Hints for Lovers · Chapter 2Plea: Confession and Avoidance (2)
This chapter is not translated yet. You are reading the original.
Being Woman, she is ex officio Queen.
* * *
Speak to a woman disparagingly of her sex,—she is up in arms.
Speak to her disparagingly of a member of her sex,—well, she will not be up in arms. The reason for her bellicosity in the former case is the fact that
A woman always interprets abstract disparagement of her sex personally. And she is perfectly right.
* * *
It is not only the woman who cannot be accounted quite as stainless as the stars that sometimes trade on their charms.
* * *
When a strong-souled woman wholly and unreservedly loves, her love will go to lengths passing the comprehension of man. For
Women prefer an despot to a dependent.
* * *
It is marvelous to what a pitch of demureness features by nature that the most coquettish can be set.
(A Man's features are often a clue to his character; a woman's rarely.) So it comes about that
The owner of a seraphic face is often owner of a temper satanic. Nevertheless,
Often enough a spice of diablerie in a woman at once enhances all her charms.
It is indeed fortunate for the men that so many women are unaware of the power of their charms.
* * *
A woman would much rather you lied to her concerning herself than that you told her something unpleasant to hear.
* * *
Some women seem to be envious of some men's familiarity with immorality.
* * *
It is by woman that a woman will be first suspected; and it is by a woman she will be last forgiven. The last thing a woman will ask you for is: your esteem. And yet
Cast a slur upon a woman's character and you are considered indiscreet. Cast a slur upon a woman's personal appearance, and you are considered culpable.
* * *
Fashion is a woman's sole law. And
The surest evidence of strong-mindedness in woman is to fly in the fact of fashion.
* * *
Ridicule is woman's keenest weapon; it is the poisoned arrow in her quiver. Well is it for the men that she never, or so rarely, has recourse to it.
* * *
A woman is quick to discern the quality of the admiration bestowed upon her.
* * *
No one, not even herself, knows what a woman will do next.—Doubtless this is trite. But it is true as trite. Yet men rarely find it out till late in life—and forget it as soon as found out.
* * *
A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon.
* * *
Nothing piques a woman so much as indifference to her favors. Indifference to her undiscovered passion she quite otherwise regards.
* * *
The woman knows the male heart probably better than does it itself. She knows above all things, that to hold that heart she must never wholly satisfy it. And many—and multiform—and marvelous—are the ruses by which she accomplishes that end. And yet,
Women there are who firmly believe that, were they to try, they could enthrall any man beyond possibility of extrication. And 48 so perhaps they could; but the achievement would require as much unscrupulousness as it would seductiveness.
The seductive and unscrupulous woman is hatred of women.
* * *
Under the gaze of a group of men whom she knows that her brilliancy dazzles, a woman, like the snow-clad hearth, sparkles: Under the gaze of a man by whom she knows she is passionately desired, like the same earth under the lordly sun, she melts.
* * *
All women think they can cozen men: few women think they can cozen women.
* * *
The women who perturb men most are those who combine too effectively adorableness with desirableness.
* * *
As in nature, so in humanity, flight on the part of the lady is not always symbol of unwillingness of pursuit. On the other hand
Feminine audacity by no means betokens feminine immodesty.
Feminine obduracy is invincible by man. Luckily, it is rare.
* * *
Men call women variable: did she not vary, men would tire. This, women instinctively know.
Women rightly dislike and disgust variability in men. For
Women like best to be liked: to lead gives them but paltry and temporary pleasure. (Though this they do not always instinctively know; or, if they do, they conceal their knowledge.) And
Variability is incompatible with leadership.
* * *
How delicately a loving woman reproves! How defiantly an unloving!
* * *
How many lonely women—married and unmarried—the world contains, only these lonely women know.
* * *
The feminine métier par excellence is: to allure. And
The subtle and elaborate means by which women will devise to intensify the lure, passes the comprehension o f men. Yet
In all ages, to make herself attractive was as right and proper for the woman as to make himself feared was for the man. Besides,
With women the art of attracting has long since become second nature.
