Chapter 7

The written contract was in the following manner--"On such a day, month, year, A the son of B, has said to D the daughter of E, be thou my spouse according to the law of Moses and of the Israelites; and I give thee as a dowry the sum of two hundred suzims, as it is ordered by our law. And the said D hath promised to be his spouse upon the conditions aforesaid, which the said A doth promise to perform on the day of marriage. And to this the said A doth hereby bind himself and all that he hath, to the very cloak upon his back; engages himself to love, honor, feed, clothe, and protect her, and to perform all that is generally implied in contracts of marriage in favor of the Israelitish wives."

The verbal agreement was made in the presence of a sufficient number of witnesses, by the man saying to the women, "Take this money as a pledge that at such a time I will take thee to be my wife." A woman who was thus betrothed or bargained for, was almost in every respect by the law considered as already married.

Before the legislation of Moses, "marriages among the Jews," say the Rabbies, "were agreed on by the parents and relations of both sides. When this was done, the bridegroom was introduced to his bride. Presents were mutually exchanged, the contract signed before witnesses, and the bride, having remained sometime with her relations, was sent away to the habitation of her husband, in the night, with singing, dancing, and the sound of musical instruments."

By the institution of Moses, the Rabbies tell us the contract of marriage was read in the presence of, and signed by, at least ten witnesses, who were free, and of age. The bride, who had taken care to bathe herself the night before, appeared in all her splendor, but veiled, in imitation of Rebecca, who veiled herself when she came in sight of Isaac. She was then given to the bridegroom by her parents, in words to this purpose: "Take her according to the law of Moses." And he received her, by saying, "I take her according to that law." Some blessings were then pronounced on the young couple, both by the parents and the rest of the company.

The blessings or prayers generally run in this style: "Blessed art thou, O Lord of heaven, and earth, who has created man in thine own likeness, and hast appointed woman to be his partner and companion! Blessed art thou, who fillest Zion with joy for the multitude of her children! Blessed art thou who sendest gladness to the bridegroom and his bride; who hast ordained for them, love, joy, tenderness, peace and mutual affection. Be pleased to bless not only this couple, but Judah and Jerusalem, with songs of joy, and praise for the joy that thou givest them, by the multitudes of their sons and of their daughters."

After the virgins had sung a marriage song, the company partook of a repast, the most magnificent the parties could afford; after which they began a dance, the men round the bridegroom, the women round the bride. They pretended that this dance was of divine institution and an essential part of the ceremony. The bride was then carried to the nuptial bed, and the bridegroom left with her. The company again returned to their feasting and rejoicing; and the Rabbies inform us, that this feasting, when the bride, was a widow, lasted only three days, but seven if she was a virgin.

At the birth of a son, the father planted a cedar; and at that of a daughter, he planted a pine. Of these trees the nuptial bed was constructed, when the parties, at whose birth they were planted, entered into the married state.

The Assyrians had a court, or tribunal whose only business was to dispose of young women in marriage, and see the laws of that union properly executed. What these laws were, or how the execution of them was enforced, are circumstances that have not been handed down to us. But the erecting a court solely for the purpose of taking cognizance of them, suggests an idea that they were many and various.

Among the Greeks, the multiplicity of male and female deities who were concerned in the affairs of love, made the invocations and sacrifices on a matrimonial occasion a very tedious affair. Fortunate omens gave great joy, and the most fortunate of all others was a pair of turtles seen in the air, as those birds were reckoned the truest emblems of conjugal love and fidelity. If, however, one of them was seen alone it infallibly denoted separation, and all the ills attending an unhappy marriage.

On the wedding day, the bride and bridegroom were richly dressed, and adorned with garlands of herbs and flowers. The bride was conducted in the evening to the house of her husband in a chariot, seated between her husband and one of his relations. When she alighted from the chariot the axle-tree of it was burnt to show that there was no method for her to return back. As soon as the young couple entered the house, figs and other fruits were thrown upon their heads to denote plenty; and a sumptuous entertainment was ready for them to partake of, to which all the relations on both sides were invited.

The bride was lighted to bed by a number of torches, according to her quality; and the company returned in the morning to salute the new married couple, and to sing _epithalamia_ at the door of their bed-chamber.

Epithalamia were marriage songs, anciently sung in praise of the bride or bridegroom, wishing them happiness, prosperity and a numerous issue.

