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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12020-0.txt b/12020-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b55536e --- /dev/null +++ b/12020-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5858 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12020 *** + +[Illustration] + +A Woman of the World + +HER COUNSEL TO OTHER PEOPLE'S SONS AND DAUGHTERS + +By + +Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +1904 + +Fourth Impression, April, 1910 + + + + +Contents + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Law Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + +TO MISS WINIFRED CLAYBORNE, _At Vassar College_ + +TO EDNA GORDON, _During Her Honeymoon_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + +TO CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + +TO MISS MARGARET RILEY, _Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _After Three Years as a Teacher_ + +TO A YOUNG FRIEND, _Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical +Thoughts of the Day_ + +TO WILFRED CLAYBORN, _Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + +TO MISS ELSIE DEAN, _Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + +TO MISS DIANA RIVERS, _A Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a +Journalist_ + +TO NANETTE, _A Former Maid_ + +TO THE REV. WILTON MARSH, _Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES MCALLISTER, _Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Maternity_ + +TO MR. ALFRED DUNCAN, _Concerning the Ministry_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GRAY, _Concerning Polygamy_ + +TO WALTER SMEED, _Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Children_ + +TO Miss ZOE CLAYBORN, ARTIST, _Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven +Years of Married Life_ + +TO MRS. CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Concerning Her Husband_ + +TO YOUNG MRS. DUNCAN, _Regarding Mothers-in-Law._ + +TO A YOUNG MAN, _Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + +TO MRS. MCALLISTER, _Concerning Her Little Girl_ + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + +TO THE SISTER OF A GREAT BEAUTY + +TO MRS. WHITE PEAK, _One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + +TO MARIA OWENS, _A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + +TO MRS. ST. CLAIRE, _The Young Divorcée_ + +TO MISS JESSIE HARCOURT, _Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + +TO MISS JANE CARTER, _Of the W.C.T.U_ + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Late Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + + +Were you an older man, my dear Ray, your letter would be consigned to +the flames unanswered, and our friendship would become constrained and +formal, if it did not end utterly. But knowing you to be so many years +my junior, and so slightly acquainted with yourself or womankind, I am +going to be the friend you need, instead of the misfortune you invite. + +I will not say that your letter was a complete surprise to me. It is +seldom a woman is so unsophisticated in the ways of men that she is not +aware when friendship passes the borderline and trespasses on the domain +of passion. + +I realized on the last two occasions we met that you were not quite +normal. The first was at Mrs. Hanover's dinner; and I attributed some +indiscreet words and actions on your part to the very old Burgundy +served to a very young man. + +Since the memory of mortal, Bacchus has been a confederate of Cupid, and +the victims of the former have a period (though brief indeed) of +believing themselves slaves to the latter. + +As I chanced to be your right-hand neighbour at that very merry board, +where wit, wisdom, and beauty combined to condense hours into minutes, I +considered it a mere accident that you gave yourself to me with somewhat +marked devotion. Had I been any other one of the ladies present, it +would have been the same, I thought. Our next and last encounter, +however, set me thinking. + +It was fully a week later, and that most unromantic portion of the day, +between breakfast and luncheon. + +It was a Bagby recital, and you sought me out as I was listening to the +music, and caused me to leave before the programme was half done. You +were no longer under the dominion of Bacchus, though Euterpe may have +taken his task upon herself, as she often does, and your manner and +expression of countenance troubled me. + +I happen to be a woman whose heart life is absolutely complete. I have +realized my dreams, and have no least desire to turn them into +nightmares. I like original rôles, too, and that of the really happy +wife is less hackneyed than the part of the "misunderstood woman." And I +find greater enjoyment in the steady flame of one lamp than in the +flaring light of many candles. + +I have taken a good deal of pride in keeping my lamp well trimmed and +brightly burning, and I was startled and offended at the idea of any man +coming so near he imagined he might blow out the light. + +Your letter, however, makes me more sorry than angry. + +You are passing through a phase of experience which comes to almost +every youth, between sixteen and twenty-four. + +Your affectional and romantic nature is blossoming out, and you are in +that transition period where an older woman appeals to you. + +Being crude and unformed yourself, the mature and ripened mind and body +attract you. + +A very young man is fascinated by an older woman's charms, just as a +very old man is drawn to a girl in her teens. + +This is according to the law of completion, each entity seeking for what +it does not possess. + +Ask any middle-aged man of your acquaintance to tell you the years of +the first woman he imagined he loved, and you will find you are +following a beaten path. + +Because you are a worth while young man, with a bright future before +you, I am, as I think of the matter, glad you selected me rather than +some other less happy or considerate woman, as the object of your +regard. + +An unhappy wife or an ambitious adventuress might mar your future, and +leave you with lowered ideals and blasted prospects. + +You tell me in your letter that for "a day of life and love with me you +would willingly give up the world and snap your fingers in the face of +conventional society, and even face death with a laugh." It is easy for +a passionate, romantic nature to work itself into a mood where those +words are felt when written, and sometimes the mood carries a man and a +woman through the fulfilment of such assertions. But invariably +afterward comes regret, remorse, and disillusion. + +No man enjoys having the world take him at his word, when he says he is +ready to give it up for the woman he loves. + +He wants the woman and the world, too. + +In the long run, he finds the world's respect more necessary to his +continued happiness than the woman's society. + +Just recall the history of all such cases you have known, and you will +find my assertions true. + +Thank your stars that I am not a reckless woman ready to take you at +your word, and thank your stars, too, that I am not a free woman who +would be foolish enough and selfish enough to harness a young husband to +a mature wife. I know you resent this reference to the difference in our +years, which may not be so marked to the observer to-day, but how would +it be ten, fifteen years from now? There are few disasters greater for +husband or wife than the marriage of a boy of twenty to a woman a dozen +years his senior. For when he reaches thirty-five, despair and misery +must almost inevitably face them both. + +You must forgive me when I tell you that one sentence in your letter +caused a broad smile. + +That sentence was, "Would to God I had met you when you were free to be +wooed and loved, as never man loved woman before." + +Now I have been married ten years, and you are twenty-three years old! +You must blame my imagination (not my heart, which has no intention of +being cruel) for the picture presented to my mind's eye by your wish. + +I saw myself in the full flower of young ladyhood, carrying at my side +an awkward lad of a dozen years, attired in knickerbockers, and +probably chewing a taffy stick, yet "wooing and loving as never man +loved before." + +I suppose, however, the idea in your mind was that you wished Fate had +made me of your own age, and left me free for you. + +But few boys of twenty-three are capable of knowing what they want in a +life companion. Ten years from now your ideal will have changed. + +You are in love with love, life, and all womankind, my dear boy, not +with me, your friend. + +Put away all such ideas, and settle down to hard study and serious +ambitions, and seal this letter of yours, which I am returning with my +reply, and lay it carefully away in some safe place. Mark it to be +destroyed unopened in case of your death. But if you live, I want you to +open, re-read and burn it on the evening before your marriage to some +lovely girl, who is probably rolling a hoop to-day; and if I am living, +I want you to write and thank me for what I have said to you here. I +hardly expect you will feel like doing it now, but I can wait. + +Do not write me again until that time, and when we meet, be my good +sensible friend--one I can introduce to my husband, for only such +friends do I care to know. + + + + +To Miss Winifred Clayborne + +_At Vassar College_ + + +My dear niece:--It was a pleasure to receive so long a letter from you +after almost two years of silence. It hardly seems possible that you are +eighteen years old. To have graduated from high school with such honours +that you are able to enter Vassar at so early an age is much to your +credit. + +I indulged in a good-natured laugh over your request for my advice +regarding a college course. You say, "I remember that I once heard you +state that you did not believe in higher education for women, and, +therefore, I am anxious to have your opinion of this undertaking of +mine." + +Now of course, my dear child, what you wish me to say is, that I am +charmed with your resolution to graduate from Vassar. You have entered +the college fully determined to take a complete course, and you surely +would not like a discouraging or disapproving letter from your auntie. + +"Please give me your opinion of my course of action" always means, +"Please approve of what I am doing." + +Well I _do_ approve. I always approve when a human being is carrying out +a determination, even if I am confident it is the wrong determination. + +The really useful knowledge of life must come through strong +convictions. Strong convictions are usually obtained only on the pathway +of personal experience. + +To argue a man out of a certain course of action rarely argues away his +own beliefs and desires in the matter. We may save him some bitter +experience in the contemplated project, but he is almost certain to find +that same bitter experience later, because he has been coerced, not +enlightened. + +Had he gained his knowledge in the first instance, he would have escaped +the later disaster. + +A college education does not seem to me the most desirable thing for a +woman, unless she intends to enter into educational pursuits as a means +of livelihood. I understand it is your intention to become a teacher, +and, therefore, you are wise to prepare yourself by a thorough +education. _Be the very best_, in whatever line of employment you enter. + +Scorn any half-way achievements. Make yourself a brilliantly educated +woman, but look to it that in the effort you do not forget two other +important matters--health and sympathy. My objection to higher education +for women, which you once heard me express, is founded on the fact that +I have met many college women who were anaemic and utterly devoid of +emotion. One beautiful young girl I recall who at fourteen years of age +seemed to embody all the physical and temperamental charms possible for +womankind. Softly rounded features, vivid colouring, voluptuous curves +of form, yet delicacy and refinement in every portion of her anatomy, +she breathed love and radiated sympathy. I thought of her as the ideal +woman in embryo; and the brightness of her intellect was the finishing +touch to a perfect girlhood. I saw her again at twenty-four. She had +graduated from an American college and had taken two years in a foreign +institution of learning. She had carried away all the honours--but, +alas, the higher education had carried away all her charms of person and +of temperament. Attenuated, pallid, sharp-featured, she appeared much +older than her years, and the lovely, confiding and tender qualities of +mind, which made her so attractive to older people, had given place to +cold austerity and hypercriticism. + +Men were only objects of amusement, indifference, or ridicule to her. +Sentiment she regarded as an indication of crudity, emotion as an +insignia of vulgarity. The heart was a purely physical organ, she knew +from her studies in anatomy. It was no more the seat of emotion than +the liver or lungs. The brain was the only portion of the human being +which appealed to her, and "educated" people were the only ones who +interested her, because they were capable of argument and discussion of +intellectual problems--her one source of entertainment. + +Half an hour in the society of this over-trained young person left one +exhausted and disillusioned with brainy women. I beg you to pay no such +price for an education as this young girl paid. I remember you as a +robust, rosy girl, with charming manners. Your mother was concerned, on +my last visit, because I called you a pretty girl in your hearing. She +said the one effort of her life was to rear a sensible Christian +daughter with no vanity. She could not understand my point of view when +I said I should regret it if a daughter of mine was without vanity, and +that I should strive to awaken it in her. Cultivate enough vanity to +care about your personal appearance and your deportment. No amount of +education can recompense a woman for the loss of complexion, figure, +or charm. And do not let your emotional and affectional nature grow +atrophied. + +Control your emotions, but do not crucify them. + +Do not mistake frigidity for serenity, nor austerity for self-control. +Be affable, amiable, and sweet, no matter how much you know. And listen +more than you talk. + +The woman who knows how to show interest is tenfold more attractive than +the woman who is for ever anxious to instruct. Learn how to call out the +best in other people, and lead them to talk of whatever most interests +them. In this way you will gain a wide knowledge of human nature, which +is the best education possible. Try and keep a little originality of +thought, which is the most difficult of all undertakings while in +college; and, if possible, be as lovable a woman when you go forth into +the world "finished" as when you entered the doors of your Alma Mater: +for to be unlovable is a far greater disaster than to be uneducated. + + + + +To Edna Gordon + +_During Her Honeymoon_ + + +I am very much flattered that you should write your first letter as Mrs. +Gordon to me. Its receipt was a surprise, as I have known you so +slightly--only when we were both guests under a friend's roof for one +week. + +I had no idea that you were noticing me particularly at that time, there +was such a merry crowd of younger people about you. How careful we +matrons should be, when in the presence of débutantes, for it seems they +are taking notes for future reference! + +I am glad that my behaviour and conversation were such that you feel you +can ask me for instructions at this important period of your life. Here +is the text you have given me: + +"_I want you to tell me, dear Mrs. West, how to be as happy, and loved, +and loving, after fifteen years of married life, as you are. I so dread +the waning of my honeymoon_." + +And now you want me to preach you a little sermon on this text. Well, my +dear girl, I am at a disadvantage in not knowing you better, and not +knowing your husband at all. + +Husbands are like invalids, each needs a special prescription, according +to his ailment. + +But as all invalids can be benefited by certain sensible suggestions, +like taking simple food, and breathing and exercising properly, and +sleeping with open windows or out-of-doors, so all husbands can be aided +toward perpetual affection by the observance of some general laws, on +the part of the wife. + +I am, of course, to take it for granted that you have married a man with +principles and ideals, a man who loves you and desires to make a good +husband. I know you were not so unfortunate as to possess a large amount +of property for any man to seek, and so I can rely upon the natural +supposition that you were married for love. + +It might be worth your while, right now, while your husband's memory is +fresh upon the subject, to ask him what particular characteristics first +won his attention, and what caused him to select you for a life +companion. + +Up to the present moment, perhaps, he has never told you any more +substantial reason for loving you than the usual lovers' +explanation--"Just because." But if you ask him to think it over, I am +sure he can give you a more explicit answer. + +After you have found what qualities, habits, actions, or accomplishments +attracted him, write them down in a little book and refer to them two or +three times a year. On these occasions ask yourself if you are keeping +these attractions fresh and bright as they were in the days of +courtship. Women easily drop the things which won a man's heart, and are +unconscious that the change they bemoan began in themselves. But do not +imagine you can rest at ease after marriage with only the qualities, +and charms, and virtues, which won you a lover. To keep a husband in +love is a more serious consideration than to win a lover. + +You must add year by year to your attractions. + +As the deep bloom of first youth passes, you must cultivate mental and +spiritual traits which will give your face a lustre from within. + +And as the mirth and fun of life drifts farther from you, and you find +the merry jest, which of old turned care into laughter, less ready on +your lip, you must cultivate a wholesome optimistic view of life, to +sustain your husband through the trials and disasters besetting most +mortal paths. + +Make one solemn resolve now, and never forget it. Say to yourself, "On +no other spot, in no other house on earth, shall my husband find a more +cheerful face, a more loving welcome, or a more restful atmosphere, than +he finds at home." + +No matter what vicissitudes arise, and what complications occur, keep +that resolve. It will at least help to sustain you with a sense of +self-respect, if unhappiness from any outside source should shadow your +life. An attractive home has become a sort of platitude in speech, but +it remains a thing of vital importance, all the same, in actual life and +in marriage. + +Think often and speak frequently to your husband of his good qualities +and of the things you most admire in him. + +Sincere and judicious praise is to noble nature like spring rain and sun +to the earth. Ignore or make light of his small failings, and when you +must criticize a serious fault, do not dwell upon it. A husband and wife +should endeavour to be such good friends that kindly criticism is +accepted as an evidence of mutual love which desires the highest +attainments for its object. + +But no man likes to think his wife has set about the task of making him +over, and if you have any such intention I beg you to conceal it, and go +about it slowly and with caution. + +A woman who knows how to praise more readily than she knows how to +criticize, and who has the tact and skill to adapt herself to a man's +moods and to find amusement and entertainment in his whims, can lead him +away from their indulgence without his knowledge. + +Such women are the real reformers of men, though they scorn the word, +and disclaim the effort. + +It is well to keep a man conscious that you are a refined and +delicate-minded woman, yet do not insist upon being worshipped on a +pedestal. It tires a man's neck to be for ever gazing upward, and +statues are less agreeable companions than human beings. + +If you wish to be thought spotless marble, instead of warm flesh and +blood, you should have gone into a museum, and refused marriage. +Remember God knew what He was about, when He fashioned woman to be man's +companion, mate, and mother of his children. + +Respect yourself in all those capacities, and regard the fulfilment of +each duty as sacred and beautiful. + +Do not thrust upon the man's mind continually the idea that you are a +vastly higher order of being than he is. + +He will reach your standard much sooner if you come half-way and meet +him on the plane of common sense and human understanding. Meantime let +him never doubt your abhorrence of vulgarity, and your distaste for the +familiarity which breeds contempt. + +It is a great art, when a wife knows how to attract a husband year after +year, with the allurements of the boudoir, and never to disillusion him +with the familiarities of the dressing-room. + +Such women there are, who have lived with their lovers in poverty's +close quarters, and through sickness and trouble, and yet have never +brushed the bloom from the fruit of romance. But she who needs to be +told in what this art consists, would never understand, and she who +understands, need not be told. + +Keep your husband certain of the fact that his attention and society is +more agreeable to you than that of any other man. But never beg for his +attentions, and do not permit him to think you are incapable of enjoying +yourself without his playing the devoted cavalier. + +The moment a man feels such an attitude is compulsory, it becomes +irksome. Learn how to entertain yourself. Cling to your accomplishments +and add others. A man admires a progressive woman who keeps step with +the age. Study, and think, and read, and cultivate the art of listening. +This will make you interesting to men and women alike, and your husband +will hear you praised as an agreeable and charming woman, and that +always pleases a man, as it indicates his good taste and good luck. + +Avoid giving your husband the impression that you expect a detailed +account of every moment spent away from you. Convince him that you +believe in his honour and loyalty, and that you have no desire to +control or influence his actions in any matters which do not conflict +with his self-respect or your pride. + +Cultivate the society of the women he admires. There is both wisdom and +tact in such a course. + +Wisdom in making an ideal a reality, and tact in avoiding any semblance +of that most unbecoming fault--jealousy. + +Let him see that you have absolute faith in your own powers to hold him, +and that you respect him too much to mistake a frank admiration for an +unworthy sentiment. Do not hesitate to speak with equal frankness of the +qualities you admire in other men. Educate him in liberality and +generosity, by example. + +Allow no one to criticize him in your presence, and do not discuss his +weaknesses with others. I have known wives to meet in conclaves, and +dissect husbands for an entire afternoon. And each wife seemed anxious +to pose as the most neglected and unappreciated woman of the lot. With +all the faults of the sterner sex, I never heard of such a caucus of +husbands. + +Take an interest in your husband's business affairs, and sympathize with +the cares and anxieties which beset him. Distract his mind with pleasant +or amusing conversation, when you find him nervous and fagged in brain +and body. + +Yet do not feel that you must never indicate any trouble of your own, +for it is conducive to selfishness when a wife hides all her worries and +indispositions to listen to those of her husband. But since the +work-a-day world, outside the home, is usually filled with irritations +for a busy man, it should be a wife's desire to make his home-coming a +season of anticipation and joy. + +Do not expect a husband to be happy and contented with a continuous diet +of love and sentiment and romance. He needs also much that is practical +and commonplace mingled with his mental food. + +I have known an adoring young wife to irritate Cupid so he went out and +sat on the door-step, contemplating flight, by continual neglect of +small duties. + +There were never any matches in the receivers; when the husband wanted +one he was obliged to search the house. The newspaper he had folded and +left ready to read at leisure was used to light the fire, although an +overfilled waste-basket stood near. The towel-rack was empty just when +he wanted his bath, and his bedroom slippers were always kicked so far +under the bed that he was obliged to crawl on all fours to reach them. + +Then his loving spouse was sure to want to be "cuddled" when he was +smoking his cigar and reading,--a triple occupation only possible to a +human freak, with three arms, four eyes, and two mouths. + +Therefore I would urge you, my dear Edna, to mingle the practical with +the ideal, and common sense with sentiment, and tact with affection, in +your domestic life. + +These general rules are all I can give to guide your barque into the +smooth, sea of marital happiness. + +It is a wide sea, with many harbours and ports, and no two ships start +from exactly the same point or take exactly the same course. You will +encounter rocks and reefs, perhaps, which my boat escaped, and I have no +chart to guide you away from those rocks. + +If I knew you better, and knew your husband at all, I might steer you a +little farther out of Honeymoon Bay into calm waters, and tell you how +to reef your sails, and how to tack at certain junctures of the voyage, +and with the wind in certain directions. + +But if you keep your heart full of love, your mind clear of distrust, +and your lips free from faultfinding, and if you pray for guidance and +light upon your way, I am sure you cannot miss the course. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + + +It is indeed a problem, my dear Gladys, to face stern-visaged Necessity +after walking with laughing-lipped Pleasure for twenty-two years. + +What an unforeseen event that your father should sink his fortune in a +rash venture and die of remorse and discouragement scarcely six months +after you were travelling through Europe with me, and laughing at my +vain attempts to make you economize. + +You have acted the noble and womanly part, in using the last dollar of +your father's property to pay his debts, and I could imagine you doing +no other way. + +But now comes the need of earning a livelihood for yourself, and your +delicate mother. + +I know you have gone over the list of your accomplishments and taken +stock of all your inherited and acquired qualities. You play the piano +well, but in these days of Paderewskies and pianolas, no one wants to +employ a young girl music-teacher. You do not sing, and if you did, that +would not afford you a means of support. The best of natural voices need +a fortune spent before half a fortune can be earned. + +You dance like a fairy, and swim like a mermaid, and ride like an Indian +princess, but these accomplishments are not lucrative, save in a Midway +Plaisance or a Wild West show. You are well educated and your memory is +remarkable. You have a facility in mathematics, and your knowledge of +grammar and rhetoric will, as you say, enable you to pass the +examination for a teacher in the public schools after a little brushing +up and study. Then, with the political influence of your father's old +friends, you will no doubt be able to obtain a position. + +I recollect you as surpassingly skilful with the needle. I know you +once saw a charming morning gown in Paris which I persuaded you not to +buy at the absurd price asked for it, after the merchant understood we +were Americans. And I remember how you passed to another department, +purchased materials, went home to our hotel, and cut and made a +surprising imitation of the gown at one-tenth the cost. + +Why have you not considered turning this talent to account? Though the +world goes to war and ruin, yet women will dress, and the need of good +seamstresses ever exists. + +Go to some enterprising half-grown Western or interior Eastern town, +announce yourself in possession of all the Paris styles (as you are), +and launch out. Increase your prices gradually, and go abroad on your +savings at the end of a year, then come back with new ideas, a larger +stock, and higher prices. + +You will be on the road to fortune, and can retire with a competence +before you are middle-aged. A little skill with the scissors and +needle, lots of courage and audacity, and original methods will make a +woman succeed in this line of endeavour. + +But why do I not approve of the profession upon which you have almost +decided--that of teaching--you ask. + +I will tell you why. + +Next to motherhood, the profession of teacher in public or private +schools is the most important one on earth. + +It is, in a certain sense, more responsible than that of motherhood, +since the work of poor and bad mothers must be undone by the teacher, +and where the mother has three or four children for a period of years to +influence, the teacher has hundreds continually. There are very few +perfect teachers. There are too few excellent ones. There are too many +poor ones. I do not believe you possess the requisites for the calling. + +A teacher should first of all love children as a class. Their +dependence, their ignorance, their helplessness, and their unformed +characters should appeal to a woman's mind, and make her forget their +many and varied faults and irritating qualities. You like lovable, +well-bred, and interesting children, but you are utterly indifferent to +all others. You adore beauty, and an ugly child offends your taste. A +stupid child irritates you. + +You have a wonderful power of acquiring and remembering information, but +you do not possess the knack of readily imparting it. You expect others +to grasp ideas in the same way you do. This will make you unsympathetic +and impatient as a teacher. You have no conception of the influence a +teacher exerts upon children in public schools. You were educated in +private schools and at home, I know. I attended the country public +school, and to this day I can recall the benefits and misfortunes which +resulted to me from association with different teachers. Children are +keenly alive to the moods of teachers and are often adepts in +mind-reading. + +A teacher should be able to enter into the hearts and souls of the +children under her charge, and she should find as great pleasure in +watching their minds develop as the musical genius in watching a +composition grow under his touch. + +An infinite number of things not included in the school routine should +be taught by teachers. Courtesy, kindness to dependents and weaker +creatures, a horror of cruelty in all forms, a love of nature, +politeness to associates, low speaking and light walking, cleanliness +and refinement of manner,--all these may be imparted by a teacher who +loves to teach, without extra time or fatigue. I fear a proud disdain, +and a scarcely hidden disgust, would be plainly visible in your +demeanour toward the majority of the untrained little savages given to +your charge in a public school. You have not the love of humanity at +large in your heart, nor the patience and perseverance to make you take +an optimistic view in the colossal work of developing the minds of +children. Therefore it seems to me almost a sin for you to undertake +the profession merely because you need to earn a living. There are other +things to be considered besides your necessities. Fond as I am of you, I +have the betterment of humanity at my heart, too, and cannot feel it is +right for you to place yourself in a position where you will not be +doing the best for those dependent upon you that could be done. + +I have given up hope of seeing mothers made to realize their +responsibilities. But I still have hope of the teachers. On them and +their full understanding of all it is in their power to do, lies the +hope of the world. + +Therefore, my dear girl, I urge you to take up dressmaking or millinery +instead of school-teaching. + +If you ruin a piece of goods in the making, you can replace it and +profit by your error. But if you mar a child's nature in your attempt to +teach him, you have done an irreparable injury not only to him but to +humanity. + +If you saw a design started by a lace-maker, you would not think of +taking the work and attempting to complete it until you had learned the +art of lace-making. + +Just so you ought not to think of developing the wonderful intricacies +of a child's mind until you have learned how. + +It is all right to deliberately choose a vocation which gives us contact +only with inanimate things, but we have no right to take the handling of +human souls unless we are specially fitted for the task. + + + + +To Clarence St. Claire + +_Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + + +Your request, my dear Clarence, that I try to influence your sister to +change her determination in this matter, calls for some very plain +statements from me. + +I have known you and Elise since you were playing with marbles and +rattles, and your mother and I have been very good acquaintances +(scarcely intimate enough to be called friends) for more than a score of +years. You are very much like your mother, both in exterior appearance +and in mind. Elise is the image of her father at the time he captured +your mother's romantic fancy, and as I recollect him when he died. + +You were five years old, Elise three, at that time. Your mother lived +with your father six years in months, an eternity in experience. You +know that she was unhappy, and that he disillusioned her with love, and +almost with life. He married your mother solely for her fortune. She was +a sweet and beautiful girl, of excellent family, but your father had no +qualities of mind or soul which enabled him to appreciate or care for +any woman, save as she could be of use to him, socially and financially. + +In six years he managed to dispose of all but a mere pittance of her +fortune, and humiliated her in a thousand ways besides. His only decent +act was to die and leave her undisturbed for the remainder of her life. +Your uncle assisted in her support and saved the remnant of her +property, so that she has, by careful and rigorous economy, been able to +educate you and Elise, and keep up a respectable appearance in a quiet +way. + +Of course it was impossible to retain her place among the associates of +her better days, and you know how bitter this fact has always made +Elise. Your sister has the physical beauty and the overwhelming love of +money and power which characterized your father. She has a modicum of +your mother's sense of honour, but has been reared in a way not +calculated to develop much strength of character. Your mother has been a +slave to your sister. Elise is incapable of a deep, intense love for any +man, and your mother's pessimistic ideas of love and marriage have still +further acted upon her brain cells and atrophied whatever impulses may +have been latent in her nature, to love and be loved. These qualities +might have been developed had Elise been under the tutelage of some one +versed in the science of brain building, but your mother, like most +mothers, was not aware of the tremendous possibilities within her grasp, +or of the effect of the ideas she expressed in the hearing of her +children. Neither did she seem to recognize the father's traits in +Elise, and undertake the work of eliminating them, as she might have +done. She has been an unselfish and devoted mother, and has made too +many sacrifices for Elise. At the same time, she has awakened the mind +of your sister to ideals of principle and honour which will help her to +be a better woman than her inheritance from your father would otherwise +permit. But now, at the age of twenty-one, it is impossible to hope that +she will develop into a self-sacrificing, loving, womanly woman, whose +happiness can be found in a peaceful domestic life. She has seen your +mother sad and despondent, under the yoke of genteel poverty, and heard +her bemoan her lost privileges of wealth and station. This, added to her +natural craving for money and place, renders a wealthy marriage her only +hope of happiness on earth. + +Mr. Volney has an enormous fortune. He is, as you say, a senile old man +in his dotage. As you say again, such a marriage is a travesty. But +Elise is incapable of feeling the love which alone renders marriage a +holy institution. She has undesirable qualities which ought not to be +transmitted to children, and she is absolutely devoid of maternal +instincts. + +I have heard her say she would consider motherhood the greatest +disaster which could befall her. But she is unfitted for a +self-supporting career, and she wants a home and position. + +She has beauty, kind and generous impulses, and a love of playing Lady +Bountiful. It is not so much that she wants to benefit the needy, as +that she likes to place people under obligations and to have them look +up to her as a superior being. + +Old Mr. Volney is a miser, and his money is doing no one good. He has +only distant relatives, and by taking Elise for a wife (according to +law) he will wrong no one, and she will make much better use of his +fortune than his heirs would make. + +Your mother will be relieved of worry and care. Many worthy poor people +and charities will receive help, and Elise will have her heart's +desire--fine apparel, jewels, a social position, and no one to bother +her. The valet and nurse will look after Mr. Volney, and his simple old +heart will bask in the pride of an old man--the possession of a pretty +young wife. + +Had he full use of his mental faculties, and did he long for love and +devotion, I would try and dissuade Elise from the marriage, but solely +on _his_ account, not on hers. + +The young man you mention, as your choice of a suitor for the hand of +your sister, might better go up in a balloon to seek for Eutopia than to +expect happiness as her husband. He has a sweet, gentle, loving nature, +a taste for quiet home joys, fondness for children, and he has two +thousand a year, with small prospects of more in the near future. + +He should marry a modest, domestic girl, with tastes similar to his own, +and with no overweening ambitions. Elise would simply drive him mad in a +year's time, with her restless discontent, her extravagance, and her +desire for the expensive pleasures of earth. It is useless to reason +with her, or to expect her to model her ideas to suit her circumstances. +Inheritance and twenty-one years of wrong education must be taken into +consideration. What would mean happiness for many women would mean +misery for her. I can imagine no more dreadful destiny than to be tied +to a senile old man by a legal ceremony, even were I given his millions +in payment. But that will mean happiness to Elise. + +I think we should let people seek their own ideals of happiness, when +they break no law, and injure no other life by it. + +I shall congratulate Elise by this post on having made so fortunate an +alliance. I could not congratulate her were she to marry her young +suitor. I shall congratulate your mother on having nothing to worry +about, regarding the future of Elise. + +And I advise you to take a philosophical view of the situation, and to +remember that, in judging the actions of our fellow beings, we must take +their temperaments, characteristics, and environment into consideration, +not our own. + +You have made the very common error of thinking, because Elise is a +handsome young girl, that love, and home, and children would mean +happiness to her. + +Women vary as greatly as do plants and flowers in their needs. The +horticulturist knows that he cannot treat them all alike, and he studies +their different requirements. + +To some he gives moisture and sun, to some shade, and to some dry, sandy +soil. The thistle pushes forth a gorgeous bloom from an arid bed. It +would die in the pond where the lily thrives. + +Too much sentiment is wasted in this world and too much effort expended +in trying to make all people happy in some one way. + +When I was a little girl, a Sunday-school superintendent presented every +girl in the class with a doll, and each doll was exactly the same. Most +little girls like dolls, but I never played with one, as they were +always so hopelessly inanimate. If the good man had given me a sled, or +a book, or a picture, I would have been happy. As it was, his gift was a +failure. You want to present your sister with a devoted young husband, +a cottage, and several children, because you think every woman should +possess these things. Your sister happens to be one who prefers a +wealthy old invalid. + +Let her have what she wants, my dear Clarence, and let her work out her +destiny in her own way. She will do less harm in the world than if you +forced her into your way. Now you must remember that you asked me to +help you in this matter, and I could only write you the absolute facts +of the situation, as I knew it to be. I feel fairly confident that you +will accept my point of view, and act as best man at your sister's +wedding. + + + + +To Miss Margaret Riley + +_Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + + +Your letter has been destroyed, as you requested, and you need not fear +my betraying your confidence. + +Your mother was so long in my employ that I feel almost like a +foster-mother to you, having seen you grow up from the cradle to +self-supporting young womanhood. + +The troubles and evils which you mention as existing about you, I know +to be quite universal in all large shops, factories, and department +stores, indeed in all houses where the two sexes are employed. + +I know that a certain order of men in power use that power to lower the +ideals and standards of womanhood when they can. + +A pretty young girl once in my service related to me the cold-blooded +suggestions made to her by her employer to increase the miserable wage +paid her in a sweat-shop. + +The sacrifice of her virtue seemed no more to this man than the sale of +an old garment. + +The girl did not make the sacrifice, however, and she did not starve, +freeze, or die. She managed to exist and to better her condition by +doing domestic work and saving her money to fit herself for more +congenial employment. When I last saw her she was planning to become a +trained nurse, and had paid for a course of instruction in massage. I +tell you this merely to illustrate a fact I fully believe, that any girl +who is determined to live an honourable life and retain her self-respect +can make her way in the world and rise from lesser to higher positions, +if she is patient and willing to do what is termed menial work as a +stepping-stone. You tell me that scores of girls are kept in poorly +paying, inferior positions when capable of filling better places, +simply because they will not accept the dishonourable attentions of some +of the men in authority. + +You beg me to arouse the good women of America to a crusade against what +you say is a growing evil and to boycott such shops and stores. + +But you ask me to do what is an impracticable thing. + +You would not like to be called as a witness were this matter brought +before the courts. Were all the good women of America to begin such a +crusade, where would they obtain the proofs of their accusations? + +And even if the witnesses were ready, there is not a newspaper in the +land that would dare champion the reform. And no great reform can be +made without the aid of the press. The daily papers, as you say, give +columns to protests against lesser evils, but you must know that these +newspapers are largely supported by the profitable advertisements of +manufactories and dry-goods houses. Glance over the columns of any of +our large dailies and see how much space such advertising occupies. + +Imagine what it would mean to lose all this high-priced patronage. +Therefore, even if the most moral of editors knew that these +establishments were undermining our social conditions and invading our +homes, I doubt if he could be induced to make a protest. It is a curious +thing to see how many are the kinds of victims caught and held in the +clutches of the money-devil-fish in our wonderful land of freedom. + +Even clergymen who are preaching morality and brotherly love are +compelled to keep their mouths shut on certain evils and abuses, lest +they offend the pillars of the church and deprive the treasury of its +income. + +In a certain New England town famous for its educational institution, a +clergyman denounced a corporation which had swindled the poor and +deceived scores of citizens. He was requested to discontinue further +references to the matter, as the church treasury was supplied by the +money which accrued from this monopoly. + +The most powerful members of the church were officers in the +corporation. + +The young clergyman sent in his resignation and gave up an assured +salary to follow the light of his own conscience. But there are few with +his bravery and, therefore, the strongholds of selfishness and +self-indulgence remain impregnable. While we admire the splendid +character which makes a man capable of refusing a salary which means +hush-money, we can at the same time understand the difficult position of +a clergyman with a hungry brood of children to support, who hesitates at +such a move. We can understand how he argues with himself, that by +taking the money of the monopolists, he is able to do more good for +humanity than by refusing it, and losing both influence and income. It +is a false argument, yet the worn and weary mind of the average orthodox +minister will accept it as the advisable course to pursue. So you will +see how difficult is the task you suggest my undertaking. You tell me +that it is useless for you to leave one shop and go to another, as all +are more or less conducted on the same lines; and that it is mere chance +if a girl finds herself in a position where she can advance on her +merits. Even then a sudden change in heads of departments some day may +destroy all her hopes. + +You say I have no idea how many girls go wrong just through the +persecution and tyranny of these men--forced to fall in order to keep +herself fed and clothed. I repeat what I said already in this +connection,--that I am certain any girl determined to keep herself above +reproach and ambitious to rise in the world can do so. She may have to +endure many privations and sorrows for a time, and that time may seem +long and weary, _but a change will come for the better as surely as +spring follows winter, if she does not waver_. + +If you will look carefully into the facts of the cases which fall under +your observation, I am confident you will see that it is vanity and +indolence, not hunger and oppression, which cause the majority of the +girls you mention to go astray. They desire to make as good an +appearance, and to be given the same privileges of leisure, as the +favourite who has been promoted through unworthy methods. + +You tell me you would rather jump from Brooklyn Bridge and end the +struggle at once than lose your self-respect, but that you are weary of +seeing the girls with less conscience, and lesser capabilities, pushed +ahead of you and your worthy associates. Yet I am certain from the tone +of your letter that you will never forget your self-respect, and I have +faith that you can make your way in the world in spite of all the +designing masculine oppressors in existence. + +So will any woman, who sets her mark high, and believes in the +invincible power of her own spirit to conquer all the demons of earth. + +Do not imagine your position is one of unusual trial and temptation. A +young actress of my acquaintance has been obliged to fight her way +slowly to partial recognition because she would not accept the +conditions offered, with leading rôles and fine wardrobe, by two +polygamous-minded managers. + +She is making her way, however, and the very battle she is fighting with +life has strengthened her powers as an artist. A young stenographer has +been compelled to give up two positions because she would not allow the +loverlike attentions of married employers. She was called a silly prude +and discharged. Yet she is occupying an excellent position with a clean +high-class business house to-day. + +Domestics are sometimes driven from private homes by the same pursuit of +the employer. Men are only in a state of evolution, and the animal +instincts are still strong in them. The world has allowed them so much +license, and society has been so lenient with their misdeeds, that it +has been difficult for them to practise self-control and aspire to a +higher standard. You must be sorry for them and do what you can to help +them understand the worth and value of true womanhood. Never for one +instant believe that you can be hindered by the machinations of a few +unworthy men, from reaching any goal you set. + +One good, intelligently virtuous woman, determined to make the most of +her capabilities by fair methods, can overcome a whole army of +self-indulgent, sensual men, and compel them to doff their hats to her. +I am always deeply sympathetic toward the girl who is tempted through +her emotions, or her affections, to forget herself. But I have no great +pity for the woman who sells herself. There are always charitable +societies, and there are always menial labours to do, and either door of +escape from the sale of honour would be sought by the girl of right +ideals. It is a bitter experience to see the woman who _has_ stepped +down into the soil of life flaunting her finery and her power in the +face of virtue. But look about you and see how soon the finery becomes +tatters--how soon the power is transferred to another. + +Woman's position in the world is growing better, brighter, and more +independent with each year. There are more avenues open to her--larger +opportunities waiting for the employment of her abilities. She has tried +a thorny path for centuries, but she has small reason to despair of her +outlook to-day. + +Each woman must fight her battle alone, and walk by the light from +within. + +The world gives her only a superficial protection, either through its +courts or its society. + +Men demand virtue from woman and endeavour in every way to lead her away +from its path. + +But the divinity within her can carry her to the heights, if she will +not be lured by the voice of the senses, or frightened by the demands of +the appetite, or debased by the mercenary spirit of the age. + +Go on in your brave determination to lead a sensible and moral life, my +dear girl, and let your example be a guide to others, and prove that +woman may succeed on the right basis if she will, in spite of +temptations and oppressions. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_After Three Years as a Teacher_ + + +The way you took my frank criticisms and doubts of your ability to make +a good school-teacher, proves you to be a girl of much character. Your +success proves, too, that given the general qualifications of a fairly +capable and educated human being, add concentration and will, and we can +achieve wonders in any line of work we undertake. I am still of the +opinion that no woman of my acquaintance was more wholly unfit to teach +young children, as they should be taught, than your fair self as I last +knew you. + +I take pride in believing that my heroic methods were what brought out +the undeveloped qualities you needed to ensure such success. + +There are certain natures that need to be antagonized before they do +their best. Others are prostrated and robbed of all strength by a +criticism or a doubt. + +You have realized this, I am sure, in your experiences with pupils. +"_You cannot do it_" is a more stimulating war-cry to some people than +"_You can_." And to such the sneer of the foe does more good, than the +smile of the friend. A phrenologist would tell us that strongly +developed organs of self-esteem and love of approbation accompanied this +trait of character. + +I am sure it proves to be the case with you. + +Brought up as you were, the only child of indulgent parents, and given +admiration and praise by all your associates, you could hardly reach the +age of twenty-two without having developed self-esteem and love of +praise. You were naturally brighter than most of your companions. (They +were also children of fortune, as the term goes, but to my idea the +children reared in wealth, are usually children of misfortune. For the +real fortune of life is to encounter the discipline which brings out +our strongest qualities.) + +Your father was a poor boy, who fought his way up to wealth and power +before you were born; but he unfortunately wanted the earth beside, and +so died in poverty after staking all he had, which was enough, to make +more, which he did not need. + +You inherit much of his force of character, and that is what gave you +the reputation of extreme cleverness among your more commonplace +companions. Compared with the really brilliant and talented people of +earth, you are not clever. That is why I found you so companionable and +charming, no doubt; for the brilliant people--especially women--are +rarely companionable for more than a few hours at a time. I gave you +that supreme test of friendship--the companionship of travel for a +period of months. And I loved you better at the end of the time than at +the beginning. + +I have often thought how much less occupation there would be for the +divorce courts and how many more "indefinitely postponed" announcements +of engagements would result from an established custom of a +pre-betrothal trip! + +If a young man and woman who were enamoured could travel for two or +three months, with a chaperon (in the shape of a mother-in-law or two), +the lawyers would lose much profit; but I fear race suicide might ensue. +Nothing, unless it is the sick-room or the card-table, brings out the +real characteristics of human beings like travel. + +The irritating delays of boats and trains, and the still more irritating +unresponsiveness of officials, when asked the cause, will test the +temper and the patience of even a pair of lovers. It is not surprising +if the traveller does lose both at times, but it is admirable if he does +not. I remember how adorable you were, while I was a bundle of dynamite, +ready to explode and send the stolid, uncommunicative conductor and +brakemen into a journey through space, when we suffered that long delay +coming from California. It is due the travelling public to explain such +delays, but the railroads of America have grown to feel that they owe no +explanation to any one, even to God, for what they do or do not. While I +lost vitality and composure by such idle reflections, you were amusing +the nervous travellers by your bright bits of narrative and ready +repartee. That fortunate fellow you have promised to marry at the end of +two years has no idea what a charming companion he will find in you for +travel. + +It is interesting to have you say you feel that you need two more years +as a teacher, before you are fully developed enough to take up the +responsibilities of marriage. You will be twenty-seven then:--that is +the age at which the average American girl begins to be most +interesting, and the age when she is first physically mature. + +And your children will be more fully endowed mentally than if you had +become a mother in your teens. + +As a rule the brainy people of the world are not born of very youthful +parents; you will find youth gives physique, maturity gives brains to +offspring. + +I did not quite finish my train of reasoning about your self-esteem. + +It was because you had always believed yourself to be capable of doing +anything you undertook to do, that you were roused by my assertion that +you could not make a good school-teacher, to attempt it. I hurt your +pride a bit, and you were determined to prove me wrong. Had you been +self-depreciating and oversensitive, what I said would have turned you +from that field of effort. And that would have been a desirable result, +since one who can be turned from any undertaking _ought to be_. + +I still think the world has lost a wonderful artist by your not entering +the lists of designers and dressmakers. But since my recital of the +faults which would prevent your success as a teacher led you to overcome +them, I am proud and glad, that you have gone on in the work you +contemplated. Good teachers are more needed than good dressmakers. + +And you are sweet and charming as usual, to tell me that your +popularity with children and parents, is greatly due to that letter of +mine. + +What you write me of the young girl who is making you so much trouble by +her jealousy of all other pupils, interests and saddens me. Her devotion +to you is of that morbid type, so unwholesome and so dangerous to her +peace, and the peace of all her associates. It is a misfortune that +mothers do not take such traits in early babyhood, and eradicate them by +patient, practical methods. Instead, this mother, like many others, +seems to think her little girl should be favoured and flattered because +of her morbid tendency. + +She mistakes selfishness, envy, greediness, and hysteria for a loving +nature. + +I can imagine your feelings when this mother told you with a proud +smile, "Allie always wants the whole attention of any one she loves, and +cannot stand sharing her friends. She was always that way at home. We +never could pet her little brother without her going into a spasm. And +you must be careful about showing the other children attention before +her. It just breaks her heart--she is so sensitive." + +Oh, mothers, mothers, what are you thinking about, to be so blind to the +work put in your hands to do? + +You have little time comparatively to work upon this perverted young +mind: but under no conditions favour her, and, no matter what scenes she +makes, continue to give praise and affection to the other children when +it is their due. The prominence of her parents in the neighbourhood, and +the power her father wields in the school board, need not worry you. Go +ahead and do what is best for the child and for the school at large. +Never deviate one inch from your convictions. Take Allie some day to a +garden where there are many flowers, and talk to her about them. Speak +of all their different charms, and gather a bouquet. Then say to her, +"Now, Allie, you and I love each of these pretty flowers, and see how +sweetly they nestle together in your hand. Not one is jealous of the +other. Each has its place, and would be missed were it not there. The +bouquet needs them all. Just so I need all the dear children in my +school, and just so I would miss any one. It makes me ashamed to think +any little girl is more selfish and unreasonable than a plant, for +little girls are a higher order of creation, and we expect more of them +than we expect of plants or of animals. All are parts of God, but the +human kingdom is the highest expression of the Creator. + +"When you show such jealousy of other children I lose respect for you, +and cannot love you as much as I love them. When you are gentle and +good, and take your share of my love and attention, and let others have +their share, then I am proud of you and fond of you. Suppose one plant +said to the sunlight that it must have all the sun, would not that be +ridiculous and selfish?" + +I would make frequent references to this idea when alone with her, and +indeed it would serve as an excellent subject for a talk to all your +pupils some day. Then try and make Allie understand how unbecoming and +unlovable jealousy is, and how it renders a man or woman an object of +pity and ridicule to others. + +Praise the people you know who are liberal and broad, and absolutely +ignore her moods when in school. + +Perhaps in time you can do a little toward awakening her mind to a more +wholesome outlook. + +What you tell me of her hysterical devotion to one of her classmates, +makes me realize that the girl needs careful guidance. + +You should talk to her mother, and warn her against encouraging such +conditions of mind in her child. + +Urge her to keep the girl occupied, and to give her much out-door life, +and to teach her that pronounced demonstrations of affection are not +good form between young girls. The mother should be careful what books +she reads, and should see that she makes no long visits to other homes +and receives no guests for a continued time. The child needs to +cultivate universal love, not individual devotion. + +Ideals, principles, ambitions, should be given the girl, not close +companions, for her nature is like a rank, weedy flower that needs +refining and cultivating into a perfected blossom. + +All this needs a mother's constant care and tact and watchfulness. It is +work she should have begun when her little girl first indicated her +unfortunate tendencies. + +It is late for you to undertake a reconstruction of the misshapen +character, but you may be able to begin an improvement, and if you can +obtain the mother's cooperation the full formation may be accomplished. + +And do not fail to use mental suggestion constantly, and to help the +child by your assertions to be what you want her to become. Dwell in +conversation with her and in her presence, upon the lovableness and +charm of generosity of spirit in general, rather than on the selfishness +you observe in herself. + +At her least indication of an improvement, give her warm praise. Be +careful about bestowing caresses upon her, as she needs to be guarded +against hysteria, I should judge from your description. To some children +they are the sunlight, to others miasma. + +Think of yourself as God's agent, given charge of his unfinished work, +and recognize the unseen influences ready to aid you with suggestion and +courage when you appeal to them. + + + + +To a Young Friend + +_Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical Thoughts of the Day_ + +Your letter bubbled with enthusiasm, and steamed with optimism. I am +rejoiced that you have come into so healthful a line of thought, for I +know of no one who was in more immediate need of it than you, when we +last met. + +As your hostess, I could not tell you how wearing to the nerves your +continual reverting to your physical ills became: and I hope I did not +seem wholly unsympathetic to you when I so frequently made the effort to +change the conversation to more cheerful topics. + +And now you tell me that you are astounded to find how universal is this +topic with all classes, and on all occasions when one or two human +beings gather together even in "His name." Your recital of the church +sewing-bee, where all the good Christian women described their diseases +and the different operations they and their friends had undergone, is as +amusing as it is distressingly realistic. + +What a pity that the old theology fostered the idea that God especially +loved the people he afflicted with illness and poverty and trouble! It +has filled the world with egotistical and selfish invalids and idlers, +who have believed they were "God's chosen ones," instead of realizing +that they were the natural results of broken laws, which might be mended +by the aid of the God-power in themselves, once they understood it. + +How Christians have reconciled the idea of a God of love with a God who +wanted his chosen ones to be sick and poor, is a problem I cannot solve. + +Of course you are well, and growing stronger daily, now that you realize +the fact that God made only health, wealth, and love, and that he +intended all his children to share his opulence. + +As soon as the mind is filled with a dominating idea, no lesser ones can +find lodgment therein. + +A woman of my acquaintance suffered agonies from seasickness. + +She crossed the ocean twice each year, yet seemed unable to accustom +herself to the experience. + +On her last voyage her child fell dangerously sick with typhoid fever on +the second day out at sea. + +So wrought up was the mother, and so filled with the thought of her +child, that she never felt one moment's seasickness. Her mind was +otherwise occupied. + +Now you have filled your mind with a consciousness of your divine right +to health and happiness, and the thought of sickness and disease has no +room. + +Yet do not be discouraged if you feel the old ailments and +indispositions returning at times. A complete change in mental habits, +is difficult to obtain in a moment. + +Be satisfied to grow slowly. A wise philosopher has said, "It is not in +never falling that we show our strength, but in our ability to rise +after repeated falls, and to continue our journey in triumph." + +Avoid talking your belief to every individual you meet. It will be +breaking your string of pearls for the feet of swine to tread upon. +Those who are ready for these truths will indicate the fact to you, and +then will be your time for speech. And when you do speak, say little, +and say it briefly and to the point. + +Leave some things for other minds to study out alone. The people who are +not ready for higher ideals of religion and life, will only ridicule or +combat your theories and beliefs, if you force them to listen. + +Wait until you have fully illustrated by your own conduct of life, that +you have something beside vague theories to prove your statements of the +power of the mind to conquer circumstance. The world is full to-day of +bedraggled and haggard men and women, who are talking loudly of the +power of mind to restore youth and health, and bestow riches and +success. + +Do not add yourself to the unlovely and tiresome army of talkers, until +you prove yourself a doer. + +And even after you have shown a record of health and prosperity and +usefulness, let your silent influence speak louder than your uttered +words. + +The moment a philosopher becomes a bore, he ceases to be a philosopher. + + + + +To Wilfred Clayborn + +_Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + + +My Dear Nephew:--I have considered your request from all sides, and have +resolved to disappoint you. This seems to me the kindest thing I can do +under the circumstances. + +You have gone through two years of college life, and I am sure you are +not an ignoramus. Most of the great men of the world's history have +enjoyed no fuller educational advantages. To lend you money to finish +the college course, would be to help you to start life at the age of +twenty-two under the burden of debt. If you are determined to finish a +college course, and feel that only by so doing will you equip yourself +for the duties of life, I would advise you to drop out for a year and +teach, or go into any kind of work which will enable you to earn enough +to proceed with your studies. However hard and however disappointing +this advice seems to you, I know it suggests a course which will do more +for your character than all the money I could lend you. + +Aside from the fact that you would begin life with a debt, is the +possibility of your contracting the debt habit. + +One man in a thousand who borrows money to help himself along in early +life is benefited by it. + +The other 999 are harmed. + +To do anything on another's money is to lean on the shoulder of another +instead of walking upright. It is not good calisthenic exercise. + +A few years ago I would have acceded to your request. + +But each year I live I realize more and more that lending money is the +last method to be used in helping people to better themselves. In almost +every case where I have lent money, I have lived to regret it. Not +because I lost my money (which has usually been the fact), but because +I lost respect for my friends. + +I remember the case of a young newspaper man and author, who came to me +for the loan of five dollars. I had never seen him before, but I knew +his brother, a brilliant playwright, in a social way. + +The young man told me he had met with a series of disasters on the +voyage to New York, and was stranded there absolutely penniless, +although money would come at almost any hour from his brother. + +Besides this, he showed me letters from editors who had taken work which +would be paid for on publication. + +"I do not know any one here," the young man said, "and to-day, when I +used my last twenty-five cents, I thought of you in desperation. + +"Your acquaintance with my brother would serve as an introduction, I +felt, and I was confident you would realize my straits when I told you +my errand." + +Of course I lent the young man five dollars. "I am sure it must be a +great humiliation for you to ask for this," I said, "and I am certain +you will repay it, though many former experiences have made me question +the memory of friends and strangers to whom I have been of similar +assistance." + +One week later the young man called to tell me he had not been able to +do more than keep himself sustained at lunch-counters since he called, +but hoped soon to obtain a position on a daily newspaper. + +That was ten years ago. The young man sat in an orchestra chair the +other night at the theatre directly in front of me, and his attire was +faultlessly up to date. From the costume of his companion, I should +judge their carriage waited outside. + +The young man did not seem to recognize me, and no doubt the incident I +mention has escaped his memory. + +In all probability I was but one of a score of people who helped him +with small loans. Had the young man had been forced to appeal to the +society organized in every city for aiding the deserving poor, by being +sent disappointed from my door, the ordeal would have so hurt his pride, +that he might not have become the professional borrower he undoubtedly +is. + +I could relate innumerable cases of a similar nature. One man, who was a +fashionable teacher of French among the millionaires of New York for +several seasons, appealed to me at a time of year when all his patrons +were out of the city for a loan to enable him to give his wife medical +treatment. + +He was to repay it in the autumn. Instead, he came to me then with a +much more distressing story of immediate need and seeming proof of money +coming to him in a few months. To my chagrin, the loan I advanced was +employed in giving a feast to friends at his daughter's wedding, after +which he obliterated himself from my vision. + +Financial aid lent a woman who soon afterward circled Europe, brought no +reimbursement. Her handsomely engraved card, with the "Russell Square +Hotel, London," as address, reached me instead of the interest money +which perhaps paid the engraver. + +Money lent a young man to start a small business, was used for his +wedding expenses, and an interval of five years brings no word from him. +Poor and despicable beings indeed, become the victims of the borrowing +habit. It is the shattered faith in humanity, and the heart hurts that I +regret, rather than the loss of what can be replaced. I tell you these +incidents that you may realize how I have come to regard money-lending, +as a species of unkindness to a friend or relative. + +It is only one step removed from giving a sick or overtaxed man or woman +a morphine powder. + +Sleep and rest ensue, but ten to one the habit is formed for life. + +The happy experiences of my life in money-lending, have been two +instances where I offered loans which were not asked, and which proved +to be bridges over the chasm of temporary misfortune, to the success +awaiting a worthy woman and man. The really deserving rarely ask for +loans. + +I can imagine with what pleasure you would take a cheque from this +letter, for the amount which would carry you through college. + +Yet when you had finished your course, you would find so many things you +wanted to do, and must do, the debt would become too heavy to lift, save +by borrowing from some one else. + +If not that, then you would impose upon the fact of our relationship, +and on your belief that I had plenty of means without the amount you +owed me: and so you would join the great army of good-for-nothings in +the world. + +There is one thing you must always remember: + +No matter how close the blood tie between two beings, even twins, each +soul comes into the world alone, and with a separate life destiny to +work out. + +If I have worked out my destiny to financial independence, that does +not entitle you to a share of it. If it seems best for me to aid you, it +is not because a blood tie makes it a duty. I grow to believe there is a +sort of curse on money which is not earned, even when it is bestowed by +father, on son or daughter. + +It cripples individual development. Only when money is earned is it +blest. + +Regarding your future profession, I cannot agree with your idea that +because you feel no particular love for any one calling, and have a +halfway tendency toward several, that you will never be a success. Great +geniuses are often consumed with a passion for some one line of study or +employment, but there have been many great men who did not know what +they were fitted to do until accident or necessity gave them an +opportunity. + +Success means simply concentration and perseverance. + +Whether you decide to be a mechanic, a lawyer, a doctor, or a merchant, +the one thing to do is to fix all your mental powers upon the goal you +select, and then call all the forces from within and from without, to +aid you to reach it. + +It would, of course, be folly for you to select a profession which +requires special talent. No matter how you might concentrate and apply +yourself, you could never be a great poet, a great artist, or a great +musician. + +You have not the creative genius. + +But law, medicine, mechanics, or mercantile matters, with your good +brain and fair education, you could conquer. + +You say you vacillate from one to another, like the wind which goes to +the four points of the compass in twenty-four hours. + +But you are very young, and this should not discourage you. + +It would be well to think the four vocations over quietly, when alone, +and sit down by yourself early in the morning asking for guidance. Then, +when you feel you have made a decision, let nothing turn you from it. + +Direct all your studies and thoughts to further that decision. + +Think of yourself as achieving the very highest success in your chosen +field, and work for that end. + +You cannot fail. + +If you desire light from without upon the best path to pursue, I would +advise you to find a good phrenologist, and have a careful reading made +of your head. Its formation and the development of its organs would +indicate in what direction lay your greatest strength, and where you +needed to be especially watchful. + +But remember if your phrenologist tells you that you have a weak will, +it does not mean that you must necessarily _always_ have a weak will. It +means that you are to strengthen it, by concentration. There is a great +truth underlying phrenology, palmistry, and astrology; but it is +ridiculous to accept their verdicts as final and unchangeable, and it is +unwise to ignore the good they may do, rightly applied and understood. + +I recall the fact that you were born in early June. I know enough about +the influence of the planets upon a child born at that period to assert +that you are particularly inclined to a Gemini nature--the twin nature, +which wants to do two things at one time. You want to stay in and go +out, to read a book and play tennis, to swim and sit on the sand. Later +in life, you will want to remain single and marry, and travel and remain +at home, unless you begin _now_ to select one course of the two which +are for ever presenting themselves to you, in small and large matters. + +Whenever you feel yourself vacillating between two impulses, take +yourself at once in hand, decide upon the preferable course, and go +ahead. Dominate your astrological tendencies, do not be dominated by +them. Dominate your weaknesses as exhibited by your phrenological chart, +and build up the brain cells which need strengthening, and lessen the +power of the undesirable qualities by giving them no food or indulgence. + +It is a great thing to understand yourself as you are, and then to go +ahead and make yourself what you desire to be. + +When a carpenter starts to build a house, he knows just what tools and +what materials to work with are his. If there is a broken implement, he +replaces it with another, and if he is short of material he supplies it. +But young men set forth to make futures and fortunes, with no knowledge +of their own equipment. + +They do not know their own strongest or weakest traits, and are +unprepared for the temptations and obstacles that await them. + +I would advise you to call in the aid of all the occult sciences, to +help you in forming an estimate of your own higher and lower tendencies, +and in deciding for what line of occupation you were best fitted. Then, +after you have compared the statistics so gathered with your own idea of +yourself, you should proceed to make your character what you wish it to +be. + +This work will be ten thousand times more profitable to you than a mere +routine of college studies, gained by running in debt. + +To know yourself is far better knowledge than to know Virgil. And to +make yourself is a million times better than to have any one else make +you. + + + + +To Miss Elsie Dean + +_Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + + +During your visit here with my niece, I became much interested in you. + +Zoe had often written me of her affection for you, and I can readily +understand her feeling, now that I have your personal acquaintance. + +You have no mother, and your father, you say, absorbed in business, like +so many American fathers, seems almost a stranger. Even the most devoted +fathers, rarely understand their daughters. + +Now, I want to take the part of a mother and write you to-day, as I +would write my own daughter, had one been bestowed upon me with the many +other blessings which are mine. + +I could not ask for a fairer, more amiable, or brighter daughter than +you, nor one possessed of a kinder or more unselfish nature. + +You are lovable, entertaining, industrious, and refined. + +But you possess one fault which needs eradicating, or at least a +propensity which needs directing. + +_It is the habit of exaggeration in conversation_. + +I noticed that small happenings, amusing or exciting, became events of +colossal importance when related by you. + +I noticed that brief remarks were amplified and grew into something like +orations when you repeated them. + +I confess that you made small incidents more interesting, and +insignificant words acquired poetic meaning under your tongue. + +And I confess also that you never once wronged or injured any one by +your exaggerations--save yourself. + +Zoe often said to me, "Isn't it wonderful how Elsie's imagination lends +a halo to the commonest event," and all your friends know that you have +this habit of hyperbole in conversation. + +Now, in your early girlhood, it is lightly regarded as "Elsie's way." +Later, in your maturity, I fear it will be called a harsher name. + +When you come to the time of life that larger subjects than girlish +pranks and badinage engage your mind, it will be necessary for you to be +more exact in your descriptions of occurrences and conversations. +Besides this, there is the heritage of your unborn children to consider. +I once knew a little girl who possessed the same vivid imagination, and +allowed it to continue unchecked through life. She married, and her son, +to-day, is utterly devoid of fine moral senses. He is a mental +monstrosity--incapable of telling the truth. His falsehoods are many and +varied, and his name is a synonym of untruth. He relates, as truth, the +most marvellous exploits in which he really never took part, and +describes scenes and places he has never visited, save through the +pages of some novel. + +His lack of moral sense has blighted his mother's life, and she is +wholly unconscious that he is only an exaggerated edition of herself. + +I think, as a rule, such imaginations as you possess belong to the +literary mind. I would advise you to turn your attention to +story-writing, and in that occupation you will find vent for your +romantic tendencies. + +Meanwhile watch yourself and control your speech. + +Learn to be exact. + +Tell the truth in small matters, and do not allow yourself to indulge in +seemingly harmless white lies of exaggeration. + +There are times when we should refrain from speaking all the truth, but +we should refrain by silence or an adroit change of subject. We should +not feel called upon to relate all the unpleasant truths we know of +people. + +When asked what we know of some acquaintance, we are justified in +telling the worthy and commendable traits, and saying nothing of the +faults. + +Therefore, while to suppress a portion of the truth is at times wise and +kind, to distort it, or misstate facts, is never needed and never +excusable. + +When you and Zoe came from your drive one day you were full of +excitement over an adventure with a Greek road merchant. + +As you told the story, the handsome peddler had accosted you at the exit +of the post-office and asked you to look at his wares. + +When you declined he became familiar, paid a compliment to Zoe's beauty, +and assured her that a certain lace shawl in his possession would be +irresistible draped about her face. + +Then he had pursued the carriage on his wheel and continued to "make +eyes" and pay compliments to the very gate of my home, where he +abandoned the chase. + +The facts were, according to further investigation, that the man paid a +simple trade compliment in reference to the shawl and its becomingness +to a pretty face, mounted his wheel and rode away, as it happened, in +the same direction you and Zoe were taking. + +Again, you related a bit of repartee between Zoe and a caller, which I +had chanced to over-hear, and out of two short sentences you made a +small brochure, most amusing, but most untrue. + +It was complimentary to both Zoe and her caller, yet it was not the +conversation which took place, and therefore was not truthful. + +These are trifling incidents, yet they are the straws, telling that the +wind blows from the marsh-lands of inexactness--not from the mountain +tops of truth. + +Once a woman loses a sense of the great value of absolute truthfulness, +she has blurred the clear mirror of her soul. + +Put yourself upon a diet of _facts_, my sweet young friend, and cure +this propensity, harmless enough now, but dangerous for your future. + +Watch your tongue that it does not say _five or six_ when it should say +_two_, or _yards_ when it should say _inches_. + +Even in the smallest matters, practise the habit of being exact. + +You will thank me for this advice sometime, even if it seems +unreasonable to you to-day, and remember, I would not take the liberty +or the trouble to so advise you, did I not love you and feel anxious for +your welfare. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + + +Your despairing letter lies before me. I wish you were here, my dear +child, that I might talk from my heart, instead of writing from it. I am +sorry that the secret, so long hidden, has been revealed to you, and in +such a despicable manner. + +An anonymous letter always carries with it the venom of a serpent. I +have long known your history, though the world generally believed you to +be the actual daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont, who adopted you when +you were scarcely one week old. + +No daughter ever received more affection or better care than these good +people gave you. Mrs. Marchmont lived always with a fear in her heart +that you might learn your history from some idle or malicious lip, and +before she died begged me to be your comforting friend, if that hour +ever came, which has now arrived. + +As your mother's nearest friend, it is natural you should turn to me in +your crucial hour of pain. And in reply to your questions regarding the +truth of this anonymous assertion, I will tell you all I know. + +Your own mother was well born, and a girl of great beauty and charm. She +was of foreign blood, and her parents, after the foreign custom, +selected for her, at the age of seventeen, a man of mature years and +unattractive personality, but some fortune. The family lived in a +seaport town, and your mother attracted the eye of a young seafaring +man, holding a government position. An intense and uncontrollable love +sprang up between them. Your mother had been kept in ignorance of God's +great law of sex attraction, its purpose and its results, and she was +like a new-born babe towed on the sea of her own suddenly awakened +emotion. + +It was arranged that your mother was to elope with her lover on his next +arrival in port. All plans were to be made by him during the voyage on +which he went forth, after a stolen interview with your mother. He was +lost at sea, and all on board the ship perished with him. Mr. and Mrs. +Marchmont chanced to be sojourning in the place at the time of your +birth. Mr. Marchmont had longed for a child, and the tragic story came +to his ears through the physician of your mother's family, and he and +his wife decided to adopt you and take you to America. + +I was the one friend who shared with Mrs. Marchmont the story of your +birth. Other friends knew she had adopted a child, and of course all +sorts of rumours were afloat for a time. Mr. Marchmont's nephew was +particularly unfriendly, I remember, as he had believed himself heir to +his uncle's estate until your adoption. + +Some three years ago I chanced to be in the seaport town where you were +born, and I made quiet inquiries about your mother. I learned that she +had recently died, leaving a husband and three children. I hunted up the +children, and found them to be most uninteresting and ordinary. The +oldest daughter I met and studied. She was plain and commonplace in +appearance, and the other children were dull and unattractive. + +The husband was the elderly man selected by your grandparents. Just how +he had been led to accept the second place in your mother's life, and +whether he had known of the tragedy, I could not learn without asking +more questions than I deemed wise. + +But what I want to impress upon your mind by this recital is, _your own +divine inheritance of love,_ the inheritance which has bestowed upon you +physical beauty, mental power, and rare qualities of heart and soul. I +know few women so endowed by the Creator as you. I know of few young +girls--in fact, not one--I would so gladly and proudly claim as a +daughter, or wish a daughter to be like, as your lovely self. + +When I read your letter, with its wild expressions of self-abasement and +despair and regret that you were in the world, where, you seemed to +believe, you had no right to be, I could not help picturing to myself +the dull face and disagreeable personality of your half-sister, the +child whom you no doubt believe has a greater right than yourself on +earth. Now whatever society has decided is legal and right for human +beings, you must not forget that God also has made rules, and that those +rules must first be obeyed, before the rules of man can be regarded as +perfect. + +God's first law, regarding the propagation of the human species, is that +the _mother must be dominated by a supreme and ruling emotion to give to +the world the highest type of a child_. + +Your mother loved your father with all her heart and soul. She was a +young girl, ignorant of the world. She thought of her lover as her +rightful mate, and lived but for the hour when he should rescue her +from the unhappy fate arranged by unwise and sordid-minded parents. + +Your father loved her, and they were in God's sight more truly husband +and wife than the soulless and loveless ceremony of the law made her and +her legal husband afterward. + +It is a great misfortune that your parents lacked the self-control which +is necessary to every well-balanced human being who seeks for the +fullest development. It is a sad thing that over your life this shadow +of unlegalized birth must rest. + +But were I given the choice to-day to be what you are, or what your +sister is, and what thousands of children born of loveless marriages +are, I would not for one second hesitate in my choice. + +The world needs marriage laws to keep any order in society. + +The wisely reared and well-balanced woman will keep herself in womanly +reserve for her legal husband. + +Your mother, by a moment's weakness and loss of self-control, left a +blight upon her life for ever, and a shadow upon yours. + +But do not for one instant think of yourself as anything but _a child of +God_, endowed with all the wealth of the spiritual kingdom, whatever the +law may withhold from you here. + +You are legitimized by love, your sister is legitimate by law. She is +illegitimate in the sight of heaven, you in sight of earth. + +Be glad of your beautiful nature and beautiful qualities, and do not +spoil them by despondency or pessimism. + +Think of yourself as if you were a child of Adam and Eve, born before +the serpent appeared, when there was no law but the law of love to +govern two souls, drawn together by irresistible attraction. + +The best and highest qualities of two human beings meet and mingle in +your nature. Do you suppose the great Creator of all things regards you +as base born, when he has so endowed you with all that makes woman +lovable and charming. + +Live up to your divine inheritance, my dear girl. Make the world better +for your presence in it, and bear your sorrow with that resignation and +philosophy which all human beings must cultivate if they do not wish to +become weak repiners when they face the sorrows of life. + +Look the world squarely in the eyes, and feel no shame. + +Your mother's marriage to the man she detested, and the birth of +children conceived in loathing, were acts which in my mind called for +more shame on her part than your own birth. Both were misfortunes for +her, since only by living an orderly, controlled, and lawful life can +any human being find happiness or self-respect in the world. + +But when we come to the close analysis of motives and impulses, many an +act the world condemns is far less reprehensible than other acts which +meet its loud acclaim. + +You have received from the vast spiritual realms about us your rarely +beautiful qualities. Go forth and give them to humanity. + +Be strong, be good, be brave, be happy. + +No one and nothing can harm you but your own mind. + +The world, as we encounter it, is but an echo of our own strong +convictions. Respect yourself absolutely, believe in yourself +absolutely, and the world will respect you and believe in you. + +Say to yourself every hour, "I am God's divine creature," and no one +will dare look you in the eyes and say you are anything less than that. + +The arms of infinite love enfold you--have no fear. + + + + +To Miss Diana Rivers + +_Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist_ + + +Your interesting letter regarding your future plans has been food for my +thoughts ever since its receipt this morning. + +I remember when you were my guest a year ago that you told me you felt +like a big bird in a small cage. Every time you tried to spread your +wings you were bruised by bars. Your home environment with its few +duties and small responsibilities, your church and your charities, +failed to give you full opportunity for the exercise of all your vital +forces. + +I knew then that you were longing for a career, and I felt confident +that some word would come from you before long, announcing a change in +your life. + +I was prepared to hear one of two things--that you were soon to be +married, or that you had decided to enter the dramatic profession. When +a young and attractive woman grows restless and eager for change, she +is, unconsciously to herself, sending out a challenge to Fate to create +new conditions in her life. Despite the fact that no male member in the +"Fate" family has ever attained prominence in the eyes of the world, and +that the three sisters have claimed so much power over the destinies of +the human family, a little investigation will prove that they never make +any pronounced move without calling in the aid of Cupid. + +Cupid is their prime minister, and we all know that prime ministers are +the power behind the throne of rulers. + +When you sent out your eager thoughts for "something to happen," to +change the monotony of your existence, I knew the Fate sisters were +quite likely telegraphing Cupid that his assistance was needed to quiet +a small riot in the human family. + +Once they set Cupid busy with a human heart, the Fates need give it no +further attention. When Cupid reports that his work with the heart is +finished, then the Angel of Resignation or the Angel of Death must +finish the task. + +Knowing you to be particularly fond of the theatre as a distraction, I +had thought you might essay the rôle of society actress, confounding +appreciation for talent, as so many women do; and when your letter +opened with the announcement that you were about to give me a great +surprise, I was prepared to hear that you were billed to appear in a +walking rôle, with a road company, next season, with promises of greater +things "soon afterward." + +But I confess to absolute surprise, as I read on, and learned that your +career was to lead you, not through Lovers' Lane, not before the +footlights, but along the hurly-burly byways and highways of American +newspaper work, beginning with interviews and reporting. Allow me to +quote from your letter before me. + +"I do not imagine I have talent save the talent for work. I am, as you +know, well educated, as that expression goes to-day. I have always found +expression with the pen an easy mode of communicating my impressions and +ideas. + +"I am observing, and I have a keen sense of humour, and I have (so +people tell me) an agreeable personality. I know the value of correct +dressing, and I am not oversensitive. That is, I am not one who will go +down at the first rebuff. I have the real American spirit, which makes +me believe myself as good as anybody, and you know my family name is one +to buoy up that impression. Therefore, it seems to me I cannot fail to +attain some degree of success. I am sure to obtain entrée to people and +functions, and I can describe what I see and hear in attractive form. I +shall shrink at no task, however difficult, and stop at no obstacle. + +"I am determined to make a success as a reporter and a correspondent, +and after I have achieved something in that line I may look to an +editorial position; and who knows but my fertile imagination, coupled +with the experiences sure to come to me, may develop the great American +novelist the world is waiting?" + +This is all interesting and admirable reasoning. + +But, having seen much of the world, and known much of the various types +of young women writers and reporters and correspondents, I feel like +discussing the subject of your profession with you. At the instigation, +perhaps, of some editor who makes the mistake of thinking success must +be reached through sensationalism, you may be tempted to make your pen, +not _mightier_, but more _cruel_ than the sword. + +I remember once upon a time meeting a young woman who had come, unbidden +by the hostess, to "write up" a social function where a number of +celebrated people were congregated. + +Her employer had sent her to the house, telling her to obtain an entree +by fair means or foul; and as she was well dressed and quiet in manner, +she was not repulsed by an amiable hostess. This lady realized that the +reporter has his or her living to make, and must be either helped or +hindered by the willingness or unwillingness of people to furnish +material for copy. Being informed that the young woman was "literary," +and chancing to stand near her for a few moments, I asked her the nature +of her work. + +The young woman looked a trifle embarrassed, as she answered: "Well, to +tell you the truth, I write a good many disagreeable and nasty things +about people, especially people in public life. The editors who take my +work will have that kind. I have essayed better things, and they would +not touch them. So I am compelled to write the stuff they do want. I +must make a living." When I read the "stuff" in question, I was inclined +to doubt the assertion of the writer that "she must make a living." The +world would be the better should she and all her kind cease to exist. +Ridicule, falsehood, and insinuation were the leading traits of the +young woman's literary style. Costumes and personalities were +caricatured, and conversations and actions misstated. The entire article +would have been libelous, had it not been too cowardly to deserve so +bold a word. + +It is useless for any man or woman to assert that such reportorial work +is done from necessity. The blackmailer and the pickpocket have as much +right to the plea, as the newspaper masked-assassin, with the concealed +weapon of a pen. + +If you are ever asked by any editor to do this reportorial stiletto +work, let me urge you to take to professional burglary, rather than +consent to write what such an employer demands. + +It is far less despicable to rob houses of things of mercantile value, +than to rob characters and reputations and personalities. Again, when +you are sent out upon a commission to obtain an interview with any +person, obtain what you seek and take nothing else away with you. + +Just as you would scorn to pawn the watch of the famous actress which +you may find lying on the table as you pass out, so scorn to sell any +personal speech she may have carelessly dropped in your hearing which +you know was not intended for publication. Petty larceny is not a noble +feature of interviewing. Even though a facility for selling such +dishonestly gained property to advantage be yours, do not convince +yourself or be convinced that larceny should be included in your +reportorial duties. + +I recollect speaking with you once upon the difficulties young women +encountered who attempted to win honours in a dramatic career. You felt +that the necessity to cater to the ideas and wishes of inferior minds, +in representing a character on the stage, would be one of the hardest +phases of stage life to meet. + +"To be loud and spectacular where I wanted to be refined and subtle," +you said, "just to catch some rough audience and fill the house, would +be insupportable. And yet I know actresses ofttimes must do that very +thing, to keep a foothold in the profession." + +I am wondering how you will meet what seems to me a more humiliating +rôle, when you are sent out by an editor to gain an entree to some +person who does not wish to be interviewed. + +Will you, when refused entrance at the front door, go in at the rear and +hobnob with the servants? will you spy, and watch and wait on street +corners, and hide yourself in hallways, and intercept and surprise, and +congratulate yourself when you have trapped your prey? That is the +shameful pathway which nowadays leads to what is called "successful +newspaper work." + +You need to realize the facts before you enter the profession. Were you +my daughter, I am certain I should feel much less concern were you to +enter the theatrical field. + +And yet if you choose to stand by your ideals, and retain your +self-respect, you can do so, and succeed in journalism. + +If you have, as you say, observation, expression, humour, and ambition, +you can create a style of your own: which will not necessitate the loss +of all womanly sense of decency and pride in dealing with your fellow +beings. It might be well for you to cultivate and add to the list of +your qualities appreciation of all that is best in human nature and +worthiest of respect. If you understand the law of concentration and +demand, you can obtain an entrance to the people you wish to see, +through the front hall and a properly engraved card. + +If that fails, a polite and frank note, stating your purpose and +intimating your self-respecting ideas of your profession, may prove +effective. Once establish your reputation as an interviewer who is not a +highwayman in disguise, and you will achieve tenfold the success your +less reputable confrères gain in the long run. Try and remember always +that fame, glory, or even crime, do not destroy all human sensibilities, +or render the possessor invulnerable to the thrust of a pen. + +The greatest warrior who ever conquered armies has still the power to +feel hurt when he sees some personal blemish or misfortune described in +print. + +You would never be guilty of saying to any man's face, "How hideous +your harelip renders you"--and why should you go from his presence and +make such a statement to the whole world concerning him? One of the most +gifted men America ever claimed was driven from his native land by the +cruel, bald, and heartless personalities of newspaper critics, who +seemed to consider it necessary to comment on his physical infirmities +whenever his genius was mentioned. + +During the lifetime of one of England's great literary women, an +American correspondent who had been given an interview in her home +described her as possessing the "face of a horse." Surely this was +agreeable reading for a gifted woman whose genius had delighted +thousands! + +It has sometimes seemed to me that theatrical road life with a +one-night-stand company would be less brutalizing to the finer +sensibilities, and less lowering to the ideals of a young girl, than the +method of work required of many newspaper reporters in America to-day. +The editor who scores the actress for lax morals seems often to ignore +the fact that there is a mental as well as a physical prostitution. + +Look to it that you do not trail your banner of noble womanhood in the +dust, at the demand of any editor or syndicate. Keep your purity of pen, +as well as your chastity of body, and believe no man who tells you that +you will get on better in the world by selling either. There is room +higher up. + + + + +To Nanette + +_A Former Maid_ + + +Curiously enough, my dear little Nanette, I was thinking about you, and +wishing to know something of you, the very day your letter came. + +Of many who have been helpers in my employ, you were one of the few who +seemed to care more for me than for the wages I paid. + +There was between us that ideal condition which I wish might exist +between all employers and employees. You wanted the work you were fitted +to do, and I wanted such work done. You were glad of the money it +brought you, and I was glad to recompense you. You wanted appreciation +and sympathy and consideration aside from your earnings, and I wanted a +personal interest in my affairs, and a friendly wish to please me, +aside from the mere work well done. You never seemed to me less womanly +or less refined because you were a wage-earner, and I did not represent +to you oppression or monopoly merely because I paid the money and you +received it. I took you into my confidence in many ways, and you made me +feel I was your friend as well as your employer. We enjoyed cosy chats, +and yet you no more desired or wished to be present at my social +functions than you desired me to enter into all your merrymakings and +pleasures. You were, in fact, one of the most agreeable and sensible +women I have ever known in any station in life. And now you write me +that you are engaged to be married, and ask me to give you counsel in a +very serious matter. + +Together with your other excellent qualities, you have possessed economy +and prudence. + +At the age of twenty-five you have a tidy bank-account, the savings of +eleven years. This money is increasing, year by year, and drawing a +small interest. + +Now comes your lover, a hard-working and sober young man, so you say, +but earning only a small salary as a clerk. + +He has met with some reverses, and is temporarily embarrassed. He wants +you to lend him a few hundred dollars, and he will pay you the same +interest you are now receiving, but you fear it would be unwomanly on +your part to take this interest money. At the same time you feel a +reluctance to break in upon your savings, which you had planned to use +in helping establish a home. You want to befriend your lover, and you +want to be wise and careful, and so you write to me, your old-time +adviser, for counsel. I fear I may hurt your feelings in what I am about +to say. + +I have seen much of the world, and have studied humanity in many phases +and in many classes. + +There is one type of man I have never yet known to be strong, reliable, +and trustworthy,--a man for a woman to lean upon in times of trouble and +sorrow,--a man I would like to see any friend take for a life +companion,--_and that is the young man who asks a loan of money from a +woman he loves, or one who loves him_. Believe me, there is some lack of +real moral fibre in such a man. + +A husband and wife many years married, and united by common interests, +may become so one in purpose and thought that a common purse would be as +natural to them as a common dinner-table. + +With mutual interests, planning for their future and the future of their +children, there could be no talk of "My money" and "Your money" between +them. + +But before marriage, or immediately after, the man who begins to ask a +woman for the use of her purse, should be distrusted by her. He could +not broach such a subject unless he lacked a certain refined strength +which makes a manly man a woman's protector by nature. Even where no +sentiment exists between a man and a woman, the really strong men of the +world never become borrowers from women. If through friendly interest +and affection some woman compelled such a man to take a loan, he would +know no rest or peace of mind until he had liquidated the debt. + +When a man is a woman's lover, and asks her to advance money to him for +any reason, she may as well realize at once the reed on which she will +lean if she accepts him for a life companion. To deceive herself for a +moment with the idea that he will be a staff of strength, is but to +delay disillusion. A vital quality is left out of his character. + +He is but one step removed from the man who _seeks_ a woman because she +has money. And he is the most despicable of the human race. + +I have known three women of different social positions to lend money to +their lovers. + +One man invested it and lost it, and never made an effort to reimburse +the lady, who broke her engagement in consequence, after two unhappy +years. Another went away owing the money, and was never again heard +from. The third married the unwise woman who had loaned him her +competence, and continued to look to her for support. + +Therefore, my dear Nanette, I would urge you to think twice, and yet a +third time, before you lend your fiancé your savings. + +Tell him frankly that you will feel more respect for him if he is +willing to sacrifice comfort and save from his own income enough to lift +the debt he has incurred, and that you are sure he will feel less +humiliated as time goes by if he is not financially in debt to you. If +he were to fall ill tell him it would be your first impulse to devote +your money to his care; but while he is able-bodied and well, you do not +like to have him lean on you for aid. + +You can judge something of the man's character by the way he receives +this statement from you. + +And whatever may result, even if it is the end of your engagement, do +not grieve your heart away over it. Better far to have the end come now +than to marry a dependent and shiftless man, who will humiliate your +pride by a thousand and one mean traits. The moment a young wife becomes +the financial head of a household, and the man depends upon her to keep +the family free from debt, sentiment and romance fly from the windows of +the heart, and poor Cupid goes away with his head under his wing. This +situation might befall people long married, as I said before, without +causing disaster, because the wife would have years of other experiences +stored up in memory, to maintain her respect for her husband. + +The natural instinct of a manly man is to be the protector and the +breadwinner. He loves to shield and support the woman of his choice. If +she has any talent or profession which gives her satisfaction to pursue, +and which yields her an income, he will, if broad-minded and +sympathetic, place no obstacle in her path so long as this vocation is +no barrier to their domestic happiness. But he is sensitive to her +assuming any of the financial burdens of life. + +If circumstances render it necessary for her to do so, he suffers +keenly, and the utmost delicacy and consideration on her part alone can +save him from utter humiliation. + +This is the attitude of the manly man, my dear Nanette, the man who +makes the good husband and father. + +The unselfish, broad-minded and considerate wife will lead a husband to +think of her right to aid in the establishment and maintenance of a home +when she is able to do her part. But the man who makes a good husband +never suggests it as her duty, or asks her to advance money. + +It is commendable in you to wish to aid in making a home. It is unmanly +in your lover to ask you to help him pay his debts. Beware of the lover +who asks for or accepts a loan. + + + + +To The Rev. Wilton Marsh + +_Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + + +My dear Cousin Wilton:--You have no idea how your letter took me back to +my merry girlhood, when you and I resided in the same neighbourhood, and +I was the concern of your precociously serious mind. Yes, indeed, I do +realize what a mistake you made in living the repressed life you did all +those early boyhood years. What a pity your parents reared one of your +sensitive and imaginative nature in the gloomy old doctrines of a +depressing religion, which so misrepresented the God of love: and how +odd that your father and mine should have been born of the same parents, +educated in the same schools, and yet be no more alike in beliefs or +methods of life than two people of a different race and era. + +And again it is not strange, when we realize that hundreds of +generations lie back of both parents, and innumerable ancestors of both +father and mother contribute their different mentalities to the children +in a family. Back of that is the great philosophy of reincarnation--the +truth of which impresses me more and more each year I live. + +Do you recall your horror the first time I told you I had read a book on +reincarnation, and confessed that it had made me anxious to study the +theory? + +You said I was a pagan and a heathen, and that I would surely be damned +forever unless I turned to the way of salvation. + +And do you recall your misery when I seized you one evening at your +birthday party (you were twenty), and dragged you about the room in a +waltz? That is, I waltzed, while you hobbled about like a lame calf, +much to the amusement of most of the company. + +There were more who sympathized with my views of life than with yours. +You were such a wet blanket on our youthful spirits. Your ever-blazing +lake of brimstone did not even serve to warm the blanket. + +I have been gratified to watch your growth the last ten years. + +You have so changed your point of view, which indicates your real worth +and progressive good sense. And when you tell me that you have for years +regretted your lost opportunities for natural and moral pleasure, and +that you suffered beyond your power to describe in those old days in +conquering your desire to dance and play games, it brings the tears of +mingled rage and pity to my eyes. Rage at the old theology, and pity for +the poor children whose lives were shadowed by it. + +And now what you tell me of your son and daughter proves another of my +theories true, and shows me how nature revenges its wrongs. + +Children, my dear Wilton, especially the offspring of strong characters, +_inherit the suppressed tendencies of their parents_. They bring into +action the unexhausted impulses and the ungratified desires of those +parents. + +The greatest singers are almost invariably the offspring of mothers or +fathers who _were music hungry_, and who were given no complete +gratification of this craving. + +The poet, you will find, is the voice of an artistic-natured parent, who +was forced to be emotionally dumb. + +And the proverbial clergyman's son is merely the natural result of the +same cause. He is charged with the tendencies and impulses which his +father crucified. + +That your son loathes study, and hates church-going, and adores a brass +band and a circus, and runs away to the races, does not in the least +surprise me. Nor that your sixteen-year-old daughter grows hysterical at +the sound of dance music, and prefers a theatrical show in your village +hall to a Sunday-school picnic, and is mad to become an actress. + +_They are your own wronged and starved emotions personified, and crying +out to you for justice._ + +The very best thing for you to do with the boy is to put him into a +gymnasium and a football team as soon as possible. Offer no opposition +when he wants to see a good horse-race. Urge him to go, and ask him to +tell you all about it when he returns. Begin right now to get close to +the heart of your children. + +Once you do that, once you convince them you are near enough to their +lives to understand their needs and to try and gratify their natural +longings, all your worries will take wing and fly away; for your +children will cease to hide and cloak their actions and natures, and +they will no longer wish to deceive or attempt to defy you. + +Send your daughter where she can learn dancing, in company with other +refined and well-bred young people. You have so far emancipated yourself +from your old superstitions and beliefs that this action on your part +will not antagonize the desirable members of your congregation. + +Only a remnant of the old bigots and intolerants are to be found in any +congregation of intelligent people of to-day. + +If that remnant is shaken out of its winding-sheet by being antagonized, +you may galvanize it into life. + +At all events, do not endanger the peace of your home and the happiness +of your children, for fear of antagonizing a few parishioners of +arrested spiritual development. + +Give your son and daughter an outlet for the youthful vitality which is +like steam: a moving power when used, dangerous and destructive when +pent up. + +Take young Wilton and Rebecca into a room, and talk the whole matter +over. + +Tell them how deeply you love them, and how you have just come to +realize the mistake you have made in trying to eradicate from them the +natural desire for wholesome pleasure instead of giving it proper +avenues of expression. + +Say frankly that you see your error, and that you intend to rectify it. + +Ask their coöperation, and appeal to their good taste and affection not +to mortify or humiliate you in your position of clergyman, by +overstepping the bounds of decorum or discretion. + +Lead them to talk of their ambitions and desires, and, as consistently +as you can, gratify them. + +Let your daughter come to me for a season. I will help to reshape and +modify her ideals of enjoyment to some degree. + +I am sure if she sees a few of our best spectacular plays, and hears +good music, and enjoys beautiful rhythmic dancing, she will not be so +carried away with the travelling show. + +I will acquaint her with some of the commonplace facts concerning the +lives of theatrical people, and show her the frayed tinsel and worn +faces by daylight. This will do more for her than all your sermons on +the dangers of a theatrical career. + +The young heart is fascinated with the thought of danger and temptation. + +It is repelled by the commonplace and the ugly. + +When you talk to a young mind in a whisper and behind locked doors about +a temptation to be avoided, you but give edge to appetite and curiosity. + +When you bring the temptation out into the glare of sunlight, and speak +of it in presence of the whole world, you dispel the illusion. + +I will gather together some data concerning the sporting men of America, +and send your son. I will also mail him the sporting papers regularly. +Let him talk and read openly about the subject, and it will lose half +its weird charm. + +He, too, should learn to dance, swim, fence, and ride. His bounding +vitality needs directing in wholesome channels. I have never understood +the prejudice against dancing. + +To me, it is a form of religious praise of the Creator of youth, health, +vitality, and grace. I have always loved dancing, and the exercise, +besides being eminently beneficial to the health and wonderfully +conducive to grace is, to my thinking, highly moral in its effect. Its +only danger lies in wrong associations, and these seem to threaten young +people who are restricted from the enjoyment in their homes and among +their rightful companions. + +I cannot help thinking that Loie Fuller should have a niche in the hall +of fame, among the "Immortals," for having given the last century her +exquisitely beautiful creations in dancing. + +No woman has given us a great epic, or a great painting, or a great +musical composition, but she has given us a great dance-poem, which is +at the same time a painting and a song. Oh, you poor starved, blind +soul, to be deprived of such beautiful spectacles. How I pity you, and +how I pray you to give your children the privileges you have missed +through a belittling idea of your Creator. + +Do you fancy God would punish beautiful young Rebecca for dancing, any +sooner than he would blight the willow-tree for waving its graceful arms +to the tune the wind-harps play? + +Come up out of the jungles of ignorance and bigotry, my dear cousin, +and live on the hilltops and bring your children with you. For there you +will all find yourself nearer to God and to humanity. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles McAllister + +_Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + + +I am glad that for once you have written and asked my advice before you +began your course of action. + +You wrote me after you entered Vassar and asked me what I thought of +your doing so. + +You wrote me after you married Doctor McAllister, and asked me what I +thought of that. My reply was a wedding gift and a telegram of good +wishes. Now, after three years of married life, you write again and ask +me to decide a question which has caused some discussion between you and +the doctor. + +"He did not take my view of the matter at first," you say, "but he does +now. Still, I feel that I would like another unprejudiced opinion +before I take the contemplated step. You knew I left college before +finishing my course. I was in love and the doctor urged me not to make +him wait another year. He said I knew enough to make him happy, and so I +consented." + +Then you proceed to tell me that you have never regretted this step, and +that you have the best husband in the world. But you have decided +musical gifts, and before meeting the doctor you intended going abroad +to cultivate them after you finished at Vassar. This old ambition has +taken hold of you again, and you want to join a friend, one of your +classmates, who sails in June to study art in Europe. You desire to take +a two or three years' course, and then you will be equipped with an +accomplishment which could be made a profession if necessity demanded. + +"One never knows what the future holds," you say, "and it is the duty of +every woman to make the most of herself." Both remarks are as true as +they are trite. An almost graduate of Vassar should be more original in +expressing herself. + +But there is another duty a woman should not forget--the duty to stand +by her marriage vows and to make her husband a good wife. It seems the +doctor did not eagerly approve your idea at the beginning. I am glad he +did not. Unless a wife is in a precarious state of health or has an +ailing child, I always suspect the honesty of a husband who cheerfully +seconds her suggestion of a protracted absence from home. + +When a man shows no regret at having his wife away for an entire season, +there is something wrong with his heart. + +Love does not find its home there, or he could not speed her going so +far, and for so long a time, at the bidding of ambition or pleasure. You +evidently have won the doctor over by argument, and made him feel that +he is selfish to tie you down or clip the wings of your ambition. The +American husband is so fearful of seeming a tyrant. "He realizes now," +you say, "that a woman has the right to develop the talents God gave +her just as a man does, and that it is a wrong against her 'higher self' +to crush down these ambitions. He realizes, too, that this separation +means greater powers of usefulness for me in the future, and greater +opportunities for pleasure. It will be a long and lonely time for both +of us, as I shall only come home once or twice and the doctor may not be +able to go over at all, though I hope he will. But the expense of my +studies will of course be great, and we shall both need to economize. It +is my intention to start a little conservatory after I return and take a +few high-priced pupils. In that way I can reimburse our expenditure." + +But can you, my dear Winifred, _reimburse your mutual losses in other +ways_? You do not seem to realize what such a separation may mean. You +are both young and both attractive. I know now that you are beginning to +be angry at my suggestion, but, fortunately, you cannot interrupt me, +and you must hear what I have to say. + +Of course you are not a frivolous flirt, or a silly-headed creature +with no ideals or principles. You have nothing of the adventuress in +your composition, but you are a young woman, with personal charms and +talents, and life will be unutterably desolate for you if you make a +recluse of yourself. You will be surrounded by people of artistic +temperaments and tastes, and I know, if you do not, that many of these +people do lack ideals, and some of them lack principles and take pride +in the fact. "Art for art's sake, life for pleasure's sake," is their +motto. The entire situation will be full of danger for you. But far more +danger will surround your husband. A man's temptations are always +greater than a woman's. That is, there are _more_ temptations in his +pathway, from the fact that he is by nature and environment less guarded +and protected, and the penalties for folly are less severe. And of all +men, unless it is a clergyman, a physician is most exposed to +temptation. He is the confidant of hysterical women and the sharer of +domestic secrets. Many a woman believes she is ill only because she +desires the sympathy of her doctor, just as many a woman fancies herself +disturbed with religious agitation only because she wants the society of +her minister. + +Of course a doctor of any character or principle does not compromise his +reputation or disgrace his calling readily. I hear Doctor McAllister +spoken of as a man of high standing, and his picture shows a +well-balanced head and an honest, manly face. But "A man's a man for a' +that," my dear Winifred. + +We must accept facts as they exist all about us, and we must not demand +of half-evolved human beings what we would expect of wholly divine +creatures. It is an unnatural position for a man to be separated from +the wife he loves for months and years. + +Unless he is sustained by intense religious beliefs, extreme sympathy or +sorrow for her (as he might be were she compelled by some great trouble +or duty to be absent), it is impossible for him not to grow in a measure +forgetful of his ideals of constancy, and to drift into bachelor habits +of distraction. Men do a thousand and one things for amusement which no +woman could or would. Gilded and glittering halls of vice are inviting +the inspection and patronage of men who are left at home by journeying +and pleasure-seeking wives. + +I know this terrible statement to be absolutely true--_gambling-houses +and dens of infamy speak of their "best season" when wives leave town +for summer outings, just as a farmer speaks of his harvest season when +crops are ripe._ I do not suppose your husband will seek the +companionship of gamblers or depraved souls during your absence. Men as +seemingly high and strong as he have fallen so low, but I do not believe +he will. Yet, so long as we know such conditions exist, and so long as +men as a class take the liberties they do when left to find distraction +and entertainment, it seems to me little less than criminal when a young +wife like yourself deliberately leaves her home and husband for the sake +of any possible attainment. + +You have no right to marry a man and then to make his happiness and his +comfort secondary to your ambitions. + +If he had neglected you, if he failed to support you, if he was not +loyal to you, it would be different. + +But you say he is "the best of men," and that you never have regretted +marrying him. + +Then let me beg of you to stand by him, as a wife should, and to make +what progress in your music you can at home, and wait until your husband +can accompany you before you go abroad to study. + +The highway of divorce is crowded with the student wives who have been +"abroad to study," leaving their husbands at home to earn the money. Do +not be one of them. + +There are greater things than a satisfied ambition, and a clean, happy, +united married life is one. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Maternity_ + + +I have tried to imagine myself in your place, as you requested, before +answering your letter. + +To be the mother of two children, and to know that a third may be added +before the fifth anniversary of your wedding, is for the most maternal +of women a situation requiring rare patience and much philosophy. + +I know that your strength is depleted, that you are nervously unstrung, +and I can understand your despondent state of mind. + +It seems to you that all romance and sentiment in life is being +sacrificed to breeding the species. You feel that you have some personal +privileges as a wife and a woman, not less than a mother. + +Like yourself, I do not believe woman's only mission in life to be the +production of offspring, yet I consider motherhood the highest privilege +accorded her who has for it the right physical and moral qualities. + +Only strong, sensible, and healthy women should become mothers, and it +is a mistake for even such as they to be kept constantly in that +occupation. + +You possess all the requisites, and you ought to bring fine children +into the world, since you married the man you loved, and have been happy +with him. + +But I can understand your reluctance to pass through the ordeal which +modern motherhood in civilized races means, for a third time, in so +short a period. But try and take another view of the situation. + +Benjamin Franklin was the fifteenth child of a poor tallow chandler. It +is altogether probable that his coming seemed a misfortune to his +mother, taxed with the care of such a brood. Think what the world would +have missed had he not come to earth. + +Then think of this unborn child as something wonderful and divine, given +to you to perfect. Believe it is to be the greatest blessing to you and +to the whole world. + +Cultivate love and protection in your heart for it. + +Tell yourself every hour of the day that the God of love will not desert +you or deprive you of strength and courage for your ordeal. That he will +be ever near, and sustain and comfort you. + +Desire all beautiful and good qualities to be given your child, and +resolutely turn away from the contemplation of anything that is hideous, +or unwholesome, or depressing. + +Look for pleasing objects, read cheerful and uplifting books, and from +infinite space call to you all ministering influences. + +Consider how short a time, when compared to the span of human life, +expectant motherhood occupies, and realize the vastness of its +influence upon the nature of the child, and through that nature upon all +humanity. + +Once you grasp that consciousness, you will feel your closeness to the +Creator of all things. + +Indeed, there is no other being on earth so nearly Godlike in power as +the mother who realizes what her influence over her unborn child may be. + +The hard and painful path for you to walk is but a short one compared to +the long roadway to eternity for your child. + +Perhaps some great statesman, or some great artist, or some great +scientist or philosopher is lying under your heart, and it is in your +power to make or mar his development. Perhaps a Joan of Arc, or a Rosa +Bonheur, or a Martha Washington will crown you with pride. + +Such genius and influence for good as the world has never before known, +from mortal sources, may be given to it through your unborn child. How +wonderful your privilege, how vast your power! + +Only a few short months, and then the growing wonder of a child's +unfolding mind, to beautify your days. + +Think of it in this way, dear little tired and nervous woman, and God +and all his angels will hover over you, I know, and all will be well +with you. + +My prayers are with you. + + + + +To Mr. Alfred Duncan + +_Concerning the Ministry_ + + +And so you have changed your plan of life and, instead of becoming an +experimenter with the flesh, are going to be a healer of souls. + +And what do I think about it? I am glad you are not to be an M.D. There +is an era coming when the doctor will be a prehistoric creature. Oh, it +is far, far away, but already the most progressive minds have ceased to +regard the family physician as an infallible being. + +Medicine has made the least progress of any of the sciences in the last +few centuries. + +Credulity has cured more people than pills. + +Were you to study medicine, I should advise you to take up surgery, +osteopathy, electricity, the Kneippe Cure, milk diet, and all the +various methods of stimulating circulation; for the people who +patronize these treatments are increasing, as the powder and pill +patrons are on the decrease. + +Then, too, I should urge you to make a careful study of mental and +spiritual methods of cure, that you might be wholly equipped for the +dawn of the new age. You are a young man, and you will probably live to +see a wonderful change in the treatment of disease, and to find the +physician of the old school relegated to the historian. + +But just as carefully you should now survey the religious horizon, +before beginning your studies for the ministry. + +It is utterly useless to stand with lifted eyes and say, "The faith of +my parents is good enough for me--good enough for all mankind." + +Had the children of ancient Salem said that, and their children repeated +it, you would probably be lighting faggots at this moment to roast a +"witch," instead of a brother of the opposite creed. + +The narrow, intolerant old dogmas have been forced into elasticity by +the later generations, and the broadening work still goes on. + +It makes no difference how satisfied you may be with a prospective lake +of fire for your enemies, the congregations you are to address will not +listen to that style of sermon as did your grandparents. + +Only the ignorant minds to-day harbour ideas of cruelty and revenge in +connection with a Creator. + +Thinkers find such theories inconsistent with religious belief. +Individual thought is leading to individual faith. + +Where once I believed in a universal church for all the world, I now +believe in a separate creed for each soul, one fashioned to suit his own +particular need, with the underlying basis of love for all created +things as its foundation. + +Let each man worship in his own way, and follow his own ideal of duty to +God and humanity. + +If it is the pleasure of one to give up all his worldly goods, and to +go and live and labour among the poor, wish him Godspeed; but if another +keeps his place among men of affairs, makes money honestly, and uses it +unselfishly, let him, too, have your blessing, since he is setting a +good example for the worldly-minded. If one man finds himself nearer to +God on Sunday by going out and peacefully enjoying the beauties of +nature and the association of his kind, do not try to convince him that +he is on the highway to perdition because he does not sit in a pew and +listen to depressing sermons. + +The day is over for that type of clergyman to succeed. + +Make a study of the needs of men _to-day_, and suit your sermons to +those needs. + +Men need to know more of the wonders of God's universe. Talk to them in +a brief, concise, interesting manner of the recent discoveries of +science, and their frequent remarkable corroboration of the old +religious theories. Thousands of years ago, in Egypt and India, wise men +said that metals and all created things possessed life, and were a part +of one great immortal whole, of which man was the highest expression. + +Science is "discovering" and proving the truth of many statements made +by those old seers and savants. Call the attention of the men of to-day +to this fact, and set them thinking on the wonders of the immortal soul. + +The man of to-day is an egotist regarding his scientific achievements. +He has grown to think of himself as a giant before whose material +success all other things must give way. He believes that he has +discovered, invented, photographed and made profitable all the "facts" +of the universe, and is inclined to regard with intolerance any idea +beyond his own mechanical domain. + +Tell him how much was divined thousands of years ago, and lead him to +realize the mighty depths of the unsounded ocean of his own being. + +To know your own triple self, body, mind, and spirit, and to make +yourself a complete man, with the body beautiful, the mind clear, the +spirit radiant, is better than to have all the Bibles of the ages, in +all their ancient languages, at your tongue's tip. + +Help men to the building of character, which shall enable them to be +honest in street and mart, unselfish in home and society, and +sympathetic to their fellow pilgrims. + +Salvation is gained as a house is built, brick by brick, day after day, +not by spasmodic efforts one day in the week, and the destruction of +that effort in the remaining six. + +And each man must be his own mason, and select and lay his own bricks. +All the clergyman can do is to act the part of overseer. + +The man who goes to another, and expects his prayers to save him, is +like the mason who expects the "boss" to do his work, while he draws the +pay. Do no man's task--physical, mental, or spiritual. That is not +friendship or religion. Your work is to stimulate others to do their own +work, think their own thoughts, and live their own lives. + +The world to-day demands facts to sustain faith. + +_Spiritual facts are to be obtained_. + +Find them: for once convinced of the continuation of life beyond the +grave, and of the necessity to earn its privileges, by self-conquest and +character-building, humanity will rise "from the lowly earth to the +vaulted skies," and will realize that this earth is but the anteroom to +larger spheres of usefulness. + +Go forth and find--go forth and find, and do not be afraid to strike out +of beaten paths and avoid ruts. Cultivate spiritual courage. It is what +few clergymen possess, and it will give you individuality at least. + +Preach the religion of happy harmonious homes. Make men and women +realize that heaven must begin here, in order to continue farther on, +and that the angelic qualities, of love, sympathy, goodness, +appreciation, must be rehearsed in the body, before they can be +successfully enacted in full-dress angel costume with wings. + +God will not care for the eternal praises sung about his throne by a man +who swears at his wife on earth, or a wife who nags her husband and +children. It is no use expecting a rôle in a continuous performance of +happiness in heaven, if you do not learn one line of the part on earth. + +Make your congregations think of the necessity to _live_ their religion +in earth's commonplace daily situations. + +That is the religion the world needs. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gray + +_Concerning Polygamy_ + + +All that you say, regarding the excitement over the seating of your Salt +Lake Senator, is quite true. + +I have visited your city, and have made the acquaintance of many of your +people, and I know the private life of the gentleman you sent to +represent you in Washington is beyond reproach. + +He is a good husband, a good father, a good citizen. He was born of a +polygamous father and mother, and his childhood's home was a happy one. +He was educated in the belief that it was wrong for a man to cohabit +with any woman not his wife, but right for him to marry many wives. + +He has not married many wives, however, and does not intend to. His +private life, his domestic life and his financial record are all clean +and clear of stain. + +So much cannot be said of many other Senators and Representatives at our +capitol. + +Good women are horrified when seeking government positions to find how +the sacrifice of virtue is demanded as payment for influence. + +These statements cannot be evaded or denied. Let one who questions them +investigate the conditions existing in Washington in the past and +to-day. + +What a record it would be were every girl and woman who had been led +into the path of folly by married Senators and Representatives to come +forth and tell her story! + +There are clean, decent, high-minded men in both houses. There are good +citizens, good patriots, good men there. + +But so long as one married seducer and misleader of women retains a seat +in either house unmolested, so long as one man stays who is unfaithful +to his marriage vows, the opposers of the Senator from Utah should base +their objections on other than moral grounds. + +But despite the facts you bring to bear on your argument, that polygamy +leads to more morality in the homes of the land than our present +conditions illustrate, I must disagree with you. + +I am opposed to polygamy. Any social arrangement which licenses men to +possess several women, to give full rein to their desires, is a block to +the wheels of progress. + +Not until man learns the lesson of self-control, as woman has learned +it, will humanity reach its highest development. + +Not until man ceases to place himself on a par with the unreasoning male +animal, when he argues on the subject of the sexual relations, will he +become the master of circumstance he is meant to be. + +One man and one woman living sexually true to each other is the ideal +domestic life. Better strive toward that ideal, and fail and strive +again, than to lower it and accept license and self-indulgence as the +standard, under some religious name. + +Polyandry and polygamy are both evidences of a crude and half-evolved +humanity. + +They belong to a society which has not learned the law of self-control +as a part of its religious creed and the march of progress. The light of +science makes havoc of all such primitive conditions. + +You tell me that your father was the husband of three wives, and that +all lived under one roof in sisterly love, and that you never heard an +unkind word spoken in your home, and that all three wives loved you as a +son. You tell me your father held high ideals of womankind, and that the +existence of a fallen woman was impossible in your community. + +Now I contend that any woman who accepts less than the full loyalty of +the man to whom she gives herself for life _has fallen from woman's +highest estate_. She lowers not only herself, but the whole sex. + +To take a third of a man's love, and to share his physical and mental +and spiritual comradeship with two other wives, is far more immoral, to +my thinking, than to take the whole of a man without legal authority. + +It drags down and belittles woman in the eyes of man. It is useless to +contend that such conditions lead to respect. + +There is too much of the big male I, and the little female you, in the +arrangement. There is too much of the old idea that God made man, and +accident made woman, for man's use. There is too much of self-indulgence +for the man, and repression for the woman,--a condition which has +blocked the highest development of the race for centuries. + +Meanwhile, I think it a great pity that society does not hold the +expectant mother in the same reverence as in your community. That is +certainly a lesson we can learn from the Mormons. And that explains why +your children, born of polygamous mothers, are stronger physically, and +more universally endowed mentally, than the average children in the +world at large. + +Mothers were guarded and protected and revered, and children were made +welcome, and no such crime as darkens our own social world--the crime of +destroying embryo life--was known in your midst. + +It is a glorious heritage to give a child this parental love and +welcome. It lasts through eternity. + +But it does not seem to me that it is necessary to have polygamy prevail +in order to produce right conditions for the propagation of offspring. +In time the world will realize the importance of teaching men and women +how to become good parents. + +It will learn, too, the magnificent results to be obtained from one +moral code for both sexes, and this result could never be obtained in a +polygamous community. + + + + +To Walter Smeed + +_Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + + +Before you left us, I realized that you and my pretty secretary were +finding matters of mutual interest. + +Therefore, I am not surprised that you are thinking seriously of her as +a future companion. + +Rosalie is a charming, intelligent, warm-hearted, excellent girl, and +there is no reason why she would not make you a good wife, save the one +you mention--the difference in your creeds. + +You are a Roman Catholic, Rosalie is a devout Protestant. + +Were the cases reversed, and were you the Protestant and Rosalie the +Catholic, I should say the chances of happiness were greater than as +conditions now stand. + +As a rule, the most religious man is more liberal than the religious +woman. And when marriage between a Roman Catholic and a Protestant is +the question, there is need of greater liberality on the part of the +Protestant than on that of the Catholic. + +Why? Because with the Protestant there is no consideration to be thought +of outside of his or her own convictions and feelings. + +With the Catholic, the power of the Church and the law regarding the +rearing of the children in its faith walks beside the contracting party, +sits at the table, and sleeps on the marital couch. + +There is no happiness for the husband or wife who has entered into such +a marriage, after the arrival of children, unless the laws of the Church +are obeyed. + +When the wife is a Catholic, the fact that she is a good woman and true +wife satisfies the Protestant husband, as a rule, and he makes no +objection to her carrying out the contract with her Church regarding the +education of the children. + +If they are as moral and good as their mother, he does not care what +faith occupies their hearts or in what way they worship God. + +But to the mother this is a matter of vital importance. + +Woman is by nature more devout than man. + +Woman is by nature more tyrannical than man. + +Take those two characteristics, and add to them the tendency of many +women to bigotry and intolerance, and it makes the matter of creeds +vital in marriage. + +Rosalie is broader-minded than many women, yet she is devoted to the +Congregational Church, and rarely misses attendance. + +It will be an easy matter for her to accept your faith for yourself and +to allow you to attend your own church, and she is, I am sure, broad +enough to go with you occasionally, if you request it. + +But when she becomes a mother, and the children's minds are unfolding, I +doubt her willingness to have them brought up in any faith save her own. + +To an unwedded girl in love, a child is a very indistinct creature. + +To a mother, it is a very real being. + +I have seen men as deeply in love as you are, with women as +liberal-minded as Rosalie, become very unhappy after marriage through +the opposite ideas of the wife regarding the education of children. + +You must remember how much more closely a mother's life is entwined +about her children, and how much more of their association usually falls +to her than to the father. + +This is especially true of daughters, and is true of sons up to a +certain age. + +You can understand, I am sure, how much more companionship a mother +would find in children who accepted her faith and attended her church +than in those whose spiritual paths led in another direction. + +I know Rosalie realizes that a good life, not a certain creed, leads to +the goal she seeks, after this phase of existence closes, and she does +not ask you to change your faith. But while she would also believe her +children were on the road to that goal, she would want them to walk +through her path and by her side. + +It will be hard to relinquish the woman you love, to-day, for the +children who might not come to-morrow. + +Yet I can give you the counsel you asked on this matter only from my +personal observation of similar unions. + +I should advise you to try an absence of some duration, and to forget +Rosalie if you can, since you have not yet declared yourself. + +Better a little temporary sorrow than a life of discord. + +As you grow older your religion will, in all probability, gain a +stronger ascendency over your nature, and the church to which you belong +is very tenacious in its hold upon its members. + +Rosalie is not of a yielding nature, and as I said before, she is more +devoted to her church than most young women of the day. + +The physical phases of your love blind you now. But these phases are +only a part of the tie which must bind husband and wife to make love +enduring through all of life's vicissitudes. + +There must be mental companionship, and to be a complete union there +must be sympathy in spiritual ideas. + +The very young do not realize this fact, but it is forced upon the +mature. + +Marital love is like a tree. It first roots in the soil of earth, and +then lifts its branches to the heavens. Unless it does so lift its +branches it is stunted and deformed, and is not a tree. Unless it roots +in earth it is not a tree, but an air-plant or a cobweb. + +You want to be sure the tree you are thinking to make a shelter for your +whole life, will have far-reaching and uplifting branches, and will not +be merely an earth-bound twig. + +Since your church permits no second marriage save by the door of death, +do not make a mistake in your first. + +Take a year, at least, of absence and separation, and think the matter +over. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + + +It is with genuine regret that I learn of your determination to send my +nephew out of your life. Wilfred is a royal fellow, as that term is +employed by us. He is what a man of royal descent in monarchies rarely +proves to be,--self-reliant, enterprising, industrious, clean, and with +high ideals of woman. + +Eight years ago I declined a request of his for a loan, and told him my +reasons--that I believed loans were an injury to our friends or +relatives. My letter seemed to arouse all the strength latent in his +nature, and he has made a remarkable record for himself since that time. +I have known that he was deeply in love with you for the last two years, +and I had hoped you would listen to his plea. He tells me that you +imparted your history to him, and that you say it is your intention to +remain single, as you would not like to bring children into the world to +suffer from the stigma upon your name. He has shown me your letter +wherein you say, "I am not in fault for having to blush for the sins of +my parents; but I would be in fault if my children had to blush for the +blemish upon the name of their grandparents. I do not feel I could meet +their questioning eyes when they asked me about my parents. I can better +bear the loss of the personal happiness of a home and a husband's love." + +Wilfred is just the man to protect you and to keep the world at a +distance, where it could not affect your life by its comments. He +regards your birth in the same light that I do, and would rather +transmit your lovely qualities of soul and mind to his descendants than +the traits of many proudly born girls who are ready to take him at the +first asking: for you must know how popular he is with our sex. + +I can not believe you are insensible to his magnetic and lovable +qualities, but, as you say, you have been so saddened by the sudden +knowledge of your history that it has blunted your emotions in other +directions. I can only hope this will wear away and that you will +reconsider your resolve and consent to make Wilfred the happy and proud +man you could, by becoming his wife. + +_Never forget that God created love and man created marriage_. + +And to be born of a loveless union is a darker blight than to be born in +love without union. + +But what I want to talk about now, is your determination to live a +single life and to devote yourself to reclaiming weak and erring women. +You are young to enter this field of work, yet at twenty-four you are +older than many women of thirty-five, because you have had the +prematurely ripening rain of sorrow on your life. I know you will go +into the work you mention with the sympathy and understanding which +alone can make any reformatory work successful. Yet you are going to +encounter experiences which will shock and pain you, in ways you do not +imagine now. + +You are starting out with the idea of most sympathetic good women, that +all erring souls of their own sex fall through betrayed trust, and +broken promises, and misplaced love. Such cases you will encounter, and +they will most readily respond to your efforts for their reformation. +But many of those you seek to aid will have gone on the road to folly +through mercenary motives, and this will prove a vast obstacle. + +When a woman sells to Mammon, under any stress of circumstance, that +which belongs to Cupid, there is something left out of her nature and +character which renders the efforts of the reformers almost useless. You +know all real, lasting reform must come from within. The woman who has +once decided that fine apparel, and comfort, and leisure, are of more +value to her than her virtue usually reaches old age or disease before +the reformer can even gain her attention. You will find many such among +your protégées, and you may as well leave them to work out their own +reformation, and turn your energies to those who long for a better life. + +It is that longing which means real reformation. To paraphrase an old +couplet-- + + The soul reformed against its will + Clings to the same old vices still. + +I do not believe in a forced morality, save as a protection to a +community. I believe in it as a legal fence, but it possesses no value +as a religious motive. It helps to save society some annoyance, but it +does not materially improve the condition of humanity. Such improvements +must come from the desire of men and women to reach higher standards. +So, after you have planted a little seed in the mind of the mercenary +Magdalene which may in time sprout and grow, pass on, and find those who +have gone wrong from other causes, and who are longing for a hand to +lead them right. + +And of all things do not expect a girl who has lived in the glare of red +lights, and listened to the blare of bands, and worn the ofttimes +becoming garb of folly, and stimulated her spirits with intoxicants--do +not expect her, I say, to suddenly be contented with quiet and solitude, +and drudgery, and cheap, unlovely garments, and goodness. Give her +something to entertain her and to occupy her mind, give her something to +live for and hope for and to be pleased over, besides the mere fact of +reformation. The opium victim, you must remember, can not at once +partake of wholesome food and be well and happy in the thought that he +has given up his drug. Neither can the folly victim. The standards of +happiness and contentment which the moral woman has always found +satisfactory, she too often considers sufficient for the sister who has +wandered from the path. But they are standards which, once lost, must be +gained step by step, painfully and slowly. They are not reached by a +bound. As much as possible keep your reformed sister's mind from +dwelling on the past, or from talking of her mistakes and sins. Blot +them from her memory by new and interesting plans and occupations. The +way to live a new life is to live it. + +And our thoughts and conversation are important parts of living. Instead +of praying aloud to God to forgive her sins, show the God spirit in +yourself by forgiving and forgetting and helping her to forget. + +And now a word about yourself. + +You are twenty-four, lovely, sympathetic, fond of children and animals, +wholesome and normal in your habits, without crankiness, and popular +with both sexes. While there are many wives and widows possessed of +these qualities, there seems to be some handicap to the spinster in the +race of life who undertakes to arrive at middle age with all the womanly +attributes. Almost invariably she drops some of them by the wayside. She +becomes overorderly and fussy--so that association with her for any +length of time is insupportable--or careless and indifferent. Or she may +grow inordinately devoted to animal pets, and bitter and critical toward +children and married people. + +She may develop mannish traits, and dress and appear more like a man +than a feminine woman. + +She may ride a hobby, to the discomfort of all other equestrians or +pedestrians on the earth's highway. She may grow so argumentative and +positive that she is intolerant and intolerable. And whichever of these +peculiarities are hers, she is quite sure to be wholly unconscious of +it, while she is quick to see that of another. Now watch yourself, my +dear Sybyl, as you walk alone toward middle life; do not allow yourself +to grow queer or impossible. It was God's intent that every plant should +blossom and bear fruit, and that every human being should mate and +produce offspring. The plant that fails in any of its functions is +usually blighted in some way, and the woman who fails of life's full +experiences seems to show some repellent peculiarity. But she need not, +once she sets a watch upon herself; she has a conscious soul and mind, +and can control such tendencies if she will. + +It is unnatural for a woman to live without the daily companionship of +man. The superior single woman must make tenfold the effort of the +inferior wife, to maintain her balance into maturity, because of her +enforced solitude. As the wife-mother grows older she is kept in touch +with youth, and with the world, while the opportunities for close +companionship with the young lessen as a single woman passes forty, +unless she makes herself especially adaptable, agreeable, and +sympathetic. + +And this is what I want you to do. At twenty-four it is none too soon to +begin planning for a charming maturity. + +If you are determined upon a life of celibacy, determine also to be the +most wholesome, and normal, and all around liberal, womanly spinster the +world has ever seen. + +Peace and happiness to you in your chosen lot. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + + +No, my dear Edna, I do not think it strange that you should seek advice +on this subject from a woman who has no living children. + +It seems to me no one is fitted to give such unbiased counsel regarding +the training of children as the woman of observation, sympathy, and +feeling, who has none of her own. + +Had I offspring, I would be influenced by my own successes, and +prejudiced by my own failures, and unable to put myself in your place, +as I now do. + +A mother rarely observes other people's children, save to compare them +unfavourably with her own. I regret to say that motherhood with the +average woman seems to be a narrowing experience, and renders her less +capable of taking a large, unselfish view of humanity. + +The soldier in the thick of battle is able to tell only of what he +personally experienced and saw, just in the spot where he was engaged in +action. + +The general who sits outside the fray and watches the contest can form a +much clearer idea of where the mistakes occurred, and where the greatest +skill was displayed. + +I am that general, my dear friend, standing outside the field of +motherhood, and viewing the efforts of my battling sisters to rear +desirable men and women. And I am glad you have appealed to me while +your two children are yet babies to give you counsel, for I can tell you +where thousands have failed. + +And I thank you and your husband for reposing so much confidence in my +ideas. + +I think, perhaps, we had better speak of the postscript of your letter +first. You ask my opinion regarding the chaperon for your +sixteen-year-old sister, who is going abroad to study for a period of +years. Mrs. Walton will take her and keep her in her home in Paris, and +Miss Brown also stands ready to make her one of three young girls she +desires to chaperon and guide through a foreign course of study in +France and Germany. + +You like the idea of having your sister in a home without the +association of other American girls, until she perfects herself in +French, but you are worried about Mrs. Walton's being a divorced woman. +Miss Brown, the spotless spinster, seems the safer guide to your +friends, you tell me. + +I know the majority of women would feel that a single woman of good +standing and ungossiped reputation was a safe and desirable protector +for a young girl. + +The same majority would hesitate to send their girls away with a +divorced woman. + +But as I remarked in the beginning, I have stood outside the fray and +watched similar ventures, and I have grown to realize that it is not +mere respectability and chastity in a woman which make her a safe +chaperon for a young girl,--it is a deep, full, broad understanding of +temperaments and temptations. + +Had I a daughter or a sister like your sweet Millie, I would not allow +her to live one year under the dominion of such a woman as Miss Brown +for any consideration. Why? because Miss Brown is all brain and bigotry. +She is narrow and high, not deep and broad. + +She is so orthodox that she incites heresy in the rebellious mind of +independent youth. She is so moral she makes one long for adventure. She +would not listen to any questioning of old traditions, or any +speculative philosophizing of a curious young mind, and she would be +intolerant with any girl who showed an inclination to flirt or be +indiscreet. + +Your sister Millie is as coquettish as the rose that lifts its fair face +to the sun, and the breeze, and the bee, and expects to be admired. She +is as innocent as the rose, too, but that fact Miss Brown would never +associate with coquetry. + +She would class it with vulgarity and degeneracy. Miss Brown is a +handsome woman, but she has no sex instincts. She does not believe with +the scientist, "that in the process of evolution it is only with the +coming of the sex relation that life is enabled to rise to higher +forms." + +She believes in brain and spirit, and is utterly devoid of that feminine +impulse to make herself attractive to men, and wholly incapable of +understanding the fascination that Folly holds out to youth. She has +never experienced any temptation, and she would be shocked at any girl +who fell below her standard. + +She would carefully protect Millie from danger by high walls, but she +would never eradicate the danger impulse from her nature by sympathetic +counsel, as a more human woman could. + +Mrs. Walton is a much better guide for your sister. + +She ran away from boarding-school at seventeen, and married the reckless +son of a rich man. She had a stepmother of the traditional type, and +had never known a happy home life. She was of a loving and trusting and +at the same time a coquettish nature, and she attracted young Walton's +eye while out for a walk with a "Miss Brown" order of duenna. The +duenna saw the little embryo flirtation, and became very much horrified, +and preached the girl a long sermon, and set a close watch upon her +actions. + +There was no wise, loving guidance of a young girl's life barque from +the reefs of adventure. It was homily and force. The result was, that +the girl escaped from school before six weeks passed, and married her +admirer. + +He was fifteen years her senior, a reckless man of the world, even older +in experience than in years. He proved a very bad husband, but his young +wife remained with him until his own father urged her to leave him. She +was quietly divorced, and has lived abroad almost ever since, and holds +an excellent position in the French capital, as well as in other +European centres, and she is most exemplary in her life. Mr. Walton is +now an inmate of a sanitarium, a victim of paresis. + +I can imagine no one so well fitted to exert the wisest influence upon +Millie's life as Mrs. Walton. + +There is a woman who has run the whole gamut of girlish folly, and who +knows all the phases of temptation. She knows what it is to possess +physical attractions, and to be flattered by the admiration of men, and +she has passed through the dark waters of disillusion and sorrow. She +would be the one to help Millie out of dangerous places by sympathy and +understanding, instead of using sermons and keys. + +She would mould her young, wax-like character by the warmth of love, +instead of freezing it by austere axioms. + +Miss Brown would make an indiscreet young girl feel hopelessly vulgar +and immodest; Mrs. Walton that she understood all about her foolish +pranks, and was able to lead her in the better paths. + +Miss Brown prides herself upon never having lost her head with any man. + +Mrs. Walton is like some other women I have known, who have made +mistakes of judgment. She lost her head, but in the losing and the +sorrow that ensued she found a heart for all humanity. + +There are women in this world whose cold-white chastity freezes the poor +wayfarer who tries to find in their vicinity rest and comfort and +courage. + +Other women cast a cooling shadow, in which the sun-scorched pilgrim +finds peace--the shadow of a past error, from which spring fragrant +ferns and sweet grasses, where tired and bleeding feet may softly tread. + +Mrs. Walton's life casts the shadow of divorce on her pathway, but it is +only the warm, restful shadow of a ripening and mellowing sorrow. Do not +fear to have Millie walk in it. + +It will be better for her than the steady glare from a glacier. + +I find I have said so much about your sister that I must reserve my +counsel about your children for another letter. + +Your postscript was brief, but pregnant with suggestion, and called for +this long reply. + +I shall write you again in a few days. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Children_ + + +Your wish to have your son, who is now four years old, begin to develop +the manly qualities, and your oldest daughter, who has reached the +mature age of three, start wisely on the path to lovely womanhood, is +far from being premature. + +"The tree inclines as the twig is bent," we are told. + +Most mothers wait until the tree is in blossom before they begin to +train its inclination. + +Your boy is quite old enough to be taught manly pride, in being useful +to you and his sisters. + +Such things are not successfully taught by preaching or scolding or +punishing; but are more easily inculcated by tact and praise, +object-lesson and play. + +A four-year-old boy is all ears when his father's praises and +achievements are recounted. Any father, save a brute, is a hero in the +eyes of his four-year-old son. I am sure Mr. Gordon has many admirable +traits you can use as interesting topics. + +Tell little Charlie how proud you are to have a son who will be like his +father, and attend to the needs of and look after the interests of his +mother and sisters. + +Make him think that to be of service to you or his sisters is one of the +first steps toward manhood, as indeed it is. + +When he performs any small kindness, praise his manliness. + +Teach him to open doors, and to make way for women and elders, as a part +of manly courtesy. + +Speak with gentle disapproval of the unfortunately common type of +American boy who pushes women and older people aside to scramble into +public conveyances and secure a seat before them. + +Say how proud you are that your son could not be guilty of such unmanly +conduct. + +When you are walking with him, call his attention to any woman or child +or poor man in trouble, and if his services can be of use, urge him to +offer them. + +I saw one day a small boy spring to the aid of an old coloured woman who +had dropped a lot of parcels in the street, and I thought it was a +certain evidence that his mother was a rare and sweet woman. For the +manners of little boys are almost invariably what their mothers make +them. + +Awake early in his heart a sympathy for the deformed, the crippled, and +otherwise unfortunate beings. + +There is no other country where such vulgar and heartless curiosity, and +even ridicule, is bestowed upon grotesque or unsightly types of +humanity, as in America. + +A little dwarfed girl in New York City committed suicide a few years +ago because she was so weary of being laughed at and ridiculed by her +associates in the street and at school. + +Think of that, in this Christian age, and in the metropolis of America! + +An old street peddler was set upon by school-children and so annoyed and +misused that he became insane. + +Another was injured by street children--the children of the public +schools--and died from the effects of their abuse. + +This is the fault of mothers who have never deemed it their duty and +privilege to awaken the tender and protective qualities in the character +of their children. + +Speak often to your boy of the pathos of dumb animals dependent upon +human thoughtfulness for food, drink, and decent usage. + +Say what a privilege it seems to you to be able to befriend them, and to +be a voice for them in making others realize their duty to our dumb +brothers. + +Obtain interesting books on natural history and read stories of animal +life to your boy. Instruct him in the habits of beast, bird, and insect, +and talk to him of the wonderful domestic instincts and affections in +many of our speechless associates. The exhilaration of the wild bird, +and the happiness of the deer and the hare in the woods and fields, call +to his mind day by day. It will be more gratifying to you when he is man +grown to feel he is the loving friend and protector, rather than the +skilled hunter of bird and beast. + +The higher order of man does not seek slaughter for amusement. He +realizes that he has no right to take, save for self-protection, that +which he cannot give. + +Make your son a higher order of man by developing those brain cells and +leaving the destructive and cruel portions of the brain to shrink from +lack of use. + +Even in his play with his inanimate toys, you can be arousing the best +or the worst part of your boy's nature. + +The child who whips and screams at his hobby-horse usually, when a man, +whips and bellows at his flesh and blood steed. + +Tell him the play-horse is more easily managed by coaxing and petting, +and that loud voices make it nervous and frightened. + +Suggest water and feed at suitable times, and express sorrow for the +horses with no kind boys to look out for them. + +Start a humane society in the nursery and make your boy president and +your little girl honorary member, and act as treasurer and secretary +yourself. + +Give him a medal when he offers food to a hungry street animal or speaks +to a driver cruel to his horse, or performs any other kind act. This +will be interesting play to your children, and it will be sowing seed in +fallow ground. + +Your baby girl is already old enough to take pride in picking up the +toys she scatters, and putting her chair where it belongs. Make it a +part of your hour of sport with her to help her do these things. She +will not know she is being taught order. + +I learned this lesson from a famous author whose baby son was anxious +to play about the library where his father was at work. + +The first act of the toddler was to toss all the books in sight upon the +floor and to sit down and turn the leaves, hunting for pictures. This +performance interested him for half an hour, when he proceeded to seek +new fields of action. + +"But now let us have great fun putting all the books back just where we +found them," cried the tactful father, with a wink and a laugh, which +made the child believe he was to enjoy the sport of his life. And it +_was_ made sport by the foolish pranks of the father who knew how little +it took to interest a child. + +The next day, and the next, the same fall and rise in the book market +took place, but on the fourth day the father was too deeply engrossed in +work to assist in the replacing of the books: when, lo! the small lad, +after a wistful waiting and unanswered call, proceeded to put the books +all back alone. + +_The first important brick in the foundation wall of order was laid_. + +So you can teach your little girl all the womanly habits of method, and +order, and neatness, and system, if you have the patience to act the +part of playmate with her a few moments daily. + +As she grows in understanding and years, keep yourself at her side, her +nearest friend. Let her feel that she can express her every thought to +you, and that every question which presents itself to her developing +mind, you will seek to answer to the best of your ability. + +Be her confidant, her adviser, her friend, and let her find pride and +happiness in doing things for you. + +Never act as maid or domestic to your daughter. + +Be the queen and make her your first lady-in-waiting, and show her the +courtesy and appreciation her position demands from royalty. She will be +a better daughter, and a better wife and mother, later in life, if you +do not make the mistake of the average American mother of waiting upon +her from the cradle to the altar. Let her grow up with the quiet +understanding that you are to be first considered, in matters social and +financial. Your wardrobe must be as well looked after as her own, and if +there is to be economy for one, let her practise it. + +The daughter who has a whole household sacrificing and toiling for her +pleasures is spoiled for a wife and woman. The most admirable young +women I have known--and I have known many--are those who were taught to +take it as a matter of course that the mother was first to be +considered, and lovingly served. + +Do not be afraid of making your daughter vain by telling her the +attractive features she may possess. + +Some one else will if you do not, and it is well for her to hear it from +lips which may more successfully offer counsel afterward. A certain +confidence in her own charms gives a sensibly reared young woman a poise +and self-possession which is to be desired. A touch of feminine vanity +renders a woman more anxious to please, and more alert to keep always at +her best. + +But beware of having her acquire egotism. Silly conceit is the +death-blow to higher attainments and to all charm. + +Teach your daughter early the accomplishment of listening well. She will +be certain to please if she understands its value. + +A woman who looks the converser in the eyes, and does not allow her +glance to wander and become distrait, and who does not interrupt before +the recital is finished, can be sure of popularity with both men and +women. + +Give both your son and daughter confidence in themselves and belief in +their power to achieve. There is tremendous power in the early +inoculation by the home influence of self-confidence, when it is +tempered by modesty and consideration for others. + +Remember whatever in your own bringing up seems to-day unfortunate, and +avoid it in the training of your children. + +Remember whatever was good and helpful, and emulate it. + + + + +To Miss Zoe Clayborn Artist + +_Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + + +I am sure, my dear niece, that you are a good and pure-minded girl, and +that you mean to live a life above reproach, and I fully understand your +rebellion against many of the conventional forms which are incompatible +with the career of a "girl bachelor," as you like to call yourself. But +let us look at the subject from all sides, while you are on the +threshold of life, in the morning of your career, and before you have +made any more serious mistakes than the one you mention. + +For it was a mistake when you accepted Mr. Gordon's telephone message to +lunch alone with him at a restaurant, even though you knew his wife +might not object. + +Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are happily married, parents of several children. +They are broader and more liberal and more unselfish than most parents, +and they went out of their path to extend courtesies to you, a young +country girl--at first because you were my niece, then because they +liked you personally. + +When I first wrote Mrs. Gordon that you were to open a studio in Chicago +after your course of study in the East, she expressed deep interest in +you, and seemed anxious to have you consider her as a friend--always +ready to act as a chaperon or adviser when you felt the need of wiser +guidance than your own impulses. + +Mrs. Gordon knew that your experience of the world was limited to a +country village in the West, and two years' study at the Pratt +Institute. While there she knew you boarded with a cousin of your +mother's, and enjoyed the association and privileges of the daughters of +the home. + +To start alone in Chicago, and live in your studio, and dine from a +chafing-dish, and sleep in an unfolded combination bureau and +refrigerator--has more fascinations to your mind than to Mrs. Gordon's. +She was reared in comfort, bordering on luxury, and while her early home +life was not happy, she enjoyed all the refinements and all the +privileges of protected girlhood. + +She knows city life as you cannot know it, and, although she discards +many of the burden-some conventions of society, she realizes the +necessity of observing some of its laws. + +She wanted you to feel that you had the background of a wholesome home, +and the protection of clean, well-behaved married friends in your +exposed situation; her attitude to you is just what she would want +another woman to hold toward her daughter, were she grown up and alone +in a large city. + +You have been her guest, and she has been your good friend. Mr. Gordon +admired you from the first, and that was a new incentive for this most +tactful and liberal of wives to befriend you. She always cultivates the +women he likes. + +This is excellent policy on the part of a wife. If the husband has any +really noble qualities or possesses a sterling character, he will +appreciate and respect his wife's confidence, and never violate it; and +added to this, he will usually become disillusioned with the women he +has admired from a distance, when he sees them frequently at too close +range. + +A wife can make no greater mistake than trying to fence her husband +about and obtruding high walls between him and the women he admires. Far +better bring them near and turn on the calcium light. + +Mr. Gordon is a born lover of the fair sex, a born gallant. He is, at +the same time, a clean, self-respecting man. But he has grown a trifle +selfish and a bit vain of late years. + +He does not fully realize what the interesting family of children he +shows with such pride to his friends has meant to their mother. + +It has not occurred to him that to be the mother of three children, the +youngest one year old, after six years of married life, has required a +greater outlay of all the mental, moral, and physical forces than has +been demanded of their father. + +He is a good husband,--yet he is not the absolutely unselfish and +liberal and thoughtful husband that Mrs. Gordon is wife. + +If she seemed to you at all nervous, or less adaptable to your moods +than he, you should stop and consider the many causes which might have +led to this condition. + +You are young, handsome, gifted, and unconventional, and all these +things appeal to men. You can attract all the admirers you want, and +more than you need, to enlarge your ideas of life, and extend your +knowledge of human nature. + +You say your ambition is to know the world thoroughly,--that it will aid +your art. + +I think that is true, if you do not pass the border-line and lose your +ideals and sacrifice your principles. Once you do that, your art will +lose what it can never regain. + +And remember this, my dear girl, no human being ever lived or ever will +live who gained anything worth having _by sacrificing the golden rule._ +In your search for knowledge of the world, and acquaintance with human +nature, _keep that motto ever before your soul's sight,_ "Do unto +others as you would have them do unto you." + +You say Mr. Gordon said or did nothing in that tête-à -tête luncheon his +wife might not have heard or seen, but the fact that he talked entirely +about you and art, and other universal subjects, and seemingly avoided +any reference to his wife and children, surprised you. + +And now you are wondering if you did wrong to accept this invitation. +Never accept invitations of any kind from married men, unless the wife +or some member of the family is included. + +No matter how willing the wife may be to have you enjoy her husband's +company, avoid tête-à -tête situations with benedicts. + +You say you are not egotistical enough to imagine Mr. Gordon had any +hidden motive for wanting to be alone with you, or for seemingly +forgetting in his conversation that he was a husband and father. Yet I +can see that in a measure it disillusioned you. + +You do not ask a man to fling his wife and children at the head of each +woman he meets, but you like him to recognize their existence. + +You are a young, romantic girl seeking the ideal. + +You want to find happy wives and husbands,--men and women who have +sailed away from the Strands of Imagination to the more beautiful land +of the Real, from whose shores they beckon you, saying: "Here is +happiness and great joy. Come and join us, and feel no fear in flinging +the illusions of youth behind you." + +If married men only knew that is what young women are seeking,--if +married women only knew that is what young men are seeking, what +reconstruction would take place in the deportment of husbands and wives! + +Never yet did a married woman indulge in flirtatious or sentimental +converse with a bachelor without lowering herself and all women in his +heart of hearts. + +Never yet did a married man seem to forget his domestic ties in the +presence of single women without losing a portion of their respect, +however they may have been flattered by his attentions. + +In every man's heart, in every woman's, is this longing to find husbands +and wives who are satisfied and happy and proud, above all other things, +of their loyalty. + +It would be well for you to keep this fact before the minds of the men +you meet. You can, in a small way, do your little toward educating on +this subject the married men you encounter. And you can save yourself +some embarrassing experiences. + +It is no compliment to you if the husband of your friend, or a stranger, +falls in love with you. + +It is an easy matter for a young, attractive woman to infatuate +irresponsible men. + +It is a far greater compliment to you when women respect and trust you, +and when you help elevate the ideals of weak men regarding your sex. + +You can study the whole Encyclopedia of Manhood without breaking through +the glass doors of your friend's bookcases. And you can live a free, +unconventional life without sacrificing one principle, though you may +ignore some customs. It is not the custom in conventional society for +young women to go to theatres or dinners alone with young men. Yet I am +perfectly willing you should join the large army of self-supporting, +self-respecting, and well educated girls who do these things. You have +been reared with that American idea of independence, and with that +confidence in your ability to protect your virtue and good name, which +carries the vast majority of our young women safely through all the +vicissitudes of youth, and sends them chaste wives to the altar. Our +American men understand this attitude of our girls, and half of them +respect it, without being forced to, as the other half can be, if woman +so wills. + +There is no reason, to my thinking, why you should not enjoy the +companionship of interesting bachelors and widowers, and take the +courtesies they offer, with no chaperon but your own pride, taste, and +will. So long as you know, and these men know, that you are doing +nothing and going nowhere you need remember with shame or regret, the +next day, just so long you are on no dangerous path. + +But you must draw the line at married men, happy or unhappy. Any +confidential, tête-à -tête companionship of a single woman with a married +man cheapens her in the eyes of all other men and women. + +It is a simpler matter to drift into free and easy manners and call them +"bohemian" than to cleanse your reputation of their stain, or lift your +mind from the mire to which they inevitably lead. + +Once a woman begins to excuse her lawless conduct on the ground of her +"artistic temperament," there are no depths to which she may not sink. + +Take pride in being at once independent yet discreet; artistic, yet +sensible; a student of men, yet an example of high-minded womanhood; an +open foe to needless conventions, yet a staunch friend of principles; +daring in methods, yet irreproachable in conduct; and however adored by +men, worthy of trust by all women. + +Do not take the admiration of men too seriously. Waste no vitality in a +rage over their weaknesses and vices. Regard them with patience and +inspire them to strive for a better goal than self-indulgence. + +You can safely take it for granted that many who approach you with +compliments for your charms, and pleas for your favours, would make the +same advances to any other attractive girl they chanced to encounter. + +Too many young women mistake a habit for a grand passion. And they +forget, while they are studying man, that he is studying woman, and +testing her susceptibility to flattery and her readiness to believe in +his simulated infatuation. + +Do not fall into the error of so many young country girls in a large +city, and imagine you can establish new laws, create a new order of +things, and teach men new lessons. + +A great city is like an ever-burning fire,--the newcomers who thrust in +their fingers will be scorched and scarred, but the fire will not be +changed or extinguished. + +_Keep out of the fire_. + +There is no reason why you should scar yourself or smoke your garments +while keeping comfortably warm. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years of Married Life_ + + +I have read your letter with care. I can readily understand that you +would not appeal to your wife's mother in this matter upon which you +write me, as she has been the typical mother-in-law,--the woman who +never gets along well with her children, and who never wants others to +succeed where she fails. I recollect your telling me how she marred the +wedding ceremony, by weeping and fainting, after having nagged her poor +daughter during twenty years of life, and interfered with her +friendships, through that peculiar jealousy which she misnamed "devoted +love." + +And now you are afraid that your wife is developing the same +propensity, and you ask me to use my influence to cure her of it in its +incipiency. You think I stand closer to Edna than any other friend. + +"It is only during the last two or three years that Edna has shown this +tendency," you say. "Until then she seemed to me the most sensible and +liberal-minded of women, always admiring the people I liked, and even +going out of her way to be courteous and cordial to a woman I praised. +Of late she has seemed so different, and has often been sarcastic, or +sulky, or hysterical, when I showed the common gallantries of a man fond +of the society of ladies." + +You think it is her inherited tendency cropping out, and that she is +unconscious of it herself. + +Well now permit me, my dear Mr. Gordon, to be very frank with you. + +I met your wife only once before she married you. + +She was a merry-hearted, healthy girl, with superb colour, and the +figure of a young Venus. She was a belle, and much admired by many +worth-while men. + +During her honeymoon, she wrote me a most charming letter speaking of +her happiness, and of her desire to make you an ideal wife. + +You and Edna were my guests for a few days when your first child was a +year old. She seemed more beautiful than ever, with an added spiritual +charm, and you were the soul of devotion. + +You are the type of man who pays a compliment as naturally as he +breathes, and whose vision is a sensitive plate which retains an +impression of every feminine grace. This impression is developed in the +memory-room afterward, and framed in your conversation. + +The ordinary mind calls such a man a flirt, or, in common parlance, "a +jollier;" but I know you to be merely appreciative of womankind in +general, while your heart is beautifully loyal to its ideal. You are a +clean, wholesome man, who could not descend to intrigue. You are +fine-looking, and you possess a gift in conversing. + +Of course women are attracted to you. Edna was proud of this fact, and +seemed to genuinely enjoy your popularity. + +That was five years ago. + +One year ago I visited your home. Edna was the mother of three children, +born during the first five years of marriage. + +She had sacrificed her bloom to her babies, and was pallid and anaemic. +Her form had lost its exquisites curves, and she seemed years older than +her age--older indeed than you, although she is four years your junior. +It is a mere incident to be a father of three children. It is a lifetime +experience to be their mother. She had developed nerves, and tears came +as readily as laughter came of old. + +She was devoted to her children, and felt a deep earnestness regarding +her responsibility as a mother. But she was still the intensely loving +wife, while you had sunk your rôle of lover-husband in that of adoring +father. + +You did not seem to think of Edna's delicate state of health, or notice +her fading beauty. You regarded her as a faithful nurse for your +children, and whenever you spoke of her it was as the mother, not as the +sweetheart and wife. + +When I mentioned the drain upon a woman's vitality to bring three robust +children into life in five years, you said it was only a "natural +function," and referred to the old-time families of ten and twelve +children. Your grandmother had fourteen, you said, and was the picture +of health at seventy-five. + +My own grandmother gave ten children to the world. But we must recollect +how different was the environment in those days. + +Our grandmothers lived in the country, and knew none of the strain and +excitement of these modern times. The high pressure of social and +financial conditions, as we know them, the effort to live up to the +modern standards, the congested city life and the expensive country +life, all these things make motherhood a different ordeal for our women +than our grandmothers. Where our grandfathers took their share of the +care and guidance of children, and the children came up in a wholesome +country fashion, our men to-day are so driven by the money gadfly that +they can only whirl around and around and attend "to business," and all +the care of the children falls upon the mother, or else upon the nurses +and governesses, who in turn are a care and a worry to the wife. + +You assured me Edna had all the assistants in caring for her children +she wanted, but you did not realize that every paid employé in a +household is, as a rule, just so much more care to the mistress, not +less than a tax on the husband's purse and, consequently, on his time. + +What Edna craves is _your_ love, _your_ attention, _your_ sympathy, not +the service of paid domestics. She wants you to notice her fading bloom, +and to take her in your arms and say, tenderly, "Little girl, we must +get those old roses back. And we must go away for a new honeymoon, all +alone, and forget every care, even if we forget the babies for a few +days." + +One little speech like that, one little outing like that, would do more +toward driving away the demon of jealousy than all I could by a thousand +sermons and homilies. + +I remember at your own board you made me uncomfortable talking about my +complexion, which you chose to say was "remarkable for a woman of my +age." And then you proceeded to describe some wonderful beauty you had +seen at the Country Club the day previous, and all the time I saw the +tears hidden back under the lids of Edna's tired eyes, and a hurt look +on her pale face. Do you imagine she was _jealous_ of your compliment to +me? or of your praise of the girl's beauty at the Country Club? + +No, no, my dear Mr. Gordon, I know Edna too well to accuse her of such +petty feelings. She was only hurt at your lack of taste in accenting her +own lost bloom by needlessly emphasizing another's possession of what +had once been hers. + +Yet she called upon the young lady that very day and invited her to +luncheon, and even then you indulged in pronounced admiration of the +guest's cheeks, gallantly requesting your wife to have the bouquet of +carnation pinks removed from the table, as they were so shamed by the +complexions of the ladies. + +Of course it was gracefully worded in the plural, but your pallid wife +could not claim her share of it, and you should have realized the fact. +And the reason she could not was that she had sacrificed her health in +your service, in giving your children to you, and in losing her lover. + +She adores her splendid babies, but she is still a woman and a +wife,--though you seem to ignore that she is anything but a mother. + +Right about face, Mr. Gordon, and become the lover you were, and +jealousy will be driven from your threshold. + +It is your own lack of thoughtfulness, your own tactless and tasteless +methods with your wife, which have caused the change in her manner. She +is not jealous, she is only lonely, heart-hungry, disillusioned. + +You are less noble, less considerate, less tender, less sympathetic +than she believed. For the man to whom these adjectives can be applied +will guard, love, and cherish the wife of his youth, and the mother of +his children, before all other considerations; and he will understand +how sensitive a fading wife may be, and not confound that sensitiveness +with ignoble jealousy. + +It is you, Charles Gordon, who must cure your wife of nerves, hysteria, +and incipient jealousy, not I. + + + + +To Mrs. Clarence St. Claire + +_Concerning Her Husband_ + + +I am sorry that your matrimonial barque meets so many rough winds while +hardly out of Honeymoon Bay. + +Clarence and you seemed so deeply in love when I last saw you, six +months after your wedding, that I had hoped all might go well with you. + +I knew the disposition of Clarence to be tainted with jealousy, but +hoped you would be able to eradicate it from his nature. + +You know his poor mother suffered agonies from the infidelities of his +father before Clarence was born. She had married a handsome foreigner +with whom she was desperately enamoured, while he cared only for the +fortune she brought him. + +While still in the full light of the honeymoon he began to indulge in +flirtations and amours, and poor Clarence, during the important prenatal +period of life, received the mark of suspicion and the tendency to +hypersensitiveness which then dominated the mother. + +By the time Elise was born she had passed through the whole process, and +was passive and indifferent. + +I cannot help a sensation of amusement, even in face of the condition +you describe (which is little short of tragic), as I recall the letter +Clarence wrote begging me to try and prevent, by fair means or foul, his +sister's marriage to old Mr. Volney. + +That was two years before you and Clarence were married. + +Elise, we all know, wedded for the money and position Mr. Volney gave, +in return for her young beauty. + +Clarence and you were ideal lovers, seeing nothing in the world outside +of your own selves. + +Yet Elise is quite contented, and Mr. Volney uses what little brain he +has left to exult over his possession of such a beautiful young wife. + +Elise upholds his dignity and flatters him into a belief that he is a +great philanthropist and a social power, and in this way she has the +handling of his millions, which is her idea of happiness. She travels, +entertains, and poses for photographs and paintings in imported gowns, +and there is no rumour of discontent or divorce. + +Meanwhile, Clarence, who was so opposed to her marriage because it was +loveless, is making a mess of his own love-match, through his jealousy. + +You, who knew him to be insanely jealous as a lover, and who seemed to +be flattered with what you thought a proof of his devotion, appeal to me +now to know what to do with the husband who is destroying your love and +your happiness! Surely, if Elise knew of this she might well say, "He +laughs best who laughs last." + +I know that you were absorbed in Clarence for the first year of your +married life, and that you gave no least cause for any jealousy, and I +know, as you say, that even then he was often morbid and unhappy over +nothing at all. + +He was jealous even of girl friends and relatives, and if you attended a +matinée with one of them, he sulked the whole evening. + +This was little more than he did as a lover, and you should have begun +in those days to reason him out of such moods. + +You imagined then it was his mad love for you which caused his +unreasonable jealousy. + +But jealousy is self-love, and selfishness lies at the root of such +conditions of mind as his. + +A woman should say to a man who sulks or goes into tantrums when she +pays courteous attentions to relatives or acquaintances, "You are +lowering my ideal of you--I cannot love a man who will indulge such +unworthy moods. You insult my womanhood and doubt my principles by your +suspicions; you intimate that I have neither truth, or judgment, or +pride. You must conquer yourself, and learn to trust me and to believe +in me, or I must decide I am no woman for you to take as a life +companion." A man should take the same course toward a jealous +sweetheart or wife. + +A few quiet but firm assertions of this nature, when you were being +wooed, would have given Clarence an idea that he could lose you, and +that he was making himself ridiculous in your eyes. Instead, you boasted +to your friends how wildly infatuated he was, and Clarence took new +pride in his own blemish of character. + +Now that you have to live day, and night, and week, and month, and year, +with this trait, it seems a less romantic phase of devotion, I fancy. +But you are not wise to grow reckless and ignore the wishes of your +husband in all ways, because he is unreasonable. "Since he is so +absolutely impossible to please," you say, "I may as well please myself. +I have decided to take some of the liberties so many of my acquaintances +do, and enjoy life outside my home if I cannot enjoy it within." + +Then you proceed to tell me how more than half your associates drive, +lunch, and dine with men acquaintances, and how old-fashioned they +consider your scruples. And you tell me that, despite your rectitude, +Clarence insults you almost daily by his unreasoning jealousy of men, +women, and even children. + +"I have about made up my mind to be less prudish and enjoy myself, as I +am sure Clarence cannot be any more jealous than he is," you say. + +Now since you have asked my advice in the matter, I can only urge you to +reconsider this last determination. + +So long as you are, according to law and in the eyes of the world, the +wife of a man, you cannot escape comment if you are frequently seen in +public places alone with another. + +Were you to look into the hearts of other men who ask you to dine, +drive, or lunch alone with them, you would find a feeling of increased +respect when you decline, although they may show only disappointment on +the surface. I know that many wives of unblemished reputation accept +courtesies of this kind from masculine friends, and I of course +understand that circumstances may arise which make an occasional +acceptance proper. + +But the fewer such occasions, the better and the safer for the married +woman. The man who is perfectly willing his wife should appear +frequently in public with other men does not fully appreciate the +dignity of her position or his own, or else he has lost his love for +her. + +The fact that your husband is jealous without reason is no excuse for +giving him reason. The moment men know that a husband is inclined to +jealousy, he falls in their estimation, and they are seized with a +desire to aggravate him, while they sympathize with the wife. + +The sympathetic friend of the abused wife is a dangerous companion for +her. He may mean to be platonic and kind, but almost invariably he +becomes sentimental and unsafe. + +Once in a thousand times the absolutely happy wife of a husband she +respects as well as loves can enjoy a platonic friendship with a man who +respects her, and himself, and her husband. But even that situation is +liable to prove insecure, if they are much together, owing to the +selfishness and weakness of human nature when the barriers of convention +are removed. + +But the unhappy wife must take no chances with Fate. + +She must either decide to accept her lot and bear it with philosophy, or +escape from it and begin life over, after the courts have given her the +right to reconstruct her destiny. + +You know all that entails. It is not a pleasant process. + +If your love for your husband is entirely dead, and you feel that he has +forfeited all right to your sympathy, pity, or patience, then break the +fetters and go free. But if you feel that you are not ready for that +ordeal, and that you must still remain living under the same roof with +him, and continue to bear his name, then do not join the great army of +wives who are to be seen in public restaurants and hotels dining +tête-à -tête with "platonic friends" over emptied glasses. + +You can but make trouble for yourself and add to the misery of your +husband by such a course. In your particular case, I feel that your +knowledge of the jealous disposition of the man you married renders it +your duty to bear and forbear, and to try every method of reformation +before you resort to the very common highway of divorce as an exit from +your unhappiness. + +A woman has no right to complain of the fault in a husband which she +condoned in a lover. And a man has no right to complain of the fault in +a wife he condoned in a sweetheart. Yet both may strive to correct that +fault. + +Insist upon having women and men friends who can be received at your +home in presence of your husband. Make Clarence realize how he belittles +himself in your estimation by unreasoning jealousy. Give him to +understand that you want to love him and respect him, and that you have +no intention of lowering your standard of behaviour, because he is +constantly expecting you to. Tell him it mortifies you to find greater +pleasure away from him than in his presence, yet when he insults you +with his suspicions, and destroys your comfort with his moods, you can +no longer think of him as your girlhood's ideal. + +Ask him to try, for your sake, to use more common sense and self-control +in this matter, and to help you to restore the happiness which seems +flying from your wedded lives. + +Do nothing to aggravate or irritate him, but do not give up your friends +of either sex; this is but to increase his inclination to petty tyranny, +while it will in no sense lessen his jealousy. + +And when you are alone, endeavour to think of him always as sensible, +reasonable, and kind. + +By your mental picture you can help to cure him of the blight he +received before his birth. It is the task set many a wife, to counteract +the errors and neglect of mothers. + +Look to the Divine source for help in your work, and remember the lovely +qualities Clarence possesses when he is not under the ban of this +prenatal mark. + +Love him out into the light if you can--and I believe you can if you are +not too soon discouraged. + +It is a nobler effort to try and create in your husband the ideal you +have in your mind, than to go seeking him elsewhere. + +Be patient and wait awhile. Such love as you and Clarence felt in your +courtship and early marriage cannot so soon have died. It is only +sleeping, and suffering from a nightmare. Awaken it to life and reality +and happiness. + + + + +To Young Mrs. Duncan + +_Regarding Mothers-in-Law_ + + +And so the serpent has appeared in your Eden, attired in widow's weeds, +and talking the usual jargon of "devoted mother love." I do not like to +say I told you so, but you must remember our rather spirited discussion +of this very serpent, when you announced your engagement and said Mr. +Duncan's mother was to make her home with you after your return from +abroad. + +I had met Mrs. Duncan, and I knew her type all too well. Alfred is her +only child, and she adores him, naturally, but it is adoration so +mingled with selfishness and tyranny that it is incapable of considering +the welfare of its object. + +Mrs. Duncan was always jealous of any happiness which came to her son +through another source than herself. That type of mother love is to be +encountered every day, and that type of mother believes herself to be +the most devoted creature on earth; while the fact is, she sits for ever +in the boudoir of her mentality, gazing at her own reflection. She loves +her children because they also reflect herself, and is incapable of +unselfish pleasure in their happiness apart from her. + +You will remember I urged you to wait until you could have a home, +however humble, alone with your husband, and even at the cost of that +most undesirable condition, a long engagement. + +But you assured me with much spirit that you had every confidence in +your power to win Mrs. Duncan's heart, and to crown her declining years +with peace and happiness. + +As well talk of decking a porcupine with wreaths of flowers, and making +it a household pet, to coddle and caress. + +When I congratulated Mrs. Duncan on her son's engagement to such a +sweet, bright girl as my cousin, she assumed a martyr expression and +said, "She hoped he would be happy, even if her own heart must suffer +the pain of losing an only son." + +"But," I urged, "he really adds to your life by bringing you the +companionship of a lovely daughter. My cousin will, I am sure, prove +such to you." + +"I have no doubt your cousin is a most estimable girl," Madame Duncan +answered, with dignity, "but I have never yet felt the need of any close +companion save my son. You, having no children, are excusable for not +understanding my feelings, now when another claims his thoughts." + +"Yet the world is maintained by such occurrences," I replied. "You took +some mother's son, or you would not have had your own." + +With austere self-righteousness Mrs. Duncan corrected me. + +"I married an orphan," she said. + +"How thoughtful of you," I responded. "But you see it is not lack of +thought, only an accident of fate, which has prevented my cousin from +marrying an orphan. There are not enough desirable orphans to keep our +young women supplied with husbands, you know." + +I think Mrs. Duncan suspected me of covert sarcasm, for she changed the +topic of conversation. But I heard her afterward talking to a bevy of +women on the sorrow of giving up a child after having reared him to +manhood's estate, and her listeners all seemed duly sympathetic. + +Of course, my dear Ruth, there is an element of sadness in the happiest +of marriages for the parents of children. I think it is particularly sad +when a mother gives up a daughter, whose every thought she has shared, +and whose every pleasure she has planned, and sees her embark upon the +uncertain ocean of marriage, with a strange pilot at the helm. + +The really good and loving mother endears herself to that pilot, and +loves him and seeks his affection for her daughter's sake. She hides +her own sorrow in her heart, and does not shadow her daughter's voyage +by her repining. + +The man who is worthy of a good girl's love will understand what it must +mean to a mother to give her daughter to him, and he will in every way +seek to recompense her for her loss, by bestowing upon her sympathy, +courteous attentions, and a son's devotion. + +Just so will the girl, who is worthy of being a good man's wife, seek to +make his mother love her. + +I know how you have tried to win Mrs. Duncan's heart. I know your +amiable, sweet disposition, and your unselfishness and tact, and I know +how you failed. + +I can imagine your feelings when you overheard Mrs. Duncan say to a +caller that she was going to leave your house and take rooms elsewhere, +as she could not endure your "billing and cooing." + +Do you know, Ruth, that nearly all the trouble between mothers-and +daughters-in-law is due to vanity and jealousy. + +Fifty mothers are friends to their daughters' husbands where one is a +friend to her son's wife. That is because, wholly unconsciously to +herself, the mother resents another woman sharing the attention of a man +she loves. The fact that he is her son, and that the love he gives his +wife is a wholly different sentiment, does not prevent blind, +unreasoning jealousy from dominating her nature. + +Mrs. Duncan wants to stand always in the centre of the stage, with every +other woman in the play in the background. + +It is a most pathetic situation for a man,--this position between a wife +and a jealous mother. My heart always aches for the man in the case even +more than for the woman who is misused. + +All young men are reared to think mother-love the most unselfish and +wonderful devotion on earth, even in the face of facts which so often +prove it otherwise; and when a son sees his mother unhappy he is +inclined to make every possible excuse for her, because he feels that to +take issue against her will put him in a false light before the whole +established order of society, and that he will beat his head against +traditions wherever he turns. + +So, he ofttimes tries to conciliate the wife he has promised to cherish, +and to convince her that she may exaggerate matters, and that she may +even be the aggressor, and then he finds himself standing between two +raging fires, with no escape save through flames, and over hot fagots, +which will leave him scarred for life. + +Sometimes the wife _is_ in the wrong. Sometimes a man marries a woman +who is so narrow and so selfish and so jealous that she begrudges the +husband's mother her son's affection. But I must affirm that, in my +observation of humanity, I have seen but one such wife, where I have +seen ten jealous and unreasonable mothers. + +And with what pleasure and admiration I recall the few beautiful and +noble mothers-in-law I have known! I can count them on the fingers of +one hand without including the thumb. I mean mothers of sons. + +There are just four whom I can recall. They really loved their sons, and +loved whatever and whoever gave those sons happiness. + +One mother objected to her son's choice before marriage, and tried +vainly to convince him that he had made a mistake. But after his +marriage she took the girl into her heart, made her a companion and +friend, and when the son began to discover her glaring faults, she told +him to be patient and wait, and that all would be well. Instead of +saying, "I told you so," she said, "Your wife is young, and has had no +wise hand to guide her. You married her for love, and if you exercise +the love-spirit, and are patient and self-controlled in your treatment +of her, she will overcome these faults which annoy you." + +And day by day she called his attention to the pleasing qualities the +girl possessed, and by praise, tact, love, and sympathy bridged over +the threatened chasm. + +The couple live happily together to-day, thanks to the mother-in-law. +Oh, that there were more such mothers of sons! + +Be as patient and sweet as you can, dear Ruth, toward Mrs. Duncan; think +how difficult the situation is for your husband, and say or do nothing +to make it harder for him. But allow Mrs. Duncan to live by herself, +and, if need be, bear many privations cheerfully that she may do so, and +that you may have your own home in peace. Every wife is entitled to +that, and if she has made every possible effort which love and tact can +make to cast the seven devils of jealousy out of her mother-in-law, and +they still remain, it is for the general welfare that two separate +households exist. + +When a son has done all he can in reason to make his mother happy, save +to turn against the wife he has promised to cherish, he is a cad and a +weakling if he does the latter. He must learn that it is a larger duty +to be a just man than to be an obedient son. + +I am sure Mr. Duncan will have the character and judgment to do what is +right in this matter. + + + + +To a Young Man + +_Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + + +Your achievements in college, where you distinguished yourself in +rhetoric and literature, would justify you in thinking seriously of a +career as an author. + +And the fact that your father wishes you to take charge of his brokerage +business, and to relinquish your literary aspirations, should not deter +you from carrying out your ambitions. + +Prom your mother you inherit a mind and temperament which wholly unfit +you for the pursuits your father follows and enjoys. You are no more +suited to make a successful broker than he is fitted to write an Iliad. + +Try and make him understand this, and try and convince him that to +yield to his wishes in this matter, means the sacrifice of your tastes, +the waste of your talents, and the destruction of your happiness. + +If he cannot be convinced by your consistent and respectful arguments, +then you must quietly, but firmly, refuse to accept a career distasteful +to you. + +No parent has a right to drive a child into so undesirable a path for +life as this would prove to one of your nature. + +Your father would think the horticulturist insane, who took a delicate +fern and planted it in arid soil, on a hilltop, far from shade, and +expected it to thrive and bear blossoms like the cactus. + +Yet this would be no more unreasonable, than to expect a son of your +temperament and inclinations to be happy and successful in Wall Street. + +It is a curious study to watch parents, and to observe their utter lack +of knowledge regarding a child's nature and capabilities; and to find +them not only ignorant in those important matters, but unwilling to be +enlightened. + +You say it makes your father angry to have any one refer to your +literary talents. + +I remember when your father bred race-horses, and how proud he was that +a two-year-old colt showed traits and points noticeably like its +high-priced dam. + +He chose for your mother, a woman of rare mind, and of poetic taste, and +why should he not