Chapter 4 - Is Romance Enough?

If one were to read all that is said about romantic love in the textbooks on marriage and family life and in the various manuals of advice for young people published during the past twenty years or so, one would get the impression that it is some kind of dangerous and contagious disease for which the scientists should find a vaccine. Then all children could be vaccinated at an early age and be free of this pestilence that inevitably leads to marital tension or divorce. If, instead, one reads the popular magazines, sees moving pictures, listens to the radio, watches television, or just eavesdrops on the conversation of those two young people on the next seat in the trolley car, one gets a different view of romantic love. It is the supreme and ultimate goal of life. Without it, life is not worth living; and with it, eternal happiness is assured. It is small wonder that young people are confused over such conflicting ideas on the nature of love.

This chapter is an attempt to look at both sides of this paradox and to consider such questions about romantic love as these: What is it? How have societies other than our own regarded it? What has caused our emphasis upon it as the essential for a successful marriage? How does all this apply to marriage in America at the present time?

What Is Romantic Love?

It is almost a sacrilege to say anything against "love" in our country. To intimate that romance may not be the best foundation for a good marriage often raises such hostile rhetorical questions as, "Should we, then, in cold calculation and without love, become opportunists and look for financial gain or high status through marriage?" Questions of this kind occur because of a misunderstanding about what the term romantic love means, and it is perhaps best to try to clarify that at the outset.

Unfortunately, words are used loosely, even important ones like "love." Yet, even in everyday talk, we make a distinction between loving someone and "being in love." We do appreciate that there is a difference. We love our families, our friends, our neighbors, and our babies. "Being in love," though, is a state reserved for young people. If we see an enduring affection between an elderly married couple, we may use the same descriptive term for them, but we note it as extraordinary and are likely to say, "They are as much in love as when they were bride and groom." Apparently we have to attach this concept to youth to make it seem real, for it carries with it a connotation of excitement, fever, and heart throbs that are not comely after the age of twenty-five.

There are actually three kinds of love toward others involved here. The first is the attitude and behavior toward human beings in general that Moses enjoined upon his people, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself" (Leviticus 19:18). In the New Testament, in Corinthians, this kind of love is called "charity." A second kind is "conjugal love," which means the total bond of affection between a husband and wife arising from their life-union and encompassing every facet of it. Frequently this is referred to as "devotion." Romantic love is neither of these. It may develop into one of them or it may not.

Romantic love is a combination of physical attraction and emotional longing which clouds "reason" and leads to fantasy. That is a harsh-sounding statement and needs to be justified. Perhaps it can be. First of all, sexual and emotional longings are personal, individual, and self-centered. They are what "I" expect to get by way of satisfaction from some other person. This is far different from the outgoing feelings involved in charity and devotion, which stress a reasoned consideration of the needs of another person or persons. Secondly, the very nature of romantic love makes it hectically emotional. Nothing except fear makes the heart beat so fast as love; and the faster the heart beats, the more our conscious thinking is obscured. The old adage that love is blind might just as well be attributed to hate. Any high emotional state is blinding to the true facts. For instance, when we hate someone, usually because we fear him in some way, our picture of the true nature of that person is warped. Though reason haunts us by whispering that we are going a little overboard, we feel and "know," through our emotions, that that person is 100 per cent evil, without a single virtue. Furthermore, the hotter our hatred, the more we exaggerate his faults. Race riots and lynchings, quite outside the law and reason, result from such emotions. The same principle holds true with romantic love. The greater the love, the more we are unable to see one single reasonable fault in the object of our desires. So love becomes blind, and builds up a fiction of the absolute perfection of the loved one, which has no necessary relation to the truth. Should a parent or friend attempt to interfere, romantic rationalization easily overcomes the doubts. The romantic fiction is that, if two people really love each other enough, they can solve even the most spectacular difficulties; and that, if they cannot solve those difficulties, they were mistaken in the first place. They really did not love each other enough. So now they must separate and begin again the quest of finding the perfect person who will be the fulfiller of every personal need.

The discussion, then, in this chapter, is very specific. It is not a cynical or misanthropic tirade against "love," nor yet an idealization of it. It has to do only with "romantic love" as that has been described, and it is limited to discussing that only in trying to assess how sound it is as a sole basis for the selection of a marital partner at the present time in our country.

Love in Other Societies

There is a great deal of evidence that love and marriage, contrary to the popular song, have not always gone together like a horse and carriage. In fact, until very recently, in most societies the two were usually considered as separate phenomena. The reason for this is quite simple to understand.

