Part 7 (1/2)
Romantic views of Love. A Fatalism. ”Matches made in Heaven.”
Some say, ”Love can be Suppressed.” a.s.sociated with Lower Propensities. A theme for Jesting and Sport. Quotation, shewing its holy nature. The mind not to dwell constantly upon it.
In approaching the topic named at the head of this chapter, I am by no means insensible of its difficulties and its delicacy. But no one can contemplate its bearings on the happiness of woman, without feeling that a work, treating of her duties and prospects, in which this subject is studiously avoided, must be regarded as essentially defective. It is the remark, I think, of Madam de Stael, that ”love, which is but an episode in the life of man, is the whole history of woman.” Without subscribing to this opinion in full, we must still contend that the destiny of her affections is to her a theme of vital interest. She cannot but reflect much upon it; and since her views may affect so deeply her ultimate decision in reference to a matrimonial connection, is he a true friend who fails to give her all the light, and counsel, and guidance in his power, on this point?
It is well known that not a few among the insane of this s.e.x have been made so by their erroneous ideas relative to the exercise of the affections. I may be pardoned for adverting, in this place, to some of the many and various views entertained in regard to the sentiment of love.
One considers it a Mystery, something with which the understanding has no concern, and which is never to be reasoned upon, although we may exercise that prerogative on all other subjects. Hence, according to the Roman mythology, Amor, the G.o.d of love, is represented as blind-folded.
His arrows inflict wounds, it is said, of which the sight can take no cognizance. The language of the poet records the bitter experience of woman, often consequent on this delusive impression:
”Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so _blindly_, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.”
The opinion under consideration is egregiously erroneous. Woe to her who abandons the helm of judgment, in forming that connection, which is to decide her whole fortune for life. Ill-fated must she be, who concludes that the head and heart must be divorced, before she can experience that sentiment, which binds human souls in the sacred tie of marriage.
Another believes love to be an Illusion. She thinks it a subject fit only for the fevered imagination of the poet, or for tales of fiction and romance. With the realities of life it has no concern. In this plain, matter-of-fact, working-day world, there is no room, she thinks, for this creature of the brain. Therefore does she determine to fortify herself against its approaches. Others may pursue the phantom, if they will, but she is resolved to be never so cheated, as to ”fall in love”
with a man.
The enthusiast may subject herself to severe disappointments, and may find ultimately that the husband she loved and married, under the sway of the blind G.o.d, falls far short of that mysteriously exalted being she deemed herself connected with for life. But far more to be deplored is her fate, who entered the matrimonial state with the Stoical faith that love was all an ”illusion.” What sympathy can those, thus joined, but not wedded, feel in the season of sorrow? How little will they share, or even imagine, those joys which spring up between hearts that have been pledged, exchanged, and cemented.
There are those, who regard love as of necessity a mere Impulse; a thing not subject in any wise to human control, but fitful, an outbreaker, a tyrant. They can govern other emotions and sentiments. Anger, envy, jealousy, resentment, pride, they believe capable of being moderated, if not wholly suppressed. But love is lawless. Its mandates must be obeyed, and that instantly; they may not be opposed, no, not even questioned.
Who has not seen some young woman of talent and virtue sacrifice herself to this mistaken impression? The plume of the soldier, the gay air of the debauchee, the flippant beau, the half-insane tippler, could she not have seen her doom in being affianced to one of these poor pageants of humanity? Ah, but ”she loved; she could not help loving;” she gave herself a victim at the profane shrine, because she always thought she must love where and whom, her unbidden, irresponsible, feelings should direct her to love.
There are others, who deem this sentiment a Weakness. If a lady find herself inclined to it, she should at once strive to subdue it. Much as one, whose face is marked by disease or accident, would fain conceal the blemish, so would she hide, even from a mother or sister, any experience of affection for a particular individual. Love is, in her view, a thing to be ashamed of, an infirmity, which, if one have not power wholly to escape, she should yet lock with eternal secrecy in her own bosom.
Now I ask, why should we blush for emotions, of which the G.o.d of nature implanted the germs within us? Is it weak to indulge a sentiment so productive of happiness as this, so essential to the wellbeing of the holiest bond on earth? Love is not a folly; in its purity, it is a n.o.ble, unselfish thing, the inspirer and friend of moral excellence.
When I see a young woman pining over a hidden grief, which might have been spared, had she imparted her feelings to a friend; when I witness the mental powers tried, and at length overcome, by the struggles of a pent-up fire in the soul, I lament the sad error, to which these mournful consequences can be so directly traced. Why, if the object, especially, of her affection deserve and requite it, why should she bury it as a weakness in her soul? The cases are very rare, in which there is no one to whom a secret of this description may with propriety, and ought, to be frankly confided. The peril lies in concealment.
