pocritic scoundrels don't care much for light literature--more
likely, I say, this discourse will be read by some of their wives, who
think, "Ah mercy! does that horrible cynical wretch know how my poor
husband blacked my eye, or abstracted mamma's silver teapot, or forced
me to write So-and-so's name on that piece of stamped paper, or what
not?" My good creature, I am not angry with YOU. If your husband has
broken your nose, you will vow that he had authority over your person,
and a right to demolish any part of it: if he has conveyed away your
mamma's teapot, you will say that she gave it to him at your marriage,
and it was very ugly, and what not? if he takes your aunt's watch,
and you love him, you will carry it ere long to the pawnbroker's, and
perjure yourself--oh, how you will perjure yourself--in the witness-box!
I know this is a degrading view of woman's noble nature, her exalted
mission, and so forth, and so forth. I know you will say this is bad
morality. Is it? Do you, or do you not, expect your womankind to stick
by you for better or for worse? Say I have committed a forgery, and the
officers come in search of me, is my wife, Mrs. Dodd, to show them into
the dining-room and say, "Pray step in, gentlemen! My husband has just
come home from church. That bill with my Lord Chesterfield's acceptance,
I am bound to own, was never written by his lordship, and the signature
is in the doctor's handwriting?" I say, would any man of sense or
honor, or fine feeling, praise his wife for telling the truth under such
circumstances? Suppose she made a fine grimace, and said, "Most painful
as my position is, most deeply as I feel for my William, yet truth must
prevail, and I deeply lament to state that the beloved partner of my
life DID commit the flagitious act with which he is charged, and is
at this present moment located in the two-pair back, up the chimney,
whither it is my duty to lead you." Why, even Dodd himself, who was one
of the greatest humbugs who ever lived, would not have had the face to
say that he approved of his wife telling the truth in such a case. Would
you have had Flora Macdonald beckon the officers, saying, "This way,
gentlemen! You will find the young chevalier asleep in that cavern." Or
don't you prefer her to be splendide mendax, and ready at all risks to
save him? If ever I lead a rebellion, and my women betray me, may I be
hanged but I will not forgive them: and if ever I steal a teapot, and MY
wo