* * *
Women are quick to recognize a rake. For
A rake always rouses curiosity, never aversion.
* * *
A worsted woman always, either silently or volubly, calls down a curse upon her successful rival.—And 't is a curse that too often fails.
Many women handicap other women; and they handicap them in multifarious ways. Probably the one most frequently used is lavishness of favors.
The woman who is lavish of favors is hated of her stricter sisters. But, before these, what an air of bravado she wears!
* * *
As a rule, women are far better readers of character than are men. A woman will often startle a man by her penetrating insight into character. And
Many a man has been put on his guard by female institution.
* * *
The fragilest woman will be ill content with suppressed embraces. And
The ablest-bodied woman loves being petted. Even
A prude is a shy coquette.
* * *
The man who judges of a woman by her letters is a fool.—Her gesture will contain more matter than her journal. Besides,
The woman who could punctuate could reason.
* * *
The debut of a younger sister evokes mixed emotions.
* * *
The prayer—uttered or unexpressed—of many an undowered young woman is, May a moneyed man fall in love with me ! And she is not always over-careful to add, And may I fall in love with that moneyed man!
* * *
If the "New Woman" (3) turns out to be a fitter companion for men than the old, no man will complain of her novelty. Yet
Men regard the advent of the New Woman rather askance. Why? Because
To judge from certain feminine utterances, the New Woman seems more inclined to aim at rivalry than at companionship with man. —However, there need be no fears as to the result, since
Such is the mysterious potency of womanhood, that, whether new or old, woman will always lead man captive. Besides
As every new variety of fashion in dress seems becoming to women, so, it is probable, every variety of fashion in manners will become them also. But probably
The phrase the "New Woman" is not unlike the phrase the "New Chemistry": the materials are the same; what is new is the nomenclature.
(3) A phrase (and not much more than a phrase) much in vogue in Europe and America in the last two decades of the nineteenth century of the area known as Christian.
* * *
A woman's peccadilloes are generally worse than a man's. At all events they are more reprobated.
* * *
Abashment intensifies a woman's love for him so making her abashed. And
There is a shame that is sweeter than joy. (As
There is a fear more tremulous than delight.) For
Mastery is a woman's standard of man. And There is an element of the freest and frankest savagery in the most refined and spiritual of women. (How otherwise
Can any one explain the extraordinary fable of Selene and Pan?(4) —And man?
—But that man was ever a savage. It may be added that
The defenselessness of woman is a conventional fiction: she can avert an attack by a look; she can terminate a siege by a taunt.
(4) Though Browning tried. See "Dramatic Idyls", "Pan and Luna"
* * *
Solomon has objurgated the invincibly garrulous woman. The invincibly taciturn woman is so rare as to have escaped objurgation. Yet she too is a terror to men.
* * *
Every woman is suspicious and jealous of any woman that opens a man's eyes; even though she knows that
Never was there a woman who could and would deliberately wholly enlighten a man.
And, yet, marvelous and curious amongst things curious and marvelous, will but a woman fling artifice to the winds, and look and act and say as great Nature prompts,—wildly, willfully, wantonly,—that woman will captivate as no feminine wiles will ever captivate.
* * *
If the man were worth it, many a woman would dispense with the marriage ceremony. For
Ah! Love—love—love,—given love, what else is needed? (Unfortunately
Love can never be sure of itself—much less of anything else. Accordingly
The marriage contract is a device on the part of the community to provide for the preservation of the home: it makes the parties promise fidelity.) But
Precious few are the men who are worth the risking. Unfortunately,
More women succumb to strength of will than to strength of character.
Neither, in general, are women overcurious to enquire whether the strength of character.
Neither, in general, are women over curious to enquire whether the strength of the masculine will makes for good or for evil.
So long as the masculine will overmaster the feminine, the feminine mind is satisfied. Of course there are exceptions, but as a rule,
Women—whether young or old, married or single, strong-minded or weak— are never happier than when they can depend on a man. Accordingly,
The lover or the husband who is weaker than, and depends upon, the woman, will some day rue his weakness and dependence. And yet,
To see a strong male at her feet—that is exquisite to the woman. So exquisite that
It is with difficulty that a woman refrains from exhibiting a man's servitude to others. On the other hand,
There is an element of intimidation in a resplendent woman. And of this she is aware.—Hence perhaps her power.
