Part 4 (1/2)
Another article of a somewhat different kind which appeared recently in the Atlantic Monthly, was written by an Englishman, a moralist of the modern school. His lesson is addressed to women and the main point of it, developed in a most interesting and rea.s.suring way, is that they are too much afraid of conventional ideas, of public opinion. They should not permit their aspirations and inclinations to be stifled by such considerations, but have the courage to give freer rein to their inner longings.
He refers, in his article, to the fact that American women are said to be far more advanced in this respect than their English cousins and approves of their example.
These, of course, are only scattered specimens of the many articles which have appeared and will continue to appear in support of the new principle.
And in this connection a rather curious side-light has come to my attention repeatedly, within the past few years. Among a certain cla.s.s of people, especially those who pride themselves on superior intelligence and advanced thought, there has been a p.r.o.nounced revival of interest and admiration for the free verse and freer morals of Walt Whitman. He has been, so to speak, re-discovered and embraced as a guide and a prophet. His creed of life, so exuberantly and defiantly expressed, was the exalted importance of his own ego. Wherever his desires led him, wherever joy for himself was to be found, there would he go, unabashed and inconsiderate.
With these indications in mind, we may proceed to consider some actual examples which will serve to ill.u.s.trate.
A certain young woman is well-born and well-bred, occupying a prominent social position, decidedly intelligent--and good-looking, to boot. She has a husband of her own cla.s.s and kind, who has always been devoted to her, and three lovely children, two boys and a girl.
She has apparently given considerable thought to the problem of life, and the point-of-view she arrived at finally would seem to be a typical product of modern ideas.
She believes first and foremost in the absolute right of the individual soul to recognize no master but itself--to follow out its desires and aspirations to the fullest extent. She has a feeling of scorn and contempt for conventions and conventional people. If you pay any attention to them, or their narrow, sheep-like opinions, or allow them to interfere in any way with your freedom of action, you are belittling yourself and your self-respect.
You must never be afraid to obey your own impulses. They come from within you, they are a part of your nature--your self--and that is where your true duty lies. It is better that you should be true to yourself, even at the expense of others, than that you should be afraid and cowardly.
The very fact that a desire, or an impulse, makes itself felt within you is the main point. It is not really the things you _do_ that matter so much, as your _wish_ to do them. If you wish to do a thing, and hold back out of cowardice, or fear of the consequences, that doesn't make you any better--only weaker and worse. You can't deny that the wish was there--without lying to yourself--so what's the use?
It is finer and braver to go on with it and attain at least the satisfaction of a wish fulfilled.
”But,” some one objects, ”how about your obligations to others? Suppose by doing the thing you wish, you will harm them?”
This little lady's answer to such an objection is usually accompanied by a shrug and a mildly condescending expression.
”If you are going to keep bothering your head about the effect of your actions on other people, might as well give up at the start and be a nice little sheep. The game isn't worth the candle.
”Besides, there's more humbug in that than any of the other bromides, weak natures prate about. Most people in this world have got to look out for themselves. You can't hope to be anything, or do anything worth while without occasionally treading on some one's toes. It has always been that way and if you're honest with yourself, you may as well recognize the fact and accept it philosophically.
”In most cases the harm that you do is much less than you imagine. That usually takes care of itself, somehow.”
If people bore her, she doesn't believe in pretending that they interest her. She will not invite them to her house, or accept their invitations.
If she has agreed to go somewhere, where she expects to amuse herself and then, at the last moment, no longer feels in the mood for it, she calls it off. Or if in the meantime, something else turns up that she would prefer to do, she does not hesitate to switch to the thing she prefers.
If people don't like that, it is their affair. She has no intention of cramping her freedom, denying her desires, on their account. What she does means more to her than it does to anybody else. There is no good reason for her to pretend to be any different from what she is.
Moreover, in this particular case, there can be very little doubt, among those who know her, that she practices what she preaches. This, too, is something which occurs more frequently in the new generation than it did in the past. There is no great trouble in accommodating practice to theory--or rather the theory accommodates itself very readily to the kind of conduct which persons of this kind are ready to practice.
For instance, the lady in question wanted to visit Chinatown in one of the large cities and arranged with a professional guide to be taken there at night, alone with a girl friend. Among other things, they saw a Chinaman smoking opium and this gave rise to a desire on her part to experience the sensation for herself. The guide was prevailed upon, for a consideration, to procure her an outfit and a supply of opium; and that very night in her room she took a try at an opium dream. Why not?
At another time, at a cabaret party, she was introduced to a somewhat notorious young man of the Bohemian world. He was obviously dissolute, but talented and interesting. She danced with him, gave him encouragement, invited him to her home and was not afraid to be seen going about with him frequently on terms of intimacy. Among other things, he was addicted to the cocaine habit--he sniffed the powder from the back of his hand--and in due time he talked to her about it. He presented her with a bottle of the drug and after that, she always had a supply in reserve which she used when the impulse came. Why not?
If her husband had any objection to things that she did, he soon learned to keep them to himself. She could not and would not tolerate any interference with the rights of an individual soul. She must have the same freedom that she conceded to him. The kind of thing he chose to do, apart from her, was a matter for him to decide in accordance with his nature. The same rule must apply to her. The days of slavery had pa.s.sed.
Marriage was an arrangement between equals.
In due course of time, the husband had to leave her and the children for war service. While he was away, she fell in with another talented and dissipated Bohemian--a romantic-looking musician very much in the public eye. Very quickly their infatuation for each other was a matter of open comment on the part of the veriest on-looker. As he had the same idea that she had about the rights of the individual, and the same contempt for conventions and conventional people, there was no pretense of concealment, no need of observing the proprieties.
When the husband returned from overseas, she informed him, with the utmost candor of what had taken place. There was no shame and no remorse. Why should there be? A simple statement of fact--the forces of human nature in operation. She had found some one who appealed to her impulses more strongly than he. That was a truth which had to be accepted. The simplest way was to allow her to get a divorce.
But what of the children?