Among the Romans there were three different kinds of marriage. The ceremony of the first consisted in the young couple eating a cake together made only of wheat, salt and water. The second kind was celebrated by the parties solemnly pledging their faith to each other, by giving and receiving a piece of money. This was the most common way of marrying among the Romans. It continued in use, even after they became Christians. When writings were introduced to testify that a man and a woman had become husband and wife, and also, that the husband had settled a dower upon his bride, these writings were called _Tabulae Dotales_ (dowry tables;) and hence, perhaps the words in our marriage ceremony, "I thee endow."

The third kind of marriage was, when a man and woman, having cohabited for some time and had children, found it expedient to continue together. In this case, if they made up the matter between themselves, it became a valid marriage, and the children were considered as legitimate.

Something similar to this is the present custom in Scotland. There, if a man live with, and have children by a woman, though he do not marry her till he be upon his death-bed, all the children are thereby legitimated and become entitled to the honors and estates of their father. The case is the same in Holland and some parts of Germany; with this difference only, that all the children to be legitimated must appear with the father and mother in church at the ceremony of their marriage.

FEMALE FRIENDSHIP.

It has long been a question, Which of the two sexes is most capable of friendship? Montague, who is so much celebrated for his knowledge of human nature, has given it positively against the women; and his opinion has been generally embraced.

Friendship perhaps, in women, is more rare than among men; but, at the same time, it must be allowed that where it is found, it is more tender.

Men, in general, have more of the parade than the graces of friendship. They often wound while they serve; and their warmest sentiments are not very enlightened, with respect to those minute sentiments which are of so much value. But women have a refined sensibility, which makes them see every thing; nothing escapes them. They divine the silent friendship; they encourage the bashful or timid friendship; they offer the sweetest consolations to friendship in distress. Furnished with finer instruments, they treat more delicately a wounded heart. They compose it, and prevent it from feeling its agonies. They know, above all, how to give value to a thousand things, which have no value in themselves.

We ought therefore, perhaps, to desire the friendship of a man upon great occasions; but, for general happiness, we must prefer the friendship of a woman.

With regard to female intimacies, it may be taken for granted that there is no young woman who has not, or wishes not to have, a companion of her own sex, to whom she may unbosom herself on every occasion. That there are women capable of friendship with women, few impartial observers will deny. There have been many evident proofs of it, and those carried as far as seemed compatible with the imperfections of our common nature. It is, however, questioned by some; while others believe that it happens exceedingly seldom. Between married and unmarried women, it no doubt happens very often; whether it does so between those that are single, is not so certain. Young men appear more frequently susceptible of a generous and steady friendship for each other, than females as yet unconnected; especially, if the latter have, or are supposed to have, pretensions to beauty, not adjusted by the public.

In the frame and condition of females, however, compared with those of the other sex, there are some circumstances which may help towards an apology for this unfavorable feature in their character.

The state of matrimony is necessary to the support, order, and comfort of society. But it is a state that subjects the women to a great variety of solicitude and pain. Nothing could carry them through it with any tolerable satisfaction or spirit, but very strong and almost unconquerable attachments. To produce these, is it not fit they should be peculiarly sensible to the attention and regards of the men? Upon the same ground, does it not seem agreeable to the purposes of Providence, that the securing of this attention, and these regards, should be a principal aim? But can such an aim be pursued without frequent competition? And will not that too readily occasion jealousy, envy, and all the unamiable effects of mutual _rivalship_? Without the restraints of superior worth and sentiment, it certainly will. But can these be ordinarily expected from the prevailing turn of female education; or from the little pains that women, as well as other human beings, commonly take to _control_ themselves, and to act nobly? In this _last_ respect, the sexes appear pretty much on the same footing.

This reasoning is not meant to justify the indulgence of those little and sometimes base passions towards one another, with which females have been so generally charged. It is only intended to represent such passions in the first approach; and, while not entertained, as less criminal than the men are apt to state them; and to prove that, in their attachments to each other, the latter have not always that merit above the women, which they are apt to claim. In the mean time, let it be the business of the ladies, by emulating the gentlemen, where they appear good-natured and disinterested, to disprove their imputation, and to show a temper open to _friendship_ as well as to _love_.

To talk much of the latter is natural for both; to talk much of the former, is considered by the men as one way of doing themselves honor. Friendship, they well know, is that dignified form, which, in speculation at least every heart must respect.

But in friendship, as in religion, which on many accounts it resembles, speculation is often substituted in the place of practice. People fancy themselves possessed of the thing, and hope that others will fancy so too, because they are fond of the name, and have learned to talk about it with plausibility. Such talk indeed imposes, till experience give it the lie.

