He must need weel thrive
That liveth weel all his life
My leef child.”
She must pay the church, dues; she must help the poor; in church she must pray, beads in hand, neither chattering nor laughing; she must be “of fair bearing and of good tongue.” If any man makes her an offer of marriage, she is to receive him courteously, whoever he may be, and must show the case to her friends, and she must not sit with him in any place where a scandal might arise. When she marries a man she must love him above all earthly things; she must answer him meekly; she must be fair of speech, mild of mood, true in word and deed, of good conscience. She must be of seemly semblance; she must not be loud in laughter. In the street she must not brandish her head or shake her shoulders; she must not swear; she must not gaze about in the streets; she must not visit the tavern; she must take “measurably” of the good ale; and must not get drunk. She must not go to see wrestlings or cock-throwing like a strumpet—the ways of the class, one observes, remain unchanged—they went to public shows then just as they go to the Music Halls now. Again, if a strange man speaks to her in the street she is to greet him and pass on; above all things she must not stand and talk with him lest he tempt her with gifts. She is to govern her household wisely and set everybody to work early; if need be, she will work herself; she will see that when work is done things are put away; on pay day she must administer the wages. She is not to envy her neighbour’s fine attire, but to behave in a friendly spirit towards her neighbours.
“It behoveth thee so for to do
And to do to them as thou woldist be doon to.”
She must not ruin her husband with extravagance, nor must she borrow. She must not spare the rod if her children “been rebel.” As soon as her daughters are born she will begin to collect things for them against their marriage—this leads us to think that the wife was expected to contribute part at least of the furniture of the house: or was it a dot that was gathered and stored up for the girl?
That is enough; the good mother supposes the life of a housewife, able to work herself if need be, i.e. work of making and sewing, embroidering, brewing, cooking, and all kinds of household work; obedient to church and husband; a fond mother, a good manager. There is not a single word said of books or of learning, of reading or of writing—was the bourgeoise not taught to read and write? I do not know. But I imagine, remembering the custom later on, that the woman was taught to read, but that she seldom had any occasion to use that accomplishment. Nothing, again, is said of any amusements, we are not in the gardens of the Castle, we are in a City street, the house is one of a cluster, each house facing a different way, perhaps, gabled, the storeys projecting one above the other, we look out across the narrow street upon another house like this. At the back is a small garden, the doors are all open and the housewives come out and talk to each other about the prices of everything, which have gone up horribly within the memory of people still young; within, the maids and the daughters work and whisper. The rod hangs upon the wall for those who talk and do not work.
“Now have I thee taught, daughter, as my modir dide me
Think thereon nyght and day, forgete that it not be: