What is the attitude to be maintained towards the too complaisant spouse of an honorable friend? That is a problem will puzzle weak men without end. Of that fatal and fateful dilemma when a wife or a husband falls victim to the wiles of another, there are, for the delinquent, two and only two horns (and it is a moot question upon which it is preferable to be impaled): Flight—either from the victor or the victrix. Yet

To some it is no anomaly to pray God's blessing upon a liaison. But these folk are to be pitied; for

A clandestine love always works havoc—havoc to all three. (4)

(4) Cf. Platus: "Malus clandestinus est amor; damnum 'st merum."

Will men and women never learn what trouble they lay up in store for themselves by breaking their plighted troths?

* * * * *



VII. On Beauty

"La beaute' pour moi c'est la divinite' visible, c'est le bonheur palpable, c'est le ciel descendu sur terre." —Theophile Gautier

Beauty, they say, is but skin-deep. That is quite deep enough to enslave mankind. As a matter of fact, it is much deeper: for, to say nothing of health and good-spirits,

Beneath true beauty lies an admirable or a loveable character. And yet—or, perhaps, and therefore—

If by some mischance beauty should arouse our resentment, with what different eyes we regard it!

* * *

The feeling for beauty is probably more highly developed in man than in woman. (N. B. Perhaps this is the source of the beauty of women.) Nevertheless,

It is a question that perhaps will never be settled, how much value should be placed upon mere beauty. For

Man soon tires of mere beauty. In fact, man, the inconstant creature, soon tires of mere anything.

* * *

Beauty should never be analyzed. At sight of graceful neck, who speaks of "musculus sterno-cleido-mastoideus"; at touch of moist red lips, who thinks upon the corpuscles of Paccini?

* * *

More women are wooed for their complexions than for their characters.

* * *

Could women only know it, nothing can add to their charms: how provokingly delightful is the uniformed demureness of an hospital nurse beside the elaborate bedizenments of a woman of fashion!

* * *

The most beautiful thing known among men is: a good woman. And this is not an anomaly.

* * *

She who captures a man by a single charm, be it even beauty, holds him by a weak chain.

Think not it was merely beauty that made Helen or Cleopatra historic.

Beauty is much, and grace is much; but there is a charm more subtle and potent than these.

* * *

Beauty without modesty is a rose without perfume: the petals may delight, but they lack an ineffable savor. Like a flower, too,

Though the tangible petals are numbered and comptable, the subtle perfume eludes the sense and is inexhaustible. For

Modesty is the exhalation of the soul: at once it enhances, as it refines, the potency of beauty. Nay more,

The sacrosanct aureole of modesty beautifies all it surrounds: though it diviner haze imperfection there is none. So,

Given a redolent balm, and the lowliest herb becomes treasured and precious. And

Each human soul has its own individual essence;

What folly were the violet to envy the rose! Since

Beauty is much, and grace is much, and mien and demeanor and wit; but a prepotent and psychic essence there is transcending the power of these. And,

As the suave and subtle essence is not distinct from, but springs from, the tangible and numerable petals, so the spirit perceives that its fleshy vesture is not a thing apart, to be donned or doffed at will, to b e contemned or left out of regards, but indeed at integral and inseparable portion of itself; for

In the very woof and warp of flesh, sprit is immanent and enmeshed. Indeed—though in a mystic sense—

Vesture and wearer are mutually one. And yet

Love ever essays the task of seeking out the psychic wearer beneath the corporeal vesture—often with plaintive strife.

When seeker and sought make a mutual search—the starkest strife is condoned. But alack!

The mystic unity of the human soul is never wholly divulged—not even to love—not even to love.

* * * * *



VIII. On Courtship

"Un amant fait la court ou s'attache son coeur". —Moliere

A woman really in love and sure of her lover delights in toying with a sort of coquetry of love; as if it pleased her to try to win over again that the winning of which gave so exquisite a pleasure. And perhaps

The coquetry of love is the surest test of an unquestionable love. For

When possession can afford to play at pursuit, this but proves possession complete. Sometimes

An assumed love will resort to the pretty tricks of a real one, in order to assure its object—or to re-assure itself.

Surrender after a protracted siege has its advantages. At all events both M and N can look back to more demi-semi happy incidents when the courtship has been long.

Happy that couple can laugh over the incidents of courtship afterwards. 'T is a portent of impending ill if they cannot.

* * *

Half-heartedness in courtship is not only suicidal, it is murderous. On the other hand, remember that

In courtship there are various and varying stages. But there is always the home-gallop. Remember, too, that

What is suitable at one stage of courtship is ruinous at another. And

It is only the old whip who knows when to push the pace:

In courtship to force the running is hazardous. Though we win, the victory loses its sweets. And

In courtship, men too often ride on the snaffle; in matrimony, too often on the curb.

* * *

Courtship asks for cash payment. Matrimony has often to allow unlimited credit. Insolvency is not unknown.

* * *

In courtship, all auxiliaries but the rival. No one will impede a lover save another lover.

* * *

In the presence of a woman, man is by nature a diffident animal. The women who recognize this are often the most successful. Indeed,

Many are the refined and gentle women who in after life regret that they did not more openly cope with their less delicately-minded sisters. Nevertheless,

Nothing is more astonishing than a woman's tact in encouraging a man.

* * *

In courtship modulated and musical tones count for much. Who with harsh speech would assail a lady's ear?

* * *

No woman thinks she can be wooed too often. And

Few women can forgo an opportunity to fascinate.

* * *

In courtship the woman is the whole world to the man; in matrimony the man is the whole world to the woman.

* * *

In courtship the slightest suspicion of condescension is fatal. For

True love is a greater leveler than anarchy.

* * *

In courtship, the wooer to the wooed is, in Juliet's phrase, the god of her idolatry; in matrimony he is lucky if he is the idol of her deity.

* * *

It is a question which is the sweeter: a spontaneous courtship, or one that has sprung from friendship.

In a spontaneous courtship there is all the charm of novelty;

In a courtship that has grown out of affection there is all the trustfulness of friendship. But

Friendship and courtship are two totally distinct things:

In courtship, men and women meet on the flowery-thorny common of love;

In friendship, men and women invite each other over to their respective plots. So,

A friend will show a friend all over his domain;

A lover can but point out to the lover the flowers (and thorns) which grow in the soil to which they are both strangers. 162

* * *

It is an open question whether in matters pre-matrimonial, the mode of the French is not preferable to that of the Anglo-Saxon; whether, that is,

Prudence and prevision are not more certain harbingers of matrimonial happiness of matrimonial happiness than are impulse and passion.

The French couple, when wedded, are virtually strangers; the Anglo-Saxon have already together enacted some scenes of the matrimonial drama. Yet it is an open question also whether

A more durable domestic affection is not built up from the pristine foundation of total ignorance than from that of a partial acquaintanceship.

The American Elizabeth Patterson, before she became Madame Jerome Bonaparte, could write, "I love Jerome Bonaparte, and I prefer to be his wife, were it only for a day, to the happiest union."

