although more trustworthy than written or spoken words, may sometimes
prove deceptive too; for the cunning coquette who daily feigns Love to
attract poor moths by her brilliant fascinations, becomes in time so
perfect an actress that the coldest of cynics may be deceived by her
wiles.
In his great work on the _Expression of the Emotions_, Darwin remarks
that although, “when lovers meet, we know that their hearts beat
quickly, their breathing is hurried, and their faces flush;” yet “love
can hardly be said to have any proper or peculiar means of expression;
and this is intelligible, as it has not habitually led to any special
line of action. No doubt, as affection is a pleasurable sensation, it
generally causes a gentle smile and some brightening of the eyes.”
Inasmuch as a flushed face and transient blushes, a gentle smile and
brightening of the eyes, are characteristic of other emotions besides
Love, Darwin is right; yet he ignores two peculiarities of expression by
which a person in Love may be instantaneously recognised.
“A lover,” says Chamfort, “is a man who endeavours to be more amiable
than it is possible for him to be; and this is the reason that almost
all lovers appear ridiculous.” Who has not seen this unmistakable,
ludicrous expression of masculine Love—head slightly inclined to the
left; face as near her face as possible, echoing every expression of
hers; a saccharine, beseeching smile on the kiss-hungry lips, producing
on the spectator an uneasy sense of unstable equilibrium—as if in one
more moment the force of amorous gravitation would draw down his face to
hers?
Add to this his embarrassed gestures, the over-sweet falsetto of his
voice—an octave higher than when he speaks to others,—and the peculiar
lover’s pallor, and the picture is complete—
“Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can’t move her,
Looking ill prevail?”—SUCKLING.
To women Cupid is kinder. Instead of making them appear ludicrous, Love
has the power of transforming even a homely feminine face into a vision
of loveliness by throwing a halo of tender expression around it. This
wondrous transformation effected by Love is one of its greatest
miracles; and to one who has seen the girl previously it immediately
betrays her infatuation. It is a kind of _emotional calligraphy_ in
which the merest tyro can read, “I love him.”
And this temporary transformation of homely into beautiful faces, this
fusing and moulding of the features into forms of voluptuous expression,
is of extreme psychologic interest; for it shows that, after all, the
exalted, extravagant image of Her perfections in the lover’s mind is not
purely imaginary. It is not so much owing to a difference of “taste”
that he loves her more than others do, as because she actually _does_
look more beautiful when her eyes are fastened on him than when looking
at any other man.