Hints for Lovers · Chapter 6Plea: Confession and Avoidance (6)
This chapter is not translated yet. You are reading the original.
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It takes two to make a quarrel. Yes: and it takes two to make the reconciliating kiss.
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XII. On Engagements and on Being Engaged
Chalepon to mae philaesai Chalepon de kai philaesai —Anacreon.
Perhaps the pleasantest and most satisfactory period in a girl's life is the time of her first youthful engagement:
Never is a girl more jubilant, never more buoyant, never so charming, so blithesome, or so debonair, as when she is the gazetted about-to-be bride of the man of her girlish choice. For
During her engagement, a girl is owned and petted; and Ownership and petting are dear to women—whether young or old:
Ownership is proof, at all events, that she is of value to the man—else the man would not sought to make her his; and
Petting is proof that the man properly appreciates the value. Yet meanwhile, anomalous as it may sound,
The engaged girl is still her own property, and is practically free. Besides,
What more delectable to a girl than to have captured and kept a real man? This flatters her, uplifts her, makes of her a woman at once: she holds her head higher she carries herself with an air; she shows off her capture. Besides, also,
The engaged girl is looked up to by her compeers, is congratulated y her elders. Even if she keeps the engagement secret, these compeers and congratulatresses do not (sometimes, alas! To her detriment).—In addition to all this,
What delight so unique as the preparation of the trousseau! 239 Trousseau!—'T is a name of mystical import to man.
A woman's trousseau is symbol of two things—and perhaps dimly indicative of a third:
(i) it proves—what needs no proof—that, such is the unselfish nature of Love, never can it give enough, never enhance too much the gifts it gives. Accordingly the bride goes to the man appareled and bedecked to the best of her ability;
(ii) It is a subtle tribute to the sensibility of man, of the man in love, who is stimulated and pleased by dainty, it may be diaphanous, raiment. Lastly, since even that supernal thing Love is not unconcerned with matters practical,
(iii) It bespeaks as prophetic suspicion of the little fact that perhaps it is well to go to her husband's home abundantly provided with dainty raiment, inasmuch as the man not in love is not always so delicately sensible of their need.
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A girl's first engagement is peculiarly sweet: long does she remember, long meditatively dwell upon, its pettiest incidents. For, if any man dared give utterance to so outrageous an assumption,
The emoluments of a promise to marry are as sweet to the donatress as undoubtedly they are to the accepter.—And why not, pray? Nevertheless,
A certain practical sobriety supervenes upon subsequent affairs of the heart. For
The recurrence of love is apt to spoil its romance. And yet—and yet—
It is a question which woman after woman has put herself, in vain, whether 't would have been wiser to have accepted and retained the romantic love of unthinking youth, or to have waited for the more sober affection of the years of discretion.
Perhaps a girl hardly knows all that is meant by that thing called "love" or what is entailed upon her by that thing called an "engagement". She has played with love so much, that when a real and serious love is offered her, she still thinks it the toy that amused her. But
Soon enough does the man, if he is earnest—and a man never proposes unless he is in earnest—enlighten the girl of his choice: for
To a man, love never is a toy—though mere lust may be:
Men never play with love, as do girls: they play with lust,—as they play with bats and balls and fire-arms;
When men fall in love, they fall in love with a vengeance; and
The seriousness with which the man falls in love startles the girl.
The man demands so much; is so exacting' so peremptory; so unyielding; so frightfully selfish; so terribly jealous of the slightest look or smile or gesture bestowed upon any other than he, that the girl . . . . . . well, the girl probably begins to think, either that the man is an unreasonable brute, or that her girlish notions of love were somewhat astray. Then one or two things happens: either the man goes off in a huff; or the girl mends her ways.
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The recurrence of a love is a great shock to love. Love thinks itself a think unique, unalterable, supreme; a thing not made out of the flux and change of earthly affairs, but heaven-born and descended from the skies; that it should go and come seems to destroy the fundamental conception of love.