The continentalized Madame Jerome Bonaparte, twenty-six years after she had ceased to be Miss Elizabeth Patterson, could write "Do we not know how easily men and women free themselves from the fetters of love, and that only the stupid remain caught in these pretended bonds?" (1) After all,

Little do any couple know of each other before marriage. Besides Does not a delightful romance envelope the nuptials of strangers? At all events, even if precaution is a foe to impulse, few will be found to deny that

Strangeness is by no means inimical to passion. Perhaps, then, Fathers and mothers and uncles and aunts can form a better judgment as to the suitability and adaptability to each other of two young, ardent, and headstrong boys and girls can these themselves; since

Fathers and mothers and uncles and aunts know full well that impulse and passion often prove materials too friable for the many-storied fabric of marriage. At all events,

The French mode of contracting a marriage precludes the possibility of perilous and precocious affairs of the heart. Perhaps

The mistake that ardent and headstrong boys and girls make is in thinking that impulse and passion are the keys of Paradise. Their Elders know that impulse and passion are sometimes the keys of Purgatory.

Prudence and prevision are not keys to any supernal (or infernal) existence; they are merely guide-books to a terrestrial journey. At all events, it is significant that (which might be added as a lemma)

Widows rarely choose unwisely!

(1) Quoted by C. de Varigny in the "Revue des Deux Mondes" of January the 15th, 1893.

* * *

Over that much-bethought-of, much-surmised-about-thing, a proposal of marriage, every young woman weaves a pre-conceived halo of romance, but

In nineteen cases out of twenty a proposal is either unexpected or disappointing; that is,

Many a girl has almost held her breath with anxiety as she saw the great question coming; then almost cried with vexation at the way it came. For, often,

Either the wrong man proposes or the right man proposes stupidly.

The woman looks for ideal surroundings, a dramatic situation, and impassioned and poetic utterance; usually,

The man seizes a commonplace opportunity and—stutters. Probably,

The ideal proposal occurs only in novels. And yet—and yet—

Perhaps after all the real proposal is more complimentary to woman than is the ideal; at least perhaps

The aberration and obfuscation of the man is proof once (i) of her potency and (ii) of his sincerity.

Did man keep his head, would woman be quite so sure of his heart? Yet it may be that in these matter woman is liable to err, since

Rarely, if ever, does a woman's heart run away with her head. When it does—

Ah! the momentary bliss of an unreasoning emotion! Yet

Woman does right to keep her head, for

Almost every woman's happiness depends upon what she does with her heart—unless indeed she elects to go through life homeless, childless, and unenspoused; for

Though it is the wife that makes the home, it is the man who must provide for it. And since

Man, by nature, is probably nomadic and polygamic; not his to debate whether to give rein to emotion. Woman, by nature, is in far different case:

For the sake of her child, woman must bind the nomad to herself. Accordingly,

It is woman who is the true agglutinator and civilizer of society. Therefore, it comes about that

To order wisely her emotions is the inherited instinct of woman. Wherefore,

Woman is the conserver of the nation—and this in more senses than one.

* * * * *



IX. On Men and Women

"Dio fa gli uomini, e e' s' appaino." —Salviati

There are two elements of character which a man should possess, develop, and maintain unstained if he would find favor in feminine eyes: the first is bravery; the second, indomitableness of resolution. So likewise,

There are two elements of character which a woman should possess, develop, and maintain unstained if she would find favor in masculine eyes: the first is sympathy; the second, sweetness of temper.

* * *

A curious and latent hostility divides the sexes. It seems as they could not approach each other without alarums and excursions. Always the presence of the one rouses anxiety in the breast of the other; they stand to arms; they resort to tactics; they maneuver. And,

Men and women approach each other vizored and in armor. But it is often only to conceal the craven heart that beats beneath the brazen cuirass.

* * *

Men judge of women, not so much by their intrinsic worth, as by the impression women make upon them. And women know this, since All women are alive to the fact that the impressing (1) of men is the important function of life. Accordingly,

Great stress is, and is naturally, laid by women upon dress and the subtleties of the toilette. For,

In matters of the heart man is led by the heart and not by the head. (2) And why not? Since

It is generally a sweet-heart, not a hard head, that a man wants. In short,

Men are oftener vanquished by a look than by logic; by a gracious smile than by good sense; by manner and even by dress than by mental development or depth. This is to say,

A man judges a woman by her appearance;

A woman judges a woman by her motives. (And

A woman judges of a woman's motives by what she knows of her own.)—So it comes about that,

To a man, a woman's heart is something mysterious. But

Women, who know their own hearts, have little difficulty in reading others'.

(1) It is (perhaps) highly unfortunate that to this word is attached a two-fold signification.

(2) Though, as Mr. Grant Allen has endeavored to show, this is a scientific a method as any.

* * *

No units of measurement yet devised are adequate for the computation of the power wielded by a beautiful woman.

* * *

That is a significant fact, and probably, could we fathom all the profundities and unravel all the entanglements of the relations between the sexes, as deep and as intricate as significant, that no woman thinks a man can pay her a higher compliment than to wish to make her his own. For though

Woman thinks man her ultimate aim and desire, Nature knows that man is but the stepping-stone to the child. In the end woman agrees with Nature. We may go farther, and say

Women are nearer the eternal laws than are men. Men govern themselves by the laws they themselves make. Women are lawless. Laws are for the temporal, the fleeting; for a given individual in a given society; for a particular race in a particular clime. Such laws are obeyed by women only under compulsion. They, more far-seeing than men, instinctively peer far beyond the ephemeral rules manufactured by men, into the realm of laws eternal and immutable; these she obeys implicitly, unquestioningly—much to man's amazement—and, it may be, his mortification; for he sees that she is freer than he. This is why,

For the man she truly loves a woman will sacrifice everything —everything. The same generous sentiment cannot by any means be attributed to man.

* * *

Both the wise man and the wise woman—but here I am reminded of the recipe for hare soup.

* * *

Between the sexes there is in reality but one link—the link amatory. And

So long as Nature maintains two sexes, so long will men and women hug, yet chafe under, that slender but invisible bond.

Not even Cupid and Psyche avoided a misunderstanding—in spite of the devotion of the other. And,

If men and women differ in matters amatory, it is because men and women have trodden different evolutionary paths:

The man, given up to the chase (for pelts or pelf) and careful of his status in the tribe, thinks only of himself and the present;

The woman, her sole care the nurture of her offspring, thinks only of her progeny, and the future. But since

The family is the unit of the state, therefore

The state makes laws, not for love, but for the family.

Happy that family the parents of which are bound by cosmic not by municipal affection. Nevertheless,

Say what one will, Love scoffs at laws; howsoever marriage and divorce may be regulated by parliamentary statute.

Man, as a member of a political community, may make marriage laws to suit that community—laws to suit that community—laws "de vinculo matrimonii" and laws "de mensa et thoro", decrees "nisi prius" and decrees absolute; but

Law can no more bind the affections than it can bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades. And yet, at bottom,

Beneath all municipal and parochial regulations, a great and cosmic law does govern the relations of the sexes; and

The lightest whim of the lightest lady has a definite, perhaps a cosmic, fount and origin.

* * *

A man can never know too much. Perhaps a woman can. And

It is a question how far a man admires a woman who knows too much. For,

If there is nothing a man can teach a woman, not even of the ways of love, the man is apt to be chagrined. Besides,

Too much knowledge is inimical to romance.

* * *

War is a man's true trade; love, woman's.

* * *

There is no stronger argument against the equality of the sexes than a woman's hand. It was made to toil? No; to place in her lover's. In truth,

Is there anything more fragile in nature than a woman's hand? But put it in her lover's. and what a force it has!

Anomaly of anomalies, with women, fragility, delicacy, dependence, beauty, grace,—it is by these weak weapons that she wins. So,

We watch a demure damsel of some sixteen sunny summers much as we watch a delicate dynamo of some thousand kilowatts.

