Emil Lucka - The Evolution of Love
E >>
Emil Lucka >> The Evolution of Love
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20 |
21 |
22 THE EVOLUTION OF LOVE
BY
EMIL LUCKA
TRANSLATED BY
ELLIE SCHLEUSSNER
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD.
RUSKIN HOUSE, 40 MUSEUM STREET, W.C.1
_First published in Great Britain 1922_
(_All rights reserved_)
_Printed in Great Britain by_
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, LONDON AND WOKING
PREFACE
The object of this book, which is addressed to all cultured men and
women, is to set forth the primitive manifestations of love and to throw
light on those strange emotional climaxes which I have called
"Metaphysical Eroticism." I have taken no account of historical detail,
except where it served the purpose of proving, explaining and
illustrating my subject. Nor have I hesitated to intermingle
psychological motives and motives arising from the growth and spread of
civilisation. The inevitable result of a one-sided glimpse at historical
facts would have been a history of love, an undertaking for which I lack
both ability and inclination. On the other hand, had I written a merely
psychological treatise, disregarding the succession of periods, I should
have laid myself open to the just reproach of giving rein to my
imagination instead of dealing with reality.
I have availed myself of historical facts to demonstrate that what
psychology has shown to be the necessary phases of the evolution of
love, have actually existed in historical time and characterised a whole
period of civilisation. The history of civilisation is an end in itself
only in the chapter entitled "The Birth of Europe."
My work is intended to be first and foremost a monograph on the
emotional life of the human race. I am prepared to meet rather with
rejection than with approval. Neither the historian nor the psychologist
will be pleased. Moreover, I am well aware that my standpoint is
hopelessly "old-fashioned." To-day nearly all the world is content to
look upon the sexual impulse as the source of all erotic emotion and to
regard love as nothing more nor less than its most exquisite radiation.
My book, on the contrary, endeavours to establish its complete
independence of sexuality.
My contention that so powerful an emotion as love should have come into
existence in historical, not very remote times, will seem very strange;
for, all outward profession of faith in evolution notwithstanding, men
are still inclined to take the unchangeableness of human nature for
granted.
The facts on which I have based my arguments are well known, but my
deductions are new; it is not for me to decide whether they are right or
wrong. In the first (introductory) part I have made use of works already
in existence, in addition to Plato and the poets, but the second and
third parts are founded almost entirely on original research.
E.L.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE 5
TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION 9
FIRST STAGE: THE SEXUAL INSTINCT 21
SECOND STAGE: LOVE
CHAPTER
I. THE BIRTH OF EUROPE 39
II. THE DEIFICATION OF WOMAN (FIRST FORM OF
METAPHYSICAL EROTICISM):--(_a_) The Love of the Troubadours;
(_b_) The Queen of Heaven; (_c_) Dante and Goethe;
(_d_) Michel Angelo 115
III. PERVERSIONS OF METAPHYSICAL EROTICISM:--
(_a_) The Brides of Christ; (_b_) Sexual Mystics 217
THIRD STAGE: THE BLENDING OF SEXUALITY AND LOVE
I. THE LONGING FOR THE SYNTHESIS 231
II. THE LOVE-DEATH (SECOND FORM OF METAPHYSICAL EROTICISM) 251
III. THE CONFLICT BETWEEN SEXUALITY AND LOVE.--THE SEEKER
OF LOVE AND THE SLAVE OF LOVE 266
IV. THE REVENGE OF SEXUALITY.--THE DEMONIACAL AND THE OBSCENE 275
CONCLUSION: THE PSYCHOGENETIC LAW.--THE INDIVIDUAL AS AN
EPITOME OF THE HUMAN RACE 284
TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION
Since the triumphant days of the Mechanists some twenty-five years ago,
the wedge of Pragmatism--a useful tool to be used and discarded--has
been driven between materialism and idealism, and it appears that the
whole tendency of philosophy is now in the latter direction. Even in
England the influence of Bergson has led modern thought away from the
pure materialism of the monists, and it seems probable that Benedetto
Croce's _Philosophy of the Spirit_ will carry the movement a step nearer
towards the idealistic concept of reality. And among the latest signs of
the new tendency must be counted the brilliant work of Emil Lucka, the
young Austrian "poet-philosopher," whose conception of the development
of love must rank with the most daring speculations in recent
psychology.
