Honore de Balzac - The Physiology of Marriage, Complete

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Concerning the chimneys in the apartment of madame, you must take care
to place in the flue, five feet from the ground, an iron grill, even
though it be necessary to put up a fresh one every time the chimney is
swept. If your wife laughs at this precaution, suggest to her the
number of murders that have been committed by means of chimneys.
Almost all women are afraid of robbers. The bed is one of those
important pieces of furniture whose structure will demand long
consideration. Everything concerning it is of vital importance. The
following is the result of long experience in the construction of
beds. Give to this piece of furniture a form so original that it may
be looked upon without disgust, in the midst of changes of fashion
which succeed so rapidly in rendering antiquated the creations of
former decorators, for it is essential that your wife be unable to
change, at pleasure, this theatre of married happiness. The base
should be plain and massive and admit of no treacherous interval
between it and the floor; and bear in mind always that the Donna Julia
of Byron hid Don Juan under her pillow. But it would be ridiculous to
treat lightly so delicate a subject.

LXII.
The bed is the whole of marriage.

Moreover, we must not delay to direct your attention to this wonderful
creation of human genius, an invention which claims our recognition
much more than ships, firearms, matches, wheeled carriages, steam
engines of all kinds, more than even barrels and bottles. In the first
place, a little thought will convince us that this is all true of the
bed; but when we begin to think that it is our second father, that the
most tranquil and most agitated half of our existence is spent under
its protecting canopy, words fail in eulogizing it. (See Meditation
XVII, entitled "Theory of the Bed.")

When the war, of which we shall speak in our third part, breaks out
between you and madame, you will always have plenty of ingenious
excuses for rummaging in the drawers and escritoires; for if your wife
is trying to hide from you some statue of her adoration, it is your
interest to know where she has hidden it. A gyneceum, constructed on
the method described, will enable you to calculate at a glance,
whether there is present in it two pounds of silk more than usual.
Should a single closet be constructed there, you are a lost man! Above
all, accustom your wife, during the honeymoon, to bestow especial
pains in the neatness of her apartment; let nothing put off that. If
you do not habituate her to be minutely particular in this respect, if
the same objects are not always found in the same places, she will
allow things to become so untidy, that you will not be able to see
that there are two pounds of silk more or less in her room.

The curtains of your apartments ought to be of a stuff which is quite
transparent, and you ought to contract the habit in the evenings of
walking outside so that madame may see you come right up to the window
just out of absent-mindedness. In a word, with regard to windows, let
the sills be so narrow that even a sack of flour cannot be set up on
them.

If the apartment of your wife can be arranged on these principles, you
will be in perfect safety, even if there are niches enough there to
contain all the saints of Paradise. You will be able, every evening,
with the assistance of your porter, to strike the balance between the
entrances and exits of visitors; and, in order to obtain accurate
results, there is nothing to prevent your teaching him to keep a book
of visitors, in double entry.

If you have a garden, cultivate a taste for dogs, and always keep at
large one of these incorruptible guardians under your windows; you
will thus gain the respect of the Minotaur, especially if you accustom
your four-footed friend to take nothing substantial excepting from the
hand of your porter, so that hard-hearted celibates may not succeed in
poisoning him.

But all these precautions must be taken as a natural thing so that
they may not arouse suspicions. If husbands are so imprudent as to
neglect precautions from the moment they are married, they ought at
once to sell their house and buy another one, or, under the pretext of
repairs, alter their present house in the way prescribed.

You will without scruple banish from your apartment all sofas,
ottomans, lounges, sedan chairs and the like. In the first place, this
is the kind of furniture that adorns the homes of grocers, where they
are universally found, as they are in those of barbers; but they are
essentially the furniture of perdition; I can never see them without
alarm. It has always seemed to me that there the devil himself is
lurking with his horns and cloven foot.

After all, nothing is so dangerous as a chair, and it is extremely
unfortunate that women cannot be shut up within the four walls of a
bare room! What husband is there, who on sitting down on a rickety
chair is not always forced to believe that this chair has received
some of the lessons taught by the _Sofa_ of Crebillion junior? But
happily we have arranged your apartment on such a system of prevention
that nothing so fatal can happen, or, at any rate, not without your
contributory negligence.

