The Wife

== THE WIFE ==
=== by Washington Irving ===
The following story is reprinted from The Sketch Book of
Geoffrey Crayon.  1819.
The treasures of the deep are not so precious 
As are the concealed comforts of a man 
Locked up in woman s love. I scent the air 
Of blessings, when I come but near the house. 
What a delicious breath marriage sends forth . . . 
The violet bed s not
sweeter. ''
- MIDDLETON
I have often had occasion to remark the
fortitude with which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of fortune.
Those disasters which break down the spirit of a man and prostrate him in the
dust, seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give such
intrepidity and elevation to their character that at times it approaches to
sublimity. Nothing can be more touching than to behold a soft and tender
female, who had been all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial
roughness, while treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in
mental force to be the comforter and support of her husband under misfortune,
and abiding with unshrinking firmness the bitterest blasts of adversity.
As the vine which has long twined its
graceful foliage about the oak and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when
the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caressing
tendrils and bind up its shattered boughs, so is it beautifully ordered by
Providence that woman, who is the mere dependent and ornament of man in his
happier hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity,
winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly support ing
the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart.
I was once congratulating a friend, who had
around him a blooming family, knit together in the strongest affection. "I
can wish you no better lot," said he with enthusiasm, " than to have
a wife and children. If you are prosperous, there they are to share your
prosperity; if otherwise, there they are to comfort you." And indeed I
have observed that a married man falling into misfortune is more apt to
retrieve his situation in the world than a single one; partly because he is
more stimulated to exertion by the necessities of the helpless and beloved
beings who depend upon him for subsistence; but chiefly because his spirits are
soothed and relieved by domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept alive
by finding, that though all abroad is darkness and humiliation, yet there is
still a little world of love at home, of which he is the monarch. Whereas a
single man is apt to run to waste and self-neglect; to fancy himself lonely and
abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin like some deserted mansion, for want
of an inhabitant.
These observations call to mind a little
domestic story, of which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, had
married a beautiful and accomplished girl, who had been brought up in the midst
of fashionable life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was
ample; and he delighted in the anticipation of indulging her in every elegant
pursuit, and administering to those delicate tastes and fancies that spread a
kind of witchery about the sex. " Her life," said he, " shall be
like a fairy tale."
The very difference in their characters
produced an harmonious combination: he was of a romantic and somewhat serious
cast; she was all life and gladness. I have often noticed the mute rapture with
which he would gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly powers made her
the delight; and how, in the midst of applause, her eye would still turn to him,
as if there alone she sought favor and acceptance. When leaning on his arm, her
slender form contrasted finely with his tall manly person. The fond confiding
air with which she looked up to him seemed to call forth a flush of triumphant
pride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doted on his lovely burden for its
very helplessness. Never did a couple set forward on the flowery path of early
and well-suited marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity.
It was the misfortune of my friend,
however, to have embarked his property in large speculations; and he had not
been married many months, when, by a succession of sudden disasters, it was
swept from him, and he found himself reduced almost to penury. For a time he
kept his situation to himself, and went about with a haggard countenance and a
breaking heart. His life was but a protracted agony; and what rendered it more
insupportable was the necessity of keeping up a smile in the presence of his
wife; for he could not bring himself to overwhelm her with the news. She saw,
however, with the quick eyes of affection, that all was not well with him. She
marked his altered looks and stifled sighs, and was not to be deceived by his
sickly and vapid attempts at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightly powers
and tender blandishments to win him back to happiness; but she only drove the
arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more
torturing was the thought that he was soon to make her wretched. "A little
while," thought he, "and the smile will vanish from that cheek the
song will die away from those lips the lustre of those eyes will be quenched
with sorrow; and the happy heart, which now beats lightly in that bosom, will
be weighed down like mine by the cares and miseries of the world."
At length he came to me one day, and
related his whole situation in a tone of the deepest despair. When I heard him
through I inquired, " Does your wife know all this?"- At the question
he burst into an agony of tears. "For God s sake!" cried he, "if
you have any pity on me, don t mention my wife; it is the thought of her that
drives me almost to madness!"
"And why not?" said I. "She
must know it sooner or later; you cannot keep it long from her, and the
intelligence may break upon her in a more startling manner than if imparted by
yourself; for the accents of those we love soften the hardest tidings. Besides,
you are depriving yourself of the comforts of her sympathy; and not merely
that, but also endangering the only bond that can keep hearts together an unreserved
community of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that some thing is
secretly preying upon your mind; and true love will not brook reserve; it feels
undervalued and outraged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are concealed
from it."
"Oh, but, my friend! to think what a
blow I am to give to all her future prospects--how I am to strike her very soul
to the earth, by telling her that her husband is a beggar! that she is to
forego all the elegancies of life all the pleasures of society to shrink with
me into indigence and obscurity! To tell her that I have dragged her down from
the sphere in which she might have continued to move in constant
brightness--the light of every eye--the admiration of every heart! How can she
bear poverty? she has been brought up in all the refinements of opulence. How
can she bear neglect? she has been the idol of society. Oh ! it will break her
heart it will break her heart !
I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it
have its flow; for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm had
subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I resumed the subject gently,
and urged him to break his situation at once to his wife. He shook his head
mournfully, but positively.
"But how are you to keep it from her?