* * *
A woman will attain her ends by adroit finesse, where a man would blunder into open hostility. And
It is well that man should blind his eyes to feminine wiles, since,
Always a woman kindly pretends oblivion of masculine blunders.
* * *
The woman whose tastes and refinements are above her station, is in pitiable plight: she is too fastidious to espouse the men who would marry her; the men she would marry she rarely meets. For, The only thing that, to love, is insupportable is vulgarity. Since
Love, romantic love, the efflorescence and bloom of life, is besmirched unless tenderly touched.
* * *
To generalize passes the wit of woman; but in penetration she is preternatural.
* * *
What fascinates a woman is the man who unwittingly attracts her against her will. But such a man rouses a combination of emotions comprehensible only by women.
* * *
A woman's answer to an insuperable argument is: a look. And a most cogent answer it is. Indeed,
Speech is a woman's least effective weapon; rarely if ever does she resort to it:
In the affairs of life, as in the affairs of love, where men be concerned, it is upon her personality that she relies, not upon her speech whether written or uttered.
Her personal appearance is to a woman, what his personal honor is to a man: it must be immaculate; constant with the fashion of the hour; and strictly in accordance with her or his status in society. Accordingly,
Dress and demeanor—these form the code of feminine ethics. Even
Deception on the part of a woman is merely diplomacy;
Women deceive only be cause man is too blind to see. That is to say,
Since man in past ages has never allowed woman either freedom of action or frankness of speech, it is not to be expected of her that she should be all at once an adept in their use.—To her credit be it said that,
Generally a woman deceives only n order to arouse or to retain the admiration of man. For example,
Many a woman has surreptitiously made love to the man—and few are the men who have detected it.
* * *
Why this woman fascinates all who come within the sphere of their influence, and that women, does not, no earthly sage will ever know. As well ask what makes one man a Napoleon, another a poltroon. So, too,
It is impossible for a woman to say 'I will be loved,' as it is for a man to say 'I will be obeyed.'—Perhaps
Love and Power are divine miracles.
* * *
(At the risk of treading on delicate ground, ground off which I shall be hooted by the modern woman, I venture to say that)
The idea that a woman is the property of the man of her choice, rail as it as the woman may, has not yet been ousted from the feminine mind—and heart. Indeed,
So firmly implanted in the feminine breast is the idea of the ownership of her by the man, that it is to the man who assumes and exercises ownership that she clings. This is why
A woman easily changes her allegiance; since,
Allegiance, to a woman, means loyalty to the man who assumes and exercises ownership over her:
Let a man who a fractional part of a second evince the shadow of a doubt of his proprietorship—at once he undermines a woman's allegiance. Consequently,
It is folly for men to express amazement at the ease with which a woman will transfer herself and her affections.
A woman will transfer herself bodily over and over again, but only because the previous owner lightly esteemed, or weakly maintained, his ownership. As a matter of fact
In pristine days woman was, naturally and necessarily, the property, the chattel, of the man: marriage was not then a matrimonial syndicate of two: marriage meant that a woman sought a provider, a supporter, a defender; the man a mate for his delight, his comfort, and his solace, a keeper op is cave or hut, a mother and nurse for his heirs. And provision, support, and defense, being, in pristine days, matters of strength, prowess, or cunning, naturally and necessarily pristine man 65 gained him and kept him a mate by strength, prowess, or cunning; he regarded that mate as his by right of force, not as a partner in a compact. And
The most complicated of modern communities has no whit altered the relationship of man to mate, conceal though it may the origin and history of marriage. Finally,
No woman at the bottom of her heart has any objection to being owned. Indeed (though no woman would say it, a man may),
Every woman at the bottom of her heart delights to be owned, and tacitly and secretly seeks the man who she thinks will glory in that ownership and keep his property safe—not only from material harms, but from temptations to changes of ownership. In which last little fact lies a curious truth.
