FACES.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume II, Issue 82, 21 November 1874, Page 14

FACES.

We go into a room full of strangers. Across the sea of strange faces meeting us we single out one or two that we would not know if we could, but also one or two to whom we desire ardently to be introduced. They are faces we are sure we shall like ; faces that touch a chord somewhere in our hearts, and that seem to promise sympathy and affection on both sides. We look across to them as to dear friends standing waiting for us in the crowd of the unknown • and when we are formally presented we feel the introduction to be almost unnecessary, save as a herald of names ; we know them already, and this is a meeting not of strangers, but only of the hitherto divided. Perhaps the fruit is not as the blossom, and a more perfect knowledge may not always answer expectation. For the most part it does, but not always. That pale, oral Madona face, with its fair smooth hair and mournful eyes, its downcast look and plaintive quietude of bearing, maybe belongs to a ' creature as devoid of sentiment as of sweetness ; a dull, prosaic, wooden wife, with sluggish peevishness of temperament that, like a gloomy day, one longs to see either brightened by sunshine or broken into storm ; a person whose quietude comes from indolence, not self-control, and who is a Madona because she has neither wit nor energy to be aught else. That is a face which takes one in time after time, til] one fffi^ ready to forswear sweetness once and for ever, and to eschew Madouat as delusions. That arch and sparkling face, with its curves of smile and glitter of glance—that face which brightens all over when it speak? like a mountain tarn rippled by the wind — that surely hag no delusion about it ? No ! Prove it, and you will find that its vivacity is is shallow as a wayside pool ; that it is all a mere faoial trick, a play of muscles hung as loosely as a cardboard sailor danced by a string, but only facial, not spiritual — a trick, not the expression of a temper. At home, where there are so bystanders to applaud that marvellous nobility of feature with the quiet applause of the drawing-room, the wind never ripples the pool, and the leaden surface has no display. The swift bright eyes are dull and veiled ; the curveß about the mouth vanish ; the smiles are laid aside with the company dress, and the creatuie to whom you were attracted as to one possessed of an abun? dant vitality, an electrio of gaity, and an inexhaustible wealth of vivacity, is a creature that changes as little as a mask, and is no more interesting to the daily housemates than if it was a walking statue blessed with a good digestion, and liking to have its meals to the hour. On the other hand, that stolid- looking face which seems so heavy, so impassive, belongs to a man of rare sensibility, quick to feel and ready to give ; that melancholy visage, of almost tragic length and squareness, to one who has the finest appreciation of dry, quaint humor ; that round-lipped, round-eyed, rosy-gilled face, which looks as if he only thought of the day's menu, perhaps adding a lively liking for good pictures and pretty women, is the face of one who might be Torquemada revived, a man of fierce passions and bitter hate, a man capable of crime if the occasion offered, and incapable of mirth, of generosity, of pity. Look more narrowly and you will see it all — chiefly in the eyes. A bulbous nose and clumsy lips catch our attention at the first glance, and you judge accordingly ; but look closer, watch more keenly, and you will, in the eyes, either confirm or belie that first impression ; and until you have seen this confirmation or denial, doubt. Lean, long, lantern jaws preßage tragedy, at the best archaeology ; but the bright eyes twinkle with fun, and half the good things floating about society emanate from out knight of the rueful countenance. So with our round-lipped, rosy-gilled ban vivant. Look at the hard and cruel eyes, set close under the slanting brow. Form of feature and color of flesh have but little weight against the revelation made by those light* grey, steely eyes ; and when we hear the unobservant world speak of that face in reference only to its boyish bonhommie, we think we have read deeper and translated with more accuracy.