Life of Edwin Forrest, the American Tragedian. Volume 2 (of 2)Alger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Life of Edwin Forrest, the American Tragedian. Volume 2 (of 2)
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Forrest, Edwin, 1806-1872
Secondly, is the pathetic tragedy of being loved without the power to
return it. Coquetry, which has strewn its way everywhere with ravaged
and trampled prizes, reverses this, and without sympathy or principle
seeks to elicit and attract affection merely to pamper vanity and
gratify an obscene love of power; and this too is a tragedy, but one of
a fiendish import. The other is a sad and painful experience, yet with
something of an angelic touch in it. It seems to hint at a great
dislocation somewhere in the past of our race, causing this plaintive
discord of conjoined but jarring souls, whose incongruous rhythms can
never blend though in juxtaposition, like an ill-matched span whose
paces will not coincide but still hobble and interfere. To be the
recipient of a great absorbing love which one is absolutely unable to
reciprocate is to any one of generous sympathies a keen sorrow.
Sometimes too it is a sharp and wearing annoyance. And yet it is not
infrequent, both out of wedlock and in it. There are limits alike of
adaptation and of misadaptation to awaken love; and we can never have
any more love than we awaken or give any more than is awakened in us.
There are fatalities in these relations wholly beyond the reach of the
will. When two persons are married whose characters, culture, and
fitnesses place them on such different levels that they can meet only by
a laborious ascent on one side or a distasteful descent on the other,
where the ideal life of one is constantly hurt and baffled and flung in
on itself from every attempt at genial fellowship, any high degree of
love is hopeless. The conjunction is a yoke, not a partnership. Respect,
gratitude, pity, service, almost every quality except love, may be
earned. But love comes, if it come at all, spontaneously, in answer to
the native signals which evoke it. In vain do we strive to love one not
suited to us nor fitted for us; and a sensitive spirit forced to receive
the affectionate manifestations of such a one is often sorely tried when
seemingly bound to appear blessed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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