Kitabı oku: «Her Royal Highness Woman», sayfa 4
CHAPTER XIII
THE WOMAN-HATER
Should a woman marry a woman-hater? – The portrait of a woman-hater – The risk a woman runs in marrying a woman-lover – Take your chance, don't cast your pearls before swine
Should a woman marry a woman-hater? Yes, some people say, because he will pay no attention to any other woman, and will be a faithful husband in all the force of the expression. A woman-hater is par excellence a one-woman's man, and just the sort of man that a woman should wish to marry.
No, other people say, the woman-hater is a no-woman's man. A woman should marry a lover of her sex, and feel proud to know that it is she whom he prefers to all and loves best of all. Of course, they admit that she will have to be careful and ever-watchful in order to keep alive the interest which her husband takes in her and the affection which he feels for her. But a woman-hater is a prig, and the male prig is the last man that a woman should care to marry.
I think the latter are right. The woman-hater hates all women, and will never be capable of any love for his wife any more than for any other woman. Only the sense of ownership will make him value her. He may like her, be a good friend to her, a hard-working and devoted husband, but he will never be a lover to her; and the husband who, during at least the first fifteen years of his married life, cannot now and then be the lover of his wife fails to give to that woman that bliss which is a perfect compensation for all the troubles and miseries of that which the Popes are fond of calling the Vale of Tears, and Mrs. Gamp 'the Wale of Tears.'
The woman-hater is a man who has never petted his mother, who has never been the 'chum' of his sisters, who as a boy has despised girls, and as a young man has treated them with disrespect and even contempt. This kind of man has never once in his life given a thought to woman, has never deemed it consistent with his dignity to devote a minute to the study of her character. He has never given way to her charms, he has never felt her influence, he has never learned to smile kindly at her little foibles and fads. The idea has never occurred to him to indulge her, to treat her, in turn, as a beloved child, even sometimes a spoiled one, as a friend whose advice is worth following nine times out of ten, as a sweet companion either for moments of pleasure or for those of studious retirement. For him woman is a necessary evil. He puts up with her, and is always glad when she is gone. She annoys him, provokes him – nay, even shocks him, and her frivolity is for him a constant source of torment. He breathes more freely when at last he is left alone or finds himself in the company of men at his club.
He is seldom generous, and is not infrequently a miser.
The woman-hater is always conceited, and most generally selfish, and conceit and selfishness are the two worst, the two most objectionable, pieces of furniture in the household of a married couple. The woman-hater is also dull, and often sulky, which is worse still. With him there can be no cheerfulness in the house, and dulness is the bitterest enemy of happiness in matrimony.
The woman-hater has not a redeeming fault or foible which may enable his wife to get hold of him. He has no weaknesses to make him lovable or even tolerable. He is ironclad, and a woman cannot come near him without getting a bruise of some sort or other. He will ever stand before his wife a perfect model for her to look up to, and all her pretty little womanly ways, being a closed letter to him, will be wretchedly wasted on him.
Like all conceited men, the woman-hater has no humour in him. He cannot for the life of him see a joke. A frivolous remark will make him frown. He is a moral man with a vengeance, but all his morality and all the gold in the world are not worth the smile of a genial, cheerful husband. And, worst of all, the woman-hater is generally dyspeptic, and if a woman marries a dyspeptic man she is done for.
The man-flirt is the most despicable creature on earth, but the woman-hater is undoubtedly the most objectionable.
Yes, my dear lady, avoid the woman-hater, and, above all, don't marry him. Have to your wedded husband a lover of women, full of foibles and weaknesses, a man who understands and appreciates women. It will depend upon you whether that man will make the best of husbands or not.
With a woman-lover marriage is a risk; with a woman-hater it is a certainty. With the latter you will be casting pearls before swine.
Marry the former and take your chance.
CHAPTER XIV
WHAT DO WOMEN ADMIRE MOST IN MEN?
People generally admire in others the qualities they do not themselves possess – The sexes differ in their opinions of infidelity and its causes – The eleventh commandment: Never confess
I believe that what sexes admire most in the other are the qualities which they do not generally possess themselves. For instance, a man will always tell you that the qualities he admires most in a woman are constancy, good, equal temper, and such others as his most flattering friends would never accuse him of possessing. If, on the other hand, you read the confession-books of women, you will invariably discover that the qualities they most admire in men are generosity, broad-mindedness, magnanimity, absence of prejudice, and a lofty sense of justice, of toleration, and of forgiveness. Now, some women may possess these qualities, but no one, I think, will say that they are eminently feminine virtues.
