THE HARMONY OF FEELINGS.
Fish, birds, and mammals, when they feel themselves fit for love and
wish to win it, develop new organs, new songs, the newest seductions,
and with æsthetic or musical fascination engage in the pleasant
warfare of voluptuousness. They show the female all they have of
the best, all that is most irresistible, and thus obtain the prize
of victory. So do men and women. They adorn themselves, hide their
defects, and make a show of their beauty, but as the battle between
them is fought on a higher plane, each one polishes up rusty virtues,
invents new ones, and sends his vices or moral weaknesses to prison or
into exile.
Painters, carpenters, artists are about the house from morning to
evening, in order to make everything clean and bright, as if in
expectation of an illustrious guest or a great personage.
And they are right, for the guest they expect is no less than love.
The fish, birds, and mammals cease to sing and shed their horns when
the breeding season is over, and become lowly and ordinary, even
as they were before the marriage. And the companion, who has been
enticed by the representation now realized, finds no room for odious
comparisons or regrets, for she and her mate are already separated and
neither thinks of the other.
With man, however, when once the victory is gained, the curtain of the
comedy of love falls. But the marriage remains.
It remains with the defects which return to view, with the vices which
spring afresh from the pollard boughs; and with the little sins,
returning from their exile and creeping home, one after the other.
This is one of the most fruitful sources of the deceptions of
matrimony, and it must be prevented. We ought to discover the real
truth, under all the coquetry of the sex, and to know what metal lies
beneath the varnish and polish. This artificial beautifying of man
and woman who woo is not hypocrisy, but a natural and irresistible
desire of showing our best to the person we love, and hiding from him
our worst. But from this innocent desire we mount a flight of many
steps, until we come to the blackest hypocrisy, which transmutes brass
into gold, glass into diamond, demon into angel.
Exceedingly few see clearly when they have the spectacles of love
before their eyes, and love has, not unjustly, been painted from the
remotest antiquity with his eyes bandaged.
The lover is so blind, or, perhaps one would rather say, is so
afflicted with altruism as to mistake colours, and, under such an
hallucination, to see virtues where there are vices, to find weakness
of character agreeable, a lie a jest, and treachery a game.
The most acute spirit of observation, the most profound knowledge of
the human heart, do not suffice to protect us from these seductions,
which make us see the loved one through a rose-coloured glass.
⁂
Yet discord of character is the gravest peril, and unfortunately the
commonest to marriage, and it may reach such a degree as to oblige
husband and wife to separate. Where the law permits divorce, it
becomes the terrible situation which, in official and legal language,
is called _incompatibility of temper_.
And what does this dreadful word mean? What monster is this, that can
divide what love has joined, that can transform sensual pleasure to
torture, honey to gall, heaven to hell?
When I write my book, _I caratteri umani_, which I have been
meditating and working at for so many years, perhaps I may be able
to get more light upon this obscure point of individual and national
psychology. But at present I am satisfied to treat the problem on wide
lines, and only as far as it contributes to the happiness of marriage.
In the mean time let me state the terrible fact, once and for all,
that among the many discords which are possible between the man and
the woman, none exercises a more weighty influence than that which
arises from want of union in character.
There may be happiness between a rich man and a poor woman; between
a poor man and a rich woman; an elderly woman and a young man; an
old man and a young woman; between two different intellects and
educations; we have rare but well-confirmed examples of harmony
between all these contemporaneous discords. But when characters cry
out against and strike one another, _Lasciate ogni speranza o voi che
entrate_; then desperation will be the habitual state of the dual
existence.
⁂
Incompatibility of character does not mean a difference of taste,
affections, aspirations; for differences are necessary to perfect
harmony, and the man and woman (we have repeated it a hundred times)
love each other better and better the more the man is a man and the
woman a woman—which is as much as to say the more different they are.
In common language incompatibility of character means, for example, to
harness an ox and a horse of Arab breed to the same carriage; to put
a tortoise and a deer to walk together; to tie a goose and a swallow
to the same cord, and condemn them to fly together; and if these
comparisons fall short of the reality, it is because their enormity
does not reach by a very long way the psychical discords of men and
women.
In that monstrous pairing of the deer with the tortoise, the horse
with the ox, the swallow with the goose, only locomotion is treated
of; but for the race that a man and a woman must take through life
it is a matter not only of velocity, but of environment and measure;
of all that can modify senses, sentiments, and thoughts. To find a
comparison which at all suits or pictures truthfully the tortures
of two badly matched individuals who must live together, I can only
take that of a fish and a bird condemned to live together. But this
comparison is not even good, for either the fish or the bird would die
surely and quickly, but of the man or woman neither dies, but live a
death in life, feeling nothing of life but disgust, pain, and wrong.
Convicts also are paired with a chain without any regard to their
sympathies, but they have at least the psychical relationship of
crime, and often vice, which brings them near each other, and also
that other common hope of escape that makes them allies and even
brethren; but in that other galley of a badly assorted marriage there
is not one chain alone, but a hundred and a thousand, all invisible,
with as many nerves connecting two existences condemned to the sad
communion of a common torture which is doubled for each by the
suffering of the other.
