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CHAPTER V. 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 ?sthetic 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 [Pg 126] 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 [Pg 127] 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 [Pg 128] 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 [Pg 129] 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 [Pg 130] 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.

[Pg 131]

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 [Pg 132] 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.

[Pg 133]

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 [Pg 134] 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 [Pg 135] 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 [Pg 136] 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.

[Pg 137]

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 [Pg 138] 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 [Pg 139] 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.

[Pg 140]

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 [Pg 141] 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 [Pg 142] 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!

[Pg 143]

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?

[Pg 144]

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 [Pg 145] 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, [Pg 146] 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, [Pg 147] 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 [Pg 148] 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 [Pg 149] 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 [Pg 150] 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 [Pg 151] 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 [Pg 152] 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 [Pg 153] 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.

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