LOVE.
Delicacy of the topic. Love, how regarded. As a Mystery. Burns'
lament. As an Illusion. An Impulse. A Weakness. A Disease.
Romantic views of Love. A Fatalism. "Matches made in Heaven."
Some say, "Love can be Suppressed." Associated with Lower
Propensities. A theme for Jesting and Sport. Quotation, shewing
its holy nature. The mind not to dwell constantly upon it.
In approaching the topic named at the head of this chapter, I am by no
means insensible of its difficulties and its delicacy. But no one can
contemplate its bearings on the happiness of woman, without feeling that
a work, treating of her duties and prospects, in which this subject is
studiously avoided, must be regarded as essentially defective. It is the
remark, I think, of Madam de Stael, that "love, which is but an episode
in the life of man, is the whole history of woman." Without subscribing
to this opinion in full, we must still contend that the destiny of her
affections is to her a theme of vital interest. She cannot but reflect
much upon it; and since her views may affect so deeply her ultimate
decision in reference to a matrimonial connection, is he a true friend
who fails to give her all the light, and counsel, and guidance in his
power, on this point?
It is well known that not a few among the insane of this sex have been
made so by their erroneous ideas relative to the exercise of the
affections. I may be pardoned for adverting, in this place, to some of
the many and various views entertained in regard to the sentiment of
love.
One considers it a Mystery, something with which the understanding has
no concern, and which is never to be reasoned upon, although we may
exercise that prerogative on all other subjects. Hence, according to the
Roman mythology, Amor, the God of love, is represented as blind-folded.
His arrows inflict wounds, it is said, of which the sight can take no
cognizance. The language of the poet records the bitter experience of
woman, often consequent on this delusive impression:
"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so _blindly_,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted."
The opinion under consideration is egregiously erroneous. Woe to her who
abandons the helm of judgment, in forming that connection, which is to
decide her whole fortune for life. Ill-fated must she be, who concludes
that the head and heart must be divorced, before she can experience
that sentiment, which binds human souls in the sacred tie of marriage.
Another believes love to be an Illusion. She thinks it a subject fit
only for the fevered imagination of the poet, or for tales of fiction
and romance. With the realities of life it has no concern. In this
plain, matter-of-fact, working-day world, there is no room, she thinks,
for this creature of the brain. Therefore does she determine to fortify
herself against its approaches. Others may pursue the phantom, if they
will, but she is resolved to be never so cheated, as to "fall in love"
with a man.
The enthusiast may subject herself to severe disappointments, and may
find ultimately that the husband she loved and married, under the sway
of the blind god, falls far short of that mysteriously exalted being she
deemed herself connected with for life. But far more to be deplored is
her fate, who entered the matrimonial state with the Stoical faith that
love was all an "illusion." What sympathy can those, thus joined, but
not wedded, feel in the season of sorrow? How little will they share, or
even imagine, those joys which spring up between hearts that have been
pledged, exchanged, and cemented.
There are those, who regard love as of necessity a mere Impulse; a thing
not subject in any wise to human control, but fitful, an outbreaker, a
tyrant. They can govern other emotions and sentiments. Anger, envy,
jealousy, resentment, pride, they believe capable of being moderated, if
not wholly suppressed. But love is lawless. Its mandates must be obeyed,
and that instantly; they may not be opposed, no, not even questioned.
Who has not seen some young woman of talent and virtue sacrifice herself
to this mistaken impression? The plume of the soldier, the gay air of
the debauchee, the flippant beau, the half-insane tippler, could she not
have seen her doom in being affianced to one of these poor pageants of
humanity? Ah, but "she loved; she could not help loving;" she gave
herself a victim at the profane shrine, because she always thought she
must love where and whom, her unbidden, irresponsible, feelings should
direct her to love.
There are others, who deem this sentiment a Weakness. If a lady find
herself inclined to it, she should at once strive to subdue it. Much as
one, whose face is marked by disease or accident, would fain conceal the
blemish, so would she hide, even from a mother or sister, any experience
of affection for a particular individual. Love is, in her view, a thing
to be ashamed of, an infirmity, which, if one have not power wholly to
escape, she should yet lock with eternal secrecy in her own bosom.
Now I ask, why should we blush for emotions, of which the God of nature
implanted the germs within us? Is it weak to indulge a sentiment so
productive of happiness as this, so essential to the wellbeing of the
holiest bond on earth? Love is not a folly; in its purity, it is a
noble, unselfish thing, the inspirer and friend of moral excellence.
When I see a young woman pining over a hidden grief, which might have
been spared, had she imparted her feelings to a friend; when I witness
the mental powers tried, and at length overcome, by the struggles of a
pent-up fire in the soul, I lament the sad error, to which these
mournful consequences can be so directly traced. Why, if the object,
especially, of her affection deserve and requite it, why should she bury
it as a weakness in her soul? The cases are very rare, in which there is
no one to whom a secret of this description may with propriety, and
ought, to be frankly confided. The peril lies in concealment.