There is the chain of the heart, the chains of taste and sympathy,
the chains of antipathy, habits, desires, and regrets; and along the
length of these chains there run currents of spite, hatred, rancour,
malediction, vengeance, and retaliation.
The slightest movement on one side is communicated to the other by the
chains, and makes that other feel his pain, which he returns doubled
by its own force and rendered crueller by the desire of revenge.
So each wrong has an echo, and the echo is doubled and increased a
hundredfold, until the whole life becomes a torment, as if every
nerve had tetanus, and every organ of body and soul was transformed
into a tooth suffering spasms of pain. When a long-forgotten wound
is cicatrised, and a rougher movement than usual re-opens the wound
anew, in that martyred frame there is not a member which does not
suffer nor a single feeling that is not pain.
This is the meaning of incompatibility of character, which has been
adjudged with reason by legislators as a sufficient cause for divorce,
and it is, and ought to be, more so than impotence, bad treatment, or
any other cause of separation.
⁂
This want of harmony in sentiment has only too many and too varied
forms, but at the foundation there is always this skeleton:
_That which I like you dislike; that which makes you happy makes me
suffer._
Woman is an ermine, who allows herself to be killed rather than cross
a field of snow soiled by mud.
Man, on the contrary, is like a chimpanzee, who loves dirt and soils
himself with it. There is no part of his body or soul which does not
love this mud.
How can two such creatures live together?
⁂
He is an optimist even to cynicism, an egoist even to adoration of
himself, and his motto is, _Après moi le déluge_.
She is a pessimist from having placed her ideal so high that no human
hand can reach it. She cannot not live an hour without loving and
dedicating a thought, an act, or a sacrifice to the good of some
fellow-creature.
How could they ever live together?
⁂
He has never felt the want of the supernatural, and believes neither
in God nor in a soul.
She was born a mystic, and the maternal education has made her
religious and superstitious. She has a very strong tendency to
asceticism.
How could two such beings be happy together?
⁂
He is frank, expansive even to imprudence, impetuous even to wrath. He
says out straightly what he thinks, swears and curses, only to forget
within an hour the storm which overwhelmed him.
She is close, shut as with seven seals, timid, diffident, and only
expresses the tenth part of what she feels, and even regrets that
slight expansion. Susceptible as a sensitive plant, she starts if she
meets a grain of sand, a hair, or a feather which touches her. She
finds an offence and want of respect in everything, suspects evil
everywhere, and even in good seeks bad intentions with all the zeal of
an inquisitor.
Will these two live happily together?
⁂
He is a misanthrope from indolence and diffidence; he detests society
and avoids it.
She adores cheerful society, garrulous and merry talk, theatres,
balls, not that she may seek an opportunity for sin in these places,
but simply because she adores what is noisy and deafening.
Join these two together—how can they bless matrimony?
⁂
By instinct and education he is democratic, detests all forms of
despotism from the tailor to the government. He is a socialist, and
would be an anarchist if he had not a sound heart and did not love his
kind passionately.
She is of a decayed noble family, keeps and adores the family coat of
arms; when anyone from politeness calls her marchioness she reddens
with pleasure, and her heart swells with pride. She has a profound and
sincere respect for authority, and bows reverently before priests,
soldiers, millionaires, and princes.
Can these two together bless _life_?
⁂
He is avaricious, but will not confess to it; he makes a secret
of his income to be able to complain constantly of his poverty.
Nothing escapes his domestic financial inquisition. Not a halfpenny
is given in alms at his door, not a match burnt uselessly. Coffee
grounds are never thrown away without first extracting a second and
third edition. The querulous wailings of his laments over excessive
expenditure and taxation fill the air around him with a bad odour of
mildew and closeness.
She is generous, and noble in her hospitalities and charities. She
likes enjoyment herself, and to make the enjoyment of others, and to
hear it responded to by all with “Thank you, thank you!” She cannot
understand how one can torment oneself to-day by thinking of the still
distant day after to-morrow; even the fascination of an _uncertain
to-morrow_ allures her. She believes warmly in Providence and Fortune,
and earnestly defends the thoughtless.
And these are husband and wife!
He is always in a state of febrile excitement or of depression.
He declares to all that the most unhappy man is he who feels no
enthusiasm, and that the most happy man is he who feels everything,
and hopes that he himself is such an one.
She instead is always cold, derides every form of enthusiasm, because
it seems to her a species of madness; detests poetry, all psychical
pleasures, and all passions when they pass 10° Centigrade; derides
heroism, sacrifice, and martyrdom, contenting herself by declaring it
to be the matter of a novel or a stage play.
And these two—can they live happily together?
These few examples, taken from the stage of the real world, will be
sufficient to give you an idea of the many discords of character one
finds in the union of marriage.
Certainly all are not so flagrant or so keenly accentuated, but they
are more complex and complicated, whilst the discord is rarely upon
one note only, but upon many together.
