Petty Troubles of Married Life, Complete

IN WHICH EVERY ONE WILL FIND HIS OWN IMPRESSIONS OF MARRIAGE. A friend, in speaking to you of a young woman, says: “Good family, well bred, pretty, and three hundred thousand in her own right.” You have expressed a desire to meet this charming creature. Usually, chance interviews are premeditated. And you speak with this object, who has now become very timid. YOU.—“A delightful evening!” SHE.—“Oh! yes, sir.” You are allowed to become the suitor of this young person. THE MOTHER-IN-LAW (to the intended groom).—“You can’t imagine how susceptible the dear girl is of attachment.” Meanwhile there is a delicate pecuniary question to be discussed by the two families. YOUR FATHER (to the mother-in-law).—“My property is valued at five hundred thousand francs, my dear madame!” YOUR FUTURE MOTHER-IN-LAW.—“And our house, my dear sir, is on a corner lot.” A contract follows, drawn up by two hideous notaries, a small one, and a big one. Then the two families judge it necessary to convoy you to the civil magistrate’s and to the church, before conducting the bride to her chamber. Then what?... Why, then come a crowd of petty unforeseen troubles, like the following:
Is it a petty or a profound trouble? I knew not; it is profound for your sons-in-law or daughters-in-law, but exceedingly petty for you.
“Petty! You must be joking; why, a child costs terribly dear!” exclaims a ten-times-too-happy husband, at the baptism of his eleventh, called the little last newcomer,—a phrase with which women beguile their families.
“What trouble is this?” you ask me. Well! this is, like many petty troubles of married life, a blessing for some one.
You have, four months since, married off your daughter, whom we will call by the sweet name of CAROLINE, and whom we will make the type of all wives. Caroline is, like all other young ladies, very charming, and you have found for her a husband who is either a lawyer, a captain, an engineer, a judge, or perhaps a young viscount. But he is more likely to be what sensible families must seek,—the ideal of their desires—the only son of a rich landed proprietor. (See the Preface .)