^f-UNIVERJ^ St I 1 §1 ir-^^ ,#UBRARY^ <5»EUNIVER%. ^vlO i m mi { I MDDADV/W .it.flDDADV/i. *UP.1!til\/rDC/v r*. .tCIIDDADV/k. ..\C.IIDDADV/1^ «UM1WIVFPC/X Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/thingcalledlovecOOIani THE LITTLE GOLDEH BOOKS Based on features in The Golden Boo\ Magazine Edited by Henry Wysham Lanier I. THE THING CALLED LOVE In Preparation THE SMILING PHILOSOPHER it's HUMAN NATURE THE TIE THAT BINDS ETC. THE THING CALLED LOVE The THING CALLED LOVE Culled from the World Library by Henry Wysham Lanier THE LITTLE GOLDEH BOOKS DOUBLEDAY, DOR AN £? COMPANY, INC. GARDEN CITT, KEW YORK 1928 Copyright, 1928, by Henry Wysham Lanier. Copyright, 1925, 1926, 1927, by The Review of Reviews Corporation {The Golden Boo}{ Magazine). All rights reserved. Printed in the United States at The Country Life Press, Garden City, 7s(. T. First Edition (■'IN To Aphrodite Who Conquers, Smiling 534760 LZBRAR? PREFACE In spite of pathetic efforts, man has never been able to exclude woman from dominance of his thoughts, his life, his dreams, his religions. For the divine gadfly called love ever stings him to a restless striving after what he fondly hopes may prove completion. So solemn philosophers and Rabelaisian laughers alike have been compelled to note the strange and manifold symptoms, causes and effects of this inescapable infection; but, since "one can only love with what one has," analysis and first-hand testimony serve merely to describe a few costumes in which Eros masquerades. Yet because great minds have the faculty of seizing the essential and expressing it memo' rably, it may be that one may get from these flashes of thought and observation some glimpses of the Mystery itself. H. W. L. CONTENTS 1. The Bittersweet Page 3 TT 11. 1 ne 1 ning Oallea Love 11 TTT 111. Wnat Love Will Do 31 IV. How Men Make Love in Novels 55 V. Flirting — with the Dictionary- 71 VL Women in Love 95 VII. Some Love Letters 109 VIII. Men in Love through the Ages 125 IX. A Little Course in Love-making i41 X. Man Proposes 159 THE BITTER-SWEET I THE BITTER'SWEET Now Love masters my limbs and shakes me, fatal creature, bitter-sweet. Phaedra — What is it that one feels when they say "one loves"? Nurse — Something very pleasant, child, and painful, too. Alas, the love of women! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing. « Byron I love but her in all the world, and to exist a whole day without her seems to me a destiny more frightful than death. Sappho Euripides Alfred de Musset Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are. Dryden A mighty pain to love it is, And 'tis a pain that pain to miss; THE TH1HG CALLED LOVE But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain. Cowley (after Anacreon) Love is a boy by poets styTd Then spare the rod and spoil the child. Butler To love is to prefer a certain person to all men and to all women, is it not? ... to cease to live when that person leaves you, to begin at once to live again as soon as he reappears. Halevy Celimene: Dear Phyllis, tell me, what you know of love? They say its flame devours like a vulture, And that a lover suffers cruel pain. Phyllis: They tell me nothing is so beautiful, That not to love is to renounce the day: What must we think it, evil or most good? Both Together: Let us love — the only way To know what we should really think. Moliere O love! O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. Tennyson Eros, Eros, thou that distillest desire from thine eyes implanting desire in the heart, when' ever thou assailest a mortal, never, O never, * 4 * THE BITTER-SWEET come upon me with wild irresistible force. Nor flame nor lightning burns as fierce as the Cyprian darts of Eros. Euripides Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head, How begot, how nourished ? Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes, With gazing fed; or fancy dies In the cradle where it lies Let us all ring fancy's \nell: Til begin it — Ding, dong, bell. Shakespeare If a man with a beard found delight in building baby'houses, in yoking mice to a toy-cart, in playing at odd and even, in riding on a long stick, one would say that madness possessed him. But if right reason demonstrates that love is some- thing still more childish and that it makes no difference, whether you are busy raising your toyhouses in the sand, as you did when three years old, or whether you maunder troubled with love, I demand of you, Will you do as Polemo did, when he became a changed man? Will you lay aside the livery of your mental malady, the bandages, cushions, neck-wrappers; as 'tis said that he, after his drinking bout, * 5 * THE THING CALLED LOVE stealthily plucked the chaplets from his neck, as soon as he heard the reproving voice of his fasting tutor? You offer fruit to a sulky child: he refuses it; you say "Take it, darling": he says he will not: if you do not offer it, he longs for it: how differs from the child the lover, when the door is shut in his face, and he deliberates, shall he go or not, and yet is sure to return, even if not sent for, and hates the doors, and yet cannot tear himself from them? "What, shall I not go, now that she makes the advances? Or rather, shall I not resolve to put an end to my pains? She has turned me out of the house: now she calls me back : shall I return? No, not if she en' treats me." Now hear what says the slave, a deal wiser than his master: "Sir, things without method and sense cannot be dealt with on any system or method. Such is the evil nature of love; it means war, then peace : it is as changeable as the weather, it floats as if by blind chance; and if any one tries to make it regular in his own case, he will manage about as well as if he were to endeavour to be mad on a regular system and method." Horace Love is a kind of warre; Hence those who feare, No cowards must his royall Ensignes beare. Herric\ $ 6 $ THE BITTER-SWEET This passion hath his floods in the very times of weakness, which are, great prosperity and great adversity, though this latter hath been less observed; both which times kindle love, and make it more fervent, and therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do best who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make it keep quarter, and sever it wholly from their serious affairs and actions of life; for if it check once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and maketh men that they can nowise be true to their own ends. I know not how, but martial men are given to love: I think it is but as they are given to wine, for perils commonly ask to be paid in pleasures. . . . Nuptial love maketh man' kind, friendly love perfecteth it, but wanton love corrupteth and embaseth it. Bacon Mr. Spectator, — Here is a gentlewoman lodges in the same house with me, that I never did any injury to in my whole life; and she is always railing at me to those she knows will tell me of it. Do not you think she is in love with me? or would you have me break my mind yet, or not? Your servant, T. B. Addison * 7 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE I bring ye love, Quest. What will love do? Ans. Like, and dislike ye: I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do? Ans. Stroake ye to strike ye. I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do? Ans. Love will be-foole ye : I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do? Ans. Heate ye to coole ye: I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do? Ans. Love gifts will send ye: I bring ye love : Quest. What will love do? Ans. Stock ye to spend ye : I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do? Ans. Love will fulfill ye: I bring ye love: Quest. What will love do? Ans. Kisse ye, to kill ye. llerric\ *■ 8 * THE THING CALLED LOVE THE THING CALLED LOVE This Cyprian, She is a thousand changing things, She brings more pain than any god, she brings More joy. I cannot judge her. May it be An hour of mercy when she loo\s on me. From Aeolus ^a lost play). Euripides THAT KIND OF GIRL She had been a girl of that kind which mothers praise as not forward, by way of contrast when disparaging those nobler ones with whom loving is an end and not a means. Thomas Hardy MANY WITS HAVE HAMMERED OUT DESIGNS There is no argument of more antiquity and elegancy than in the matter of Love; for it seems to be as old as the world, and to bear date from the first time that man and woman was: there' * i.i * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE fore in this, as in the finest metal, the freshest wits have in all ages shown their best work' manship. Robert Wilmot "A gentleman is not always amorous but he is always grateful." Don Quixote LOVE-IN-IDLENESS Many fancy they are in love, when in truth they are only idle. Having little to divert atten* tion or diversify thought they find themselves uneasy apart, and conclude they will be happy together. Dr. Samuel Johnson By my troth, I wonder what thou and I did till we loved ! Donne NEVER AGAIN ! Who loves a first time is a god, Though he should be forsaken. Who hapless loves a second time, Must for a fool be taken. And such a fool who loves without Response of love am I. Sun, moon and stars they laugh at me, And I laugh too — and die ! Heine (Blacfy ^ 12 ^ THE THIHG CALLED LOVE THE STIGMATA Now can you recognize any of these marks as belonging to you? A sweetheart demands of you five talents, insults you, shuts the door in your face, throws cold water over you; then calls you back. Now loose your neck from the shameful yoke; come say, "I am free, yes, free." You can' not; for your soul is troubled by no gentle master, and sharp are the spurs which prick your weary spirit, and on you are driven, though you would fain refuse. Horace (Lonsdale and Lee) WHAT LOVE DOES TO THE HUMAN HEART A dull, boring fellow, who was accustomed, as other slowwitted seekers after truth were also, to propound questions to William Godwin, and to accept his answers, when they could be extracted, as oracles, inquired one day in Shelley's presence, with all solemnity, "Pray, William Godwin, what is your opinion of love?" The oracle was silent. After a while, he who came to consult, repeated his question, "Pray, William Godwin, what is your opinion of love?" The oracle was still silent, but Shelley answered for him: "My opinion of love is, that it acts upon the THE TH1HG CALLED LOVE human heart precisely as a nutmeg-grater acts upon a nutmeg. 1 ' The grave inquirer heard the jesting answer with mute contempt; and presently repeated his question a third time. "Pray, William Godwin, what is your opinion of love?" "My opinion entirely agrees with that of Mr. Shelley." Jefferson Hogg SIMILES Thy breast is heaped like mountain snows, Thy cheek is like the blushing rose, Thine eyes as black as ripened sloes, Like diamonds do they glitter. I do not flatter like a fool. The diamond is a cutting tool, The rose is thorny, snow is cool, And sloes are very bitter! Anonymous THE HAPPINESS OF DYING FOR ZULEIKA From the towing-path — no more din there now, but great single cries of "Zuleika !" — leapt figures innumerable through rain to river.The arrested boats of the other crews drifted zigzag hither and thither. The dropped oars rocked and * 14 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE clashed, sank and rebounded, as the men plunged across them into the swirling stream. And over all this confusion and concussion of men and man-made things crashed the vaster discords of the heavens; and the waters of the heavens fell ever denser and denser, as though to the aid of waters that could not in themselves envelop so many hundreds of struggling human forms. All along the soaked towing-path lay strewn the horns, the rattles, the motor-hooters, that the youths had flung aside before they leapt. Here and there among these relics stood daz^d elder men, staring through the storm. There was one of them — a graybeard — who stripped off his blazer, plunged, grabbed at some live man, grap- pled him, was dragged under. He came up again further along stream, swam choking to the bank, clung to the grasses. He whimpered as he sought foothold in the slime. It was ill to be down in that abominable sink of death. Abominable, yes, to them who discerned there death only; but sacramental and sweet enough to the men who were dying there for love. Any face that rose was smiling. Max Beerbohm The stage is more beholden to love, than the life of man. For as to the stage, love is ever a matter * 15 # THE TH1HG CALLED LOVE of comedies, and now and then of tragedies; but in life it doth much mischief, sometimes li\e a siren, sometimes li\e a fury. Sir Francis Bacon PURE REASON'S FRUITLESS ARGUMENTS One lover jeers at others and advises them to propitiate Venus, since they are troubled by a disgraceful passion, and often, poor wretch, gives no thought to his own ills, greatest of all. The black is a brune, the cat-eyed is a miniature Pallas, the stringy and widened a gazelle; the dumpy and dwarfish is one of the graces, from top to toe all grace; the big and overgrown is awe'inspiring and full of dignity. She is tongue' tied, cannot speak, then she has a lisp; the dumb is bashful; then the fire'spit, the teasing, the gossiping, turns to a shining lamp. One becomes a slim darling then when she cannot live from want of flesh; and she is only spare, who