Some esteem love a Disease. They look upon her, who indulges it, as in an unsound condition. It is as if a member of the body were amputated, or maimed. The individual, on whom its visitations have been inflicted, is an object of compa.s.sion. Hence its approaches are actually dreaded.
She who entertains this theory, instead of receiving cordially the advances of a gentleman, even a favorite, shrinks from the thought of it, and repels the intimations of any special attention on his part.
Is this well? Is it right so to deal with a sentiment common to the s.e.x?
Were it a disease, we should form exceptions to the rule. But since it is so almost universally experienced, why should one avert it from the heart? She who does this, misinterprets the human const.i.tution. Let her study the purposes of Providence, and no more will she refuse the admission of this sentiment, when circ.u.mstances justify its encouragement, than she will decline taking food, lest it cause sickness and death. The laws of nature, she will see, extend over the spirit, no less than the body.
There are not a few who cherish Romantic ideas concerning the affections. They regard ”marriage,” in the words of another, ”as an occasion to be preceded by fears, and hopes, and love's stratagems, by love-letters, pa.s.sionate vows, sudden crosses, and intense joys.” It is to transform the individual subject to its power, to fill her with sensations, which she cannot now even imagine. With this transcendental view of that pa.s.sion, a young woman is likely to conclude that, for herself, she shall never see the person whom she can love. No angelic being, in human form, will ever cross her path, and therefore she shall always remain single. Anon she dreams of going into a nunnery,--”to pine away and die.”
Now we cannot too early set about correcting these false imaginings and vain expectations. Poets may sing of love as convulsing the frame, and rending the heart, and trans.m.u.ting a human sentiment into divine extasies. But in the sober experience of life, such rapturous emotions are exceedingly rare. Indeed all the deep feelings of our nature are tranquil. It is the shallow stream only, which dashes, and sparkles, and deafens us by its noise. If you ever know the power of genuine love, you will find it as calm as it is intense. It will be in harmony with your other pure sentiments. Never will it subjugate, and tyrannize over, and do violence to, your whole nature.
We have seen those,--and we suspect they belong to a numerous cla.s.s,--who conceive that true love is attended by a Fatalism. It is first a.s.sumed, that every one must love some individual of the opposite s.e.x. A necessity is laid on us all, it is thought, to bestow the affections in marriage. The question may not so much as be raised, ”Is it certain that I shall ever meet with one to whom I can give my heart?”
No, woman was made to love and to be married, that is her unalterable destiny. All that is to occupy her thoughts in this respect, is, ”Who shall the individual be, on whom I must place my affections?”
This opinion is surely erroneous. For Providence has so arranged the circ.u.mstances of human life and of society, that some females are absolutely precluded from forming the matrimonial connection.
Ill-health,--to name no other cause,--sometimes positively debars one from this relation. There are abundant reasons, indeed, for which every one, ordinarily situated, should contemplate marriage. It is the design of our physical and moral const.i.tution, and the spring of unsullied enjoyments, social and spiritual; and no one should voluntarily exclude herself from this bond, save for imperious considerations. Yet let no young woman predetermine that hers may not be an exception to the general law. The inquiry should at least arise in her mind, ”May I not be of those, whose usefulness and happiness do not absolutely require their entering the marriage state?”
But our friend thinks there is a fatalism not only in regard to her marriage, but in reference to the particular companion, with whom she must be a.s.sociated for life. ”Matches are made,” say some, ”in Heaven.”
Prudence has no concern with this matter. A young woman fixes her affections on some individual, and believes that it is decreed she should love and should marry him. If circ.u.mstances appear unpropitious to their intimacy, she is perfectly wretched. And this, not simply because she loves him so ardently, but because she believes a decree of Heaven will be violated, if their union fail of consummation. ”Our presentiments,” it is said ”often work their own fulfilment.” I cannot doubt, that, in the formation of the marriage bond, at least, they often do, and that with the saddest results.
What an idea is this, if one will steadily contemplate it. That the heart is not subject, in the slightest degree, to our dominion? That we must love, and love, too, one whom perhaps accident alone threw in our way! Are you, indeed, obliged by a physical or moral necessity, to marry this person, because he is an inmate of your father's household, or because you were both born in the same village, or because he has something in his countenance that tells you,--before a word has been exchanged between you,--that he must be your lover, and your husband?