LETTER LXVI.
IN WHICH OUR CORRESPONDENT ASTONISHES US BY ENGAGING IN SINGLE COMBAT WITH M. MICHELET, AND DEMOLISHING "L'AMOUR" AND "LA FEMME."
WASHINGTON, D. C., Sept. 4th, 1862.
While I was lounging in a banker's drawing-room this morning, my boy,waiting for the filthy lucre chap to come down and say that he was gladto see me, I chanced to see the eternal "L'Amour" and "La Femme" lyingupon a table in the apartment. The sight threw me into a bad humor, forI detest those books, my boy, and wish the United States of America hadnever seen them.
Monsieur Michelet, a French individual of questionable morals, firstwrites a book about "Love," and then clinches it with one about"Woman." It is hardly necessary to add, that he treats both subjects ina thoroughly French manner, and makes one a continuation of the other.Love is a charming little story in every man's life, "complete in onenumber"--Number one. Woman is a love-story, "to be continued" until,like all other continued stories, it ends with marriage!
Such is the logic implied by Monsieur Michelet's two books, and whetherit is calculated to elevate or degrade the weaker sex, a majority ofeducated American women have eagerly read the books and accepted thesentiments as so many compliments. And the men? They leisurely rovethrough the leaves of monsieur's mental Valambrosa, and say: "HowFrenchy!" And in that natural exclamation we find the most complete andjust criticism of "L'Amour" and "La Femme" possible to American lips orpen.
This Michelet, my boy, is a man of talent and remarkably clear poeticalperception. He is as much like Hallam as a Frenchman can be like anEnglishman, and France honors him for his development of the poetry ofher history; but is that any reason why he should be accepted as themodern High-priest of Love and the Censor of Woman? By no means. Madamede Stael was thinking of a Frenchman when she wrote: "Love is only anepisode in man's life"--and may have referred to herself when sheadded: "but it is woman's whole existence." Had an American womanspoken this, we should suspect the sentiment to be nothing more thanthe reproach of a disappointed passion; but of the Frenchman it isindisputably true, as well as of woman wherever we find her.
The French do not know what Fidelity means, my boy; they have chameleonsouls, and remain true to one object only until another comes withintheir reach. Like mad bulls, they are attracted by the quiescent warmthof fiery-red; and, having attained it, tear it to pieces in theirpassion.
What can such people know about Love? Nothing. They call Love"L'Amour," and when we speak of a man's "amours," we mean that he"loves" like a Frenchman. Monsieur Michelet is a Frenchman; andsupposing him to be an ordinary one, we must accept his sentimentsregarding Woman as we would those of an Apicius regarding a delicacy heapostrophizes before devouring. But Michelet's temperament is poetical,and while he looks upon Woman as a foretaste of the sensualist'sparadise, and upon Love as the means of gaining it, he covers up thegrossness of his ideas with robes borrowed from the angels. AdoptingKepler's canon, that "harmony is the perfection of relations," he makesWoman, the creature, a continuation of Love, the sentiment; and thetenor of his "L'Amour" and "La Femme" is, that both must be possessedby man, in order to perfect the union which makes them a perfect One.
Wherever I go I find these books: cheek to cheek they repose on thecarved table of the lady's boudoir; shoulder to shoulder they stand onthe library shelf; _tete-a-tete_ they give the rich centre-table anequivocal aspect. Young men and maidens, old men and matrons, childrenand chambermaids read them; yet they have no social effect. Womanunderstands love and herself; Man thinks he understands both; and thefictitious fervor of Monsieur Michelet has no more effect upon eitherthan so much prismatic froth. It addresses itself piquantly to the eye,and murmurs like a shell in the ear; but once out of sight and hearing,and it is only an excuse for light talk and laxity of thought.
I am glad to record this; it shows that our national morality is in nodanger of being wrecked on the French coast by any such tropical galesas Michelet, Feydeau, or Dumas can blow. Let our publishers bring overa few more cargoes from the Augaean stables of French literature inEnglish bottoms, and I will guarantee them large profits. We will readthem, and immediately forget all about it.