is half dead with cough. — The pug-nosed is a she Silenus and a satyress; the thick-lipped a very kiss. It were tedious to attempt to report other things of the kind. Let her, however, be of ever so great dignity of appearance; such that the power of Venus goes forth from all her limbs; yet there are others too; yet have we lived without her before; yet does she do, and we * 16 « THE THIHG CALLED LOVE know that she does, in all things the same as the ugly woman; and fumigates herself, poor wretch, with nauseous perfumes, her very maids running from her and giggling behind her back. But the lover, when shut out, often in tears covers the threshold with flowers and wreaths, and anoints the haughty doorposts with oil of marjoram, and imprints kisses, poor wretch, on the doors. Lucretius The essence of love is kindness; and indeed it may be best defined as passionate \indness: \ind' ness, so to spea\, run mad and become importu- nate and violent. Robert Louis Stevenson a poet's DEFINITION Thou demandest what is love? It is that powerful attraction towards all that we con' ceive, or fear, or hope beyond ourselves, when we find within our own thoughts the chasm of an insufficient void, and seek to awaken in all things that are, a community with what we experience within ourselves. If we reason, we would be understood; if we imagine, we would that the airy children of our brain were born anew within another's; if we feel, we would that another's nerves should vibrate to our own, that the beams of their eyes should kindle at once and mix and melt into our own, that lips * 17 * THE TH1HG CALLED LOVE of motionless ice should not reply to lips quiver' ing and burning with the heart's best blood. This is Love. This is the bond and the sanction which connects not only man with man, but with everything which exists. Shelley Mr. Spectator 1 am a footman in a great family, and am in love with the house-maid. We were all at hot-coc^les last night in the hall these holy-days; when I lay down and was blinded, she pulled off her shoe, and hit me with the heel such a rap, as almost bro\e my head to pieces. Pray, sir, was this love or spite ? (The Spectator.) Addison. THE TRANSCENDENTAL VIEW For 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 private 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 whole world and all nature with its generous flames. Emerson MISS BRIDGET WAS A BORN PR AGM ATIST The captain owed nothing to any of these fop' makers in his dress, nor was his person much $ 18 # THE THIHG CALLED LOVE more beholden to nature. Both his dress and person were such as, had they appeared in an assembly or a drawing-room, would have been the contempt and ridicule of all the fine ladies there. The former of these was indeed neat, but plain, coarse, ill-fancied, and out of fashion. As for the latter, we have expressly described it above. So far was the skin on his cheeks from being cherry-coloured, that you could not discern what the natural colour of his cheeks was, they being totally overgrown by a black beard, which ascended to his eyes. His shape and limbs were indeed exactly proportioned, but so large that they denoted the strength rather of a ploughman than any other. His shoulders were broad be- yond all size, and the calves of his legs larger than those of a common chairman. In short, his whole person wanted all that elegance and beauty which is the very reverse of clumsy strength, and which so agreeably sets off most of our fine gentlemen; being partly owing to the high blood of their ancestors, viz;., blood made of rich sauces and generous wines, and partly to an early town education. Though Miss Bridget was a woman of the greatest delicacy of taste, yet such were the charms of the captain's conversation, that she totally overlooked the defects of his person. She imagined, and perhaps very wisely, that she * 19 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE should enjoy more agreeable minutes with the captain than with a much prettier fellow; and forewent the consideration of pleasing her eyes, in order to procure herself much more solid satisfaction. Fielding A CHARME, OR AN ALLAY FOR LOVE If so be a Toad be laid In a Sheeps'skin newly flaid, And that ty'd to man, 'twill sever Him and his affections ever. Robert Herrick THE ORIENT SPEAKS Your questioning eyes are sad. They seek to know my meaning as the moon would fathom the sea. I have bared my life before your eyes from end to end, with nothing hidden or held back. That is why you know me not. ... If it were only a moment of pleasure it would flower in an easy smile, and you could see it and read it in a moment. If it were merely a pain it would melt in limpid tears, reflecting its inmost secret without a word. But it is love, my beloved. Its pleasure and pain are boundless, and end' less its wants and wealth. $ 20 $ THE TH1HG CALLED LOVE It is as near to you as your life, but you can never wholly know it. Fuibindranath Tagore THE SURE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S HEART "I have to say, Winifred, that the man does not live and never has lived," said I, with sup- pressed vehemence, "who loved a woman as I love you." "Oh, sir! oh, Henry !" returned Winifred, trembling, then standing still and whiter than the moon. "And the reason why no man has ever loved a woman as I love you, Winifred, is because your match, or anything like your match, has never trod the earth before." "Oh, Henry, my dear Henry 1 you must not say such things to me, your poor Winifred." Theodore WattS'Dunton I was more calm after my declaration — love, \nown to the person by whom it is inspired, be' comes more supportable. Jean Jacques Rousseau A RUSSIAN TEST A fortnight before the wedding-day — she was only sixteen at the time — she went up to her betrothed, her arms folded and her fingers drum' * 21 $ THE THIHG CALLED LOVE ming on her elbows — her favourite position — and suddenly gave him a slap on his rosy cheek with her large powerful hand! He jumped and merely gaped; it must be said he was head over ears in love with her. ... He asked: "What's that for?" she laughed scornfully and walked off. "I was there in the room," Anna related. "I saw it all, I ran after her and said to her, 'Katia, why did you do that, really?' And she answered me: If he'd been a real man he would have punished me, but he's no more pluck than a drowned hen/ And then he asks, 'What's that for?' If he loves me, and doesn't bear malice, he had better put up with it and not ask, 'What's that for? * I will never be anything to him — never, never!" Turgeniev HOW LONG ? Have you, gentle reader, ever loved at first sight? When you fell in love at first sight, how long, let me ask, did it take you to become ready to fling every other consideration to the winds except that of obtaining possession of the loved one? Or rather, how long would it have taken you if you had had no father or mother, nothing to lose in the way of money, position, friends, professional advancement, or what not, and if the object of your affections was as free from all these impedimenta as you were yourself? $ 22 $ THE THIKG CALLED LOVE If you were a young John Stuart Mill, per' haps it would have taken you some time; but suppose your nature was Quixotic, impulsive, altruistic, guileless; suppose you were a hungry man starving for something to love and lean upon, for one whose burdens you might bear, and who might help you to bear yours? Suppose you were down on your luck, still stunned by a horrible shock, and this bright vista of a happy future floated suddenly before you, how long under these circumstances do you think you would reflect before you would decide on em' bracing what chance had thrown in your way? Samuel Butler WHAT THE WARRIOR FEARED J^pw, as I said before, I was never a ma\er of phrases I can march up to a fortress, and summon the place to surrender, But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. Ym not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon, But of a thundering ">£o V point'blan\ from the mouth of a woman, That I confess Tm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it I The Courtship of Miles Standish. Longfellow % 23 # THE THIHG CALLED LOVE love's flight upward The cab stopped on Rue Jacob in front of a students" lodging'house. Four flights of stairs to ascend; they were long and steep. "Shall I carry you?" he said with a laugh, but in an undertone, because of the sleeping house. She looked him over with a slow, contemptuous, yet tender glance — the glance of experience, which gauged his strength and said plainly, "Poor little fellow!" Thereupon, with a fine outburst of energy, characteristic of his age and his southern blood, he seised her and carried her like a child, — for he was a sturdy, strapping youth for all his fair girlish skin, — and he went up the first flight at a breath, exulting in the weight suspended about his neck by two lovely, cool bare arms. The second flight was longer, less pleasant. The woman hung more heavily as they ascended. Her iron pendants, which at first caressed him with a pleasant tickling sensation, sank slowly and painfully into his flesh. At the third flight he panted like a piano' mover; his breath almost failed him, while she murmured ecstatically, "Oh! m'ami, how nice this is! how comfortable I am!" And the last stairs, which he climbed one by one, seemed to him to belong to a giant staircase, whose walls * 24 & THE THIKG CALLED LOVE and rails and narrow windows twisted round and round in an interminable spiral. It was no longer a woman he was carrying, but something heavy, ghastly, which suffocated him, and which he was momentarily tempted to drop, to throw down angrily at the risk of crushing her brutally. When they reached the narrow landing, "Already!" she exclaimed, and opened her eyes. He thought, "At last!" but could not have said it, for he was very pale, and held both hands to his breast, which seemed as if it would burst. The ascent of those stairs in the melancholy grayness of the morning was an epitome of their whole history. Alphonse Daudet Any man that understands horses has a pretty considerable fair knowledge of women, for they are jist ali\e in temper, and require the very identical same treatment. Incourage the timid ones, be gentle and steady with the fractious, but lather the sul\y ones li\e blazes. ''"Sam SlicJC THE FULLNESS OF LOVE "Oh, Rosalind! I love you, I worship you; why is there not a word more expressive than that! I have never loved, I have never wop shipped any one save you; I prostrate myself, # 25 *• THE THITiG CALLED LOVE I humble myself before you, and I would fain compel all creation to bend the knee before my idol; you are more to me than the whole of nature, more than myself, more than God — nay, it seems strange to me that God does not descend from heaven to become your slave. Where you are not, all is desolate, all is dead, all is dark; you alone people the world for me; you are life, sunshine — you are everything. Your smile makes the day, and your sadness the night; the spheres follow the movements of your body, and the celestial harmonies are guided by you, O my cherished queen! O my glorious and real dream! You are clothed with splendour, and swim ceaselessly in radiant effluence. . . . "Every gesture, every pose of your head, every different aspect of your beauty, are graven with a diamond point upon the mirror of my soul, and nothing in the world could efface the deep impression; I know in what place the shad' ow was, and in what the light, the flat part glistening beneath the ray, and the spot where the wandering reflection was blended with the more softened tints of neck and cheek. I could draw you in your absence; the idea of you is ever placed before me. . . . "I beseech you, Rosalind, if you do not yet love me, strive to love me who have loved you in spite of everything, and beneath the veil in $ 26 $ THE THIHG CALLED LOVE which you wrap yourself, no doubt out of pity for us; do not devote the remainder of my life to the most frightful despair and the most gloomy discouragement; think that I have wor- shipped you ever since the first ray of thought shone into my head, that you were revealed to me beforehand, and that, when I was quite little, you appeared to me in my dreams with a crown of dew-drops, two prismatic wings, and the little blue flower in your hand; that you are the end, the means, and the meaning of life; that without you I am but an empty shadow, and that, if you blow upon the flame you have kindled, nothing will remain within me but a pinch of dust finer and more impalpable than that which besprinkles the very wings of death/ 1 Thcophile Cautier $ 27 £ WHAT LOVE WILL DO WHAT LOVE WILL DO it's BEING PROVED EVERY DAY A lady may continue to have a heart, although she is somewhat stouter than she was when a schoolgirl, and a man his feelings although he gets his hair from Truefitt's. Thac\eray the archetype of martyrs to cupid's barbed humour Malvolio { having read the decoy letter} — Day light and champain discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross ac' quaintance, I will be point'devise the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross'gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives * 31 * THE TH1HG CALLED LOVE me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised ! Here is yet a postscript. (Reads) "Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee." Jove, I thank thee. I will smile. . . . Maria — If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegade; for there is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such im- possible passages of grossness. He's in yellow stockings. Sir Toby — And cross-gartered? Maria — Most villainously; like a pedant that keeps a school f the church. I have dogged him, like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him; he does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my * 3 2 * WHAT LOVE WILL DO lady will strike him: if she do, he'll smile and take 't for a great favour. . . . Olivia — How now, Malvolio! Malvolio — Sweet lady, ho, ho. Olivia — Smilest thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. Malvolio — Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is, "Please one and please all." Olivia — Why, how dost thou, man? — what is the matter with thee? Sha\espeare MY UNCLE TOBY Let love, therefore, be what it will, — my Uncle Toby fell into it. . . . "I am in love, Corporal! 