Edwin and Angelina

New Zealand Tablet, Volume L, Issue 6, 8 February 1923, Page 17

Edwin and Angelina

There is (says America) a Methodist clergyman in Chicago who is leading his sheep into strange pastures. This reverend shepherd casts a glance at the national scandal of divorce and decides that all is well with the Republic. The fact that polygamy is now an American institution fully sanctioned by the law, and tolerated by all the Churches, save one, does not disturb the sunshine of his Pollyannish mind. Off with the old and on with the hew, is the motto of this progressive pastor. “Should two persons bo compelled to live together,” he asks, “when the affection which constitutes real marriage is dead?”

It is plain that the pastor considers this observation a very Achilles among all possible arguments, when, in fact, it is only a question, and a very silly question at that. “Affection” is something very beautiful, but it does not “constitute” marriage. Marriage is essentially a contract which binds the contracting parties to the performance of definite duties. A “loveless” marriage, if by the term is meant a marriage which is enacted for reasons of social or financial advantage, is, generally, to be reprobated. It is usually an unwise contract, but still a contract, as fully binding as a compact which is the outcome of unimpeachable wisdom and prudence. As for the marriage which is accompanied with all the outward signs of genuine love, it is true that the contracting parties cannot promise always to preserve the mellow haze which, traditionally, accompanies the honeymoon. But they can engage themselves to fulfil that which they have solemnly promised. If husband and wife were free to withdraw from one of the most sacred compacts which can be made, when its duties become more difficult, no promise would be safe, and the world would soon lose all ideals of truth, honor, and mutual confidence.

Fidelity, then, not affection or even love, and much less the brutal passion which often assumes the cloak of love, constitutes the firm bond of marriage. No one is obliged to marry, but everyone who deliberately enters into a solemn contract is bound to keen to its terms. Edwin will not long cherish close to his heart the little gleam of sunshine from Angelina’s tangled tresses, and after a year or two Angelina will no longer burst into hot and sudden tears when Edwin sneezes. She will probably suggest a little quinine. A kiss is said by the philosophers to be a token of true affection, but by darning Edwin’s socks and taking care of his collar-buttons, Angelina can give Edwin a deeper proof of her undying affection. Edwin will evidence his love by working hard to give Angelina, and after a time the little Edwins and Angelinas, a home and a full cupboard, and Angelina will demonstrate her devastating passion by taking care of the little ones about her knees, and most of all, by taking care of Edwin. There is no book-poetry in this connection, but much real poetry, for poetry, after all, means creation, and the creation of a home is an infinitely nobler poem than the creation of an Iliad. Best of all, the foundation of this domestic society is fidelity. And it is as harmful to society as to the individual to preach that fidelity is a virtue to be practised in fair weather and thrown overboard when the waves run high. _