I have now said enough I think to show that though much in relation to

the homogenic attachment is obscure, and though it may have its special

pitfalls and temptations--making it quite necessary to guard against a

too great latitude on the physical side; yet on its ethical and social

sides it is pregnant with meaning and has received at various times in

history abundant justification. It certainly does not seem impossible

to suppose that as the ordinary love has a special function in the

propagation of the race, so the other has its special function in social

and heroic work, and in the generation--not of bodily children--but of

those children of the mind, the philosophical conceptions and ideals

which transform our lives and those of society. J. Addington Symonds,

in his privately printed pamphlet, “A Problem in Greek Ethics” (now

published in a German translation),[44] endeavours to reconstruct as

it were the genesis of comrade-love among the Dorians in early Greek

times. Thus:--“Without sufficiency of women, without the sanctities of

established domestic life, inspired by the memories of Achilles and

venerating their ancestor Herakles, the Dorian warriors had special

opportunity for elevating comradeship to the rank of an enthusiasm.

The incidents of emigration into a foreign country--perils of the sea,

passages of rivers and mountains, assaults of fortresses and cities,

landings on a hostile shore, night-vigils by the side of blazing

beacons, foragings for food, picquet service in the front of watchful

foes--involved adventures capable of shedding the lustre of romance on

friendship. These circumstances, by bringing the virtues of sympathy

with the weak, tenderness for the beautiful, protection for the young,

together with corresponding qualities of gratitude, self-devotion, and

admiring attachment into play, may have tended to cement unions between

man and man no less firm than that of marriage. On such connections a

wise captain would have relied for giving strength to his battalions, and

for keeping alive the flames of enterprise and daring.” The author then

goes on to suggest that though in such relations as those indicated the

physical probably had some share, yet it did not at that time overbalance

the emotional and spiritual elements, or lead to the corruption and

effeminacy of a later age.

At Sparta the lover was called _Eispnêlos_, the inspirer, and the younger

beloved _Aïtes_, the hearer. This alone would show the partly educational

aspects in which comradeship was conceived; and a hundred passages from

classic literature might be quoted to prove how deeply it had entered

into the Greek mind that this love was the cradle of social chivalry and

heroic life. Finally it seems to have been Plato’s favorite doctrine

that the relation if properly conducted led up to the disclosure of

true philosophy in the mind, to the divine vision or mania, and to the

remembrance or rekindling within the soul of all the forms of celestial

beauty. He speaks of this kind of love as causing a “generation in the

beautiful”[45] within the souls of the lovers. The image of the beloved

one passing into the mind of the lover and upward through its deepest

recesses reaches and unites itself to the essential forms of divine

beauty there long hidden--the originals as it were of all creation--and

stirring them to life excites a kind of generative descent of noble

thoughts and impulses, which henceforward modify the whole cast of

thought and life of the one so affected.

If there is any truth--even only a grain or two--in these speculations,

it is easy to see that the love with which we are specially dealing

is a very important factor in society, and that its neglect, or its

repression, or its vulgar misapprehension, may be matters of considerable

danger or damage to the common-weal. It is easy to see that while

on the one hand marriage is of indispensable importance to the State

as providing the workshop as it were for the breeding and rearing of

children, another form of union is almost equally indispensable to

supply the basis for social activities of other kinds. Every one is

conscious that without a close affectional tie of some kind his life is

not complete, his powers are crippled, and his energies are inadequately

spent. Yet it is not to be expected (though it may of course happen)

that the man or woman who have dedicated themselves to each other and

to family life should leave the care of their children and the work

they have to do at home in order to perform social duties of a remote

and less obvious, though may be more arduous, character. Nor is it to

be expected that a man or woman single-handed, without the counsel of a

helpmate in the hour of difficulty, or his or her love in the hour of

need, should feel equal to these wider activities. If--to refer once more

to classic story--the love of Harmodius had been for a wife and children

at home, he would probably not have cared, and it would hardly have been

his business, to slay the tyrant. And unless on the other hand each of

the friends had had the love of his comrade to support him, the two

could hardly have nerved themselves to this audacious and ever-memorable

exploit. So it is difficult to believe that anything can supply the force

and liberate the energies required for social and mental activities of

the most necessary kind so well as a comrade-union which yet leaves the

two lovers free from the responsibilities and impedimenta of family life.