11 quoth my Uncle Toby. "In love! 1 '' said the Corporal, "your Honour was very well the day before yesterday, when I was telling your Honour the story of the King of Bohemia. 11 "Bohemia! 11 said my Uncle Toby — musing a long time. "What became of that story, Trim? 1 ' * 33 # THE THIHG CALLED LOVE "We lost it, an' please your Honour, somehow betwixt us; but your Honour was as free from love then, as I am." "'Twas just whilst thou wents't off with the wheelbarrow — with Mrs. Wadman," quoth my Uncle Toby. "She has left a ball here," added my Uncle Toby, pointing to his breast. "She can no more, an' please your Honour, stand a siege, than she can fly," cried the Cor* poral. "But as we are neighbours, Trim — the best way, I think, is to let her know it civilly first," quoth my Uncle Toby. "Now, if I might presume," said the Corporal, "to differ from your Honour " "Why else do I talk to thee, Trim?" said my Uncle Toby mildly. "Then I would begin with a good thundering attack upon her, in return — and telling her civilly afterwards; for if she knew anything of your Honour's being in love beforehand " "L — d help her! She knows no more at present of it, Trim," said my Uncle Toby, "than the child unborn." Precious souls! Mrs. Wadman had told it, with all its circum* stances, to Mrs. Bridget, twenty^four hours before. Laurence Sterne & 34 * WHAT LOVE WILL DO A DESPERATE CASE Ralph Roister Doister — I will go home and die. Mathew Merygreeke — God have mercy on your soul, ah, good gentleman. That e'er ye should thus die for an unkind woman. Will ye drink once ere ye go? R. Roister — No, no, I will none. M. Mery — How feels your soul to God? R. Roister — I am nigh gone. M. Mery — Placebo dilexi. Master Roister Doister will straight go home and die. R. Roister — Heigh'ho! Alas, the pangs of death my heart do break ! M. Mery — Hold your peace, for shame, sir; a dead man may not speak ! Nequando — What mourners and what torches shall we have? R. Roister — None. M. Mery — Dirige. He will go darkling to his grave. 7\[eque lux, neque crux, neque mourners, neque drink. He will steal to heaven, unknowing to God, I think. Hicolas Udall THE VERY WISE MERLIN Merlin fell in a dotage on the damsel that King Pellinore brought to the court with him; * 35 * THE THIHC CALLED LOVE and she was one of the damsels of the lake, which hight Nimue. But Merlin would let her have no rest, but always he would be with her in every place; and ever she made Merlin good cheer, till she had learned of him all manner of things that she desired, and he was so sore assotted upon her that he might not be from her. . . . And within a while the Lady of the Lake departed, and Merlin went evermore with her wheresoever she went. . . . And always Merlin lay about the lady; and she was ever passing weary of him, and fain would have been delivered of him; for she was afraid of him because he was a devil's son, and she could not put him away by any means. And so upon a time it happened that Merlin showed her a rock where was a great wonder, and wrought by enchantment, which went under a stone. So, by her subtle craft and work' ing, she made Merlin go under the stone to let her wit of the marvels there; but she wrought so there for him that he came never out, for all the craft that he could do: and so she departed, and left Merlin. Sir Thomas Malory THE BOX THAT HAS BEEN OFTEN ENTERED The doctor entered the cabinet and got into one of the three coffers, which Arouya herself * 36 * WHAT LOVE WILL DO locked, saying to Danischmend, "Oh, my dear doctor! Do not get impatient. As soon as my brother and my husband have retired I shall come and rejoin you." . . . Instead of suspecting the sincerity of the lady and imagining that the position he was in might be a trap set for him, he preferred to persuade himself that he was loved, and to yield to the sweetest illusions in which lovers ordinarily indulge who flatter themselves in vain that they are about to find their affection returned. Thousand and One Days THE GENTLEMAN OF FIFTY Dans la cinquantaine I The reflection should produce a gravity in men. Such a number of years will not ring like bridal bells in a man's ears. I have my books about me, my horses, my dogs, a contented household, I move in the cen^ tre of a perfect machine, and I am dissatisfied. I rise early. I do not digest badly. What is wrong? The calamity of my case is that I am in danger of betraying what is wrong with me to others, without knowing it myself. Some woman will be suspecting and tattling, because she has noth' ing else to do. George Meredith * 37 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE LE BOURGEOIS GENTILHOMME M. Jourdain [after having made two hows, finding himself too close to Dorimene} — A little farther away, Madam. Dorimene — How? M. Jour. — One step, if you please. Dori. — What then? M. Jour. — Fall back a little for the third. Dorante — Madam, M. Jourdain knows how to be genteel. M. Jour. — Madam, this is a great honour to me, to be sufficiently fortunate, to be so happy, to have the felicity, that you have had the good- ness of granting me the favour, of doing me the honour of honouring me with the favour of your presence; and if I had also the merit of meriting a merit like yours, and that Heaven . . . envious of my happiness . . . had accorded me . . . the advantage of finding myself worthy . . . of . . . Moliere THE LORDLY H AMILTON'NELSO N TRIANGLE At the moment considerably subsequent to his return to England, when he was charging her with neglecting him in her excessive care for their friend's interest, and was so far at war with * 38 * f WHAT LOVE WILL DO her as to threaten her with "separation," the poor old man paused in his outbreak of petulance and splenetic jealousy to avow his undiminished confidence, that her affection for their hero was purely platonic. ... Sir William was soothed in his dying illness by Nelson's personal ministra' tions, and while expiring in his wife's arms lay with his right hand in the sailor's remaining hand. J. C. Jeaffreson MR. PETER MAGNUS "Why, then, he'he'he!" said Mr. Peter Mag' nus, with a bashful titter, "what should you think, Mr. Pickwick, if I had come down here, to make a proposal, sir, eh? He'he'he — P "Think! That you were very likely to sue' ceed," replied Mr. Pickwick with one of his beaming smiles. "Ah!" said Mr. Magnus. "But do you really think so, Mr. Pickwick? Do you, though? 1 "' "Certainly," said Mr. Pickwick. "Wait till tomorrow, double the chance then . . . There is a suit of clothes in that, and a hat in that box, which I expect, in the effect they will produce, will be invaluable to me sir." Charles Dic\ens % 39 # THE THIHG CALLED LOVE TAMED In the meantime, Bazaroff occupied himself with inspecting the albums. "What a meek in' dividual I have become," he said to himself. Turgeniev THE LORD CHANCELLOR'S DILEMMA "I thank your lordships. The feelings of a Lord Chancellor who is in love with a ward of court are not to be envied. What is his position? Can he give his own consent to his own marriage with his own ward? Can he marry his own ward without his own consent? And if he marries his own ward without his own consent can he commit himself for contempt of his own court? Can he appear by counsel before himself to move for arrest of his own judgment? Ah, my lords, it is indeed painful to have to sit upon a wool' sack which is stuffed with such thorns as these/ 1 W. S. Gilbert RADHA AND KRISHNA She despises essence of sandalwood, and even by moonlight sits brooding over her gloomy sorrow; she declares the gale of Malaya to be venom, and the sandal trees through which it has breathed to have been the haunt of serpents. Thus, O Madhava, is she afflicted in thy absence * 40 * WHAT LOVE WILL DO with the pain which love's dart has occasioned; her soul is fixed on thee. . . . Her face is like a water lily veiled in the dew of tears, and her eyes appear like moons eclipsed. Jayadeva THE WIFE Now I am married. It is evening. I am sitting in my study reading. Behind me on the sofa Sasha is sitting munching something noisily. I want a glass of beer. "Sasha, look for the corkscrew. ..." I say. "It's lying about somewhere." Sasha leaps up, rummages in a disorderly way among two or three heaps of papers, drops the matches, and without finding the corkscrew, sits down in silence Five minutes pass — ten I begin to be fretted both by thirst and vexation. "Sasha, do look for the corkscrew," I say. Sasha leaps up again and rummages among the papers near me. Her munching and rustling of the papers affects me like the sound of sharpen' ing knives against each other. ... I get up and begin looking for the corkscrew myself. At last it is found and the beer is uncorked. Sasha re' mains by the table and begins telling me some' thing at great length. "You'd better read something, Sasha," I say. * 4 1 * THE THING CALLED LOVE I remember in my old Lovelace days I have, cast off women for a stain on their stockings or for one foolish word, or for not cleaning their teeth, and now I forgive everything: the munch- ing, the muddling about after the corkscrew, the slovenliness, the long talking about nothing that matters; I forgive it all almost unconsciously, with no effort of will, as though Sasha's mistakes were my mistakes, and many things which would have made me wince in the old days move me to tenderness and even rapture. The explanation of this forgiveness of everything lies in my love for Sasha, but what is the explanation of the love itself, I really don't know. Anton Chefyov WHEN FORSYTE BETRAYED FORSYTE Nothing that she could have done, nothing that she had done, brought home to him like this the inner significance of her act. For the moment, perhaps, he understood nearly all there was to understand . . . that she had suffered — that she was to be pitied. In that moment of emotion he betrayed the Forsyte in him — forgot himself — his interests — his property — was capable of almost anything; was lifted into the pure ether of the selfless and unpractical. John Galsworthy & 42 & WHAT LOVE WILL DO THE UPSET Little did Mr. Brumley reckon, when first he looked up from his laces at Black Strand, how completely that pretty young woman in the dark furs was destined to shatter all the assump' tions that had served his life. H. G. Welh IN A BALCONY I will learn, I will place my life on you, Teach me but how to keep what I have won! Am I so old? This hair was early grey; But joy ere now has brought hair brown again, And joy will bring the cheek's red back, I feel. I could sing once too; that was in my youth. Robert Browning LOVE VS. REASON Though the doctor could not make pride strong enough to conquer love, yet he exalted the former to make some stand against the latter; insomuch that my poor Amelia, I believe, more than once flattered herself that her reason had gained entire victory over her passions, till love brought up a reinforcement, if I may use that term, of tender ideas, and bore all before him. Henry Fielding % 43 # THE THIHG CALLED LOVE FOR FURTHER DETAILS, SEE MAGAZINE ADVERTISING PAGES 'Tis now well, lady, you should Use of this dentifrice I prescribed you too, To clear your teeth; and the prepared pomatum To smooth the skin. A lady cannot be Too curious of her form, that still would hold The heart of such a person. . . . Ben Jonson NO RESPECTER OF CASTE Fat Haar, grappling his tall partner with up' lifted arm, galloped away without a moment's intermission, balancing and stamping with his heels to mark the time, and looking up at her from time to time with an air of profound ad' miration; while she, with her hooked nose, twirled about like a weathercock. Erclqmann'Chatrian. WHAT HAPPENED TO JOHANNES When I realized from the silence of my Arendse that I must have done my errand, I ventured hesitatingly to press her hand to my lips, and heavenly fires shot blissful from her fingers to the depths of my soul. I lost pos' session of myself. I retreated backwards, bowing * 44 * WHAT LOVE WILL DO every moment, and ... at last came to the head of a steep staircase without noticing it. Johannes Ewald. THE HERO OF A THOUSAND BATTLES Charles XII (King of Sweden, under the as- sumed name of the Count D'Olfen, aside) — Would