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    1. Falling in Love

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    Chapter 2
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    An ancient and famous human institution is in pressing danger. Sir
    George Campbell has set his face against the time-honoured practice of
    Falling in Love. Parents innumerable, it is true, have set their faces
    against it already from immemorial antiquity; but then they only
    attacked the particular instance, without venturing to impugn the
    institution itself on general principles. An old Indian administrator,
    however, goes to work in all things on a different pattern. He would
    always like to regulate human life generally as a department of the
    India Office; and so Sir George Campbell would fain have husbands and
    wives selected for one another (perhaps on Dr. Johnson's principle, by
    the Lord Chancellor) with a view to the future development of the race,
    in the process which he not very felicitously or elegantly describes as
    'man-breeding.' 'Probably,' he says, as reported in _Nature_, 'we have
    enough physiological knowledge to effect a vast improvement in the
    pairing of individuals of the same or allied races if we could only
    apply that knowledge to make fitting marriages, instead of giving way to
    foolish ideas about love and the tastes of young people, whom we can
    hardly trust to choose their own bonnets, much less to choose in a
    graver matter in which they are most likely to be influenced by
    frivolous prejudices.' He wants us, in other words, to discard the
    deep-seated inner physiological promptings of inherited instinct, and to
    substitute for them some calm and dispassionate but artificial
    selection of a fitting partner as the father or mother of future

    Now this is of course a serious subject, and it ought to be treated
    seriously and reverently. But, it seems to me, Sir George Campbell's
    conclusion is exactly the opposite one from the conclusion now being
    forced upon men of science by a study of the biological and
    psychological elements in this very complex problem of heredity. So far
    from considering love as a 'foolish idea,' opposed to the best interests
    of the race, I believe most competent physiologists and psychologists,
    especially those of the modern evolutionary school, would regard it
    rather as an essentially beneficent and conservative instinct developed
    and maintained in us by natural causes, for the very purpose of insuring
    just those precise advantages and improvements which Sir George Campbell
    thinks he could himself effect by a conscious and deliberate process of
    selection. More than that, I believe, for my own part (and I feel sure
    most evolutionists would cordially agree with me), that this beneficent
    inherited instinct of Falling in Love effects the object it has in view
    far more admirably, subtly, and satisfactorily, on the average of
    instances, than any clumsy human selective substitute could possibly
    effect it.

    In short, my doctrine is simply the old-fashioned and confiding belief
    that marriages are made in heaven: with the further corollary that
    heaven manages them, one time with another, a great deal better than Sir
    George Campbell.

    Let us first look how Falling in Love affects the standard of human
    efficiency; and then let us consider what would be the probable result
    of any definite conscious attempt to substitute for it some more
    deliberate external agency.

    Falling in Love, as modern biology teaches us to believe, is nothing
    more than the latest, highest, and most involved exemplification, in the
    human race, of that almost universal selective process which Mr. Darwin
    has enabled us to recognise throughout the whole long series of the
    animal kingdom. The butterfly that circles and eddies in his aërial
    dance around his observant mate is endeavouring to charm her by the
    delicacy of his colouring, and to overcome her coyness by the display of
    his skill. The peacock that struts about in imperial pride under the
    eyes of his attentive hens, is really contributing to the future beauty
    and strength of his race by collecting to himself a harem through whom
    he hands down to posterity the valuable qualities which have gained the
    admiration of his mates in his own person. Mr. Wallace has shown that to
    be beautiful is to be efficient; and sexual selection is thus, as it
    were, a mere lateral form of natural selection--a survival of the
    fittest in the guise of mutual attractiveness and mutual adaptability,
    producing on the average a maximum of the best properties of the race in
    the resulting offspring. I need not dwell here upon this aspect of the
    case, because it is one with which, since the publication of the
    'Descent of Man,' all the world has been sufficiently familiar.

    In our own species, the selective process is marked by all the features
    common to selection throughout the whole animal kingdom; but it is also,
    as might be expected, far more specialised, far more individualised, far
    more cognisant of personal traits and minor peculiarities. It is
    furthermore exerted to a far greater extent upon mental and moral as
    well as physical peculiarities in the individual.