And what can we do to defend ourselves from the peril of
_incompatibility of temper_?
In one way only: by studying and restudying the character of her whom
we wish to make our companion for life. After being convinced that she
will show herself better than she really is we must make every effort
to surprise her in undress, or, better still, in a state of nudity.
Naturally I speak in a figurative sense. I should wish to see her
nude of all artifices of coquetry and hypocrisy. Begin to examine the
moral surroundings in which she lives, and before studying her study
the future father- and mother-in-law. She is only a branch of that
plant upon which you wish to graft your life, and a great part of the
children’s character is that of their parents.
It is exceedingly rare for a loose, libertine mother to have a chaste
daughter, and a lily of innocence is hardly ever born into a family
of impostors. We have spendthrift sons of a miserly father, and _vice
versa_; bigoted children of atheistic parents, and disbelievers
sons of bigots; but as regards moral habits there is very rarely the
heredity of antagonism.
Examine especially the moral surroundings in which the young girl was
born and has grown up; her habits, the books she reads, the amusements
she prefers. Gain information as to the character of her friends, for
in them as in a glass you will often see the soul of the woman you
wish to make yours.
I know an angelic woman with many friends who vie with each other in
loving her, and are jealous one of the other for her affection. These
friends are all unusual women, of refined tastes, delicate feelings,
and generous hearts. They all chaunt her virtues in chorus, and,
without knowing, I judged her from her friends to be an angel, and I
was not mistaken.
After having made your psychological research as regards her parents
and friends do not disdain to descend to a more humble sphere.
Question her maid, cook, coachman, dressmaker, and the labourers on
her estate: all those who for one reason or another serve and obey her.
No one knows us better than those who serve us, for whom we make no
pretence to hypocrisy or ostentation of false virtues, and if a lady’s
maid does not know how to make a psychological analysis of the young
lady she can show us the most intimate secrets of her character.
Noble, generous, and good natures never ill treat their servants; or
they feel all that compassion for them which their position merits,
and apply toward them the daily and domestic virtues of a tender and
affectionate benevolence. Always doubt the character of those who
are changing their servants frequently. They are nearly always ill
disposed, and being unable to vent their evil instincts in higher
circles, begin to torment their slaves at home.
They pour forth on the lady’s maid, dressmaker, or hairdresser all the
disappointed vanity, hidden jealousy, bad temper, and anger of their
petty social struggles.
Then if they feel the need of being despotic they satisfy it by using
their power over those poor victims paid at so much a month, and
condemned to live on the moral excrements of their masters. I know
ladies of the highest financial and hereditary aristocracy who are
not ashamed to beat their maids brutally and cruelly. If you succeed
in learning this do not overlook it, do not pardon it, but fly the
contact of one who will exercise her own evil-mindedness and despotism
upon you, and later on, upon your children.
⁂
I prophesy that when you have finished your examination on heredity
and friendship, and that closer inquiry into your dear one’s home
affairs, you will find the sister soul to your own—she with whom
you will sing the hymn of perfect happiness all your life, the only
perfect happiness, that of a union of two. But this is the rarest good
fortune. In most cases you will find neither absolute discord nor
ideal harmony, but a partial accord, which with labor and good will
you will be able to convert gradually into perfect harmony.
If your love is great and deep, if it pours out from the viscera of
your whole organism, if she loves you well and enough, rest assured
that the rocks will fall to pieces, the mountains be levelled, and the
thorns be removed, for love is the most skilled magician, and knows
even how to convert gall into honey. Woman is cleverer than all the
rest of the world in this thaumaturgic work, and you must really be
the most stupid egotist, the most antipathetic creature in the whole
universe, if your companion cannot succeed in making you agree with
her after a few months. And yet, take care. This harmony ought not
to be that of a victim resigned or a slave subjected; that would be
an artificial agreement which lasts a short time only, and thrives
but ill. It must be a slow and clever adaptation of the sharpness of
the one to the roundness of the other. It must be an intelligent and
tender acclimation to surroundings, tastes, and habits, so that the
rebellious sprig may be bent without pain or breaking, so that the
vine leaves may seem pleased at their connection with the pollard[4]
which supports them, and the bright and ruddy bunches of grapes seem
to smile with joy on foliage and pollard alike. Happiness, too, is
a tree which requires a wise and loving cultivation. We men are the
pollards; the vine is our companion who leans upon us, bound there
by the withes of love and of reciprocal indulgence. Above all things
marry a good woman, one, too, who loves you—not for the title you
bear, not for the gold which fills your chests, but because she
admires and esteems you, and is proud to bear your name.
[4] It is customary in Tuscany to plant pollards in the vineyards
for the purpose of supporting the vines, and these are bound to the
pollards with willow twigs.—TR.
And then you may be sure that the little discords of character will
be surmounted, and in the indulgence with which your companion so
patiently bears with your defects you will find every day and every
hour a proof of that love which will only cease with your last breath.