anyone believe that I am Charles the Twelfth? I begin to doubt it myself. Nations tremble at my name, yet I — I won't say tremble — but feel very much like a fool in the presence of a simple girl! . . . Come, come, this won't do. Though she doesn't know who I am, I must remember that I do. Charles Dance JOS IN THE TOILS As Jos's buggy drove up, and while, after his usual thundering knock and pompous bustle at the door, the ex-collector of Boggley-Wollah laboured up stairs to the drawing-room, knowing glances were telegraphed between Osborne and Miss Sedley, and the pair, smiling archly, looked at Rebecca, who actually blushed as she bent her fair ringlets over her knitting. How her heart beat as Joseph appeared, — Joseph puffing from the staircase, in shiny, creaking boots, — Joseph, > 45 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE in a new waistcoat, red with heat and nervous' ness, and blushing behind his wadded neckcloth. And before he had time to ask how, Mr. Joseph Sedley of the East India Company's serv' ice was actually seated tete'a'tete with a young lady, looking at her with a most killing expres' sion; his arms stretched out before her in an imploring attitude, and his hands bound in a web of green silk, which she was unwinding. Thac\eray THE OSTRICH Jo took her home, and from that Sunday night he began to strain at the leash. He took his sisters out, dutifully, but he would suggest, with a carelessness that deceived none, "Don't you want one of your girl friends to come along? That little WhatVher-Name — , Emily, or some thing. So long's I've got three of you, I might as well have a full squad." Edna Ferber TO LYDIA Who has transformed Sybaris from a hardy athlete into a doting lover? O Lydia, say, by all the gods I beg you, why haste to ruin Sybaris by your love? Why is it that he hates the sunny Plain, once able to en' dure the dust and heat? Why like a soldier does * 46 * WHAT LOVE WILL DO he prance no more among his peers, nor curb with sharp-toothed bits the mouths of Gallic steeds? Why fears he to touch the yellow Tiber? Why shuns he the wrestlers 1 oil more warily than vipers' blood; and no longer shows arms discoloured by his weapons, he who gained glory oft with the quoit, oft with the javelin sped beyond the mark? Why lies he hid, as they tell that the son of Ocean Thetis lay, just ere the woeful doom of Troy befell, lest his manly attire might drag him forth to the slaughter of the Lycian battalions? Horace OF LOVE 1. Instruct me now, what love will do; 2. ? Twill make a tongless man to wooe. 1. Inform me next, what love will do; 2. 'Twill strangely make a one of two. 1. Teach me besides, what love will do; 2. 'Twill quickly mar, and make ye too. 1. Tell me, now last, what love will do; 2. 'Twill hurt and heal a heart pierc'd through. Robert Herric\ "when the youth becomes a watcher of windows" But here is a strange fact; it may seem to many men, in revising their experience, that they have no fairer page in their life's book than the deli' * 47 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE cious memory of some passages wherein affection contrived to give a witchcraft surpassing the deep attraction of its own truth to a parcel of accidental and trivial circumstances. In looking backward, they may find that several things, which were not the charm, have more reality to this groping memory than the charm itself which embalmed them. But be our experience in par' ticulars what it may, no man ever forgot the visitations of that power to his heart and brain, which created all things new; which was the dawn in him of music, poetry, and art; which made the face of nature radiant with purple light, the morning and the night varied enchant' ments; when a single tone of one voice could make the heart bound, and the most trivial cir' cumstance associated with one form is put in the amber of memory; when he became all eye when one was present, and all memory when one was gone; when the youth becomes a watcher of windows, and studious of a glove, a veil, a ribbon, or the wheels of a carriage; when no place is too solitary, and none too silent, for him who has richer company and sweeter con' versation in his new thoughts, than any old friends, though best and purest, can give him*, . . . and when the day was not long enough, but the night, too, must be consumed in keen recol' lections; when the head boiled all night on the * 48 * WHAT LOVE WILL DO pillow with the generous deed it resolved on; when the moonlight was a pleasing fever, and the stars were letters, and the flowers ciphers, and the air was coined into song, when all busi' ness seemed an impertinence, and all the men and women running to and fro in the streets mere pictures. Emerson The wrinkles on my face are all untold, My hair is gray and thin; My limbs are sadly feeble grown and old; But love is young, and sin. From the Sanscrit He mooned at her feet. ... He bought a violent yellow tie, to make him self young for her. He knew, a little sadly, that he could not make himself beautiful; he beheld himself as heavy, hinting of fatness, but he danced, he dressed, he chattered, to be as young as she was ... as young as she seemed to be. Sinclair Lewis O Mother Venus, quit, 1 pray, Tour violent assailing \ The arts, forsooth, that fired my youth At last are unavailing; My blood runs cold, Tm getting old, And all my powers are failing. Eugene Field * 49 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE "You, gentlemen, seem to think slavery a pleasant and an honourable state. You have less experience of it than I. I have been enslaved to Miss Dobson since yesterday evening; you, only since this afternoon; I, at close quarters; you, at a respectful distance. Your fetters have not galled you yet; my wrists, my ankles, are excoriated. The iron has entered into my soul. I droop. I stumble. Blood flows from me. I quiver and curse. I writhe. The sun mocks me. The moon titters in my face. I can stand it no longer. I will no more of it. To-morrow I die." Max Beerbohm LOVE, THE TRICKSTER O love, what monstrous tricks dost thou play with thy votaries of both sexes ! How dost thou deceive them, and make them deceive them* selves! Their follies are thy delight! Their sighs make thee laugh, and their pangs are thy merri- ment! Not the great Rish, who turns men into mon- keys, wheel-barrows, and whatever else best humours his fancy, hath so strangely metamor- phosed the human shape; nor the great Cibber, who confounds all number, gender, and breaks through every rule of grammar at his will, hath so distorted the English language as thou doth metamorphose and distort the human senses. * 50 * WHAT LOVE WILL DO Thou puttest out our eyes, stoppest up our ears, and takest away the power of our nostrils; so that we can neither see the largest object, hear the loudest noise, nor smell the most poigiv ant perfume. Again, when thou pleasest, thou canst make a molehill appear as a mountain, a JewVharp sound like a trumpet, and a daisy smell like a violet. Thou canst make cowardice brave, avarice generous, pride humble, and cruelty tender-hearted. In short, thou turnest the heart of man inside out, as a juggler doth a petticoat, and bringest whatsoever pleaseth thee out from it. Fielding HOW MEN MAKE LOVE IN NOVELS HOW MEN MAKE LOVE IN NOVELS THE AMERICAN BROKER "By George, 111 do it now," said Maxwell, half aloud. "I'll ask her now. I wonder I didn't do it long ago." He dashed into the inner office with the haste of a short trying to cover. He charged upon the desk of the stenographer. She looked up at him with a smile. A soft pink crept over her cheek, and her eyes were kind and frank. Maxwell leaned one elbow on her desk. He still clutched fluttering papers with both hands and the pen was above his ear. "Miss Leslie," he began hurriedly, "I have but a moment to spare. I want to say something in that moment. Will you be my wife? I haven't — had time to make love to you in the ordinary way, but I really do love you. Talk quick, please — those fellows are clubbing the stuffing out of Union Pacific." "Oh, what are you talking about?" exclaimed # 55 *■ THE THIHG CALLED LOVE the young lady. She rose to her feet and ga^ed upon him, round-eyed. "Don't you understand?" said Maxwell, res- tively. "I want you to marry me. I love you, Miss Leslie. I wanted to tell you, and I snatched a minute when things had slackened up a bit. They're calling me for the 'phone now. Tell 'em to wait a minute, Pitcher. Won't you, Miss Leslie?" The stenographer acted very queerly. At first she seemed overcome with amazement; then tears flowed from her wondering eyes; and then she smiled sunnily through them, and one of her arms slid tenderly about the broker's neck. "I know now," she said, softly. "It's this old business that has driven everything else out of your head for the time. I was frightened at first. Don't you remember, Harvey? We were married last evening at eight o'clock in the Little Church Around the Corner." O. Henry THE YOUNG ENGLISH NOBLEMAN'S FIRST LOVE "You wish — wish to leave me?" His breath went with the words. "Indeed I must." Her hand became a closer prisoner. All at once an alarming delicious shudder % 56 * HOW MEH MAKE LOVE IK HOVELS went through her frame. From him to her it coursed, and back from her to him. Forward and back love's electric messenger rushed from heart to heart, knocking at each till it surged tumul' tuously against the bars of its prison, crying out for its mate. They stood trembling in unison, a lovely couple under these fair heavens of the morning. When he could get his voice it said, "Will you go? 11 But she had none to reply with, and could only mutely bend upward her gentle wrist. "Then farewell!" he said; and dropping his lips to the soft fair hand, kissed it, and hung his head, swinging away from her, ready for death. Strange, that now she was released she should linger by him. Strange, that his audacity, instead of the executioner, brought blushes and timid tenderness to his side, and the sweet words, "You are not angry with me?" "With you, O Beloved!" cried his soul. "And you forgive me, fair charity!" She repeated her words in deeper sweetness to his bewildered look; and he, inexperienced, possessed by her, almost lifeless with the divine new emotions she had realized in him, could only sigh and gaze at her wonderingly. "I think it was rude of me to go without * 57 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE thanking you again," she said, and again prof, fered her hand. The sweet heaven-bird shivered out his song above him. The gracious glory of heaven fell upon his soul. He touched her hand, not moving his eyes from her nor speaking; and she, with a soft word of farewell, passed across the stile, and up the pathway through the dewy shades of the copse, and out of the arch of the light, away from his eyes. George Meredith the scotch creator of "sentimental tommy" I hope I may not be disturbed, for to-night I must make my hero say "Darling," and it needs both privacy and concentration. In a word, let me admit (though I should like to beat about the bush) that I have sat down to a love chapter. Too long has it been avoided. Albert had called Marion "dear" only, as yet, but though the public will probably read the word without blinking, it went off in my hands with a bang. They tell me — the Sassenach tell me — that in time I shall be able without a blush to make Albert say "darling" and even gather her up in his arms, but I begin to doubt it; the moment sees me as shy as ever; I still find it advisable to lock the door, and then — no witness save the # 58 * HOW MEH MAKE LOVE W HOVELS dog — I "do" it dourly with my teeth clenched (my knee in the small of Albert's back) while the dog retreats into the far corner and moans. The bolder Englishman (I am told) will write a love'chapter and then go out, quite coolly, to dinner, but such goings on are contrary to the Scotch nature; even the great novelists dared not. Conceive Mr. Stevenson left alone with a hero, a heroine, and a proposal impending (he does not know where to look). Sir Walter in the same circumstances gets out of the room by making his love'scenes take place between the end of one chapter and the begin' ning of the next, but he could afford to do any- thing, and the small fry must e'en to their task, moan the dog as he may. J. M. Barrie OLIVIER BERTIN, FRENCHMAN AND ARTIST "Oh, my God! I wish I could make you under ^ stand how I love you! I am always seeking, but cannot find a means. When I think of you — and I am always thinking of you — I feel in the depths of my being an unspeakable intoxication of longing to be yours, an irresistible need of giving myself to you even more completely. I should like to sacrifice myself in some absolute way, for there is nothing better, when one loves, * 59 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE than to give, to give always, all, all, life, thought, body, all that one had, to feel that one is giving, and to be ready to risk anything to give still more. I love you so much that I love to suffer for you, I love even my anxieties, my torments, my jealousies, the pain I feel when I realize that you are no longer tender toward me. I love in you a something that only I have discovered, a you which is not the you of the world that is admired