    We cannot fall in love with everybody alike. Some of us fall in love
    with one person, some with another. This instinctive and deep-seated
    differential feeling we may regard as the outcome of complementary
    features, mental, moral, or physical, in the two persons concerned; and
    experience shows us that, in nine cases out of ten, it is a reciprocal
    affection, that is to say, in other words, an affection roused in unison
    by varying qualities in the respective individuals.

    Of its eminently conservative and even upward tendency very little doubt
    can be reasonably entertained. We _do_ fall in love, taking us in the
    lump, with the young, the beautiful, the strong, and the healthy; we do
    _not_ fall in love, taking us in the lump, with the aged, the ugly, the
    feeble, and the sickly. The prohibition of the Church is scarcely needed
    to prevent a man from marrying his grandmother. Moralists have always
    borne a special grudge to pretty faces; but, as Mr. Herbert Spencer
    admirably put it (long before the appearance of Darwin's selective
    theory), 'the saying that beauty is but skin-deep is itself but a
    skin-deep saying.' In reality, beauty is one of the very best guides we
    can possibly have to the desirability, so far as race-preservation is
    concerned, of any man or any woman as a partner in marriage. A fine
    form, a good figure, a beautiful bust, a round arm and neck, a fresh
    complexion, a lovely face, are all outward and visible signs of the
    physical qualities that on the whole conspire to make up a healthy and
    vigorous wife and mother; they imply soundness, fertility, a good
    circulation, a good digestion. Conversely, sallowness and paleness are
    roughly indicative of dyspepsia and anæmia; a flat chest is a symptom of
    deficient maternity; and what we call a bad figure is really, in one way
    or another, an unhealthy departure from the central norma and standard
    of the race. Good teeth mean good deglutition; a clear eye means an
    active liver; scrubbiness and undersizedness mean feeble virility. Nor
    are indications of mental and moral efficiency by any means wanting as
    recognised elements in personal beauty. A good-humoured face is in
    itself almost pretty. A pleasant smile half redeems unattractive
    features. Low, receding foreheads strike us unfavourably. Heavy, stolid,
    half-idiotic countenances can never be beautiful, however regular their
    lines and contours. Intelligence and goodness are almost as necessary as
    health and vigour in order to make up our perfect ideal of a beautiful
    human face and figure. The Apollo Belvedere is no fool; the murderers in
    the Chamber of Horrors at Madame Tussaud's are for the most part no

    What we all fall in love with, then, as a race, is in most cases
    efficiency and ability. What we each fall in love with individually is,
    I believe, our moral, mental, and physical complement. Not our like, not
    our counterpart; quite the contrary; within healthy limits, our unlike
    and our opposite. That this is so has long been more or less a
    commonplace of ordinary conversation; that it is scientifically true,
    one time with another, when we take an extended range of cases, may, I
    think, be almost demonstrated by sure and certain warranty of human

    Brothers and sisters have more in common, mentally and physically, than
    any other members of the same race can possibly have with one another.
    But nobody falls in love with his sister. A profound instinct has taught
    even the lower races of men (for the most part) to avoid such union of
    the all-but-identical. In the higher races the idea never so much as
    occurs to us. Even cousins seldom fall in love--seldom, that is to say,
    in comparison with the frequent opportunities of intercourse they enjoy,
    relatively to the remainder of general society. When they do, and when
    they carry out their perilous choice effectively by marriage, natural
    selection soon avenges Nature upon the offspring by cutting off the
    idiots, the consumptives, the weaklings, and the cripples, who often
    result from such consanguineous marriages. In narrow communities, where
    breeding in-and-in becomes almost inevitable, natural selection has
    similarly to exert itself upon a crowd of _crétins_ and other hapless
    incapables. But in wide and open champaign countries, where individual
    choice has free room for exercise, men and women as a rule (if not
    constrained by parents and moralists) marry for love, and marry on the
    whole their natural complements. They prefer outsiders, fresh blood,
    somebody who comes from beyond the community, to the people of their own
    immediate surroundings. In many men the dislike to marrying among the
    folk with whom they have been brought up amounts almost to a positive
    instinct; they feel it as impossible to fall in love with a
    fellow-townswoman as to fall in love with their own first cousins. Among
    exogamous tribes such an instinct (aided, of course, by other extraneous
    causes) has hardened into custom; and there is reason to believe (from
    the universal traces among the higher civilisations of marriage by
    capture) that all the leading races of the world are ultimately derived
    from exogamous ancestors, possessing this healthy and excellent