Every society is interested in the stability of marriage, because of the importance of childbearing and child-rearing. Without these a society dies away. So far, no civilized society has found a better way to handle this matter than through the institution of marriage, in which husbands and wives stick together and do the job. To be sure, Russia many years ago did try to unseat marriage for purposes of state control and education of children; but it did not work. Bands of family-less children roamed the streets of the cities and became destructive and dangerous. Abortions in Leningrad in one year outnumbered live births. This could not be allowed to continue, for the safety of the state. So Russia set about strengthening marriage and the family.

In order to be stable a marriage must rest upon more than sexual attraction and emotional needs of mates. It must be “family minded.” Realizing the ephemeral nature of romance but the need that people have for it, most groups have made allowances for it—outside of marriage. An illustration is the aristocratic French marriage of convenience. A mate was selected because of family reasons, to further the family line and to maintain it at its high standard. Romance, far from being considered an essential ingredient, was suspected as having a weakening effect on marriage. Nevertheless, people were smitten with it then, as now. So the paramour filled the romantic role and was not frowned upon but considered as a sort of safety valve for marriage. In Vienna, in the eighteenth century, it is said that all highborn women had both a husband and a lover and that it was considered improper to invite her to a party without both of them. The same was true among upper-class men throughout most of civilized Europe.

To indicate the suspicion which has surrounded the idea of romantic attachment in marriage, we quote from two letters published, in 1804, in a little book on courtship and marriage. The first was written by Dean Swift to a very young lady on her marriage; the second, by Mrs. Piozzi, to a young gentleman under the same circumstances.

I must warn you against the least degree of fondness to your husband, before any witness whatsoever, even before your nearest relations, or the very maids of your chamber. This proceeding is so exceedingly odious and disgustful to all who have either good breeding or good sense, that they assign two very unamiable reasons for it: the one gross hypocrisy; and the other has too bad a name to mention. . . . Upon this head, I should likewise advise you to differ in practice from those ladies who affect abundance of uneasiness while their husbands are abroad . . . and receive him at his return with such a medley of chiding and kindness, and catechize him where he has been, that a shrew from Billingsgate would be a more easy and eligible companion. Of the same leaven are those wives, who, when their husbands have gone a journey, must have a letter every post, upon pain of fits and hysterics and a day must be fixed for their return home. . . . You have a very few years to be young and handsome in the eyes of the world, and a few months to be so in the eyes of a husband, who is not a fool; for I hope you do not still dream of charms and raptures, which marriage ever did and ever will put an end to. ... You must therefore use all endeavors to attain to some degree of those accomplishments, which your husband most values in other people, and for which he is most valued himself. You must improve your mind.

. . .  I will add one thing . . . which is, to desire that you will learn to value and esteem your husband for those good qualities, which he really possesseth, and not to fancy others in him which he certainly hath not.

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I received the news of your marriage with infinite delight, and hope that the sincerity with which I wish you happiness may excuse the liberty I take in giving you a few rules, whereby more certainly to obtain it. I see you smile at my wrong-headed kindness, and reflecting on the charms of your bride, cry out in rapture, that you are happy enough without any rules. . . . When your present violence of passion subsides, however, and a more cool and tranquil affection takes its place, be not hasty to censure yourself as indifferent, or to lament yourself as unhappy, you have lost only that which it is impossible to retain. . . . Neither unwarily condemn your bride's insipidity, till you have recollected that no object however sublime, no sounds however charming, can continue to transport us, with delight, when they no longer strike us with novelty. . . . The person of your lady is already your own, and will not grow more pleasing in your eyes I doubt, though the rest of your sex will think her handsomer for these dozen years. Turn therefore all your attention to her mind, which will daily grow brighter by polishing. Study some easy science together, and acquire a similarity of taste while you enjoy a community of pleasures. You will by this measure have many images in common, and be freed from the necessity of separating to find amusement.

All this sounds as shocking to the modern American ear as unchaperoned dating did in the early 1900's. It is intended not as a proposal that American mores be changed to sanction sex relations outside of marriage (anything but!), nor yet that marriage should be devoid of all tender feelings. It is supposed merely to stress the fact that, whereas we insist that falling in love is the essential reason for matrimony, the experience of centuries among most civilized groups has made them feel quite differently.

In spite of this distinct division between romance and marriage in other societies, it is nothing new for husbands and wives to love each other devotedly. It has often happened in every society that a boy and girl who became romantically attracted to each other were also considered good mates because they and their families had so many other things in common to begin with. The elders know that the attraction is much less apt to pass under such circumstances, and that the couple will be held together by other things. Also, love has frequently developed after marriage. One need only refer to Pearl Buck's novels about Chinese family life to see how this happens. In both peasant and aristocratic families, she shows young girls and boys who have not even seen each other before their marriage, working together, rearing families, managing the household, tending each other in illness and trouble, selecting their children's mates, even choosing together a young concubine or second wife for the husband, and growing closer and closer in their devotion to each other throughout their lives. In all such cases, however, whether love was or was not present before the marriage, the suitability of the match was based on other considerations and not at all on romantic feelings.

Why Our Emphasis on Romance?

If one looks a bit at the nature of our society, it is possible to discover a number of reasons why we have been led into the almost unique experiment of marrying for love.

For one thing, the religious character of our forefathers in this country was strong. Their religion was one of strict morals. Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter tells the story of attitudes toward sex relations outside of marriage. They branded a woman eternally and kept her apart from a normal life. Our whole religious heritage condemns such behavior. Sex is for marriage and must wait until such time as marriage is possible. Often this is a long while after adolescent sexual feelings have started to mature. Thus they must, in some way, be sublimated. The modern teenage boy who sublimates his growing sexual awareness by "showing off" to his girl, giving her class rings and fraternity pins, and thus proving his "love" and his "manliness," without defying the mores of his society, is an example of this. The longer such sublimation must take place, the more he tends to idealize the prize that is not yet within reach. So it comes to be thought of as just about the most important and glamorous thing in life, not because of the miracle of procreation but as a personal satisfaction—a release from frustration.

Also, life is truly a well of loneliness for many people. It is huge, it is impersonal, families are small and often not close in their relationships. Many a child grows up with no particular feeling of really belonging to anyone nor of having anyone really belong to him. Everything in our culture leads him to indulge in the dream of sometime possessing, completely, a person who is in all ways perfect and satisfying. As a mother or father to their children? No. As a personal, emotional pleasure.

The influence of these two aspects of our culture in setting up romance as a supreme goal may best be shown by comparing different groups in the United States. It is generally believed that the concept of romantic love flourishes more in the middle class than in any other. Marriage in the established upper class has something of the nature of older forms of marital selection. Though it is done subtly, parents and kinsfolk exert strong controls and pressures for "approved" marriages. This class has the highest degree of stability in marriage of any social class in America. On the other hand, in the lower class, sex mores, generally speaking, are less strict; life is brutally real, and leaves little room for fantasying. Marriage is apt to be early and frequent, with or without benefit of clergy; or, when stable, finds its stability in keeping its head above water rather than in romanticizing. The middle class, however, lives under different conditions. It has everything to gain by adhering to the code that has been popularly labeled "middle-class morality." Also, the pressures in the middle class are to better one's self. The middle class can, through earnest effort, move upward. This in itself is often a lonely task, involving hard work, much learning, and often the leaving behind of friends, kinsfolk, and even the small family who may not progress upward at the same rate. As a matter of fact, in all civilized societies before the rise of the middle class, romance and marriage were considered separately. The aristocracy, as has been stated, had its own views on the subject. The peasantry had to be too much concerned with living to think of loving as the essential principle in making life bearable. With the rise of a middle class, however, there converged the needs and the opportunities to unite romance and marriage.

Once the seed had fertile soil on which to grow, it was fed well from many sources. One is the afore-mentioned (and again to be discussed in a later chapter) individualistic philosophy of our country. Not only is it the individual who chooses a mate; but his purpose in choosing is an individualistic purpose—namely, happiness. This does not mean the happiness of a family group but of the individual mate. An illustration in point is the severe unhappiness caused to many children by the separation of their parents. Yet in the majority of our states one can find some grounds for divorce that have to do only with the relationship between the mates and do not directly concern the children. Indignities and cruelty, when construed as mental cruelty, are examples.

Another source for the nurture of romance is our emphasis on youth. In a country which was first wild and had to be tamed, and which then started changing most of its methods and many of its customs at least once in every decade, the accent quite naturally is on the adaptability of youth. It is, as an example, easier to hire young people and teach them how to run new machines than it is to retrain older persons, particularly since they have to break down old habit patterns of operation before they learn new ones. The same thing holds true in the area of ideas. Our whole culture is dedicated to a romantic emphasis upon youth. This is supposed to be the best time of life—and one may as well make the most of it. Young people are the most attractive, and older people are apt to be brushed aside with indifference. It is the pretty girl in her late teens and early twenties who is the center of attention. What is so affecting as a lovely young girl marrying a handsome boy? Elderly ladies weep at such occasions, indulging themselves in romantic fantasies and, for a moment, reliving the past. Why do not the same women weep over the marriage of a lonely widower of fifty-five to a lonely widow of fifty? They are more apt to be regarded as "old fools." In other societies this is not necessarily so. The ideal figure may be the older man of experience, or the mother; but with us the young girl receives more eager and romantic attention than she is likely to receive again in her life.