Women like to be defended against themselves. In this little matter men and women differ: That any other man should dare for one instant to covet or alienate (5) that most precious of his possessions, his mate, —nothing rouses to a higher pitch man's unappeasable wrath than this;
Against the man so daring, a woman's wrath is never roused: rather she regards him as one having discernment, and his daring is a commendable compliment to herself. In fine, and in short,
Allegiance, to a man, on the part of a woman, means, in her eyes, loyalty to him who properly exercises the right of ownership. In simple truth,
A woman gives herself to a man: to the man who proves himself worthy the gift, she is true.
And this is why women, all women, even the New ones, love being petted and admired and made much of all their lives: this but proves the possession of the gift to be appreciated. Besides,
The male is the dominant animal—not necessarily in his cave or his hut, —by no means, but in the stress and struggle of life; and women tacitly (though never openly) look up to and admire this dominance, even when exercised over themselves; since THIS, in turn, proves the masterfulness, the worth, of the man; albeit sometimes they rebel against it if carried to far. At least,
Unless a man continues to exhibit his appreciation of the gift by word as well as by deed, the woman is apt to imagine that that appreciation is on the wane.
(5) How women must laugh in their sleeves at the fact that one man may sue another in a court of law for "alienating his wife's affections"!
* * *
IV. On Love
"Amore che muove il sole e l'altre stelle." —Dante
The beginning, middle, and end of love—is a sigh.
* * *
All things point to the infinite; and love more than all things else.
* * *
Complex as is the character of love, here are two things which love always does: always it
"Refines the thoughts And heart enlarges;" —Milton
and,
Love dyes all things a cerulean hue. (What a pity it is not a fast color!)
* * *
Love is the most antimonial of emotions: it worships, yet it will not stop at sacrilege; it will build about its object a temple of adoration, then desecrate the fane; it will give all, yet ruthlessly seize everything; it delights in pleasing, yet it sometimes wittingly wounds; its ineffable tenderness often merges into an inclemency extraordinary; —symbol of universal duality, it is at once demonical and angelic.
* * *
Nothing stands still in this world, not even love: it must grow or it withers. And, perhaps,
That is the strongest love which surmounts the greatest number of obstacles.
* * *
Love to some is an intoxicant; to others an ailment. To all it is a necessity.
* * *
As is one's character, so is one's love. And
Perhaps the deepest love is the quietest.
* * *
Love is as implacable as it is un-appeasable. Nay more,
Love is merciless: as merciless to its votary as to its victim: For
Love would slay rather than surrender; would for-swear rather than forgo.
* * *
Some loves, like some fevers, render the patient immune—at all events to that particular kind of contagion.
Many lovers are vaccinated in early youth.
* * *
Only love can comprehend and reciprocate love. This is why,
If, of two sensitive human souls, the one loves passionately and the other not at all, the other is unwittingly blind and deaf to love's clamors and claims: the one may ardently urge; the other but passively yields:—
Only the famished understand the pangs of the hungered.
Of a great and reciprocated love there is one and only one sign: the expression of the eyes. Who that has seen it was ever deceived by its counterfeit?
Did ever the same love-light shine in the same eyes twice?
The light of love in the eyes may take on a thousand forms: exultant jubilation, a trustful happiness; infinite appeasement, or promises untold; an adoration supreme, or a complex oblation; tenderness ineffable, or heroic resolves; implicit faith; unquestioning confidence; abounding pity; unabashed desire. . .
He who shall count the stars of heaven, shall enumerate the radiances of love.
* * *
There is no Art of Loving (1); though, as Ovid says, love must be guided by art (2). Yet,
If love did not come by chance, it would never come at all.
(1) Ovid wrote not Art of Loving ("Ars Amandi"); he wrote on the Amatorial Art ("Ars Amatoria").
(2) "Arte regendus amor."—"Ars Amatoria", I, 4.
