The Young Wife CHAPTER 3.
Back to The Young Wife
On the next morning the young husband went to market, accompanied by Thomas, the porter of his store, and performed this new and very essential duty to the best of his ability. But, instead of informing his wife of the kinds of meat, vegetables, etc. that he had purchased, and resigning to her all future care in relation to them — he explained to Rachel, the cook, as far as he could, no doubt awkwardly enough, in what order and manner to prepare them for the table. Not, indeed, precisely how she should cook them, for that would have exceeded his knowledge; he merely gave such general directions as would enable her to get along without the necessity of referring to the young mistress of the parlor — for beyond that Mrs. Lawton had not yet deemed it required of her to extend any particular jurisdiction.
But, from the previous day's experience, and the slight uneasiness of mind occasioned thereby, she had gained a small portion of wisdom. Notwithstanding she thought that her husband was a little unreasonable in his too evident desire to see her give some attention to the movements of Rachel, yet the knowledge that this desire existed, partially modified her actions, as will be seen.
On this morning she intended going out for the purpose of making a number of calls. As she was on her way up to her chamber to dress, the dinner scene of the previous day came up fresh before her mind, and she remembered Rachel's remarks about the dessert. She paused on the stairway, and stood there for a minute or two, musing and irresolute. Aduty was presented to her mind, that she was inclined to evade. It was a plain and simple duty, and one that she could easily perform, being nothing more than the preparation of a pudding or tart for dinner. Finally duty gained the victory, and she descended to the kitchen, reluctantly enough, and in the course of some fifteen or twenty minutes, had a pudding ready for the oven. After transferring it to Rachel, with directions for baking it, she charged her to be sure and have dinner on the table by two o'clock.
Rachel promised in a cheerful tone, for this little effort of Mrs. Lawton's had somewhat inspirited her, and then the young mistress went up to her chamber and prepared to go out, with feelings whose lightness she enjoyed, but did not pretend to account for.
Among her acquaintances was a Mrs. Campbell, who had been married some two or three years, and upon her Julia called on this morning.
"O, I am so glad to see you, Julia! Mrs. Campbell said. "How have you been? And how do you like your new house?"
"O, very well. How could it be otherwise?
"True enough! And you are as happy as any young bride in the land! But don't be too much elated. Life has its bitter, as well as its sweet portion, and you will have to take your share."
This was said in a light, trifling tone and manner, that contradicted the truism she uttered.
"Of course!" Julia responded, smiling gaily in return. "But I shall take as little of the bitter as possible."
"Ah! you are a true philosopher, I see. Well, that is right. Take things easy as you move along — and then you will have things easy. But, if you go to burying yourself alive in cares and household duties — your spirits will be broken, and you will become as dull and uninteresting as any boorish housewife in the land."
"Never fear on that score for me, Mrs. Campbell. I have no particular affection for these matters. I have a cook, and to her I shall leave the business of the kitchen. Though I did humor her so far this morning, as to make a pudding."
"There you were wrong, Julia. If you assist these creatures in the smallest way — they will look for you to be ever helping them. So take the advice of a friend, and let your cook attend to her own duties. You will have trouble, if you don't."
"I felt as if I were doing wrong when I went into the kitchen," Julia replied. "But then, she made such a bungling work of dinner yesterday, that I was afraid to trust her. She gave us no dessert, and when I wanted to know the reason, said that where she had lived before, the lady of the house always prepared the puddings and the pies."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, that was what she said."
"She has not lived with me then," Mrs. Campbell said, laughing heartily. "For I never do more than tell my cook what I want. I have enough to occupy my time, without drudgingin the kitchen."
"But does everything go on well? Are your meals always ready in time, and properly cooked?"
"About once a week or so," Mrs. Campbell said, with mock gravity. Then, changing her tone to one of affected surprise, she continued, "You have got it all to learn yet, I see, Julia. And I only hope, for your sake, that Mr. Lawton is not one of your very particular, picky men; for if he is, he will worry you half to death. There will be a constant alternation of sunshine, clouds, and rain, for the first year or so, and then matters will settle down into something like quietness. Mr. Campbell tried me severely for a time. He wanted to persuade me that it was my duty to go into the kitchen every day, and see that the cook attended to her business; to tell her when to put dinner on, and see that it was ready in season, and all that — and thus have everything go on like clock-work to suit his notions of matters and things. But I wasn't going to make a slave of myself in that way; and I told him so, plainly. He fretted and fumed for awhile, but soon got over it, and now gives me no more trouble about these things."
