II. FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN MAN AND WOMAN.

Not long ago a few congenial souls were discussing woman’s friendship for man, when one party, a man, rather sneeringly and mockingly exclaimed:

“What utter rot and nonsense this is to talk about platonic friendship when we all know there is no such thing!”

Thereupon I made some defensive, and, I dare say, rather pointed remarks, so that the rest of the company good-naturedly passed on to another topic of conversation, as all people do when they imagine a war of words is impending, and endeavor to avoid it.

Not so with my opponent, for later in the evening I saw him approaching my corner and was prepared for something of the cross-questioning which followed.

“I should have supposed that you were too intelligent a woman to have clung to the exploded idea of platonic friendship,” he began rather irritably.

“And my intelligence, if I have any, has solved and proved the problem that it can and does exist,” I answered with provoking decision. “Now you are really talking of something you know nothing about. I will admit, if you like, that platonism in the old accepted form is a bygone theory. It might have existed ages ago—in fact, I have not the slightest doubt but that the dear old philosopher reveled in his particular views and derived half the pleasure of existence out of his hundred and one friendships for the opposite sex, but history tells us he was a dear, exemplary, eminently respectable fellow, to whom the ordinary human weaknesses of life meant very little. We are living in a totally different atmosphere at present, and one must acknowledge there are few, very few modern Platos. Yes, this is too material an era for the recognized version of platonic love to exist but I still stoutly maintain that an ideal friendship between the opposite sexes is not only possible, but is an established vital fact, and there is no lovelier thing on earth than such a friendship.

“A prominent divine recently acknowledged from his pulpit that in his career his best friends had been women, and in the seventeen years of his ministry the truest, best words of encouragement had come from his female friends. We need only take a mental glance at those idyllic friendships which have become historical.”

“Oh, of course, you are now going to quote the same couples every one does when they discuss this subject,” said my friend, with a resigned air.

“Well, I most assuredly intend referring to what are known as existing facts,” I rejoined tartly. “The friendship of Mrs. Taylor for John Stuart Mill through twenty years of literary communion, and the ideal companionship of Lydia Maria Child and Ellis Gray Loring, ought to be sufficient proofs that such a friendship as I contend exists can also be genuine and of inestimable value.

“A woman’s faith in a man’s ability, a woman’s interest, friendship and fidelity to the man whose avowed friend she is, will spur him on to achieve fame, fortune, and all those good things of life.”

“Then she is in love with him, that is all there is about it,” said my companion, still unconvinced. “The feeling and interest you have described come from love, not friendship. Many people mistake friendship for love. They love each other without knowing it, or they love knowingly and maintain silence.”

“Well, what do you call that but the height of a noble, disinterested friendship?” I rejoined triumphantly. “A person who, though possessing a deep, intense affection for some man or woman, can yet efface that love or hide it because the knowledge of its existence might give that other pain, has reached the sublimity of self-abnegating friendship. I knew just such a case. A man whose literary achievements were of the highest order possessed the friendship of a woman who was herself a successful litterateur. The man’s wife was a sickly, uninteresting, irritable creature, toward whom he might have justly been excused for being indifferent, and yet so strong were his ideas of duty and honor that for years the love for his friend remained unspoken. Each knew the other loved, but the loyalty of their friendship was paramount.”

“We French understand that much better than you Americans,” here chimed in a distinguished French artist, who had been an attentive listener to our little discussion.

“The friendship of Le Fèvre and Mme. Dacier is often cited, but they were a pair of pedants, and I am sure were squabbling eternally, and throwing Horace or Homer at each other’s heads literally or metaphorically every moment of their lives.

“Voltaire and Mme. du Châtelet did much better. They contented themselves during their long friendship with mangling poor Newton between them, and, satisfied with this amusement, never thought of marrying at all.

“You remember, too, that old story, don’t you, of Ponte de Vesle and Mme. du Deffand, whose constancy to each other the whole eighteenth century admired and exalted? They passed fifty years together in the most delightful and perfect intimacy, to the great scandal of the women of the day, who could not appreciate an attachment so deeply rooted. There was never a cloud between them and seemingly no cessation of their love. The honest man, Du Deffand, let it pass with a touching resignation. But finally after all these years of attentions, protestations, pledges and devotion, the two found themselves alone in her apartments of Mme. du Deffand, with the husband long dead and madame ill unto death. ‘What are you doing?’ she called out to her friend from an inner room. ‘And where are you?’ ‘I am sitting in the corner of your chimney, quite at home,’ he made answer. ‘There are very few friendships as old as ours. It is fifty years and not a rupture,’ she sighed. ‘Yes, that is what I have always admired,’ answered he. ‘But,’ exclaimed she, ‘has that not been from the fact that at the core we were very indifferent to each other?’”

“And the application?” I ask, a trifle anxiously.

“Lies in the fact that the foundation stone of your platonic friendships is, after all, respectful indifference,” answered the foreigner, picking up my fan and waving it idly once or twice.