For if the slaughter of tyrants is not the chief social duty nowadays,

we have with us hydra-headed monsters at least as numerous as the

tyrants of old, and more difficult to deal with, and requiring no little

courage to encounter. And beyond the extirpation of evils we have solid

work waiting to be done in the patient and life-long building up of new

forms of society, new orders of thought, and new institutions of human

solidarity--all of which in their genesis must meet with opposition,

ridicule, hatred, and even violence. Such campaigns as these--though

different in kind from those of the Dorian mountaineers described

above--will call for equal hardihood and courage, and will stand in

need of a comradeship as true and valiant. And it may indeed be doubted

whether the higher heroic and spiritual life of a nation is ever quite

possible without the sanction of this attachment in its institutions,

adding a new range and scope to the possibilities of love.[46]

Walt Whitman, the inaugurator, it may almost be said, of a new world

of democratic ideals and literature, and--as one of the best of our

critics has remarked--the most Greek in spirit and in performance of

modern writers, insists continually on this social function of “intense

and loving comradeship, the personal and passionate attachment of man

to man.” “I will make,” he says, “the most splendid race the sun ever

shone upon, I will make divine magnetic lands.… I will make inseparable

cities with their arms about each others’ necks, by the love of

comrades.” And again, in “Democratic Vistas,” “It is to the development,

identification, and general prevalence of that fervid comradeship (the

adhesive love at least rivaling the amative love hitherto possessing

imaginative literature, if not going beyond it), that I look for the

counterbalance and offset of materialistic and vulgar American Democracy,

and for the spiritualisation thereof.… I say Democracy infers such loving

comradeship, as its most inevitable twin or counterpart, without which it

will be incomplete, in vain, and incapable of perpetuating itself.”

Yet Whitman could not have spoken, as he did, with a kind of authority

on this subject, if he had not been fully aware that through the masses

of the people this attachment was already alive and working--though

doubtless in a somewhat suppressed and un-self-conscious form--and if

he had not had ample knowledge of its effects and influence in himself

and others around him. Like all great artists he could but give form

and light to that which already existed dim and inchoate in the heart

of the people. To those who have dived at all below the surface in this

direction it will be familiar enough that the homogenic passion ramifies

widely through all modern society, and that among the masses of the

people as among the classes, even below the stolid surface and reserve

of British manners, letters pass and enduring attachments are formed,

differing in no very obvious respect from those correspondences which

persons of opposite sex knit with each other under similar circumstances;

but that hitherto while this relation has occasionally, in its grosser

forms and abuses, come into public notice through the police reports,

etc., its more sane and spiritual manifestations--though really a moving

force in the body politic--have remained unrecognised.

It is hardly needful in these days when social questions loom so

large upon us to emphasise the importance of a bond which by the most

passionate and lasting compulsion may draw members of the different

classes together, and (as it often seems to do) none the less strongly

because they are members of different classes. A moment’s consideration

must convince us that such a comradeship may, as Whitman says, have

“deepest relations to general politics.” It is noticeable, too, in this

deepest relation to politics that the movement among women towards

their own liberation and emancipation, which is taking place all over

the civilised world, has been accompanied by a marked development of

the homogenic passion among the female sex. It may be said that a

certain strain in the relations between the opposite sexes which has

come about owing to a growing consciousness among women that they have

been oppressed and unfairly treated by men, and a growing unwillingness

to ally themselves unequally in marriage--that this strain has caused

the womenkind to draw more closely together and to cement alliances of

their own. But whatever the cause may be it is pretty certain that such

comrade-alliances--and of quite devoted kind--are becoming increasingly

common, and especially perhaps among the more cultured classes of women,

who are working out the great cause of their sex’s liberation; nor is it

difficult to see the importance of such alliances in such a campaign. In

the United States where the battle of women’s independence is also being

fought, the tendency mentioned is as strongly marked.

