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Thus did Henry VIII write a letter to Anne Boleyn, wishing himself "in my Sweethearts Armes whose pritty Duckys I trust shortly to kiss." This was before Anne and her duckys were sent to the Tower of London. Napoleon once chastised Josephine with: "You're a naughty, gawky, foolish Cinderella." Beethoven addressed his mysterious "Immortal Beloved" as "My angel, my all, my very self," and Chekhov began notes to Olga Knipper, his bride-to-be, with: "Doggie, my dear puppy," "My dear little nincompoop," and "My dear, wonderful Knipschitz"--a term that never gained wider usage. President Harding's mistress told him one day: "I love you, darling Warren Harding," thus creating a term of endearment from a proper name, though in an improper circumstance. When the mistress expressed the wish that the two of them could be alone, the President is reported to have replied: "Gee, I do too, dearie!"
Do you suppose it would be possible to come up with more sophisticated words to bespeak our affection for one another? It would not be necessary to create excessively intellectual terms, such as Hegel Face, but our wooing language might at least keep pace with the times. Could not technology, for instance, afford new terms of endearment: my Modem, my User Friendly, Compatible you? Or political terms: Hold me, Neo-Liberal; Come here, you Right-Wing Nut.
Even something as sobering as the arms race could add immeasurably to the language of love: Oh, Titan; Ah, Trident. ("Minuteman" might present some problems.) GLCMs (ground-launched cruise missiles) and SLCMs (sea-launched cruise missiles) are called Glickems and Slickems by those in the know. As terms of endearment, Glickems and Slickems sound no less cozy than Huggums and Snookums, and have the advantage of belonging to an adult, albeit explosive, world.
One would think that the Yuppies would have provided new terms of endearment by now, those commensurate with their pleasures and ambitions. Why would a fast-rising young stockbroker today wish to address his beloved as Cookie, when it should be far more endearing to call her his Pesto, or better, his Preferred Bond? Would not he in turn rather be known by his corporation- lawyer lady friend as Feelin' Good or Health Club? ("I know it's mad, but I want you, Diet Coke.") There might be new song lyrics at last: "Let me call you Volvo/ I'm in love with you." Show tunes might be revised: "A hundred and one/ Pounds of fun/ That's my Condo Mini Um."
But all this is quite unlikely. We will never abandon the old terminology, no matter how inane. For one thing, words like Precious and Chickadee may sound silly, but they are indispensable when one has forgotten the name of the person to whom affection is expressed. For another, they remove formality from convivial situations. "Good night, Harold," sounds considerably cooler than "Bedtime, Bear." Then, too, these words work excellently as shorthand palliatives: But Cuddles . . . , but Strudel. In The Maltese Falcon, Humphrey Bogart called Mary Astor "Sweetheart" as he informed her that she was about to be sent to the chair. The news was disappointing, but the word must have softened the shock.