“Love, the most joyous5 condition of the soul, is represented as a danger. And why? Because, when a man does not live as a man, he is worse than a beast. A woman cannot look upon a child otherwise than as a pleasure. It is true that it is painful to give birth to it, but what little hands! . . . Oh, the little hands! Oh, the little feet! Oh, its smile! Oh, its little body! Oh, its prattle6! Oh, its hiccough! In a word, it is a feeling of animal, sensual maternity7. But as for any idea as to the mysterious significance of the appearance of a new human being to replace us, there is scarcely a sign of it.
“Nothing of it appears in all that is said and done. No one has any faith now in a baptism of the child, and yet that was nothing but a reminder8 of the human significance of the newborn babe.
“They have rejected all that, but they have not replaced it, and there remain only the dresses, the laces, the little hands, the little feet, and whatever exists in the animal. But the animal has neither imagination, nor foresight9, nor reason, nor a doctor.
No! not even a doctor! The chicken droops10 its head, overwhelmed, or the calf11 dies; the hen clucks and the cow lows for a time, and then these beasts continue to live, forgetting what has happened.
With us, if the child falls sick, what is to be done, how to care for it, what doctor to call, where to go? If it dies, there will be no more little hands or little feet, and then what is the use of the sufferings endured? The cow does not ask all that, and this is why children are a source of misery12. The cow has no imagination, and for that reason cannot think how it might have saved the child if it had done this or that, and its grief, founded in its physical being, lasts but a very short time. It is only a condition, and not that sorrow which becomes exaggerated to the point of despair, thanks to idleness and satiety13. The cow has not that reasoning faculty14 which would enable it to ask the why. Why endure all these tortures? What was the use of so much love, if the little ones were to die? The cow has no logic15 which tells it to have no more children, and, if any come accidentally, to neither love nor nurse them, that it may not suffer. But our wives reason, and reason in this way, and that is why I said that, when a man does not live as a man, he is beneath the animal.”
“But then, how is it necessary to act, in your opinion, in order to treat children humanly?” I asked.
“How? Why, love them humanly.”
“Well, do not mothers love their children?”
“They do not love them humanly, or very seldom do, and that is why they do not love them even as dogs. Mark this, a hen, a goose, a wolf, will always remain to woman inaccessible16 ideals of animal love. It is a rare thing for a woman to throw herself, at the peril17 of her life, upon an elephant to snatch her child away, whereas a hen or a sparrow will not fail to fly at a dog and sacrifice itself utterly18 for its children. Observe this, also. Woman has the power to limit her physical love for her children, which an animal cannot do. Does that mean that, because of this, woman is inferior to the animal? No. She is superior (and even to say superior is unjust, she is not superior, she is different), but she has other duties, human duties. She can restrain herself in the matter of animal love, and transfer her love to the soul of the child. That is what woman’s role should be, and that is precisely19 what we do not see in our society. We read of the heroic acts of mothers who sacrifice their children in the name of a superior idea, and these things seem to us like tales of the ancient world, which do not concern us. And yet I believe that, if the mother has not some ideal, in the name of which she can sacrifice the animal feeling, and if this force finds no employment, she will transfer it to chimerical20 attempts to physically21 preserve her child, aided in this task by the doctor, and she will suffer as she does suffer.
“So it was with my wife. Whether there was one child or five, the feeling remained the same. In fact, it was a little better when there had been five. Life was always poisoned with fear for the children, not only from their real or imaginary diseases, but even by their simple presence. For my part, at least, throughout my conjugal22 life, all my interests and all my happiness depended upon the health of my children, their condition, their studies. Children, it is needless to say, are a serious consideration; but all ought to live, and in our days parents can no longer live. Regular life does not exist for them. The whole life of the family hangs by a hair. What a terrible thing it is to suddenly receive the news that little Basile is vomiting23, or that Lise has a cramp24 in the stomach! Immediately you abandon everything, you forget everything, everything becomes nothing. The essential thing is the doctor, the enema, the temperature. You cannot begin a conversation but little Pierre comes running in with an anxious air to ask if he may eat an apple, or what jacket he shall put on, or else it is the servant who enters with a screaming baby.
“Regular, steady family life does not exist. Where you live, and consequently what you do, depends upon the health of the little ones, the health of the little ones depends upon nobody, and, thanks to the doctors, who pretend to aid health, your entire life is disturbed. It is a perpetual peril. Scarcely do we believe ourselves out of it when a new danger comes: more attempts to save. Always the situation of sailors on a foundering25 vessel26. Sometimes it seemed to me that this was done on purpose, that my wife feigned27 anxiety in order to conquer me, since that solved the question so simply for her benefit. It seemed to me that all that she did at those times was done for its effect upon me, but now I see that she herself, my wife, suffered and was tortured on account of the little ones, their health, and their diseases.
