บทที่ บทที่ 11 · Chapter XI
. Chapter XI
“All marry in this way. And I did like the rest. If the young people
who dream of the honeymoon only knew what a disillusion it is, and
always a disillusion! I really do not know why all think it necessary
to conceal it.
“One day I was walking among the shows in Paris, when, attracted by a
sign, I entered an establishment to see a bearded woman and a
water-dog. The woman was a man in disguise, and the dog was an ordinary
dog, covered with a sealskin, and swimming in a bath. It was not in the
least interesting, but the Barnum accompanied me to the exit very
courteously, and, in addressing the people who were coming in, made an
appeal to my testimony. ‘Ask the gentleman if it is not worth seeing!
Come in, come in! It only costs a franc!’ And in my confusion I did not
dare to answer that there was nothing curious to be seen, and it was
upon my false shame that the Barnum must have counted.
“It must be the same with the persons who have passed through the
abominations of the honeymoon. They do not dare to undeceive their
neighbor. And I did the same.
“The felicities of the honeymoon do not exist. On the contrary, it is a
period of uneasiness, of shame, of pity, and, above all, of _ennui_,—of
ferocious _ennui_. It is something like the feeling of a youth when he
is beginning to smoke. He desires to vomit; he drivels, and swallows
his drivel, pretending to enjoy this little amusement. The vice of
marriage . . .”
“What! _Vice?_” I said. “But you are talking of one of the most natural
things.”
“Natural!” said he. “Natural! No, I consider on the contrary that it is
against nature, and it is I, a perverted man, who have reached this
conviction. What would it be, then, if I had not known corruption? To a
young girl, to every unperverted young girl, it is an act extremely
unnatural, just as it is to children. My sister married, when very
young, a man twice her own age, and who was utterly corrupt. I remember
how astonished we were the night of her wedding, when, pale and covered
with tears, she fled from her husband, her whole body trembling, saying
that for nothing in the world would she tell what he wanted of her.
“You say natural? It is natural to eat; that is a pleasant, agreeable
function, which no one is ashamed to perform from the time of his
birth. No, it is not natural. A pure young girl wants one
thing,—children. Children, yes, not a lover.” . . .
“But,” said I, with astonishment, “how would the human race continue?”
“But what is the use of its continuing?” he rejoined, vehemently.
“What! What is the use? But then we should not exist.”
“And why is it necessary that we should exist?”
“Why, to live, to be sure.”
“And why live? The Schopenhauers, the Hartmanns, and all the Buddhists,
say that the greatest happiness is Nirvana, Non-Life; and they are
right in this sense,—that human happiness is coincident with the
annihilation of ‘Self.’ Only they do not express themselves well. They
say that Humanity should annihilate itself to avoid its sufferings,
that its object should be to destroy itself. Now the object of Humanity
cannot be to avoid sufferings by annihilation, since suffering is the
result of activity. The object of activity cannot consist in
suppressing its consequences. The object of Man, as of Humanity, is
happiness, and, to attain it, Humanity has a law which it must carry
out. This law consists in the union of beings. This union is thwarted
by the passions. And that is why, if the passions disappear, the union
will be accomplished. Humanity then will have carried out the law, and
will have no further reason to exist.”
“And before Humanity carries out the law?”
“In the meantime it will have the sign of the unfulfilled law, and the
existence of physical love. As long as this love shall exist, and
because of it, generations will be born, one of which will finally
fulfil the law. When at last the law shall be fulfilled, the Human Race
will be annihilated. At least it is impossible for us to conceive of
Life in the perfect union of people.”