
with a little pepper and salt, fried first in water, and, after
being well floured, in butter: it requires longer time than
veal; when enough done, pour off that butter, and put in fresh,
with two eggs, and a very little verjuice. Strew it in the dish
with mushrooms.

Of Chicken.] Cut off the limbs of your chickens and joint them,
and the breast in thin slices, and dislocate all the bones,
leaving a very little flesh on them; fry them in water, then
pour off the water, and save it, then fry them in butter till
they are of a fine brown: beat the yolks of eggs, a little
pepper, salt, and enough of pickled walnut to give it a flavour;
mix all these well with the water you poured off, and put it
into the stewpan over the chickens; let it just boil up, and it
is ready. If you add truffles, morels, or cocks' combs, they
must go in with it, strew the fricasse  in the dish with
mushrooms. Rabbits are to be done in the very same manner.

Puddings

Plum-pudding common] Take a quarter of a peck of the best wheat
flour, three pound of fine beef suet, well picked from the skins
and strings, and shred very small; two pound of currants, rubbed
in a dry clean cloth; twelve eggs, the white of half left out;
one pennyworth of saffron; a glass of brandy and a little beaten
ginger; mix them in as much new milk as it will require for a
moderate thickness, and stir it well together. Then tie it up in
a cloth, and put it into boiling water. You must take care to
turn it often when it first goes in, that the currants may not
fall to the bottom, and keep it constantly boiling. It will be
five hours to do it as it ought.

Plain pudding common.] Plain pudding is made the same way, and
with the same ingredients, excepting the currants, and abating
one pound of suet; it must also boil as long.

Rich pudding. To a quarter of a peck of flour, put four pound of
marrow, four pound of currants, the yolks of twenty-four eggs,
and the white of six, one pennyworth of saffron steeped in a
gill of the best canary, a little beaten ginger, three ounces of
candied citron, of lemon and orange peel, each an ounce cut in
thin small bits; and well mixed and stirred in new milk.

Quaking pudding.] Take the crumb of a Kingston loaf, or six
French rolls, slice them and put them in an earthen pan; put to
them a quart of boiling milk; cover it, and let it stand till it
is quite cold; then put in two ounces of pounded almonds, a
glass of sack, four eggs, two ounces of double-refined sugar;
then tie it in a cloth, and boil it half an hour: when you have
taken it up, pour butter melted with sack over it; squeeze a
Seville orange, and strew it thick with sugar; to make it look
more beautiful, you may stick here and there a sugared almond.

Tansy pudding.] For a tansy pudding you must take a pound of
flour, the same quantity of grated bread, twelve eggs, four
ounces of double-refined sugar, a gill of sack, then press out
the juice of spinach one spoonful, and of tansy half a spoonful,
and mix them well together with cream. You may either bake it or
fry it in a pan. Squeeze Seville orange over it, and strew it
thick with sugar.

Common baked puddings are to be made the same way with the
boiled.

Pies.

Beefsteak pie.] Rump steaks are fittest for a pie, because most
tender. If you use any other part, beat them well with a
rolling-pin. Season them with pepper and salt, according to the
palate the pie is made for. To every pound of flour for the
crust, you must take the same quantity of butter, but work no
more than half up with the paste; the other you must spread over
it with your knife in the rolling: then fold it, spread it
again, and so on till all the butter is expended. Make your
crust thick, and as many times as you roll it, so many flakes it
will break in when it is baked, and eat as well as if you did it
with whites of eggs.

Mutton, Lamb, and Veal Pies are all to be seasoned the same way,
except the two latter are to be made sweet, for which take the
following rule:

Lamb or Veal Pies sweet.] Cut your lamb or veal in collops, then
season them with salt, pepper, nutmeg, and lemon-peel; put to
every pound of meat a quarter of a pound of currants, and a few
stoned raisins; some make a caudle of canary and eggs, and pour
it in when the pie is cut up, but this is superfluous.

Minced pie.] The best minced pie is made of neats' tongues or
hearts, which parboil, and then chop very small with an equal
quantity of beef suet nicely picked: put of currants and stoned
raisins as many pound as you have of meat, and to every pound
add an apple, the sharpest you can get: mix a little white wine
or canary with the mace, and some thin slices of citron.

Apple pie.] With every six apples you put into your pie, join
one quince: when you have pared them, and taken out the cores
and bruises very clean, cut them in small bits, and throw in a
large quantity of sugar, so that the fruit shall seem buried;
break a stick of cinnamon, and scatter it, with a few cloves
here and there.

Gooseberry, Cherry, and Currant Pies have nothing but sugar
mingled with the fruits.

Custard.] Take a quart of cream and boil it with a little
cinnamon, then beat the yolk of eight eggs and four whites; and
when your cream is almost cold, put in your eggs, stir them well
together, and sweeten it with fix ounces of sugar; then pour it
into little china dishes, and bake it.

Cheesecake.] The common way is to make cheesecakes of curd taken
from milk turned with rennet; but the surest way to have them
good, is to have it turned with white wine, which, if enough is
put into the milk when hot, will make a curd hard enough for
your purpose. Boil cinnamon in it before you pour in the wine,
but sweeten it afterward when you have taken off the curd, and
pressed it to a moderate dryness; add more sugar, and a good
quantity of currants, mix them well together, then fill your
crust, and put five or six small bits of citron in every
cheesecake and send them to the oven. I need not tell you that
the paste must be made very rich.

Seedcake.] Take three pound of the best flour, wet it with milk,
and put to it the yolk of twenty-four eggs, and twelve whites,
one pound and a half of fresh butter, half a pound of sugar, and
two ounces of caraway seeds, a little beaten ginger and some
cinnamon, knead it well and bake it, and it will be a very good
cake. To have it richer you need only double the quantity of
butter, and some sliced citron and orange-peel.

Pancakes

Flour Pancakes.] Take two pound of the best flour, the crumb of
a French roll grated, the yolks of ten eggs, and the whites of
five, well beat; then mix them with a quart of new milk, in
which a little bit of saffron has been infused, throw in some
powdered ginger and nutmeg: after stirring it till it is very
smooth, so that there is not the least lump, cover your batter
up, and let it stand for two hours before you put it into the
pan, then pour in sufficient to make the pancake of a moderate
thickness: let your butter be well melted; and your pan very hot
before you put it in; keep it shaking round to prevent it from
sticking, till you toss it; then add more butter, and when it is
fried crisp, lay it on a dish, and squeeze Seville orange over
it and strew it with sugar.

Clary Pancake.] Beat twenty eggs, whites and all, then take as
much clary as, when shred exceeding small, will equal the
quantity of the eggs; mix them together with three spoonfuls of
flour, and as much milk as will just make it pour; add powdered
cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg; fry it as you do a common pancake,
and when done squeeze Seville orange, and strew sugar over it.

Fritters.] To every spoonful of flour you allow for your
fritters, you must take the yolk of an egg, and as much cream,
beat all well up together with some ginger, cinnamon, and
nutmeg, finely powdered, then let it stand. Pare some of the
best and sharpest apples you can get, and cut them into small
pieces, but do not put them into your batter till you are ready
to fry it. Let your pan be half full of hog's lard, and as soon
as it boils up, throw in the batter by a large spoonful at a
time, and these will be excellent fritters. When you have taken
them up, squeeze Seville orange, and strew sugar over them.

Bacon Fraise.] The batter for a bacon fraise must be made
exactly the same as for a pancake, only of somewhat more
consistency. After having pared all the rind and rusty part of
the bacon clean off, cut it in very thin rashers, lay it in the
pan with a good deal of butter, and when it is hot pour the
batter over it Hold it a good height above the fire, that it may
not scorch before the heat penetrates quite through it, and keep
it shaking round to prevent it from sticking. You cannot toss a
fraise, and must be particularly careful in turning it, that it
may not crack in those places where the bacon lies.

Omelette.] Take the yolks of twelve eggs, and the whites of
eight, beat them very well, then shred a handful of young
spinach, parsley, winter savory, about half the quantity each, a
little sweet marjoram and thyme; season it well with pepper and
salt, and a few beaten cloves; for those that love onion, you
may put in enough just to give it a relish. Stir them all well
together, and fry it in fresh butter; but take care not to
overdo it, for it will then be tough.

Bacon with Eggs.] Cut all the rind, and so much of lean as you
see has a yellowish cast, clean off your bacon, then put it into
your pan, and when you have turned it, break in your eggs,
taking care that the one does not stick to the other; when they
have lain about half a minute, turn them one by one with your
slice, let them lie half a minute more and take them up: pour
vinegar, and shake some pepper over them in the dish before you
serve it up. But the best way of eating bacon with eggs is to
broil the one, and poach the other, laying one egg over each
rasher of bacon, and then pour vinegar and strew pepper as you
do when they are fried.




Washing


Next to being expert in buying and dressing of victuals there is
nothing so commendable in a servant as the well and quick
washing and getting up of linen. That you may not therefore be
wanting in so valuable a qualification, I have taken the pains
to give you some instructions, which I doubt not but will be
readily followed by as many of you as are ambitious of acquiring
the reputation of being good housewives, or wish to give
satisfaction to those you serve.

Directions how to Manage Linen for the Wash

How to Wash Linen.] As soon as any linen is left off, look it
carefully over, and mend whatever little cracks or rents you may
find in it, for otherwise they will grow larger when they come
into the water; then fold it up with the same smoothness you
would do if clean, and put it into the foul bag, that it get no
more soil: linen, where bad housewives have the management of
it, is as much worn out by being thrown carelessly about, as by
the wearing. If there happen to be any stains of ink, red wine,
or any sort of fruit, you must be sure to get them clean out
before you begin to wash.

How to get Spots or Ink out of Linen.] Take the linen and let
that part of it that the ink has fallen upon, lie all night in
vinegar and salt, the next day rub the spots well with it, as if
you were washing in water, then put fresh vinegar and salt, and
let it lie another night, and the next day rub it again, and all
the spots will disappear.

How to get the Stains of Fruit out of Linen.] Rub all the stains
very well with butter, than put the linen into scalding hot
milk; let it lie and steep there till it is cool, and rub the
stained places in the milk, till you see they are quite out.

Water.] Some people are so inconsiderate as to wash with water
when it first comes in, which being always thick, and very often
yellow, gives the linen a muddy cast: be sure, therefore, to
have water enough for your washing, that it may stand and settle
three or four days at least before you use it. If it happens to
be a harsh water, take a chump of wood, and burn it on the
hearth, then put the ashes into a piece of linen rag, tie it
close, and throw it into the water, which will make it as sost
as milk, and save soap.

Soap.] Be careful in choosing the oldest soap you can; for that
which is new-made not only spoils the colour of the linen, but
also does not go so far.

Washing.] See that your pot or copper be nicely clean, that it
may not soil or grease the water; while it is heating, sort your
clothes, laying the small in one heap, and the great in another:
the coarse must also be separated from those that are finer.
When you have done this, rub them all well over with soap,
especially those places you find most dirty, then put the fine
first into the tub, and pour the water on them of a moderate
heat; for if it be too hot, it scalds the dirt into the linen:
wash it well in the water before you rub it: in fine linen you
will not have occasion to rub very hard, for without it is more
than ordinarily dirty, the strength of the lather, and the
motion you give it, will have all the effect of rubbing, and
wear it less out. When it is well washed, take it out of the
tub, and lay it on your table or dresser on a clean cloth, which
you must spread for that purpose, to prevent any fresh soil from
coming in it; then put in your coarse linen with some more hot
water, and rub that with greater strength than the fine; then
lay it on the dresser and throw away your suds, without you have
any stair cloths, dresser cloths, or such kind of things to
wash; if you have, you must save it in another tub, in order to
wash them when you have done the others. You must now soap all
your linen over again, pour water as before, but something
hotter, and wash it well; if it is not very dirty, two lathers
will suffice, but if it has been worn long, you must give it
three.

Boiling.] Soap it slightly when you put it in to boil, and mix a
good deal of the best stone blue with your water: pash it often
about while it is boiling, and then pour it altogether into your
tub. Let it stand till it grows cool enough for your hands to
bear it, and then wash it well out, taking care that not the
least smear of soap remains; for if you leave any, it will look
like grease when it comes to be dry. Throw every piece as you
wash it into a tub full of clean pump water well blued, and when
you have done, rinse it thoroughly to take out all the suds,
then hang it directly on lines, which you must be careful to
keep nicely clean. As soon as it is moderately dry, take it
down, fold it smooth, clap it, and let it lie till you iron it,
which ought to be as soon as possible, for linen is apt to turn
yellow by lying damp.

Ironing.] Whether you make use of box, or flat irons, let them
be kept very bright and smooth: if the latter, they must be well
rubbed on a piece of mat, and afterwards on flannel every time
they are taken from the fire. Lift them as hot as you can
without danger of singeing; to prevent which, always try them
first on a rag If the linen happens to be too dry, sprinkle it
with a little fair water, fold it again, and let it lie together
clapped down, that it may be all over of an equal dampness. Fine
linen should be ironed somewhat more damp than the coarse, in
order to make it stiff, and look like new.

Starching.] Muslin, and every thin or old cambric and lawn
require starching, or they will look like rags, and not last
clean a moment. Use nothing but the best Poland starch, make it
very thin, and mix a small quantity of powder blue with it, and
when it is boiled almost enough, put in a little piece of
isinglass to clear it; then dip your muslins, &c. into it, just
warm, and clap them between your hands till they are dry enough
to iron: to prevent them from shining, take a piece of white
paper, and lay over them, and rub your iron over that. You must
always take this way with laces or edgings, or anything that is
flourished or spotted, to keep the work from being too much
flattened.

How to Wash Silk Stockings.] Make a strong lather with soap, and
pretty hot, then lay the stockings on a table, and take a piece
of very coarse rough cloth, roll it up, and rub them with it as
hard as you can, turning them several times from one side to the
other, till they have passed through three lathers; then rinse
them in three or four waters, till not the least tincture of the
soap remains; and when you find them quite clear, hang them up
to dry, without wringing, wrong side outwards. When they are
about half dry, take them down and pull them out with your hands
into shape, let them lie a while, and then smooth them with your
iron on the wrong side


Having now (with great care and pains) completed what I at first
intended, I have nothing more to add, than, once more, strongly
to recommend to you, a strict observance of the several
particulars contained in this small treatise, which will be the
only means of entitling you to the blessing of God, the love and
esteem of the families in which you live, and procuring to
yourselves a never-failing source of comfort and satisfaction.

FINIS.



THE WIFE.


?
Title Page

THE
WIFE

By MIRA
One of the AUTHORS of The Female
Spectator, and Epistles for Ladies.



LONDON:
Printed for T. GARDNER, at Crowley's Head,
facing St. Clement's Church in the Strand.
___________________
M,DCC,LVI.



BOOK I.



INTRODUCTION.

Marriage was the first institution of the Great Author of
nature, and intended to smooth the rugged ways of life; the
softener of the husband's cares; the bulwark of the wife's
innocence; the cement of friendship between families, and the
choicest blessing Heaven could bestow on mortals.

Who then can, unconcerned, behold this glorious benefit
perverted, the blissful union of hearts dissolved, and the
hands, perhaps but lately joined, struggling with the chains
that bind them to each other; discord and confusion, in the
place of love and harmony; and this too, not always occasioned
by the vices of either party, (for I speak not to the profligate
and abandoned) but by some unaccountable caprice, some unguarded
folly, which I should think those guilty of, need only be told
of to reform!

The least disagreement between two persons, who ought to be
actuated but by one soul, should be checked in its very
beginning; for if the perverse humour, of what kind soever it
be, is once indulged, the breach will still grow wider, and must
be of fatal consequence, not only to their peace, but also to
their interest and reputation.

I shall not enter into any discussion whether, whenever
contention happens between persons thus united, the husband or
the wife will most frequently appear blameable; but of this I am
certain, that which soever of them begins the dispute, the other
is equally culpable in continuing it.

Too many of both parties, indeed, stand in much need of
admonition; but as law and custom have given the superiority to
the men, it is doubtless the duty as well as interest of every
wife, who would preserve the affection of her husband, to be
constantly assiduous about two things: first, by a prudent
watchfulness over his temper and her own actions, to avoid
whatever might create in him a disgust; and secondly, to
endeavour, by a soft and endearing behaviour, to win, and, as it
were, steal him from those errors to which he may possibly be
addicted, and which his pride, perhaps, would not suffer him to
be reasoned out of.

I have therefore thrown together some few hints, which, if
improved into practice, I think, cannot fail of restoring to
marriage that true honour and felicity which reigned in the
first ages of the world; but has ever since been gradually
decreasing, till so far depraved and lost as to render the
sacred ordinance contemptible in the eyes of many, and entered
into by most merely to gratify one or other of the two very
worst passions that can actuate the human mind, lust and
avarice.

Some of my fair readers may perhaps imagine, that in some points
I attempt to impose too hard a task upon them; at first, indeed,
it may appear so; but let them reflect on the vast emolument,
the accumulated benefits, attending the performance; a very
small part of the time wasted by a woman of quality at her
toilet, or by those of the meaner class in a gossip's tale, if
devoted to serious consideration, will be sufficient to convince
their reason, and make them look on nothing as a difficulty that
tends to the promoting the happiness of their whole lives, and
that of the person to whom they are united.

I know it will be said by those who are no favourers of the sex,
that, in an age like this, when modesty, with every native
virtue of the female mind, is treated as ridiculous, and a bold
licentious manner of behaviour is the chief requisite to
constitute a reigning toast, small encouragement will be given
to a work of the nature I propose; and that one might as well
expect to regain lost paradise on this side the grave, as to
bring women back to the innocence and simplicity of former
times; yet, in spite of all these accusations, which I am sorry
to say are, in the general, but too just, I hope, nay am
confident, that there are a great many, a very great many, who
will not suffer their reason to be totally swallowed up in the
torrent of fashion and example; and will be therefore thankful
to anyone who shall warn them against those mistakes into which
they might otherwise fall through inadvertency.

As the workings of nature are the same in all degrees of people,
and the method of attaining happiness may be as easily pursued
in the cottage as the palace, in order to render this work of as
general utility as possible, I have aimed more at perspicuity
than elegance of style; choosing rather to confer some benefit
on others, by my admonitions, than receive praises myself for
the manner in which they are delivered.



SECT. I.
Concerning the first Weeks after Marriage, vulgarly called the
Honeymoon.

I think it is a received maxim, that the good or bad success of
anything is very much owing to the manner of our first setting
out upon it; the wise will never undertake an affair of any
moment, without well considering the steps by which it is to be
conducted; marriage, therefore, which is the great business of
our whole lives, the business on which our all depends, ought
chiefly to be attended to; we then enter into a new scene of
action, and every former attachment, inclination, and pleasure,
must subside, and give way to that infinitely more important aim
of fixing our happiness where we have fixed our fate.

The smallest mistake in the beginning of marriage costs a long
time to rectify, and is often irretrievable; a disgust once
taken is scarce ever thoroughly worn off; endeavours for that
purpose, for the most part, serve but to increase it, and expose
the person to contempt; so true are the poet's words,

To love once past we cannot backward move,
Call yesterday again, and I may love.

There is a certain delicacy of behaviour which it behoves every
bride to observe towards her husband; a too great shyness, and
an over-fondness in receiving his endearments, are equally
dangerous to that esteem she will afterwards find it necessary
to have inspired him with; the one he will be apt to look upon
as proceeding either from affectation, or the want of love; the
other will soon satiate, and then infallibly become troublesome;
a modest yielding, a soft compliance with what he has a right to
expect; all beyond that, while it flatters his vanity,
diminishes his respect.

Both these extremes having a natural tendency to create
indifference in the end, ought to be carefully avoided by a new-
married woman; the first, if persevered in for any length of
time, may make her husband suspect that the coldness she treats
him with is occasioned by a too great warmth of affection for
some other man; the second, besides the inconvenience already
mentioned, might raise in him some diffidence of her power of
resisting a temptation, whenever any should fall in her way, to
the prejudice of his honour: thus might the same effect be
produced by either of the two most opposite causes in the world;
jealousy, the most dreadful of all the passions, spring alike
from each.

Not coy, nor yet profusely kind, is, therefore, my advice to all
who become brides, in what station of life soever they may be
placed by fortune: I would have the husband firmly persuaded
that his wife has a great fund of tenderness in her heart; but
would have no room given him to entertain a thought that she has
so much in her composition as to make her able to bestow the
least portion of it on any other than himself.

This is all I shall say in regard of her behaviour towards him
in private: in public, when they receive the visits and
congratulations of their friends, I would have her treat him no
otherwise than she did some days before their marriage; with the
company an easy freedom will become her best; a sheepish,
downcast look, will make her appear awkward and ridiculous; too
bold and assuming an air may subject her to censure; let the
inward satisfaction at the change of her condition glow on her
cheeks and sparkle in her eyes; but let her tongue keep a modest
reserve, and drop no hint that may give the least room for such
replies as would call a blush upon her face.

Nothing, certainly, can be more deservedly the jest of the town,
than that apish fondness we sometimes see between persons lately
wedded: I once knew a couple, who, when they first saw company
on that occasion, could look only on each other; in the midst of
conversation would alternately start up and snatch a kiss;
instead of answering what was said, he either played with her
fingers or patted her neck; she returned the favour with another
on his cheek, crying at the same time, "Go, you little naughty
man, why will you make me love you so?" To which he replied,
'Go, you little naughty woman, why are you so pretty?" The young
ladies who were present blushed, hung down their heads, and knew
not which way to cast their eyes; the married women could not
forbear drawing up their mouths into a contemptuous smile,
perhaps guessing in what manner all this billing and cooing
would end; all the men sneered, and those who were addicted to
raillery thought themselves under no obligation to restrain
their talent.

The happy day which had joined this pair was scarce six weeks
elapsed, when lo! behold a most terrible reverse; the hurry of
their fond passion was over; dalliance was no more, kisses and
embraces were now succeeded by fighting, scratching, and
endeavouring to tear out each other's eyes; the lips that before
could utter only, "my dear," "my life," "my soul," "my
treasure," now poured forth nothing but invectives; they took as
little care to conceal the proofs of their animosity as they had
done to moderate those of a contrary emotion; they were
continually quarrelling; their house was a Babel of confusion;
no servant would stay with them a week; they were shunned by
their most intimate friends, and despised by all their
acquaintance; till at last they mutually resolved to agree in
one point, which was, to be separated for ever from each other.

This, or something like it, will ever be the case when that love
which brings two people together is not established by a prudent
and discreet behaviour. The most ardent passion, to be
maintained in its pristine and full vigour, after a free and
unlimited enjoyment of the object, stands in need of being well
supported by esteem; and what sort of esteem a man can have for
a woman, whose conduct his reason makes him disapprove, and whom
he looks upon but as a pretty toy, fit only for his amusement,
not as a jewel, the lustre of which reflects honour on the
possessor, may easily enough be guessed at, from observing the
fate of transient, unwarrantable amours, which, like meteors,
blaze fiercely for a while, then sink at once and dissolve in
smoke and vapours.

If therefore a wife, by any unguarded folly, debases the dignity
of her character as such, and forfeits the respect of her
husband, she puts herself upon a level with a little kept
mistress; nay, is yet more unhappy, as the worst that can befall
a mistress is to be turned off by a man who no longer loves her,
and whom perhaps she never loved, and is then at liberty to
receive the addresses of another; but a wife is bound by an
indissoluble tie to pass her whole days with one whom her duty
bids her love, and whose indifference forces her to hate.

As there is no such thing as perfection to be found in human
nature, and the very best and sweetest disposition may have
something in it, some little peculiarity, which, like a jarring
string, if touched upon, spoils the harmony of the whole, one
may possibly give offence without being sensible one does so;
nay, even when most assiduous to oblige. It would therefore be
well, methinks, for a woman in the first weeks of her marriage
to be diligent in discovering the foible, or what is called the
blind side of her husband, to the end she may be able hereafter
to fall in with his humour, than which there is nothing more
endears one person to another.

I would not here be understood, that a woman should yield a
slavish submission to every unaccountable caprice and whim of
the man to whom she is married; or on any score give up her
reason and judgment to do him pleasure; no, that might perhaps
be to sin against a more supreme authority than what the law has
conferred on him. I would only have her seem to think as he does
in trifling and insignificant matters, and endeavour to be
silent and passive in those of greater importance.

I know very well, that by the greatest part of the sex this will
be thought too much; yet how would a wife be availed by a
contrary behaviour. Man is naturally impatient of contradiction;
imagines himself endued with a superior reason, and though he
probably may be inwardly convinced by her arguments, and
conscious he is in the wrong, will never be brought to
acknowledge he is so; but will choose to persist in his errors,
rather than suffer her to think his departing from them the
effect of her remonstrances.

It would be utterly impossible to enumerate the many causes, or
imaginary causes, which give occasion for dispute between
husbands and wives, so shall make mention only of those which
most frequently happen, are generally of the worst consequence,
and therefore ought chiefly to be guarded against.



SECT. II.
Difference of Opinion in Matters of Religion.

There are two things which people think they can never be too
zealous in asserting; these are, First, the principles; or, to
speak more justly, the mode of that religion they profess:
Secondly, the cause of party they espouse, and take to be right,
in national affairs. The one is called, being steadfast in the
faith; the other, public spirit, and the true amor patriae.

Now, though both these are virtues which it is to be wished were
more generally practised; yet, like all other virtues, they may
be, and frequently are, carried to an excess; for which reason,
I am always sorry when I see two persons, who differ strongly in
them, yoked together in marriage, as there are few cases in
which it is more difficult to preserve any sincere affection
between themselves, or peace in their families.

On coming home from their several places of divine worship,
seldom shall we see them meet in perfect good humour; each
secretly condemning the folly and obstinacy of the other, is
very apt to throw out reflections and sarcasms, which being
returned, occasion the most bitter altercations, and sometimes
kindle up an unextinguishable rancour in the heart either of the
one or the other.

Thus does a mistaken piety and zeal, in the defence of what they
think the best religion, utterly destroy the true end of all
religion, love, unity, and peace: and here I cannot forbear
recommending a few lines of the late Mr. Row, which, though
taken from a play, afford an excellent lesson to all bigots and
enthusiasts:

Look round, how Providence bestows alike,
Sunshine and rain, to bless the fruitful year,
On different nations, all of different faiths;
And (though by several names and titles worshipped)
Heaven takes the various tribute of their praise;
Since all agree to own, at least to mean,
one best, one greatest, only Lord of All.

The invectives and scurrilities with which people, of almost all
persuasions, too frequently load those who are of a contrary way
of thinking, are indeed very scandalous and provoking. What then
can a wife do in such a circumstance? Must she sit silent and
content, to hear the only path, which in her soul she believes
leads to Heaven, ridiculed and vilified; and, by not opposing,
seem to take part with the defamer, because he is her husband?
No, I am far from enjoining, or even approving a passiveness
which must render her guilty of wronging her conscience, how
misguided soever it may happen to be; I would only advise her to
avoid declaiming against the opinion he maintains; and then I
think she may, and ought to vindicate her own, by all the
arguments she is able to bring, provided she urges them with
meekness and moderation.

But if it is difficult to find two persons, who differ only in
the forms of religion, live together in concord; how much more
so, nay how next to impossible is it, when there is a great deal
of religion on the one side, and none at all on the other?

To do justice to the fair sex, it must be confessed that there
are, at least as yet, much fewer freethinkers among them than
among the men: How therefore must a woman of strict piety and
virtue tremble, when she hears that sacred name, on which her
whole hopes of future happiness depends, blasphemed and scoffed
at; the awful mysteries of salvation treated as a farce, the
preachers of it as impostors; and all this by the man whom duty
and inclination oblige her to regard with the greatest
tenderness?

ln this unhappy situation, I should, however, think it best for
a wife to forbear making any attempts to convince her
unbelieving husband; this, though at first it may seem too great
a lukewarmness in the cause of Heaven, yet may the most pious be
reconciled to it, when they consider that freethinking, which
indeed is only a softer term for atheism, absolutely denies all
testimony of conviction, laughs at faith, calls the holy
scriptures a legend of invented fables, the apostles cheats, and
the prophets, martyrs, and confessors, fools and mad-men.

Where pride and self-sufficiency have established this
diabolical doctrine in the heart, it is in vain to hope for a
conversion by any human means; all arguments offered to that end
are only answered with profane jests, and serve but to harden
him the more in his impiety.

The sole method, therefore, that a wife can take for the
reformation of a husband of this cast is, by a well-regulated
conduct, and a sweetness of behaviour, to make him in love with
the virtues of Christianity, and to confess that the tenets
delivered by the teachers of it were calculated to promote the
happiness of mankind in this world at least.

And now, having said as much as is necessary, or as I think, can
be expected from me, on this head, I shall proceed to the next
grand subject of controversy:  party prejudice.



SECT. III
Difference of Opinion in Affairs of Government.

It seems to me, that a prudent wife will find it no hard matter
to avoid entering into any disputes with her husband on the
score of politics; for, besides having it so little in her power
to serve the cause she espouses, there are so few women
qualified to talk on those affairs, that most of those that do
would find it much more to the reputation of their understanding
to be silent.

But supposing her to be endued with an uncommon genius, a
penetrating and sound judgment, well versed in history and
political tracts, able not only to talk but also to reason well
on the occasion, and have infinitely the advantage over her
husband, will the secret heart-burnings, discontent, and ill-
humour, which, in all probability, these debates may create in
him, be atoned for by the applauses her capacity may receive
from others!

It is said by a very great and venerable author, that 'tis much
better to be wise than witty; and sure there are none, who are
in reality the former, will wish to purchase the reputation of
the latter at so dear an expense as innate peace of mind: a
wife, above all others, is most concerned to observe this maxim;
for what satisfaction can she take in the empty compliments she
receives from abroad, or the admiration of persons indifferent
to her, when her own home rings with perpetual jars, and the
man, in whose arms she lies, regrets the ceremony that has bound
him to her?

If we give ourselves the trouble to examine into the latent
sparks which kindle up this party flame, we shall find that a
very small number, in comparison of the whole that are actuated
by a principle of conscience, prejudice of education, the
prospect of some advantage to themselves or families, a partial
attachment to particular persons, resentment for some
disappointment, the vanity of making a bustle in the world and
being talked of, and often a mere spirit of contradiction makes
a zealot, and equally influences both the courtier and the
patriot; and how vain is it to hope to make converts of such
men, who refusing to take justice or reason for their guide,
will not be convinced by either?

Women being excluded from all public offices and employments,
the men are apt to look on any attempt made by that sex to
intermeddle with affairs of state, as an encroachment on their
prerogative; and, indeed, I think it must be allowed, that she
who busies herself too much that way, somewhat transgresses the
bounds of her own sphere. The unmarried, however, are at liberty
to act as they please; but certainly a wife will always find the
best politics she can study, is how to merit and maintain the
esteem and affection of her husband; and this, with the
management of her family, will be sufficient to take up her
whole thoughts.

I hope to be forgiven for what I have said on this occasion,
since I have so good an authority for it as the late ingenious
Mr. Selden, who, though a great advocate for the ladies, and
very much their favourite, in speaking of the duties of a wife,
expresses himself in these terms:

Wives, like good subjects, who to tyrants bow,
To husbands, though unjust, long patience owe;
Reason itself, in them must not be bold,
Nor decent custom be by wit controlled;
On their own heads we desperately stray,
And are still happiest in the vulgar way.

If a woman cannot bring herself to the same way of thinking as
her husband, nor ought always to endeavour it, she has it
nevertheless in her power to forbear thwarting his opinion; and
how irksome soever such a restriction at first may seem to her,
I am very well satisfied she will afterwards find her account in
it.

A perfect concurrence of sentiment between the persons united,
is, without all question, one of the principal ingredients to
make marriage happy; I am therefore sorry when a too hasty
entrance into that state hinders them from being well acquainted
with the foibles, as well as virtues of each other; but as it is
not the business of these sheets to prescribe what steps should
be taken previous to the sacred ceremony, but what will,
according to all probability, render both parties easy under
their mutual engagements, I shall close this section with a
little narrative, which may serve to show the ill effects of
obstinacy.

About the middle of last May were married a certain young couple
of condition, whose names it is not necessary to mention. The
courtship between them had been very short, they had seen and
liked each other, their fortunes were pretty equal, the friends
on both sides willing, and no impediment happened to retard the
consummation of their mutual wishes. The first weeks of their
marriage were passed in the fashion usual on such occasions,
feasting and visiting took up their days, and love engrossed
their nights. A more fair prospect of felicity could scarce
present itself; but too soon, alas! the beauteous vision
disappeared, black lowering clouds overspread their heaven of
joy, and burst in storms, which, violent as they were,
threatened to be no less lasting than their lives.

On the anniversary of that day which brought the unfortunate
Chevalier St. George into the world, three gentlemen in plaid
waistcoats, white roses in their button-holes, and large oak
branches in their hats, stopped in a coach at their door, and
were conducted in. The lady, who is strongly attached to the
present royal family, had a glimpse of these sparks as they
passed to her husband's dressing-room, and easily perceiving
what principles they were of by their habits, was extremely
disconcerted to think she was married to a man who kept such
company.

But how much greater was the shock she received, when, in less
than a quarter of an hour, she saw her husband enter the room
where she was, accompanied by his three friends, and in all
points accoutred like them in those flagrant marks of Jacobitism
above described. After having given time to the gentlemen to
make their compliments to her, (which she could scarcely return
with common civility) he said to her, "My dear, I am going with
these gentlemen to meet some others that wait for us, in order
to celebrate a day which we still live in hopes of seeing a
joyful one; so you must not expect me at home either to dine or
sup."

He was in too much haste to go to the rendezvous to wait for any
reply, and they all went down stairs, leaving her in a
consternation not to be expressed.

This gentleman is one of those harmless Jacobites who will wear
plaid and white roses, swallow bumper after bumper, swear, and
talk loudly for the cause, but never contribute a single
shilling for its support, much less run any risk of life or
fortune. He returned not till very late, and had toasted too
many healths to render himself in a fit condition either to
sleep with his wife that night, or listen to the reproaches she
might otherwise have received him with.

The next day, being that which is celebrated for the anniversary
of his present majesty's accession to the throne, equipping
herself to make a loyal appearance at court, employed her
thoughts and time the whole morning. Her husband, who quitted
not his bed till almost noon, on his coming down found her
dressed in an orange-coloured suit of clothes, a bunch of yellow
ribbons on her head, and another on her breast, on both which
were stamped in silver these words: 'King GEORGE, and the
Hanover succession for ever'.

He gazed on her for some moments with an equal share of surprise
and contempt, and then cried out, "Hey-day, madam, what a figure
you make to-day! You look all in flames, orange and yellow is
certainly the most odious mixture in the world. Pray how came so
odd a fancy into your head?" To this she replied haughtily,

"Sir, It is a fancy which all good subjects and true Protestants
must approve; and I think you have no pretence to find fault
with my fancy; you, who yesterday thought yourself very fine, I
suppose, in the livery of a highland ragamuffin, a silly flower
with scarce any smell or taste, and a bundle of stinking leaves
for a cockade!"

"You talk impertinently, madam", said he. "I have just the same
opinion of you, sir", returned she. "If you had any regard for
me," cried he somewhat angrily, "you would not endeavour to make
yourself so disagreeable in my eyes by this ridiculous dress."
"I care not to whomsoever it is disagreeable," answered she, "I
wear yellow in honour of our gracious sovereign, and orange to
that of the immortal memory of our glorious deliverer King
William, who bequeathed us so valuable a legacy."

I forbear to repeat the reply he made to these words; because it
is more than barely possible that someone or other, in this
scrutinising age, might take it into his head to imagine that I
was glad of an opportunity of venting my own sentiments through
the mouth of a third person; it will be sufficient to inform my
readers, that one reflection drew on another, till the husband
and the wife seemed equally to have forgot all the regard due to
decency and good manners.

This breach, however, was afterwards patched up, though not so
well but it soon broke out again on every little occasion, and
still grew wider than before; each by turns endeavoured to bring
the other over to their own party; but that being a thing
impracticable, created such inward discontents and heart-
broilings, as well as open jars, that if they do not absolutely
hate, they cannot be said to love; a peevish thwarting each
other even in matters of the most indifference to either, or a
sullen silence are the least proofs of their mutual ill-humour:
in fine, the whole tenor of their behaviour affords too much
reason to believe, that since they are not able to agree in one
point, they are determined never to do so in any other.



SECT. IV.
Dress.

The article of dress may seem to be of very little importance to
the happiness of a married state; yet I have known some women by
that alone have forfeited the esteem of their husbands, as well
as rendered themselves ridiculous to their neighbours; though
the men may not understand the paraphanalia of dress, as our
ingenious Laureate expresses it, yet they are capable of judging
where it is well or ill adapted to the rank, circumstances, or
age of the person who wears it; and not a few there are, who
even go so far as to form their ideas of a woman according to
the fashion of her garb; I say the fashion of the garb, because
it is not so much the richness of the stuff, as the mode and
manner of making the garment, which denotes the disposition of
the wearer; a tawdry painted linen, on the back of a fantastic
woman, may be so contrived as more to attract the eyes of the
spectators than a gold or silver brocade.

A young single woman who has her fortune to make, and perhaps
has never as yet had an offer to that end, has something to
allege in defence of endeavouring to render herself particular
and taken notice of, as by doing so she will infallibly draw a
crowd of gazers about her, among the number of whom she may hope
to find someone who may take a fancy to her, so far as to make
her his wife. That this method does not always fail of success
we have recent instances to prove.

A married woman has not this excuse; she can have no motive for
the pains she takes to excite popular admiration, but that one
which is utterly inconsistent with her duty and her reputation,
dangerous to her virtue and the honour of her husband.

Indeed I cannot help heartily pitying the husbands of those
butterfly wives who are every day flaunting in the Mall, or some
other public place, equipped in all points as if going to dance
upon a stage, and, like the ladies at Bartholomew-fair, as soon
as dressed go forth to show themselves, in order to draw company
to the performance.

As this little treatise is intended entirely for the service of
married women, I would not have any of them imagine, from what I
have said, that I would go about to deprive them of those
ornaments of dress befitting their sex and rank; no, let them
keep their trimmings, their embroideries, their jewels, and
their trinkets; but let all these things be worn with decency: I
would only have every wife maintain the dignity of her character
as a wife, not plume herself in being the authoress of new
fashions, nor condescend to imitate the coquette airs of a F  M
, or any other town mistress.

The Roman matrons, how young soever married, no sooner became
wives than they distinguished themselves to be such by putting
on a different sort of habit from that worn by them in their
virgin state: the Chinese, and several other Eastern nations,
still preserve that custom, and a very good custom it is, if it
were only for the following reason:

A man, on seeing a beautiful woman, and ignorant that she is
married, may possibly indulge desires for her, which, when
afterwards informed of her condition, he may not be master
enough of himself to restrain; and whether her virtue be
offended, or her vanity delighted with the declaration, there is
a danger of its being attended with unhappy consequences, which
might have been prevented, if the first sight of her had told
him she was the property of another.

As we so frequently change our modes, and by turns ape those of
every nation round us, it would be well, methinks, if this more
laudable one than many others, were introduced; but, till that
happens, would wish every wife to endeavour both to look and act
with that reserve and circumspection which is, or ought to be,
the characteristic of her condition; and I am much deceived if
such a behaviour, constantly pursued, would not discourage any
man, who has the least regard for himself, from attempting
anything to her dishonour.

Every handsome woman, by such a conduct, might find her vanity
indulged, in hearing said of herself what Mr. Waller wrote under
the picture of a fine lady of his time:

Such Helen was, and who can blame the boy,
That in so bright a flame consumed his Troy?
But had like virtue shined in that fair Greek,
The amorous shepherd had not dared to seek,
Or hoped for pity, but with silent moan,
And better fate, had perished alone.

It will doubtless be expected that I should here say something
in relation to the enormous expensiveness of dress, which is
indeed a luxury that of late years has been intolerable and
presumptuous; scarce can you know by her habit a woman of the
first quality from the wife of an artificer, so that distinction
of degrees of blood and fortune are almost lost: but if the
miseries of so many families, undone by this one article, will
not have influence on those who have not as yet fallen into the
same misfortunes, the remonstrances of no author will be likely
to prevail, and the vice will become so general, that it is much
to be feared three parts in four of the nation will be reduced
to beggary in a short time, if the wisdom of the legislature
does not take it into consideration to put some restriction on
this epidemic evil.

But there yet remains something further to be said on the
article of dress, before I take my leave of the subject; it is
this, when a woman lavishes too much time at her toilet, she
will certainly lose ground in the esteem and good opinion of any
man who is not a fop himself, and practices the same.

I am credibly informed that there is a certain lady in town, who
whenever she is to make her appearance in public, always passes
five or six hours before her looking-glass, causes her chests
and cabinets to be emptied of everything they contain, puts on
first one suit of clothes, and then another, till she is gone
through the whole various round; and when all this is done, must
needs hold a long consultation with her woman which of them she
had best make choice of, though she knows that she is all this
while impatiently expected at the appointment; her husband waits
to conduct her thither, sends repeated messages to her dressing-
room, and even comes himself to entreat she would be more
expeditious; his liking of her person, has hitherto kept him
from reproaching her vanity and ill-manners, but will scarcely
do so always, his temper will be tired out, and he will one day
hate what he begins already to despise.

If this error is so inexcusable, as doubtless it is, even in the
great, who have nothing to study but their amusements, and have
so many leisure hours upon their hands, which might possibly be
employed in a worse way, it is yet infinitely less to be
forgiven in a woman in a meaner station, whose domestic affairs
demand all her attention, and which must suffer intolerably,
when she who is at the head of them places her chief
satisfaction in embellishing and setting forth her own person to
the best advantage.

All women, however, of this turn of mind are sure to be treated
with the utmost indifference, if not ill-humour, by their
husbands; and by their whole families, children not excepted,
with disrespect.



SECT. V.
Neatness in general.

Though an over-nicety of dress be a very great fault in a wife,
the contrary extreme is yet a greater, at least to herself; to
be wholly engrossed by the cares of her own person loses her the
esteem of her husband; but to be too negligent of it, or, in
other words, slatternly and sluttish, subjects her to his
loathing.

The advice which Aesop gives to a beautiful young lady, who had
just entered into the state of marriage, is well worthy the
observation, and ought to be engraved in the mind of every
woman. According to the best of my remembrance his words are
these:

Take care to be always neat in your house and apparel; but
nicely so in your person above all.

As there are few women who are not exact enough, frequently too
much so in this point, before they get husbands, whenever I see
one of them degenerate afterwards to the very reverse of what
she was, it puts me in mind of a story I read some time ago
concerning one of the popes.

This man, who hoped to attain the papal chair by the appearance
of an extraordinary sanctity, in imitation of St. Peter, passed
all the time he could spare from his priestly office in casting
nets for fishes, selling all the freight he took and giving the
money to the poor; but having once reached the end of his
ambition, and felt the triple crown upon his head, he hung up
his net and fished no more; he had now caught the prey he so
long had sought for, and had nothing more to do than to sit down
in ease and splendour, and enjoy the fruit of his labours.

But how terrible a disappointment must it be to a husband, who
finds the fine delicate creature he had courted, no sooner made
a wife than converted into a dirty dowdy. Fabled Ixion felt not
a greater shock, when instead of a goddess he embraced a cloud,
than he on meeting so unexpected a reverse of his high-raised
expectations.

But though it is certain that there are very few things that
give a man a greater disgust than want of cleanliness in a wife;
yet he may be apt to imagine, that the carelessness she shows of
herself is an argument of her being without any desire or
ambition of pleasing him; and that it is a matter of mere
indifference to her, whether she retains any place in his
affection or not.

This may possibly sometimes happen to be the cause, though I
believe but very seldom; for if a woman has so little love for
her husband, as not to take any pains to appear amiable in his
eyes, she will at least wish to do so in those of the world,
except all sensations of that pride and vanity, which in a more
or less degree is inherent to the whole sex, are entirely
swallowed up in one or the other of these motives, viz. sloth or
avarice.

Neatness is so essential an ingredient to make the map of life
agreeable, that all other enjoyments, all other pleasures,
summed up and put together could not be able to compensate for
the want of it, and would even lose their name, that being the
true zest and spirit of them; it is the parent of cheerfulness,
the friend of health, equally refreshing to the mind as body,
and without it all is tasteless, dull, and sickly.

Every woman, therefore, who either loves her husband or wishes
to be loved by him, should endeavour to make his home as
pleasing to him as possible, which cannot be done without taking
a particular care that he shall never find anything in it but
what is exactly neat and in good order; and as this is no more
than what respect for herself, as well as for him, obliges her
to do, she ought not to make any merit of it, or boast too much
before him of her extraordinary notableness and housewifery.



SECT. VI.
Behaviour to the Husband's Kindred in particular Circumstances.

That a woman should behave towards her husband's kindred with
great civility and respect, is a thing so generally known that
no one can be ignorant of it, and for that reason needless to be
mentioned her. I should not, indeed, have given myself or my
readers any trouble on this head, if there were not yet
something more in it than appears to be, or is easily conceived
by those who do not care to be at the pains of much reflection.

When a wife treats respectfully the family into which she is
incorporated, it is certainly all they can expect, or her
husband require from her. In doing this she thinks she may sit
down content; 'tis true, she may so; no one has reason to
disapprove her conduct, as the dictates of duty and good manners
are fully answered by it; but the sincere desire I have to see
the marriage-state as happy as human nature will allow, makes me
wish she would go further yet, in order to reap some advantages
to herself.

There are a thousand little circumstances which frequently
happen among relations, which, if well managed, will give her an
opportunity of rendering herself of more consequence to them and
endearing to her husband, than people ordinarily imagine, some
few of which I shall endeavour to point out, and by these others
may be judged on.

As nothing is more common than for persons of the same blood to
have petty quarrels, and in the heat of passion to utter the
severest things against each other, yet in their hearts retain
the same affection as before, I think it not enough that she
forbears all attempts to widen the breach between them, I would
not have her even to stand neuter in such a case, but be active
in her endeavours to bring about a reconciliation, which, among
other means, may be effected by always taking part with the
absent person, and gently blaming the present as having been
somewhat too rash.

If the husband himself is one of the parties concerned in this
brule , I would have her proceed in the same manner with him;
and though he should seem a little angry at her interfering in
the matter, not to cease her remonstrances, but make use of
every argument that love and wit can inspire her with to
mitigate his resentment, and win him to forgiveness.

It is not at all improbable, but rather the contrary, that he
may have secretly wished for some pretence to do what she
requests of him; and if so, will then rejoice on finding himself
furnished with one so plausible as being prevailed upon by the
intercession of a beloved wife; how greatly therefore this will
magnify his esteem for her, how add to all the charms she before
had for him, no one need be told who has ever known the pleasing
emotions that rise in the heart on being urged, and as it were
compelled, by the persuasion of another to pursue the dictates
of his own inclination.

Neither will she, perhaps, confer a less obligation on him when
she solicits in the behalf of some distressed kinsman or
kinswoman, who either through unavoidable misfortunes, or their
own faulty conduct, may be reduced to stand in need of his
assistance; the ties of blood and nature are seldom quite
effaced, they have a strong influence over minds not lost to all
humanity, so that according to the best of my observation of
married people, a wife cannot give a more convincing proof of
her affection for her husband, or more endear herself to him,
than by appearing zealous for the interest of all those
belonging to him, with how much indifference soever he may seem
to regard them.

If it should so happen, that any relation on the one side makes
his addresses to one on the other, and no considerable
inconvenience bars the prospect of their future happiness, she
ought by all means to promote such an alliance, because the
chain of love and friendship between two families becomes the
stronger by being double linked.

As there are very few people always exempt from diseases of one
kind or other, whenever the husband is seized with any
indisposition, whether dangerous or not, I would not have a wife
leave him to the care of servants, how many soever she may have
at command, or be too proud to be his chief and most constant
nurse herself; she has the example of a great princess for so
doing.

It will be also very right in her to send for those of his
kindred as are known to be most his favourites, as well as for
those who are next of blood, to the end, either in case of
mortality or recovering, she may not be suspected by him or them
of having had any sinister design to deprive them of such
legacies as he might be inclined to bequeath, or they expect
from him.

A thousand other incidents, which are impossible to be
particularized, or enumerated, are continually happening; and
though of less moment in themselves, may be made of equal
advantage with those I have mentioned; and afford to a prudent
wife fresh opportunities of ingratiating herself with the
kindred of her husband, and consequently with himself. I would
therefore advise her to let none of them escape her notice, how
minute and insignificant soever they may appear; for it is a
truth which I have seen the confirmation of in very many
instances, that the behaviour of a man when at home is greatly
influenced by the insinuations he may imbibe from abroad.

I think there is no occasion to say, that she ought never to
wait till entreated to do whatever good offices are known to be
in her power; since to undertake a thing of this nature with
grudging and reluctance would be an injury to her own character,
and it is scarce possible for a woman capable of being benefited
by these admonitions to stand in need of being told that a
graceful generous manner of conferring an obligation is little
less grateful to the receiver than the obligation itself.



SECT. VII.
The Danger of living in the same House with any Relation of the
Husband's.

How strenuously soever I have recommended all sorts of kindness
to a husband's relations, I would by no means have a new-married
woman consent to come into his house till whoever had the
management of it before was removed.

Whether a mother, an old aunt, or even a sister, has had the
direction of his household affairs during his single state, and
continues to live with him after he is married, it will be with
reluctance that she parts with the power she lately had over the
family, and that reluctance may possibly create in her a spite
which may make her cavil at every order given by the new
mistress, and frequently find faults where there are none.

Hence will arise jealousies, discontents, and secret
animosities, which cannot always be restrained from breaking out
in words; what is said by either will be reported to the other,
the servants be made parties in the quarrel;  the whole family
in opposition, and everything running to confusion.

This cannot long escape the knowledge of the husband, he will
enquire into the cause of so unusual a disorder in his house,
both the ladies will then exhibit their several complaints, each
will plead her own cause in terms as pathetic as she is able.
This will involve him in the most perplexing dilemma; divided
between his natural affection for the one, and the solemn
engagements he is under with the other, make him grow sullen and
peevish, and the poor wife, though never so innocent, is sure to
bear some share of the blame.

This is a circumstance which will be still the more unhappy,
when the aggressor shall happen to be the mother of the husband.
Filial duty will then tie up his tongue, and the fears of
disobliging him, that of the wife. What then can the latter do
in such a case? Why truly, I know of no advice that can be given
for her present relief, and think the only course she has to
steer, is to wait with as much patience as she can till death,
or the ill-humour of the old lady shall take her out of the way.

Oh, but methinks I hear some high-mettled woman cry out in this
manner: "That wife must be a strange mean-spirited creature, who
would suffer herself to by tyrannized over by any old beldam of
a mother-in-law; for my part, if it were my case, I would return
all her taunts with interest; she should find I would not bear
her ill-usage for two days together; I would soon make her know
that I did not marry to let her be mistress, and tell her
plainly that she had no business in my house; and if all this
did not make her leave it of her own accord, would never let my
husband have a moment's peace till he turned her out of doors."

Others again may be of a quite different way of thinking, and
these will tell you, that it is the duty of a wife to pay the
same obedience to her husband's mother as to her own; that if
the old lady should be perverse and contradictory, she should
never pretend to combat with her ill humour, but rather
endeavour, by a soft and submissive behaviour, to soothe her to
more gentleness; that she should be watchful to oblige her,
observant to all her commands, nor take upon herself the
management of anything unless she found it was her pleasure she
should do so.

Thus variously will people speak, according to the several
dispositions given them by nature, or that themselves have
rendered habitual by custom: as for me, I cannot coincide with
either of these opinions; a termagant, or scolding woman,
besides making herself ridiculed and shunned by all her
acquaintance, will very seldom gain her point; and when she
does, will find she has paid too dear for the purchase; softness
is the characteristic of the sex, and its greatest beauty; when
that is once thrown off and exchanged for ferocity, a woman
loses all her charms, and has neither the esteem nor love of
anyone.

On the other hand, as I would have a wife strictly fulfil all
the duties of her place, so I would likewise have her maintain
all the rights of it; and the government of domestic affairs
being solely her province, and invested in her by the laws of
marriage, no one ought to condemn her for asserting her
prerogative; the respect due from her to her husband should,
indeed, induce her to listen to his mother's advice, when mildly
given; but does not oblige her to submit to it when delivered
authoritatively, and by way of command; for that would be
reducing herself from the condition of mistress of the house, to
which she has an undoubted title, to that of servant or
dependant.

All you, therefore, who have not taken care before you entered
your house to have so dangerous an impediment to happiness
removed out of it, all, I say, that you can do afterwards, is to
endeavour, according to the vulgar adage, to make the best of a
bad market. Be neither too insolent, nor too submissive; pay a
decent respect to the parent of your husband, but give her no
room to believe you will ever be her slave; avoid, as much as
possible, all contests with her; be complying in your words, but
absolute in your actions; be counselled by her in things which
you think are right, and in others seem not to oppose her will,
but pursue your own. If you find any of the servants more ready
to obey her commands than yours, instantly discharge them, but
without letting the true cause of your doing so be known, either
to them or her; early convince her that you are sensible of your
privilege, and determined to support it: this, it may be, will
either make her desist to attempt any exercise of a power to
which she has no longer a just claim, or else to quit a place
where her pride will not suffer her to appear as a second
person.



SECT. VIII.
Servants.

Servants are of so much consequence to the families they live
with, that the little quarrels they have among themselves are
sometimes the occasion of a great deal of uneasiness to their
master and lady; for which reason I would never have a wife
hearken to the complaints which may be made to her by anyone of
them against another; but on the first mention of such a thing,
tell them plainly that it does not become her to be an umpire of
their differences. She will suffer no disputes in her house, and
that if they cannot agree and live peaceably together, both must
quit her service.

To be well served, and keep a family in good order, the mistress
of it should behave with sweetness and affability towards all;
but be too free with none, be liberal in rewarding merit
wherever she finds it, but show no partial favour to anyone in
particular, turn away all those who, after a gentle reprimand,
do not amend their faults; but do so without reproaches or loud
words.

But above all things, she should take care never to trouble her
husband with any repetitions of those domestic concerns which
are below his notice; never to chide a servant in his presence,
or even in his hearing; or by any look or gesture let him
discover she has any cause to be offended with them. She having
the management of all those who compose the household, and
hires, and appoints them their several offices, and discards
them as she shall judge proper, it is derogatory to her own
authority to appeal to any third person, even though it be her
husband, and will also fill his head with idle ideas, which, if
he be a man of any sense, must needs be disagreeable to him.

I have the pleasure of being acquainted with a clergyman of
great learning, piety, and assiduity in the care of his flock,
yet too modest to think he either knows or does enough to
fulfil, as he ought, the high trust reposed in him; he passes
all the time the public service of the church, and visits to
private penitents will permit, in reading and comparing the
primitive fathers, and making himself as much master as possible
of the true and apostolic institution.

This very worthy person has a competent estate of his own, a
rich benefice, and no earthly care to discompose him, except the
foible of his wife in the article I last mentioned. In most
respects she is a valuable woman; but either through the vanity
of appearing an excellent economist, or that being perfectly
exact herself in all she does, she cannot bear the least trifle
amiss in another, she is continually teasing the good man with
complaints against the servants.

In vain has been all his remonstrances, his entreaties; he has
removed his study from the first floor to one of the upper rooms
in the house; but this affords him no relief: still she pursues
him there, and interrupts his most serious meditations; almost
breathless with passion, and the fatigue of coming up, she
throws herself into a chair, and ushers in her discourse with
these or the like exclamations: "Sure never any body was plagued
as I am! Servants are the devil! If one could do without, one
would see them all hanged before one would keep them! A pack of
idle hussies! Here I have two wenches, and one only serves to
make work for the other; neither of them are worth half the
bread they eat! But it is all owing to you, Doctor; they may
break all the things in the house for any care you take, and
they pay no manner of regard to me, though I rave at them all
day."

Thus will she go on for an hour together; and when at last the
mighty accusation, which had brought her thither, comes to be
explained, it amounts perhaps to no more than the misplacing a
mop or scrubbing-brush, or the spilling half a farthing's worth
of sand.

No man would marry a woman of this disposition if he knew it
before, unless for the same reason that Socrates did Xantippe,
for the exercise of his patience; but we have few philosophers
in these days, few but would seek that peace abroad which they
find it impossible to enjoy at home, and would think themselves
justified by these words of the poet:

What can be sweeter than our native home?
Thither for ease and soft repose we come.
Home is the sacred refuge of our life,
Secured from all approaches but a wife:
If thence we fly, the cause admits no doubt,
None but an inmate foe could drive us out:
Clamours our privacies uneasy make;
Birds leave their nests disturbed, and beasts their haunts
forsake.

For a woman to avoid giving her husband any disturbance on this
account, seems to me so very easy a piece of self-denial as
stands not in need of being enforced by argument. I shall
therefore add no more upon it; but cannot wholly take my leave
of the topic of Servants, without touching upon another article,
which I am pretty confident has laid many an innocent wife open
to the tongue of scandal.

I find there are several ladies, especially among those of the
higher class, who are extremely fond of having their hair cut
and dressed by a man; many borrow their husband's valet de
chambre, some keep one of their own for that purpose, others
employ a French or German artist, who shall come lolling in his
own chariot, and take a guinea for what a great number of
English women, bred to that business, would be glad of receiving
half a crown.

There was a time, not out of the memory of many persons now
living, when a virtuous woman would not, except in case of great
necessity, have suffered her head to be uncovered in the
presence of any man; much less have endured that her hair should
be handled, stroked, and twisted round the fingers of a foppish
foreign barber, or a pert domestic, raised perhaps for his
dexterity this way, from the degree of a footman, or even groom
of the stables, to that of a valet de chambre; but fashions
alter, and what would forty years ago have been looked upon as
highly indecent, is now polite, because the mode.