To say the truth, there seems in either sex but little of what a fond imagination, unacquainted with the falsehood of the world, and warmed by affections which its selfishness has not yet chilled, would reckon friendship. In theory, the standard is raised too high; we ought not, however, to wish it much lower. The honest sensibilities of ingenuous nature should not be checked by the over-cautious maxims of political prudence. No advantage, obtained by such frigidity, can compensate for the want of those warm effusions of the heart into the bosom of a friend, which are doubtless among the most exquisite pleasures. At the same time, however, it must be owned, that they often by the inevitable lot of humanity, make way for the bitterest pains which the breast can experience. Happy beyond the common condition of her sex, is she who has found a friend indeed; open hearted, yet discreet; generously fervent, yet steady; thoroughly virtuous, but not severe; wise, as well as cheerful! Can such a friend be loved too much, or cherished too tenderly? If to excellence and happiness there be any one way more compendious than another, next to friendship with the Supreme Being, it is this.

But when a mixture of minds so beautiful and so sweet takes place, it is generally, or rather always the result of early prepossession, casual intercourse, or in short, a combination of such causes as are not to be brought together by management or design. This noble plant may be cultivated; but it must grow spontaneously.

ON THE CHOICE OF A HUSBAND.

Assist me, ye Nine, While the youth I define, With whom I in wedlock would class; And ye blooming fair, Lend a listening ear, To approve of the man as you pass.

Not the changeable fry Who love, nor know why, But follow bedup'd by their passions: Such votaries as these Are like waves of the seas, And steer'd by their own inclinations.

The hectoring blade How unfit for the maid, Where meekness and modesty reigns! Such a blundering bully I'll speak against truly, Whatever I get for my pains.

Not the dogmatic elf, Whose great all is himself, Whose alone _ipse dixit_ is law: What a figure he'll make, How like Momus he'll speak With sneering burlesque, a pshaw! pshaw!

Not the covetous wretch Whose heart's at full stretch To gain an inordinate treasure; Him leave with the rest, And such mortals detest, Who sacrifice life without measure.

The fluttering fop, How empty his top! Nay, but some call him coxcomb, I trow; But 'tis losing your time, He's not worth half a rhyme, Let the fag ends of prose bind his brow.

The guttling sot, What a conduit his throat! How beastly and vicious his life! Where drunkards prevail, Whole families feel, Much more an affectionate wife.

One character yet; I with sorrow repeat, And O! that the number were less; 'Tis the blasphemous crew: What a pattern they'll shew To their hapless and innocent race!

Let wisdom then shine In the youth that is mine, Whilst virtue his footsteps impress; Such I'd choose for my mate, Whether sooner or late: Tell me, Ladies, what think you of this?

"The chief point to be regarded," says Lady Pennington in her Advice to her Daughters, "in the choice of a companion for life, is a really virtuous principle--an unaffected goodness of heart. Without this, you will be continually shocked by indecency, and pained by impiety. So numerous have been the unhappy victims to the ridiculous opinion, _a reformed libertine makes the best husband_--that, did not experience daily evince the contrary, one would believe it impossible for a girl who has a tolerable degree of common understanding, to be made the dupe of so erroneous a position, which has not the least shadow of reason for its foundation, and which a small share of observation will prove to be false in fact. A man who has been conversant with the worst sort of women, is very apt to contract a bad opinion of, and a contempt for, the sex in general. Incapable of esteeming any, he is suspicious of all; jealous without cause, angry without provocation, his own disturbed imagination is a continued source of ill-humor. To this is frequently joined a bad habit of body, the natural consequence of an irregular life, which gives an additional sourness to the temper. What rational prospect of happiness can there be with such a companion? And, that this is the general character of those who are called _reformed rakes_, observation will certify. But, admit there may be some exceptions, it is a hazard upon which no considerate woman would venture the peace of her whole life. The vanity of those girls who believe themselves capable of working miracles of this kind, and who give up their persons to men of libertine principles, upon the wild expectation of reclaiming them, justly deserves the disappointment which it will generally meet with; for, believe me, a wife is, of all persons, the least likely to succeed in such an attempt. Be it your care to find that virtue in a lover which you must never hope to form in a husband. Good sense, and good nature, are almost equally requisite. If the former is wanting, it will be next to an impossibility for you to esteem the person, of whose behavior you may have cause to be ashamed. Mutual esteem is as essential to happiness in the married state, as mutual affection. Without the latter, every day will bring with it some fresh cause of vexation, until repeated quarrels produce a coldness, which will settle into an irreconcilable aversion, and you will become, not only each other's torment, but the object of contempt to your family, and to your acquaintance.