In the great reaction of the last century, love, that most cogent motive
of human thought and action, fell from its high estate and came to be
regarded as an instinct not differing in any essential from hunger and
thirst, and existing, like them, from the beginning, eternal and
immutable, manifesting itself with equal force in the heart of man and
woman, and impelling them towards each other. But Emil Lucka, in his
remarkable new book, _The Three Stages of Love_ (which was recently
published in Berlin, and has already created a sensation in literary
circles abroad), leads us on to speculative heights from which we may
look back upon the whole theory of evolution not as a bar but as a
bridge. "My book is intended as a monograph of the emotional life of the
human race," he says in the preface, and "I am prepared to meet with
rejection rather than with approval." There has been abundance of
criticism and controversy, but Lucka has stated his case and drawn his
conclusions with such admirable precision and logic, that his work has
aroused admiration and appreciation even in the ranks of his opponents.
Love is a theme which at all times and in all countries has been of
primary interest to men and women, and therefore this book, which throws
an illuminating ray of light in many a dark place still wrapped in
mystery and silence, not only impresses the psychologist, but also
fascinates the general reader with its wealth of interesting detail and
charm of expression.
The three vitally important points which the author develops are as
follows:--
Love is not a primary instinct, but has been gradually evolved in
historical time.
Ernst Haeckel's biogenetic law is expanded in a psychogenetic law.
Only man's emotions have undergone evolution, and therefore have a
history, while those of woman have experienced no change.
Lucka's book will probably not please the advanced feminists, but the
delicate, although perhaps involuntary homage to her sex which is
implied in his theories ought to rouse a feeling of gratification in the
heart of every right-feeling woman. The very limitations and
restrictions which he lays upon her raise and glorify her. For while man
has been the "Odysseus wandering through heaven and hell, passing from
the bestial to the divine to return again and become human, woman has
always been the same, unchangeable and without problems. That which he
has set up to-day as his highest erotic ideal, the blending of sexual
and spiritual love, has been her natural endowment from the beginning.
Never perfect, he falls into error and sin where she cannot err, for her
instinct is Nature herself, and she knows not the meaning of sin."
Schopenhauer's "instinct of philoprogenitiveness" has to-day become an
article of faith with the learned and the unlearned. This _sub-conscious
instinct for the service of the species_ which, in love, is supposed to
rise to consciousness, and whose purpose is the will to produce the best
possible offspring, is conceded by scientists who reject not only
Schopenhauer's metaphysic, but metaphysic in general. Even Nietzsche,
that arch-individualist, has proved by many of his pronouncements, and
most strikingly by his well-known definition of marriage, that he has
not escaped its fascinations. "Schopenhauer ignores all phenomena which
are not in support of his myth," says Lucka, who denies this instinct of
philoprogenitiveness and would substitute for it a "pairing-instinct."
"The experience of others," he argues, "not our own instinct, has taught
us that children _may_, not necessarily _must_, be the result of the
union of the sexes. Into the mediaeval ideal which reached its climax in
metaphysical love, the idea of propagation did not enter. Moreover, the
desire for children is frequently unaccompanied by any sexual desire,
and therefore to manufacture an instinct of philoprogenitiveness is
fantastic metaphysic, and is entirely opposed to intellectual reality.
This was well understood in the long period of antiquity which strictly
separated the sexual impulse and the desire for children."
Lucka distinguishes three great stages in the evolution of love. In
vivid and fascinating pictures he unfolds the erotic life of our
primitive ancestors, basing his statements on accepted authorities. The
sexual impulse in those remote days, unconscious of its nature and
far-reaching consequences, was entirely undifferentiated from any other
powerful instinct. Every woman of the tribe belonged to every male who
happened to desire her. As is still the case with the aborigines of
Central and Northern Australia, the phenomena of pregnancy and
childbirth were attributed to witchcraft.[1] The concept of _father_ had
not yet been formed; the family congregated round the mother and saw in
her its natural chief; gynecocracy was the prevailing form of
government. In early historical and pre-classical times, promiscuity was
systematised by religion in India and the countries round the
Mediterranean and survived in the Temple Prostitution and the Mysteries.