A few words may here be said about the legal aspect of this important

question. It has to be remarked that the present state of the Law,

both in Germany and Britain--arising as it does partly out of some of

the misapprehensions above alluded to, and partly out of the sheer

unwillingness of legislators to discuss the question--is really

impracticable. While the Law rightly seeks to prevent acts of violence

or public scandal, it may be argued that it is going beyond its province

when it attempts to regulate the private and voluntary relations of

adult persons to each other. The homogenic affection is a valuable

social force, and in some cases a necessary element of noble human

character--yet the Act of 1885 makes almost any familiarity in such

cases the possible basis of a criminal charge. The Law has no doubt had

substantial ground for previous statutes on this subject--dealing with a

certain gross act; but in so severely condemning the least familiarity

between male persons[47] we think it has gone too far. It has undertaken

a censorship over private morals (entirely apart from social results)

which is beyond its province, and which--even if it were its province--it

could not possibly fulfil;[48] it has opened wider than ever before the

door to a real, most serious social evil and crime--that of blackmailing;

and it has thrown a shadow over even the simplest and most ordinary

expressions of an attachment which may, as we have seen, be of great

value in the national life.

That the homosexual feeling, like the heterosexual, may lead to public

abuses of liberty and decency; that it needs a strict self-control;

and that much teaching and instruction on the subject is needed; we of

course do not deny. But as, in the case of persons of opposite sex, the

law limits itself on the whole to a maintenance of public order, the

protection of the weak from violence and insult,[49] and of the young

from their inexperience; so we think it should be here. The much-needed

teaching and the true morality on the subject must be given--as it can

only be given--by the spread of proper education and ideas, and not by

the clumsy bludgeon of the statute-book.[50]

Having thus shown the importance of the homogenic or comrade-attachment,

in some form, in national life, it would seem high time now that the

modern peoples should recognise this in their institutions, and endeavour

at least in their public opinion and systems of education to understand

this factor and give it its proper place. The undoubted evils which exist

in relation to it, for instance in our public schools as well as in our

public life, owe their existence largely to the fact that the whole

subject is left in the gutter so to speak--in darkness and concealment.

No one offers a clue of better things, nor to point a way out of the

wilderness; and by this very non-recognition the passion is perverted

into its least satisfactory channels. All love, one would say, must have

its responsibilities, else it is liable to degenerate, and to dissipate

itself in mere sentiment or sensuality. The normal marriage between man

and woman leads up to the foundation of the household and the family;

the love between parents and children implies duties and cares on both

sides. The homogenic attachment left unrecognised, easily loses some

of its best quality and becomes an ephemeral or corrupt thing. Yet,

as we have seen, and as I am pointing out in the following chapter,

it may, when occurring between an elder and younger, prove to be an

immense educational force; while, as between equals, it may be turned

to social and heroic uses, such as can hardly be demanded or expected

from the ordinary marriage. It would seem high time, I say, that public

opinion should recognise these facts; and so give to this attachment the

sanction and dignity which arise from public recognition, as well as

the definite form and outline which would flow from the existence of an

accepted ideal or standard in the matter. It is often said how necessary

for the morality of the ordinary marriage is some public recognition of

the relation, and some accepted standard of conduct in it. May not, to

a lesser degree, something of the same kind (as suggested in the next

chapter) be true of the homogenic attachment? It has had its place as

a recognised and guarded institution in the elder and more primitive

societies; and it seems quite probable that a similar place will be

accorded to it in the societies of the future.

IV

Affection in Education

The place of Affection, and the need of it, as an educative force in

school-life, is a subject which is beginning to attract a good deal of

attention. Hitherto Education has been concentred on intellectual (and

physical) development; but the affections have been left to take care of

themselves. Now it is beginning to be seen that the affections have an

immense deal to say in the building up of the brain and the body. Their

evolution and organisation in some degree is probably going to become an

important part of school management.