One fault which you must contract, and which you must never correct,
will consist in a sort of heedless curiosity, which will make you
examine unceasingly all the boxes, and turn upside down the contents
of all dressing-cases and work-baskets. You must proceed to this
domiciliary visit in a humorous mood, and gracefully, so that each
time you will obtain pardon by exciting the amusement of your wife.

You must always manifest a most profound astonishment on noticing any
piece of furniture freshly upholstered in her well-appointed
apartment. You must immediately make her explain to you the advantages
of the change; and then you must ransack your mind to discover whether
there be not some underhand motive in the transaction.

This is by no means all. You have too much sense to forget that your
pretty parrot will remain in her cage only so long as that cage is
beautiful. The least accessory of her apartment ought, therefore, to
breathe elegance and taste. The general appearance should always
present a simple, at the same time a charming picture. You must
constantly renew the hangings and muslin curtains. The freshness of
the decorations is too essential to permit of economy on this point.
It is the fresh chickweed each morning carefully put into the cage of
their birds, that makes their pets believe it is the verdure of the
meadows. An apartment of this character is then the _ultima ratio_ of
husbands; a wife has nothing to say when everything is lavished on
her.

Husbands who are condemned to live in rented apartments find
themselves in the most terrible situation possible. What happy or what
fatal influence cannot the porter exercise upon their lot?

Is not their home flanked on either side by other houses? It is true
that by placing the apartment of their wives on one side of the house
the danger is lessened by one-half; but are they not obliged to learn
by heart and to ponder the age, the condition, the fortune, the
character, the habits of the tenants of the next house and even to
know their friends and relations?

A husband will never take lodgings on the ground floor.

Every man, however, can apply in his apartments the precautionary
methods which we have suggested to the owner of a house, and thus the
tenant will have this advantage over the owner, that the apartment,
which is less spacious than the house, is more easily guarded.

MEDITATION XV.

OF THE CUSTOM HOUSE.

"But no, madame, no--"

"Yes, for there is such inconvenience in the arrangement."

"Do you think, madame, that we wish, as at the frontier, to watch the
visits of persons who cross the threshold of your apartments, or
furtively leave them, in order to see whether they bring to you
articles of contraband? That would not be proper; and there is nothing
odious in our proceeding, any more than there is anything of a fiscal
character; do not be alarmed."

The Custom House of the marriage state is, of all the expedients
prescribed in this second part, that which perhaps demands the most
tact and the most skill as well as the most knowledge acquired _a
priori_, that is to say before marriage. In order to carry it out, a
husband ought to have made a profound study of Lavater's book, and to
be imbued with all his principles; to have accustomed his eye to judge
and to apprehend with the most astonishing promptitude, the slightest
physical expressions by which a man reveals his thoughts.

Lavater's _Physiognomy_ originated a veritable science, which has won
a place in human investigation. If at first some doubts, some jokes
greeted the appearance of this book, since then the celebrated Doctor
Gall is come with his noble theory of the skull and has completed the
system of the Swiss savant, and given stability to his fine and
luminous observations. People of talent, diplomats, women, all those
who are numbered among the choice and fervent disciples of these two
celebrated men, have often had occasion to recognize many other
evident signs, by which the course of human thought is indicated. The
habits of the body, the handwriting, the sound of the voice, have
often betrayed the woman who is in love, the diplomat who is
attempting to deceive, the clever administrator, or the sovereign who
is compelled to distinguish at a glance love, treason or merit
hitherto unknown. The man whose soul operates with energy is like a
poor glowworm, which without knowing it irradiates light from every
pore. He moves in a brilliant sphere where each effort makes a burning
light and outlines his actions with long streamers of fire.

These, then, are all the elements of knowledge which you should
possess, for the conjugal custom house insists simply in being able by
a rapid but searching examination to know the moral and physical
condition of all who enter or leave your house--all, that is, who have
seen or intend to see your wife. A husband is, like a spider, set at
the centre of an invisible net, and receives a shock from the least
fool of a fly who touches it, and from a distance, hears, judges and
sees what is either his prey or his enemy.

Thus you must obtain means to examine the celibate who rings at your
door under two circumstances which are quite distinct, namely, when he
is about to enter and when he is inside.

At the moment of entering how many things does he utter without even
opening his mouth!

It may be by a slight wave of his hand, or by his plunging his fingers
many times into his hair, he sticks up or smoothes down his
characteristic bang.

Or he hums a French or an Italian air, merry or sad, in a voice which
may be either tenor, contralto, soprano or baritone.

Perhaps he takes care to see that the ends of his necktie are properly
adjusted.

Or he smoothes down the ruffles or front of his shirt or
evening-dress.

Or he tries to find out by a questioning and furtive glance whether
his wig, blonde or brown, curled or plain, is in its natural position.

Perhaps he looks at his nails to see whether they are clean and duly
cut.

Perhaps with a hand which is either white or untidy, well-gloved or
otherwise, he twirls his moustache, or his whiskers, or picks his
teeth with a little tortoise-shell toothpick.

Or by slow and repeated movements he tries to place his chin exactly
over the centre of his necktie.

Or perhaps he crosses one foot over the other, putting his hands in
his pockets.

Or perhaps he gives a twist to his shoe, and looks at it as if he
thought, "Now, there's a foot that is not badly formed."

Or according as he has come on foot or in a carriage, he rubs off or
he does not rub off the slight patches of mud which soil his shoes.

Or perhaps he remains as motionless as a Dutchman smoking his pipe.

Or perhaps he fixes his eyes on the door and looks like a soul escaped
from Purgatory and waiting for Saint Peter with the keys.

Perhaps he hesitates to pull the bell; perhaps he seizes it
negligently, precipitately, familiarly, or like a man who is quite
sure of himself.

Perhaps he pulls it timidly, producing a faint tinkle which is lost in
the silence of the apartments, as the first bell of matins in
winter-time, in a convent of Minims; or perhaps after having rung with
energy, he rings again impatient that the footman has not heard him.

Perhaps he exhales a delicate scent, as he chews a pastille.

Perhaps with a solemn air he takes a pinch of snuff, brushing off with
care the grains that might mar the whiteness of his linen.

Perhaps he looks around like a man estimating the value of the
staircase lamp, the balustrade, the carpet, as if he were a furniture
dealer or a contractor.

Perhaps this celibate seems a young or an old man, is cold or hot,
arrives slowly, with an expression of sadness or merriment, etc.

You see that here, at the very foot of your staircase, you are met by
an astonishing mass of things to observe.

The light pencil-strokes, with which we have tried to outline this
figure, will suggest to you what is in reality a moral kaleidoscope
with millions of variations. And yet we have not even attempted to
bring any woman on to the threshold which reveals so much; for in that
case our remarks, already considerable in number, would have been
countless and light as the grains of sand on the seashore.

For as a matter of fact, when he stands before the shut door, a man
believes that he is quite alone; and he would have no hesitation in
beginning a silent monologue, a dreamy soliloquy, in which he revealed
his desires, his intentions, his personal qualities, his faults, his
virtues, etc.; for undoubtedly a man on a stoop is exactly like a
young girl of fifteen at confession, the evening before her first
communion.

Do you want any proof of this? Notice the sudden change of face and
manner in this celibate from the very moment he steps within the
house. No machinist in the Opera, no change in the temperature in the
clouds or in the sun can more suddenly transform the appearance of a
theatre, the effect of the atmosphere, or the scenery of the heavens.

On reaching the first plank of your antechamber, instead of betraying
with so much innocence the myriad thoughts which were suggested to you
on the steps, the celibate has not a single glance to which you could
attach any significance. The mask of social convention wraps with its
thick veil his whole bearing; but a clever husband must already have
divined at a single look the object of his visit, and he reads the
soul of the new arrival as if it were a printed book.

The manner in which he approaches your wife, in which he addresses
her, looks at her, greets her and retires--there are volumes of
observations, more or less trifling, to be made on these subjects.

