of pity and helpfulness towards all suffering which
marks the man of God, are as far removed from the
physical attraction of sex for sex, and the mere liking
of the eye and ear, as is the intellectual power of
the sage from the vulpine cunning of the savage.
“For,” as Emerson well said, “it
is a fire that, kindling its first embers in the narrow
nook of a private bosom, caught from a wandering spark
out of another heart, glows and enlarges until it
warms and beams upon multitudes of men and women, upon
the universal heart of all, and so lights up the world
and all nature with its generous flames.”
Both love and reason alike pass through stage after
stage, always away from the particularity of selfishness
and ignorance, into larger and larger cycles of common
truth and goodness, towards the full realization of
knowledge and benevolence, which is the inheritance
of emancipated man. In this transition, the sensuous
play of feeling within man, and the sensitive responses
to external stimuli, are made more and more organic
to ends which are universal, that is, to spiritual
ends. Love, which in its earliest form, seems
to be the natural yearning of brute for brute, appearing
and disappearing at the suggestion of physical needs,
passes into an idealized sentiment, into an emotion
of the soul, into a principle of moral activity which
manifests itself in a permanent outflow of helpful
deeds for man. It represents, when thus sublimated,
one side at least of the expansion of the self, which
culminates when the world beats in the pulse of the
individual, and the joys and sorrows, the defeats and
victories of mankind are felt by him as his own.
It is no longer dependent merely on the incitement
of youth, grace, beauty, whether of body or character;
it transcends all limitations of sex and age, and
finds objects on which it can spend itself in all
that God has made, even in that which has violated
its own law of life and become mean and pitiful.
It becomes a love of fallen humanity, and an ardour
to save it by becoming the conscious and permanent
motive of all men. The history of this evolution
of love has been written by the poets. Every phase
through which this ever-deepening emotion has passed,
every form which this primary power has taken in its
growth, has received from them its own proper expression.
They have made even the grosser instincts lyric with
beauty; and, ascending with their theme, they have
sung the pure passion of soul for soul, its charm
and its strength, its idealism and heroism, up to
the point at which, in Browning, it transcends the
limits of finite existence, sheds all its earthly
vesture, and becomes a spiritual principle of religious
aspiration and self-surrender to God.