LOVE AND THE PHILOSOPHER
Once upon a time there was a happy Philosopher. He was not young nor yet was he old. The callowness of youth had passed and he was in his prime; in fact, he could not have been a philosopher without being in his prime. He had gained the sobriquet of Philosopher for the reason that he was known to possess an uncommon habit of taking facts, those stubborn things, and turning them over in his mind, examining them and coming to logical conclusions about them, but it was not the dignity of his name or his happy peculiarity that made him happy. Philosophy is a very satisfactory kind of thing, but its pursuit does not bring happiness, rather is it a drag upon happiness; any fool can be happy, but a Philosopher has to have reason therefor. Philosophy is a useful kind of break, preventing happiness from getting too hot and misery from getting too cold. The Philosopher was happy because he had been smitten, not smote with a club, but by a girl; he loved a girl and believed he was loved because the girl told him he was, which is a good reason for any fellow, but should not be for a Philosopher.
The Philosopher had never before enjoyed the luxury of love, so of course he knew nothing about it; it is one of those things the less you know about it the more enjoyable it is.
The Philosopher could hardly be expected to have the blind unreasoning love that attacks college freshmen. His love was as strong and ruling an emotion as a man can suffer; but it was tempered with reason. He saw the girl as she was; he saw her shining qualities, her sweetness, generosity, and truthfulness, dimmed perhaps a little by a will of her own. Truly the girl sometimes spoke without thought and her mind furniture did not exactly match the furniture of the Philosopher’s mind; but he flattered himself that he could alter such small matters and even looked forward to the time when he could commence moulding her character to his exact liking. He loved her no less that he appreciated her faults; a girl would not be perfect without faults; she is not like a race-horse. One idle afternoon the Philosopher sat in his study enjoying himself with fancy mental pictures of the girl while he patiently waited till the clock indicated that he might go to the girl’s house where, in his imagination, he saw her waiting as anxious as he. The clock’s hands moved deliberately forward and finally came to the hour the Philosopher impatiently waited for, just the same as they would have done in any case. Time is the only thing that can laugh at love.
Time having liberated the Philosopher, he sped towards the locus of the girl. As he approached it he became agitated. He smiled to himself, sighed sighs; his pulse and heart increased theirrates; he blew his nose, examined his cuffs and gloves, fingered his cravat, and looked about to see if anyone was observing him. While he was thus pluming himself he received a severe shock. He could hardly believe his eyes, but being a Philosopher, of course he did believe them, and what they revealed to him was—the girl and another lady coming out of her home and taking a direction opposite to his. Here was a fact and the Philosopher immediately began to turn it over in his mind and examine it, at the same time quickening his gait in pursuit of the girl. The examination of the bare fact without cross-examination of the girl was eminently unsatisfactory. The girl knew he was coming at a certain hour, yet at that hour she went elsewhere. She might have been unavoidably called away, he told himself; but allowing that she had been, he argued: “What can excuse her for failing to look in the direction she knew I must come, to discover if I was near?” It seemed a small thing to notice against a girl, yet it seemed to demonstrate that at the time the girl was not thinking of the Philosopher and the disappointment he was going to receive by her act. This argued thoughtlessness for other people’s feelings and a large development of egoism and vanity—“Yes,” said the girl side of the Philosopher’s mind, “at first blush it would seem so, but perhaps she is not going out for a long time, and perhaps she has left word for you or expected to return in time to meet you.” Thereupon the Philosopher suspended judgment, but he had received a bad impression. He hurried up and overtook the girl.
“You might have waited for me,” said the Philosopher, as he lifted his hat.
“Oh,” said the girl, “where did you spring from? Did you call at the house? I left word for you that I had to go out for an hour. What makes you look so cross? Wouldn’t you wait for me an hour?”
The Philosopher answered this array of questions as best he could. “I am not cross. I was just thinking. Certainly I would wait for you an hour, if it was necessary.”
“Well, don’t think, if you have to look cross,” said the girl. “I’m so glad you caught us. Miss Gip here called for me to go with her to meet Mr. Rip on the Golf Links. He has his camera with him and is going to take us, and besides I want you to meet Mr. Rip; he is such a nice fellow.”
“Why did you not look to see if I was coming?” the Philosopher blurted out. He wanted to come to a decision on the facts.
“Now, you’re thinking again, I see by your face,” said the girl. “I want you to be gay and not always looking for something to grumble about. I don’t remember whether I looked or not.”
The Philosopher came to a decision.
When the Golf Links were reached Mr. Rip was soon discovered—a young man with rush of words to the mouth,—who grated on the nerves of the Philosopher, who knew in a minute that he and Rip could not both be “such a nice fellow,” which was rather vain of the Philosopher.
On the way home the Philosopher concluded that to marry the girl was no fair match; he was a heavy-weight and she was a feather-weight, no doubt; but no amount of training could train her up to his weight, or him down to her’s.
So the girl married Rip and made him happy, instead of marrying the Philosopher and making him unhappy. You must either be blind to a girl’s failings, or, knowing them, love them as part of the girl.
A little reason would prevent a lot of people from voting marriage a failure.