Both seem so calm, so quiescent. Yet both, we know, can generate such startling energy, can bring about such marvelous results.

* * *

Many women forget that things which men have no objection to their female friends doing they often have a very particular objection to their mothers, sisters, and wives doing. So, too, they often forget that

It is not the girl he flatters, compliments, and is conspicuously attentive to, that the man always marries. Perhaps this goes to show that

There is a deeper and more serious current in the flow of male emotions, which, much as light and fitful breezes may stir the surface, is moved only by, and mingles only, with a similar and confluent stream. For

It is not man's highest instincts that are stimulated by the more superficial of feminine blandishments; though, no doubt, many a man there is has been made permanently captive by their lure. The truth is that

Man is a many-sided creature: he will reflect many different rays; but it is only under the ray that pierces the surface and irradiates the interior that he truly glows.

* * *

Woman does not lean upon man because she is inferior, but rather because she is his supporter; just as

The buttress leans upon the building; but the building would fall without the buttress. That is,

Woman's dependence upon man is his chief source of strength. Those who cannot understand this may be left to their ignorance. * * *

It is not all women who comprehend the exaltation of mind into which some men are thrown by their presence. Indeed,

Men put a higher value upon a woman's complaisance than she does herself. To a women, feminine concession appear trivial. Is it any wonder, then, that

Woman calls man's jealousy unreasonable? In reality,

The affianced man thinks he has gotten him an angel from heaven. It is not within the bounds of mortal male comprehension that such an angel should sully her wings.

* * *

Women know their sex.—Which, if it is a truism, is a truism that men often forget. And

Few things permit a man to see so far into the subtleties and intricacies of feminine hearts as a squabble between two of them over himself.

* * *

A man in defeat generally turns to woman. A woman in defeat is either scornful, silent, or both.

A man, in depression, falls back upon his only weapon: brute force. A woman, in like circumstances, does the same. But her weapon is personal charm.

* * *

In matters amatory and maternal, a woman will risk more than will a man. In fact,

In matters amatory and maternal, woman is the truly combative animal.

* * *

Many are the members of the one sex that are entrapped by the wiles of the other; but it often happens that the entrapper afterwards rues the capture as much as—or even more than—the entrapped. So, it often happens that

Girls who are deliberately seeking husbands think love may be won by artifice. Not until well on in years do

Women know that, by men, love and artifice are considered mortal foes.

To win him a wife by artifice would be to a man a thing impossible and abhorrent: yet

To win her a husband by artifice is to a woman a thing quite natural. But

When (if ever) the man discovers that he was won by artifice, there are apt to be several bad quarters of an hour. For, when all is said and done,

The man, free and easy, thoughtless and untrammeled, knowing he may pick and choose, never chooses till—till—there comes the woman he thinks he wants. Then he says point blank he wants her. Should it ever be revealed to him that his Want was the result of her Artifice, a very different complexion is put upon that Want. On the other hand,

The woman, deprived of the power of choice, trammeled by convention, bound to wait till asked for, quite naturally resorts to artifice. And yet, curiously enough, and a thing incomprehensible by man,

A man whom a woman has won by sheer artifice, she can love to the end of her life. But, after all,

What a refuge, to man, is work—or play! Alas!

Women has no refuge. So,

Men cannot suffer long; women do.

A man flies to work, or sport, or to the gaming-table, or to drink. A woman . . . . . .

He who can tell what a woman does in the sorrow of the soul, will tell us much.

Some women, in sorrow of soul, eat out their hearts in silence; other women, in sorrow of soul, will tell us much. Some women, in sorrow of soul, eat out their hearts in silence; other women, in sorrow of soul, eat out the hearts of others, not in silence. But

Take a taciturn woman seriously. For always

A taciturn woman has suffered much:

A taciturn woman is a lonely one. And probably,

It is only women who really know loneliness:

Give a man a full meal and an outlet for his energy—he is fairly contented; for

A man always has friends or a club; women rarely have either.

* * *

The most superb of physical charms are powerless unless fired by imagination; as the most destructive of explosives is harmless without a cap or a detonator. But,

Given, a detonator, and the coarsest powder can work tremendous havoc.

* * *

What, precisely, will bring a particular man to her feet—that is, par excellence, the feminine problem: and many and various are the experiments by which she tries to resolve it. And,

Few are the men who learn that were won by experiment. For,

Man succumbs to his emotions. He cannot comprehend how it is that

Into feminine emotion, calculation often enters.

* * *

As there are two classes of warriors, so there are two classes of women:

There is the warrior who conquers the world from sheer love of conquest— an Alexander, a Genghis Khan, an Attila, a Napoleon; and there is the warrior who captures a kingdom for the sake of possession—such is your Norman William.

So, there is the woman whom no conquest contents—Aholibah, Cleopatra, Mesalina, Faustine; and there is the woman who is happy with a husband and home—Deborah, Vlmnia, Calpurnia mother of Gracchi.

* * *

One thing, from men, women cannot abide, and this is a hostile and REASONABLE attitude. And naturally, since

It is only man's reason that is hostile to women. And When a man clothes himself with reason as with a garment, woman slinks away. And, quite naturally:

Reason and emotion are mortal foes; and

It is on the field of emotion that the battle of love must be fought. For,

In the battle of love, the woman chooses and entrenches her position; the man has to act on the offensive. But

Only emotion can cope with emotion; reason but beats the air. Wherefore,

A wise man will neither oppose nor appeal to a woman through reason.

* * *

Who can penetrate to the motives of a woman's coaxings? Yet Foolish is the man who questions the motives of a woman's coaxings. Yet

Not to be sure of a woman's coaxings—not upon this side Phlegethon is there a more poignant position.

* * *

In loving one woman a man believes in all women. And

Not till a woman is loved are her finger-tips objects of devoutest worship. On the other hand,

It cannot be said that in loving one man a woman believes in all men. Which little distinction is proof, perhaps, that

Love blinds the eyes of men, but opens the eyes of women. In other words,

Passion obfuscates man's prevision; it does not obfuscate a woman's.

Man gives the rein to passion or ere he knows whither it leads;

A woman gives the rein to passion only after she has found out whither it leads. But when the goal is known, perhaps

Women are more implacable votaries of the Implacable Goddess than are men. That is the say,

A woman keeps her head till she can give her heart, then she gives it utterly;

A man (perhaps because he has no heart) soon enough loses his head. So,

Before the gift, a woman's qualms exasperate the man;

After the gift, the man's indifference exasperates the woman;

* * *

It is folly to think that love and friendship exhaust the varieties of human relationships:—

The relationships between earthly souls are as complex and multiform as those between heavenly bodies.

In one thing does friendship excel love: it is always reciprocal; one friend presupposes another. Not so a lover.

Friendship is largely a masculine sentiment;—except among schoolgirls.

The friendship that exists between a man and a woman should be called by another name. It cannot be wholly Platonic (3); it need not be wholly Dantesque. Yet women generally strive to make it the one; and men often try to make it the other. And yet again,

How many women there be, would, if they could, transmute love into friendship! That is to say,

Women regard a man's friendship as a delicate flattery to themselves; yet they instinctively know, though they try hard to forget, that a man's friendship for a woman is extremely likely to transcend the bounds of friendship.

