The Marriage Book (77 page)

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YOUTH AND AGE

THALES OF MILETUS, CIRCA 6TH CENTURY BC

Thales of Miletus (circa 624 BC–circa 547 BC) was one of the earliest Greek philosophers and a pioneer in mathematics. His view below, about when to marry, was supposed to have been expressed to his mother, Cleobulina, when he was still in his early twenties. According to the historian Diogenes Laërtius, Thales nonetheless was said to have married, although when is not clear.

When a man is young, it is too early for him to marry; when he is old, it is too late; and between these two periods he ought not to be able to command leisure enough to choose a wife.

DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS

“TO HIS WIFE,” CIRCA 350

Ausonius was a Roman poet and teacher born in Bordeaux around 310. The best known of his works is a long poem called
Mosella
, which describes the countryside. But his
Epigrams
have also survived and are frequently translated. Epigram 20 is notable for its beauty; it is also, according to one scholar, unusual in that it applies the conventions of Latin erotic poetry to the state of marriage.

In Greek mythology, both the warrior Nestor and the prophetess Sibyl were famous for their advanced ages.

Love, let us live as we have lived, nor lose The little names that were the first night’s grace, And never come the day that sees us old, I still your lad, and you my little lass.

Let me be older than old Nestor’s years, And you the Sibyl, if we heed it not.

What should we know, we two, of ripe old age?

We’ll have its richness, and the years forgot.

ROBERT HERRICK

“TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME,” 1648

English poet Robert Herrick (1591–1674), though a lifelong bachelor, wrote glowingly of sensuality, love, and—when it came to marriage—the virtues of seizing the day.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent the worse and worst Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.

ARNOT BAGOT

LEARN TO LYE WARM
, 1672

Like most proverbs, the one referred to in the title of this thirty-five-page pamphlet is undated, and the author is identified only as “a person of Honour.” We have been unable to locate any information about Arnot Bagot, except that he was a lawyer.

In Ovid’s
Metamorphosis
, Phaeton is reluctantly allowed by his father, the sun god Phoebus, to drive the chariot of the sun for a day. Phaeton is unable to control the horses, with the result that the earth is nearly frozen, then nearly burned up. To stop total disaster, Zeus kills Phaeton with a thunderbolt.

You say, that you cannot beleive that I, who have seen so many rare, excelent, and incomparable peices of nature; viewed them with so crittical an Eye; and set them forth with more than ordinary Commendations, should now fix my affection upon one, whose face in all probability must needs looke like the trees which mourne in October. . . . [I]n Common reason and prudence it is most proper, for a young man to marry a woman endowed with a larger flock of years than himself: . . . for youth to marry youth, what is it in nature but to add fuell to fire; to set a Giddy and Unexperienced
Phaeton
to guide the flaming Steeds of
Phoebus?
it is an old Proverb among horsmen, an old Horse to a young Man, and an old Man to a young Horse . . . that the staiedness and sobriety of the old Horse may prevent the precipitency and rashness of the young Man; and the discretion and moderation of the old Man, may correct the Fury and Wildness of the young Horse.

ROBERT BURNS

“JOHN ANDERSON MY JO,” 1798

Known as Scotland’s national poet, Robert Burns (1759–1796) started writing as a teenager, mostly love poems inspired by his many crushes. Son of a farmer, he was always poor, which did not stop him from writing, marrying, having affairs, and eventually fathering fourteen children, including nine by his wife, Jean Armour. In addition to succeeding with his many original poems, Burns was well known for publishing and/or rewriting traditional Scottish songs, including “Auld Lang Syne” and the once-bawdy “John Anderson, My Jo.” His two-stanza version is a beautiful ode to marriage in old age, ironic because the poet died at thirty-seven.

Burns wrote—and spoke—in the language known as Old Scots.
Jo
means “sweetheart”;
acqent
is “acquainted”;
brent
is “smooth”;
beld
is “bald”;
snaw
is “snow”;
pow
is “head”;
canty
is “merry”; and
maun
is “must.”

John Anderson my jo, John

When we were first acqent;

Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent;

But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw;

But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo.

John Anderson my jo, John,

We clamb the hill thegither;

And mony a canty day John,

We’ve had wi’ ane anither:

Now we maun totter down, John,

But hand in hand we’ll go;

And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.

DUTCH PROVERB

Two cocks in one house, a cat and a mouse, an old man and young wife, are always in strife.

E.B.B.

“A LETTER TO YOUNG LADIES ON MARRIAGE,” 1837

Almost as popular a subject as whom and how to marry has been the question of the optimum age. For the almost certainly fictional “E.B.B.,” there was no mincing words for the recipient of this letter, his supposed ward.
Now
was clearly much better than
soon
or
later
.

Of one thousand married women, taken without selection, it has been ascertained, by a long and tedious investigation, that the number of females married at each age is as follows: or if, by arithmetical license, we call a woman’s chance of marriage in her whole life 1000, her chances in each two years will be shown below:

Now, my dear Sarah, do lay this table to heart. It tells you that one
half
of a woman’s chances of marriage are gone when she has completed her
twentieth
year. And mind you what the consequence of this is,—she must then, as the sailors say, carry less sail and limit her views.
At twentythree years of age, she ought to be
very reasonable
; for
three-fourths
of the golden opportunities are gone, never to return. At
twentysix
, you will see at a glance that sauciness is out of the question, for your hopes, if the case should, unfortunately, be yours, will be reduced to the small fraction of
an eighth
. Possibly you may then think Rhyming Sandy a handsome fellow. At
thirtyone
, despair should begin to wrinkle your brow; for when that age comes and finds you single, pray remember that if you have in the whole circle of your acquaintances forty marrying men (a rare contingency), you have just one solitary chance amongst them all! When you stand on the dread verge of
thirtysix
, it is quite killing to reflect, that out of the thousand chances with which you started,
three
—a miserable remnant of
three
—only remains! . . . I am not of stern stuff, and can pursue the melancholy subject no farther, but again I entreat you, my dear Sarah, to lay the matter to heart.
Carpe diem
. . . or in plain English,
improve your time
.

STEPHEN CONRAD

THE SECOND MRS. JIM
, 1904

American author Stephen Conrad (1875–1918) created the engaging character of Mrs. Jim, the second wife of a well-to-do farmer and the devoted stepmother to his two sons. As chatty narrator, she dispenses wisdom on everything from courting to budgeting to baking—and, of course, marriage.

I tell you it pays to start right when you’re getting’ married. That’s one trouble with getting’ married young, ’specially for girls. They don’t know what they want, nor how to get it if they do know. But you take a middle-aged woman an’ let her get married, an’ she’s a might poor stick if she don’t know just what she wants, an’ get it. I’ll admit there’s one advantage in getting’ married young. If you’re goin’ to be happy, you’ll be happy lots longer, but then, there’s this disadvantage, if you ain’t goin’ to be happy, you’ve got that much more time to be miserable in. But when you get married at middle age, if you’re goin’ to be happy, you can be twice as happy, ’cause you know better how to be happy, an’ you know enough to have an easier time, an’ if you ain’t goin’ to be happy, you won’t be quite so miserable as if you didn’t know how to have an easy time, an’ you won’t be miserable so long.