School friendships of course exist; and almost every one remembers that

they filled a large place in the outlook of his early years; but he

remembers, too, that they were not recognised in any way, and that in

consequence the main part of their force and value was wasted. Yet it is

evident that the first unfolding of a strong attachment in boyhood or

girlhood must have a profound influence; while if it occurs between an

elder and a younger school-mate, or--as sometimes happens--between the

young thing and its teacher, its importance in the educational sense can

hardly be overrated.

That such feelings sometimes take quite intense and romantic forms few

will deny. I have before me a letter, in which the author, speaking of

an attachment he experienced when a boy of sixteen for a youth somewhat

older than himself, says:--

“I would have died for him ten times over. My devices and plannings

to meet him (to come across him casually, as it were) were those

of a lad for his sweetheart, and when I saw him my heart beat so

violently that it caught my breath, and I could not speak. We met

in----, and for the weeks that he stayed there I thought of nothing

else--thought of him night and day--and when he returned to London

I used to write him weekly letters, veritable love-letters of many

sheets in length. Yet I never felt one particle of jealousy, though

our friendship lasted for some years. The passion, violent and

extravagant as it was, I believe to have been perfectly free from

sex-feeling and perfectly wholesome and good for me. It distinctly

contributed to my growth. Looking back upon it and analysing it as

well as I can, I seem to see as the chief element in it an escape

from the extremely narrow Puritanism in which I was reared, into

a large sunny ingenuous nature which knew nothing at all of the

bondage of which I was beginning to be acutely conscious.”

Shelley in his fragmentary “Essay on Friendship” speaks in the most

glowing terms of an attachment he formed at school, and so does Leigh

Hunt in his “Autobiography.” Says the latter:--

“If I had reaped no other benefit from Christ Hospital, the school

would be ever dear to me from the recollection of the friendships

I formed in it, and of the first heavenly taste it gave me of

that most spiritual of the affections.… I shall never forget the

impression it made on me. I loved my friend for his gentleness, his

candour, his truth, his good repute, his freedom even from my own

livelier manner, his calm and reasonable kindness.… I doubt whether

he ever had a conception of a tithe of the regard and respect

I entertained for him, and I smile to think of the perplexity

(though he never showed it) which he probably felt sometimes at my

enthusiastic expressions; for I thought him a kind of angel.”

It is not necessary, however, to quote authorities on such a subject as

this.[51] Any one who has had experience of schoolboys knows well enough

that they are capable of forming these romantic and devoted attachments,

and that their alliances are often of the kind especially referred to as

having a bearing on education--_i.e._, between an elder and a younger.

They are genuine attractions, free as a rule, and at their inception,

from secondary motives. They are not formed by the elder one for any

personal ends. More often, indeed, I think they are begun by the younger,

who naively allows his admiration of the elder one to become visible. But

they are absorbing and intense, and on either side their influence is

deeply felt and long remembered.

That such attachments _may_ be of the very greatest value is

self-evident. The younger boy looks on the other as a hero, loves to

be with him, thrills with pleasure at his words of praise or kindness,

imitates, and makes him his pattern and standard, learns exercises and

games, contracts habits, or picks up information from him. The elder one,

touched, becomes protector and helper; the unselfish side of his nature

is drawn out, and he develops a real affection and tenderness towards

the younger. He takes all sorts of trouble to initiate his _protégé_ in

field sports or studies; is proud of the latter’s success; and leads him

on perhaps later to share his own ideals of life and thought and work.

Sometimes the alliance will begin, in a corresponding way, from the side

of the elder boy. Sometimes, as said, between a boy and a master such an

attachment, or the germ of it, is found; and indeed it is difficult to

say what gulf, or difference of age, or culture, or class in society, is

so great that affection of this kind will not on occasion overpass it.

I have by me a letter which was written by a boy of eleven or twelve to

a young man of twenty-four or twenty-five. The boy was rather a wild,

“naughty” boy, and had given his parents (working-class folk) a good deal

of trouble. He attended, however, some sort of night-school or evening

class and there conceived the strongest affection (evidenced by this

letter) for his teacher, the young man in question, quite spontaneously,

and without any attempt on the part of the latter to elicit it; and

(which was equally important) without any attempt on his part to _deny_

it. The result was most favorable; the one force which could really reach

the boy had, as it were, been found; and he developed rapidly and well.