If only friendship would keep within bounds! How many women deceive themselves into thinking that were devoutly to be wished! Yet probably, as a matter of fact,

The very woman who avers she regrets that your friendship is not mere Platonic, would resent the Platonism did it exist. Possibly not every woman will understand this. Assuredly no woman will admit it. And yet,

It is impossible to conjecture in what an exchange of confidences may terminate: it may be a kiss, or it may be a quarrel. But

Confidences are evoked rather by friendship than by love:

A woman will tell a man friend what she will not tell a lover.

Few lovers will understand this, fewer still will believe it. Yet it is true, and the explication of its truth would be long and complex. This much may be said:

Love idealizes; friendship does not. At the same time,

Love probes the innermost recesses of the womanly nature; and, until the woman is wholly won,

The woman resents the inspection of love. She knows that,

To stimulate love, the woman must conceal, not reveal;

To stimulate love, the woman must conceal, not reveal. Furthermore,

Never was there a man who could be at once friend and lover.

Which is only one more proof that

Never will the sexes understand each other.

(3) I use the word in its purely conventional sense.

* * *

The male was ever the more susceptible sex. And for this reason,

Next to sympathy, flattery is perhaps woman's most effective weapon. And

No masculine shield there is which woman's flattery will not pierce. For

Man—man, alert in the hunt, keen in business, circumspect with his fellows, terrible in war, man is pristine and simple in matters emotional, and an easy prey to emotional wiles. In the long journey of evolution from Amoeba to Man,

The masculine sex has developed muscle and mind;

The feminine sex developed and perfected the emotions. Accordingly,

Man's emotions are the primitive weapons of a savage;

Woman's emotions are arms of precision. Yet

Sometimes woman deplores the unequal contest—perhaps deplores her too-easy victory. Since,

In domestic life, the weapons are laid aside, the pair are then —presumably—unarmed and defenseless. For, though,

A mat has to be won by weapons,

Marriage should be a treaty of peace: thenceforth the combatants are allies.

Many a man, when ensnared, has been amazed at the size of the meshes.

Only a woman knows by what open methods floundering men are captured.

* * *

He who by reasoning thinks to find out woman, must either be a philosopher or a fool—probably both.

Less of a philosopher and more of a fool is he who thinks to extract from woman her reasons for her actions. The woman who can give reasons for an action is yet to be born. The reason is plain:

Women act upon intuition, not upon reason. And

He who could make a logical sorites out of feminine intuitions could make a philosophical system out of nautical almanacs. And yet, probably,

Could we only determine her orbit, a woman's intuitions are as exact as the paths of the planets. Unfortunately,

Such are the perturbations to which a woman's orbit is exposed that no masculine astronomy can construct its ephemeris. Alack, How many anxious star-gazers are there among men! The orbit of the ordinary male man it is not as difficult for a woman to compute, inasmuch as

The ordinary male man revolves unusually about two foci: his Appetites; and his Ambitions.—Which is the major and which the minor . . . . However,

You may trust women to know when he is in peri-and when in aphelion.

Many a spouse has no difficulty in explaining away to her lord actions about the character of which even his initiate friends have no shadow of doubt. For

A woman's perception is preternatural. But no; it is natural enough, since

From the days of the first woman to the days of the New one, love, its wiles and its whims, has been the serious business of woman.

* * *

Women know much better than men that stolen bread is sweetest. In consequence,

Men steal almost everything they get from women.—At least they think they do. Which is the same thing.

* * *

If the sexes were to change places, more marriage licenses would be taken out.

* * *

'Frailty,' says man, 'thy name is woman,'—and then he takes advantage of it.

* * *

At arm's length it is difficult to offer a helping hand. Yet it is hazardous to reduce that distance.

* * *

Neglect is the unpardonable sin in a woman's eyes. Woe to the man who is guilty of it.

* * *

If a woman possessed only a man's tact, what fallings-out there would be!

* * *

Man's summum bonum is to combine a comfortable home with congenial club.

Woman's summum bonum is the almost equally incompatible combination of a well-regulated family and the height of fashionable gaiety.

Man's infinum malum is domestic distraction. Woman's infinum malum is social exile.

* * *

Between man and man, to lay another under pecuniary obligation is to jeopardize friendship. Between man and woman, a like cause brings about an opposite result.

* * *

The man with something of the feminine about him often knows better than his more masculine rivals how to work upon feminine susceptibilities.

* * *

Most women know how much to leave to a man's imagination.—But then, man has not much imagination. Besides,

Man's imagination is always highly complimentary to woman.

* * *

Affinity covereth a multitude of sins.

* * *

To attract sometimes requires temporary repulsion. But

Some women miscalculate their satellite's orbit. With the result that either it rushes on to certain destruction, or it passes beyond the limits of gravitation.

The woman who to one man is no more than the sub-stratum of frock and bonnet, is to another man the centre of gravity of the created cosmos.

When she is such centre to more than one man, her horoscope is difficult to cast.

* * *

When one heart lays siege to another , both sides throw up entrenchments; and this even when both belligerents are ready to negotiate for surrender. But,

Never, never show that you expect capitulation. And

Flank movements are not to be recommended.

* * *

In conversation, the last thing a woman expects from a man is information, unless it be information concerning himself. In fact,

Talk is a mere subterfuge. It is what is left unsaid that tells. Nevertheless,

When once the troth has been plighted, both M and N try to utter what has been left unsaid. But always with indifferent success. Alack and well-a-day,

Can Love ever say what it feels?

* * *

It is difficult to say to which sex it is a greater compliment that widows always prove such successful fascinators. Either they still have a penchant for mankind, despite their intimate acquaintance with him—in which case the men may congratulate themselves; or else they have so completely found men out that they find no difficulty in entrapping them —in which case it is the women's turn to applaud.

* * *

When our feelings are unwittingly hurt by a beautiful woman, the pain is largely tempered by a subtle pleasure, which proceeds from a feeling that, inasmuch as we have been undeservedly pained, we merit her sympathy, perhaps even her affection.

* * *

Women seek not so much man's esteem, as his admiration. In fact,

* * *

Women would rather attract than inspire.—Indeed, (by him who dared) it might be added that

Women would rather be kissed than be sonnetted,—which is mighty lucky for the majority of men!

* * *

The most interesting man or woman is—well, perhaps the one most interested in us.

The least interesting man or woman is—well, perhaps the one most interested in him-or her-self.

* * *

Never fear but that one woman will urge your suit with another (unless, of course, that other is a rival); for

Match-making is one of the most fascinating of feminine avocations.

* * *

When a woman allows it to be understood that she considers herself irresistible to the other sex, she draws upon herself the odium of her own. By the other sex, however, such a woman is very differently regarded. Indeed,

Men regard the avowed coquette not at all with malice, but with a very opposite feeling, of which perhaps amusement, admiration, and a certain amicable defiance are the chief ingredients.

* * *

It is only mountains that are volcanic or are snow-capped; the plains know nothing of extremes of frigidity or fire.

* * *

To the woman whom he has ceased to love, the man is sometimes unconsciously cruel.

Towards the man whom she has ceased to love, the woman commonly acts a part.

* * *

For a woman to humiliate one man in the presence of another is an offence which neither of the men is likely to forget. Nor will the one man have a less unpleasant recollection of it than the other.

* * *

It is curious to listen to the explanations by one woman of the reasons of the attractiveness of another woman. Very apt is she to say that the other woman is too "free and easy", too liberal of her favors, too expansive of her sympathy, too exhibitive of her charms.—Ahem!

Women know women. And

Women know that women know men. And

Women know that men do not know women.—Ahem!—Men in this respect are somewhat different:

A man usually regards not ungenerously the qualities of his successful rival; a woman never. The former will candidly admit the possession of a more potent charm; the latter will trace it to the crudest of causes. In a word,

The unsuccessful man blames, not his rival, nor the women he loses, but himself.

The unsuccessful woman blames, never herself, but either the outrageous meretriciousness of her rival, or the blindness of the man she loses. From which it may once more be deduced that The unsuccessful woman blames, never herself, but either the outrageous meretricousness of her rival, or the blindness of the man she loses. From which it may once more be deduced that Men are won by more primitive means than are women. And, alas for men (alas also for many women),

The majority of men are so blind, so abominably blind, that they cannot distinguish the women who are really in love with them, from the women who pretend to be in love with them, but are not. For because,

So completely do women know men, that it is easy for any woman to delude any man. This is one of the reasons why

Every woman is the rival of every other woman:

This woman will be herself, her own true, simple, and virtuous self; will resort to no subterfuge, adopt no meretricious methods, scorn to rely upon tactics or strategy, be ever reserved, reluctant, shy;—yet fail.

This other woman will openly and blatantly, overtly and unconcernedly, assail the masculine heart with word and look and gesture—and win. —Ach! the purblindess of the masculine heart! how it exasperates even the woman!

* * *

That man has sunk low who cannot recognize and respect the remnant of sex even in a degraded woman.

* * *

Woman can persuade themselves—and men—far more easily than can a man, of the propriety of their actions.

* * *

Man is powerless before an injured woman. He has no more dangerous foe than this.

* * *

It is the man who seeks excuses. The woman braves it out.

* * *

Coquetry is Love's lady's-maid. She is accessory and ancillary to Love; she bedizens Love, she tricks her out in gay apparel.

When Love's lord and master enters, my lady's maid is dismissed. (It might be as well sometimes to recall her.) And

Nudity ousts coquetry.

* * *

Chastity is a word with as many shades of meaning as there are peoples —perhaps as there are individuals—upon the face of this habitable world.

Women think chastity is a virtue primarily insisted upon and enforced by men. They mistake. 'T is a virtue primarily insisted upon and enforced by women: For

When that divine, unique thing Love comes to a woman, if she be not chaste, it is she who deplores the fact. The man may easily enough be deceived; her own heart a woman can never deceive. Besides,

With what righteous indignation women themselves visit unchastity!

* * *

Between the sexes, resentment is the worst of defensive weapons: in the hands of a man it is like a cow-hide shield opposed to Mauser bullets; in the hands of a woman, like a parasol on a cloudy day. Since

Woman penetrates resentment by ridicule; man treats it with dull indifference. And

A snub from a woman is never forgotten. And for two reasons: because

(a) The lord of creation hates to be floored by the jiu-jitsu of feminine raillery; and because

(b) The last thing a man expects from a "ministering angel" is mundane mockery. Besides,

Deliberate derision murders, not only affection, but admiration.

* * *

A blush needs no apologies. (Why? Because

Always a blush is spontaneous, uncontrollable; and

If there is any one thing a man likes to see, it is a spontaneous, an uncontrollable action in woman.)

When the man has declared himself hers and hers alone; has given proof of the truth of such declaration; has bound the woman to himself by terms dictated by herself then, but not till then, the woman acts spontaneously and without control; then she blushes. But

Seek not, impulsive masculine lover, to explore too many of the mysteries of this thy feminine helpmeet. Perchance she feels herself so much above thee that she blushes to give the herself. Perchance she regards thee so much a symbol of the god-like, that she blushes for because she is not more worthy. But far more probably she blushes for because she betrays to thee a mortal, a divine and cosmic secret. For

There is a divine and cosmic secret hidden beneath every blush.

* * *

Ah! man, man, peccant, impulsive, passionate man, little knowest thou of the divine and cosmic secret that underlies Love.

To thee, O man, it may be, 't is a momentary flash that irradiates the world, and reveals for a moment a sky above that world;

To thee, O woman, 't is the reverberating thunder that, echoing, rolls for ever after unceasing in thy ears. Is this why,

Between a man and a woman, a single look will sometimes change the complexion of an intimacy of a life-time? And

Not until that look comes—not until eyes look into eyes with a penetration supernatural—is acquaintanceship metamorphosed into love.

* * *

It is a favorite fiction amongst women that a rejected suitor either will not marry or marries the first girl he meets. Because,

To marry another woman after having offered inalienable and unalterable fidelity to one, would otherwise be a blow to "amour propere". And yet, strangely enough, or perhaps not so strangely,

This is a fiction but rarely maintained with regard to her own cardiac transportations. And for this reason:—

Woman is, and knows herself to be, a multiple personality;

Man, a tyro in emotions, is cast in a simpler mould. So,

A woman may donate herself piecemeal, or over and over again, yet deem herself perfectly loyal.—And perhaps naturally and legitimately; for,

That man who will comprehend and appreciate all the intricacies of feminine emotion . . . . . . . but there is no such being existent. Indeed even

Self-revelation is a task no daughter of Eve has achieved.

* * *

To sum up: between men and women

The consummation of love is a bodily oblation, the outcome of spiritual obsession.—Must I explain this? No, I shall not. Suffice it to say that

The Heavenly Aphrodite is true friend to the Earthly.(4) So

Nothing offends love; since love finds in all that savors of the mortal only a symbol and epitome of the supernatural. And

There is in Love a cosmic force and secret incomprehensible, incommunicable by man.

Is not, after all, Love the one supreme and significant fact of the cosmos: indelible, indecipherable: efflorescing in Man; emerging from the material; idealizing the carnal; pointing to an inscrutable, a spiritual goal? Can it be that

If we could explain Love, we should explain the cosmos? What if we could explain why it is that no one single isolated portion of the cosmos can live alone—and vaunt itself in itself sufficient—(5), but must seek some other single and isolated portion of the cosmos in order that that very cosmos shall continue, shall evolve, shall go towards its goal . . . Do we put our finger here upon some curious and recondite cosmic fact utterly transcending our mean comprehension?

(4) Cf. Plato, Symposium, 180 et seq.

(5) S.T. Coleridge, "Lectures on Shakespeare".

* * *



X. On Jealousy

". . . la jalousie . . . monster odieux." —Moliere

'Ware jealousy as you would 'ware wire: for it no psychiater has yet discovered a balm.

* * *

To make an experiment of jealousy is to make a very hazardous experiment indeed.

* * *

Jealousy is no proof of love, for

Often jealousy is but rancor under a sense of humiliation. Indeed,

Jealousy is a sign of weakness:

The lover whose self-confidence assures him of his pre-eminence fears no rival. Yet

Male self-confidence is peculiarly vulnerable where women be concerned, since,

As no man knows what it is appeals to a woman, he does not know on what to pride himself:

Even an Othello is jealous of even an Iago. Yet

It is only the spectators who see the folly of Othello. Desdemonas usually are helpless as they are oblivious.

* * *

The illicitly favored lover is never jealous of the husband; but of another illicitly favored lover, how jealous he is. But

Jealousy, like modesty, and like virtue, varies with every time and clime: what is customary in Cairo would rouse consternation in Kent, and what goes on in Vienna shocks New England. So,

How the husband favored lover differs also with every time and clime: here he is mulcted in damages, there he is shot down, in a third place he is tolerated.

How the woman thinks her husband should treat the illicitly favored lover —that you shall never find out.

* * *

The edacity of jealousy is unappeasable:

A wronged lover, in his pain, looks for more pain to bear: like a martyr in an ecstasy, he cries out for further tortures. In love one always sees higher unreachable heights; in jealousy always deeper unreachable depths. And

There is no wound but leaves its cicatrix.

* * *

Mistrust an unexpected change of front. So,

Does your erstwhile frowning lady smile? "cherchez l'homme", or la femme. Since

To arouse jealousy in another feminine breast is sometimes the motive of feminine complaisance. Indeed,

Few women can forgo an opportunity of arousing jealousy, whether in a feminine or in a masculine breast.—Bethink thee of this little fact, O man, when next thy lady comports herself thee wards ultra-graciously.

To see the girl of thy heart—even if so be she not thine, nor not nearly thine—comport herself with another as she does with thee—ah! that gives a twinge to the masculine heart. Nay, lesser things than this will perturb this irascible organ: that the other should admire her charms—that she should accept such admiration. . . .. yet what cares she that these discomfort a man? For

A man's discomfiture is naught to a woman. In sooth,

Take a woman to task for her conduct, and with how soft an answer she will turn away your wrath, how deftly make light of your rival's advances!

* * *

Man, when he has won him a woman, is, in his great greed of possession, infinitely chagrined that he was not master of her past as of her present and future.—This goes by the name of "la jalousie retrospective".

* * *

Women never know quite how to regard a man's jealousy. It flatters her, yet it pains her. She is the cause of it, yet she would believe it causeless. She deplores it, yet she would not have it quite away. It is proof of love, yet it is fatal to love. How to treat it, puzzles her. Implicit obedience to the man's wishes lowers her in her own eyes, and, consequently, so she thinks, in his. Yet so rabid is the emotion, she fears to provoke it too far. It places her in a quandary. She never knows what will evoke it; she never knows what course it will run: whether it will cement her lover's affections, or whether it will dissipate them forever.

It is love's most dangerous foe, and it is dangerous because it is insidious. If there is any one thing that puts a woman's wits to the test, it is a man's jealousy.

* * *

The sheerest and most insensate folly a man can commit towards a woman is to let her know that another woman is cognizant of her jealousy of her. He may give the latter a very keen pleasure; but he gives the former a very keen pang. For

The cause of jealousy a woman may condone; the divulgence of her jealousy she will never forgive.

* * *

What irritates a jealous man is the actions that cause his jealousy;

What irritates a jealous woman is the person who is the cause of her jealousy. In other words,

A jealous swain upbraids his mistress;

A jealous mistress objurgates her rival.

* * *



XI. On Kisses and Kissing

"Sag mir, wer einst das Kussen efrund? Das war ein gluhend glucklicher Mund; Er kusste und dachte Nichts daberi." —Heine

Many are the varieties of kisses; as many, probably, as the varieties of kisses; as many, probably, as the variety of lips—and of the owners thereof. And

A kiss may mean so very much—or so very little. Wherefore

Look not upon the lips when they are red;—for although A kiss is a small thing, so is a spark. And always, though

A smile is an open window, a kiss is an open door.

Strange—strange—that from the momentary contact of lip with lip, an infinitesimal surface of epithelial tissue, there an be called up from the deeps of the soul emotions strange as deep; emotions vague and thrilling; emotions to the which to give utterance those lips are themselves all powerless. And

When to the conjoined lips there is added the bliss of an up-turned eye and embracing arms . . . . . Ah! well-a-day,

There are Edens for us still, if only we will eat not of the forbidden fruit.

* * *

The value of a kiss is determined by the personage on whom it is bestowed, not by the from whom it is besought: which, if it needs any explanation, means this, that

It is the man who ardently desires the kiss that puts the value upon that kiss, not the woman of whom it is desired. Yet women know that,

As with commodities, so with kissings, the greater the rarity, the greater the vale.

Osculatory transactions there be as lasting in their results as transient in their causes.

* * *

A cheek surreptitiously brushed in the dark is preferable to lips premittedly pressed by day.

* * *

What an extraordinary multiplicity of maneuvers a man will perform for "Just one kiss!" But

With the precise numerical equivalent of the expression "Just one kiss" algebra has not yet been found quite able to grapple. It is believed, however, to belong to Permutations and Combinations.

There is a very decided, but wholly indefinable, line of demarcation between the kissed and the unkissed woman. In other words,

The "status quo ante exosculationem" can never be re-established: hitherto the kisses may have been friends; henceforward they may be. . . they may be . . . . . . But

Who shall say to what kissing may lead? Besides,

Much more kissing than is supposed goes by purchase than by favor. All which, probably, will be Greek to the uninitiated. Nevertheless, and at all times, and in all places,

A kiss is like faith: it is "the evidence of things not seen, the substance of things hoped for."

* * *

How appalling the immensity of the results due to the minutest of causes —a burning city from a lighted match; a life-long tragedy from a stolen kiss! In truth,

Fate is often another name for Folly.

* * *

A woman who is afraid of a kiss knows much. Amongst other things, perhaps, that

Kisses, like misfortunes, rarely come singly—and bear many things in their train.

* * *

Despite the varieties of beards and mustachios, never will you hear from your osculatrix the source of her knowledge of that variety.

If by any chance the divulgence leaks out—how the girl beshrews the mischance! For, though the man may hold his peace, she knows that she gives him to think.

* * *

It takes two to make a quarrel. Yes: and it takes two to make the reconciliating kiss.

* * *



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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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!

* * *

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".

* * *

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.

* * *

An engaged man, like a hungry man, is an irascible man. And How often a fiancee is sore put to it, not only to satisfy him, but to pacify him!

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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

* * *



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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

It would be difficult, sometimes, to determine whether constancy was an autogenous or enforced virtue.

* * *

Never play pranks with your wife, your horse, or your razor.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

Chemists draw a distinction between a chemical and a mechanical mixture. Moralists might discover the same in marriage.

* * *

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.

* * *

Marriage renders no one immune. That is to say;

Unless husband and wife both avoid infection, both can catch amatory fevers.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

* * *

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.

In no amatorial contract, probably, is it possible to include or to enumerate all the hereditaments, messuages, or appurtenances, involved. Certainly

How great so ever the community of interest, M and N remain for ever M and N.

Is there not always something in the "eternal feminine" which cannot quite coalesce with the ephemeral masculine? Probably,

Trust your wife with your purse, and seven times out of ten it will grow heavy.

* * *

Many a woman, by man, is accepted at her face value.

Many a man, by woman, is taken on trust. It is difficult to tell whether

More bad debts are contracted by giving credit than by taking at face value. For

The promissory note of marriage is undated and unendorsed. But

Children act as collateral security.

* * *

How often a girl, even an affianced girl, accustomed to a multiplicity of admirers, forgets the man of her ultimate choice she must then and there set above all other claimants!

If the man the woman chooses for husband does not stand in her estimation absolutely first and all other claimants nowhere there is bound sooner or later to be trouble. For

No man will play second fiddle to any body or any thing; and

The realm amatory is a monarchial, not a republican, one. In all realms, there must be a ruler, whether elected or hereditary.

Always a divided sway results in schism, whether in the family or in the state. And although

Often enough the wife proves herself the more effective Sovereign, the forms of monarchy must be conceded to the man, even though the executive is left to the woman.

* * *

How often the only breast to which one can go on to "rain out the heavy mist of tears" is the one inhibited!

