A girl often loses a friend by heartily endorsing the things the weeper says of her husband.  The fact that he is an inconsiderate brute is frequently confided to the kindly surface of a clean shirt-waist, regardless of laundry bills.  The girl remarks dispassionately that she has noticed it; that he never considers the happiness of his wife, and she doesn’t see how the tearful one stands it.  Behold the instant and painful transformation!  It is very hard to be a popular spinster when one has many married friends.

That interesting pessimist, Herr Arthur Schopenhauer, advocates universal polygamy upon the theory that all women would thus be supported.  To the unprejudiced observer who reads the comic papers and goes to afternoon receptions, it would seem that each woman should have several husbands, to pay her bills and see that she is suitably escorted to various social affairs.

[Sidenote:  Seven Husbands]

If a woman had seven husbands, for instance, it is possible that some one of them would be willing to take her out whenever she wanted to go.  If she yearned for a sealskin coat or a diamond pin and no one of them was equal to the occasion, a collection could be taken up.  Two or three might contribute to the good cause and be so beautifully rewarded with smiles and favourite dishes that the remainder of the husbands would be inspired to do something in the same line.

At least five of them could go out every night in the week.  The matter could be arranged according to a simple system of rotation, or they might draw lots.  There could be a club-room in the house, where they might smoke without affecting the curtains and Madam’s temper.  Politics and poker make more widows than war, but no woman could find it in her heart to object to the innocent pastime under such happy circumstances, because she would be deprived of nothing—­not even her husband’s society.  Six of them might play, while the other read to their wife, and those who won could buy some lovely new china for the house.

The sweetness of the lady of their several hearts would be increased seven-fold, while her frowns would be equally divided among them.  There would be a large and enviable freedom accorded everyone.  There would always be enough at home so dinner need not wait, and Madam would be spared one great annoyance.  If the servants left suddenly, as is not unusual, there would be men enough to cook a dinner Epicurus might envy, each one using his own chafing-dish.  Men make better cooks than women because they put so much more feeling into it.

The spirit of gentle rivalry, which would thus be developed, is well worth considering.  Some one of the seven would always be a lover.  To sustain the old relation continuously after marriage undoubtedly requires gifts of tact and temperament which are not often vouchsafed to men, and this would not prove so irksome if the tender obligation were shared.  Marriage would no longer be the cold potato of love.