Modern marriage and how to bear it Part 8

Roars of laughter were stifled in their birth, as we thought of the Weary Roue's circ.u.mspect spouse, and his several circ.u.mspect children, discreet from birth upwards.

'So do I--a s.h.i.+lling each way,' said the a.s.s, inevitably.

'Not for myself, of course,' continued the Weary Roue, without a trace of a smile, 'that is to say, not--er--not now, but speaking for the majority and--er, in the abstract, polygamy would be a sensible inst.i.tution. Just think how it would simplify all our modern complications, how it would mend our two worst social evils.'

'Yes, _think_, please--thinking will do,' interposed the Gentle Lady, hastily.

'How it would solve the superfluous woman question,' continued the Weary Roue, enthusiastically. 'Think of the enormous number of miserable spinsters who would be happily provided for.' An indignant quack came from the Bluestocking.

'Think of the expense,' remarked the Good Stockbroker, dryly, and the Weary Roue collapsed like a p.r.i.c.ked gas-bag.

'Herbert Spencer says,' continued the Good Stockbroker, 'that the tendency to monogamy is innate, and all the other forms of marriage have been temporary deviations, each bringing their own retributive evils.

After all, monogamous marriage was inst.i.tuted for the protection of women, and has been held sacred in the great and n.o.ble ages of the world. Quite apart from the moral point of view, however, polygamy could only be possible in a tropical climate, where the necessities of life were reduced to a minimum, and one could live on dates and rice, but as the average man in our glorious Free Trade country can't afford to keep one wife, in decent comfort, let alone several--I ask, how in the name of the bank rate--?'

'You stockbroking chaps are so devilish sordid,' returned the Weary Roue. 'Didn't I say _in the abstract_? Of course I know it wouldn't do practically, not yet anyway, but honestly I believe it would go far to solve the whole s.e.x problem.'

'You neither of you seem to take the woman into consideration at all,'

piped the Bluestocking. 'Do you suppose we modern women with our resources and our education would consider such an idea for a moment?'

'Well, what do you think?' asked the Weary Roue, with diplomatic deference.

To our surprise the Bluestocking began to blush, and her blush is not the coy, irresponsible flus.h.i.+ng of an ordinary girl, but a painful rush of blood to the face under stress of deep earnestness, the kind of blush which forces one to look away.

'Well,' she said, with a gulp, 'I think, perhaps--they might.' It was obvious the admission had cost her something. We were all dumfounded.

The Family Egotist forgot his burning desire for speech and ceased to threaten his winegla.s.s; the Gentle Lady was quite excited; the Weary Roue became almost alert, and the Good Stockbroker looked as if he were about to burst into tears.

'I think women might not be averse from polygamy--as a choice of evils,'

continued the little Bluestocking bravely, 'for the present waste of womanhood in this country is a very serious evil. Of course the financial conditions make it impossible, as the Good Stockbroker says, but if it _were_ possible, if it were inst.i.tuted for highest motives, and in an entirely honourable, open manner authorised and sanctioned by the--er--the proper people--I think women could concur in it without any loss of self-respect, especially if the first ardent love of youth were over. After that, and when a woman forgets herself, having truly found herself, in the love and care of her children and a larger view of life and its duties--then I think most women could be happy in such circ.u.mstances. I think a great deal of utterly untrue stuff is talked about the agony of s.e.xual jealousy, and women's jealousy especially.

Men may suffer thus, I can't say, but I'm sure women don't. It's the humiliation, the unkindness, the _being deceived_ and supplanted that hurts so when a man is unfaithful. But if it were all fair and above-board, if it were grasped that polygamy is more suited to men's nature, and more likely to make for the happiness of the greatest number of women--their numerical strength being so far in advance of men that they couldn't possibly expect to have a mate each--then I really think, after women had had time to readjust their ideas to this new condition--it may take a generation or more--I think they would accept it gladly, and find peace and contentment in it.'

The Bluestocking paused and looked round the circle of interested faces.

Even the a.s.s was intent on her words, but the Good Stockbroker's eyes were averted and the Bluestocking was quite pale as she continued:

'Of course the word at once recalls the harem, the zenana, but nothing of that kind would do. The wives would have to live separately, as the Mormons do, each in her own home, with her own circle of interests and duties, her own lifework. No one ought to live in idleness, which is the cause of all sorts of discord and trouble. Every woman should work at something, and to help someone. I'm not thinking now, of course, of happily married and contented women, but of the thousands leading miserable, dull, and lonely lives, who would be infinitely happier if they had a certain week to look forward to, at regular recurring intervals, when their husbands would be living with them. It would bring love and human interest and, what is most important of all, a _motive_ into their existence. I know it sounds dreadfully immoral,' she went on, blus.h.i.+ng again painfully, 'but, oh! I don't mean it like _that_. After all, the chief reason why people marry is for companions.h.i.+p, and it is companions.h.i.+p that unmarried women, past the gaiety of first youth, chiefly lack. The natural companion of woman is man; therefore, as there aren't enough husbands to go round, it follows that one might do worse than share them. I don't say it would be as satisfactory as having a devoted husband all to oneself, but it might be for the greatest good of the greatest number, and it would surely solve to a certain extent the--the social evils.'