and known, a you which is mine, which cannot change nor grow old, which I cannot cease to love, for I have, to look at it, eyes that see it alone. But one cannot say these things. There are no words to express them.'" de Maupassant THE SPANIARD IN LOVE WITH A GIPSY "I cast myself at her feet, I seised her hands, I watered them with my tears, I reminded her of all the happy moments we had spent together, I offered to continue my brigand's life, if that would please her. Everything, sir, everything — I offered her everything if she would only love me again. "She said: "'Love you again? That's not possible! Live with you? I will not do itf "I was wild with fury. I drew my knife, I * 60 & HOW MEH MAKE LOVE IH HOVELS would have had her look frightened, and sue for mercy — but that woman was a demon. "I cried, 'For the last time I ask you, will you stay with me?' "'No! no! no!' she said, and she stamped her foot. "I struck her twice over — I had taken Garcia's knife, because I had broken my own. At the second thrust she fell without a sound. It seems to me that I can still see her great black eyes staring at me. Then they grew dim and the lids closed." Prosper Mcrimee AUSTRIAN JEW, GENIUS AND STATESMAN At the foot of the mountain a boy handed her a letter from Alvan — a burning flood rolled out of him like lava after they had separated on the second plateau, and confided to one who knew how to outstrip pathfarers. She entered her hotel across the lake, and met a telegram. At night the wires flashed "Sleep well" to her; on her awakening "Good-morning." A lengthened history of the day was telegraphed for her amusement. Again at night there was a "God guard you!" "Who can resist him?" sighed Clotilde, ex' & 61 THE THIHG CALLED LOVE cited, nervous, flattered, happy, but yearning to repose and be curtained from the buss of the excess of life that he put about her. George 'Meredith THE ITALIAN FALLS IN LOVE WITH HIS WIFE Stooping over her, in an attitude of adoration, Gismondi felt the old'time ardour reviving with' in him, and only by an effort refrained from crushing her in his arms. Science was right; the mimicry and the parody of passion had resuc rected passion itself. The law of reversibility had received new confirmation! Through his acting, day after day, toward her as in the time of their early love, all unconsciously, and as if by virtue of some philter, love had sprung up anew. "It is seven years," he continued, bending lower and lower above her bowed head, perfect in its lines, adorable in its thoughts; "it is seven years since we first met, — have you ceased to remember? — the twenty-fourth of April? You are right not to remember, — for two years now we have not kept the day, — and it was my fault we didn't! I have been so much at fault !" She still kept her head bowed, as if feeling the oppression of the heavy perfume, and me' chanically fingered a petal of one of the gardenias. $ 62 $ HOW MEK MAKE LOVE IH HOVELS Suddenly he leaned in front of her, clasped her waist, and kissed her on the lips, fiercely. "Giulia! Giulietta! I love you, do you hear me? I can't keep it to myself any longer ! Listen, I feel as if I were waking from a dream, from a nightmare! What harm I have done you, and what harm I have done myself! But you are an angel, because you have forgiven me, haven't you?" By this time she was returning his caresses, and the poor gardenias got the worst of it. "Is it all real? Is it truly you? Really, truly you? 11 "Yes, dear, it is I, the real, true I, when I am like this. It was another person altogether who was so bad to you, — no, not bad, but foolish, idiotic " And giving free vent to the tumultuous flood of his emotions, love and joy and remorse, he made himself out worse than he had really been. Federigo di Roberto A PROSPEROUS RUSSIAN PEASANT And as though her gesture had decided him, Zakhar raised his fist and struck her on the head. She uttered a low moan and swayed where she stood. The white cloth fell from her shoulders and her comb slipped from her hair into the grass. With a savage joy Zakhar struck her once # 63 # THE THIKG CALLED LOVE more and Glafira fell to her hands and knees and burst into tears. A feeling of horror, pity and despair seized Zakhar. In one bewildered moment he stood gazing at her as she sobbed and then he walked quickly away and stood still with his throbbing brow pressed against the cold rough bark of an old willow. A dark void filled his soul. It seemed to him that everything must be ended between them. "Now everything is ended . . . ended !" was the one thought turning in his brain. But suddenly two soft warm arms came steal' ing round his neck from behind, and Glafira's supple burning form was pressed to him tight — tight. Unable to trust his senses, Zakhar turned round; Glafira hung round his neck, looking up to him with her wide slanted black eyes wet with tears and on her lips a strange smile of exultation. "Beat me. ... He beat me. . . . What a man he is," she muttered deliriously. Jealousy, fear, despair vanished suddenly. Mikhail Artzybashef THE YOUNGER SET IN THE UNITED STATES His lips moved lazily over her face. "You taste so good f he sighed. F. Scott Fitzgerald * 64 $ HOW MEK MAKE LOVE m HOVELS THE NOVICE But the hour came when the patience of love at twenty-one could endure no longer. One Saturday he approached the school with a mild air of indifference, and had the satisfaction of seeing the object of his quest at the further end of her garden, trying, by the aid of a spade and gloves, to root a bramble that had intruded itself there. He disguised his feelings from some suspicious' looking cottage windows opposite by endeavour' ing to appear like a man in a great hurry of busi' ness, who wished to leave the handkerchief and have done with such trifling errands. This endeavour signally failed; for on ap' proaching the gate he found it locked, to keep the children, who were playing prisoner's base in the front, from running into her private grounds. She did not see him; and he could only think of one thing to be done, which was to shout her name. "Miss Day!" The words were uttered with a jerk and a look meant to imply to the cottages opposite that he was simply a man who liked shouting as a pleas' ant way of passing his time, without any reference to persons in gardens. The name died away, % 65 $ THE THIHG CALLED LOVE and the unconscious Miss Day continued digging and pulling as before. He screwed himself up to enduring the cottage windows yet more stoically, and shouted again. Fanny took no notice whatever. He shouted the third time, with desperate vehemence, turning suddenly about and retiring a little distance, as if it were by no means for his own pleasure that he had come. This time she heard him, came down the gar' den, and entered the school at the back. Foot- steps echoed across the interior, the door opened, and three-quarters of the blooming young school- mistress's face and figure stood revealed before him; a slice on her left-hand side being cut off by the edge of the door. Having surveyed and recognized him, she came to the gate. At sight of him had the pink of her cheeks increased, lessened, or did it continue to cover its normal area of ground? It was a question meditated several hundreds of times by her visitor in after-hours — the meditation, after wearying involutions, always entering in one way, that it was impossible to say. "Your handkerchief: Miss Day: I called with." He held it out spasmodically and awk- wardly. "Mother found it: under a chair." "O, thank you very much for bringing it, Mr. Dewy. I couldn't think where I had dropped it." $ 66 * HOW MEH MAKE LOVE IH HOVELS Now Dick, not being an experienced lover — indeed, never before having been engaged in the practice of love-making at all, except in a small schoolboy way — could not take advantage of the situation; and out came the blunder, which afterwards cost him so many bitter mo ments and three sleepless nights: — "Good-morning, Miss Day." "Good-morning, Mr. Dewy." The gate was closed; she was gone; and Dick was standing outside, unchanged in his condi- tion from what he had been before he called. Of course the Angel was not to blame — a young woman living alone in a house could not ask him indoors unless she had known him better — he should have kept her outside. He wished that before he called he had realized more fully than he did the pleasure of being about to call; and turned away. Thomas Hardy "strong as death' 1 He had risen. "Good-bye, Any!" "Good-bye, dear friend. I will come to see you to-morrow morning. Would you like me to do something very imprudent, as I used to do — pre- tend to breakfast here at noon, and then go and have breakfast with you at quarter past one?" & 67 % THE THING CALLED LOVE "Yes, I should like it very much. You are so good!" "It is because I love you." "And I love you, too." "Oh, don't speak of that any more!" "Good'bye, Any." "Good'bye, dear friend, till tomorrow." "Good-bye!" He kissed her hands many times, then he kissed her brow, then the corner of her lips. His eyes were dry now, his bearing resolute. Just as he was about to go, he seized her, clasped her close in both arms, and pressing his lips to her forehead, he seemed to drink in, to inhale from her all the love she had for him. de Maupassant * 68 * FLIRTING — WITH THE DICTIONARY FLIRTING WITH THE DICTIONARY I. FLIRT: To give (a person) a sharp sudden blow, or \noc\; to rap, stride. 'Hew English Dictionary SYMPTOMS THE KNOCK PERSONAL Beatrice — I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior Benedick : nobody marks you. Benedick — What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? Beatrice — Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to dis- dain if you come in her presence. Benedick — Then is courtesy a tunvcoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you ex- cepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for truly I love none. Beatrice — A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of * 7 1 # THE THIKG CALLED LOVE your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me. Benedick — God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face. Shakespeare There are certain censures which praise, just as there are certain praises which damn. La Rochefoucauld SYMPTOMS THE KNOCK GENERIC Mrs. Millamant — Oh, the vanity of these men! If they did not commend us, we were not handsome! Beauty the lover's gift! Lord, what is a lover that it can give? Why, one makes lovers as fast as one pleases, and they live as long as one pleases; and then, if one pleases, one makes more. Mirabell — Very pretty. Why, you make no more of making lovers, madam, than of making so many card'tnatches. Mrs. Millamant — One no more owes one's beauty to a lover than one's wit to an echo. They can but reflect what we look and say; vain empty things if we are silent or unseen, and want a being. Mirabell — Yet to those two vain empty * 72 * FLlRTIKiG-WITH THE DICTIOHART things you owe the two greatest pleasures of your life. Mrs. Millamant — How so? Mirabell — To your lover you owe the pleas- ure of hearing yourselves praised, and to an echo the pleasure of hearing yourselves talk. Congreve A PRACTICAL HINT It may be observed that when a young woman returns a rude answer to a young man's civil remark, her heart is in a state which argues rather hopefully for his case than otherwise. Hardy THE SKILFUL PRACTITIONER They played a game of forfeits. The girls put their heads together, and condemned her to kiss the one she loved best. But she rose, stately in her anger, and said: "May I not just as well give a blow to the one I like the least?" The moment after, Gosta's cheek burned under her firm hand. He flushed a flaming red, but conquering himself, seized her hand, held it fast a second, and whispered: "Meet me in half an hour in the red drawing-room on the lower floor.' 1 His blue eyes flashed on her and encompassed * 73 * THE THIHG CALLED LOVE her with magical waves. She felt that she must obey. He sat down on the sofa beside her. Gently he put his arm about her waist. She did not move away. She pressed closer to him, threw her arms round his neck. "I have watched you this eve ning, 11 she whispered; "there is no one like you. 11 Lagerlof Love of itself s too sweet. The best of all Is when Love's honey has a touch of gall. Herric\ THAT ELUSIVE REASON WHY Elizabeth wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having fallen in love with her. "My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners — my behaviour to you was at least always bor' dering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now, be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence? 11 "For the liveliness of your mind, I did. 11 "You may as well call it impertinence at once. The fact is, you were disgusted with women who were always speaking, looking, and think' ing for your approbation alone. I roused and interested you because I was unlike them. 11 Jane Austen * 74 * FLIRTIXG-WITH THE DICT IO?{A R T That you are in a terrible taking, By all these sweet oglings I see; But the fruit that can fall without shaking Indeed is too mellow for me. Lady Mary Worthy Montagu II. FLIRT: To play at courtship, to practise coquetry; to ma\e love without serious intentions. ?