And it may also be added that what sexes hate most each in the other are the very defects which they themselves not infrequently possess. Out of twenty confession-books which I have this moment under my eyes, and in which is to be found the question, 'What defect do you hate most in man?' eighteen women have answered, 'Meanness.' That is just what you would expect, now, don't you think so?
Of course, there are women of whom it might be said, however preposterous the remark may sound, that they are not only perfect ladies, but also perfect gentlemen. These are glorious women. Now, don't smile; I know what I am saying. When you say of a woman that she is a perfect lady, the remark chiefly refers to her manners, the way she dresses and behaves in society, etc. When you say of a man that he is a perfect gentleman, it means that he is a man of considerate feelings, generous, magnanimous even, a man who could not do anything mean if he tried.
A woman who receives an anonymous letter about her husband, puts it in the fire, and never mentions the fact to him, behaves like a gentleman. A man who receives an anonymous letter about his wife and shows it to her is a cur.
In a pretty play, the name of which escapes me just at present, a woman has compromised herself with a man. A letter from that man is delivered to her before her husband. The latter knows whom the letter is from. His wife hands it to him.
'My dear, this letter is addressed to you. I have no right to open it,' says the husband. 'Don't you want to read it yourself?'
The wife answers that she does not.
'Very well,' he says; 'then there is only one thing to do.'
And before her he throws it into the fire.
All the women in the audience applaud. So they should; but how many of them would behave in the same manner if such a letter from a woman came to their husband?
Meanness in a man is revolting to woman; but although many women cannot be accused of the defect, it must be admitted that it is often found in them.
Many a man who was sure that his wife was in earnest love with another man would be found ready to sacrifice himself and give his wife to that man. A celebrated English writer did it. Under similar circumstances a woman would rather give her husband or lover to the tiger of Mr. Frank R. Stockton.
A man will admit the possibility of his wife loving another man and being loved by him. He may grieve over it, but he will not despise her for it, or necessarily impute any low or degrading motive to her. But a woman will never admit that her husband can have fallen in love with another woman. She will only accuse him of being too amorous, and in her eyes that other woman can only be a 'low creature.' She will not stop a moment and reflect that by lowering that 'creature' she lowers herself, since her husband, for a time at any rate, may prefer that woman to her.
It will not enter her head that, maybe, her husband goes down on his knees and prays that he may forget that woman, but is conquered in the struggle, and cannot resist the fascination. No; for her the woman is an abandoned creature and her husband a blackguard. Every day in the novels she reads, she will give her sympathies to a man who has met with the misfortune which has befallen her husband and herself.
She will forget that if there was no passion in this life, no human weaknesses, no pits and falls in the path of man and woman, there would be no drama, no great poetry – in fact, no literature, no art.
She will admit that no heart (man's or woman's) is free from the danger of being lost. She will admit that this may happen to any man, but not to her husband. You may give her to read and study all the works of Balzac, of Alexandre Dumas the younger, and of all the greatest dissectors of the human heart; she will learn nothing. The mind of a woman is a mixture of obstinacy and prejudice. When she reads the accounts of the proceedings of the Divorce Court, she exclaims of the respondent, if she be a woman: 'Poor thing! romantic, I suppose.' When the respondent is a man, she dismisses the whole thing with: 'Man's a beast.' She sometimes sympathizes with a co-respondent.
What women admire particularly in men is indulgence, the spirit of forgiveness, magnanimity. Their hero is the man of the play who, when his wife, falling at his feet, shrieks, 'I am not guilty!' takes her gently by the hand, embraces her, and whispers softly in her ears, like Dr. Primrose to his misguided daughter: 'And if thou wert, child, am I not here to protect thee, to comfort thee?' And, true enough, the situation is pathetic, thoroughly human, and that husband's rôle is sublime; but in real life not one woman out of a thousand would play that part.
For, even when woman forgives, it is out of consideration for her children – for her own sake, as it were, in order to avoid a scandal, an open avowal of the situation. She may forgive, but she will not forget. It is true that in Mr. Arthur Pinero's beautiful play, 'The Profligate,' the wife forgives, and tells her husband she will help him bear it. But the offence was committed before the marriage. She has not been personally wronged or deceived, except in her estimation of the man she has married. Therefore she may forgive, although I do not envy that man's future in matrimonial life.
Conclusion: If a man should be unfortunate enough to deviate from the path of virtue after entering the holy estate of matrimony, let him follow the advice given by a great French jurisconsult to all prisoners about to appear before their judges: 'Never confess.' Only a very lofty woman will take him by the hand and, putting in the scales all he has done for her in life, will say: 'It leans on the right side.' A rara avis this woman.
CHAPTER XV
CAN GRATITUDE ENGENDER LOVE?
