Worldly Ways and Byways | Page 5

innovations by their logic.
I should like, however, to ask my sisters one question: Are they quite
sure that women gain by these changes? Do they imagine, these
"sporty" young females in short- cut skirts and mannish shirts and ties,
that it is seductive to a lover, or a husband to see his idol in a violent
perspiration, her draggled hair blowing across a sunburned face,

panting up a long hill in front of him on a bicycle, frantic at having lost
her race? Shade of gentle William! who said
A woman moved, is like a fountain troubled, - Muddy, ill-seeming,
thick, bereft of beauty. And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty Will
deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
Is the modern girl under the impression that men will be contented with
poor imitations of themselves, to share their homes and be the mothers
of their children? She is throwing away the substance for the shadow!
The moment women step out from the sanctuary of their homes, the
glamour that girlhood or maternity has thrown around them cast aside,
that moment will they cease to rule mankind. Women may agitate until
they have obtained political recognition, but will awake from their
foolish dream of power, realizing too late what they have sacrificed to
obtain it, that the price has been very heavy, and the fruit of their
struggles bitter on their lips.
There are few men, I imagine, of my generation to whom the words
"home" and "mother" have not a penetrating charm, who do not look
back with softened heart and tender thoughts to fireside scenes of
evening readings and twilight talks at a mother's knee, realizing that the
best in their natures owes its growth to these influences.
I sometimes look about me and wonder what the word "mother" will
mean later, to modern little boys. It will evoke, I fear, a confused
remembrance of some centaur-like being, half woman, half wheel, or as
it did to neglected little Rawdon Crawley, the vision of a radiant
creature in gauze and jewels, driving away to endless FETES - FETES
followed by long mornings, when he was told not to make any noise, or
play too loudly, "as poor mamma is resting." What other memories can
the "successful" woman of to-day hope to leave in the minds of her
children? If the child remembers his mother in this way, will not the
man who has known and perhaps loved her, feel the same sensation of
empty futility when her name is mentioned?
The woman who proposes a game of cards to a youth who comes to

pass an hour in her society, can hardly expect him to carry away a
particularly tender memory of her as he leaves the house. The girl who
has rowed, ridden, or raced at a man's side for days, with the object of
getting the better of him at some sport or pastime, cannot reasonably
hope to be connected in his thoughts with ideas more tender or more
elevated than "odds" or "handicaps," with an undercurrent of pique if
his unsexed companion has "downed" him successfully.
What man, unless he be singularly dissolute or unfortunate, but turns
his steps, when he can, towards some dainty parlor where he is sure of
finding a smiling, soft-voiced woman, whose welcome he knows will
soothe his irritated nerves and restore the even balance of his temper,
whose charm will work its subtle way into his troubled spirit? The wife
he loves, or the friend he admires and respects, will do more for him in
one such quiet hour when two minds commune, coming closer to the
real man, and moving him to braver efforts, and nobler aims, than all
the beauties and "sporty" acquaintances of a lifetime. No matter what a
man's education or taste is, none are insensible to such an atmosphere
or to the grace and witchery a woman can lend to the simplest
surroundings. She need not be beautiful or brilliant to hold him in
lifelong allegiance, if she but possess this magnetism.
Madame Recamier was a beautiful, but not a brilliant woman, yet she
held men her slaves for years. To know her was to fall under her charm,
and to feel it once was to remain her adorer for life. She will go down
to history as the type of a fascinating woman. Being asked once by an
acquaintance what spell she worked on mankind that enabled her to
hold them for ever at her feet, she laughingly answered:
"I have always found two words sufficient. When a visitor comes into
my salon, I say, 'ENFIN!' and when he gets up to go away, I say,
'DEJA!' "
"What is this wonderful 'charm' he is writing about?" I hear