Woman

by Anthony M. Ludovici

This must be so. Because, although the more brilliant youth may be an artist, a fascinating poet, or a gifted musician—all these things belong to the sphere of the social instinct, which Woman can scarcely appreciate critically, while the flourishing circumstances of the fur-coated youth belong to the sphere of the reproductive instinct, since they are one of the necessary conditions of the tree to which the eggs are going to be entrusted.

Great spiritual gifts, per se, never really attract the healthy, positive girl; the only reason why she so frequently falls in love with men of great spiritual gifts is because extraordinarily high sexual exuberance is so often correlated with great spiritual gifts and powerful creative genius in a young man. In later life, of course, the relationship changes; because you cannot burn a candle at both ends, and the man of great spiritual gifts who has cultivated that side of himself alone, generally suffers a proportionate loss of sexual exuberance as he advances in years. But in any case, as far as young men are concerned, the rule holds good that high sexual exuberance is frequently accompanied by very superior spiritual gifts.

Incidentally, this association always constitutes the most dangerous and often most disastrous characteristic of the artist’s life. It is a choice of roads—and frequently the favour he finds with women leads the young artist inevitably along the road of least resistance and greatest voluptuousness.

Recalling our positive couple, we will suppose that the youth, in addition to responding favourably to all the girl’s searching scrutiny, is also a person of sound material position. Then, when the chorus of bodily messages to the girl’s brain are unanimous in praising him, consciousness comes forward with the conclusion: “That man attracts me or fascinates me!” or “I like that man!” or “That man is a dream!” or “He’s my ideal!” etc. etc. It is from this moment that the relationship of virgin love may be said to begin, and if there is a response from the young man besides—if, that is to say, he also comments favourably on the girl, then the two may be said to be each other’s destiny; and, if they are both very positive, and therefore impatient, the sooner they marry the better.

Many girls are, however, so overwhelmed by spiritual gifts, nowadays, that the position of the man, his material wealth, is often foolishly overlooked. On the whole this is not quite the fault of the modern girl. This Age, for some reason or other, sets enormous store by spiritual gifts. Girls are brought up in an atmosphere steeped in the worship of intellect. “Clever”—this is the most coveted adjective. Is he clever? Is she clever? Very often the most unhappy marriages are consummated precisely owing to the absurdly exaggerated value that is attached to cleverness. I do not lose sight of the fact that great spiritual gifts are frequently accompanied by great sexual exuberance in a man, and I make allowances for that and for the temptation such a man may certainly prove to the positive girl; but his spiritual gifts ought not to be allowed to weigh against his poverty if he be poor, or his inferiority as an animal, if he have bad teeth, an undersized and weak frame, a delicate constitution, or foul breath. Only girls, of course, whose minds have been perverted in this matter, make the mistake of taking a poor clever man, or an unappetizing clever man, in preference to a duller though wealthier or more appetizing suitor; for the instinct of the female when unperverted is to find not only a secure support for her offspring, but also a mate whom it will at least not disgust her to embrace.

And, after all, what does this spiritual fascination amount to for women, apart from its occasional correlation with high sexual exuberance? If you ask yourself what it is you tire of first in life; if you inquire to which kind of phenomenon you can relevantly apply the expression “hackneyed” when you have seen or heard it once too often—what is your inevitable reply? The word “hackneyed” can be used relevantly only in regard to products of the spirit. A song, however beautiful, repeated too often becomes a bore. A picture seen too often begins to pall. (It is only because we scarcely ever notice with deep attention the pictures on our walls, that we can endure them. In time, they form part of the general scheme of decoration.) The finest poem read too frequently becomes insufferably wearisome; and who can read even the best novel more than three times? I confess I have read Wuthering Heights three times; but I doubt whether I could perform the feat a fourth time. All these things, however, are of the spirit, products of spiritual gifts. It would not sound strange or irrelevant to apply the epithet “hackneyed” to any one of them, provided that their charms had been impressed upon us once too often. This fact alone should make us suspicious of the spirit as a phenomenon possessing lasting powers of attraction.

There are, however, other things to which the expression “hackneyed” could not be relevantly applied. What should we think or say, for instance, of a visitor, who rising suddenly in the middle of one of our tea-parties, exclaimed quite gravely that she refused to take another piece of bread-and-butter for the rest of her life, because bread-and-butter was “hackneyed.” We should all be astonished, not to say alarmed. We should suspect her of something a little more serious than mere eccentricity. But, as a matter of fact, nobody in his senses, however professedly devoted to the spirit he might be, would ever dream of saying “bread-and-butter is hackneyed.” It is a thing of the body, and provided the body remains healthy and exuberant, the pleasures it provides are never hackneyed. Given a fair appetite and a healthy digestion, and bread-and-butter will remain a joy for ever. Unlike the spirit, therefore, which however exuberant and however healthy, wearies and fatigues if it be called upon to appreciate the same spirit, or the same product of another spirit too often, the body can enjoy “bread-and-butter” for threescore years and ten without ever feeling that it is hackneyed.

This alone ought to make all admirers of “brains” in men pause before they allow themselves to be so completely dazzled by mere spiritual brilliance, as to forget other things.—What other things?—Material position, and that quality which all eminently desirable men have in common with good bread-and-butter—I refer to savouriness.

I know of one very sad case that happened in my own circle. A well-educated but misguided Swedish girl who while being no fool herself had the modern exaggerated love for “brains,” happened to meet a man in Ireland who, though brilliant to the point of genius, was as unappetizing, as unsavoury as the form of man can possibly be. I confess to having sat in that man’s company frequently myself, and having revelled in the easy and fluent flow of his exuberant wit. There was virtuosity not only in his speech but also in the thoughts behind his speech. When he met the girl in question she too came under the spell of his extraordinary intelligence; and, forgetting the rule about the spirit, and forgetting the quality of good bread-and-butter—for he was so unsavoury that one could not approach him without becoming aware of the fact with one’s nostrils, not to speak of one’s eyes—she worshipped and married him.

It was, of course, a cruel mistake, because marriage from the woman’s standpoint is a tragedy if she has to smother any loathing in the embrace. Still, she admired “brains” and she certainly obtained what she admired. But at what cost! In time, of course, she explored all the territory of his spirit, and tasted all the delights of his skilful conceits; and had, no doubt, by a kindly effort of will, prolonged her enjoyment of these things very far beyond the point at which anyone else would have tired of them; and then—what was left?—Only boredom where spiritual intercourse was concerned, and ever-increasing disgust of all physical intercourse, because of her unfortunate husband’s eminently unsavoury person.