"No,"she agreed,"nor I.Yet I have come to feel,instinctively,that somehow concealed in tragedy is the central fact of life,the true reality,that nothing is to be got by dodging it,as we have dodged it.
Your superman,at least the kind of superman you portray,is petrified.
Something vital in him,that should be plastic and sensitive,has turned to stone.""Since when did you begin to feel this?"I inquired uneasily.
"Since--well,since we have been together again,in the last month or two.Something seems to warn me that if we take--what we want,we shan't get it.That's an Irish saying,I know,but it expresses my meaning.Imay be little,I may be superstitious,unlike the great women of history who have dared.But it's more than mere playing safe--my instinct,Imean.You see,you are involved.I believe I shouldn't hesitate if only myself were concerned,but you are the uncertain quantity--more uncertain than you have any idea;you think you know yourself,you think you have analyzed yourself,but the truth is,Hugh,you don't know the meaning of struggle against real resistance."I was about to protest.
"I know that you have conquered in the world of men and affairs,"she hurried on,"against resistance,but it isn't the kind of resistance Imean.It doesn't differ essentially from the struggle in the animal kingdom."I bowed."Thank you,"I said.
She laughed a little.
"Oh,I have worshipped success,too.Perhaps I still do--that isn't the point.An animal conquers his prey,he is in competition,in constant combat with others of his own kind,and perhaps he brings to bear a certain amount of intelligence in the process.Intelligence isn't the point,either.I know what I'm saying is trite,it's banal,it sounds like moralizing,and perhaps it is,but there is so much confusion to-day that I think we are in danger of losing sight of the simpler verities,and that we must suffer for it.Your super-animal,your supreme-stag subdues the other stags,but he never conquers himself,he never feels the need of it,and therefore he never comprehends what we call tragedy.""I gather your inference,"I said,smiling.
"Well,"she admitted,"I haven't stated the case with the shade of delicacy it deserves,but I wanted to make my meaning clear.We have raised up a class in America,but we have lost sight,a little--considerably,I think--of the distinguishing human characteristics.The men you were eulogizing are lords of the forest,more or less,and we women,who are of their own kind,what they have made us,surrender ourselves in submission and adoration to the lordly stag in the face of all the sacraments that have been painfully inaugurated by the race for the very purpose of distinguishing us from animals.It is equivalent to saying that there is no moral law;or,if there is,nobody can define it.
We deny,inferentially,a human realm as distinguished from the animal,and in the denial it seems to me we are cutting ourselves off from what is essential human development.We are reverting to the animal.I have lost and you have lost--not entirely,perhaps,but still to a considerable extent--the bloom of that fervour,of that idealism,we may call it,that both of us possessed when we were in our teens.We had occasional visions.We didn't know what they meant,or how to set about their accomplishment,but they were not,at least,mere selfish aspirations;they implied,unconsciously no doubt,an element of service,and certainly our ideal of marriage had something fine in it.""Isn't it for a higher ideal of marriage that we are searching?"I asked.
"If that is so,"Nancy objected,"then all the other elements of our lives are sadly out of tune with it.Even the most felicitous union of the sexes demands sacrifice,an adjustment of wills,and these are the very things we balk at;and the trouble with our entire class in this country is that we won't acknowledge any responsibility,there's no sacrifice in our eminence,we have no sense of the whole.""Where did you get all these ideas?"I demanded.
She laughed.
"Well,"she admitted,"I've been thrashing around a little;and I've read some of the moderns,you know.Do you remember my telling you I didn't agree with them?and now this thing has come on me like a judgment.I've caught their mania for liberty,for self-realization--whatever they call it--but their remedies are vague,they fail to convince me that individuals achieve any quality by just taking what they want,regardless of others."....
I was unable to meet this argument,and the result was that when I was away from her I too began to "thrash around"among the books in a vain search for a radical with a convincing and satisfying philosophy.Thus we fly to literature in crises of the heart!There was no lack of writers who sought to deal--and deal triumphantly with the very situation in which I was immersed.I marked many passages,to read them over to Nancy,who was interested,but who accused me of being willing to embrace any philosophy,ancient or modern,that ran with the stream of my desires.It is worth recording that the truth of this struck home.On my way back to the city I reflected that,in spite of my protests against Maude's going--protests wholly sentimental and impelled by the desire to avoid giving pain on the spot--I had approved of her departure because Ididn't want her.On the other hand I had to acknowledge if I hadn't wanted Nancy,or rather,if I had become tired of her,I should have been willing to endorse her scruples....It was not a comforting thought.
One morning when I was absently opening the mail I found at my office Ipicked up a letter from Theodore Watling,written from a seaside resort in Maine,the contents of which surprised and touched me,troubled me,and compelled me to face a situation with which I was wholly unprepared to cope.He announced that this was to be his last term in the Senate.