There are still some husbands, however, who, though to avoid the
imputation of being a jealous coxcomb, seem to comply with this
custom, cannot in their hearts approve of it, especially if the
wife's operator be a young handsome fellow, and during the
performance can entertain the lady with a soft Italian air, or a
merry tale of some of her acquaintance. To my certain knowledge,
many ugly suspicions, and alarming apprehensions have been
occasioned merely on this score; and whether with or without
foundation, have made the husband say within himself:

Few know what cares a husband's peace destroy,
His real griefs, and his dissembled joy.

I must confess, that I still retain a very great veneration for
modesty, how much soever it is of late years exploded by those
of a superior taste; and as that amiable quality cannot be
preserved, without a due distance being kept between the sexes,
must always be of opinion that women are fittest to attend on
women in their chambers, and that no valet, clerk of the
kitchen, butler, or any other male servant, should be permitted
to pass further than the door; or, on any pretence whatever, to
approach the toilet or bed-side of their ladies.

A very small progress in the knowledge of human nature is
sufficient to inform us, that men of all ranks are liable to the
same passions and desires. Who then can answer that a young
fellow, pampered with ease and luxury, probably amorous by
constitution, and indulged in so near an access to a fine woman,
may not, while he is setting her forth for conquest, become a
captive himself, and feel the force of all those charms he is
employed to embellish? In a word, may he not, even in spite of
himself, be inflamed with inclinations altogether inconsistent
with the duties of his station, or her honour, to have inspired
him with?

Every husband who thinks at all, will doubtless think this way
sometimes; and when he does so, cannot well reconcile himself to
a custom abounding with such dangerous temptations; for which
reason, and also for some others I forbear to mention, I
sincerely wish that the ladies, the married ones especially,
would unite to abolish it entirely.



SECT. IX.
Talkativeness and Taciturnity.

There are times for talking, and times to be silent; times when
even nonsense is agreeable, and times when the most elegant
discourses are insipid: it is the humour of the hearer that
gives the relish to all that is said, as a friend of mine has
happily enough expressed it:

When the warm fluid briskly fills the veins,
And gay emotions play about the heart,
A jew's harp, or a bagpipe will delight:
But when the spleen prevails, and sadding thoughts
Clog up the native vigour of the mind,
Then Farinelli's self would cease to please,
And Handel's notes grow painful to the ear.

Certain, indeed, it is, that the most skilful and exquisite
touches of the best musician can afford no melody, when the
instrument he attempts to play upon is out of tune; everyone,
therefore, who would please in conversation, should endeavour to
suit both his subject and manner of speaking according to the
present disposition of the person to whom he speaks, and not
throw water upon fire, nor fire upon mud.

Such strange vicissitudes, such fluctuating ideas run through
the human mind, that it often happens the same man, seen at two
different times, appears to be two different persons; all have
their gloomy and their sprightly moments, and love to be
indulged in both; a wife, therefore, who would be always
pleasing to her husband, should diligently observe these changes
in him, to the end she may neither by her talkativeness
interrupt his pensive thoughts; nor by any unseasonable reserve
strike a damp on the gaiety of his more cheerful humour.

Some women are so extravagantly delighted with hearing the sound
of their own voices, or the wit which they imagine is conveyed
by it, that they would be perpetually talking, and can ill
endure the least suspension of their vociferousness, though to
be praised for it: others again, of a more dull and phlegmatic
constitution, will scarcely speak at all, and it is with
difficulty you get a word from them; sullen, severe, and cloudy,
they seem invigorated by no passion, and are little better than
moving clods of earth: the ingredients which form the
composition of these latter are, in my opinion, of an infinitely
worse nature than those of the former, and are less adapted for
society; the one may sometimes give pain, the other never can
give pleasure: but to do justice to the sex, very few of them
are of this class, so I shall make no further mention of them.
But to return to the alert and talkative.

But first I shall take the liberty to repeat a little passage
which I met with some time ago, I think in one of the
Spectators, that is exactly conformable to the subject matter of
this section.

A young lady who had more wit than judgment, and more words than
either, was married to a gentleman of sense and good-nature, but
somewhat reserved in his disposition, loved to retire within
himself, and enjoy his own meditations: this being impossible to
be done in any of the rooms his wife was accustomed to come
into, he would frequently withdraw privately and hide himself in
some nook or corner of the house, where she would not expect to
find him; this, for some time, answered his intent; but she at
last discovered the place of his concealment, and having in vain
essayed all that reproaches and entreaties could do to engage
him to come forth, asked him wherefore he chose to be alone. "I
was thinking, my dear", said he, "on what", cried she: "on you,
my dear," replied he; "the happiness I enjoy in calling you mine
is sufficient to engross my contemplation, nor can I bear to be
interrupted in them even by yourself; I beg, therefore, you will
retire and leave me to indulge the pleasing reverie."

The author has not thought fit to inform us whether she complied
with his request or not, and we may therefore conclude that
nothing material enough to be related was the consequence: all
husbands, however, would not, when intruded on in this manner,
have given so genteel a rebuff; but at that time he doubtless
loved the pretty prater, and the natural tenderness of that
passion enabled him to forgive, though not to be pleased with
her behaviour in this point.

But this example of forbearance, which we know not how long
might continue, should not encourage a woman to depend too much
on the affection with which she finds herself regarded by her
husband; nor be flattered with a belief that a thing of such
small importance as talking too much, if what is uttered be
accompanied with pleasantry and sweetness, can deserve the name
of an offence: 'tis true it does not, nor would any man deem it
so but in those moments when his own ill-humour gets the better
of his judgment, and swells the pigmy error to a gigantic
height; yet still there is a necessity this humour should be
complied with; like a troubled sea it gains fresh force by
opposition, but if suffered to take its bent a while, will by
degrees subside and sink into a calm.

What then has a wife, addicted to talkativeness, to do but
endeavour to conquer that propensity in herself, so far as to be
able to restrain it whenever she finds it begin to grow
disagreeable to the man whom it is so much her interest and
happiness, as well as duty, to oblige?



SECT. X.
Giving and receiving Visits.

Visiting, and being visited, is now become the chief occupation
of all degrees of women; that great ladies live more in their
chairs and coaches than in houses, their own especially: the
wives of middling gentry hire a hack to whirl them through the
whole round of their acquaintance; the lower sort trudge till
they sweat to drop their howdees at every corner of the town;
all count upon their visits as upon their cash, are as impatient
to receive them as their rents, and more punctual in paying them
than their tradesmen's bills.

Women of high quality, indeed, who are under no obligation to
inspect into their household affairs, as they keep people under
them for that purpose, can find no other employment for their
time than to pursue pleasure wherever it presents itself; and if
these find something more agreeable in a rout (justly enough
called so) than in the douceurs which marriage, joined with
love, is capable of affording, it is not to be wondered at that
husband and wife are so much strangers to each other, and to
home.

But how can we reconcile to common sense the same conduct in
those whom fortune has placed in a lower sphere of life and what
consequences are likely to ensue upon it? Why truly such as are
pretty obvious to the world, and might easily have been foreseen
by the persons themselves.

When a husband, beginning to grow uneasy at these eternal
gaddings, and the expenses which they naturally involve him in,
complains to his wife that his family is neglected, and his
fortune impaired by it, the general answer is, That she must see
her friends and acquaintance, and likewise return the civilities
she receives from them; that she goes no oftener abroad than
other people; that she keeps no more company than other people;
that she wears no better clothes than other people; that she
spends no more money in entertainments than other people; and
that it is for his credit she should live in the manner she
does. This being very seldom sufficient to content him, he
either retrenches her allowance, and refuses to pay those debts
he thinks she has no necessity for contracting; or else runs
himself into worse excesses than those he condemns in her;
drinks to drive away reflection; games in vain hope of
retrieving his circumstances, and loses all. A gaol is probably
his portion, a workhouse hers, and the children come upon the
parish.

"But why all this clamour against poor visiting and being
visited? Why this terrible denunciation of woes attending it?
Will some women be apt to say, and further demand of me, "What
harm is there in drinking a dish of tea with a friend or
neighbour, and returning the same compliment to them when they
come to see us? Will that ever ruin our husbands, or bring
destruction on ourselves and families?" To which I readily
answer in the negative, that it will not, provided it stops
here; nor would I have anyone imagine, that because I would not
have a wife a rambler, I would wish to see her a recluse; the
only danger of frequent visits consists in the following
article, to which it is in every woman's power to avoid
subscribing.

By frequently going only to half a dozen places, you may, at
different times, find forty or fifty other visitors; these will
probably make invitations to you, which your complaisance will
oblige you to accept; at each of their houses you will doubtless
find fresh company, who will also make fresh invitations; and so
on, till the number of your acquaintance is extended through
every quarter of the town. What then must become of your
husband, your children, and your other domestic concerns? Can
you ever be at home, or when you are so, can you ever be alone?
What time, what opportunity, can you have to perform anyone of
the offices of a good wife, a mother, or the mistress of a
family?

A free and unceremonial enjoyment of a few chosen friends, is
certainly one of the greatest pleasures in life, and such as
may, and ought to be indulged by the most virtuous and prudent
woman, as it will exhilarate her spirits, and consequently
render her more capable of going through all those fatigues
which attend the management of a family.

A bad-conditioned man will not attempt to debar his wife of this
satisfaction, and a good man will approve and rejoice with her
in it; but neither the one nor the other will endure that their
houses should, like the booths in Bartholomew-fair, be open to
all comers. I hope, therefore, that every wife who has unwarily
been drawn into a too large acquaintance, will drop the greatest
part of them as fast as possible, and select from the number
those who it will best become her character and circumstances to
converse with.



SECT. XI.
Places of public Entertainment.

Among all public entertainments, those of the Theatre are justly
allowed to be the most innocent and improving. I have heard many
excellent men confess, that more may be learned from a good
moral play, if well attended to, than from some discourses from
the pulpit; and the former has this advantage of the latter,
that the instruction it is capable of affording steals into the
heart, and takes a deeper root by its being conveyed through the
canal of pleasure.

There cannot certainly be an institution better calculated for
the improvement of all moral virtues, and the putting vice and
folly out of countenance, than that of the stage; nothing has a
greater effect upon us than the sight of those propensities
which we feel within ourselves lively represented in the actions
of another; every man, in the persons of the drama, may see the
form and turn of his own mind, as he does the features of his
face in a mirror, and by that reflection will be taught how to
add new graces to the good qualities he is possessed of, and to
rectify the bad.

Among the comedies, I am pretty sure the Careless Husband, and
the Journey to London, have not been so often acted without
making some proselytes both of husbands and wives; and as what I
now write is intended for the use of the latter, I would
recommend it to all women the least addicted to coquetry, to
take this lesson from the mouth of Lavinia in the Fair Penitent,
who, when her husband has been relating to her the vanity and
inconstancy of some women, breaks out in this pathetic and
tender exclamation:

Can there be such, and have they peace of mind!
My little heart is satisfied with you;
You take up all its room: as in a cottage
Which harbours some benighted princely stranger,
Where the good man, proud of his hospitality,
Gives all his homely lodging to his guest,
And scarcely keeps a corner for himself.

I will not pretend to be so great an advocate for the stage, as
to say that all pieces exhibited there have the same tendency,
or are capable of producing the same happy effects, either
through the author's want of abilities in the expression, or his
not considering the true end of writing; but there are so many
which have every requisite for this purpose, that none who are
desirous of having their virtues heightened, or their faults
corrected, need be at a loss for the means.

Though I am far from wishing to see any encouragement given to
foreign performances, yet, as it is the property of music to
tune and harmonize the hero's thoughts, and it has been the mode
of late years, and is every day increasing, for ladies to go as
far as they can out of their own sex, and assume the robust
fierceness of the other, I cannot but approve of their going
frequently to operas, where the softness of the Italian airs may
possibly contribute somewhat towards restoring them to their
more natural sweetness of manners and behaviour.

Oratorios are endowed with a yet greater and more peculiar
advantage; for being on divine subjects, and always performed in
Lent, what can be more perfectly adapted to elevate the soul,
and inspire proper ideas for the celebration of the approaching
glorious festival?

Venetian, or jubilee balls, ridottos, assemblies and
masquerades, have not these pleas for favour; and I am always
sincerely concerned when I hear that any woman, who is supposed
to have a just sense of honour and virtue, runs so eminent a
hazard of both, as to suffer herself to be prevailed upon,
either by her own curiosity or the persuasion of her more gay
acquaintance, to make a party at any time in these dangerous,
disorderly, miscalled pleasures.

Vauxhall, and Ranelagh Gardens, are accounted very innocent
recreation; walking, they say, is a wholesome exercise, and
music accompanying the promenade is extremely agreeable; this
must be allowed, but then it is no less true, than that the
pleasure of this rural magnificence is in a great measure
destroyed by the vast numbers of people who crowd to be
partakers of it; and that the late hours which some stay there
cannot contribute much to their health or reputation.

Public breakfasting is an invention which the projectors of
time-killing methods have found out to rob husbands of their
wives, children of their parents, and houses of their
mistresses, nay Heaven too of its due at those very hours in
which their presence is most required; the husband would talk
with his wife on some affairs of the preceding day, she cannot
hear him then, she is going to breakfast at Ruckholt or
Ranelagh; the children crowd to ask a blessing of their mamma,
she scarce can stay to bestow it on them, the coach waits to
carry her to one of the aforesaid places; tradesmen bring their
bills, she is in too much hurry to look over them; the chapel
bells ring to call her to her usual devotion, she hears it not,
but orders the coachman to drive away as fast as possible. This
public breakfasting is, I think, the youngest offspring of
idleness and luxury, a poor weakly brat, and I hope will never
arrive at maturity; on this, however, we may depend, that no
wife, who has her own or family's interest at heart, will ever
join in its support, either by her purse or presence.

There is yet another grotesque figure, or rather shadow of an
entertainment, which by starts makes its appearance, and catches
the unwary and capricious as they return from breakfasting, and
engages them till near the hours of dining. I doubt not but I
shall be easily understood to mean those mimic scenes which are
sometimes presented at the Little Theatre in the Haymarket,
wherein, as I have been informed, not only the vices, but the
imperfections which nature, age, or misfortunes have inflicted
on mankind, are exposed and ridiculed in as humorous a manner as
the buffoon performers are capable of doing. Bless us! what a
strange revolution of sentiments, and manners has a few years
produced!

This fantastic spirit has desisted his gambols for the present,
and I should heartily wish him to fly to some other quarter, and
show his head no more in Britain, if I did not fear that some
new, and if possible, more enormous folly would rise up in his
stead.

I think that I have now run through all the popular
entertainments of this great town, and can find none, excepting
Plays and oratorios, worthy to employ much of the time and
attention of a woman who aims to make her character as a wife
perfect and complete in all its branches: even the very best
among the others, which are called pleasures and diversions,
should be used but sparingly, like rich cordials, which, taken
too frequently, and in large quantities, depress the spirits
they were intended to exhilarate.



SECT. XII.
Economy, and the Means by which that Virtue may be rendered
doubly pleasing to a Husband.

Economy is no more than frugality refined; the one teaches us to
regulate our expenses according to our circumstances, the other,
to employ the very same expenses so judiciously as to make them
appear rather greater than they are; the one is apt to carry
with it an air of parsimony, the other that of liberality; and I
know no one quality more useful in a wife, nor which brings
greater credit to her husband.

There are some women who, in those things which appertain to
their province, will make a better show of five pounds, than
others, though perhaps of a more sparing nature, are able to do
with twice that sum. Certain it is, that many people waste money
by endeavouring to preserve it: a good economist presently
distinguishes what is proper to be done, and does it cheerfully
at once; but the barely frugal waits till necessity enforces; so
seems always in a scarcity, and can neither bestow comfort at
home, nor acquire reputation from abroad.

In fine, economy is the best science a woman can study, the
greatest ought not to be above it, nor the meanest diverted from
it by any other application whatever, as it is indeed the crown
of all, and without which nothing can rightly prosper; but this
is so known a truth that I need waste no time in expatiating
upon it, and shall therefore only give those of my fair readers,
who are married, a hint by which they may doubly endear
themselves to their husbands, if of a generous way of thinking,
by an act which the practice of this virtue will put in their
power.

And this I think I cannot better do than by presenting them with
two pretty recent instances of the behaviour I would recommend,
which, though to some wives it may appear a work of
supererogation, may encourage others to perform it, more than
all the rhetoric that anyone could employ for that purpose; so
just, as well as elegant, are the words of the incomparable Sir
Charles Sedley on this occasion:

Example is a living law, whose sway
We more than all the written laws obey.

A lady who is mistress of many valuable accomplishments,
particularly this of economy, is the wife of a captain of horse:
It happened in about a year after their marriage, that the
regiment to which he belongs was to be reviewed. The duke,
several general officers, and many persons of quality and
distinction were expected to be present, and the captain was
more than ordinarily careful that everything about him that day
should be as complete as possible.

The wife had observed all these preparations, without seeming to
take any notice of them till the morning of the day arrived,
when calling for her husband's valet de chambre, she bid him
bring privately to her the hat which his master intended to
wear; which he immediately doing, she fixed on the middle of the
cockade a jewel of this invention. It was a pretty large
diamond, with a ring or compartment round it, enamelled, with
these words, LOVE AND LOYALTY; and on the top a sprig of smaller
pendant diamonds, which on the least motion of the head waved in
the air. Having placed this to her mind, she put the hat again
into the box, and strictly charged the valet to say nothing to
the captain of what she had done till he should call for it.

On sight of the jewel the captain cried out in some surprise,
"Hey-day! what's here!" The man then telling him what his lady
had done, he examined it more closely, was charmed with it, and
ran hastily to his wife's chamber, "My dear," said he as he
entered, "How came this upon my hat?" "I put it there", answered
she smiling. "And pray how came you by it", demanded he "I
bespoke it of a jeweller," returned she, "and have paid for it,
so you may wear it without any apprehensions."

He then doubted not but she had made him a present of it, as she
had brought him a good fortune, the income of which was settled
upon herself, and began to make her some very tender
acknowledgments for this proof of her affection; but she
presently interrupted him, saying, "I will receive no thanks for
what I do not deserve; I purchased this toy 'tis true, but paid
for it with your money." "With mine", cried he, not able to
comprehend what she meant, as he knew not that she had any cash
of his in her hands, "Yes," replied she, "I have saved something
every week out of your allowance for houseekeeping, and thought
the little sum I had hoarded up could not be better disposed of
than in this addition to your cockade."

The captain, who had never seen the least scantiness at his
table, was so much astonished at what he heard, that for some
moments he could utter no more than, "Can it be possible! Good
God! Can it be possible!" "It is very true I assure you,"
resumed she, "as I can make appear by my accounts; for I
constantly set down whatever I expend, even to the most minute
article: but I hope, my dear," continued she, "you are not
displeased either with the fancy or design in what I have done."

"Displeased," cried he, "both are like yourself, surprisingly
charming! ravishing!" These words were accompanied with a
thousand kisses, which would perhaps have been succeeded by a
thousand more, but the hour approached in which his duty called
him to the field, and he was obliged to leave her, though with a
heart full of the tenderest admiration of her love and virtue.

The captain found himself greatly distinguished by his fine
cockade, which pleased him so much, that supping with several of
the officers that night, he could not forbear relating the whole
history of it. Everyone was amazed and charmed, the lady's
health was toasted in full bumpers; the bachelors among them
swore that they would not be unmarried two days, if they were
sure to get such wives; and those who were already married,
though they congratulated their friend's happiness, could not
keep themselves from testifying an envy of it, which perhaps
their own wives might severely feel the effects of on their
coming home.

Whatever some people may think, I cannot help being of opinion,
that this lady could not have bestowed the money she had
acquired by her good management better than in purchasing the
lasting esteem of her husband, and the high admiration of all
his friends. Economy is, indeed, so noble a qualification in a
wife, that she who is able to save anything out of a moderate
allowance deserves great praise, even though she should lay it
out in some such pretty toy to ornament her own person, and
pretend it was the present of a friend: but then the doing this
would be injuring another virtue, of which I shall hereafter
speak, when I have given the second instance I promised of
rendering economy doubly engaging to a husband.

There is a certain tradesman in the city, who, without being the
most opulent among his neighbours, is perhaps one of the most
happy; the moderate profits of his business enable him to live
comfortably, though not profusely; he has always a good fire, a
clean hearth, a table well furnished with everything necessary,
and a smiling wife, who never fails to receive whoever sat down
to it with a cheerful welcome. This worthy honest man happened
some time since to have dealings with a person of a quite
different disposition; a hungry hound, who thought nothing safe
that was not in the gripe of his own clutches; a wretch who
would sacrifice the reputation of his best friend to his own
sordid avarice, and knew no joy on earth, but that of hoarding
money.

On making up some accounts between these two, the balance on the
side of the miser was upwards of threescore pounds, which he
insisted should be paid directly; the tradesman told him, that
having exported a considerable quantity of goods abroad, he
could not, with any convenience, answer his demand till the
returns should arrive, which, by a letter of advice he had
received, he expected would be in a very few days. This was so
far from satisfying the other that his countenance immediately
changed, and he replied in a surly tone, "Mr. ***, I am under no
obligation to wait the uncertain return of ships from foreign
parts, which may, or may not come at the time you mention, just
as the wind happens to prove: if you cannot pay such a sum as
this upon demand, shall think your circumstances very bad, and
take measures accordingly; for you may depend upon it that I
will not be kept out of my money two days; so if you cannot
raise it in that time, must take what follows." In speaking
these words he went hastily away, as if resolved to give no ear
to any further excuses.

The tradesman's wife coming soon after into the counting-house
on some occasion, and finding by her husband's looks, that he
was greatly disconcerted, asked him, with some emotion, if
anything extraordinary had happened; on which he told her the
whole story, adding, that he had been ten years in business
without ever being treated in the like manner. "Such things are
not to be wondered at", said she, "in times like these; but is
this all that troubles you?" "All!" cried he, somewhat surprised
at her indifference, "I have not much above a quarter of the sum
required of me in the house. I believe, indeed, that I might
borrow it; but an obligation of that kind is never paid, and I
am equally loth to press upon those who are indebted to me
before their usual time of payment; yet something must be done,
my credit is at stake."

"You shall need do neither of the things you speak of," answered
she, "I can supply you with somewhat more than the sum you want:
"You!" cried he, staring her full in the face. Prithee, my dear,
do not tantalize me." "Sure you cannot think me so stupid",
resumed she, "as to turn an affair of this consequence into
raillery; no, I will presently convince you how much I am in
earnest." She had no sooner said this than she ran upstairs, and
immediately returned, bringing in her hand a small canvas bag
and emptied it on his desk; he was greatly astonished; but
counted over the pieces she had poured out, and found they
amounted to ninety-three pounds. "This is, indeed, more than I
want," said he; "but pray tell me by what means you became
mistress of this money."

"You know, my dear," replied she, "that I have often asked you
if you were satisfied with your table, and you have always
answered, that you were perfectly so; and that it was better
supplied than you could have expected for the money you allowed
for that purpose; yet have I been able to save out of it, in
five years, which is the time we have been married, the sum I
now present you with. Indeed, I intended to lay it up till I
could add as much to it as would purchase the little house at
Hackney, which I have heard you so frequently wish yourself the
master of, in order to retire to it at leisure seasons; but
since this exigence has fallen out, I should have testified
little regard either for your peace of mind, or credit in the
world, to have concealed it longer."

He was ready to fall down and worship her, not only for so
unexpected a relief, but also for the means by which she had
been enabled to afford it to him. He sent that instant for his
rapacious creditor, and paid him; and has since made no scruple
of relating the whole transaction to his friends, who think they
can never enough praise the economy and generosity of his fair
deliverer.

But because some people may be apt to think that both these
husbands were lavish in their allowance for housekeeping, I
should be guilty of great injustice to their amiable wives, if I
put an end to this section without assuring the reader, that
neither of them received more than what was judged, by all who
heard it, barely necessary for that use.

I know very well, that some wives may think they have reason to
object against this part of my advice; and say, that if they
were to act in the same manner with these two ladies, their
husbands would afterwards be apt to retrench their allowance. A
man who would do so must be strangely ungenerous; yet I cannot
answer but that there are men who have souls narrow enough to be
capable of such a meanness; yet if this should prove to be the
case, a wife will nevertheless have a satisfaction within
herself in a consciousness of having deserved better treatment,
as a late excellent poet very truly says:

Virtue's its own ineffable reward.

Therefore, besides this, I shall take the liberty, in the course
of these admonitions, of recommending several other things,
which, though they may go beyond what is called strict duty, I
am very certain a wife will always find her account, some way or
other, in the performance of.

All the danger I can foresee in this is, that a wife, after
discovering so much ingratitude and poorness of spirit in her
husband, will scarce be able to regard him either with that
esteem or tenderness she did before; nor, indeed, is it at all
reasonable to expect she should. I would have her,
notwithstanding, persevere in the same good management as ever,
and let him find no change in the care of his domestic affairs,
whatever he may do in her affection to his person.

But I shall enforce the argument no further, and conclude in the
words of an old but very eminent author:

True prudence, like the never changing sun,
Will always its own steady course of motion run.



SECT. XIII.
The great Advantages of Sincerity, both to ourselves and others.

Sincerity and Truth are only synonymous terms, and, if rightly
considered, will be found to signify one and the same thing; it
is impossible to practice the one, and be guilty of a breach of
the other; and whoever deals insincerely, deals untruly; for
there are lying looks and lying actions, as well as lying
tongues, and every kind of deception is in fact a different mode
of lying.

This excellent quality may indeed be called the queen of
virtues, as it gives dignity to all the others; love,
friendship, and even devotion, without it are but empty names;
where that is wanting, nothing is real merit, or can be
acceptable either to God or man.

If to find ourselves deceived by a bosom friend, or a long
favoured servant, inflicts great inquietude on the mind, how
much more difficult is it to bear with patience the same
discovery in a wife? We may break off all acquaintance with a
pretended friend, banish a faithless servant from our presence;
but from an insincere wife death only can relieve us.

Besides, a man looking upon his wife as a kind of supplemental
self, will the least easily be brought to pardon any deception
from that quarter; and if he does, will be always jealous,
always suspicious of her every word and action: in fine, all
future confidence in her will be destroyed and then no harmony
can be expected.

I am very sensible that there is many a wife, even among the
number of those who justly are accounted good, who thinks
herself not obliged, nor that it is expedient for her to trouble
her husband with every little step she takes; and believes that
she fully discharges her duty in doing nothing that is any way
inconsistent with his honour or his interest. This cannot be
denied; but then there are some men of so inquisitive a nature,
and withal so tenacious of their dominion over the mind as well
as person of their wives, that the most trifling circumstance,
by chance betrayed, and which they were ignorant of before, is
sufficient to fire them with resentment, and raise in them the
most alarming apprehensions.

"This woman has deceived me," will a husband of this class say
within himself, "'tis in an affair of no moment indeed; but what
then? She that is capable of imposing on my credulity in things
of small consequence, may also do the same in those of greater,
if interest or inclination tempts. What dependence can I now
place on her? What assurance can I have that my honour is safe
in her keeping?"

Thus by reflecting too scrutinously that there is a possibility
of being wronged by his wife, his imagination may be worked up
to such a pitch as to make him believe he is really so, and then
every word she speaks will be misconstrued; her very gestures
suspected: if cool in her behaviour towards him, takes it for
unkindness, if tender, for deceit; he will employ spies to watch
all her motions, and though he finds nothing to condemn, will
yet be doubtful, sullen, discontented, and cry out in the words
of Mr. Dryden:

Ah! Why are not the hearts of women shown!
False women to new joys unseen can move,
There are no prints left in the paths of love:
All other goods by public marks are known,
But this we most desire to keep has none!

I do not say that this will always be the case, and Heaven
forbid it should, yet as it may, and has sometimes happened, it
is best to avoid the most remote danger of so terrible a
misfortune, which can only be done by acting, even in the most
trivial matters, without reserve or disguise.

If those excellent wives, made such honourable mention of in the
preceding section, had employed that money their good management
had hoarded up, to the relief of distressed persons, or any
other laudable or useful purpose, without acquainting their
husbands with anything of the matter, they certainly would have
been justified by the world, as well as by their own conscience.

But though the captain and the tradesman are both of them men of
a benevolent and generous way of thinking, and would doubtless
have approved such an action, if told of it by themselves, yet I
very much question whether it would not have been considered by
them in a quite different light, if afterwards informed by some
other person that such a thing had been done without their
privacy and consent: indeed I much fear that the ladies, instead
of raising themselves in the love and esteem of their husbands,
would have forfeited some part of what they before possessed.

I am well aware, that by the greatest part of my female readers
I shall be thought to have carried this point too far; and that
if sincerity exacted those exalted punctilios I have been
describing, there would be no such thing as the practice of this
virtue in the world; they may also further add, that no husband
has a right to expect from his wife those proofs of complaisance
which she never receives from him.

To the first of these cavils I answer, that a woman of equal
delicacy as prudence, will find no difficulty in complying with
these admonitions, and as to the second, I would only have the
women remember, that it is not the intent of these pages to make
a perfect husband, but a perfect wife.

END of the FIRST BOOK.



BOOK II.



SECT. I.
On Detraction.

I am always sorry when I hear the fairest part of the creation
almost universally accused of being guilty of one of the foulest
faults, I mean that of detraction, a fiend begot by envy,
nurtured up by ill-nature, and pampered by self-love and vanity.

What can be more mean than to steal from the merit of others in
order to render our own more conspicuous? What more cruel than
to depreciate perfections, which, whether bestowed by nature, or
acquired by education, have a title to respect and love? What
more unjust and base than to give the lie to our own
consciences, and seem to condemn what we cannot but inwardly
approve; yet this is the true picture of detraction, which, like
a basilisk, poisons all it looks upon.

Methinks it would be better policy, as well as greater virtue in
a woman, to endeavour to imitate those accomplishments she sees
admired, than to attempt to diminish the value of them; real
loveliness will be still the same; words will never obscure its
lustre, and are far from having any effect on a man of
understanding; or if they have, it will be such a one as is far
from the maligner's intention; that is, he will rather be more
curious to pry into the truth, and thereby perhaps discover
charms in the injured object, which otherwise might have escaped
his notice.

Many a young damsel has lost her sweet-heart by taking this
method to secure him; and what is of much more melancholy
importance, many a wife has forfeited the good opinion of her
husband by aiming to enhance it at the expense of others.

How often, to the great disgrace of the sex, have I heard men
say, that they would never depend on the character of one woman
given by another; and I have been credibly informed, that it was
to an incident of the nature I am speaking of, that the world is
indebted for Mr. Pope's fine Poem, entitled, The Rape of the
Lock. The story is this:

A lady of distinguished charms, it seems, was, on account of the
admiration she received, so much exposed to the envy of some of
her female acquaintance, that they reported she wore false hair;
on which a certain baron, resolved to be convinced of the truth,
and to confute the aspersion, if he found it to be one, had the
temerity to cut a lock of her hair in the manner described by
the above-named excellent poet.

The mention of this brings to my remembrance a passage, which
happened some time ago in a family with whom I was well
acquainted, and is much more applicable to my present purpose,
as I would wish all married women to take warning by it.

A certain gentleman, whose real name I shall conceal under that
of Dorantes, was married to a young lady of equal birth and
fortune, and who, without being a celebrated beauty, was
perfectly agreeable in her person; he behaved with great
tenderness towards her, she was passionately fond of him; no
couple could live more happily together, till an unlucky
propensity, to which women are too prone, dissolved the cement
of their union, and made both as wretched as before they had
been blest.

The wife of Dorantes was extremely intimate with a young widow,
to whom I shall give the name of Clara; they were acquainted in
their childhood, and the change of their conditions afterwards
had made no alteration in the sentiments of either; seldom two
days passed over without their seeing each other; and as
Dorantes stayed pretty much at home, he was very glad of a third
person to make up a party for ombre.

Clara was very handsome, had a regular set of features, fine
hair, fine teeth; and above all, a remarkable delicate
complexion: Dorantes had several times occasionally mentioned
those perfections in her to his wife; which, though as will
appear by the sequel, not a little displeased her, she seemed to
take no notice of till one day, as they were talking together on
the beauty of some ladies of their acquaintance, he said, "Well,
I see none that are half so agreeable as your friend Clara."
"Clara looks very well altogether," replied she gravely; "but it
costs her a great deal of pains to do so." "What pains?" cried
he. Why to tell you the truth," resumed she, "all those things
you admire in her are nothing but mere art; she has seven or
eight false teeth to my knowledge; then as to her hair, it is
naturally inclined to red; but she dyes it with a certain water
sold at a shop in Buckler's-Bury," which turns it to that fine
black it now appears; and as to her complexion, she uses both
white and red; besides, she always sleeps in a night mask to
keep away pimples." "Impossible! My dear," resumed he, "I have
eyes as well as you, and can easily distinguish between what is
natural and what is artificial."

"You men are often deceived in these things," answered she; "if
you were to see her in a morning you would be convinced of the
truth of what I tell you, and a great deal more; but I love
Clara, and would not for the world say what I have done to
anyone except yourself:" "You are in the right," said he with
some ill humour; "for nobody would believe you if you did."

"I am sorry then I ever mentioned it to you", said she a little
haughtily." "It might have been better you had not," replied he
sternly; "because it gives me no very favourable idea, either of
your generosity or your sincerity; and but confirms what I have
often heard say of your sex; that no one woman ever spoke well
of the beauty of another." With these words he snatched up his
hat and went directly out of the house.

The wife, who had never before been spoke to in this sharp
manner by her husband, now doubtless repented of what she had
said; but the words were gone out of her mouth, she could not
call them back, and pride and shame would not suffer her to
confess she had been guilty of uttering a falsity; from this
time forward she perceived a visible decay in that tenderness
and respect with which she had been treated by Dorantes, and
began to hate the innocent Clara for a misfortune which she had
entirely brought upon herself; she behaved to her with great
coolness, and at length ordered the servants to say she was not
at home whenever she came. The fair widow on this totally
refrained her visits; and as she knew she had done nothing to
deserve the usage she received, thought it beneath her to
enquire into the cause.

From what small beginnings do sometimes the greatest feuds and
discontents arise: Dorantes, finding that Clara did not come to
their house as usual, doubted not but that his wife had either
personally affronted her, or spoke of her to others in the same
manner she had done to him; and reflecting, perhaps, a little
too deeply on the injustice of the thing, could not keep himself
from entertaining a secret contempt, mixed with indignation,
upon the author.

Chance contributed to heighten in him this ill humour towards
his wife: he met Clara one day by accident, and accosting her
with his accustomed politeness, asked the reason why his wife
had been so long deprived of her agreeable conversation. To
which she very gravely replied, that she had made several
visits, none of which being returned, she could not flatter
herself that her company was any longer acceptable. "Oh, madam,"
said he, "I beg you will not so far wrong your own merits, or
our just sense of them, as to harbour such a thought: I am
extremely sorry for my wife's remissness; but I suppose she
depended on the familiarity between you for an excuse, therefore
I hope you will have good-nature enough to forgive it, and
convince us that you do so by letting us see you soon." "Sir,"
answered she, "when your lady thinks fit to let me know when she
will be at home, I shall do myself the favour to wait on her."
She concluded these words with a curtsey of leave-taking, and
turned so hastily away that he had not an opportunity of adding
anything further.

On his return home he repeated what had passed between them to
his wife; and added, that as he found there was no pretence for
breaking off acquaintance with that lady, he would have her make
an invitation for her to come. Her face grew red as scarlet on
the first mention of Clara's name, and when he had given over
speaking, "I do not understand what she means", said she, "by
giving herself these airs; I never forbid her my house, and if
she thinks fit to stay away I have no reason to entreat her
presence; yet, since I find it will so much oblige you will send
to her." "Oblige me!" cried he in an angry tone. "Yes, since you
interest yourself so far in the affair", replied she. This put
him beyond all patience; he told her that she behaved very ill,
that she discovered a mean and base disposition, and that if she
persisted in it, she would render herself unworthy either of
love or respect.

"I see", cried she, "that I have forfeited both with you; but it
is not to my disposition, but to Clara's more prevailing charms
I am indebted for so great a misfortune. Ungrateful, and
inconstant man, is this the return for all the tender affection
I have felt for you!"

Men can ill bear reproaches, especially when innocent of the
cause, as Dorantes really was; he replied in the most bitter
terms, which she being unable either to endure or to retort,
half suffocated her with rage; she flew into the garden, and
throwing herself upon a green bank at the further end, there
gave a loose to tears and complainings.

One of the maids happening to be at a window saw where she lay,
and had the discretion to run hastily down and remind her, that
some rain having lately fallen, the dampness of the earth might
endanger her health: it seems, indeed, that the poor lady was as
cold as marble, though the inward agitations she was in hindered
her from feeling any exterior inconvenience; she rose, however,
and went into her chamber, but fell into such violent
shudderings as obliged her to suffer herself to be put to bed,
where she continued very ill the whole night.

Dorantes came not home till very late, and being told that his
wife was indisposed slept in another chamber; but on hearing in
the morning that she was much worse, and had need of advice,
sent immediately for a physician, who he knew had always
attended her family.

This gentleman found her in an high fever, and a little
delirious; all that could be done for her was done, but in vain,
her distemper every hour increased, and in two days her life was
despaired of; but on the third she grew, according to all
appearance, better, the violence of her fever was abated, and
her senses perfectly restored. Alas! the cruel disease had only
left the outward frame to prey with greater force upon the
nobler parts; death had now seized her heart, she was sensible
of it herself, and asked if Dorantes was at home; and being told
he was, and but lately left her chamber, desired he would come
in again, which he presently did.

He had no sooner seated himself on her bedside than she made a
sign to those who were in the room to withdraw, and then taking
hold of one of his hands said to him, "My dear Dorantes, I feel
I am no longer for this world, but cannot leave it without
confessing that I have been guilty of the greatest injustice to
Clara; yet was it not malice that made me so; I endeavoured to
make her odious in your eyes, only because I feared she had
appeared too amiable: it was a fault indeed; but it was a fault
of love; as such forgive it." "It was a weakness", answered he,
"which I was sorry to observe in you; for upon my honour, I
never had a thought of Clara, or any other woman, in prejudice
of that affection I have vowed to you." "How kind is this
assurance," cried she, "it gives me pleasure even in death."
"Talk not of death!" interrupted he, tenderly embracing her;
"Live, oh live, and be as happy as a husband's love can make
you!" "'Tis too late", said she, and that instant fell into
strong convulsions, which, though her youth and strength of
constitution struggled with for some time, she never recovered
from.

Dorantes was greatly troubled; but it would be needless to
repeat the particulars of his behaviour on this sad event, as it
is inserted only to show the ladies, that to traduce any woman
to the man who has an esteem for her, serves rather to increase
than diminish the good opinion he before had of his wife.



SECT. II.
Advice and Persuasion.

When the two sexes join in the sacred bands of marriage, the
woman, from the instant she is made a wife, becomes co-
proprietor with her husband in his fortune; nothing can happen
to that without affecting her; she has a right to share in all
the good, and must bear her part in all the ill, therefore has
an undoubted claim to be made acquainted with all the accidents
that shall from time to time befall it, and also to give her
opinion in relation to the management and disposal of it.

This privilege, however, should always be taken with the utmost
caution and discretion, and never exerted, or too strenuously
enforced, even in cases of the most important and extraordinary
nature; for I have been often sorry to observe, that advice
offered by a wife, though ever so equitable and expedient, very
rarely meets with the desired success when it did not come
disguised under the softer and more humble appearance of
persuasion.

Men, generally speaking, are so vain of their boasted learning,
and withal so jealous of that power which law and custom invests
them with in marriage, that when a husband perceives his wife
begins to interfere in anything beyond her domestic affairs,
that he presently concludes she is attempting to infringe on his
prerogative, and for that reason, if it can deserve the name of
one, rejects and treats with contempt whatever she offers by way
of advice.

Nay, I have known some husbands, who have been so foolishly
tenacious and obstinate in this point, as to act even in direct
contradiction of their own sense of things, when their wives
have unfortunately happened to drop the first hint of what was
proper to be done: to a man of this temper in vain the best of
women might plead in the words of Mr. Dryden:

Take sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.

Such a man, as too many such there are, may possibly be won by
the entreaties of his wife, but will never confess himself
convinced by any arguments she can urge: but as this disposition
does not always show itself, the surest way for a woman to
prevail on him to do what she finds is for their common interest
to be done, is not to insist on the rectitude of the thing, nor
to seem to be too desirous of correcting his judgment, but of
informing her own, by asking if he did not think it best to
proceed in such or such a manner; and then, if he approves of
what she says, though perhaps it came not into his mind before,
he may probably reply, 'Yes, yes, I always intended it should be
so.'

The less share of real understanding a man is possessed of, the
more lordly and self-sufficient will he for the most part be
found: whatsoever he says or does is absolute; he scarce ever
begins or ends a sentence without an "I pronounce it!" or, "I
have said it!" And in his actions answers exactly to the
character given by the humorous poet in his excellent poem of
Hudibras,

So sullenly addicted still
To's only principle, his will,
That whatsoe'er it chanced to prove,
No force of argument could move.

All husbands, 'tis true, are not of this arbitrary and
unreasonable way of thinking; but it is no less true that there
are few, very few among them, who do not choose to act
everything of themselves; and though they may be wise enough to
follow the advice given them by their wives, when they find it
better than their own, yet still they would be much more pleased
to have stood in no need of it.

The men also are too apt to heighten and corroborate this idle
notion in each other; a husband is no sooner known to have
followed the counsel of his wife, than his companions cry out,
that he is under petticoat-government, with a thousand other
such like sarcasms, and so turn, perhaps, the most prudent
action of his whole life into farce and ridicule.

If therefore behoves every woman, who is desirous of preserving
herself in the good graces of her husband, to be very careful
how she reports among her friends and acquaintances any
ascendancy she has gained over him, as there is great danger
that what she then mentions may be the last she will ever have
to boast of, if the words which fall from her on that score
should by any accident happen to reach his ears.

Among numberless proofs I have been witness of in relation to
this humour in married men, which I am now admonishing all wives
to guard against, there was one, which, as I can never reflect
upon without smiling, may probably have the like effect on my
readers. It was this:

I dined one day at the house of a gentleman and lady, with whom
I had been long acquainted; the conversation turning on the
public funds, one of the company, for I was not the only guest
who congratulated my friend on having been so fortunate as to
dispose of a large property he had in the India-house at a time
when stocks were at a higher price than they had been for some
years before, and perhaps might ever be again, "Ay, sir," cried
the lady, with some eagerness, "it was a very lucky thing,
indeed; and I am heartily glad that I advised my husband to it."

Never in my life had I seen a countenance so suddenly, and so
strangely altered as was that of my friend, on hearing his wife
speak in this manner: "You advised me," cried he, "I thought of
the thing myself, and was resolved to do as I did before you
ever made the least mention of it."

The look that accompanied these words, and the tone in which
they were spoke, a little disconcerted the good lady; but she
recovered herself in an instant, and with an admirable presence
of mind, replied, "Well then, my dear, you fulfilled the
proverb, that good wits jump, and I have the honour, at least,
of being of the same opinion with you."

No more was said on the occasion, but I easily perceived in the
faces of everyone present, how much they were pleased with the
lady's answer; her husband, however, could not entirely bring
himself back to his former gaiety and good-humour during the
whole time we stayed, though I believe he endeavoured to do it
all he could.

It is certain that this lady spoke as she did through mere
inadvertency, and on finding what she said was displeasing, had
the address to turn it off with an air of pleasantry, which left
her husband no excuse for persevering in his ill humour; but how
blameable soever this caprice of nature, for it can be called no
other, may be in a man when carried to too great a height, it is
doubtless much better, for the sake of peace, that the wife
should rather comply with than oppose it; especially as it is a
thing which she may do with so much ease.

But when a woman runs from house to house, as I have known some
do, bragging of what power she has over her husband; and that
she has made him do such or such a thing, it infallibly exposes
both the one and the other to the ridicule and laughter of the
world.

I believe I have said enough on the article of advice to
convince any prudent woman in what manner it will best become
her to behave; yet I cannot put an end to the section without
adding one example, which the last age furnished us with, and
which I heartily wish to see many imitators of in the present.

It was the fate of a very deserving young lady to be married to
a man who, though of high and distinguished birth, had such a
miserable want of understanding as to render him incapable of
transacting any business whatsoever: the match had been made by
friends, little courtship had passed between the young couple,
and she knew not that she was going to be tacked to a fool for
life till after the indissoluble knot was tied; the thing was
now without a remedy, therefore instead of making any complaints
of her husband's defects, she set about considering by what
means this misfortune might be made as supportable as possible,
his reputation saved, and consequently tier own.

It happened luckily, that though he was a fool, he was not of
that obstinate sort some are; he had been always under the
tutelage of his lady mother, so could more easily submit to that
of a wife; she soon discovered this pliant disposition in him,
and took the hint: she wrote all his letters for him, whether on
business or complaisance, which he copied after her, and made
pass for his own. When any person came to him upon affairs of
importance she always pretended he was either abroad or
indisposed, but said that she would communicate to him the
purport of their coming, and let them know his pleasure
concerning it the next day, which she never failed to do, either
by making him write an answer, or sending by a servant the
message which she put into his mouth.

Thus did she do everything without seeming to do anything, and
so inviolable a secrecy did she preserve in this method of
proceeding, that when any of her own nearest relations, or most
intimate friends, suspecting the weakness of her husband's
intellects, would say to her that they supposed he put the sole
direction of his affairs entirely into her hands, she always
replied in the negative, and told them she was surprised they
should imagine it; and added, that though he was not very fluent
in discourse, nor had the most graceful manner of delivering his
sentiments, yet he was a person of good sense, and ignorant of
nothing that might be expected from him.

But it was not in the power of this excellent wife, however, to
deck her husband with those honours which her good management
was every day gathering for him, his insufficiency would
sometimes peep out in spite of all her care to conceal it; nor
could she avoid receiving those praises which she would never
confess she had any pretence to merit.



SECT. III.
Rambles to Bath, Tunbridge, Scarborough Spa, and other Places of
Public resort.

Great cause have the inhabitants of this happy island to bless
the munificent Creator for the many salubrious springs with
which it abounds; scarce is there any malady, any disease,
whether external or internal, any pain so acute or habitual,
that the medicinal waters have not the power greatly to abate,
if not entirely cure; they are the dernier resource of the
physicians, and prescribed when drugs have long been tried and
found of no effect.

But, alas! what numbers are deprived of partaking those benefits
which nature has so plenteously bestowed? How many weak and
sickly wretches are wantonly thrust away from the pool of life
by the robust and healthy? A medicinal spring is no sooner
discovered than a new scene of luxury is opened; a magnificent
room is built for the convenience of music, dancing, gaming; a
large subscription is made for its support; the rich, the gay,
the great, immediately crowd thither in shoals; not to drink the
waters, but to share in the diversions of the place; some less
innocent, perhaps, to drop a child, or to meet a favourite
gallant, whose company they could not so easily enjoy in town;
by their presence the price of lodgings, and every necessary of
life, is raised to an exorbitant height; the indigent lazar must
not there presume to show his face, unless he can subsist on
air, and sleep without any other covering than the canopy of
Heaven.

Bath, Tunbridge, the Spa at Scarborough, I think bear the bell
from all the rest; though there are several others whose waters
have distinguished virtues; but they are less frequented, 'tis
possible, because being nearer home they do not afford
altogether the same opportunities for some sort of freedoms
which may be taken at more distant places; but I shall say no
more on this score, as it is foreign to my present purpose.

I should be glad to be informed, for as yet I never could find
out anyone laudable motive that should induce a healthful wife
to go to any of those shops of luxury, where she can purchase
nothing but new acquaintance, new modes of wasting time and
money; and, it may be, new inclinations, which may prove a dear
bargain to her in the end.

I know the prevalence of custom and example is very great; I own
the force of it; but as I never could think that either of
these, or both conjoined, had the power to give a sanction to a
thing bad in itself, and teeming with many dangers and
inconveniencies, I would fain persuade a wife, before she sets
out on any of these excursions, to examine her heart, and ask
herself the question, what advantage she expects to receive from
it, which can atone for absenting herself from her husband, her
children if she has any, and her family; and I believe she will
find it all consists with the pleasure of seeing and being seen
by a promiscuous throng, some of whom she knows, and some whom
she does not know, and the pride of showing her opulence by the
state and grandeur of her appearance: a prudent woman, I think,
need reflect no further, to make her turn the coach from the
door, order her servants to dismount, throw off her travelling
dress, and content herself with amusements less hazardous, and
more becoming of her character.

The reputation of a wife, it may be said, is safe when
accompanied in these rambles by her husband; because it will be
supposed his presence is a protection from all those liberties
which otherwise the freedom of the place might allow to be taken
with her by the bold and assuming coxcombs of the age; but then
there are so many complaisant couples, who though they go down
together, no sooner arrive than they take different routes of
pleasure, and have previously agreed not to give any
interruption to each other; so that a stranger, who only sees
them on the walks, is puzzled to know the truly affectionate
pair from those who are only so in appearance, and that the
innocent share in the censure passed upon the guilty.

Upon the whole therefore, though I would not have a wife
absolutely refuse to go with her husband, if he insists upon it,
yet I should greatly praise her discretion, if by proposing
taking a journey to his paternal seat, and receiving the homage
of his tenants and dependants, or by making a tour of visits
among their country relations, or by any other little stratagem
her invention can suggest, she could put him off from making a
party in these mixed assemblies, which only serve to intoxicate
the brain, destroy all serious reflection on what ought or ought
not to be done, and fill the mind with a chaos of confused, and,
it often happens, the most pernicious ideas.

What I have hitherto spoken on this head has been only in
relation to wives of quality and distinction; but certainly what
I have said to them ought to have a double weight on those of an
inferior rank, as they are much less able to support the
expense, and have many more domestic cares wherewith to employ
their thoughts and time.

I have heard of a fine city dame, who having prevailed on her
indulgent husband to let her go to Bath, not only run him
considerably in debt, for rich clothes, jewels, and other toys,
to make a brilliant figure there, but also, through the vanity
and ambition of playing at cards in the Pump-room, with some
great persons, lost her money so genteelly that she was obliged
to draw bills on her husband to a very large amount for the
payment of her debts of honour, and other expenses which the
forms of the place made necessary to a woman who appeared as she
did. The consequence of this ramble was no less than a
bankruptcy. Some pitied the poor man, but many more laughed at
him; he is now a journeyman in the very shop of which he late
was master; and the high-flown flaunting belle, now stripped of
all her trinkets, is confined to a two pairs of stairs room,
where she works for her bread before she eats it. I wish this
story may not be found to have many parallels.



SECT. IV.
Well bearing the Passion and little Petulancies of a Husband.

We should think it extremely odd if we saw anyone go about to
extinguish a fire by throwing sulphur into it; yet there are
people weak enough to attempt to quell passion by passion; and
hence it is that we daily hear of so many dreadful accidents
happening in the world; nor is it at all to be wondered at that
they should, as anger is a short madness, and no one can answer
for what he may be guilty of during that absence of his reason.

Some men have such a plenitude of fiery particles in their
composition, that the least trifle which contradicts their
present humour sets them in a blaze; they will roar, they will
stamp, they will say the most violent things; but then these
turbulent emotions are seldom of any long continuance; a wife
therefore must be very imprudent who makes any efforts to stem
the torrent at its height; she ought to wait till it subsides of
itself; for, as Mr. Lee justly observes,

Passions, like seas, will have their ebbs and flows.

When once she finds the fury of the tempest is sunk into a calm,
she may then, but not till then, endeavour, by mild arguments,
uttered in the softest terms and tone of voice she is mistress
of, to convince him of the injustice he has been guilty of: this
manner of proceeding, if he be a man of sense and honour, will
make him both ashamed of and sorry for his past folly, ask her
pardon, and set her down in his mind as the most valuable of
women.

There is also another error into which human nature is but too
liable to fall, and that is a peevishness or petulancy, a
disposition to find fault with everything, and to be pleased
with nothing; it is a humour which will neither brook opposition
nor be dissipated with soothings; it is therefore best for a
person who is obliged to be within the reach of it, to be
entirely passive, and take no notice till the fit is off.

I know not, however, whether peevishness ought not to be looked
upon rather as a misfortune than a fault, as it doubtless
proceeds, for the most part at least, not from real nature, but
from some invisible infirmity of the body, or secret anxiety of
the mind; and whichever of these be the case, it deserves
compassion more than blame.

The overflowing of the gall, a melancholy wind running through
the veins, any obstruction of the heart, the liver, or secretory
vessels, may occasion such a restlessness through the whole
frame as must render it impossible for the person affected with
it to preserve an equanimity of behaviour; and though himself is
ignorant of what he feels, can no more throw it off than he
could a fit of the gout or any other disease.

Then as to the mind, who can account for the thousand, the ten
thousand, the numberless turns which ever wandering, ever active
fancy takes? Trifles lighter, if possible, than air, and full as
fleeting, sometimes take up, in so strong a manner, both the
imagination and the will, that the least disappointment, or
cross accident, unhinges our best judgment, throws the temper
into confusion, and consequently renders our behaviour peevish
and perverse.

Pride, or shame, or various other motives, frequently make men
labour to keep both the cause of their discontent, and their
discontent itself, a secret; and then, in spite of all their
endeavours, it will break out in this peevishness I am speaking
of.

Excellently well has that great judge of human nature, Mr.
Dryden, expressed his sentiments on this occasion, in his play
of All for Love:

Men are but children of a larger growth,
Our appetites as apt to change as theirs,
And full as craving too, and full as vain:
And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room,
Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing;
But like a mole in earth, busy and blind,
Works all her folly up, and casts it outward,
To the world's open view.

But as a person much addicted to this unhappy temperament, from
what source soever it may proceed, suffers much more himself,
while the fit is on him, than his behaviour can inflict on
others, I cannot but think that it is the indispensable duty of
a wife to bear it without reproaches.



SECT. V.
Coquetry, or behaving in such a Manner as may encourage
Addresses of Gallantry.

Some years ago it would have been looked upon as a strange piece
of absurdity to give a lesson of admonition against coquetry to
a married woman; a lady was then supposed to have thrown off
with her virgin zone, all ambition of making any future
conquests; and the men were as zealous to preserve the
reputation of their wives from the attacks of gallantry, as they
were of defending their liberties from the attempts of wicked
and rapacious ministers. But times are changed in regard of all
these things; a woman now does not imagine the matrimonial
contract excludes her from being admired, preferred, and
addressed by as many as think her worthy their assiduities; and
husbands, many of them at least, are too polite not to allow
their wives the privilege of granting to their lovers every
favour except the last.

The less use, however, a wife makes of this fashionable licence,
the more she will always find her emolument in the end, as may
be easily shown by three very good reasons, the least of which
must certainly have weight with every woman whose vanity does
not overbalance all other considerations.

First Though there are a great many genteel husbands who,  -la-
mode de Paris, affect this complaisance, yet I believe there are
but very few of them who are really sincere in it; the old
British jealousy of honour will revive in their minds, and some
time or other influence their actions, so as to lay greater
restrictions upon their wives than otherwise they would have
done, if this latitude had never been given.

Secondly As wretchedly depraved as is the present taste among
some ladies, there are others in whose countenances and
behaviour modesty still shines, whose conduct envy cannot
blemish, nor detraction lessen; these will hold no conversation
but with such, who, like themselves, are not ashamed to be
thought virtuous: and surely to a woman not quite abandoned to
all sense of reputation, it must afford more satisfaction to be
well received by persons of this character, than to herd with
that noisy, laughing, fleering tribe who haunt the Mall and
other public places with a crowd of saunterers at their heels,
who follow but to ridicule them.

Thirdly, I would fain persuade every woman to keep always in her
mind this saying of the poet:

Unhappy sex, whose beauty is your snare
Exposed to trials, made too frail to bear.

Nothing is more weak than to depend too much on one's own
strength; no one can stand so sure, but that there is a
possibility of falling; an unlucky opportunity, an unguarded
moment, may betray a woman into a fault her very soul detests,
though her behaviour has wantonly encouraged: few things of this
nature remain always a secret; the false step she has made may
reach her husband's ears; he, in revenge for this abused
indulgence, sues out a divorce; she is exposed to the contempt
not only of the wise and virtuous, but also to her own
companions, the flirt and coquet, who will presently cry out
with Olivia in the Play,

Impudent creature! to be found out!

It gives me a most sensible concern whenever I see a young
married woman, modest by nature, virtuous by education, and of a
disposition to act in everything as becomes her condition,
thoughtlessly following the example of some giddy great ones,
and imitating the follies which her ignorance of the world
renders her incapable of knowing to be such.

This too often happens, a young heart is apt to be dazzled by
appearances. Lady Bussgroom, Lady Gambol, Lady Hoyden, and some
other female rakes of fashion, make shining figures in all
public places; they have passive husbands. No one else has a
right to cavil at their conduct; and a mind who will not be at
the pains of reflection, thinks everything agreeable that they
do. Many wives there are who copy the manners of Lady Starebuck;
but few, alas! very few, take those of the truly illustrious
Lady Worthy for a pattern: the reason is, because the one
affects to make a great noise and to be talked of in the world,
and the other chooses to avoid it.

But I shall endeavour to set the different characters of these
two last mentioned ladies in a clear light, and by stripping the
one of all her borrowed lustre, and drawing the veil of
obscurity from before the native loveliness of the other, leave
no wife at a loss to distinguish which picture it would be most
her interest to resemble.