    In minor matters, it is of course universally admitted that short men,
    as a rule, prefer tall women, while tall men admire little women. Dark
    pairs by preference with fair; the commonplace often runs after the
    original. People have long noticed that this attraction towards one's
    opposite tends to keep true the standard of the race; they have not,
    perhaps, so generally observed that it also indicates roughly the
    existence in either individual of a desire for its own natural
    complement. It is difficult here to give definite examples, but
    everybody knows how, in the subtle psychology of Falling in Love, there
    are involved innumerable minor elements, physical and mental, which
    strike us exactly because of their absolute adaptation to form with
    ourselves an adequate union. Of course we do not definitely seek out
    and discover such qualities; instinct works far more intuitively than
    that; but we find at last, by subsequent observation, how true and how
    trustworthy were its immediate indications. That is to say, those men do
    so who were wise enough or fortunate enough to follow the earliest
    promptings of their own hearts, and not to be ashamed of that divinest
    and deepest of human intuitions, love at first sight.

    How very subtle this intuition is, we can only guess in part by the
    apparent capriciousness and incomprehensibility of its occasional
    action. We know that some men and women fall in love easily, while
    others are only moved to love by some very special and singular
    combination of peculiarities. We know that one man is readily stirred by
    every pretty face he sees, while another man can only be roused by
    intellectual qualities or by moral beauty. We know that sometimes we
    meet people possessing every virtue and grace under heaven, and yet for
    some unknown and incomprehensible reason we could no more fall in love
    with them than we could fall in love with the Ten Commandments. I don't,
    of course, for a moment accept the silly romantic notion that men and
    women fall in love only once in their lives, or that each one of us has
    somewhere on earth his or her exact affinity, whom we must sooner or
    later meet or else die unsatisfied. Almost every healthy normal man or
    woman has probably fallen in love over and over again in the course of a
    lifetime (except in case of very early marriage), and could easily find
    dozens of persons with whom they would be capable of falling in love
    again if due occasion offered. We are not all created in pairs, like the
    Exchequer tallies, exactly intended to fit into one another's minor
    idiosyncrasies. Men and women as a rule very sensibly fall in love with
    one another in the particular places and the particular societies they
    happen to be cast among. A man at Ashby-de-la-Zouch does not hunt the
    world over to find his pre-established harmony at Paray-le-Monial or at
    Denver, Colorado. But among the women he actually meets, a vast number
    are purely indifferent to him; only one or two, here and there, strike
    him in the light of possible wives, and only one in the last resort
    (outside Salt Lake City) approves herself to his inmost nature as the
    actual wife of his final selection.

    Now this very indifference to the vast mass of our fellow-countrymen or
    fellow-countrywomen, this extreme pitch of selective preference in the
    human species, is just one mark of our extraordinary specialisation, one
    stamp and token of our high supremacy. The brutes do not so pick and
    choose, though even there, as Darwin has shown, selection plays a large
    part (for the very butterflies are coy, and must be wooed and won). It
    is only in the human race itself that selection descends into such
    minute, such subtle, such indefinable discriminations. Why should a
    universal and common impulse have in our case these special limits? Why
    should we be by nature so fastidious and so diversely affected? Surely
    for some good and sufficient purpose. No deep-seated want of our complex
    life would be so narrowly restricted without a law and a meaning.
    Sometimes we can in part explain its conditions. Here, we see that
    beauty plays a great _rôle_; there, we recognise the importance of
    strength, of manner, of grace, of moral qualities. Vivacity, as Mr.
    Galton justly remarks, is one of the most powerful among human
    attractions, and often accounts for what might otherwise seem
    unaccountable preferences. But after all is said and done, there remains
    a vast mass of instinctive and inexplicable elements: a power deeper and
    more marvellous in its inscrutable ramifications than human
    consciousness. 'What on earth,' we say, 'could So-and-so see in
    So-and-so to fall in love with?' This very inexplicability I take to be
    the sign and seal of a profound importance. An instinct so conditioned,
    so curious, so vague, so unfathomable, as we may guess by analogy with
    all other instincts, must be Nature's guiding voice within us, speaking
    for the good of the human race in all future generations.

