FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN BOYS AND GIRLS.
You might like to know, dear reader, if I do not believe in some
intermediate relation between that of the comrade and the lover--a
more intimate relation than the one and less intimate than the other.
You ask, Cannot a young man and a young woman be real, true friends?
Let us talk a little about friendship and what it implies. I should
define a friend as one who believes in me, who expects much of me, who
encourages me to do the best that is in me, who will tell me of my
faults, who recognizes my virtues, who trusts in my honor.
You are willing to accept that definition, and you think it possible
to be all that to each other without being lovers. I believe it, too,
but I would like to make some further statements before we have the
discussion of this question.
I believe that a girl's first and best friends are her parents; her
wisest _confidante_, her mother. To these she may speak unreservedly
of herself. With these she may freely talk over family matters. In a
friendship with some outside the family it would be unwise to discuss
family matters. It might be an unkindness to other members of the
family, and in case of a break in the friendship the family secrets
might be betrayed, and to the detriment of the trusting friend. I once
read of such an affair, where one girl had confided to another certain
matters that reflected on the honor of her family, and when the
friendship was broken the secret was betrayed, to the public shame of
the girl who had been unwise in her confidences.
True honor would forbid the betrayal of a confidence even after the
rupture of a friendship; but all persons have not the highest ideal of
honor. If the girl is not discreet in her revelation of herself, and
her mother is her only _confidante_, it will not be so serious a
matter, for the mother will never be tempted to reveal to others
anything that would bring scorn or criticism upon her child. Nowhere,
in her girlish ignorance, can the girl find as sincere sympathy as in
the loving mother.
"But all mothers are not sympathetic," you say. "They are often
nagging, and use the confidences of the daughter to make her
uncomfortable." Well, if this be so, you, at least, can learn the
lesson, and by your habits of thought fit yourself to be the wise,
loving, companionable, sympathetic _confidante_ of your daughter, for
you will be anxious that she should have no friend so close as
yourself.
However, I believe that mothers should recognize the individuality of
their daughters, and win, rather than command, confidence. It is
difficult for us, as mothers, to realize that our daughter is just as
much a separate individual as is our neighbor's daughter, and that we
have no right to thrust ourselves upon her, no right to demand that
she shall love us. We have the right to sympathize, to counsel, to
direct her conduct so long as she remains in our personal care, but we
should remember that she must be responsible, that she is a soul and
must live her own life, learn her own lessons, suffer her own
experiences. Our deepest love can only enable us to help her to choose
wisely, to think truly, to act judiciously. So I would have the
friendship of mother and daughter something very deep and
true--something more than a petting and caressing, an indulging or
humoring.
I would be inclined to have less outward demonstration and more inner
tenderness. I believe that very often outward impression comes largely
to take the place of true affection. I see girls who kiss and fondle
their mothers, who never open to them their heart's deepest secrets.
Fewer kisses and more confidence would satisfy more thoroughly the
mother's heart. I believe that, even in the family, a kiss should not
become a conventionality. It should have a meaning. I would rather
that my daughter should kiss me once a week, with a spontaneous desire
thus to express her love, than that, from custom, she should kiss me
morning, noon, and night.
There are sanitary reasons against kissing, such as transmission of
germs of disease; but aside from this, there are affectional reasons
why kisses should be few, and these few spontaneous rather than
required.
We ought never to force our kisses upon children; but, recognizing
their individuality, leave them free to proffer or to refuse.
Next to the friendship of parents should come that of brother and
sister. We almost think it a wonder when members of the same family
seem really to love each other, and yet family ties should be the
strongest in the world. Why should there not be the sweetest intimacy
between two sisters, whose lives and interests are so closely united?
Why should not the bond between mother and sister be indissoluble?
A young man and woman, children of the same parents, brought up in the
same home, ought to be the best of friends. Their friendship is
without the danger of misunderstanding. It can be free from the slight
feeling of envy or jealousy that might arise between sisters. It would
seem that it could be the truest comradeship possible to two young
people.
A sister should be to a brother not merely some one at hand to mend
his gloves or make his neckties, not simply some one to fondle and
indulge, but she should be one whom he would never scold or browbeat.
A brother should not be simply some one to run errands, to call on for
help in emergencies, not some one to tease when the spirit of mischief
prompts, or to scold when things have gone wrong.
I would have the love of these two manifest itself in all true
helpfulness, but in a way that would draw out the noblest
self-reliance in each. It should manifest itself in courteous words,
in helpful deeds, in glances of the eye, in tones of the voice, in
heartfelt sympathies that stimulate to nobler deeds, in every way that
strengthens and uplifts; and if caresses are few, they will not be
missed in the wealth of that truer manifestation which makes the
recipient feel his nobility and worth.
A young lady once asked me if I believed in young people who were not
related treating each other as brother and sister, and I replied that
would depend on how the brother and sister treated each other. I have
seen girls treat brothers in ways that other young men would not
enjoy--finding fault, nagging, and snubbing generally. I have seen
young men browbeat their sisters, tease them, and be continually
unkind. I presume, if such a young man should propose to be a brother
to a girl, he would not purpose to treat her in this way. Young people
sometimes like to try to deceive themselves, and they fancy that the
subterfuge of calling each other brother and sister will be a warrant
for the parting kiss or the tender endearment that they enjoy, but
which they feel proprieties will not allow. The subterfuge is too
transparent. It deceives no one, and it does not make right that
which, without it, would be improper.
Platonic friendships--that is, friendships between men and women
without the element of physical love--are rare; rarer, indeed, than
they should be. They are difficult to maintain because of the
temptation to begin in the indulgences of personal familiarities,
which tend to lead the friendship over into debatable ground. Men and
women ought to be grand, true friends, inciting each other to the
noblest achievements, but it never can be through sentimentality.
A girl may think she is sisterly when she listens to the young man's
cry for sympathy in some trouble, and she holds his hand and smoothes
his hair and comforts him after this tender fashion, and he may go
away feeling comforted, even as a baby might be quieted by petting;
but his moral fiber has not been strengthened; he has not been made to
feel stronger to do and dare.
Supposing she had listened with interest to his story, and then,
without laying her hands upon him, she had said, "You are a man, a
prince, the son of a King. You are strong to bear, brave to do.
Obstacles surmounted give broader outlooks. Burdens bravely borne
bring strength. I believe in you;" and then, with a strong, firm--I
had almost said manly--grasp of the hand, she had sent him away, he
would go feeling stronger, braver, more self-reliant, stimulated,
encouraged, not merely soothed and quieted. In this fashion a girl may
treat a young man as a brother. She may tell him his faults in all
kindness. She may listen to his dreams, ambitions, aspirations, and
encourage with approval, incite by gentle sarcasm, or enliven by
kindly sportiveness; but her person is her own, and he should be made
to feel that beyond these bounds he may not pass. Such friendship may
endure vicissitude, or separation, and be through life a source of
truest inspiration. To be such a friend to a noble man is a worthy
ambition. It would prove the possession of more qualities of
womanliness than merely to win his passionate love.
When the world comes to accept the highest ideals of life and believes
that all relations of men and women are not of necessity founded on
physical attraction, then will such friendships be more possible, and
the earth can offer no more desirable future than that in which men
and women, knowing each other as immortal intelligences, shall leave
the vale of unsafe sentimentality and sensuous poison to dwell on
heights of noble companionship.