Both of them were raised from an almost equal meanness of birth
and fortune to the elevated station they now enjoy; but it was
by widely different methods they attained their honours. Lady
Starebuck had an artful mother, who having been well in the
favour of a certain nobleman, still retained a relish for high
life, or something that looked like it, and therefore trained up
the girl in the practice of all those airs which she thought
might induce some person of condition to make her his mistress;
or, if nothing of that kind should offer, to qualify her for the
stage.

Lady Worthy is descended from honest country people, whose only
estate was their industry. Her careful parents knew no guilt,
nor had any higher ambition than to get her into the service of
some good family, where she might preserve those principles of
religion and virtue they had instilled into her. Their prayers
were heard: one of the best and greatest ladies in the country
took her to wait upon her own person, in which station she had
not long been placed before her sweet and modest behaviour,
joined to as fine a form as nature ever made, attracted the eyes
of all who came to the house. An eminent painter, who happened
to be there on some occasion, and was going to draw a salutation
piece, offered her ten guineas, in the presence of her lady, to
let him take her face for the Blessed Virgin, when receiving the
Hail Mary from the angel Gabriel. To this she replied, not
without being covered with blushes, That all the money in the
world should not tempt her to be guilty of so much presumption
and profaneness.

Such a refusal coming from the mouth of one so young, and who it
might have been expected would rather have been vain of the
compliment, and glad of the present, very much astonished all
who heard it, and obliged them to confess, that nobleness of
sentiment and sanctity of manners were not confined to those of
high blood.

In this situation was she when Lord Worthy made his addresses to
her. On finding his intentions honourable, she accepted the
proposal with gratitude and humility; they were married in a
short time: as soon as the ceremony was over she fell upon her
knees and surprised him with these words; "Permit me thus, my
lord," said she, "to testify the high and just sense I have of
the honour you have conferred upon me, and I beg you will assure
yourself, that nothing in the power of my poor endeavours shall
be wanting, during the course of my whole life, to repay the
mighty debt of love and gratitude I owe you."

She kept her promise: her whole study was to make him as happy
as he had made her; and every day brought him some fresh reason
to bless his choice; they lived together for the most part at
his country seat, where she was almost worshiped by his tenants
and dependants, and equally respected as beloved by all the
neighbouring gentry; yet was she not the least vain or proud,
nor took more state upon her than what just served not to
degrade the dignity to which the affection of her dear lord had
raised her. When the grand council of the nation, or his own
particular affairs, demanded his presence in town, she always
accompanied him; but declined going to any public places, except
the Church, of which she was a constant observer, and sometimes,
though very seldom, to the opera and play; as for ridottos,
balls, masquerades, and routs, she contented herself with
hearing others speak of them, without having the least desire or
curiosity to make a party in any of them.

ln fine, so faultless was her conduct, so enchanting was her
behaviour, that all those of my lord's kindred, who at first had
been highly displeased at his marrying so much beneath himself,
soon found themselves obliged to confess, that in possessing her
he was master of a treasure more inestimable by far than rank or
fortune could have bestowed.

Behold now the reverse of this amiable model: Lady Starebuck,
who was the greatest coquette in London before her marriage,
became afterwards too proud to put any restraint upon her
conduct; on the contrary, she imagined that being a wife of
quality was a sufficient sanction to do whatever she had a mind
to do. Her excessive vanity made her think that the high station
to which the caprice of a young unthinking man of fashion had
elevated her, was no more than the due of her superior charms;
and that she rather added to her husband's honour than any way
diminished it, by attracting a crowd of admirers. Who that sees
her in the Mall, or any other of the public walks, could take
her, without being told her name, for any other than one of
those creatures who go thither to expose their beauties to the
hire of him who bids most: she throws her eyes in the face of
every well-dressed man she meets, turns and looks back upon him
after he is passed; if he returns the glance, she presently sets
up a loud laugh; if he seems regardless of it, and goes on,
cries out, "insensible coxcomb." At the opera and play she knows
little of what is done upon the stage, her eyes and mind are
employed a different way; a pretty fellow sitting within the
reach of her fan, is sure to feel it upon his hand, his
shoulder, and sometimes to the demolition of the powdering of
his wig; while at the same time she beckons to those at a
greater distance, and sends a smile of general invitation round
the house. But it would be endless to repeat the thousand apish
tricks of a confirmed coquet, so I shall add no more, than that
I hope no wife, to whose service this treatise is devoted, will
hesitate which of these two ladies best deserves her imitation.



SECT. VI.
Prudery.

The too great, I might say indecent liberties, which we often
see pass between the two sexes, even in public, have so shocking
an appearance to women of nice and scrupulous modesty, that some
of them, to avoid all imputation of encouraging the like, have
run into a contrary, and almost equally faulty extreme; I mean
that sort of behaviour which is distinguished by the name of
prudery, and little less than the other exposes the person to
the censure as well as ridicule of the world.

Utterly impossible, indeed, it is for a woman of virtue and
reputation, and who sincerely wishes to preserve both
unblemished, to give the least countenance to actions which are
so manifestly dangerous to the one, and so sure and immediate
ruin of the other; no, to do this would be a thing wholly
inconsistent with herself, either as to character or
inclination, and not to be accounted for by reason or by nature.

But then methinks, a woman of good sense and understanding, will
easily find ways to shun all conversation with persons of an
irregular behaviour, without making any show of her dislike; I
would not have her even mention it to those with whom she is
most intimate; nor will she need to speak: the world will see
into the motive of her reserve though she is silent; and at the
same time that they revere her discretion, will be charmed with
her good-nature.

Nothing is more certain, as I believe everyone will agree, that
a truly modest woman neither ought, nor can be delighted in the
company of the audacious and the bold; but this is not prudery,
prudery is of a quite different nature, and produces quite
different effects, as I shall presently make appear.

Prudery deforms the fair face of virtue with sourness and
austerity; it magnifies every mole-hill error to a mountainous
height; it spares nothing, forgives nothing; it even finds
faults where there are none, and construes a smile, a nod, or
the most innocent word dropped in merriment, into so many
indications of levity and wantonness.

This is a propensity which is so far from doing credit to the
owner, that it frequently subjects a woman to censures more
severe than she has passed on others. Men are apt to say, that
she would not be thus industrious in blazoning the false steps
of her neighbour, but in order to make her own appear more
upright, and that this raging virtue is all pretence, and put on
only to shadow over and conceal a real vice.

Often have I heard quoted that description which the humorous
poet makes Sir Hudibras give of women in the following lines:

For 'tis in vain to think to guess
At women by appearances,
That paint and patch their imperfections,
Of intellectual complexions;
And daub their tempers o'er with washes,
As artificial as their faces.

But notwithstanding this assertion may be literally just in
regard to some women, there are doubtless others, whose sincere
zeal for virtue, though improperly conducted, puts them under
the denomination of Prudes, and consequently renders them liable
to suspicions injurious to their real worth.

I cannot keep myself from being concerned when I find a good
meaning disgraced by an injudicious method of testifying it; a
woman of honour will sufficiently show her disapprobation of
vice and folly, by withdrawing herself from the acquaintance of
all such as practice them; there is no occasion for revilings,
softness will become her best; and it is therefore my advice,
that whenever words or actions are capable of admitting two
interpretations, she should always lay hold on that which will
make the person in question appear least blameable.

But to return to the more immediate business of this section: in
the character of a Prude I think is summed up whatever is
disagreeable to society. A woman of this class is neither
capable of enjoying any satisfaction in her own mind, nor of
bestowing it on others; for by making all the little follies and
errors she can see or be told of in the world so many
misfortunes to herself, she is continually persecuting everyone
who comes near her with complaints.

If she is, in reality, as chaste as she pretends to be, that may
be some consolation to her husband, but I much question whether
her friends, acquaintance, her servants, will consider that one
branch of virtue as a sufficient compensation for the want of
all those others in which they have a greater interest.

Besides, a Prude who preserves her conjugal fidelity entire,
will always be so excessively vain and assuming as to destroy
all the merit of that only virtue she perhaps is mistress of, by
boasting too much of it; and consequently diminishes, by
degrees, if not totally forfeits both the love and esteem which
otherwise she would have a right to expect from her husband on
that account.

In a word, a married Prude, even though to her chastity a
thousand other good qualities were added, which, by the way, is
seldom the case, can never make a man completely happy in
possessing her. The douceurs of connubial love agree not with
the cold reserve, the sullen austerity, which all women of that
character either have by nature, or pretend to have; and it is
more than the odds of ten against one, if a husband thus wived
does not think himself excusable in endeavouring to find abroad
those tender indulgencies he is denied at home.



SECT. VII.
The choice of Female Friends.

As women are apt to be a good deal influenced by the manners of
those women with whom they converse, this article is of more
importance than it may seem to some people; and I hope that what
has been said in the two preceding sections, in relation to the
Coquet and the Prude, will be enough to deter every discreet
wife from commencing an intimacy with persons of those dangerous
characters.

The Coquet and the Prude, indeed, including between them almost
everything that ought to be avoided by the sex, leave little to
be added on this score; yet would this work be incomplete, and I
but imperfectly discharge the task I have undertaken, if I
omitted making mention of a third reigning error among some of
them, which, though less glaring that either of the two former,
is often very pernicious, and has a great effect on the peace,
not only of single persons or families, but of whole
neighbourhoods.

The character I am now about to delineate is, that of a woman
who, either having no affairs of her own to employ her time and
mind, or none that she thinks worthy her regard, passes all her
days in enquiring into those of other people, and running from
house to house, constantly reporting at one whatever she has
been informed of at another.

Such a woman as this, affecting to imagine herself welcome
wherever she comes, stands upon no ceremony, but rushes in upon
you at all hours, joins in whatever company you have with you,
sits down unasked with you at your table, presses even to your
closet, and breaks in upon your very devotions, nor is there any
refuge from her but the grave.

By this means, though you tell her nothing, she will know
everything; and what is once known to her, soon becomes the
universal secret; nor is this the worst, as poets and painters
generally draw their figures stronger than the life, so she
magnifies in the repetition all she hears or sees; and is a true
engine of Fame, as that imaginary goddess is thus beautifully
described by Mr. Dryden:

Fame, the great ill, from small beginnings grows;
Swift from the first, and every moment brings
New vigour to her flights, new pinions to her wings;
Soon grows the pigmy to gigantic size,
Her feet on earth, her forehead in the skies.
As many plumes as raise her lofty flight,
So many piercing eyes enlarge her sight;
Millions of opening mouths to Fame belong,
And every mouth is furnished with a tongue;
And round with listening ears the flying plague is hung
With court informers haunts, and royal spies;
Things done relates, not done she feigns,
And mingles truth with lies.

But in plain prose, I know of no animal more impertinent, more
vexatious, or more dangerous, that can come about a house, than
one of these gossips, nor that is with greater difficulty got
rid of, after having once gained admittance.

There are, questionless, several other female foibles, which
must render too great a communication with the persons guilty of
them both troublesome and disreputable; but I shall forbear to
make any mention of them, because I know it is impossible to
live in the world without being under a necessity of conversing
sometimes with people whose conduct cannot altogether deserve
the approbation of a woman of prudence: all therefore she can
do, or all that can be required of her, is to treat them with no
more than a bare civility, and enter into no intimacy or
friendship but with such only as take religion for their guide,
and virtue for their aim.



SECT. VIII.
The great Merit of Secrecy, especially in everything that
concerns a Husband, either as to his Affairs or Person.

It has been a kind of mode, or custom, as I think, through all
ages of the world, to reproach women with their incapacity of
keeping a secret; but how much soever the example of some among
them may have given authority to this imputation, I cannot help
being of opinion that it is a very great piece of injustice to
charge upon the whole the errors of a part; I am very certain
that there have been, and still are, women whose minds are too
pure to be infected with the little itch of blabbing all they
know; women, whom no temptations, no importunities from the
dearest friends, no provocations from causeless enemies, could
ever prevail upon to betray a thing which had been once reposed
in them.

I cannot indeed conceive why it should be otherwise; there is no
sex in souls, and I never could hear anyone good reason given by
the anatomists for this pretended difference in the organical
faculties: the limbs of women, 'tis sure, are less robust than
those of men ordinarily are; but that can be no argument that
their intellects should be so too; because we frequently find
that among men, those of the weakest and most tender
constitution, are blessed with the soundest judgment and the
strongest sense.

I was once favoured with the sight of a manuscript play, which
for some reasons has not been yet exhibited to the stage;
wherein I very well remember the author makes his heroine defend
the dignity of her sex in these lines:

Though custom and the weakness of our sex forbids
To wield the lance, or bend the twanging bow,
Our souls may boast a daring great as yours,
As fit for council too; perhaps more keen
And fertile in expedients; nor less firm
To keep what we have once resolved concealed
Till ripe for action.

I have always been a most zealous advocate for the fair sex in
this point; and therefore, as I know them capable, so I could
wish they would be equally careful in setting such a guard over
their words as not to prove me in the wrong.

Whoever reposes a secret in the bosom of another, has doubtless
a high idea of the honour and integrity of the person entrusted;
to abuse that confidence is therefore the most mean, most
ungenerous, and most ungrateful action that can be; and what I
should imagine no one who thinks at all could possibly be guilty
of.

But if this treachery be unpardonable, as sure it is, even in
common friendships, how much more so when between two who are
united into one by the sacred ties of marriage? A wife thus
culpable, ought not to flatter herself with retaining any place
in the affection or esteem of her husband, when he shall find
that what he has said to her in privacy, and as if communing
with his own soul, had been by her imprudence blazed abroad and
made the public chat, perhaps to the detriment of his affairs,
or the ridicule of his person.

Nor is it enough that she preserves an inviolable secrecy in
matters of consequence, yet at the same time talks too freely
among her acquaintance, on others which may seem to her
insignificant in themselves; for supposing them to be so, it is
indulging a bad propensity, which by degrees may become
habitual, and carry her, before she is aware, to greater lengths
than she imagined.

Besides, as men are very apt to be suspicious on this account,
it is not unlikely that a husband may take it in his head to
prove his wife's retentiveness by telling her some pretended
secret, as many people try the honesty of their servants by
dropping pieces of money in their way. If she does not stand
this test, he will never have a sufficient good opinion of her
to entrust her in any material point, but keep her a perpetual
alien to his affairs and heart.

By a woman of even common prudence it may be judged superfluous
in me to add anything further on this head; yet, as the best are
liable to forget themselves sometimes, I should not think I had
fully discharged the task I have undertaken without reminding
every wife that the same, if not a more profound secrecy, ought
to be maintained in regard of any imperfections or blemishes she
may find in the person, humour, or understanding of her husband.
Nature, some mistakes in education, or a thousand other
accidents, may possibly occasion defects not dishonourable to
the eye of the world, but which cannot escape the observation of
a wife; to expose him, therefore, in any of these points, which
may more properly come under the denomination of misfortunes
than faults, is certainly one of the most ungenerous and cruel
acts of infidelity she can be guilty of, and instead of being
his bosom friend renders her his worst and most bitter enemy: in
fine, to use the expression of a late great author, a man
unhappily united to a woman who does this,

Like Hercules, wears an envenomed shirt.

To conclude; secrecy is so very necessary and essential a virtue
in a married woman, in regard of everything relating to her
husband, that she who deviates from it in the least, not only
totally destroys his peace of mind and reputation, but also at
the same time loses all the dignity of her own character as a
wife, puts herself upon the level with a kept-mistress, and
deserves to be as little depended upon. Let all then, who desire
to preserve the conjugal bond entire and unbroken by clamours
and dissensions, and to live in that peace and harmony ordained
by the divine institution, constantly keep in remembrance this
maxim of the poet I just now quoted,

Secrets of marriage should be sacred held,
Their sweet and bitter by the wise concealed.

It is certain that a woman of sense and virtue will never
wilfully expose what is so much for her own interest and honour
to conceal; yet as it is not impossible but that the very best
may sometimes be hurried by passion into a forgetfulness of what
is owing both to herself and husband, these remonstrances, even
to them, may not be entirely useless.



SECT. IX.
The Imprudence of a Wife in divulging the Secrets of another
Person when communicated to her Husband.

To the taciturnity which every wife ought to observe, in
relation both of her husband's affairs and imperfections, I
think it will not be improper to subjoin, that it is necessary
for her to be equally cautious not to mention any secret which
has been entrusted to him, and out of the abundance of his love
he may have communicated to her.

I know not whether it be not even a more faulty imprudence in a
wife to betray such a confidence reposed in her husband, than to
lay open any matters relating entirely to himself, as it exposes
him to the just censure, not only of that friend who depended on
him, but also of everyone who hears of it, and makes him be
considered as a man incapable of keeping a secret, possessed of
neither honour nor probity, and unworthy of the esteem or
society of persons of understanding.

But, besides rendering his character contemptible in the world,
this inadvertency in a wife is also liable to expose his person
to dangers, which if she foresaw, or reflected on, would make
her tremble. An instance of this truth happened in a family
where I once was well acquainted, and may serve as a memento to
every woman to set a guard upon her lips, whenever she finds
them opening to reveal what has been told her by her husband.

A young gentleman, descended of a good family, but whose estate
was very much encumbered by the mismanagement of his parents,
was on the point of retrieving his misfortunes by a marriage
with a young lady, who, besides eight thousand pounds in her own
possession, was the only child of one of the most wealthy
merchants in Bristol.

The courtship between them had been kept extremely secret; the
lady had made no one her confidant in the affair; the gentleman
had observed the same caution, till a few days before that which
she had appointed for the consummation of their mutual wishes he
imparted the secret of his approaching happiness to a friend
from whom before he had never concealed anything.

This person had a wife whom he extremely loved, and whose
integrity he doubted not; he knew she wished well to his friend,
and that she would rejoice to hear of the good fortune he was so
near enjoying, therefore communicated the secret to her almost
as soon as he was informed of it himself; but charged her at the
same time to make no mention of the thing till it should be
concluded, which she faithfully promised.

It proved, however, that her mind had not that retentive quality
her fond husband imagined. A young lady of her acquaintance
happening to visit her that same day, and some discourse on the
ill situation of the intended bridegroom's affairs coming on the
tapir, the wife could not forbear crying out,  "Well, well, we
shall soon see him redeem all."  "As how!" demanded the other. 
"By a marriage with some great fortune", replied she.
"Marriage!" resumed the young lady, "it must then be with some
worn-out harridan, the relique of four or five husbands now
rotting in their graves, or a toothless virgin of fourscore at
her last prayers." "Neither of these, I can assure you," said
the wife, "but a blooming young creature of scarce eighteen,
with a fortune of eight thousand pounds in her own hands, and
heiress to one of the top merchants of Bristol." "You amaze me,"
returned the other, "Pray who is it?" "You must excuse me for
that, my dear," answered she, "I am enjoined to secrecy; but I
can tell you the wedding will be celebrated in a few days, and
then all will come out; in the meantime you may have leave to
guess."

After what she had said the other could not be much at a loss to
discover the person she was speaking of, and after a short pause
cried out, "You certainly must mean Miss ****, the description
you give corresponds with no other woman in this town." "You are
in the right, indeed," replied she; "but be sure you tell
nobody."

Little did this unhappy wife imagine to whom she had blabbed so
dangerous a secret: this lady had been courted by the gentleman
in question, but her fortune not agreeing with his circumstances
the match broke off; she had loved him, and her resentment for
his not resolving to suffer everything for her sake was adequate
to the tenderness she before had for him; and the opportunity
now given her for rendering him as unhappy as he had made her,
filled her with an ill-natured satisfaction.

She no sooner got home than she wrote an anonymous letter to the
father of her rival, acquainting him with the whole story of his
daughter's intended marriage. The old gentleman was equally
surprised and enraged; he searched his daughter's cabinet, and
found amorous billets and verses, which confirmed the truth of
the advice he had received: he immediately locked the young lady
into her chamber, suffering no one to come near her but an old
aunt, who had out-lived all soft desires, and was as inflexible
to compassion for the woes of love as a Spanish duenna; and on
the third day, which was the same agreed upon by the lovers for
the celebration of their nuptials, sent her to a place where he
was pretty certain she could hold no correspondence with anyone
unknown to him.

Some few hours before her departure she found means to write a
little letter to her lover, which she engaged her maid to
deliver to him. The contents whereof were these:

Sir,
The day which I thought should have given me to you, tears
me for ever from you; the communication between us, by some
means, is discovered to my father, and I am to be sent to
banishment; but to what part of the kingdom, or whether out
of the kingdom, am not able to inform you; I only find, by
the preparations made for me, that I am going a long
journey. I am so carefully watched that I have but just
time to bid you eternally farewell, and that you must now
give over all expectations of my ever being yours,
A. ****.
P. S. As I find the discovery of our loves has been made to
my father by a letter from an unknown hand, I wish the
misfortune may not be owing to yourself in having trusted
some person unworthy of the secret, since it never has
escaped my lips, even to the faithful maid who brings you
this, and will inform you of all my sufferings for these
three cruel days. once more adieu, I shall always wish you
happy.


The poor lady had but just time to instruct her maid what she
should say on the delivery of this letter, when, though it was
no more than four o'clock in the morning, she was called down
stairs, and, accompanied by the old aunt abovementioned, hurried
into a coach and six, and carried, no one in the family, her
father excepted, knew whither.

The maid about six executed her commission; but the distraction
of the lover, on hearing the account she brought him, and
reading his mistress's letter, may more easily be conceived than
described; he knew he had made but one confidant, and therefore
it must be that confidant by whom he was betrayed; he flew
directly to his house, made him be roused from his bed, and the
moment he appeared, cried out with a voice scarce intelligible
through rage and despair, "You have undone me; I believed you my
friend and a man of honour; you have basely wronged my
credulity, and are a scoundrel and a villain!"

The other knowing this was the day agreed on for the marriage,
had imagined that he called him to be witness of it, and was now
so much surprised at hearing him speak in this manner, that he
had not power to make the least reply, till the lover threw down
the letter he had just received from Miss ****, and went on,
"Read that, and, if you can borrow effrontery enough from hell,
deny your perfidy, your base abuse of friendship!"

The gentleman, on having looked over that little epistle, was in
the utmost consternation, said he was extremely sorry for the
accident, but was certain it had not happened through his
default; and added, that he had never mentioned the thing to
anyone but his wife, whose fidelity he could depend upon.

If anything could have added to the lover's fury, the
acknowledgement made by the other of having told the secret to
his wife would have done it; he even forgot he was the
gentleman, and descended to reproaches seldom made use of but by
the lowest class of men; which the other not answering, being
divided in his mind whether deserving of them or not, "You have
ruined all the hopes I had on earth," pursued the lover, "your
blood is the only atonement you can make!" With these words he
drew his sword, the other did the same, they exchanged several
thrusts; the clash of their weapons presently brought the
servants into the room, but not time enough to prevent both the
antagonists from being wounded.

The wife, on this dreadful alarm, jumped out of bed, and with
only a loose night-gown about her, came running in, crying,
"What has occasioned this shocking scene!" "I hope", replied her
husband, "that you yourself have not occasioned it; and that you
never mentioned what I told you of in relation to this
gentleman's courtship with Miss ****?" "Oh heavens!" returned
she, "is it on this score you fought!" "Answer not one question
with another," resumed he fiercely, "but speak the truth at
once."

She then confessed, that in chatting with Miss L   she had
unwarily dropped some hints in regard of that affair, and that
the other had guessed the rest. "Tis mighty well," said the
despairing lover; "then all is out, and I am no longer to seek
for the author of that cruel letter which has undone me; I know
the resentment Miss L   has to me, and must own you could not
have taken more effectual measures to complete my ruin."

The husband, who felt more smart from his wife's confession than
from the wounds he had received, was beginning to reproach her
in the most bitter terms, when he was interrupted by the
entrance of a surgeon who had been sent for by the servants, to
whom turning, he said, "You see here, sir, two persons who have
need of your help; but I desire you will first examine the
condition of my friend." This complaisance the other was far
from returning, he would not suffer himself to be touched,
saying, he would receive no assistance in a house, the owners of
which had so basely betrayed him; and with these words flung
down stairs, and went home all bleeding as he was.

Fortunately, however, neither of their wounds proved mortal, nor
even dangerous, both were soon cured; but the friendship between
them was never more cemented, though the husband, conscious of
having been the aggressor, frequently endeavoured it: this
disunion with a person whom he truly valued, made the folly
which occasioned it appear in its worst colours; and though he
continued to live with his wife, he never could bring himself
either to love or behave towards her as before this accident.

As for the lover, having sought his mistress in every place he
could think of, without being able to get any intelligence of
her abode, he retired to the southern parts of France, in order
to retrieve his affairs by living cheap. Miss ****, as it was
afterwards known, had been carried into Wales, where labouring
under the weight of her father's displeasure, the disappointment
of her love, and the deprivation of all those satisfactions her
youth had been accustomed to enjoy, she fell into a languishing
disorder which soon took her from the world.

The fatal effects which attended this woman's inadvertency will,
I hope, be a sufficient warning to every wife not to be guilty
of the same; and I therefore may spare both myself and them the
trouble of any further admonitions on that score.



SECT. X.
Complaisance, and how far it will be extended by the Tenderness
and Duty of a good Wife towards her Husband.

I have taken notice that there are many people who are apt to
confound ceremony with complaisance, and where they think the
one improper to be used, banish the other also; yet certainly
there is a wide distinction to be made between these two things:
ceremony, which is indeed no more than another word for form, is
troublesome and ridiculous among persons who are at all
intimate; but complaisance, being the constant companion of love
and esteem, should never be thrown off, even amidst the greatest
freedoms; and therefore I cannot be of opinion those between a
husband and wife in private are any sanction for the treating
each other in public with that carelessness and indifference
some affect to do.

Couples of this turn of mind accompany their most obliging
actions with so ungracious and forbidding an air, as might make
a standers-by imagine that all the respect they paid each other
before marriage were now entirely lost between the nuptial
sheets.

I doubt, indeed, that this is too often the case; but where it
happens otherwise, I cannot help believing that the outward
coolness I am speaking of is for the most part occasioned merely
by their fears of falling into those silly apish fondnesses
which the world so much, and I must confess, so justly laughs
at, and which I have attempted to describe at full in the very
first section of the preceding book.

Strange, but no less true it is, that there are people who, for
the want of a serious consideration, to avoid one extreme
frequently run into another equally as bad, and still leave
behind them the middle path, which reason, if exerted, would
point out.

Methinks there is nothing more easy than for any two persons, of
common understanding, to treat each other in public after their
marriage in the same manner, or with little variation, as they
did before the performance of that ceremony: but in what fashion
soever the husband may think fit to act, I would have the wife
always observe this rule; as there is no such sure way of
gaining respect oneself, as by behaving with respect towards
those from whom we would receive it, that heaven-directed
medium, that golden mean, as the ancients wisely termed it, and
as several of our poets have elegantly described as the only
certain way to happiness and virtue.

But politeness in speech and carriage is not the only
complaisance I would recommend to the practice of a wife towards
a husband; when once they come to live together, a thousand
little incidents, impossible to be enumerated, will every day,
almost every hour, present her with opportunities of showing her
readiness to oblige him, none of which she should on any account
let slip.

That she may find no difficulty in this, I would have her, from
the first moment of her marriage, nay, from the first moment she
resolves to be his wife, if pride, and the gaiety of her virgin
state permits, to be studiously attentive to his humour in such
trifles as men endeavour not to conceal, though they are artful
enough to do so in things which they think are of greater
consequence; and thus, by fore-knowing what will please him, she
will have it in her power to prevent any injunction he might
take into his head to lay upon her, and even to anticipate his
very wishes.

If we look into human nature, I believe we shall find that few,
if any, are without some peculiarities, some darling whim,
which, whoever indulges, wins their very souls; and if those of
a husband have neither any tendency to vice, nor amount to an
egregious folly, so as to make him ridiculous, a wife would be
highly blameable in expressing the least dissatisfaction, or
seeming to wonder how his mind could give into them.

Things which in themselves are neither good nor bad, as they
have no title to our applause, so they cannot justly deserve our
condemnation; and a wife should be the last person in the world
who should attempt to thwart or contradict her husband in points
which only serve to please himself, without hurting anyone else;
therefore if she goes somewhat further in soothing his humour
than is strictly consistent with her own judgment, it is not
only a pardonable but a laudable dissimulation, as it is sure to
preserve peace in the family, and endear herself to the man
whose affection alone can make her truly happy.

But it behoves her to be very careful that he sees not into the
petty deceit she puts upon him; the least discovery of it would
alarm his pride, make him look upon himself as treated like a
child, and resent it accordingly; she must therefore disguise
all her condescensions on that score with the show of
approbation; and I think it will not be amiss if she even
pretends sometimes to fall into the same caprices, provided they
are not too gross, in order to prevent him from suspecting they
are blameable in him.



SECT. XI.
Temperance and Sobriety, and the great Care which should be
taken to guard against all Temptations to the contrary in their
very Beginning.

Temperance and sobriety are very great virtues, yet seldom taken
much notice of in a woman till they are lost, and then extolled
only to render her more contemptible by the little value she has
set upon them. The reason of this is, that these excellent
qualities seem natural to the sex, and born with them; so that
when anyone gives herself up to excesses, she is thought to have
gone out of her sex, and becomes a monster; which I think may be
pretty plainly proved, by there being no appellation in our
language, or in any other that I know of, whereby to distinguish
a female criminal in this point. We call a man a glutton, or a
drunkard; but it would sound very uncouth to say a gluttoness,
or a drunkardess; and I hope these vices will never become
general enough to occasion the coining of new words for that
purpose.

An over-craving inordinate appetite for eating, may possibly
proceed from some inward ailment, and then it is to be pitied,
and proper remedies applied; but I believe it more often happens
through the over-fondness of some mothers and nurses, who never
think that they do their duty by their children, without
cramming them till ready to burst; not considering that much
feeding renders the body unhealthy, corpulent and deformed; and
at the same time weakens the intellect, and debilitates the
understanding.

It must be owned, indeed, that this also is originally rather a
misfortune than a fault; but then it will soon become wholly the
latter if indulged. A woman therefore, as she grows up and
discovers this propensity in herself, should endeavour to
correct it by every method she can have recourse to for that
end. If she once sets herself heartily about it she will find
several, such as lacing her stays exceeding tight, and always
making choice of that dish which is least agreeable to her
palate; but there is another just popped into my head, which I
imagine may be more effectual than anything she can do, and I
shall therefore make no secret of it.

I dined one day with a lady, who the whole time she employed her
knife and fork with incredible swiftness in dispatching a load
of turkey and chine she had heaped upon her plate, still kept a
keen regard on what she had left behind, greedily devouring with
her eyes all that remained in the dish, and throwing a look of
envy on everyone who put in for the smallest share. My advice to
such a one is, that she would have a great looking-glass fixed
opposite the seat she takes at table; and I am much mistaken, if
the sight of herself in those grim attitudes I have mentioned,
will not very much contribute to bring her to more moderation.

Delicacy has so great a part in the characteristic of that sex,
and is so much expected, especially in those of a genteel
education and way of life, that I could not omit this important
article, for which I hope the eating ladies will forgive me, and
what will please me better, endeavour to reform so unbecoming a
habit before it grows too much upon them.

But how disagreeable soever the love of immoderate eating may
appear, and really is; yet that of drinking strong and
spirituous liquors to an excess is more inexcusable, though
perhaps accounted less impolite, and is productive of worse
consequences: for though some women may have strength enough of
brain as to indulge themselves very far this way without
staggering as they walk, or being rendered incapable of knowing
what they say or do, yet, by degrees, it will bring many
infirmities upon the body, and decay the vigour of the mind, so
as to make all its faculties unable to operate as beneficent
nature intended.

Innumerable instances of this melancholy truth daily happen, and
are in the knowledge of everybody, so that it may seem
unnecessary to descend to particulars; yet in respect to the
ladies, I cannot forbear making mention of one, which may serve
to show that a woman of the strictest virtue, discretion and
sobriety, may, through mere inadvertency, be drawn into this
vice, and without any intention or inclination to be so, become
the sad reverse of what she was before.

It fell in the way of an eminent and very worthy citizen of my
acquaintance to confer some obligations on a merchant at Genoa,
in return of which that gentleman sent him over a chest of fine
Italian cordials. My friend immediately gave them to his wife to
put into a closet, which she called her little store-room, and
was indeed the magazine of her teas, sweetmeats, cakes, and
such-like things, which she always had ready for the
entertainment of those who came to visit her.

Whoever has tasted these rich liquors must allow that there is
somewhat perfectly enchanting to the senses in their flavour,
the excessive fragrancy so far disguising the strength and
danger of them, that a stranger, while he is drinking, imagines
he only swallows the simple juice of some delicious fruit; but
those acquainted with the nature of them, will never venture to
take more than half a spoonful at a time, and even that but very
seldom.

The good woman, like our first mother, apprehending no ill
consequences from such fair appearances, made use of no efforts
to resist this sweet temptation, but tapped first one bottle and
then another, and sipped so frequently every day, that the whole
fatal present was in a short time exhausted; but not, alas! till
both her looks and manners were so much transformed as scarcely
to be known; her once sparkling eyes grew dull and languid, her
complexion pale and sallow, and her mind stupid and regardless
of every avocation befitting her sex and station.

Her husband soon perceived the change, and was not ignorant of
the cause; he was shocked at it beyond measure; he spared no
remonstrances, no entreaties, no endeavours to wean her from the
use of those pernicious liquors; failing to persuade, he had
recourse to menaces; both were alike in vain, she was too far
lost in the unhappy infatuation; and as instruments of mischief
are never wanting to those that seek them, all his care could
not prevent her from receiving still fresh supplies of fuel for
the already raging fire, till all that nervous fluid which fed
the lamp of life being entirely wasted and dried up, she lost
first the use of her limbs, then of her senses, and within the
compass of a year died a most miserable object; contemned by all
who knew her, and unlamented by the man who had once almost
adored her.

I should be heartily glad if this was the only example could be
brought to demonstrate that the use of those destructive
liquors, when grown into a habit, is impossible to be broke
off: but it is too obvious a truth, that all measures taken for
that purpose are ineffectual, as all who have any concern with
the persons guilty of it sadly experience.

I do not therefore direct this discourse to those who have
already suffered themselves to be enslaved by this custom; but
to those who are at present entirely free from all inclinations
to so detestable a vice, to the end they may always keep so,
which can only be done by guarding against the very beginnings
of all temptations to it.

Here I cannot forbear throwing in a word or two concerning the
reason which some people assign for the first introduction of
the too common practice of dram-drinking in these kingdoms, a
thing utterly unknown to our forefathers, except in cases of
great necessity: they tell you, that the vast quantity of tea
used in most families is apt to occasion flatulencies, dejection
of spirits, and a certain coldness of the stomach, which
requires something warm and invigorating to take after it; but
if this be intended as an excuse for dram-drinking, it is
certainly the most weak and shallow that can be made, and may be
answered with a very short question, Why then is tea so much in
vogue?

Tea is doubtless a very harmless herb, and rather wholesome than
the contrary, if taken moderately, as it cools the liver,
promotes appetite before meals, and digestion after; but
intemperance may be shown in everything, and as poisons become
medicinal by being properly applied, so the most salutary
productions of nature may have the effect of poisons if used to
excess.



SECT. XII.
The extreme Folly of Affectation in every Shape.

Among all the various follies imputed to the female world, there
is none which, without having a tendency to real vice, more
exposes a woman to the derision of her neighbours than that of
affectation; or, in other words, that of endeavouring to seem
anything rather than what she is.

Those who pretend to be better born, better bred, more wise,
more learned, and more delicate than others, though by the vain
attempt, instead of appearing greater, render themselves less in
the eyes of all their acquaintance than otherwise they would do;
yet does even this boasting discover a kind of laudable ambition
of being said to be what they would fain be thought.

But what shall we say of those who affect follies they never
had, vices they are free from, imperfections which nature knows
nothing of, misfortunes which Heaven never inflicted on them;
and in fine, every evil which those who are so unhappy to labour
under would endeavour to conceal? Has not all this the show of
frenzy? Would you believe it possible for anyone in their senses
to behave in such a manner, if every public assembly one went
into did not convince us of the truth?

One fine lady is of so timid a disposition, that if a fly
happens to brush its little wings upon her cheeks she presently
screams out; another is so extremely tender, that she faints
away on sight of a person she never saw before, because he has
some resemblance of one for whom she has a regard; one is modest
to that excess that she hides her face behind her fan if the
least merry thing be said; another is all spirit, and skips and
frisks about the room like an untamed colt in a meadow; one
shows her great learning by spouting forth a volley of hard
words, which she neither knows the meaning of herself, nor can
anyone else by her manner of pronouncing them; another, who
would be thought more mistress of the profound, speaks nothing,
but seems wholly taken up with her own sagacious remarks on what
she sees and hears; one has so fashionable a bad sight, that she
cannot distinguish the person who has her by the hand without
looking through her optic; one spoils a fine pair of eyes by
rolling them into a half squint; another distorts a very pretty
mouth by screwing it into twenty different corners at once. But
it would be endless to particularize the different shapes this
species of folly takes, they being almost as many as there are
persons on whom it operates.

For my part, whenever I meet with any of these instances in a
woman of common understanding, I am tempted to believe that she
gives not into such follies but merely to prove the influence
and power of her charms over her admirers; and how far a maxim,
which I remember to have read in some of our poets, may be
depended on; I think the words are these:

No follies fatal to the fair can prove,
All things are beauties in the nymph we love.

She may be mistaken, however; but no matter, let both the young
and the old, provided they are not married, play over all their
tricks, and disguise, or rather disgrace nature as much as they
please; my concern at present is only with the wives, whom I
would fain dissuade from making such dangerous experiments, lest
they should be unhappily convinced, that many things which are
overlooked by a lover, will not be forgiven by a husband.

But there is no sort of affectation whatsoever in which a wife
can be so much an enemy to herself, as to be guilty of
counterfeiting indisposition. A man, indeed, who sees the object
of his tenderest wishes labour, as he imagines, under some great
pain or sickness, will doubtless be sensibly afflicted, and
double his assiduities in hopes of alleviating her anguish; and
so far her vanity may be gratified for a time; but the pleasure
will scarcely be of long continuance, nothing being more
certain, than that complaints of any kind, when often repeated,
will, by degrees, lose a very great part, if not all their
force, upon the person to whom they are made.

It must be allowed that the husband of a sick wife has a very
uncomfortable life; he is deprived of a cheerful companion at
his bed and board, a faithful friend in whom he might repose his
dearest secrets, a careful manager of his household affairs; and
in fine, of every happiness, every convenience he proposed to
himself in marriage; nor is this all, the expensive visits of
physicians, the enormous bills of apothecaries, and other
consequential charges, are great additions to his vexation, and
are ready to make him wish for the undertaker to put the
finishing stroke.

Sickness, however, when real, has the highest claim to
tenderness and compassion, and whatever troubles it occasions
ought to be submitted to with patience and good-nature; but how
can the imaginary malade answer to herself the putting her
husband's love and fortitude to so unnecessary a test? And what
share either of his affection or esteem can she expect to find
if once it happens to be detected?



SECT. XIII.
The Stupidity of consulting with, or giving Credit to Persons
who pretend to foretell future Events.

I think that there is no weakness more general, or more early
takes up the mind, especially of the softer sex, than the vain
desire of foreknowing the accidents of their future lives; and
as marriage is the first thing thought upon, a girl no sooner
comes into her teens, than she fasts on St. Agnes' day, makes
the dumb cake, or some other old wife's traditional
prescription, in order to dream of the man who is to be her
husband.

This, among other childish fancies, would be excusable if left
off with the bib-and-apron, but the impatience of looking into
the seeds of time, as the poet justly terms it, remains, and
grows up with them to maturity, when their ideas being enlarged,
and pursuits of various kinds in view, they become eager and
solicitous to know the end of everything, even before it is well
begun.

On this they run to predictors of all ranks and denominations,
from the calculators of nativities down to the petty throwers of
coffee-grounds, anxious to anticipate good fortune, or hoping to
avert the bad. How ridiculous is such an infatuation, as if the
decrees of providence were dealt among these wretches to be
retailed out at their good pleasure! It would be well if the
purchasers would keep always in mind these lines of Mr.
Dryden's:

On what strange grounds we build our hopes and fears!
Man's life is all a mist, and in the dark
Our fortunes meet us.
If fate be not, then what can we foresee?
And how can we avoid it, if it be?

But supposing the planets to be second causes under the divine
dispensation, and have indeed all that influence over human
actions which many, even among the learned world, have in all
ages ascribed to them; and I will not therefore take upon me to
deny, would it not be the most vain and stupid arrogance in us
to imagine, that by foreknowing any disagreeable event they
intended for us we could reverse the doom prefixed at our
nativities? Might we not as well expect to turn with a finger
the motion of those vast bodies, and direct their course through
aether according to our humour, give velocity to Saturn, and
clap leaden plummets on the nimble Mercury.

There are some people who think they excuse themselves by
saying, that they do not consult the stars with any presumptuous
hopes of changing the fate allotted for them, but because that
by being previously made acquainted with such misfortunes as are
ordained for them, they may be the better enabled to support
them with moderation.

This is also a very idle pretence, and if true would be far from
answering the end proposed by it. I believe there is no one
person in the world born under such cruel and malevolent aspects
as not to know some intervals of happiness; and sure it would be
the extremest absurdity for anyone to wish to poison the present
tranquillity by the thoughts of approaching woe.

The frequency of suicide is too glaring a proof not to convince
us that everyone is not endued with courage to face ill fortune.
If then, the bare apprehensions of falling into any calamity or
distress be sufficient to enforce such acts of desperation in
many, how many more would the dreadful certainty undo? I am
afraid that, as the number of the unhappy by far exceeds that of
the more lucky, our streets would be much less populous than
they are at present, if those who are now obliged, for want of
room, to jostle against each other as they pass, were permitted
to see the mischiefs that stalk behind, and are perhaps just
ready to lay hold on them.

With equal tenderness as wisdom therefore, does the supreme and
omniscient Creator and Disposer of all things conceal from the
knowledge of frail and irresolute mankind, those afflictions
which either he thinks fit to lay upon them as trials of their
patience, or are brought upon them by their own faulty conduct
and transgressions. The inimitable Mr. Abraham Cowley has an
excellent sentiment on this occasion, which I think I should be
wanting to my subject not to quote:

In whatsoever character
The Book of Fate is writ,
'Tis well we understand not it;
We should grow mad with too much learning there.
Upon the brink of every ill we did foresee,
Undecently and foolishly,
We should stand shivering, and but slowly venture
The fatal flood to enter.
Since willing or unwilling, we must do it,
They feel less cold and pain, who plunge at once into it.

But this is arguing with too much seriousness on a matter which
deserves to be treated only as mere bagatelle; those very ladies
who are themselves the greatest benefactresses to astrologers,
affect in conversation to think of the whole science as a
chimera, and its pretended professors as imposters, and laugh at
what they but too much depend upon.

Few, indeed, there are who will confess that they ever consulted
with any of those fortune-mongers, or ordered any scheme of the
heavens to be erected for them, and if detected, pretend they
did it only to divert themselves. I must do them the justice to
say, that I believe a great many of them have at first no other
view; but then those creatures, either having got some
intimation of the circumstances of the person who consults them,
or in saying a great deal, by chance say something which has the
face of truth, and that gives a credit to the whole; so that she
who went thither merely for the sake of amusement, is tempted to
go again and again, in expectation of hearing still something
more for the satisfaction of her curiosity, till by degrees she
is wrought upon to put an entire faith in everything delivered
by the mouth of the pretended sorcerer, and will undertake no
affair, commence no friendships, enter into no engagements
without having his opinion how far the stars approve what she is
about to do.

By this means many unequal matches have been formed, many
promising ones broke off, many couples long happy in marriage
been eternally disunited, many whole families set at variance,
many affairs of the greatest moment traversed, many innocent
persons suspected, and those capable of the most base actions
introduced to favour: in fine, there is no dissension, no
jealousies, no vexatious accidents, no mischiefs, of what kind
soever, which either through the folly of the consulter, or the
villany of the consulted, have not sometimes come to pass.

Among the common cant of predictions, this frequently is one,
"Madam, you have secret enemies who will endeavour to do you
some prejudice." The consulter then asks what sort of people;
and on some character or other being given, she presently runs
through in her mind the whole round of her acquaintance, and
wherever she finds anyone to answer in the least to the
description given by the fortune-teller, there fixes her
resentment, even though it should be her own husband, brother,
sister, or any other near and dear relation, and perhaps is
sometimes hurried by a passion to return imaginary wrongs with
real ones.

A wife, therefore, who gives into this infatuation, is in great
danger of rendering herself, her husband, her whole family and
best friends unhappy; never to have peace in her own bosom, nor
to suffer those who have any connexion with her to enjoy it;
and, indeed, of being deprived of everything truly valuable to a
virtuous woman.

As there is a strange propensity in people addicted to this
folly, and I believe in all who are guilty of any bad customs,
to use their utmost endeavours to draw others into the same, I
cannot conclude without earnestly exhorting every married woman
never to suffer herself to be prevailed upon by the persuasion
of her most intimate associates to enter within the doors of any
of these pretended soothsayers, who regard not whose reputations
they destroy, or whose ruin they project, provided they can
drain their purses, and procure a scandalous subsistence for
themselves.

I think there now remains nothing further for me to add on this
disagreeable topic, a topic which I sincerely wish some
instances within the compass of my own knowledge had not made me
find it necessary to mention; but I have now done with it, and
hope that no woman, for whose person or character I have the
least regard, will ever expose both in that ridiculous manner
elegantly described by a late noble poet:

And mix, unthinking, with the numerous shoals
Of those who pay to be reputed fools.



SECT. XIV.
The Beauty and Good effect of Cheerfulness in a Wife.

There is a possibility for a woman, though endowed with a
thousand virtues, a thousand perfections, to fail giving all the
satisfaction she wishes to her husband, if nature has unhappily
rendered her deficient in one particular quality of the mind to
actuate her behaviour.

She may be chaste, temperate, discreet, a lover of home, a good
economist, an affectionate wife, a careful mother: in fine, may
perform all the duties of her station with the utmost exactness;
yet if what she does be not accompanied with cheerfulness, she
will deprive herself of half the praises she deserves; and the
man she would make happy, of the pleasure she might otherwise be
capable of affording him.

The famous Mrs. Behn, who it must be owned was no mean judge of
what is agreeable to the humour of mankind, in enumerating the
qualifications which constitute a woman born to give delight,
places cheerfulness among the principal. These are her words
upon that head:

Cheerful as birds that welcome in the morn.

Another author also, of a much later date, and at least of equal
reputation, gives this description of it:

Cheerfulness is the soul of every other charm, without it
conversation is languid, wine tasteless, beauty insipid,
and even wit itself spiritless.

The poets and painters, both ancient and modern, have always
expressed so high an idea of cheerfulness, that Venus, Cupid,
the Graces, and every emblematical figure, or hieroglyphic of
love and beauty, in all their pictures and picturesque
descriptions, had their faces constantly adorned with smiles.

But to quit the sublime, and descend to the more plain and
familiar way of reasoning; it is certain, that a gracious
manner, which indeed is no other than cheerfulness, either in
discharging a duty, or conferring an obligation, greatly adds to
the merit of both: but, alas! all have not this happy talent in
their power, though their hearts may be equally good, and their
intentions perfectly sincere.

Much therefore is that woman to be pitied, whose true value is
disgraced by her having the misfortune of a contracted brow;
few, like Barsianus, choose the iron chest; an outside glare is
apt to take the eye, and the affections of the mind pursue it.

When this is not a defect in nature I think it possible to be
rectified, as I take the outward indications of a cheerful
disposition to consist chiefly in the eyes and the tone of
voice, neither of which there is a possibility of changing; but
when it proceeds from an ill habit, or a narrow and gloomy
education, care and a constant application may do much.

But I am sorry to say that the pride of virtue in some women
destroys their affability, conscious of having done their duty
in the greater points, they think it beneath them to study or
put in practice those little douceurs, and nameless
tendernesses, which are in fact of the most consequence to
endear them to their husbands; and in this case, whatever they
want by nature they will never supply by art.

The husband of such a wife will be apt to look on her best
actions as merely owing to the respect she has for her own
character, rather than to any love she has for him; and in this
opinion he will think of her with indifference, and treat her
with no more than a cold civility.

Cheerfulness, on the contrary, as it testifies she takes a
pleasure in obliging him, will also make him take a pleasure in
receiving every mark of kindness she bestows; and this alone can
make the happiness of a wedded life complete; without it, nor
wealth, nor grandeur can give perfect joy; with it, the humble
villager is blessed; and it is indeed among these latter that a
sincere cheerfulness is chiefly to be found. Mr. Cowley
doubtless thought so when he described the pleasures of a rural
life, in which fine poem there are some lines very proper for
the observation of every wife, and I shall therefore insert for
the benefit of those who may not happen to have read them:

Here if a chaste and clean, though homely wife,
Crown the rich blessings of a husband's life;
Who makes her children and her house her care,
And joyfully the work of life does share;
Nor thinks herself too noble, nor too fine, 
To pen the sheepfold, or to milk the kine:
Who waits at door against her husband come
From rural duties, late and wearied, home,
Where she receives him with a kind embrace,
A cheerful fire, and a more cheerful face,
And fills the bowl up to her homely lord,
And with domestic plenty loads the board:
Not all the lustful shellfish of the sea,
Dressed by the wanton hand of luxury;
Nor ortalans, nor godwits, nor the rest
Of costly names, that glorify a feast,
Are at a prince's table better cheer,
Than lamb and kid, lettuce, and olives here.

Thus does this great poet make a cheerful temper the source of
all contentment; let not the best wife satisfy herself with
being a rough diamond, but let a modest gaiety polish and
brighten all she does; let a perpetual cheerfulness dance in her
eyes and dimple on her cheeks, and no reserve, no austerity, no
sullenness, ever gain admittance within the circle of the
conjugal hoop.


End of the SECOND BOOK.



BOOK III.



SECT. I.
On being over-fond of Animals.

Among all the various foibles of which the softer sex are but
too justly accused, I know of none more preposterous than the
immoderate fondness shown to monkeys, dogs, and other animals;
creatures which were not made to be caressed, and have no higher
claim from nature than barely not to be abused or mercilessly
treated.

Yet the privileges, the immunities, the indulgencies which they
enjoy under some mistresses, are such as are far from being
granted to servants of the human species; a monkey may tear to
pieces a fine Brussels head-dress, and be praised for his wit,
while the poor chambermaid has a slap on the face, is called
oaf, awkward monster, and a thousand such like names, if not
turned out of door, only for having stuck a pin awry, or
misplacing a curl.

But in how odd a light must the husband of that woman appear,
who, while he is entertaining her perhaps on some important
affairs, instead of answering him, is all the time playing with
her lap-dog, and after he has been talking for half an hour
together, cries out, "What did you say, my dear, I protest I did
not hear you"; on which he is obliged to repeat all he has been
speaking, and 'tis very likely with as little success as before.
Certainly there can be no medium in the understanding of a man
who can bear with any tolerable degree of patience such
treatment from a wife; he must either be quite a fool, or endued
with an uncommon share of philosophy and fortitude; and if the
latter, nothing but the most low contempt could restrain him
from giving her some marks of his resentment, and throwing her
favourite dog out of the window.

I have heard of a certain lady of distinction, who we may
suppose loved her husband very well, vet gave so much the
preference to a harlequin bitch she kept, called Miss Chloe,
that she not only helped her to the best bits at table, but also
let her lie in the same bed, which last act of complaisance was
a matter of such great offence to her husband, especially as the
creature was one of the largest of the kind, and 'tis likely did
not behave so quietly as was consistent with the regard he had
for his repose. He made many remonstrances to his lady on the
inconvenience of lying three in a bed; but all he could urge on
that subject was ineffectual, she would not consent to be
separated one moment from her dear Miss Chloe; on which he
resolved to sleep in another chamber, and accordingly did so,
where, it is more than whispered, he prevailed on the chamber-
maid to supply her lady's place.

Without seeing it one should scarce be brought to believe the
ridiculous fondness with which some women treat their dogs,
though the folly does not always pass without a fleer even to
their face. As I was sitting on a bench one day in the Park, I
happened to be witness of a passage, which, though some may
think ill-natured, gave me a good deal of satisfaction. A well-
dressed woman, and who in her air and mien had the appearance of
a person of some fashion, came down the walk, holding a small
Dutch mastiff under her arm, with which she was playing and
talking to as nurses do to their children: as she came pretty
near the place where I was, she was met by two smart young
gentlemen, one of whom plucking off his hat, said to her, "Pray,
madam, is that little creature your own?" "Yes, sir", replied
she, and stopped, no doubt expecting some fine compliment would
be made to Pug; but instead of that, he cried,-"I thought
indeed, madam, it was your own, it is so very like you"; then
took hold of his companion, and they both marched off with a
loud laugh. This sarcasm was the more severe as it was pretty
just, for the lady had a pair of large black eyes, a pretty
thick nose a little turned up, and a complexion none of the
fairest. She seemed very much disconcerted; but whether the
affront she received made any alteration in her behaviour to Pug
I cannot pretend to determine, as I never saw her afterwards.

And now I am got upon the adventures of the canine race, a story
occurs to my remembrance, which, though somewhat uncleanly, has
a pleasantry in it which I hope will make my excuse for
repeating.

One of the most celebrated belles of the beau monde had a
spaniel, of which she was infinitely more fond than of any of
her children. The creature was so small, that whenever she went
on her visits she always carried it in her pocket, where it lay
very snug, no part of it appearing but for the short face and
long ears. Cupid, for so he was called, was much admired by all
that saw him, and in complaisance to his lady, not unwelcome
wherever he came; but misfortunes will, sometime or other,
happen to everyone, so Cupid could not expect to be always
exempt: neither the quality of his lady, his own personal
perfections, or the name he bore, were sufficient to secure him
from falling one day into a sad disgrace.

Just as his lady had entered the crowded drawing-room of a
person of condition, an unusual flavour saluted the noses of all
the company; everyone looked one upon another, and could not
presently distinguish whence it proceeded; she was the first
that discovered the truth, and cried out, "Oh, Heavens! Cupid
has done a paw trick, I am afraid"; then turning to the lady she
came to visit, added, "I must beg the assistance of your
ladyship's woman to untie my pockets"; the bell was immediately
rung, the waiting-woman came in, and the lady was eased of her
offensive burden. "Oh, Mrs. Primwell," said she, "Cupid has been
very naughty, the poor creature I believe has got the colic; I
am sure they gave him sour cream in his tea this morning, though
my impudent wench assured me it was sweet, and I did not taste
it as I never drink any myself; but pray be so good as to take
him into your chamber, and cleanse him from this impurity, and
send my servant home with these filthy pockets, and let him
bring me a pair of clean ones." The woman having taken them off
was leaving the room to do as she was desired, though possibly
not without some reluctance; but before she reached the door,
the other called to her, saying, "Dear Mrs. Primwell, I beg
after you have made him clean you will dip a towel in some
orange-flower water, and wash him well, I always keep a jar to
be ready on such occasions."

While she was giving these orders, the lady of the house ordered
some frankincense to be put in a chafing-dish and brought into
the room, and the rest of the company made their own
observations on this accident. Cupid's mistress made many
apologies for her little favourite; but there were few present
who could so well keep their countenances as to prevent her from
being in a good deal of confusion: it was soon dissipated,
however, and Cupid restored to favour, in which he continued
till he died, and then, to show the regard she had for him, was
honoured with a sumptuous funeral.

But to be more serious: A fondness for the brute creation is of
late years become so general, that a monkey, a dog, a squirrel,
a dormouse, or a squawking parakeet, are almost always part of
the appendages of a fine lady. Indeed I am sometimes tempted to
think, that this is owing more to their desire of being taken
notice of than real love to those animals, especially when I see
them make choice of such as are rather uncouth than pleasing to
the sight. I know one who always keeps a frog in her dining-
room, and has every day fresh wads of grass brought in for it to
hop upon; and going one day to the house of a gentleman, with
whom I had some business, I found his wife with a huge snake
twisted round her neck, and sucking bread and sugared milk out
of her mouth; which sight put me in mind of what Mr. Waller
wrote extempore on a lady, who it seems had the same passion for
these hideous animals. The lines, I think, are beautiful, as
indeed all are that came from him.

Take heed, fair Eve, you do not make
Another tempter of this snake;
A marble one, so warmed, would speak.

Her husband came into the room presently after I did, and I
discovered by his looks was not well pleased I had surprised his
wife in that attitude. I know he is a man of too much sense to
think himself perfectly happy with a woman capable of such a
weakness; but she brought him a handsome fortune, and he has
still great dependencies on some of her kindred, and to these
motives, I fear, it is that she is chiefly indebted for the
civilities he treats her with.

It is, indeed, hardly possible for a man to have any real regard
for a wife who he sees prefers animals, reptiles, the very
lowest and most contemptible of the works of nature, to himself;
I would therefore admonish every married woman to take into
serious consideration what is owing to her own and her husband's
character, and she will then be ashamed to lessen both for the
sake of an idle whim, a mere caprice.



SECT. II.
The Difference between an inquisitive and speculative
Disposition, and how far both stand in need of being corrected
by Reason.

Inquisitiveness, according to the vulgar acceptation of the
word, is an insatiate desire of prying into other people's
concerns; and as thus understood is a most vile propensity. A
woman who indulges it can neither be easy herself, nor suffer
her neighbours or acquaintance to be so: she will be restless,
because not always able to find means to gratify her curiosity,
and the persons she visits, because they are afraid of her,
obliged to be under a perpetual restraint before her, and to
guard their secrets with as much care as they would their money
from a thief.