    On the other hand, let us suppose for a moment (impossible supposition!)
    that mankind could conceivably divest itself of 'these foolish ideas
    about love and the tastes of young people,' and could hand over the
    choice of partners for life to a committee of anthropologists, presided
    over by Sir George Campbell. Would the committee manage things, I
    wonder, very much better than the Creator has managed them? Where would
    they obtain that intimate knowledge of individual structures and
    functions and differences which would enable them to join together in
    holy matrimony fitting and complementary idiosyncrasies? Is a living
    man, with all his organs, and powers, and faculties, and dispositions,
    so simple and easy a problem to read that anybody else can readily
    undertake to pick out off-hand a help meet for him? I trow not! A man is
    not a horse or a terrier. You cannot discern his 'points' by simple
    inspection. You cannot see _à priori_ why a Hanoverian bandsman and his
    heavy, ignorant, uncultured wife, should conspire to produce a Sir
    William Herschel. If you tried to improve the breed artificially, either
    by choice from outside, or by the creation of an independent moral
    sentiment, irrespective of that instinctive preference which we call
    Falling in Love, I believe that so far from improving man, you would
    only do one of two things--either spoil his constitution, or produce a
    tame stereotyped pattern of amiable imbecility. You would crush out all
    initiative, all spontaneity, all diversity, all originality; you would
    get an animated moral code instead of living men and women.

    Look at the analogy of domestic animals. That is the analogy to which
    breeding reformers always point with special pride: but what does it
    really teach us? That you can't improve the efficiency of animals in any
    one point to any high degree, without upsetting the general balance of
    their constitution. The race-horse can run a mile on a particular day at
    a particular place, bar accidents, with wonderful speed: but that is
    about all he is good for. His health as a whole is so surprisingly
    feeble that he has to be treated with as much care as a delicate exotic.
    'In regard to animals and plants,' says Sir George Campbell, 'we have
    very largely mastered the principles of heredity and culture, and the
    modes by which good qualities may be maximised, bad qualities
    minimised.' True, so far as concerns a few points prized by ourselves
    for our own purposes. But in doing this, we have so lowered the general
    constitutional vigour of the plants or animals that our vines fall an
    easy prey to oidium and phylloxera, our potatoes to the potato disease
    and the Colorado beetle; our sheep are stupid, our rabbits idiotic, our
    domestic breeds generally threatened with dangers to life and limb
    unknown to their wiry ancestors in the wild state. And when one comes to
    deal with the infinitely more complex individuality of man, what hope
    would there be of our improving the breed by deliberate selection? If we
    developed the intellect, we would probably stunt the physique or the
    moral nature; if we aimed at a general culture of all faculties alike,
    we would probably end by a Chinese uniformity of mediocre dead level.

    The balance of organs and faculties in a race is a very delicate organic
    equilibrium. How delicate we now know from thousands of examples, from
    the correlations of seemingly unlike parts, from the wide-spread
    effects of small conditions, from the utter dying out of races like the
    Tasmanians or the Paraguay Indians under circumstances different from
    those with which their ancestors were familiar. What folly to interfere
    with a marvellous instinct which now preserves this balance intact, in
    favour of an untried artificial system which would probably wreck it as
    helplessly as the modern system of higher education for women is
    wrecking the maternal powers of the best class in our English community!

    Indeed, within the race itself, as it now exists, free choice, aided by
    natural selection, is actually improving every good point, and is for
    ever weeding out all the occasional failures and shortcomings of nature.
    For weakly children, feeble children, stupid children, heavy children,
    are undoubtedly born under this very régime of falling in love, whose
    average results I believe to be so highly beneficial. How is this? Well,
    one has to take into consideration two points in seeking for the
    solution of that obvious problem.

    In the first place, no instinct is absolutely perfect. All of them
    necessarily fail at some points. If on the average they do good, they
    are sufficiently justified. Now the material with which you have to
    start in this case is not perfect. Each man marries, even in favourable
    circumstances, not the abstractly best adapted woman in the world to
    supplement or counteract his individual peculiarities, but the best
    woman then and there obtainable for him. The result is frequently far
    from perfect; all I claim is that it would be as bad or a good deal
    worse if somebody else made the choice for him, or if he made the choice
    himself on abstract biological and 'eugenic' principles. And, indeed,
    the very existence of better and worse in the world is a condition
    precedent of all upward evolution. Without an overstocked world, with
    individual variations, some progressive, some retrograde, there could be
    no natural selection, no survival of the fittest. That is the chief
    besetting danger of cut-and-dried doctrinaire views. Malthus was a very
    great man; but if his principle of prudential restraint were fully
    carried out, the prudent would cease to reproduce their like, and the
    world would be peopled in a few generations by the hereditarily reckless
    and dissolute and imprudent. Even so, if eugenic principles were
    universally adopted, the chance of exceptional and elevated natures
    would be largely reduced, and natural selection would be in so much
    interfered with or sensibly retarded.