The tone of his voice, his bearing, his awkwardness, it may be his
smile, even his gloom, his avoidance of your eye,--all are
significant, all ought to be studied, but without apparent attention.
You ought to conceal the most disagreeable discovery you may make by
an easy manner and remarks such as are ready at hand to a man of
society. As we are unable to detail the minutiae of this subject we
leave them entirely to the sagacity of the reader, who must by this
time have perceived the drift of our investigation, as well as the
extent of this science which begins at the analysis of glances and
ends in the direction of such movements as contempt may inspire in a
great toe hidden under the satin of a lady's slipper or the leather of
a man's boot.

But the exit!--for we must allow for occasions where you have omitted
your rigid scrutiny at the threshold of the doorway, and in that case
the exit becomes of vital importance, and all the more so because this
fresh study of the celibate ought to be made on the same lines, but
from an opposite point of view, from that which we have already
outlined.

In the exit the situation assumes a special gravity; for then is the
moment in which the enemy has crossed all the intrenchments within
which he was subject to our examination and has escaped into the
street! At this point a man of understanding when he sees a visitor
passing under the _porte-cochere_ should be able to divine the import
of the whole visit. The indications are indeed fewer in number, but
how distinct is their character! The denouement has arrived and the
man instantly betrays the importance of it by the frankest expression
of happiness, pain or joy.

These revelations are therefore easy to apprehend; they appear in the
glance cast either at the building or at the windows of the apartment;
in a slow or loitering gait, in the rubbing of hands, on the part of a
fool, in the bounding gait of a coxcomb, or the involuntary arrest of
his footsteps, which marks the man who is deeply moved; in a word, you
see upon the stoop certain questions as clearly proposed to you as if
a provincial academy had offered a hundred crowns for an essay; but in
the exit you behold the solution of these questions clearly and
precisely given to you. Our task would be far above the power of human
intelligence if it consisted in enumerating the different ways by
which men betray their feelings, the discernment of such things is
purely a matter of tact and sentiment.

If strangers are the subject of these principles of observation, you
have a still stronger reason for submitting your wife to the formal
safeguards which we have outlined.

A married man should make a profound study of his wife's countenance.
Such a study is easy, it is even involuntary and continuous. For him
the pretty face of his wife must needs contain no mysteries, he knows
how her feelings are depicted there and with what expression she shuns
the fire of his glance.

The slightest movement of the lips, the faintest contraction of the
nostrils, scarcely perceptible changes in the expression of the eye,
an altered voice, and those indescribable shades of feeling which pass
over her features, or the light which sometimes bursts forth from
them, are intelligible language to you.

The whole woman nature stands before you; all look at her, but none
can interpret her thoughts. But for you, the eye is more or less
dimmed, wide-opened or closed; the lid twitches, the eyebrow moves; a
wrinkle, which vanishes as quickly as a ripple on the ocean, furrows
her brow for one moment; the lip tightens, it is slightly curved or it
is wreathed with animation--for you the woman has spoken.

If in those puzzling moments in which a woman tries dissimulation in
presence of her husband, you have the spirit of a sphinx in seeing
through her, you will plainly observe that your custom-house
restrictions are mere child's play to her.

When she comes home or goes out, when in a word she believes she is
alone, your wife will exhibit all the imprudence of a jackdaw and will
tell her secret aloud to herself; moreover, by her sudden change of
expression the moment she notices you (and despite the rapidity of
this change, you will not fail to have observed the expression she
wore behind your back) you may read her soul as if you were reading a
book of Plain Song. Moreover, your wife will often find herself just
on the point of indulging in soliloquies, and on such occasions her
husband may recognize the secret feelings of his wife.

