FATALITIES OF MARRIAGE.
Speculations of the author on free-agency and predestination—A novel theory—The matrimonial ladder—Advice to young lovers—A ball in Dublin—Unexpected arrival of Lord G— —His doom expressed—Marries the author’s niece—Remarks on his lordship’s character.
In a previous part of this volume, I promised my fair readers that I would endeavour to select some little anecdotes of tender interest, more particularly calculated for their perusal; and I now proceed to redeem that promise, so far as I can.
Fatality in marriages has been ever a favourite theme with young ladies who have promptly determined to resign their liberty to a stranger, rather than preserve it with a parent. I am myself no unqualified fatalist; but have struck out a notion of my own on that subject, which is, I believe, different from all others;—and when I venture to broach it in conversation, I am generally assured by the most didactic of the company, that (so far as it is comprehensible) it excludes both sense and morality. Nevertheless it is, like my faith in supernaturals, a grounded and honest opinion: and in all matters connected with such shadowy things as spirits, fates, chances, &c. a man is surely warranted in forming his own theories—a species of construction, at any rate, equally harmless and rational with that castle-building in the air so prevalent among his wiser acquaintances.
It is not my intention here to plunge deep into my tenets. I only mean indeed to touch on them so far as they bear upon matrimony: and may the glance induce fair damsels, when first nourishing a tender passion, to consider in time what may be fated as the consequences of their free-agency!
The matrimonial ladder (if I may be allowed such a simile) has generally eight steps: viz. 1. Attentions; 2. Flirtation; 3. Courtship; 4. Breaking the ice; 5. Popping the question; 6. The negotiation; 7. The ceremony; 8. The repentance.
The grand basis of my doctrine is, that free-agency and predestination are neither (as commonly held) inconsistent nor incompatible; but, on the contrary, intimately connected, and generally copartners in producing human events. Every important occurrence in the life of man or woman (and matrimony is no bagatelle) partakes of the nature of both. Great events may ever be traced to trivial causes, or to voluntary actions; and that which is voluntary cannot, it should seem, be predestined: but when these acts of free-will are once performed, they lead irresistibly to ulterior things. Our free-agency then becomes expended; our spontaneous actions cannot be retraced; and then, and not before, the march of fate commences.
The medical doctrine of remote and proximate causes of disease in the human body is not altogether inappropriate to my dogma—since disorders which are predestined to send ladies and gentlemen on their travels to the other world, entirely against their inclinations, may frequently be traced to acts which were as entirely within their own option.
I have already professed my intention of going but superficially into this subject just now; and though I could find it in my heart considerably to prolong the inquiry, I will only give one or two marked illustrations of my doctrine, merely to set casuists conjecturing. There are comparatively few important acts of a person’s life which may not be avoided. For example:—if any man chooses voluntarily to take a voyage to Nova Scotia, he gives predestination a fair opportunity of drowning him at sea, if it think proper; but if he determines never to go into a ship, he may be perfectly certain of his safety in that way. Again:—if a general chooses to go into a battle, it is his free-agency which enables predestination to despatch him there; but if, on the other hand, he keeps clear out of it (as some generals do), he may set fatality at defiance on that point, and perhaps return with as much glory as many of his comrades had acquired by leaving their brains upon the field. Cromwell told his soldiers the night before the battle of Worcester, (to encourage them,) that, “Every bullet carried its own billet.”—“Why then, by my sowl,” said an Irish recruit, “that’s the very rason I’ll desert before morning!” Marriage, likewise, is an act of free-agency; but, as I said before, being once contracted, predestination comes into play, often despatching one or other of the parties, either by grief, murder, or suicide, who might have been safe and sound from all those fatalities, had he or she never voluntarily purchased or worn a plain gold ring.
Of the eight steps attached to the ladder of matrimony already specified, seven (all lovers will be pleased to remark) imply “free-agency;” but the latter of these being mounted, progress to the eighth is too frequently inevitable. I therefore recommend to all candidates for the ascent, thorough deliberation, and a brief pause at each successive step:—for, according to my way of thinking, the knot tied at the seventh interval should be considered, in every respect, perfectly indissoluble.