HAVING laid the foundations of a happy and true marriage, perhaps it will do to venture further, and name at least some of the more prominent duties of the husband.
It is quite obvious that no man should assume the duties and responsibilities of married life until he is old enough not only to comprehend what these responsibilities mean, but to be able, physically, mentally, and spiritually, to accept them.
It seems to have been the Creator's plan from the beginning that man should go before and ahead of woman in the matter of aggressiveness,—for Adam was first formed, then Eve.
From time immemorial, custom has assigned him the right of first choice in the business of securing a life partner. But having done this, upon him must fall at least the greater share of the responsibility of supporting his household. Indeed, this could not justly fall to the lot of the woman, who is generally fully occupied with the thousand and one duties and cares of the home, and the necessary training of the little ones.
Then, the part of the husband is, first, to provide liberally for his household. But this can not be done, under ordinary circumstances, unless every selfish and expensive habit be entirely abandoned; and so this implies a clean life. It implies a closed purse to the tobacconist and liquor dealer and an open purse to the miller and the grocer. It implies a strict attention to business, and little knowledge of the ball game, the horse-race, the vaudeville, or the theater.
"But," says some young benedict whose conscience is already at work, "you don't expect a man to give up all the little pleasures of life, do you, just because he is married?"
Indeed I would have you dispense with all those so-called "pleasures" of life which may not be shared and enjoyed by wife and children.
"But Mary doesn't care for the theater, and,—well, a man must have some recreation. She doesn't care for the ball games nor the races either,—she can't take the children, so she says," you add, with an injured air.
Yes, and if you were one-half as loyal as she, you would invent some form of recreation in which she could participate, and the children, too, instead of selfishly going away alone, or in questionable company.
A few years ago you thought yourself very happy in her society. In fact, you seemed not to care very much for any other. Strange, isn't it?—Yes, it is strange indeed that some men seem so soon to tire of those very joys which so lately appeared to make up the sum total of their happiness.
But let us be devoutly thankful that this state of things is by no means universal. Some men are so constituted that a quiet evening at home after the rush and worry of the day is very grateful. Some men can find more music in the soft and gentle tones of wife or daughter at the piano, or singing a lullaby to the baby, or reading some interesting volume, while they stretch their weary limbs on the sofa, after a hard day's work, than in the noisy shouts of the ball game or in the clamorous encores of the theater.
Some husbands there are, who, tho the years have left their mark on brow and form, have still the same tender, loving hearts as when they wooed and won the simple maiden who has only grown dearer as the years have passed by,—there are a few left, God bless them!
"But," you say, "I think these women are queer creatures; awfully unreasonable, you see. Now, there's my Mollie,—sensible about most things, but she acts as if she expected me to play the lover, same as I used to. Why, she puts her lips up for a kiss every morning when I leave the house. Now this seems extremely childish and downright silly to me. As long as a woman is well provided for, that ought to be enough; and just because I ventured to say so in plain words, that foolish woman actually turned away with tears in her eyes; and I found out afterward that she cried about it all day. Now I don't know why, but that only just made me sort of angry."
I dare say. Tears affect some men that way—after marriage! But, my friend, you have seen the day, and not so very long ago, either, when those very tears would have gratified your vanity more than they anger you now. You would have read their true meaning. You would have seen love in those tears,—love tender, pure, sincere.
O how blind you are! "Blind?"—Yes, sir; selfishness has made you so blind that it will require a greater miracle of divine grace to restore your sight than it did to heal blind Bartimeus. Ah, providing for the daily physical needs of your wife is not all,—this does not comprise your whole duty. Your wife has a soul as well as a body. She has spiritual needs. She has a tender and loving nature that must starve and die unless it receives nourishment,—and there is no other such pathetic and pitiable sight as a dead soul in a living body,—a woman whose tender and loving nature has been killed, murdered by him who has sworn to love, to cherish, and to protect.
O, if there is on earth a man to be shunned and dreaded, it is he who doles out his love and his kindly words and his tender smiles as grudgingly as a miser does his gold!
I tell you I know many a woman who would much prefer a loving kiss from her husband to a new dress or a pair of gloves. O, this old world would be a brighter place if all the men who have taken upon themselves the marriage vow would read and forever heed the Scriptural injunction: "Husbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against them."