be proud and glad that his son resembles her? When +will fathers learn that sons are more frequently like their mothers, and +daughters like their fathers, than otherwise? + +The temporary dissatisfaction of your father is not so sad to +contemplate as your own lifelong disappointment if you accede to his +wishes in this matter. + +Each individual has a right to choose his own career in life, so long as +that career is respectable and bodes no evil to humanity. + +If, as your father threatens, he refuses to give you support while you +are exploring the field of literature, you should feel grateful to him +for this unintentional incentive to success. + +I do not agree with those who consider the necessity to earn money a +misfortune to genius. + +I believe the greatest works of art given to the world have been brought +to light through necessity. + +The artistic temperament is almost invariably combined with a propensity +to dream, and to float upon the clouds of imagination. + +The ranks of wealth and comfort are full of talented and accomplished +people who "never are, but always to be" great. + +One great man in a score may have been reared in affluence, but I doubt +if the statistics would show so large a percentage. + +There are many hills which contain valuable ore, but if the owner sits +in ease upon these elevations, and gazes at the sunsets, he does not +find the ore. If he is a poor man, and takes his pick and _digs_, he +finds his fortune. + +At first he may cast out only loose earth and stones, but by this very +necessity to find valuables, he continues to search until the ore is +reached. + +Were you to remain at home and enjoy all the benefits of your father's +wealth, I doubt if you would have the persistence to dig down into the +mine you possess within you. + +You would sit on the hilltop and dream. + +If you are forced to write to live, you may cast up some rubbish from +the surface; yet by the continual digging you will reveal all that lies +below. + +Regarding the style you speak of adopting, let your feeling come +_first_, your style of expressing that feeling _second_. Say nothing +merely to exhibit your style--and hold back some strong feelings until +you can give them the best expression. + +As to the methods of getting your work before the public and the +"influence" you need, I can only assure you that unless you write with +purpose, and power, and passionate enjoyment of your art, forgetful of +all things save your desire to express yourself, no influence on earth +can do more than give you a page in a magazine, or a column in a +newspaper for an occasion or two. And if you do write under those +conditions, you will need no influence: for it is just such writing the +world wants; and the editors and publishers will be forced to read you, +whether they are inclined to or not. + +Christopher Columbus found his continent because he was so determined, +so persistent, so certain that unknown lands awaited him. + +It made no difference who told him that all the earth had been +discovered, and that he would never be able to succeed in his wild +venture. His purpose was too strong to be influenced by the doubts of +others. + +It has always seemed to me that God would have made a continent to +reward such a search, had it not already existed. + +Unless you set forth on the sea of literature, with the spirit of a +Columbus in your soul, you may as well give up the idea of finding the +Port of Glory. If you do set forth with that spirit, you need ask no +mortal influence. + +God is the only influence genius needs. + +Perseverance the only method. + +To find the way to success alone, is the test of talent. + +Some influential author might give you the entreé once to a magazine. +But editors and publishers are men of purely business instincts, and +they will not accept work on the recommendation of any third party, +which they think their public will not like. Their constant effort is to +find what that public _does like_, and the unknown author has an equal +advantage with the genius, if he sends such material. + +An author once told me that he "trapped" twenty manuscripts and sent +them out to editors, and all came back unread, as his "trap" proved. + +Since he sent them forth with such doubts in his mind, it is no wonder +his trap succeeded and his manuscripts failed. + +No great literary fire of purpose could be in the mind of a man who +spent thought and time on such a plot to trick an editor. And because +there was no great flame, the inanimate manuscripts were returned +unread. For even a package of paper sends out its "aura," and invites or +repels attention. + +If you are discouraged by the people who tell you that "everything has +been written," and that you can only be a faint echo of greater souls, +then you do not deserve success. I have no doubt the croakers of that +day told Shakespeare the same. + +It seems that Shakespeare did take many old themes and other people's +plots and ideas to re-create in his own way. And what a way! Surely he +who best uses an idea is most entitled to the credit. + +There is nothing new under the sun, but there is always the new +audience. For the majestic old poem of Spring, bound over in new covers +of green, God creates fresh, eager young eyes and hearts each year. And +not yet has he said to the year, "Do not attempt another spring--there +have been so many before, you can but repeat their beauties." Then why +should any mortal say to the poet or the author, "Do not try to +write--it has all been said before." + +Proceed, my young friend, and write what is in your heart. Nothing quite +the same was ever in any heart before, and yet the greater part of it +has been in all hearts, and will be in all hearts, so long as the world +lasts. + +Remember that when you write from the heart, it will go to the hearts of +your readers: and when you write from your head it will go no lower than +the head. + +And if the critics score or ridicule you, consider yourself on the path +to success. + +If you have a message for the world, nothing and nobody can prevent you +from delivering it. + +He only fails who has nothing to say. + + + + +To Mrs. McAllister + +_Concerning Her Little Girl_ + + +How strange it seems that your daughter is ten years old. + +It is such a brief hour since you wrote me you were eighteen and had +entered Vassar. Having no children of my own to stand as milestones on +life's highway, and keeping a very young heart in my breast all these +years, it seems at times little less than impertinent in the children I +have known to develop so rapidly into matrons and fathers. + +I am glad for you that the doctor has reached the desirable goal where +he can rest from his laborious profession for two years, and take that +journey abroad you have so long contemplated. And I am glad that you +feel the satisfaction you say you do, in never having left him alone +for a whole season as you once thought of doing. + +A satisfied conscience is a better comrade to journey along beside, than +a remembered pleasure. + +But now about Genevieve. + +You tell me she is to be left with your sister, and that she will, for +the first time, attend the public school. + +You are right in thinking this will make her more American in spirit +than an education gained through home teaching or private schools. + +The girl who attends private schools only, is almost invariably +inoculated with the serum of aristocracy. + +She believes herself a little higher order of being than the children +who attend public schools, and it requires continual association with +people of broad common sense to counteract this influence. I know you +and the doctor have exerted this influence, but your sister might not +realize the necessity of making a special effort in that direction. + +Then, too, since the fathers or grandfathers of our most conspicuous +social leaders were self-made and self-taught, and since our American +society is composed of so many varied types of humanity, it is well for +a young girl to come in contact with all classes while she is yet a +child, that she may understand humanity as she is sure to encounter it +later. Yet, as you say, it is indeed a serious thought to know your +little rosebud of a child is to be tossed into the dust of the public +schoolroom. + +"I do not want the delicate leaves forced into premature blossom or +blight," you say, and I feel for you, as I read the words. + +You remember your own experience as a school-child in the country, and +you tell me you would fain guard your daughter from hearing or seeing +much that came to your ears and eyes as a school-child. + +But now, my dear Winifred, listen. + +It is utterly and absolutely impossible for you to keep Genevieve +ignorant of _life_, or of the great fundamental principles of life. It +is utterly useless to undertake to ignore the set impulse in all nature. +Since God did not ignore it in constructing the universe, parents cannot +afford to in educating children. The one thing to do is to teach your +child early to respect and revere the subject, and to regard all things +pertaining to birth as sacred, never to be lightly discussed. Wherever +the eyes of an observing child turn, they see something to arouse +curiosity upon this subject. + +All literature (the Bible particularly) contains some reference to sex +and birth. Unless you stuff the ears of children with cotton, they must +hear expressions, suggestions, and references, which necessitate +explanations of the same vital subject. From insects to man, through all +the various kingdoms, sex laws are the foundation of life. + +Why parents have chosen to taboo this important subject, and why they +surround it with falsehood and subterfuge, and suggest that it is +unclean or vulgar, has always puzzled me. + +Inconceivable harm, lifelong disaster, has befallen many a girl and many +a boy through this mistaken attitude of parents to God's basic law of +the universe. + +Genevieve is only ten. But she is a child with a most inquiring mind, +and she already indicates a tendency to coquetry. She prefers boys to +dolls, and evidently finds them more interesting than girls. + +The things you would guard her from knowing, she is sure to learn in +some undesirable and unfortunate manner, unless you prepare her for them +with loving delicacy and refinement. + +My suggestion is that you take a plant, and talk to her about its +growth. Tell her how it springs from a seed, and hides in the bosom of +the earth, expanding until it bursts through, and becomes the baby of +mother earth. + +Tell her, too, of the bird life in the egg, and make her realize the +mother-impulse in all nature. Then say to her that she is a part of it +all and that she came into life by the same divine law, and that when +she is older you will explain whatever puzzles her young mind. + +Tell her that she was carried under your heart, as the sprout was +carried in the bosom of mother earth, and that it is a very holy and +beautiful thing; so holy and so beautiful that the refined and sweet +people of the world do not talk freely of the subject, but keep it like +a religion, for those very near to them. + +Then say, You will hear other children, who have not been told this by +their mothers, speak rudely and even jest on this subject. They are to +be pitied, for not knowing such jests are vulgar, but you must walk away +from them, and refuse to listen, after telling them your mother has +explained all you need to know. Impress upon her that she is never to +discuss the topic with any one else, unless you advise her to do so. + +I have known only two mothers who took this method with their children, +but both succeeded in rearing beautiful and remarkable daughters and +sons. For the sons were included in the talk by one mother, and they +were ideal boys and gentlemen--popular with, and respected by their +comrades, in spite of their delicacy and reserve on subjects jested over +by other boys. + +I am sure that you can protect Genevieve from the soil and shock you +fear for her, by making her your confidante at this early age, and by +convincing her of your loving companionship in the future. Under no +other conditions would I for one day allow a little girl (or a little +boy for that matter) to attend a public school. Not one parent in a +thousand realizes the moral dangers surrounding small children who go to +and from school in country or city places. + +Many remember their own precocious education on forbidden topics, yet +seem to imagine their children will be immune from such experiences. + +But until the Creator produces life by some new process, children will +never be exempt from curiosity regarding the present method, and parents +may as well realize the fact and become their children's reverent +instructors, instead of leaving them to be taught God's holiest truths +by vulgar chance or dreadful design. + +Do not imagine that innocence necessitates ignorance. + +Your child will be far more innocent minded, if you give her the +instruction I suggest, than if you leave her to ungoverned imagination +and unenlightened observation. + +Deep in each human entity the sex impulse is planted, and will assert +itself sooner or later. + +Ignorance and curiosity lead often to precocious development of the +impulse. By proper care on your part, your child's mind may be kept +normal, innocent, and wholesome. + +See to it that you give this important care before you leave. + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + + +My dear Mr. Gilbert:--Your letter followed me across the ocean, and +chanced to be the first one opened and read in my weighty home mail +to-day. I have lost all trace of you during the last six years, in that +wonderful way people can lose sight of one another in a large city. Once +or twice I heard you had just left some social function as I arrived, or +was expected just as I was leaving, and once, recently, I saw you across +the house at a first night, with a very pretty girl at your side. I +fancy this is the "one woman in the world for you," of whom you speak in +the letter before me--the letter written the evening before your +marriage. How good you are to carry out my request made seven years +ago, and to write me this beautiful letter, after reading over and +burning your former boyish epistle, returning to me my reply. + +It is every man's duty to himself, his bride, and the other woman, to +destroy all evidences of past infatuations and affections, before he +enters the new life. It is every woman's duty to do the same--_with a +reservation_. Since men demand so much more of a wife than a wife +demands of a husband, a woman is wise to retain any proof in her +possession that some man has been an honourable suitor for her hand. She +should make no use of such evidence, unless the unaccepted lover +indulges in disrespectful comments or revengeful libels, as some men are +inclined to when the fruit for which they reached is picked by another +hand. + +And it is when the grapes are called sour that the evidence may prove +effective of their having been thought sweet and desirable. + +It is a curious fact that no woman thinks less of a man for his having +had his vain infatuations, and that all men think less of a woman if she +has loved without response. + +Therefore, it behoves her to destroy no evidence that the other man, not +herself, was the discarded party. + +But woe unto the man who retains old love-letters, or other tokens of +dead loves and perished desires. + +Few men could be guilty of showing or repeating the contents of another +man's love-letters. Women who are models of virtue and goodness have +been known to make public the letters written a man in earlier years by +another object of his affections. I have to my personal knowledge known +a woman to place before the eyes of a third person, lines written +evidently in the very heart's blood of a former sweetheart of her +husband--words the man believed he had destroyed with other letters, +more than a score of years before. Imagine what the feelings of that +early sweetheart, now a happy and beloved wife, would be, did she know +the words written so long ago were spread before cold and critical +eyes, and discussed by two people who could have no comprehension of the +conditions and circumstances which led to their expression. + +Because I know otherwise tender-hearted and good women are capable of +such acts, I am glad you have obeyed my wish of seven years ago, and +that all proofs of your boyish infatuation for an older woman are +destroyed. You say you have told the girl you love that you once were +foolishly fond of me, and that I helped you to higher ideals of +womanhood and life. + +That is wise and well, since you found her to be broad and sensible +enough to share such a confidence. But had she seen your written words +to me and my reply, it would have been less agreeable to her than to +hear your own calm recital of the now dead passion. + +Words written in a state of high-wrought intensity retain a sort of +phosphoric luminosity, like certain decaying substances, and even after +the passage of years, and when the emotions which gave them expression +are dead and for-gotten, they seem to emit life and feeling. + +_Burn your bridges as you walk along the highways of romance to St. +Benedict's land_. + +Since you compliment me by saying I have helped you to higher ideals of +life, will you allow me to give you a little advice regarding your +treatment of your wife? + +You have every reason to know that I have been a happy and well-loved +wife of the man of my choice. You know that I have neither sought nor +accepted the attentions of other men when they crossed the danger-line +lying between friendship and love. + +Therefore it may astonish you when I confess that, at the time you +temporarily lost your head, I was conscious of an undercurrent of +feminine vanity at the thought that I was capable of inspiring a young +and talented man with so sincere a feeling. + +A similar experience with an older man would have suggested an insult, +since older men understand human nature, and realize what a flirtation +with a married woman means. But your ingenuousness, and your romantic, +boyish temperament, were, in a measure, an excuse for your folly, and +made me lenient toward you. + +My happy life, my principles and ideals, submerged this sentiment of +feminine vanity to which I confess, but I knew it was there, and it led +me to much meditation, then and ever since, upon the matter of woman's +weakness and folly. + +As never before, I was able to understand how a neglected or misused +wife might mistake this very sentiment of flattered vanity for the +recognition of an affinity. + +Had I been suffering from coldness and indifference at home, how +acceptable your boyish devotion might have proved to me. + +And how easily I would have been persuaded by your blind reasoning that +we were intended by an all-wise Providence for life companions. + +There is no sin a woman so readily forgives as a man's unruly love for +her, and hundreds of noble-hearted women have been led to regard a +lawless infatuation as a divine emotion, because they were lonely, and +neglected, and hungry for affection. + +See to it, my dear friend, as the years go by, that your wife needs no +romance from the outside world to embellish her life with sentiment. + +Do not drop into the humdrum ways of many contented husbands, and forget +to pay the compliment, and cease to act the lover. + +Notice the gowns and hats your wife wears, and share her pleasures and +interests when it is possible. + +Not that you should always be together, for separate enjoyments and +occupations sometimes lend an added zest to life for husband and wife, +but do not drift apart in all your ideas and interests, as have so many +married people. + +You are the husband of a bright and lovely girl, and if you forget this +fact after a time, remember there are other Ray Gilberts who may realize +it, and seek to awaken such an interest in her heart as you sought to +arouse in mine. + +You found the room occupied by its rightful host. + +See it that no man finds the room vacant in your wife's heart. + +Study the art of keeping your wife interested and interesting. + +A woman thrives on love and appreciation. I know a beautiful bride of +eighty years, who has been the daily adoration of her husband for more +than half a century. + +She has been "infinite in her variety," and he has never failed to +appreciate and admire. + +Devote a portion of each day to talking to your wife about herself. + +Then she will not find it a novelty when other men attempt the same +method of entertainment. + +Whatever other matters engross your time and attention, let your wife +realize that she stands first and foremost in your thoughts and in your +heart. + +Do not forget the delicacies of life, manner, speech, and deportment in +the intimacy of daily companionship. + +Never descend to the vulgar or the commonplace. + +One characteristic of men has always puzzled me. No matter how wide has +been a bachelor's experience with the wives and daughters of other men, +when he marries it never occurs to him that his wife or daughters could +meet temptation or know human weakness. + +It must be the egotism of the sex. + +Each man excuses the susceptibility of the women with whom he has had +romantic episodes, on the ground of his especial power or charm. And +when he marries, he believes his society renders all the women of his +family immune from other attractions. + +Do not rely upon the fact that your wife is legally bound to you, and +therefore need not be wooed by you hereafter. + +There are women who are born anew with each dawn, and who must be won +anew with each day, or the lover loses some precious quality than can +never be regained. + +It will pay you to study your wife as the years pass. + +Do not take for granted that you know her to-day, because you knew her +thoroughly last year. + +This is a long letter, but when one writes only once in seven years, +brevity is not to be expected. + +My greeting to you, and may the years be weaver's hands, which shall +interlace and bind two lives into one complete pattern. + + + + +To the Sister of a Great Beauty + + +I am far from laughing, my dear girl, at your assertion that your +position is little short of tragic. + +To be the ordinary sister of an extraordinary beauty, is a position +which calls for the exercise of all the great virtues in order to be +borne with dignity, good taste, and serenity. + +I remember seeing you and Pansy when you were ten and she twelve years +of age. I foresaw what lay before you then, and have often wondered how +you would meet the occasion when you were both "finished," and at home +under the same roof, and socially launched. It was wise for your mother +to separate you so early in life, and place you under different +teachers, and in different schools. + +It is difficult for a girl in her late childhood and early teens to use +philosophy and religion to support her, when she is made a Cinderella by +unthinking associates and friends, and forgotten and neglected while a +more attractive sister is lionized. + +Had you always walked in the shadow of your handsome sister until +to-day, I fancy your disposition would have become warped with +resentment and envy. + +And perhaps your feelings for Pansy would have been less affectionate +than now. + +I am glad to have you tell me that Pansy is so modest and unassuming and +so genuinely solicitous for your happiness. + +She must have been particularly fortunate in her environment while at +school to possess such qualities after knowing as she has known for +twenty-two years that her beauty is dazzling to the eye of even the +chance beholder. + +There is no greater obstacle to the development of the best qualities +in a young woman than the possession of such unusual beauty. From her +cradle she is made to realize its power, and men and women teach her in +a thousand unconscious ways to be selfish and self-centred. She receives +attentions, and her acquaintance is sought, with no effort on her part, +while more gifted and deserving companions are unnoticed. She is made to +realize that she is one to be served, where less attractive girls are +taught to "stand and wait." + +The love nature of each human being is either developed or stunted by +neglect during the early years of life, and, as a rule, the beautiful +woman is incapable of a deep, absorbing, and unselfish love, because she +has grown up the receiver instead of the giver. + +Were you, my dear Sallie, to know the number of great beauties who have +failed to find happiness in marriage, you would be amazed. But the +explanation is simple; for man is a being who, however he may worship +beauty before marriage, worships his own comfort more deeply afterward. +And it is rare indeed when a famous beauty troubles herself to plan for +the comfort or happiness of the man she marries. It is the natural +result of her education to think man made to adore and serve her. + +I hope Pansy may keep her loving and lovable qualities, and that she may +marry before the adoration and admiration of many men become necessary +to her life. For the beauties' matrimonial barque most often founders on +the reef of plural lovers. + +As for yourself, I can only suggest that you acquire many +accomplishments, and perfect yourself in music and languages, and that +you seek for the attainment of all the subtle graces, which are, in the +long run, more lasting as sources of happiness for a woman than mere +beauty. It is a peculiarly significant fact that the great passions of +history have not been inspired by very young or startlingly beautiful +women, but by those of maturity and mental charms. + +Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Aspasia, Petrarch's Laura, had all crossed +the line between youth and middle life, and there are no authentic +proofs that any one of the number was a dazzling beauty. Some of the +world's most alluring women have been absolutely plain. + +You are not plain. It is only by comparison that you so regard yourself. + +There is much you can do to make yourself more attractive personally. +You know what Rochefoucauld said: "No woman is in fault for not being +beautiful at sixteen; any woman is in fault if she is not beautiful at +forty." + +However much it may sound like a platitude, it is a great and eternal +truth that your mental activities are chiselling your features. By +keeping yourself concerned with good, gracious, and great thoughts, you +are shaping your face into a noble beauty minute by minute, and hour by +hour. + +Avoid as much as possible looking at repulsive and ugly objects. + +Look at whatever is beautiful and seek for it. + +Search for whatever is admirable in nature and human nature, and muse +upon those things in your moments of solitude. + +Cultivate love-thoughts for humanity at large. + +Avoid severe criticisms, and develop sympathy and pity in your soul. +Study the comfort and pleasure of strangers in public places, and +friends and associates in nearer relations. + +Remember always how brief a thing, and ofttimes sad, life is to many, +and seek to brighten and better it as you pass along. + +Meanwhile, take care of your person, study your lines and your features, +and learn how to dress and how to carry yourself; how to obtain +"presence," that indescribable charm in woman. + +Take daily care of your complexion, which to a woman is of prime +importance. + +Call in the skill of the specialist to help you preserve and beautify +your skin and hair, just as the dentist and the oculist are to be +consulted to help you preserve teeth and eyes. Think beauty for mind, +soul, and body; live it, and believe it is your right. + +And just as surely as you pursue this line of conduct for ten years, +just so surely will you find yourself at thirty far more attractive than +at twenty, and at forty more lovely than at thirty. Learn to be a +linguist, and acquire skill upon some one instrument, that you may +entertain those who care to converse, and give pleasure to those who +wish to be silent. + +You are young, and life with its splendid possibilities is before you. +There is nothing a woman with youth, will-power, and _love_ may not +accomplish--even to the convincing of the world that she is beautiful, +when her mirror may say otherwise. + +For enduring and all-encompassing beauty is a composite thing, and +unless a woman possesses the spiritual and mental portions, the physical +phase soon loses its attractions for the cultivated eye; while with the +development of the first two, the third is certain to come. + +Begin to-day, my dear girl, to _grow beauty_ which shall make you a +power and an influence in the world where you move, and which shall +invite, rather than fear, the approach of time. + + + + +To Mrs. White Peak + +_One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + + +Ever since your call and our conversation regarding Sybyl Marchmont, I +have felt a rising tide of indignation. It has reached the perigee mark +and must overflow. If it reaches you and gives you a thorough soaking, I +shall feel satisfied. + +I have always known you were only half-developed. There are many such +people in the world. They serve their purpose and often do much good. +They miss a great deal of life, but as they rarely know that they miss +anything, it is a waste of sentiment to pity them. + +I have pitied you, nevertheless. I have often wished I could give you +the vital qualities you lack. + +My pity turned to indignation when I heard you express yourself in such +unqualified terms of condemnation regarding other women who happened to +be unlike you in temperament. + +You say there is a certain line which no well-born and womanly woman can +pass in thought or feeling or action. + +You regard the true women of earth as a higher and rarer order of +creation than the best of men, and any woman who by action or word +confesses herself to be quite human in her temperament, you feel is, to +a certain extent, "unclean and unsexed." You believe the really good +women of earth are always on a plane above and beyond the physical. When +any woman falls from her pedestal you despise her. + +How dare you, madam, sitting in your cold, white chastity, lay down laws +of what you consider purity, morality, and cleanliness, for other human +souls? + +How dare you condemn those who do not reach your standard? + +What do you know of life, great, palpitating, throbbing, vital life, +terrible and beautiful life, terrible while passing through the valleys +of temptation, beautiful upon the heights of self-control? + +How dare you assume greater virtue, greater respectability, greater +fineness of sentiment, than the tempest-tossed, passion-beaten souls, +about you? + +What do you know of real virtue, real strength? + +You have been poor, you tell me, in worldly riches, and you have been +lonely, yet you have never once degraded your womanhood by an "unworthy +" impulse. Never known a temptation of the senses. Those things +disgusted you. + +You have preferred toil to taking favours from inferiors, and you have +kept yourself clean in thought, word, and deed, and now you have the +reward of such virtues--a good home, a husband, and children. + +You are a more devoted mother than wife, as you have always dwelt upon a +lofty white peak of chaste womanhood, from which any descent into the +earthly realms of life and love was repugnant--so rarely "pure" and high +your nature. + +Yet you have been a dutiful, loyal wife, and you are a devoted mother. + +You despise all carnal-minded women, and cannot understand how women +fall--save that they lack good birth and breeding. + +You will aid in a benefit for their reformation, but you do not want to +see them or to come near them. It makes you ill. + +You are to be congratulated on never having added to the evil in the +world. + +But permit me, madam, to tell you some truths about yourself--and the +large army of "respectable women" you represent. + +However "well born" you may be, you are only half-born. The complete +human being has three sides to his nature--spiritual, mental, physical. + +The men and women who are evenly developed on the three sides are few. +This is sometimes their fault--sometimes their misfortune. + +We all pity the human being who is mentally dwarfed. We are sorry for +the one whose spiritual nature is undeveloped. + +But why should the many women who are devoid of the physical qualities +of human nature presume to lay claim to perfection and to regard the +normal woman as a suspicious character? + +You have a fine, active mind, a highly spiritual nature, but you are +stunted in strong, physical emotion. You are incapable of it, and pride +yourself upon the fact. + +If that pleases you, well and good. + +But how dare you criticize God's _complete human_ beings, who feel the +great vibrations of the universe, who glow and thrill with that divine +creative force, who live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths +before they learn the glory of self-conquest. + +How dare you shrink even from those who fall by the wayside, and call +your shrinking "purity"! + +Let me ask you another question: + +How dare you turn away from that girl who went through the door of the +Magdalene Home you helped establish, with her fatherless child in her +arms? + +She fell from woman's holy estate! + +Yes, through mad love for a man--she loved him with her soul, her mind, +her body. She lacked knowledge, balance, and wisdom; she had only love +and passion. + +And you, madam, how about _your_ children? + +They were born of a "dutiful" wife. You descended from your lofty +altitude unwillingly--only at duty's call. You are so "refined," yet you +are a loving mother and pose as the highest type of woman. + +_God never made in his whole universe of worlds such a "duty" as +unwilling motherhood_. Motherhood without the call of sex for sex is +indecent--criminal. You, too, madam, _fell_. + +That girl in yonder "home" your "charity" helped establish, who loved +unwisely, fell. Her fall was through love--yours through a legal +ceremony. + +All the churches, all the religions and the laws of earth, cannot make +motherhood holy and right without the mutual mental, spiritual, and +physical union of two beings. + +Heaven and earth _both_ must sanction a child's conception to produce a +"well-born" soul. + +There is no greater sin on earth than the creation of a human life +without complete accord of the creators. + +No wonder the world is full of miserable half-born beings, when mothers +like _you_ claim to be the Madonnas of earth. + +No wonder natural, complete, striving souls hide their true natures +under a false exterior, when women like _you_ rule church and society. + +What shame or degradation is there, pray, in being animate with the +all-pervading impulse which underlies the entire universe? Every planet, +every tree, every flower, every insect, is the result of sex seeking +sex, atom calling atom. + +The universe _is_ because of the law of sex attraction. + +And you, poor, puny, pallid woman, dare decry and despise that law, and +dare insult God's animate creature! + +Know this, madam, there is no strength worth boasting that has not +conquered weakness. No virtue worth the name that has not conquered +temptation. No greatness of character that has not overcome unworthy +impulses. + +Enjoy your negative goodness and be glad you are "good." + +Morality is acceptable to the world, however it conies; but dare not sit +in judgment on other human beings fighting battles whose smoke never +reaches your nostrils, striving for heights of which you never even +dream, and who meanwhile have missed certain degradations which you seem +to consider creditable achievements. + +Madam, I bid you adieu. That word means "I commend you to God," the God +who made the two sexes, and intended love to unite them. + +May He enlighten you in other lives, if not in this. + + + + +To Maria Owens + +_A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + + +Surprise, I am free to confess, was my dominant emotion on reading your +letter. Marriage and Maria had never associated themselves in my mind, +fond as I am of alliteration. + +Never in the ten years I have known you have I heard you devote ten +minutes to the subject of any man's good qualities. You always have +discoursed upon men's faults and vices, and upon their tendency, since +the beginning of time, to tyrannize over woman. I was unable to +disprove many of your statements, for I know the weight of argument is +upon your side, even while I boldly confess my admiration and regard for +men, as a class, is greater than that for women. + +The fact that the world has allowed men such latitude, and such +license, and made them pay such very small penalties, comparatively +speaking, for very large offences, causes me to admire their wonderful +achievements in noble living all the more: and to place the man of +unblemished reputation and unquestioned probity on a pedestal higher +than any I could yet ask builded for woman. + +It is more difficult to be great before the extended tentacles of the +self-indulgence octopus than in the face of oppression and danger. When +the laws of the land and the sentiment of the people permit a man to be +selfish, licentious, tyrannical, and yet call him great if he +accomplishes heroic deeds, it proves what intrinsic worth must lie in +the nature of those who attain the heights of unselfishness and +benevolence, and martyrdom, asking no reward and often receiving none +until posterity bestows it. + +Those who can take the broad road of selfishness unmolested, and choose +the narrow path of high endeavour instead, seem to me greater than those +who overcome mere externals. + +Many such men have existed, and the steady, slow, but certain progress +of the world from barbarism to civilization, from accepted cannibalism +and slavery to ideals of brotherhood, we owe to them. All new +discoveries, all greatest achievements are due to men. Woman, I know, +has been handicapped and oppressed for centuries by superstitions, and +traditions, and unjust laws; but it is unfair to ignore the bright, and +see only the dark side of the picture, which the centuries have painted +for us, on the background of time. + +This letter is only a résumé of many conversations between you and me, +and it leads up to the explanation of why I am somewhat dazed and +stunned by your announcement that marriage is a possible event in your +near future. + +My self-conceit in regard to my knowledge of human nature every now and +then receives a blow. So soon as I have arrived at a positive conviction +that I understand any human being thoroughly, and feel that I can safely +predict what that person will or will not do, I usually meet some such +bewildering experience as this. + +I would have laughed at any one who suggested the possibility of your +considering a proposition of marriage. + +You tell me you are thirty-five years old, and say you have never before +met the man to whom your thoughts reverted, no matter how you +endeavoured to occupy yourself with other subjects. You also tell me "he +is not like other men." These two statements are wonderfully familiar to +me, indeed they have been confided to me in precisely the same words by +at least a score of women, young and not so young, who met the +compelling man. _Maria, I believe you are in love_. Your heart is +awakened from its stupor, caused by an overdose of intellect. For too +much intellect is often a drug which deadens the consciousness of a +woman's heart. But you have been drugged so long that you are still +under a hazy spell, to judge from that portion of your letter which took +the form of an inquiry. + +You ask my opinion in regard to the point of disagreement between you +and your semi-fiancé. To much that you say I agree. You have carved a +name and a place for yourself in the world. Your lectures, and your +books, have made your name familiar to many people. Your lover is +unknown to the public, a man in the private walks of life. Therefore you +think if he loves you as he should to become your husband, he ought to +give up his own name and take yours, or at least add yours to his own. +You assure me it is merely a matter of habit, that women have +obliterated themselves on the altar of marriage, and that it is time a +new order was instituted. You think the hour calls for pioneers to +establish new boundaries, in a new world where woman will be allowed to +keep her individuality after marriage. Meantime your lover does not feel +that you really love him, when you ask him to take this somewhat radical +step for your sake, or for the sake of all women, as you put it. + +And there you both stand, with only this ridiculous barrier between you +and happiness. + +You are still influenced by the intellectual drug, and it hinders your +heart from following out its best impulses. You have not yet learned +more than the A B C of love, or you would know that the greatest +happiness in loving lies in sacrifice. To take and not give, to gain +something and give up nothing, is not loving. Now I think I hear you +saying, "But why should not my lover give this proof of devotion as well +as I? Why should not he be ready to sacrifice a tradition, and a name, +to please me? Why am I more unloving, or selfish, than he, to refuse to +give up my name?" + +My answer follows. + +Any woman who asks a man to give up his name and take hers (unless some +great legal matter which involves the property rights of others hangs on +so doing) asks him to make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the world. +She indicates, also, that her family name and her own achievements are +dearer to her than his. No woman loves a man enough to be happy as his +wife, if he is not dearer to her than any mere personal success, however +great. + +The man who asks a woman to take his name obeys a tradition and a +custom, to be sure, and the woman who accepts it does not display any +especially heroic trait. Therefore, what you demand of your lover is a +far greater proof of devotion than what he asks of you. No woman who +fully understood the meaning of love could ask this of her future +husband. If he occupied the place in her life which a husband should, no +matter what were her personal attainments, she would glory in adding his +name to her own, and in having its shelter to hide under at times from +the glare of publicity. + +Should you choose to keep your name Maria Owens with no addition, for +your lectures and your books, it is quite probable your husband would +not object. And again, if your achievements are worth the thought you +give them in this matter, they are great enough to endure even should +you add the name of Chester to that of Owens. But certainly, if you love +the man you think of marrying, you will be happy in the thought of +wearing his name legally and socially in every-day life, and the sight +of a card engraved, "Mrs. Rupert Chester," will give your heart a +sweeter thrill than it has ever known in connection with the newspaper +notices of Maria Owens. + +Unless you can arouse your heart to such an understanding of love, you +are not yet acquainted with the little god. If your lover consents to +the sacrifice you have demanded, he will indicate a weakness of +character which augurs ill for the future: and if you insist upon the +sacrifice, you will establish a selfish precedent which can only make +you a tyrant in your own domain, and at the same time belittle your +husband in the public eye. + +However proud and happy you may be in the thought of noble achievements +of your own, you must realize that there are many brutal and painful +phases to a public career for a woman. These phases do not exist to any +such degree for a man. I do not believe it is the result of tradition or +habit, but of sex and temperament, that this difference exists, and that +the shelter of a man's name means more to woman than any shelter to be +found in her own, and that the sacrifice of her own name means less to +her than the sacrifice of his means to him. Unless you can reach this +same conclusion, do not marry--for you do not love. + + + + +To Mrs. St. Claire + +_The Young Divorcée_ + + +And so you have joined the increasing army of the divorcées. + +It is worse than useless to discuss again the causes which led to this +situation, and now that the law of the land has made you a free woman, +the one thing for you to consider is your future, and to formulate to +some degree a code of conduct for your guidance. + +You are in the prime of beautiful womanhood, pleasing to the eye, and +agreeable to the mind. Women will regard you with more or less mental +reservation, and men will seek you at every opportunity. + +Some witty creature has said, "A little widow is a dangerous thing." + +It might be added, "A grass widow whets the appetites of bovines". + +You will find yourself at a loss to choose when an escort is needed, so +many and persistent will be the applicants for the position. + +After having passed through the black waters of an unhappy marriage, +this sudden freedom and return to the privileges of girlhood will be +liable to affect you like the glare of sunlight after confinement in a +dark room. + +You will be blinded for a time. It would be well for you to walk slowly, +and to use a cane of common sense, and even to feel your way with the +outstretched hands of discretion, until you become accustomed to the +light. + +To fall and scar yourself now, would be a disaster. + +It is a curious fact that a woman who has been unhappy with one man +usually finds many others ready to give her the opportunity for a +repetition of her experience. And it is equally curious that one unhappy +marriage frequently leads to another. + +A disastrous rencontre with Hymen seems to destroy a woman's finer +intuitions. If you feel that you must marry again, go slowly, and wait +until the bruised tendrils of your heart have healed and are rooted in +healthy soil. Do not let them twine about any sort of a dead tree or +frail reed. Run no chance of a second sorrow. + +One divorce always contains elements of tragedy. A second becomes a +farce. + +You tell me that you and your former husband entertain the kindest +feeling for each other. You have seen him and talked with him on several +occasions, and you regard him as a friend. You say all love and +sentiment perished long before your separation, and that to continue as +his wife was to die a thousand deaths daily. + +You tell me that your own higher development demanded this separation. I +know such situations do exist in the world of men and women, and that to +submit to them is a crime. Yet I also know that this idea of +"development" is used often as a cloak for all sorts of selfish impulses +and moods. + +Many men and women to-day seem to forget that certain other objects +besides happiness enter into self-development. + +It is not only the pilot who deserts the ship and swims ashore who saves +his life. The one who keeps his hand on the wheel, and his eye on the +lighthouse, he, too, sometimes saves his own life, as well as saves the +ship. + +But since to jump overboard was the only way to save your own life, now +that you are ashore, and dry, and comfortable, your first consideration +should be to avoid falling into mires and pits as you go along. + +Though romance died out of your marriage, do not let it die out of your +heart. It is commendable that you feel no bitterness or resentment +toward your husband. But do not carry your kindly feelings toward him to +the extent of frequent association and comradeship. + +Outside of criminal situations, life offers no more ghastly and +unpleasant picture than that of dead passion galvanized into a semblance +of friendship, and going about the world devoid of the strong elements +of either sentiment. + +There is something radically wrong with a woman's ideals when she does +not feel an instinctive unwillingness to be thrown with the man from +whom she has been divorced. + +There is something akin to degeneracy in the man or woman who can +contemplate without shrinking the intimate encounter of legally parted +husbands or wives. + +The softening of the human brain is a terrible malady. + +Quite as terrible is the hardening of the human heart. + +The loss of happiness is deemed a tragedy. But far greater is the +tragedy when the illusive charm of romance departs, and love and +marriage are reduced to the commonplace. Unless you find the man who +carries your whole nature by storm, and who makes you feel that life +without him will be insupportable, do not be led again to the altar of +marriage. + +Life has many avenues for a bright and charming woman which lead to +satisfaction and peace, if not to happiness. + +If you desire to be a picturesque figure in the world, remember that the +divorced woman who never marries again is far more so than she who has +taken the names of two living men. + +And remember how much there is in life to do for other people, how much +there is to achieve, and how much there is to enjoy, for the woman who +has eyes wherewith to see, and ears with which to hear. + +Life is a privilege, even to the unhappy. It allows them the opportunity +to display the great qualities which God implanted in every soul, and to +give the world higher examples of character. + +He who leaves such an example to the world earns happiness for eternity. + + + + +To Miss Jessie Harcourt + +_Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + + +And so there is trouble in the house of Harcourt, my dear Jessie. You +want to marry your intellectual young lover, who has only his pen +between him and poverty, and your cruel father, who owns the town, says +it is an act of madness on your part, and of presumption on his. + +And you are thinking of going to the nearest clergyman and defying +parental authority. + +You have even looked at rooms where you believe you and Ernest could be +ideally happy. And you want me to act as matron-of-honour at that very +informal little wedding. + +Now, my dear girl, before you take this important step, give the matter +careful study. + +Your impulses are beautiful, and your ideal natural and lovely. God +intended men and women to choose their mates in this very way, with no +consideration of a worldly nature to mar their happiness. + +But civilized young ladies are a far call from God's primitive woman. +You have lived for twenty-three years in the lap of modern luxury. Your +father prides himself upon the fact that, although your mother died when +you were very young, he has carefully shielded you from everything which +could cast a shadow upon your name or nature. Your lover is fascinated +with your absolute purity and innocence. Yet he does not realize that a +young woman who has so long "sat in the lap of Luxury," is unfit to be a +poor man's wife. + +Some girl who might know much more than you of the dark and vulgar side +of life, would make him a better companion if he could love her enough +to ask her hand in marriage. + +The girl who has received the addresses of this fascinating old fellow +"Luxury," never quite forgets him, or ceases to bemoan him if she +throws him over for a poor man. + +To _look_ at two rooms and a bath is one thing, to _live_ in them +another, after having all your life occupied a suite which a queen might +envy, with retinues of servitors at call. + +You tell me you could die for your lover. + +But can you bathe from a wash-bowl and pitcher, and can you take your +meals at cheap restaurants, and make coffee and toast on an oil-stove or +a chafing-dish? + +Can you wear cheap clothing and ride in trolleys, and economize on +laundry bills to prove your love for this man? + +You never have known one single hardship in your life; you never have +faced poverty, or even experienced the ordinary economies of well-to-do +people. + +You are an only daughter of wealth--_American wealth_. That sentence +conveys a world of meaning. _It means that you are spoiled for anything +but comfort in this life_. + +For a few weeks you might believe yourself in a fairy-land of romance +if you married your lover and went to live in the two rooms. But at the +end of that period you would begin to realize that you were in a very +actual land of poverty and discomfort. + +Discomfort is relative. Those rooms to the shop-girl who had toiled for +years, and lived in a fourth-flight-back tenement, would represent +luxury. To you, after a few months, they would mean absolute penury. + +You would begin to miss your beautiful home, and your maids, and your +carriages. Your husband would know you were missing them, and he would +be miserable. Unless your father came to your rescue, your dream of +romantic love would end in a nightmare of regret and sorrow. + +Your father knows you,--the creature of refined tastes and luxurious +habits that he has made you,--and your lover does not. Neither do you +know yourself. + +It requires a woman in ten thousand, one possessed of absolute heroism, +like the old martyrs who sang at the stake while dying, to do what you +contemplate, and to be happy in the doing. + +Nothing like a life of self-indulgence disintegrates great qualities. +You are romantically and feverishly in love with a handsome and gifted +young man. But do not rush into a marriage with him until you can bring +your father to settle a competence upon you, or until your lover has +spanned the abyss of poverty with a bridge of comfort. You have had no +training in self-denial or self-dependence. The altar is a bad place to +begin your first lesson. + +Wait awhile. I know my advice seems worldly and cold, but it is the +result of wide observation. + +If you cannot sit in your gold and white boudoir, and be true to Ernest +while he battles a few more years with destiny, then you could not +remain loyal in thought while you held your numb fingers over a chilly +radiator in an uncomfortable flat, or omitted dessert from your dinner +menu to cut down expenses. + +Your brain-cells have been developed in opulence. + +You could not train your mind to inexorable economy, even at the command +of Cupid. + +Take the advice of a woman of the world, my dear girl, and do not +attempt the impossible and so spoil two lives. + +Again I say, wait awhile. + +There are girls who could be perfectly happy in the position you picture +for yourself with Ernest, but not you. + +Better hide your ideal in your heart than shatter it on the unswept +hearthstone of the commonplace. + +Better be in your lover's life the unattained joy, than ruin his +happiness by discontent. + +It is less of a tragedy for a man to hear a woman say "I cannot go with +you," than to hear her say "I cannot stay with you." + + + + +To Miss Jane Carter + +_Of the W.C.T.U._ + + +And so, my dear Jane, I have fallen from my pedestal, in your +estimation. Yet, having carefully regarded myself in the mirror, and +finding no discolorations, and feeling no wounds or contusions, I think +my pedestal must have been very near the earth, else I would be +conscious of some bruises. + +And now, Jane, to be frank, I am very glad to be off my perch. + +I do not want to dwell upon a pedestal. + +It necessitates a monotonous life, and it is an unsocial position. + +I prefer to walk on the earth, among my fellow creatures. + +You were greatly shocked, I saw, when I told my little Russian guest +that she might light her cigarette in my boudoir. Your sudden departure +told its own story, and your letter was no surprise. But I am glad you +wrote me so frankly, as it gives me the opportunity to be equally frank. + +There is nothing more beneficial, in true friendship, than a free +exchange of honest criticisms. + +You tell me that I lowered my standard by lending countenance to a +pernicious and unladylike habit. You felt I owed it to myself, as a good +woman, and to my home, as a respectable house, to show my unswerving +principles in this matter, and to indicate my disapproval of a +disgusting vice, which is growing in our midst. + +Life is too short, my dear Jane, in which to achieve all our ideals, and +to arrive at all our goals. + +I have learned the futility of attempting to reform the whole world in +one day. And I have also learned that there are more roads than one, to +all destinations. + +Miss Ordosky is the daughter of a dear old friend of my youth, who +married a Russian nobleman with more titles than dollars. + +Her parents are dead, and Wanda has come to her mother's native land, to +teach her father's language. She has come with all her Russian habits +and ideas accented by her mother's American indifference to public +opinion. The girl is young, lovely, and wholly dependent upon herself +for a livelihood. I invited her to be my guest for two months, before +establishing herself in her business, with the hope of helping her to +adapt herself somewhat to American ideas and customs. + +I could never hope for such a result, had I antagonized her the first +day under my roof by an austere attitude toward a habit which I knew she +had been reared to think proper. + +I do not like to see a woman smoke, and I regret as much as you do the +increasing prevalence of the vice in America. + +Like almost every schoolgirl, I had my day of thinking a surreptitious, +cigarette was wonderfully cunning. + +That day passed, like the measles and the whooping-cough, and left me +immune. I have never seen a woman so beautiful and alluring that she was +not less charming when she put a cigarette to her lips. I am confident +the habit vitiates the blood, injures the digestion, and renders the +breath offensive. I have known many American men who taught their wives +to smoke; and I do not know _one_ who has not lived to regret it, when +the cigarette he fancied would be an occasional luxury became a +necessity. + +A woman who expects ever to bring children into the world, is little +better than a criminal to form such a habit: for, argue as we may for +one moral code for both sexes, we cannot change nature's law, which +imposes the greater responsibility upon the mother of the unborn child; +the child she carries so many months beneath her heart, giving it hour +by hour the impression of her mental and physical conditions. + +Fathers ought not to smoke or indulge in other bad habits. + +_Mothers must not_. + +I hope in time to discuss these topics with Wanda, and to make an +impression upon her mind by my arguments. + +But your methods and mine, dear Jane, differ widely. And, begging your +pardon, I believe mine accomplish more good for a larger number of human +beings than yours. + +And, added to that fact, I get more happiness for myself out of life. + +Miss Ordosky would have managed to smoke her cigarette, however rigid +had I been in expressing my principles. And she would have found some +excuse to shorten her visit under my roof, and then where would be my +opportunity to influence her? + +As it is, she puffs her cigarette in my company, listens to my opinions, +seems to respect my ideas, and is interested in my views of life. We are +becoming excellent comrades, and this is far more gratifying to me than +to know that I had antagonized her into a formal acquaintance by my +aggressive morality. I have an idea that, before my pretty guest +reaches the time when she will consider wifehood and motherhood as life +professions, I may convince her from a scientific standpoint that she +better abandon her cigarettes. And to convince one's mind is far better +than to drive one to submission. + +And now, Jane, has it never occurred to you that you have made some +mistakes in life by the very methods you are so sorry I did not pursue +with Miss Ordosky? + +Years ago, I recall your surrounding a certain young man with an aureole +of idealism. Then you were obliged to dethrone him from his pedestal +because he, too, forsooth, smoked a cigar. + +That young man married a woman quite as worthy and good as yourself, and +he has made the best of husbands and citizens. I know of no man who does +more good in the world in a quiet way than this same unpedestaled old +admirer of yours. Whether he still smokes his cigar or not I could not +say. But as a man, it seems to me, he is quite as worthy and noble a +citizen, as you are a woman. + +I know that you are doing all you can, to spread the gospel of clean +living abroad in the land, and that your influence is all for a higher +standard of morality. + +But if you live on too high an altitude, in this world, and refuse to +associate with any one who will not climb up to your plane, you are +destined to a lonely life, and your sphere of influence is limited. You +will do far more good by taking your place with other human beings, and +by gradual, sane efforts leading the thoughts of your associates to turn +to your wholesome ideas of life. You are making morality unpopular by +your present aggressive methods. And you are missing many sweet +friendships and experiences by your insistence that all your friends +must follow the narrow path you have decided is the only road to good +behaviour. + +Come down from your pedestal, my dear Jane--come and dwell on the earth. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12020 *** diff --git a/12020-8.txt b/12020-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..67409bc --- /dev/null +++ b/12020-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6281 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Woman of the World + Her Counsel to Other People's Sons and Daughters + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: April 14, 2004 [EBook #12020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +[Illustration] + +A Woman of the World + +HER COUNSEL TO OTHER PEOPLE'S SONS AND DAUGHTERS + +By + +Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +1904 + +Fourth Impression, April, 1910 + + + + +Contents + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Law Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + +TO MISS WINIFRED CLAYBORNE, _At Vassar College_ + +TO EDNA GORDON, _During Her Honeymoon_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + +TO CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + +TO MISS MARGARET RILEY, _Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _After Three Years as a Teacher_ + +TO A YOUNG FRIEND, _Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical +Thoughts of the Day_ + +TO WILFRED CLAYBORN, _Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + +TO MISS ELSIE DEAN, _Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + +TO MISS DIANA RIVERS, _A Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a +Journalist_ + +TO NANETTE, _A Former Maid_ + +TO THE REV. WILTON MARSH, _Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES MCALLISTER, _Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Maternity_ + +TO MR. ALFRED DUNCAN, _Concerning the Ministry_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GRAY, _Concerning Polygamy_ + +TO WALTER SMEED, _Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Children_ + +TO Miss ZOE CLAYBORN, ARTIST, _Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven +Years of Married Life_ + +TO MRS. CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Concerning Her Husband_ + +TO YOUNG MRS. DUNCAN, _Regarding Mothers-in-Law._ + +TO A YOUNG MAN, _Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + +TO MRS. MCALLISTER, _Concerning Her Little Girl_ + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + +TO THE SISTER OF A GREAT BEAUTY + +TO MRS. WHITE PEAK, _One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + +TO MARIA OWENS, _A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + +TO MRS. ST. CLAIRE, _The Young Divorcée_ + +TO MISS JESSIE HARCOURT, _Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + +TO MISS JANE CARTER, _Of the W.C.T.U_ + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Late Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + + +Were you an older man, my dear Ray, your letter would be consigned to +the flames unanswered, and our friendship would become constrained and +formal, if it did not end utterly. But knowing you to be so many years +my junior, and so slightly acquainted with yourself or womankind, I am +going to be the friend you need, instead of the misfortune you invite. + +I will not say that your letter was a complete surprise to me. It is +seldom a woman is so unsophisticated in the ways of men that she is not +aware when friendship passes the borderline and trespasses on the domain +of passion. + +I realized on the last two occasions we met that you were not quite +normal. The first was at Mrs. Hanover's dinner; and I attributed some +indiscreet words and actions on your part to the very old Burgundy +served to a very young man. + +Since the memory of mortal, Bacchus has been a confederate of Cupid, and +the victims of the former have a period (though brief indeed) of +believing themselves slaves to the latter. + +As I chanced to be your right-hand neighbour at that very merry board, +where wit, wisdom, and beauty combined to condense hours into minutes, I +considered it a mere accident that you gave yourself to me with somewhat +marked devotion. Had I been any other one of the ladies present, it +would have been the same, I thought. Our next and last encounter, +however, set me thinking. + +It was fully a week later, and that most unromantic portion of the day, +between breakfast and luncheon. + +It was a Bagby recital, and you sought me out as I was listening to the +music, and caused me to leave before the programme was half done. You +were no longer under the dominion of Bacchus, though Euterpe may have +taken his task upon herself, as she often does, and your manner and +expression of countenance troubled me. + +I happen to be a woman whose heart life is absolutely complete. I have +realized my dreams, and have no least desire to turn them into +nightmares. I like original rôles, too, and that of the really happy +wife is less hackneyed than the part of the "misunderstood woman." And I +find greater enjoyment in the steady flame of one lamp than in the +flaring light of many candles. + +I have taken a good deal of pride in keeping my lamp well trimmed and +brightly burning, and I was startled and offended at the idea of any man +coming so near he imagined he might blow out the light. + +Your letter, however, makes me more sorry than angry. + +You are passing through a phase of experience which comes to almost +every youth, between sixteen and twenty-four. + +Your affectional and romantic nature is blossoming out, and you are in +that transition period where an older woman appeals to you. + +Being crude and unformed yourself, the mature and ripened mind and body +attract you. + +A very young man is fascinated by an older woman's charms, just as a +very old man is drawn to a girl in her teens. + +This is according to the law of completion, each entity seeking for what +it does not possess. + +Ask any middle-aged man of your acquaintance to tell you the years of +the first woman he imagined he loved, and you will find you are +following a beaten path. + +Because you are a worth while young man, with a bright future before +you, I am, as I think of the matter, glad you selected me rather than +some other less happy or considerate woman, as the object of your +regard. + +An unhappy wife or an ambitious adventuress might mar your future, and +leave you with lowered ideals and blasted prospects. + +You tell me in your letter that for "a day of life and love with me you +would willingly give up the world and snap your fingers in the face of +conventional society, and even face death with a laugh." It is easy for +a passionate, romantic nature to work itself into a mood where those +words are felt when written, and sometimes the mood carries a man and a +woman through the fulfilment of such assertions. But invariably +afterward comes regret, remorse, and disillusion. + +No man enjoys having the world take him at his word, when he says he is +ready to give it up for the woman he loves. + +He wants the woman and the world, too. + +In the long run, he finds the world's respect more necessary to his +continued happiness than the woman's society. + +Just recall the history of all such cases you have known, and you will +find my assertions true. + +Thank your stars that I am not a reckless woman ready to take you at +your word, and thank your stars, too, that I am not a free woman who +would be foolish enough and selfish enough to harness a young husband to +a mature wife. I know you resent this reference to the difference in our +years, which may not be so marked to the observer to-day, but how would +it be ten, fifteen years from now? There are few disasters greater for +husband or wife than the marriage of a boy of twenty to a woman a dozen +years his senior. For when he reaches thirty-five, despair and misery +must almost inevitably face them both. + +You must forgive me when I tell you that one sentence in your letter +caused a broad smile. + +That sentence was, "Would to God I had met you when you were free to be +wooed and loved, as never man loved woman before." + +Now I have been married ten years, and you are twenty-three years old! +You must blame my imagination (not my heart, which has no intention of +being cruel) for the picture presented to my mind's eye by your wish. + +I saw myself in the full flower of young ladyhood, carrying at my side +an awkward lad of a dozen years, attired in knickerbockers, and +probably chewing a taffy stick, yet "wooing and loving as never man +loved before." + +I suppose, however, the idea in your mind was that you wished Fate had +made me of your own age, and left me free for you. + +But few boys of twenty-three are capable of knowing what they want in a +life companion. Ten years from now your ideal will have changed. + +You are in love with love, life, and all womankind, my dear boy, not +with me, your friend. + +Put away all such ideas, and settle down to hard study and serious +ambitions, and seal this letter of yours, which I am returning with my +reply, and lay it carefully away in some safe place. Mark it to be +destroyed unopened in case of your death. But if you live, I want you to +open, re-read and burn it on the evening before your marriage to some +lovely girl, who is probably rolling a hoop to-day; and if I am living, +I want you to write and thank me for what I have said to you here. I +hardly expect you will feel like doing it now, but I can wait. + +Do not write me again until that time, and when we meet, be my good +sensible friend--one I can introduce to my husband, for only such +friends do I care to know. + + + + +To Miss Winifred Clayborne + +_At Vassar College_ + + +My dear niece:--It was a pleasure to receive so long a letter from you +after almost two years of silence. It hardly seems possible that you are +eighteen years old. To have graduated from high school with such honours +that you are able to enter Vassar at so early an age is much to your +credit. + +I indulged in a good-natured laugh over your request for my advice +regarding a college course. You say, "I remember that I once heard you +state that you did not believe in higher education for women, and, +therefore, I am anxious to have your opinion of this undertaking of +mine." + +Now of course, my dear child, what you wish me to say is, that I am +charmed with your resolution to graduate from Vassar. You have entered +the college fully determined to take a complete course, and you surely +would not like a discouraging or disapproving letter from your auntie. + +"Please give me your opinion of my course of action" always means, +"Please approve of what I am doing." + +Well I _do_ approve. I always approve when a human being is carrying out +a determination, even if I am confident it is the wrong determination. + +The really useful knowledge of life must come through strong +convictions. Strong convictions are usually obtained only on the pathway +of personal experience. + +To argue a man out of a certain course of action rarely argues away his +own beliefs and desires in the matter. We may save him some bitter +experience in the contemplated project, but he is almost certain to find +that same bitter experience later, because he has been coerced, not +enlightened. + +Had he gained his knowledge in the first instance, he would have escaped +the later disaster. + +A college education does not seem to me the most desirable thing for a +woman, unless she intends to enter into educational pursuits as a means +of livelihood. I understand it is your intention to become a teacher, +and, therefore, you are wise to prepare yourself by a thorough +education. _Be the very best_, in whatever line of employment you enter. + +Scorn any half-way achievements. Make yourself a brilliantly educated +woman, but look to it that in the effort you do not forget two other +important matters--health and sympathy. My objection to higher education +for women, which you once heard me express, is founded on the fact that +I have met many college women who were anaemic and utterly devoid of +emotion. One beautiful young girl I recall who at fourteen years of age +seemed to embody all the physical and temperamental charms possible for +womankind. Softly rounded features, vivid colouring, voluptuous curves +of form, yet delicacy and refinement in every portion of her anatomy, +she breathed love and radiated sympathy. I thought of her as the ideal +woman in embryo; and the brightness of her intellect was the finishing +touch to a perfect girlhood. I saw her again at twenty-four. She had +graduated from an American college and had taken two years in a foreign +institution of learning. She had carried away all the honours--but, +alas, the higher education had carried away all her charms of person and +of temperament. Attenuated, pallid, sharp-featured, she appeared much +older than her years, and the lovely, confiding and tender qualities of +mind, which made her so attractive to older people, had given place to +cold austerity and hypercriticism. + +Men were only objects of amusement, indifference, or ridicule to her. +Sentiment she regarded as an indication of crudity, emotion as an +insignia of vulgarity. The heart was a purely physical organ, she knew +from her studies in anatomy. It was no more the seat of emotion than +the liver or lungs. The brain was the only portion of the human being +which appealed to her, and "educated" people were the only ones who +interested her, because they were capable of argument and discussion of +intellectual problems--her one source of entertainment. + +Half an hour in the society of this over-trained young person left one +exhausted and disillusioned with brainy women. I beg you to pay no such +price for an education as this young girl paid. I remember you as a +robust, rosy girl, with charming manners. Your mother was concerned, on +my last visit, because I called you a pretty girl in your hearing. She +said the one effort of her life was to rear a sensible Christian +daughter with no vanity. She could not understand my point of view when +I said I should regret it if a daughter of mine was without vanity, and +that I should strive to awaken it in her. Cultivate enough vanity to +care about your personal appearance and your deportment. No amount of +education can recompense a woman for the loss of complexion, figure, +or charm. And do not let your emotional and affectional nature grow +atrophied. + +Control your emotions, but do not crucify them. + +Do not mistake frigidity for serenity, nor austerity for self-control. +Be affable, amiable, and sweet, no matter how much you know. And listen +more than you talk. + +The woman who knows how to show interest is tenfold more attractive than +the woman who is for ever anxious to instruct. Learn how to call out the +best in other people, and lead them to talk of whatever most interests +them. In this way you will gain a wide knowledge of human nature, which +is the best education possible. Try and keep a little originality of +thought, which is the most difficult of all undertakings while in +college; and, if possible, be as lovable a woman when you go forth into +the world "finished" as when you entered the doors of your Alma Mater: +for to be unlovable is a far greater disaster than to be uneducated. + + + + +To Edna Gordon + +_During Her Honeymoon_ + + +I am very much flattered that you should write your first letter as Mrs. +Gordon to me. Its receipt was a surprise, as I have known you so +slightly--only when we were both guests under a friend's roof for one +week. + +I had no idea that you were noticing me particularly at that time, there +was such a merry crowd of younger people about you. How careful we +matrons should be, when in the presence of débutantes, for it seems they +are taking notes for future reference! + +I am glad that my behaviour and conversation were such that you feel you +can ask me for instructions at this important period of your life. Here +is the text you have given me: + +"_I want you to tell me, dear Mrs. West, how to be as happy, and loved, +and loving, after fifteen years of married life, as you are. I so dread +the waning of my honeymoon_." + +And now you want me to preach you a little sermon on this text. Well, my +dear girl, I am at a disadvantage in not knowing you better, and not +knowing your husband at all. + +Husbands are like invalids, each needs a special prescription, according +to his ailment. + +But as all invalids can be benefited by certain sensible suggestions, +like taking simple food, and breathing and exercising properly, and +sleeping with open windows or out-of-doors, so all husbands can be aided +toward perpetual affection by the observance of some general laws, on +the part of the wife. + +I am, of course, to take it for granted that you have married a man with +principles and ideals, a man who loves you and desires to make a good +husband. I know you were not so unfortunate as to possess a large amount +of property for any man to seek, and so I can rely upon the natural +supposition that you were married for love. + +It might be worth your while, right now, while your husband's memory is +fresh upon the subject, to ask him what particular characteristics first +won his attention, and what caused him to select you for a life +companion. + +Up to the present moment, perhaps, he has never told you any more +substantial reason for loving you than the usual lovers' +explanation--"Just because." But if you ask him to think it over, I am +sure he can give you a more explicit answer. + +After you have found what qualities, habits, actions, or accomplishments +attracted him, write them down in a little book and refer to them two or +three times a year. On these occasions ask yourself if you are keeping +these attractions fresh and bright as they were in the days of +courtship. Women easily drop the things which won a man's heart, and are +unconscious that the change they bemoan began in themselves. But do not +imagine you can rest at ease after marriage with only the qualities, +and charms, and virtues, which won you a lover. To keep a husband in +love is a more serious consideration than to win a lover. + +You must add year by year to your attractions. + +As the deep bloom of first youth passes, you must cultivate mental and +spiritual traits which will give your face a lustre from within. + +And as the mirth and fun of life drifts farther from you, and you find +the merry jest, which of old turned care into laughter, less ready on +your lip, you must cultivate a wholesome optimistic view of life, to +sustain your husband through the trials and disasters besetting most +mortal paths. + +Make one solemn resolve now, and never forget it. Say to yourself, "On +no other spot, in no other house on earth, shall my husband find a more +cheerful face, a more loving welcome, or a more restful atmosphere, than +he finds at home." + +No matter what vicissitudes arise, and what complications occur, keep +that resolve. It will at least help to sustain you with a sense of +self-respect, if unhappiness from any outside source should shadow your +life. An attractive home has become a sort of platitude in speech, but +it remains a thing of vital importance, all the same, in actual life and +in marriage. + +Think often and speak frequently to your husband of his good qualities +and of the things you most admire in him. + +Sincere and judicious praise is to noble nature like spring rain and sun +to the earth. Ignore or make light of his small failings, and when you +must criticize a serious fault, do not dwell upon it. A husband and wife +should endeavour to be such good friends that kindly criticism is +accepted as an evidence of mutual love which desires the highest +attainments for its object. + +But no man likes to think his wife has set about the task of making him +over, and if you have any such intention I beg you to conceal it, and go +about it slowly and with caution. + +A woman who knows how to praise more readily than she knows how to +criticize, and who has the tact and skill to adapt herself to a man's +moods and to find amusement and entertainment in his whims, can lead him +away from their indulgence without his knowledge. + +Such women are the real reformers of men, though they scorn the word, +and disclaim the effort. + +It is well to keep a man conscious that you are a refined and +delicate-minded woman, yet do not insist upon being worshipped on a +pedestal. It tires a man's neck to be for ever gazing upward, and +statues are less agreeable companions than human beings. + +If you wish to be thought spotless marble, instead of warm flesh and +blood, you should have gone into a museum, and refused marriage. +Remember God knew what He was about, when He fashioned woman to be man's +companion, mate, and mother of his children. + +Respect yourself in all those capacities, and regard the fulfilment of +each duty as sacred and beautiful. + +Do not thrust upon the man's mind continually the idea that you are a +vastly higher order of being than he is. + +He will reach your standard much sooner if you come half-way and meet +him on the plane of common sense and human understanding. Meantime let +him never doubt your abhorrence of vulgarity, and your distaste for the +familiarity which breeds contempt. + +It is a great art, when a wife knows how to attract a husband year after +year, with the allurements of the boudoir, and never to disillusion him +with the familiarities of the dressing-room. + +Such women there are, who have lived with their lovers in poverty's +close quarters, and through sickness and trouble, and yet have never +brushed the bloom from the fruit of romance. But she who needs to be +told in what this art consists, would never understand, and she who +understands, need not be told. + +Keep your husband certain of the fact that his attention and society is +more agreeable to you than that of any other man. But never beg for his +attentions, and do not permit him to think you are incapable of enjoying +yourself without his playing the devoted cavalier. + +The moment a man feels such an attitude is compulsory, it becomes +irksome. Learn how to entertain yourself. Cling to your accomplishments +and add others. A man admires a progressive woman who keeps step with +the age. Study, and think, and read, and cultivate the art of listening. +This will make you interesting to men and women alike, and your husband +will hear you praised as an agreeable and charming woman, and that +always pleases a man, as it indicates his good taste and good luck. + +Avoid giving your husband the impression that you expect a detailed +account of every moment spent away from you. Convince him that you +believe in his honour and loyalty, and that you have no desire to +control or influence his actions in any matters which do not conflict +with his self-respect or your pride. + +Cultivate the society of the women he admires. There is both wisdom and +tact in such a course. + +Wisdom in making an ideal a reality, and tact in avoiding any semblance +of that most unbecoming fault--jealousy. + +Let him see that you have absolute faith in your own powers to hold him, +and that you respect him too much to mistake a frank admiration for an +unworthy sentiment. Do not hesitate to speak with equal frankness of the +qualities you admire in other men. Educate him in liberality and +generosity, by example. + +Allow no one to criticize him in your presence, and do not discuss his +weaknesses with others. I have known wives to meet in conclaves, and +dissect husbands for an entire afternoon. And each wife seemed anxious +to pose as the most neglected and unappreciated woman of the lot. With +all the faults of the sterner sex, I never heard of such a caucus of +husbands. + +Take an interest in your husband's business affairs, and sympathize with +the cares and anxieties which beset him. Distract his mind with pleasant +or amusing conversation, when you find him nervous and fagged in brain +and body. + +Yet do not feel that you must never indicate any trouble of your own, +for it is conducive to selfishness when a wife hides all her worries and +indispositions to listen to those of her husband. But since the +work-a-day world, outside the home, is usually filled with irritations +for a busy man, it should be a wife's desire to make his home-coming a +season of anticipation and joy. + +Do not expect a husband to be happy and contented with a continuous diet +of love and sentiment and romance. He needs also much that is practical +and commonplace mingled with his mental food. + +I have known an adoring young wife to irritate Cupid so he went out and +sat on the door-step, contemplating flight, by continual neglect of +small duties. + +There were never any matches in the receivers; when the husband wanted +one he was obliged to search the house. The newspaper he had folded and +left ready to read at leisure was used to light the fire, although an +overfilled waste-basket stood near. The towel-rack was empty just when +he wanted his bath, and his bedroom slippers were always kicked so far +under the bed that he was obliged to crawl on all fours to reach them. + +Then his loving spouse was sure to want to be "cuddled" when he was +smoking his cigar and reading,--a triple occupation only possible to a +human freak, with three arms, four eyes, and two mouths. + +Therefore I would urge you, my dear Edna, to mingle the practical with +the ideal, and common sense with sentiment, and tact with affection, in +your domestic life. + +These general rules are all I can give to guide your barque into the +smooth, sea of marital happiness. + +It is a wide sea, with many harbours and ports, and no two ships start +from exactly the same point or take exactly the same course. You will +encounter rocks and reefs, perhaps, which my boat escaped, and I have no +chart to guide you away from those rocks. + +If I knew you better, and knew your husband at all, I might steer you a +little farther out of Honeymoon Bay into calm waters, and tell you how +to reef your sails, and how to tack at certain junctures of the voyage, +and with the wind in certain directions. + +But if you keep your heart full of love, your mind clear of distrust, +and your lips free from faultfinding, and if you pray for guidance and +light upon your way, I am sure you cannot miss the course. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + + +It is indeed a problem, my dear Gladys, to face stern-visaged Necessity +after walking with laughing-lipped Pleasure for twenty-two years. + +What an unforeseen event that your father should sink his fortune in a +rash venture and die of remorse and discouragement scarcely six months +after you were travelling through Europe with me, and laughing at my +vain attempts to make you economize. + +You have acted the noble and womanly part, in using the last dollar of +your father's property to pay his debts, and I could imagine you doing +no other way. + +But now comes the need of earning a livelihood for yourself, and your +delicate mother. + +I know you have gone over the list of your accomplishments and taken +stock of all your inherited and acquired qualities. You play the piano +well, but in these days of Paderewskies and pianolas, no one wants to +employ a young girl music-teacher. You do not sing, and if you did, that +would not afford you a means of support. The best of natural voices need +a fortune spent before half a fortune can be earned. + +You dance like a fairy, and swim like a mermaid, and ride like an Indian +princess, but these accomplishments are not lucrative, save in a Midway +Plaisance or a Wild West show. You are well educated and your memory is +remarkable. You have a facility in mathematics, and your knowledge of +grammar and rhetoric will, as you say, enable you to pass the +examination for a teacher in the public schools after a little brushing +up and study. Then, with the political influence of your father's old +friends, you will no doubt be able to obtain a position. + +I recollect you as surpassingly skilful with the needle. I know you +once saw a charming morning gown in Paris which I persuaded you not to +buy at the absurd price asked for it, after the merchant understood we +were Americans. And I remember how you passed to another department, +purchased materials, went home to our hotel, and cut and made a +surprising imitation of the gown at one-tenth the cost. + +Why have you not considered turning this talent to account? Though the +world goes to war and ruin, yet women will dress, and the need of good +seamstresses ever exists. + +Go to some enterprising half-grown Western or interior Eastern town, +announce yourself in possession of all the Paris styles (as you are), +and launch out. Increase your prices gradually, and go abroad on your +savings at the end of a year, then come back with new ideas, a larger +stock, and higher prices. + +You will be on the road to fortune, and can retire with a competence +before you are middle-aged. A little skill with the scissors and +needle, lots of courage and audacity, and original methods will make a +woman succeed in this line of endeavour. + +But why do I not approve of the profession upon which you have almost +decided--that of teaching--you ask. + +I will tell you why. + +Next to motherhood, the profession of teacher in public or private +schools is the most important one on earth. + +It is, in a certain sense, more responsible than that of motherhood, +since the work of poor and bad mothers must be undone by the teacher, +and where the mother has three or four children for a period of years to +influence, the teacher has hundreds continually. There are very few +perfect teachers. There are too few excellent ones. There are too many +poor ones. I do not believe you possess the requisites for the calling. + +A teacher should first of all love children as a class. Their +dependence, their ignorance, their helplessness, and their unformed +characters should appeal to a woman's mind, and make her forget their +many and varied faults and irritating qualities. You like lovable, +well-bred, and interesting children, but you are utterly indifferent to +all others. You adore beauty, and an ugly child offends your taste. A +stupid child irritates you. + +You have a wonderful power of acquiring and remembering information, but +you do not possess the knack of readily imparting it. You expect others +to grasp ideas in the same way you do. This will make you unsympathetic +and impatient as a teacher. You have no conception of the influence a +teacher exerts upon children in public schools. You were educated in +private schools and at home, I know. I attended the country public +school, and to this day I can recall the benefits and misfortunes which +resulted to me from association with different teachers. Children are +keenly alive to the moods of teachers and are often adepts in +mind-reading. + +A teacher should be able to enter into the hearts and souls of the +children under her charge, and she should find as great pleasure in +watching their minds develop as the musical genius in watching a +composition grow under his touch. + +An infinite number of things not included in the school routine should +be taught by teachers. Courtesy, kindness to dependents and weaker +creatures, a horror of cruelty in all forms, a love of nature, +politeness to associates, low speaking and light walking, cleanliness +and refinement of manner,--all these may be imparted by a teacher who +loves to teach, without extra time or fatigue. I fear a proud disdain, +and a scarcely hidden disgust, would be plainly visible in your +demeanour toward the majority of the untrained little savages given to +your charge in a public school. You have not the love of humanity at +large in your heart, nor the patience and perseverance to make you take +an optimistic view in the colossal work of developing the minds of +children. Therefore it seems to me almost a sin for you to undertake +the profession merely because you need to earn a living. There are other +things to be considered besides your necessities. Fond as I am of you, I +have the betterment of humanity at my heart, too, and cannot feel it is +right for you to place yourself in a position where you will not be +doing the best for those dependent upon you that could be done. + +I have given up hope of seeing mothers made to realize their +responsibilities. But I still have hope of the teachers. On them and +their full understanding of all it is in their power to do, lies the +hope of the world. + +Therefore, my dear girl, I urge you to take up dressmaking or millinery +instead of school-teaching. + +If you ruin a piece of goods in the making, you can replace it and +profit by your error. But if you mar a child's nature in your attempt to +teach him, you have done an irreparable injury not only to him but to +humanity. + +If you saw a design started by a lace-maker, you would not think of +taking the work and attempting to complete it until you had learned the +art of lace-making. + +Just so you ought not to think of developing the wonderful intricacies +of a child's mind until you have learned how. + +It is all right to deliberately choose a vocation which gives us contact +only with inanimate things, but we have no right to take the handling of +human souls unless we are specially fitted for the task. + + + + +To Clarence St. Claire + +_Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + + +Your request, my dear Clarence, that I try to influence your sister to +change her determination in this matter, calls for some very plain +statements from me. + +I have known you and Elise since you were playing with marbles and +rattles, and your mother and I have been very good acquaintances +(scarcely intimate enough to be called friends) for more than a score of +years. You are very much like your mother, both in exterior appearance +and in mind. Elise is the image of her father at the time he captured +your mother's romantic fancy, and as I recollect him when he died. + +You were five years old, Elise three, at that time. Your mother lived +with your father six years in months, an eternity in experience. You +know that she was unhappy, and that he disillusioned her with love, and +almost with life. He married your mother solely for her fortune. She was +a sweet and beautiful girl, of excellent family, but your father had no +qualities of mind or soul which enabled him to appreciate or care for +any woman, save as she could be of use to him, socially and financially. + +In six years he managed to dispose of all but a mere pittance of her +fortune, and humiliated her in a thousand ways besides. His only decent +act was to die and leave her undisturbed for the remainder of her life. +Your uncle assisted in her support and saved the remnant of her +property, so that she has, by careful and rigorous economy, been able to +educate you and Elise, and keep up a respectable appearance in a quiet +way. + +Of course it was impossible to retain her place among the associates of +her better days, and you know how bitter this fact has always made +Elise. Your sister has the physical beauty and the overwhelming love of +money and power which characterized your father. She has a modicum of +your mother's sense of honour, but has been reared in a way not +calculated to develop much strength of character. Your mother has been a +slave to your sister. Elise is incapable of a deep, intense love for any +man, and your mother's pessimistic ideas of love and marriage have still +further acted upon her brain cells and atrophied whatever impulses may +have been latent in her nature, to love and be loved. These qualities +might have been developed had Elise been under the tutelage of some one +versed in the science of brain building, but your mother, like most +mothers, was not aware of the tremendous possibilities within her grasp, +or of the effect of the ideas she expressed in the hearing of her +children. Neither did she seem to recognize the father's traits in +Elise, and undertake the work of eliminating them, as she might have +done. She has been an unselfish and devoted mother, and has made too +many sacrifices for Elise. At the same time, she has awakened the mind +of your sister to ideals of principle and honour which will help her to +be a better woman than her inheritance from your father would otherwise +permit. But now, at the age of twenty-one, it is impossible to hope that +she will develop into a self-sacrificing, loving, womanly woman, whose +happiness can be found in a peaceful domestic life. She has seen your +mother sad and despondent, under the yoke of genteel poverty, and heard +her bemoan her lost privileges of wealth and station. This, added to her +natural craving for money and place, renders a wealthy marriage her only +hope of happiness on earth. + +Mr. Volney has an enormous fortune. He is, as you say, a senile old man +in his dotage. As you say again, such a marriage is a travesty. But +Elise is incapable of feeling the love which alone renders marriage a +holy institution. She has undesirable qualities which ought not to be +transmitted to children, and she is absolutely devoid of maternal +instincts. + +I have heard her say she would consider motherhood the greatest +disaster which could befall her. But she is unfitted for a +self-supporting career, and she wants a home and position. + +She has beauty, kind and generous impulses, and a love of playing Lady +Bountiful. It is not so much that she wants to benefit the needy, as +that she likes to place people under obligations and to have them look +up to her as a superior being. + +Old Mr. Volney is a miser, and his money is doing no one good. He has +only distant relatives, and by taking Elise for a wife (according to +law) he will wrong no one, and she will make much better use of his +fortune than his heirs would make. + +Your mother will be relieved of worry and care. Many worthy poor people +and charities will receive help, and Elise will have her heart's +desire--fine apparel, jewels, a social position, and no one to bother +her. The valet and nurse will look after Mr. Volney, and his simple old +heart will bask in the pride of an old man--the possession of a pretty +young wife. + +Had he full use of his mental faculties, and did he long for love and +devotion, I would try and dissuade Elise from the marriage, but solely +on _his_ account, not on hers. + +The young man you mention, as your choice of a suitor for the hand of +your sister, might better go up in a balloon to seek for Eutopia than to +expect happiness as her husband. He has a sweet, gentle, loving nature, +a taste for quiet home joys, fondness for children, and he has two +thousand a year, with small prospects of more in the near future. + +He should marry a modest, domestic girl, with tastes similar to his own, +and with no overweening ambitions. Elise would simply drive him mad in a +year's time, with her restless discontent, her extravagance, and her +desire for the expensive pleasures of earth. It is useless to reason +with her, or to expect her to model her ideas to suit her circumstances. +Inheritance and twenty-one years of wrong education must be taken into +consideration. What would mean happiness for many women would mean +misery for her. I can imagine no more dreadful destiny than to be tied +to a senile old man by a legal ceremony, even were I given his millions +in payment. But that will mean happiness to Elise. + +I think we should let people seek their own ideals of happiness, when +they break no law, and injure no other life by it. + +I shall congratulate Elise by this post on having made so fortunate an +alliance. I could not congratulate her were she to marry her young +suitor. I shall congratulate your mother on having nothing to worry +about, regarding the future of Elise. + +And I advise you to take a philosophical view of the situation, and to +remember that, in judging the actions of our fellow beings, we must take +their temperaments, characteristics, and environment into consideration, +not our own. + +You have made the very common error of thinking, because Elise is a +handsome young girl, that love, and home, and children would mean +happiness to her. + +Women vary as greatly as do plants and flowers in their needs. The +horticulturist knows that he cannot treat them all alike, and he studies +their different requirements. + +To some he gives moisture and sun, to some shade, and to some dry, sandy +soil. The thistle pushes forth a gorgeous bloom from an arid bed. It +would die in the pond where the lily thrives. + +Too much sentiment is wasted in this world and too much effort expended +in trying to make all people happy in some one way. + +When I was a little girl, a Sunday-school superintendent presented every +girl in the class with a doll, and each doll was exactly the same. Most +little girls like dolls, but I never played with one, as they were +always so hopelessly inanimate. If the good man had given me a sled, or +a book, or a picture, I would have been happy. As it was, his gift was a +failure. You want to present your sister with a devoted young husband, +a cottage, and several children, because you think every woman should +possess these things. Your sister happens to be one who prefers a +wealthy old invalid. + +Let her have what she wants, my dear Clarence, and let her work out her +destiny in her own way. She will do less harm in the world than if you +forced her into your way. Now you must remember that you asked me to +help you in this matter, and I could only write you the absolute facts +of the situation, as I knew it to be. I feel fairly confident that you +will accept my point of view, and act as best man at your sister's +wedding. + + + + +To Miss Margaret Riley + +_Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + + +Your letter has been destroyed, as you requested, and you need not fear +my betraying your confidence. + +Your mother was so long in my employ that I feel almost like a +foster-mother to you, having seen you grow up from the cradle to +self-supporting young womanhood. + +The troubles and evils which you mention as existing about you, I know +to be quite universal in all large shops, factories, and department +stores, indeed in all houses where the two sexes are employed. + +I know that a certain order of men in power use that power to lower the +ideals and standards of womanhood when they can. + +A pretty young girl once in my service related to me the cold-blooded +suggestions made to her by her employer to increase the miserable wage +paid her in a sweat-shop. + +The sacrifice of her virtue seemed no more to this man than the sale of +an old garment. + +The girl did not make the sacrifice, however, and she did not starve, +freeze, or die. She managed to exist and to better her condition by +doing domestic work and saving her money to fit herself for more +congenial employment. When I last saw her she was planning to become a +trained nurse, and had paid for a course of instruction in massage. I +tell you this merely to illustrate a fact I fully believe, that any girl +who is determined to live an honourable life and retain her self-respect +can make her way in the world and rise from lesser to higher positions, +if she is patient and willing to do what is termed menial work as a +stepping-stone. You tell me that scores of girls are kept in poorly +paying, inferior positions when capable of filling better places, +simply because they will not accept the dishonourable attentions of some +of the men in authority. + +You beg me to arouse the good women of America to a crusade against what +you say is a growing evil and to boycott such shops and stores. + +But you ask me to do what is an impracticable thing. + +You would not like to be called as a witness were this matter brought +before the courts. Were all the good women of America to begin such a +crusade, where would they obtain the proofs of their accusations? + +And even if the witnesses were ready, there is not a newspaper in the +land that would dare champion the reform. And no great reform can be +made without the aid of the press. The daily papers, as you say, give +columns to protests against lesser evils, but you must know that these +newspapers are largely supported by the profitable advertisements of +manufactories and dry-goods houses. Glance over the columns of any of +our large dailies and see how much space such advertising occupies. + +Imagine what it would mean to lose all this high-priced patronage. +Therefore, even if the most moral of editors knew that these +establishments were undermining our social conditions and invading our +homes, I doubt if he could be induced to make a protest. It is a curious +thing to see how many are the kinds of victims caught and held in the +clutches of the money-devil-fish in our wonderful land of freedom. + +Even clergymen who are preaching morality and brotherly love are +compelled to keep their mouths shut on certain evils and abuses, lest +they offend the pillars of the church and deprive the treasury of its +income. + +In a certain New England town famous for its educational institution, a +clergyman denounced a corporation which had swindled the poor and +deceived scores of citizens. He was requested to discontinue further +references to the matter, as the church treasury was supplied by the +money which accrued from this monopoly. + +The most powerful members of the church were officers in the +corporation. + +The young clergyman sent in his resignation and gave up an assured +salary to follow the light of his own conscience. But there are few with +his bravery and, therefore, the strongholds of selfishness and +self-indulgence remain impregnable. While we admire the splendid +character which makes a man capable of refusing a salary which means +hush-money, we can at the same time understand the difficult position of +a clergyman with a hungry brood of children to support, who hesitates at +such a move. We can understand how he argues with himself, that by +taking the money of the monopolists, he is able to do more good for +humanity than by refusing it, and losing both influence and income. It +is a false argument, yet the worn and weary mind of the average orthodox +minister will accept it as the advisable course to pursue. So you will +see how difficult is the task you suggest my undertaking. You tell me +that it is useless for you to leave one shop and go to another, as all +are more or less conducted on the same lines; and that it is mere chance +if a girl finds herself in a position where she can advance on her +merits. Even then a sudden change in heads of departments some day may +destroy all her hopes. + +You say I have no idea how many girls go wrong just through the +persecution and tyranny of these men--forced to fall in order to keep +herself fed and clothed. I repeat what I said already in this +connection,--that I am certain any girl determined to keep herself above +reproach and ambitious to rise in the world can do so. She may have to +endure many privations and sorrows for a time, and that time may seem +long and weary, _but a change will come for the better as surely as +spring follows winter, if she does not waver_. + +If you will look carefully into the facts of the cases which fall under +your observation, I am confident you will see that it is vanity and +indolence, not hunger and oppression, which cause the majority of the +girls you mention to go astray. They desire to make as good an +appearance, and to be given the same privileges of leisure, as the +favourite who has been promoted through unworthy methods. + +You tell me you would rather jump from Brooklyn Bridge and end the +struggle at once than lose your self-respect, but that you are weary of +seeing the girls with less conscience, and lesser capabilities, pushed +ahead of you and your worthy associates. Yet I am certain from the tone +of your letter that you will never forget your self-respect, and I have +faith that you can make your way in the world in spite of all the +designing masculine oppressors in existence. + +So will any woman, who sets her mark high, and believes in the +invincible power of her own spirit to conquer all the demons of earth. + +Do not imagine your position is one of unusual trial and temptation. A +young actress of my acquaintance has been obliged to fight her way +slowly to partial recognition because she would not accept the +conditions offered, with leading rôles and fine wardrobe, by two +polygamous-minded managers. + +She is making her way, however, and the very battle she is fighting with +life has strengthened her powers as an artist. A young stenographer has +been compelled to give up two positions because she would not allow the +loverlike attentions of married employers. She was called a silly prude +and discharged. Yet she is occupying an excellent position with a clean +high-class business house to-day. + +Domestics are sometimes driven from private homes by the same pursuit of +the employer. Men are only in a state of evolution, and the animal +instincts are still strong in them. The world has allowed them so much +license, and society has been so lenient with their misdeeds, that it +has been difficult for them to practise self-control and aspire to a +higher standard. You must be sorry for them and do what you can to help +them understand the worth and value of true womanhood. Never for one +instant believe that you can be hindered by the machinations of a few +unworthy men, from reaching any goal you set. + +One good, intelligently virtuous woman, determined to make the most of +her capabilities by fair methods, can overcome a whole army of +self-indulgent, sensual men, and compel them to doff their hats to her. +I am always deeply sympathetic toward the girl who is tempted through +her emotions, or her affections, to forget herself. But I have no great +pity for the woman who sells herself. There are always charitable +societies, and there are always menial labours to do, and either door of +escape from the sale of honour would be sought by the girl of right +ideals. It is a bitter experience to see the woman who _has_ stepped +down into the soil of life flaunting her finery and her power in the +face of virtue. But look about you and see how soon the finery becomes +tatters--how soon the power is transferred to another. + +Woman's position in the world is growing better, brighter, and more +independent with each year. There are more avenues open to her--larger +opportunities waiting for the employment of her abilities. She has tried +a thorny path for centuries, but she has small reason to despair of her +outlook to-day. + +Each woman must fight her battle alone, and walk by the light from +within. + +The world gives her only a superficial protection, either through its +courts or its society. + +Men demand virtue from woman and endeavour in every way to lead her away +from its path. + +But the divinity within her can carry her to the heights, if she will +not be lured by the voice of the senses, or frightened by the demands of +the appetite, or debased by the mercenary spirit of the age. + +Go on in your brave determination to lead a sensible and moral life, my +dear girl, and let your example be a guide to others, and prove that +woman may succeed on the right basis if she will, in spite of +temptations and oppressions. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_After Three Years as a Teacher_ + + +The way you took my frank criticisms and doubts of your ability to make +a good school-teacher, proves you to be a girl of much character. Your +success proves, too, that given the general qualifications of a fairly +capable and educated human being, add concentration and will, and we can +achieve wonders in any line of work we undertake. I am still of the +opinion that no woman of my acquaintance was more wholly unfit to teach +young children, as they should be taught, than your fair self as I last +knew you. + +I take pride in believing that my heroic methods were what brought out +the undeveloped qualities you needed to ensure such success. + +There are certain natures that need to be antagonized before they do +their best. Others are prostrated and robbed of all strength by a +criticism or a doubt. + +You have realized this, I am sure, in your experiences with pupils. +"_You cannot do it_" is a more stimulating war-cry to some people than +"_You can_." And to such the sneer of the foe does more good, than the +smile of the friend. A phrenologist would tell us that strongly +developed organs of self-esteem and love of approbation accompanied this +trait of character. + +I am sure it proves to be the case with you. + +Brought up as you were, the only child of indulgent parents, and given +admiration and praise by all your associates, you could hardly reach the +age of twenty-two without having developed self-esteem and love of +praise. You were naturally brighter than most of your companions. (They +were also children of fortune, as the term goes, but to my idea the +children reared in wealth, are usually children of misfortune. For the +real fortune of life is to encounter the discipline which brings out +our strongest qualities.) + +Your father was a poor boy, who fought his way up to wealth and power +before you were born; but he unfortunately wanted the earth beside, and +so died in poverty after staking all he had, which was enough, to make +more, which he did not need. + +You inherit much of his force of character, and that is what gave you +the reputation of extreme cleverness among your more commonplace +companions. Compared with the really brilliant and talented people of +earth, you are not clever. That is why I found you so companionable and +charming, no doubt; for the brilliant people--especially women--are +rarely companionable for more than a few hours at a time. I gave you +that supreme test of friendship--the companionship of travel for a +period of months. And I loved you better at the end of the time than at +the beginning. + +I have often thought how much less occupation there would be for the +divorce courts and how many more "indefinitely postponed" announcements +of engagements would result from an established custom of a +pre-betrothal trip! + +If a young man and woman who were enamoured could travel for two or +three months, with a chaperon (in the shape of a mother-in-law or two), +the lawyers would lose much profit; but I fear race suicide might ensue. +Nothing, unless it is the sick-room or the card-table, brings out the +real characteristics of human beings like travel. + +The irritating delays of boats and trains, and the still more irritating +unresponsiveness of officials, when asked the cause, will test the +temper and the patience of even a pair of lovers. It is not surprising +if the traveller does lose both at times, but it is admirable if he does +not. I remember how adorable you were, while I was a bundle of dynamite, +ready to explode and send the stolid, uncommunicative conductor and +brakemen into a journey through space, when we suffered that long delay +coming from California. It is due the travelling public to explain such +delays, but the railroads of America have grown to feel that they owe no +explanation to any one, even to God, for what they do or do not. While I +lost vitality and composure by such idle reflections, you were amusing +the nervous travellers by your bright bits of narrative and ready +repartee. That fortunate fellow you have promised to marry at the end of +two years has no idea what a charming companion he will find in you for +travel. + +It is interesting to have you say you feel that you need two more years +as a teacher, before you are fully developed enough to take up the +responsibilities of marriage. You will be twenty-seven then:--that is +the age at which the average American girl begins to be most +interesting, and the age when she is first physically mature. + +And your children will be more fully endowed mentally than if you had +become a mother in your teens. + +As a rule the brainy people of the world are not born of very youthful +parents; you will find youth gives physique, maturity gives brains to +offspring. + +I did not quite finish my train of reasoning about your self-esteem. + +It was because you had always believed yourself to be capable of doing +anything you undertook to do, that you were roused by my assertion that +you could not make a good school-teacher, to attempt it. I hurt your +pride a bit, and you were determined to prove me wrong. Had you been +self-depreciating and oversensitive, what I said would have turned you +from that field of effort. And that would have been a desirable result, +since one who can be turned from any undertaking _ought to be_. + +I still think the world has lost a wonderful artist by your not entering +the lists of designers and dressmakers. But since my recital of the +faults which would prevent your success as a teacher led you to overcome +them, I am proud and glad, that you have gone on in the work you +contemplated. Good teachers are more needed than good dressmakers. + +And you are sweet and charming as usual, to tell me that your +popularity with children and parents, is greatly due to that letter of +mine. + +What you write me of the young girl who is making you so much trouble by +her jealousy of all other pupils, interests and saddens me. Her devotion +to you is of that morbid type, so unwholesome and so dangerous to her +peace, and the peace of all her associates. It is a misfortune that +mothers do not take such traits in early babyhood, and eradicate them by +patient, practical methods. Instead, this mother, like many others, +seems to think her little girl should be favoured and flattered because +of her morbid tendency. + +She mistakes selfishness, envy, greediness, and hysteria for a loving +nature. + +I can imagine your feelings when this mother told you with a proud +smile, "Allie always wants the whole attention of any one she loves, and +cannot stand sharing her friends. She was always that way at home. We +never could pet her little brother without her going into a spasm. And +you must be careful about showing the other children attention before +her. It just breaks her heart--she is so sensitive." + +Oh, mothers, mothers, what are you thinking about, to be so blind to the +work put in your hands to do? + +You have little time comparatively to work upon this perverted young +mind: but under no conditions favour her, and, no matter what scenes she +makes, continue to give praise and affection to the other children when +it is their due. The prominence of her parents in the neighbourhood, and +the power her father wields in the school board, need not worry you. Go +ahead and do what is best for the child and for the school at large. +Never deviate one inch from your convictions. Take Allie some day to a +garden where there are many flowers, and talk to her about them. Speak +of all their different charms, and gather a bouquet. Then say to her, +"Now, Allie, you and I love each of these pretty flowers, and see how +sweetly they nestle together in your hand. Not one is jealous of the +other. Each has its place, and would be missed were it not there. The +bouquet needs them all. Just so I need all the dear children in my +school, and just so I would miss any one. It makes me ashamed to think +any little girl is more selfish and unreasonable than a plant, for +little girls are a higher order of creation, and we expect more of them +than we expect of plants or of animals. All are parts of God, but the +human kingdom is the highest expression of the Creator. + +"When you show such jealousy of other children I lose respect for you, +and cannot love you as much as I love them. When you are gentle and +good, and take your share of my love and attention, and let others have +their share, then I am proud of you and fond of you. Suppose one plant +said to the sunlight that it must have all the sun, would not that be +ridiculous and selfish?" + +I would make frequent references to this idea when alone with her, and +indeed it would serve as an excellent subject for a talk to all your +pupils some day. Then try and make Allie understand how unbecoming and +unlovable jealousy is, and how it renders a man or woman an object of +pity and ridicule to others. + +Praise the people you know who are liberal and broad, and absolutely +ignore her moods when in school. + +Perhaps in time you can do a little toward awakening her mind to a more +wholesome outlook. + +What you tell me of her hysterical devotion to one of her classmates, +makes me realize that the girl needs careful guidance. + +You should talk to her mother, and warn her against encouraging such +conditions of mind in her child. + +Urge her to keep the girl occupied, and to give her much out-door life, +and to teach her that pronounced demonstrations of affection are not +good form between young girls. The mother should be careful what books +she reads, and should see that she makes no long visits to other homes +and receives no guests for a continued time. The child needs to +cultivate universal love, not individual devotion. + +Ideals, principles, ambitions, should be given the girl, not close +companions, for her nature is like a rank, weedy flower that needs +refining and cultivating into a perfected blossom. + +All this needs a mother's constant care and tact and watchfulness. It is +work she should have begun when her little girl first indicated her +unfortunate tendencies. + +It is late for you to undertake a reconstruction of the misshapen +character, but you may be able to begin an improvement, and if you can +obtain the mother's cooperation the full formation may be accomplished. + +And do not fail to use mental suggestion constantly, and to help the +child by your assertions to be what you want her to become. Dwell in +conversation with her and in her presence, upon the lovableness and +charm of generosity of spirit in general, rather than on the selfishness +you observe in herself. + +At her least indication of an improvement, give her warm praise. Be +careful about bestowing caresses upon her, as she needs to be guarded +against hysteria, I should judge from your description. To some children +they are the sunlight, to others miasma. + +Think of yourself as God's agent, given charge of his unfinished work, +and recognize the unseen influences ready to aid you with suggestion and +courage when you appeal to them. + + + + +To a Young Friend + +_Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical Thoughts of the Day_ + +Your letter bubbled with enthusiasm, and steamed with optimism. I am +rejoiced that you have come into so healthful a line of thought, for I +know of no one who was in more immediate need of it than you, when we +last met. + +As your hostess, I could not tell you how wearing to the nerves your +continual reverting to your physical ills became: and I hope I did not +seem wholly unsympathetic to you when I so frequently made the effort to +change the conversation to more cheerful topics. + +And now you tell me that you are astounded to find how universal is this +topic with all classes, and on all occasions when one or two human +beings gather together even in "His name." Your recital of the church +sewing-bee, where all the good Christian women described their diseases +and the different operations they and their friends had undergone, is as +amusing as it is distressingly realistic. + +What a pity that the old theology fostered the idea that God especially +loved the people he afflicted with illness and poverty and trouble! It +has filled the world with egotistical and selfish invalids and idlers, +who have believed they were "God's chosen ones," instead of realizing +that they were the natural results of broken laws, which might be mended +by the aid of the God-power in themselves, once they understood it. + +How Christians have reconciled the idea of a God of love with a God who +wanted his chosen ones to be sick and poor, is a problem I cannot solve. + +Of course you are well, and growing stronger daily, now that you realize +the fact that God made only health, wealth, and love, and that he +intended all his children to share his opulence. + +As soon as the mind is filled with a dominating idea, no lesser ones can +find lodgment therein. + +A woman of my acquaintance suffered agonies from seasickness. + +She crossed the ocean twice each year, yet seemed unable to accustom +herself to the experience. + +On her last voyage her child fell dangerously sick with typhoid fever on +the second day out at sea. + +So wrought up was the mother, and so filled with the thought of her +child, that she never felt one moment's seasickness. Her mind was +otherwise occupied. + +Now you have filled your mind with a consciousness of your divine right +to health and happiness, and the thought of sickness and disease has no +room. + +Yet do not be discouraged if you feel the old ailments and +indispositions returning at times. A complete change in mental habits, +is difficult to obtain in a moment. + +Be satisfied to grow slowly. A wise philosopher has said, "It is not in +never falling that we show our strength, but in our ability to rise +after repeated falls, and to continue our journey in triumph." + +Avoid talking your belief to every individual you meet. It will be +breaking your string of pearls for the feet of swine to tread upon. +Those who are ready for these truths will indicate the fact to you, and +then will be your time for speech. And when you do speak, say little, +and say it briefly and to the point. + +Leave some things for other minds to study out alone. The people who are +not ready for higher ideals of religion and life, will only ridicule or +combat your theories and beliefs, if you force them to listen. + +Wait until you have fully illustrated by your own conduct of life, that +you have something beside vague theories to prove your statements of the +power of the mind to conquer circumstance. The world is full to-day of +bedraggled and haggard men and women, who are talking loudly of the +power of mind to restore youth and health, and bestow riches and +success. + +Do not add yourself to the unlovely and tiresome army of talkers, until +you prove yourself a doer. + +And even after you have shown a record of health and prosperity and +usefulness, let your silent influence speak louder than your uttered +words. + +The moment a philosopher becomes a bore, he ceases to be a philosopher. + + + + +To Wilfred Clayborn + +_Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + + +My Dear Nephew:--I have considered your request from all sides, and have +resolved to disappoint you. This seems to me the kindest thing I can do +under the circumstances. + +You have gone through two years of college life, and I am sure you are +not an ignoramus. Most of the great men of the world's history have +enjoyed no fuller educational advantages. To lend you money to finish +the college course, would be to help you to start life at the age of +twenty-two under the burden of debt. If you are determined to finish a +college course, and feel that only by so doing will you equip yourself +for the duties of life, I would advise you to drop out for a year and +teach, or go into any kind of work which will enable you to earn enough +to proceed with your studies. However hard and however disappointing +this advice seems to you, I know it suggests a course which will do more +for your character than all the money I could lend you. + +Aside from the fact that you would begin life with a debt, is the +possibility of your contracting the debt habit. + +One man in a thousand who borrows money to help himself along in early +life is benefited by it. + +The other 999 are harmed. + +To do anything on another's money is to lean on the shoulder of another +instead of walking upright. It is not good calisthenic exercise. + +A few years ago I would have acceded to your request. + +But each year I live I realize more and more that lending money is the +last method to be used in helping people to better themselves. In almost +every case where I have lent money, I have lived to regret it. Not +because I lost my money (which has usually been the fact), but because +I lost respect for my friends. + +I remember the case of a young newspaper man and author, who came to me +for the loan of five dollars. I had never seen him before, but I knew +his brother, a brilliant playwright, in a social way. + +The young man told me he had met with a series of disasters on the +voyage to New York, and was stranded there absolutely penniless, +although money would come at almost any hour from his brother. + +Besides this, he showed me letters from editors who had taken work which +would be paid for on publication. + +"I do not know any one here," the young man said, "and to-day, when I +used my last twenty-five cents, I thought of you in desperation. + +"Your acquaintance with my brother would serve as an introduction, I +felt, and I was confident you would realize my straits when I told you +my errand." + +Of course I lent the young man five dollars. "I am sure it must be a +great humiliation for you to ask for this," I said, "and I am certain +you will repay it, though many former experiences have made me question +the memory of friends and strangers to whom I have been of similar +assistance." + +One week later the young man called to tell me he had not been able to +do more than keep himself sustained at lunch-counters since he called, +but hoped soon to obtain a position on a daily newspaper. + +That was ten years ago. The young man sat in an orchestra chair the +other night at the theatre directly in front of me, and his attire was +faultlessly up to date. From the costume of his companion, I should +judge their carriage waited outside. + +The young man did not seem to recognize me, and no doubt the incident I +mention has escaped his memory. + +In all probability I was but one of a score of people who helped him +with small loans. Had the young man had been forced to appeal to the +society organized in every city for aiding the deserving poor, by being +sent disappointed from my door, the ordeal would have so hurt his pride, +that he might not have become the professional borrower he undoubtedly +is. + +I could relate innumerable cases of a similar nature. One man, who was a +fashionable teacher of French among the millionaires of New York for +several seasons, appealed to me at a time of year when all his patrons +were out of the city for a loan to enable him to give his wife medical +treatment. + +He was to repay it in the autumn. Instead, he came to me then with a +much more distressing story of immediate need and seeming proof of money +coming to him in a few months. To my chagrin, the loan I advanced was +employed in giving a feast to friends at his daughter's wedding, after +which he obliterated himself from my vision. + +Financial aid lent a woman who soon afterward circled Europe, brought no +reimbursement. Her handsomely engraved card, with the "Russell Square +Hotel, London," as address, reached me instead of the interest money +which perhaps paid the engraver. + +Money lent a young man to start a small business, was used for his +wedding expenses, and an interval of five years brings no word from him. +Poor and despicable beings indeed, become the victims of the borrowing +habit. It is the shattered faith in humanity, and the heart hurts that I +regret, rather than the loss of what can be replaced. I tell you these +incidents that you may realize how I have come to regard money-lending, +as a species of unkindness to a friend or relative. + +It is only one step removed from giving a sick or overtaxed man or woman +a morphine powder. + +Sleep and rest ensue, but ten to one the habit is formed for life. + +The happy experiences of my life in money-lending, have been two +instances where I offered loans which were not asked, and which proved +to be bridges over the chasm of temporary misfortune, to the success +awaiting a worthy woman and man. The really deserving rarely ask for +loans. + +I can imagine with what pleasure you would take a cheque from this +letter, for the amount which would carry you through college. + +Yet when you had finished your course, you would find so many things you +wanted to do, and must do, the debt would become too heavy to lift, save +by borrowing from some one else. + +If not that, then you would impose upon the fact of our relationship, +and on your belief that I had plenty of means without the amount you +owed me: and so you would join the great army of good-for-nothings in +the world. + +There is one thing you must always remember: + +No matter how close the blood tie between two beings, even twins, each +soul comes into the world alone, and with a separate life destiny to +work out. + +If I have worked out my destiny to financial independence, that does +not entitle you to a share of it. If it seems best for me to aid you, it +is not because a blood tie makes it a duty. I grow to believe there is a +sort of curse on money which is not earned, even when it is bestowed by +father, on son or daughter. + +It cripples individual development. Only when money is earned is it +blest. + +Regarding your future profession, I cannot agree with your idea that +because you feel no particular love for any one calling, and have a +halfway tendency toward several, that you will never be a success. Great +geniuses are often consumed with a passion for some one line of study or +employment, but there have been many great men who did not know what +they were fitted to do until accident or necessity gave them an +opportunity. + +Success means simply concentration and perseverance. + +Whether you decide to be a mechanic, a lawyer, a doctor, or a merchant, +the one thing to do is to fix all your mental powers upon the goal you +select, and then call all the forces from within and from without, to +aid you to reach it. + +It would, of course, be folly for you to select a profession which +requires special talent. No matter how you might concentrate and apply +yourself, you could never be a great poet, a great artist, or a great +musician. + +You have not the creative genius. + +But law, medicine, mechanics, or mercantile matters, with your good +brain and fair education, you could conquer. + +You say you vacillate from one to another, like the wind which goes to +the four points of the compass in twenty-four hours. + +But you are very young, and this should not discourage you. + +It would be well to think the four vocations over quietly, when alone, +and sit down by yourself early in the morning asking for guidance. Then, +when you feel you have made a decision, let nothing turn you from it. + +Direct all your studies and thoughts to further that decision. + +Think of yourself as achieving the very highest success in your chosen +field, and work for that end. + +You cannot fail. + +If you desire light from without upon the best path to pursue, I would +advise you to find a good phrenologist, and have a careful reading made +of your head. Its formation and the development of its organs would +indicate in what direction lay your greatest strength, and where you +needed to be especially watchful. + +But remember if your phrenologist tells you that you have a weak will, +it does not mean that you must necessarily _always_ have a weak will. It +means that you are to strengthen it, by concentration. There is a great +truth underlying phrenology, palmistry, and astrology; but it is +ridiculous to accept their verdicts as final and unchangeable, and it is +unwise to ignore the good they may do, rightly applied and understood. + +I recall the fact that you were born in early June. I know enough about +the influence of the planets upon a child born at that period to assert +that you are particularly inclined to a Gemini nature--the twin nature, +which wants to do two things at one time. You want to stay in and go +out, to read a book and play tennis, to swim and sit on the sand. Later +in life, you will want to remain single and marry, and travel and remain +at home, unless you begin _now_ to select one course of the two which +are for ever presenting themselves to you, in small and large matters. + +Whenever you feel yourself vacillating between two impulses, take +yourself at once in hand, decide upon the preferable course, and go +ahead. Dominate your astrological tendencies, do not be dominated by +them. Dominate your weaknesses as exhibited by your phrenological chart, +and build up the brain cells which need strengthening, and lessen the +power of the undesirable qualities by giving them no food or indulgence. + +It is a great thing to understand yourself as you are, and then to go +ahead and make yourself what you desire to be. + +When a carpenter starts to build a house, he knows just what tools and +what materials to work with are his. If there is a broken implement, he +replaces it with another, and if he is short of material he supplies it. +But young men set forth to make futures and fortunes, with no knowledge +of their own equipment. + +They do not know their own strongest or weakest traits, and are +unprepared for the temptations and obstacles that await them. + +I would advise you to call in the aid of all the occult sciences, to +help you in forming an estimate of your own higher and lower tendencies, +and in deciding for what line of occupation you were best fitted. Then, +after you have compared the statistics so gathered with your own idea of +yourself, you should proceed to make your character what you wish it to +be. + +This work will be ten thousand times more profitable to you than a mere +routine of college studies, gained by running in debt. + +To know yourself is far better knowledge than to know Virgil. And to +make yourself is a million times better than to have any one else make +you. + + + + +To Miss Elsie Dean + +_Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + + +During your visit here with my niece, I became much interested in you. + +Zoe had often written me of her affection for you, and I can readily +understand her feeling, now that I have your personal acquaintance. + +You have no mother, and your father, you say, absorbed in business, like +so many American fathers, seems almost a stranger. Even the most devoted +fathers, rarely understand their daughters. + +Now, I want to take the part of a mother and write you to-day, as I +would write my own daughter, had one been bestowed upon me with the many +other blessings which are mine. + +I could not ask for a fairer, more amiable, or brighter daughter than +you, nor one possessed of a kinder or more unselfish nature. + +You are lovable, entertaining, industrious, and refined. + +But you possess one fault which needs eradicating, or at least a +propensity which needs directing. + +_It is the habit of exaggeration in conversation_. + +I noticed that small happenings, amusing or exciting, became events of +colossal importance when related by you. + +I noticed that brief remarks were amplified and grew into something like +orations when you repeated them. + +I confess that you made small incidents more interesting, and +insignificant words acquired poetic meaning under your tongue. + +And I confess also that you never once wronged or injured any one by +your exaggerations--save yourself. + +Zoe often said to me, "Isn't it wonderful how Elsie's imagination lends +a halo to the commonest event," and all your friends know that you have +this habit of hyperbole in conversation. + +Now, in your early girlhood, it is lightly regarded as "Elsie's way." +Later, in your maturity, I fear it will be called a harsher name. + +When you come to the time of life that larger subjects than girlish +pranks and badinage engage your mind, it will be necessary for you to be +more exact in your descriptions of occurrences and conversations. +Besides this, there is the heritage of your unborn children to consider. +I once knew a little girl who possessed the same vivid imagination, and +allowed it to continue unchecked through life. She married, and her son, +to-day, is utterly devoid of fine moral senses. He is a mental +monstrosity--incapable of telling the truth. His falsehoods are many and +varied, and his name is a synonym of untruth. He relates, as truth, the +most marvellous exploits in which he really never took part, and +describes scenes and places he has never visited, save through the +pages of some novel. + +His lack of moral sense has blighted his mother's life, and she is +wholly unconscious that he is only an exaggerated edition of herself. + +I think, as a rule, such imaginations as you possess belong to the +literary mind. I would advise you to turn your attention to +story-writing, and in that occupation you will find vent for your +romantic tendencies. + +Meanwhile watch yourself and control your speech. + +Learn to be exact. + +Tell the truth in small matters, and do not allow yourself to indulge in +seemingly harmless white lies of exaggeration. + +There are times when we should refrain from speaking all the truth, but +we should refrain by silence or an adroit change of subject. We should +not feel called upon to relate all the unpleasant truths we know of +people. + +When asked what we know of some acquaintance, we are justified in +telling the worthy and commendable traits, and saying nothing of the +faults. + +Therefore, while to suppress a portion of the truth is at times wise and +kind, to distort it, or misstate facts, is never needed and never +excusable. + +When you and Zoe came from your drive one day you were full of +excitement over an adventure with a Greek road merchant. + +As you told the story, the handsome peddler had accosted you at the exit +of the post-office and asked you to look at his wares. + +When you declined he became familiar, paid a compliment to Zoe's beauty, +and assured her that a certain lace shawl in his possession would be +irresistible draped about her face. + +Then he had pursued the carriage on his wheel and continued to "make +eyes" and pay compliments to the very gate of my home, where he +abandoned the chase. + +The facts were, according to further investigation, that the man paid a +simple trade compliment in reference to the shawl and its becomingness +to a pretty face, mounted his wheel and rode away, as it happened, in +the same direction you and Zoe were taking. + +Again, you related a bit of repartee between Zoe and a caller, which I +had chanced to over-hear, and out of two short sentences you made a +small brochure, most amusing, but most untrue. + +It was complimentary to both Zoe and her caller, yet it was not the +conversation which took place, and therefore was not truthful. + +These are trifling incidents, yet they are the straws, telling that the +wind blows from the marsh-lands of inexactness--not from the mountain +tops of truth. + +Once a woman loses a sense of the great value of absolute truthfulness, +she has blurred the clear mirror of her soul. + +Put yourself upon a diet of _facts_, my sweet young friend, and cure +this propensity, harmless enough now, but dangerous for your future. + +Watch your tongue that it does not say _five or six_ when it should say +_two_, or _yards_ when it should say _inches_. + +Even in the smallest matters, practise the habit of being exact. + +You will thank me for this advice sometime, even if it seems +unreasonable to you to-day, and remember, I would not take the liberty +or the trouble to so advise you, did I not love you and feel anxious for +your welfare. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + + +Your despairing letter lies before me. I wish you were here, my dear +child, that I might talk from my heart, instead of writing from it. I am +sorry that the secret, so long hidden, has been revealed to you, and in +such a despicable manner. + +An anonymous letter always carries with it the venom of a serpent. I +have long known your history, though the world generally believed you to +be the actual daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont, who adopted you when +you were scarcely one week old. + +No daughter ever received more affection or better care than these good +people gave you. Mrs. Marchmont lived always with a fear in her heart +that you might learn your history from some idle or malicious lip, and +before she died begged me to be your comforting friend, if that hour +ever came, which has now arrived. + +As your mother's nearest friend, it is natural you should turn to me in +your crucial hour of pain. And in reply to your questions regarding the +truth of this anonymous assertion, I will tell you all I know. + +Your own mother was well born, and a girl of great beauty and charm. She +was of foreign blood, and her parents, after the foreign custom, +selected for her, at the age of seventeen, a man of mature years and +unattractive personality, but some fortune. The family lived in a +seaport town, and your mother attracted the eye of a young seafaring +man, holding a government position. An intense and uncontrollable love +sprang up between them. Your mother had been kept in ignorance of God's +great law of sex attraction, its purpose and its results, and she was +like a new-born babe towed on the sea of her own suddenly awakened +emotion. + +It was arranged that your mother was to elope with her lover on his next +arrival in port. All plans were to be made by him during the voyage on +which he went forth, after a stolen interview with your mother. He was +lost at sea, and all on board the ship perished with him. Mr. and Mrs. +Marchmont chanced to be sojourning in the place at the time of your +birth. Mr. Marchmont had longed for a child, and the tragic story came +to his ears through the physician of your mother's family, and he and +his wife decided to adopt you and take you to America. + +I was the one friend who shared with Mrs. Marchmont the story of your +birth. Other friends knew she had adopted a child, and of course all +sorts of rumours were afloat for a time. Mr. Marchmont's nephew was +particularly unfriendly, I remember, as he had believed himself heir to +his uncle's estate until your adoption. + +Some three years ago I chanced to be in the seaport town where you were +born, and I made quiet inquiries about your mother. I learned that she +had recently died, leaving a husband and three children. I hunted up the +children, and found them to be most uninteresting and ordinary. The +oldest daughter I met and studied. She was plain and commonplace in +appearance, and the other children were dull and unattractive. + +The husband was the elderly man selected by your grandparents. Just how +he had been led to accept the second place in your mother's life, and +whether he had known of the tragedy, I could not learn without asking +more questions than I deemed wise. + +But what I want to impress upon your mind by this recital is, _your own +divine inheritance of love,_ the inheritance which has bestowed upon you +physical beauty, mental power, and rare qualities of heart and soul. I +know few women so endowed by the Creator as you. I know of few young +girls--in fact, not one--I would so gladly and proudly claim as a +daughter, or wish a daughter to be like, as your lovely self. + +When I read your letter, with its wild expressions of self-abasement and +despair and regret that you were in the world, where, you seemed to +believe, you had no right to be, I could not help picturing to myself +the dull face and disagreeable personality of your half-sister, the +child whom you no doubt believe has a greater right than yourself on +earth. Now whatever society has decided is legal and right for human +beings, you must not forget that God also has made rules, and that those +rules must first be obeyed, before the rules of man can be regarded as +perfect. + +God's first law, regarding the propagation of the human species, is that +the _mother must be dominated by a supreme and ruling emotion to give to +the world the highest type of a child_. + +Your mother loved your father with all her heart and soul. She was a +young girl, ignorant of the world. She thought of her lover as her +rightful mate, and lived but for the hour when he should rescue her +from the unhappy fate arranged by unwise and sordid-minded parents. + +Your father loved her, and they were in God's sight more truly husband +and wife than the soulless and loveless ceremony of the law made her and +her legal husband afterward. + +It is a great misfortune that your parents lacked the self-control which +is necessary to every well-balanced human being who seeks for the +fullest development. It is a sad thing that over your life this shadow +of unlegalized birth must rest. + +But were I given the choice to-day to be what you are, or what your +sister is, and what thousands of children born of loveless marriages +are, I would not for one second hesitate in my choice. + +The world needs marriage laws to keep any order in society. + +The wisely reared and well-balanced woman will keep herself in womanly +reserve for her legal husband. + +Your mother, by a moment's weakness and loss of self-control, left a +blight upon her life for ever, and a shadow upon yours. + +But do not for one instant think of yourself as anything but _a child of +God_, endowed with all the wealth of the spiritual kingdom, whatever the +law may withhold from you here. + +You are legitimized by love, your sister is legitimate by law. She is +illegitimate in the sight of heaven, you in sight of earth. + +Be glad of your beautiful nature and beautiful qualities, and do not +spoil them by despondency or pessimism. + +Think of yourself as if you were a child of Adam and Eve, born before +the serpent appeared, when there was no law but the law of love to +govern two souls, drawn together by irresistible attraction. + +The best and highest qualities of two human beings meet and mingle in +your nature. Do you suppose the great Creator of all things regards you +as base born, when he has so endowed you with all that makes woman +lovable and charming. + +Live up to your divine inheritance, my dear girl. Make the world better +for your presence in it, and bear your sorrow with that resignation and +philosophy which all human beings must cultivate if they do not wish to +become weak repiners when they face the sorrows of life. + +Look the world squarely in the eyes, and feel no shame. + +Your mother's marriage to the man she detested, and the birth of +children conceived in loathing, were acts which in my mind called for +more shame on her part than your own birth. Both were misfortunes for +her, since only by living an orderly, controlled, and lawful life can +any human being find happiness or self-respect in the world. + +But when we come to the close analysis of motives and impulses, many an +act the world condemns is far less reprehensible than other acts which +meet its loud acclaim. + +You have received from the vast spiritual realms about us your rarely +beautiful qualities. Go forth and give them to humanity. + +Be strong, be good, be brave, be happy. + +No one and nothing can harm you but your own mind. + +The world, as we encounter it, is but an echo of our own strong +convictions. Respect yourself absolutely, believe in yourself +absolutely, and the world will respect you and believe in you. + +Say to yourself every hour, "I am God's divine creature," and no one +will dare look you in the eyes and say you are anything less than that. + +The arms of infinite love enfold you--have no fear. + + + + +To Miss Diana Rivers + +_Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist_ + + +Your interesting letter regarding your future plans has been food for my +thoughts ever since its receipt this morning. + +I remember when you were my guest a year ago that you told me you felt +like a big bird in a small cage. Every time you tried to spread your +wings you were bruised by bars. Your home environment with its few +duties and small responsibilities, your church and your charities, +failed to give you full opportunity for the exercise of all your vital +forces. + +I knew then that you were longing for a career, and I felt confident +that some word would come from you before long, announcing a change in +your life. + +I was prepared to hear one of two things--that you were soon to be +married, or that you had decided to enter the dramatic profession. When +a young and attractive woman grows restless and eager for change, she +is, unconsciously to herself, sending out a challenge to Fate to create +new conditions in her life. Despite the fact that no male member in the +"Fate" family has ever attained prominence in the eyes of the world, and +that the three sisters have claimed so much power over the destinies of +the human family, a little investigation will prove that they never make +any pronounced move without calling in the aid of Cupid. + +Cupid is their prime minister, and we all know that prime ministers are +the power behind the throne of rulers. + +When you sent out your eager thoughts for "something to happen," to +change the monotony of your existence, I knew the Fate sisters were +quite likely telegraphing Cupid that his assistance was needed to quiet +a small riot in the human family. + +Once they set Cupid busy with a human heart, the Fates need give it no +further attention. When Cupid reports that his work with the heart is +finished, then the Angel of Resignation or the Angel of Death must +finish the task. + +Knowing you to be particularly fond of the theatre as a distraction, I +had thought you might essay the rôle of society actress, confounding +appreciation for talent, as so many women do; and when your letter +opened with the announcement that you were about to give me a great +surprise, I was prepared to hear that you were billed to appear in a +walking rôle, with a road company, next season, with promises of greater +things "soon afterward." + +But I confess to absolute surprise, as I read on, and learned that your +career was to lead you, not through Lovers' Lane, not before the +footlights, but along the hurly-burly byways and highways of American +newspaper work, beginning with interviews and reporting. Allow me to +quote from your letter before me. + +"I do not imagine I have talent save the talent for work. I am, as you +know, well educated, as that expression goes to-day. I have always found +expression with the pen an easy mode of communicating my impressions and +ideas. + +"I am observing, and I have a keen sense of humour, and I have (so +people tell me) an agreeable personality. I know the value of correct +dressing, and I am not oversensitive. That is, I am not one who will go +down at the first rebuff. I have the real American spirit, which makes +me believe myself as good as anybody, and you know my family name is one +to buoy up that impression. Therefore, it seems to me I cannot fail to +attain some degree of success. I am sure to obtain entrée to people and +functions, and I can describe what I see and hear in attractive form. I +shall shrink at no task, however difficult, and stop at no obstacle. + +"I am determined to make a success as a reporter and a correspondent, +and after I have achieved something in that line I may look to an +editorial position; and who knows but my fertile imagination, coupled +with the experiences sure to come to me, may develop the great American +novelist the world is waiting?" + +This is all interesting and admirable reasoning. + +But, having seen much of the world, and known much of the various types +of young women writers and reporters and correspondents, I feel like +discussing the subject of your profession with you. At the instigation, +perhaps, of some editor who makes the mistake of thinking success must +be reached through sensationalism, you may be tempted to make your pen, +not _mightier_, but more _cruel_ than the sword. + +I remember once upon a time meeting a young woman who had come, unbidden +by the hostess, to "write up" a social function where a number of +celebrated people were congregated. + +Her employer had sent her to the house, telling her to obtain an entree +by fair means or foul; and as she was well dressed and quiet in manner, +she was not repulsed by an amiable hostess. This lady realized that the +reporter has his or her living to make, and must be either helped or +hindered by the willingness or unwillingness of people to furnish +material for copy. Being informed that the young woman was "literary," +and chancing to stand near her for a few moments, I asked her the nature +of her work. + +The young woman looked a trifle embarrassed, as she answered: "Well, to +tell you the truth, I write a good many disagreeable and nasty things +about people, especially people in public life. The editors who take my +work will have that kind. I have essayed better things, and they would +not touch them. So I am compelled to write the stuff they do want. I +must make a living." When I read the "stuff" in question, I was inclined +to doubt the assertion of the writer that "she must make a living." The +world would be the better should she and all her kind cease to exist. +Ridicule, falsehood, and insinuation were the leading traits of the +young woman's literary style. Costumes and personalities were +caricatured, and conversations and actions misstated. The entire article +would have been libelous, had it not been too cowardly to deserve so +bold a word. + +It is useless for any man or woman to assert that such reportorial work +is done from necessity. The blackmailer and the pickpocket have as much +right to the plea, as the newspaper masked-assassin, with the concealed +weapon of a pen. + +If you are ever asked by any editor to do this reportorial stiletto +work, let me urge you to take to professional burglary, rather than +consent to write what such an employer demands. + +It is far less despicable to rob houses of things of mercantile value, +than to rob characters and reputations and personalities. Again, when +you are sent out upon a commission to obtain an interview with any +person, obtain what you seek and take nothing else away with you. + +Just as you would scorn to pawn the watch of the famous actress which +you may find lying on the table as you pass out, so scorn to sell any +personal speech she may have carelessly dropped in your hearing which +you know was not intended for publication. Petty larceny is not a noble +feature of interviewing. Even though a facility for selling such +dishonestly gained property to advantage be yours, do not convince +yourself or be convinced that larceny should be included in your +reportorial duties. + +I recollect speaking with you once upon the difficulties young women +encountered who attempted to win honours in a dramatic career. You felt +that the necessity to cater to the ideas and wishes of inferior minds, +in representing a character on the stage, would be one of the hardest +phases of stage life to meet. + +"To be loud and spectacular where I wanted to be refined and subtle," +you said, "just to catch some rough audience and fill the house, would +be insupportable. And yet I know actresses ofttimes must do that very +thing, to keep a foothold in the profession." + +I am wondering how you will meet what seems to me a more humiliating +rôle, when you are sent out by an editor to gain an entree to some +person who does not wish to be interviewed. + +Will you, when refused entrance at the front door, go in at the rear and +hobnob with the servants? will you spy, and watch and wait on street +corners, and hide yourself in hallways, and intercept and surprise, and +congratulate yourself when you have trapped your prey? That is the +shameful pathway which nowadays leads to what is called "successful +newspaper work." + +You need to realize the facts before you enter the profession. Were you +my daughter, I am certain I should feel much less concern were you to +enter the theatrical field. + +And yet if you choose to stand by your ideals, and retain your +self-respect, you can do so, and succeed in journalism. + +If you have, as you say, observation, expression, humour, and ambition, +you can create a style of your own: which will not necessitate the loss +of all womanly sense of decency and pride in dealing with your fellow +beings. It might be well for you to cultivate and add to the list of +your qualities appreciation of all that is best in human nature and +worthiest of respect. If you understand the law of concentration and +demand, you can obtain an entrance to the people you wish to see, +through the front hall and a properly engraved card. + +If that fails, a polite and frank note, stating your purpose and +intimating your self-respecting ideas of your profession, may prove +effective. Once establish your reputation as an interviewer who is not a +highwayman in disguise, and you will achieve tenfold the success your +less reputable confrères gain in the long run. Try and remember always +that fame, glory, or even crime, do not destroy all human sensibilities, +or render the possessor invulnerable to the thrust of a pen. + +The greatest warrior who ever conquered armies has still the power to +feel hurt when he sees some personal blemish or misfortune described in +print. + +You would never be guilty of saying to any man's face, "How hideous +your harelip renders you"--and why should you go from his presence and +make such a statement to the whole world concerning him? One of the most +gifted men America ever claimed was driven from his native land by the +cruel, bald, and heartless personalities of newspaper critics, who +seemed to consider it necessary to comment on his physical infirmities +whenever his genius was mentioned. + +During the lifetime of one of England's great literary women, an +American correspondent who had been given an interview in her home +described her as possessing the "face of a horse." Surely this was +agreeable reading for a gifted woman whose genius had delighted +thousands! + +It has sometimes seemed to me that theatrical road life with a +one-night-stand company would be less brutalizing to the finer +sensibilities, and less lowering to the ideals of a young girl, than the +method of work required of many newspaper reporters in America to-day. +The editor who scores the actress for lax morals seems often to ignore +the fact that there is a mental as well as a physical prostitution. + +Look to it that you do not trail your banner of noble womanhood in the +dust, at the demand of any editor or syndicate. Keep your purity of pen, +as well as your chastity of body, and believe no man who tells you that +you will get on better in the world by selling either. There is room +higher up. + + + + +To Nanette + +_A Former Maid_ + + +Curiously enough, my dear little Nanette, I was thinking about you, and +wishing to know something of you, the very day your letter came. + +Of many who have been helpers in my employ, you were one of the few who +seemed to care more for me than for the wages I paid. + +There was between us that ideal condition which I wish might exist +between all employers and employees. You wanted the work you were fitted +to do, and I wanted such work done. You were glad of the money it +brought you, and I was glad to recompense you. You wanted appreciation +and sympathy and consideration aside from your earnings, and I wanted a +personal interest in my affairs, and a friendly wish to please me, +aside from the mere work well done. You never seemed to me less womanly +or less refined because you were a wage-earner, and I did not represent +to you oppression or monopoly merely because I paid the money and you +received it. I took you into my confidence in many ways, and you made me +feel I was your friend as well as your employer. We enjoyed cosy chats, +and yet you no more desired or wished to be present at my social +functions than you desired me to enter into all your merrymakings and +pleasures. You were, in fact, one of the most agreeable and sensible +women I have ever known in any station in life. And now you write me +that you are engaged to be married, and ask me to give you counsel in a +very serious matter. + +Together with your other excellent qualities, you have possessed economy +and prudence. + +At the age of twenty-five you have a tidy bank-account, the savings of +eleven years. This money is increasing, year by year, and drawing a +small interest. + +Now comes your lover, a hard-working and sober young man, so you say, +but earning only a small salary as a clerk. + +He has met with some reverses, and is temporarily embarrassed. He wants +you to lend him a few hundred dollars, and he will pay you the same +interest you are now receiving, but you fear it would be unwomanly on +your part to take this interest money. At the same time you feel a +reluctance to break in upon your savings, which you had planned to use +in helping establish a home. You want to befriend your lover, and you +want to be wise and careful, and so you write to me, your old-time +adviser, for counsel. I fear I may hurt your feelings in what I am about +to say. + +I have seen much of the world, and have studied humanity in many phases +and in many classes. + +There is one type of man I have never yet known to be strong, reliable, +and trustworthy,--a man for a woman to lean upon in times of trouble and +sorrow,--a man I would like to see any friend take for a life +companion,--_and that is the young man who asks a loan of money from a +woman he loves, or one who loves him_. Believe me, there is some lack of +real moral fibre in such a man. + +A husband and wife many years married, and united by common interests, +may become so one in purpose and thought that a common purse would be as +natural to them as a common dinner-table. + +With mutual interests, planning for their future and the future of their +children, there could be no talk of "My money" and "Your money" between +them. + +But before marriage, or immediately after, the man who begins to ask a +woman for the use of her purse, should be distrusted by her. He could +not broach such a subject unless he lacked a certain refined strength +which makes a manly man a woman's protector by nature. Even where no +sentiment exists between a man and a woman, the really strong men of the +world never become borrowers from women. If through friendly interest +and affection some woman compelled such a man to take a loan, he would +know no rest or peace of mind until he had liquidated the debt. + +When a man is a woman's lover, and asks her to advance money to him for +any reason, she may as well realize at once the reed on which she will +lean if she accepts him for a life companion. To deceive herself for a +moment with the idea that he will be a staff of strength, is but to +delay disillusion. A vital quality is left out of his character. + +He is but one step removed from the man who _seeks_ a woman because she +has money. And he is the most despicable of the human race. + +I have known three women of different social positions to lend money to +their lovers. + +One man invested it and lost it, and never made an effort to reimburse +the lady, who broke her engagement in consequence, after two unhappy +years. Another went away owing the money, and was never again heard +from. The third married the unwise woman who had loaned him her +competence, and continued to look to her for support. + +Therefore, my dear Nanette, I would urge you to think twice, and yet a +third time, before you lend your fiancé your savings. + +Tell him frankly that you will feel more respect for him if he is +willing to sacrifice comfort and save from his own income enough to lift +the debt he has incurred, and that you are sure he will feel less +humiliated as time goes by if he is not financially in debt to you. If +he were to fall ill tell him it would be your first impulse to devote +your money to his care; but while he is able-bodied and well, you do not +like to have him lean on you for aid. + +You can judge something of the man's character by the way he receives +this statement from you. + +And whatever may result, even if it is the end of your engagement, do +not grieve your heart away over it. Better far to have the end come now +than to marry a dependent and shiftless man, who will humiliate your +pride by a thousand and one mean traits. The moment a young wife becomes +the financial head of a household, and the man depends upon her to keep +the family free from debt, sentiment and romance fly from the windows of +the heart, and poor Cupid goes away with his head under his wing. This +situation might befall people long married, as I said before, without +causing disaster, because the wife would have years of other experiences +stored up in memory, to maintain her respect for her husband. + +The natural instinct of a manly man is to be the protector and the +breadwinner. He loves to shield and support the woman of his choice. If +she has any talent or profession which gives her satisfaction to pursue, +and which yields her an income, he will, if broad-minded and +sympathetic, place no obstacle in her path so long as this vocation is +no barrier to their domestic happiness. But he is sensitive to her +assuming any of the financial burdens of life. + +If circumstances render it necessary for her to do so, he suffers +keenly, and the utmost delicacy and consideration on her part alone can +save him from utter humiliation. + +This is the attitude of the manly man, my dear Nanette, the man who +makes the good husband and father. + +The unselfish, broad-minded and considerate wife will lead a husband to +think of her right to aid in the establishment and maintenance of a home +when she is able to do her part. But the man who makes a good husband +never suggests it as her duty, or asks her to advance money. + +It is commendable in you to wish to aid in making a home. It is unmanly +in your lover to ask you to help him pay his debts. Beware of the lover +who asks for or accepts a loan. + + + + +To The Rev. Wilton Marsh + +_Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + + +My dear Cousin Wilton:--You have no idea how your letter took me back to +my merry girlhood, when you and I resided in the same neighbourhood, and +I was the concern of your precociously serious mind. Yes, indeed, I do +realize what a mistake you made in living the repressed life you did all +those early boyhood years. What a pity your parents reared one of your +sensitive and imaginative nature in the gloomy old doctrines of a +depressing religion, which so misrepresented the God of love: and how +odd that your father and mine should have been born of the same parents, +educated in the same schools, and yet be no more alike in beliefs or +methods of life than two people of a different race and era. + +And again it is not strange, when we realize that hundreds of +generations lie back of both parents, and innumerable ancestors of both +father and mother contribute their different mentalities to the children +in a family. Back of that is the great philosophy of reincarnation--the +truth of which impresses me more and more each year I live. + +Do you recall your horror the first time I told you I had read a book on +reincarnation, and confessed that it had made me anxious to study the +theory? + +You said I was a pagan and a heathen, and that I would surely be damned +forever unless I turned to the way of salvation. + +And do you recall your misery when I seized you one evening at your +birthday party (you were twenty), and dragged you about the room in a +waltz? That is, I waltzed, while you hobbled about like a lame calf, +much to the amusement of most of the company. + +There were more who sympathized with my views of life than with yours. +You were such a wet blanket on our youthful spirits. Your ever-blazing +lake of brimstone did not even serve to warm the blanket. + +I have been gratified to watch your growth the last ten years. + +You have so changed your point of view, which indicates your real worth +and progressive good sense. And when you tell me that you have for years +regretted your lost opportunities for natural and moral pleasure, and +that you suffered beyond your power to describe in those old days in +conquering your desire to dance and play games, it brings the tears of +mingled rage and pity to my eyes. Rage at the old theology, and pity for +the poor children whose lives were shadowed by it. + +And now what you tell me of your son and daughter proves another of my +theories true, and shows me how nature revenges its wrongs. + +Children, my dear Wilton, especially the offspring of strong characters, +_inherit the suppressed tendencies of their parents_. They bring into +action the unexhausted impulses and the ungratified desires of those +parents. + +The greatest singers are almost invariably the offspring of mothers or +fathers who _were music hungry_, and who were given no complete +gratification of this craving. + +The poet, you will find, is the voice of an artistic-natured parent, who +was forced to be emotionally dumb. + +And the proverbial clergyman's son is merely the natural result of the +same cause. He is charged with the tendencies and impulses which his +father crucified. + +That your son loathes study, and hates church-going, and adores a brass +band and a circus, and runs away to the races, does not in the least +surprise me. Nor that your sixteen-year-old daughter grows hysterical at +the sound of dance music, and prefers a theatrical show in your village +hall to a Sunday-school picnic, and is mad to become an actress. + +_They are your own wronged and starved emotions personified, and crying +out to you for justice._ + +The very best thing for you to do with the boy is to put him into a +gymnasium and a football team as soon as possible. Offer no opposition +when he wants to see a good horse-race. Urge him to go, and ask him to +tell you all about it when he returns. Begin right now to get close to +the heart of your children. + +Once you do that, once you convince them you are near enough to their +lives to understand their needs and to try and gratify their natural +longings, all your worries will take wing and fly away; for your +children will cease to hide and cloak their actions and natures, and +they will no longer wish to deceive or attempt to defy you. + +Send your daughter where she can learn dancing, in company with other +refined and well-bred young people. You have so far emancipated yourself +from your old superstitions and beliefs that this action on your part +will not antagonize the desirable members of your congregation. + +Only a remnant of the old bigots and intolerants are to be found in any +congregation of intelligent people of to-day. + +If that remnant is shaken out of its winding-sheet by being antagonized, +you may galvanize it into life. + +At all events, do not endanger the peace of your home and the happiness +of your children, for fear of antagonizing a few parishioners of +arrested spiritual development. + +Give your son and daughter an outlet for the youthful vitality which is +like steam: a moving power when used, dangerous and destructive when +pent up. + +Take young Wilton and Rebecca into a room, and talk the whole matter +over. + +Tell them how deeply you love them, and how you have just come to +realize the mistake you have made in trying to eradicate from them the +natural desire for wholesome pleasure instead of giving it proper +avenues of expression. + +Say frankly that you see your error, and that you intend to rectify it. + +Ask their coöperation, and appeal to their good taste and affection not +to mortify or humiliate you in your position of clergyman, by +overstepping the bounds of decorum or discretion. + +Lead them to talk of their ambitions and desires, and, as consistently +as you can, gratify them. + +Let your daughter come to me for a season. I will help to reshape and +modify her ideals of enjoyment to some degree. + +I am sure if she sees a few of our best spectacular plays, and hears +good music, and enjoys beautiful rhythmic dancing, she will not be so +carried away with the travelling show. + +I will acquaint her with some of the commonplace facts concerning the +lives of theatrical people, and show her the frayed tinsel and worn +faces by daylight. This will do more for her than all your sermons on +the dangers of a theatrical career. + +The young heart is fascinated with the thought of danger and temptation. + +It is repelled by the commonplace and the ugly. + +When you talk to a young mind in a whisper and behind locked doors about +a temptation to be avoided, you but give edge to appetite and curiosity. + +When you bring the temptation out into the glare of sunlight, and speak +of it in presence of the whole world, you dispel the illusion. + +I will gather together some data concerning the sporting men of America, +and send your son. I will also mail him the sporting papers regularly. +Let him talk and read openly about the subject, and it will lose half +its weird charm. + +He, too, should learn to dance, swim, fence, and ride. His bounding +vitality needs directing in wholesome channels. I have never understood +the prejudice against dancing. + +To me, it is a form of religious praise of the Creator of youth, health, +vitality, and grace. I have always loved dancing, and the exercise, +besides being eminently beneficial to the health and wonderfully +conducive to grace is, to my thinking, highly moral in its effect. Its +only danger lies in wrong associations, and these seem to threaten young +people who are restricted from the enjoyment in their homes and among +their rightful companions. + +I cannot help thinking that Loie Fuller should have a niche in the hall +of fame, among the "Immortals," for having given the last century her +exquisitely beautiful creations in dancing. + +No woman has given us a great epic, or a great painting, or a great +musical composition, but she has given us a great dance-poem, which is +at the same time a painting and a song. Oh, you poor starved, blind +soul, to be deprived of such beautiful spectacles. How I pity you, and +how I pray you to give your children the privileges you have missed +through a belittling idea of your Creator. + +Do you fancy God would punish beautiful young Rebecca for dancing, any +sooner than he would blight the willow-tree for waving its graceful arms +to the tune the wind-harps play? + +Come up out of the jungles of ignorance and bigotry, my dear cousin, +and live on the hilltops and bring your children with you. For there you +will all find yourself nearer to God and to humanity. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles McAllister + +_Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + + +I am glad that for once you have written and asked my advice before you +began your course of action. + +You wrote me after you entered Vassar and asked me what I thought of +your doing so. + +You wrote me after you married Doctor McAllister, and asked me what I +thought of that. My reply was a wedding gift and a telegram of good +wishes. Now, after three years of married life, you write again and ask +me to decide a question which has caused some discussion between you and +the doctor. + +"He did not take my view of the matter at first," you say, "but he does +now. Still, I feel that I would like another unprejudiced opinion +before I take the contemplated step. You knew I left college before +finishing my course. I was in love and the doctor urged me not to make +him wait another year. He said I knew enough to make him happy, and so I +consented." + +Then you proceed to tell me that you have never regretted this step, and +that you have the best husband in the world. But you have decided +musical gifts, and before meeting the doctor you intended going abroad +to cultivate them after you finished at Vassar. This old ambition has +taken hold of you again, and you want to join a friend, one of your +classmates, who sails in June to study art in Europe. You desire to take +a two or three years' course, and then you will be equipped with an +accomplishment which could be made a profession if necessity demanded. + +"One never knows what the future holds," you say, "and it is the duty of +every woman to make the most of herself." Both remarks are as true as +they are trite. An almost graduate of Vassar should be more original in +expressing herself. + +But there is another duty a woman should not forget--the duty to stand +by her marriage vows and to make her husband a good wife. It seems the +doctor did not eagerly approve your idea at the beginning. I am glad he +did not. Unless a wife is in a precarious state of health or has an +ailing child, I always suspect the honesty of a husband who cheerfully +seconds her suggestion of a protracted absence from home. + +When a man shows no regret at having his wife away for an entire season, +there is something wrong with his heart. + +Love does not find its home there, or he could not speed her going so +far, and for so long a time, at the bidding of ambition or pleasure. You +evidently have won the doctor over by argument, and made him feel that +he is selfish to tie you down or clip the wings of your ambition. The +American husband is so fearful of seeming a tyrant. "He realizes now," +you say, "that a woman has the right to develop the talents God gave +her just as a man does, and that it is a wrong against her 'higher self' +to crush down these ambitions. He realizes, too, that this separation +means greater powers of usefulness for me in the future, and greater +opportunities for pleasure. It will be a long and lonely time for both +of us, as I shall only come home once or twice and the doctor may not be +able to go over at all, though I hope he will. But the expense of my +studies will of course be great, and we shall both need to economize. It +is my intention to start a little conservatory after I return and take a +few high-priced pupils. In that way I can reimburse our expenditure." + +But can you, my dear Winifred, _reimburse your mutual losses in other +ways_? You do not seem to realize what such a separation may mean. You +are both young and both attractive. I know now that you are beginning to +be angry at my suggestion, but, fortunately, you cannot interrupt me, +and you must hear what I have to say. + +Of course you are not a frivolous flirt, or a silly-headed creature +with no ideals or principles. You have nothing of the adventuress in +your composition, but you are a young woman, with personal charms and +talents, and life will be unutterably desolate for you if you make a +recluse of yourself. You will be surrounded by people of artistic +temperaments and tastes, and I know, if you do not, that many of these +people do lack ideals, and some of them lack principles and take pride +in the fact. "Art for art's sake, life for pleasure's sake," is their +motto. The entire situation will be full of danger for you. But far more +danger will surround your husband. A man's temptations are always +greater than a woman's. That is, there are _more_ temptations in his +pathway, from the fact that he is by nature and environment less guarded +and protected, and the penalties for folly are less severe. And of all +men, unless it is a clergyman, a physician is most exposed to +temptation. He is the confidant of hysterical women and the sharer of +domestic secrets. Many a woman believes she is ill only because she +desires the sympathy of her doctor, just as many a woman fancies herself +disturbed with religious agitation only because she wants the society of +her minister. + +Of course a doctor of any character or principle does not compromise his +reputation or disgrace his calling readily. I hear Doctor McAllister +spoken of as a man of high standing, and his picture shows a +well-balanced head and an honest, manly face. But "A man's a man for a' +that," my dear Winifred. + +We must accept facts as they exist all about us, and we must not demand +of half-evolved human beings what we would expect of wholly divine +creatures. It is an unnatural position for a man to be separated from +the wife he loves for months and years. + +Unless he is sustained by intense religious beliefs, extreme sympathy or +sorrow for her (as he might be were she compelled by some great trouble +or duty to be absent), it is impossible for him not to grow in a measure +forgetful of his ideals of constancy, and to drift into bachelor habits +of distraction. Men do a thousand and one things for amusement which no +woman could or would. Gilded and glittering halls of vice are inviting +the inspection and patronage of men who are left at home by journeying +and pleasure-seeking wives. + +I know this terrible statement to be absolutely true--_gambling-houses +and dens of infamy speak of their "best season" when wives leave town +for summer outings, just as a farmer speaks of his harvest season when +crops are ripe._ I do not suppose your husband will seek the +companionship of gamblers or depraved souls during your absence. Men as +seemingly high and strong as he have fallen so low, but I do not believe +he will. Yet, so long as we know such conditions exist, and so long as +men as a class take the liberties they do when left to find distraction +and entertainment, it seems to me little less than criminal when a young +wife like yourself deliberately leaves her home and husband for the sake +of any possible attainment. + +You have no right to marry a man and then to make his happiness and his +comfort secondary to your ambitions. + +If he had neglected you, if he failed to support you, if he was not +loyal to you, it would be different. + +But you say he is "the best of men," and that you never have regretted +marrying him. + +Then let me beg of you to stand by him, as a wife should, and to make +what progress in your music you can at home, and wait until your husband +can accompany you before you go abroad to study. + +The highway of divorce is crowded with the student wives who have been +"abroad to study," leaving their husbands at home to earn the money. Do +not be one of them. + +There are greater things than a satisfied ambition, and a clean, happy, +united married life is one. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Maternity_ + + +I have tried to imagine myself in your place, as you requested, before +answering your letter. + +To be the mother of two children, and to know that a third may be added +before the fifth anniversary of your wedding, is for the most maternal +of women a situation requiring rare patience and much philosophy. + +I know that your strength is depleted, that you are nervously unstrung, +and I can understand your despondent state of mind. + +It seems to you that all romance and sentiment in life is being +sacrificed to breeding the species. You feel that you have some personal +privileges as a wife and a woman, not less than a mother. + +Like yourself, I do not believe woman's only mission in life to be the +production of offspring, yet I consider motherhood the highest privilege +accorded her who has for it the right physical and moral qualities. + +Only strong, sensible, and healthy women should become mothers, and it +is a mistake for even such as they to be kept constantly in that +occupation. + +You possess all the requisites, and you ought to bring fine children +into the world, since you married the man you loved, and have been happy +with him. + +But I can understand your reluctance to pass through the ordeal which +modern motherhood in civilized races means, for a third time, in so +short a period. But try and take another view of the situation. + +Benjamin Franklin was the fifteenth child of a poor tallow chandler. It +is altogether probable that his coming seemed a misfortune to his +mother, taxed with the care of such a brood. Think what the world would +have missed had he not come to earth. + +Then think of this unborn child as something wonderful and divine, given +to you to perfect. Believe it is to be the greatest blessing to you and +to the whole world. + +Cultivate love and protection in your heart for it. + +Tell yourself every hour of the day that the God of love will not desert +you or deprive you of strength and courage for your ordeal. That he will +be ever near, and sustain and comfort you. + +Desire all beautiful and good qualities to be given your child, and +resolutely turn away from the contemplation of anything that is hideous, +or unwholesome, or depressing. + +Look for pleasing objects, read cheerful and uplifting books, and from +infinite space call to you all ministering influences. + +Consider how short a time, when compared to the span of human life, +expectant motherhood occupies, and realize the vastness of its +influence upon the nature of the child, and through that nature upon all +humanity. + +Once you grasp that consciousness, you will feel your closeness to the +Creator of all things. + +Indeed, there is no other being on earth so nearly Godlike in power as +the mother who realizes what her influence over her unborn child may be. + +The hard and painful path for you to walk is but a short one compared to +the long roadway to eternity for your child. + +Perhaps some great statesman, or some great artist, or some great +scientist or philosopher is lying under your heart, and it is in your +power to make or mar his development. Perhaps a Joan of Arc, or a Rosa +Bonheur, or a Martha Washington will crown you with pride. + +Such genius and influence for good as the world has never before known, +from mortal sources, may be given to it through your unborn child. How +wonderful your privilege, how vast your power! + +Only a few short months, and then the growing wonder of a child's +unfolding mind, to beautify your days. + +Think of it in this way, dear little tired and nervous woman, and God +and all his angels will hover over you, I know, and all will be well +with you. + +My prayers are with you. + + + + +To Mr. Alfred Duncan + +_Concerning the Ministry_ + + +And so you have changed your plan of life and, instead of becoming an +experimenter with the flesh, are going to be a healer of souls. + +And what do I think about it? I am glad you are not to be an M.D. There +is an era coming when the doctor will be a prehistoric creature. Oh, it +is far, far away, but already the most progressive minds have ceased to +regard the family physician as an infallible being. + +Medicine has made the least progress of any of the sciences in the last +few centuries. + +Credulity has cured more people than pills. + +Were you to study medicine, I should advise you to take up surgery, +osteopathy, electricity, the Kneippe Cure, milk diet, and all the +various methods of stimulating circulation; for the people who +patronize these treatments are increasing, as the powder and pill +patrons are on the decrease. + +Then, too, I should urge you to make a careful study of mental and +spiritual methods of cure, that you might be wholly equipped for the +dawn of the new age. You are a young man, and you will probably live to +see a wonderful change in the treatment of disease, and to find the +physician of the old school relegated to the historian. + +But just as carefully you should now survey the religious horizon, +before beginning your studies for the ministry. + +It is utterly useless to stand with lifted eyes and say, "The faith of +my parents is good enough for me--good enough for all mankind." + +Had the children of ancient Salem said that, and their children repeated +it, you would probably be lighting faggots at this moment to roast a +"witch," instead of a brother of the opposite creed. + +The narrow, intolerant old dogmas have been forced into elasticity by +the later generations, and the broadening work still goes on. + +It makes no difference how satisfied you may be with a prospective lake +of fire for your enemies, the congregations you are to address will not +listen to that style of sermon as did your grandparents. + +Only the ignorant minds to-day harbour ideas of cruelty and revenge in +connection with a Creator. + +Thinkers find such theories inconsistent with religious belief. +Individual thought is leading to individual faith. + +Where once I believed in a universal church for all the world, I now +believe in a separate creed for each soul, one fashioned to suit his own +particular need, with the underlying basis of love for all created +things as its foundation. + +Let each man worship in his own way, and follow his own ideal of duty to +God and humanity. + +If it is the pleasure of one to give up all his worldly goods, and to +go and live and labour among the poor, wish him Godspeed; but if another +keeps his place among men of affairs, makes money honestly, and uses it +unselfishly, let him, too, have your blessing, since he is setting a +good example for the worldly-minded. If one man finds himself nearer to +God on Sunday by going out and peacefully enjoying the beauties of +nature and the association of his kind, do not try to convince him that +he is on the highway to perdition because he does not sit in a pew and +listen to depressing sermons. + +The day is over for that type of clergyman to succeed. + +Make a study of the needs of men _to-day_, and suit your sermons to +those needs. + +Men need to know more of the wonders of God's universe. Talk to them in +a brief, concise, interesting manner of the recent discoveries of +science, and their frequent remarkable corroboration of the old +religious theories. Thousands of years ago, in Egypt and India, wise men +said that metals and all created things possessed life, and were a part +of one great immortal whole, of which man was the highest expression. + +Science is "discovering" and proving the truth of many statements made +by those old seers and savants. Call the attention of the men of to-day +to this fact, and set them thinking on the wonders of the immortal soul. + +The man of to-day is an egotist regarding his scientific achievements. +He has grown to think of himself as a giant before whose material +success all other things must give way. He believes that he has +discovered, invented, photographed and made profitable all the "facts" +of the universe, and is inclined to regard with intolerance any idea +beyond his own mechanical domain. + +Tell him how much was divined thousands of years ago, and lead him to +realize the mighty depths of the unsounded ocean of his own being. + +To know your own triple self, body, mind, and spirit, and to make +yourself a complete man, with the body beautiful, the mind clear, the +spirit radiant, is better than to have all the Bibles of the ages, in +all their ancient languages, at your tongue's tip. + +Help men to the building of character, which shall enable them to be +honest in street and mart, unselfish in home and society, and +sympathetic to their fellow pilgrims. + +Salvation is gained as a house is built, brick by brick, day after day, +not by spasmodic efforts one day in the week, and the destruction of +that effort in the remaining six. + +And each man must be his own mason, and select and lay his own bricks. +All the clergyman can do is to act the part of overseer. + +The man who goes to another, and expects his prayers to save him, is +like the mason who expects the "boss" to do his work, while he draws the +pay. Do no man's task--physical, mental, or spiritual. That is not +friendship or religion. Your work is to stimulate others to do their own +work, think their own thoughts, and live their own lives. + +The world to-day demands facts to sustain faith. + +_Spiritual facts are to be obtained_. + +Find them: for once convinced of the continuation of life beyond the +grave, and of the necessity to earn its privileges, by self-conquest and +character-building, humanity will rise "from the lowly earth to the +vaulted skies," and will realize that this earth is but the anteroom to +larger spheres of usefulness. + +Go forth and find--go forth and find, and do not be afraid to strike out +of beaten paths and avoid ruts. Cultivate spiritual courage. It is what +few clergymen possess, and it will give you individuality at least. + +Preach the religion of happy harmonious homes. Make men and women +realize that heaven must begin here, in order to continue farther on, +and that the angelic qualities, of love, sympathy, goodness, +appreciation, must be rehearsed in the body, before they can be +successfully enacted in full-dress angel costume with wings. + +God will not care for the eternal praises sung about his throne by a man +who swears at his wife on earth, or a wife who nags her husband and +children. It is no use expecting a rôle in a continuous performance of +happiness in heaven, if you do not learn one line of the part on earth. + +Make your congregations think of the necessity to _live_ their religion +in earth's commonplace daily situations. + +That is the religion the world needs. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gray + +_Concerning Polygamy_ + + +All that you say, regarding the excitement over the seating of your Salt +Lake Senator, is quite true. + +I have visited your city, and have made the acquaintance of many of your +people, and I know the private life of the gentleman you sent to +represent you in Washington is beyond reproach. + +He is a good husband, a good father, a good citizen. He was born of a +polygamous father and mother, and his childhood's home was a happy one. +He was educated in the belief that it was wrong for a man to cohabit +with any woman not his wife, but right for him to marry many wives. + +He has not married many wives, however, and does not intend to. His +private life, his domestic life and his financial record are all clean +and clear of stain. + +So much cannot be said of many other Senators and Representatives at our +capitol. + +Good women are horrified when seeking government positions to find how +the sacrifice of virtue is demanded as payment for influence. + +These statements cannot be evaded or denied. Let one who questions them +investigate the conditions existing in Washington in the past and +to-day. + +What a record it would be were every girl and woman who had been led +into the path of folly by married Senators and Representatives to come +forth and tell her story! + +There are clean, decent, high-minded men in both houses. There are good +citizens, good patriots, good men there. + +But so long as one married seducer and misleader of women retains a seat +in either house unmolested, so long as one man stays who is unfaithful +to his marriage vows, the opposers of the Senator from Utah should base +their objections on other than moral grounds. + +But despite the facts you bring to bear on your argument, that polygamy +leads to more morality in the homes of the land than our present +conditions illustrate, I must disagree with you. + +I am opposed to polygamy. Any social arrangement which licenses men to +possess several women, to give full rein to their desires, is a block to +the wheels of progress. + +Not until man learns the lesson of self-control, as woman has learned +it, will humanity reach its highest development. + +Not until man ceases to place himself on a par with the unreasoning male +animal, when he argues on the subject of the sexual relations, will he +become the master of circumstance he is meant to be. + +One man and one woman living sexually true to each other is the ideal +domestic life. Better strive toward that ideal, and fail and strive +again, than to lower it and accept license and self-indulgence as the +standard, under some religious name. + +Polyandry and polygamy are both evidences of a crude and half-evolved +humanity. + +They belong to a society which has not learned the law of self-control +as a part of its religious creed and the march of progress. The light of +science makes havoc of all such primitive conditions. + +You tell me that your father was the husband of three wives, and that +all lived under one roof in sisterly love, and that you never heard an +unkind word spoken in your home, and that all three wives loved you as a +son. You tell me your father held high ideals of womankind, and that the +existence of a fallen woman was impossible in your community. + +Now I contend that any woman who accepts less than the full loyalty of +the man to whom she gives herself for life _has fallen from woman's +highest estate_. She lowers not only herself, but the whole sex. + +To take a third of a man's love, and to share his physical and mental +and spiritual comradeship with two other wives, is far more immoral, to +my thinking, than to take the whole of a man without legal authority. + +It drags down and belittles woman in the eyes of man. It is useless to +contend that such conditions lead to respect. + +There is too much of the big male I, and the little female you, in the +arrangement. There is too much of the old idea that God made man, and +accident made woman, for man's use. There is too much of self-indulgence +for the man, and repression for the woman,--a condition which has +blocked the highest development of the race for centuries. + +Meanwhile, I think it a great pity that society does not hold the +expectant mother in the same reverence as in your community. That is +certainly a lesson we can learn from the Mormons. And that explains why +your children, born of polygamous mothers, are stronger physically, and +more universally endowed mentally, than the average children in the +world at large. + +Mothers were guarded and protected and revered, and children were made +welcome, and no such crime as darkens our own social world--the crime of +destroying embryo life--was known in your midst. + +It is a glorious heritage to give a child this parental love and +welcome. It lasts through eternity. + +But it does not seem to me that it is necessary to have polygamy prevail +in order to produce right conditions for the propagation of offspring. +In time the world will realize the importance of teaching men and women +how to become good parents. + +It will learn, too, the magnificent results to be obtained from one +moral code for both sexes, and this result could never be obtained in a +polygamous community. + + + + +To Walter Smeed + +_Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + + +Before you left us, I realized that you and my pretty secretary were +finding matters of mutual interest. + +Therefore, I am not surprised that you are thinking seriously of her as +a future companion. + +Rosalie is a charming, intelligent, warm-hearted, excellent girl, and +there is no reason why she would not make you a good wife, save the one +you mention--the difference in your creeds. + +You are a Roman Catholic, Rosalie is a devout Protestant. + +Were the cases reversed, and were you the Protestant and Rosalie the +Catholic, I should say the chances of happiness were greater than as +conditions now stand. + +As a rule, the most religious man is more liberal than the religious +woman. And when marriage between a Roman Catholic and a Protestant is +the question, there is need of greater liberality on the part of the +Protestant than on that of the Catholic. + +Why? Because with the Protestant there is no consideration to be thought +of outside of his or her own convictions and feelings. + +With the Catholic, the power of the Church and the law regarding the +rearing of the children in its faith walks beside the contracting party, +sits at the table, and sleeps on the marital couch. + +There is no happiness for the husband or wife who has entered into such +a marriage, after the arrival of children, unless the laws of the Church +are obeyed. + +When the wife is a Catholic, the fact that she is a good woman and true +wife satisfies the Protestant husband, as a rule, and he makes no +objection to her carrying out the contract with her Church regarding the +education of the children. + +If they are as moral and good as their mother, he does not care what +faith occupies their hearts or in what way they worship God. + +But to the mother this is a matter of vital importance. + +Woman is by nature more devout than man. + +Woman is by nature more tyrannical than man. + +Take those two characteristics, and add to them the tendency of many +women to bigotry and intolerance, and it makes the matter of creeds +vital in marriage. + +Rosalie is broader-minded than many women, yet she is devoted to the +Congregational Church, and rarely misses attendance. + +It will be an easy matter for her to accept your faith for yourself and +to allow you to attend your own church, and she is, I am sure, broad +enough to go with you occasionally, if you request it. + +But when she becomes a mother, and the children's minds are unfolding, I +doubt her willingness to have them brought up in any faith save her own. + +To an unwedded girl in love, a child is a very indistinct creature. + +To a mother, it is a very real being. + +I have seen men as deeply in love as you are, with women as +liberal-minded as Rosalie, become very unhappy after marriage through +the opposite ideas of the wife regarding the education of children. + +You must remember how much more closely a mother's life is entwined +about her children, and how much more of their association usually falls +to her than to the father. + +This is especially true of daughters, and is true of sons up to a +certain age. + +You can understand, I am sure, how much more companionship a mother +would find in children who accepted her faith and attended her church +than in those whose spiritual paths led in another direction. + +I know Rosalie realizes that a good life, not a certain creed, leads to +the goal she seeks, after this phase of existence closes, and she does +not ask you to change your faith. But while she would also believe her +children were on the road to that goal, she would want them to walk +through her path and by her side. + +It will be hard to relinquish the woman you love, to-day, for the +children who might not come to-morrow. + +Yet I can give you the counsel you asked on this matter only from my +personal observation of similar unions. + +I should advise you to try an absence of some duration, and to forget +Rosalie if you can, since you have not yet declared yourself. + +Better a little temporary sorrow than a life of discord. + +As you grow older your religion will, in all probability, gain a +stronger ascendency over your nature, and the church to which you belong +is very tenacious in its hold upon its members. + +Rosalie is not of a yielding nature, and as I said before, she is more +devoted to her church than most young women of the day. + +The physical phases of your love blind you now. But these phases are +only a part of the tie which must bind husband and wife to make love +enduring through all of life's vicissitudes. + +There must be mental companionship, and to be a complete union there +must be sympathy in spiritual ideas. + +The very young do not realize this fact, but it is forced upon the +mature. + +Marital love is like a tree. It first roots in the soil of earth, and +then lifts its branches to the heavens. Unless it does so lift its +branches it is stunted and deformed, and is not a tree. Unless it roots +in earth it is not a tree, but an air-plant or a cobweb. + +You want to be sure the tree you are thinking to make a shelter for your +whole life, will have far-reaching and uplifting branches, and will not +be merely an earth-bound twig. + +Since your church permits no second marriage save by the door of death, +do not make a mistake in your first. + +Take a year, at least, of absence and separation, and think the matter +over. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + + +It is with genuine regret that I learn of your determination to send my +nephew out of your life. Wilfred is a royal fellow, as that term is +employed by us. He is what a man of royal descent in monarchies rarely +proves to be,--self-reliant, enterprising, industrious, clean, and with +high ideals of woman. + +Eight years ago I declined a request of his for a loan, and told him my +reasons--that I believed loans were an injury to our friends or +relatives. My letter seemed to arouse all the strength latent in his +nature, and he has made a remarkable record for himself since that time. +I have known that he was deeply in love with you for the last two years, +and I had hoped you would listen to his plea. He tells me that you +imparted your history to him, and that you say it is your intention to +remain single, as you would not like to bring children into the world to +suffer from the stigma upon your name. He has shown me your letter +wherein you say, "I am not in fault for having to blush for the sins of +my parents; but I would be in fault if my children had to blush for the +blemish upon the name of their grandparents. I do not feel I could meet +their questioning eyes when they asked me about my parents. I can better +bear the loss of the personal happiness of a home and a husband's love." + +Wilfred is just the man to protect you and to keep the world at a +distance, where it could not affect your life by its comments. He +regards your birth in the same light that I do, and would rather +transmit your lovely qualities of soul and mind to his descendants than +the traits of many proudly born girls who are ready to take him at the +first asking: for you must know how popular he is with our sex. + +I can not believe you are insensible to his magnetic and lovable +qualities, but, as you say, you have been so saddened by the sudden +knowledge of your history that it has blunted your emotions in other +directions. I can only hope this will wear away and that you will +reconsider your resolve and consent to make Wilfred the happy and proud +man you could, by becoming his wife. + +_Never forget that God created love and man created marriage_. + +And to be born of a loveless union is a darker blight than to be born in +love without union. + +But what I want to talk about now, is your determination to live a +single life and to devote yourself to reclaiming weak and erring women. +You are young to enter this field of work, yet at twenty-four you are +older than many women of thirty-five, because you have had the +prematurely ripening rain of sorrow on your life. I know you will go +into the work you mention with the sympathy and understanding which +alone can make any reformatory work successful. Yet you are going to +encounter experiences which will shock and pain you, in ways you do not +imagine now. + +You are starting out with the idea of most sympathetic good women, that +all erring souls of their own sex fall through betrayed trust, and +broken promises, and misplaced love. Such cases you will encounter, and +they will most readily respond to your efforts for their reformation. +But many of those you seek to aid will have gone on the road to folly +through mercenary motives, and this will prove a vast obstacle. + +When a woman sells to Mammon, under any stress of circumstance, that +which belongs to Cupid, there is something left out of her nature and +character which renders the efforts of the reformers almost useless. You +know all real, lasting reform must come from within. The woman who has +once decided that fine apparel, and comfort, and leisure, are of more +value to her than her virtue usually reaches old age or disease before +the reformer can even gain her attention. You will find many such among +your protégées, and you may as well leave them to work out their own +reformation, and turn your energies to those who long for a better life. + +It is that longing which means real reformation. To paraphrase an old +couplet-- + + The soul reformed against its will + Clings to the same old vices still. + +I do not believe in a forced morality, save as a protection to a +community. I believe in it as a legal fence, but it possesses no value +as a religious motive. It helps to save society some annoyance, but it +does not materially improve the condition of humanity. Such improvements +must come from the desire of men and women to reach higher standards. +So, after you have planted a little seed in the mind of the mercenary +Magdalene which may in time sprout and grow, pass on, and find those who +have gone wrong from other causes, and who are longing for a hand to +lead them right. + +And of all things do not expect a girl who has lived in the glare of red +lights, and listened to the blare of bands, and worn the ofttimes +becoming garb of folly, and stimulated her spirits with intoxicants--do +not expect her, I say, to suddenly be contented with quiet and solitude, +and drudgery, and cheap, unlovely garments, and goodness. Give her +something to entertain her and to occupy her mind, give her something to +live for and hope for and to be pleased over, besides the mere fact of +reformation. The opium victim, you must remember, can not at once +partake of wholesome food and be well and happy in the thought that he +has given up his drug. Neither can the folly victim. The standards of +happiness and contentment which the moral woman has always found +satisfactory, she too often considers sufficient for the sister who has +wandered from the path. But they are standards which, once lost, must be +gained step by step, painfully and slowly. They are not reached by a +bound. As much as possible keep your reformed sister's mind from +dwelling on the past, or from talking of her mistakes and sins. Blot +them from her memory by new and interesting plans and occupations. The +way to live a new life is to live it. + +And our thoughts and conversation are important parts of living. Instead +of praying aloud to God to forgive her sins, show the God spirit in +yourself by forgiving and forgetting and helping her to forget. + +And now a word about yourself. + +You are twenty-four, lovely, sympathetic, fond of children and animals, +wholesome and normal in your habits, without crankiness, and popular +with both sexes. While there are many wives and widows possessed of +these qualities, there seems to be some handicap to the spinster in the +race of life who undertakes to arrive at middle age with all the womanly +attributes. Almost invariably she drops some of them by the wayside. She +becomes overorderly and fussy--so that association with her for any +length of time is insupportable--or careless and indifferent. Or she may +grow inordinately devoted to animal pets, and bitter and critical toward +children and married people. + +She may develop mannish traits, and dress and appear more like a man +than a feminine woman. + +She may ride a hobby, to the discomfort of all other equestrians or +pedestrians on the earth's highway. She may grow so argumentative and +positive that she is intolerant and intolerable. And whichever of these +peculiarities are hers, she is quite sure to be wholly unconscious of +it, while she is quick to see that of another. Now watch yourself, my +dear Sybyl, as you walk alone toward middle life; do not allow yourself +to grow queer or impossible. It was God's intent that every plant should +blossom and bear fruit, and that every human being should mate and +produce offspring. The plant that fails in any of its functions is +usually blighted in some way, and the woman who fails of life's full +experiences seems to show some repellent peculiarity. But she need not, +once she sets a watch upon herself; she has a conscious soul and mind, +and can control such tendencies if she will. + +It is unnatural for a woman to live without the daily companionship of +man. The superior single woman must make tenfold the effort of the +inferior wife, to maintain her balance into maturity, because of her +enforced solitude. As the wife-mother grows older she is kept in touch +with youth, and with the world, while the opportunities for close +companionship with the young lessen as a single woman passes forty, +unless she makes herself especially adaptable, agreeable, and +sympathetic. + +And this is what I want you to do. At twenty-four it is none too soon to +begin planning for a charming maturity. + +If you are determined upon a life of celibacy, determine also to be the +most wholesome, and normal, and all around liberal, womanly spinster the +world has ever seen. + +Peace and happiness to you in your chosen lot. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + + +No, my dear Edna, I do not think it strange that you should seek advice +on this subject from a woman who has no living children. + +It seems to me no one is fitted to give such unbiased counsel regarding +the training of children as the woman of observation, sympathy, and +feeling, who has none of her own. + +Had I offspring, I would be influenced by my own successes, and +prejudiced by my own failures, and unable to put myself in your place, +as I now do. + +A mother rarely observes other people's children, save to compare them +unfavourably with her own. I regret to say that motherhood with the +average woman seems to be a narrowing experience, and renders her less +capable of taking a large, unselfish view of humanity. + +The soldier in the thick of battle is able to tell only of what he +personally experienced and saw, just in the spot where he was engaged in +action. + +The general who sits outside the fray and watches the contest can form a +much clearer idea of where the mistakes occurred, and where the greatest +skill was displayed. + +I am that general, my dear friend, standing outside the field of +motherhood, and viewing the efforts of my battling sisters to rear +desirable men and women. And I am glad you have appealed to me while +your two children are yet babies to give you counsel, for I can tell you +where thousands have failed. + +And I thank you and your husband for reposing so much confidence in my +ideas. + +I think, perhaps, we had better speak of the postscript of your letter +first. You ask my opinion regarding the chaperon for your +sixteen-year-old sister, who is going abroad to study for a period of +years. Mrs. Walton will take her and keep her in her home in Paris, and +Miss Brown also stands ready to make her one of three young girls she +desires to chaperon and guide through a foreign course of study in +France and Germany. + +You like the idea of having your sister in a home without the +association of other American girls, until she perfects herself in +French, but you are worried about Mrs. Walton's being a divorced woman. +Miss Brown, the spotless spinster, seems the safer guide to your +friends, you tell me. + +I know the majority of women would feel that a single woman of good +standing and ungossiped reputation was a safe and desirable protector +for a young girl. + +The same majority would hesitate to send their girls away with a +divorced woman. + +But as I remarked in the beginning, I have stood outside the fray and +watched similar ventures, and I have grown to realize that it is not +mere respectability and chastity in a woman which make her a safe +chaperon for a young girl,--it is a deep, full, broad understanding of +temperaments and temptations. + +Had I a daughter or a sister like your sweet Millie, I would not allow +her to live one year under the dominion of such a woman as Miss Brown +for any consideration. Why? because Miss Brown is all brain and bigotry. +She is narrow and high, not deep and broad. + +She is so orthodox that she incites heresy in the rebellious mind of +independent youth. She is so moral she makes one long for adventure. She +would not listen to any questioning of old traditions, or any +speculative philosophizing of a curious young mind, and she would be +intolerant with any girl who showed an inclination to flirt or be +indiscreet. + +Your sister Millie is as coquettish as the rose that lifts its fair face +to the sun, and the breeze, and the bee, and expects to be admired. She +is as innocent as the rose, too, but that fact Miss Brown would never +associate with coquetry. + +She would class it with vulgarity and degeneracy. Miss Brown is a +handsome woman, but she has no sex instincts. She does not believe with +the scientist, "that in the process of evolution it is only with the +coming of the sex relation that life is enabled to rise to higher +forms." + +She believes in brain and spirit, and is utterly devoid of that feminine +impulse to make herself attractive to men, and wholly incapable of +understanding the fascination that Folly holds out to youth. She has +never experienced any temptation, and she would be shocked at any girl +who fell below her standard. + +She would carefully protect Millie from danger by high walls, but she +would never eradicate the danger impulse from her nature by sympathetic +counsel, as a more human woman could. + +Mrs. Walton is a much better guide for your sister. + +She ran away from boarding-school at seventeen, and married the reckless +son of a rich man. She had a stepmother of the traditional type, and +had never known a happy home life. She was of a loving and trusting and +at the same time a coquettish nature, and she attracted young Walton's +eye while out for a walk with a "Miss Brown" order of duenna. The +duenna saw the little embryo flirtation, and became very much horrified, +and preached the girl a long sermon, and set a close watch upon her +actions. + +There was no wise, loving guidance of a young girl's life barque from +the reefs of adventure. It was homily and force. The result was, that +the girl escaped from school before six weeks passed, and married her +admirer. + +He was fifteen years her senior, a reckless man of the world, even older +in experience than in years. He proved a very bad husband, but his young +wife remained with him until his own father urged her to leave him. She +was quietly divorced, and has lived abroad almost ever since, and holds +an excellent position in the French capital, as well as in other +European centres, and she is most exemplary in her life. Mr. Walton is +now an inmate of a sanitarium, a victim of paresis. + +I can imagine no one so well fitted to exert the wisest influence upon +Millie's life as Mrs. Walton. + +There is a woman who has run the whole gamut of girlish folly, and who +knows all the phases of temptation. She knows what it is to possess +physical attractions, and to be flattered by the admiration of men, and +she has passed through the dark waters of disillusion and sorrow. She +would be the one to help Millie out of dangerous places by sympathy and +understanding, instead of using sermons and keys. + +She would mould her young, wax-like character by the warmth of love, +instead of freezing it by austere axioms. + +Miss Brown would make an indiscreet young girl feel hopelessly vulgar +and immodest; Mrs. Walton that she understood all about her foolish +pranks, and was able to lead her in the better paths. + +Miss Brown prides herself upon never having lost her head with any man. + +Mrs. Walton is like some other women I have known, who have made +mistakes of judgment. She lost her head, but in the losing and the +sorrow that ensued she found a heart for all humanity. + +There are women in this world whose cold-white chastity freezes the poor +wayfarer who tries to find in their vicinity rest and comfort and +courage. + +Other women cast a cooling shadow, in which the sun-scorched pilgrim +finds peace--the shadow of a past error, from which spring fragrant +ferns and sweet grasses, where tired and bleeding feet may softly tread. + +Mrs. Walton's life casts the shadow of divorce on her pathway, but it is +only the warm, restful shadow of a ripening and mellowing sorrow. Do not +fear to have Millie walk in it. + +It will be better for her than the steady glare from a glacier. + +I find I have said so much about your sister that I must reserve my +counsel about your children for another letter. + +Your postscript was brief, but pregnant with suggestion, and called for +this long reply. + +I shall write you again in a few days. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Children_ + + +Your wish to have your son, who is now four years old, begin to develop +the manly qualities, and your oldest daughter, who has reached the +mature age of three, start wisely on the path to lovely womanhood, is +far from being premature. + +"The tree inclines as the twig is bent," we are told. + +Most mothers wait until the tree is in blossom before they begin to +train its inclination. + +Your boy is quite old enough to be taught manly pride, in being useful +to you and his sisters. + +Such things are not successfully taught by preaching or scolding or +punishing; but are more easily inculcated by tact and praise, +object-lesson and play. + +A four-year-old boy is all ears when his father's praises and +achievements are recounted. Any father, save a brute, is a hero in the +eyes of his four-year-old son. I am sure Mr. Gordon has many admirable +traits you can use as interesting topics. + +Tell little Charlie how proud you are to have a son who will be like his +father, and attend to the needs of and look after the interests of his +mother and sisters. + +Make him think that to be of service to you or his sisters is one of the +first steps toward manhood, as indeed it is. + +When he performs any small kindness, praise his manliness. + +Teach him to open doors, and to make way for women and elders, as a part +of manly courtesy. + +Speak with gentle disapproval of the unfortunately common type of +American boy who pushes women and older people aside to scramble into +public conveyances and secure a seat before them. + +Say how proud you are that your son could not be guilty of such unmanly +conduct. + +When you are walking with him, call his attention to any woman or child +or poor man in trouble, and if his services can be of use, urge him to +offer them. + +I saw one day a small boy spring to the aid of an old coloured woman who +had dropped a lot of parcels in the street, and I thought it was a +certain evidence that his mother was a rare and sweet woman. For the +manners of little boys are almost invariably what their mothers make +them. + +Awake early in his heart a sympathy for the deformed, the crippled, and +otherwise unfortunate beings. + +There is no other country where such vulgar and heartless curiosity, and +even ridicule, is bestowed upon grotesque or unsightly types of +humanity, as in America. + +A little dwarfed girl in New York City committed suicide a few years +ago because she was so weary of being laughed at and ridiculed by her +associates in the street and at school. + +Think of that, in this Christian age, and in the metropolis of America! + +An old street peddler was set upon by school-children and so annoyed and +misused that he became insane. + +Another was injured by street children--the children of the public +schools--and died from the effects of their abuse. + +This is the fault of mothers who have never deemed it their duty and +privilege to awaken the tender and protective qualities in the character +of their children. + +Speak often to your boy of the pathos of dumb animals dependent upon +human thoughtfulness for food, drink, and decent usage. + +Say what a privilege it seems to you to be able to befriend them, and to +be a voice for them in making others realize their duty to our dumb +brothers. + +Obtain interesting books on natural history and read stories of animal +life to your boy. Instruct him in the habits of beast, bird, and insect, +and talk to him of the wonderful domestic instincts and affections in +many of our speechless associates. The exhilaration of the wild bird, +and the happiness of the deer and the hare in the woods and fields, call +to his mind day by day. It will be more gratifying to you when he is man +grown to feel he is the loving friend and protector, rather than the +skilled hunter of bird and beast. + +The higher order of man does not seek slaughter for amusement. He +realizes that he has no right to take, save for self-protection, that +which he cannot give. + +Make your son a higher order of man by developing those brain cells and +leaving the destructive and cruel portions of the brain to shrink from +lack of use. + +Even in his play with his inanimate toys, you can be arousing the best +or the worst part of your boy's nature. + +The child who whips and screams at his hobby-horse usually, when a man, +whips and bellows at his flesh and blood steed. + +Tell him the play-horse is more easily managed by coaxing and petting, +and that loud voices make it nervous and frightened. + +Suggest water and feed at suitable times, and express sorrow for the +horses with no kind boys to look out for them. + +Start a humane society in the nursery and make your boy president and +your little girl honorary member, and act as treasurer and secretary +yourself. + +Give him a medal when he offers food to a hungry street animal or speaks +to a driver cruel to his horse, or performs any other kind act. This +will be interesting play to your children, and it will be sowing seed in +fallow ground. + +Your baby girl is already old enough to take pride in picking up the +toys she scatters, and putting her chair where it belongs. Make it a +part of your hour of sport with her to help her do these things. She +will not know she is being taught order. + +I learned this lesson from a famous author whose baby son was anxious +to play about the library where his father was at work. + +The first act of the toddler was to toss all the books in sight upon the +floor and to sit down and turn the leaves, hunting for pictures. This +performance interested him for half an hour, when he proceeded to seek +new fields of action. + +"But now let us have great fun putting all the books back just where we +found them," cried the tactful father, with a wink and a laugh, which +made the child believe he was to enjoy the sport of his life. And it +_was_ made sport by the foolish pranks of the father who knew how little +it took to interest a child. + +The next day, and the next, the same fall and rise in the book market +took place, but on the fourth day the father was too deeply engrossed in +work to assist in the replacing of the books: when, lo! the small lad, +after a wistful waiting and unanswered call, proceeded to put the books +all back alone. + +_The first important brick in the foundation wall of order was laid_. + +So you can teach your little girl all the womanly habits of method, and +order, and neatness, and system, if you have the patience to act the +part of playmate with her a few moments daily. + +As she grows in understanding and years, keep yourself at her side, her +nearest friend. Let her feel that she can express her every thought to +you, and that every question which presents itself to her developing +mind, you will seek to answer to the best of your ability. + +Be her confidant, her adviser, her friend, and let her find pride and +happiness in doing things for you. + +Never act as maid or domestic to your daughter. + +Be the queen and make her your first lady-in-waiting, and show her the +courtesy and appreciation her position demands from royalty. She will be +a better daughter, and a better wife and mother, later in life, if you +do not make the mistake of the average American mother of waiting upon +her from the cradle to the altar. Let her grow up with the quiet +understanding that you are to be first considered, in matters social and +financial. Your wardrobe must be as well looked after as her own, and if +there is to be economy for one, let her practise it. + +The daughter who has a whole household sacrificing and toiling for her +pleasures is spoiled for a wife and woman. The most admirable young +women I have known--and I have known many--are those who were taught to +take it as a matter of course that the mother was first to be +considered, and lovingly served. + +Do not be afraid of making your daughter vain by telling her the +attractive features she may possess. + +Some one else will if you do not, and it is well for her to hear it from +lips which may more successfully offer counsel afterward. A certain +confidence in her own charms gives a sensibly reared young woman a poise +and self-possession which is to be desired. A touch of feminine vanity +renders a woman more anxious to please, and more alert to keep always at +her best. + +But beware of having her acquire egotism. Silly conceit is the +death-blow to higher attainments and to all charm. + +Teach your daughter early the accomplishment of listening well. She will +be certain to please if she understands its value. + +A woman who looks the converser in the eyes, and does not allow her +glance to wander and become distrait, and who does not interrupt before +the recital is finished, can be sure of popularity with both men and +women. + +Give both your son and daughter confidence in themselves and belief in +their power to achieve. There is tremendous power in the early +inoculation by the home influence of self-confidence, when it is +tempered by modesty and consideration for others. + +Remember whatever in your own bringing up seems to-day unfortunate, and +avoid it in the training of your children. + +Remember whatever was good and helpful, and emulate it. + + + + +To Miss Zoe Clayborn Artist + +_Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + + +I am sure, my dear niece, that you are a good and pure-minded girl, and +that you mean to live a life above reproach, and I fully understand your +rebellion against many of the conventional forms which are incompatible +with the career of a "girl bachelor," as you like to call yourself. But +let us look at the subject from all sides, while you are on the +threshold of life, in the morning of your career, and before you have +made any more serious mistakes than the one you mention. + +For it was a mistake when you accepted Mr. Gordon's telephone message to +lunch alone with him at a restaurant, even though you knew his wife +might not object. + +Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are happily married, parents of several children. +They are broader and more liberal and more unselfish than most parents, +and they went out of their path to extend courtesies to you, a young +country girl--at first because you were my niece, then because they +liked you personally. + +When I first wrote Mrs. Gordon that you were to open a studio in Chicago +after your course of study in the East, she expressed deep interest in +you, and seemed anxious to have you consider her as a friend--always +ready to act as a chaperon or adviser when you felt the need of wiser +guidance than your own impulses. + +Mrs. Gordon knew that your experience of the world was limited to a +country village in the West, and two years' study at the Pratt +Institute. While there she knew you boarded with a cousin of your +mother's, and enjoyed the association and privileges of the daughters of +the home. + +To start alone in Chicago, and live in your studio, and dine from a +chafing-dish, and sleep in an unfolded combination bureau and +refrigerator--has more fascinations to your mind than to Mrs. Gordon's. +She was reared in comfort, bordering on luxury, and while her early home +life was not happy, she enjoyed all the refinements and all the +privileges of protected girlhood. + +She knows city life as you cannot know it, and, although she discards +many of the burden-some conventions of society, she realizes the +necessity of observing some of its laws. + +She wanted you to feel that you had the background of a wholesome home, +and the protection of clean, well-behaved married friends in your +exposed situation; her attitude to you is just what she would want +another woman to hold toward her daughter, were she grown up and alone +in a large city. + +You have been her guest, and she has been your good friend. Mr. Gordon +admired you from the first, and that was a new incentive for this most +tactful and liberal of wives to befriend you. She always cultivates the +women he likes. + +This is excellent policy on the part of a wife. If the husband has any +really noble qualities or possesses a sterling character, he will +appreciate and respect his wife's confidence, and never violate it; and +added to this, he will usually become disillusioned with the women he +has admired from a distance, when he sees them frequently at too close +range. + +A wife can make no greater mistake than trying to fence her husband +about and obtruding high walls between him and the women he admires. Far +better bring them near and turn on the calcium light. + +Mr. Gordon is a born lover of the fair sex, a born gallant. He is, at +the same time, a clean, self-respecting man. But he has grown a trifle +selfish and a bit vain of late years. + +He does not fully realize what the interesting family of children he +shows with such pride to his friends has meant to their mother. + +It has not occurred to him that to be the mother of three children, the +youngest one year old, after six years of married life, has required a +greater outlay of all the mental, moral, and physical forces than has +been demanded of their father. + +He is a good husband,--yet he is not the absolutely unselfish and +liberal and thoughtful husband that Mrs. Gordon is wife. + +If she seemed to you at all nervous, or less adaptable to your moods +than he, you should stop and consider the many causes which might have +led to this condition. + +You are young, handsome, gifted, and unconventional, and all these +things appeal to men. You can attract all the admirers you want, and +more than you need, to enlarge your ideas of life, and extend your +knowledge of human nature. + +You say your ambition is to know the world thoroughly,--that it will aid +your art. + +I think that is true, if you do not pass the border-line and lose your +ideals and sacrifice your principles. Once you do that, your art will +lose what it can never regain. + +And remember this, my dear girl, no human being ever lived or ever will +live who gained anything worth having _by sacrificing the golden rule._ +In your search for knowledge of the world, and acquaintance with human +nature, _keep that motto ever before your soul's sight,_ "Do unto +others as you would have them do unto you." + +You say Mr. Gordon said or did nothing in that tête-à-tête luncheon his +wife might not have heard or seen, but the fact that he talked entirely +about you and art, and other universal subjects, and seemingly avoided +any reference to his wife and children, surprised you. + +And now you are wondering if you did wrong to accept this invitation. +Never accept invitations of any kind from married men, unless the wife +or some member of the family is included. + +No matter how willing the wife may be to have you enjoy her husband's +company, avoid tête-à-tête situations with benedicts. + +You say you are not egotistical enough to imagine Mr. Gordon had any +hidden motive for wanting to be alone with you, or for seemingly +forgetting in his conversation that he was a husband and father. Yet I +can see that in a measure it disillusioned you. + +You do not ask a man to fling his wife and children at the head of each +woman he meets, but you like him to recognize their existence. + +You are a young, romantic girl seeking the ideal. + +You want to find happy wives and husbands,--men and women who have +sailed away from the Strands of Imagination to the more beautiful land +of the Real, from whose shores they beckon you, saying: "Here is +happiness and great joy. Come and join us, and feel no fear in flinging +the illusions of youth behind you." + +If married men only knew that is what young women are seeking,--if +married women only knew that is what young men are seeking, what +reconstruction would take place in the deportment of husbands and wives! + +Never yet did a married woman indulge in flirtatious or sentimental +converse with a bachelor without lowering herself and all women in his +heart of hearts. + +Never yet did a married man seem to forget his domestic ties in the +presence of single women without losing a portion of their respect, +however they may have been flattered by his attentions. + +In every man's heart, in every woman's, is this longing to find husbands +and wives who are satisfied and happy and proud, above all other things, +of their loyalty. + +It would be well for you to keep this fact before the minds of the men +you meet. You can, in a small way, do your little toward educating on +this subject the married men you encounter. And you can save yourself +some embarrassing experiences. + +It is no compliment to you if the husband of your friend, or a stranger, +falls in love with you. + +It is an easy matter for a young, attractive woman to infatuate +irresponsible men. + +It is a far greater compliment to you when women respect and trust you, +and when you help elevate the ideals of weak men regarding your sex. + +You can study the whole Encyclopedia of Manhood without breaking through +the glass doors of your friend's bookcases. And you can live a free, +unconventional life without sacrificing one principle, though you may +ignore some customs. It is not the custom in conventional society for +young women to go to theatres or dinners alone with young men. Yet I am +perfectly willing you should join the large army of self-supporting, +self-respecting, and well educated girls who do these things. You have +been reared with that American idea of independence, and with that +confidence in your ability to protect your virtue and good name, which +carries the vast majority of our young women safely through all the +vicissitudes of youth, and sends them chaste wives to the altar. Our +American men understand this attitude of our girls, and half of them +respect it, without being forced to, as the other half can be, if woman +so wills. + +There is no reason, to my thinking, why you should not enjoy the +companionship of interesting bachelors and widowers, and take the +courtesies they offer, with no chaperon but your own pride, taste, and +will. So long as you know, and these men know, that you are doing +nothing and going nowhere you need remember with shame or regret, the +next day, just so long you are on no dangerous path. + +But you must draw the line at married men, happy or unhappy. Any +confidential, tête-à-tête companionship of a single woman with a married +man cheapens her in the eyes of all other men and women. + +It is a simpler matter to drift into free and easy manners and call them +"bohemian" than to cleanse your reputation of their stain, or lift your +mind from the mire to which they inevitably lead. + +Once a woman begins to excuse her lawless conduct on the ground of her +"artistic temperament," there are no depths to which she may not sink. + +Take pride in being at once independent yet discreet; artistic, yet +sensible; a student of men, yet an example of high-minded womanhood; an +open foe to needless conventions, yet a staunch friend of principles; +daring in methods, yet irreproachable in conduct; and however adored by +men, worthy of trust by all women. + +Do not take the admiration of men too seriously. Waste no vitality in a +rage over their weaknesses and vices. Regard them with patience and +inspire them to strive for a better goal than self-indulgence. + +You can safely take it for granted that many who approach you with +compliments for your charms, and pleas for your favours, would make the +same advances to any other attractive girl they chanced to encounter. + +Too many young women mistake a habit for a grand passion. And they +forget, while they are studying man, that he is studying woman, and +testing her susceptibility to flattery and her readiness to believe in +his simulated infatuation. + +Do not fall into the error of so many young country girls in a large +city, and imagine you can establish new laws, create a new order of +things, and teach men new lessons. + +A great city is like an ever-burning fire,--the newcomers who thrust in +their fingers will be scorched and scarred, but the fire will not be +changed or extinguished. + +_Keep out of the fire_. + +There is no reason why you should scar yourself or smoke your garments +while keeping comfortably warm. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years of Married Life_ + + +I have read your letter with care. I can readily understand that you +would not appeal to your wife's mother in this matter upon which you +write me, as she has been the typical mother-in-law,--the woman who +never gets along well with her children, and who never wants others to +succeed where she fails. I recollect your telling me how she marred the +wedding ceremony, by weeping and fainting, after having nagged her poor +daughter during twenty years of life, and interfered with her +friendships, through that peculiar jealousy which she misnamed "devoted +love." + +And now you are afraid that your wife is developing the same +propensity, and you ask me to use my influence to cure her of it in its +incipiency. You think I stand closer to Edna than any other friend. + +"It is only during the last two or three years that Edna has shown this +tendency," you say. "Until then she seemed to me the most sensible and +liberal-minded of women, always admiring the people I liked, and even +going out of her way to be courteous and cordial to a woman I praised. +Of late she has seemed so different, and has often been sarcastic, or +sulky, or hysterical, when I showed the common gallantries of a man fond +of the society of ladies." + +You think it is her inherited tendency cropping out, and that she is +unconscious of it herself. + +Well now permit me, my dear Mr. Gordon, to be very frank with you. + +I met your wife only once before she married you. + +She was a merry-hearted, healthy girl, with superb colour, and the +figure of a young Venus. She was a belle, and much admired by many +worth-while men. + +During her honeymoon, she wrote me a most charming letter speaking of +her happiness, and of her desire to make you an ideal wife. + +You and Edna were my guests for a few days when your first child was a +year old. She seemed more beautiful than ever, with an added spiritual +charm, and you were the soul of devotion. + +You are the type of man who pays a compliment as naturally as he +breathes, and whose vision is a sensitive plate which retains an +impression of every feminine grace. This impression is developed in the +memory-room afterward, and framed in your conversation. + +The ordinary mind calls such a man a flirt, or, in common parlance, "a +jollier;" but I know you to be merely appreciative of womankind in +general, while your heart is beautifully loyal to its ideal. You are a +clean, wholesome man, who could not descend to intrigue. You are +fine-looking, and you possess a gift in conversing. + +Of course women are attracted to you. Edna was proud of this fact, and +seemed to genuinely enjoy your popularity. + +That was five years ago. + +One year ago I visited your home. Edna was the mother of three children, +born during the first five years of marriage. + +She had sacrificed her bloom to her babies, and was pallid and anaemic. +Her form had lost its exquisites curves, and she seemed years older than +her age--older indeed than you, although she is four years your junior. +It is a mere incident to be a father of three children. It is a lifetime +experience to be their mother. She had developed nerves, and tears came +as readily as laughter came of old. + +She was devoted to her children, and felt a deep earnestness regarding +her responsibility as a mother. But she was still the intensely loving +wife, while you had sunk your rôle of lover-husband in that of adoring +father. + +You did not seem to think of Edna's delicate state of health, or notice +her fading beauty. You regarded her as a faithful nurse for your +children, and whenever you spoke of her it was as the mother, not as the +sweetheart and wife. + +When I mentioned the drain upon a woman's vitality to bring three robust +children into life in five years, you said it was only a "natural +function," and referred to the old-time families of ten and twelve +children. Your grandmother had fourteen, you said, and was the picture +of health at seventy-five. + +My own grandmother gave ten children to the world. But we must recollect +how different was the environment in those days. + +Our grandmothers lived in the country, and knew none of the strain and +excitement of these modern times. The high pressure of social and +financial conditions, as we know them, the effort to live up to the +modern standards, the congested city life and the expensive country +life, all these things make motherhood a different ordeal for our women +than our grandmothers. Where our grandfathers took their share of the +care and guidance of children, and the children came up in a wholesome +country fashion, our men to-day are so driven by the money gadfly that +they can only whirl around and around and attend "to business," and all +the care of the children falls upon the mother, or else upon the nurses +and governesses, who in turn are a care and a worry to the wife. + +You assured me Edna had all the assistants in caring for her children +she wanted, but you did not realize that every paid employé in a +household is, as a rule, just so much more care to the mistress, not +less than a tax on the husband's purse and, consequently, on his time. + +What Edna craves is _your_ love, _your_ attention, _your_ sympathy, not +the service of paid domestics. She wants you to notice her fading bloom, +and to take her in your arms and say, tenderly, "Little girl, we must +get those old roses back. And we must go away for a new honeymoon, all +alone, and forget every care, even if we forget the babies for a few +days." + +One little speech like that, one little outing like that, would do more +toward driving away the demon of jealousy than all I could by a thousand +sermons and homilies. + +I remember at your own board you made me uncomfortable talking about my +complexion, which you chose to say was "remarkable for a woman of my +age." And then you proceeded to describe some wonderful beauty you had +seen at the Country Club the day previous, and all the time I saw the +tears hidden back under the lids of Edna's tired eyes, and a hurt look +on her pale face. Do you imagine she was _jealous_ of your compliment to +me? or of your praise of the girl's beauty at the Country Club? + +No, no, my dear Mr. Gordon, I know Edna too well to accuse her of such +petty feelings. She was only hurt at your lack of taste in accenting her +own lost bloom by needlessly emphasizing another's possession of what +had once been hers. + +Yet she called upon the young lady that very day and invited her to +luncheon, and even then you indulged in pronounced admiration of the +guest's cheeks, gallantly requesting your wife to have the bouquet of +carnation pinks removed from the table, as they were so shamed by the +complexions of the ladies. + +Of course it was gracefully worded in the plural, but your pallid wife +could not claim her share of it, and you should have realized the fact. +And the reason she could not was that she had sacrificed her health in +your service, in giving your children to you, and in losing her lover. + +She adores her splendid babies, but she is still a woman and a +wife,--though you seem to ignore that she is anything but a mother. + +Right about face, Mr. Gordon, and become the lover you were, and +jealousy will be driven from your threshold. + +It is your own lack of thoughtfulness, your own tactless and tasteless +methods with your wife, which have caused the change in her manner. She +is not jealous, she is only lonely, heart-hungry, disillusioned. + +You are less noble, less considerate, less tender, less sympathetic +than she believed. For the man to whom these adjectives can be applied +will guard, love, and cherish the wife of his youth, and the mother of +his children, before all other considerations; and he will understand +how sensitive a fading wife may be, and not confound that sensitiveness +with ignoble jealousy. + +It is you, Charles Gordon, who must cure your wife of nerves, hysteria, +and incipient jealousy, not I. + + + + +To Mrs. Clarence St. Claire + +_Concerning Her Husband_ + + +I am sorry that your matrimonial barque meets so many rough winds while +hardly out of Honeymoon Bay. + +Clarence and you seemed so deeply in love when I last saw you, six +months after your wedding, that I had hoped all might go well with you. + +I knew the disposition of Clarence to be tainted with jealousy, but +hoped you would be able to eradicate it from his nature. + +You know his poor mother suffered agonies from the infidelities of his +father before Clarence was born. She had married a handsome foreigner +with whom she was desperately enamoured, while he cared only for the +fortune she brought him. + +While still in the full light of the honeymoon he began to indulge in +flirtations and amours, and poor Clarence, during the important prenatal +period of life, received the mark of suspicion and the tendency to +hypersensitiveness which then dominated the mother. + +By the time Elise was born she had passed through the whole process, and +was passive and indifferent. + +I cannot help a sensation of amusement, even in face of the condition +you describe (which is little short of tragic), as I recall the letter +Clarence wrote begging me to try and prevent, by fair means or foul, his +sister's marriage to old Mr. Volney. + +That was two years before you and Clarence were married. + +Elise, we all know, wedded for the money and position Mr. Volney gave, +in return for her young beauty. + +Clarence and you were ideal lovers, seeing nothing in the world outside +of your own selves. + +Yet Elise is quite contented, and Mr. Volney uses what little brain he +has left to exult over his possession of such a beautiful young wife. + +Elise upholds his dignity and flatters him into a belief that he is a +great philanthropist and a social power, and in this way she has the +handling of his millions, which is her idea of happiness. She travels, +entertains, and poses for photographs and paintings in imported gowns, +and there is no rumour of discontent or divorce. + +Meanwhile, Clarence, who was so opposed to her marriage because it was +loveless, is making a mess of his own love-match, through his jealousy. + +You, who knew him to be insanely jealous as a lover, and who seemed to +be flattered with what you thought a proof of his devotion, appeal to me +now to know what to do with the husband who is destroying your love and +your happiness! Surely, if Elise knew of this she might well say, "He +laughs best who laughs last." + +I know that you were absorbed in Clarence for the first year of your +married life, and that you gave no least cause for any jealousy, and I +know, as you say, that even then he was often morbid and unhappy over +nothing at all. + +He was jealous even of girl friends and relatives, and if you attended a +matinée with one of them, he sulked the whole evening. + +This was little more than he did as a lover, and you should have begun +in those days to reason him out of such moods. + +You imagined then it was his mad love for you which caused his +unreasonable jealousy. + +But jealousy is self-love, and selfishness lies at the root of such +conditions of mind as his. + +A woman should say to a man who sulks or goes into tantrums when she +pays courteous attentions to relatives or acquaintances, "You are +lowering my ideal of you--I cannot love a man who will indulge such +unworthy moods. You insult my womanhood and doubt my principles by your +suspicions; you intimate that I have neither truth, or judgment, or +pride. You must conquer yourself, and learn to trust me and to believe +in me, or I must decide I am no woman for you to take as a life +companion." A man should take the same course toward a jealous +sweetheart or wife. + +A few quiet but firm assertions of this nature, when you were being +wooed, would have given Clarence an idea that he could lose you, and +that he was making himself ridiculous in your eyes. Instead, you boasted +to your friends how wildly infatuated he was, and Clarence took new +pride in his own blemish of character. + +Now that you have to live day, and night, and week, and month, and year, +with this trait, it seems a less romantic phase of devotion, I fancy. +But you are not wise to grow reckless and ignore the wishes of your +husband in all ways, because he is unreasonable. "Since he is so +absolutely impossible to please," you say, "I may as well please myself. +I have decided to take some of the liberties so many of my acquaintances +do, and enjoy life outside my home if I cannot enjoy it within." + +Then you proceed to tell me how more than half your associates drive, +lunch, and dine with men acquaintances, and how old-fashioned they +consider your scruples. And you tell me that, despite your rectitude, +Clarence insults you almost daily by his unreasoning jealousy of men, +women, and even children. + +"I have about made up my mind to be less prudish and enjoy myself, as I +am sure Clarence cannot be any more jealous than he is," you say. + +Now since you have asked my advice in the matter, I can only urge you to +reconsider this last determination. + +So long as you are, according to law and in the eyes of the world, the +wife of a man, you cannot escape comment if you are frequently seen in +public places alone with another. + +Were you to look into the hearts of other men who ask you to dine, +drive, or lunch alone with them, you would find a feeling of increased +respect when you decline, although they may show only disappointment on +the surface. I know that many wives of unblemished reputation accept +courtesies of this kind from masculine friends, and I of course +understand that circumstances may arise which make an occasional +acceptance proper. + +But the fewer such occasions, the better and the safer for the married +woman. The man who is perfectly willing his wife should appear +frequently in public with other men does not fully appreciate the +dignity of her position or his own, or else he has lost his love for +her. + +The fact that your husband is jealous without reason is no excuse for +giving him reason. The moment men know that a husband is inclined to +jealousy, he falls in their estimation, and they are seized with a +desire to aggravate him, while they sympathize with the wife. + +The sympathetic friend of the abused wife is a dangerous companion for +her. He may mean to be platonic and kind, but almost invariably he +becomes sentimental and unsafe. + +Once in a thousand times the absolutely happy wife of a husband she +respects as well as loves can enjoy a platonic friendship with a man who +respects her, and himself, and her husband. But even that situation is +liable to prove insecure, if they are much together, owing to the +selfishness and weakness of human nature when the barriers of convention +are removed. + +But the unhappy wife must take no chances with Fate. + +She must either decide to accept her lot and bear it with philosophy, or +escape from it and begin life over, after the courts have given her the +right to reconstruct her destiny. + +You know all that entails. It is not a pleasant process. + +If your love for your husband is entirely dead, and you feel that he has +forfeited all right to your sympathy, pity, or patience, then break the +fetters and go free. But if you feel that you are not ready for that +ordeal, and that you must still remain living under the same roof with +him, and continue to bear his name, then do not join the great army of +wives who are to be seen in public restaurants and hotels dining +tête-à-tête with "platonic friends" over emptied glasses. + +You can but make trouble for yourself and add to the misery of your +husband by such a course. In your particular case, I feel that your +knowledge of the jealous disposition of the man you married renders it +your duty to bear and forbear, and to try every method of reformation +before you resort to the very common highway of divorce as an exit from +your unhappiness. + +A woman has no right to complain of the fault in a husband which she +condoned in a lover. And a man has no right to complain of the fault in +a wife he condoned in a sweetheart. Yet both may strive to correct that +fault. + +Insist upon having women and men friends who can be received at your +home in presence of your husband. Make Clarence realize how he belittles +himself in your estimation by unreasoning jealousy. Give him to +understand that you want to love him and respect him, and that you have +no intention of lowering your standard of behaviour, because he is +constantly expecting you to. Tell him it mortifies you to find greater +pleasure away from him than in his presence, yet when he insults you +with his suspicions, and destroys your comfort with his moods, you can +no longer think of him as your girlhood's ideal. + +Ask him to try, for your sake, to use more common sense and self-control +in this matter, and to help you to restore the happiness which seems +flying from your wedded lives. + +Do nothing to aggravate or irritate him, but do not give up your friends +of either sex; this is but to increase his inclination to petty tyranny, +while it will in no sense lessen his jealousy. + +And when you are alone, endeavour to think of him always as sensible, +reasonable, and kind. + +By your mental picture you can help to cure him of the blight he +received before his birth. It is the task set many a wife, to counteract +the errors and neglect of mothers. + +Look to the Divine source for help in your work, and remember the lovely +qualities Clarence possesses when he is not under the ban of this +prenatal mark. + +Love him out into the light if you can--and I believe you can if you are +not too soon discouraged. + +It is a nobler effort to try and create in your husband the ideal you +have in your mind, than to go seeking him elsewhere. + +Be patient and wait awhile. Such love as you and Clarence felt in your +courtship and early marriage cannot so soon have died. It is only +sleeping, and suffering from a nightmare. Awaken it to life and reality +and happiness. + + + + +To Young Mrs. Duncan + +_Regarding Mothers-in-Law_ + + +And so the serpent has appeared in your Eden, attired in widow's weeds, +and talking the usual jargon of "devoted mother love." I do not like to +say I told you so, but you must remember our rather spirited discussion +of this very serpent, when you announced your engagement and said Mr. +Duncan's mother was to make her home with you after your return from +abroad. + +I had met Mrs. Duncan, and I knew her type all too well. Alfred is her +only child, and she adores him, naturally, but it is adoration so +mingled with selfishness and tyranny that it is incapable of considering +the welfare of its object. + +Mrs. Duncan was always jealous of any happiness which came to her son +through another source than herself. That type of mother love is to be +encountered every day, and that type of mother believes herself to be +the most devoted creature on earth; while the fact is, she sits for ever +in the boudoir of her mentality, gazing at her own reflection. She loves +her children because they also reflect herself, and is incapable of +unselfish pleasure in their happiness apart from her. + +You will remember I urged you to wait until you could have a home, +however humble, alone with your husband, and even at the cost of that +most undesirable condition, a long engagement. + +But you assured me with much spirit that you had every confidence in +your power to win Mrs. Duncan's heart, and to crown her declining years +with peace and happiness. + +As well talk of decking a porcupine with wreaths of flowers, and making +it a household pet, to coddle and caress. + +When I congratulated Mrs. Duncan on her son's engagement to such a +sweet, bright girl as my cousin, she assumed a martyr expression and +said, "She hoped he would be happy, even if her own heart must suffer +the pain of losing an only son." + +"But," I urged, "he really adds to your life by bringing you the +companionship of a lovely daughter. My cousin will, I am sure, prove +such to you." + +"I have no doubt your cousin is a most estimable girl," Madame Duncan +answered, with dignity, "but I have never yet felt the need of any close +companion save my son. You, having no children, are excusable for not +understanding my feelings, now when another claims his thoughts." + +"Yet the world is maintained by such occurrences," I replied. "You took +some mother's son, or you would not have had your own." + +With austere self-righteousness Mrs. Duncan corrected me. + +"I married an orphan," she said. + +"How thoughtful of you," I responded. "But you see it is not lack of +thought, only an accident of fate, which has prevented my cousin from +marrying an orphan. There are not enough desirable orphans to keep our +young women supplied with husbands, you know." + +I think Mrs. Duncan suspected me of covert sarcasm, for she changed the +topic of conversation. But I heard her afterward talking to a bevy of +women on the sorrow of giving up a child after having reared him to +manhood's estate, and her listeners all seemed duly sympathetic. + +Of course, my dear Ruth, there is an element of sadness in the happiest +of marriages for the parents of children. I think it is particularly sad +when a mother gives up a daughter, whose every thought she has shared, +and whose every pleasure she has planned, and sees her embark upon the +uncertain ocean of marriage, with a strange pilot at the helm. + +The really good and loving mother endears herself to that pilot, and +loves him and seeks his affection for her daughter's sake. She hides +her own sorrow in her heart, and does not shadow her daughter's voyage +by her repining. + +The man who is worthy of a good girl's love will understand what it must +mean to a mother to give her daughter to him, and he will in every way +seek to recompense her for her loss, by bestowing upon her sympathy, +courteous attentions, and a son's devotion. + +Just so will the girl, who is worthy of being a good man's wife, seek to +make his mother love her. + +I know how you have tried to win Mrs. Duncan's heart. I know your +amiable, sweet disposition, and your unselfishness and tact, and I know +how you failed. + +I can imagine your feelings when you overheard Mrs. Duncan say to a +caller that she was going to leave your house and take rooms elsewhere, +as she could not endure your "billing and cooing." + +Do you know, Ruth, that nearly all the trouble between mothers-and +daughters-in-law is due to vanity and jealousy. + +Fifty mothers are friends to their daughters' husbands where one is a +friend to her son's wife. That is because, wholly unconsciously to +herself, the mother resents another woman sharing the attention of a man +she loves. The fact that he is her son, and that the love he gives his +wife is a wholly different sentiment, does not prevent blind, +unreasoning jealousy from dominating her nature. + +Mrs. Duncan wants to stand always in the centre of the stage, with every +other woman in the play in the background. + +It is a most pathetic situation for a man,--this position between a wife +and a jealous mother. My heart always aches for the man in the case even +more than for the woman who is misused. + +All young men are reared to think mother-love the most unselfish and +wonderful devotion on earth, even in the face of facts which so often +prove it otherwise; and when a son sees his mother unhappy he is +inclined to make every possible excuse for her, because he feels that to +take issue against her will put him in a false light before the whole +established order of society, and that he will beat his head against +traditions wherever he turns. + +So, he ofttimes tries to conciliate the wife he has promised to cherish, +and to convince her that she may exaggerate matters, and that she may +even be the aggressor, and then he finds himself standing between two +raging fires, with no escape save through flames, and over hot fagots, +which will leave him scarred for life. + +Sometimes the wife _is_ in the wrong. Sometimes a man marries a woman +who is so narrow and so selfish and so jealous that she begrudges the +husband's mother her son's affection. But I must affirm that, in my +observation of humanity, I have seen but one such wife, where I have +seen ten jealous and unreasonable mothers. + +And with what pleasure and admiration I recall the few beautiful and +noble mothers-in-law I have known! I can count them on the fingers of +one hand without including the thumb. I mean mothers of sons. + +There are just four whom I can recall. They really loved their sons, and +loved whatever and whoever gave those sons happiness. + +One mother objected to her son's choice before marriage, and tried +vainly to convince him that he had made a mistake. But after his +marriage she took the girl into her heart, made her a companion and +friend, and when the son began to discover her glaring faults, she told +him to be patient and wait, and that all would be well. Instead of +saying, "I told you so," she said, "Your wife is young, and has had no +wise hand to guide her. You married her for love, and if you exercise +the love-spirit, and are patient and self-controlled in your treatment +of her, she will overcome these faults which annoy you." + +And day by day she called his attention to the pleasing qualities the +girl possessed, and by praise, tact, love, and sympathy bridged over +the threatened chasm. + +The couple live happily together to-day, thanks to the mother-in-law. +Oh, that there were more such mothers of sons! + +Be as patient and sweet as you can, dear Ruth, toward Mrs. Duncan; think +how difficult the situation is for your husband, and say or do nothing +to make it harder for him. But allow Mrs. Duncan to live by herself, +and, if need be, bear many privations cheerfully that she may do so, and +that you may have your own home in peace. Every wife is entitled to +that, and if she has made every possible effort which love and tact can +make to cast the seven devils of jealousy out of her mother-in-law, and +they still remain, it is for the general welfare that two separate +households exist. + +When a son has done all he can in reason to make his mother happy, save +to turn against the wife he has promised to cherish, he is a cad and a +weakling if he does the latter. He must learn that it is a larger duty +to be a just man than to be an obedient son. + +I am sure Mr. Duncan will have the character and judgment to do what is +right in this matter. + + + + +To a Young Man + +_Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + + +Your achievements in college, where you distinguished yourself in +rhetoric and literature, would justify you in thinking seriously of a +career as an author. + +And the fact that your father wishes you to take charge of his brokerage +business, and to relinquish your literary aspirations, should not deter +you from carrying out your ambitions. + +Prom your mother you inherit a mind and temperament which wholly unfit +you for the pursuits your father follows and enjoys. You are no more +suited to make a successful broker than he is fitted to write an Iliad. + +Try and make him understand this, and try and convince him that to +yield to his wishes in this matter, means the sacrifice of your tastes, +the waste of your talents, and the destruction of your happiness. + +If he cannot be convinced by your consistent and respectful arguments, +then you must quietly, but firmly, refuse to accept a career distasteful +to you. + +No parent has a right to drive a child into so undesirable a path for +life as this would prove to one of your nature. + +Your father would think the horticulturist insane, who took a delicate +fern and planted it in arid soil, on a hilltop, far from shade, and +expected it to thrive and bear blossoms like the cactus. + +Yet this would be no more unreasonable, than to expect a son of your +temperament and inclinations to be happy and successful in Wall Street. + +It is a curious study to watch parents, and to observe their utter lack +of knowledge regarding a child's nature and capabilities; and to find +them not only ignorant in those important matters, but unwilling to be +enlightened. + +You say it makes your father angry to have any one refer to your +literary talents. + +I remember when your father bred race-horses, and how proud he was that +a two-year-old colt showed traits and points noticeably like its +high-priced dam. + +He chose for your mother, a woman of rare mind, and of poetic taste, and +why should he not be proud and glad that his son resembles her? When +will fathers learn that sons are more frequently like their mothers, and +daughters like their fathers, than otherwise? + +The temporary dissatisfaction of your father is not so sad to +contemplate as your own lifelong disappointment if you accede to his +wishes in this matter. + +Each individual has a right to choose his own career in life, so long as +that career is respectable and bodes no evil to humanity. + +If, as your father threatens, he refuses to give you support while you +are exploring the field of literature, you should feel grateful to him +for this unintentional incentive to success. + +I do not agree with those who consider the necessity to earn money a +misfortune to genius. + +I believe the greatest works of art given to the world have been brought +to light through necessity. + +The artistic temperament is almost invariably combined with a propensity +to dream, and to float upon the clouds of imagination. + +The ranks of wealth and comfort are full of talented and accomplished +people who "never are, but always to be" great. + +One great man in a score may have been reared in affluence, but I doubt +if the statistics would show so large a percentage. + +There are many hills which contain valuable ore, but if the owner sits +in ease upon these elevations, and gazes at the sunsets, he does not +find the ore. If he is a poor man, and takes his pick and _digs_, he +finds his fortune. + +At first he may cast out only loose earth and stones, but by this very +necessity to find valuables, he continues to search until the ore is +reached. + +Were you to remain at home and enjoy all the benefits of your father's +wealth, I doubt if you would have the persistence to dig down into the +mine you possess within you. + +You would sit on the hilltop and dream. + +If you are forced to write to live, you may cast up some rubbish from +the surface; yet by the continual digging you will reveal all that lies +below. + +Regarding the style you speak of adopting, let your feeling come +_first_, your style of expressing that feeling _second_. Say nothing +merely to exhibit your style--and hold back some strong feelings until +you can give them the best expression. + +As to the methods of getting your work before the public and the +"influence" you need, I can only assure you that unless you write with +purpose, and power, and passionate enjoyment of your art, forgetful of +all things save your desire to express yourself, no influence on earth +can do more than give you a page in a magazine, or a column in a +newspaper for an occasion or two. And if you do write under those +conditions, you will need no influence: for it is just such writing the +world wants; and the editors and publishers will be forced to read you, +whether they are inclined to or not. + +Christopher Columbus found his continent because he was so determined, +so persistent, so certain that unknown lands awaited him. + +It made no difference who told him that all the earth had been +discovered, and that he would never be able to succeed in his wild +venture. His purpose was too strong to be influenced by the doubts of +others. + +It has always seemed to me that God would have made a continent to +reward such a search, had it not already existed. + +Unless you set forth on the sea of literature, with the spirit of a +Columbus in your soul, you may as well give up the idea of finding the +Port of Glory. If you do set forth with that spirit, you need ask no +mortal influence. + +God is the only influence genius needs. + +Perseverance the only method. + +To find the way to success alone, is the test of talent. + +Some influential author might give you the entreé once to a magazine. +But editors and publishers are men of purely business instincts, and +they will not accept work on the recommendation of any third party, +which they think their public will not like. Their constant effort is to +find what that public _does like_, and the unknown author has an equal +advantage with the genius, if he sends such material. + +An author once told me that he "trapped" twenty manuscripts and sent +them out to editors, and all came back unread, as his "trap" proved. + +Since he sent them forth with such doubts in his mind, it is no wonder +his trap succeeded and his manuscripts failed. + +No great literary fire of purpose could be in the mind of a man who +spent thought and time on such a plot to trick an editor. And because +there was no great flame, the inanimate manuscripts were returned +unread. For even a package of paper sends out its "aura," and invites or +repels attention. + +If you are discouraged by the people who tell you that "everything has +been written," and that you can only be a faint echo of greater souls, +then you do not deserve success. I have no doubt the croakers of that +day told Shakespeare the same. + +It seems that Shakespeare did take many old themes and other people's +plots and ideas to re-create in his own way. And what a way! Surely he +who best uses an idea is most entitled to the credit. + +There is nothing new under the sun, but there is always the new +audience. For the majestic old poem of Spring, bound over in new covers +of green, God creates fresh, eager young eyes and hearts each year. And +not yet has he said to the year, "Do not attempt another spring--there +have been so many before, you can but repeat their beauties." Then why +should any mortal say to the poet or the author, "Do not try to +write--it has all been said before." + +Proceed, my young friend, and write what is in your heart. Nothing quite +the same was ever in any heart before, and yet the greater part of it +has been in all hearts, and will be in all hearts, so long as the world +lasts. + +Remember that when you write from the heart, it will go to the hearts of +your readers: and when you write from your head it will go no lower than +the head. + +And if the critics score or ridicule you, consider yourself on the path +to success. + +If you have a message for the world, nothing and nobody can prevent you +from delivering it. + +He only fails who has nothing to say. + + + + +To Mrs. McAllister + +_Concerning Her Little Girl_ + + +How strange it seems that your daughter is ten years old. + +It is such a brief hour since you wrote me you were eighteen and had +entered Vassar. Having no children of my own to stand as milestones on +life's highway, and keeping a very young heart in my breast all these +years, it seems at times little less than impertinent in the children I +have known to develop so rapidly into matrons and fathers. + +I am glad for you that the doctor has reached the desirable goal where +he can rest from his laborious profession for two years, and take that +journey abroad you have so long contemplated. And I am glad that you +feel the satisfaction you say you do, in never having left him alone +for a whole season as you once thought of doing. + +A satisfied conscience is a better comrade to journey along beside, than +a remembered pleasure. + +But now about Genevieve. + +You tell me she is to be left with your sister, and that she will, for +the first time, attend the public school. + +You are right in thinking this will make her more American in spirit +than an education gained through home teaching or private schools. + +The girl who attends private schools only, is almost invariably +inoculated with the serum of aristocracy. + +She believes herself a little higher order of being than the children +who attend public schools, and it requires continual association with +people of broad common sense to counteract this influence. I know you +and the doctor have exerted this influence, but your sister might not +realize the necessity of making a special effort in that direction. + +Then, too, since the fathers or grandfathers of our most conspicuous +social leaders were self-made and self-taught, and since our American +society is composed of so many varied types of humanity, it is well for +a young girl to come in contact with all classes while she is yet a +child, that she may understand humanity as she is sure to encounter it +later. Yet, as you say, it is indeed a serious thought to know your +little rosebud of a child is to be tossed into the dust of the public +schoolroom. + +"I do not want the delicate leaves forced into premature blossom or +blight," you say, and I feel for you, as I read the words. + +You remember your own experience as a school-child in the country, and +you tell me you would fain guard your daughter from hearing or seeing +much that came to your ears and eyes as a school-child. + +But now, my dear Winifred, listen. + +It is utterly and absolutely impossible for you to keep Genevieve +ignorant of _life_, or of the great fundamental principles of life. It +is utterly useless to undertake to ignore the set impulse in all nature. +Since God did not ignore it in constructing the universe, parents cannot +afford to in educating children. The one thing to do is to teach your +child early to respect and revere the subject, and to regard all things +pertaining to birth as sacred, never to be lightly discussed. Wherever +the eyes of an observing child turn, they see something to arouse +curiosity upon this subject. + +All literature (the Bible particularly) contains some reference to sex +and birth. Unless you stuff the ears of children with cotton, they must +hear expressions, suggestions, and references, which necessitate +explanations of the