They all clapped when she had finished somewhat breathlessly. It was obvious that the brave Bluestocking so far lacked the courage of her opinions as to be agonisingly embarra.s.sed at this public expression of them. The Gentle Lady, who is the most tactful creature in existence, accordingly rose before anyone had time to speak, and the two women left the room together.

A babble of talk arose from the men, under cover of which the Good Stockbroker also slipped quietly away.

'Pa.s.s the port,' said the Wicked Stockbroker, briskly. 'She's a deuced bright little woman, but how even the brainy ones can be so ignorant of life beats me, and how you chaps can be such hypocrites... . !'

'Hypocrites! what d'you mean?' bl.u.s.tered the Family Egotist, who was by now almost bursting with suppressed talk.

'Not you, old chap, but the Weary Roue and the Good Stockbroker, jawing away as if they really thought monogamy was in the majority in this country, and polygamy was something new! Of course one expects it from the G. S., but you, W. R., really ought to know better--by the way, where is the G. S?'

'I think he must have gone to propose to the Bluestocking--to save her from polygamy and her own opinions,' drawled the Weary Roue, lighting his cigarette.

'Stout fella! I believe he has!' cried the a.s.s, excitedly. 'I'll have a s.h.i.+lling each way on it with any of you--I mean it, really!'

'Oh! what if he has?' said the Family Egotist, irritably. 'What does one fool more in the world matter? Do stop rotting, you fellows, and pa.s.s the port.'

V

IS LEGALISED POLYANDRY THE SOLUTION?

In Mr W. Somerset Maugham's very interesting psychological study, _Mrs Craddock_, he makes one of his characters say: 'The fact is that few women can be happy with only one husband. I believe that the only solution of the marriage question is legalised polyandry.'

This is the kind of statement which it is only respectable to receive with horror, but if the secrets of feminine hearts could be known it might prove that a goodly amount of this horror is a.s.sumed. I decline to commit my s.e.x either way. Mr Maugham is evidently a gentleman very deeply experienced in feminine hearts, and I daresay he knows what he is talking of. He is, moreover, safely unmarried, but even he entrenches himself behind one of the characters in his novel, and who am I that a greater courage should be expected of me?

There is, of course, a marvellous virtue in the word 'legalised.' The most unholy and horrible marriages between fair young girls and rich or t.i.tled dotards, drunkards, or _cretins_ are considered perfectly proper and respectable because 'legalised.' Yet the people who countenance these abominations would probably be unutterably shocked by the very whisper of polyandry--an infinitely more decent relation, because regulated by honest s.e.x attraction, and free presumably from mercenary considerations. But whether legalised polyandry is THE solution to the marriage question or not, it is clearly an impossible one for women-ridden England, and though of late years women have made startling strides, and shown themselves possessed of unsuspected vitality, it seems unlikely that their superfluous energies will be expended in this direction.

VI

A WORD FOR DUOGAMY

'G.o.d made you, but you marry yourself.' --R. L. STEVENSON.

The day after the polite dinner-party, Isolda, Miranda, and Amoret came in to tea, and I retailed to them the discussion of the previous evening on polygamy.

'I see the Bluestocking's point,' said Isolda, thoughtfully: 'polygamy might be acceptable to the superfluous woman who can't marry under present conditions--the discontented spinster to whom the single state is so detestable that even polygamy would be preferable--but it would never be acceptable to the woman who can and does marry.'

'Yet how many married women put up with it nowadays?' said Miranda; 'aren't there ever so many wives who condone their husband's infidelity, and endure it as best they can, for the sake of the children, or for social reasons, or because they're sufficiently attached to the man to prefer a share of him to life alone without him? And what is that but countenancing polygyny?'

'Ah! but then the other women are only mistresses,' exclaimed Isolda.

'One might tolerate that unwillingly, but another legal wife, with rights equal to one's own or, worse, with children to compete with one's own--never!'

'Well, perhaps not,' agreed Miranda; 'I suppose a legal and permanent rival would be somewhat different, but, after all, it's only the middle cla.s.s in England who can be termed strictly monogamous--the upper and lowest are as polygynous as can be. It's only our British hypocrisy that makes us pretend monogamy is our rule!'

'Don't quarrel with British hypocrisy,' said Amoret, lazily, 'it's our most valuable national a.s.set. Hypocrisy simply holds the fabric of society together.'

'Agreed,' said Isolda, 'we must pretend to believe monogamy is the rule, for peace sake, and for the ideal's sake. Of course everybody knows there are plenty of polygynous husbands about, and, for the matter of that, polyandrous wives, but hypocrisy is a great aid to decency, and a nation must have decency of _theory_ at least, if not of practice, or we should--er--h'm--decline like the Romans.'

'I was waiting for one of you to mention the Romans,' interposed Amoret, who for all her frivolity has a certain humorous shrewdness of her own.

'It's an invariable feature of all discussions on marriage. Directly one so much as breathes a suggestion that the marriage tie should be made more flexible to suit modern conditions, everyone present, except the unhappily married, pulls a long face and quotes the awful example of the Romans. Now I've got a gorgeous idea for solving the marriage problem.'

'Tell us,' cried three voices in unison.

'Not yet, let's get rid of the Romans first. I confided my idea to a man the other day, and when he had floored me with the Romans as usual, I went and looked up Gibbon.'

Laughter interrupted her: the idea of our b.u.t.terfly Amoret poring over Gibbon.