* * *

Two wills are not so easily blended into one as that the task may be left to Cupid. Yet,

Unless Cupid has a hand in blending two wills, it is bound to be a sorry business at best.

Always and in all wedlock there comes a time when will conflicts with will.

If both wills are inflexible, one must break—or both will fly apart. But

Love and tact will relieve many a strain. Though sometimes one discovers that

Human eyes have a certain store of tears. It is not difficult to weep them all away. However,

In the final rupture between man and wife, it is the children that turn the scales. But, O ye young husbands and wives, remember that

Youth regards the whole world as its friend; age finds itself desolate in the midst of friends. Wherefore,

O youth, cleave unto the wife of thy bosom; since

A loving wife is worth a multitude of friends.

Sweet are friends, and fame is sweet; but sweeter far a wifely heart whereon to lay a weary head. But

Each married pair must solve its own difficulties as best it can. If any advice were worth the offering, it would be this:

O ye Husbands, and O ye Wives, if not for your own sakes then for your children's, lead a straight, clean, honorable life; any other sort of life leads to despicability, to dismalness, to disaster.—Which only means, after all, that

In the marriage relation, as in every relation—the social, the industrial, the commercial, the political—it is conduct, it is character, that counts, nothing else;

Beauty—Wealth—Culture—Grace—Wit—Intellect—Sprightliness— Vivacity—Humor—these are much but they are simply naught, and less than naught, when just this simple, single, yet insatiable thing called Man wants to live amicably, affectionately, martially, with that simple, single, but incomprehensible thing called Woman.

Character—Conduct—rule the world, the Matrimonial equally with the Municipal.

* * *



XIV. On this Human Heart

"The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; who can know it?" —Holy Writ

It does not take much to make two hearts beat faster than one.

* * *

The heart can deceive itself when it cannot deceive another.—Which will be cold comfort to some lovers, though it may console others.

* * *

To admit a sacred visitant into the inner recesses of the human heart, those recesses must be neat indeed. Remember, too, that you can

Never expect an angel to act as a charwoman; the sweeping must be done by the owner. Lastly,

Unless each heart is permitted access to the other, their union is fictitious, perhaps perilous.—Explain these tropes who can.

* * *

No man can tell to whom a woman's heart belongs; not even the man who calls the woman "his". And

Let no man imagine that when he has won him a woman, he has won him a woman's heart. Since,

Sometimes a woman will give her heart to one man and her troth to another. Besides,

Many a heart is hard to read—especially if it is a palimpsest. Indeed, many are illegible to their owners. Nevertheless, That the woman should not know her own heart (as so often happens) terrifies the woman as much as it exasperates the man. Yet,

That must be a curious love that causes the heart to hesitate. And yet,

Many a man has debated for months whether to propose or not; and sometimes a woman will accept on a Friday the man that she refused point-blank of a Tuesday. But perhaps,

Where the heart hesitates, it is not so much a case of love as a case of convenience. For,

An overwhelming love leaves the heart of either doubt or debate. But alas,

The human heart seems to be an anatomical engine of such intricate and delicate mechanism that its workings are uncontrollable even by its owner.

Is a constant heart as hard a thing to manufacture in the world of life as is an immobile thing in the world of matter? And matter, so they say, is immobile only at absolute zero—when bereft of even molecular motion: a thing impossible to produce, and which to produce would require incalculable pressure and almost incalculable cold.

(Is there no chemical formula for fixing the impression of the heart?)

Who really held Burns his heart in thrall, Nelly Fitzpatrick or Mary Campbell or Ellison Begbie or Margaret Chalmers or Charlotte Hamilton or Jenny Cruikshank or Anne Park or Jean Armour or Mrs. Whelpdale or Mrs. Agnes McLehose? and who the heart of Goethe,—Gretchen or Kitty Shonkopf or Frederica Brion or Charlotte Buff or Lily Shonemann or the Countess Augusta or Charlotte van Stein or Bettina Brentano or Mariana von Willemer—or his wife, Christina Vulpius?

However, whether it is a provision of Nature, or whether it is due to the perversity of Man, probably the feminine heart is far more constant than the masculine, and perhaps any one of Goethe's or of Burns his inamoratas would have clung to him had he been faithful to her. And yet,

Would you have had Shelley stick to Harriet Westbrooke? and how shall one interpret his feelings for Amelia Viviani? What would have happened if Keats had lived and married Fanny Brawne—she who flirted with somebody else while he was sick and did not even know that he was a poet? Yet she was an inspiration to Keats, as Mary Godwin (and Amelia Viviani) were to Shelley (1). Ought Byron to have said 'No' to Claire or Lady Caroline Lamb or the Countess Guiccioli or any one of the many maids and matrons that besieged his heart? Could anything have kept Rosina Wheeler and Bulwer Lytton side by side,—Rosina Wheeler to whom, before marriage, Lytton could find write, "Oh, my dear Rose! Where shall I find words to express my love for you?" and to whom, after marriage, he wrote, "Madam, The more I consider your conduct and your letter, the more unwarrantable they appear"?

God in heaven! what a pitiful game it all is! And alas! as George Sand says, "All this, you see, is a game that we are playing, but our heart and life are the stakes, and that has an aspect which is not always pleasing." (2)

(1) See the Dedication of "The Revolt of Islam" (and see the "Epipsychidion").

(2) Letter to Alfred de Musset.

* * *

Many a man's heart has been treated as a football. Yes; but many a woman's heart has been treated as a shuttlecock.

* * *

Human beings there are—both men and women—out of whom, at a mere touch, virtue seems to go: converse with them is stimulating; contact enthralling. And yet,

Powerful as physical or as mental attraction may be, permanently to retain the attracted object requires a profounder force. Perhaps, though,

Beauty and grace and brilliancy may attract; it is only something far more deep-seated that retains. In other words,

Charm of body and mind may appeal to body and mind; only the heart appeals to the heart. Those who know not this, and they are

Many, permit the heart to leak through the senses; with the result that, when demands are made upon the heart, that cistern is found to have run dry. So,

To philanderers and to flirts, when a great and true love comes, they do not comprehend it, and they cannot appreciate it. Wherefore,

Would-be lover, keep thy heart intact until it be required of thee.

* * *

You need not imagine that, because you have once been permitted to see some way down into a human heart, that you will necessarily ever again be so permitted.

* * *

Hard words break no bones. But they often break hearts.

* * *

Drink is too often the refuge of the masculine, and a rich husband the refuge of the feminine, broken heart.

* * *

Extreme youth thinks the world is a toyshop—where anything may be had for the asking; old age regards it as a museum—where nothing may be touched.

* * *

No heart, under repeated temperings, can remain forever keen. And

As a little body sometimes has a very big pain; so an aching heart wonders that it can bear so much. And

What takes place in the quiet deeps of a troubled heart, who shall know?

* * *

The way to the heart is not through the head:

Between heart and heart, there are many channels. But three are in universal use: the eyes, the lips, and the finger-tips. Now the greatest of these is the eyes.

* * *

The masculine heart will never wholly understand the feminine, nor the feminine the masculine. (O the pity o' it!) And yet, after all,

The human heart is much more the same, whether it beats under a cuirass or under a corset.

