Out in the World CHAPTER 23.
Back to Out in the World
There was nothing coarse or sensual about Carl Jansen. If he was not very sensitive, he yet had a refinement of character that gave delicate perceptions and which — but for his mistaken notions about marital prerogative, and his cold, self-will, would have lifted him into a just appreciation of Madeline's pure and sweet quality of mind. If he had not been so foolish and blind, he would have looked through all exterior veils, and recognized in her, his own ideal of woman. This was seen in the beginning; but pride and passion had dimmed his sight.
We shall not dwell on the incidents attending his second alliance. Women of the class represented by Margaret Williams, could not stoop to one holding his questionable relation to the gender. They recognized in marriage, something more than a good external arrangement. They wanted the man as seen by interior light; and not the man as he stood before theworld. And so, Carl Jansen was compelled to choose from among the meaner natures — to take into the closest of all human relations a woman of inferior quality; one withoutpure instincts or noble impulses; one who smiled on him because he was rich and respectable; and married him to secure ease, luxury, and a position.
It did not take Jansen long to discover his mistake; and with the discovery came a sense of weakness never felt before. In the case of Madeline, he knew that he had a being of sensitive spirit to deal with, and therefore had encouragement to act against her when she stood in his way; but, it soon became apparent that his new wife was of a different organization. Not less self-willed — but of such coarse quality, that he found himself bruised in the first conflict. The relation of sensitiveness was transferred. While in armor against most of the weapons he might bring, every thrust she made penetrated the quivering flesh.
There were periods during the first year of this incongruous union, when Jansen's repulsion towards his wife was so strong, that he felt impelled to disregard all bonds, and shake off the dust from his garments against her. But, many worldly and selfish motives came in to restrain him. Once in this time she was attacked by a dangerous illness, when there came into his heart the wish that she might die. As this desire took form in his mind, Jansen was startled, and sought to drive it away. But it would not be cast out; and when the crisis was past, and she began to recover, he stood face to face with an irrepressible regret, the existence of which showed him the magnitude of his error.
The spirit molds the flesh. A coarse nature takes of the coarser elements to build its earthly tabernacle, and builds after the pattern of its baser ideals. In the spring-time of life, when the active forces lie near the age of innocence and purity, a finer selection is made, and so we have beauties of the flesh that are not in correspondence with the mind's true quality. But, after the early days of manhood and womanhood, when the age of freedom and reason comes into fullness, a new order prevails, and then we begin to see changes that often bring surprise, disappointment and pain.
Such changes began with Jansen's second wife soon after their marriage. The body undergoes perpetual re-creations. There is decay and new formation daily. Old things are being all the while put off — and new things taken on. But in the spirit we have all that is real and substantial; and according to its quality will be the earthly garment it assumes. If we see men and women growing coarse, vulgar, and sensual-looking as they grow older — we shall scarcely err in our estimate of their quality, should we conclude that coarseness and sensuality appertain to the spirit. If they become more refined; if we see the original, harder textures of their flesh growing translucent with revelations of inner life and beauty, shall we be less in error if we say that with all such the spirit is growing purer and more truly human?
The new wife of Carl Jansen did not thus grow beautiful in his eyes; but changed, as the years progressed, into a grosser and grosser image of selfishness and sensuality. It was remarked by those who observed Jansen closely, that while his wife's face grew coarser — his grew more refined; yet with a blending of sadness and disappointment in all the lineaments. He was graver, quieter, more abstracted. No wonder; for he stood daily confronted with a great life-error, and knew that the time for its correction was gone beyond recall. If he could have forgotten the past — forgotten Madeline — the case would have been lighter for him. But, memory, as the years crept on, seemed to grow more distinct.
Children were born of this union — three sons and two daughters. It is not often that either men or women, in approaching marriage, think about mental and moral qualities as reproduced in offspring. If this were soberly considered in the light of reason, many would draw back, and re-consider the whole question involved, before taking a step so fraught with good or evil consequences.
The brood in Carl Jansen's home partook largely of the mother's baser quality and evil character. As she had never governed herself from any principle of honor or high breeding — had never put mental rein on appetite, impulse, or passion — her nature manifested itself, strongly at first, in the children. The father's character showed scarcely a sign of reproduction. But, that lay in the beginning, out of sight. It was a hidden and more inner life, to become active in later years.
The beauty, the grace, the sweetness of childhood, as they appear in some homes, were not seen in that of Mr. Jansen. When his babes first lifted their soft blue eyes, so full of light from Heaven, and smiled at him, the father's heart leaped in its gladness, and overflowed with promise. Alas! that the promise was never fulfilled. Too soon the mother's evil character appeared — the taint of coarseness — the sensuality — the mean and low proclivities, which, under disorderly conditions at home, it was found impossible to repress.
Mrs. Jansen had no system or government with her children; and so they grew up like "wild donkeys' colts." All attempts at restraint on the father's part, when at home, were in some way thwarted, or set at naught by the mother. If he attempted punishment — she was almost certain to interfere; if he laid down laws — she permitted their infraction. Her very manner of treating him before the children, diminished their respect for his authority. It was a common thing for her to scout his opinions, and make light of his suggestions. If he became angry, and spoke with firmness or passion, she never failed of a coarse retort. If he assumed an attitude of command, she either defied him or laughed in his face.
Alas for Carl Jansen! He had driven from him a woman molded of finest material — a woman of tender and true impulses — a woman who held the sweetness of love in her heart, as a rose holds its perfume — and in her place, had consorted with a base clod of earth!
Back to Out in the World