Besides, those who love to hear, love also to report; they want
not to make discoveries but for the pleasure of revealing them;
whatever chance or design betrays to them they immediately
proclaim to others, and plume themselves on being the first who
bring the news: but this comes so near the gossip I have
described in the seventh section of the preceding book, that I
need add nothing further on it here, only that as I there
advised all wives to refrain the company of such a woman, so I
would much more strenuously persuade them, not to be guilty of
anything which might draw so odious a character on themselves.

But troublesome and dangerous as an inquisitive disposition for
the most part proves, yet if put under the direction of judgment
and right reason, it may be made a very useful and praiseworthy
qualification, greatly improving of the manners, and agreeable
instead of irksome to society: a mind impatient of knowing all
it can, and eager to extend itself, is equally capable of being
employed in the best, as in the worst researches: it is
therefore wholly owing to the bent our enquiries take, that
inquisitiveness becomes either a virtue or a vice.

A woman who is endowed with such an activity of thought as not
to be confined within the narrow bounds of her own particular
affairs, has no occasion to dive into those of other people;
nature spreads an ample field before her, where she is at
liberty to pick out objects to satisfy her curiosity, which will
afford her much more pleasure in the search, as well as more
profit in the acquisition.

When time hangs heavy on her hands, and books fail to amuse,
instead of observing what clothes her neighbours wear, what
company they keep, and how their tables are supplied; or
enquiring who courts such a one, who is about to take a wife,
and who to part with one, let her walk into the fields, the
groves, the gardens, and see what the inhabitants of those
realms are doing; let her follow the laborious ant to its little
granary, there behold with what indefatigable pains it bears and
hoards its winter store, and from this insect learn industry and
economy; let her admire the charms of constant faithful love in
the ever-cooing turtle. Let her be ashamed of finding herself
out-done in maternal care and tenderness by the whole feathered
race. These, and a thousand other such discoveries, she may both
make and reveal without offence.

I know that very many ladies will cry out against this doctrine,
but I appeal to any husband, if he would not be much better
pleased his wife should join company with the grasshoppers and
butterflies of the woods, than with those of the mall, more
gaudy, more fluttering and unmeaning than the other.

I think I have now proved to a demonstration, that
inquisitiveness, bad as it seems, may be converted into a real
good if properly applied. As for the speculative disposition,
everyone is ready to applaud it; they cry, it denotes a
nobleness of mind and a great capacity: it certainly does so;
but then it is no less certain, that if not guided and corrected
by a sound judgment, it is liable to produce as ill, if not
worse effects, than the other.

A person of a speculative disposition, if religiously inclined,
can very seldom forbear endeavouring to explore those things
which Heaven thinks fit to conceal from human understanding.
They would unravel the secrets of Divine Providence; they would
comprehend what is incomprehensible, perhaps even to angels, and
bring within the compass of their shallow reason the mystic
wonders of the Almighty attributes, either not knowing, or not
regarding what Mr. Pope so justly says upon this subject,

He that could fathom God, were more than He.

Thus is thought, by being strained beyond its reach, rendered at
length incapable of acting, the power of recollection entirely
lost, and the mind bewildered in a maze of errors; and this
appears to me as the most probable reason can be assigned for
our seeing so many people who either believe too little or too
much, and become sceptics, or enthusiasts.

There are others again, with a kind of philosophic turn, who
have their minds strangely busy about the planets, they would
fain know whether those vast and luminous orbs which roll above
our heads are habitable worlds or not; if they are, whether
possessed by angels, men, or the ghosts of those who once were
men; explore the customs, laws, and manners of those distant
regions, and would gladly hazard a journey through Aether, if
the ganzas of Gonzales could be procured to convey them to the
moon. As the former of these speculatives distract their brains
with books of controversy, so do this latter class the same with
astronomical conjectures, and Fontenelle's plurality of worlds.

In fine, a woman who once gets either of these fancies into her
head, is lost to everything besides; her husband, children,
family, friends, acquaintance, with all the necessary avocations
and duties of her station, seem altogether unworthy her regard;
she lives in the clouds, and it is with difficulty she is
dragged down to tie performance of anything required of her
below.

Thus may a misguided speculation render a woman as useless in
her sphere of life, and as troublesome to all who have any
concern with her, as inquisitiveness can do; both are alike
virtues when under the government of reason, and both are vices
when in rebellion to that sovereign power.

Methinks it is downright madness to waste any part of time in
seeking after things impossible to be attained; or if attained
could be of no real service. A married woman, above all others,
should avoid this error; it best becomes her to centre her whole
studies within the compass of her own walls, to enquire no
further than into the humours and inclinations of her husband
and children, to the end she may know how to oblige those she
finds in him, and rectify whatever is amiss in them, and not
attempt to extend her speculations beyond her family, and those
things which are entrusted to her management.

Most wives, I believe, will find this a sufficient employment;
and as for those few whose time may happen to be less occupied,
there are various amusements to be made choice of, which will
appear more befitting their sex and character than those I have
been speaking of.



SECT. III
The imprudence of indulging too flattering expectations in
Marriage.

Vanity and credulity have been, and I fear ever will be, the
ruin of many a woman's peace of mind: the men, indeed, are very
cruel in this point, and impose too much on the easy nature of
that sex; a lover knows the weak side of his mistress, and never
fails to attack her on it with all the arts he is capable of
putting into practice; and it must be owned, that very few of
them are novices this way. ln the addresses he makes to her he
mingles a thousand vows and imprecations of eternal truth,
eternal adoration; swears she shall ever be the sovereign of his
soul, the only directress of his very will, and calls all the
powers of heaven and earth to witness what he says; sighs,
tears, the most submissive postures, give a double energy to his
words: she too readily believes, and expects to receive, when a
wife, a confirmation of all she has been promised while a
mistress.

But alas! the conduct, even in the best of husbands, proves that
all the fine things they said beforehand were but words of
course; the tables, after marriage, are reversed, the goddess is
now stripped of all her divinity; it is no more her province to
impose laws, but to receive them; and happy, very happy may she
think herself, whose yoke is softened by good-nature and
indulgence.

I would not have anyone suppose by this, as if I meant to
insinuate all men were of the same opinion with Morat in the
tragedy, that

Marriage is but the pleasure of a day,
The metal's base, the gilding worn away.

No, Heaven forbid I should intend any such matter, that would be
doing the utmost injustice to one sex, and frightening the other
from entering into a state truly honourable, convenient, and
capable of affording the greatest felicity, if both parties
concur to promote it. I should be extremely sorry to say
anything that might inculcate ideas into the head of anyone
person to the disadvantage of that sacred institution.

On the contrary, I am certain that there are very many husbands
whose affection is not at all diminished by their being in full
possession of the object, though the impatiences, the hopes, the
fears, and all the tumultuous emotions of that passion cease;
and how, indeed, should they any longer exist, when the suspense
that occasioned them is no more? Can a man wish for what he has
obtained? Can he doubt the identity of a blessing he feels
within his arms? Sure to do this would be an inconsistency in
nature!

Well but, say some ladies who have been vain enough to imagine
that the God of love would work miracles in their favour, if the
anxieties of a lover end in the enjoyment of his desire as a
husband, the ardours, the transports of his rewarded flame ought
to remain for ever. To which I reply, that this also is
impossible, the mind cannot support a perpetual hurry, the
spirits of course must flag after a violent agitation, those
wild raptures, those madding ecstasies, which the first
possession of a long sought happiness inspire, must by degrees
subside; where they continue for any length of time they must be
fatal either to life or reason, death or distraction must be the
unfailing consequence.

Besides, a man inflamed with the most sincere and vehement
passion that ever was, always pretends to feel much more than he
does, in his days of courtship; but it would be ridiculous in
him, after he becomes a husband, to entertain his wife with
those romantic hyperboles, which he found necessary to address
her with as a mistress, and however pleasing it might be to her,
would make them both be laughed at by all their acquaintance.

In a word, if she has no reason to believe he likes any other
woman so well as herself, and gives her all the marks in his
power of a sincere and tender friendship, it is all she ought to
expect from him, and that the most beautiful of the sex, after
marriage, could ever boast of.

The ingenious Mr. Butler, in his excellent poem of Hudibras, has
some lines on this subject, which, though a little indelicate,
are very much to the purpose, and I would have every married
woman, for the sake of her own peace of mind, keep them in
perpetual remembrance:

Marriage is but a beast, some say,
That carries double in foul way;
Therefore 'tis not to be admired
It should so suddenly be tired;
For after matrimony's over,
He that holds out but half a lover,
Deserves for every minute more
Than for an age of love before.

Upon the whole, I do not think that there can be a greater enemy
to hymeneal happiness, than this of an idle expectation of more
than is in nature or in practice to be found; that wife who is
guilty of it, is herself the destroyer of what she aims to
inspire; and the sullenness, coldness, and reproaches, with
which she returns his imaginary neglect, tires out all the
remains of affection he had for her, and is also his excuse for
treating her with a real indifference.

Nor is this the worst consequence that may possibly befall; the
same vanity, and pride of conscious merit, which makes her
expect to be always complimented with a show of adoration by her
husband, on failing to receive it from him, may influence her to
encourage the flatteries of others, who vow themselves her
eternally devoted slaves, forgetting that they are men as well
as her husband, and if permitted the same liberties, would
behave towards her in the same, or perhaps in a much more
careless manner. A woman of this way of thinking, would do well
to repeat often within herself that just and pathetic maxim
which Mr. Dryden puts into the mouth of Jove:

I gave them pride to make mankind their slave;
But in exchange, to man I flattery gave:
The humblest lover, when he lowest lies,
But kneels to conquer, and but falls to rise.

Among too many others, the town has been presented with a very
memorable instance of the unhappiness which vanity of this kind
brings upon whole families: A lady of birth and fortune, who had
as much beauty, and more wit than half her sex besides could
boast of, was married while very young to a person of condition,
whom she infinitely loved, and by whom she was equally beloved,
no marriage could afford a prospect of greater felicity; but he
too soon forgot the devoirs he had paid her as a lover, and
though she was still as dear to him as before, could not keep
himself from showing marks of authority, which as her husband he
had a right to take upon him.

Her haughty temper could but ill endure this change; she
upbraided him in the severest terms; he asserted his
prerogative, and gave every day some fresh proof that he was
determined to maintain it; she, in return, studied nothing more
than to contradict his will: hence ensued frequent quarrels, and
the most poignant repartees passed between them, which being too
well remembered by each, drew on a mutual indifference, and by
degrees into a perfect disdain for each other.

Their animosity soon became the public talk of the town, and
many were emboldened by it to make addresses to her which were
no way consistent with her honour to receive; but her vanity was
flattered, and her husband offended by them, and these were two
points to which she now paid more regard than to her own
character, or the honour of her family.

This unhappy pair had children, who felt the most terrible
effects of their parents' disagreement; hated by their father,
because he suspected they were not of his own begetting, and
hated by their mother probably because she knew them to be so;
no indulgence was shown their infant years, no care taken of
their education when they arrived at an age proper to receive
it; but the poor suffering innocents crept about the house more
like the children of charity than the descendants of two noble
families, and born to fortunes equal to their extraction.

Whether this lady was in fact guilty of wronging her husband's
bed, I will not take upon me to determine; but this is certain,
that if she had any amours they were conducted with so much art
and secrecy that he never could get any proofs sufficient to
enable him to sue out a divorce, though for several years he was
indefatigable in his endeavours for that purpose.

The manner of their living together, however, in time became so
irksome to both, that they at last agreed in one thing, which
was to separate for ever: writings were accordingly drawn
between them, after which she left England in search of new
conquests and new adventures; he retired to his country-seat,
with an intention to pass the remainder of his days in solitude,
and the children were left to the care of an old servant, where
they were fed and clothed, but little else done for them.

I hope this example, joined to what I have said, will keep every
new-married woman from being self-deceived by the vain
expectations of receiving the same assiduities from her husband
after marriage as before; and as a disappointment in that case
is inevitable, she will thereby avoid a shock, which, if
productive of no worse consequences, cannot but be very grievous
to her.



SECT. IV.
The immoderate Love of Gaming, and its pernicious Consequences.

An immoderate love of gaming among men, has ever been looked
upon by all wise persons, and lovers of regularity, not only as
an enormous folly, but a vice also; even those who practice it
can find no excuses for their doing so; they curse it when they
lose their money, and are ashamed to praise it when they win.

What then can be alleged in vindication of a female gamester?
Why truly nothing, but that it is the mode, and without play
they should make but awkward figures at a rout, or a drum-major;
the example of some few leading ladies influences the rest, and
a polite mother makes it the chief part of her daughter's
education. Miss must read Hoyle instead of the Bible; study the
rules of Whist before those of her catechism; and be confirmed
as a gamester, before she is confirmed as a Christian.

This vice has indeed taken so deep a root, especially among
well-bred people, that despairing of a reformation, I was in
some debate within myself whether I should mention it or not;
but when I considered that there were yet some few whom the
contagion had not taken hold of, I thought it an indispensable
duty to offer them such antidotes as are in my power.

As I know nothing of more weight with the fair sex than the
preservation of those personal charms Heaven has endowed them
with, I would have them in the first place reflect, that a
continual perturbation of the spirits, joined with the want of
repose at those hours ordained by nature for it, is a most cruel
enemy both to beauty and to health, and that this is one of the
evils which in gaming are unavoidable.

In the next, let her remember that while she is not only wasting
her time, but wasting it in an amusement which seems followed in
mere contradiction to the laws of God and man, as well as to
those of reason, she ought not to flatter herself with being
under the protection of Heaven, and that a thousand ill
accidents may happen in her family at home, which possibly might
have been prevented by her presence.

Let her ask herself the question, by what motive she is induced
to become a party at a gaming-table? If it be the expectation of
adding some pieces to her purse, is not the danger of losing
those she has already there, at least equal to the chance of
acquiring more? If she goes for the sake of company, what
satisfaction, what improvement can she propose to receive from
the conversation of a promiscuous assembly, who talk of nothing
but the grand business of their play; and if influenced only by
a desire of complying with the custom of the present age, let
her consider that there are many pernicious customs, besides
gaming, which late years have introduced among us; and that if
she would be entirely in the fashion, she must also abandon
herself to some others yet more shocking to a new practitioner
in vice.

There is no act of licentiousness, indeed, to which gaming is
not an introduction; it opens a door to such enormities, such
scenes of vice, as I hope there are a great many of my readers
who would shudder at the bare description of; for their sakes I
shall therefore proceed no further on so disagreeable a subject,
and leave the mischiefs which frequently attend an attachment to
this destructive and miscalled diversion, to the imagination of
everyone to suggest.

What can a husband think of a wife who wilfully runs herself
into dangers of the most dreadful kind, and which if she escapes
it may be looked upon as a kind of prodigy, and leaves her no
room to boast that it is either to any consideration of her own
character, or her husband's honour or peace of mind, she is
indebted?

But it is not to those who are already far entangled in the
fatal snare that I am directing this discourse, those I look
upon to be incorrigible; and perhaps one great motive of their
being so is a self-conviction of their fault: some are above
repentance, and choose to persist obstinately in their errors,
not so much because they still like them, as because their pride
will not suffer them to acknowledge, by a reformation, that they
have ever been to blame. To persons of this unhappy disposition
all lessons would be ineffectual; nay, they would rather be
hardened, than any way amended either by remonstrances or
reproofs.

It is those, who being at present entirely free, yet through the
prevalence of example, the persuasion of others, or their own
inadvertency, are liable to be drawn into this vice, whose eyes
I would attempt to open, and make them see the dangers of that
precipice they are about to climb, before they reach too near
the brink.

In the first place, I would have them reflect on the low shifts
to which a woman who plays much is frequently reduced; how,
after an evening's ill-luck, in order to discharge what they
call a debt of honour, her jewels, plate, and sometimes a
birthday suit, are exposed in the shop of a common pawnbroker,
and there deposited among the dirty rags of the most abject
wretches who are obliged to strip their backs to supply the
necessities of their stomachs: this, though the least of all the
numerous train of evils to be apprehended from gaming, should,
methinks, be sufficient to deter a woman of any delicacy from
pursuing it.

But let her carry her ideas yet a little further; let her well
weigh what it is, that besides her money she is about to hazard,
no less than her reputation in the world, the whole happiness of
her life at home, her husband's honour, her own peace of mind,
and perhaps her virtue too; some of these are forfeited by being
staked, and all the others depend but on the turning of a card,
and may also be lost beyond a possibility of recovery.

If these considerations are not of force to restrain her from
enrolling herself in the list of female libertines, for a female
gamester is no other, we may justly conclude that she is pleased
with destruction, and proud to sacrifice to that idol, fashion,
whatever is truly valuable in womankind.



SECT. V.
Sloth, and the bad Effects of it, especially in a married Woman.

I think the Roman Catholics rank sloth among the number of the
deadly sins; how far it deserves that epithet I leave to the
decision of the churchmen; but of this I am certain, that sloth
in a wife is a mortal sin against her husband, when employed by
him in any affair which requires dispatch, and even in the most
trifling things ungrateful and disobliging.

When this disposition is inherent to the nature of a person, and
born with them, it can never be so thoroughly eradicated but
that some remains of it will still appear in all they do or say;
every look, every gesture, every word they speak betrays it. The
earthy mass of which they are composed wanting a sufficient
quantity of air and fire wherewith to invigorate, it seems mere
matter put in motion by exterior causes, and uninformed within;
but as the sluggish body contains a soul endued with reason, and
capable of reflection, the utmost efforts should be exerted for
supplying, as much as possible, the deficiencies of the animal
spirits, otherwise the lump would sink to its centre, and while
alive be numbered with the dead.

Though such a one may be pitied they never can be loved, it
therefore behoves a wife to omit nothing in her power to rectify
this defect; in order to which, she ought not to indulge herself
in anyone thing, for ease and plenitude increase the malady: she
ought to take much and laborious exercise, sleep very little,
eat sparingly, and live always in the open air; this regimen may
contribute somewhat towards a cure, though not totally effect
it.

But all this may be looked upon, and indeed pretty justly, as a
needless digression, since nature in this case is seldom so much
to blame as education: some parents love their children so well
as to ruin both their constitution and understanding; they
suffer them to eat, drink, and sleep as much as they will; they
set them about no exercise which might either rouse the
faculties of the mind, or give strength and vigour to the body,
for fear of giving them pain; but let them grow up in a constant
habit of sloth, till it becomes a second nature in reality.

A woman thus trained up ought, however, after she is married, to
consider that a very different manner of behaviour to what she
has been accustomed is now expected from her; that she has a
husband to oblige, a family to manage, and probably other
avocations which equally demand her attention, and if neglected
cannot fail of drawing on her the reproaches of her husband, the
disrespect of all his friends, and the ridicule of those women,
who either are, or would pass, for better judges of what is
becoming in the character of a wife.

There are but very few men, and those none of the wisest, who
marry with no other view than that of gratifying an amorous
inclination. A woman therefore, how beautiful soever her person
may be, must be extremely weak in her intellects, who can
imagine she is placed at the head of a family like a fine
picture, or a china jar in a drawing-room, merely for ornament,
without being of any real service.

What degree either of affection or esteem can that wife hope for
from her husband, who, when enjoined by him to do anything,
provided it be not inconsistent with their circumstances and way
of living, instead of a ready compliance makes answer, that she
cannot do it, that she was not bred to it; and on his insisting
on the performance, presently falls a-crying, complains she is
hardly dealt with, wishes she had never been married, and such
like stuff, which he with much more justice might retort on her?

It is also very near as disagreeable, when he finds himself
obliged to reiterate his commands, that at last she submits to
them with reluctance, makes childish excuses for unnecessary
delays, and puts off from time to time affairs, which, it may
be, require the most immediate dispatch.

Persons in an elevated station have not the same trials with
those in a lower sphere of life, because they have not the same
occasion to exert their activity; yet as they may find a great
many pretty ways to employ themselves, without derogating at all
from their dignity, sloth is as little to be excused in them as
in the meanest; and the fine Lady Lollup in her coach-and-six is
full as disagreeable to her lord, as plain Mrs. Lollup behind a
counter is to her honest citizen.

In fine, sloth is so detestable a quality in a wife, that no man
can enjoy the least happiness with one possessed of it to any
great degree: whether therefore it be owing to a certain
heaviness in the blood, or has been contracted by a long ill
habit, that woman must be strangely wanting to herself who does
not endeavour, with all her might, to shake it off, which I am
far from thinking impossible to be effected, by the help of a
steady resolution joined to the methods I have taken the liberty
to prescribe.



SECT. VI.
The Weakness of giving Encouragement to Tale-bearers of every
Sort.

Justly as the times are complained of, and bad as the world is,
there are yet people who perfectly resign to the will of Heaven
in public affairs, and, content with their own lot in private
life, might be accounted happy if their peace was not frequently
interrupted by reports, which, whether true or false, had better
never reached their ears; but the arch-enemy of mankind, well
knowing that animosities and disunion among friends prepare the
mind to receive his black impressions, employs all his agents
upon earth for that purpose. Swarms of informers, besides those
paid by the court, and who take as much delight in mischief,
haunt every assembly, insinuate themselves into every family
they can, and depart not without leaving behind some portion of
their venom.

Persons who are thus forced, as it were, or cajoled into the
knowledge of things which they neither sought after, nor wished
to be made acquainted with, are greatly to be pitied; but what
shall we think of those who hunt for intelligence, and are
impatient to be told whatever is said of them in the world, but
that they are weary of quiet, and long for something to involve
them in perplexities.

I am sorry to observe that the women in general have a good deal
of this propensity in their nature; but what liberty soever the
unmarried may be allowed to take in thus hazarding their peace
of mind, I would fain persuade everyone who is a wife from
giving the least indulgence to so dangerous a curiosity; because
it is not her own happiness alone, but that of the person who
is, or ought to be, most dear to her on earth, which may
possibly be affected by it.

Tale-bearers are the pest of all society, and more to be guarded
against than a thief, who only robs you of your money; but the
other of what is infinitely beyond all treasures, your repose;
nay, of your justice and good-nature too, by inspiring you with
the worst opinion of those who may perhaps deserve the best.
They begin with dark hints and innuendoes to excite your
curiosity, and when they find it raised to a pitch proper for
their purpose, either forge, or magnify some idle story to make
you become suspicious of your dearest friends, doubtful of your
servants, and even jealous of your husband's fidelity.

Though certainly nothing can be more absurd in itself, than to
desire to know what when known must give us pain; yet so it is,
a woman who has once given ear to these incendiaries, cannot
forbear asking a thousand questions, entreats them to find out
the whole of what they pretend they have as yet been able but to
reveal in part; and thus affords them fresh opportunities of
imposing on her credulity.

I happened once to be in a good deal of mixed company, when two
young ladies singled themselves from the others and withdrew to
a window; I was near enough to hear their discourse, which I
shall present my readers with verbatim, to show the manner in
which people of this turn of mind begin to infuse their poison.

"I could tell you something, my dear, but that I am afraid it
will vex you", said the first. "Why what is it about?" demanded
the second. "It is no matter; for I am resolved not to speak a
word of it", replied the first. "That is unkind, if it concerns
me, so pray don't make a secret of it", rejoined the second.
"Indeed I must; for I am sure it will give you pain", said the
first. "Indeed it shall not", returned the second. "Nay it is
fit you should know; so if you will promise me not to fret I
will tell you", resumed the first. "That's my dear creature.
Come then, for I am quite upon the rack", cried the second
eagerly, and with these words took hold of her arm and hurried
out of the room.

On their return, the lady who had been told the secret, whatever
it was, seemed very much disconcerted, and the other more gay
and alert than before; so cruel a pleasure have some people in
giving pain.

In my mind, there cannot be a greater weakness under the sun,
than when a person discovers an impatience to know what has been
said in their absence by such or such a one: many things may be
spoke which are far from having any ill meaning in them; but by
being repeated through the mouth of another will bear a quite
different signification: so that though the intelligencer tells
nothing but the truth, the truth may be so far disguised in the
wicked and designing manner of relating it, that the hearer may
be deceived into a resentment which has no foundation in justice
or in reason.

Many great feuds and lasting dissensions have happened in
families, merely through the readiness of one among them to
listen to the reports of these tale-bearers; a wife therefore
should be particularly careful never to give the least
encouragement to anyone who offers to entertain her with
discourses of this nature; for as scandal gathers like a snow-
ball, the most trifling words and actions, by passing through
many mouths, may swell to an enormous bulk, and seem of
consequence enough to produce even the most tragical events.



SECT. VII.
Behaviour towards a Husband, when labouring under any
Disappointment or vexatious Accidents.

I have often observed, that people of very high spirits are not
so well able to support the weight of misfortunes as those of a
more moderate flow; the men therefore must forgive me, when I
say that the softer sex, being by nature less warm and violent,
bear away the palm from them in the article of patience or
fortitude; for these I take to be synonymous terms. The men rave
and storm at the first onset of ill fortune; but on a series of
cross accidents sink and are quite depressed; few have that
happy equanimity of temper as to look with the same eye on the
good and the bad success of their affairs.

Philosophy, indeed, teaches different things; but there are not
many who, in these latter times, give themselves much pains in
the study of that science, and those who do are too apt to
neglect this most necessary and valuable branch of it.

A wife therefore, who has by nature what it is a thousand
against one if her husband has acquired by precept, should never
be an idle spectator of his discontent on any of those losses
and disappointments which the vicissitudes of human life seldom
fail to inflict, even on those who are accounted most happy; it
is then her time to exert all her wit, display all her
tenderness, double all her assiduities about him, and omit
nothing which may keep melancholy from seizing too deeply on his
mind.

As she must bear her share in every calamity that threatens him,
the arguments she makes use of for his consolation will have
infinitely more efficacy than any could be offered by a person
less interested in his fate; he will admire the greatness of her
soul, and at the same time call to remembrance these words of
the poet:

To rise against oppression, scorn to pay
The tribute to adverse fortune,
And bear with equal soul her frowns and smiles,
Is the true proof of virtue.

Indeed whenever I see a noble mind struggling beneath a load of
woes, yet still maintaining its native dignity, methinks a
certain glory shines about that person which deserves, as well
as attracts, our admiration, more than all we could discover
amidst the tinsel glare of proud prosperity; and here I cannot
forbear inserting a very just and elegant simile which Mr.
Cowley makes on this occasion:

So though less worthy stones are drowned in night,
The faithful diamond keeps his native light,
And is obliged to darkness for a ray,
That would be more oppressed than helped by day.

But the true beauty of that behaviour which I should be glad
every wife would observe, will best be shown by the disagreeable
contrast which some women put in practice, adding thereby to the
sorrows which it is both their duty and their interest to
alleviate.

Though the wisest and best concerted schemes may, and often do,
fail of the expected success, the world is so ungenerous and
unjust as to lay the whole blame on the suffering conjecture,
and virulently condemn those very methods of proceeding which,
if prosperous, would have been applauded as the highest acts of
human prudence; so true are Mr. Dryden's words:

When things go ill, each fool presumes t'advise,
And if more happy, thinks himself more wise.

But how much beyond expression shocking is it when a wife shall
take this liberty; when instead of softening his afflictions by
her endearments, endeavouring to inspire him with hopes of
better fortune, and to persuade him that the present is not so
bad as imagination paints it, the cruel creature, forgetting all
love, all pity, all decency and good manners, reproaches,
reviles him, accuses his conduct of folly and madness, wishes
she had never seen his face, curses the hour that joined them,
complains of fate for having involved her in his ruin,
exaggerates the misfortune they labour under, and forms all the
ideas her invention can supply her with of yet much worse to
come!

To what extremes may not a man be reduced by a treatment of this
sort? If of a soft and gentle temper it may probably drive him
to despair; if of a more harsh and rugged one, to actions which
no provocations on her part could justify in a person of his sex
to one of hers.

The least bad consequences that could attend such a behaviour
would be the most violent and frequent quarrels between them,
succeeded by grumblings and mutual discontent; words sometimes
cut deeper than a sword, and the wounds they make are with more
difficulty healed; his heart would retain an indelible
impression of her reproaches; whatever affection he had for her
would be extinguished, nor would all her submission, in case she
repented, be scarce able to rekindle it.

It must certainly be owing to the want of reflection that can
make a woman thus draw upon herself a worse misfortune than any
she could sustain through the mistakes or ill conduct of her
husband; nor may the total loss of his affection be all that may
possibly ensue; it would be a thing much to be wondered at, if
the breach between them did not make him run into excesses,
which in the end would complete the ruin of them both.

But I have now done with a portraiture which cannot afford any
satisfaction to my fair readers; and after having presented them
with a small sketch of a most amiable reverse, conclude a
subject, which, according to the best of my judgment and
observation of the world, cannot be too much considered by them.

In the beginning of that too memorable year, in which the
failure of the Charitable Corporation ruined half those who had
not been before undone by the fatal South-Sea scheme, a
gentleman of a considerable estate in Wales was married to the
daughter of a wealthy merchant in London, with whom he had a
fortune of seven thousand pounds.

This money, which he at first intended should pay off a
mortgage, with which some part of his estate was encumbered, he
rashly embarked, and lost in the abovementioned fund; he felt
this misfortune the more severely as he had brought it on
himself, without the knowledge of his wife or of her father. His
mortgage was also a secret to them; and when these two things
should come to light, as he knew they must do by the
impossibility he should find of continuing to live in the
fashion he had begun to do since his marriage, feared the
reproaches of those persons whose love and esteem it most
concerned him to preserve.

These reflections threw him into a melancholy, which all his
endeavours could not conceal from the penetrating eyes of his
wife; she begged to know the cause, at first he denied there was
any, and affected a more cheerful behaviour; but she soon saw
through the thin disguise, and convinced that some latent grief
preyed upon his heart, renewed her pressures. one day when they
were alone, she threw her arms about his neck, and bathing his
cheeks with tears, beseeched, conjured him by all the love he
had professed for her, not to refuse making her the partner of
his sorrows: overcome with this tenderness, he at last cried
out, "Oh! my dear, I have wronged you, wronged you beyond
forgiveness! and can I be the reporter of my own transgression!"
"I believe it among the things impossible," replied she, "for
you to do wrong to anyone; and am sure it is yet more so for you
to do anything which my love would not forgive."

He could resist no longer, but after a few struggles within
himself, repeated to her the whole of his affairs. She listened
to him with attention, seemed a little surprised, but discovered
not the least emotions either of grief or resentment,and when he
had given over speaking said to him, "I confess, my dear, that
these are misfortunes, yet cannot think them of sufficient
weight to depress your spirits in the manner they have done."
"How, my dear!" returned he, "Do you not consider that by this
cursed accident I am deprived of the means, for some time at
least, of supporting you in the manner I ought to do, and you
had a right to expect, when you made me happy in your
possession: we must lay down our coach." "Do you imagine",
resumed she, with the most obliging smile, "that I have so much
pride, or so little love, as not to be as well content with
walking as with riding, while I have you by my side?" "Oh! But,"
cried he, "What will your father say?"

On this she fell into a little pause, but soon coming out of it
replied, "As to my father, I know he looks upon these public
schemes as mere bubbles, and the aversion he has to them may
make him accuse you of some imprudence; for which reason he
shall not know of it. I have thought of an expedient that will
solve all." "Heavens!" cried he, "what expedient! Will not the
very change in my way of living betray my folly to your father!"
"I will tell you, my dear," answered she, "we will quit this
expensive town, and live at your country seat till your affairs
are entirely cleared."

I should have informed my reader, that this lady had so great an
aversion to the country, that before marriage she had exacted
from him the most solemn promise never to take her down to
Wales; he could not, therefore, be otherwise than amazed on
hearing her make this offer. "Is it possible," said he, "that
you can be in earnest!" "Entirely so," answered she, "and if you
approve it, will go to-morrow to my father, and tell him that I
have a curiosity to see your estate, and will pass some time in
Wales for that purpose; he will not suspect the truth of what I
say, and when we get there I can pretend to him, by letters,
that I like the place so well that I cannot think of leaving it;
so will this misfortune be always a secret to him and everyone
else you would conceal it from."

"But can you, can you, my dear," said he, not yet recovered from
his consternation, "can you resolve to absent yourself from your
father, and all those other relations to whom your company is so
justly precious! Can you forego your native air, and quit all
those pleasures, those gay delights this town affords, and which
from your infancy you have been accustomed to enjoy! Can you do
this, and consent to live a voluntary exile among rocks and
barren mountains!"

"Without the least reluctance, when you are my guide and my
companion," resumed she; "paint not, therefore, the place of my
retreat in any direful colours. I have already formed the most
delightful idea of it; I shall forget the music of the opera,
while attentive to the notes which Heaven has taught the little
choristers of the air; the frisking kids and sportive lambkins
on the mountain tops, or coursing each other through the vales,
will afford me more diversion than all the balls and assemblies
in the Haymarket; and the sincere welcome of our honest tenants
and their ruddy dames, will please me much better than the
unmeaning compliments of fops and fools."

It was the husband of this charming woman who was the relater of
this story to me; he said, that on hearing these expressions
from her he was so overcome with rapture, that he could not
forbear catching her in his arms, and crying out in the poet's
words,

Sure there is in thee all we believe of Heaven,
Amazing brightness, purity, and love!

She kept her promise in every particular, with the same
cheerfulness she had made it; and dispatched everything
necessary for their departure with so much expedition and
alacrity, that in less than a week the happy pair set out for
Wales. On their arrival, the resolution she had taken to be
pleased with whatever she found there, rendered her so in
reality; the country, by degrees, became as agreeable to her as
it had once been irksome; and the remembrance of the noise and
hurry of the town gave her rather a disgust than a desire of
returning to it; this she not only declared, but testified by
requesting her husband to continue where they were after the
mortgage was redeemed, which they still do, coming only to
London once in three or four years, to visit the kindred they
have here, and their stay never exceeds a month or six weeks at
a time: they are now the parents of a numerous offspring, and
live blest in each other, loved and respected by their
neighbours, and almost adored by their tenants and dependants.

I believe there is no wife but will applaud the virtues of this
lady; but if there are not some who do not endeavour to become
her imitators in such circumstances as shall give them an
opportunity, my design in writing this section will be wholly
frustrated.



SECT. VIII.
Sleeping in different Beds.

I doubt not but what I have to say on this head will be thought
to deserve the thanks of some, and be as highly disapproved by
others. I wish the number of the latter does not by far exceed
that of the former; but as I profess the utmost sincerity
through this whole work, and write for the common good of all, I
shall freely give my opinion without any regard to the favour or
displeasure of individuals.

For a husband and wife to sleep in different beds, except in
case of indisposition, would have, in somewhat less than an
hundred years ago, appeared so strange a thing as to have
occasioned many whispers and surmises on the cause; but though
custom has rendered it more familiar, I hope the day will never
come when the example of a few, who would be thought more polite
than their neighbours, shall have influence enough to introduce
it as the general mode; for I am perfectly convinced, both from
reflection and observation, that a separation of beds paves the
way for a separation of hearts, a separation of interests, and
at last a total separation of persons.

Such a proposal coming from a husband would very ill agree with
the fine speeches and passionate declarations he made to his
wife before marriage; and as it would give her just room to
suspect both his sincerity and affection, I think she would be
at liberty to reproach him for it, provided always that what she
says on that account, or indeed on any other, is accompanied
with good manner, and expressed with tenderness.

But though I am ready to allow the inconstancy and caprice of
some men's nature makes them soon grow weary of an object they
lately sought after as their supremest happiness, yet the shame
of being accused of such a disposition frequently restrains them
from giving any glaring proofs of it; and I believe it will be
found upon examination, the ladies, for the most part, are the
first aggressors in this point.

Nothing is more common than for a wife, on having the least
piquant words with her husband, to refuse sleeping with him that
night; but this, methinks, is strangely impolitic; the reason of
its being so is plain, and must be obvious to everyone's
capacity; he either loves her, or he does not love her; if the
former, his love will certainly be weakened by this behaviour
being frequently repeated; and if the latter, will give his
indifference a good excuse for continuing what she begins; so
that which way soever his heart has been affected towards her
they will in time become entirely aliens to each other.

I once knew a lady of no small condition, who sadly experienced
the truth of what I am speaking on, and instead of being as
happy as fortune intended her, or as woman could be, is now,
through her own fault, divested of all the gay delights of life,
and fills a mournful widowed bed, her husband yet alive. The
fact was this:

She was young, vain, and capricious to an excess when she was
first made a wife, nor did that name work any alteration in her
humour: she loved the person she married; but thought she might
treat him, when her husband, in the same manner she had done
when her lover: she imagined that she had his heart in chains,
and took a pride in the exercise of her power. It gave her an
exquisite satisfaction to observe the melancholy she sometimes
involved him in by an affected reserve, and the raptures he
expressed when she surprised him with a return of fondness.
Among the many ways with which she tried his patience, she often
took it into her head to oblige him to lie in another chamber
for two or three nights together, nor would receive him to her
arms till he had purchased the dear-bought blessing with vows,
tears, and all the submissions he had practised while making his
addresses.

The affection he had for her was doubtless very ardent and
sincere, and that enabled him to support this behaviour much
longer than anyone, except herself, could have expected: the
love he had for her person, however, at last gave way to the
just contempt he could not help feeling for her follies, which
he resolved no more to indulge, and also to lay hold of the
first opportunity to let her know his mind.

It was not long before she presented him with one, and he then
plainly told her, that he did not marry to be the dupe of any
woman's idle whims; that he had been an ass too long; and was
both surprised and ashamed to think he had endured, even for two
days, such ridiculous behaviour in a wife.

The consternation she was in at hearing him speak in terms to
which she had been so little accustomed, and was so far from
expecting from him, prevented her for some moments from making
any reply; and when she did, it was not to vindicate her
conduct, or promise any amendment; but only to upbraid him with
some of those unmeaning protestations which men ordinarily make
in their days of courtship. He seemed quite unmoved at all she
said, nor offered the least interruption, which enraging her the
more, she clinched her hands together in the extremest agony,
cried out, "Ungrateful man! I could find in my heart to make a
vow never more to enter into the same bed with you." On his he
assumed a contemptuous smile, and rejoined, "With all my heart,
madam; I shall never attempt to make you break your resolution;
you have accustomed me so much to lie alone, that now I choose
it." With these words he left the room hastily; she called to
him to stay, but he regarded it not, and went directly out of
the house.

He came not home till very late that night; she sat up to wait
for him, and meeting him on the stair-case desired to speak with
him; to which he replied, that it was an improper hour to begin
a conversation, and added, that he would not be disturbed; then
turned from her, and went into that chamber which now he called
his own.

This vexed, but did not humble her; she had vanity enough to
imagine it was only a sudden start of resentment in him, which
would soon be over; but the time now arrived to convince her,
that ill-usage will weary out the strongest passion, and that
love once driven from the breast is never to be recalled: there
was indeed a motive for this change in him, which she as yet was
far from suspecting, but had completed the work her follies had
begun.

One day when he was sitting alone, reflecting how much he
suffered from the unaccountable caprices of a wife from whom he
had deserved the best treatment, the chamber-maid came into the
room where he was, for something she wanted; the girl was very
pretty, and it happened that he found something in her at that
instant which he had never taken notice of before; he pulled her
towards him and began to talk a little merrily to her, intending
only to divert himself; but the answers she gave him were so
striking, that from that time the liking he had for her
presently became more serious, and he afterwards neglected no
opportunity of persuading her to be his. She had not virtue to
resist the offers he made; he gained his point, and whenever he
lay apart from his wife she supplied her place in his arms, as
she has done in his heart.

Certain it is, that he had now more than an indifference for his
wife, the possession of a new object, who wanted neither beauty,
wit, nor artifice to engage him, quite effaced all the
tenderness he once had for the former, and nothing remained but
the cruel remembrance of those follies which, while he continued
to love her, had made him ashamed of doing so.

The next conference they had together served rather to widen
than make up the breach; nor did any of those which afterwards
passed between them for several days produce a better effect; he
both seemed, and really was, quite indifferent as to a
reconciliation; and she was too haughty to make the first
overture, though, as she has since confessed, she passionately
desired it.

Things were in this situation between them, when a servant
having discovered the chamber-maid's intrigue with her master,
acquainted her lady with it, and put her in a way how to
surprise them; she did so, and the manner in which she behaved
may easily be conceived. Had the maid been within her reach she
would doubtless have given her lasting marks of the fury she was
possessed of; but the girl was too well defended by her lover,
who, after forcing his wife out of the room, made his footman
procure two chairs, and went with his mistress to a bagnio,
where he stayed with her the remaining part of the night, and
the next morning placed her in handsome lodgings, with an
assurance of supporting her in a manner agreeable to her wishes.

After this no measures were observed between the wife and
husband; she spared no revilings on his perfidy; he made no
excuses for what he had done, but laid the blame wholly on her:
there was not the least interval of peace between them, no
order, no decency preserved. They seldom eat at the same table,
never slept in the same bed, nor spoke to each other but to
exchange affronts.

Their way of living together was soon no secret; the friends on
both sides interposed their good offices; but finding it
impossible to bring about a reunion of their hearts, at last
advised a separation of their persons: to this the husband
readily agreed, and the wife had too much pride to show any
desire of continuing with a man who she thought she had so much
reason to complain of.

The same pride buoyed up her spirits after their parting for
some time; but more serious reflections afterwards setting
before her eyes, in their true light, the errors she had been
guilty of, threw her into a deep melancholy, which has rendered
her scarce to be known for what she once was.

Though it is certain that the conduct of this husband has not
been altogether excusable; yet it must also be acknowledged,
that the follies and insufferable caprices of his wife were the
original cause both of his fault and her misfortune.

It is worthy the observation of every wife, that among all the
follies this lady was guilty of, that of refusing to sleep with
her husband proved of the worst consequence; and considering
that though the same behaviour may not always draw on the same
event, yet as the thing in itself is bad, and contrary to the
marriage institution, it never can be attended with any good.

Whenever I see a husband and wife live in different apartments,
seldom meet but at the times of eating, and when the meal is
over rise and pursue their several inclinations, they appear to
me only as two tenants, or boarders, in one house; not as
persons who are but one flesh, and ought to have but one soul;
by what motive soever such persons were induced to enter into
the marriage state, they certainly desire to be thought to live
in a manner as little like it as they can.

Methinks the custom of lying apart is so much against the
interest of the ladies, that I am amazed anyone of them should
be inclined to promote it. If a wife has any remonstrances to
make to her husband, any boon to entreat of him, what time so
proper as the silent night, when she has him entirely to
herself, secure from all the interruptions, business, and
distractions of the day, and she has a full opportunity to urge
all the arguments she can, and by her endearments to win him to
attention?

I would not have any body infer from this, that I am
recommending, according to the trite phrase, a curtain-lecture;
no, I look on the bed as a place very improper for altercations.
All there ought to be peace and harmony; but I could wish that
every pair, bound by the sacred laws of marriage, would
endeavour to live as near as possible to the intention of it,
and to think it their happiness, as it is undoubtedly their
duty, to be as inseparable as circumstances will admit; this
would be doing honour to the state, and answer to the beautiful
description given of it by Milton in these lines:

Hail wedded love! mysterious law! true source
Of human offspring! sole propriety
In Paradise, of all things common else!
By thee adulterous lust was driven from man
Among the bestial herds to range; by thee
Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure,
Relations dear, and all the charities
Of father, son, and brother, first were known!
Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets!
Here love his golden shafts employs, here lights 
His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings;
Here reigns and revels; not in the bought smile
Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendeared,
Casual fruition; nor in court amours
Mixed dance, or wanton masque, or midnight ball,
Or serenade, which the starved lover sings
To his proud fair, best answered with disdain.



SECT. IX.
What Sort of Behaviour will best become a Wife when finding that
her Husband harbours any unjust Suspicions of her Virtue.

I think there can happen but very few circumstances in the
conjugal state which more severely try the patience of a woman
than to have her virtue unjustly suspected by her husband.
Jealousy is the worst poison of the mind, and when a man is once
infected with it, he is capable of exercising no one domestic
good quality, nor can anyone live at ease in so unhappy a state
as to be within the reach of his influence: he looks on every
man that comes into his house as an invader of his honour, and
on every woman as an agent for that purpose: whatever servants
he keeps he makes so many spies on the conduct of his wife; and
on their not being able to bring him the intelligence he wants,
accuses them of being bribed by her, and in a combination to
deceive him.

A man of this disposition will not suffer himself to judge,
compare, or weigh the reason of things; but, wholly governed by
the mad fury that possesses him, turns all he sees or hears into
fresh matter for distrust, as I remember to have somewhere read,

His wild imagination gives the dye,
As all looks yellow to a jaundiced eye.

A woman who is so unfortunate to have such a husband, finds it
very difficult what method of behaviour to pursue; her caresses
he imputes to artifice, her reserve to dislike; if she seems
cheerful, she has attracted some new admirer; if serious, taken
up with the thoughts of an absent lover; if she bears with
patience his unjust reproaches, it is her guilt that keeps her
silent; if she resents, she is hardened in her crime; if
negligent in her dress, she takes no pains to please him; if
curious, it is to charm some other man: in fine, that there is
nothing she can say or do that does not serve, some way or
other, to increase his discontent.

Jealousy, however, is not the same in all husbands; one shall
imagine that every man who looks upon his wife has a criminal
design against her virtue; another centres the whole force of
his suspicions on a single object; both these are bad enough. In
the first case I know of no remedy to prescribe for the
suffering wife, but to support his injustice with as much temper
as she can till youth and bloom are gone, and age and wrinkles
come to her relief; but in the latter, a prudent management may
contribute much towards rendering her situation less perplexing,
if not entirely easy.

As in physical cases the cure of the disease lies chiefly in the
knowledge of the cause, so when she has once discovered the
person whom her husband looks upon with this evil eye, she must
by all means refrain going to any place which she knows is
frequented by him, and also be cautious to avoid making the
least mention of him in the presence of her husband; because the
least favourable word, how much soever he may deserve it, will
be interpreted by her tyrant as the overflowings of her love for
him; and if, on the contrary, she speaks with indifference or
contempt, what she says will pass with him as a veil to cover
her too much affection; so true is this sentiment of
Shakespeare,

Trifles light as air,
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs in Holy Writ.

But suppose the suspected person to be one with whom her husband
is intimate, or has business with, and comes often to their
house, as such a thing very often happens, she cannot then
behave altogether according to my directions; yet she may
notwithstanding do so in part; she may forbear ever speaking of
him when absent, and if she cannot always find an excuse for
keeping out of the room where he has been introduced, she may at
least have recourse to her work-basket, and seem to have her
thoughts and eyes wholly taken up with what she is about.

But as there are always as many different circumstances to
occasion jealousy as there are persons inflamed with that
pernicious passion, it is impossible to form any summary of
advice that may be of service in each particular case; I must
therefore leave it to the discretion of every woman to act in
such a fashion as the experience she has of her husband's humour
may give her reason to think will be most likely to succeed; and
only say in the general, that as I hope she will regulate her
conduct so as to give him no cause to complain of it; she will
also, when finding herself unjustly suspected, never fly into
extravagancies, nor give any violent marks of her resentment;
for clamour and loud words neither become the character of a
wife, nor will avail to gain the point she aims at.

I heard a pleasant story of a lady who, on her husband's first
testifying some apprehensions of her liking another better than
himself, pretended to fall into a violent fit of laughter, and
then taking him round the neck, said to him, "Take care, my
dear, that you do not make me vain, I now think myself both
happy and honoured in being your wife; but if you are jealous of
me I shall imagine there is something extraordinary in me, for
you know what the Poet says,

All precious things are still possessed with fear.

I was told that by this merry method, which she constantly
pursued whenever she perceived in him any indications of
jealousy, that by degrees she not only cured him entirely of
that passion, but also became more endeared to him by her wit
and good humour.

This, however, would not have the same effect with a man of a
sour and crabbed disposition, but she doubtless was well
acquainted with the nature of the metal she had to work upon;
and that is what I would persuade every wife to study, not only
in this, but every other respect.



SECT. X.
The great Indiscretion of taking too much Notice of the
unmeaning or transient Gallantries of a Husband.

Though I never could find out by the laws of marriage, that a
husband was any ways entitled to greater liberties on the score
of gallantries than his wife, yet custom immemorial, even in
those kingdoms most favourable to women, allows, that what
passes only for good breeding and politeness in the one, in the
other is accounted coquetry, if no worse.

This, at first, seems a partiality on the side of the men, and I
have heard some ladies who have been free enough to complain of
it; they say, that what is a real error in the one sex ought
likewise to be deemed so in the other, and cry out with Jane
Shore in the play, how unjust it is, that

Such is the fate unhappy women find,
And such the curse entailed upon our kind,
That man, the lawless libertine, may rove
Free, and unquestioned through the wilds of love;
Bound by no precept, nor confined by rule,
While woman, sense and nature's easy fool,
If poor weak woman chance to go astray,
If strongly charmed she leaves the thorny way,
And in the softer paths of pleasure stray,
Ruin ensues, reproach, and endless shame,
And one false step entirely damns her fame;
In vain with tears the loss she may deplore,
In vain look back to what she was before,
She sets, like stars that fall, to rise no more!

But notwithstanding that what is condemnable in the one sex,
cannot, by mode or practice, be made praise-worthy in the other;
yet the difference of education, and some other causes which
might be assigned, render many things becoming enough in a man
which would be highly disgraceful in a woman.

A woman would make but an odd figure at the head of a regiment,
or the deck of a ship; nor would it be less absurd for a man to
be found making his own shirts, or tying with great nicety the
ribbon of his sword-knot; yet could it not properly be called a
vice if she assumed the character of a colonel or an admiral; or
he that of a sempstress or milliner; yet would it be a very
great fault in both, as it is acting contrary to the designs of
nature, who by forming the one sex hardy and robust, and the
other delicate and tender, plainly shows what sort of exercises
she meant them to be employed in.

But to come more closely to the point, from which I have a
little deviated, without intending to do so. In the affair of
love, though that passion is mutually implanted in both sexes,
yet it doubtless is more natural and becoming in the male to
make the first declaration, as they are less timid and more warm
by constitution; this they are early instructed in, and before
arrived at perfect manhood, begin to practice amorous glances,
tender phrases, and the whole art of courtship on every pretty
girl they see; which by the time they are grown up becomes so
habitual, that whether with or without feeling a real passion,
they cannot forbear continuing a show of it as long as they
live.

The case being truly thus, I would not have a wife expect that a
man will think himself obliged, because he is her husband, to
refrain from all gallantries with others; no, he will perhaps
say soft things, write passionate letters, compose verses, and
make presents to a woman whom he may think worthy of his
devoirs, and sometimes merely to show his own wit; all this he
may certainly do without having the least design to wrong his
wife, and it would, therefore, be the highest imprudence in her
to resent it.

I am very sensible that on reading this page, many a woman will
cry out, "When a man behaves in this manner, who knows but that
the passion he at first but counterfeits may not in time be
converted into reality?" To which I answer, that the surest way
of turning the jest into earnest is for his wife to make a
serious matter of it, and render herself less agreeable by
reproaches and ill-humour.

I once had the pleasure of knowing a lady, who on this occasion
had recourse to a stratagem no less witty in the contrivance
than it was happy in the success; it was this: Perceiving her
husband, who was a man of great gaiety among the women,
discovered somewhat of a more than ordinary attachment to one in
particular; in order to divert it, and divide his inclinations,
if he really had any to her prejudice, was continually inviting
to her house all those of her female friends who were remarkable
for any fine quality, either of mind or body; she made her
husband take notice of the beauty of one, the exquisite shape of
another, the wit and spirit of the third, and expatiated on
their several perfections in the most pathetic terms; this had
so good an effect as to efface, by degrees, all the impression
the first object had made on him, and at the same time convinced
her that he had no settled love for anyone but herself.

There are a thousand pretty ways by which a woman may endeavour
to weaken the too great liking her husband may have conceived of
another, none of which bid so little fair for success as that
pursued by most wives, upbraiding him with inconstancy and
perfidy, and railing at and affronting the object of his real or
imagined inclinations.

I would therefore have every wife reflect, that such a behaviour
may render her so disgustful to her husband, and so much hated
by her supposed ill-treated rival, that in mere revenge they may
agree together to make her, in fact, as unhappy as she only
feared to be, and otherwise never might have been.



SECT. XI.
The Manner of supporting the Detection of a Husband's Falsehood.

There may be, and I hope are many wives, who will not think the
hints I have given for their conduct, either impracticable or
unworthy of them to pursue; but I come now to a point which I am
afraid will require a greater force of persuasion than I can
boast of to reconcile: it is indeed a circumstance which at once
attacks the pride, the love, and the interest of a wife; and, it
must be confessed, is above all others that can befall in
marriage the least supportable.

What I mean is the detection of a husband's falsehood: it too
often happens, that not the most violent passion before
marriage, not the solemn vow made before the Holy Altar, not the
best qualities of an amiable and endearing wife, are sufficient
either to defend the roving heart of a man from receiving the
impression of a new object, nor hinder him from taking all the
methods in his power for the gratification of his lawless flame.

A change of this nature can seldom be wrought in the heart
without discovering itself in the behaviour; a man who has
strongly in his head the idea of an absent woman, can scarce
dissemble so well with the present, but that a wife who loves
him may easily perceive the difference between a real and a
counterfeited tenderness.

Certain it is, that such a shock cannot be sustained without an
infinity both of grief and resentment; yet would it be a very
great indiscretion in her to make show of either; she ought
rather to play the deceiver in her turn, and to take no less
pains to conceal her suspicions from him, than he does to
conceal the cause he gives her for them.

To reproach his inconstancy, and accuse him of having
entertained a passion for some new object, without any other
proof of it than barely his coldness to herself, must, in all
probability, produce these three bad effects; first, it would
expose her to his contempt; secondly, it would give him a
pretence for absenting himself from home more than ever; and
thirdly, it would make her rival, who perhaps always receives
him with a smile, still dearer to him.

If chance, or any other means, should bring her to a full
detection of his crime, it will even then be the most prudent
step she can take to let him think she is entirely ignorant of
it; and in order to prevent him from having any apprehensions of
a discovery, she should behave towards him with more tenderness
than before, and double all her former assiduities about him;
this may possibly awaken in him a due sense of his error in
wronging so excellent a wife; and if not so, it will at least
engage him to treat her with all the outward demonstrations of
affection.

A wife had need to be extremely cautious not to afford her
husband the least excuse for a decrease of that passion he once
had for her; most men are apt to put pillows under their elbows
when transferring their desires from one woman to another; and
believe, perhaps, more than their creed, what the most amorous
of our English poets, Mr. Cowley, says on this occasion:

The world's a scene of changes, and to be
Constant, in nature were inconstancy;
For 'twere to break the laws herself has made.
Our substances themselves do fleet and fade:
The most fixed being still does move and fly,
Swift as the wings of time 'tis measured by.
T'imagine then that love should never cease,
Love, which is but the ornament of these,
Were quite as senseless, as to wonder why,
Beauty and colour stay not when we die.

There are men who can have no settled affection for any woman,
yet are eager to enjoy, without distinction, everyone they find
ready to acquiesce to their desires. Such casual amours are no
sooner begun than ended, leaving only a little smoke behind,
which it is best to let dissipate of itself; and it would be
great weakness in a wife to enter into any altercations with her
husband on a thing which before she can accuse him with he has
ceased to be guilty of.

It is doubtless a very great misfortune for a woman to have a
husband of a vague and wandering disposition; some, however,
have made themselves pretty easy under it, as I am convinced of
by the account I had of a fact well known in the county where it
happened. The story is this:

A gentleman of a very ancient family and considerable estate,
was married to a lady of beauty, wit, virtue, and good humour;
but though he knew and acknowledged the merits of his wife, yet
he was a man of so depraved a taste, that the most dirty dowdy
he could pick up frequently supplied her place within his arms.

It happened when they were at their country-seat, that riding
one morning to take the air, as was his usual custom, he met a
ragged country wench, with a pair of wallets, or coarse linen
bags, thrown over her shoulder; he stopped his horse and asked
what she had got there, to which she replied, with a low curtsy
after her fashion, that it was broken victuals, that her mother
and she had no sustenance but what they got from the charity of
the cooks at great gentlemen's houses, and that she was now
going home with what they had given her. "You need not be in
haste, I suppose." said he, "If you will go with me into yonder
field I will give you something to buy you a new gown."

The poor girl needed not much persuasion to bring her to
consent, on which he alighted from his horse and threw the
bridle over a hedge-stake, and the girl at the same time hung
her bags on the pummel of the saddle, to prevent their coming to
any harm, then followed the gentleman a little way out of the
road, where they soon commenced and finished their amour.

The horse not liking his situation, found means to get loose and
ran directly home; the lady by chance was at the window when he
came galloping into the court-yard; she was at first a little
frightened to see him without his rider, but perceiving the
bags, called to have them brought to her, and on their being so,
was not long at a loss to guess the meaning of this adventure.

She then ordered the cook to empty the wallets, and put whatever
she found in them into a clean dish, and send it up in the first
course that day at dinner, which accordingly was done.

The husband on missing his horse walked home, and brought with
him two neighbouring gentlemen whom he accidentally met with in
his way; but these guests did not prevent the lady from
prosecuting her intention; the beggar's provision was set upon
the table, remnants of stale fowls, bones half picked, pieces of
beef, mutton, lamb, veal, with several lumps of bread,
promiscuously huddled together, made a very comical appearance:
everyone presently had their eyes upon this dish, and the
husband not knowing what to make of it cried out pretty hastily,
"What's this! What have we got here!" To which the lady with the
greatest gaiety replied, "It is a new-fashion olio, my dear; it
wants no variety, I think there is a little of everything, and I
hope you will eat heartily of it, as it is a dish of your own
providing."

