THE WIFE
by Washington Irving
The treasures of the deep are not so preciousAs are the conceal'd comforts of a manLocked up in woman's love. I scent the airOf blessings, when I come but near the house.
What a delicious breath marriage sends forth . .
The violet bed's not sweeter.
MIDDLETON.
I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with which womensustain the most overwhelming reverses of fortune. Those disasterswhich break down the spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the dust,seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give suchintrepidity and elevation to their character, that at times itapproaches to sublimity. Nothing can be more touching than to behold asoft and tender female, who had been all weakness and dependence,and alive to every trivial roughness, while treading the prosperouspaths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the comforter andsupport of her husband under misfortune, and abiding, with unshrinkingfirmness, the bitterest blasts of adversity.
As the vine, which has long twined its graceful foliage about theoak, and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plantis rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caressingtendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs; so is it beautifullyordered by Providence, that woman, who is the mere dependent andornament of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solacewhen smitten with sudden calamity; winding herself into the ruggedrecesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head, andbinding up the broken heart.
I was once congratulating a friend, who had around him a bloomingfamily, knit together in the strongest affection. "I can wish you nobetter lot," said he, with enthusiasm, "than to have a wife andchildren. If you are prosperous, there they are to share yourprosperity; if otherwise, there they are to comfort you." And, indeed,I have observed that a married man falling into misfortune is more aptto retrieve his situation in the world than a single one; partlybecause he is more stimulated to exertion by the necessities of thehelpless and beloved beings who depend upon him for subsistence; butchiefly because his spirits are soothed and relieved by domesticendearments, and his self-respect kept alive by finding, that thoughall abroad is darkness and humiliation, yet there is still a littleworld of love at home, of which he is the monarch. Whereas a singleman is apt to run to waste and self-neglect; to fancy himself lonelyand abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin like some desertedmansion, for want of an inhabitant.
These observations call to mind a little domestic story, of whichI was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, had married abeautiful and accomplished girl, who had been brought up in themidst of fashionable life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but thatof my friend was ample; and he delighted in the anticipation ofindulging her in every elegant pursuit, and administering to thosedelicate tastes and fancies that spread a kind of witchery about thesex.- "Her life," said he, "shall be like a fairy tale."The very difference in their characters produced an harmoniouscombination: he was of a romantic and somewhat serious cast; she wasall life and gladness. I have often noticed the mute rapture withwhich he would gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly powersmade her the delight; and how, in the midst of applause, her eye wouldstill turn to him, as if there alone she sought favor andacceptance. When leaning on his arm, her slender form contrastedfinely with his tall manly person. The fond confiding air with whichshe looked up to him seemed to call forth a flush of triumphantpride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doted on his lovely burdenfor its very helplessness. Never did a couple set forward on theflowery path of early and well-suited marriage with a fairerprospect of felicity.
It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have embarked hisproperty in large speculations; and he had not been married manymonths, when, by a succession of sudden disasters, it was swept fromhim, and he found himself reduced almost to penury. For a time he kepthis situation to himself, and went about with a haggard countenance,and a breaking heart. His life was but a protracted agony; and whatrendered it more insupportable was the necessity of keeping up a smilein the presence of his wife; for he could not bring himself tooverwhelm her with the news. She saw, however, with the quick eyesof affection, that all was not well with him. She marked his alteredlooks and stifled sighs, and was not to be deceived by his sicklyand vapid attempts at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightlypowers and tender blandishments to win him back to happiness; butshe only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw causeto love her, the more torturing was the thought that he was soon tomake her wretched. A little while, thought he, and the smile willvanish from that cheek- the song will die away from those lips- thelustre of those eyes will be quenched with sorrow; and the happyheart, which now beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed downlike mine, by the cares and miseries of the world.