    In the second place, again, it must not be forgotten that falling in
    love has never yet, among civilised men at least, had a fair field and
    no favour. Many marriages are arranged on very different
    grounds--grounds of convenience, grounds of cupidity, grounds of
    religion, grounds of snobbishness. In many cases it is clearly
    demonstrable that such marriages are productive in the highest degree of
    evil consequences. Take the case of heiresses. An heiress is almost by
    necessity the one last feeble and flickering relic of a moribund
    stock--often of a stock reduced by the sordid pursuit of ill-gotten
    wealth almost to the very verge of actual insanity. But let her be ever
    so ugly, ever so unhealthy, ever so hysterical, ever so mad, somebody or
    other will be ready and eager to marry her on any terms. Considerations
    of this sort have helped to stock the world with many feeble and
    unhealthy persons. Among the middle and upper classes it may be safely
    said only a very small percentage of marriages is ever due to love
    alone; in other words, to instinctive feeling. The remainder have been
    influenced by various side advantages, and nature has taken her
    vengeance accordingly on the unhappy offspring. Parents and moralists
    are ever ready to drown her voice, and to counsel marriage within one's
    own class, among nice people, with a really religious girl, and so forth
    _ad infinitum_. By many well-meaning young people these deadly
    interferences with natural impulse are accepted as part of a higher and
    nobler law of conduct. The wretched belief that one should subordinate
    the promptings of one's own soul to the dictates of a miscalculating and
    misdirecting prudence has been instilled into the minds of girls
    especially, until at last many of them have almost come to look upon
    their natural instincts as wrong, and the immoral, race-destructive
    counsels of their seniors or advisers as the truest and purest earthly
    wisdom. Among certain small religious sects, again, such as the Quakers,
    the duty of 'marrying in' has been strenuously inculcated, and only the
    stronger-minded and more individualistic members have had courage and
    initiative enough to disregard precedent, and to follow the internal
    divine monitor, as against the externally-imposed law of their
    particular community. Even among wider bodies it is commonly held that
    Catholics must not marry Protestants; and the admirable results obtained
    by the mixture of Jewish with European blood have almost all been
    reached by male Jews having the temerity to marry 'Christian' women in
    the face of opposition and persecution from their co-nationalists. It is
    very rarely indeed that a Jewess will accept a European for a husband.
    In so many ways, and on so many grounds, does convention interfere with
    the plain and evident dictates of nature.

    Against all such evil parental promptings, however, a great safeguard is
    afforded to society by the wholesome and essentially philosophical
    teaching of romance and poetry. I do not approve of novels. They are for
    the most part a futile and unprofitable form of literature; and it may
    profoundly be regretted that the mere blind laws of supply and demand
    should have diverted such an immense number of the ablest minds in
    England, France, and America, from more serious subjects to the
    production of such very frivolous and, on the whole, ephemeral works of
    art. But the novel has this one great counterpoise of undoubted good to
    set against all the manifold disadvantages and shortcomings of romantic
    literature--that it always appeals to the true internal promptings of
    inherited instinct, and opposes the foolish and selfish suggestions of
    interested outsiders. It is the perpetual protest of poor banished human
    nature against the expelling pitchfork of calculating expediency in the
    matrimonial market. While parents and moralists are for ever saying,
    'Don't marry for beauty; don't marry for inclination; don't marry for
    love: marry for money, marry for social position, marry for advancement,
    marry for our convenience, not for your own,' the romance-writer is for
    ever urging, on the other hand, 'Marry for love, and for love only.' His
    great theme in all ages has been the opposition between parental or
    other external wishes and the true promptings of the young and
    unsophisticated human heart. He has been the chief ally of sentiment and
    of nature. He has filled the heads of all our girls with what Sir George
    Campbell describes off-hand as 'foolish ideas about love.' He has
    preserved us from the hateful conventions of civilisation. He has
    exalted the claims of personal attraction, of the mysterious native
    yearning of heart for heart, of the indefinite and indescribable element
    of mutual selection; and, in so doing, he has unconsciously proved
    himself the best friend of human improvement and the deadliest enemy of
    all those hideous 'social lies which warp us from the living truth.' His
    mission is to deliver the world from Dr. Johnson and Sir George