The significant smile which accompanied these last words, as
well as the tone of voice in which they were spoke, making him
remember where the girl had hung her wallets, threw him into a
good deal of confusion; which she perceiving, ordered the dish
to be taken away, and said, "I see you do not like it, my dear,
therefore when next you go to market pray be a better caterer."
"Forgive this," cried he, "and I promise never to go to any such
markets more."

The gentlemen found there was some mystery in all this, but
would not be so free as to desire an explanation. When dinner
was over, however, and the lady, after behaving the whole time
with all the cheerfulness imaginable, had retired to leave them
to their bottle, the husband made no scruple of relating to them
by what means his table had been furnished with a dish of so
particular a kind; at which they laughed very heartily, and
would have done so much more if their admiration of the lady's
wit and good humour had not almost entirely engrossed their
attention.

It is nevertheless impossible for all the fortitude a woman can
be possessed of to enable her to bear this disposition in a
husband without feeling some secret uneasiness; yet the trial is
infinitely more severe when he devotes himself entirely to one;
because his heart then goes with his person, is totally
estranged, and if we may believe Mr. Dryden,

To love once past we cannot backward move.

This is a terrible circumstance, indeed; but tears and
upbraidings, grief and rage are equally in vain; and as I have
already taken notice, will only serve to widen the breach
between them; all she can do is to endeavour to make home as
pleasing to him as possible, to stifle all her sighs, and
conceal the agonies of a bleeding breaking heart beneath a face
of smiles; a lesson difficult to be put in practice, yet the
only one that affords the least prospect of reclaiming him, or
of triumphing over her rival in his affections.



SECT. XII.
The Weakness of complaining of a Husband to Relations.

It is a custom very prevalent among the women, that on the least
offence, whether real or imaginary, given them by a husband,
they immediately run to a father, mother, or whoever is their
next of kin, and make heavy complaints of their ill usage: these
often take upon them to talk to him upon it, and admonish him to
regulate his behaviour for the future in a better manner.

But of all the methods a wife can take for the redress of any
grievance her husband may lay her under, this is beyond dispute
the most unlikely to succeed; and she who entertains the least
hope of having her condition amended by it, must be little
acquainted with the nature of mankind.

Man, generally speaking, for there is no rule that will not
admit of some exceptions, is in his disposition haughty, fierce,
intractable; it is fear alone which, while a minor, keeps him in
subjection to parents, governors, or guardians; when arrived at
maturity, if no apprehensions of being hurt by his disobedience
prevents him, he grows insolent, above control, and thinks
himself at liberty to act as his own judgment shall direct. How
then can it be expected he will submit to any remonstrances made
to him by the kindred of his wife? No, if guilty of the faults
he is accused of, such lectures will rather harden him to
persist in them; and if not already guilty, make him become so
merely through obstinacy: most husbands are Almanzors in this
point, and say with that imaginary hero,

And these things I will do, because I dare.

Indeed I know of no one weakness a woman can possibly fall into,
which so assuredly loses her the affection, the respect, and
every proof even of the good-nature of her husband, than this of
exposing him to her friends; the softest, best-conditioned man
will not endure it; he will be apt to tell his wife that he will
not be tutored like schoolboy; and that he did not marry her to
be under the government of her kindred: in fine, it will turn
all the sweetness of his temper into sourness, all his love into
indifference, if not hatred; all his esteem into contempt, and
all his complaisance into austerity and peevishness.

As this is a rock on which so many women have shipwrecked the
whole happiness of their lives, I would earnestly exhort them to
forbear ever touching on that dangerous Charybdis. I have seen
many instances of this kind, but never yet found one husband who
was either prevented from falling into errors, or reformed from
them, by his wife's having recourse for that purpose to any
other than himself; and then she can only hope it by gentle
means, as I have already more than once observed on particular
occasions.

It would be easy for me to produce many examples of the terrible
consequences that have sometimes attended such a behaviour in a
wife, among which the ruin of her own and husband's peace is not
the least; eternal dissension between the families of both,
implacable revenge, quarrels, and blood-shed have not seldom
been the dire event.

But it is hard, will some women say, to bear the ill-treatment
of a husband without complaining; and to whom should we complain
but to those whose nearness of blood will make them pity the
injuries we sustain, and do all they can for our redress? To
which I must reply, that it is best not to complain at all, but
much the worse to do it to kindred; complaints to indifferent
persons, if not repeated to the husband, can only do no good;
but those made to kindred will always do much hurt, and may
bring on whatever has the name, or can be conceived of mischief.

I cannot help acknowledging, that when the heart is over-
burdened with some great affliction, the weight is somewhat
lightened by revealing it; and as there is none more
insupportable than that which is occasioned by the bad usage of
a husband, it is not to be wondered at if the suffering wife
seeks some ease from the pity of a faithful friend; but then it
behoves her to be extremely careful that the person be truly
such whom she makes choice on for her confidant, one whose
discretion and secrecy she has experienced, and who she is well
assured will never repeat to her husband, or any other, what she
discloses; on the bosom of such a one, if such a one she can
find, she safely may pour out the anguish of her soul; but as
persons of this turn are pretty scarce, if none among the worthy
few fall to her share of acquaintance, I must again advise her
to keep her griefs concealed, and wait with as much patience as
she can, till time, and her husband's long experience of her
virtue and integrity, shall bring him to a better way of
thinking, and gratitude and reason at last compel him to be
just.



SECT. XIII.
The method which a Wife is justified to take, after labouring
for a long Time under a Complication of all manner of Ill-usage
from her Husband.

I am sorry to say, that though a woman should be able to fulfil,
with the utmost exactness, all the duties of a wife, and which I
have endeavoured in this little treatise to remind her of, yet
she may not always meet with a due return from her ungrateful
husband; but, on the contrary, is treated the worse by him for
her virtue, because conscious he cannot treat her so well as she
deserves.

Some men are born with such vicious propensities, are so
resolute in the pursuit of their own head-strong inclinations,
and withal of so harsh and rugged a nature, so inflexible to
obligations, that they are equally incapable of being awed by
the just censure of the world, or soothed by all the proofs of
love and tenderness that can be given by a chaste, patient, and
endearing wife.

She must, however, in spite of the little hope she sees of a
reformation, spare no efforts for that purpose: If the love of
play be his predominant passion, in order to save him from the
destructive arts of a public gaming-table, she must make
frequent parties for that amusement at home: If addicted to
drinking, she must take care to have his cellar well stored with
the best and richest wines, and never seem averse to any company
he shall think fit to entertain: If fond of women, she must
endeavour to convince him that the virtuous part of the sex are
capable of being as agreeable companions as those of the most
loose principles; and this, not by arguments, for those he will
not listen to; but by getting often to her house, the most
witty, gay, and spirited of her acquaintance, who will sing,
dance, tell pleasant stories, and take all the freedoms that
innocence allows. To conclude, she must humour all his
inclinations, fall in with all his passions, and neglect nothing
that may serve to make his home more pleasing to him than any
other place.

But if, after having essayed all possible methods of reclaiming
him, she finds the attempt in vain; if he prefers a hog-trough
to a well decorated table; if he is never happy but in a gaming-
house, a tavern, or a brothel; if he squanders the fortune she
has a right to share; if he despises her kindness, repulses her
caresses, maltreats her person, and so distracts her
understanding, that she has cause to fear it will render her
unable to perform the duties owing from her either to Heaven or
earth, it is my opinion that she then may begin to think of
extricating herself from such a maze of perplexities; which, as
it can be done by no other way than a separation, it is to that
she must have recourse.

The parting of a husband and wife has indeed a horrible sound,
when we consider the anathema pronounced against all attempts to
put asunder persons joined by God; yet when the devil has taken
such full possession of the one that the other is in danger of
being contaminated with his crimes, I cannot think but that the
innocent will easily find absolution for breaking so unnatural a
conjunction.

It is not a thing, however, that she ought to resolve upon with
too much precipitation, nor put in practice of her own head: in
this case, and in this alone, she must lay open to the grave and
prudent part of her family the injuries she has sustained, and
the little probability there is of her condition being ever made
more easy by the change of her husband's conduct; and it is by
them she ought to be instructed how to proceed in making the
best terms she can for herself; then, as concerning the
lawfulness of what she is about, it would be well to consult
some reverent and worthy divine of the church, whose advice and
approbation might not only satisfy whatever scruples might
hereafter rise in her own mind, but also vindicate her
reputation to the world.



SECT. XIV.
How a Woman ought to behave when in a State of Separation from
her Husband.

I have not yet done with my charge: a wife is still a wife,
though parted from her husband; nor is she by that separation
disengaged from all the duties of her matrimonial covenant,
though she is from some of them; I must therefore put her in
remembrance, that her husband is still the man to whom before
the altar she promised love, honour, and obedience; and though
by his unworthy behaviour he has forfeited all title to the two
former of these injunctions, and by the articles of separation
she is totally freed from the last, yet would it be altogether
unbecoming of her prudence or her virtue to express any hatred
of his person, or to be guilty of anything to dishonour him.

Whenever any mention is made in her presence of his faults, it
will look well in her to endeavour at giving a different turn to
the conversation; but if this cannot be done, and she finds
herself obliged to make some answer to what is said, she ought
to express herself with extreme modesty on that score, never
railing, nor seeming to take the least satisfaction in hearing
others do so.

On being told he is fallen into any misfortune, it is still her
duty to lament it, and to do whatever is in her power for his
relief and consolation: I do not mean by going in person to him;
for that would be no real service, but perhaps the contrary, by
occasioning altercations which might add to their mutual
disquiet; but by employing the intercession of her friends, or
her own tongue and pen in his behalf, according as the
circumstances of the affair shall require.

Thus much I think is due to him. I come now to what regards her
own character in the world. I would have her consider, that it
would be highly inconsistent with her present unhappy situation
to indulge herself in any of those pleasures she was accustomed
to take, and became her very well when under the protection of a
husband; but would now, though never so innocent in themselves,
expose her to ill-natured reflections, and might also encourage
many attempts upon her virtue by men of amorous inclinations.

I would advise her either to go into the country or board with
some grave relation in town if convenience permits; if not, to
live extremely retired however, and be cautious even in the
minutest articles of life; she should keep little company,
seldom go abroad, dress very plain, and never in the height of
the fashion. All these things are in her power, and a woman who
wishes to preserve her reputation will find no difficulty in
observing.

What can we think of a woman who, parted from her husband, takes
greater liberties than ever she had an opportunity of doing when
with him, appears more gay than before, both in her air and
habit, flaunts at every fine show, goes to all public walks and
places of diversion, has her lodgings always crowded with
visitors, and expends treble the sum she receives as her
separate maintenance? Such a one may possibly be innocent; but
we must strain charity to a very high pitch indeed to set her
down as such.

The world is apt to absolve the husband of such a woman for
whatever fault he may have been guilty of, and lay the blame of
their separation entirely upon her. I hope therefore, that the
truly virtuous will never, by so imprudent a behaviour, give any
room for their former conduct to be called in question. And now
having, I think, briefly run through all the particulars which
demand the attention of a wife, I shall take my leave, promising
that if any of them shall think my admonitions too strongly
enforced, they will have their full revenge when they read the
duties I have enjoined a husband.



?

The Husband



Title Page

THE
HUSBAND

In ANSWER to
The WIFE



LONDON:
Printed for T. GARDNER, at Crowley's Head,
facing St. Clement's Church in the Strand.
___________________
M,DCC,LVI.



BOOK I.



INTRODUCTION.
Addressed to all who either already are, or ever intend to
become Husbands.

The wise will never set out on any important enterprise, without
maturely weighing what steps are necessary to be taken in order
to attain the end proposed; and as there is no one thing, nor
indeed all things put together, can be of the thousandth part of
that consequence which marriage is, it very much concerns every
man who enters into that state to consider seriously on the true
intent of the sacred ordination, and he will then find that he
ought not to depend entirely on the virtue and good conduct of
his wife, for the security of his honour, his interest, and his
peace of mind; but that he himself is also bound, by obligations
no less essential to their mutual happiness than any can be
required from her.

A man deeply enamoured, either with the beauty or the fortune of
his mistress, centres his whole ambition in the gratification of
his passion with the enjoyment of whichever of these two objects
it is that inflames him, and seldom thinks of any further
happiness in marriage; it is not therefore to the lover, but to
the husband I address these pages. The one, I know, is deaf to
all remonstrances; but the other, having obtained his wishes,
will naturally look about him, and begin to consider on what
will be the most likely means both to prolong and to increase
his present felicity.

I believe every man who becomes a husband desires to live
amicably with his wife; and the greater share he has of honour,
understanding, and good-nature, the more true sense will he have
of the joys which flow from domestic harmony, and a perfect
concurrence of sentiment with the person to whom he is united;
but though this is a blessing which all in general aim at, yet I
am sorry to observe, that few take any pains to attain it, and
that some of those who do, pursue it by such methods as lead
directly to the reverse: indeed I know not whether there are
not, in effect, more couples rendered unhappy by a mistaken
endeavour to fulfil what they look upon as their duty, than
there are by a total inattention to it.

It is almost next to an impossibility either for the husband or
the wife to be perfectly acquainted with the disposition and
humour of each other before they come to live together; in the
days of courtship both but act a part, and in many things seem
what they are not; love favours the deception, and holds close
the mask. Conscious, therefore, of their own insincerity in this
point, great allowances ought to be made by each for whatever
deficiencies may be afterwards discovered, especially by the
man, who will seldom be found the least dissembler of the two.

This is so known a truth, that I think no husband has room to
accuse me of having given a partial sentence; nor should I have
made any mention of it, but to remind both parties, that they
ought to behave after marriage, as near as possible, up to the
character they assumed before; and as perfection is not to be
found on this side the grave, not to expect things which are out
of nature, but to forgive each other's failings while they
endeavour to reform their own.

I have already in a little treatise set forth, according to the
best of my judgment, the manner in which a wife should regulate
her conduct, so as to show marriage in that amiable light it
ought to appear; but my design would be incomplete, and the
success uncertain, if the husband does not contribute something
on his part. I have therefore, in the following sheets, taken
the liberty to put him in mind of what the consideration of his
own honour, his reputation in the world, his interest, and the
solemn vow he made before the altar, demand from him, and am not
without some flattering hopes, that the hints I have given for
that purpose will not be entirely thrown away.



SECT. I.
Concerning a too great tenaciousness of the boasted superiority
of mankind, and how very much it behoves a Husband to avoid
indulging that disposition in himself.

There are some men, too many I am afraid, who value themselves
more upon their sex than they do upon their virtue or
endowments; and, merely because they are men, imagine they have
a right not only to command, but to exact a blind, implicit, and
indeed a slavish obedience from their wives. To them it seems
not enough that a woman readily complies with every injunction
laid upon her by her conjugal sovereign, she must also submit
her understanding to his will, think as he does, have no
judgment of her own, but take for almighty reason whatever he is
pleased to dictate to her.

I know of nothing that is more stinging to a woman of sense and
spirit than an immoderate exertion of this prerogative; and
though the word obey is inserted in the marriage ceremony, they
are apt to think themselves not bound to observe it, because the
form was composed by men, who they judge have been too partial
to themselves in that article. I have heard several ladies argue
upon this head in these or the like terms:

"There is no difference of sex in souls," say they, "nor do we
find there was any distinction of superiority between our first
parents while in their state of innocence; after the fall,
indeed, the curse of subordination was laid on Eve for her
transgression, and continued on her whole female race during the
first ages of the world; but when the redemption of mankind came
by a woman, the sex retrieved its former honour, and has well
atoned for the great offence by a yet greater benefit."

I will not take upon me either to defend or to refute the
justice of these kind of arguments; I shall only say, that as
custom has for so long a succession of time, in all nations of
the known world, given the supremacy to the husband, no prudent
wife will attempt to infringe it, or oppose his will in things
which are not in themselves unreasonable; but then, on the other
hand, neither custom, nor the marriage institution, whether
considered in a religious or a moral sense, can justify him for
delivering his commands with an imperious and arbitrary air, as
if he meant to enforce obedience; and it is not to be wondered
at if a woman, on such a behaviour, does not begin to call in
question the lawfulness of his authority, and look upon him
rather as her tyrant than her rightful sovereign.

I have observed that, generally speaking, men of the least
capacities are the most assuming in this point; and indeed
nothing can be so impolitic, or so inconsistent with good sense,
as it destroys the very end for which it is put in practice,
turns love into hatred, and esteem into contempt.

What degree of affection or regard is it likely a woman can
retain for a man, who having treated her with the lowest and
most fawning submissions while her lover, no sooner becomes her
husband than he affects to be her master? When, instead of being
humoured, flattered, and indulged, she finds herself treated, in
effect, little better than an upper servant? Will not such a
reverse of behaviour towards her equally alarm both her love and
pride? and it is well if the latter of these passions does not
totally extinguish whatever she had felt for him of the former.

A wife who knows and fulfils the duties of her place, stands not
in need of any remonstrances; and the ignorant and perverse will
never be amended by austerity. Tenderness and complaisance will
make a generous and good-natured woman endeavour to improve
herself in all those qualities which merit such a treatment; and
may possibly work on one who is morose and uncomplying to become
more flexible and obliging: whereas on the contrary, a haughty
magisterial way of behaviour carries with it great danger of
rendering the good less good, and will infallibly make the bad
much worse.

It fell in my way, some few years ago, to be witness of an
instance of this kind; which, as example is of more prevalence
than admonition, I think not improper to be inserted. A
gentleman of my particular acquaintance, who is unhappily of the
humour I am speaking of, was then lately married to a young lady
endowed with many good qualities, and I believe would have made
a very obliging wife, had she been united with a man of a
suitable disposition; but had something too haughty in her
nature to be subservient when she found it was expected from
her.

It seems he had taken it into his head, one morning, to dislike
the placing of his bed, and told his wife he would have it
removed to the other side of the room. She laughed at the
caprice, and represented to him how preposterous such a change
would be according to the position of the chamber: he vouchsafed
not to argue with her, but said he would have it so. It is
possible she thought no more of it; but he, however, when he
went out called on an upholsterer, and ordered him to go to his
house and take down such a bed, and put it up again as he
directed. I happened to be there when the man came; the lady was
extremely surprised, and said she could not have imagined her
husband would have persisted in so odd a fancy; that she was
sorry he had given him the trouble of coming, but could not
consent, by any means, that the bed should be removed; as it
would not only be ugly, but extremely incommodious; and appealed
to his opinion, which he readily gave on her side the question,
and took his leave.

My friend came home soon after, and when he had paid his
compliments to me, went into his bed-chamber, I suppose to see
if his orders had been complied with; and finding they were not,
returned with a good deal of discomposure in his looks, "What is
the meaning of this, madam!" said he to his wife, "did not the
fellow come to take down the bed!" "Yes," replied she, "but I
sent him away again. I am sure if it had been done you would not
have endured to lie in it, as the door opens close to the one
side, and there would be scarce room to pass on the other." "I
should have been the best judge", resumed he, "when I had seen
the alteration made; but if there were a thousand
inconveniencies you knew it was my will it should be so; and
sure I ought to be master of my own house." "If you were
resolved to be sole master," cried she, blushing with
indignation, "you should not have taken a mistress." "Nor should
you have taken a husband", retorted he, "till you had been
better instructed in your duty."

"Duty!" cried she impatiently.  "Yes, madam," replied he, with
no less eagerness, "Duty! When I made you mistress over my
family I never intended to make you mistress over myself. The
best quality a wife can be possessed of is her obedience to the
commands of her husband; and you ought to have known, that after
marriage it would not be your province to dispute, but to submit
to whatever I should think fit to enjoin."

I could perceive by her looks that she was about to make some
answer which would not be very agreeable to his present humour,
therefore, to prevent his hearing it, I took him into the bed-
chamber under pretence of giving my opinion concerning the
motive of their present contest. I spared no arguments to make
him sensible how much his lady was in the right, and how
extremely improper the alteration he proposed would have been. I
easily saw he was convinced of this himself, though he would not
in plain terms acknowledge it, and only said, that how improper
soever the thing would have appeared, his wife ought to have
complied with it.

The debate, however, might possibly have ended here, if on our
return she had not begun to reproach him for the manner in which
he treated her. He told her, he would always maintain the
authority of a husband; and she as stubbornly replied, she never
would submit to it; and this, by degrees, drew on the most
bitter altercations. At last she flew out of the room ready to
burst with rage; I followed, and endeavoured to persuade her
that with a man of his temper softness was the only way to
conquer; but she would listen to nothing I said upon that score;
I then went back to him, and urged all the reasons I could think
of to prevail on him, for the sake of peace, to be more moderate
in the exertion of his authority as a husband; to which he
replied, with a disdainful smile, That he would be no woman's
fool; that he knew what he had to do, and was only sorry she had
so proud a spirit, because it would give him the more pains to
humble it.

Finding the good offices I had interposed had so little effect,
either on the one or the other, I took my leave, full of
forebodings of what would be the consequence of a marriage
between two persons whose humours were so ill suited.

This was, indeed, the first, but not the last quarrel which the
unhappy pair had on the subject of that superiority so stiffly
asserted by the one, and so resolutely denied by the other.
Their life together was an almost continual scene of dissension,
till tired with the tyranny of a husband, she flew to the
embraces of a lover, with whom she went to Paris, and still
resides there.

This, or something as bad, will ever be the event, when two
persons linked together in the bands of love and amity, instead
of mutually pursuing that regular course for which they were
united, endeavour to run counter, and struggle with each other
for the mastery.

No one is more sensible of the duty of a wife than myself; and I
believe those who shall read my admonitions to the ladies on
that score, will not accuse me of any partiality to the sex:
they must be allowed to have their passions as well as the men,
and why should it be expected that they are better able to
subdue them? I think I do no more than justice when I say, that
though they may have a certain pride and vanity, which renders
them impatient of control, yet there is a softness and
generosity, generally speaking, in their natures, which makes
them better pleased to oblige than to offend; and they will do
many things through love, which they would never be subjected to
through fear.

I am pretty confident that the disobedience so much complained
of in wives, is in a great measure, if not chiefly, owing to the
too great authority assumed by the husband. I have known a man
find fault with his wife for doing the very things he wanted to
have done, merely because she had not waited to receive his
commands for that purpose; and I have known a woman refuse to do
what most her inclination led her to, only because commanded in
an improper manner.

How absurd is it, therefore, in a man to indulge a propensity,
which, by making him aim at attracting a greater share of homage
than he has a right to expect, robs him of all which is really
his due, and he would otherwise receive; utterly destroys his
own happiness, and that of the woman whom he is bound to love;
and, in fine, perverts every end for which marriage was
ordained?



SECT. II.
A method which, if observed by a Husband on his first marriage,
may contribute towards making him live happily afterwards with
his Wife.

Though I can ill endure to see a man treat his wife in an
imperious and domineering manner, yet I am as far removed from
wishing to see him too subservient. In this, as in most other
things, the golden mean should be observed; nor will a prudent
woman, how much soever idolized before marriage, expect, or even
desire, the same fawning submissions afterwards; for that would
be to destroy all the freedom and sincerity which makes a great
part of the happiness of that state.

Whatever superiority in fact may be the husband's due, he ought
to carry it as if he knew it not himself; the injunctions he
lays upon his wife should have the show rather of requests than
commands; and in case of any opposition on her part, it is by
arguments, not by compulsion, he should bring her over to his
way of thinking.

But then, on the other hand, I would never have a man suffer
himself to be led, by the insinuations of a beloved wife, to act
in any way contrary to his honour, his reputation, or his
interest; never compliment her humour at the expense of his own
understanding, nor behave towards her in such a manner as might
give her room to flatter herself she had gained such an
ascendancy over him.

A woman must be endowed with an uncommon share of wisdom, a true
sense of her duty, and what was owing from her both to herself
and husband, who by such a method of proceeding would not be
entirely spoiled; One of weaker intellects would be so
intoxicated with her power as to stop at nothing which vanity or
caprice could suggest.

It is certain, whatever the ladies may pretend, that no woman
really expects to do everything she pleases after she becomes a
wife; that husband therefore, who has the address to set bounds
to her inclination, without seeming to do so, has much the
fairest chance for happiness in marriage.

If there were a possibility for us to look into the secret
sources of those disagreements which happen between married
people, I dare believe we should find them rise not so much from
the vices or ill qualities either of the one or the other, as
from some little oddities of humour, which if not well attended
to are apt to occasion mistakes in conduct, frequently fatal to
the peace of both parties.

Most of the irregularities of our lives being owing to want of
thought and a due examination of ourselves, no man of sense, and
who desires to act well, will neglect so great a point; and I
cannot help being of opinion, that, as a wife is a second self,
it is equally necessary for a husband to penetrate, as far as he
is able, into the recesses of her heart, to the end he may, by
gentle means, for no other will befit his purpose, root out
thence every lurking foible which might impede their mutual
happiness.

When a husband, by the strength of his judgment, his virtue, and
his assiduity, is able to correct not only his own frailties,
but also to wean his wife from those to which she may be
addicted, then will the sacred ends of matrimony be fulfilled,
then will two persons, indeed, be actuated but by one soul,
their minds, their actions sweetly correspond with each other,
then may the words of Mr. Waller be justly applied to such a
couple:

Not the silver doves that fly,
Yoked in Cytherus' car;
Not the wings that soar so high,
And convey her sons so far,
With more kind consent do move,
Or do more ennoble love.

Let no one imagine I am presenting a child of my own brain, a
mere visionary impracticable scheme. What I propose may
doubtless be accomplished, and I more than believe has been
proved in some instances I could mention; the very attempt,
however, is laudable, and well worthy of a husband's pains, and
I dare answer, that he who sets himself seriously about it will
find his account in a more or less degree.

It has often seemed strange to me, that a man should be so
assiduous in gaining the affection of a woman before he marries
her, and become afterwards so neglectful of the means either to
preserve that affection, or to direct it in such a manner of
behaviour as can alone render it a real and substantial
blessing.

Methinks a husband would do well, very soon after the object of
his wishes loses the name of bride in that of wife, to begin to
treat her exactly in the same fashion he resolves to do during
his whole life; the submissions and adulations of a lover should
be thrown aside, but all the tenderness remain. He should not,
by any word, look, or gesture, give her the least reason either
to hope he would be her slave, or to fear he intended to become
her master; he ought early to make her well acquainted with
everything he expected from her, and what she had to expect from
him; but he must be very careful to do this in such terms as
shall make her rather pleased than offended at it.

Suppose, when they were alone together, he takes an opportunity
of entertaining her in these or the like terms:

"I am now, my dear, as happy as my utmost wish could make me;
possessed of all I ever did or ever can love; the tender
assurances you have given me make me confident you are not
dissatisfied with the change of your condition; it depends not
on one, but both of us, to render the felicity we now enjoy as
lasting as it is great; the union into which we have entered
leaves us no separate interests, no divided inclinations; our
honour, or fortunes, are the same; whatever is mine is yours,
and whatever is yours is mine; nothing can happen to either of
us without the other being equally affected; like the twin stars
in the zodiac, we must move together or be lost in darkness. I
doubt not, my dear, but you have considered this as well as I,
and will do everything on your part to promote our mutual
welfare, as I shall never fail to do on mine."

After some such sort of prelude as this, he may venture to
proceed, according as their station and circumstances are, to
the particulars of what he thinks necessary for her to perform;
this manner of talking to her may perhaps have more effect upon
her than the promise she made at the altar; as there are too
many who repeat the words of that binding ceremony without
considering what they are about, or ever thinking of it
afterwards, her answers at least will enable him to judge the
real dispositions of her mind, and that knowledge direct him how
to fashion his future conduct towards her.



SECT. III.
How far a Wife ought to be entrusted with the Secrets of her
Husband in whatever regards the circumstances of his Fortune.

A wife being the sharer in the fortune of her husband, whether
it proved good or bad, has an undoubted right to be made
acquainted with the whole truth of his affairs, nor ought he by
any means to go about to conceal or disguise from her the least
part of them, but with the keys of his cabinets, give her also
those of his circumstances.

If it should so happen that he labours under any disadvantages
or embarrassments, which the fears of losing her may have made
him hide from her before marriage, they should all be laid open
afterwards, and the sooner he does this the better, she must
know them some time or other; and what time so proper to obtain
her forgiveness as when their loves are at their height, and the
bridal kiss not yet worn off their lips?

Besides the confidence this will give her in his love and
honour, it will save him abundance of needless excuses for
avoiding many things too expensive for him to afford, but which
she might probably expect while she believed him in more easy
circumstances.

I know very well that there are many men, who, through the
apprehensions that such an  claircissement would occasion a
quarrel, delay making it as long as they can; according to the
old adage, they are willing to put off the evil day; but, in my
opinion, this is extremely impolitic; in spite of the
precautions and pretences he can make use of there is no
possibility of concealing such things from a wife; she will find
them out by degrees, and every fresh discovery will rise to
fresh upbraidings.

I cannot, indeed, promise that every woman would support, with
all the meekness her husband might wish, the first intelligence
of a deception of such a kind had been put upon her; but of this
I am certain, that she would resent it less if coming from his
mouth than from that of any other person; especially as he might
find means to soften the shock, by protesting to her, that
nothing could have made him guilty of concealing anything from
her, but the fears he had that the knowledge of his misfortune
might make him seem less worthy of her affection.

If I know anything of womankind, and sure I think I do, they are
easily brought to pardon whatever is instigated by love, their
darling passion; the motive, with them, gives a sanction to the
crime; as the poet very truly says,

The faults of love by love are justified.

It is in the power of a man to reconcile a woman, who tenderly
loves him, to almost anything; but then he must attempt it by
flattery and soft persuasion; and in the case I mention a little
exaggeration of his passion is excusable.

I would not by this be understood to recommend dissimulation;
no, I detest the mean ungenerous vice, and heartily contemn all
who make a practice of it; but I hope, and take it for granted,
that no man becomes a husband without having some affection for
the woman he makes his wife; and if, in the point I am speaking
of, he somewhat magnifies, and represents the real tenderness he
has for her in the most passionate terms he can invent, I think
it cannot be imputed to him as a crime, since it is no more than
what he doubtless did before marriage, and what I am pretty well
assured all men do in their days of courtship.

When there are no concealments before marriage, all this is
happily prevented; it would be needless therefore to say any
more upon the subject, and I shall only add a word or two
concerning secrets, which may possibly be reposed by some friend
in the breast of a husband, and have no manner of relation to
his own affairs.

If I have so good an opinion of a man as to entrust him with the
keeping of my cash, I should take it very ill of him if he lent
it out, or converted it to any other uses, without my privity or
consent. Of how much more value then, and great consequence, may
sometimes a secret be? No moral obligation ought to be held so
sacred, nor is there anything so base as the abuse of such a
confidence.

As I believe that no one will offer any arguments to confute
this assertion, I shall make no scruple to tell every husband,
that as little as I can excuse him from maintaining any reserve
towards his wife in matters relating only to himself, I should
as little excuse him for complimenting her curiosity with what
is none of his own to give; nor has she, indeed, any reason to
expect, or to desire such a thing; and he would be guilty of the
greatest weakness and ungenerosity to comply with her request,
even though she should press it in the most strenuous and
pathetic terms.

Let not the vain pert coxcombs of the age, who lay out all their
little stock of wit in ridiculing womankind, imagine I have
given them a fresh opportunity to exert their talents; nor let
the ladies infer from what I have said, that I look upon them as
incapable of keeping a secret; for I am very well convinced,
that there are a great many of the sex who would not be tempted,
by any consideration whatever, to divulge what had been once
intrusted to them. All women, however, have not this happy gift
of taciturnity; and I must here beg leave to make this
observation, that those who are in reality possessed of it, will
be too just and too discreet to urge their husbands to a thing
which they would not be guilty of themselves.

The intention of these sheets being to promote a lasting
happiness in marriage, as far as is in the power of the little
hints I am able to give, by showing a husband both what he ought
and what he ought not to do, in order to contribute all he can
for that end, I should have thought my remonstrances very
imperfect without warning him against making his wife a
confidante in such things, which, if disclosed by her in any
unguarded moment, might prove fatal to all future harmony
between them.



SECT. IV.
Interfering too much in those things which properly are under
the direction of a Wife.

Before I enter on any discourse on this subject, I think it
highly necessary to examine a little into the merits of the
cause, to the end no husband may imagine he has reason to accuse
me of partiality in what I am about to say.

The virgin is no sooner made a bride than she is put in
possession of her husband's house; the keys of everything in it
are immediately delivered into her hands; all the servants,
except where there is a valet de chambre or an apprentice, are
henceforward to receive their orders from her, and to be
continued in the family or discharged according to her pleasure:
in fine, the whole management and direction of domestic affairs
are committed to her care.

Nor does she look upon all this as a delegated authority, but as
a lawful right to which marriage has entitled her, and is,
generally speaking, more tenacious of it than of any other
privilege whatsoever: a husband therefore, who has any regard
for the peace of his family, or living in amity with his wife,
will never attempt to break in on so darling a point.

Besides, women, both by nature and education, are best fitted
for the management of household affairs, it is properly their
province, reason as well as custom establishes them in it; and
in my opinion, a man who pretends to pry into the business of
his kitchen or laundry, makes as awkward a figure as a woman
would do in a fencing-school or a tennis-court.

Here occurs to my remembrance a passage I formerly read in one
of our old poets, I think it was Michael Drayton, which, though
written on a quite different occasion, is perfectly applicable
to this I am speaking of; the words are these:

Each in their own appointed spheres should move,
When either, from those bounds, attempt to rove,
There ends all concord, harmony, and love.

Among the number of my readers, I do not doubt but that there
are very many husbands who will be greatly offended on the score
of this article, and be apt to exclaim against me in the
following manner, or something like it:

"The author of this book must certainly be a fool; the advice it
contains is very fine truly, and worthy of being observed by all
husbands who would be chronicled for tame suffering asses.
According to the rules here prescribed, I must see the best
apartment in my house converted into a jakes, the floor stinking
with grease, the walls covered with cobwebs, the furniture
rotting with dust, my table poorly and injudiciously supplied,
the provisions ill cooked and worse decorated, my servants
wasting their time I so largely pay them for, either in romping
with each other at home, or in gadding perpetually abroad, the
most shameful neglect of decency and good order in everything
about me; yet all this I must submit to bear, be entirely
passive, and find no fault because it is my wife who has the
direction and management of these things."

All this, and much more, it is possible, may be said, yet I am
not without hope of reconciling myself to these angry gentlemen,
if they vouchsafe to keep me company a little further.

If the abovementioned accusations, or indeed any part of them,
have their foundation on truth, I cannot think a husband, who
thus greatly suffers, is bound, either by love or complaisance,
to feign a contentment he is far from feeling; as he had a right
to tell his wife what he expected from her, so he has also a
right to reprove her when neglecting to comply with his
reasonable injunctions; but then I would have him do this with
mildness, gently remonstrating to her how much her character
suffers by her indolence, and entreating that for her own sake,
as well as for his ease and peace of mind, she will hereafter
preserve a better regulation in the family.

If this method should fail of success, and she either becomes
outrageous and impatient on being reprimanded, or continues in
her former remissness, he then doubtless may, and, according to
my opinion, ought to take from her that power she has made so
ill an use of, and give the charge of his domestic affairs to
some person better qualified for that purpose, leaving to his
neglectful wife only the name of mistress.

I flatter myself, however, that even in these times, when being
the first in every new fashion, living more abroad than at home,
gaming and midnight revelling, are more like the characteristics
of a fine lady than modesty, sobriety, and economy, there will
not be many instances found to justify a husband's proceeding in
this manner.

But it is not to those husbands who may unhappily meet with
these or the like provocations that I direct this discourse; but
to those who being married to women every way qualified and
ready to discharge the trust reposed in them, yet by an odd
propensity in nature are led to intermeddle with things quite
out of their sphere, and indeed below the dignity of a man to
concern himself with.

When a man takes it into his head to be present at the hiring of
a new servant-maid, questions her on what she is able to do,
cavils with her on the article of afternoon tea, and going out
every other Sunday to visit an old aunt or cousin, is always
running into his kitchen while the victuals are dressing,
ordering how the sauces shall be made, giving directions
concerning the stirring of the fire, so as to render it either
concave or convex, according as he thinks the meat to be roasted
or boiled requires, enters into a learned dissertation on
nutmegs, and whether they are best pounded in a mortar or
grated, for mince-pies, and a thousand other discourses of the
same nature: I say, when a man gives himself this unbecoming
trouble, he is sure of being laughed at by his servants, and
seldom fails of being despised by his wife.

I shall close what I have to say upon this head with a little
incident, the truth of which I can aver: A smart young lady of
my acquaintance happened to be married to a gentleman of the
cast I am speaking of; she soon perceived this humour in him,
and resolved to break him of it, if possible, by fair means. The
method she took was this: One day when she catched him
haranguing in the kitchen, she said nothing but went directly
into the stable, where she entered into a conversation with the
groom on the management of horses.

The husband soon after missing her, and being told where she was
gone, was a little surprised, and immediately followed her,
"What has brought you hither, my dear," cried he. "I should not
have wondered if anyone except yourself had asked that
question," replied she, with a smile; "but I cannot help
thinking that I make as good a figure in the stable as you do in
the kitchen; and that it becomes me full as well to enquire how
many oats your horse eats in a week, as for you to examine how
many eggs I order my maid to put into a pudding."

Conscious of the justice of this repartee, and sensibly touched
with it, he blushed, hung down his head, but had not power to
speak a word: she saw the effect of what she had said, and
resumed her discourse, with the same sprightliness and good-
humour she had begun, "Lookye, my dear," said she, "I either am
or am not qualified for the management of your domestic affairs.
If I am, I beg you will leave them entirely to me; if I am not,
let us change sides, do you take upon you what is commonly the
province of a wife, and I will endeavour to learn that of a
husband; for it would be too much for you to undergo the fatigue
of both."

I am told it was some time before he could recover himself
enough to make any answer, but when he did so, it was in terms
highly satisfactory to her, assuring her he was both convinced
and ashamed of the folly of his past conduct, and that he would
never more interfere with things so unbecoming his character.

I sincerely wish that all husbands, guilty of the same error,
may be cured of it with the same ease; since there are very few
things more pernicious to the peace of a family than this, when
too far indulged.



SECT. V.
Drinking to an excess, and some other particulars which may
happen to be disagreeable to a Wife.

A drunkard is, I think, according to the common acceptation of
the word, one who devotes himself entirely to his bottle or his
pot, makes drinking the greatest part of his business, as it is
his only pleasure; and if he chances to go sober to bed one
night, regrets his loss of time, and complains that his evening
has been murdered. Persons of this character I look upon as
incorrigible, but by the hand of Heaven, and not to be reclaimed
without a miracle.

I have nothing therefore to say to such sort of men; nor is it
so much the vices, as the follies and inadvertencies into which
human nature is liable to fall, that these admonitions are
intended to reform. A man may be seen in a condition such as
discovers him to have drank too much, yet ought not to incur the
appellation of a sot or drunkard: a day of extraordinary
rejoicings, for some public or private benefit; the over-
persuasion of too hospitable friends; an obligation to meet
people on business at a tavern; a thousand accidents may
sometimes happen to draw one of the most regular way of life and
temperate inclinations, into an error of this kind; for which he
will afterwards pass a more severe censure on himself than he
can possibly deserve from others.

But as it has often been proved, that by one unlucky turn a
person shall forfeit all the reputation he has for years been
labouring to acquire; and nothing is more apt to excite disgust
in a woman of delicacy, than to see the man she loves
transformed like one of Circe's swine; I would have every
husband avoid the presence of his wife while he is in a state
which will not only render him contemptible to her at that time,
but the remembrance of which may also utterly erase all the
affection and respect she before had for him.

It may be objected that this is a thing very difficult, and
almost impracticable; because when the head of a man is made
giddy with the fumes of liquor, he has not the use of his reason
enough to make him know it would best become him to retire; and
on the contrary, he is, for the most part, more desirous of
showing himself than usual. This, indeed, is very certain, and I
know but of one method to avoid it; which, for the advantage of
my married readers, I shall relate as it was first thought on by
a gentleman of an allowed good understanding, and I believe is
practised by him to this very hour.

Soon after his marriage with a lady, whom he long had most
passionately loved, and who is worthy of all the tenderness he
has for her, he called his servant to him, and having made him
shut the door, spoke to him in the following manner:

"Tom," said he, "you know I hate drinking, but such things will
sometimes happen; I would not, however, for the world be seen by
my wife in that condition; I desire therefore, that whenever you
find me in it you will show me into a chamber apart from her,
and make some excuse to her for my choosing to sleep alone that
night: if I should prove refractory, as there is no answering
for oneself when deprived of the use of right reason, I strictly
charge and command you to have recourse to force; how angry
soever I may then be, I will not fail to thank you for it in the
morning."

The fellow stared, and knew not what answer to make to so
strange an injunction; but his master insisted on the
performance, repeated what he had said before, and added, with a
smile, "Never fear, Tom, how roughly soever you may find
yourself obliged to handle me, you may depend that I will not
only forgive, but likewise reward you for it." On which Tom,
perceiving he was in earnest, assured him of his obedience.

It was not long before an opportunity arrived to prove both his
duty and address in this point: the gentleman had been persuaded
by some friends to go to a city-feast, and was brought home very
much disordered. Tom followed the directions which had been
given him, and compelled him to go into a chamber which he had
caused to be made ready in case there should be any occasion for
it; and having put him into bed, went to his lady and told her
that his master begged to be excused sleeping with her that
night on account of a violent head-ache. "Oh!" cried she, "I
have some drops which are very excellent for expelling that
pain; I will go and apply them to his temples." She was turning
toward her closet in order to fetch the drops, but he stopped
her by saying that his master was just fallen into a slumber,
but that he would watch by him all night, and if he found, on
his waking, that there was any need of her assistance, would
knock at her chamber door and give her notice.

The gentleman was very well pleased the next morning on hearing
how the affair had been conducted, and did not forget the
promise he had made to Tom: he never intended, however, to keep
it a secret from his wife; he was not afraid she should know of
his having drank a little too much, but loth she should see him
in that condition: he told her the whole story as they sat at
breakfast, at which she laughed very heartily, and was highly
satisfied within herself, taking this action, as it was really
meant, a proof of his respect for her.

This free confession of the whole truth prevented her from being
alarmed when at any time he chose to sleep alone on account of
the headache, and from ever being witness of any of those
follies or indecencies he might possibly be guilty of during the
absence of his reason; so that what might otherwise have been
likely to create open clamours, and perhaps secret disgust, was,
by this happy stratagem, converted into pleasantry and good-
humour.

How widely different was this conduct from that of a certain
nobleman, who having promised to sup one night with some
friends, and not coming till they were almost ready to separate,
made this polite apology to one of them who reproached him for
his tardiness, "Faith," said he, "it never came into my head
till just now; I got drunk after dinner, was carried home, run
my chairman through the arm for his sauciness, kicked my footman
down stairs, threw my wife into fits, and just then remembering
my engagement with you, left the house in an uproar, and came
directly away."

A man who knows himself liable to commit such extravagances
ought, doubtless, to take all the measures he can to keep them
from the sight of everyone; but much more of his wife, whose
love and esteem it so much concerns him to preserve, even though
he should unhappily have no proportionate regard for her.

There are also other particulars, which though of much less
importance, may chance to be equally disagreeable to some very
nice lady; such as smoking, or chewing tobacco; or even taking
snuff, especially in bed, a custom too frequently put in
practice, though a thing dirty in itself, and extremely
offensive to those who are obliged to sleep with them.

I know very well that none of these things, when once become
habitual, are easily thrown off, and am afraid there are not
many husbands who would be willing to indulge the humour of
their wives with such a piece of self-denial: indeed I scarce
dare offer my advice in this point; because their compliance
might be too severe a mortification, and give a sourness to
their behaviour, of yet worse consequence in other respects.

A man, however, who finds his wife has an aversion to the smell
of tobacco, may, I think, without much difficulty, avoid letting
her ever see him with a pipe in his mouth; he may order some
nook or corner in his house to be set apart, to which he may
retire when inclination prompts him to enjoy that favourite
amusement, and having taken as much of it as he thinks fit,
there are various sorts of comfits, which, if swallowed, will
entirely purify his breath from the late fumes.

The same method may be observed in chewing of tobacco; and as
for taking it in snuff, the most effectual one I can propose, is
to make her a present of some fine well fancied curious snuff-
box, which if he does, I dare wager the odds of an hundred
against one, that the vanity of showing that toy wherever she
goes, will, by degrees, make the powder contained in it not only
familiar, but also pleasing to her.

If a husband will give himself the pains to consider seriously
that his honour and reputation are entirely in the keeping of
his wife, and must be established or ruined by her conduct; that
his fortune, in a great measure, depends upon her prudence and
economy; and his own peace and that of his family, on her
cheerfulness and affability, he will not think that even greater
condescensions than those I have mentioned would be too much to
keep her in good-humour, and root in her heart that affection
for him, which alone can secure all that either is or ought to
be valuable to a husband, as I remember to have read in the tag
of an old Spanish comedy,

Would you preserve the fair one just and kind,
Be sure to clap a padlock on her mind.

Certain it is, that though an exalted virtue, and such a one it
must be in a wife, may make her patient, faithful, obliging,
diligent, and obedient: in fine, make her neglect nothing that
can be required from her station and character; yet without
love, whatever she does will appear faint, languid, and
spiritless; she will be incapable either of giving or receiving
any pleasure in the performance of her duty; so absolutely
necessary to the true end of marriage is that passion; and so
much is it the interest of every husband to cherish it, both in
himself and the woman to whom he is united, according to the
words of a celebrated author of our own nation, who was himself
well acquainted with the force of love, and on all occasions is
very emphatic on the subject:

Love quickens duty, gives our cares delight,
Makes happy days more joyous, and more bright,
And spreads a sunbeam through afflictions night.

But I believe there is no need of any quotations to prove the
truth of this assertion, else I could bring many from the same
learned author; the little knowledge I have of human nature is
sufficient to inform me, that there is no one person so little
sensible of the tender passion as not to allow that with it all
things are agreeable, and that without it nothing can be truly
so. Cultivate it therefore in your wives, O all ye husbands, it
is the first and greatest point you have to aim at in marriage,
as it is the only one which, in fact, has the power of
conferring on either of the persons united in that sacred state
any degree of sincere and permanent felicity.



SECT. VI.
The manner in which a Husband ought to behave towards his Wife
in public Company.

There is so very little to be said on this subject, that many of
my readers may be apt to question whether it deserved to be
mentioned at all; and, indeed, there is great probability that
it would have found no place among these admonitions, if the
complaints of some ladies had not prevailed on me to think that
without it my design in this work would have been incomplete.

In compliance, therefore, with requests, which with me have all
the force of commands, I shall take the liberty of reminding
husbands in what manner it will best become them to behave
towards their wives, whenever they go abroad together, or mix in
any public assemblies.

A woman, when made a wife, cannot presently forget the homage
paid to her by the man who is now her husband; she thinks it
hard to descend at once from the goddess to the mere mortal; and
if she has too much sense to expect the same adoration as
before, she has at least a just title to respect and
complaisance; and where these are denied her, it must be allowed
by all unprejudiced persons, that she has great reason to
complain.

Indeed it is in my power to mention a husband, of some
distinction too, who on his first going abroad with his new-
married lady, either stood staring up to the firmament, or on
any objects who happened to pass by, and neglected to give his
hand to help her into the coach. I have also happened, more than
once, to visit at the same places and times they did, and have
observed, that whenever she opened her mouth to speak he began
to talk as loud and as fast as he could, as if he thought
nothing she was capable of uttering was worthy the attention of
the company; though I do no more than justice to that lady when
I apply to her these words of the poet:

Whene'er she speaks, 'tis with so good a grace,
That nothing but her wit can charm beyond it.

A woman of pride and spirit can ill endure a slight from the man
on whom she has bestowed herself, but least of all when it is
given in public; especially if in the presence of any of the
young gigglers of her acquaintance, who will no sooner get out
of her sight than they will be apt to say to one another, "Lord
what a change is here! Did you mind how the man treats her now
she is his wife! Well, he certainly has not found all the charms
in her he expected! I thought, indeed, what all the mighty
passion he pretended to would end in at last; I suppose now her
vanity is sufficiently mortified. If he uses her so abroad, what
will he do at home!"

These little spiteful reflections may possibly, by some
officious person, be conveyed to her ears; and then 'tis well,
if instead of loving, she does not hate the man who has given
occasion for them to be made.

The greatest familiarity ought not to destroy good manners, nor
will it have any such effect, except amongst the very lowest
sort of people, or those who, though of a high rank, affect to
despise all decency in everything, and take it into their heads
to imagine that a careless, rough, and even bully-like
behaviour, looks manly in them; some such vulgar great ones I am
told there are, but I hope not many.

But besides the ungenerosity and ingratitude of the thing, there
seems to me to be something strangely impolitic in this; when a
man is seen to treat that woman with disregard after marriage,
whom before he never approached or spoke of but with the highest
respect and veneration, it looks, methinks, as if her value was
lessened by being made his wife; and consequently such a conduct
in a husband must very much diminish, instead of magnifying, his
own character.

A truly wise man will always be sensible, that honouring his
wife is doing honour to himself; and that every affront offered
to her is, in effect, an equal indignity to him: this,
therefore, is a motive which, if instigated by no other, will
most certainly make him forbear giving, by his own example,
encouragement to anyone else to behave towards her with ill
manners.

But as I cannot be persuaded to believe, that the indifference
which some men show to their wives in public proceeds from any
real dislike or contempt of their persons, as the ladies are apt
to suspect, but merely from carelessness, and that which is,
indeed, the source of most errors, want of thought, I would fain
have every husband give a little attention to this point, on
which depends more than, without a serious reflection on it, he
may be able to conceive.

I would not have anyone suppose, from what I have said, that I
am endeavouring to recommend to any husband the obsequiousness
of Lord Supple, who, whenever his wife goes out in a chair,
walks by the side of it with his hand in hers during the whole
time, diligently watches her every motion, and on her offering
to stir from one part of the room to another, starts from his
seat and flies to assist her cross the floor; in the midst of
company talks chiefly to her, will toast no other health, and if
by chance he advances any position in conversation, never fails
to close his discourse without turning to her, and crying, with
a low bow, "Do you not think as I do, madam? Am I not in the
right?" To which she replies with a gracious nod, "Oh yes, my
lord, your lordship can never be in the wrong." This is a
behaviour which renders both of them equally ridiculous wherever
they come; and if her ladyship had a little less share of
vanity, and a greater of understanding, she would be quite
ashamed of and condemn him for.

In fine, no reader of common sense need be told, that extremes
are to be avoided in this, as in all other cases; a husband
ought, doubtless, to treat his wife with a decent respect,
blended with an air of tenderness, which may show the world he
is perfectly satisfied with his choice; more than this no
prudent woman will either desire or expect.



SECT. VII.
Some measures to be taken by a Husband in private life, which
will seldom fail of very much endearing him to the affection of
his Wife, and consequently promote their mutual happiness.

Though to find herself treated with respect by her husband in
public may gratify the pride of a wife, yet if his behaviour in
private towards her does not in some measure correspond, it will
never be sufficient either to convince her of his affection, or
to establish a lasting one in her.

I shall therefore give a few hints, which I am pretty certain
every husband, who wishes to live well with the woman he has
married, will not only think fit to make use of, but also find
his account in it, so far as to oblige him to thank me for it
sincerely.

A good husband will doubtless be extremely pleased when he has
his wife abroad with him, when he shares in her visits, makes
one in her parties of pleasure, and partakes of her diversions;
yet will his satisfaction be still greater if, when he has her
to himself at home, and he is at full liberty to commune with
her as with his own heart, to talk freely to her on their own
affairs, and on those of the world, to join together in praising
the virtues of some of their acquaintance, and in pitying the
frailties of others. To enjoy this felicity, he will live in his
own house as much as his station and circumstances will permit
him to do.

Such a husband, whenever he finds himself detained abroad by
business, or any other accident, longer than usual, or than his
wife expected, will never return empty-handed; he will bring
with him some fine fruit, a paper of sweetmeats, or some curious
new-fashioned toy, as an ornament for her hair or breast, in
order to show that though absent in person she is always present
to his mind.

If he rides, or walks out to take the air, he will make choice
of the morning, not only because it is the most proper time for
those exercises, but also because she is then most busied in her
domestic affairs, and will the least want his company.

When he finds her about to set herself down to any needlework in
an afternoon, he will presently run to his study and fetch some
book to read to her; and when both begin to grow weary of their
several avocations, persuade her, by way of relaxation, to go
with him to someone or other of those numerous entertainments
with which this town abounds; what they happen to see there will
furnish them, on their coming home, with fresh matter for
conversation till the time of their going to bed, where
possessed only with soft and composed thoughts, sleep will
present them with ideas no less agreeable than their waking
moments. Who would not envy such a life? What man so stupid as
not to do everything in his power to obtain it?

I am not ignorant that there are many men who will tell me, I
argue upon a mere supposition that the happiness of marriage
depended entirely on the husband; they will say that there are
women of such inflexible and obdurate tempers as not to be
melted into good-nature by all the proofs of tenderness I can
invent; women who are too proud to be obliged, think everything
that can be done for them is no more than their due; and that
they have a right to expect greater condescensions than are
consistent with prudence or the dignity of a husband's character
to make.

To these objections I reply, that I do not pretend to say the
happiness of a married state depends entirely on the conduct of
the husband, but on a coalition of mind, a perfect concurrence
and parity of sentiment in both parties: this is a thing which,
I am sorry to observe, very rarely happens; but then I must take
the liberty of adding, that I am pretty confident we should much
more often see it, and that for one couple we find live in
harmony together, we might congratulate a thousand, if husbands
would take proper measures for that purpose.

I am also ready to confess, that there are some women of such
obstinate and untoward dispositions as to take pleasure in
seeming to be pleased with nothing; yet even these may be led,
though not driven; a little soothing, a little humouring of the
foibles on the husband's part, may, by degrees, render them
somewhat more tractable, and perhaps, in time, convert all their
sourness into sweetness; the confectioners will tell you, that
the more acidity the fruit has in it the greater quantity of
sugar is required. Certainly therefore, where the meal is to
last for life, a man ought to use his utmost endeavours to make
it as palatable as he can.

Women, however, speaking in the general, for there is no rule
without some exceptions, are by nature soft, gentle, and apt to
receive almost any impression given them by the man they love;
sure then it is the business of every husband, as soon as he
becomes so, to improve, by a tender and endearing behaviour, the
affection his wife had before marriage; this is the most
effectual, and indeed the only means which can give him any
reasonable expectation that she will endeavour to be in reality
what she find he wishes she should be.

I believe no one will deny but that this experiment is well
worth the pains it will cost, as in making it a husband does no
more than what he is bound to do, both by divine and human laws,
and is an effort which, if crowned with success, will render his
whole life happy; in case of failing, afford him the consolation
of knowing he is not unhappy through his own neglect.

If any husband, on reading these admonitions, should accuse his
wife of pride, vanity, affectation, peevishness, extravagance,
or any other folly or vice she may be guilty of, and say, that
it is impossible to behave towards such a woman with any degree
of tenderness, or even with common complaisance, I would ask
him, where is that superiority of wisdom which man so loudly
boasts of, if it cannot enable him to look on the frailties of
the weaker vessel rather with pity than contempt or indignation,
and likewise make him take a pleasure in attempting to reform
what is amiss?

To conclude, though it must be acknowledged that there are some
women whose humours are not very easy to be endured, and less
easy to be reclaimed, yet it is my firm opinion that the number
of bad wives would be much fewer than they are, if there were
more good husbands.



SECT. VIII.
The folly of a Husband in using too much freedom in his Wife's
presence with any of her female acquaintance.

As I would have nothing wanting in this work that may any way
contribute to restore marriage to its former dignity, and render
the persons united in that state as truly happy as Heaven first
intended, I must not omit the mention of one circumstance in the
behaviour of a husband, which, how trivial soever it may seem,
and indeed is in itself, has, to my certain knowledge, been the
occasion of much secret discontent, and sometimes of an open
rupture; it is this:

Nothing is more common than for men to indulge themselves in an
idle foolish custom of playing and toying with every woman they
come in company with, and this in mere bagatelle, and without
any inclination to her person, or view to a further intimacy;
yet these freedoms, how innocent soever they may be, are seldom
pleasing to a wife; and if often repeated to the same woman,
may, perhaps, in time, fill her with very unquiet and jealous
apprehensions.

Either her love or her pride may possibly alarm her; both these
are very tenacious passions whenever they get dominion of the
mind; the former of them may render her envious of every kiss,
every touch, bestowed on another by the man she wishes wholly to
engross; the latter will make her look on such a behaviour as an
indignity to herself, and possibly resent it accordingly.

Some women, indeed, affect to be above regarding these things,
and to show she is so, will join in what they call a game of
romps; but then it frequently costs her many bitten lips and an
aching heart.

Various instances of this kind have come to my knowledge; but
there was one which above all dwells upon my mind, not only as I
was an eye-witness of, but also because I had the good fortune
to be instrumental in preventing a very bad effect just ready to
be brought to pass.

On a trip I was once taking to France, an accident happened to
detain me for some days at Dover, where remembering that an old
acquaintance, an officer of the customs, was settled with his
family in that town, I would not lose the opportunity I then had
of seeing them. I easily informed myself where they lodged, and
accordingly went to make them a visit. On my asking if Mr. or
Mrs. ****** were at home, the maid who opened the door told me
they were both at home; but added, she did not know whether they
would see company or not. This a little surprised me, as I did
not think them of a station to make use of such formalities; I
took no notice, however, but bid her let them know my name, and
that I was below.

