"Well, then, listen to me. Your article was written with a good deal
of youthful power; but it was thoroughly false. You spoke of what you
did not know. I thought it was my duty to guard you from future
errors, especially as I felt that you were a young man standing upon
the threshold of life, about to enter upon a career of great mischief
or great usefulness. Then you are of my own blood--but there is no
need of apologies. You have come, as I thought you would."
"It was especially my sentiments regarding Norsewomen, I believe, that
you objected to," I said hesitatingly; for in spite of his fine eyes,
my friend still impressed me as an unknown quantity, and I mentally
labelled him _x_, and determined by slow degrees to solve his
equation.
"Yes," he answered; "your sentiments about Norsewomen, or rather about
women in general. They are made very much of the same stuff the world
over. I do not mind telling you that I speak from bitter experience,
and my words ought, therefore, to have the more weight."
"Your experience must have been very wide," I answered by way of
pleasantry, "since, as you hint, it includes the whole world."
He stared for a moment, did not respond to my smile, but continued in
the same imperturbable monotone:
"When God abstracted that seventh or ninth rib from Adam, and
fashioned a woman of it, the result was, _entre nous_, nothing to
boast of. I have ever ceased to regret that Adam did not wake up in
time to thwart that hazardous experiment. It may have been necessary
to introduce some tragic element into our lives, and if that was the
intention, I admit that the means were ingenious. To my mind the only
hope of salvation for the human race lies in its gradual emancipation
from that baleful passion which draws men and women so irresistibly to
each other. Love and reason in a well-regulated human being, form at
best an armed neutrality, but can never cordially co-operate. But few
men arrive in this life at this ideal state, and women never. As it is
now, our best energies are wasted in vain endeavors to solve the
matrimonial problem at the very time when our vitality is greatest and
our strength might be expended with the best effect in the service of
the race, for the advancement of science, art, or industry."
"But would you then abolish marriage?" I ventured to ask. "That would
mean, as I understand it, to abolish the race itself."
"No," he answered calmly. "In my ideal state, marriage should be
tolerated; but it should be regulated by the government, with a total
disregard of individual preferences, and with a sole view to the
physical and intellectual improvement of the race. There should be a
permanent government commission appointed, say one in each State
consisting of the most prominent scientists and moral teachers. No
marriage should be legal without being approved and confirmed by them.
Marriage, as it is at present, is, in nine cases out of ten, an
unqualified evil; as Schopenhauer puts it, it halves our joys and
doubles our sorrows--"
"And triples our expenses," I prompted, laughing.
"And triples our expenses," he repeated gravely. "Talk about finding
your affinity and all that sort of stuff! Supposing the world to be a
huge bag, as in reality it is; then take several hundred million
blocks, representing human beings, and label each one by pairs, giving
them a corresponding mark and color. Then shake the whole bag
violently, and you will admit that the chances of an encounter between
the two with the same label are extremely slim. It is just so with
marriage. It is all chance--a heartless, aimless, and cruel lottery.
There are more valuable human lives wrecked every hour of the day in
this dangerous game than by all the vices that barbarism or
civilization has ever invented."
I hazarded some feeble remonstrance against these revolutionary
heresies (as I conceived them to be), but my opponent met me on all
sides with his inflexible logic. We spent several hours together
without at all approaching an agreement, and finally parted with the
promise to dine together and resume the discussion the next day.
This was the beginning of my acquaintance with the pessimist, Edmund
Storm.