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The affianced man thinks he has won him the sweetest, the most sacrosanct thing that ever trode God's earth outside of Eden: a bundle of blisses, a compact little mass of exquisite mysteries, whose every tint and curve and motion are to him sources of wonderment and delight; he is at once humbled and exalted; he thanks high Heaven for the gift; for that comport himself worthy of such gift; for that this wondrous and mysterious little thing called "a woman" should of her own accord put herself in his arms, to be by him and by him alone cherished and nurtured till death them do part—this indeed gives the mail heart a very sobering, a very ennobling thrill; for beneath the heaving breast he so passionately loves, behind the eyes into the depths of which he so passionately looks, there stirs, he knows, that ineffable, that indefinable thing, a woman's heart; and that TO HIM has been committed the keeping of that heart—this rouses in him the manly virtues as no other thing rouses them. Strong is the man who can live up to these emotions; sage the woman who knows what she has aroused.
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The philanderer or the flirt—to whom love-making and love-taking have been a pasttime—is appalled at the seriousness of love when real love is offered him or her. For often enough
The philanderer or the flirt thinks compliments and cajolery the food of love: in time they discover that love is a veritable sarcophagus!
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Many an accepted lover (both masculine and feminine) tries to make up for coldness of passion by warmness of affection: a subterfuge of dubious efficacy. For though
Affection seeks affection, passion is only appeased by passion. Yet
When one loves passionately, and the other languidly accepts, it is well perhaps for that other sometimes to be a little "unfaithful to the truth" (1) and to simulate an unfelt ardor. But, always this is of questionable value, for
Love abhors simulation of anything even of ardor.
(1) Tennyson, "Love and Duty".
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If mutual confidence is not established at the moment of betrothal, it will never afterwards be established. And
Woeful will be the plight of those between whom mutual confidence is not then established. For
Mutual confidence is the only atmosphere in which love can breathe.
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An engaged man, like a hungry man, is an irascible man. And How often a fiancée is sore put to it, not only to satisfy him, but to pacify him!
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A woman will often blandly ask why the two rivals to her hand should not be friends! Yet it is significant of much that she does her utmost to keep them apart! Indeed,
In no instance are a woman's tact and finesse so exercised as in playing off one man against another.—And yet usually she delights in the task; for
Being-made-love-to is to women what killing—whether of men or of animals—is to men. In a word,
To be sought after is to woman what war or the chase is to man.
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The woman a woman accepts a man, then and there he becomes her lord and master. And this she unconsciously knows—nay, expects. If the man does not then and there exercise his lordship and show his mastery, he will find it difficult to do it later on. But of course
No woman will ever be got to admit that her newly-won man is her master. Nevertheless it is counsel that every man should lay to heart, for
Unless a woman is dominated (N.E. not dominated over), she tries to get the upper hand. And
Only two instances there are in which the woman should retain the upper hand: when the man is either a philosopher or a fool;
When a man is both (and the combination is not uncommon), she would be a fool if she did not retain the upper hand! But
Little does a woman esteem him to does not sway—nay, who does not sacrifice, it may be: her to his will.
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Of that engaged pair who can confidingly speak the one t the other of the dawn of their mutual attraction, little need be feared; if they cannot, very much may be feared. For
Love, without confidence, is as defunct as faith without works. For
If M cannot confide in N, it probably means that K and L have, or that O and P will.
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So tremendous are the results of the gift of self that Nature herself seems to have ordained that the feminine sacrifice shall be utter and complete. For,
A man's interests may be many and and behold, a bold girl will appear and carry off the shy man! Perhaps to the life-long chagrin and sorrow of all three.
Often, oh! how often, an awkward and sophisticated youth and a prim maid with down-cast eyes will sit together, waltz together, and the one never get one inch the nearer to the other, though soul and mind and body crave a closer union. The youth would give the solid earth—nay, the solid earth would be naught—to gain him the courage to clasp the maiden to his breast; yet, so intense his awe, he would not strain a spider's web to risk the maid's good will.—The maid—who shall say what passes in her mind? That the youth should adventure, she could wish; yet his very hesitancy bespeaks his devotion true. Were he to fall about her neck, embrace her close, and demand the kiss of love—most like she would recoil aghast—at first! Yet if he desisted—she would also recoil aghast.—What should he do, poor awkward youth? what she?—One thing onlookers will do: smile, and simper, and smile again; but in their inmost heart of hearts they will envy that awkward youth, that simple maid. For because, in this the first symptoms of unsolicited and reciprocal love, they will recognize something of the divine and mystical nature of Love itself, of Love untrammeled by convention or law; of Love itself, in its purity, its intensity, its diffidence, its terrifying yet restraining force.
Ah! Love, not in every conflict art thou victor crowned. (2)
(2) Eros anikate machan.—Sophocles, Antigone, 781
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XIII. On Marriage and Married Life
ariston andri ktaema sympathaes gunae. —Hippothoon
Marriage laws are framed, not for or by the likes and dislikes of men and women, but by the exigencies of social, often of political, economy. Therefore
Men and women's likes and dislikes are obliged to conform to the usages demanded by social and political economy: so
In Turkey women accept with a good grace the custom of a plurality of wives; in Tibet men accept with good grace a plurality of husbands. In the western world .. . . Humph!
Always will there be everywhere prevalent a latent hostility between the likes and dislikes of men and women on one hand, and the laws enforced by a social and political community on the other. This is why
Always there will be those who will try to "reform" the marriage state: some looking only to the likes and dislikes of men and women, others only to the advantages which shall accrue to the State. So,
Some there will be will always advocate a loosening of the marriage bond, others who will seek to make it indissoluble. Both should remember that
The unit of the State is the family; therefore the State makes laws, not to suit the tastes or convenience of the husband and the wife, but for the good and preservation of the family. All of which, surely, is right and proper, since
It is the business of the State to make laws governing the welfare of the generations to come. In fine
The children—they are the pivot about which all matrimonial controversies should turn.
Reformers of marriage laws should seek a preventative, not a cure; since
It is doubtful whether the ills of matrimony are really curable, for, generally speaking,
Matrimonial incompatibility is a malignant, not a benignant, disease; its prognosis is doubtful; nor does it run a regular course.
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Many are the women who, soon after marriage, silently turn over in their minds this little problem: whether it were better to marry the man they loved but who did not love them; or to marry the man who loved them but to whom they were indifferent. And
The man a woman ultimately marries will give her no clue to the solution. And for the following reasons:
(i) He, fond wight, does not know that any such problem is agitating her little brain; and
(ii) She, of course, dare not divulge the factors of the problem. In short,
Most marriages are brought about by the following simple, yet fateful, consideration: The man marries the woman he wants; the woman marries the man who wants her. The two propositions, though apparently identical, often produce results very far from identical. And yet,
Sometimes—sometimes—that glorious dream comes true, in which a hale and heart-whole youth implants the first pure passionate kiss upon the lips of a hale and heart-whole girl.—Ah, happy twain! For them the sun shines, the great earth spins, and constellations shed their selectest influence. 'T is a dream that all youth dreams. 'T is a dream makes wakeful life worth living.
Ah! the wild dream of youth! The maenad dream! The spring-time dream!
Of the maid: the dim, dim dream of stalwart man offering a love supreme without alloy, and taking, forceful, a love as flawless, as supreme; a steady breast on which to lean, strong circling arms, a face set firm against the world, a face that softens only to her up-turned eyes that seek the lover who is hers and hers alone; a dream of music, color, and the swaying dance; of rivals splendidly out-shone; of home and friends and trappings; of raiment. Retinue; of ordered bliss; and by and by, in a still dimmer far-off time, a time un-whispered to herself, of baby-fingers, baby lips . . . . . .