She did as I desired, and presently returned to show me into the
dining-room; where, on my entrance, I beheld a scene truly pity-
moving: Mr. ****** stood in a fixed posture, his arms folded,
and a countenance in which it was hard to say whether rage or
grief was most predominant: his wife sat in one corner of the
room, exactly like the picture of Niobe before turned into a
stone, her eyes half drowned in tears, distraction in her face,
and every token of despair about her; her three little
daughters, the eldest of whom was not above nine years old, all
of them in travelling habits clinging upon her knees and crying
bitterly. She rose to meet me, and would have spoken if sobs had
not choked the passage of her words. He, having somewhat more
presence of mind, welcomed me to Dover; but subjoined with a
deep sigh, "You find us in a very unfit condition to receive
you." To which I replied, "I am sorry to see you in this
confusion; I hope you have not lost your employment, but rather
are to be removed to some other part; for I perceive Mrs. ******
and the children are already equipped for a journey."

He was opening his mouth to make some answer, but Mrs. ******
had now recovered the use of her voice, and immediately taking
up the words cried out, "No, he may stay at Dover, and pursue
his shameful pleasures, till Heaven shall send some heavy
vengeance on him; but it is I, unhappy I, and my poor helpless
babes, who must remove for ever from the sight of a base
ungrateful man, who no longer has any regard either for them or
me."

The amazement I appeared in, and which, indeed, I neither could
nor endeavoured to conceal, on hearing her speak in this manner,
very much disconcerted Mr. ******; he reproached her for being
the occasion, in very bitter terms, which she did not fail to
return in others equally severe; the poor innocent children were
still weeping and wringing their little hands; my heart bled for
them. I neglected nothing in my power to moderate the passion of
the incensed wife and husband, and desiring to be let into the
secrets of their discontent; the remembrance of some former
services I had rendered them, convincing both how much I was
their friend, they at last made me acquainted with the whole of
the affair; farcical enough, indeed, in its beginning, though so
likely to have proved tragical in its consequences.

Mr. ****** was extremely intimate with a brother officer who
lived in the same town, and very near him; this person had a
daughter called Miss Molly, of about eighteen or nineteen years
of age; she was a brisk lively girl, rather too free in
conversation, but perfectly innocent, at least as far as I could
learn from her character when afterwards I had the curiosity to
enquire into it. Mrs. ****** at first was much pleased with her,
as she used to come and sit with her whenever Mr. ****** was on
duty, and diverted her with relating all the little occurrences
she could hear of in the neighbourhood; but the good-will she
had for her was but of short continuance, as will presently
appear.

Ten years of marriage had taken from Mr. ****** nothing of his
juvenile vivacity, of which it is impossible for any man to have
more; he was for ever singing, laughing, dancing, jumping, or
playing some gambol with whoever was in company; Miss Molly
being exactly of the same humour, neither of them could sit
still a moment when they were together. As Mrs. ****** was of a
more sedate disposition, and could not make a party in their
little tricks, this behaviour soon grew very disagreeable to
her; she thought herself neglected by both, and that they were
too much taken up with one another, till, step by step, that
poisonous passion, jealousy, got possession of her mind, and she
imagined there were somewhat between them which ought not to
have been. She concealed her suspicions, however, from her
husband, resolving not to accuse till she had it in her power to
convict; to that end she employed spies to watch him and Miss
Molly whenever they were both out of her sight. These emissaries
frequently brought intelligence where they were, but never that
they were together: this, however, did not satisfy her; for a
mind once inflamed with the fever of jealousy, will still thirst
after either what is not in reality, or if it is, is impossible
to be obtained.

She had, by her own confession, continued these fruitless
enquiries for upwards of two months, without being able to find
anything which she could interpret into a proof of what she
still could not forbear believing, till one night, when they
were in bed, her husband being in a profound sleep, suddenly
catched her in his arms, and cried, "My dear, dear Molly! little
did I once hope this happiness." The force with which he uttered
these words, it is likely, dissolved the pleasing idea which had
so much transported his imagination, for it seems he turned away
and spoke no more, but did not awake.

This was, to Mrs. ******, as full a confirmation of her
husband's guilt, as if she had in reality beheld him with her
supposed rival in the act of shame; but though she had long
wanted that assurance she now thought herself possessed of, yet
did the imaginary certainty involve her in much greater agonies
than any had been inflicted on her by suspense.

She got out of bed that instant, threw open the window, put on
her clothes by moon-light, and all the time she was doing this
stamped and raved to herself rather like an inhabitant of Bedlam
than a reasonable creature. The noise she made fully awaked Mr.
******; but it was some minutes before he could persuade himself
that he was so; he heard words from his wife which he could
never have thought her capable of uttering; and as he had not
the least notion what could have put her into this fury, as half
afraid she was indeed seized with some sudden frenzy. He called
to her to know what was the matter, and if she was not well; to
which questions she answered only with revilings; but though her
expressions were all wild and incorrect, yet the name of Miss
Molly often repeated, and the transport he had testified in his
dream, gave him at last to understand the truth.

"Thou foolish woman," said he to her, between jest and anger,
"is all this rage occasioned by a dream, and no very wonderful
one neither? Do you not know that I have a sister Molly in
Jamaica, who is very dear to me? And can it seem strange to you,
that imagining as I did in my sleep, that she was come over to
England, should extremely rejoice me?"

"You are a liar and villain," cried she, "it was not your
sister, but your strumpet you were so fond on in your sleep." In
speaking these words she snatched a basin of water, which she
had washed her hands in the night before, and threw it in his
face, and all over him, as he lay in bed. He owned to me, that
at this action he was no longer master of himself; he seized her
by the shoulders, and scarce knowing what he did, gave her two
or three blows; she screamed out murder, but it not being yet
break of day, all the family were buried in sleep, and neither
heard nor came to her assistance.

Mr. ******, a little recovered from the first heat of his
passion, forced her into a chair, and began to reason with her
on the folly and injustice she was guilty of; but, convinced in
her own mind that all he said was false, and more enraged than
before by the blows she had received, would listen to no
arguments he urged, and continued railing and loading him with
the most opprobrious names her fury could invent, till,
breathless, with the force of enervate rage, she fell into a
sort of fit. He had nothing near him to apply, so ran and roused
the maid to come to her assistance, but returned not into the
chamber himself; and as he was to go upon duty very early in the
morning, as soon as he had got himself dressed went to walk on
the pier, in order to compose his mind after the strange ruffle
it had sustained.

On coming to herself, and missing her husband, she looked on his
having left her in that condition as a fresh insult, and
immediately took a resolution to quit him for ever and go to
London with her children, choosing rather to submit to the most
servile and hard labour for their support, than to continue with
a man whom she now set down in her thoughts as the most false
and most inhuman of the sex.

Fully determined not to sleep another night in Dover, she packed
up her things and got herself and children ready for the
journey, after having agreed with a man who kept a little waggon
to carry them as far as Canterbury, where she intended to take
the cheapest conveyance she could procure for London. Mr. ******
came home in the middle of these preparations, and was amazed
and shocked beyond expression; he represented to her the
wildness of her design, and the ruin it must bring on the whole
family if put into execution; but she was deaf to all
persuasion, and mutual altercations were beginning to be renewed
between them when I entered.

As this story was related partly by the one and partly by the
other, it was frequently interrupted by reproaches on each side
alternately, which gave me an opportunity of expostulating with
both on their several mistakes. I easily made Mr. ****** see how
unbecoming it was in a married man to toy too much with young
women, or use any familiarities with them, which, though free
from any criminal intention on either side, might afford
occasion for censure; and I also, at last, convinced Mrs.
******, that nothing could be more natural than for her husband
to dream of a sister whom he so much loved, and had not seen for
a long time; and that as she had no other proof of his falsehood
than merely that dream, her suspicions had greatly wronged both
him and Miss Molly.

In fine, my arguments were so successful as to bring about an
entire reconciliation; they flew into each other's arms,
confessed they had been both to blame, and melted into tears of
joy and tenderness; and this evening, which had like to have
proved so fatal to the peace of the whole family, concluded with
all the demonstrations of mutual affection that could be given.

Few animosities between married people, when arrived at the
pitch this was, ever ended so happily. I would therefore fain
persuade every man who is a husband, of what degree soever, to
avoid giving his wife any cause of complaint in a thing which it
is so very easy for him to restrain himself from being guilty
of.



SECT. IX.
The manner in which it will be most proper for a married Man to
carry himself towards the Maid-Servants of his family.

I hope no man who is a husband, will think that in this section,
or some others, I descend to particulars too minute to merit his
attention; experience shows us that many things, which in their
beginning appear of little or no importance, are sometimes
productive of the greatest mischiefs; the smallest grain of sand
thrown into the eye has often proved of dangerous consequence,
and a spark falling from the snuff of a lighted candle been the
occasion of very terrible conflagrations.

A very eminent author and philosopher of the last age, compares
conjugal love to a web of so delicate a texture, that the least
brush upon it may occasion a rupture, which, says he, if once
made, is scarce ever so well mended as to recover its first
beauty.

I have already, in a former section, warned a husband against
the folly of interfering in domestic affairs, and pretending to
give directions to maid-servants; but there is another weakness
he may be guilty of in relation to them, which will not only
lessen his own dignity as master, but may also be the cause of a
good deal of discontent to his wife.

What I mean is being too familiar, entering into little
conversations with them, and questioning them on things in which
they have no manner of concern; or if they have, ought more
properly to be left to the examination of their mistress.

I know several men who are extremely fond of playing the wag, as
they call it, with their maid-servants, rallying them about
their sweet-hearts, and talking merrily to them on the score of
love and marriage. "I love mightily," will such a one cry, "to
see the girls blush and look silly." They mean no harm in this,
but I believe, nay am pretty well assured, that too much of this
sort of conversation, especially from a master, has made many a
once shy and bashful maid, at last become not only incapable of
blushing at all, but even bold enough to return all his jokes
with interest.

It is certain that nothing is more evident than that a man, by
this idle and unthinking way of behaviour, loses himself all the
respect and authority which a master of a family ought always to
maintain over his domestics; but this is not the worst
consequence likely to ensue; a maid stands in need of a much
greater share of prudence than can be expected from her
education, who being thus entertained by her master does not
become pert, assuming, and neglectful of all the duties of her
place.

When this happens to be the case, as by the way it very seldom
proves otherwise, it naturally follows that the mistress will
reprimand the remissness of her servant; the servant, instead of
making any excuse for her fault, will return an impertinent or
saucy answer; and as the one grows more justly austere, the
other will, in proportion, grow more arrogant and careless; thus
begins a discord which soon extends itself much further.

A girl whose mind is made vain, and perverted in the manner I
have been speaking of, will not confine her career to the bounds
of home. She will whisper it among all the servants in the
neighbourhood, and in every shop she goes into, that her
mistress is a proud, ill-natured, vapourish woman; that she is
pleased with nothing, and does not know when she is well served;
and adds, that there would be no living in the family if her
master were not the best humoured man in the world; the silly
creature either forgetting, or not regarding that what she says
on this last account, may give room for conjectures little to
the advantage of herself or master.

If a wife has any sparks of jealousy in her composition, they
will probably kindle into a blaze, and then who can answer for
the mischiefs that may befall? But if her discretion, a good
opinion of herself, or a perfect confidence in her husband's
affection, defend her from the effects of that outrageous, that
distracting passion, yet it must be acknowledged, that to find
the business of her house neglected, her commands slighted, her
person irreverently treated, her character traduced, by the
person who eats her bread, and receives wages for making her as
easy as possible in all these circumstances, is sufficient to
diminish, if not quite erase her tenderness for the man whose
folly has been the occasion of her ill usage.

I am almost positive that no man who is a husband, and endued
with even a tolerable share of understanding, will indulge so
ridiculous a propensity, if he once gives himself time to
consider seriously on the many disorders it must infallibly
occasion in his family: but as there are some people who are
utter enemies to all reflection, of what kind soever, it is for
their sakes I write these admonitions, to the end that without
any pains to themselves, they may see at one view the dangers to
which they are liable to be exposed.

I hope no one will so far mistake my meaning, as to imagine I am
aiming to recommend harshness and austerity in the head of a
family towards his servants; no, on the contrary, I would have
him behave with the utmost gentleness and humanity to them, both
in his words and actions. I would have him be a kind master, a
beneficent patron, and a firm protector, in case of any injury
or insult attempted to be offered to them. I would only have him
not descend to be their companion, but always to take care to
observe a decent reserve, and a becoming distance with them, as
it is by that alone he can expect to secure them in their
obedience, or himself in his authority over them.

That too much familiarity with inferiors is apt to beget
contempt, is a vulgar adage in the mouth of everyone; and I am
very certain that in private life there is no one circumstance
in which it is more necessary to be remembered than in this I am
now speaking of. I should therefore be glad that every man,
addicted to the humour of being over free with the servants,
especially his maids, would have engraved on the head of his
cane or the lid of his snuff-box, something like these words:

Remember that you are a master, and do nothing which may
forfeit the respect owing to the station Heaven has placed
you in.

As Philip king of Macedon, fearing to be too much puffed up with
earthly grandeur, made his chamberlain awake him every morning
with these words:

Remember, Philip, that thou art but a man.

It is certain a man may fall into as great errors by debasing as
by elating himself too much. The various passions and
propensities of human nature are, for the most part, so
inconsistent with right reason, and withal so strong, that
everyone stands in need of being, some way or other, reminded
what he is, or he will be in great danger of not acting
conformable to the character he ought to maintain.

A gentleman of great fortune and distinction, who died not many
years past, fearing that his son might be contaminated with the
vices he then found were beginning to spread through the nation,
caused a fine jewel, which had long been in the family, to have
engraved on the circle of it these words:

Never forget that you are descended from the ancient and
loyal family of the ******, and never be tempted to deviate
from the principles of your ancestors.

Here my imagination roves; but I must call home my wandering
ideas, and recollect that I ought to confine them to the subject
I am upon, of which I think I have already said sufficient.



SECT. X.
The treatment which is expected, and ought to be given to a sick
Wife, by every man who either is, or desires to be looked upon
as a good Husband.

Every husband is sensible that he is bound, by the promise he
made before the altar, to love, to cherish, and to support his
wife in sickness as well as in health; but I am extremely sorry
to observe that there are some men, I am afraid too many, who
perform this duty in so sullen and ungracious a manner, that it
seems rather the effect of mere compulsion than a free good-
will.

It is too known a truth for anyone to deny, that the affections
of the mind have so great an influence over the body, that where
the former is discomposed the latter cannot be quite easy: but
this is more especially felt in sickness; because the animal
powers being then weakened, we are less able to resist the
attacks of any vexatious accident: in vain the physician
prescribes, the apothecary prepares, the careful nurse
administers, little good can be hoped for from the medicine, if
the heart of the patient be oppressed with any anxious care, or
possessed with any melancholy ideas; and this I may venture to
attest, not only as my own opinion, but as I have heard it
declared by several of the most learned of the faculty.

I am certain that the tender assiduities, the soft commiseration
of those we love, not only greatly alleviates the pain, but also
contributes to the cure of the disease; whereas, on the
contrary, a rugged, churlish, or even a negligent behaviour
towards us, in the person who we might rather expect should
participate in our sufferings, sinks us still lower in the bed
of sickness, assists the hand of fate, and doubles every pang
inflicted on us.

If ever a husband would be kind, if ever he would endear
himself, if ever he would prove the affection he so solemnly has
vowed, this, therefore, is the time; there is no circumstance in
life which so much demands his care and his attention; none in
which his assiduities can be of greater benefit, and none in
which his neglect of them can be more justly resented.

It is not enough that a man grudges nothing which he thinks
necessary for the recovery of his wife's health; he may send for
physician after physician, have consultation upon consultation,
employ persons to wait night and day at her bed-side, and watch
her every breath, yet if he leaves the care of all this entirely
to others, they will lose great part of the effect he may
desire; nor will all he does be sufficient to entitle him to the
character of a perfect good husband, unless he stays much at
home, refrains from all his accustomed diversions, goes
frequently into her chamber, makes his own eyes the witnesses
that nothing about her be neglected, and as often as she is in a
condition to be spoke to, pours into her ears the balm of fond
condolence and compassion: this is what a woman of any delicacy
will doubtless expect, and is no more, in fact, than what a
husband who loves his wife with tenderness and sincerity will
not fail to observe.

Here it may be objected, that a person who has a public
employment or trade, or any other avocation on which the
subsistence of himself and family depends, has not leisure to
behave in the manner I propose; but to this I may answer in the
words of a well-known author:

Wherever there is a will, there is a way.

So even these may steal so much time from their meals or from
their repose, as to testify that kind concern it is their duty
to express as well as to feel.

But what can be alleged in vindication of a man of fortune, who
being independent, and wholly master of himself and time, shall
amuse himself with the entertainments of the theatre and ball,
and laugh away his hours in gay delights, while the woman he is
bound to love lies languishing in a fever, or some other equally
dangerous distemper? Surely it cannot be wondered at, if on her
recovery the remembrance of such a behaviour does not turn all
the affection she ever had for him into indifference, if no
worse.

A friend of mine, who is a woman of some wit, being in one of
the boxes at the play-house, happened to meet there with a
gentleman of her acquaintance, whose wife she knew lay at the
point of death; after the first salutation, she accosted him
with saying, "I hope, sir, your lady is much better?" "No,
madam," answered he, "I am told much worse, and that she cannot
outlive this night." "Oh, Heaven!" resumed the lady, "I am
surprised! I did not doubt but that she was entirely out of
danger, by seeing you abroad, especially in such a place as
this!" These words, it seems, a little confounded, but more
vexed him, and after a short pause, "I can find nothing, madam,
in my being here to countenance your surprise," returned he; "I
did not marry to stay always at home and make cordials and
posset-drinks for a sick wife."

The lady, as she afterwards informed me, was preparing to make
an answer to these words, which, perhaps, would have been more
stinging to him than what she had said before; but he took care
to avoid the hearing it, by leaving that box directly and going
into another on the other side of the house, where she could
only reproach him with her eyes.

For my own part, I should imagine it utterly impossible, if
fresh instances did not daily convince me of the truth of it,
that any man of common reason, and happy in a polite education,
could be capable of behaving in a manner not only unkind to his
wife, but also indecent in the face of the world.

I have heard some people charitable enough to impute this fault
as merely owing to a certain indolence of nature. It may be so,
indeed; but then that very indolence must doubtless proceed from
the want of tenderness; and I think I may easily venture to
pronounce, that the husband who does not feel, in some measure,
the pains of his sick wife, will never be able to taste any
refined pleasures with her when in health.

But as unworthy as a husband of this class renders himself of
the affection of a woman of a delicate way of thinking, there
are others yet still worse; those I have already mentioned
content themselves with the bare performance of their duty; but
those I am about to speak of grumble to discharge that duty
which even the laws of the land would exact from them:
everything required by a sick wife, beyond the common
necessaries of life, makes them knit their brows, and cry it is
more than they can afford. It is true, indeed, that the high
fees of physicians in this country, more than any other in the
world, the exorbitant bills of apothecaries, the lavishness and
impertinence of some nurses, give a kind of pretence to men of
moderate fortunes for their ill humour on this score.

But if these men would consider, that the misfortune has not
happened through any fault of the poor suffering wife, but
inflicted on them by the hand of Heaven, they would certainly
submit to it with greater patience, and retrench, as much as
possible, all other expenses, in order to make this more easy.

There are a third sort of husbands, who on the first symptoms of
an indisposition in their wives appear tender even to an excess,
spare nothing that they can hear or think of for their relief,
can scarce be prevailed upon by the calls of business, or the
persuasion of friends, to leave the sick charmer for a moment;
yet if the distemper proves of any long continuance, grow weary
of those assiduities, begin to lessen his cares, by degrees deny
her many things which her malady requires, at last heartily
wishes her dead, and wants but little of letting her know he
does so. I know not whether this inequality of behaviour is not
more grievous to a woman than either of the former I have
mentioned.

I have heard it said that there are some husbands so savage in
their nature, but I hope the number of such is not many, who to
avoid allowing the means proper for the recovery of a wife that
labours under any disease, affect not to believe her
indisposition real, cry; that she complains only to be the more
indulged, and, instead of pitying, reproach her every groan.

It is certain indeed that a wife, by the assistance of religion,
and the consideration of what is owing to her own character in
the world, may be enabled to continue the practice of her duty
after such usage; but it is neither in nature nor in reason to
expect she can retain any degree of affection for the man from
whom she receives it.

I much doubt however, that upon a strict examination it would be
found, that on a provocation of this kind, there are more women
who sacrifice everything to their resentment, than those who
sacrifice their resentment to their duty.

For as the ingenious Mrs. Behn, who knew her sex perfectly well,
makes the heroine of one of her plays say on a like occasion,

'Tis love and gratitude alone can bind
The wandering heart, or fix a generous mind.
Honour and faith are but mere empty names,
When pride and vengeance our attention claims.

In fine, that husband who does not treat his wife in sickness
with the same unwearied care and tenderness which he would wish
to be treated with himself, if in the like condition, can never
be said to regard her as his own flesh, or to pay any respect to
the sacred institution that made her so.



SECT. XI.
Parties of Pleasure, how far a Wife ought to be indulged in
them, and the danger of a Husband's making long and frequent
excursions from home.

What I take to be meant by parties of pleasure is, when half a
dozen, or a more or less number of intimate acquaintance, agree
to go abroad together and divert themselves as well as they can
at some place or other they happen to pitch upon; they set out
with a resolution to pass their hours in innocent merriment, and
to be pleased with everything they meet with, though it should
prove much less elegant than what they left behind them at home.

Women are naturally extremely fond of these little relaxations,
especially when young and gay, are new to the cares of life,
have no children, nor any extraordinary avocation to take up
their minds and give them a more serious turn. There are very
few things, therefore, in which a husband can more oblige his
wife, than in humouring her in this point.

Besides, he will also find it his best policy to do so; because,
by promoting frequent parties of pleasure with persons he
approves of, and always making one of them himself, he will
prevent her from forming any without him, and, as it may chance,
with company less consistent with her reputation to be seen
with.

I cannot help contemning, though at the same time I pity the
folly of a man, who either through a cloudy sullenness of
disposition, or niggardly grudging what he may think an
unnecessary expense, always evades whatever proposals are made
to him of this kind by his friends, as it is the odds of an
hundred against one, that he only denies himself his share in
that satisfaction which his wife will not be deprived of
enjoying, either clandestinely or in an open defiance of his
will.

The surest way to keep a woman of any spirit or vivacity from
running into extravagant or unwarrantable amusements, is to
indulge her in those which are both moderate and innocent, than
which, in my opinion, none can be called more truly so than
these parties of pleasure, when composed of worthy persons, who
join with no other design than to exhilarate the minds of each
other.

In a word, as they are no more than one of the regales of life,
and none more unhurtful, or less liable to be attended with any
bad consequences, I am surprised that any man of common sense
should run the risk of a brul e with the partner of his bosom on
that account.

But there are some husbands of a yet more unreasonable way of
thinking, men who will allow their wives to take no sort of
diversion, yet indulge themselves in all, and pursue with the
utmost eagerness everything that has the face of pleasure, as if
it were for them alone that nature has bestowed and art improved
all the delights and enjoyments of the creation; and woman, as
an inferior part, must place her whole felicity, as well as make
it her perpetual study, to contribute to the satisfaction of her
lordly master.

Severe, indeed, it must be confessed, is the fate of that woman
who is yoked to such a tyrant; and I hope I shall not be thought
to go too far when I say, that almost any course she takes,
either to be revenged on him or to console herself, the crime,
if it should happen to prove what can be justly called so, will
be half absolved by the provocation; and pity will accompany the
blame that falls upon her.

The least a man can do, is doubtless to take very sparingly
those pleasures or amusements which he refuses to his wife,
provided they are such as befit her sex; for there are some
peculiar to the men, and which no prudent woman will desire to
share.

I would, however, persuade every man to refrain from all long
and frequent excursions from home on any pretence whatsoever,
because the calls of business must always be complied with; and
I can scarce believe that any woman will be so weak as to resent
or be uneasy at her husband's absence when she knows it is for
their common good.

But when a man greedily lays hold of every opportunity of being
abroad, rambles down to Epsom, thence to Tunbridge, then to
Bath, and so on to as many places as are frequented by the gay
world, taking his round of pleasure, while his wife is left at
home, perhaps employed in making shirts, or some other piece of
work, against his return; this, I must say, has something in it
so very careless, so unkind, so disrespectful, that no woman of
spirit can content herself with enduring.

To conclude, a man who is desirous of acquiring the reputation
of a good husband, would have his family well governed, and his
wife always faithful, cheerful, and obliging, must never go
about to deprive her entirely of those recreations to which she
may have been accustomed; but as the most innocent may be
inconvenient, if too often repeated, to the end she may take
them the more seldom, he should endeavour to make home as
pleasing to her as possible, which can only be done by staying
much in it himself, and behaving while there in somewhat like
the manner described in the seventh section in this book.



SECT. XII.
The behaviour of a good Husband to his Wife in absence, when
enforced by necessity.

There are many accidents in life which may oblige the most fond
and tender husband to be absent from his wife for a much longer
time than either of them could wish; but then his reluctance at
parting, the transports he expresses on returning to her arms,
will keep her from feeling any uneasy emotions on account of his
affection during their separation, and give a double relish to
the joys his presence brings on their re-union.

But all this may be feigned, some people will say: 'tis true it
may, and I believe very often is so; but, supposing that to be
the case, if the fallacy carries with it so near a resemblance
to truth as not be distinguished from it, a wife thus happily
deceived is no less contented than the reality would make her.

Besides, the constraint a man must necessarily put upon himself
in counterfeiting passions he is insensible of, is, at least, a
proof that he has some consideration of the person for whose
sake he does it; and that the continuance of her affection is of
consequence to him, though it is not in his power perhaps to
return it in an adequate proportion: this very dissimulation
therefore in him, if by any accident she discovers it to be
such, will, if I know anything of womankind, be partly justified
by the motive; and as it gratifies her pride, though not her
love, will more easily be forgiven than a haughty disregard or a
total indifference.

So that upon the whole, whether a man has a more or less degree
of affection for his wife, it certainly is no fault in him to
display it to the best advantage he can, to the end that if
compelled to be separated from her for any length of time, he
may leave her possessed of such tender ideas of him, as will
effectually keep her from doing anything in his absence which he
may have cause to complain of on his return.

It behoves him, however, to confirm her belief of his affection,
which is the most sure means of confirming her in the constant
practice of her duty, to let few posts escape without writing to
her, and to renew in his letters all those protestations of an
inviolable fidelity which he made to her on taking leave.

But I believe I need only appeal to the experience of my readers
in this point. I dare say, that there are very few of them who
are not convinced of the great efficacy of a tender well wrote
letter. The ingenious Mr. Philip Massenger, in one of his poems,
has a sentiment which I cannot help thinking extremely just as
well as applicable to this subject. These are the words in which
he expresses himself:

Letters from those we love make deeper stamp
Upon the mind, than if engraved on plates
Of brass, or adamant; the indelible marks
No time erases, nor no rust consumes;
They're fixed for ever on the memory,
And death alone   
Perhaps, not even death itself, obliterates.

I would not here be understood that a man should put his
invention to the stretch for florid speeches, far-fetched
metaphors, and high-flown hyperboles in writing to his wife: no,
it is not the business of a husband to show his wit and
learning, but his love, in these epistles; and if what he says
seems to proceed from the heart, it will carry with it more
weight and energy than all the rhetoric the schools can teach.

A letter of the sort I mean, from a gentleman to his wife,
happened accidentally into my hands, and I think will be no
unwelcome present to the public, as it appears to me to have in
it that simplicity which is the surest mark of true affection.

To Mrs. ******

Soul of my Soul,
	It is with a great deal of pleasure, because I know it
will give some to you, that I acquaint you with my safe
arrival at **** this day about eleven, after a journey
which had nothing disagreeable in it but the reflection
that every minute carried me still further from the best
part of myself: my friends received me with a welcome which
I have no cause to doubt the sincerity of; but the most
pleasing part of it is the news that by my brother's care
my affairs are put in such a forwardness that instead of
two months being detained here, as I feared, I now flatter
myself that in less than half that time I shall be able to
set out again for London, yet even that seems an age. Oh!
my love, it is but three days since I left you, yet am I
impatient to return to you and the precious pledges of our
mutual affection. Methinks I hear my little Charley cry
"Mamma, when will my papa come home?" and my sweet Louisa,
in her imperfect, and as yet but half formed accents, lisp
out, "Where is dada?" I wish their innocent prattle, at
which you used to smile, may not now make you sad; but let
it not, I beseech you. I repeat the injunction I gave you
at parting, that you will take care of yourself, and spare
nothing that may contribute to cheer your spirits. This is
all the proof I shall ever exact of your obedience as a
wife. Farewell, thou dearest, thou everlasting treasure of
my soul; my heart swells with a thousand tender things, but
the post waits, and I have time to add no more, than that
all here salute you with their best good wishes; and that I
am, what I hope you want nothing to be convinced of,
	Dearest life,
	Your most affectionate
	And ever faithful husband,
	C . ******.

The recesses of the heart can only be discovered by the all-
seeing eye of Heaven; and I will not take upon me to determine
whether this gentleman in reality felt all that fervency of
passion he pretended for his wife; but this I may venture to
say, that if his behaviour was in any measure conformable to his
protestations, she had no reason to be dissatisfied.

End of the First Book




BOOK II.



SECT. I.
On what seems the best method to prevent any ill-humour between
a Husband and his Wife, on the score of what is called running
cash.

There is such an enchantment in money to most people, that were
all the goods of the whole world at their command, both for
their own use and to bestow on those they had a mind to favour,
yet would they not be content without having some portion of the
darling specie in their possession.

We are, indeed, from our very infancy, taught to set a value
upon money; we receive some small pittance of it from the first
use we make of pockets. As we increase in years the allowance is
augmented in proportion; and being thus early accustomed to love
it, it is not to be wondered at, that when we come to maturity
we should think ourselves unhappy in the want of it, even though
we had no immediate call to make use of it.

Yet, notwithstanding this, I once heard a husband say, "What
business has my wife with money! I take care to provide
everything necessary both for her and the family; and if by
chance any trifling circumstance should be omitted, I shall be
willing to remedy that deficiency on her asking me."

As no woman ought, and no woman of sense will expect to be the
sole keeper of her husband's purse, yet would it be quite as
unreasonable in him to exclude her entirely from it; she has an
undoubted right to share with him in everything, and should not
be reduced to the condition of a petitioner for what is as much
her own as his.

There are some couples who, in order to prevent, as they may
imagine, all heart-burnings and altercations between them on
this account, agree that the money appropriated to common uses
shall be thrown into a box, or the drawer of a bureau, of which
both having their separate key, each, without troubling the
other, may take out at pleasure whatever they have, or think
they have occasion for; but this is a method which I can by no
means approve of, as it gives too great a latitude to a wife
inclined to be extravagant, and is liable to render the most
frugal one suspected, either through some mistake in the sum
deposited, or the husband's forgetting how far he himself may
have diminished it: both have wondered it has been so soon
exhausted each has alternately accused the other; so that
instead of answering the end proposed by this mutual liberty, it
has often given rise to very high disputes, and even lasting
dissensions.

According to my opinion, and the best observation I have been
able to make, the most certain way of avoiding all contention on
this head, is for the husband to put into his wife's hands every
Saturday or Monday morning, as much money as they shall both
agree in thinking convenient for their circumstances to allow
for the expenses of housekeeping per week.

This money is to be left entirely to the wife's management, the
husband ought to concern himself no further about it; and if she
takes care to provide as well and as plentifully as he has
reason to expect, he ought not to enquire into the prices of any
particular, nor is she obliged to give him an account; if
therefore, by her good economy, she can save anything at the
week's end, it is undoubtedly her own, and to be disposed of as
she thinks proper.

In regard of invitations to company, it would be highly
unreasonable in him to expect she should furnish an
entertainment out of the sum she ordinarily expended for the
common necessaries of life; he must therefore add to her
allowance on these occasions in proportion to the number of the
guests, and the manner in which he would have them treated.

I am very sensible, however, that this is liable to objections
from both parties; some wives will complain that their allowance
is not sufficient to defray the expenses they are at, and some
husbands that their tables are not so well supplied as they have
reason to expect; but these cavils are not so much owing to the
method of proceeding I recommend, as to the unhappy disposition
of the persons concerned, as I think it will be very easy for me
to make appear.

The affair ought never to be concluded upon without being first
seriously deliberated, both by the husband and the wife; he
should well consider what sort of living will befit the rank he
holds in the world, and also what suits with the circumstances
of his fortune: the wife should calculate, as well as she is
able, how far the sum he offers will answer the purpose he
intends; but as it is much more easy for him to allot than for
her to ascertain herself whether that allotment will suffice, it
will be prudent in her, before she gives her final answer, to
make an essay of three or four weeks, and then, either stand to
the present agreement, or insist on such an augmentation as she
shall find necessary.

After such a regulation I know of nothing in relation to
domestic expenses that can give rise to any disputes between a
husband and his wife, except mere ill-nature, and a desire of
contention either on the one side or the other.

I cannot, however, take leave of this subject without reminding
a husband, that either the inclemency of the weather,
extraordinary taxes laid by the government, droughts,
inundations, and many other accidents, may greatly raise the
price of provision at particular times; he ought not, therefore,
in such a case, to murmur if he finds his table less elegantly
supplied than usual, but resolve either to content himself with
the diminution of his viands, or make an addition to his
allowance, till the scarcity is over and the markets become more
moderate.

The nobility, and others of a very elevated station, who leave
these matters entirely to the management of their stewards and
house-keepers, it is certain, have no manner of concern in these
admonitions; and did I write for them alone, should ask their
pardon for what would then be mere digression; but as the number
of those whose lot is cast in an inferior sphere of life make
much the greater part of the people, and consequently of my
readers, the points contained in this, and some other sections,
could not be omitted in a work intended to be of as general
utility as possible, still keeping in my mind that true saying
of the once celebrated Drayton:

As all the bounties of th' Almighty share,
So all alike should be the good man's care.



SECT. II.
Measures proper to be taken by a Husband who has a too
parsimonious Wife.

It is so very seldom that we see two persons meet in marriage,
who are exactly of the same disposition and humour in
everything, that it much behoves a man, before he enters into
that state, to guard well his heart against the shock it might
otherwise sustain on finding his wife differ extremely from his
way of thinking in some one particular point.

Whatever is a propensity in nature is not without great
difficulty eradicated, by the best arguments and most solid
reasonings; but it will yet less submit to opposition, every
attempt to control rather renders it more obstinate; authority
may, indeed, prevent its breaking into action, but the latent
seeds will still continue in the mind.

Parsimony and profuseness are two such jarring qualities, that
where the one has dominion over the husband, and the other over
the wife, little satisfaction can be hoped for between them; and
there requires the greatest discretion and moderation, to keep
not only themselves but their whole family, from being involved
in perpetual broils and confusion.

First, as to parsimony; a man of a liberal hospitable
disposition cannot but be very unhappy with a woman who treats
as the utmost prodigality whatever is beyond the common
necessaries of life looks sour on everyone who happens to take
dinner at their table, and is ready to fall into fits on her
husband's giving an invitation even to his best friend.

This disagreeable propensity is the more hard to be dealt with,
as it has in some measure the appearance of a virtue, and among
many people passes for such. A man who has a wife of this turn
of thinking, no sooner testifies his dissatisfaction at her
behaviour, on the score of an over frugality, than she presently
answers him in the words of the old proverb, That fools make
feasts, and wise men eat them; and adds, that it would be highly
ridiculous to expend in the furnishing one meal for the
entertainment of persons who perhaps set no value on it, as much
as would provide for the family for two, or it may be for three
or four whole days; that whatever could be spared out of their
income ought to be carefully laid up; that sickness, increase of
taxes, and a thousand other accidents, which she will not fail
to enumerate, may possibly happen; but if providentially no
misfortunes should happen to themselves, they ought, however, to
think of their posterity, and save all they can for those they
leave behind.

It is in vain he argues that the circumstances of his fortune
will very well afford much more than he requires to be done: she
is not to be convinced by all he can say, and he has the
mortification either of denying himself the pleasure of
sometimes having his friends about him, or of seeing them
treated with indifference and coldness, or, it may be, with a
rudeness which drives everyone from his house.

Nothing is more common than for a man, when thus deprived of the
society of his friends at home, to order an entertainment for
them at a tavern, in which, it cannot be doubted, but that he
must be at a much greater expense than would spread a more
elegant, as well as more reputable regale on his own table.

I was once acquainted with a gentleman whose wife was penurious
to that excess, that on the least intimation of anyone intending
to dine with him she always took care to provide the coarsest
piece of meat the market would afford, in order that the
cheapness of the joint might compensate for what part of it
should be eaten by the guests. She even grudged her family their
necessary food, and would often turn away the most sober,
diligent, and best qualified servant, for no other reason than
having what she thought too keen an appetite.

My friend was a man addicted to no one vice, nor to any
extravagance; but he loved to live handsomely, to keep good
company, and to receive them in a genteel manner; the behaviour
of his wife therefore gave him a great deal of pain; at first he
expostulated with her in the mildest terms, then proceeded to
more austere remonstrances, neither of which had the least
effect upon her. She only replied in the same trite phrases I
just now repeated; so that despairing of success by argument, he
at last bethought himself of a stratagem which flattered him
with some hopes of gaining his point; it was this:

"My dear," said he to her, "I have been recapitulating in my
mind all the several arguments I have heard you urge in favour
of frugality, and am now thoroughly convinced, that there is no
one virtue or good quality which so much conduces to the
happiness of human kind, and am determined henceforward to lay
out nothing I can save with common decency."

He told me, that while he was speaking he could perceive a
pleased surprise wander and diffuse itself over all her
features; and when he had done, she cried out, "If you can keep
in this mind, my dear, it will be a joyful change indeed!"

"You may depend I shall think always as I now do," resumed he:
"you must know I have been considering on all the possible ways
and means to diminish the charge we at present live in. In the
first place, I am resolved to part with my horse; hay, oats,
stable-hire in winter, grass in summer, and farriers' bills, run
away with a great deal of money."

"It is very true, my dear," said she, "I always thought it a
very needless expense; but as you seemed to think riding was
good for your health, I forbore offering anything in opposition
to it." "I shall trust to walking for the future," answered he,
"and do not doubt but it may be of equal service; nature is the
best judge, and as she has given a man two sturdy legs for his
support, I see no reason why he should have recourse to those of
an animal."

"Besides," continued he, "I can then turn off my man, a boy can
whet knives, attend the door, run on errands, and serve our
purpose full as well, for much less wages."

"Aye," cried the wife, quite transported, "and his livery cost
less too: I know nothing these great hulking footmen are good
for but to loiter about the house, devour all they can get into
their clutches, romp with the maids, and hinder them from doing
their business."

"True," rejoined the gentleman, "and since you mention the
maids, I have also thought of a reform among them too: Suppose
we could get a couple of Roman Catholic girls, the number of
fast days, besides Lent and Ember weeks, enjoined by their
church, would be a great saving to us in the article of house-
keeping?"

"It would, indeed," replied she, "especially if we could procure
those who are pious enough to keep Black Lent, and live almost
three parts of the year on dried fish and potatoes, without eggs
or butter. I assure you I shall make it my business to enquire
after two such."

"I think now", said he, "there remains but one thing more to
complete a total regulation of our economy, which is tea."
"Tea!" cried she hastily. "Yes, my dear," pursued he, "I look
upon afternoon tea as one of the greatest superfluities that
custom has introduced among us. I have calculated the expense,
and dare venture to affirm that a very moderate tea-table, with
all its equipage, cannot be supported under forty or fifty
pounds per annum; therefore I insist upon it no more tea-table
invitations."

"Are you in earnest!" demanded she. "Yes," replied he, "and I
expect you will agree to so reasonable a proposal." "Rather the
most absurd, the most preposterous one that ever was!" returned
she. "Would any gentleman, or man of honour, deny his wife her
tea-table!"

"Yes, madam," resumed he, "any man of sense or spirit would do
it, when denied by his wife a couple of chickens and a bottle of
wine extraordinary at his table for the entertainment of his
friend. I do not desire to deprive you of any of the enjoyments
of life, nor would I be deprived myself, by your too niggardly
humour, of such as are consistent with my character and fortune
in the world. I am therefore determined that either our way of
living shall be uniform, which is either in all things to appear
as we ought to do, or, if like misers and beggars in some
things, to do so in all."

On these words, it seems, she sat sullen and silent for some
time, and he went on, "I would fain have you, therefore,"
continued he, "to consider seriously what is due to your own
character as well as mine; both which demand that our servants
shall have no reason to complain of the want of their necessary
food; that whatever friends I think proper to invite should
always be received with a cheerful countenance, and in every
respect handsomely entertained."

"And so ruin both you and myself", cried she hastily. "No,"
replied he, "I am an enemy to extravagance and superfluity; what
I desire of you is to observe a decent hospitality, of which I
know you are a perfect judge, if once you give yourself leisure
to reflect."

After some further discourse she at last consented to do as he
would have her; on which he was entirely satisfied in his mind,
not doubting but that she would, rather than be deprived of her
favourite tea-table, be punctual in the performance of her
promise, and that by this stratagem he had gained the point he
aimed at.

He conquered, it must be confessed; but how did he conquer? and
what did his victory avail him? she kept up a tolerable table,
indeed, and forced herself to behave with civility to those who
happened sometimes to eat there; but the pain it cost her in
doing this vented itself in murmurs and repinings as soon as
they were gone; so that whatever satisfaction he enjoyed with
his friends while present, was sure to be embittered with the
discontents of his wife the moment they were alone together.

The humour of this woman, never very agreeable, became at last
quite insupportable; unable to endure it, he sought abroad that
peace he no longer could find at home; it was his misfortune to
fall into ill company, and was led by them into debaucheries he
had never shown the least inclination to before; the excesses he
was guilty of, both as to wine and women, brought on the ruin of
his fortune, and, in a pretty swift progression of time, put an
end to his life.

If the soft and gentle measures which this gentleman at first
took with his wife failed of the desired success, how can any
man expect better who attempts it by an arbitrary and
authoritative way of proceeding? He may, indeed, have his table
furnished as he pleases, either by taking the direction of it
out of his wife's hands, and putting it under those of a
housekeeper, or by being his own caterer; but then what peace,
what harmony can be hoped for between such a couple? And as it
is not the design of these pages to inform a husband how far it
is in his power to have his will obeyed, but how it may be
obeyed without creating trouble and distraction in his family, I
shall take the liberty to point out one simple and easy method,
which seems to me the most effectual of any for that purpose.

There is nothing shows itself sooner than a parsimonious
disposition; a husband will presently discover it; and, as I
have already observed, there is little probability of changing
nature: I would not have him seem any way offended at it, or
even to take notice of it; a very small share of contrivance
will serve him to supply his table with whatever deficiencies he
may find there, without occasioning any disputes between him and
his too sparing wife: he need only to order such things as he
thinks proper to be brought into his house as presents from some
friend or relation in the country, or other person whom he may
pretend he either has had an opportunity of obliging, or is at
that time soliciting some favour from him.

To my certain knowledge, this is a method which has frequently
been practised with success: I have seen a lady who could scarce
be civil to anyone who sat down to eat a bit of mutton of her
providing, carve cheerfully to her guests of ortolans and
venison, and do all the honours of her table with the greatest
grace, when she imagined the entertainment was no expense to her
husband.

I am well aware that there is a haughtiness in the nature of
most men, which would make them cry out against this advice, and
say, they would not be at the pains I recommend to humour any
woman: but then I would have everyone who thinks in this manner
and is a husband, to consider seriously that the woman I am
persuading him to humour is his wife, the woman whom he is bound
by indissoluble ties to live with his whole life, and whose
affection it behoves him above all things to preserve. It comes
very near to an impossibility for any two persons to live always
together in a perfect harmony, without mutually resolving to
yield a little to the passions and propensities of each other;
and as domestic peace can scarce ever be too dearly purchased,
that husband will be much to blame who is too proud to
contribute something towards it on his part.

But while I am thus putting a husband in the way how he should
deal with a parsimonious wife, the ladies would have reason to
accuse me of very great injustice to them, if I did not at the
same time remind every man, who may happen to have this
propensity in himself, that he ought to be extremely careful in
concealing it, especially in such things as relate to house-
keeping, and are under the direction of his wife.

A niggardly and unhospitable disposition is yet more unbecoming
in a man than in a woman; a husband must appear very
contemptible in the eyes of a woman of spirit when he enquires
the price of everything he sees on his table, cries that one
thing is too dear, and that there is too much of another: if he
will be sparing, let it be in things which appertain entirely to
himself, for this is an article in which few women will endure
contradiction, and nothing more lessens the character of a man
than interfering in it.

There may, indeed, and I am afraid are some instances of
profuseness and extravagance in a wife, which it would neither
be safe nor prudent in a husband to pass over without
endeavouring to retrench, but the manner in which he should do
it must be the business of another section.



SECT. III.
In what particulars a good Husband is authorised to restrain the
Profusion of his Wife.

Profuseness in a wife is almost universally looked upon as a
worse quality than parsimony, yet in such matters as relate
merely to house-keeping I cannot think it to be such; a man must
have a very narrow mind who makes either himself or his wife
uneasy on seeing his table served with somewhat more than is
barely necessary. I believe few husbands can complain of being
ruined by this one article; and if the lady's love of elegant
superfluities stops here, and goes no further lengths, it ought
not, in my opinion, to be too severely checked by her husband,
even though it should happen to prove of some small
inconvenience to the circumstances of his fortune.

I am very sensible that there are too many instances in which
this propensity has run into excesses, not only ridiculous in
the eyes of the more discerning part of the world, but also of
the most dangerous consequences to the persons guilty of them:
when a woman, married to a petty tradesman, shall pretend to vie
with the wife of an opulent merchant; or that of a merchant with
those of the noblesse in the richness of apparel, the
magnificence of furniture, the number of servants, and the
giving into the modish pleasures of the town, the husband of
such a wife, both for her sake as well as his own, ought to lay
some restraint on her behaviour.

I am informed, by unquestionable authority, that there are some
ladies who of late have invented, and put into practice,
extravagancies such as not even the most vain and luxurious of
their ancestors ever took into their heads to be guilty of, and
which could not hereafter be believed by their posterity, if the
ruin of those fortunes they at present think themselves born to
enjoy would not be a sad conviction of the truth.

Among the many instances I could give of this destructive folly,
I shall content myself with only two, which being in women of
vastly different stations, may serve as a specimen of the rest.

A young mercer having a competent fortune to set up his business
with reputation, hired a very handsome house in one of the best
streets in the city, where having a well-stocked shop and a
great number of friends and acquaintance who were his customers
themselves, and recommended him to others, several of whom were
of the highest rank, he was looked upon to be in as thriving a
way as any man of the trade; everything corresponding with his
wishes. He wanted nothing but a wife, which he took in a short
time; but his choice was governed more by inclination than
interest, the woman he married having no other portion than a
very pretty face; all, however, might have been well, if a fatal
ambition of appearing with a grandeur to which she was no way
entitled, had not rendered them as miserable as they otherwise
might have been happy.

This unthinking woman, taking the advantage of the extreme
fondness she found in her husband towards her spared nothing
that might indulge her lavish inclination: she no sooner
discovered she was pregnant than she began to long, not for
meats or drinks, which how costly soever they might have been,
could not have proved of any great detriment to his fortune, but
for a new gown of every fine piece of silk that came into the
shop: when the time of her lying-in approached, she would needs
have a bed, chairs, settee, and the hangings of her chamber, of
a rich French brocade, valued at two guineas per yard: the most
gorgeous screen St. Paul's Churchyard produced was bought to
keep the least breath of air out of the room, the floor of which
was all covered with a Turkey carpet; she received company on
her sitting up in a silver tissue, her child's mantle was of the
same stuff: in a word, everything about her was of a piece, all
equally magnificent; and the elegance of her taste would
doubtless have been admired, if her station had not rendered it
ridiculous.

The husband, it seems, was very discontented during all these
preparations, and often remonstrated to her how unbecoming such
grandeur was in a person of his rank, and also how prejudicial
to his circumstances, as the money squandered this way, if laid
out in trade, might bring in double the sum; but whenever he
talked in this manner she began to whimper, and said it was very
hard that she might not have everything she had a mind to on the
birth of her first child; he loved with too much tenderness to
resist her tears, and granted all she asked.

I was well assured by those who were perfectly acquainted with
the affairs of these unhappy persons, that the birth of this
child cost the father little less than seven hundred pounds; nor
was this all, the fair inconsiderate must afterwards take a trip
to Bath, for the recovery of her strength, and the weakening of
her husband's purse.

When a tradesman is known to live anything above the profits of
his business, and does not make regular payments to those he
deals with, he is presently suspected to have run out, and
everyone takes the best measures he can to avoid being a loser
by him: it was at least the case of this too indulgent husband,
bills came upon him much sooner than he expected, or than they
would otherwise have done; the creditors would accept of no
excuses, all his effects were sold, and the money distributed
among them, which being far short of answering the whole of
their demands, he was looked upon as sufficiently favoured in
not being deprived of his liberty for the remainder.

Though extravagancies of this kind are neither considered as so
preposterous, nor bring on such immediate destruction in persons
of high rank, as in those of a meaner class, yet we are not
without some melancholy examples of honourable and noble
families whose posterity are reduced to a very low ebb by the
prodigality of their ancestors.

I could wish that in the present age, there were no ladies to be
found whose conduct in this point is such as cannot but furnish
matter of astonishment to succeeding generations, and must
infallibly render their immediate descendants objects rather of
compassion than respect.

There are many steps in the ladder of human life; some are
placed on the topmost, others on the very lowest; and for my
part, I look upon these last to be much the happiest people;
they are, generally speaking, contented with their lot, seek no
further than the sphere in which they were born, and act like
the most reasonable beings: whereas those on the middle rungs,
having a nearer prospect of grandeur, are too apt to be
intoxicated with it, they exert all their powers to climb a
little higher, and if fortune happens to favour their
endeavours, are yet as unsatisfied as ever, nor can rest while
they see anything above them. The ambition of men and the pride
of women, I take to be the same passion operating by different
methods, and for different ends; and what the ingenious Mr.
Otway says of the one, I think may with great propriety be
applied to the other.

Ambition is a lust that's never quenched,
Grows more inflamed, and madder by enjoyment.

A young person having been, to the amazement of the whole town,
and infinitely beyond her own most sanguine hopes, raised to the
bed of a nobleman, she no sooner saw herself his wife, than she
thought of nothing but how to give her new station all the  clat
it would admit of. She seemed to think that wasting money was a
necessary appendix to the character of a woman of quality. It
would be too tedious to mention the particulars of her
extravagancy in dress, furniture, equipage, and entertainments;
one may serve as a sample of the rest. She gave six hundred
pounds at once for the hire of jewels, only to gratify the
vanity of out-shining a certain duchess for two or three hours
at a masquerade.

I must confess myself extremely shocked on being told that this
last, and certainly the most egregious act of profusion that
ever was invented, is like to grow up into a fashion; but am
more particularly concerned to find it followed by a lady, whose
husband's estate, even with the best economy, is scarce
sufficient to support the dignity of his illustrious birth.

There needs, indeed, no spirit of prophecy to foretell what such
wild extravagancies must end in. A husband therefore cannot be
said to have any true affection for his wife who suffers her to
pursue courses, which, sooner or later, must necessarily involve
both her and himself in one common ruin.

A man therefore, in justice to himself and family, should, on
the first discovery of such a disposition in his wife, make use
of his utmost efforts to put a check upon it; for the torrent of
prodigality, if the least indulged, will soon grow too powerful
for restraint, and overflow all the bounds of prudence and
moderation; but then I would have him, as in the other extreme,
treated on in the preceding section, to begin with gentle
arguments and soft persuasion. Let him use all the rhetoric that
love and the consideration of their mutual interest can supply
him with, to prevail on her to forbear going into expenses so
destructive; and if all he urges on this score prove
ineffectual, he then must and ought to exert the authority of a
husband, so far as to lay an embargo on her purse, which, how
much soever she may complain of, there is no reasonable person
will condemn him for.



SECT. IV.
Some measures to be taken by a Husband in regard of the kindred
of his Wife, which he will not fail to find his account in, more
ways than one.

Though natural affection to kindred, and even the due reverence
and obedience to parents, be pretty much out of doors in these
latter ages of the world, yet I have observed that those who
think most lightly of their duties in this point are very well
pleased to find their families treated with respect by others.
They look upon it as a kind of veneration paid to themselves;
and therefore, if for no other reason, never fail of being
highly obliged by it.

A husband can seldom find a greater opportunity of endearing
himself to his wife, than by treating her kindred with
tenderness and respect, so I would not have him by any means
neglect it; nor should he, in his devoirs to them, seem to have
any view either to his own interest or their particular merit;
but show he thinks it sufficient that they belong to her to
engage his friendship and esteem; and if she should happen to be
at variance with any of them, to make use of his utmost efforts
to bring about a reconciliation.

I am the more strenuous in recommending this point to every
married man, as it has fallen in my way to be an eye-witness of
the good effects it is capable of producing.

A young lady, while under guardianship, had been persuaded to
commence a process against a near kinsman, on account of an
uncle's effects who had died intestate; the affair not being
decided when she married, must now be carried on in her
husband's name; but that gentleman was no sooner told of it,
than he absolutely refused giving any orders to that end; and
turning to his wife surprised her with the reason he gave for
having taken this resolution:

"My dear," said he, taking hold of one of her hands, and looking
tenderly upon her, "How justifiable soever your claim may be, I
cannot forget that the person against whom you expect I should
appear as plaintiff is your father's brother's son, a person
whose veins run with the same blood as yours, every drop of
which is too precious to me ever to offend; no, let this cursed
cause drop, and all matter of contention cease."

It is impossible to express the astonishment into which these
words threw everyone that heard them, among whom was myself and
the lawyer who had been entrusted with the management of the
suit; no one being able to make any immediate reply, the husband
went on in this manner:

"Sir," continued he, addressing himself to the lawyer, "I desire
you will put an immediate stop to all proceedings in this cause,
I will see the gentleman myself, discourse with him on the
matter in dispute, and if I cannot bring him to any reasonable
agreement, at least convince him that the man who is in
possession of his lovely kinswoman wants no other treasure, nor
can be at enmity with any of her family."

I will not trouble my reader with the repetition of what
conversation ensued after he had declared himself in this
manner: I shall only say that his wife, though she a little
opposed the giving up what she had been made to believe was her
undoubted right, could discover both in her looks and voice,
that her heart was transported with receiving so uncommon a
proof of her husband's affection for her in the complaisance he
showed her family.

My friend delayed no longer than the next day to do as he had
said. He requested a meeting with his wife's kinsman, which
being readily granted, after such previous salutations as might
be expected between gentlemen of a polite education, he told
him, that he had an utter aversion to all contests between
persons so nearly allied; that he had ordered no further
proceedings should be carried on in his part, desiring only that
a jewel, or rather a knot of jewels, which had long been in the
family, should be yielded to his wife; concluding this proposal
with saying, "I believe, sir, you will allow that no bosom in
the world will more become this ornament than that of your fair
kinswoman."

This offer both surprised and charmed the person to whom it was
made. Whether he doubted the justice of his cause or not, I will
not take upon me to determine, but have heard him since confess
he had little peace of mind during the time it had been carrying
on, and was continually reflecting on the uncertainty of a law
decision, according to the humorous poet:

For lawyers, lest bear defendant,
And plaintiff dogs should make an end on't,
Do slave, and toil, with writs of error,
Reverse of judgment, and demurrer,
To let 'em breathe a while, and then
Cry whoop, and set 'em on again,
Until with subtle cobweb cheats,
They're catched in knotted law, like nets;
In which when once they are imbrangled,
The more they stir, the more they're tangled;
And while their purses can dispute,
There's no end of th'immortal suit.

In fine, the kinsman was quite in raptures on the making up an
affair which had given him much disquiet; he not only
surrendered the jewel demanded, but also, not to be behindhand
with his new relation in generosity, gave up many other things
of very great value, perhaps as much as my friend would have
gained had the suit been continued and a judgment given in his
favour; so exorbitant are the costs of law, that, as Mr. Dryden
truly says,

Truths are so traversed, and so little won,
That he who conquers, is but last undone.

By this action he not only became so much endeared to his wife
that she almost adored him, but was ever after looked upon, by
all her kindred, as a prodigy of love and generosity, two things
which very well compensated for any loss he might have sustained
by refusing to continue the prosecution against her cousin.

Every husband has not, indeed, the same opportunity this
gentleman had of showing, in so extraordinary a manner, his
tenderness for his wife in the complaisance he paid to her
kindred; yet all may do it in a more or less degree, and I
cannot but look on any man who omits it, as ignorant of a very
great essential to his own happiness.

I think I may venture to set it down as an unfailing maxim, that
nothing more contributes to render the marriage state truly
amicable, than for both parties to treat the families of each
other with more respect than they do their own. The behaviour of
the husband will go a great way in setting an example to his
wife in this point, and when they mutually concur in it, the two
families will be cemented in such a bond of unity and friendship
as to seem but one.

I know very well that some objections will be started, which, at
first sight, may seem to take off the weight of these
admonitions: it may be said, and with good reason too, that
there are people who have not gratitude to return any obligation
conferred upon them, or even to think anything is so; and in
such a case, a man in soliciting their good graces would only
have the mortification to find his complaisance rejected.

It may also be alleged, that if in the incident I have been
relating, the wife's kinsman had proved refractory, and affected
to think he had put a stop to the process only because he feared
the issue of a trial, the other could have reaped no advantage
by his generosity, but on the contrary, it is probable, been
treated with contempt.