The social notes in the newspapers may serve to illustrate how our culture focuses upon youth and its doings as the romantic epitome of life. Depending upon the social status of the couple, their engagement will be written up in considerable detail, with a picture of the girl, the names of his parents and her parents, the schools and careers and home towns of the couple. Their wedding receives even more attention. There is a picture of the bride in her wedding gown, a notice of the attendants and their homes, the place of the wedding and the reception (though everyone who is invited knows where they are and no one else can go anyway), where the couple will honeymoon, when they will return, where they will live upon their return, a detailed description of the wedding gown already photographed, and perhaps what the other girls and women in the wedding party wore. All this, for the consumption of the general public, few of whom know personally the people involved. At intervals of several years, later, one may find, if one looks hard, a small announcement of the birth of a baby to this couple. The announcement is cryptic and stark. They had a baby, boy or girl, named so-and-so, the 72nd child in the family. When this couple gets into the news now, it is because of an accident, crisis, or honor; or the successful efforts of the social columnist (paid by the inch) to discover whom they entertained and by whom they were feted. Later they may be named in the columns again, as the parents of the center of attraction—the son or daughter who is engaged or getting married.

The romantic interest even of close friends usually runs parallel to the social items. Excitement is high over engagements and weddings. Even the first baby may provoke more than one baby shower. The second may elicit such romantic remarks as, "It's a good thing they had another. Too bad it was a girl again." When the third arrives, "Not another girl!" And when the fourth comes, "Imagine having to put all those children through college!" When the children do get through college, though, and start getting married, the older generation becomes exceedingly interested again.

Many aspects of American history have favored our devotion to romance. The comparative ease of making a living in this country has lessened interest in dowries and other property considerations in mate selection. Indifference to social rank found its complement in relatively fewer marriages with an eye to family status. The new continent's insatiable demand for population growth favored marriage, per se. The passing of the older authoritarian family into the more democratic form of today made for lessened parental control. Then, too, a popular literature which included such best sellers as E. A. Poe, Laura Jean Libbey, Harold Bell Wright, and Robert W. Chambers created the taste which later-day romance magazines and Hollywood movies standardized and commercialized—all hallowing the very sellable idea that love, and love alone, is the best guide to, and the only justification for, the marriage of any two particular persons. For every Jack there is a Jill, and all other things must bow to their rights to have each other.

Romance and American Marriage

Elsewhere in this book it has been stated that though marriage is more popular in the United States than in most other countries, it is also less successful. How is "marrying for love" related to marital failure? Though it is hoped that this may have become apparent in the previous pages, it might be well to summarize at this point.

First, the fact that romance is founded in physical and emotional needs may lead to disillusionment. When a society is "permissive" about sex relations before or after marriage, such relations tend to take on the tone of merely satisfying an animal appetite which is quickly appeased—one conquest is much like another, and quickly over. Where, instead, a society is "restrictive," romantic idealization of the individual concerned is apt to take place.

For instance, Grace and John meet each other, and they fall in love at first sight. Or they are sufficiently "attracted" to each other that they want to date each other, and pretty soon they are in that exciting state. What made them "fall" or decide to explore further? Since they knew practically nothing about each other except what they saw, it was probably physical attraction and a desire to be loved. Now they want each other, but this is against the rules. Grace is half-intrigued and half-afraid of her feelings, more afraid than John because the burden of drawing lines has been put on her. John is in a fever of excitement. If he really wants to, he can pursue. He just might be a successful hunter. But no. Grace knows the rules, and so does he. Still ... he does pursue, and Grace perfects herself in what has been called "the art of retreat that subtly beckons." This is a fascinating game for both of them, and one that they are both sure they can win through marriage. Romance fills the air and expands every day. So they get married. Restrictions are now at an end. Their society suddenly becomes completely permissive. And who has won the game?

The old adage that one does not chase a trolley car after one has caught it is literally true for John, though it may sound very cynical. Grace now is a married woman, the coveted status among young girls. She need no longer practice her "art." The goal, on the basis of their first appeal for each other, has been attained. The experience in itself may be satisfying or disappointing, but the romantic fever and the feinting game that were caused by the delayed goal are over. One of two things may then occur. Grace and John may discover that they harmonize in all the little things that go to make up mundane daily living. Thus, they enjoy and admire each other, and in their exultation (not excitement—there is a difference) over their growing comradeship find that this general happiness encompasses their physical relationship. Or, if they find nothing to be exultant about day by day, they may both reach out for the earlier excitement. John may chase another trolley, and Grace may polish up her "art" for further use.