Expecting gratitude is asking for the price of a service – Love keeps out of it
Has love anything to do with gratitude? In other words, does gratitude engender love? No; to kill a woman's love for him a man has only to keep on reminding her of what he has done to earn her gratitude, and by the same means a woman will obtain the same result with a man.
A woman will often hate a man who lavishes money upon her, and will love the first man who comes along to whom she will owe no gratitude, simply because the former degrades her by paying for her favours, whereas the latter enables her to regain her independence and to raise herself in her own estimation.
A man who marries below his rank in society may be loved by his wife, not because, but although, he has raised her to his rank. And a man will seldom love a wife whom he has married for money, because by so doing he has to a certain extent sold himself, and love never goes abreast with either feelings of self-degradation or absence of respect for the other party. This is why mésalliances, as a rule, turn out to be very unhappy marriages. The best guarantee of happiness in matrimonial life is the equal footing on which a husband and wife will go through the years of their association. Neither of them must have a feeling of owing anything to the other. It must be a partnership into which each party has brought the same amount of capital.
Gratitude will engender affection, devotion, great friendship, but not love. Nay, I will go further and risk the following statement: Not only gratitude does not engender love, but it will stand in its way.
A woman does not love a man because she feels it is her duty to love him. Love has nothing to do with duty. You cannot help falling in love any more than you can help becoming gray or bald, and you may fall in love against all the interests of your life. The more you argue against love, the more you love. Love has nothing to do with arguing and reasoning, any more than it has with duty and gratitude. You cannot command love to come or go, and many a woman has been on her knees praying that she might love a man to whom she owed a debt of gratitude, but the prayer has seldom been heard. A woman will remain faithful to a man out of duty or out of gratitude, but all that will not make her love him.
No, no; and I will also say that for a man to feel that he has to be grateful to a woman is injurious to his love for that woman. He so hates himself for being unable to do for her all he would like to do, that he curses himself and fails to love her more for all her patience, for all the devotion she shows to him through the hardships of life. A man loves a woman all the more for all he can do for her, and so does a woman a man. This is the natural consequence of the fact that we often love people (not necessarily of the opposite sex), not for what they actually do for us, but for what they allow us to do for them. M. Perrichon, in 'Le Voyage de M. Perrichon,' by Labiche, a play worthy of Molière, had a daughter whose hand was sought by two suitors. One saved his life; the other, more cunning, pretended to have his life saved by him. Perrichon prefers the latter, simply because the first reminds him that he cannot ride, and made a fool of him, while the second one made a hero of him by enabling him to boast that he had saved a man's life.
Now, this does not by any means show the better side of human nature. But we are not writing a panegyric of man or woman: we are philosophizing a bit, and seeking to speak the truth and our mind. Of course it is possible, and I hope it is a fact, that a lofty, exalted nature may love through gratitude; but lofty, exalted natures are the exception.
A man may win the love of a woman by risking his own life to save hers; but in this case it is not only gratitude that engenders love; it is an act of heroism, and an act of heroism will always appeal to a woman. On the other hand, a wounded soldier may fall in love with a woman who nurses him; but in this case it is the sweet ministration of a tender woman, nursing – that most womanly rôle, that of an angel – that will appeal to man, not gratitude pure and simple.
I have known men fall in love with girls of low character, have them educated – physically, mentally, and intellectually – and marry them, with the most disastrous results.
Of course, when people already love, gratitude will increase their love for the one they owe it to; what I mean to say is, that if love does not exist, it is not gratitude that will engender it.
Love is inspired by an exaltation that makes us feel better or greater. Gratitude, like pity, makes us look smaller; that is why gratitude does not, and cannot, engender love.
A cynic once remarked that ingratitude was the independence of the heart. He might have added that gratitude, by attempting to force the heart, fails to touch it in the tender relations between man and woman.
CHAPTER XVI
DOES MARRIAGE HELP A MAN?
In social life – In commercial life – In literary and artistic life – Matrimony is a highly respectable institution
Does marriage help a man?
Well, if he marries a rich wife, of course it does; but, you see, money helps wherever it comes from, and so we must put this consideration out of the question altogether.
Let us also say, and at once, too, that if a man finds happiness in matrimony, marriage will help him, whatever his position may be; but happiness helps wherever it comes from, and so we must put this consideration out of the question also.
And before answering the question, or rather, before presenting arguments both in the affirmative and in the negative, we must examine the different positions that a man may occupy in life.
In commercial pursuits marriage will help a man. If money-making is the chief concern of his life, an attentive, interested, saving wife will enable a man to devote all his mind to business, and, by a careful management of her house, will also enable him to amass wealth.