Is there a man as heedless of love's mysteries as not to have admired,
over and over again, the light, mincing, even bewitching gait of a
woman who flies on her way to keep an assignation? She glides through
the crowd, like a snake through the grass. The costumes and stuffs of
the latest fashion spread out their dazzling attractions in the shop
windows without claiming her attention; on, on she goes like the
faithful animal who follows the invisible tracks of his master; she is
deaf to all compliments, blind to all glances, insensible even to the
light touch of the crowd, which is inevitable amid the circulation of
Parisian humanity. Oh, how deeply she feels the value of a minute! Her
gait, her toilet, the expression of her face, involve her in a
thousand indiscretions, but oh, what a ravishing picture she presents
to the idler, and what an ominous page for the eye of a husband to
read, is the face of this woman when she returns from the secret place
of rendezvous in which her heart ever dwells! Her happiness is
impressed even on the unmistakable disarray of her hair, the mass of
whose wavy tresses has not received from the broken comb of the
celibate that radiant lustre, that elegant and well-proportioned
adjustment which only the practiced hand of her maid can give. And
what charming ease appears in her gait! How is it possible to describe
the emotion which adds such rich tints to her complexion!--which robs
her eyes of all their assurance and gives to them an expression of
mingled melancholy and delight, of shame which is yet blended with
pride!

These observations, stolen from our Meditation, _Of the Last
Symptoms_, and which are really suggested by the situation of a woman
who tries to conceal everything, may enable you to divine by analogy
the rich crop of observation which is left for you to harvest when
your wife arrives home, or when, without having committed the great
crime she innocently lets out the secrets of her thoughts. For our own
part we never see a landing without wishing to set up there a
mariner's card and a weather-cock.

As the means to be employed for constructing a sort of domestic
observatory depend altogether on places and circumstances, we must
leave to the address of a jealous husband the execution of the methods
suggested in this Meditation.

MEDITATION XVI.

THE CHARTER OF MARRIAGE.

I acknowledge that I really know of but one house in Paris which is
managed in accordance with the system unfolded in the two preceding
Meditations. But I ought to add, also, that I have built up my system
on the example of that house. The admirable fortress I allude to
belonged to a young councillor of state, who was mad with love and
jealousy.

As soon as he learned that there existed a man who was exclusively
occupied in bringing to perfection the institution of marriage in
France, he had the generosity to open the doors of his mansion to me
and to show me his gyneceum. I admired the profound genius which so
cleverly disguised the precautions of almost oriental jealousy under
the elegance of furniture, beauty of carpets and brightness of painted
decorations. I agreed with him that it was impossible for his wife to
render his home a scene of treachery.

"Sir," said I, to this Othello of the council of state who did not
seem to me peculiarly strong in the _haute politique_ of marriage, "I
have no doubt that the viscountess is delighted to live in this little
Paradise; she ought indeed to take prodigious pleasure in it,
especially if you are here often. But the time will come when she will
have had enough of it; for, my dear sir, we grow tired of everything,
even of the sublime. What will you do then, when madame, failing to
find in all your inventions their primitive charm, shall open her
mouth in a yawn, and perhaps make a request with a view to the
exercise of two rights, both of which are indispensable to her
happiness: individual liberty, that is, the privilege of going and
coming according to the caprice of her will; and the liberty of the
press, that is, the privilege of writing and receiving letters without
fear of your censure?"

Scarcely had I said these words when the Vicomte de V----- grasped my
arm tightly and cried:

"Yes, such is the ingratitude of woman! If there is any thing more
ungrateful than a king, it is a nation; but, sir, woman is more
ungrateful than either of them. A married woman treats us as the
citizens of a constitutional monarchy treat their king; every measure
has been taken to give these citizens a life of prosperity in a
prosperous country; the government has taken all the pains in the
world with its gendarmes, its churches, its ministry and all the
paraphernalia of its military forces, to prevent the people from dying
of hunger, to light the cities by gas at the expense of the citizens,
to give warmth to every one by means of the sun which shines at the
forty-fifth degree of latitude, and to forbid every one, excepting the
tax-gatherers, to ask for money; it has labored hard to give to all
the main roads a more or less substantial pavement--but none of these
advantages of our fair Utopia is appreciated! The citizens want
something else. They are not ashamed to demand the right of traveling
over the roads at their own will, and of being informed where that
money given to the tax-gatherers goes. And, finally, the monarch will
soon be obliged, if we pay any attention to the chatter of certain
scribblers, to give to every individual a share in the throne or to
adopt certain revolutionary ideas, which are mere Punch and Judy shows
for the public, manipulated by a band of self-styled patriots,
riff-raff, always ready to sell their conscience for a million francs,
for an honest woman, or for a ducal coronet."

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