Some esteem love a Disease. They look upon her, who indulges it, as in
an unsound condition. It is as if a member of the body were amputated,
or maimed. The individual, on whom its visitations have been inflicted,
is an object of compassion. Hence its approaches are actually dreaded.
She who entertains this theory, instead of receiving cordially the
advances of a gentleman, even a favorite, shrinks from the thought of
it, and repels the intimations of any special attention on his part.
Is this well? Is it right so to deal with a sentiment common to the sex?
Were it a disease, we should form exceptions to the rule. But since it
is so almost universally experienced, why should one avert it from the
heart? She who does this, misinterprets the human constitution. Let her
study the purposes of Providence, and no more will she refuse the
admission of this sentiment, when circumstances justify its
encouragement, than she will decline taking food, lest it cause sickness
and death. The laws of nature, she will see, extend over the spirit, no
less than the body.
There are not a few who cherish Romantic ideas concerning the
affections. They regard "marriage," in the words of another, "as an
occasion to be preceded by fears, and hopes, and love's stratagems, by
love-letters, passionate vows, sudden crosses, and intense joys." It is
to transform the individual subject to its power, to fill her with
sensations, which she cannot now even imagine. With this transcendental
view of that passion, a young woman is likely to conclude that, for
herself, she shall never see the person whom she can love. No angelic
being, in human form, will ever cross her path, and therefore she shall
always remain single. Anon she dreams of going into a nunnery,--"to pine
away and die."
Now we cannot too early set about correcting these false imaginings and
vain expectations. Poets may sing of love as convulsing the frame, and
rending the heart, and transmuting a human sentiment into divine
extasies. But in the sober experience of life, such rapturous emotions
are exceedingly rare. Indeed all the deep feelings of our nature are
tranquil. It is the shallow stream only, which dashes, and sparkles, and
deafens us by its noise. If you ever know the power of genuine love, you
will find it as calm as it is intense. It will be in harmony with your
other pure sentiments. Never will it subjugate, and tyrannize over, and
do violence to, your whole nature.
We have seen those,--and we suspect they belong to a numerous
class,--who conceive that true love is attended by a Fatalism. It is
first assumed, that every one must love some individual of the opposite
sex. A necessity is laid on us all, it is thought, to bestow the
affections in marriage. The question may not so much as be raised, "Is
it certain that I shall ever meet with one to whom I can give my heart?"
No, woman was made to love and to be married, that is her unalterable
destiny. All that is to occupy her thoughts in this respect, is, "Who
shall the individual be, on whom I must place my affections?"
This opinion is surely erroneous. For Providence has so arranged the
circumstances of human life and of society, that some females are
absolutely precluded from forming the matrimonial connection.
Ill-health,--to name no other cause,--sometimes positively debars one
from this relation. There are abundant reasons, indeed, for which every
one, ordinarily situated, should contemplate marriage. It is the design
of our physical and moral constitution, and the spring of unsullied
enjoyments, social and spiritual; and no one should voluntarily exclude
herself from this bond, save for imperious considerations. Yet let no
young woman predetermine that hers may not be an exception to the
general law. The inquiry should at least arise in her mind, "May I not
be of those, whose usefulness and happiness do not absolutely require
their entering the marriage state?"
But our friend thinks there is a fatalism not only in regard to her
marriage, but in reference to the particular companion, with whom she
must be associated for life. "Matches are made," say some, "in Heaven."
Prudence has no concern with this matter. A young woman fixes her
affections on some individual, and believes that it is decreed she
should love and should marry him. If circumstances appear unpropitious
to their intimacy, she is perfectly wretched. And this, not simply
because she loves him so ardently, but because she believes a decree of
Heaven will be violated, if their union fail of consummation. "Our
presentiments," it is said "often work their own fulfilment." I cannot
doubt, that, in the formation of the marriage bond, at least, they often
do, and that with the saddest results.
What an idea is this, if one will steadily contemplate it. That the
heart is not subject, in the slightest degree, to our dominion? That we
must love, and love, too, one whom perhaps accident alone threw in our
way! Are you, indeed, obliged by a physical or moral necessity, to marry
this person, because he is an inmate of your father's household, or
because you were both born in the same village, or because he has
something in his countenance that tells you,--before a word has been
exchanged between you,--that he must be your lover, and your husband?
The picture needs but be presented one moment before a calm,
dispassionate eye, to force on us the conviction that, if in any human
transaction we are free to accept, and free to reject the offers of
another, we are clearly so in this.
There are those who, passing to the opposite extreme, entertain the
opinion that love is a sentiment, not only subject to human control,
but capable of being entirely suppressed. They deem it altogether
optional with themselves, whether they shall know anything of the
affection between the sexes, or not.
Did this notion extend only to the relative power of the sexes, or the
direction we may give to our hearts, it would be less objectionable. For
doubtless love, though more essential to woman than to man, can be more
easily controlled by her than by him. A person of a strong will may
bring herself, for prudential considerations, to prefer in marriage one
who will be "a good match" with her, as the phrase is, to another whom
she sincerely loves. And she may succeed in subduing, to no ordinary
degree, her affection for the rejected one. But to eradicate from the
heart the powerful principle of love is not given, I believe, to woman.