Man as yet felt himself only as a part of nature, and aspired to no more
than a life in harmony with her laws. The worship of fertility and the
endless renewal of life was the object of the orgiastic cults of Adonis
and Astarte in the East, and Dionysus and Aphrodite in Greece; unbridled
licentiousness and blind gratification of the senses their sacrament.
With the growth of civilisation and the development of personality there
slowly crept into the minds of men a distaste for this irregular
sexuality and a desire for a less chaotic state of things. This longing
and the wish for legitimate heirs gradually overcame promiscuity and, in
Greece, led to the establishment of the monogamous system. It must not
be assumed, however, that the Greek ideal of marriage bore any
resemblance to our modern conception. True, the wife occupied an
honoured position as the guardian of hearth and children and was treated
by her husband with affection and respect, but she was not free. Nor was
her husband expected to be faithful to her. Marriage in no way
restricted his liberty, but left him free to seek intellectual
stimulation in the society of the hetaerae, and gratification of the
senses in the company of his slaves. Love in our sense was unknown to
the ancients, and although there is a modern note in the legends of the
faithful Penelope, and the love which united Orpheus and Eurydice, yet,
so Lucka tells us, these instances should be regarded rather as poetic
divinations of a future stage of feeling than actual facts then within
the scope of probability. Even Plato, in whom all wisdom and
ante-Christian culture culminated, was still, in this respect, a citizen
of the old world, for he, too, knew as yet nothing of the spiritual love
of a man for a woman. To him the love of an individual was but a
beginning, the road to the love of perfect beauty and the eternal ideas.
On the threshold of the second stage of the erotic life stands
Christianity, which, in sharp contrast to antiquity and to the classical
period, sought the centre and climax of life in the soul. The founder of
the "religion of love" _discovered_ the individual, and by so doing laid
the foundation for that metaphysical love which found its most striking
expression in the deification of woman and the cult of the Virgin Mary.
How this change of mental attitude was brought about is worked out in a
brilliant chapter, entitled "The Birth of Europe." The revivifying
influence of Christ's preaching and personality was stifled after the
first centuries by the rigid dogma and formalism which had altered his
doctrine almost past recognition. The Church was building up its
political structure and tolerated no rival. Art, literature, music, all
the enthusiasm and profound thought of which the human mind is capable,
were pressed into her service. Independent thought was heresy, and the
death of every heretic became a new fetter which bound the intellect of
man. But about the year 1100, when the mighty edifice was complete, and
the pope and his bishops looked down upon kings and emperors and counted
them their vassals, when the barbaric peoples which made up the
population of Europe had been sufficiently schooled and educated in the
new direction, a longing for something new, a yearning for art, for
poetry, for beauty, began to stir the hearts of men and women. It found
expression in the ideal of chivalry, the Holy Sepulchre and the Holy
Grail, and suddenly love, bursting out in a brilliant flame, shed its
radiance on the sordid relationship which had hitherto existed between
the sexes, and transfigured it. Woman, the despised, to whom at the
Council of Macon a soul had been denied, all at once became a queen, a
goddess. The drudge, the patiently suffering wife, were things of the
past. A new ideal had been set up and men worshipped it with bended
knees.
"She shines on us as God shines on his angels,"
sang Guinicelli.
It was in a small country in the South of France, in Provence, that the
new spirit was born. The troubadours, wandering from castle to castle,
sang the praise of love, genuine love, the earlier ones without
admixture either of speculation or metaphysic. The dogma that pure love
was its own reward inasmuch as it made men perfect, was framed later on.
"I cannot sin when I am in her mind,"
wrote Guirot Riquier, and Dante, in the "Vita Nuova," calls his beloved
mistress "the destroyer of all evil and the queen of all virtues." The
monk Matfre Ermengau, who wrote a text-book on love, says:
Love makes good men better,
And the worst man good.
The later troubadours drew a much sharper distinction between spiritual
and sensual love. The latter was regarded as degrading and base (at
least in principle) and woe to the man who held, or rather, avowed,
another opinion. His reward was the contempt of every man and woman of
culture. "I ask no more of my mistress than that she should suffer me to
serve her," protested Bernart de Ventadour.
