Page:Love and its hidden history.djvu/118

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
112
love and its hidden history.

but because those parties have not become harmonious in them, selves. Thus, by looking through their ignorance, through their own unrefined spectacles, they see things in an inverted position, and give themselves the consolation that nature has made them so, when the true philosophy of nature is, that men and women shall always seek to improve their relations when inharmonious conditions offend them.

To run away from discord will not remove it, nor will the principle of right and truth be vindicated by shrinking from the duties based upon the integrity of social contracts. Let all parties, matrimonially united, do their duties to each, other faithfully, and not disgrace themselves by abandoning integrity under a plea that nature was hedged their paths to happiness, by making them so much unlike that they can never agree. But if, after a fair trial, it is found that the incompatibility is too deep, — that it is wholly incurable, — then, for such couples to remain bound together is sheer insanity, and mutual suicide and murder. Let them part.

The man who has so little knowledge of human nature as to seek happiness by changing anything but his own disposition will waste his life in fruitless efforts, and multiply the griefs which he purposes to remove.

There is beauty in the helplessness of woman. The clinging trust which searches for extraneous support is graceful and touching. Timidity is the attribute of her sex; but to herself it is not without its dangers, its inconveniences, and its sufferings. Her first effort at comparative freedom is bitter enough; for the delicate mind shrinks from every unaccustomed contact, and the warm and gushing heart closes itself, like the blossom of the sensitive plant, at every approach. Man may at once determine his position, and assert his place; woman has hers to seek; and, alas! I fear me, that however she may appear to turn a calm brow and a quiet up to the crowd through which she makes her way, that brow throbs, and that lip quivers, to the last, until, like a wounded bird, she can once more wing her way to the tranquil home where the drooping head will be fondly raised, and the fluttering heart laid to rest. The dependence of woman in the common affairs of life is, nevertheless, rather the effect of custom than necessity. We have many and brilliant proofs that, where need is, she can be