Between the masculine heart and the feminine, perfect frankness is perhaps of questionable import. But why? It is difficult to say. Perhaps because

The aspirations and desires of the human heart are infinite and unappeasable. To attempt to formulate them is to frustrate them. For

It is as impossible for any two human hearts, as it is impossible for any two material things, to occupy the same space. Especially when we remember that

Between the masculine heart and the feminine is a great gulf fixed. Nay, rather

From youth to age, each human heart seems unwittingly to build about itself a high and ever higher-growing wall, impenetrable, indelapidable, not to be scaled by the look or speech or gesture. Never can heart coalesce with heart. And yet

The absolute and intimate coalescence of heart with heart—is not this, after all, the consummation that every lover seeks? To attempt that consummation by mere speech, it is this that is of questionable import. Since

Between heart and heart, speech is the paltriest of channels.

What a thin—yet what an invisible and impenetrable—film separates those two worlds: the one, that of the visible, audible, and tangible, the world of chatter and laughter, of convention, often of make-believe; and the other, the world of deep and voiceless emotions, of the feelings which know not how to give themselves utterance, of affections which crave so much and are so impotent to say or to seek what they crave! It is like a layer of ice separating the hidden and soundless deeps from the aerial world of noise and motion.—What would not one heart give to break the icy crust and see and know what was really passing in another? —And how often we drown if we do break through!

The isolation of the individual human heart is complete. It is the most pathetic past in the universe, and it is that against which the individual human heart rebels most.

There must be some profound and cosmic problem underlying this fact which no philosophy—and no religion—can solve. That it is pathetic seems to prove it temporary, earthly, a matter of time and space; but, when will the individual human heart coalesce with the Heart of the Universe— which, perhaps, is the goal of all Life? For

It may be that these little terrestrial human individuals which we call men and women are after all only tiny and temporary centers of conscious activity in an ocean of infinite consciousness; as atoms are but tiny and temporary centers of energy in an ocean of infinite ether. Could we see the sum total of Supreme and Infinite Consciousness at a glance, perhaps individual men and women would dissolve into a mighty unity, could see and comprehend the whole of the luminiferous ether. Well, perhaps

Love is the only known means by which the individual heart can make any expansion whatsoever beyond its own bounds. Yet, alas! Nothing seems to break down the barriers of sense. The human heart beats its ineffectual wings in vain against the walls of its fleshly tabernacle. Will nothing unite the Boy and the Girl? Will nothing bring the Man and the Woman really together? Yet the Boy thinks that, were the Girl wholly his, he and she would be happy; and the Man thinks that, were the Woman and he to share every thought and every emotion, he and she would want naught else. Is the amalgamation impossible? Is the coalescence of thought and feeling outside the bounds of human possibility? What, then, impels mankind to crave it, to attempt it, to sacrifice so much for it?—There is a cosmic puzzle here with which nor philosophy nor psychology nor religion has yet attempted to grapple.

After all, pitiful as it may be, lamentable as it may be, it is true, and it must be said, that this human heart of ours goes through life hungry, very hungry and unappeased. For what it hungers, what it has missed, whereto it looks for sustenance, it itself does not know. Thus,

This feminine heart sighs without ceasing for because that other masculine heart upon which it staked all its all, and an all that meant so much, proved callous and indifferent;

That masculine heart ceases not to curse itself for resorting to such hasty and violent methods by which to obtain for itself an ephemeral and passing pleasure;

This feminine heart eats out its life with remorse for because it gave itself so unthinkingly when asked; though of a survey it thought that asking was a thing prompted by impulses as noble as they seemed divine; and

That masculine heart, when the tidal wave of heated passion has subsided, wonders how it was led captive by lures so deceptive and untried.

M regrets, and regrets in vain, that he did not await a purer and more permanent passion; and

N chews for a life-time the cud of persistent remorse for an hour's poignant pleasure.

Ach! this human heart knows nothing of itself nor anything of its fellow beating hearts. If it follows its bent, it is cracked; if it holds itself in leash, it aches. If it calls reason to aid, its soaring hopes are dashed, its romance spoiled, and it itself reduced to the level of a machine that calculates. If it acts on impulse and, meeting a heart that beats, so it thinks, in unison, unites itself with it, often enough that other soon palpitates to a different rhythm, or itself cannot keep time, and all things go awry.

Poor aching, beating, human heart! It cannot reason; it cannot count the cost. To it seems that impulse, divine and mighty impulse, is the sole law of the earth; in time it learns that impulse, the mightiest, the divinest, though it may be law in heaven, is sometimes a veritable nemesis on earth: it gives freely, gladly, without compunction; it finds the gift rewarded by consequences too pitiful for tears.

Alas, this human heart! Can no one advise it Is there no advice will help it? Must it always go wrong, and always suffer?—Well, —If one loves, one dare not reason; if one reasons, it is difficult to love.

* * *

There seems to be something cosmic, something transcending the bounds of the visible and tangible universe, in the desires and cravings of this same human heart; this little human heart beating blindly beneath a waistcoat or a blouse. Its owner is little bigger than a beetle or an ant, and the habitat of that owner is a speck in space; a pygmy in comparison with Sirius or Arcturus, and invisible from the ultra-telescopic confines of vision.

What it makes the desires and cravings of this human heart more important, more importunate, to its owner than the measuring of the vastest space? Why is it that the longings, the hopes, the disappointments, the desperate aspirations, and the passionate loves of little human hearts should cause to their possessors such prepotent commotions, such poignant qualms? Rigel and Betelgeuse and Algol rush through space, and about them probably circle numerous planets inhabited by countless and curious beings, each and all, perhaps, possessing hearts as perturbable as our own. And yet, if our own little earthly Jack cannot get our own little earthly Jill, what cares Jack what happens to Vega or Capella or to the great nebula in Orion? Jack wants Jill; and that want is to Jack the only thing in the sidereal heavens that matters.

The curious and perhaps semi-comical but wholly-pathetic thing about the whole matter is this: that though undoubtedly our little planet is part of and has a place in this great sidereal universe, and consequently all our Jacks and Jills are related to all the Jacks and Jills everywhere else, yet each little human heart behaves as it were the only heart in the sum-total of created things: if it enjoys, it calls upon all that is, to congratulate it; if it suffers, it cries aloud to high heaven to avenge its wrongs: it comports itself as if it and it alone were the only sensitive things in existence.—That is curious. That it wrongs may have been wrought by itself; that is fate may have been determined in the reign of Chaos and Old Night, or ere even cosmic nebulae were born, it does not dream: if Jill is indifferent or Jack morose,—either is enough to cause Jack or Jill to curse God and die. Is there some archetypal and arcanal secret in this the extreme, the supernal egoism of the human heart?

Of all of which, what is the moral?—Humph! Frankly, I do not know what is the moral. Only this I see: that each little heart creates its own little universe: the bee's, the that of its hive and the fields; man's, that of his earth and the stars. What may be above or beyond the stars, man no more knows than the bee knows what is beyond the fields. The heart—be it man's or a bee's—is the centre of its self-made sphere. Some day, perhaps, man's sphere will extend as far beyond the stars as today it extends beyond the fields. Then—who knows?—perhaps unlimited senses and an uncircumcised intellect may find themselves commensurate with this high-aspiring heart, and an emancipated and ecstatic Jack unite with a congenial Jill.

That there is a Universe, is apparent; that it is one and complete, we suppose; that there are in it Jacks and Jills, is indubitable; that these Jacks and Jills crave mutual support, sympathy, love, friendship, wifehood, sistership, companionship, brotherhood, is also indubitable. If therefore the whole scheme of the Universe is not a farce, what does this craving of Love for Lover mean? And yet,

THE END