Julia did not feel shocked at all this, and I am sorry to have to say so. Indeed, she more than once thought of Frank, and some of his too plain allusions on the day previous to what he thought to be her duties, with a feeling very near allied to contempt. But this was only momentary.
Her next call was upon another friend, also married, by the name of Mrs. Watson.
"And so you have begun life in earnest!" Mrs. Watson said, after the first greetings and congratulations were over. "And begun, too, in a house of your own. Well, you will have your hands full, that is all I can say about it. You had better, by a great deal, have taken genteel boarding somewhere. I only wish that I could persuade my husband to break up, even now, and go to boarding."
"What, with your three children?" asked Julia, in surprise.
"Certainly. Wouldn't I have as much time again to attend to them, and then not have to work half so hard as I do now? In a boardinghouse, you have nothing to do but take care of your own room. No trouble about breakfast, dinner, and supper, to say nothing of looking after the whole house. O, dear! I wonder why people will keep house, anyhow! But men are so selfish, that they will make slaves of their wives — just to have a comfortable home to sit down in and do nothing, every evening when they come home from their business."
"I almost wish I had conversed with you on this subject before," said Julia, musingly. "For I must confess that, now that Mother has gone home, a single day's experience is enough to convince me, that the care of a whole house is no light affair."
"Indeed, and it is not, Julia! It is go, go, go, from morning until night, and then not get through. The fact is, a woman's work is never done — while a man has nothing to do but sit down and read, after he comes home from business in the evening. And then he must have a whole house to do that in, when a single parlor and bedchamber, in a respectable boarding-house, would be just as pleasant for him, and far more economical, to say nothing of the relief from unnecessary cares that it would bring to his wife. But, oh no! She is not to be considered at all in the matter. She is nothing. But I'll manage it yet! I'll make this house too hot to hold my good man, one of these days, see if I don't!"
Mrs. Watson was not a woman of confirmed bad principles. She was only chafed at the many duties which, as mistress of a family, devolved necessarily upon her, and which she performed under the compulsive idea of necessity. She really loved her husband, but had thought him, from the first, a little selfish and unreasonable in his immoveable resolution to live in a house of his own, when it would have been so much pleasanter and easier for her, she imagined, if they had boarded.
Whenever, therefore, the subject of household cares and duties came up for consideration, she would ride her hobby-horse until the blood warmed up almost to fever heat, and then she would talk something after the strain of her conversation with Julia.
It is but just to say, that, to Julia, her language in reference to her husband did not seem in place, nor at all consistent with the character of a wife. Still, the idea of boarding, with its promised relief from household cares, made its impression upon her mind.
Julia's next call was upon a Mrs. Logan, a friend who had been married some two or three years. Her character will appear in their interview.
"Ah, Julia, or Mrs. Lawton, as it is now, how do you do? I am right down glad to see you. You have passed the Rubicon, as they say, and now you are 'one of us.' Well, how do you like your new condition?"
"Very well, of course, so far. But you know I have everything to learn."
"Yes, and a little more too, as the saying is. The married life has its pleasures, and its cares and troubles — and which of these overbalances the other, I am sure I cannot say."
"And yet, Mrs. Logan, you would not, if it were in your power, resume your single condition."
"There you are right, Julia. Nor if the cares and troubles, as I call them, were doubled in number."
"Then I would conclude that they were far overbalanced by the former."
"Well, no doubt they are. But, sometimes, you know, when we look on the dark side of things, all the sunshine is obscured."
"It ought to be a happy condition," Julia said. "For in it we have our heart's most fervent desire — the society of the one we cherish in our affections above all others."
"And yet, Julia," Mrs. Logan remarked, "I have thus early in my married life learned the painful, but, I believe, beneficial lesson — -that the society of one we love cannot, and will not, alone, make us happy."
