Perplexed ...

This is a letter that reached me from a girl who wishes to conceal her name... I do not know whether she is a Palestinian who knew me in those tranquil days, when for years I remained the confidante of girls and young men like her, who would lay their problems before me believing — in their good opinion of me — that I could take a hand in solving them... or whether she is a girl from outside Palestine who took it into her head to do this? All I know is that she is one of the readers of The Woman's Voice, and that since she awaits an answer and has sent no address, she awaits it, then, in the pages of The Woman's Voice. Here is what the letter said, after the customary preamble:

"I am a girl of twenty, of moderate looks — I mean I am neither very beautiful nor ugly — educated, and I work in a certain office. Several men have asked for my hand and I refused, because I did not care for them, and neither did my mother. This week a man of twenty-six asked for my hand; he is wealthy, can guarantee me a life of ease, and holds a good position, but he is unattractive in appearance — I mean he is thin of body and face, and always wears spectacles because he is short-sighted. This man is noble in character and of excellent qualities, and it may be that through this nobility I shall grow attached to him in the future and no longer mind his outward appearance; but I shall be a target for the mockery of my companions, whom his appearance will not please... I am perplexed: there is the life of ease and the splendid automobile, but inwardly I prefer the man of less wealth and better looks. What am I to do?"

As for my answer to the perplexed young lady, it is this:

My dear Miss F.,

You are a girl of twenty — that is, at the age most suitable for marriage... Several men have come asking for your hand, and you refused and your mother refused; the agreement of you both in refusing is a sign of praiseworthy understanding between mother and daughter — provided it is not likewise a sign of obstinacy... Then this young man came as a suitor, and you did not refuse him outright as you had done before; rather you took your time and went looking for someone to consult. Did the splendid automobile have a hand in this? Or did you remember that there is a marriage crisis, and that opportunities may not come again?

Your suitor is suited to you in age; he is wealthy and can assure you a life of ease; and above all he is noble in character and of excellent qualities — these merits that have their supreme value in married life and their profound effect on the life of the family... Then, too, you admit that this nobility in his nature may lead you to become attached to him in the future, so that you pay no heed to outward beauty... What, then, remains to stand between you and happiness? The mockery of companions, and people's failure to admire...

I do not deny, my friend, that beauty has its profound effect on our souls, and that even if we are not among its devotees, we take pride and pleasure in possessing it: the handsome companion, the beautiful dress, the house and the garden — everything of beauty that we possess grows in value in our eyes the more charming it is and the more it draws the eye... But are we not confusing passing vainglory with abiding happiness...? If that vainglory were the foundation of our happiness, or if our happiness were measured by the amount of beauty we possess, then you would see that the most beautiful of people, and those most able to possess beauty, were the happiest of people... Have you watched people and noticed this...?

Life, my girl, has two faces: its outward face, which people see and admire or do not admire; and its inward face, which concerns the two spouses alone and is the foundation of our happiness. Believe me, people's admiration or lack of it has no part in this happiness; and the beautiful couple who win people's admiration and infatuation may find their inward life a standing hell — because the beauty of the wife alone, or the beauty of the husband alone, has never once been a cause of happiness for the other partner.

And after this, my friend, I beg you not to forget another truth: that beauty of soul has its own supreme charm, and that this young man, who will be for you the ideal husband and for your children the ideal father, may have in his spirit such charm, and in his conversation such cultivation, as will win people's approval and admiration after a single gathering with him.

That is because our character and the hidden things of our souls show plainly upon our faces, brightening them or darkening them according to the measure of light or darkness in that character and those souls.

And apart from all this, there comes to my mind at this moment the story of the Bedouin who went to Umar ibn al-Khattab to tell him that he was going to divorce his wife. Umar asked him, "And why?" The man answered, "I do not love her." And Umar cried, "Are all houses built on love? Where then is faithfulness, and where are obligations?" And you, my girl — are all houses built on beauty? Where then is character, and where are appreciation and respect?

That is my own opinion; but people, Miss, are of two kinds: one kind attaches supreme importance to what people see of one's private life and what they say of it; the other holds that this life is one's own property, and one's alone — that people's opinions of it are of no value and no concern, indeed that they have no right even to express an opinion. If you are of this kind, which has reached such a degree of refinement as to hold that its private affairs are its own business alone, and that its family happiness is too lofty for people's opinions to have a hand in making it or destroying it — then go forward... But if you are of the kind that cares a great deal for what people say — so that whenever you went out with your husband you would keep watching their glances at him to see what meanings they carried, and might even give every glance of theirs an interpretation that pained your soul, and come home wretched, resentful of your lot — then how can you go forward? And how will you avoid committing against the poor man a wrong of which the least that can be said is that you bestow your affection and approval upon him only in the measure that people bestow their approval and applause?

Study yourself, then, and probe its depths. If you harbor respect and appreciation for your suitor, then respect and appreciation are the edifice of love; only beware lest it be the splendid automobile that tips the scale in your suitor's favor — for then the end would be bad.

With all my good wishes...