The Physiology of Marriage, part 2 | Page 2

of all animals, to a being,
the flashes of whose thought, and the movements of whose impulses

render her at moments more prudent than the Servite Fra- Paolo, the
most terrible adviser that the Ten at Venice ever had; more deceitful
than a king; more adroit than Louis XI; more profound than
Machiavelli; as sophistical as Hobbes; as acute as Voltaire; as pliant as
the fiancee of Mamolin; and distrustful of no one in the whole wide
world but you?
Moreover, to this dissimulation, by means of which the springs that
move your conduct ought to be made as invisible as those that move
the world, must be added absolute self-control. That diplomatic
imperturbability, so boasted of by Talleyrand, must be the least of your
qualities; his exquisite politeness and the grace of his manners must
distinguish your conversation. The professor here expressly forbids you
to use your whip, if you would obtain complete control over your
gentle Andalusian steed.
LXI. If a man strike his mistress it is a self-inflicted wound; but if he
strike his wife it is suicide!
How can we think of a government without police, an action without
force, a power without weapons?--Now this is exactly the problem
which we shall try to solve in our future meditations. But first we must
submit two preliminary observations. They will furnish us with two
other theories concerning the application of all the mechanical means
which we propose you should employ. An instance from life will
refresh these arid and dry dissertations: the hearing of such a story will
be like laying down a book, to work in the field.
In the year 1822, on a fine morning in the month of February, I was
traversing the boulevards of Paris, from the quiet circles of the Marais
to the fashionable quarters of the Chaussee-d'Antin, and I observed for
the first time, not without a certain philosophic joy, the diversity of
physiognomy and the varieties of costume which, from the Rue du
Pas-de-la-Mule even to the Madeleine, made each portion of the
boulevard a world of itself, and this whole zone of Paris, a grand
panorama of manners. Having at that time no idea of what the world
was, and little thinking that one day I should have the audacity to set
myself up as a legislator on marriage, I was going to take lunch at the
house of a college friend, who was perhaps too early in life afflicted
with a wife and two children. My former professor of mathematics
lived at a short distance from the house of my college friend, and I

promised myself the pleasure of a visit to this worthy mathematician
before indulging my appetite for the dainties of friendship. I
accordingly made my way to the heart of a study, where everything was
covered with a dust which bore witness to the lofty abstraction of the
scholar. But a surprise was in store for me there. I perceived a pretty
woman seated on the arm of an easy chair, as if mounted on an English
horse; her face took on the look of conventional surprise worn by
mistresses of the house towards those they do not know, but she did not
disguise the expression of annoyance which, at my appearance, clouded
her countenance with the thought that I was aware how ill-timed was
my presence. My master, doubtless absorbed in an equation, had not
yet raised his head; I therefore waved my right hand towards the young
lady, like a fish moving his fin, and on tiptoe I retired with a mysterious
smile which might be translated "I will not be the one to prevent him
committing an act of infidelity to Urania." She nodded her head with
one of those sudden gestures whose graceful vivacity is not to be
translated into words.
"My good friend, don't go away," cried the geometrician. "This is my
wife!"
I bowed for the second time!--Oh, Coulon! Why wert thou not present
to applaud the only one of thy pupils who understood from that
moment the expression, "anacreontic," as applied to a bow?--The effect
must have been very overwhelming; for Madame the Professoress, as
the Germans say, rose hurriedly as if to go, making me a slight bow
which seemed to say: "Adorable!----" Her husband stopped her, saying:
"Don't go, my child, this is one of my pupils."
The young woman bent her head towards the scholar as a bird perched
on a bough stretches its neck to pick up a seed.
"It is not possible," said the husband, heaving a sigh, "and I am going
to prove it to you by A plus B."
"Let us drop that, sir, I beg you," she answered, pointing with a wink to
me.
If it had been a problem in algebra,