“A torture to both of us, but to her the children were also a means of forgetting herself, like an intoxication28. I often noticed, when she was very sad, that she was relieved, when a child fell sick, at being able to take refuge in this intoxication. It was involuntary intoxication, because as yet there was nothing else. On every side we heard that Mrs. So-and-so had lost children, that Dr. So-and-so had saved the child of Mrs. So-and-so, and that in a certain family all had moved from the house in which they were living, and thereby29 saved the little ones. And the doctors, with a serious air, confirmed this, sustaining my wife in her opinions. She was not prone30 to fear, but the doctor dropped some word, like corruption31 of the blood, scarlatina, or else — heaven help us — diphtheria, and off she went.
“It was impossible for it to be otherwise. Women in the old days had the belief that ‘God has given, God has taken away,’ that the soul of the little angel is going to heaven, and that it is better to die innocent than to die in sin. If the women of to-day had something like this faith, they could endure more peacefully the sickness of their children. But of all that there does not remain even a trace. And yet it is necessary to believe in something; consequently they stupidly believe in medicine, and not even in medicine, but in the doctor. One believes in X, another in Z, and, like all believers, they do not see the idiocy32 of their beliefs. They believe quia absurdum, because, in reality, if they did not believe in a stupid way, they would see the vanity of all that these brigands33 prescribe for them. Scarlatina is a contagious34 disease; so, when one lives in a large city, half the family has to move away from its residence (we did it twice), and yet every man in the city is a centre through which pass innumerable diameters, carrying threads of all sorts of contagions35. There is no obstacle: the baker37, the tailor, the coachman, the laundresses.
“And I would undertake, for every man who moves on account of contagion36, to find in his new dwelling-place another contagion similar, if not the same.
“But that is not all. Every one knows rich people who, after a case of diphtheria, destroy everything in their residences, and then fall sick in houses newly built and furnished. Every one knows, likewise, numbers of men who come in contact with sick people and do not get infected. Our anxieties are due to the people who circulate tall stories. One woman says that she has an excellent doctor. ‘Pardon me,’ answers the other, ‘he killed such a one,’ or such a one. And vice38 versa. Bring her another, who knows no more, who learned from the same books, who treats according to the same formulas, but who goes about in a carriage, and asks a hundred roubles a visit, and she will have faith in him.
“It all lies in the fact that our women are savages39. They have no belief in God, but some of them believe in the evil eye, and the others in doctors who charge high fees. If they had faith they would know that scarlatina, diphtheria, etc., are not so terrible, since they cannot disturb that which man can and should love,— the soul. There can result from them only that which none of us can avoid,— disease and death. Without faith in God, they love only physically, and all their energy is concentrated upon the preservation40 of life, which cannot be preserved, and which the doctors promise the fools of both sexes to save. And from that time there is nothing to be done; the doctors must be summoned.
“Thus the presence of the children not only did not improve our relations as husband and wife, but, on the contrary, disunited us. The children became an additional cause of dispute, and the larger they grew, the more they became an instrument of struggle.
One would have said that we used them as weapons with which to combat each other. Each of us had his favorite. I made use of little Basile (the eldest41), she of Lise. Further, when the children reached an age where their characters began to be defined, they became allies, which we drew each in his or her own direction. They suffered horribly from this, the poor things, but we, in our perpetual hubbub42, were not clear-headed enough to think of them. The little girl was devoted43 to me, but the eldest boy, who resembled my wife, his favorite, often inspired me with dislike.
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1
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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2
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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entanglement
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| n.纠缠，牵累 | |
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pregnancy
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| n.怀孕，怀孕期 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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6
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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7
maternity
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| n.母性，母道，妇产科病房；adj.孕妇的，母性的 | |
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8
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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9
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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10
droops
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的名词复数 ) | |
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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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12
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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13
satiety
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| n.饱和；(市场的)充分供应 | |
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14
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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16
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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17
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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20
chimerical
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| adj.荒诞不经的，梦幻的 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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23
vomiting
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| 吐 | |
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cramp
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| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
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foundering
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| v.创始人( founder的现在分词 ) | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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29
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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31
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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32
idiocy
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| n.愚蠢 | |
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33
brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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34
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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35
contagions
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| 传染( contagion的名词复数 )； 接触传染； 道德败坏； 歪风 | |
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36
contagion
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| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
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37
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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38
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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39
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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40
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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41
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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42
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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43
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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