Man is not free to avoid doing that which gives him more pleasure to do
than all other possible actions.[1]
Love is like the fever(5), it is born and spends itself without the
slightest intervention of the will. That is one of the principal
differences between gallant-love and passion-love. And you cannot give
yourself credit for the fair qualities in what you really love, any
more than for a happy chance.
Further, love is of all ages: observe the passion of Madame du Deffant
for the graceless Horace Walpole. A more recent and more pleasing
example is perhaps still remembered in Paris.
In proof of great passions I admit only those of their consequences,
which are exposed to ridicule: timidity, for example, proves love. I am
not speaking of the bashfulness of the enfranchised schoolboy.
[1] As regards crime, it belongs to good education to inspire remorse,
which, foreseen, acts as a counterbalance.
[Pg 31]