She may substitute another object for that which ought to have engaged
this class of her affections. A mother, or sister, or a friend, may be
installed in that place. Nay, I have known a mere animal to be caressed
and apparently loved, as it could not have been, had the affections been
properly bestowed on a human being. We can regulate and direct, but we
cannot destroy, in the heart, the sentiment of love.
Some, again, associate with the thought of love the idea of our Lower
Propensities. They regard it as an animal passion, and as debasing to
the character. With false notions of delicacy, they determine to shun
its snares, and hence strive to banish the impure thing from their
minds, and to steel themselves against its access.
How unworthy of our nature, and of the Being who formed us, is this
view. To those who entertain it, we must say, "what God hath cleansed,
that call not thou common, or unclean." Far, indeed, are they, to whom
we allude, from the elevated and true idea of that sacred tie, which
joins the pure in heart. A better knowledge of their race would acquaint
them with multitudes, who have proved marriage to be "honorable," and to
whom love has been the chief refiner of their souls. That it may be
perverted, we cannot, of course, deny. But that its legitimate tendency,
is any other than to exalt, ennoble, and sanctify the spirit, we do not
believe. So thorough is our persuasion of this, that we would commend
the marriage relation to a seeker of moral excellence. We would say,
that, in the hallowed sympathies of love are incitements to purity and
piety. To her who earnestly desires to become spiritual, we would
present the association in marriage with one spiritually minded, as,
above all adventitious means, friendly to her holy purpose.
To how many is love a theme for Jesting and Sport. The ancients
represented Cupid under the aspect of a boy engaged in amusement. He
appears driving a hoop, throwing a quoit, playing with a nymph, catching
a butterfly, or flying with a bright torch in his hand, shewing, in each
case, that love is a subject for sport. Let heathenism, if it must, so
regard it; but the Christian ought never to trifle with this sacred
interest. The rite of marriage is a solemn thing. Who would jeer, and
jest, as she stood before the altar, and pledged fidelity unto death to
her betrothed partner? And why, I would ask, should the preliminaries of
marriage be treated as a theme fit only for levity and merriment? It is
said that we Americans are peculiar for banter on this subject. One
scarcely hears it alluded to in society, except with a laugh, or a jest.
As a natural consequence of this state of feeling, and this style of
conversation relative to the affections, it is not easy to know when one
speaks as he means on this topic. Not "seriously,"--for the matter is
all sport,--not in "sober earnest" may you take what is said, since
soberness is supposed to be wholly irrelevant to so light a subject.
And then too the effect of this practice on the feelings and deportment
of the parties most nearly concerned, even during their engagement,--if
this take place amid the bandying of jests,--is often unhappy. The same
levity pervades their conversation and manners toward one another; and
there is scarcely one sober sentiment, or calm thought, associated with
their interviews.
So also has this habit a blighting influence upon the views with which
the individuals are at length joined in marriage. What was commenced in
gaiety and sport, and has been continued in the same spirit, is
consummated in thoughtlessness. It is only when these scenes of mutual
delusion and folly are over, and the two beings are united by an
inseparable bond, and begin to feel the pressure of real duty and actual
life, that they look on each other as rational creatures ought. The
words, sacred, and principle, the thought of responsibility to God,
ideas of solemnity, are now for the first time associated with marriage.
Can this condition of mind be other than deleterious to the virtue,
peace and happiness, of the parties involved in its effects? "O there is
nothing holier, in this life of ours, than the first consciousness of
love,--the first rising sound and breath of that wind, which is so soon
to sweep through the soul, to purify, or to destroy!" So let every young
maiden deem of this sentiment. None will then banter words with her upon
her sacred affections; for there will be that in her air and language,
when this topic is referred to, which shall convince every one that she
holds it a consecrated theme.
In summing up my general remarks on the view to be taken of love, I
would say, talk little with your companions about it; and resolve, if
the topic can only be introduced by a jest, that you will preserve upon
it a profound silence. This would at first make you appear singular. But
such a course would soon commend itself to every considerate friend and
acquaintance in your circle. Or, if some should persist in importuning
and teazing you in regard to it, you would be sustained by the
consciousness of exerting all your influence for the elevation of
society in their views, and conversation, on the most holy of human
connections.
Nor should the mind be permitted to dwell constantly upon this subject.
Some are perpetually imagining themselves in love; others are dreaming
over the philosophy of the affections, and wasting precious hours upon
that which adds nothing to their happiness, and does little to prepare
them for married life. Let the mind be kept tranquil on this subject;
the heart will then be preserved in its soundness. No good affection
will die or decay, but, in the time and method ordained by Providence,
advances will be made, and the heart addressed, and the hand solicited
for marriage. Let the young maiden bide the passing months in
cheerfulness, and prepare herself for a Christian life. A character thus
matured will give hope of the happiest results in new relations, and
amid all the coming and unknown scenes that await her.