Again, the fictional nature of romantic love may lead to difficulties. One's belief in the near-perfection of a loved one is at best a rationalization. Human beings are not gods, and everyone knows it. Frequently, though, this is a rationalization offered only to those who try to interfere with the marriage. Even a romantic lover is not really blind to all "faults" in the loved one. However, these can be overlooked for the present. In the consummation of so great a mutual love, faults will be corrected in order to make the mate happy. This is perhaps the most unfortunate delusion of romance. Before marriage, a girl and boy are trying hard to be acceptable to each other. They naturally soft-pedal their differences; and each one has a notion that once they are married he can change such differences—in his mate, of course. Once in a while this does happen, but not very often. Ordinarily, instead of changing basic attitudes and habits, people grow more rigid with maturity. They become more definitely and decisively what they really are. Thus, the fiction gives way to a reality that is not pleasant to face.

Jeff had noted several things about Emily that needed attention. She was not friendly with people, but seemed to be suspicious of his acquaintances. He knew, of course, that it was because she was "shy" and "insecure," or had been hurt. He could fix that up. Emily also disliked his mother, but that was merely because Emily did not know yet what a wonderful person his mother was. Emily was not very fastidious about her person and frankly said that she knew little about keeping house and cooking, and cared less; but that was because she had not been properly reared. She would learn. All this time, Emily has been sure that she could wean Jeff away from that "stuffy and cold" family of his with their hoity-toity ideas. She could make him "relax" once they could be alone and share their deep love for each other. They marry, and for a time find delight in their romantic response. Then they quarrel. Jeff says that Emily is rude to his family and friends, keeps a sloppy apartment, and cannot even feed him a decent meal when he gets home from work, tired and hungry. She says he doesn't understand her and doesn't love her any more or he wouldn't be picking her apart this way. In this state, they do not feel very much like falling into each other's arms for physical and emotional response. They are not responding. So the very things for which they "fell in love" are now beginning to fade away because of other little obstacles which they had thought inconsequential or correctible.

There is yet another fiction about romantic love that is importantly related to marriage. This is the belief that there is just one person fated for one other person, that a marriage is made in heaven, and that the young people so destined will recognize each other because of their great love. Actually, the behavior of young people belies this fiction. They do not fall in love just once. Most of the fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds who write to the lovelorn columns that they are "desperately in love" will have passed on from that love to another just as "desperate" in a year or so. Twenty-year-olds describe, condescendingly, the intensity of their earlier romances while they are just as seriously intense about the current one. This time, however, it is "different." They "got over" the others, but this one is "the real thing." Are they really so sure?

There is, at this point, an especial danger of making an ill-advised marriage. As the adolescent grows into the youth, the pressures, the desires, and the opportunities for marriage become stronger. Mary, at fourteen, suffered tortures because she could not marry David; but it was impossible. However, she lived to discover that David was not the hero she had thought him to be, and that she had had a lucky escape. At twenty, Mary's situation is quite different. Now it is Sam rather than David with whom she is in love. Several of Mary's friends are already married and have homes of their own. Mary feels a bit out of place with these couples because she is still a single girl living in her parents' home. She wants one of her own which she can manage by herself, she wants the magic title of "Mrs.," and she is very tired of parental authority. Furthermore, Sam has a good job and is able to support her. Added to their love for each other, everything else suggests that the moment is ripe for matrimony. The "everything else," plus the immediate opportunity, is what frequently crystallizes the decision to marry. Were the situation and the time not so propitious, and the urge not so strong, Mary might later discover that Sam is no more a good choice for her than was David, or Phil, or any of the other boys with whom she was once so much "in love."

In later chapters, the significance of many facets of married life which are considered of no importance during the excitement of romance will be presented. Suffice it to say here that in the face of the reality of everyday life in marriage, the fiction of romance might well be turned right around. Possibly it is true that, rather than love's being able to make all other things right, when everything else is compatible, love has its best chance of a long and healthy life. "Marriage," writes Father John L. Thomas, a well-known Catholic family sociologist, "involves living with a person, not merely loving him." It is this prosaic fact that places romantic love in its proper proportions as a basis for marriage—a basis, perhaps, but only one of many. Romance might be termed the prelude to the more sober and realistic consideration of a mate, but romance alone is not enough.

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