appy they have
been together, with no society but their own; no pleasures but those of
sympathy; no amusements but those which their common fancy supplied; and
he asks her if it be possible that so perfect a union can be destroyed
by a hasty word with which his deeper self has had nothing to do. He
believes this so little that he is sure she will, in some way, come back
to him; and then they will part no more.
A vein of playfulness runs through this monologue, which represents the
lovers before their quarrel as more like children enjoying a long
holiday, than a man and a woman sharing the responsibilities of life. It
conveys, nevertheless, a truth deeply rooted in the author's mind: that
the foundation of a real love can never be shaken.
"BY THE FIRESIDE" is a retrospect, in which the speaker is carried from
middle-age to youth, and from his, probably English, fireside to the
little Alpine gorge in which he confessed his love; and he summons the
wife who received and sanctioned the avowal to share with him the joy of
its remembrance. He describes the scene of his declaration, the
conflict of feeling which its risks involved, the generous frankness
with which she cut the conflict short. He dwells on the blessings which
their union has brought to him, and which make his youth seem barren by
the richness of his maturer years; and he asks her if there exist
another woman, with whom he could thus have retraced the descending path
of life, and found nothing to regret in what he had left behind. He
declares that their mutual love has been for him that crisis in the life
of the soul to which all experience tends--the predestined test of its
quality. It is his title to honour as well as his guarantee of
everlasting joy.
The subtler realities of life and love are reflected throughout the poem
in picturesque impressions often no less subtle, and the whole is
dramatic, i.e., imaginary, as far as conception goes; but the obvious
genuineness of the sentiment is confirmed by the allusion to the
"perfect wife" who,
"Reading by firelight, that great brow
And the spirit-small hand propping it," (vol. vi. p. 132.)
is known to all of us.
"ANY WIFE TO ANY HUSBAND" might be the lament of any woman about to die,
who believes that her husband will remain true to her in heart, but will
lack courage to be so in his life. She anticipates the excuses he will
offer for seeking temporary solace in the society of other
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