It goes without saying that, in spite of this high ideal, sensuality
flourished undiminished, and a troubadour who loudly sang the praise of
chastity and blatantly professed his entire disinterestedness in the
service of his mistress, did not see the least inconsequence in carrying
on a dozen intrigues at the same time with other women. Sordello, one of
the best known poets of this period, was charged by a contemporary with
having changed his mistress over a hundred times, and he himself,
impudently bragging, proclaims that
None can resist me; all the frowning husbands
Shall not prevent me to embrace their wives,
If I so wish....
Another poet, Count Rambaut III., of Orange, recommended to his
fellow-men as the surest way of winning a woman's favour, "to break her
nose with a blow of the fist." "I myself," he continued, "treat all
women with tenderness and courtesy, but then--I am considered a fool."
As may be expected, sublimated, metaphysical love was not without its
caricatures and eccentricities. One of the most grotesque figures of the
period of the troubadours was Ulrich von Lichtenstein, a German knight.
As a page, we are told, he drank the water in which his mistress had
washed her hands. Later on he had his upper lip amputated because it
displeased his lady-love, and on another occasion he cut off one of his
fingers, had it set in gold and used as a clasp on a volume of his poems
which he sent as a present to his inamorata.
At the famous Courts of Love, the most extraordinary questions were
seriously discussed and decided. A favourite subject for debate was the
relationship between love and marriage, and some of the decisions which
have been preserved for us prove without a doubt that those two great
factors in the emotional life were considered irreconcilable. At the
Court of the Viscountess Ermengarde of Narbonne, the question whether
the love between lovers was greater than the love between husband and
wife was settled as follows: "Nature and custom have erected an
insuperable barrier between conjugal affection and the love which
unites two lovers. It would be absurd to draw comparisons between two
things which have neither resemblance nor connection."
The contrast between the new, spiritualised love and the older, sexual,
instinct created that dualism so characteristic of the whole mediaeval
period. Sexuality and love were felt as two inimical forces, the fusion
of which was beyond the range of possibility. While on the one hand
woman was worshipped as a divine being, before whom all desire must be
silenced, she was on the other hand stigmatised as the devil's tool, a
power which turned men away from his higher mission and jeopardised the
salvation of his soul. Wagner portrayed this dualism perfectly in
_Tannhauser_. "A man of the Middle Ages," says Lucka, "would have
recognised in this magnificent work the tragedy of his soul."
It was but a small step from the worship of a beloved mistress to the
cult of the Virgin Mary. The Church, hostile at first, finally
acquiesced, and "through her official acknowledgment of a female deity,
open enmity between the religion of the Church and the religion of woman
was avoided." A woman, that is to say, the Virgin Mary, had stepped
between God and humanity as mediator, intercessor and saviour.
Both Dante, the inspired woman-worshipper of the Middle Ages, and the
more modern Goethe, saw in metaphysical love the triumph over all things
earthly. And far above either of these intellectual heroes looms the
awe-inspiring figure of Michelangelo, the scoffer, to whom love came
late in life; in his ecstatic adoration of Vittoria Colonna, the
enthusiasm of Plato and the passion of Dante are blended in a more
transcendent flame.
Sexual Mystics and the Brides of Christ present the darker aspect of
metaphysical love. All the latter, including even Catherine of Siena (a
clever politician who kept up a correspondence with the leading
statesmen of her time), Marie of Oignies, and St. Teresa, are
stigmatised as victims of hysteria and consigned to the domain of
pathology.
While the first stage was characterised by the reign of unbridled sexual
instinct, the second by the conflict between spiritual and sensual love,
the third stage represents our modern conception, the blending of
spiritual and sensual love, which is "not the differentiated sexual
instinct, but a force embracing the psycho-physical entity of the
beloved being without any consciousness of sexual desire." It shares
with the purely metaphysical love the lover's longing to raise his
mistress above him and glorify her without any ulterior object and
desire. "In this stage there is no tyranny of man over woman, as in the
sexual stage; no subjection of man to woman, as in the woman-worship of
the Middle Ages; but complete equality of the sexes, a mutual give and
take. If sexuality is infinite as matter, spiritual love eternal as the
metaphysical ideal, then the synthesis is human and personal." The
apotheosis of this perfect love Lucka finds in the _Liebestod_ (the
death of the lovers in the ecstasy of love), in Wagner's _Tristan und
Isolde_.