But whoever shall pretend to argue in this manner must not have
well considered the drift of my intention in giving this advice,
as I can easily make appear. The untoward disposition of the
kinsman could not have deprived the husband of any part of that
advantage, which was the main point he had in view, that of
endearing himself to the affection of the woman to whom he was
for life united, and this he would as effectually have done by
having made such an offer, as by its being accepted.

It is certain, however, that by using his endeavours to obtain
the good-will of his wife's kindred, it is impossible for him
ever to be a loser, and may, in the end, become a very great
gainer. I cannot be so uncharitable as not to hope and believe,
that there are but few people of such harsh and rugged natures
as not to be softened and won over by repeated acts of
tenderness; and I am very sure, that those of a more gentle kind
will always take care to repay double-fold whatever obligations
they receive.

And here I cannot omit giving one example of the latter sort,
which I doubt not but will be as agreeable to my readers as it
was to myself, on being first made acquainted with it, and
therefore will not be looked upon as superfluous.

A gentleman of very great worth and a competent estate, being
married to a young lady whom he had long courted and most
passionately loved, wisely judged that he could not take a more
effectual method of convincing her of the continuance of his
affection, nor of securing an adequate return from her, than by
behaving with the utmost regard to all those who were any way
related to her.

Her mother, above all, he was most particularly assiduous to
oblige. She was a widow lady, and living in a pretty remote
county, he very frequently addressed himself to her in letters
full of submission and respect, nor seldom failed to accompany
those testimonies of his love and duty with some little present
or other; such as fine teas, hampers of rich wines, and such-
like things, which he knew she could not be accommodated with in
such perfection in the place where she resided.

On hearing she intended to make him a visit at London, and to
stay some weeks there, he ordered the best apartment in his
house to be fitted up with the utmost elegance for her
reception; rode upwards of thirty miles to meet her on the road;
and, in fine, omitted nothing that she might have expected from
him if he had been her own son and an entire dependant on her.

The next morning after her arrival he put into her hands a small
piece of paper, saying to her at the same time, "I beg, madam,
you will accept this little tribute of my love and duty, though
without any other merit than as it flows from the abundance of
the heart."

"I can answer for that," subjoined his wife, laughing, "for I
assure you, madam, he started out of bed this morning much
sooner than is his usual custom, and said to me, 'Oh, Maria, how
happy does your mother's presence make us!' then sat down to his
bureau and wrote what you will find in the paper he has given
you."

The old lady made no reply, but hastily unfolded the paper,
which contained these lines:

To the Honourable Mrs. ****.
From her most dutiful and truly affectionate son.
Welcome! thrice welcome! best of womankind!
Source of my joys! blessed parent of my love;
Dearer than her from whom I first drew breath,
She but fulfilled the task which nature set,
And gave me to the world: you have done more!
Have given Maria to my longing arms,
And made that world a paradise of bliss!
Which else had been a scene of dreary cares,
Without one quickening charm to brighten life.
Once more, most welcome to my house and heart,
Long may your presence grace my grateful board,
And do, what nothing but yourself can do,
Add still to mine, and your Maria's joys.

The good lady was quite charmed with every word she read; and
these verses, which perhaps cost him not five minutes in the
composing, gained him five hundred pounds; for before she went
out of town she sent for a lawyer and made a deed of gift to him
of that sum on the birth of the child her daughter was then
pregnant with.

It would be easy for me to bring many instances of this kind,
which have come within the compass of my own knowledge and
observation; but the advantages which a husband must naturally
find in rendering himself well in the love and esteem of a
family into which he is initiated, and made as it were a part,
are too numerous and too obvious to everyone's capacity to stand
in need of any explanation or argument to prove: if there were,
however, no other than the one which this treatise is chiefly
intended to promote, that of endearing himself to the affection
of his wife, no man, I think, who reflects seriously on the
state in which he is engaged, will despise as beneath his
attention, the measures I recommend for the accomplishment of a
work so material to his happiness.



SECT. V.
Giving way to rage on every trivial occasion, how unbecoming in
a man of sense, more especially after he is married.

It is certainly a very great fault in parents, tutors,
governors, or any who take upon themselves the education of
youth, not to put an early check on those fiery seeds of wrath
which they will find in the composition of some pupils, and
which, if suffered to go on, will still increase and gather
strength with their years, till they become intolerable in
maturity.

Pride, the predominant passion of mankind, too often hinders
those of the best understanding from perceiving this error in
themselves; and when they do, from taking pains to correct what
from their infancy they have been permitted to indulge; so that
they are liable to run into the most ridiculous, and sometimes
dangerous excesses, without ever reflecting that what they do is
looked upon as such.

I have seen a man throw a chair out of the window, only because
it did not stand just in the same place it used to do; kick his
valet de chambre, or barber, downstairs if the napkin under his
chin, when going to be shaved, happened to be tucked too loosely
or too strait; beat his own head against the wall if a cry in
the street displeased him; and a thousand such like follies,
which one would think no man in his senses could be guilty of;
and yet the same person shall, at other times, behave with all
the softness, good humour, and politeness imaginable.

It would be well, methinks, if every man of this cast would have
his room hung round with looking-glass, to the end that seeing
himself in the deformity of his rage, his mind might be so
struck with shame at the shocking resemblance, as to make him
remember it enough to refrain appearing again in the same
manner.

I remember to have read, in the works of one of our old poets, a
passage which I think gives a pretty picturesque description of
an angry man:

Enormous rage distended ev'ry vein,
And all hell's furies o'er his breast did reign.
Swol'n with mad ire, his blood-shot eyes did glare,
Like ruddy meteors, blazing in the air.

Anger, when provoked by real injuries, if it arrives at any
height, is justly termed a short-lived madness; but when
inflamed by accidents too frivolous to merit the least attention
from a man of reason, what name can it deserve? Sure there is
none in language can convey a just idea of its extreme
absurdity!

What can a new married woman think on her first seeing her
husband in one of these tourbillions of outrageous passion? If
she happens to be of a meek and timid disposition, it may throw
her into fits; if of a more bold and daring one, it is likely
enough that she will reproach him in terms which may rather
increase than abate the fury in his brain. If she has prudence
enough to seem to take no notice of it, which is doubtless the
best method she can pursue, that very prudence, in spite even of
herself, will very much lessen the esteem she had for him before
her discovery of his follies.

It will but a very little avail him to say, that it is not with
her he has been angry; that he loves with too much tenderness
for anything she can do ever to make him so: for, besides that
she will scarce believe him in this point, and think herself
obliged to put a guard on all her words and actions; his
behaviour to others will make her see into his soul, and find
there such a void, both of religion and morality, as if she is
endued with the least portion of either cannot but render her
extremely unhappy.

What peace of mind can that wife be supposed to enjoy, who
whenever her husband stays abroad longer than she expected; or,
indeed, whenever he is out of her sight, even for the smallest
time, knows not but he may that moment be committing some rash
action which may lay him under the censure of the law, or
perhaps be quarrelling with his best friend, be either killed or
killing; certainly, the greater degree of virtue, good
understanding, or affection for him she is possessed of, the
greater must be the inquietudes she perpetually sustains.

It is an observation which I have very often heard made, that
people addicted to these violent passions are better-natured
than those of a more equal disposition; but, for my own part, I
could never find anyone reason to support this argument, unless
it were, that on coming out of their frenzy they severely
reflected, which I am afraid is seldom the case, on the follies
they had been guilty of, and were desirous of making some
atonement by a quite different manner of behaviour.

But allowing it to be so, and that these Iracundians were really
endued with a greater share of sincerity, benevolence, and
liberality than others generally are, what satisfaction would
these excellent qualities, with the addition of a thousand more,
be capable of affording to those about them, when they could not
assure themselves but that in a moment some fresh accident,
light as the turning of a feather, might in a moment convert all
the present harmony into discord and confusion?

But to live in a continual dread is not always the worst
misfortune may befall a woman who is united to a man of this
fiery temper, events have sometimes happened to fulfil the most
terrible of her apprehensions, and to involve not only herself,
but all belonging to her, in the greatest calamities.

A fatal and most shocking demonstration of this truth happened
not very many years ago, a brief detail of which will not, I
believe, be an improper present to my readers in this place, as
it can give offence to no one living, and may prove a beneficial
warning to those who survive, and are of the unhappy disposition
I am speaking of.

According to all appearance there never was a more fortunate
marriage than that between the two persons, the melancholy
catastrophe of whose fate I am going to relate. They were both
descended from good families, had handsome fortunes, but love
was the chief motive of their union, and they had lived together
for upwards of four years in a manner which promised their
felicity would be as lasting as their lives.

He was, however, of that unhappy disposition which is the
subject of this section: the lady had a brother who was exactly
of the same, yet had these jarring spirits never happened to
clash till one dreadful night; just after they had all three
supped together, a dispute arose between the two gentlemen
concerning the true pronunciation of this line in Shakespeare's
Moor of Venice:

Put out the light, and then, put out the light.

Each of them would have it their own way, both were equally
positive, and some hasty words being dropped, either on the one
side or the other, their swords were immediately out; the wife,
who a little before had stepped into the next room on some
occasion, on hearing the bustle returned, but too late for any
endeavours she could use to hinder the sad event; the moment she
entered her brother fell, crying out, "Oh! I am killed!" The
husband ran to him, and fearing it was indeed as he had said,
spoke nothing but went directly to his closet, and having taken
out of his bureau what bills and money he had there, quitted the
house that instant; but just as he was doing so, called to the
servants, who being all in the kitchen had heard nothing of what
passed above. "Go," said he to his man, "fly with all the speed
you can for a surgeon, my brother has hurt himself."

In the meantime horror and astonishment had frozen up all the
faculties of the wretched wife; she saw her brother lie
weltering in his blood, a pale and breathless corpse; the person
who had reduced him to this condition was her husband, a husband
most dear to her, and whom all laws, both human and divine,
obliged her to protect: no words can paint the misery of such a
situation; but it was not long that she endured the pain of
thought, sense was too weak to bear it, and she sunk beneath the
weight.

There were two servant-maids in the house, who on hearing what
their master had said to his man as he went out, imagined that
something extraordinary had happened and ran upstairs, where
beholding their mistress lying on the floor near the body of her
slaughtered brother, the dreadful sight struck them with such a
consternation as rendered them incapable either of assisting the
one, or lamenting the other.

The surgeon who was sent for, and lived but in the next street,
came in, and finding the gentleman was past the reach of his art
to recall, turned his whole care upon the lady, whom he soon
brought to herself; but it was only to give a great shriek, and
cry out, "Oh my brother! Oh my husband!" and then fell into a
second convulsion.

She was carried to her chamber and laid upon the bed, no help
was wanting; but her fits continued the whole night, and in the
intervals she appeared very delirious. The footman ran to an
uncle of his master's, and to several other relations, who all
hasted thither; but it would be too tedious to repeat the
particulars of their confusion on the sad occasion which had
called them.

As for the poor wife, youth, and a good constitution, at last
got the better of her convulsions, so far as to prevent that
terrible disorder from taking away her life; but, alas! it had
seized on her brain, and deprived her of what alone can make
life a blessing, her reason, which she never more recovered the
right use of.

The husband, who even in the first agonies of his remorse for
what he had done, had yet some consideration of his own safety,
as I think has pretty plainly appeared, made his escape to
Holland, where as soon as he arrived he wrote a letter to his
wife; but that wretched lady not being in a condition to receive
it, it was delivered to the uncle, who had taken upon him the
care of everything belonging to that unhappy family. The
contents of the letter were as follows:

To Mrs. S .
Dear partner of my griefs, as once of all my joys,
The dreadful occasion of my leaving you allowed no time for
bidding farewell; I had robbed you of a brother, and flew
to preserve to you a husband, who wishes to live only for
your consolation. I need not tell you I had no premeditated
malice; you know how dear poor Ned was to me, as well for
his own merits as because he shared your blood: but we were
both too rash, and chance, cruel chance, took the advantage
to destroy him, and with him all my future peace. As we
were exchanging thrusts, I cannot tell how it happened, but
his foot slipped and threw him on my sword; I was only the
unhappy instrument of fate. Forgive the involuntary crime
and haste to join me, that we may consult together in what
part of the world to settle for the remainder of our
melancholy days, in case my friends should not have
interest enough with the government to procure my pardon. I
am lodged at the Black Eagle at Rotterdam, where I shall
impatiently expect your arrival. You may leave the
management of our affairs entirely to my uncle, I know he
will be a very faithful steward. As ships are continually
coming into this port there will be no danger of your
waiting for a passage, which pray Heaven may be safe and
speedy to the arms of him who is,
With inviolable fidelity,
My dear soul,
Your most affectionate
Though unfortunate husband,
R. S.

This was immediately answered by the uncle, with an account of
the sad effects which his late rash action had produced on his
wife; the intelligence of this unexpected misfortune, perhaps
too being expressed in terms too pathetic for the present
situation of that unhappy gentleman's mind to sustain, threw him
into a deep melancholy, and that into a languishing disease,
which, within the compass of a few months, took him from the
world.

A violent and over-hasty behaviour is not always, indeed,
punished with the same terrible consequences; but that they do
not more frequently happen may be wondered at by those who do
not believe the interposition of a Divine Providence, which
sometimes vouchsafes to protect men even in spite of themselves.

Courage and a true spirit, on laudable occasions, have ever been
the characteristics of the British nation; but this false glory,
this trop vif, this precipitate rashness on every trifling
provocation, is not of our own growth, nor at all natural to us;
and I am therefore tempted to believe has rather been imported,
among some other bad customs, by our travelled youth from
France, where, if it were not for the severe laws against
duelling, and the strictness with which they are put in
execution, their grand monarque in a little time, might have
cause to say with Busiris in the Tragedy,

Like death, a solitary king I reign,
O'er silent subjects, and a desert plain.

But to be more serious: it behoves every married man, above all,
to use his utmost endeavours for the correcting this dangerous
propensity; if no consideration of himself is sufficient to
enable him to do it, he ought to remember that neither his life
nor his fortune are altogether his own, and that his wife, and
the children he either has or may have by her, have a right to
share in all the benefits of both; and that he cannot do
anything which may happen to prove an injury to himself without
being guilty of an injustice to them. I am fully persuaded
within myself, that if reflections of this kind are properly
indulged, they will never fail of having their due weight with a
man of honour, and who has any natural tenderness for his family
or regard for his own reputation in the world, so I shall make
no mention of what is enjoined by religion or morality in this
point.



SECT. VI.
The great weakness of a Husband in discovering any uneasiness at
the civilities his Wife may treat others with in his presence.

THE wisest of men tells us that there is a time for everything;
it is doubtless the season and the circumstance that gives a
sanction to what we do; the very same behaviour, which on some
occasions is highly agreeable, shall on others be offensive.
This is evident in almost all the particulars of our conduct,
but more especially so in the amorous intercourse between man
and woman.

A lover, while in his days of courtship, lives in a continual
suspense, his passion makes him diffident of his own merit, and
fearful of everyone's else. Believing his mistress worthy of
universal admiration, he takes all who approach her for his
rivals, and the least kind or even civil look she bestows on any
of them inflames him with jealousy. He complains of her cruelty,
is sometimes sullen and discontented, sometimes raves,
reproaches, vows never to see her more, and flies from her
presence in a rage; then returns, confesses his faults, and sues
to be forgiven. All this is far from displeasing her; on the
contrary, she imputes whatever extravagancies he is guilty of to
the excess of that passion he has for her; and does not seldom
contrive some occasion for proving it this way, taking for a
maxim these words of Mr. Dryden:

Distrust in lovers is too warm a sun;
But yet 'tis night in love when that is gone.

These little fooleries may be called so many different scenes in
the play of Love, and are pretty enough in their representation;
but when marriage has let down the curtain, the actors have done
their parts and appear themselves.

Whatever grounds a man may have to justify his apprehensions
before marriage, he can have none after being in possession of
the beloved object; she has renounced all mankind for his sake,
and those doubts which testified his passion while in a state of
uncertainty, are, when he becomes a husband, indications of a
base distrust, than which he cannot sure put a greater affront
upon a woman conscious of her innocence and integrity.

The laws of wedlock do not so far chain up the understanding, or
the will of a wife, as to restrain her from seeing and
acknowledging merit wherever she finds it; from being pleased
with conversation which either improves or exhilarates her mind;
or from behaving with decency and politeness, even to such who
may have little else to recommend them than the rank they hold
in the world.

A woman, especially if known to have any share of spirit or
vivacity, must needs make a very odd figure, and occasion
strange speculations among her acquaintance, who in the midst of
company should sit with her lips closed, and her eyes cast down
upon the ground, as if afraid to speak, or even look on any
other than her husband; yet that there are men unreasonable
enough to expect this, I could bring many instances. I shall,
however, content myself with one, the truth of which I can aver,
as I was both an eye and an ear witness of it.

A near kinswoman of mine, who never had either her virtue or
prudence called in question, was married to a man of this
unhappy way of thinking. I was at their house one day when there
was a great deal of company; among whom was a gentleman of no
great depth of understanding, indeed, but perfectly good-
humoured and quite inoffensive in his morals; he had that silly
custom which many people have, when they are earnest in
discourse, of laying hold of whoever is in their reach. This
person was telling what he thought a very merry story, and, in
the eagerness of his repetition, clapped his hand two or three
times upon my cousin's arm, who unluckily was placed in the next
chair to him; she laughed, as others did, at the recital he was
making, but took no notice of his action, nor I believe anyone
else, except her husband, who suddenly started from his seat,
bent his brows, bit his lips, walked backwards and forwards in a
disordered motion, spoke to no one, nor gave any answer to those
who spoke to him.

Everybody was surprised at so strange an alteration in his
humour; and none being able to guess at the occasion, knew not
but themselves, by some inadvertent word or action, might have
affronted him; all of them, except myself, rose up and took
their leaves.

The moment they were gone my cousin, with a great deal of
complaisance and tenderness, approached her husband, and asked
if he was not well; to which he churlishly replied, "Yes, I am
well enough in health." "What then", demanded she, "can have
induced you to act in the manner you have done? You have
frighted all our friends away." "I suppose", cried he, in an
angry tone, "no one of them are unable to account for what you
seem so ignorant of, nor will wonder at a husband's resentment
when he sees his wife behave in a fashion so unbecoming of her
character."

"Bless me!" said she, "Is it I that have put you into this
humour?" "No one else could have had the power to do it",
answered he. "Did you think me blind enough not to see, or
stupid enough not to resent the easy manner in which you
suffered that coxcomb to handle your arm all the time he was
telling his ridiculous story?"

"What would you have had me do?" demanded she. "The least you
could have done", returned he, "was to have snatched away your
arm, rose from your seat, and removed to another part of the
room." "And so made myself the jest of the whole company",
replied she. "Was I to behave as if the man was going to eat
me?"

"Such fellows as ******", said the husband, "are worse than
wolves or cannibals; those monsters but prey upon your flesh,
but the tame monsters in human shape devour your reputation."

Perceiving, by my cousin's countenance, that some emotions were
rising in her mind which might make the dispute between them
grow too warm, I thought it high time to interpose. I reminded
him, that among the number of his acquaintance it was almost
impossible but he must find several who behaved in the same odd
way with Mr. ******; that I dare answer that gentleman had no
design upon my cousin; and that had any other person sat as near
him as she did, they would have been treated in just the same
manner.

I added, by way of proving the truth of what I said, that I
frequently visited a certain great lady, with whom, indeed, I
was at that time very conversant, who I never found about to
relate anything she thought of consequence, but I was glad to
get as far as I could from the reach of her fingers, or I should
have had my arms pinched quite sore.

He suffered me to go on for a good while, without offering to
interrupt me, or making any answer to what I said; but at last
seeming to be convinced by it, owned he had been in the wrong,
and asked his wife pardon, which she, who was certainly one of
the best natured women in the world, readily granted; and I had
the satisfaction of leaving them perfectly reconciled for this
time.

But alas! he either not endeavoured, or was unable to subdue
this unquiet disposition in himself; she afterwards complained
to me, that they never were together in company without his
finding some pretence to quarrel with her, on what had passed,
as soon as they were alone.

There cannot be a greater folly, either in man or woman, than
indulging this propensity; because by persevering in what was at
first no more than a humour, may grow in time into a passion,
and the most bitter and pernicious of all passions, as an
author, whom I have very often quoted on other occasions, tells
us on this,

For doubts and fears to jealousy will turn,
The hottest hell in which a heart can burn.

Men, for the most part, lay the blame of their uneasiness in
this point on the extraordinary love they have for their wives.
This may possibly be sometimes the case indeed, but I am afraid
extremely seldom; for I have known husbands who could not bear
the least innocent freedom in a wife, yet have themselves, at
the same time, been passionately attached to the charms of some
other woman.

Here, perhaps, I may be asked the question, How can a man be
jealous of one he does not love? To which I answer, That men
have their vanities as well as women, and can as little endure
that any other person should be put in competition with
themselves. This frequently happens between a lover and the
woman he addresses for marriage; but when that indissoluble knot
is tied, there is then a jealousy of honour; as the character of
the husband suffers, though very unjustly, in the opinion of the
world, by any ill conduct of his wife.

But as to the point I am speaking of; the ill-humour of a
husband on his wife's behaving in company with a vivacity which
has nothing in it of design, I believe that if we search into
the true origin of his discontent, we shall find it more often
proceed from pride than love.

Be that as it may, however, a husband cannot give a greater
indication of his weakness than in discovering any disturbed
emotions on seeing his wife treated with those unmeaning little
freedoms, common between persons who are intimate, and which,
one would think, he needs no other proof of their innocence than
being taken before his face.

Methinks he should consider, that on the reputation of a wife's
virtue depends the honour of him who is her husband; and that in
betraying the least distrust of her conduct, he exposes himself
as well as her to the contempt and censure of the world: people
must either believe or not believe that there are some grounds
for his suspicions, and whichever of these two opinions prevail,
it must infallibly diminish that respect which every man of
sense would wish to preserve. Those who are inclined to think
favourably, and can find nothing blameable in the behaviour of
the wife, will not forbear ridiculing the folly and stupidity of
the husband; and those who are ready to judge the worst, as too
many such there are, will not fail to blazon and magnify her
supposed transgression, and so they both fall into disgrace.

Besides, as a woman has no defence against the reproaches of a
husband of this distrustful nature but secluding herself from
all society, which there are very few women will do, nor is it
reasonable to expect that anyone should do, it is not impossible
but that her inclinations may take a different turn, and she may
in reality run into excesses worse than his utmost apprehensions
had suggested.

But to put these greater, and more suppositious evils out of the
question; frequent brul es with a woman whom his chief happiness
consists in living well with, and the disturbance which the
distraction between them certainly create in the whole family,
ought, if there were nothing more to be dreaded, to make a man
correct, or at least conceal, a disposition so pernicious to the
peace of all about him.



SECT. VII.
Petulancy in a Husband, how disagreeable to a Wife, and
troublesome to the whole Family.

All the good qualities a mind can be possessed of, without a
certain softness and complacency of manners, will not be
sufficient to render a wife completely happy, and give marriage
those douceurs which ought to be found in that state, and are
expected by the parties who agree to unite themselves in those
sacred bonds.

There are, doubtless, many husbands who are guilty of no vices,
provide well for their families, take great care of what is
called the main chance; that is, owing nothing to anybody, and
laying up, according to their circumstances, for their
posterity: these pass in the eyes of the world for most
excellent husbands, and indeed are such, if we go no further
than the common acceptation of the phrase; yet still there may
be a secret something in the composition of such a man, which
though not discoverable to any but his wife and family, may,
with them, destroy all the merit of his other virtues.

There are various sorts of humours which may produce this bad
effect; but what I am now about to speak of is petulancy; that
is, finding fault with every trifle that offends them, and never
seeming pleased when they can find nothing to offend them; a
kind of waspish disposition, which takes delight in stinging
without reaping any benefit by the venom they leave behind.

I have heard a man of this cast cry out, when a mug of small-
beer has been brought to table, "Pish Why was the beer drawn in
this mug?" though perhaps if it had been presented to him in any
other vessel he would have said just the same thing; the most
minute circumstance serves him for matter of cavil, and it is
altogether impossible to know how to please him, because he
knows it not himself.

Such a man as this, on every little ailment, though it be no
more than a corn on his toe, or a whitlow on his finger, expects
to be humoured, indulged, and waited on with the utmost
diligence, yet never appears satisfied either with what is done
or left undone. If his wife or servant brings him anything to
take by way of refreshment, he pushes it back with some such
rebuff as this, "Phoo, do not plague me, I hate to be teased,
when I want anything I can call for it." Yet, if they do not
offer it, complains piteously of being neglected, and the little
care is taken of him.

If his wife at any time approaches him with words or gestures of
endearment, he turns away and cries, "Prithee none of this
foolery, I have something else to think upon." If she sits
silent, he peevishly demands, "What, have you lost your tongue,
or do you think me not worthy of being spoke to?" If she
questions him on any affair of moment which may be then
depending, his reply is, "What is that to you?" If she forbears
to intermeddle, he accuses her of indolence, and tells her she
has not sense enough to think seriously on anything.

A woman of a low education, and who has as little softness as
himself, it is likely will return his behaviour in kind, and
afterwards reflect no further on it; but one who has the least
share of delicacy in her nature can never be happy in a man who
treats her in this manner; nor will all the love a wife can
possibly be possessed of be sufficient to make her absolve him
for it in her mind, though her pride or her prudence may perhaps
enable her to affect regarding it with a show of indifference.

But they will tell you that this error, as well as some others
which I have already, or shall hereafter mention, is merely
constitutional, and as much owing to nature as crookedness, a
wry mouth, a great nose, or any other blemish on the person,
therefore not to be avoided, nor the man guilty of it to be
condemned.

But supposing this position to be true, reason and resolution
may greatly help to remedy the defects of the mind, as art has
found means to shadow over and conceal, in a great measure,
those of the body.

But to do this requires somewhat more of a deep reflection than
most men will be at the pains of making, business or pleasure
engrosses their minds, they cannot endure the severe test of a
self-examination; if they begin so good a work they immediately
quit it, and thereby remain entire strangers to what is but too
obvious to everyone else.

Monsieur L'Abb  d'Espemon, a very learned and eminent French
author, in his elaborate treatise on the passions of the human
mind, has a passage which I have taken the liberty to translate,
as I think it may be an admonition of general utility, if well
attended to; it is this:

Curiosity is one of the most predominant and most lasting
passions of the human mind; it begins even in the dawn of
life, and ceases not its operations till the eve is well-
nigh spent, and the night of death lulls asleep every busy
faculty; but methinks nothing is more strange than that we
should lay out our whole enquiries on things which have no
immediate relation to us, and totally neglect that which
most nearly concerns our happiness, the knowledge of
ourselves: we are anxious to find out the motives which
influence our neighbour's actions, yet are seldom able to
assign the true reasons of our own, nor will take the pains
to ask our hearts the question.

Towards the close of his discourse upon the subject of
curiosity, he grows more warm, and says thus:


Of what advantage is philosophy? Of what use all the
learning of the schools, while our ignorance of those
propensities which nature has implanted in our minds
renders us incapable either of improving the good, or of
correcting the bad?

It is certainly a great pity when a man of merit shall forfeit
all the esteem he might have in the world, by giving way to some
unaccountable caprice, which if he once could be brought to see
in himself, he would be ashamed of, and labour with all his
might to get the better of an enemy so dangerous to his
character.

But in the case I am at present speaking of, a husband seems to
stand in need of taking very little trouble to convince himself
of his error; the discontented faces of his wife, his children,
and his servants, after he has been treating them in a petulant
and peevish manner, are so many mirrors to remind him of the
occasion.

But what surprises me the most is, to find that there are some
men who are incapable of doing an ill-natured action, yet are
scarce ever heard to speak a good-natured word: deeds, it must
be confessed, are infinitely preferrable to professions; yet it
is still a very great fault to clothe a virtue in all the
colours and appearances of its opposite vice.

Indeed I am strongly inclined to believe, that all the good we
see done by persons whose manners are so perfectly contradictory
to their actions, is not owing to any humane or tender
dispositions of the heart, or that they take any pleasure in
them; but that they are entirely influenced, and as it were,
even in spite of themselves, by the principles either of
religion or morality.

I remember to have formerly read a passage in Mr. Brome's works,
which exactly tallies with the character of such men; the lines
are these:

That good they choose, that evil they eschew,
Is not to nature, but to precept due;
The tutor stamps the mind with pious dread
Of hell, and human laws; this early spread
Through childhood, in maturity prevails,
Where innate truth and love of virtue fails.

As the world is at present managed, these sour honest men are
doubtless greatly to be valued, whether behind the counter, in
Exchange Alley among the brokers, in all public offices,
employments and posts of trust and confidence, and even among
ministers of state. Such a person, I say, in his public capacity
and his dealings between man and man, always will, and ought to
be revered; but in private life, especially in marriage, much
more is to be expected.

In cheerfulness, and an open unreserved behaviour consists
domestic happiness. What welcome can a wife afford a husband,
who she is certain will bring home nothing with him but frowns?
Will she rather not wish he should be continually abroad, and
behold his return with regret? Nay, if she is not endued with an
uncommon share of patience and discretion, will not the little
satisfaction she can enjoy in his society, make her own house
hateful to her, and drive her to seek something more agreeable
elsewhere? And then, who can answer for the consequences, will
not a total neglect of her family be the least of ills a husband
has to fear?

But I think I have now sufficiently expatiated upon this
subject, and shall therefore add no more, than that I would fain
persuade every husband, who has anything of this moroseness or
petulancy in his composition, to dissemble it as much as
possible in the presence of his wife; and to believe, that how
strongly soever I may have pointed the mischiefs attending a
contrary behaviour, they cannot be worse than what has sometimes
happened, and which he has just reason to apprehend may fall to
his own lot.



SECT. VIII.
The great mistake of a Husband who complains that his Wife is
too religious.

I shall introduce what I have to say on this head in the words
of a late learned author, who, though not a churchman, speaks
thus of religion:

"Religion", says he, "is the sole barrier against vice, the
great basis on which all our good actions, and even thoughts
depends; without it all the resolutions which human prudence and
imaginary honour enable us to form fall to the ground; it is the
bulwark of weak virtue, and the only certain refuge from the
temptations of the world, and our own corrupt inclinations."

But though nothing can be more just than this definition, and
allowed to be so by everyone who does not live in an open and
avowed contempt of the principles of religion as well as the
form of it, yet I have known several men who have been very much
dissatisfied with their wives for devoting themselves, more than
they may think necessary, to divine worship.

I think all the pretence a husband can make for complaining of
his wife on this account is, that by going so frequently to
church the family affairs are neglected. I will not say, indeed,
but that there are some instances which justify this accusation,
especially among the followers of our new apostates and field-
preachers; but then they are only the lowest and illiterate part
of them; people of any understanding will always know, that to
fulfil with diligence and integrity the duties of their station
is a sacrifice no less acceptable to Heaven than prayer.

A man, however, who happens to have a zealot for his wife,
should be very cautious how he attempts to turn the current of
her passion; weak minds are always in extremes; and if he once
brings her to believe that all the pains she has taken are in
vain, and that Heaven takes no cognizance of her works of
supererogation, she may, 'tis more than barely probable, look
upon all duties of religion as equally unnecessary, abandon
herself to everything her lawless inclination may suggest, and
from an enthusiast become a libertine; and then I appeal to any
husband, which of these two characters he will think most
dangerous, either to his interest or his honour.

In fine, a man will always find it a much less misfortune to
have a wife who has too much religion, than to be yoked to one
who has none at all; because religion, of what sect or
denomination soever, by its precepts allures to virtue and
deters from vice.

But what can be said in the vindication of a man, who having
nothing wherewith to reproach his wife except her piety, is
continually making both her and himself uneasy on that score? I
am at this time particularly acquainted with a couple, who might
be the happiest people in the world if it were not for the
difference of their sentiments in matters of faith: he is a man
of great morality, but has but very little sense of religion;
she has the most elevated notions of it. He at some times laughs
at her weakness, as he terms it: at others endeavours more
seriously to reform, or rather to pervert her judgment; but she
will not suffer herself to be persuaded to omit any part of
those duties which Heaven requires from all its creatures,
though at the same time she neglects nothing that completes the
character of a good wife and the mistress of a family.

Perceiving that all the arguments in her power to urge in favour
of revealed religion, drew from him only the commonplace modish
sarcasms of the age, she has for a long time avoided, as much as
possible, all discourses with him upon the subject; but he takes
all opportunities of returning to it, not contented that she
ceases to find fault with his notions, when he finds she
perseveres in her own, which she still strictly does, and I
believe will always continue to do to the end of her life.

She was one evening in her closet, when he happened to come home
sooner than she expected, or than was his usual custom, and on
being told where she was, ran hastily upstairs and surprised her
writing at her escritoire.

His entrance was too sudden for her to conceal what she was
about; and he snatching the paper from her, found it contained
the following lines:

Now, now relaxed from business and from care,
Let my joyed soul to meet its God prepare!
In contemplation wrapped, and heavenly thought,
Set all the pleasures of this world at nought!
Commune with angels! join my humble lays,
To chant, with them, the great Jehovah's praise!
To glorify that sacred name by whom
Alone the hopes of our redemption come!
To bless that holy spirit which inspires
All our chaste wishes, all our hallowed fires!
T'adore the wonders of the Trinity,
Th'almighty Three in one, and one in Three!
O power supreme! O goodness infinite!
Fountain of bliss, source of all true delight!
Still keep my heart devoted to thy love,
Nor let my vain imaginations rove
To aught beneath thyself.

"How unhappy", said he, as soon as he had read this, "is the man
whose wife is a bigot; I came home thus early on purpose to play
a game at Piquet with you, but I find you are soared above my
reach, quite gone beyond the clouds." "I am ready to descend, my
dear," answered she with a smile, "whenever the duties of my
station here on earth require it: the precepts of religion
command me not only to obey, but also to oblige my husband in
all lawful things; so if you please we will go down and call for
cards." "No, no," cried he, sullenly, "I shall seek better
company." With these words he flung out of the room, went out,
and returned not till the night was well-nigh spent.

She followed him downstairs, and even quite to the door of the
house, entreating him to stay, but in vain, which so much
disconcerted her, that, as she afterwards informed me, she
passed the whole night in tears, instead of being able to finish
her poetical ejaculation.

These things frequently happened between them, and though
neither of them has any reason to complain of the other, but on
the account I have been relating, that of itself is sufficient
to embitter all the satisfaction of both their lives.

I once knew another husband who used his wife extremely ill
merely because he found she believed and depended on what he
called priestcraft. He highly valued himself on the character of
a Freethinker, yet was not one so much from principle as from
the vanity of being ranked in the class of some great wits who
he was told were so. He laughed at all the mysteries of
religion, made a jest of providence, eternal judgment, and
futurity; yet if seized with any indisposition, though never so
slight, presently imagined he should die, and trembled at the
thought: in fine, he was one of those whom the poet says,

Religion's bright authority they dare,
And yet are slaves to superstitious fear.

Here I cannot resist the temptation of relating a little
incident, which, though somewhat foreign to my present purpose,
may serve as a matter of merriment to part of my readers, and
make others blush with conscious shame at seeing their own
weakness exposed in the character of another.

The person I am speaking of happened to keep his chamber on some
trifling ailment; his wife, who was never permitted to leave him
on these occasions, was sitting opposite to him on the other
side of the chimney, when on a sudden she cried out, "Bless me!
what strange things one sometimes sees in the fire!" "What do
you see?" demanded he. "Just in the middle there," replied she,
pointing to the bars of the grate, "there is the very figure of
a clergyman in his habit, and a book open in his hand, and after
him something like a coffin and a crowd of people following."
The husband's countenance changed at these words. "This is a
plain omen of my death," said he, "I just now feel a violent
pain in my side, the disorder has seized upon the pleura, I
shall not live an hour if I am not blooded; send this instant
for a surgeon."

The wife on this started up and was going to do as he desired;
but before she had reached the door, "No," resumed he, "I will
first have the advice of a physician; let John go directly to
Dr. Pratewell, and as he comes back call upon Mr. Probe, the
surgeon; and Bolus the apothecary; let them all make haste, or I
shall not live to receive their assistance."

These orders were accompanied with the most terrible groans; so
strongly did imagination work upon him on the figures his wife
had fancied she saw in the fire, that he really thought himself
in the pangs of death. The description Mr. Lee gives of men of
this turn I think is extremely natural. His words are these:

When the sun sets, shadows, that showed at noon
But small, appear most long and terrible:
So when we think fate hovers o'er our heads,
Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds.
Owls, Ravens, Crickets, seem the watch of death;
Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons:
Echoes, on the very leavings of a voice,
Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves.
Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus,
While the fantastic dreamers heave and puff,
And sweat with an imagination's weight.

The persons whom this superstitious gentleman had sent for being
come, they failed not to magnify every symptom of the disorder
he complained of; and having once got him under their hands, it
is not to be doubted but that he passed through all the
operations of their art.

Bleeding, sweating, emetics, cathartics, and anodynes, at last
brought him indeed almost to the point he so much dreaded; and
now, behold! how this hero of scepticism, in all things relating
to religion, gave an implicit belief to the most idle tale that
ever was invented.

The nurse who attended him, hearing him groan one night in a
most piteous manner, drew near to his bed-side and surprised him
with these words: "Ah, sir," said she, "if you would be
persuaded to leave off the doctors and apothecaries, and take
something I could tell you of, I am sure you would presently
recover."

"Aye," cried he eagerly, "what is it?" "Alack, sir," replied
she, "I am afraid you will only call me a silly old woman for my
prescription: but, indeed, I once saw a very great cure wrought
by it on a lady who was in a much worse condition than you are."
That's impossible," resumed he, "no one was ever worse than I
am. But no more of these speeches; if you have seen the good
effect of the medicine I will take it whatever it is."

"Then, sir," said she, "it is only to take three spoonfuls
fasting, for nine mornings together, of the consecrated water
that, is made use of in the Romish chapels." "What," cried he,
"are you a Papist, and believe in miracles?" "No, indeed, sir,"
returned she, was never at Mass in my whole life; but what I
tell you is as true as that I am alive."

"Well," cried he, with some impatience, "can you procure me any
of this water?" "I believe I can, sir," answered she; "for I
know the woman that sets the chairs and cleans out the chapel in
Warwick-street; and if you please I will go to-morrow morning
and endeavour to bring you some of it."

Whether the good woman, seeing how much her master was harrassed
with physic, invented this story merely to make him desist
taking any more, or whether she had in reality been told such a
thing, I will not take upon me to determine, nor would the
knowledge be of any consequence; I shall only say, that the
strong faith he had in the water, joined to the nourishing
things she took care to give him, in a short time repaired those
breaches in his constitution which had been made by the
operations he had sustained.

Having been cured by this pretended miracle, most people will
naturally suppose that he afterwards became as great a believer
as he hitherto had been an infidel; but it was no such matter
with him. His wife, though she had too much sense to impute his
recovery to the means prescribed by the nurse, yet she took this
opportunity to attempt making a convert of him; but he treated
all her arguments with derision, and used her very ill on her
endeavouring to persuade him to be what he resolved never to be;
and, indeed, I have observed that, generally speaking, those who
call themselves Freethinkers, though they boast being above
giving credit to any of the mysteries of salvation, readily give
faith to those which one would think below the dignity of
mankind to listen to.

But to return to my subject, from which I must confess all this
has been but a digression, I would fain have every husband
reflect what he will get by endeavouring to pervert the
principles of his wife in point of religion: if he fails, he
undoubtedly loses her affection; for it is impossible she can
long retain any for a man who would make her renounce those
precepts on which her eternal happiness depends: and if he
should succeed in the pernicious attempt, there is a strong
probability that he would find verified the words of Cassani, an
Italian Jesuit, in his famous treatise on the human mind: "A
woman", says that reverend and learned author, "who has no sense
of religion, is a weather-cock, liable to be turned aside with
every breath of temptation that blows upon her."

It would be easy for me to produce numberless examples in
justification of this assertion; but it would be altogether
superfluous, and I should only waste my own and reader's time in
making any repetitions of what must have fallen under the
observation of everyone.

There needs no more than to consider nature, to know that when a
person has once renounced any principle or opinion whatsoever,
they are always more zealous in opposing than ever they were in
defending it, in order to show the world how much they are
convinced that the alteration of their sentiments is right.

A passage which I have somewhere read just now occurs to my
remembrance, and appears to me so extremely applicable to the
occasion I am speaking of, that I cannot forbear inserting it:

Good is most bad, when changed from what it was,
And our best things, when once corrupted, worst.

But I think I have spoken sufficiently on this subject, and
shall conclude with earnestly exhorting every married man to
believe, that in perverting his wife from the duties of her
religion, he will at the same time pervert her also from all the
duties owing to himself.



SECT. IX.
Over-Curiousness and Affectation in Dress, how ridiculous in any
man, but much more so in one who is a Husband.

I know of no one propensity which so much debases the character
of a man as effeminacy, or that serves more to render him
contemptible in the eyes of all persons of understanding.

This species of folly discovers itself in many shapes; it is to
be found in the tone of the voice, and every attitude of the
person guilty of it; but I think it is in nothing more
conspicuous than in an over-curiousness and affectation of a
peculiarity in dress. There are some people who, to acquire the
reputation of a man of taste in this point, waste three parts in
four of their time in consulting with their tailor, their
periwig-maker, and their milliner, and if they hit on any
invention which happens to take the fancy of the town, and
afterwards becomes a general fashion, and is called after their
name, value themselves more upon it than if they had found out
the Longitude or the Philosopher's Stone.

If these things are inexcusable in women, who from their very
infancy are taught to pride themselves in their beauty, and
place their glory in attracting a number of admirers, what can
be said in vindication of those men who act in the same manner,
yet have had a quite different education, and ought to know that
the least meritorious qualification of their sex is a handsome
person?

It must certainly be a consummate share of innate vanity which
can convert, as soon as he has thrown off his satchel, a
slovenly schoolboy into a beau, and make him study the rules of
foppery with more attention, perhaps, than ever he did the
classics.

But it is not the business of these pages to expatiate on these
follies, how enormous soever they may be, of any persons while
they continue in a single state; my concern is solely for
marriage, and my design to contribute all in my power to make
those united in these sacred bands as happy as possible, to
which end I shall advance some positions which I flatter myself
are not unworthy of a serious consideration.

In the first place, I would have every man throw off the
finicking the moment he becomes a husband, lest his wife should
think herself authorised by his example to lavish her hours in
the same ridiculous manner; and then, in what a wretched
situation must the affairs of a family under two such heads be
plunged!

ln the next, I would endeavour to convince them, that there are
very few women who truly love, and none who can esteem a man who
is of this turn; the robust, the fierce, have, generally
speaking, the most charms for that sex, as we may see by their
so often making choice of gentlemen in the army for their
husbands, in preference to those of any other avocation, though
perhaps much more to their advantage.

Milton, in his description of Adam, makes him not curl his hair;
indeed there were no looking-glasses at that time, but there
were crystal streams which might have supplied that defect, and
also beautiful plants and fruits which might have added a more
fresh vermillion to his cheeks; but he disdained such arts, and
in those manly graces which nature had bestowed on him,
approached the lovely partner sent him by heaven as the choicest
gift of the creation.

That admirable poet, speaking of the first man, then little
beneath the angels in wisdom and purity, says thus:

His large fair front, and eye sublime declared
Absolute Rule; his hyacinthian locks
Down from his parted forelock manly hung,
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad.

This parent of mankind was doubtless endowed with everything to
inspire love and reverence, and distinguish him for what he
truly was, while in his state of innocence, the lord of the
creation; and nothing, methinks, can be more absurd than to
imagine that garments, which are only the livery of sin and
shame, how much soever ornamented, can add any honour to the
wearer.

It may, perhaps, be thought that this is reasoning in somewhat a
too serious manner on the subject, and I am very sensible will
be ill relished by our beaus and belles: I would not, however,
have anyone infer from what I have said, that I am recommending
either fig-leaves or homespun russet for their apparel; no, a
decent compliance with the mode of the country we live in ought
to be observed; and it is also necessary that there should be a
difference of habits according to the different ranks and
conditions of the wearers; I would only not have the love of
dress carried to such an excess as to be erected into a kind of
science, and too much take up the mind, especially of a husband,
whom it will least of all become.

Besides, when a man after he is married discovers too great an
attachment to dress and ornament, it indicates a fondness for
his own dear person, which can never be agreeable to his wife.
But this is not the worst she may possibly take it into her head
that he has some object in view whom he is so industrious to
please; and then, who can answer, if she has anything of the
virago in her composition, but that his bottles of essence, his
cold creams, and his Italian washes, may not be all thrown out
of the window; his well-spread bag and solitaire, with the fine
tassels on his sword and hat, torn into pieces, and the whole
beau demolished by her jealous fury.

I must confess that I have a spice of ill-nature in my
composition, which would have made me well enough pleased to
have been spectator of such a scene as this, had anyone ever
fallen in my way, either in real life, or represented on the
stage, by Mr. Garrick, or some other of our comic poets. But
raillery apart; indeed, the matter is of too serious a kind to
be treated of in a ludicrous manner.

A woman, whether endowed with a less or a greater degree of
understanding, will be equally displeased with the behaviour of
a man of this turn. If the former, her vanity will make her
imagine that the hours he passes at his looking-glass would be
better employed in admiring her charms, and hate him for the
little regard he pays to them. If the latter, she will reflect,
that though his fortune should set him above following any
pecuniary avocations, yet, besides philosophy, geography, and
other sciences he has been taught in the schools, the public
affairs of the nation, in which every man has a concern, should
seem to him more worthy of his attention than the modes of dress
and ornament.

In a word, I may venture to pronounce, that a man who, after
marriage, discovers an over-delicacy and solicitude about his
own person, and in particular is exact in this article of dress,
any further than what decency and the station of life he is in
requires, will seldom, if ever, preserve the love and esteem of
his wife and family, or be looked upon as a man of solidity by
the sober and sensible part of his acquaintance.

Those who are placed by fortune in a middle state of life, have
their thoughts generally taken up with their several trades or
other occupations. It is persons of high rank and condition who
are most liable to fall into this weakness; and it is therefore
for their use that this section is chiefly intended.

These gentlemen having always a liberal education, the advantage
of the best books and conversation, and the examples of the
illustrious dead, and probably of many living worthies in their
own family, need, methinks, no more than to remember what steps
they ought to take to support the dignity of their births.

I can only wish that persons endowed with every qualification to
be the shining ornaments of the age they live in, and leave
behind them characters worthy the imitation of their posterity,
would take the trouble to ask themselves these few short
questions:

First, Whether the reputation of dressing well can come in any
competition with that of acting well?

Secondly, Whether it would not more redound to their honour to
be the patron of men of letters, than the dupe of French tailors
and barbers.

And Thirdly, Whether the hours wasted at the toilet might not be
better employed in the study of what is owing from him as a good
subject to his prince, and patriot of the common-weal.

These latter remonstrances may seem foreign to marriage, but in
effect they are far from being so; because a woman who has any
understanding of her own will always revere a man who makes a
right use of that share he is himself endowed with.

End of the Second Book



BOOK III.




SECT. I.
Concerning the behaviour of a Husband in regard of Children by a
former marriage, whether on the one side or the other.

I am so little a friend to second marriages, especially when
there are children, either on the one side or the other, that I
should not be sorry if there were no occasion for me to say
anything on this head; but as these sort of conjunctions are so
frequent, and have the authority both of divine and human laws,
I might with very great justice be accused of prejudice and
partiality if I omitted giving what advice is in my power, where
I believe it will appear more necessary than in any other one
circumstance in life.

When a husband, the moment he is made so, either becomes the
father of another man's children: or, on the other hand, sets a
woman in the place of a mother over those he may have had by a
first wife, it requires a more than ordinary share of
circumspection, as well as good sense and good nature, to
conduct himself in such a manner as to give no room for
dissatisfaction.

The children of a first marriage are apt to look with a
discontented eye on this alteration in the family, and to submit
with very great reluctance to any commands laid on them by a
new-made parent; nor will there ever be wanting evil-minded
persons who will aggravate every little cause of complaint,
whether real or imaginary.

If a wife does not humour the children of her husband in
everything they desire, be it ever so unreasonable, they
presently begin to whimper, and cry, "It would not be so if
their own dear mamma was alive," on the refusal of every
request. On every correction they receive for any fault they may
have been guilty of, they run with streaming eyes and blubbered
cheeks, bewailing the hard usage they sustain, to as many as
they can find an opportunity of speaking to; the name of step-
mother carries in it so ungracious a sound to the ears of most
people, that there are very few who do not readily give credit
to all the idle tales are brought them to her prejudice the
husband, perhaps, is not the last who listens to the complaints
of his children, and often times resents the behaviour of his
wife towards them in such a manner as to occasion very great
dissensions: but if his love, his good sense, or his
complaisance, keep him silent on that score, yet cannot she be
easy on account of the bad character the station she has entered
into has drawn upon her from others, so that all the sweets of
marriage will be embittered by it.

On the other hand, if a man marries a woman who has any children
by a former husband, there will be no less danger of a mutual
dissatisfaction arising in a short time between them. If he
happens unluckily to have anything of an over-delicacy in his
composition, he will behold with an envious eye every endearment
she bestows on the little innocent pledges of her first
affection; he will impute the kindness she treats them with as
an indication of her remaining tenderness for their father,
imagine that his memory is still too precious to her, and, in
fine, grow jealous of a shade.

But though I am inclined to believe that this is a case which
happens much less frequently than any other, yet that it
sometimes does so is a truth I can aver with the greatest
assurance. I will not say it always proceeds from an excess of
love; no, it is more often owing to the pride and tenaciousness
of a husband, as I have already observed in treating on the
article of jealousy. But can anyone be jealous of the dead? may
some people ask: it is, indeed, a little incongruous, yet, to my
certain knowledge, there are men of this humour, odd as it may
appear, and of the discontents which have risen in their
families merely on this account, I could produce several present
instances, were it expedient for me to do so.

There are, however, many other circumstances, which being too
obvious even to the most common observation, stand in no need of
my making any mention of in this work; I shall therefore only
give a slight hint in regard of one particular, which I think is
the most general, especially among those people whose lot is
cast by fortune in a middle state of life.

When a man, by any losses or cross accidents in life, begins to
find himself in the least straitened in his circumstances, or,
through a narrowness of his own mind, takes it into his head to
apprehend wants where none are likely to ensue, he is either way
apt to grumble at those expenses which necessarily attend the
bringing up of children: paternal fondness naturally makes all
these things easy to most people; but without that, whatever
they do is done with repining and regret.

A man who marries a widow ought certainly to look on all her
children as his own, for such they are by the firmest title of
adoption; and as he takes their father's place in bed, should
think it his duty to do the same in everything else which
regards them; and whoever he is that neglects so essential a
point, cannot deserve the name either of a good husband or a
good Christian, nor has any just reason to hope the sincere
attachment of his wife, who will always think herself slighted
in the persons of her children.

I must nevertheless acknowledge it as my opinion, that the
little regard which we so often see paid, both by husbands and
wives, to the offspring of each other by a former marriage, is
very much owing to the folly and injustice of the world, who
will scarce ever allow any merit of this kind either in a step-
father or step-mother.

But where both parties happen to have children, the matter is
still much worse; the kindred of the deceased parents on each
side are continually interfering, prying into every little
indulgence, or correction, received by either, and seldom fail
of exhibiting the most terrible accusations of partiality,
whether with or without a cause.

What miserable commotions, what cruel fractions do these
incendiaries, by their too officious zeal for the interest of
the remains of their deceased relations, frequently create in
families! The husband and wife are set at variance, the children
taught to envy and malign each other, the servants divided into
factions, all business, all economy neglected, and everything
involved in discord and confusion.

Sorry I am that it is not in my power to give any admonitions
which might possibly prevent so great a mischief; but the
particulars which occasion it are too numberless and nameless to
be either mentioned or expatiated upon in a work of this nature.
I would, indeed, persuade every husband and wife to act in this
article as becomes their characters, and the love they bear to
each other, because a consciousness of having fulfilled their
duty will be a consolation to themselves; but much I fear, at
the same time, that it will be the only recompense their virtue
will receive.

Here may a husband, who finds himself in this perplexed and
unhappy situation, be tempted to demand, "To what end have I
mentioned a subject wherein there is no redress?" But let him
have a little patience, and I doubt not but to convince him,
that though the evil cannot perhaps be totally remedied, either
by his own or his wife's most prudent endeavours, yet the
asperity of it may in a great measure be alleviated.

The methods I would advise a husband to take are these: First, I
would have the children, whether they are his own or his wife's,
sent immediately after his marriage out of the house, in order
to be educated under persons proper to be employed in that
trust; but not with any of their kindred, from whom it is
necessary, for the reasons aforesaid, to keep them as much at a
distance as possible, till they arrive at an age which may
defend them from giving credit to any idle insinuations to the
prejudice of their own peace as well as that of their parents.

When these children happen to be on the husband's side, the wife
will doubtless be so far from opposing their removal that she
will rejoice at it. If both of them were parents before they
came together, she cannot, with any appearance of reason, resent
his treating those who call her mother in the same fashion he
does those of whom he is the natural father.

The greatest difficulty a husband will find is, that when having
no children of his own he has married a woman who is a mother:
here he will stand in need of all his rhetoric to prevail on her
to turn from her preference those dear pledges of her first
affection: yet would I have him not despair; the same motives
which induced her to enter into a second engagement will, I
believe, induce her also to give this proof of her complaisance
for the present possessor of her heart, if he attempts to win
her to it by those soft and endearing methods which few men are
ignorant in the practice of, when it is their interest to exert
themselves in that point.

When he has got the little innocents thus disposed on, it will
behove him to do everything in his power to keep their mother
from repining at their banishment, or suspecting that it was
want of affection either to her or them which had made him seem
desirous of their departure; he must not only go with her
frequently to visit them, and be continually sending some pretty
toy or other, suitable to their years and fancies, but must also
double his caresses to herself, and, for a time at least, till
she is somewhat weaned, indulge her in all those diversions and
pleasures she seems most inclined to take.

Indeed I know of no one circumstance in marriage half so
delicate as this, nor which requires so much the circumspection
and assiduity of a husband to manage well: but the particulars
of what will best become him to do are so numerous, and withal
so various, that it is utterly impossible to prescribe any
distinct rules for that purpose; I shall therefore only say in
the general, that every man whose wife has children by a former
husband should always take care to behave towards them with the
greatest tenderness whilst in their infancy, and as they arrive
nearer to maturity, with respect and complaisance.



SECT. II.
The unparalleled weakness of a Husband who, to the prejudice,
perhaps ruin, of his Wife and Family, suffers himself to be
imposed upon by those pretended Connoisseurs in Arts and
Sciences who dignify themselves by the title of Virtuosi.

How greatly are mankind deceived by appearances! When we see a
man live in perfect concord with his wife, that they have
everything about them befitting the rank they hold in life, and
are guilty of nothing which can call either of their characters
in question, we presently pronounce them a very happy couple;
but, alas! how sad a mistake does this often prove in the end?It
is not sufficient that a man is endowed by nature with no ill
propensities, nor has imbibed them either from example or
education; that he runs into no excesses, either as to wine,
women, or gaming; he may be a well-conditioned, a virtuous, and
a good man, and yet be a very bad husband. As much a paradox as
this may seem, it will be easily reconciled, on our giving
ourselves the trouble of considering that there are some sort of
follies which, if indulged, are no less pernicious to the
interest of a family than the worst of vices.

Among the many and various inventions by which the thoughtless
and undesigning part of mankind too often suffer themselves to
be imposed upon by the more subtle and crafty, I know of none
which, without appearing to be so, are of more ruinous
consequences to families than those daily put in practice by a
set of men, who, by the help of a few cant words, pass for
connoisseurs in painting, sculpture, drawings, shells; and, in
fine, in every curiosity both of art and nature.

These pretended virtuosi force themselves into all the companies
they can, sound the inclinations of everyone they enter into
conversation with, and when they find a gentleman discovers a
taste for any particular art or science, are never unprepared
with a snare to draw him in. As for example:

If they find he is an admirer of pictures, they presently invite
him to see a curious collection in the hands of some friend of
theirs; he rejoices at the opportunity of feasting his eyes, and
goes with them; there they meet, as if by accident, with someone
of their own tribe, who tells them that several excellent
pieces, all originals, are just imported from Italy, and that he
can procure them a sight of them; the gentleman is again made
one of the party, and thus they hurry him from one picture-
broker's to another, till they have got into his confidence, and
fully established him in that go t to which he had a natural
tendency, they carry him to an auction, where being themselves
the principal proprietors, they have their puffers to bid high,
and by this means the unwary gentleman is frequently drawn in to
give, for what perhaps is not worth twenty shillings, double the
number of pounds.

If he delights in medals and antique coins, they can produce him
pieces struck several hundred years before the birth of our
blessed Saviour. If in drawings or sketches in crayons, they
produce the figure of Deianira in her distraction, after having
made her husband wear the envenomed shirt given her by the
centaur; old Priam's palace before the sack of Troy; and a
thousand such like things, all said to be the work of Titian's
own hand. In a word, they can flatter his imagination with
whatever it is set upon, provided they find his purse as open to
their demands as his ears are to their impositions.

I have been credibly informed that a gentleman of no very large
estate, but extremely fond of the marvellous, gave five hundred
guineas for a feather, which some of these Virtuosi assured him
had been dropped from the pinion of a Phoenix, as the bird of
Paradise was taking her last flight to her aromatic nest.