The following extract is from a letter written by an elderly man who has

had large experience as a teacher. He says--

“It has always seemed to me that the _rapport_ that exists between

two human beings, whether of the same or of different sexes, is

a force not sufficiently recognised, and capable of producing

great results. Plato fully understood its importance, and aimed

at giving what to his countrymen was more or less sensual, a

noble and exalted direction.… As one who has had much to do in

instructing boys and starting them in life, I am convinced that the

great secret of being a good teacher consists in the possibility

of that _rapport_; not only of a merely intellectual nature, but

involving a certain physical element, a personal affection, almost

indescribable, that grows up between pupil and teacher, and through

which thoughts are shared and an influence created that could exist

in no other way.”

And it must be evident to every one that to the expanding mind of a small

boy to have a relation of real affection with some sensible and helpful

elder of his own sex must be a priceless boon. At that age love to the

other sex has hardly declared itself, and indeed is not exactly what

is wanted. The unformed mind requires an ideal of itself, as it were,

to which it can cling or towards which it can grow. Yet it is equally

evident that the relation and the success of it, will depend immensely on

the character of the elder one, on the self-restraint and tenderness of

which he is capable, and on the ideal of life which he has in his mind.

That, possibly, is the reason why Greek custom, at least in the early

days of Hellas, not only recognised friendships between elder and younger

youths as a national institution of great importance, but laid down very

distinct laws or rules concerning the conduct of them, so as to be a

guide and a help to the elder in what was acknowledged to be a position

of responsibility.

In Crete, for instance,[52] the friendship was entered into in quite a

formal and public way, with the understanding and consent of relatives;

the position of the elder was clearly defined, and it became his business

to train and exercise the younger in skill of arms, the chase, etc.;

while the latter could obtain redress at law if the elder subjected

him to insult or injury of any kind. At the end of a certain period

of probation, if the younger desired it he could leave his comrade; if

not, he became his squire or henchman--the elder being bound to furnish

his military equipments--and they fought thenceforward side by side in

battle, “inspired with double valor, according to the notions of the

Cretans, by the gods of war and love.”[53] Similar customs prevailed in

Sparta, and, in a less defined way, in other Greek states; as, indeed,

they have prevailed among many semi-barbaric races on the threshold of

civilisation.

When, however, we turn to modern life and the actual situation, as for

instance in the public schools of to-day, it may well be objected that

we find very little of the suggested ideal, but rather an appalling

descent into the most uninspiring conditions. So far from friendship

being an institution whose value is recognised and understood, it is at

best scantily acknowledged, and is often actually discountenanced and

misunderstood. And though attachments such as we have portrayed exist,

they exist underground, as it were, at their peril, and half-stifled in

an atmosphere which can only be described as that of the gutter. Somehow

the disease of premature sexuality seems to have got possession of our

centres of education; wretched practices and habits abound, and (what is

perhaps their worst feature) cloud and degrade the boys’ conception of

what true love or friendship may be.

To those who are familiar with large public schools the state of affairs

does not need describing. A friend (who has placed some notes at my

disposal) says that in his time a certain well-known public school was a

mass of uncleanness, incontinence, and dirty conversation, while at the

same time a great deal of genuine affection, even to heroism, was shown

among the boys in their relations with one another. But “all these things

were treated by masters and boys alike as more or less unholy, with

the result that they were either sought after or flung aside according

to the sexual or emotional instinct of the boy. No attempt was made

at discrimination. A kiss was by comparison as unclean as the act of

_fellatio_, and no one had any gauge or principle whatever on which to

guide the cravings of boyhood.” The writer then goes into details which

it is not necessary to reproduce here. He (and others) were initiated

in the mysteries of sex by the dormitory servant; and the boys thus

corrupted mishandled each other.

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