{ew English Dictionary Men shal not wo we a wight in hevinesse. Chaucer NOT A GAME FOR THE HEAVY'HANDED Mrs. Millamant — Well, what do you say *o me? Mirabell — I say that a man may as well make a friend by his wit, or a fortune by his honesty, as win a woman by plain dealing and sincerity. Mrs. Millamant — Sententious Mirabell ! Prithee, don't look with that violent and in' flexible wise face like Solomon at the dividing of the child in an old tapestry hanging. Mirabell — You are merry, madam, but I would persuade you for a moment to be serious. Mrs. Millamant — What, with that face? No, if you keep your countenance, 'tis impossible 75 % THE THIHG CALLED LOVE I should hold mine. — Well, after all, there is something very moving in a love-sick face. Ha! Ha! Ha! — Well, I won't laugh; don't be peevish — Heigho! Now I'll be melancholy, as melan- choly as a watch-light. Well, Mirabell, if ever you will win me, woo me now. — Nay, if you are so tedious, fare you well. Congreve Why so pale and wan, fair lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well won't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Suckling Women of spirit are not to be won by mourn- ers. Divert your mistress rather than sigh for her. The pleasant man she will desire for her own sake, but the languishing lover has nothing to hope from her. Steele There is lightness, laughter, a spice of mischief in genuine flirtation, — the fusing of a champagne that is all froth, with never a drop of alcohol at the bottom of the glass. Bourget * 76 $ FLIRTIHG-WITH THE DICTIOKART NO PLACE FOR EARNESTNESS "So, Jenny, youVe found another Perfect Man?" "Perfect, perhaps, but not so sweet as you, Not such a baby." "Me? A baby! — Why, I am older than the rocks on which I sit — " Oh, how delightful, talking about oneself. "Jenny, adorable" — (what draws the line At the one word, "love"?) "has any one the right To look so lovely as you do to-night, To have such eyes and such a helmet of bright hair?" But candidly, he wondered, do I care? Aldous Huxley Flirtation — attention without intention. Max O'Rell Conscience has no more to do with gallantry than it has with politics. Sheridan COQUETRY — FOURTEENTH CENTURY STYLE And with that word he gan to waxen red, And in his speche a litel wight he quook, And caste asyde a litel wight his hed, And stynte a while; and afterwards he wook, And sobreliche on hire he threw his look. Chaucer % 77 * THE TH1HG CALLED LOVE GALLANTRY EIGHTEENTH CENTURY STYLE When first in Celia's ear I poured A yet unpractised prayer, My trembling tongue sincere ignored The aids of "sweet" and "fair." I only said as in me lay, Fd strive her worth to reach; She frowned, and turned her eyes away, — So much for truth in speech. Then Delia came. I changed my plan. I praised her to her face; I praised her features, — praised her fan, Her lap'dog and her lace; I swore that not till Time were dead My passion should decay; She, smiling, gave her hand, and said " 'Twill last, then, — for a day." Austin Dobson What we find the least of in flirtation, is love. La Rochefoucauld 'Tis sweet to think that wher'er we rove, We are sure to find something blissful and dear; And that when we are far from the lips we love, WeVe but to make love to the lips that are near. Tom Moore % 78 # FLIRTIXG-WITH THE DICTIONARY III. FLIRT: To flit continually from one object to another. T^ew English Dictionary Formed for flying, Love plumes his wing. Byron Since 'tis Nature's law to change, Constancy alone is strange. Earl of Rochester One should always be in love. That is the reason one should never marry. Oscar Wilde SAFETY FIRST Spencer — Are you — married at present? Rosalie — Why, Mr. Wells, are you? Spencer — Oh, no! I never marry! Rosalie — Oh, so many married men have said they'd never marry 1 Spencer — Yes, but I've got a system. I never propose to ladies who could possibly accept me. I like to love hopelessly — and often — and often. Salisbury Field Love a la Don Juan is a sentiment of the same kind as a taste for hunting. It is a desire for ac tivity which must be kept alive by divers ob' jects, and by putting a man's talents continually to the test. Stendhal # 79 # THE THING CALLED LOVE THE PROMISED LAND Priola — Does the traveller who has spent two pleasant days in a city unknown to him the day before, settle there for life? No, he moves on the third day to see new lands. Mme. de Valery — Which frequently don't measure up to the old. Priola — No matter. He moves on. He changes. Love which never changes is stupid. Each new woman whom, like you, I covet and admire, is to me a Promised Land. Mme. de Valery — Into which you are not allowed to enter? Priola — You are wrong. When I am in that state of wartlike fever into which the intoxica' tion of Beauty throws me, I see only my goal, my future captive. She is there before me, smil' ing and defiant. Cost what it may, she must belong to me. Lavedan Are women books? says Hodge, then would mine were An Almanack, to change her every year. Benjamin Franltfin THE CONSTANCY OF THE INCONSTANT Anatol — This is how Fm true to them — to all the women I have ever loved. I never $ 80 # FLIRTIHG-WITH THE DICTIOKART forget a single one. I have only to turn over these letters and dead flowers and locks of hair, and back they come to me; I'm in love with them all again. IVe often wished there were some Abra- cadabra which would really call them back out of the utter nothingness. If I knew of a word! Max — Let's think of one. What about — "My Only Love"? Anatol — Yes: "My Only Love"! And they'd all come, one from a little suburban villa, — one from her crowded drawing-room, — one from her dressing-room at the theatre, Max — Several from their dressing-rooms at the theatre Anatol — Several. — One from a shop, Max — One from your successor's arms. Anatol — One from the grave, — one from here, one from there, — here they all are! Max — Would you mind not speaking the word? I somehow don't think they'd be pleasant company. I daresay they are not in love with you still, but I'm pretty sure they're still jealous of each other. Anatol — Wise man. — Let the phantoms rest. Schnitzler IV. FLIRT: (English word.) Conversation between a man and woman of the world, in which # 81 & THE THIHG CALLED LOVE the words play around the ideas of love and coquetry; amorous tactics. Larousses French Dictionary The conversation of beautiful and well'bred women is for me a sweet commerce. But 'tis a commerce wherein a man must stand a little on his guard, especially those of a warm tempera' ment like mine. Montaigne CONVERSATION WITHOUT WORDS There were two of us in the compartment: a young officer with a tiny moustache and a young pretty woman. That was I. It happened so long ago that I am safe in referring to her as a pretty woman. Before long, things began to happen. The lieu' tenant moved to the seat opposite me, from which he was able to study me the better. He had very expressive eyes, and when first I looked at them they were raised to me question' ingly, as if to say: "Dear lady, will you permit me to look at you?" I have never seen eyes that could plead so eloquently. "See with what re' spectful admiration I regard you ! Can't you tell that you have kindled my impressionable sol' dier's heart into flame? Have pity on me." I laid my newspaper aside. With that gesture * 82 # FLIRTIHG-WITH THE DICTIONARY I indicated that I was willing to let the flirtation begin. It was as if I had said: "There, the screen which separated us is removed, and now, eye to eye." He answered with a look of gratitude, and an unspoken promise in his eyes assured me: "I shall not forget what a gentleman owes a lady in a situation like this. I shall not address you; only my eyes shall speak for me." I thanked him with a glance. For a long time he looked at me dreamily, modestly, respectfully. He seemed to be studying my face with touching reverence. Then he stared at my hands, as if to say: "What delicate white hands !" Then he looked at my feet. In that quiet, detached way men have of looking at things which don't belong to them. For a long time he studied me like that from head to foot. — What did your eyes answer? They answered, "Ah!" A languid, pleased "Ah !" with a tinge of reproach in it, — the sort of "Ah!" we utter when a man takes us firmly in his arms. I didn't say it; I looked it. He didn't misunderstand. Only his eyes grew sad and intent, as if to say: "Isn't it a pity? We two are so ideally suited to each other. We can understand each other's very glances. And yet we must always remain strangers." He sighed and bade me farewell. — With his eyes. With his eyes he pressed a pure and tender kiss upon my * 83 ^ THE THIHG CALLED LOVE brow. He shook his head sadly, and his eyes said: "Nevermore — nevermore." By that time the train had reached Agram, and he got off. It was the most charmingly poetic tete4'tete I have ever had. Molnar tactics: reconnaissance and strategic retirement The glance is the great weapon of virtuous coquetry. With a glance one may say everything, and yet one can always deny the glance, for it cannot be repeated textually. Stendhal BARRAGE It was so much gained for her that she had him started off on abstractions, that he was dis' coursing on truth in personal relations, on duty, and the sacredness of love and marriage. It is well known that these abstract propositions serve admirably as a beginning, a starting-point. Turgeniev AMBUSH The lady attended me as if she expected me to go on. "Consider then, madam, 11 continued I, laying my hand upon hers, "that grave people hate love for its name's sake, that selfish people hate it $ 84 $ FLIRTITiG-WITH THE DICTIONARY for their own, hypocrites for heaven's, and that all of us, being ten times worse frightened than hurt by the very report, — what a want of knowl' edge in this branch of commerce a man betrays whoever lets a word come out of his lips till an hour or two at least after the time that his silence upon it has become tormenting ! A course of small quiet attentions, not so pointed as to alarm — nor so vague as to be misunderstood; — with now and then a look of kindness, and little or nothing said upon it, — leaves Nature for our mistress, and she fashions it to her mind." "Then I solemnly declare," said the lady, blushing, "you have been making love to me all this while." Sterne SKIRMISH "I have broken two engagements for you to* day. How many have you broken for me?" "None,' 1 said Selden calmly. "My only en' gagement at Bellomont was with you. 1 ' She glanced down at him, faintly smiling. "Did you really come to Bellomont to see me?" "Of course I did." Her look deepened meditatively. "Why?" she murmured. "Because you're such a wonderful spectacle: I always like to see what you are doing." * 85 £ THE THIHG CALLED LOVE "How do you know what I should be doing if you were not here?" Selden smiled. "I don't flatter myself that my coming has deflected your course of action by a hair's breadth. " "That's absurd — since if you were not here I could obviously not be taking a walk with you." "No; but your taking a walk with me is only another way of making use of your material. You are an artist, and I happen to be the bit of colour you are using to-day. It's a part of your cleverness to be able to produce premeditated effects extemporaneously." She took up his charge with a touch of re' sentment. "I don't know," she said, "why you are always accusing me of premeditation. You must find me a dismal kind of person if you sup' pose that I never yield to an impulse." "Ah, but I don't suppose that: haven't I told you that your genius lies in converting impulses into intentions?" Edith Wharton HAND'TO'HAND COMBAT Romeo — If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. $ 86 % FLIRTIHG-WITH THE DICTIOHA R T Juliet — Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Romeo — Have not saints lips, and holy palm' ers too? Juliet — Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Romeo — O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Juliet — Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Romeo — Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take. (Kisses her.) Thus from my lips by thine, my sin is purged. Juliet — Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Romeo — Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged ! Give me my sin again. Sha\espeare HEAVY SIEGE "Why should we two wait to be introduced?' ? he said. "We know one another. I am Alvan. You are she of whom I have heard from Kollin: * 87 # THE THING CALLED LOVE who else? Lucretia, the gold-haired; the gold' crested serpent, wise as her sire; Aurora breaking the clouds; in short, Clotilde. — You are aware that I hoped to meet you?" "Is there a periodical advertisement of your hopes? — or do they come to us by intuition? 