Strange, and almost incredible, are the effects of this unhappy
infatuation. I once knew a person, who having no other fortune
than what arose from a pretty lucrative employment he held under
the government, laid out all the money he could save from the
necessary expenses of life in copper medals, and pieces of old
coin, which he was made to believe were half as ancient as the
creation, and had been found in digging up the foundation of
some ruined castle, or the draining marshy grounds, and such
like tales. His wife beheld these purchases with the utmost
regret, and often remonstrated to him the folly of wasting his
substance in such baubles; but he always answered in these
terms: "You are a fool, these noble remains of antiquity will
not only do me honour while I live, but also be a better
provision for my family after my death than any I could
otherwise have made." The poor woman, however, proved the truest
prophet; for on his decease these boasted curiosities being
exhibited to sale were found of little more value than their
weight, and three fine daughters, whom this deluded man had left
behind him, instead of having the portions they expected, were
all reduced to go to service.

One great misfortune of this propensity, and which often
occasions the ill consequences attending it, is, that those
people who are beguiled by it, imagine that while they are
indulging their own inclinations, they are at the same time
enriching themselves, and doing good to their posterity; such a
dust does it cast upon the eyes of reason that they can see
nothing but through the false optics of prejudiced opinion. I am
apt to think that the humorous poet had this very deception in
view when he wrote these lines:

Doubtless the pleasure is as great,
Of being cheated, as to cheat;
As lookers-on feel most delight,
That least perceive a juggler's sleight;
And still the less they understand,
The more they admire the sleight of hand.

I must acknowledge, that in the whole course of my observations
I have not met with many things which afford me more matter for
astonishment then to see men of the best understanding and
shrewd judgment in other affairs, blindly give up their reason,
and suffer themselves to be imposed upon in the most gross
manner by these rarity-mongers and dealers in pictures.

A certain late great person, who was allowed to penetrate as
deep into mankind as anyone who is no more than man himself can
do, became so much the dupe of this species of knavery, that he
laid out several thousand pounds on pieces which passed upon him
for the most choice works of Titian and Raphael; but when
afterwards examined by some who had either more skill or less
interest to deceive him, were found to be bad copies of very
indifferent originals; and, in fine, of no real value.

Painting is undoubtedly a very noble science, yet I can never be
brought to believe that any picture, though it were even really
drawn by the pencil of Apelles himself, can be intrinsically
worth half those sums which, to my knowledge, have frequently
been paid for the daubings of a certain dabbler in the art, who,
by exposing his pieces for some time in the sun and wind, and
rubbing the back side of the canvas with a pumice stone till it
is almost as thin as a leaf, has given them the air of
antiquity.

I should, however, rather laugh than be angry at these
deceptions, if they were put in practice only on those who,
among the rich and great, as some such I fear there are, have no
bowels of commiseration for the distresses of their fellow
creatures; or on misers, whose hoarded money, which might
otherwise lie rusting in their bags, would by this means be
brought to circulate: but when men of small fortunes and large
families are thus drawn in, I cannot help thinking but that the
persons guilty of such frauds are worse than common robbers, and
deserve at least an equal punishment.

But as I cannot be vain enough to imagine that anything I am
able to say will put a stop to artifices by which such numbers
of men, too proud to beg and too lazy to work, are indebted for
their sustenance, I shall add no more on the subject of their
behaviour; nor should have entered on the particulars I have
done, but in the view of warning those who may now be on the
point of being seduced, to turn their backs in time, and shun
the fatal infatuation.

These admonitions could not, I think, be presented to the public
at a more seasonable time than this, as the wonders said to be
found in the new-discovered subterranean city of Herculaneum,
and some other places lately mentioned by our news-writers, will
undoubtedly furnish fresh temptations for the unwary and over-
curious.

I heartily wish that we do not shortly hear that the thumb of an
Alcides in Parian marble, pretended to be procured with great
expense and infinite application, does not become the purchase
for someone or other, whose money might be laid out to much
better purposes. Persons of this unhappy turn of mind have not
the power to stop in their career; they cannot hear of a thing
which has any appearance of the marvellous, without being
impatient to become masters of it; and, if their fortunes would
permit, would not be satisfied till they had as many rarities in
their possession as Mr. Lascelles and some other authors report
are in the Grand Duke of Tuscany's repository at Florence.

I think that among all those commodities which are called
curiosities, there are none which more deservedly bear that
name, and by which the purchaser is the least liable to be
imposed upon, as shells, it being impossible to counterfeit
those admirable productions of nature; some of these are
extremely beautiful, and while they delight the eye, afford the
finest matter for contemplation, and it must be confessed, are
very proper ornaments for the cabinets of the great.

It is, however, the rich and opulent whom I would wish to see
make bargains of this kind, persons who may expect their
posterity will retain these reliques in their families; but as
for those of moderate fortunes, whose wives and children must,
in all probability, after their decease, be reduced to dispose
of them, it is certainly the highest madness in them to lay out
their money in things which, being of no other intrinsic value
than what is given them by the fancy of the purchaser, will turn
to very little account.

I am very sorry to observe there is so small a share of good-
nature, compassion, or generosity at present in the world, that
few people, when they find anything is exposed to sale through
the necessities of the owner, will not bid the twentieth part of
the price which perhaps they would readily enough give the whole
of, were it in the hands of a common broker.

A wife therefore cannot, without the extremest regret, behold
her husband lavish away his substance in toys which she knows
must, some time or other, be parted with to very great loss; and
this reflection will be apt to make her burst into violent
passions, or throw her into a gloomy discontent, either of which
will infallibly render her incapable of discharging any of the
duties of her station as otherwise she would do; all things will
go wrong in the house, and her husband in consequence be made
very uneasy.

Much more might doubtless be said on so copious a subject, and
will probably be expected from me; but this little treatise
affords not room to dwell too long upon particulars, and I
flatter myself that the few hints I have given will be
sufficient remonstrances to those whom it most concerns, to be
attentive to them.



SECT. III.
Gaming some part of the ill consequences attending that
dangerous diversion, and how ill it becomes a married man in
particular to indulge himself in it.

An immoderate love of gaming is allowed by everyone to be so
incorrigible a propensity, that it may seem altogether fruitless
to offer anything in opposition to it. This I am as sensible of
as anyone can be; yet as I am certain there are many people
drawn into the destructive amusement more by the example and
persuasion of those they unhappily converse with, than by their
own inclination, I think it my duty in this undertaking to give
such necessary precautions as shall occur to me on the occasion.

According to my opinion, there are but two motives which can
excite to gaming, neither of which, I should think, a man
endowed with any share of sense or honour would allow himself to
encourage. The first is avarice, the most base and sordid
passion of the soul, as it tends to the increasing our own
substance by another's loss. The second is passing away the
time, which is the very worst of frenzies, tempting us to throw
away the most precious thing on this side eternity, and what
perhaps, in some moments before death, we would give much more
than we were ever, or could be possessed of, to retrieve, were
it possible to be done.

For my part, I pity from my very soul those persons who I hear
complain that time hangs heavy on their hands; not only because
it shows that they have a prodigious vacuum in their heads, but
also, which is yet worse, that they are not desirous of having
it filled up with any commendable ideas; these seem to make no
manner of use of the reason Heaven has endowed them with; all
the hours not spent in sleeping, eating, drinking, or some
diversion, are irksome to them; they know not what to do with
themselves, they stalk about like things put in motion by mere
machinery, and are led away by everything that affords them the
least prospect of giving a fillip to the spirits.

Gaming, however, I should think is the least proper amusement
that can be for that purpose; the hopes of winning, the fears of
losing, and the suspense between these two passions may indeed
keep the mind awake: but how is it kept so? Why, by a perpetual
anxiety. Unhappy certainly must that man be, whose spirits must
either sink into a dead clam, or be roused out of it by
sensations of so uneasy a nature!

They will tell you that they play only to divert themselves; and
doubtless there are many who sit down with no other view; but
every looker-on at a gaming-table must be convinced, by the
various attitudes of the parties engaged, how much it is in the
power, of the turn of a card, or the cast of a die, to convert
this miscalled pleasure into a real and most painful solicitude.

An anonymous, but very ingenious author, speaking of gaming, has
a passage which struck me very much on the reading. These are
his words:

Among many other little stories related to me when a boy, I
remember to have heard one,of a famous magician, who in
revenge for an affront offered to him by the inhabitants of
some town or village, compelled all the children of it to
follow ,the sound of an enchanted pipe he played upon, till
they came to the banks of a great lake, where the earth
giving way under their feet, they fell in and were all
drowned. This tale, though calculated merely to please
persons of the age I then was, seems to me to have a
perfect analogy with that immoderate love of gaming at
present so predominant among all degrees of people: men at
first engage in it to please company, or trifle away an
idle hour; but soon become intoxicated with it, are unable
to give over, but dance on to perdition after the music of
a rattling dice-box.

I shall not here expatiate on the ruinous consequences which
frequently attend the love of gaming, its mischiefs are too
numerous, too obvious, too much acknowledged, even by those most
infatuated by it, and too severely felt by their families, to
stand in need of being represented.

But there is one consideration which, without the help of any
other to give it force, should of itself, methinks, be
sufficient to make every man who is married refrain from
indulging any inclination to this fatal amusement; I believe I
shall be easily understood to mean the perpetual discontents and
apprehensions a wife must necessarily be involved in.

The many lonely hours, sometimes whole nights, the wife of a
gamester passes in his absence, might be sustained with
cheerfulness by a woman of prudence, if she knew that time was
employed in any laudable affair, tending either to his own
honour or the interest of his family; but when she is convinced
it is wasted among bullies and sharpers, and cannot be certain
but that a moment may deprive him of all he is master of in the
world, what terrible alarms must she not sustain!

Whether he comes home a winner or a loser, her anxiety, her
dread, is still the same; and one would think, exclusive of that
fond affection which ought to fill the breast of every husband,
no man of honour, common good-nature or humanity, could
persevere in a thing which he knew must render the woman he had
married so unhappy in her mind, though he should even be so
lucky as not to ruin both himself and her in point of fortune.

As therefore there are but very few things so utterly
inconsistent with the ends for which marriage was ordained as
this dangerous amusement, if it were even on no other score than
the domestic inquietudes it must of course create, it most
nearly concerns every man, how greatly soever he may have been
attached to it before, to put on a firm resolution of abandoning
it for ever from the moment he becomes a husband.

To assist him in doing this, he should consider that he is no
longer entirely his own master; that he has now taken to himself
a second self, whom he is bound by all laws, both human and
divine, to cherish and make as happy as he can, and that if he
acts a contrary part towards her, it is quite as unnatural as if
his right hand should quarrel with his left, or anyone member of
his body rise in opposition to the others.

I have now only to add a few words, by way of caution, to those
persons who being wholly free from this vice before marriage,
are liable to be drawn into it afterwards; as, indeed, who is
there that is not so, in an age when it is erected almost into a
science, and looked upon, by the modish part of the world, as
the greatest impoliteness not to have some learning in?

I sincerely wish that it were in my power to persuade every man
who is a husband to avoid, as much as possible, all society with
those who love play; and above all things, never to be prevailed
upon to go to a gaming-table; for though he may be drawn thither
with no other design than to be a looker-on, it is a thousand
against one but that he is tempted to bet, either on the one
side or the other, which is much of the same consequence as if
he played himself, and is, generally speaking, the first step
taken by those who afterwards become professed gamesters.



SECT. IV.
Some other things which it would be wisdom in a Husband to
avoid, as being no less destructive to the peace and interest of
his family than Gaming.

Methinks there cannot be a greater weakness than to depend too
much on chance; or, in other words, to part with a certain good
for an uncertain better. Who would have imagined that the year
1720 should have been for ever memorable for the ruin of
numberless families in its fatal aera? Yet how soon was it
forgot? Many, even of the unhappy sufferers, threw their last
remains into the next bubble that presented itself. There is at
some times an epidemic infatuation which runs through the minds
of men; and is incurable by all the efforts of reason. I am
sorry to observe that the same humour of quitting the substance
for the shadow still prevails to such a degree among us, that
there are few who do not madly dissipate in hunting after luck
what ought to be kept close and improved by honest industry.

If anyone less adventurous than themselves pretends to argue
with them on this head, they presently reply, that they love to
put themselves in Fortune's way, never considering the vast odds
between the numbers of those whom that capricious and
undistinguishing deity vouchsafes to lift up with her hand to
opulence, and those she kicks down to misery and poverty with
her heel.

I find a very humorous description of this imaginary power in
the works of his Grace the Duke of Buckingham, which as it may
not have fallen into everyone's hands, I think it not improper
to transcribe:

Fortune, made up of toys and impudence;
Thou common jade, thou hast not common sense!
But fond of business, insolently dares
Pretend to rule and spoil the world's affairs!
She fluttering up and down her favour throws
On the next met, not minding what she does,
Nor why, nor whom, she helps or injures, knows.
Sometimes she smiles, then like a fury raves,
And seldom loves, but fools or knaves.
Let her love whom she please, I scorn to woo her.
While she stays with me I'll be civil to her:
But if she offers once to move her wings,
I'll fling her back all her vain gewgaw things,
And, armed with virtue, will more glorious stand,
Than if the bitch still bowed at my command.
I'll marry honesty, though ne'er so poor,
Rather than follow such a blind dull whore.

Mr. Dryden, in a more serious manner, expresses the sense he had
of the great weakness of those people who place any dependence
upon chance or fortune; I shall only quote two lines of his,
which may serve as an epitome of the whole of what he says upon
the occasion:

Fortune a goddess is to fools alone,
The wise are always masters of their own.

Putting largely into lotteries, high betting at horse races,
cock matches, being all of them things entirely dependent on
chance, I look upon as a kind of gaming, and daily instances may
convince everyone, are of no less bad consequence to the
adventurers.

To these I may also add, subscribing to new invented schemes,
which, though they may be calculated for public good, and in
effect might prove so, if properly concerted before put in
execution; yet, through some mistake in the beginning, more
often miscarry than succeed, and the projector himself, as well
as those he had drawn in to become proprietors, are ruined by
the methods they took to enrich themselves.

The extracting oil from beech mast, as projected, and carried
into execution, by the late very ingenious Mr. Aaron Hill about
forty years ago, was certainly a fine discovery, and might have
been of the greatest emolument to the public, as the oil being
found on the proof not at all inferior in its flavour, and would
retain its purity as long as that imported from Lucca, or any
other part of Italy.

His Azilia, or Golden Islands, on the coast of Florida, was also
far from being a visionary scheme, as many thought, or as many
others, out of envy to the great abilities of that gentleman,
maliciously suggested, set on foot with a view of imposing on
the world, but was capable of being made greatly conducive to
the honour of the nation and the interest of those concerned in
the undertaking, as is evident by General Oglethorp's expedition
and the success of the colony of Georgia, which is the same
tract of land called by Mr. Hill Azilia, not improperly so named
by him, as he intended and hoped it would be an asylum for the
distressed of all functions and capacities.

Yet, through some fatal mistake or mismanagement in the conduct,
both these laudable schemes were rendered abortive, and the
large sums which had been contributed towards promoting them
entirely thrown away, as well as the high expectation of the
projector himself frustrated.

If then such designs, which seem to have their foundation on
reason, and afford the best and fairest prospect both of public
and private advantage, are liable to become so destructive to
the persons concerned in them, how great must be the infatuation
to engage in others which have no such excuses, and are wholly
under the guidance of chance or accident?

As to lotteries in particular, I cannot help being of opinion,
by the behaviour of those who venture largely in them, that even
he who is so lucky to have his ticket come up a prize, pays very
dearly for it by the suspense and anxiety he sustains during the
whole time his fate is undetermined.

I may also add, that all those things, the event of which are
wholly in the power of chance, occasion an almost total neglect
of honest industry in the lower class of people, and are one
great cause of that decay of hospitality and benevolence which
ought to be the characteristic of the more rich and opulent.

I would not, however, entirely debar any gentleman, whose
circumstances will admit of it, from doing as others do on this
occasion, and sacrificing to the modish caprice of the times,
provided always it be no more than he can well spare from more
commendable purposes, give him no anxiety for a return, nor pain
on finding it irrecoverably lost; in fine, what will neither
break his own peace, nor lessen the benefits he might bestow on
others.

But I can never forgive a husband, who having no more than a
bare competency for the subsistence of himself, his wife and
family, shall hazard the greatest part of it, or perhaps the
whole, on the uncertain ocean of fortune.

Wise will that man be accounted, by all people of a right way of
thinking, and happy will he find himself in the end, who
attempts not to soar beyond the sphere which Heaven has placed
him in, pursues no delusive prospects, grasps at no empty
shadows, but endeavours to improve the little or the much he is
master of, by an unwearied application, and diligent attention
to whatever business or avocation he is best fitted for by
nature or education.

Such a one will very seldom fail to thrive; but if even he
should meet with any disappointments, by accidents unforeseen
and impossible to guard against, the asperity of them will be
greatly softened; first, by the consciousness that they have not
fallen on him through any fault or mismanagement of his own; and
secondly, by that compassion which the world, bad as it is, is
apt to feel for the distress of a good and prudent man: whereas
on the contrary, he who has undone himself by following
chimeras, will be made doubly wretched by remorse and shame; he
will be unpitied by his friends, and laughed at by his enemies.

A certain most ingenious and eminent author tells us, that hope
is no more than the day dream of a sickly and restless
imagination, an idea excited merely by the fervour of an
unsatisfied ambition; and that the only way to preserve a calm
and contented mind is never to raise our expectations to
anything beyond what we are at present in possession of; by a
steady adherence to this maxim, adds he, we may secure ourselves
from all the plagues of suspense, never deceive ourselves, nor
be liable to be deceived by others.

Horace, who was undoubtedly a great philosopher as well as poet,
is of the same opinion, as may be seen in many of his odes to
Maecenas, Varrus, and others of the court of Augustus Caesar,
particularly in one which seems to me excellently well
translated by Mr. Dryden; the following lines are part of it:

For me, secure from fortune's blows,
Secure of what I cannot lose,
In my small pinnace I can sail,
Contemning all the blustering roar,
And running with a merry gale,
With friendly stars my safety seek,
Within some little winding creek,
And see the storm ashore.

All that I have hitherto said upon this subject regards every
man in general who has any concern for his real interest, his
reputation in the world, or his innate peace of mind; but a
husband is, above all others, in a particular manner obliged to
observe those rules which not only my own reason have enabled me
to present to him, but also which, upon examination, he will
find have been laid down by the best authors, both ancient and
modern.

A married man should always consider, that it is not so much his
own will and pleasure he ought to have at heart, as the ease and
satisfaction of the woman he has made his wife, both which must
inevitably suffer by any mistake in his conduct.

Women, generally speaking, are more timid and less adventurous
than men, and whenever their interest is concerned, foresee
dangers most remote. What terrible apprehensions, therefore,
must that wife continually labour under who finds her husband
hazards his substance in the uncertain bottoms I have been
describing?

Of how mild and sweet a disposition soever she may be, she yet
will murmur, she will repine; every fresh disappointment her
husband meets with on this score will give her fresh occasion
for complaint; frequent disputes will naturally arise between
them, which must of consequence destroy all that harmony which
makes the sole felicity of a married state.

But I have now done with the subject; if this last argument is
not sufficient to prevail on every husband, who either truly
loves or pretends to love his wife, I know of nothing else that
will have any effect.



SECT. V.
The danger of Suretyship, and how utterly inconsistent with that
affectionate caution which a Husband should always observe in
regard of the interest of his Wife and Family.

I am sensible that what I am now about to touch upon is a very
nice and tender point; and I may possibly be accused by some
persons as if guilty of attempting to root out all those few
remains of friendship, compassion and good-nature, which, in
spite of the depravity of the age, still continue among us. I
doubt not, however, but to be able to clear myself of so heavy a
charge, and at the same time to make evident what I take upon me
to assert.

By suretyship is meant, when one man obliges himself by bond,
note, or promise, to pay the debts another has contracted, and
thereby risks his own liberty to preserve, or to restore that of
his friend.

This is certainly one of the most noble acts of humanity, and
can never be sufficiently acknowledged by the person who
receives the benefit of it.

But alas! How frequently do we see this generosity abused? That
man, therefore, who by this means relieves another from bondage,
ought, which is very difficult, to be well assured that his
circumstances are such as will enable him to discharge the
obligation in a convenient time; and also, which is yet much
more difficult, to be acquainted with the inmost recesses of his
heart, and convinced that he has honour and justice enough to do
it; for if either ability or principle be wanting in the person
delivered, his deliverer must suffer.

I must confess, indeed, that when a sincere and open-hearted man
beholds his companion, his bosom friend, perhaps his near
kinsman, exposed to the insults of merciless rapacious
creditors, and being dragged by bailiffs to a loathsome prison,
he cannot leave him in this condition without the extremest
regret, and feeling in his mind great part of those distresses
he forbears to relieve.

What then can be done in such a case, it will undoubtedly be
asked? To which I reply, that though I know no one circumstance
in life more truly touching, yet I must still own it as my own
firm opinion, that a married man ought rather to sustain it than
involve not only himself but his wife and family, than whom no
friend or relation whatever can be half so dear, in those very
misfortunes which he takes from the shoulders of another.

I would, nevertheless, be very far from counselling anything in
opposition to the laws of society or the dictates of humanity.
It is certainly the duty of every man who calls himself a
Christian, or has any pretence even to morality, to exert
himself as much as possible for the good of all his fellow-
creatures, and more particularly so for those of his own blood,
or to whom he is united by the yet more sacred ties of
friendship; but then I would have him do it in such a manner as
to be of no prejudice to the woman, who, as I have already urged
on many other accounts, has a right to be an equal sharer with
him in whatever is his property.

There are but few men who have not some expenses which they
might very well avoid; these, therefore, should be retrenched
whenever the exigencies of a friend demand assistance, and also
all superfluous elegancies in life to which they may have been
accustomed; many trifling indulgences, which we think nothing
of, if spared, will in time amount to a sum sufficient to be of
service to the necessitous.

ln paying down the money for the discharge of his friend, he
knows the worst that can befall him is the loss of that sum,
which, as I have just now said, he must endeavour to retrieve by
a more than ordinary economy and frugality; but in setting his
name to a piece of parchment, which may possibly rise up in
judgment against him, at a time when it is least convenient to
get rid of the incumbrance, he may be exposed to the greatest of
misfortunes.

Our prisons, where I may venture to affirm as many are confined
for the debts of other people as for their own, and the number
of widows and orphans from opulency reduced to the extremest
wretchedness, afford too obvious instances of the melancholy
truth I allege to stand in need of any arguments to prove it.

The condition of a person who enters into bail-bonds, may with
propriety enough be compared to that of Damocles, the sword of
destruction hangs over his head, suspended only by a single
thread, and it is perhaps more than the odds of an hundred
against one if it does not fall on him some time or other with
the severest weight.

Now, methinks, I hear some people cry out in a great passion,
"Why, this is treating the greatest part of mankind as arrant
knaves." I fear, indeed, many are too much so to remember as
they ought an obligation of this kind; but supposing them to be
men of the most strict honour, integrity, and gratitude, the
same accidents which reduced them to stand in need of this
favour may happen again, and put it out of their power to return
it; or death, should no other casualty ensue, may frustrate
their good intentions.

How much soever therefore a single man may be extolled for his
generosity in risking his own liberty and fortune for redeeming
those of another, I must always maintain that it is a very
blameable compassion in one who is a husband, as it must of
necessity involve his wife and family in the most terrible
perplexity of mind, even if the disaster they apprehend should
never fall upon them.

What a sad perversion of the sacred institution of marriage must
it be, when the two persons united in those bands live together
in a perpetual discord? when the wife, ordained by Heaven to be
the softener of her husband's cares and the crown of all his
felicity, receives him to her arms with sullen discontent? Her
eyes full of tears, her mouth of complaints, and her heart
heaving with anguish instead of love; When he, either not
conscious of having given her any cause for this behaviour, or
too proud to own it, reproaches her ill humour, as he terms it,
and in the room of mutual endearments mutual altercations take
up all their private hours?

Yet nothing is more certain than that this is, and ever must
naturally be the case, when a woman finds her husband act in a
manner so contrary to the interest of his family, as I think
everyone must allow he does in the article I am now speaking of.

I would therefore have every married man consider seriously on
the many ill consequences, some of which must infallibly attend
his taking upon himself those debts which another has
contracted, and I believe he will then never suffer himself to
be prevailed upon, either by the tender excitement of his own
commiserating heart, or the persuasion of a necessitous friend,
to squeeze the fatal wax, and sign the bail-bond.

As for any other relief which his circumstances may enable him
to give to a worthy friend in distress, Heaven and humanity
forbid I should advise him to withhold it.



SECT. VI.
The great cruelty and injustice of a man who, after he is
married, engages himself in an amorous correspondence of any
sort with another woman.

I am now about to mention a failure; or, to speak more properly,
a breach of conjugal duty, which I believe there are but few
wives, if any, who do not look upon as the very worst and most
unpardonable in a husband; I mean that of falsifying his
marriage vows, and living in a criminal conversation with
another.

There are various degrees of this transgression, the most
excusable of which is casual fruition, as Milton terms it; that
is, when a man, without any premeditated design, happens to be
hurried by a sudden start of inclination to yield himself to the
allurements of some fond wanton beauty; but though he may
afterwards be shocked at the reflection of what he has been
guilty of, and perhaps love his wife with greater tenderness
than before, yet if she is by any means made acquainted that he
has been capable of wronging her in this point, she may forgive,
but scarce ever forget the indignity; it will perpetually recoil
upon her memory, and when he courts her to his embraces, make
her apt to say with Statyra in the Tragedy:

Oh! I shall find Roxana in your arms,
And taste her kisses left upon your lips;
Her cursed embraces have defiled your body:
Nor shall I find the wonted sweetness there,
But artificial scents, and aching odours.

And though he should vouchsafe even to confess his fault,
protest the most unfeigned contrition for it, and reply to her
in the same words that Alexander did to his beloved queen:

I know that subtle creature, in my riot,
My reason gone, seduced me to her bed;
But when I woke I shook the Circe off,
Ashamed of what I had done.

Yet all this would not avail to restore to her breast the
tranquillity she enjoyed before; she would be always in fear
that what had once been, might be again; every little absence
would give her pain; imagination is very strong in that sex,
especially when inflamed with the least spark of jealousy;
whenever he stayed abroad beyond the time in which she expected
his return, she would presently torment her mind with the idea
that some new and irresistible temptation had fallen in his way.

In fine, an affair of this kind, if unhappily discovered to the
wife, puts an end to all the confidence she had in him; distrust
usurps the place of security in her mind, weakens her affection
by degrees, and totally destroys all those unaffected
tendernesses which flow from a heart full of love, and perfectly
at ease as to the sincerity of the beloved object.

How melancholy a thing is it, when a man, for the sake of a
moment's fleeting pleasure, attended with remorse and shame,
forfeits the affection of a chaste endearing wife, whom he
ardently loves, and by whom he has been as ardently beloved; and
that this has been sometimes the case there are but too many
instances to prove?

I hope therefore every husband, who has a due sense of what will
make both his own and his wife's happiness, will never trust his
virtue with himself: let him avoid all masquerades, midnight
balls and assemblies, and hold no conversation with those who
delight in the company of idle women; those creatures having
acquired, by practice, blandishments to which the modest part of
the sex are strangers. In a word, let him always keep in mind
the advice which good old Acasto gives to his sons:

Beware the dangerous beauty of the wanton.

But if to have been surprised, as it were, into an error
afterwards repented of, and perhaps never repeated, may prove of
such pernicious consequence to the felicity of marriage, what
affection, what duty, what regard, can a husband expect from a
wife, when he perseveres in a criminal attachment?

A man, indeed, if he is not utterly abandoned to all sense of
decency as well as honour, will endeavour to conceal his amour;
he will visit his mistress with as much privacy as possible, and
dissemble, as well as he is able, a tenderness he no longer
feels towards his wife: but his turn will not be always served
by these precautions; for besides that, a thousand accidents may
discover the fatal secret to the injured partner of his bed; a
woman who is a wife, and loves her husband, will easily
distinguish a counterfeited passion from a real one.

The effects of a wife's resentment, on detecting this crime in
her husband, are various, according to the various dispositions
of womankind; some are all fury, exclaim against the injustice
has been done them in all companies they come into, and call on
heaven and earth to revenge their cause; some more prudent
confine the testimonies of their indignation at home, and
content themselves with secret reproaches; and some, of a more
soft and gentle nature, though I believe the number of such will
be found but small, with silent patience bear the load of
anguish, neither exposing nor reviling the cruel author of their
woes.

A fatal, and indeed very extraordinary instance of this latter
sort happened not many years ago in a family of no mean
condition: A young couple, whom I shall distinguish by the names
of Corydon and Daphne, which were the same they gave each other
in their days of courtship, had almost from their childhood
loved each other to the most romantic height; but some
disagreement happening between their parents, the so much wished
for union was delayed for a considerable time: at last, however,
it was completed. Never was there a pair more loving and more
fond; and by the proofs which both of them had given of their
mutual passion before marriage, and the same ardency which
continued afterwards, no one that knew them but believed their
happiness would be as lasting as their lives.

But lo! Behold the instability of the human heart, and the
uncertainty of that happiness we think most permanent and
established: four moons had scarce passed over from the day of
their marriage before Daphne found a visible decay in the
ardours of Corydon; he became every day less tender and more
reserved; the warmth with which he had been accustomed to
approach her degenerated into complaisance, and he treated her
rather like a woman whom he highly respected, than one for whom
he had a passion. In fine, his behaviour towards her fully
verified these words of Shakespeare:

When love begins to slacken and decay,
It uses an enforced ceremony.

Daphne was of a timid and soft nature, modest even to an excess;
and as he continued to carry himself with all the marks of
esteem and civility, was ashamed to complain of his want of
fondness; and when she found his coldness every day increase,
and even that he began to live more abroad than at home, he made
such plausible pretences for his absence, and expressed them in
so polite a manner, that though her heart was far from accepting
them as real, yet she had not courage to reproach, or show any
testimonies of her disbelief of what he said.

The silent grief, however, preyed upon her vitals, her eyes lost
great part of their lustre, her complexion of its delicacy, and
her conversation of its former sprightliness. Everyone took
notice of the change except Corydon, who, though he could not
but see it as well as others, yet, doubtless conscious of the
cause, would ask no questions on that head, for fear of giving
her an opportunity to explain herself.

That inconstant man was now indeed in pursuit of a new object;
all the passion he once had for his Daphne, all the difficulties
he had found in gaining her, all the late transports of his
bridal joys were already forgotten, and swallowed up in the
tumultuous ocean of a wild and lawless inclination for one who
had not half her merit.

Daphne had a near kinswoman, who though bred in a convent had
imbibed nothing of the austerity of the place: on the death of
her parents, being entirely mistress of herself, she immediately
quitted the holy sisterhood, to live in Paris in a manner more
agreeable to her humour, and after staying there three or four
years, came back to England the most finished coquette that ever
flaunted in the Mall. She arrived soon after her cousin's
marriage, and was her frequent guest. Nature had endowed this
young lady with a good share of wit and beauty, both which she
took care to improve with all the helps of art. In fine, the
charms of her person and conversation appeared so striking in
the eyes of Corydon, that those of his wife presently became
tasteless and insipid to him.

She was too much a mistress in the art of love, and too well
acquainted with the disposition of mankind, not to discover
there was something more in the devoirs he paid her than what
she might have expected as the kinswoman of his wife; and as she
regarded nothing but the gratification of her own vanity,
whoever might suffer by it, displayed all her arts to encourage
the latent passion she had begun to kindle in his heart.

Sensible as Daphne was of the estrangement of her husband's
affection, she had not the least suspicion that it was
occasioned by his attachment to any new object, much less that
it was to her cousin's more prevailing charms that she was
indebted for this misfortune.

She was one day amusing a lonely hour with reading Mr. Otway's
excellent tragedy of Venice Preserved; the emphatic speech of
Belvidera, when complaining of Jaffeir's unkindness, seemed so
parallel to her own condition, that it brought a flood of tears
into her eyes. The words which that scarce imitable poet has put
into the mouth of his heroine on this occasion are as follow:

   There was a time,
When Belvidera's tears, her cries and sorrows
Were not despised; when if she chanced to sigh,
Or look but sad! There was, indeed a time,
When Jaffeir would have taken her in his arms,
Eased her reclining head upon his breast,
And never left till he had found the cause!
But now, let her weep seas,
Cry till she rend the earth, sigh till she burst
Her heart asunder, still he bears it all,
Deaf as the winds, and as the rocks unshaken!

Her gay cousin came in that instant, and finding her thus,
hastily demanded the occasion; on which Daphne told her what had
been the subject of her entertainment, and repeated the passage
above quoted. The other then laughed heartily, and cryed, "And
what is all this to you?" "As I am a wife," replied Daphne, "I
could not help being affected with the distresses of a wife,
whom the poet has made to love her husband as much as I do
mine."

"Nay, I know but little of the play," said the other, "for I
hate all tragedy; but I suppose this same Belvidera might be
jealous of her husband; and if so, I should be so far from
pitying her, that I should heartily despise her; for I look upon
a jealous wife as the most ridiculous animal under the sun. That
woman must certainly be very vain and silly who thinks to
engross a pretty fellow to herself all his life long, merely
because the parson has mumbled a few words over them."

"You talk oddly, my dear," said Daphne, "but you will be of
another mind when once you marry." "I talk reasonably," replied
her cousin, "and shall never expect constancy from a husband,
unless he is a fool. But this is not my present business with
you; I came to borrow your husband of you for one whole day at
least: you must know I have some flowers, and other trinkets,
sent me from France, which are seized at the Custom-house; they
tell me I must go in person to redeem them: the board sits to-
morrow; but as it looks a little odd for a woman to go to those
places by herself, I would beg the favour of Corydon to squire
me thither, if it be convenient for him."

"He has been of late very much engaged on some business or
other," replied Daphne, "I know not what, but dare answer that
he will not fail to attend you, if there be a possibility of his
doing so." "Well then," rejoined the other, "let him come to my
lodgings early in the morning, I will be dressed and have a
coach ready at the door; for I intend to call in our way on one
of the commissioners, in order to make him my friend in the
affair."

She then took her leave, saying she had an engagement on her
hands, as indeed she had. Corydon waited all this time at her
lodgings to pass the evening with her; and this faulty pair,
having agreed to make an excursion a little way out of town the
next morning, she had only invented the tale she came with to
his wife to keep her from being surprised at his going abroad
more early than was his custom.

Thus, by various pretences, was the credulity of Daphne for some
time imposed upon; but chance at last discovered the cruel
secret to her; a letter accidentally dropped by Corydon left her
no room to doubt the truth of her misfortune; she then could not
forbear reproaching his perfidiousness; but though she did so in
more soft terms than might have been expected, her mildness had
not the effect it ought to have had; some men cannot bear
detection. Plain as his guilt was proved he denied it all, and
accused her of a jealous and suspicious nature. No amendment of
his conduct appearing, grief threw her into a languishing
disorder, which threatening her life, she went by the advice of
her physicians into the country, where she soon after died.
Corydon lost an excellent wife, but was not sensible of her real
value, nor of the error which had deprived him of her, till too
late to make atonement.

In my admonitions to wives, concerning their behaviour on the
score of a husband's infidelity, I gave some advice, which if
Daphne had followed, might possibly have been attended with
success: I believe, however, there are few modern ladies will
resent an injury of this kind in the manner she did.

But notwithstanding I cannot but think, and all the world must
allow it to be a most enormous crime in a man to wrong his wife
in so tender a point, there is yet one circumstance in which
there seems to be some pity due to the transgressor.

What I mean is this: when a man is merely compelled, by the
over-ruling power of his parents, or is swayed by the prospect
of some very great advantage, to give his hand to a woman who
never had any possession of his heart, and shall afterwards meet
with an object which captivates all his senses, and convinces
him of the force of love, such a one, I say, has some sort of
plea for commiseration.

As too many marriages are made wholly on the account either of
the one or the other of the motives I have mentioned, I would
have every husband, who finds himself in this unhappy situation,
be continually upon his guard against the assaults of beauty:
whenever he sees a woman who pleases him too much, let him
refrain from ever seeing her again; let him fly before the
impression takes too deep a root, and let him take all
imaginable measures to obliterate it for ever from his mind.

Love in its beginning may be easily checked; but if in the least
indulged it presently becomes too potent for control; and he
that thinks to himself, thus far will I go and no further, will
soon find he has been utterly unacquainted with the power of
that passion by which he is instigated.



SECT. VII.
The last and very worst indignity a Husband can possibly put
upon his Wife, on the score of incontinency.

The celebrated author of Les Pens es Ingenieuses, in his second
volume of that work, has the audacity to add to the
characteristic of womankind the following particular foible:
Whatever some women pretend, there runs through the whole
sex, in a more or less degree, a certain vanity which will
not suffer them to endure with patience the least affront
offered to their beauty; they will hate a man more for not
thinking them handsome, than for not thinking them good;
they love praise, though they know the giver has no design
in bestowing it, nor they themselves have any ambition of
rendering him more serious.

How far the French author may be justified, in his opinion, in
regard of the ladies of his own country, I will not take upon me
to determine; but will venture to say, that the humour is not
general among those of my own country.

Certain it is, however, that women of all nations can ill endure
to see the men to whom they have given their heart yield the
preference to another. A wife especially, who by law as well as
love has a right to engross the affections of her husband, has
just reason to complain, and even to resent the least swerving
from his duty in this point.

The wit, the beauty, whether real or imaginary in the object,
ought by no means to serve as an excuse for a man's alienating
his heart from the woman to whom he has given his hand before
the holy altar, in the most solemn and binding ceremony of
marriage. He should consider that he is then no longer master of
himself, but is become the sole property of another, whom he
cannot, without being guilty of the utmost injustice and
perjury, rob either of his person or affection.

It must therefore be acknowledged by all thinking persons, that
in any of the cases mentioned in the preceding section, a
husband has little to plead in his defence; but there is still
one circumstance, which beyond all others that can be named
greatly aggravates his crime and infidelity, and is by many
degrees the most insupportable to a suffering wife. It is this:

When a man slights the chaste endearments of his virtuous wife,
avoids as much as possible her presence, and lavishes his time,
part of his fortune, perhaps the whole, on some lewd abandoned
prostitute of the town, whom he publicly keeps, in open defiance
of all laws both human and divine.

A woman who finds herself lost in the affection of her husband
must certainly be very unhappy, even when the object for whom he
languishes is endowed with every valuable qualification, and
neither wishes to supplant her, nor would on any terms consent
to wrong her; but how much more so must she be who is undone for
the sake of a creature scarce worthy the name of woman, and how
beautiful soever, has by her infamous life rendered herself a
disgrace to her sex?

Too many shocking instances of this kind have fallen within the
little course of my observation; and certainly such a
provocation must be allowed to justify almost any resentment can
be shown by a wife.

The parting of Mr. Smallgrace and his lady, within a year after
their marriage, made a good deal of noise in town when first it
happened; various reports were spread concerning that affair;
some laid the blame on the husband, others cried out against the
wife, and everyone spoke of it according as they were inclined
to favour either the one or the other; but the true cause of the
unhappy breach between them was as follows:

Mrs. Smallgrace had not been much more than two months a wife,
when being one night at the playhouse with a lady of her
acquaintance, two young rakes of distinction came into the same
box and placed themselves on the next bench behind them. As
these sparks frequented such places rather to see the company
than the diversions exhibited there, the first thing they did
was to pluck out their pocket optics, and take a survey of all
who were in the house: "My stars!" cried one of them, casting
his eyes on the opposite stage-box, "is not that Betty Floreit
yonder! How fine the jade is! Sure she has forgot since she
pawned her petticoat for two shillings to ply in the middle
gallery, and begged money of me to redeem it!" "It is a sign",
said the other, "that you have been buried in Hampshire for
these two months, else you would have known this latter part of
her history; but I can tell you she is got into high keeping, no
less than eight guineas a week I assure you." "Aye," demanded
the first, "Prithee who is her keeper!" "Jack Smallgrace",
replied the other. "You surprise me!" rejoined his friend. "Why
he married a young lady of a great fortune, and they say a
consummate beauty, just before I left London." "Even so,"
returned the other, "but he had soon enough of wife; he had
scarce done receiving the congratulations on his marriage before
he took Betty into keeping, and made her the allowance I told
you of. I met the arch-toad one morning in the Mall, she would
needs take me to her lodgings, and being an old acquaintance,
made me the confidante of her good fortune. Among many other
pretty presents had been given her by her new friend, she showed
me a fine solitaire which I could not help very much admiring
for the fancy of it; it was one of the finest rubies I ever saw,
encompassed with a true-lover's knot of diamonds."

Let anyone who is a wife, for no other can be capable of truly
judging what a terrible situation of mind Mrs. Smallgrace must
be in, at so sudden and so unexpected a discovery of her
husband's perfidy, which perhaps she would not so easily have
believed, if it had not been for the last-mentioned circumstance
of the solitaire.

The jeweller of whom Mr. Smallgrace had bespoke it, having
finished it somewhat before the time he promised it, and not
doubting but it was intended for his new-married lady, brought
it home instead of waiting till it should be called for. Mr.
Smallgrace, on finding what had happened, had no other way of
coming off than by telling his wife that it was a jewel which a
sister he had in the country had left with him, before she went
out of town, in order to get it new set.

This particular corroborating the truth of all that had been
said before, left her not the least room to doubt the reality of
her misfortune. The lady who accompanied her, though little less
surprised than herself, had, from the first mention of Mr.
Smallgrace's name, endeavoured to divert her from hearing
anything further of what was said; but she was too attentive to
lose any part of it; and all the different passions which could
possibly assail a female heart, on so shocking an adventure,
seizing on hers at once, threw her into a fainting fit, and she
fell backwards against the knees of the person whose unfortunate
detail had been the cause.

This accident being seen by a good part of the house occasioned
some confusion, which Mrs. Rich perceiving from a balcony over
the stage, where she was sitting to see the play, came running
down and got the disordered lady removed into a room behind the
scenes, and there, with that politeness and good-nature which
everyone allows her to be mistress of, applying proper means for
her recovery, soon brought her to herself.

The first use she made of speech was to cry out, "Oh the
monster! Oh the villain! What, to slight me for a common
strumpet, and in the first month of my marriage, too! I cannot,
will not bear it!" The two gentlemen who had assisted in
bringing her thither, and by these words, as well as by some
others which the young lady who was with her had dropped, were
made acquainted with who she was, cursed their inadvertency in
talking as they had done, and made a thousand apologies for it;
but she regarded nothing of what was said, and having somewhat
of a romantic turn in her composition, and been more conversant
with plays than any other study, vented the indignation she was
possessed of in the words which Mr. Dryden has put into the
mouth of Leonora in the Spanish Friar, and walking about the
room with the wildest disorder in her voice and motion, cried
out,

What have I done, ye powers! What have I done!
To see my youth, my beauty, and my love
No sooner gained, than slighted and betrayed,
And like a rose just gathered from its stalk,
But only smelt, and cheaply thrown aside
To wither on the ground. By heaven it calls
Me old, and wrinkled, and deformed, and loathsome!
Oh what woman can bear loathsome!

Her fair friend, as well as Mrs. Rich, judged it most convenient
that she should be carried home, which she accordingly was in a
hackney-coach, her own not being in the way. The two gentlemen
saw her safe within her own door, and then took their leave with
the greatest marks of respect and concern for having been the
occasion of her disquiet.

The young lady quitted her not till Mr. Smallgrace came home,
and then left her to testify her resentment in what manner she
should think most proper; which she did not fail to do in terms
the most bitter and invective that the high provocation she had
received could suggest.

At first he treated her accusation only as a mere matter of
bagatelle; but on finding she was too well informed in every
particular of his guilt, affected to be angry at her having
cause to be so; and returned her reproaches of inconstancy and
perjury with others of jealousy and impertinence.

Thus began a quarrel which was never afterwards made up: Mr.
Smallgrace persisted in keeping his mistress in the most public
and glaring fashion, excited to do so perhaps, and I am apt to
think, rather through obstinacy than any real regard he could
retain for such a creature. Mrs. Smallgrace, either because she
thought it would give her husband pain, or because she was
naturally addicted to the gaieties of life, scrupled not to make
one in every party of pleasure that presented itself, however
inconsistent it might happen to be with her character, either as
a wife or a woman of honour.

Certain it is, the ridiculous manner in which they lived
together justly drew upon them the censure and contempt of as
many as were beholders of it; the friends and kindred on both
sides laboured all they could to inspire them with a better way
of thinking, and bring about a reconciliation; but their
endeavours were in vain, and all they could do was to prevail on
them to agree in one thing, which was to separate for ever.

One may reasonably suppose that this unhappy pair did not meet
in marriage with any great degree of tenderness, either on the
one side or the other; if they had, neither of them would have
acted as they did. A husband who had ever felt a sincere
affection for the woman he had married, could not have been
capable of wronging her in the manner Mr. Smallgrace did; nor
would a wife, who truly loved her husband, have resented the
offence as this lady did, but have taken a far different method
of reclaiming him.

This may serve to show how necessary it is that love should
possess the hearts of those who are about to join their hands;
but it is not my business here to discuss that matter, the
intention of these pages being only to point out the means by
which people who are already married may make each other happy
in that state, by what motive soever they were excited to enter
into it.

I must therefore say, and cannot help believing but that all
people who consider seriously on the matter in question, will
join with me in the same opinion, that where it unfortunately
happens for two persons to unite with a very little share of
affection on either side, both parties ought to make use of
their utmost endeavours to cultivate and improve that little
afterwards, to the end they may be better enabled to bear with
whatever infirmities and imperfections they may find in each
other, and to live together so as not to incur the censure of a
laughing world.

But though it is, beyond all possibility of dispute, for the
mutual good and happiness of both parties, not only to seem, but
also to love each other with the greatest sincerity, yet I would
not have a husband suspend his endeavours for that purpose till
his wife sets him an example; those nameless ardours which so
seldom fail of kindling up a sympathetic fire in the person to
whom they are directed, are more properly the province of the
man than the woman, and will become him better: there is, for
the most part, a certain pride mingled with bashfulness, in the
mind of a woman of honour and delicacy, which will not permit
her to disclose all the fondness she may really be possessed of,
much less to make any attempt to magnify it.

But as it will be more easy for a husband to conceive, than for
me to express in what manner he may improve the hints I have
given, I shall cease troubling him any further on this head, and
proceed to others, in which, without being guilty of any fault
himself, he will find it necessary to behave with caution.



SECT. VIII.
Some general hints to a Husband whose Wife does not behave in
every respect agreeable to the character she ought to aim at.

Everyone knows that perfection is not to be expected on this
side of the grave; that man therefore must be strangely
visionary, who marries with the hope of never being able to find
any one thing in his wife which he could wish were otherwise;
besides, the very difference of constitution, or the prejudice
of education frequently makes those things appear faults or
follies, which in themselves do not deserve that name, so ought
neither to be wondered at, nor resented by a prudent husband.

Women, generally speaking, are of a more tractable and gentle
disposition than men, and for that reason are called the softer
sex; they are also born with less vicious inclinations, and
cannot transgress virtue without deviating from nature; yet
notwithstanding they have a certain pride, which will not suffer
them to be told that anything they do is wrong, without being
first self-convinced that it is so.

When a husband pretends to reprove his wife with a too
magisterial air for anything he may think amiss in her, he is
perhaps guilty of a mistake himself no less blameable than that
which he is condemning in her; because by this method he will
never gain his point, and it is much better for him to overlook
small errors, and endeavour to reform the greater by such
insinuations and laudable artifices as his invention will enable
him to put in practice, and the nature of the vexation will
admit.

An immoderate love of gaming, for example, I look upon to be one
of the very worst, and also one of the most incorrigible
propensities a person can be guilty of; yet still this
cankerous, this evil of the mind, if I may so term it, may
possibly be cured, on proper remedies being applied and artfully
pursued; I could produce several instances of this kind, but
shall content myself with mentioning only one, which though it
may seem pretty extraordinary, and even desperate, had the
desired effect.

A gentleman had the misfortune to be married to a young lady,
whose too modish mother had taken more care to have her well
instructed in every game played upon the cards, than in any
other accomplishment whatever; having been almost from her
childhood habituated to this amusement, it was become as natural
to her as her food, and she received the news of a party being
formed for that purpose with as much pleasure as the most
voracious appetite does an invitation to a well-spread table.

The late hours she kept, the total neglect of her domestic
affairs, the sums she frequently lost, and perhaps some other
apprehensions, made her husband extremely uneasy. At first,
however, he contented himself with gently complaining how unkind
it was in her to deprive him of so much of her company, and
endeavouring to convince her how great an injury it did her
health to refrain from repose at those hours which nature had
ordained for that purpose.

These remonstrances had not the least effect; she still went on
in the same course as before; and though she had in reality a
very tender affection for her husband, as will appear by the
sequel of what I am going to relate, yet she could not find in
her heart to refuse making one in every party proposed to her
for this favourite amusement; so intoxicating is gaming to those
who once accustom themselves to it.

Thus obstinately persisting in her former behaviour, he grew
extremely discontented, and more severe in his reproofs; and at
last plainly told her, that for a wife to lavish away so much of
her time and money suited neither with the circumstances of his
estate, his character, nor his humour. But this method of
proceeding was altogether as fruitless as that which he before
had taken. She replied, that she had brought him a handsome
fortune, that she had played before she married him, and that
she saw no reason why being a wife should debar her from those
diversions she had always been allowed when a maid; and, in
fine, that she must do as other women of her acquaintance did.

It was scarce possible for a mind to be involved in greater
perplexities than was that of the gentleman I am speaking on; he
truly loved his wife, and was grieved no less for her sake than
for his own, to see her go on in this wild way; neither
persuasion nor argument had the power of reclaiming her, as he
had experienced by having tried both, and loth he was to exert
the authority of a husband in laying her under any restraint. In
this dilemma, however, an expedient suddenly started into his
head, which he put in practice; it seemed indeed a pretty odd
one, but happened to prove fortunate.

He forbore for some time making any remonstrances to her, seldom
mentioned gaming in her presence, and when he spoke of it at all
it was with the utmost indifference, and as a person who had not
the least interest in her conduct would have done in common
conversation. In fine, he appeared quite easy, and so artfully
dissembled the inward discontent of his mind, that she imagined
he no longer took any umbrage at her continuing to indulge
herself in this favourite amusement, which was indeed the only
foible she could be accused of.

Having thus prepared the way for the design he had projected, he
came home one night with all the tokens of the most terrible
despair in his countenance and deportment. She had came in just
before him, and surprised and shocked to see him in a condition
so different from what he had ever been, threw herself upon his
bosom, and asked him with the greatest tenderness if he was not
well; to which kind interrogatory he answered nothing, and
without suffering his valet to approach him, tore off his
clothes and went directly into bed, where he lay tossing and
tumbling the whole night. She slept as little, but renewed her
entreaties to know the cause of this sudden disorder; all the
replies he made were groans and sighs, which seemed to rend his
very heart. Very early in the morning he rose and retired to his
closet, where she soon after followed him, and with streaming
eyes still begged him to make her the partner of his grief, of
what kind soever it were. He remained silent for some time; but
at last, looking on her with the extremest fondness, he replied,
"Yes, my dear, you shall; nay, you must know the mutual
misfortune that has fallen on us; though my heart shudders while
my tongue pronounces the fatal words, yet I will no longer keep
you in suspense; we must part, my love, be divided from each
other, perhaps for ever."

It cannot be difficult to conceive what horror, what amazement,
a wife who loved her husband must feel on hearing so unexpected
a declaration; I shall only say, it was so great as to render
her for some moments incapable of speaking, and when she did, it
was only to demand, in wild and incoherent exclamation, some
further  claircissement of this dreadful sentence.

"You know, my dear," said he, "that for a long time I was
continually teasing you about gaming; but alas! since that time
I have fallen too deeply into the snare myself; the company I
played with staked largely; I was always unfortunate, yet still
went on, and lost very great sums; but last night! Oh last
night, has completed my undoing!"

"What have you done!" cried she trembling. "Mortgaged my whole
estate," replied he, "except the manor of Redburr, which you
know is settled upon you, for a sum beyond what I have any
possibility of raising, but by the disposal of it; I am
therefore determined to sell my coach and horses and all my
plate, and go immediately to Jamaica, and there endeavour, as
many others have done, to retrieve by my industry what I have
lost by my folly."

These words threw her into almost mortal agonies; she swooned
three several times, and perhaps would never have recovered, if
a flood of tears had not come to her relief, and in some measure
eased the burden of her heart. He truly loved her, and beheld
with inexpressible agitations the condition she was in; but the
disease he took in hand to cure was desperate, and desperate
remedies could alone work any effect.

When come a little to herself, "I will go with you," cried she,
"to what part of the world soever you go, nothing shall part me
from you!" "No, my dear," answered he, "I cannot think of
exposing your tender constitution to those unfriendly climates
where I must be reduced to get my future sustenance." "Oh, say
no more of that," resumed she, "no misery, no hardship can
threaten me when together, which I should not doubly feel the
weight of when separated from you."

They had many tender arguments on this score, till he finding
she was really in earnest, and resolute to be the companion of
his fate, in what shape soever it should present itself, took
her fondly by the hand, and spoke in these terms:

"Well, my love," said he, "since for my sake you can renounce
this town and all its pleasures, and quit the society of your
friends and kindred, I have a proposal to make you, which I
think will be less shocking than living among those wild
Americans: I have a distant relation who has a vicarage about an
hundred miles from London; he is a very worthy honest man, and
has a wife and two daughters, who are accounted women of good
understanding; with this family we might board extremely cheap
till my estate, or at least great part of it, is redeemed, if
you could so content yourself."

The satisfaction she now expressed was adequate to her late
grief, she threw her arms about his neck and cried, "Content did
you say! Why you have mentioned an asylum beyond my hopes. How
could you think of leaving me and England when you had a
resource like this!"

Having thus gained his point, which was to draw her from the
town, he wrote immediately to his cousin, who gladly embraced
the proposal made to him. In fine, they went down in a very few
days; and everyone endeavouring to make the place as agreeable
to her as possible, she soon became so weaned from all the
pleasures of the town, that she desired not to return to it.

He kept her there till he found she was thoroughly established
in her aversion not only to that destructive amusement which had
given him so much trouble, but also to every other reigning
folly of the times.

At a proper season he acquainted her with the deception he had
put upon her, which she was so far from being offended at, that
she embraced him a thousand times, thanked him for the pains he
had taken to reform her; and said, "If I had been married to a
man less tender or less wise, I might have lived and died a
thoughtless giddy fool." In a word, there never was a better
wife, never a more happy husband.

Besides this enormous vice of gaming, there are many much lesser
foibles a wife may possibly be guilty of, to embitter all the
sweets of marriage; but it is my firm opinion that most, if not
all of them, may be corrected, if a husband takes proper
measures for that purpose, and sure it is well worth his while
to attempt it.



SECT. IX.
The manner in which it will best become a Husband to behave on a
full detection of his Wife's infidelity.

Concerning the ill conduct of a wife I have but one thing more
to touch upon, and indeed but barely to touch upon, as the fault
once committed is without a remedy; reformation can make no
atonement, nor contrition merit pardon: when a woman has once
broke through the conjugal covenant, and wantonly given herself
up to the embraces of another, her husband, in my opinion, has
but a short course to take; he is made wretched in the three
dearest circumstances of life, his love abused, his peace
destroyed, his honour blemished; and he may justly cry out with
Othello in the play,

   To make me,
The fixed figure for the time of scorn,
To point his slow and moving finger at!
Patience, thou young and rose-lipped cherubim,
I here discard thee.

As much a friend as I am to the wives, I cannot persuade any
husband ever to forgive a transgression of this nature; on the
contrary, I should think a man who could suffer himself to be
prevailed upon to live with her after a detection of her
falsehood, would justly deserve all the contempt he would
undoubtedly be treated with.

I know very well, that it may happen in some families that a
wife is so necessary to her husband's affairs, that he cannot,
without great inconvenience, part with her; yet, even in this
case, I cannot think that any consideration of interest can be a
balance for peace of mind, which it is utterly impossible for a
man to enjoy, while he keeps in his sight, at his table, and in
his bed, a person who has so grossly injured him.

It behoves him therefore, according to my opinion, in justice to
himself, his honour and his domestic quiet, to lay aside all
motives that might persuade him to continue in the same house
with his offending wife; and to have recourse to those means,
which the laws both of heaven and earth have provided for his
relief. But this must not be done without the fullest
demonstration of her guilt; and then, if the proofs of it should
not amount to procure a divorce, as is very often the case, all
he can do is to have articles of an eternal separation drawn
between them.

I must confess there is one critical conjuncture, in which I
neither know how to advise a husband, nor, which way soever he
proceeds, whether to censure or to approve his conduct. It is
this:

When a woman, during the first years of her marriage, has
behaved in such a manner as not to give either the world or her
husband the least reason to suspect her of infidelity, and in
that time has had children by him, the innocence of those dear
babes will doubtless plead strongly in behalf of their
transgressing mother; and it will be very difficult for him to
expose her to an infamy which they must be involved in.

This is a circumstance greatly to be pitied; but whenever it
happens that the fondness of a parent gets the better of the
resentment of the husband, and he consents to live with her, I
think it will best become him to pretend an entire disbelief of
her crime; as it will be less to his dishonour to be thought
blind than tame to an abuse of this nature.

And now having run through all those particulars which I think
it the duty and interest of a husband to perform, I shall leave
everyone, who either is or intends to be so, to consider how the
hints I have given may be improved into practice, so as to
restore marriage to its original institution.

FINIS.
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