Of the youthful man: a vivid dream, involved, unsteady, shifting; a dream of lust and love and smoke, and flame and fame; of cuirass and horse and saber; of blood and battle; of high place; of many dominated by his look and gesture; of mighty man, and orders issued, preemptory, not to be gain said; also of lithe arms, a supple waist, sweetly-soft entwining limbs, a gentle girlish woman all his own who never was another's and always will be his; and an heir and household gods.—Ah! the wild dream of youth!
Youths, dream ye while ye may! And you, ye aged, I charge ye do not wake them: it is the dream makes wakeful life worth living. And yet—and yet,
Sometimes—sometimes, alack and fie for shame, things come to such a pass, between husband and wife, that a modus viviendi has to be tacitly agreed upon. In that case, alas!
Too often, between husband and wife, it depends upon who is the better actor and liar—to their shame be it said. But before this happens, much else must have happened. For,
Here and there, ahem! we meet a woman who is like the moon: she circles sedately round, and dutifully faces, the planet to which she is united; but that planet does not know that she is irradiated and warmed by a far-distant sun—a sun which symbolizes, ahem! Duty, or Necessity, or Affection for her children, or (tell it not in Gath) Affection for another.
And here and there, ahem! we meet a man who, like the sun, shines steadfastly enough upon his own earth, but shines also, all unbeknown to earth, upon other earths—and errant comets—and small aerolites.
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As it is usually physical or sentimental characteristics that bring a man and a woman into the field of mutual attraction, so it is generally physical or sentimental characteristics that drag them apart. Thus,
A clever wife will put up with a stupid husband, and an intellectual man will get on admirably with a dull but domestic woman. But
If either party to the marriage contract disregards or is unable to appease the demands made upon him or her for sympathy or emotion, there is likely to be trouble; for
Sentiment, not intellect, is the cementing material in marriage, and
If a man and wife cannot effuse a mutual sentiment, gradually they will grow apart. Indeed,
The demands of the emotions are at once more imperious and tyrannical, and more fastidious and critical, than are the demands of the mind. Of all of which, what is the moral? This:
The married pair who would live in amity, not to say in affection, must so live as that each shall persuade the other is the sole personage under the roof of heaven that he or she desires. Alas!
The unwritten motto of many a married couple is: The Heart Knoweth its own Bitterness.
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Marriage reveals the moods of a man.
What is an ideal marriage? That perhaps in which the man is to the woman at once friend, husband, and lover. But some people prefer these functions distinct.
That is a happy marriage in which a woman's husband is also her confidant. And always,
Husband and wife should move like binary stars: revolving about a common centre; mutually attractive; and, unless closely viewed, presenting a single impression.
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Matrimony is sometimes a terrible iconoclast. Whether it throws down the images of false or of true gods, depends on the religion of the worshipper.
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It would be difficult, sometimes, to determine whether constancy was an autogenous or enforced virtue.
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Never play pranks with your wife, your horse, or your razor.
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There is a thing which not gold nor favor nor even love can buy. Its true name is secret; but it is content to be called Sympathy. Accordingly,
Let no man or woman think when he or she has won wife or husband all has been won that is necessary. For,
If sympathy cannot be gained from one quarter, it will probably be sought in another.
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At the moment of the formation of a matrimonial syndicate of two, each member of this as yet unincorporated joint-stock company verily believes that each has put into the concern his whole real and personal property. Yet it is to be feared that, although
The woman, possibly, invests her whole capital, the man—often, no doubt, unwittingly to himself—retains not a few unmatured bonds and debentures. That is to say,
Love, it is to be feared, is often enough a bargain in which the woman comes off second-best. For
A woman gives herself; man accepts the gift.
Rarely, if ever, does a man give himself. He cannot. His work, his play, his politics, his friends, his club—these are matters to him highly important.
To a woman the only highly important things are: her husband and her home.
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A woman rules until she tries to rule,—which will be an enigma to many.
Out of a wife's obedience will grow her governance; never out of her dominance.—Those who think this sheer nonsense, are welcome to think so. But it is worth thinking about.