But to return to Michelet again. Our women read his "Woman," andimagine that it compliments their sex--flatters them. Fortunate is it,that flattery very seldom changes a woman's character, though it maysway her judgment. She accepts it as her right, but seldom believes it.Queen Elizabeth graciously extended her hand to be kissed when hernoble lover compared her to "the sun, whose faintest ray extinguishesthe brightest planet;" yet that same hand had signed the flatterer'sdeath-warrant. At the moment she was pleased, and her good sense dazed;but her heart was not reached. Flattery, skillfully administered, mayadd fuel to a woman's love; but the fire must first be kindled withsomething more sympathetic. An American woman may read "La Femme," andcomplacently receive its subtle _equivoques_ as so much fuel added toher vanity; but that vanity was kindled into existence in the firstplace by the genuine homage of some honest man.
It was Michelet's "Woman," my boy, that suggested this letter; yet Idid not intend, at the outset, to devote so much space to hisunwholesome sophistry. If I have shown, however, that Michelet's"Woman" is only such a being as he would have created under that name,could he have changed places with the Deity, I have not wasted time andink. Thank fortune, there is but one French deity, and his proper namecommences with a D.
Now, let me give my own idea of Woman--not "La Femme."
As she stands before me in the light of Nature, she is no "enigma," asvoluntarily-puzzled poets have called her; but a being easily defined,and not more nearly related to the angels than man. To the best of hersex we attribute one natural weakness and one virtue--Curiosity andModesty. Everybody must allow this much. But why should we make such adistinction between these two qualities? Let us trace them back totheir exemplar:
Eve's curiosity was the first effect of her serpentine temptation. Wasit not? Well, that curiosity caused her to eat the forbidden fruit.Having eaten it, and caused Adam to eat, she suddenly became possessedof modesty, and made herself an apron of fig-leaves. It is but naturalto infer that her first blush was worn at the same time, though Miltonattributes blushes to the angels. As angels are immaterial beings, Ithink Milton was mistaken. Now, if modesty, as well as curiosity, wasthe result of Satanic temptation, why should one be called a weaknessand the other a virtue? Are not both the fruits of original sin?
Woman's love is said to be stronger and more lasting than man's. Is itso? Let us trace it back to its beginning:
Eve's love for Adam did not prevent her fall. She met the Prince ofDarkness and listened to his blandishments, as too many ladies of thepresent time prefer the society of bogus courtiers to that of theirAdams of husbands. She forever disgraced Adam, herself, and her futurefamily, just to please the tempter. Was this a proof the depth andvitality of Woman's love? And Adam? Why, rather than refuse any requestof the woman he loved, however extravagant, he voluntarily shared inher ruin, and courted the curse of her fall. Did this prove that Man'slove is weaker and shorter-lived than Woman's?
Now, I should like to see some one impudent enough to assert that Evewas more curious, or less modest, or more fickle than are the best ofher female descendants. Such impudence is not compatible with thepresent position of civilization. Then, as Eve was the great exemplarof her sex in Modesty and Fidelity as well as Curiosity, it followsthat Woman's Modesty is the result of inherited sin, and her Fidelityin Love no greater than Man's.
Alas! for the "angels" of the poets, my boy. Prove that her Modesty andLove are anything but heavenly, and what remains to make Woman angelic?
I could honor, love, and might obey the Best of Her Sex; but I shallnever worship her. She is not a Deity--only a Woman. I believe that Godintends each woman for a wife; yet six marriages out of every dozen areunhappy ones. And what is the reason? Simply this:
Before marriage, m
an generally accepts one of the two poetical theoriesrespecting Woman. He either supposes her to be an angel, purer and moreelevated in her nature than he in his; or gloats over her as a delicatemorsel prepared for his special delectation by the gods. In eithercase, he finds out his mistake when it is too late to rectify it, andhis disappointment is but the refinement of disgust. He eitherdiscovers that woman is only a human being, and very much like himselfby nature; or that constant familiarity with her brings her down to thelevel of a man in his estimation. There is but one possibility ofescape from disappointment in either case; the death of husband or wifewithin a year of the wedding day!
Husbands and wives, have I spoken truly?
But there are exceptions to every rule. Some men marry women for thesake of having homes of their own; others, for money; still others,because it is the fashion. The man who marries for a comfortable homeoften gets what he desired, and is contented; the mercenary husband islikely to do and feel the same; the fashionable husband generally cutshis throat. These exceptions do not break the rule.