11 "Kollin was right! The ways of the serpent will be serpentine. I knew we must meet. It is no true day so long as the goddess of the morning and the sun-god are kept asunder. I speak of myself by what I have felt since I heard you." "You are sure of your divinity?" "Through my belief in yours." They bowed, smiling at the courtly exchanges. "And tell me," said he, "as to meeting me ?" She replied : "When we are so like the rest of the world, we may confess our weakness." "Unlike! For the world and I meet to part: not we two." Clotilde attempted an answer: it would not come. She tried to be offended by his lordly tone, and found it strangely inoffensive. His lording presence and the smile that was like a waving feather on it, compelled her so strongly to submit and hear, as to put her in danger of seeming to embrace this man's rapid advances. "You leave it to me to talk." "Could I do better?" * 88 * FLIRTIHG-WITH THE DICTIONARY "You listen sweetly." "It is because I like to hear." "You have the pearly little ear of a shell on the sand.' ' "With the great sea sounding near." Alvan drew closer to her. "What if I make a comparison of you with Paris? — the city of Paris, Lucretia." "Could you make it good?" He laughed and postponed it for a series of skimming discussions, like swallow'flights from the nest under the eaves to the surface of the stream, perpetually reverting to her, and pre voking spirited replies, leading her to fly with him in expectation of a crowning compliment that must be singular and was evidently gather' ing confirmation in his mind from the touchings and probings of her character on these flights. She was like a lady danced .off her sense of fixity, to whom the appearance of her whirling figure in the mirror is both wonderful and reas' suring; and she liked to be discussed, to be com' pared with anything, for the sake of being the subject, so as to be sure it was she that listened to a man that was a stranger, claiming her for his own; sure it was she that, by not breaking from him, implied consent; she that went speeding in this magical rapid round which slung her more and more out of her actual into her imag' * 89 & THE THIHG CALLED LOVE ined self, compelled her to proceed, denied her the right to faint and call the world for aid and catch at it, though it was close by and at a signal would stop the terrible circling. The world was close by and had begun to stare. Meredith V. FLIRT ATIOH: A relation or mood estab- lished between a woman and the man who is ma\ing love to her. It is vaguely delicious and dangerously progressive from innocence to guilt, but presumptively terminable at any of the inter- mediate stages. Paul Hervieu, in Larousse's French Dictionary Gervase — Just you and I — together — on the top of the world like this. Melisande — Yes, that's what I feel too. A. A. Milne How many very wantonly pleasant sports spring from the most decent and modest lan' guage on love! Montaigne Flirting is the virtuous woman 's way of being sinful — and the sinful woman's way of being virtuous. Bourget * 90 # FLIRTITiG-WITH THE DICTIONARY To flirt is to nibble hors-d'oeuvres instead of making a full meal. Cairon Flirtation is the hypocrisy of the senses. Schnitzler THE DO WNRIGHTNESS OF A KING King Henry — I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, "I love you": then if you urge me, farther than to say: "Do you, in faith?" — I wear out my suit. ... I cannot look greenly nor gasp out my eloquence, nor have I no cunning in protestation. . . . Dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places; for those fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again. Sha\espeare * 9 1 * WOMEN IN LOVE V VI WOMEN IN LOVE THE FINE GENTLEMAN "Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air and way of talking as Mr. Knightley. I see the difference plain enough. But Mr. Knightley is so very fine a man." "Mr. Knightley 's air is so remarkably good that it is not fair to compare Mr. Martin with him. You might not see one in a hundred, with gentleman so plainly written as in Mr. Knight' THE HANDSOME TRAITOR One of those spectators was Tito Melema. Bright in the midst of brightness, he sat in the window of the room above Nello's shop, his right elbow resting on the red drapery hanging from the window-sill, and his head supported in a backward position by his right hand, which pressed the curls against his ear. His face wore that bland liveliness, as far removed from excit- ley." Jane Austen * 95 * THE mmG CALLED LOVE ability as from heaviness or gloom, which marks the companion popular alike among men and women — the companion who is never obstrusive or noisy from uneasy vanity or excessive animal spirits, and whose brow is never contracted by resentment or indignation. George Eliot A LORD OF CREATION Reginald was a perfect model of manly beauty, and seemed in his person to have realised all that Grecian sculpture had imagined of faultless form and feature. ... He had good feelings, great sensibility, and ardent, romantic imagination, and a high-spirited scorn of everything mean and base; and although he was at the same time head- strong, self-willed, and impetuous, the slave of impulse and the sport of passion, yet, as his im- pulse often led him to what was good, and his passion was a mere gust, these in early life showed scarcely as defects, but seemed merely the natural exuberance of youthful blood and unchecked spirits. Susan Ferrier THE YOUNG ARTIST Valerio was the handsomest fellow in Venice. He was not so tall, but better proportioned and more robust than his brother. His fine face ex' # 96 % WOMEH I7i LOVE pressed at a first glance only good nature, cour' age and frankness. It required some attention to discover in his great blue eyes the sacred fire that slumbered there, often under a shade of quiet indifference, whose lustre, although not altered, was at least veiled, by a slight expression of fatigue. This half-pallor ennobled his beauty, and tempered the serene audacity of his look. George Sand AN INTELLECTUAL MAN OF AFFAIRS He stood beside the window, with his hands on his sides, moodily looking out. Thus strongly defined against the sunset light, he would have impressed himself on a stranger as a man no longer in his first youth, extraordinarily hand' some so far as the head was concerned, but of a- somewhat irregular and stunted figure; stunted, however, only in comparison with what it had to carry; for in fact he was of about middle height. But the head, face, and shoulders were all re- markably large and powerful; the colouring — curly, black hair, grey eyes, dark complexion — singularly vivid; and the lines of the brow, the long nose, the energetic mouth, in their mingled force and perfection, had made the stimulus of many an artist before now. Mrs. Humphry Ward * 97 *■ THE THIKG CALLED LOVE "what every woman wants''' Most true is it that "beauty is in the eye of the gaser." My master's colourless, olive face, square, massive brow, broad and jetty eyebrows, deep eyes, strong features, firm, grim mouth — all energy, decision, will — were not beautiful, according to rule; but they were more than beau- tiful to me: they were full of an interest, an in- fluence that quite mastered me — that took my feelings from my own power and fettered them in his. I had not intended to love him: the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they sponta- neously revived, green and strong! He made me love him without looking at me. Charlotte Bronte DISTINCTION If she looked up she would see him. She knew what she would see : the fine, cross upper-lip lifted backwards by the moustache, the small grilled brown moustache, turned up, that made it look crosser. The narrow, pensive lower lip, thrust out by its light jaw. His nose — quite a young nose — that wouldn't be Roman, wouldn't be Sutcliffe; it looked out over your head, tilted itself up to sniff the world, obstinate, $ 98 $ WOMEH IH LOVE alert. His eyes, young too, bright and dark, sheltered, safe from age under the low straight eyebrows. They would never have shaggy, wrinkled sagging lids. Dark-brown hair, grey above his ears, clipped close to stop its curling like his uncle's. He liked to go clipped and clean. You felt that he liked his own tall, straight slenderness. «. , . May Sinclair THE ROMANTIC VIOLINIST As he leaned upon the table, one slight, long, brown hand propping his head, and half lost in the thick, fine, brown hair which waved in large, ample waves over his head, there was an inde- scribable grace, ease, and negligent beauty in the attitude. Move as he would, let him assume any position or impossible attitude, there was still the same grace, half careless, yet very digni' fled, in the position he took. All his lines were lines of beauty, but beauty which had power and much masculine strength; nowhere did it degenerate into fiaccidity, no- where lose strength in grace. . . . Broad-shoul- dered, long-armed, with a physique in every re- spect splendid, he was yet very distinctly removed from the mere handsome animal which I believe enjoys a distinguished popularity in the latter-day romance. T . „ - .„ ' Jessie rothergill * 99 * THE THlTiG CALLED LOVE WANTED A SILENT PARTNER Tom Beatup attracted her strongly. He was much her own type — slow, ruminative, patient as the beasts he tended — yet she saw him as a being altogether more helpless than herself, one less able to think and plan, one whom she could "manage 1 1 tenderly. He was not so practical as she, and more in need of affection, of which he got less. Thyrsa sometimes pictured his round dark head upon her breast, her arm about him, holding him there in the crook of it, both lover and child. . . . Sheila Kaye^Smith THE CONQUERING MALE And against her will, almost without con' scious movement, she obeyed him. The un, tempting morsel passed from his hand to hers, and under the compulsion of his insistence she began to eat. She felt as if every mouthful would choke her, but she persevered, urged by the dread certainty that he would somehow have his way. . . . .There was, moreover, something comfort' ing in his presence, something that vastly re' assured her, making her lean upon him in spite of herself. .... Presently he stopped again, and without $ ioo * WOME?i IH LOVE a word lifted her in his arms. She gasped a pro test to which he made no response. His arms compassed her like steel, making her feel helpless as an infant. * Ethel M. Ddl CLARA MILITCH "I am ready to listen to you," he began again, "and shall be very glad if I can be of use to you in any way . . . though I am, I confess, surprised . . . considering the retired life I lead. . . At these last words of his, Clara suddenly turned to him, and he beheld such a terrified, such a deeply wounded face, with such large bright tears in the eyes, such a pained expression about the parted lips, and this face was so lovely, that he involuntarily faltered, and himself felt something akin to terror and pity and softening. "Ah, why . . . why are you like that?" she said, with an irresistibly genuine and truthful force, and how movingly her voice rang out! "Could my turning to you be offensive to you? ... is it possible you have understood nothing? . . . Ah, yes ! you have understood nothing, you did not understand what I said to you, God knows what you have been imagining about me, you have not even dreamed what it cost me — to write to you ! . . . You thought of nothing but yourself, your own dignity, your peace of mind ! $ ioi % THE THIHG CALLED LOVE . . . But is it likely I . . ." (she squeezed her hands raised to her lips so hard, that the fingers gave a distinct crack) . . . "As though I made any sort of demands of you, as though explanations were necessary first . . . 'My dear madam, ... I am, I confess, surprised ... if I can be of any use 1 . . . Ah! I am mad! — I was mistaken in you — in your face! . . . when I saw you the first time . . . ! Here . . . you stand If only one word. What, not one word?" Turgeniev CATHERINE "I love him more than ever you loved Edgar" — said the infatuated girl, — "and he might love me if you would let him!" "I wouldn't be you for a kingdom, then!" Catherine declared emphatically — and she seemed to speak sincerely. "Nelly, help me to convince her of her madness. Tell her what Heathcliff is — an unreclaimed creature, without refinement — without cultivation; an arid wilder' ness of furze and whinstone. I'd as soon put that little canary into the park on a winter's day as recommend you to bestow your heart on him! It is deplorable ignorance of his character, child, and nothing else, which makes that dream enter your head. Pray don't imagine that he conceals depths of benevolence and affection beneath a v $ 102 $ WOMEK IK LOVE stern exterior! He's not a rough diamond — a pearl'Containing oyster of a rustic; he's a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man. I never say to him, Let this or that enemy alone, because it. would be un- generous or cruel to harm them. I say, Let them alone, because I should hate them to be wronged : and he'd crush you, like a sparrow's egg, Isa- bella, if he found you a troublesome charge. I know he couldn't love a Linton : and yet, he'd be quite capable of marrying your fortune and ex' pectations. Avarice is growing with him a be setting sin. There's my picture: and I'm his friend — so much so that had he thought seriously to catch you, I should, perhaps, have held my tongue, and let you fall into this trap." Emily Bronte "advice to a schoolboy" Love in women (at least) is either vanity, or interest, or fancy. It is a merely selfish feeling. It has nothing to do (I am sorry to say) with friendship, or esteem, or even pity. I once asked a girl, the pattern of her sex in shape and mind and attractions, whether she did not think Mr. Coleridge had done wrong in making the heroine of his beautiful ballad story of "Genevieve" take