JULIET AND NOTHING BUT JULIET

A man may have several intimate friends, and a mother may dote on a dozen or more children with equal affection; but romantic love is a monopolist, absolutely exclusive of all participation and rivalry.  A genuine Romeo wants Juliet, the whole of Juliet, and nothing but Juliet.  She monopolizes his thoughts by day, his dreams at night; her image blends with everything he sees, her voice with everything he hears.  His imagination is a lens which gathers together all the light and heat of a giant world and focuses them on one brunette or blonde.  He is a miser, who begrudges every smile, every look she bestows on others, and if he had his own way he would sail with her to-day to a desert island and change their names to Mr. and Mrs. Robinson Crusoe.  This is not fanciful hyperbole, but a plain statement in prose of a psychological truth.  The poets did not exaggerate when they penned such sentiments as these: 

     She was his life,
     The ocean to the river of his thoughts,
     Which terminated all.
                        —­Byron.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me,
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.
—­Herrick.

Give me but what that ribband bound,
Take all the rest the world goes round.
—­Waller.

But I am tied to very thee
By every thought I have;
Thy face I only care to see
Thy heart I only crave.
—­Sedley.

I see her in the dewy flowers,
Sae lovely sweet and fair: 
I hear her voice in ilka bird,
Wi’ music charm the air: 
There’s not a bonnie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green;
There’s not a bonny bird that sings,
But minds me o’ my Jean.
—­Burns.

For nothing this wide universe I call
Save thou, my rose:  in it thou art my all.
—­Shakspere.

Like Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone,
My thoughts shall evermore disdain
A rival on my throne.
—­James Graham.

Love, well thou know’st no partnerships allows. 
Cupid averse, rejects divided vows.
—­Prior.

O that the desert were my dwelling-place,
With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race
And, hating no one, love but only her.
—­Byron.

BUTTERFLY LOVE

The imperative desire for an absolute monopoly of one chosen girl, body and soul—­and one only—­is an essential, invariable ingredient of romantic love.  Sensual love, on the contrary, aims rather at a monopoly of all attractive women—­or at least as many as possible.  Sensual love is not an exclusive passion for one; it is a fickle feeling which, like a giddy butterfly, flits from flower to flower, forgetting the fragrance of the lily it left a moment ago in the sweet honey of the clover it enjoys at this moment.  The Persian poet Sadi, says (Bustan, 12), “Choose a fresh wife every spring or New Year’s Day; for the almanack of last year is good for nothing.”  Anacreon interprets Greek love for us when he sings: