Women

No one really knows the truth about them, so in a way they're like black holes or gnomes. However, I happen to have a small, tidy corner on the covered market of knowledge, and this post is a special display, sought for across oceans, inquired into on dark nights with fey friends, even wrested from the secret vault of wisdom.

Naturally, they'll deny all of it. But one would expect that, since they've always been skilled in the art of deception, which is the greatest weapon of war, and of course they're always ready to wage war.

It has to do with love, which is the old-fashioned word for 'relationships,' and with the perennial insoluble questions, do I love him? do I not love him?

But prior to the questions of love, there is a metaphysical event which transpires deep in a woman’s heart of hearts, a very sacred place where even she herself is not allowed but once a year, dressed in pure white linen, with bare feet, dripping in blood. (I wonder whether there may not be some fitting element of self-worship for woman, having to do with being the representative of Beauty on this mortal earth.) This temple is the seat of the will, and whenever she meets a man, a fundamental act of the will inclines her towards or away from the idea of love with him, whether she be conscious of it or no.

Absent this primitive allegiance of the will, she is incapable of falling in love with him, though he be the most admirable sort of person, and it's here she's sometimes forced to reply to suitors, "I don't know why, I'm just not interested." Yet from time to time the strength of his personality, the honour of his career, or the piety of his religion may work their effects upon her imagination, and he may eventually change her will.

Yet as long as she has a positive inclination, some far more important condition must be satisfied. It is difficult to tell what it is, since she may contentedly date a man for many months before realizing it herself. She must respect him for the greatness of his soul.

Greatness of soul is a tricky thing to understand, though everyone has a sense of it. Naming the thing sometimes provokes hostility - it appears to contradict the Christian virtue of humility. For the essence of greatness of soul is ambition. He (or she) loves glory. To be precise, greatness of soul is the habitual striving to do great and honourable deeds, together with the self-respect to seek deserved praise. After a few minutes in the presence of these people, we are aware of their power and might, we are often overcome with loyalty. Dr.Blackstock (Hillsdale College’s Provost) has a term for these people: princes of men. It is the secular equivalent of sainthood - though they likewise owe their excellence to grace, only through different channels.

They aim for high things, and they do not succumb to trouble. They write mellifluous poetry, they train up their children, they build sturdy houses, they make passionate love, they lay down their lives for their brother, heads turn when they enter a room, and under their rule regimes enjoy a golden age.

They are secure in themselves; they don’t cry for the attention that lesser people demand under lesser stress. They are content with their lot even though they be despised. They make sure never to stay in another man's debt. They believe in destiny, but they don't believe in inevitability.

When they fall in love, they are not gripped for long by stupor, and when they gain the affection of their beloved, they do not relax into a passive happiness, for they have enough common sense to know that she is not the beatific vision; not at all: they invite their love to be co-creator of the world they are making.

A woman can respect a man with such a soul, and, here is a hard thing: she probably won't be happy otherwise. Traditional aristocracies hate to marry down; this is the moral equivalent of marrying down. Still, you say, this doesn't explain why so many couples fall and stay in love, for few enough men and few enough women are capable of great deeds! Well, don't think of this in binary: there are grades, there are measures, there are backwaters and outliers. The postman may be further along than the speechwriter, and whatnot.

Yet through all the delightful complexity of it, the quality of greatness shines through the outward appearance, and a woman is able to recognize it, both in herself, and in her man. And when she sees a greater soul in a man than she sees in herself, she can fundamentally respect him.

Just so, a man can only fundamentally respect a woman who is greater than he, and probably won't be happy otherwise. But it turns out that though a couple each think of the other as higher than him or herself, that this is the operation of humility; really, they are equal. Consult your own experience. Do you not find that you have a similar degree of respect for each person in a happy couple? And do you not find that amongst couples that break apart, that you often had a much higher regard for one of them than the other?

And here I will tread cautiously, because it is in the power of these words to wound, so you must read them with salt and with caution of your own, but I have also seen that, in relationships between serious, honourable people, the woman is much more likely to break off the relationship than the man, and this may be because women generally are of greater worth then men. So that a great woman often finds that she does not recognize in her man a true equality of soul. Tragically, she cannot fundamentally respect him, and so, with him, she cannot be happy. (N.B. She never tells him so. Thus for the second time a man hears the dismal dismissal, "I don't know why, I'm just not interested.")

I'm far from explaining all love, its entwinings and unwindings, in this way. I merely explain what I believe to be a very important part of it. Take it or leave it.

Give me women, wine, and snuff,
Until I cry out, "Hold, enough!"
You may do so sans objection,
'Till the day of resurrection.
For, bless my beard, they aye shall be,
My beloved trinity.
~John Keats