It may be asked: Why do widowers so often marry again, if they were sodisappointed in their first wives? My boy, you are no philosopher. Howmany men have learned wisdom by experience? Only a few, and they areall dead. If a sailor is shipwrecked, and nearly killed on his firstvoyage, does he forsake the sea forever after? If a man buys an imagesupposed to be made of marble, and discovers that it is plaster, doeshe never buy another image? Because you and your neighbors chance tobuy a barrel of bad eggs, are you satisfied that good ones are not tobe had?
An enthusiastic young man marries a girl whom he supposes to be an"angel." A year passes, and he mourns over his mistake. A few more rollaway, and she dies. Does the widower profit by his experience? No! Hesays to himself: "My late wife was not an 'angel;' but that sweet girlI saw yesterday certainly is. She is entirely different from my latewife." Well, he marries angel No. 2. She proves to be No. 1 in adifferent dress.
A tropical young man is infatuated with the physical beauty of a girl,and marries her with the idea that he will never weary of looking ather. A year passes, and he is heartily tired of her. She dies. Does thewidower profit by his experience? No! He says to himself: "I waswearied of my late wife because her hair, eyes and complexion were thesame as mine. Physiologists say that opposites are necessary tomatrimonial bliss. There is Miss ----, with her hair, eyes andcomplexion, in direct antithesis with mine. I am _sure_ I should neverweary of her!" He marries her. And tires of her.
Do you see, my boy?
And now to remedy this evil: Let us look upon woman as she is. If an"angel" with golden hair, snowy complexion, pearly teeth, heaven blueeyes, and no appetite, sounds better in poetry than a true woman, withauburn hair, fair complexion, clean teeth, and nice blue eyes, why, letthe poets rant about "angels." But poetry has nothing to do with sopractical an event as marriage, and its "angels" will not do for wives.A man cannot be guilty of a more absurd and unprovoked piece ofinjustice, than that of persisting in believing his bride more of anangel than human. He might as well go to a jeweller's, and insist uponbuying a pearl for a diamond, when the certain result of such follywould be his denunciation of the pearl as a swindle, when timeconvinced him of its real character. No true woman desires to be lookedupon as an "angel," nor to have her beauty valued as a joy imperishable.
It is very common for women to lament the indifference of husbands whowere the most attentive and obedient of lovers. I have explained thecause of the defection.
To secure happiness--or contentment, at least--in the marriage state,we must regard woman as our equal by nature, whatever superiority orinferiority she may possess by virtue of her mental or socialeducation. We must not look _up_ to her, nor _down_ upon her, butstraight _at_ her. We must not base our love for her upon supposedangelic qualities. If we desire to make her happy, and be happyourselves, we must recognize her human origin in common with our own,and accept her physical inferiority as security for the continuance ofour own love in all its normal strength.
Of course there are grades in human nature. Some natures are morerefined than others, from the effects of their surroundings andeducation. But the lover should recognize no degree higher than his ownwhen he selects his mistress. Then, if hers proves higher than his,after marriage, he is delighted; if the same as his, he is satisfied.But suppose it should prove lower than his? Such a supposition isuntenable in a marriage of mutual affection. A superior nature willnever gravitate to an inferior one by the attraction of real love.There must be a natural sympathy; and sympathy is the rock upon whichall true love is founded.
Love never yet blended incompatible natures in marriage. Money oftendoes--brute-insanity sometimes.
You have probably concluded, by this time, my boy, that my ideas of thetrue Woman and Monsieur Michelet's views of "La Femme" are decidedly atvariance.
I have sufficient faith in the good sense of Woman to believe that shewill give preference to my doctrine. If so, she will not translate "LaFemme" as "Woman," but as "grisette," "lorette," or "camelia lady." Tochristen such a work "Woman," is to lay a snare for the Best of HerSex, and catch the Weakest in it. The female who allows it to affecther may possibly make "a neatly-shod grisette," but never a good wife.
It may be asked why I have made "Woman" the subject of this letter, andwhy I have adopted such a Frenchy style?
Simply because there is no subject less understood, my boy, by thegenerality of young mankind; and because I deem it best to practice thedoctrine of _similia similibus curantur_ (in style) while quarrelingwith Monsieur Michelet.
Yours, sentimentally, ORPHEUS C. KERR.