And now the full joys of her married martyrdom begin. She withdraws even from the affectation of interest in her partner, his friends and his pursuits. She spends her mornings in the keeping of a diary, or the writing of a novel, in which she appoints herself to the post of heroine, and endows her creation with a superhuman combination of unappreciated qualities. From the fact that her husband spends a large part of each day away from her, either in attending to his business or in following a sport, she infers that he has ceased to love her. When he returns in the evening, she locks herself into her room, and, having thus assured to herself solitude, she converts it, by an easy process, into the studied neglect of an unfeeling husband.
She now gathers round herself a select company of two or three female friends, whom the easy good-nature of her husband permits to stay in his house for months at a time. Into their sympathetic ears she pours the story of her woes, and gradually organises them into a trained band of disciplined conspirators, who make it their constant object to defend the wife by thwarting the husband. They have their signs and their pass-words. If the callous male, for the enjoyment of whose hospitality they seem to gain an additional zest by affecting to despise and defy him, should intimate at the dinner-table that he has ventured to make some arrangement without consulting them, they will raise their eyebrows, and look pityingly at the wife. She will inform them, in a tone of convinced melancholy, that she has long suspected that she was of no importance to any one, but that now she knows it for certain. She will then tell her husband that, as she is no longer allowed to interest herself in what he does, she has of course no opinion on the matter in hand, and that, if she had one, she would never think of offering it when she knows that all interference on her part is always so bitterly resented. Her husband's temper having exploded in the orthodox marital manner, she will smile sweetly upon him, and, the butler and footman having entered with the fish, will implore him, in a voice intended rather for the servants than for him, to moderate his anger, lest he should set a bad example. She will then weep silently into her tumbler, and her friends, after expressing a muttered indignation at the heartlessness of men, will support her tottering steps from the room. If her husband should invite one or two of his friends to dinner on a subsequent occasion, she will amuse herself and madden him by recounting to them this incident, in which she will figure as a suffering angel, whose wings have moulted under the neglect and cruel treatment of an unangelic spouse. If, while her story is in progress, she should observe her husband writhing, she will inform him that she is sure he must be sitting in a draught, and will order the butler to place a screen behind him. Having thus called attention to his discomfort, and to the care with which she watches over him, she will take offence when he countermands the screen; and, after giving the company in general to understand that she is not allowed to give orders in her own house, she will, for the rest of the evening, preserve a death-like calm. This will be followed, on the departure of her guests, by showers of tears and reproaches, the inevitable prelude to twenty-four hours of salts and seclusion in the privacy of her bed-room. It is curious to note that, although the Martyr, at an early period of her married life, developes a distaste for going into society, which she attributes to the persecution of her husband; yet she always contrives to spend as much money as those who live in a whirl of gaiety. Her bills, therefore, mount up, and, in a moment of unguarded pecuniary prudence, her husband will remonstrate mildly with her upon her extravagance. She will, thereupon, accuse him to her friends of meanness, and avow her determination never again to ask him for money. For a short time she will pay portions of her own bills, but, finding her pin-money insufficient for the purpose, she will sell some jewels, and spend the proceeds on a new tea-gown. Her increasing liabilities will afford her no anxiety, seeing that her sense of martyrdom increases in proportion, and that in her heart of hearts she knows that her husband is prepared to pay everything, and will eventually have to do so.
After some years of this life her husband will have acquired the reputation of a domestic ruffian. Friends will shake their heads, and wonder how long his sweet wife will bear up against his treatment. It will be reported, on the authority of imaginary eye-witnesses, that he has thrown a soup-plate at her, and that, on more than one occasion, he has beaten her. He will find himself shunned, and will be driven for society and pleasure to his bachelor haunts. His wife will now rage with jealousy over a defection she has done her best to cause. After a time she will hire the services of a detective, and will file a petition in the Divorce Court. The case will probably be undefended, and the Court having listened to her tale of cruelty, the imaginative boldness of which will startle even the friend who corroborates it in the witness-box, will decree to her a divorce from the supposed author of her sufferings. She will then set up for a short time as an object of universal pity, but, meeting a bluff and burly widower, she will accept him as her second husband. After having wearied of her constant recital of her former misery, this husband will begin to neglect and ill-use her in good earnest. Under the tonic of this genuine shock, her spirits may revive; and it is as likely as not that she will enjoy many years of mitigated happiness as the wife of a real tyrant.
More Novelties.—Sir,—The Fasting Man seems to have been a great success. Why shouldn't he be succeeded by The Stuffing Man, The Eating Boy, and The Talking Man. The last of these would be backed to talk incessantly on every possible subject for forty days. In the Recess, what a chance for Mr. Gladstone, or, indeed, for any Parliamentary orator, who, otherwise, would be on the stump! Instead of his going to the Country, the Country, and London, too, would come to him. Big business for Aquarium and for Talking Man. Then there would be The Sneezing Man, The Smoking Man, The Singing Man, The Drinking Man, and so forth. It's endless. I only ask for a per-centage on gate-money, and I place the idea at the disposition of the Aquarium.
Yours,
The Other Man.
Yet Another Quarterly.—Subjects of the Day—sounds like an Algerian publication—is a quarterly review of current topics. The motto of this new quarterly review of Messrs. Routledge's is "Post Tenebras Lux" which, being freely translated, means, "after the heavy reviews this comes as a little light reading!" Ahem! the subject of No. 1 is Education, and to study the essays in this volume will keep any reader well occupied till the appearance of No. 2.