* * *
To each of us himself is the centre of the visible universe. But when love comes it alters this Ptolemaic theory. Yet,
It is a significant fact that love, which, more than any other thing in this world, is the great bringer-together of hearts, begins its mysterious work as a separator and puter-at-a-distance. For
When love first dawns in the breast of youth, it throws about its object a sacred aureole, which awes at the same time that it inspires the faithful worshipper.
* * *
Can only two walk abreast in the path of love? How many try to widen that strait and narrow way!
* * *
Love raises everything to a higher plane; but nothing higher than the man or woman who is loved.
Is there anything about which love does not shed a halo? Indeed,
Love is a sort of transfiguration. And when on the mount, we can very truly say, "It is good for us to be here".
If there is any sublunary thing equal in value to the true love of a faithful woman, it has not yet entered into the heart of man to conceive.
True love makes all things loveable,—except perhaps the chaperon.
Was there ever man or woman yet who was not bettered by a true love?
True love is ever diffident and fearful of its own venturesomeness (3). But this not every woman understands.
Too often the Phantasm of love and not the Verity wins the day (4). Women who seek a real lover should beware the overbold one.
(3) Cf. "La volupte Nous rend hardis, l'amour nous rend timides." —Voltaire, La Pucelle, Chant vi.
(4) See Leopardi, "Storia del Genere Humano", where the Verities of Truth and Love and Justice never leave the throne of Jove, but their Phantasms are sent down amongst men.
* * *
To merge the THEE and the ME into one—that is ever the attempt of love. It is impossible. Yet, perhaps
They are happiest who can longest disbelieve in the impossibility of this amatorial fusion; for it may be that such
Incredulity is favorable to romance.
* * *
Love is not exactly a sacrifice; it is an exchange. The lover, indeed, gives his heart; he expects another in return.
* * *
Love is like life: no apparatus can manufacture it; kill it, and nothing in the heavens above or in the earth beneath or in the waters under the earth will resuscitate it.
How many a forlorn human wight has tried to resuscitate love!
* * *
To such heights does love exalt the lover that he or she will live for days in the remembered delights of a look, a word, a gesture. But
One thing is impossible to love: love cannot create love; the intensest and most fervent love is powerless to evoke a scintillation of love.
Love may worship, it may adore, it may transfigure, it may exalt the object of its devotion to the skies; but it cannot cause that object to emit one ray of love in return.
* * *
Hate may be concealed; love never.
* * *
The greater the imaginative altitude of love, the lower the boiling point. But
Love cannot always be kept at high pressure.
* * *
The young think love is the winning-post of life, the old know it is a turn in the course. Nevertheless, it is a fateful turn.
* * *
In love, the imagination plays a very large part. And this may be variously interpreted. Thus,
By man, love is regarded as a sort of sacred religion; by woman, as her every-day morality. The former is the more exhilarating; but the latter is more serviceable. Indeed,
Love and religion are very near akin: both inspire, and both elevate. And
If faith, hope, and charity are the basis of religion, there never was such as religion as love. And
Love is the only religion in which there have been no heretics. Why? Because woman are at once its object and its priesthood.
Love, art, and religion are but different phases of the same emotion: awe, reverence, worship, and sacrifice in the presence of the supreme ideal.
Love knows no creed. Nay more,
Love acknowledges no deity but itself and accepts no sanctions but its own: it is autonomous. And yet—
And yet, love sometimes feels constrained to offer a liturgical acquiescence to the rubric of Reason. In short,
Between the prelatical domination of Reason and the recusant Protestantism of Love there has ever been strife. Or, in plain language, There are two codes of ethics: one that of the romantic heart; the other that of the practical head. Who shall assimilate them?
The heart, in its profoundest depths, feels that something is due to Reason; and Reason, in its highest flights, feels that something is due to the heart.
Is there a divine duplicity in the human soul? And yet, after all,
All love seeks is: love. Yet love little knows that
In seeking love, love enters on an endless search. Since
Love is an endless effort to realize the Ideal. For
Love always beckons over insurmountable barriers to uninhabitable realms; promises insupportable possibilities; lures to an unimaginable goal. Yet
Love has a myriad counterfeits. And
Men and women interpret the word differently. Even
Different women interpret the word love differently. Thus,
To one woman, love is as the rising of the sun: it shines but once in her whole life-day; it floods everything with its light; it brightens the world; it dazzles her.