An interesting chapter on erotic aberrations, the demoniacal and the
obscene, completes the third part of the book.
There may be much in Lucka's theories which will rouse the scepticism of
the monists; some of his deductions may appear to his readers a little
strained, but no thinking man or woman can read his brilliant
_Conclusion_ without denying him the tribute of sincere admiration. In
this last chapter he applies Haeckel's biogenetic law to the domain of
the spirit. As the human embryo passes through the principal stages of
the development of the individual from lower forms of life, so the
growing male must pass through the stages of psychical development
through which the race has passed. The gynecocratic government of
prehistoric time is revived in the nursery, where the mother rules
supreme and the sisters dominate. The normal, healthy school-boy,
preferring the company of his school-fellows to all others, shunning his
mother and sisters, ashamed of his female relatives, is the modern
individual representative of those early leagues and unions of young men
who opposed matriarchy and finally brought about its overthrow and the
establishment of male government. The promiscuous sexuality
characteristic of adolescence reproduces the first, merely sexual, stage
of the erotic life of the race in the life of the individual. As a rule
this phase is followed by a period of woman-worship; love has conquered
the sexual instinct and the latter is felt as base and degrading.
Atavism is not so much the persistence of the earlier, as the absence of
the later stages of psychical development.
I need not emphasise the fact that the three stages are often
intermingled and not traceable with equal clearness in the life of every
individual. Many men never advance beyond the first stage and others are
fragmentary and undeveloped; but certain phases are more or less
distinguishable in every well-endowed male individual. Lucka finds a
perfect illustration of his theory in the life and works of Richard
Wagner, whose operas _The Fairies_ (based on Shakespeare's _Measure for
Measure_), _Tannhauser_, and _Tristan und Isolde_, successively
illustrate the three stages through which the great poet-composer and
impassioned lover passed, and reflect the principal halting-places in
the erotic evolution of the race. In _Parsifal_, Wagner's last and
maturest work, he conjectures a potential fourth stage, divined by the
genius of the great musician and thinker, a sublimation of our modern
ideal, a stage when love will be freed from all sexual feeling (a
conception not unlike Otto Weininger's), but to which we have not yet
attained and which we are even unable fully to grasp.
I have not been able to do more than touch upon the principal features
of this book, the fame of whose brilliant author has long spread beyond
the boundaries of his own native country. Emil Lucka was born in Vienna
in 1877, and has already achieved a number of remarkably fine books,
most of which have been translated into Russian, French, and other
foreign languages. He is as yet unknown in England, this being the first
of his works to appear in English.
ELLIE SCHLEUSSNER.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] _cf._ Hartland's "Primitive Paternity" and Frazer's "Golden Bough."
THE EVOLUTION OF LOVE
THE FIRST STAGE: THE SEXUAL INSTINCT
To the generations slowly rising from the dark abyss of time to the
twilight of the Middle Ages, the satisfaction of the sexual instinct
offered fewer difficulties than the gratification of any other need or
desire. With every unpremeditated and cursory indulgence the craving
disappeared from consciousness and left the individual free to give his
mind to the acquisition of the necessities of life which were far more
difficult to obtain. Primitive, prehistoric man lived in the moment.
When there was plenty of food he gorged to repletion, heedless of the
starvation which might be his fate to-morrow or the day after. His
thought had neither breadth nor continuity. It never occurred to him
that there might be a connection between an abrupt and quickly forgotten
embrace and the birth of a child by a woman of the tribe after what
appeared to be an immeasurable lapse of time. He suspected witchcraft in
the phenomena of pregnancy and childbirth (to this day the aborigines of
Central and Northern Australia do not realise the connection between
generation and birth). As a rule it was remembered that a certain woman
had given birth to a certain child by the fact of her having carried it
about and fed it at her breast. Occasionally it was forgotten to which
mother a child belonged; perhaps the mother had died; perhaps the child
had strayed beyond the boundaries of the community and the mother had
failed to recognise it on its return. But it was clear beyond all doubt
that every child had a "mother." The conception of "father" had not yet
been formed. Experience had taught our primitive ancestors two
undeniable facts, namely "that women gave birth to children" and "that
every child had a mother."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20 |
21 |
22