compassion on her hapless lover — "When on the yellow forest leaves A dying man he lay " * 103 * THE TH1KG CALLED LOVE And whether she believed that any woman ever fell in love through a sense of compassion; and she made answer — "Not if it was against her inclination !" I would take the lady's word for a thousand pound, on this point. William Hazlitt JEUNE FILLE A young girl's love is a kind of piety. We must approach it with adoration if we are not to pre fane it, and with poetry if we are to understand it. If there is anything in the world which gives us a sweet, ineffable impression of the ideal, it is this trembling modest love. To deceive it would be a crime. Merely to watch its unfolding life is bliss to the beholder; he sees in it the birth of a divine marvel. Amid EGO Women wish to be loved without a why or a wherefore; not because they are pretty, or good, or well bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but be' cause they are themselves. All analysis seems to them to imply a loss of consideration, a subop dination of their personality to something which dominates and measures it. They will have none of it; and their instinct is just . . . Love must always remain a fascination, a witchery, if the % 104 5fc WOMEH IH LOVE empire of woman is to endure. Once the mystery gone, the power goes with it. Love must always seem to us indivisible, insoluble, superior to all analysis, if it is to preserve that appearance of infinity, of something supernatural and miraai' lous, which makes its chief beauty. . . . The feminine triumph par excellence is to convict of obscurity that virile intelligence which makes so much pretence to enlightenment. And when a woman inspires love, it is then especially that she enjoys this proud triumph. I admit that her exultation has its grounds. Still, it seems to me that love — true and profound love — should be a source of light and calm, a religion and a reveta' tion, in which there is no place left for the lower victories of vanity. Amid * 105 & SOME LOVE LETTERS SOME LOVE LETTERS PROSPER MERIMEE TO JENNY DAQUIN Contrary to my usual habit, I have no distinct recollection of that day, but am like a cat who licks his whiskers for a long time after drinking his milk. Admit that the peace of which you sometimes speak with admiration, that the Kef, which is superior even to the best that we know, is as nothing in comparison to the happiness "which is almost pain." Nothing is more insig' nificant than the life of an oyster, especially of an oyster which is not eaten. . . . Good-bye. Do not have any second thoughts, and give me a place in your first. KWEI'LI TO HER HUSBAND (A CHINESE OFFICIAL) Dost thou know what love is? Thou canst not till thou holdest Love itself within thy very arms. I thought I loved thee. I smile now at the * 109 % THE THIHG CALLED LOVE remembrance of that feeble flickering that was as like unto the real love as the faint, cold beam of the candle is to the rays of the glorious sun. Now — now — thou art the father of my son. Thou hast a new place in my heart. The tie that binds our hearts together is stronger than a rope of twisted bamboo; it is a bond, a love bond, that never can be severed. I am the mother of thy first'born — thou hast given me my man' child. Love thee — love thee! — now I \now / I am Thine Own. RICHARD STEELE TO MARY SCURLOCK Madam, It is the hardest thing in the world to be in love and yet attend to business. As for me, all who speak to me find me out, and I must lock myself up or other people will do it for me. A gentleman asked me this morning, "What news from Lisbon?" and I answered, "She is exquisitely handsome. " Another desired to know when I had been last at Hampton Court. I replied, "It will be on Tuesday come se'n night. 11 Prythee, allow me at least to kiss your hand before that day, that my mind may be in some composure. O love! "A thousand torments dwell about me ! Yet who would live to live without thee? 11 # no # SOME LOVE LETTERS Methinks I could write a volume to you; but all the language on earth would fail in saying how much and with what disinterested passion I am ever yours, Rich. Steele BENJAMIN FRANKLIN TO MADAME HELVETIUS . . . Passy. Chagrined at your resolution, pronounced so decidedly last evening, to remain single for life, in honour of your dear husband, I went home, fell upon my bed, thought myself dead, and found myself in the Elysian Fields. They asked me if I had any desire to see any persons in particular. "Lead me to the philos' ophers." "There are two that reside here in this garden. They are very good neighbours and very friendly to each other." "Who are they? 1 ' "Soc* rates and Helveti^s." "I esteem them both prodigiously; but let me see Helvetius first, be cause I understand a little French and not a word of Greek." He viewed me with much courtesy, having known me, he said, by reputa' tion for some time. He asked me a thousand things about the war, and the present state of religion, liberty, and government in France. "You ask me nothing, then, respecting your # in # THE THIHG CALLED LOVE friend Madame Helvetius, and yet she loves you still excessively; it is but an hour since I was at her house. 1 ' "Ah!" said he, "you make me recol' lect my former felicity; but I ought to forget it to be happy here. For many years I thought of nothing but her. At last I am consoled. I have taken another wife, the most like her that I could find. She is not, it is true, quite so handsome; but she has as much good sense and wit, and loves me infinitely. Her continued study is to please me; she is at present gone to look for the best nectar and ambrosia to regale me this evening; stay with me and you will see her." "I perceive," said I, "that your old friend is more faithful than you; for many good matches have been offered her, all of which she has re' fused. I confess to you that I loved her myself to excess; but she was severe to me, and has ab' solutely refused me, for love of you." "I com' miserate you," said he, "for your misfortune; for indeed she is a good woman, and very amia' ble. But the Abbe de la Roche and the Abbe Morellet, are they not still sometimes at her house?" "Yes, indeed, for she has not lost a single one of your friends." "If you had gained over the Abbe Morellet with coffee and cream to speak for you, perhaps you would have sue' ceeded, for he is as subtle a reasoner as Scotus or $ 112 % SOME LOVE LETTERS St. Thomas, and puts his arguments in such good order that they become almost irresistible: or if you had secured the Abbe de la Roche, by giving him some fine edition of an old classic, to speak against you, that would have been better; for I have always observed that when he advises any- thing, she has a very strong inclination to do the reverse." At these words the new Madame Helvetius entered with the nectar; I instantly recognised her as Mrs. Franklin, my old American friend. I reclaimed her, but she said to me coldly, "I have been your good wife forty'nine years and four months; almost half a century; be content with that." Dissatisfied with this refusal of my Eurydice I immediately resolved to quit those ungrateful shades and to return to this good world to see again the sun and you. Here I am. Let us avenge ourselves. POPE TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU After having dreamed of you several nights, besides a hundred reveries by day, I find it necessary to relieve myself by writing; though this is the fourth letter I have sent. For God's sake, madam, let not my correspond' ence be like the traffic with the grave from * 113 £ THE THWG CALLED LOVE whence there is no return. Unless you write to me, my wishes must be like a poor papist's devo- tions to separate spirits, who, for all they know or hear from them, either may or may not be sensible of their addresses. None but your guardian angels can have you more constantly in mind than I; and if they have, it is only because they can see you always. If ever you think of those fine young beaux of Heaven, I beg you to reflect that you have just as much consolation from them as I have at present from you. . . . BENJAMIN CONSTANT TO MADAME RECAMIER September 3rd, 1814. To-morrow evening, to-morrow evening? What is that evening to me? It will commence for me at five o'clock in the morning. To-morrow is to-day. Thanks to God, yesterday is passed. I shall therefore be at your door at nine o'clock. They will tell me that you are not there. I shall be there between ten and eleven; will they still tell me that you are not there? ... I seem mad to you, perhaps; but I see your look, I repeat to myself your words. ... I am right to be mad. I would be mad not to be so. Till this evening, then, Mon dieu ! If you are * 114 % SOME LOVE LETTERS not the most indifferent of women, how much you will make me suffer in my life! . . . Once again, till to-night. GEORGE SAND TO ALFRED DE MUSSET April 15-l7th, 1834. . . . Do not believe, do not believe, Alfred, that I could be happy with the thought of having lost your heart. That I have been your mistress or your mother, what does it matter? That I have inspired you with love or with friendship — that I have been happy or unhappy with you, all that changes nothing in the state of my mind, at present. I know that I love you and that is all. To watch over you, to preserve you from all ill, from all contrariety, to surround you with distractions and pleasures, that is the need and the regret which I feel since I have lost you. Why has so sweet a task and one which I should have performed with such joy become, little by little, so bitter, and then, all at once, impossible? How is it that I, who would have offered up all my blood to give you a night's rest and peace, have become for you a torment, a scourge, a spectre? When these atrocious memories besiege me (and at what hour do they leave me in peace?) I almost go mad. * 115 % THE THITiG CALLED LOVE BALZAC TO COUNTESS HANSKA Dresden, October 21st, 1843. If happiness for a woman is to know herself unique in a heart, alone, filling it in an indispen- sable manner, sure to shine in the intelligence of a man as his light, sure to be his blood, to ani' mate each heart-beat, to live in his thought as the substance itself of that thought, and having the certainty that it would be always and always so; eh bien, dear sovereign of my soul, you can call yourself happy, and happy senza brama, for so I shall be for you till death. One can fe^l satiety for human things, there is none for divine things, and this word alone can explain what you are for me. THOMAS CARLYLE TO JANE WELCH Scotsbrig, 12 Aug., 1826. My darling: my good Jane, it is an awful and delicious thought, this of wedlock ! Need is, most pressing need, that the heart you give your own heart to, be well and seriously judged and found worthy. With one whose integrity of soul you even doubted, it were better to die a thousand deaths than to wed. 1 swear it will break my heart if I make thee unhappy. And yet I am a perverse mortal to n6 $ SOME LOVE LETTERS deal with, and the best resolutions make ship' wreck in the sea of practice. But thou must be a very good wife, and I will be a very good hus' band. JANE WELCH TO THOMAS CARLYLE ... Oh, my dearest friend, be always so good to me, and I shall make the best and happiest wife ! When I read in your looks and words that you love me, then I care not one straw for the whole universe besides. But when you fly from me to smoke tobacco, or speak of me as a mere circumstance of your lot, then, indeed, my heart is troubled about many things. JOHN KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE . . . My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you. I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again — my Life seems to stop there — I see no farther. ... I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion — I have shuddered at it. I shudder no more — I could be martyred for my Religion — Love is my religion — I could die for that. I could die for you. My Creed is Love, and you are its only tenet. You have ravished me away by a Power I cannot re- sist; and yet I could resist till I saw you; and even since I have seen you I have endeavoured % 117 # THE THIHG CALLED LOVE often to reason against the reasons for my love. I can do that no more — the pain would be too great. My love is selfish. I cannot breathe with- out you. PRINCE BISMARCK TO JOHANNA VON PUTTKAMER My Heart, Schonhausen, February 7, '47. ... If I could only dream of you when you do of me! But recently I do not dream at all — shock' ingly healthy and prosaic; or does my soul fly to Reinfeld in the night and associate with yours? In that case it can certainly not dream here; but it ought to tell about its journey in the morning, whereas the wayward thing is as silent about its nocturnal employments as though it, too, slept like a badger. ... I love you, cest tout dire. Bismarc\ DANIEL WEBSTER TO JOSEPHINE SEATON Monday Morning, March 4th, , 44. My dear Josephine: I fear you got a wetting last evening, as it rained fast soon after you left our door; and I avail myself on the return of your Bonnet, to express the wish that you are well this morning, and without cold. * n8 # SOME LOVE LETTERS I have demanded parlance with your Bonnet: have asked it how many tender looks it has n^£UNIVERJ/a. ^OF-CAIIFO^