To another woman, love is as the rising of a star: a fresh one may appear every hour of her life, and nor she nor her world is one whit affected by its rays. Indeed, one would hardly err if he said that
Many a woman really does not know whether she is "in love" or not. She is sought—that she perceives; but which of her seekers is worthiest, which most zealous, which merely takes her fancy, and which appeals to her heart—on these matters she meditates long—to the exasperation, of course, of the individual seeker. Accordingly,
Men, carried away by their own passionate impulse, detest calculation of the part of women:
Since HE stakes his all on impulse in the matter of love, says man, why should woman stay to consider? Foolish man! he forgets that
A woman always weighs a man's declaration of love—and legitimately— and naturally; perhaps legitimately because naturally; for, once again,
What a woman stays to consider in the matter of love is, not the potency of the impulse of the moment, but the permanent efficacy of the emotion. Therefore it is that
Woman unwittingly obeys great Nature's laws.
* * *
Many imagine that love is a thing like a chemical element: with a fixed symbol 84 and a rigid atomic equivalent. And so it may be; but, like the philosopher's stone, hitherto it has defied detection in its elemental form. The fact is probably that
Love may be compared to a substance that is never found free, and which not only combines in all sorts of relationships with all sorts of substances, but also, like many another chemical body, takes on the most varied forms, not only in these relationships, but also under varying pressures and temperatures.—Or perhaps it would be better to say that
Love may be compared to a musical note: to the unthinking it is a simple sound; to the more experienced it is know to consist of endless and complicated harmonical vibrations; harmonizing with some, and making discord with other, notes by regular but unknown laws; differing according to the timbre of the emitter; reverberating under certain conditions; lost to the ear in others; and only responding to resonators vibrating synchronously with itself. Lastly,
There is a whole gamut of love.—Changing that simile, we may say that
Love is not like the sun: a unit, and practically the same wherever seen; it is like light: all-pervading, universally diffused, and reflected and refracted and absorbed in varying degrees and varying manners by various objects. And
Than a great and pure love, can anyone point to anything on earth greater and more purifying?
The lesser luminary perturbs the tide of human passion; the greater light draws it upward—none the less veritably because in tinted formless vapor. This is symbolical of love.
It is the nascent thing that evokes the keenest emotions: the bud—the babe—dawn—and the first beginnings of love. So Love, like sun-light, wears its most tender tints at dawn.
* * *
It still remains a mystery that, out of a townful of folk, two particular hearts should worry themselves into early graves because this one cannot get that other. Yet
It is almost enough to destroy one's faith in the uniqueness of love to see from how narrow a circle of acquaintances men and women choose their spouses. Were Plato's two half-souls separated by the diameter of the globe—that were lamentable.
* * *
The man often argues that esteem will grow into passion. The woman knows that the argument is utterly fallacious. Yet Unless passion is guarded by esteem,—as the calyx ensheaths the corolla, the former is prone to wither.
In youthful love, as in the enfolded bud, esteem and passion—like calyx and corolla—-seem one and identical;
It is only the full-blown flower that displays its constituent parts.
Would that love could remain ever in bud!
* * *
To some love comes like a flash; to others as the burning of tinder.
In all, when real love is kindled, it devours all that is combustible. But
All love, like all fire, needs, not only ventilation but replenishing:
Unless the primal spark is nourished, it will not glow;
Stifle love, and it dies down. So
Even the love of a married pair, unless it retains something of the romance of courtship, is apt to go out.
* * *
Love takes no though of surroundings: an empty compartment is as good as a coppice. Give it privacy, it is satisfied.
* * *
In love, we would much rather give than take. Yet, if the giving is one-sided, there is trouble. And
Love brooks no half measures. Again,
Trust a woman to calculate the breaking-strain of her lover's heart. But she will never let him off with less than the maximum stress.