Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1872-03-23
FALLING IN LOVE.


The man who likes chatty womer
finds his doom in girl who never open
her lips; the cynic who hates bread anC
butter trembles before miss in hel
teens; the prim young neophyte Of thu
parsonage worships the horsiest o
Dianas. No doubt there is a method u
all this madness, and a philosopher ye
to come will rescne this bit of outlying
existence from the realm of caprice
But as yet nobody has brought love
within the calculation Of, chances. Z 1t il
Just as impossible as il was in the day
of our forefathers to predict whom We
shall fall in love with. II is still as diff
cult as 1t ever was to decide who Il
likely to fall in love with u.s. The only
result which comes of meditation on the
subject is a sort Of conviction that un.
der certain perfectly inexplicable condi
tions it is possible for anybody to fallir
love with anybody else. u ssh. &.
No doubt this is sheer treason against
the conventional theory on the subject
the theory that enjoins upon us to wor
ship the golden calves of Darby ane
Joan. This faith retains an almost in
calculable power over the deeper hear
of humanity. All our protests against
calf-worship would never rob it of sin
gle votary among the lowest of the peo
pie. The code of poet and novelist u
observed with, touching obedience IN
the Kitchen When TIE young man
of life below stairs falls in love with his
young woman falling in love means
walking together, and walking together
means marrying. Constancy in spite
Of Coleridges dictum, lives in realm;
below. The tameness, the monotony
the uniformity of such a passion, har
monies well enough with the tone of
the servants hall; but we venture to de
mur when a chorus of poets and senti
Hmentalists call on us to bow down before
the mumbo-jumbo of the kitchen. Then
preaching is simply untrue to our expee
rience. No doubt Heines Palm Tree
is the most charming of poems, and
Elective A finities 7" is not quite the
dullest Of novels; but as matter of fact
the pining souls whom we meet are com
monty young things over thirty; and
fate and destiny resolve themselves
in the bulk Of cases, into rencon
| tire in ballroom or a chat on q
rainy afternoon. There is no harm
in giving big names to such little
matters, but there is great harm in the
sentimental Pharisaism which the the.
ory of poets and spinsters involves. /
Darby and Joan are the orthodox ideals
of human affection, then nine-tenths Of
the human race as they really exist mus
be doomed as aheretical. For one hu
man being who loves with this concen
trated energy there are dozen who
are rovers in love, as in croquet Fol
one who loves once forever, there arr
hundred who are forever tumblinl
into love and out of it. The infinite
variety of human tempers laughs a
these big pretentious generalizations
| but they do their work nevertheless
Just as marriage, under able manage
ment, begets social hypocrisy, so love
making, with the aid of Messrs. Tuppel
and Tennyson, begets the hypocrisy o
the affections. How difficult to fine
ones self in the ruined tower, among
the chicken bones of the picnic, without
looking for the statue of the armed
knight and one S own Genevieyel How
impossible to listen to the far-of chimes
from the cathedral tower, as we drive
home from the country ball in the sum
mer dawn, without uttering the three
little words" that made the Garden
er's Daughter" so supremely comfort
ablel And yet Genevieve is but hoy
den, and the picnic picnic; and the gay
little squeeze of three fingers in a cloak
room is no such great matter after all.
Life is indefinitely too delightful a
thing to allow all its freshness and gay
ETY. to be washed out of it by flood OF
romantic and monotonous twaddle. Let
poets sing as they will, every summer
will bring its " free love" back again
1t is only in the sunshine that one can
really fall in love- Winter and the fire.
side and the necessity of conversation
give love-making serious, practical air,
which robs it OF all JOY and geniality.
The sunshine pours around it its own
bright, indistinct, vivifying haze. Sport
with Amaryllis in the shade, and the
sport ends with proposals and calcula-
tions of the prosaic order; but pure
poetry broods over that nest in the deep
fern where the sun-glean glances from
tress after tress as one toys with the
tangles Of Neera's hair. 1t is difficult
to be at once serious and hot. With the
thermometer at seventy it is physically
impossible to be impassioned or to Law
ish VOWS of an ardent affection. For
ever and forever" loses an absurd def
niteness. What is really possible is to
lie in sunny blissfulness and to break
ores Nirvana of enjoyment now and
then by a whisper of delight. Then :" to
epjoy is all the art we know Old
things have passed away-the governor
growl over our bills, mamma lecture over
the waltz with young Prodigal-all things
have become new. 1t is amazing to
think that we were bored by old Twad-
die at breakfast 1t is hard to believe
that one will be bored by him at dinner.
Here in the fern-leayes, with the sun
overhead and Neara half doing over
j" Lothair," boredom seems impossible.
II is this transformation Of life, this ban
ishment Of its ngliness and its bother
which gives such zest to falling in love.
Love Ia simply vulgarized when it stoops
TO entangle Itself with puzzles about pa
pas consent and problems about butch
ers' bills. Its true life is the life of pure
fancy. One knows that to assert Ne@ra'
red hair to be "golden" is an absolute
defiance of fact. But, then, halfthe charm
Of flove-making lies in the defiance OF fact.