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A man ought to rule his wife. Granted. But he cannot do this unless he rules himself. The Colonel of a Regiment cannot command if he himself breaks the King's or the State's Regulations. And
An uncontrolled wife deems her husband indifferent—or weak. The number of husbands who, though they think they rule, yet in reality are ruled, would astonish—not their wives, but themselves.
It is customary to call the man the head of the household; yet, between man and wife, it is a question after all whether it is not the stronger will and the cooler judgment that should, and generally does, guide the family, independent of sex or custom.
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As in the solar spectrum, so in love: beyond and intermingled with the visible rays of passion are numerous actinic but invisible rays of affection, invisible to careless spectators, but known and felt by the recipients. These, too, must be introduced if the connubial domicile is to be warmed as well as illuminated.
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The marriage tie loosens all other ties. In fact,
Neither men or women are always aware of the absoluteness of the marriage tie: thenceforward the woman belongs not to her own people, hardly to herself.—As to the man, well,
Often a wife will actually be jealous of the time and attention her husband spends on things and matters unconnected with her—his work —his play—his politics—his friends—his club.
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Many are there who still believe that the marriage service, like a legal indenture, irrevocably entails the whole estate of a human heart. In sober truth,
There never was a married couple yet who had not to purchase their own happiness. And
The only charms that increase in value as time goes on are the charms of character; beside these, those of person, and even those of mind, are weak. In short,
In marriage, as in every human relationship, it is character that avails and prevails, naught else.
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Chemists draw a distinction between a chemical and a mechanical mixture. Moralists might discover the same in marriage.
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To encircle monogamy with an ever-increasing halo of romance—that is a problem deserving of study.
Monogamy is one of the disharmonies of life; it seems (as I have said) to be the decree of politics rather than of nature.
But surely polygamy or polyandry would be more disharmonious still.
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Marriage renders no one immune. That is to say;
Unless husband and wife both avoid infection, both can catch amatory fevers.
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The woman who has learned how to minister to a man's creature comforts has learned much. And
It has disconcerted many a young wife to discover how important a part of her education this is! Since
It is certainly sometimes hard to reconcile a suitor's poetic protestations with a spouse's prosaic requisitions.
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In the game of life a man may venture many stakes; a woman's fate is determined by a single throw of the dice. Thus,
How often it happens that a young and inexperienced maid will look about her, will weigh and consider, will pick and choose, and, when she thinks she has found a man to her purpose, will set her cap at him will attract him, enslave him, bring him to her feet, make him propose, accept him as husband, give him all the sweets of engagement, regard herself and proclaim herself his affianced bride,—all with most prudential—it may be, most praise-worthy—motives. On a sudden, the man discovers that this was no real attachment, but a fictitious, almost an enforced, one; that the methods (so he thinks) were artificial, the results delusive. What happens? The man withdraws—politely—gallantly: t'was a mistake; he is sorry; they are unsuited; he did not know his own mind; he is sorry;—and so on, and so forth. They separate. And, in this concatenation of circumstances, action for breach of promise is out of the question.—Besides, often enough, the girl, through pride or through sheer chagrin at the indifference of the man, pretends acquiescence.—What happens to the man? Nothing. If his senses were stirred, he himself is heart-whole. He gave nothing; he merely received. He proposes again to somebody else; is accepted; marries happily; rears a family. What happens to the girl? Everything. The man gave her nothing; she gave all—her lips, her looks, the recesses of her heart; the premonitions of the gift of her self; for, when she leant on him, looked up to him, clung to him, felt his strong encircling arms, was perturbed by his ardor, she gave that which was not to give again. Such woman is to be pitied. For, however much she may strive to make it appear that she gave nothing, that she had all to give again, not even her own soul will bear her witness, and sooner, or later, a subsequent lover (and such girl accepts the first lover that offers) will find a void where he hoped to find an inexhaustible treasure. For the woman cannot forever keep up a fictitious affection; and languid looks, and eyes that will not brighten, and smiles which are so evidently forced, bespeak her sympathies elsewhere.—But, as Heine said, this is an old story often repeated. (1) Wherefore
Let us pity women! The dice they throw are their hearts—and they have only one throw:—when they have thrown away their hearts—Pity women!
