"Almost all young persons, on reaching the age of maturity, desire to marry. That heart must be very cold, or very isolated, that does not find some object on which to bestow its affections. Thus, early marriage would be almost universal did not prudential consideration interfere. The young man thinks, 'I cannot marry yet; I cannot support a family. I must make money first, and think of a matrimonial settlement afterwards.'
"And so he goes to making money, fully and sincerely resolved in a few years to share it with her whom he now loves. But passions are strong and temptations great. Curiosity, perhaps, introduces him into the company of those poor creatures whom society first reduces to a dependence on the most miserable of mercenary trades, and then curses for being what she has made them. There his health and moral feelings are alike made shipwreck. The affections he had thought to treasure up for their first object are chilled by dissipation and blunted by excess. He scarcely retains a passion but avarice. Years pass on—years of profligacy and speculation—and his wish is accomplished, his fortune is made. Where now are the feelings and resolve of his youth?
'Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubbles on the fountain,
They are gone—and forever.'
"He is a man of pleasure, a man of the world. He laughs at the romance of his youth, and marries a fortune. If gaudy equipage and gay parties confer happiness, he is happy. But if these be only the sunshine on the stormy sea below, he is a victim to that system of morality which forbids a reputable connection until the period when provision has been made for a large expected family. Had he married the first object of his choice, and simply delayed becoming a father until his prospects seemed to warrant it, how different might have been his lot. Until men and women are absolved from the fear of becoming parents, except when they themselves desire it, they will ever form mercenary and demoralizing connections, and seek in dissipation the happiness they might have found in domestic life.
"I know that this, however common, is not a universal case. Sometimes the heavy responsibilities of a family are incurred at all risks; and who shall say how often a life of unremitting toil and poverty is the consequence. Sometimes, if even rarely, the young mind does hold its first resolves. The youth plods through years of cold celibacy and solitary anxiety, happy if, before the best hours of his life are gone and its warmest feelings withered, he may return to claim the reward of his forbearance and his industry. But even in this comparatively happy case, shall we count for nothing the years of ascetic sacrifice at which after happiness is purchased? The days of youth are not too many, nor its affections too lasting. We may, indeed, if a great object require it, sacrifice the one and mortify the other. But is this, in itself, desirable? Does not wisdom tell us that such a sacrifice is a dead loss—to the warm-hearted often a grievous one? Does not wisdom bid us temperately enjoy the springtimes of life, 'while the evil day come not, nor the years draw nigh, when we shall say we have no pleasure in them?'
"Let us say, then, if we will, that the youth who thus sacrifices the present for the future, chooses wisely between the two evils, profligacy and asceticism. This is true. But let us not imagine the lesser evil to be good. It is not good for man to be alone. It is for no man or woman's happiness or benefit that they should be condemned to Shakerism. It is a violence done to the feelings and an injury to the character. A life of rigid celibacy, though infinitely preferable to a life of dissipation, is yet fraught with many evils. Peevishness, restlessness, vague longings and instability of character, are amongst the least of these. The mind is unsettled, and the judgment warped. Even the very instinct which is thus mortified assumes an undue importance, and occupies a portion of the thoughts which does not of right or nature belong to it, and which, during a life of satisfied affection, it would not obtain."
In many instances, the genital organs are rendered so irritable by the repletion to which unnatural continency gives rise, and by the much thinking caused by such repletion, as to induce a disease known to medical men by the name of Gonorrhoea Dormientium. It consists in an emission or discharge of the semen during sleep. This discharge is immediately excited in most instances by a lascivious dream, but such dream is caused by the repletion and irritability of the genital organs. It is truly astonishing to what a degree of mental anguish the disease gives rise in young men. They do not understand the nature, or rather, the cause of it. They think it depends on a weakness—indeed, the disease is often called a "seminal weakness"—and that the least gratification in a natural way would but serve to increase it. Their anxiety about it weakens the whole system. This weakness they erroneously attribute to the discharges; they think themselves totally disqualified for entering into or enjoying the married state. Finally, the genital and mental organs act and react upon each other so perniciously as to cause a degree of nervousness, debility, emaciation and melancholy—in a word, wretchedness that sets description at defiance. Nothing is so effectual in curing this diseased state of a body and mind in young men as marriage. All restraint, fear and solicitude should be removed.
"Inasmuch, then, as the scruples of incurring heavy responsibilities deter from forming moral connections and encourage intemperance and prostitution, the knowledge which enables man to limit the number of his offspring would, in the present state of things, save much unhappi-ness and prevent many crimes. Young persons sincerely attached to each other, and who might wish to marry, should marry early, merely resolving not to become parents until prudence permitted it. The young man, instead of solitary toil and vulgar dissipation, would enjoy the society and the assistance of her he has chosen as his companion; and the best years of life, whose pleasures never return, would not be squandered in riot, nor lost through mortification."*
* The passages quoted are from Robert Dale Owen's "Moral
Physiology."