"This quality of good nature is, of all others, the most difficult to be ascertained, on account of the general mistake of blending it with good-humor, as if they were in themselves the same; whereas, in fact, no two principles of action are more essentially different. But this may require some explanation. By good nature, I mean that true benevolence, which partakes in the felicity of every individual within the reach of its ability, which relieves the distressed, comforts the afflicted, diffuses blessings, and communicates happiness, far as its sphere of action can extend; and which, in the private scenes of life, will shine conspicuous in the dutiful son, in the affectionate husband, the indulgent father, the faithful friend, and in the compassionate master both to man and beast. Good humor, on the other hand, is nothing more than a cheerful, pleasing deportment, arising either from a natural gaiety of mind, or from an affection of popularity, joined to an affability of behavior, the result of good breeding, and from a ready compliance with the taste of every company. This kind of mere good humor is, by far, the most striking quality. It is frequently mistaken for and complimented with the superior name of _real good nature_. A man, by this specious appearance, has often acquired that appellation who, in all the actions of private life, has been a morose, cruel, revengeful, sullen, haughty tyrant. Let them put on the cap, whose temples fit the galling wreath!

"A man of a truly benevolent disposition, and formed to promote the happiness of all around him, may sometimes, perhaps, from an ill habit of body, an accidental vexation, or from a commendable openness of heart, above the meanness of disguise, be guilty of little sallies of peevishness, or of ill humor, which, carrying the appearance of ill nature, may be unjustly thought to proceed from it, by persons who are unacquainted with his true character, and who, take ill humor and ill nature to be synonymous terms, though in reality they bear not the least analogy to each other. In order to the forming a right judgment, it is absolutely necessary to observe this distinction, which will effectually secure you from the dangerous error of taking the shadow for the substance, an irretrievable mistake, pregnant with innumerable consequent evils!

"From what has been said, it plainly appears, that the criterion of this amiable virtue is not to be taken for the general opinion; mere good humor being, to all intents and purposes, sufficient in this particular, to establish the public voice in favor of a man utterly devoid of every humane and benevolent affection of heart. It is only from the less conspicuous scenes of life, the more retired sphere of action, from the artless tenor of domestic conduct, that the real character can, with any certainty be drawn. These, undisguised, proclaim the man. But, as they shun the glare of light, nor court the noise of popular applause, they pass unnoticed, and are seldom known till after an intimate acquaintance. The best method, therefore, to avoid the deception in this case, is to lay no stress on outward appearances, which are too often fallacious, but to take the rule of judging from the simple unpolished sentiments of those whose dependent connections give them undeniable certainty; who not only see, but who hourly feel, the good or bad effect of that disposition, to which they are subjected. By this, I mean, that if a man is equally respected, esteemed, and beloved by his dependants and domestics, you may justly conclude, he has that true good nature, that real benevolence, which delights in communicating felicity, and enjoys the satisfaction it diffuses. But if by these he is despised and hated, served merely from a principle of fear, devoid of affection, which is ever easily discoverable, whatever may be his public character, however favorable the general opinion, be assured, that his disposition is such as can never be productive of domestic happiness. I have been the more particular on this head, as it is one of the most essential qualifications to be regarded, and of all others the most liable to be mistaken.

"Never be prevailed with, my dear, to give your hand to a person defective in these material points. Secure of virtue, of good nature, and understanding, in a husband, you may be secure of happiness. Without the two former it is unattainable. Without the latter in a tolerable degree, it must be very imperfect.

"Remember, however, that infallibility is not the property of man, or you may entail disappointment on yourself, by expecting what is never to be found. The best men are sometimes inconsistent with themselves. They are liable to be hurried, by sudden starts of passion, into expressions and actions, which their _cooler_ reason will condemn. They may have some oddities of behavior, and some peculiarities of temper. They may be subject to accidental ill humor, or to whimsical complaints. Blemishes of this kind often shade the brightest character; but they are never destructive of mutual felicity, unless when they are made so by an improper resentment, or by an ill-judged opposition. When cooled, and in his usual temper, the man of understanding, if he has been wrong, will suggest to himself all that could be urged against him. The man of good nature will, unupbraided, own his error. Immediate contradiction is, therefore, wholly unserviceable, and highly imprudent; an after repetition is equally unnecessary and injudicious. Any peculiarities in the temper or behavior ought to be properly represented in the tenderest and in the most friendly manner. If the representation of them is made discreetly, it will generally be well taken. But if they are so habitual as not easily to be altered, strike not too often upon the unharmonious string. Rather let them pass unobserved. Such a cheerful compliance will better cement your union; and they may be made easy to yourself, by reflecting on the superior good qualities by which these trifling faults are so greatly overbalanced.