    For, strange to say, it is the moralists and the doctrinaires who are
    always in the wrong: it is the sentimentalists and the rebels who are
    always in the right in this matter. If the common moral maxims of
    society could have had their way--if we had all chosen our wives and our
    husbands, not for their beauty or their manliness, not for their eyes or
    their moustaches, not for their attractiveness or their vivacity, but
    for their 'sterling qualities of mind and character,' we should now
    doubtless be a miserable race of prigs and bookworms, of martinets and
    puritans, of nervous invalids and feeble idiots. It is because our young
    men and maidens will not hearken to these penny-wise apophthegms of
    shallow sophistry--because they often prefer _Romeo and Juliet_ to the
    'Whole Duty of Man,' and a beautiful face to a round balance at
    Coutts's--that we still preserve some vitality and some individual
    features, in spite of our grinding and crushing civilisation. The men
    who marry balances, as Mr. Galton has shown, happily die out, leaving
    none to represent them: the men who marry women they have been weak
    enough and silly enough to fall in love with, recruit the race with fine
    and vigorous and intelligent children, fortunately compounded of the
    complementary traits derived from two fairly contrasted and mutually
    reinforcing individualities.

    I have spoken throughout, for argument's sake, as though the only
    interest to be considered in the married relation were the interests of
    the offspring, and so ultimately of the race at large, rather than of
    the persons themselves who enter into it. But I do not quite see why
    each generation should thus be sacrificed to the welfare of the
    generations that afterwards succeed it. Now it is one of the strongest
    points in favour of the system of falling in love that it does, by
    common experience in the vast majority of instances, assort together
    persons who subsequently prove themselves thoroughly congenial and
    helpful to one another. And this result I look upon as one great proof
    of the real value and importance of the instinct. Most men and women
    select for themselves partners for life at an age when they know but
    little of the world, when they judge but superficially of characters and
    motives, when they still make many mistakes in the conduct of life and
    in the estimation of chances. Yet most of them find in after days that
    they have really chosen out of all the world one of the persons best
    adapted by native idiosyncrasy to make their joint lives enjoyable and
    useful. I make every allowance for the effects of habit, for the growth
    of sentiment, for the gradual approximation of tastes and sympathies;
    but surely, even so, it is a common consciousness with every one of us
    who has been long married, that we could hardly conceivably have made
    ourselves happy with any of the partners whom others have chosen; and
    that we have actually made ourselves so with the partners we chose for
    ourselves under the guidance of an almost unerring native instinct. Yet
    adaptation between husband and wife, so far as their own happiness is
    concerned, can have had comparatively little to do with the evolution of
    the instinct, as compared with adaptation for the joint production of
    vigorous and successful offspring. Natural selection lays almost all the
    stress on the last point, and hardly any at all upon the first one. If,
    then, the instinct is found on the whole so trustworthy in the minor
    matter, for which it has not specially been fashioned, how far more
    trustworthy and valuable must it probably prove in the greater
    matter--greater, I mean, as regards the interests of the race--for which
    it has been mainly or almost solely developed!

    I do not doubt that, as the world goes on, a deeper sense of moral
    responsibility in the matter of marriage will grow up among us. But it
    will not take the false direction of ignoring these our profoundest and
    holiest instincts. Marriage for money may go; marriage for rank may go;
    marriage for position may go; but marriage for love, I believe and
    trust, will last for ever. Men in the future will probably feel that a
    union with their cousins or near relations is positively wicked; that a
    union with those too like them in person or disposition is at least
    undesirable; that a union based upon considerations of wealth or any
    other consideration save considerations of immediate natural impulse, is
    base and disgraceful. But to the end of time they will continue to feel,
    in spite of doctrinaires, that the voice of nature is better far than
    the voice of the Lord Chancellor or the Royal Society; and that the
    instinctive desire for a particular helpmate is a surer guide for the
    ultimate happiness, both of the race and of the individual, than any
    amount of deliberate consultation. It is not the foolish fancies of
    youth that will have to be got rid of, but the foolish, wicked, and
    mischievous interference of parents or outsiders.
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