Men have so many dice to throw: income, status, title; virility, fortune, fame; good spirits, good connections, good looks; an air, a figure, a soul-stirring voice; manners, breeding, force; a good name, a good bank account. The pity o' it is that
The whole marriage question revolves about a single point:
The man wants him a woman,—a woman who shall be his and only his;
The woman wants her a head of a home. And here again, and once again, we see the difference between the sexes:—
The one thing that the man wants is: a mate;
The one thing that a woman wants is: a head and provider of a household.
The man's thoughts never go beyond the woman;
The woman's thoughts always and at once travel far beyond the man—to the children, the household, the home. This is great Nature's inexorable law. But little knows the woman, and less knows the man, that the nubile girl is merely obeying great Nature's inexorable law.
What price woman pays for her high office! for in this implicit, unquestioning, and unconscious obedience to Nature she performs perhaps her highest function. On all accounts, therefore, let us
Pity women! They obey so faithfully great Nature's law, and Nature so often plays them false—so very false, and so very often. Besides,
The woman who gives her hand without her heart finds in time that she has made a sorry bargain—a sorrier bargain, perhaps, that the woman who gives her heart with out her hand. For,
Passionately as a man desires a woman, the passionately-desired woman will in time discover that, unless she gives her heart with her hand, her gift suffers depreciation. And
Unless a woman gives her heart, how can she give her aid? Surely,
Unless a man's armor is buckled on for the strife of life by feminine sympathy, the fight is apt to be a sorry one at best; since
A woman's true business is to back her husband: if SHE leaves him in the lurch, there is little hope for him. For of a truth
The strongest man is handicapped in the struggle for existence unless he knows and feels that his wife is at his side—not pushing him so much as leaning upon him.
(1) Ein Jungling leibt ein Madchen, Die hat einen Andern erwahlt; Der Andre leibt eine Andre, Und hat sich mit Dieser vermahlt. Das Madchen heirathet aus Arger Den ersten, besten Mann, Der ihr in den Weg gelaufen; Der Jungling ist ubel dran. Es ist alte Geschichte, Doch bleibt sie immer neu; Und wem sie just passieret, Dem bricht das Herz entzwei. —Buch der Lieder, 39.
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To simulate passion for an hour is possible; to simulate a life-long love—that is hard. For
Love is a thing unique and unalterable (in spite of its various alloys); clip the coin, and it will not pass current. For
Ideal matrimony is founded on a mono-metallic basis: no amount of silver will be accepted for gold. And yet,
How often M loves and N accepts the love! Poor M! Also (in the long run), poor N!
That, indeed, is a happy marriage where M gives and wants just what N wants and gives: where M and N just want each other. For
Give and take is the rule of a community of two, as it is of a community of ten thousand;
The ideal (and probably impossible) industrial community is that in which demand and supply are in exact equipoise. The same holds good in matrimony.
In wedlock, a virtuous, has probably less force than a vicious, example. That is to say,
A frivolous spouse is more apt to drag the couple down than is a serious spouse apt to lead the couple up. And
Many a mate there is (both masculine and feminine) feels like a pack-mule treading a precipitous pass.
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Of every Audrey her Touchstone should be able proudly to say, "A poor. . . . Thing, Sir, but mine own". In other words,
The homely violet deserves as tender cherishing as the rare exotic.
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What portion of himself or herself any one complicated physical and psychological human being really and truly 'conveys' to another by means of the simple contract known as the "plighted troth" or that of a larger deed called the called the "solemnization of matrimony", is a riddle difficult of solution; and as to how much one may claim on the strength of one or other of these indentures, that is a more difficult problem still.