It is necessary she should know it, that you may take the steps proper to the
alteration of your circumstances. You must change your style of
living--nay," observing a pang to pass across his countenance, "don t
let that afflict you. I am sure you have never placed your happiness in outward
show--you have yet friends, warm friends, who will not think the worse of you
for being less splendidly lodged: and surely it does not require a palace to be
happy with Mary ."
"I could be happy with her,"
cried he, convulsively, "in a hovel! I could go down with her into poverty
and the dust! I could I could, God bless her! God bless her! " cried he,
bursting into a transport of grief and tenderness.
"And believe me, my friend," said
I, stepping up and grasping him warmly by the hand, "believe me she can be
the same with you. Ay, more: it will be a source of pride and triumph to
her--it will call forth all the latent energies and fervent sympathies of her
nature; for she will rejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself. There is
in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the
broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the
dark hour of adversity. No man knows what the wife of his bosom is--no man
knows what a ministering angel she is until he has gone with her through the
fiery trials of this world."
There was something in the earnestness of
my manner and the figurative style of my language that caught the excited
imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal with; and following up
the impression I had made, I finished by persuading him to go home and unburden
his sad heart to his wife.
I must confess, notwithstanding all I had
said, I felt some little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate on the fortitude
of one whose life has been a round of pleasures? Her gay spirits might revolt
at the dark downward path of low humility suddenly pointed out before her, and
might cling to the sunny regions in which they had hitherto revelled. Besides,
ruin in fashionable life is accompanied by so many galling mortifications, to
which in other ranks it is a stranger. In short, I could not meet Leslie the
next morning without trepidation. He had made the disclosure.
"And how did she bear it? "
"Like an angel! It seemed rather to be
a relief to her mind, for she threw her arms round my neck, and asked if this
was all that had lately made me unhappy. - But, poor girl," added he,
"she cannot realize the change we must undergo. She has no idea of poverty
but in the abstract; she has only read of it in poetry, where it is allied to
love. She feels as yet no privation; she suffers no loss of accustomed
conveniences nor elegancies. When we come practically to experience its sordid
cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations then will be the real
trial."
"But," said I, "now that you
have got over the severest task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let
the world into the secret the better. The disclosure may be mortifying; but
then it is a single misery, and soon over: whereas you otherwise suffer it in
anticipation every hour in the day. It is not poverty so much as pretence, that
harasses a ruined man--the struggle between a proud mind and an empty
purse--the keeping up a hollow show that must soon come to an end. Have the
courage to appear poor and you disarm poverty of its sharpest sting." On
this point I found Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself,
and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered fortunes.
Some days afterwards he called upon me in
the evening. He had disposed of his dwelling house, and taken a small cottage
in the country, a few miles from town. He had been busied all day in sending
out furniture. The new establishment required few articles, and those of the
simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold,
excepting his wife's harp. That, he said, was too closely associated with the
idea of herself; it belonged to the little story of their loves; for some of
the sweetest moments of their courtship were those when he had leaned over that
instrument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I could not but
smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in a doting husband.
He was now going out to the cottage, where
his wife had been all day superintending its arrangement. My feelings had
become strongly interested in the progress of this family story, and as it was
a fine evening, I offered to accompany him.
He was wearied with the fatigues of the
day, and as he walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing.
"Poor Mary!" at length broke,
with a heavy sigh, from his lips.
"And what of her?" asked I:
"has anything happened to her?"
"What," said he, darting an
impatient glance, "is it nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation to
be caged in a miserable cottage to be obliged to toil almost in the menial
concerns of her wretched habitation?"
"Has she then repined at the
change?"
"Repined! she has been nothing but
sweetness and good humor. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I have ever
known her; she has been to me all love and tenderness and comfort!"
"Admirable girl!" exclaimed "You call yourself poor, my friend; you never
were so rich--you never knew the boundless treasures of excellence you possess
in that woman."
"Oh! but, my friend, if this first
meeting at the cottage were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this
is her first day of real experience; she has been introduced into a humble
dwelling--she has been employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments--she
has for the first time known the fatigues of domestic employment she has for
the first time looked round her on a home destitute of everything elegant,
almost of everything convenient; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and
spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty."
There was a degree of probability in this
picture that I could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence.
After turning from the main road up a
narrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a complete air
of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its
appearance for the most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A
wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few trees threw
their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several pots of flowers
tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in front. A small
wicket gate opened upon a footpath that wound through some shrubbery to the
door. Just as we approached, we heard the sound of music Leslie grasped my arm;
we paused and listened. It was Mary's voice singing, in a style of the most
touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond.
I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He
stepped forward to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel
walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out at the window and vanished--a light
foot step was heard and Mary came tripping forth to meet us: she was in a
pretty rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted in her fine hair;
a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole countenance beamed with smiles--I had
never seen her look so lovely.
"My dear George," cried she,
"I am so glad you are come! I have been watching and watching for you; and
running down the lane, and looking out for you. I ve set out a table under a
beautiful tree behind the cottage; and I've been gathering some of the most
delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them and we have such
excellent cream and everything is so sweet and still here. Oh!" said she,
putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, "Oh, we
shall be so happy!"
Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to
his bosom--he folded his arms round her--he kissed her again and again--he
could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes; and he has often assured
me, that though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life
has indeed been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more
exquisite felicity.
Category:Irving
Category:Sketch Book