Wesblock, the autobiography of an automaton

by Harry McDonald Walters

Our period of adjustment lasted many years, during which time we often lost patience exactly at the wrong instant, often doubted when we should have trusted each other, and often thought our hasty marriage a dreadful failure. Many flyings apart in fierce warlike heat, followed by shamefaced but peaceful and wise reunions, we went through, all to a good end. We could not help these things, for we knew no better.

We had been married several weeks, and I had become what I considered a serious man of affairs, when a dove of peace came unexpectedly to us. It arrived in the shape of a fat brother of Muriel’s, who, until then, had hardly counted in our selfish scheme of things. We received him with gladness. After he had spent a day taking in our house with its surroundings, he was pleased to declare our position in the economy of things, “bully.” The fat brother, Eugene by name (commonly known as “Gene”), inspected with a keen eye the mill, the house, the pig, the cow, and everything we labelled with that beloved pronoun our; and all was “bully” to him. He stayed three days with us, and then returned to Montreal to tell his people there what he had seen.

These days at the mill were downright solid full days, out of which we sucked much happiness, and much practical sense that was to prove useful to us. I see now what a great thing it was to have been far away from relatives determined to do good, but who do as a rule nothing but harm at such a time. Young men and young women are fond of saying to each other, “You are all the world to me,” or something equally romantic and unmeaning; and in this there is little harm. But when such superlatives are taken for truth, or an attempt is made to make them come true, it is found impossible; for no one person can be all the world to another. When you find the exception which proves the rule, you find a poor one-sided life, without breadth or depth.

As between Muriel and me, I was the first one to discover this truth. Muriel found it much later. It was long before either of us was willing to allow the other full freedom, to enjoy things and people in his or her own way. The necessary adjustment proceeded in our case with more or less worry; but our love for each other was a real thing, and the days flew by with more than ordinary happiness in them.

It was my nature, when annoyed or disappointed, to fly up to fever heat, explode and come down as quickly as I went up, and then forget the incident which brought about my excitement. But I soon learned to modify this and to hold myself in check. Muriel’s nature was to sulk and balk for days at a time when thwarted. Giving way to our natures and tempers was quite frequent in the first year of our marriage; but we learned the folly of it, and practised more and more control. When Muriel was in a sulky mood, I found it wise to be kept busy at the mill, making good use of my carpenter’s tools, with which I was fast becoming an adept. Muriel was not one of your self-enervating women, and by no means a clinger. She was indolent and luxury-loving, it is true, but she demanded energy and action in me. She did not herself desire to lead, but she wanted to be led vigorously in the direction she thought best.

Learning things gradually became a passion with me, and made of me something of a student. I gave much time to books which were often bought up to the very limit of our scanty purse. I became also a chess-player, a musician, and I must add, a scribbler; but it will be seen, I never became a business-man. My craving for knowledge was so great that I spread myself over too much ground. I wanted to know so many things. Nothing was too abstruse for me to attempt to learn, and I even spent some months over the curious pseudo-science of astrology.

I most sincerely recommend hobbies to young married men as a healthy diversion. A newly-married woman may think she needs her husband every instant of his leisure; but really she does not; and he is a very foolish man who attempts to satisfy any such desire. People are just like foods, if you have too much of them they pall upon you. The gratification of my thirst for knowledge gave Muriel a wholesome relief from my constant presence.

I learned chess from a book, and played on my home-made chess-board for years before I ever met an opponent. I tried to teach Muriel, but she had not the patience for it, and preferred a book, music, or letter writing. She wrote charming letters when she felt in the humour. When we arrived at the stage when we could ask each other “What are you going to do this evening?” instead of “What shall we do?” we were at the beginning of marriage wisdom. I was often hasty with the poor little girl, blaming her for things for which I love her to-day.

There is only one way to love a woman, and that is to love her faults and all; meanwhile you must learn to rid yourself of such faults as are objectionable to her. I was blind in those days, I did not see that fate had given me a great gift ... one who had in her the makings of a broad-minded woman. I did not realise that it was no ordinary girl who had come to me out of the lap of luxury, but a woman who would make a good human comrade. I have a natural reticence which prevents my putting into cold print for unsympathetic eyes, details of the early developments of our married life.

You must understand that I am not out to write a full and complete chronicle, or give a vivid and exhaustive word-picture of those days. I am only jotting down their salient impressions, and the thoughts they provoke, leaving much between the lines for those who can read there.