"You talk in riddles, Mrs. Logan."
"Do I? Well, you will find their solution one of these days."
"Why, I am sure, Mrs. Logan, that I would be the happiest creature in the world, if I could spend every hour of the day with Mr. Lawton: it is only his absence, which leaves a single shadow upon my feelings."
Just then the parlor door was opened by the servant, and a visitor entered.
"Good morning, Mrs. Emerson," said Mrs. Logan, advancing, and offering her hand. "You see that I have got the bride with me," presenting Julia.
"So you have; and right glad I am to meet her," Mrs. Emerson replied, taking Julia's hand, and giving it an earnest, truthful pressure.
Mrs. Emerson was a widow lady, somewhat advanced in life; of a mild and benevolent disposition, united with much experience and great good sense. There were few with whom she associated who did not like her — or, perhaps, the stronger term of "love" would better express the sentiment. After she was seated, Mrs. Logan said,
"Julia and I were talking, just as you came in, about the happiness connected with the married life. She thinks that the society of her husband alone, is all that is required to make her happy in her new condition. But I tell her, that time will prove this idea to be an erroneous one."
"Am I not right, Mrs. Emerson?" Julia asked, as soon as Mrs. Logan ceased speaking.
"No, Julia, you are far from being right," Mrs. Emerson replied. "Our friend, Mrs. Logan here, had the same idea at one time, but she has long since proved it to be a false one. The discovery is by no means pleasant, but it teaches a beneficial lesson, making us better and wiser."
"I must confess," Julia said, "that I cannot understand your meaning. I love my husband, and am never so happy as when he is by my side. My delight is in the thought that he loves me, and that alone, with his presence, constitutes my greatest felicity."
"That is only the appearance of truth, Julia," was Mrs. Emerson's answer. "But the real truth is, that only in the discharge of all the duties appertaining to your new relationship, can you possibly find happiness. If any of these are neglected, unhappiness will follow, in spite of all the deep and pure affection that lives in both your hearts. I see by your countenance, that you do not appreciate the sentiment I utter. I most sincerely wish that you did, and that, by acting up to it, you would secure for yourself that measure of enjoyment in the married life that you so fondly expect."
"But I am sure of being happy, Mrs. Emerson."
"Then, the greater the danger of disappointment, Julia."
"Really, if I were to be influenced by what I have heard this morning, I would give up in despair. I made two calls before I came in here, and at both of the places I was met bysermons on the troubles, and trials, and duties of the married life."
"Not for the world, would I discourage you, my dear Julia!" Mrs. Emerson said, with affectionate earnestness. "In what I have said, I have been moved by a sincere desire to impart the truth, that in obedience to it, you might secure the great enjoyments and inestimable blessings of the married life. But you are too happy now, under the first delightful emotions of your new condition. By and by, when your heart ceases, in a degree, its joyful tremulousness, and gives sober thought a little room for action, you may be better understood." Then rising, she added,
"Come and see me, Julia, often. I would like to converse with you freely, for I think I can give you a little of my experience that will be beneficial to you."
Julia promised; when, bidding her two young friends a kind good morning, Mrs. Emerson left them again alone.
"I think more of Mrs. Emerson, than any woman I know," Mrs. Logan said, after she had seen her friend to the door.
"And I cannot help liking her. She always seems so kind and unselfish."
"And what is more," remarked Mrs. Logan, "although she has seen much trouble in her time, there is about her nothing morose — nothing of murmuring. She seems ever cheerful, and ever desirous of imparting to others, the secret of her cheerfulness. I have enjoyed her society much of late, and it has been of great advantage to me. I hope you will call upon her often, and encourage her to visit you."
"I certainly shall," Julia said, "as I have always liked her. And I think I would enjoy her society better, if she did not talk so much about duty. For my part, I must confess, that I have but little affection for the word."
"And yet, Julia, it is a word that has much to do with our happiness."
"I am yet to learn in what way."
"You will learn before long, Julia."
"Will I? Well, perhaps I may. But I must be going. The morning has passed away rapidly, and it is now near dinner time."
Back to The Young Wife