If a man holds a post of responsibility – a Government one, for example, in the Diplomatic Service, in the Civil Service, in the Church, in the university professions – a wife, possessed of attractive charms, amiable and tactful, will help him; for let us remember that in England, as well as in all countries where it is sought to always appoint the right man in the right place, before deciding on a candidate for any important vacant post, the first question that is asked is, 'What kind of a wife has he got?' The kind of wife that will help such a man is the one that will help him socially and diplomatically – by wire-pulling, if you like.
Now, if interviewers set any value on their comfort – nay, on their lives – I advise them to avoid this topic; for the question is not only a very big one, but a very uncomfortable one indeed, considering that the very men who are called upon to answer it must naturally be married men.
To prove this, I will, in a few words, put down a little conversation I quite recently had on the subject over a cup of tea with a charming English lady.
'But,' she said, 'you do not answer my question – Does marriage help a man?'
'Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It depends a great deal on the profession, or the calling, of the man.'
'Well, a doctor, for instance?'
'Yes,' I said, 'marriage helps a doctor. It stamps him respectable, and many women will not consult a doctor unless they know that he is a married man; but white hair will help him quite as much.'
'That is not very promising,' said the lady.
'Well,' I replied, 'let us try again.'
'Surely women can do much to inspire, to encourage a man, whatever his work may be?'
'Yes, a sympathetic woman can do a great deal; but it is very difficult to quite determine what effect her help may have upon her husband's work during the various critical periods of his career. There may have been days when, without her encouragement, he would have lost faith in himself, but such cases are rare. Then you speak of artists, of people who live by praise, feed on it. I have known painters who looked for and found such encouragement from their wives. On the other hand, I have known others who sought solitude when at work, men who could not have expressed their message unless alone with their art. I have known authors who looked for inspiration from their wives, or thought they did, and I have known others who could not do a stroke of work unless they were absolutely left alone with their thoughts.'
'But if a wife makes a man happy, that alone surely helps him?'
'Of course it does; but the married man has far greater responsibilities than the single one, and he may be obliged to produce for the sake of filling many little hungry mouths. And another thing you must remember that the single man can command the interest of a great number of women who would not care to be interested in his wife, and very few wives will realize that they may not be as interesting as their husbands. This will cause trouble – unpleasantness, at least – and stand in the way of a man's success.'
'Then,' said the lady, 'let us change the question. Does marriage hamper a man?'
'Undoubtedly there are professions which seem to necessitate bachelorhood, where marriage is not only no help, but a handicap. A soldier, for instance, should not marry, for a married soldier, good fighting-man though he may be, never can forget the wife, and perhaps the little ones, at home.'
'I take it,' said my lady interlocutor, 'that you do not advocate marriage for the rising poet, painter, dramatist, or novelist?'
'I do not advocate marriage for any man that is too susceptible or who has the artistic temperament too strongly developed. The man who is strong enough to achieve great things is strong enough to achieve them alone – that is, unless he is fortunate enough to meet the exceptional woman. Lord Byron said that nothing can inflict greater torture upon a woman than the mere fact of loving a poet. This is not due to the heartless or deliberate cruelty of the poet. He himself is to be pitied for being a martyr, the slave of art. It is the natural depth of a poet's emotions to fall in love with every lovely woman. The higher we rise in the intellectual scale, says a modern writer, the more varied, complex, and deep are the emotional groups which delight and torment the soul. Mental work does not extinguish passions; it feeds the flames, on the contrary, and unfits the brain-owner for matrimony. Only people who have uneventful, almost humdrum, lives are good subjects for matrimony and perfectly happy in marriage.'
'Then you do not admit the existence of the man who needs the quiet sympathy of a good domestic wife before his art becomes fully articulate?'
'No, because the artist constantly wants stimulants, and a domestic life is not stimulating. Now, do not misunderstand me. Marriage can make a man very happy, including the man with the strong artistic temperament, but I don't think that it helps him. I have come across hundreds of cases where artistic and literary efforts have been checked, and sometimes killed outright, by the petty cares and worries of domestic life. The brain-worker is very easily irked and tormented by the most trivial things. He is irritable and most sensitive. I have known literary men put right off their work for days simply because devoted wives came into their studies, and, after giving them an encouraging kiss, carried off their pens to make out their washing list. I have known painters whose faculties were positively benumbed by the presence of their wives. I have known dramatists who could never set to work in earnest before they had sent their families into the country or had themselves left home far behind them; and, mind you, these men were all fond of their wives.'
'You are not encouraging.'
'Will you have a cup of tea?'
'Thank you, with pleasure; but does marriage – '
'Do you take sugar?'
'If you please; but are there not cases – '
'And cream?'
'Please. Now, tell me – '
'What I think of the Paris Exposition?'
'Before I go, can't you say something nice about matrimony?'
'Yes, madame: Matrimony is highly respectable.'
