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In England the idea among married women is to make
the best of the worst of things. In this country it
seems often to be to make the worst of the worst of
things. Among the words of the marriage ceremony
used in England one finds the wife taking the
husband "for better, for worse," and, in so far as I
can discover, this same formula is used in the
marriage ceremony or the different denominations in
the United States.
Now, no one will deny that a woman in taking to
herself a husband is quite as likely to find that
she has taken him for worse as for better. Whereas
she was happy as a girl, she may spend her wife-hood
in tears and tribulations. She may find that every
ideal attribute with which she endowed her husband
before marriage has flown, or, rather, never
existed, except in her imagination. Fondly believing
him to be generous, he may turn out to be
close-fisted and mean: temperate, he may lean to
drunkenness: considerate, he may turn a deaf ear to
her entreaties; believing him all that she admired,
she may find him full of weaknesses and unlovable
traits.
She has married for worse. She remembers that she
took him with that contingency in mind. Did she not
repeat solemnly after the clergyman. "For better,
for worse"? In England she gathers up the bits of
her shattered ideals and possibly weeps a little
over them, and then she starts out to make the best
of the worst of things.In this country, give the
average young wife the same experience of
disappointment in the man she loved and the
shattered ideals, and the thought that occurs to her
is that she can go back to her parents, or that she
thanks Heaven she is able to earn her own living.
Her whole upbringing has encouraged the growth of
this attitude, and her parents have encouraged her,
and let it be added that the very diverse divorce
laws of the United States encourage her.
I have in previous articles spoken of the delightful
inconsistencies one finds in the American character.
Here is an inconsistency in the American woman's
character rather startling and not at all
commendable.
The American woman is without doubt the most
diplomatic, tactful, and adaptable woman in the
world. Far more than in the Englishwoman we find in
the American woman the natural talent for
conformity. In England blood and heredity count for
much. Despite the old legend, in cannot fancy a
one-time beggar maid conducting herself
circumspectly as queen. It requires more imagination
than I or any other Englishwoman can possess to
think calmly of the daughter of a line of
costermongers becoming a Duchess, or the heiress of
a rich and vulgar tradesman standing gracefully
among the peeresses of the realm. The Englishwoman,
as a class, has not the characteristic of
adaptability. But the American woman! One needs to
give no examples of the wonders she has done along
this line. History, modern history at least, is full
of them. She is the diplomat of all nations. Let her
once determine to adapt herself to new surroundings
and she becomes a part of them. The fact that her
father sold shoestrings on the street corner will
not prevent her making a charming and gracious
hostess and wearing, as thought to the manner born,
a coronet.
Herein lies her inconsistency. In married life, with
the ability to adapt, she often will not adapt
herself. Pliable at will, she does not will to be
plied, when it comes to making the best of a bad
matrimonial venture.
"You are not the man I thought you," she says to her
husband. "Good-bye!"
"You are not the man I thought you were, but I've
got to put up with you!" says the Englishwoman.
In stating the rule one of course admits the
exceptions of the American woman who puts up with
things and the Englishwoman who runs away, but the
general impression one gets of unfortunate marriages
in this country is what I have stated, the tendency
of the disappointed woman to make no effort toward
conformity.
A couple of years ago, in England, I remember a
young American, Mrs. Blank, referring to her
departure from America in this manner:
"We were married a year, and things were so
different from what I expected that we separated and
I came to England."
"No, he's not at all a bad man, but his temper was
incompatible with mine, so we got divorced," is the
way a pretty little woman and a member of a
prominent church explained her matrimonial status to
me the other day. She is not a member of the church
that forbids divorce except for grave cause, to be
sure, but she was married according to the ceremony
that mentions "For better or for worse."
The glib way in which she disposed of her promise in
that respect is the thing that startles and
horrifies her English friends.
A week or so ago I was telling to a party of
Americans the story of a little American friend of
mine in London married to an Englishman. She likes
steam heat, even in her bedroom. Her husband
contends that open fireplaces are the only healthful
heating arrangements and that warm bedrooms are
barbarous. On every other subject they agree
perfectly, but on this they have preserved the same
original opinion still.
"Did they separate?" asked one of the American women
artlessly. "No, they've compromised." I answered. "I
don't see how they could." answered she. "Would
disagreement on the subject of heating be cause for
divorce in this country?" I asked jestingly. "Well,
anyway, it would be cause for separation," she
replied.
I tried to fancy the situation in England. One is
making a call and meets a charming married woman.
After she has departed one's hostess says: "Ah, too
bad, Mary and her husband could not get on together
and live-apart."
"Divorced?" one asks in a half whisper. "No, the
cause is not sufficient for divorce, so it's only a
separation."
"The brute!" one exclaims, sympathetically; "why
couldn't he shy the poker at her and just miss, so
she could divorce him and marry a better man?" for
one jumps to the conclusion that Mary's husband has
centered his affections upon another lady while
refusing to add unto his offense the stipulated
legal "cruelty" that will entitle her to a divorce
according to British law.
"They couldn't agree about the heating of the
house," says the hostess. "He wanted soft coal fires
and she wanted steam radiators," and what one says
then in reply depends altogether upon one's sense of
humor.
Already sufficient has been written by foreigners
upon the American divorce laws which allow a woman
to be married in one State while she remains a
spinster in another, and legalize a child on one
side of the border while making him but a natural
son with no legal status just over the way.
It is not of the facility for divorce that I write.
The question of how to adjust forty laws in forty
different sovereignties in order to make them equal
one uniform law is one that requires the brain of a
lawyer and lawmaker, and besides, Americans may very
readily call our attention to the marriage law of
Scotland as compared with that of England and twit
us upon the confusion which is the result of the
doings of that sadly beset lady, the Deceased Wife's
Sister.
I am not here concerned with the American marriage
law, but with the attitude of so many American women
toward the religious ceremony which makes them
wives, and the lightness in which they hold their
promise to take their husbands for better or for
worse. One may even have an opinion of one's own
concerning the advisability of making such a
promise, but, if one has, why does one make it?
"Another case of incompatibility of temper" is the
way I have heard dozens of separations explained
during my stay in New York. (I speak now of
separations, not of divorces.) Were there ever in
all the world two tempers that were entirely
compatible? And, indeed, would it not be rather
stupid living always in the same house, eating at
the same table with a person whose temper was
compatible, which would mean with one whose opinions
coincided with your own? Fancy the situation! Never
an argument, never a disagreement, never a
difference, light or serious, of opinion! Of all
persons in the world, the average American woman
would despise a man whose temper was compatible with
her own, yet she will give this flimsiest of excuses
for packing her trunk and leaving her home.
I have learned since my residence here that in
general American society the subject of marital
separation and divorce is not one to be discussed,
because such separations are so common that, ten to
one, offense may be taken at a vigorous expression
of opinion on the subject. Given a dozen married
friends, it is not too surprising to learn that
three of them are living apart from their husbands
for some rather trivial cause and for a difference
that might be adjusted by the use of tact. The
growing disinclination to motherhood on the part of
many American women makes such separations
comparatively easy. A child or children might keep
the bond from breaking. A Childless home has a
tendency to make a woman almost forget that she has
entered into a very binding contract. Release comes
readily and quickly. She has married for the worse.
Very well, then let her separate for better! So run
her thoughts.
One cannot but wonder why women who think so lightly
of the duty of wives willingly go through a
religious ceremony in which it is necessary to make
so many promises. Legal marriage can be secured
through the civil ceremony. Yet the church marriage,
with a ceremony quite or nearly like that of the
Anglican Church, is becoming more rather than less
popular in the United States, while separations for
trivial causes also increase, and it is much more
likely to be the bride who is married in church with
her six bridesmaids, two Bishops, and an old family
clergyman, who afterward hurriedly packs her trunk
and goes home or to work after a trial of marriage
than the woman of strong mind and undenominational
tendencies who insists upon being married in the
simplest and quickest manner by a Justice of the
Peace or an Alderman.
"For better or for worse" promise the brides, and
they go to see "His House in Order," and wonder why
Nina puts up with the worse, which Pinero has
certainly typified in his portrayal of the weakling
British husband. "I live apart from my husband, but
he supports me. He allows me such and such a sum."
You all know the woman who will tell you this.
Allowances of this sort for separated wives and
alimony for wives who divorce their husbands might
almost be said to be an American Institution, so
common is it in this country. This is the strangest
phase of the whole separation question, a wife
receiving money from her husband for her own support
and yet refusing to be a wife, to order his
household, to act as his hostess, to preside at his
table. It is this allowance, this alimony, which
vulgarizes the separations one is continually noting
between husbands and wives. Except that one
deprecates the breaking of a solemn vow, one can
admire the woman who, leaving her husband, says:
"I can support myself! I can typewrite, I can teach,
I can sell ribbons in a shop! I don't have to live
with you to be fed and clothed!" Here, at least, is
a species of dignity, here a kind of pride that is
not false.
But what of the childless woman who separates
herself from her husband, lives in a distant city or
a foreign land, dresses at his expense, drives in a
carriage hired with his money, goes to the theatre
with the tickets his money procures, eats the food
he provides? This is done in this country by
otherwise charming women. One is continually meeting
them. They have no hesitation in proclaiming their
husband's liberality and learn to experience no
shame about accepting such bounty.
In writing thus of the apparent disinclination of so
many American married women to adapt themselves to
their husbands, and to make the best of the worse,
one is sure to be confronted with the query: "What
about the husbands adapting themselves to the whims
and idiosyncrasies of their wives? What is sauce for
the goose," &c.
My observation of American husbands and wives makes
me believe that the average American husband is far
more willing to make concessions to the weaknesses
of his wife than is the wife to make concessions to
those of her husband. The American man has learned
to a nicety the art of giving in, and seems rather
inclined to make the best of the worst situation. In
this regard he is as unlike as possible to the
average British husband, who is, in the main, an
inadaptable creature and leaves his wife to practice
the virtues of conformity. Were not the British wife
something of an adept in this art one might have
cause to tremble for the stability of the ancient
bulwark of British householdry.
Perhaps, after all, it is because of its very
ancient state that the British home seems more
stable, more built upon a rock, than does the
American. You, who are so young in other things,
seem also to exhibit your youth in this.
Let us then call it the spirit of youth that makes a
wife so hurriedly pack her trunk because of nothing
of greater importance than a small breakfast table
dispute, as it is, perhaps, the spirit of youth that
leads her to tell the officiating clergyman to
eliminate the promise to obey from the marriage
ceremony, though one cannot be favorably impressed
with a sense of humor that leads her to overlook the
promise she makes to honor and love her husband,
without conditions a far more impossible feat than
obeying him.
Mere obedience is doubtless the one promise in the
marriage contract most readily kept. One can obey
where one ceases to love and honor. One can obey
where one despises. And, as for taking for better or
worse, why so prevalent an inclination to repudiate
the contract when the taking proves to have been for
"worse"? Analyzed, word for word, sentence for
sentence, promise for promise, the religious
marriage contract is so altogether different from
any other form of contract into which one may enter
that any man or woman might most readily be excused
for refusing to make so many unconditional promises
for the future. That surely is any individual's
privilege, but to make the promises and repudiate
them, to take for better or for worse, and then to
fly at the approach of the "worse" is not this the
weakest sort of weakness?"
MARY MORTIMER MAXWELL
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