“Then you think—”

“That there can be no affection between a man and woman without the danger of its developing into a passionate attachment, and if they do remain the sort of friends your charming American imagination would have them, they must indeed care very little about each other.”

I immediately began an indignant protest, and continued my vigorous defense of the subject in hand.

“What rank heresy to talk in that way! I know so many men and women who are devoted to each other’s interests without any thought of love between them, and I also know that those friendships have lasted through trials bitterer than death. There must have been deep affection at the bottom to have stood up under such attacks on its genuineness. I have in mind also the case of a distinguished man of letters who, for sixteen years, has been the devoted friend and counselor of a literary woman, with whom he has maintained an unbroken correspondence. They have shared each other’s hopes, fears and triumphs. During this period many women have caught the passing fancy of the man, for, as it has been aptly said, ‘A poet without a love is like a sky without a star,’ and he has wandered out of his friend’s orbit only to return, however, with the tale of his disillusionment and to vow that friendship was more satisfying and enduring than love. That word love has never been spoken between these friends of mine for good and urgent reasons. The man’s expression of devotion is in his books or articles, not always in open dedication, but in the use of some pet name of his friend’s, some passages of her life, some description of her personality or her individuality, and thus he pays her a subtle compliment, which the world sees not, but which associates her with his best work, and makes her feel that she is its inspiration.

“In all this argument, however, remember I am speaking of people educated to the highest degree of intellectuality, men and women who thoroughly understand themselves and the world. With creatures of a lower order of mentality, those in whom the materiality predominates over the spirituality, these ideal friendships are among the impossibilities. In the first place, they could not understand the plane of thought from which such intellectual communication and friendship draw their inspiration. With them the emotional part of their nature would dominate every other sentiment, and when one yields to materialism, of course, friendship ceases. Oh, no; the man must be well poised and full of respect for the woman, and capable of sacrificing himself for her well being, a man to whom brains and mental advancement mean more than anything else, and above all, a man who believes in the equality of the sexes in everything, and recognizes the fact that women are as fully and completely equipped mentally as the members of his own sex. However, in forming these friendships, he must select the woman who is oftentimes hardest to gain as a friend, who, although perhaps needing just the kind of association it is in his power to offer her, yet gives the world and him the impression that she possesses sufficient courage and independence to fight life’s battle alone.”

“And the woman?” questions my listeners.

“Ah, the woman! Now we have reached the vital core of the question; for indeed everything rests with her. She can make or mar such an ideal friendship; she can gain and hold in its highest term the true, honest, unselfish affection and devotion of some man, or through weakness or wantonness she can merge it into lawlessness and shame, or even into hatred. To begin with, a woman must be sure of herself; she should study her own capabilities, know her own weak points and guard against them, and with it all possess enough innate dignity to be able to ignore or to check, as the case may require, any impulsiveness in her friend’s nature.”

“You are speaking of a very remarkable species of woman, and one very rarely met with,” interrupted my first opponent cynically, while the face of the Frenchman wore the exasperating smile of one who is vastly amused.

“I assure you I know myriads of women who are clever enough and thoroughly capable of being a partner in an ideal friendship,” I reply. “You don’t know what capabilities many women have until you have tested them. What do the majority of men know of the inner natures of the women they meet casually at receptions, dinners and balls? There may be a dozen of your own acquaintances who have mental resources you never suspected, and, as you have not demanded anything higher from them mentally than the mere persiflage of society, why should they unfold flowers of the mind that the frost of your skepticism would simply chill and wither? Ah, my friends, too many women have proved their great natures under the call of emergency for us to doubt at this date that they are capable of anything they determine upon.

“First, remember this warning, though—try your woman. Don’t select one who is eternally suggesting platonic loves, and who wishes you to confide all your troubles to her after an evening’s acquaintance. She is the one who will break your newborn faith and bring you back to me with the worn out maxim, ‘I told you so.’

“Secondly, a man’s treatment of his woman friend must be considered. He should bear himself toward her with a courtly consideration at all times that will leave no doubt with any healthy-minded observer that he first respects and then admires her. He must give to her and her opinions the same deference he pays to those of his male friends. He must avoid, however, too much of an air of tenderness to pervade his manner, excepting that tenderness which a man might show toward a child. A comrade? Yes, the one sincere friend who understands his weaknesses as well as his good characteristics, and who will judge and advise him impartially and with justice.

“Lastly, you must be prepared to meet with all manner of ill-natured remarks and criticisms if you should ever enter into a friendship of this kind. But if the man and woman have sufficient strength and will to bear up and despise prejudiced cynicism, they will surely be strengthened and ennobled by the true enjoyment of such an association. I know of one pitiful case of a certain delightful companionship of two friends of mine that I had watched for years, and that had warmed my heart in watching, but cynics like you two men, together with the worldly, calloused gossips who infest society, finally destroyed the exquisite plant. The man thought too much of his friend to expose her longer to the slights and slanderous remarks which he felt were injuring her, and she came to me in her desolation with the wail on her lips, ‘Will the time never come when a man and a woman can honestly like each other without the world crying out love or flirtation?’”