same vital subject. From insects to man, through all +the various kingdoms, sex laws are the foundation of life. + +Why parents have chosen to taboo this important subject, and why they +surround it with falsehood and subterfuge, and suggest that it is +unclean or vulgar, has always puzzled me. + +Inconceivable harm, lifelong disaster, has befallen many a girl and many +a boy through this mistaken attitude of parents to God's basic law of +the universe. + +Genevieve is only ten. But she is a child with a most inquiring mind, +and she already indicates a tendency to coquetry. She prefers boys to +dolls, and evidently finds them more interesting than girls. + +The things you would guard her from knowing, she is sure to learn in +some undesirable and unfortunate manner, unless you prepare her for them +with loving delicacy and refinement. + +My suggestion is that you take a plant, and talk to her about its +growth. Tell her how it springs from a seed, and hides in the bosom of +the earth, expanding until it bursts through, and becomes the baby of +mother earth. + +Tell her, too, of the bird life in the egg, and make her realize the +mother-impulse in all nature. Then say to her that she is a part of it +all and that she came into life by the same divine law, and that when +she is older you will explain whatever puzzles her young mind. + +Tell her that she was carried under your heart, as the sprout was +carried in the bosom of mother earth, and that it is a very holy and +beautiful thing; so holy and so beautiful that the refined and sweet +people of the world do not talk freely of the subject, but keep it like +a religion, for those very near to them. + +Then say, You will hear other children, who have not been told this by +their mothers, speak rudely and even jest on this subject. They are to +be pitied, for not knowing such jests are vulgar, but you must walk away +from them, and refuse to listen, after telling them your mother has +explained all you need to know. Impress upon her that she is never to +discuss the topic with any one else, unless you advise her to do so. + +I have known only two mothers who took this method with their children, +but both succeeded in rearing beautiful and remarkable daughters and +sons. For the sons were included in the talk by one mother, and they +were ideal boys and gentlemen--popular with, and respected by their +comrades, in spite of their delicacy and reserve on subjects jested over +by other boys. + +I am sure that you can protect Genevieve from the soil and shock you +fear for her, by making her your confidante at this early age, and by +convincing her of your loving companionship in the future. Under no +other conditions would I for one day allow a little girl (or a little +boy for that matter) to attend a public school. Not one parent in a +thousand realizes the moral dangers surrounding small children who go to +and from school in country or city places. + +Many remember their own precocious education on forbidden topics, yet +seem to imagine their children will be immune from such experiences. + +But until the Creator produces life by some new process, children will +never be exempt from curiosity regarding the present method, and parents +may as well realize the fact and become their children's reverent +instructors, instead of leaving them to be taught God's holiest truths +by vulgar chance or dreadful design. + +Do not imagine that innocence necessitates ignorance. + +Your child will be far more innocent minded, if you give her the +instruction I suggest, than if you leave her to ungoverned imagination +and unenlightened observation. + +Deep in each human entity the sex impulse is planted, and will assert +itself sooner or later. + +Ignorance and curiosity lead often to precocious development of the +impulse. By proper care on your part, your child's mind may be kept +normal, innocent, and wholesome. + +See to it that you give this important care before you leave. + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + + +My dear Mr. Gilbert:--Your letter followed me across the ocean, and +chanced to be the first one opened and read in my weighty home mail +to-day. I have lost all trace of you during the last six years, in that +wonderful way people can lose sight of one another in a large city. Once +or twice I heard you had just left some social function as I arrived, or +was expected just as I was leaving, and once, recently, I saw you across +the house at a first night, with a very pretty girl at your side. I +fancy this is the "one woman in the world for you," of whom you speak in +the letter before me--the letter written the evening before your +marriage. How good you are to carry out my request made seven years +ago, and to write me this beautiful letter, after reading over and +burning your former boyish epistle, returning to me my reply. + +It is every man's duty to himself, his bride, and the other woman, to +destroy all evidences of past infatuations and affections, before he +enters the new life. It is every woman's duty to do the same--_with a +reservation_. Since men demand so much more of a wife than a wife +demands of a husband, a woman is wise to retain any proof in her +possession that some man has been an honourable suitor for her hand. She +should make no use of such evidence, unless the unaccepted lover +indulges in disrespectful comments or revengeful libels, as some men are +inclined to when the fruit for which they reached is picked by another +hand. + +And it is when the grapes are called sour that the evidence may prove +effective of their having been thought sweet and desirable. + +It is a curious fact that no woman thinks less of a man for his having +had his vain infatuations, and that all men think less of a woman if she +has loved without response. + +Therefore, it behoves her to destroy no evidence that the other man, not +herself, was the discarded party. + +But woe unto the man who retains old love-letters, or other tokens of +dead loves and perished desires. + +Few men could be guilty of showing or repeating the contents of another +man's love-letters. Women who are models of virtue and goodness have +been known to make public the letters written a man in earlier years by +another object of his affections. I have to my personal knowledge known +a woman to place before the eyes of a third person, lines written +evidently in the very heart's blood of a former sweetheart of her +husband--words the man believed he had destroyed with other letters, +more than a score of years before. Imagine what the feelings of that +early sweetheart, now a happy and beloved wife, would be, did she know +the words written so long ago were spread before cold and critical +eyes, and discussed by two people who could have no comprehension of the +conditions and circumstances which led to their expression. + +Because I know otherwise tender-hearted and good women are capable of +such acts, I am glad you have obeyed my wish of seven years ago, and +that all proofs of your boyish infatuation for an older woman are +destroyed. You say you have told the girl you love that you once were +foolishly fond of me, and that I helped you to higher ideals of +womanhood and life. + +That is wise and well, since you found her to be broad and sensible +enough to share such a confidence. But had she seen your written words +to me and my reply, it would have been less agreeable to her than to +hear your own calm recital of the now dead passion. + +Words written in a state of high-wrought intensity retain a sort of +phosphoric luminosity, like certain decaying substances, and even after +the passage of years, and when the emotions which gave them expression +are dead and for-gotten, they seem to emit life and feeling. + +_Burn your bridges as you walk along the highways of romance to St. +Benedict's land_. + +Since you compliment me by saying I have helped you to higher ideals of +life, will you allow me to give you a little advice regarding your +treatment of your wife? + +You have every reason to know that I have been a happy and well-loved +wife of the man of my choice. You know that I have neither sought nor +accepted the attentions of other men when they crossed the danger-line +lying between friendship and love. + +Therefore it may astonish you when I confess that, at the time you +temporarily lost your head, I was conscious of an undercurrent of +feminine vanity at the thought that I was capable of inspiring a young +and talented man with so sincere a feeling. + +A similar experience with an older man would have suggested an insult, +since older men understand human nature, and realize what a flirtation +with a married woman means. But your ingenuousness, and your romantic, +boyish temperament, were, in a measure, an excuse for your folly, and +made me lenient toward you. + +My happy life, my principles and ideals, submerged this sentiment of +feminine vanity to which I confess, but I knew it was there, and it led +me to much meditation, then and ever since, upon the matter of woman's +weakness and folly. + +As never before, I was able to understand how a neglected or misused +wife might mistake this very sentiment of flattered vanity for the +recognition of an affinity. + +Had I been suffering from coldness and indifference at home, how +acceptable your boyish devotion might have proved to me. + +And how easily I would have been persuaded by your blind reasoning that +we were intended by an all-wise Providence for life companions. + +There is no sin a woman so readily forgives as a man's unruly love for +her, and hundreds of noble-hearted women have been led to regard a +lawless infatuation as a divine emotion, because they were lonely, and +neglected, and hungry for affection. + +See to it, my dear friend, as the years go by, that your wife needs no +romance from the outside world to embellish her life with sentiment. + +Do not drop into the humdrum ways of many contented husbands, and forget +to pay the compliment, and cease to act the lover. + +Notice the gowns and hats your wife wears, and share her pleasures and +interests when it is possible. + +Not that you should always be together, for separate enjoyments and +occupations sometimes lend an added zest to life for husband and wife, +but do not drift apart in all your ideas and interests, as have so many +married people. + +You are the husband of a bright and lovely girl, and if you forget this +fact after a time, remember there are other Ray Gilberts who may realize +it, and seek to awaken such an interest in her heart as you sought to +arouse in mine. + +You found the room occupied by its rightful host. + +See it that no man finds the room vacant in your wife's heart. + +Study the art of keeping your wife interested and interesting. + +A woman thrives on love and appreciation. I know a beautiful bride of +eighty years, who has been the daily adoration of her husband for more +than half a century. + +She has been "infinite in her variety," and he has never failed to +appreciate and admire. + +Devote a portion of each day to talking to your wife about herself. + +Then she will not find it a novelty when other men attempt the same +method of entertainment. + +Whatever other matters engross your time and attention, let your wife +realize that she stands first and foremost in your thoughts and in your +heart. + +Do not forget the delicacies of life, manner, speech, and deportment in +the intimacy of daily companionship. + +Never descend to the vulgar or the commonplace. + +One characteristic of men has always puzzled me. No matter how wide has +been a bachelor's experience with the wives and daughters of other men, +when he marries it never occurs to him that his wife or daughters could +meet temptation or know human weakness. + +It must be the egotism of the sex. + +Each man excuses the susceptibility of the women with whom he has had +romantic episodes, on the ground of his especial power or charm. And +when he marries, he believes his society renders all the women of his +family immune from other attractions. + +Do not rely upon the fact that your wife is legally bound to you, and +therefore need not be wooed by you hereafter. + +There are women who are born anew with each dawn, and who must be won +anew with each day, or the lover loses some precious quality than can +never be regained. + +It will pay you to study your wife as the years pass. + +Do not take for granted that you know her to-day, because you knew her +thoroughly last year. + +This is a long letter, but when one writes only once in seven years, +brevity is not to be expected. + +My greeting to you, and may the years be weaver's hands, which shall +interlace and bind two lives into one complete pattern. + + + + +To the Sister of a Great Beauty + + +I am far from laughing, my dear girl, at your assertion that your +position is little short of tragic. + +To be the ordinary sister of an extraordinary beauty, is a position +which calls for the exercise of all the great virtues in order to be +borne with dignity, good taste, and serenity. + +I remember seeing you and Pansy when you were ten and she twelve years +of age. I foresaw what lay before you then, and have often wondered how +you would meet the occasion when you were both "finished," and at home +under the same roof, and socially launched. It was wise for your mother +to separate you so early in life, and place you under different +teachers, and in different schools. + +It is difficult for a girl in her late childhood and early teens to use +philosophy and religion to support her, when she is made a Cinderella by +unthinking associates and friends, and forgotten and neglected while a +more attractive sister is lionized. + +Had you always walked in the shadow of your handsome sister until +to-day, I fancy your disposition would have become warped with +resentment and envy. + +And perhaps your feelings for Pansy would have been less affectionate +than now. + +I am glad to have you tell me that Pansy is so modest and unassuming and +so genuinely solicitous for your happiness. + +She must have been particularly fortunate in her environment while at +school to possess such qualities after knowing as she has known for +twenty-two years that her beauty is dazzling to the eye of even the +chance beholder. + +There is no greater obstacle to the development of the best qualities +in a young woman than the possession of such unusual beauty. From her +cradle she is made to realize its power, and men and women teach her in +a thousand unconscious ways to be selfish and self-centred. She receives +attentions, and her acquaintance is sought, with no effort on her part, +while more gifted and deserving companions are unnoticed. She is made to +realize that she is one to be served, where less attractive girls are +taught to "stand and wait." + +The love nature of each human being is either developed or stunted by +neglect during the early years of life, and, as a rule, the beautiful +woman is incapable of a deep, absorbing, and unselfish love, because she +has grown up the receiver instead of the giver. + +Were you, my dear Sallie, to know the number of great beauties who have +failed to find happiness in marriage, you would be amazed. But the +explanation is simple; for man is a being who, however he may worship +beauty before marriage, worships his own comfort more deeply afterward. +And it is rare indeed when a famous beauty troubles herself to plan for +the comfort or happiness of the man she marries. It is the natural +result of her education to think man made to adore and serve her. + +I hope Pansy may keep her loving and lovable qualities, and that she may +marry before the adoration and admiration of many men become necessary +to her life. For the beauties' matrimonial barque most often founders on +the reef of plural lovers. + +As for yourself, I can only suggest that you acquire many +accomplishments, and perfect yourself in music and languages, and that +you seek for the attainment of all the subtle graces, which are, in the +long run, more lasting as sources of happiness for a woman than mere +beauty. It is a peculiarly significant fact that the great passions of +history have not been inspired by very young or startlingly beautiful +women, but by those of maturity and mental charms. + +Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Aspasia, Petrarch's Laura, had all crossed +the line between youth and middle life, and there are no authentic +proofs that any one of the number was a dazzling beauty. Some of the +world's most alluring women have been absolutely plain. + +You are not plain. It is only by comparison that you so regard yourself. + +There is much you can do to make yourself more attractive personally. +You know what Rochefoucauld said: "No woman is in fault for not being +beautiful at sixteen; any woman is in fault if she is not beautiful at +forty." + +However much it may sound like a platitude, it is a great and eternal +truth that your mental activities are chiselling your features. By +keeping yourself concerned with good, gracious, and great thoughts, you +are shaping your face into a noble beauty minute by minute, and hour by +hour. + +Avoid as much as possible looking at repulsive and ugly objects. + +Look at whatever is beautiful and seek for it. + +Search for whatever is admirable in nature and human nature, and muse +upon those things in your moments of solitude. + +Cultivate love-thoughts for humanity at large. + +Avoid severe criticisms, and develop sympathy and pity in your soul. +Study the comfort and pleasure of strangers in public places, and +friends and associates in nearer relations. + +Remember always how brief a thing, and ofttimes sad, life is to many, +and seek to brighten and better it as you pass along. + +Meanwhile, take care of your person, study your lines and your features, +and learn how to dress and how to carry yourself; how to obtain +"presence," that indescribable charm in woman. + +Take daily care of your complexion, which to a woman is of prime +importance. + +Call in the skill of the specialist to help you preserve and beautify +your skin and hair, just as the dentist and the oculist are to be +consulted to help you preserve teeth and eyes. Think beauty for mind, +soul, and body; live it, and believe it is your right. + +And just as surely as you pursue this line of conduct for ten years, +just so surely will you find yourself at thirty far more attractive than +at twenty, and at forty more lovely than at thirty. Learn to be a +linguist, and acquire skill upon some one instrument, that you may +entertain those who care to converse, and give pleasure to those who +wish to be silent. + +You are young, and life with its splendid possibilities is before you. +There is nothing a woman with youth, will-power, and _love_ may not +accomplish--even to the convincing of the world that she is beautiful, +when her mirror may say otherwise. + +For enduring and all-encompassing beauty is a composite thing, and +unless a woman possesses the spiritual and mental portions, the physical +phase soon loses its attractions for the cultivated eye; while with the +development of the first two, the third is certain to come. + +Begin to-day, my dear girl, to _grow beauty_ which shall make you a +power and an influence in the world where you move, and which shall +invite, rather than fear, the approach of time. + + + + +To Mrs. White Peak + +_One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + + +Ever since your call and our conversation regarding Sybyl Marchmont, I +have felt a rising tide of indignation. It has reached the perigee mark +and must overflow. If it reaches you and gives you a thorough soaking, I +shall feel satisfied. + +I have always known you were only half-developed. There are many such +people in the world. They serve their purpose and often do much good. +They miss a great deal of life, but as they rarely know that they miss +anything, it is a waste of sentiment to pity them. + +I have pitied you, nevertheless. I have often wished I could give you +the vital qualities you lack. + +My pity turned to indignation when I heard you express yourself in such +unqualified terms of condemnation regarding other women who happened to +be unlike you in temperament. + +You say there is a certain line which no well-born and womanly woman can +pass in thought or feeling or action. + +You regard the true women of earth as a higher and rarer order of +creation than the best of men, and any woman who by action or word +confesses herself to be quite human in her temperament, you feel is, to +a certain extent, "unclean and unsexed." You believe the really good +women of earth are always on a plane above and beyond the physical. When +any woman falls from her pedestal you despise her. + +How dare you, madam, sitting in your cold, white chastity, lay down laws +of what you consider purity, morality, and cleanliness, for other human +souls? + +How dare you condemn those who do not reach your standard? + +What do you know of life, great, palpitating, throbbing, vital life, +terrible and beautiful life, terrible while passing through the valleys +of temptation, beautiful upon the heights of self-control? + +How dare you assume greater virtue, greater respectability, greater +fineness of sentiment, than the tempest-tossed, passion-beaten souls, +about you? + +What do you know of real virtue, real strength? + +You have been poor, you tell me, in worldly riches, and you have been +lonely, yet you have never once degraded your womanhood by an "unworthy +" impulse. Never known a temptation of the senses. Those things +disgusted you. + +You have preferred toil to taking favours from inferiors, and you have +kept yourself clean in thought, word, and deed, and now you have the +reward of such virtues--a good home, a husband, and children. + +You are a more devoted mother than wife, as you have always dwelt upon a +lofty white peak of chaste womanhood, from which any descent into the +earthly realms of life and love was repugnant--so rarely "pure" and high +your nature. + +Yet you have been a dutiful, loyal wife, and you are a devoted mother. + +You despise all carnal-minded women, and cannot understand how women +fall--save that they lack good birth and breeding. + +You will aid in a benefit for their reformation, but you do not want to +see them or to come near them. It makes you ill. + +You are to be congratulated on never having added to the evil in the +world. + +But permit me, madam, to tell you some truths about yourself--and the +large army of "respectable women" you represent. + +However "well born" you may be, you are only half-born. The complete +human being has three sides to his nature--spiritual, mental, physical. + +The men and women who are evenly developed on the three sides are few. +This is sometimes their fault--sometimes their misfortune. + +We all pity the human being who is mentally dwarfed. We are sorry for +the one whose spiritual nature is undeveloped. + +But why should the many women who are devoid of the physical qualities +of human nature presume to lay claim to perfection and to regard the +normal woman as a suspicious character? + +You have a fine, active mind, a highly spiritual nature, but you are +stunted in strong, physical emotion. You are incapable of it, and pride +yourself upon the fact. + +If that pleases you, well and good. + +But how dare you criticize God's _complete human_ beings, who feel the +great vibrations of the universe, who glow and thrill with that divine +creative force, who live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths +before they learn the glory of self-conquest. + +How dare you shrink even from those who fall by the wayside, and call +your shrinking "purity"! + +Let me ask you another question: + +How dare you turn away from that girl who went through the door of the +Magdalene Home you helped establish, with her fatherless child in her +arms? + +She fell from woman's holy estate! + +Yes, through mad love for a man--she loved him with her soul, her mind, +her body. She lacked knowledge, balance, and wisdom; she had only love +and passion. + +And you, madam, how about _your_ children? + +They were born of a "dutiful" wife. You descended from your lofty +altitude unwillingly--only at duty's call. You are so "refined," yet you +are a loving mother and pose as the highest type of woman. + +_God never made in his whole universe of worlds such a "duty" as +unwilling motherhood_. Motherhood without the call of sex for sex is +indecent--criminal. You, too, madam, _fell_. + +That girl in yonder "home" your "charity" helped establish, who loved +unwisely, fell. Her fall was through love--yours through a legal +ceremony. + +All the churches, all the religions and the laws of earth, cannot make +motherhood holy and right without the mutual mental, spiritual, and +physical union of two beings. + +Heaven and earth _both_ must sanction a child's conception to produce a +"well-born" soul. + +There is no greater sin on earth than the creation of a human life +without complete accord of the creators. + +No wonder the world is full of miserable half-born beings, when mothers +like _you_ claim to be the Madonnas of earth. + +No wonder natural, complete, striving souls hide their true natures +under a false exterior, when women like _you_ rule church and society. + +What shame or degradation is there, pray, in being animate with the +all-pervading impulse which underlies the entire universe? Every planet, +every tree, every flower, every insect, is the result of sex seeking +sex, atom calling atom. + +The universe _is_ because of the law of sex attraction. + +And you, poor, puny, pallid woman, dare decry and despise that law, and +dare insult God's animate creature! + +Know this, madam, there is no strength worth boasting that has not +conquered weakness. No virtue worth the name that has not conquered +temptation. No greatness of character that has not overcome unworthy +impulses. + +Enjoy your negative goodness and be glad you are "good." + +Morality is acceptable to the world, however it conies; but dare not sit +in judgment on other human beings fighting battles whose smoke never +reaches your nostrils, striving for heights of which you never even +dream, and who meanwhile have missed certain degradations which you seem +to consider creditable achievements. + +Madam, I bid you adieu. That word means "I commend you to God," the God +who made the two sexes, and intended love to unite them. + +May He enlighten you in other lives, if not in this. + + + + +To Maria Owens + +_A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + + +Surprise, I am free to confess, was my dominant emotion on reading your +letter. Marriage and Maria had never associated themselves in my mind, +fond as I am of alliteration. + +Never in the ten years I have known you have I heard you devote ten +minutes to the subject of any man's good qualities. You always have +discoursed upon men's faults and vices, and upon their tendency, since +the beginning of time, to tyrannize over woman. I was unable to +disprove many of your statements, for I know the weight of argument is +upon your side, even while I boldly confess my admiration and regard for +men, as a class, is greater than that for women. + +The fact that the world has allowed men such latitude, and such +license, and made them pay such very small penalties, comparatively +speaking, for very large offences, causes me to admire their wonderful +achievements in noble living all the more: and to place the man of +unblemished reputation and unquestioned probity on a pedestal higher +than any I could yet ask builded for woman. + +It is more difficult to be great before the extended tentacles of the +self-indulgence octopus than in the face of oppression and danger. When +the laws of the land and the sentiment of the people permit a man to be +selfish, licentious, tyrannical, and yet call him great if he +accomplishes heroic deeds, it proves what intrinsic worth must lie in +the nature of those who attain the heights of unselfishness and +benevolence, and martyrdom, asking no reward and often receiving none +until posterity bestows it. + +Those who can take the broad road of selfishness unmolested, and choose +the narrow path of high endeavour instead, seem to me greater than those +who overcome mere externals. + +Many such men have existed, and the steady, slow, but certain progress +of the world from barbarism to civilization, from accepted cannibalism +and slavery to ideals of brotherhood, we owe to them. All new +discoveries, all greatest achievements are due to men. Woman, I know, +has been handicapped and oppressed for centuries by superstitions, and +traditions, and unjust laws; but it is unfair to ignore the bright, and +see only the dark side of the picture, which the centuries have painted +for us, on the background of time. + +This letter is only a résumé of many conversations between you and me, +and it leads up to the explanation of why I am somewhat dazed and +stunned by your announcement that marriage is a possible event in your +near future. + +My self-conceit in regard to my knowledge of human nature every now and +then receives a blow. So soon as I have arrived at a positive conviction +that I understand any human being thoroughly, and feel that I can safely +predict what that person will or will not do, I usually meet some such +bewildering experience as this. + +I would have laughed at any one who suggested the possibility of your +considering a proposition of marriage. + +You tell me you are thirty-five years old, and say you have never before +met the man to whom your thoughts reverted, no matter how you +endeavoured to occupy yourself with other subjects. You also tell me "he +is not like other men." These two statements are wonderfully familiar to +me, indeed they have been confided to me in precisely the same words by +at least a score of women, young and not so young, who met the +compelling man. _Maria, I believe you are in love_. Your heart is +awakened from its stupor, caused by an overdose of intellect. For too +much intellect is often a drug which deadens the consciousness of a +woman's heart. But you have been drugged so long that you are still +under a hazy spell, to judge from that portion of your letter which took +the form of an inquiry. + +You ask my opinion in regard to the point of disagreement between you +and your semi-fiancé. To much that you say I agree. You have carved a +name and a place for yourself in the world. Your lectures, and your +books, have made your name familiar to many people. Your lover is +unknown to the public, a man in the private walks of life. Therefore you +think if he loves you as he should to become your husband, he ought to +give up his own name and take yours, or at least add yours to his own. +You assure me it is merely a matter of habit, that women have +obliterated themselves on the altar of marriage, and that it is time a +new order was instituted. You think the hour calls for pioneers to +establish new boundaries, in a new world where woman will be allowed to +keep her individuality after marriage. Meantime your lover does not feel +that you really love him, when you ask him to take this somewhat radical +step for your sake, or for the sake of all women, as you put it. + +And there you both stand, with only this ridiculous barrier between you +and happiness. + +You are still influenced by the intellectual drug, and it hinders your +heart from following out its best impulses. You have not yet learned +more than the A B C of love, or you would know that the greatest +happiness in loving lies in sacrifice. To take and not give, to gain +something and give up nothing, is not loving. Now I think I hear you +saying, "But why should not my lover give this proof of devotion as well +as I? Why should not he be ready to sacrifice a tradition, and a name, +to please me? Why am I more unloving, or selfish, than he, to refuse to +give up my name?" + +My answer follows. + +Any woman who asks a man to give up his name and take hers (unless some +great legal matter which involves the property rights of others hangs on +so doing) asks him to make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the world. +She indicates, also, that her family name and her own achievements are +dearer to her than his. No woman loves a man enough to be happy as his +wife, if he is not dearer to her than any mere personal success, however +great. + +The man who asks a woman to take his name obeys a tradition and a +custom, to be sure, and the woman who accepts it does not display any +especially heroic trait. Therefore, what you demand of your lover is a +far greater proof of devotion than what he asks of you. No woman who +fully understood the meaning of love could ask this of her future +husband. If he occupied the place in her life which a husband should, no +matter what were her personal attainments, she would glory in adding his +name to her own, and in having its shelter to hide under at times from +the glare of publicity. + +Should you choose to keep your name Maria Owens with no addition, for +your lectures and your books, it is quite probable your husband would +not object. And again, if your achievements are worth the thought you +give them in this matter, they are great enough to endure even should +you add the name of Chester to that of Owens. But certainly, if you love +the man you think of marrying, you will be happy in the thought of +wearing his name legally and socially in every-day life, and the sight +of a card engraved, "Mrs. Rupert Chester," will give your heart a +sweeter thrill than it has ever known in connection with the newspaper +notices of Maria Owens. + +Unless you can arouse your heart to such an understanding of love, you +are not yet acquainted with the little god. If your lover consents to +the sacrifice you have demanded, he will indicate a weakness of +character which augurs ill for the future: and if you insist upon the +sacrifice, you will establish a selfish precedent which can only make +you a tyrant in your own domain, and at the same time belittle your +husband in the public eye. + +However proud and happy you may be in the thought of noble achievements +of your own, you must realize that there are many brutal and painful +phases to a public career for a woman. These phases do not exist to any +such degree for a man. I do not believe it is the result of tradition or +habit, but of sex and temperament, that this difference exists, and that +the shelter of a man's name means more to woman than any shelter to be +found in her own, and that the sacrifice of her own name means less to +her than the sacrifice of his means to him. Unless you can reach this +same conclusion, do not marry--for you do not love. + + + + +To Mrs. St. Claire + +_The Young Divorcée_ + + +And so you have joined the increasing army of the divorcées. + +It is worse than useless to discuss again the causes which led to this +situation, and now that the law of the land has made you a free woman, +the one thing for you to consider is your future, and to formulate to +some degree a code of conduct for your guidance. + +You are in the prime of beautiful womanhood, pleasing to the eye, and +agreeable to the mind. Women will regard you with more or less mental +reservation, and men will seek you at every opportunity. + +Some witty creature has said, "A little widow is a dangerous thing." + +It might be added, "A grass widow whets the appetites of bovines". + +You will find yourself at a loss to choose when an escort is needed, so +many and persistent will be the applicants for the position. + +After having passed through the black waters of an unhappy marriage, +this sudden freedom and return to the privileges of girlhood will be +liable to affect you like the glare of sunlight after confinement in a +dark room. + +You will be blinded for a time. It would be well for you to walk slowly, +and to use a cane of common sense, and even to feel your way with the +outstretched hands of discretion, until you become accustomed to the +light. + +To fall and scar yourself now, would be a disaster. + +It is a curious fact that a woman who has been unhappy with one man +usually finds many others ready to give her the opportunity for a +repetition of her experience. And it is equally curious that one unhappy +marriage frequently leads to another. + +A disastrous rencontre with Hymen seems to destroy a woman's finer +intuitions. If you feel that you must marry again, go slowly, and wait +until the bruised tendrils of your heart have healed and are rooted in +healthy soil. Do not let them twine about any sort of a dead tree or +frail reed. Run no chance of a second sorrow. + +One divorce always contains elements of tragedy. A second becomes a +farce. + +You tell me that you and your former husband entertain the kindest +feeling for each other. You have seen him and talked with him on several +occasions, and you regard him as a friend. You say all love and +sentiment perished long before your separation, and that to continue as +his wife was to die a thousand deaths daily. + +You tell me that your own higher development demanded this separation. I +know such situations do exist in the world of men and women, and that to +submit to them is a crime. Yet I also know that this idea of +"development" is used often as a cloak for all sorts of selfish impulses +and moods. + +Many men and women to-day seem to forget that certain other objects +besides happiness enter into self-development. + +It is not only the pilot who deserts the ship and swims ashore who saves +his life. The one who keeps his hand on the wheel, and his eye on the +lighthouse, he, too, sometimes saves his own life, as well as saves the +ship. + +But since to jump overboard was the only way to save your own life, now +that you are ashore, and dry, and comfortable, your first consideration +should be to avoid falling into mires and pits as you go along. + +Though romance died out of your marriage, do not let it die out of your +heart. It is commendable that you feel no bitterness or resentment +toward your husband. But do not carry your kindly feelings toward him to +the extent of frequent association and comradeship. + +Outside of criminal situations, life offers no more ghastly and +unpleasant picture than that of dead passion galvanized into a semblance +of friendship, and going about the world devoid of the strong elements +of either sentiment. + +There is something radically wrong with a woman's ideals when she does +not feel an instinctive unwillingness to be thrown with the man from +whom she has been divorced. + +There is something akin to degeneracy in the man or woman who can +contemplate without shrinking the intimate encounter of legally parted +husbands or wives. + +The softening of the human brain is a terrible malady. + +Quite as terrible is the hardening of the human heart. + +The loss of happiness is deemed a tragedy. But far greater is the +tragedy when the illusive charm of romance departs, and love and +marriage are reduced to the commonplace. Unless you find the man who +carries your whole nature by storm, and who makes you feel that life +without him will be insupportable, do not be led again to the altar of +marriage. + +Life has many avenues for a bright and charming woman which lead to +satisfaction and peace, if not to happiness. + +If you desire to be a picturesque figure in the world, remember that the +divorced woman who never marries again is far more so than she who has +taken the names of two living men. + +And remember how much there is in life to do for other people, how much +there is to achieve, and how much there is to enjoy, for the woman who +has eyes wherewith to see, and ears with which to hear. + +Life is a privilege, even to the unhappy. It allows them the opportunity +to display the great qualities which God implanted in every soul, and to +give the world higher examples of character. + +He who leaves such an example to the world earns happiness for eternity. + + + + +To Miss Jessie Harcourt + +_Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + + +And so there is trouble in the house of Harcourt, my dear Jessie. You +want to marry your intellectual young lover, who has only his pen +between him and poverty, and your cruel father, who owns the town, says +it is an act of madness on your part, and of presumption on his. + +And you are thinking of going to the nearest clergyman and defying +parental authority. + +You have even looked at rooms where you believe you and Ernest could be +ideally happy. And you want me to act as matron-of-honour at that very +informal little wedding. + +Now, my dear girl, before you take this important step, give the matter +careful study. + +Your impulses are beautiful, and your ideal natural and lovely. God +intended men and women to choose their mates in this very way, with no +consideration of a worldly nature to mar their happiness. + +But civilized young ladies are a far call from God's primitive woman. +You have lived for twenty-three years in the lap of modern luxury. Your +father prides himself upon the fact that, although your mother died when +you were very young, he has carefully shielded you from everything which +could cast a shadow upon your name or nature. Your lover is fascinated +with your absolute purity and innocence. Yet he does not realize that a +young woman who has so long "sat in the lap of Luxury," is unfit to be a +poor man's wife. + +Some girl who might know much more than you of the dark and vulgar side +of life, would make him a better companion if he could love her enough +to ask her hand in marriage. + +The girl who has received the addresses of this fascinating old fellow +"Luxury," never quite forgets him, or ceases to bemoan him if she +throws him over for a poor man. + +To _look_ at two rooms and a bath is one thing, to _live_ in them +another, after having all your life occupied a suite which a queen might +envy, with retinues of servitors at call. + +You tell me you could die for your lover. + +But can you bathe from a wash-bowl and pitcher, and can you take your +meals at cheap restaurants, and make coffee and toast on an oil-stove or +a chafing-dish? + +Can you wear cheap clothing and ride in trolleys, and economize on +laundry bills to prove your love for this man? + +You never have known one single hardship in your life; you never have +faced poverty, or even experienced the ordinary economies of well-to-do +people. + +You are an only daughter of wealth--_American wealth_. That sentence +conveys a world of meaning. _It means that you are spoiled for anything +but comfort in this life_. + +For a few weeks you might believe yourself in a fairy-land of romance +if you married your lover and went to live in the two rooms. But at the +end of that period you would begin to realize that you were in a very +actual land of poverty and discomfort. + +Discomfort is relative. Those rooms to the shop-girl who had toiled for +years, and lived in a fourth-flight-back tenement, would represent +luxury. To you, after a few months, they would mean absolute penury. + +You would begin to miss your beautiful home, and your maids, and your +carriages. Your husband would know you were missing them, and he would +be miserable. Unless your father came to your rescue, your dream of +romantic love would end in a nightmare of regret and sorrow. + +Your father knows you,--the creature of refined tastes and luxurious +habits that he has made you,--and your lover does not. Neither do you +know yourself. + +It requires a woman in ten thousand, one possessed of absolute heroism, +like the old martyrs who sang at the stake while dying, to do what you +contemplate, and to be happy in the doing. + +Nothing like a life of self-indulgence disintegrates great qualities. +You are romantically and feverishly in love with a handsome and gifted +young man. But do not rush into a marriage with him until you can bring +your father to settle a competence upon you, or until your lover has +spanned the abyss of poverty with a bridge of comfort. You have had no +training in self-denial or self-dependence. The altar is a bad place to +begin your first lesson. + +Wait awhile. I know my advice seems worldly and cold, but it is the +result of wide observation. + +If you cannot sit in your gold and white boudoir, and be true to Ernest +while he battles a few more years with destiny, then you could not +remain loyal in thought while you held your numb fingers over a chilly +radiator in an uncomfortable flat, or omitted dessert from your dinner +menu to cut down expenses. + +Your brain-cells have been developed in opulence. + +You could not train your mind to inexorable economy, even at the command +of Cupid. + +Take the advice of a woman of the world, my dear girl, and do not +attempt the impossible and so spoil two lives. + +Again I say, wait awhile. + +There are girls who could be perfectly happy in the position you picture +for yourself with Ernest, but not you. + +Better hide your ideal in your heart than shatter it on the unswept +hearthstone of the commonplace. + +Better be in your lover's life the unattained joy, than ruin his +happiness by discontent. + +It is less of a tragedy for a man to hear a woman say "I cannot go with +you," than to hear her say "I cannot stay with you." + + + + +To Miss Jane Carter + +_Of the W.C.T.U._ + + +And so, my dear Jane, I have fallen from my pedestal, in your +estimation. Yet, having carefully regarded myself in the mirror, and +finding no discolorations, and feeling no wounds or contusions, I think +my pedestal must have been very near the earth, else I would be +conscious of some bruises. + +And now, Jane, to be frank, I am very glad to be off my perch. + +I do not want to dwell upon a pedestal. + +It necessitates a monotonous life, and it is an unsocial position. + +I prefer to walk on the earth, among my fellow creatures. + +You were greatly shocked, I saw, when I told my little Russian guest +that she might light her cigarette in my boudoir. Your sudden departure +told its own story, and your letter was no surprise. But I am glad you +wrote me so frankly, as it gives me the opportunity to be equally frank. + +There is nothing more beneficial, in true friendship, than a free +exchange of honest criticisms. + +You tell me that I lowered my standard by lending countenance to a +pernicious and unladylike habit. You felt I owed it to myself, as a good +woman, and to my home, as a respectable house, to show my unswerving +principles in this matter, and to indicate my disapproval of a +disgusting vice, which is growing in our midst. + +Life is too short, my dear Jane, in which to achieve all our ideals, and +to arrive at all our goals. + +I have learned the futility of attempting to reform the whole world in +one day. And I have also learned that there are more roads than one, to +all destinations. + +Miss Ordosky is the daughter of a dear old friend of my youth, who +married a Russian nobleman with more titles than dollars. + +Her parents are dead, and Wanda has come to her mother's native land, to +teach her father's language. She has come with all her Russian habits +and ideas accented by her mother's American indifference to public +opinion. The girl is young, lovely, and wholly dependent upon herself +for a livelihood. I invited her to be my guest for two months, before +establishing herself in her business, with the hope of helping her to +adapt herself somewhat to American ideas and customs. + +I could never hope for such a result, had I antagonized her the first +day under my roof by an austere attitude toward a habit which I knew she +had been reared to think proper. + +I do not like to see a woman smoke, and I regret as much as you do the +increasing prevalence of the vice in America. + +Like almost every schoolgirl, I had my day of thinking a surreptitious, +cigarette was wonderfully cunning. + +That day passed, like the measles and the whooping-cough, and left me +immune. I have never seen a woman so beautiful and alluring that she was +not less charming when she put a cigarette to her lips. I am confident +the habit vitiates the blood, injures the digestion, and renders the +breath offensive. I have known many American men who taught their wives +to smoke; and I do not know _one_ who has not lived to regret it, when +the cigarette he fancied would be an occasional luxury became a +necessity. + +A woman who expects ever to bring children into the world, is little +better than a criminal to form such a habit: for, argue as we may for +one moral code for both sexes, we cannot change nature's law, which +imposes the greater responsibility upon the mother of the unborn child; +the child she carries so many months beneath her heart, giving it hour +by hour the impression of her mental and physical conditions. + +Fathers ought not to smoke or indulge in other bad habits. + +_Mothers must not_. + +I hope in time to discuss these topics with Wanda, and to make an +impression upon her mind by my arguments. + +But your methods and mine, dear Jane, differ widely. And, begging your +pardon, I believe mine accomplish more good for a larger number of human +beings than yours. + +And, added to that fact, I get more happiness for myself out of life. + +Miss Ordosky would have managed to smoke her cigarette, however rigid +had I been in expressing my principles. And she would have found some +excuse to shorten her visit under my roof, and then where would be my +opportunity to influence her? + +As it is, she puffs her cigarette in my company, listens to my opinions, +seems to respect my ideas, and is interested in my views of life. We are +becoming excellent comrades, and this is far more gratifying to me than +to know that I had antagonized her into a formal acquaintance by my +aggressive morality. I have an idea that, before my pretty guest +reaches the time when she will consider wifehood and motherhood as life +professions, I may convince her from a scientific standpoint that she +better abandon her cigarettes. And to convince one's mind is far better +than to drive one to submission. + +And now, Jane, has it never occurred to you that you have made some +mistakes in life by the very methods you are so sorry I did not pursue +with Miss Ordosky? + +Years ago, I recall your surrounding a certain young man with an aureole +of idealism. Then you were obliged to dethrone him from his pedestal +because he, too, forsooth, smoked a cigar. + +That young man married a woman quite as worthy and good as yourself, and +he has made the best of husbands and citizens. I know of no man who does +more good in the world in a quiet way than this same unpedestaled old +admirer of yours. Whether he still smokes his cigar or not I could not +say. But as a man, it seems to me, he is quite as worthy and noble a +citizen, as you are a woman. + +I know that you are doing all you can, to spread the gospel of clean +living abroad in the land, and that your influence is all for a higher +standard of morality. + +But if you live on too high an altitude, in this world, and refuse to +associate with any one who will not climb up to your plane, you are +destined to a lonely life, and your sphere of influence is limited. You +will do far more good by taking your place with other human beings, and +by gradual, sane efforts leading the thoughts of your associates to turn +to your wholesome ideas of life. You are making morality unpopular by +your present aggressive methods. And you are missing many sweet +friendships and experiences by your insistence that all your friends +must follow the narrow path you have decided is the only road to good +behaviour. + +Come down from your pedestal, my dear Jane--come and dwell on the earth. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 12020-8.txt or 12020-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/2/12020/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Woman of the World + Her Counsel to Other People's Sons and Daughters + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: April 14, 2004 [EBook #12020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + +<br> +<div class="c1"><img src="photo.jpg" alt=""></div> +<h1>A Woman of the World</h1> +<div class="c1">HER COUNSEL TO OTHER PEOPLE'S SONS AND +DAUGHTERS</div><br> +<br> +<h3>By</h3> +<h2>Ella Wheeler Wilcox</h2> +<div class="c1">1904</div><br> +<br> +<div class="c1">Fourth Impression, April, 1910</div><br> +<br> +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="Contents"></a> +<h2>Contents</h2><a href="#To_Mr_Ray_Gilbert"><b>To Mr. Ray +Gilbert,</b></a> <i>Law Student, Aged Twenty-three</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Winifred_Clayborne"><b>To Miss Winifred +Clayborne,</b></a> <i>At Vassar College</i><br> +<a href="#To_Edna_Gordon"><b>To Edna Gordon,</b></a> <i>During Her +Honeymoon</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Gladys_Weston"><b>To Miss Gladys Weston,</b></a> +<i>Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living</i><br> +<a href="#To_Clarence_St_Claire"><b>To Clarence St. Claire,</b></a> +<i>Regarding His Sister's Betrothal</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Margaret_Riley"><b>To Miss Margaret +Riley,</b></a> <i>Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Gladys_Weston2"><b>To Miss Gladys Weston,</b></a> +<i>After Three Years as a Teacher</i><br> +<a href="#To_a_Young_Friend"><b>To a Young Friend,</b></a> <i>Who +Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical Thoughts of the +Day</i><br> +<a href="#To_Wilfred_Clayborn"><b>To Wilfred Clayborn,</b></a> +<i>Concerning His Education and His Profession</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Elsie_Dean"><b>To Miss Elsie Dean,</b></a> +<i>Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration</i><br> +<a href="#To_Sybyl_Marchmont"><b>To Sybyl Marchmont,</b></a> <i>Who +Has Learned Her Origin</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Diana_Rivers"><b>To Miss Diana Rivers,</b></a> +<i>A Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist</i><br> +<a href="#To_Nanette"><b>To Nanette,</b></a> <i>A Former +Maid</i><br> +<a href="#To_The_Rev_Wilton_Marsh"><b>To The Rev. Wilton +Marsh,</b></a> <i>Regarding His Son and Daughter</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Charles_McAllister"><b>To Mrs. Charles +McAllister,</b></a> <i>Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon"><b>To Mrs. Charles Gordon,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Maternity</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mr_Alfred_Duncan"><b>To Mr. Alfred Duncan,</b></a> +<i>Concerning the Ministry</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mr_Charles_Gray"><b>To Mr. Charles Gray,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Polygamy</i><br> +<a href="#To_Walter_Smeed"><b>To Walter Smeed,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Creeds and Marriage</i><br> +<a href="#To_Sybyl_Marchmont2"><b>To Sybyl Marchmont,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon2"><b>To Mrs. Charles Gordon,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Her Sister and Her Children</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon3"><b>To Mrs. Charles Gordon,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Her Children</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Zoe_Clayborn_Artist"><b>To Miss Zoe Clayborn +Artist,</b></a> <i>Concerning the Attentions of Married Men</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mr_Charles_Gordon"><b>To Mr. Charles Gordon,</b></a> +<i>Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years of Married +Life</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Clarence_St_Claire"><b>To Mrs. Clarence St. +Claire,</b></a> <i>Concerning Her Husband</i><br> +<a href="#To_Young_Mrs_Duncan"><b>To Young Mrs. Duncan,</b></a> +<i>Regarding Mothers-in-Law.</i><br> +<a href="#To_a_Young_Man"><b>To a Young Man,</b></a> <i>Ambitious +for Literary Honours</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_McAllister"><b>To Mrs. McAllister,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Her Little Girl</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mr_Ray_Gilbert2"><b>To Mr. Ray Gilbert,</b></a> +<i>Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty</i><br> +<a href="#To_the_Sister_of_a_Great_Beauty"><b>To the Sister of a +Great Beauty,</b></a><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_White_Peak"><b>To Mrs. White Peak,</b></a> <i>One +of the Pillars of Respectable Society</i><br> +<a href="#To_Maria_Owens"><b>To Maria Owens,</b></a> <i>A New Woman +Contemplating Marriage</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_St_Claire"><b>To Mrs. St. Claire,</b></a> <i>The +Young Divorcée</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Jessie_Harcourt"><b>To Miss Jessie +Harcourt,</b></a> <i>Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young +Man</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Jane_Carter"><b>To Miss Jane Carter,</b></a> +<i>Of the W.C.T.U</i><br> +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Ray_Gilbert"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Ray Gilbert</h2> +<p class="c3">Late Student, Aged Twenty-three<br> +<p>Were you an older man, my dear Ray, your letter would be +consigned to the flames unanswered, and our friendship would become +constrained and formal, if it did not end utterly. But knowing you +to be so many years my junior, and so slightly acquainted with +yourself or womankind, I am going to be the friend you need, +instead of the misfortune you invite. +<p>I will not say that your letter was a complete surprise to me. +It is seldom a woman is so unsophisticated in the ways of men that +she is not aware when friendship passes the borderline and +trespasses on the domain of passion. +<p>I realized on the last two occasions we met that you were not +quite normal. The first was at Mrs. Hanover's dinner; and I +attributed some indiscreet words and actions on your part to the +very old Burgundy served to a very young man. +<p>Since the memory of mortal, Bacchus has been a confederate of +Cupid, and the victims of the former have a period (though brief +indeed) of believing themselves slaves to the latter. +<p>As I chanced to be your right-hand neighbour at that very merry +board, where wit, wisdom, and beauty combined to condense hours +into minutes, I considered it a mere accident that you gave +yourself to me with somewhat marked devotion. Had I been any other +one of the ladies present, it would have been the same, I thought. +Our next and last encounter, however, set me thinking. +<p>It was fully a week later, and that most unromantic portion of +the day, between breakfast and luncheon. +<p>It was a Bagby recital, and you sought me out as I was listening +to the music, and caused me to leave before the programme was half +done. You were no longer under the dominion of Bacchus, though +Euterpe may have taken his task upon herself, as she often does, +and your manner and expression of countenance troubled me. +<p>I happen to be a woman whose heart life is absolutely complete. +I have realized my dreams, and have no least desire to turn them +into nightmares. I like original rôles, too, and that of the +really happy wife is less hackneyed than the part of the +"misunderstood woman." And I find greater enjoyment in the steady +flame of one lamp than in the flaring light of many candles. +<p>I have taken a good deal of pride in keeping my lamp well +trimmed and brightly burning, and I was startled and offended at +the idea of any man coming so near he imagined he might blow out +the light. +<p>Your letter, however, makes me more sorry than angry. +<p>You are passing through a phase of experience which comes to +almost every youth, between sixteen and twenty-four. +<p>Your affectional and romantic nature is blossoming out, and you +are in that transition period where an older woman appeals to you. +<p>Being crude and unformed yourself, the mature and ripened mind +and body attract you. +<p>A very young man is fascinated by an older woman's charms, just +as a very old man is drawn to a girl in her teens. +<p>This is according to the law of completion, each entity seeking +for what it does not possess. +<p>Ask any middle-aged man of your acquaintance to tell you the +years of the first woman he imagined he loved, and you will find +you are following a beaten path. +<p>Because you are a worth while young man, with a bright future +before you, I am, as I think of the matter, glad you selected me +rather than some other less happy or considerate woman, as the +object of your regard. +<p>An unhappy wife or an ambitious adventuress might mar your +future, and leave you with lowered ideals and blasted prospects. +<p>You tell me in your letter that for "a day of life and love with +me you would willingly give up the world and snap your fingers in +the face of conventional society, and even face death with a +laugh." It is easy for a passionate, romantic nature to work itself +into a mood where those words are felt when written, and sometimes +the mood carries a man and a woman through the fulfilment of such +assertions. But invariably afterward comes regret, remorse, and +disillusion. +<p>No man enjoys having the world take him at his word, when he +says he is ready to give it up for the woman he loves. +<p>He wants the woman and the world, too. +<p>In the long run, he finds the world's respect more necessary to +his continued happiness than the woman's society. +<p>Just recall the history of all such cases you have known, and +you will find my assertions true. +<p>Thank your stars that I am not a reckless woman ready to take +you at your word, and thank your stars, too, that I am not a free +woman who would be foolish enough and selfish enough to harness a +young husband to a mature wife. I know you resent this reference to +the difference in our years, which may not be so marked to the +observer to-day, but how would it be ten, fifteen years from now? +There are few disasters greater for husband or wife than the +marriage of a boy of twenty to a woman a dozen years his senior. +For when he reaches thirty-five, despair and misery must almost +inevitably face them both. +<p>You must forgive me when I tell you that one sentence in your +letter caused a broad smile. +<p>That sentence was, "Would to God I had met you when you were +free to be wooed and loved, as never man loved woman before." +<p>Now I have been married ten years, and you are twenty-three +years old! You must blame my imagination (not my heart, which has +no intention of being cruel) for the picture presented to my mind's +eye by your wish. +<p>I saw myself in the full flower of young ladyhood, carrying at +my side an awkward lad of a dozen years, attired in knickerbockers, +and probably chewing a taffy stick, yet "wooing and loving as never +man loved before." +<p>I suppose, however, the idea in your mind was that you wished +Fate had made me of your own age, and left me free for you. +<p>But few boys of twenty-three are capable of knowing what they +want in a life companion. Ten years from now your ideal will have +changed. +<p>You are in love with love, life, and all womankind, my dear boy, +not with me, your friend. +<p>Put away all such ideas, and settle down to hard study and +serious ambitions, and seal this letter of yours, which I am +returning with my reply, and lay it carefully away in some safe +place. Mark it to be destroyed unopened in case of your death. But +if you live, I want you to open, re-read and burn it on the evening +before your marriage to some lovely girl, who is probably rolling a +hoop to-day; and if I am living, I want you to write and thank me +for what I have said to you here. I hardly expect you will feel +like doing it now, but I can wait. +<p>Do not write me again until that time, and when we meet, be my +good sensible friend—one I can introduce to my husband, for only +such friends do I care to know. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Winifred_Clayborne"></a> +<h2>To Miss Winifred Clayborne</h2> +<p class="c3">At Vassar College<br> +<p>My dear niece:—It was a pleasure to receive so long a letter +from you after almost two years of silence. It hardly seems +possible that you are eighteen years old. To have graduated from +high school with such honours that you are able to enter Vassar at +so early an age is much to your credit. +<p>I indulged in a good-natured laugh over your request for my +advice regarding a college course. You say, "I remember that I once +heard you state that you did not believe in higher education for +women, and, therefore, I am anxious to have your opinion of this +undertaking of mine." +<p>Now of course, my dear child, what you wish me to say is, that I +am charmed with your resolution to graduate from Vassar. You have +entered the college fully determined to take a complete course, and +you surely would not like a discouraging or disapproving letter +from your auntie. +<p>"Please give me your opinion of my course of action" always +means, "Please approve of what I am doing." +<p>Well I <i>do</i> approve. I always approve when a human being is +carrying out a determination, even if I am confident it is the +wrong determination. +<p>The really useful knowledge of life must come through strong +convictions. Strong convictions are usually obtained only on the +pathway of personal experience. +<p>To argue a man out of a certain course of action rarely argues +away his own beliefs and desires in the matter. We may save him +some bitter experience in the contemplated project, but he is +almost certain to find that same bitter experience later, because +he has been coerced, not enlightened. +<p>Had he gained his knowledge in the first instance, he would have +escaped the later disaster. +<p>A college education does not seem to me the most desirable thing +for a woman, unless she intends to enter into educational pursuits +as a means of livelihood. I understand it is your intention to +become a teacher, and, therefore, you are wise to prepare yourself +by a thorough education. <i>Be the very best</i>, in whatever line +of employment you enter. +<p>Scorn any half-way achievements. Make yourself a brilliantly +educated woman, but look to it that in the effort you do not forget +two other important matters—health and sympathy. My objection to +higher education for women, which you once heard me express, is +founded on the fact that I have met many college women who were +anaemic and utterly devoid of emotion. One beautiful young girl I +recall who at fourteen years of age seemed to embody all the +physical and temperamental charms possible for womankind. Softly +rounded features, vivid colouring, voluptuous curves of form, yet +delicacy and refinement in every portion of her anatomy, she +breathed love and radiated sympathy. I thought of her as the ideal +woman in embryo; and the brightness of her intellect was the +finishing touch to a perfect girlhood. I saw her again at +twenty-four. She had graduated from an American college and had +taken two years in a foreign institution of learning. She had +carried away all the honours—but, alas, the higher education had +carried away all her charms of person and of temperament. +Attenuated, pallid, sharp-featured, she appeared much older than +her years, and the lovely, confiding and tender qualities of mind, +which made her so attractive to older people, had given place to +cold austerity and hypercriticism. +<p>Men were only objects of amusement, indifference, or ridicule to +her. Sentiment she regarded as an indication of crudity, emotion as +an insignia of vulgarity. The heart was a purely physical organ, +she knew from her studies in anatomy. It was no more the seat of +emotion than the liver or lungs. The brain was the only portion of +the human being which appealed to her, and "educated" people were +the only ones who interested her, because they were capable of +argument and discussion of intellectual problems—her one source of +entertainment. +<p>Half an hour in the society of this over-trained young person +left one exhausted and disillusioned with brainy women. I beg you +to pay no such price for an education as this young girl paid. I +remember you as a robust, rosy girl, with charming manners. Your +mother was concerned, on my last visit, because I called you a +pretty girl in your hearing. She said the one effort of her life +was to rear a sensible Christian daughter with no vanity. She could +not understand my point of view when I said I should regret it if a +daughter of mine was without vanity, and that I should strive to +awaken it in her. Cultivate enough vanity to care about your +personal appearance and your deportment. No amount of education can +recompense a woman for the loss of complexion, figure, or charm. +And do not let your emotional and affectional nature grow +atrophied. +<p>Control your emotions, but do not crucify them. +<p>Do not mistake frigidity for serenity, nor austerity for +self-control. Be affable, amiable, and sweet, no matter how much +you know. And listen more than you talk. +<p>The woman who knows how to show interest is tenfold more +attractive than the woman who is for ever anxious to instruct. +Learn how to call out the best in other people, and lead them to +talk of whatever most interests them. In this way you will gain a +wide knowledge of human nature, which is the best education +possible. Try and keep a little originality of thought, which is +the most difficult of all undertakings while in college; and, if +possible, be as lovable a woman when you go forth into the world +"finished" as when you entered the doors of your Alma Mater: for to +be unlovable is a far greater disaster than to be uneducated. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Edna_Gordon"></a> +<h2>To Edna Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">During Her Honeymoon<br> +<p>I am very much flattered that you should write your first letter +as Mrs. Gordon to me. Its receipt was a surprise, as I have known +you so slightly—only when we were both guests under a friend's roof +for one week. +<p>I had no idea that you were noticing me particularly at that +time, there was such a merry crowd of younger people about you. How +careful we matrons should be, when in the presence of +débutantes, for it seems they are taking notes for future +reference! +<p>I am glad that my behaviour and conversation were such that you +feel you can ask me for instructions at this important period of +your life. Here is the text you have given me: +<p>"<i>I want you to tell me, dear Mrs. West, how to be as happy, +and loved, and loving, after fifteen years of married life, as you +are. I so dread the waning of my honeymoon</i>." +<p>And now you want me to preach you a little sermon on this text. +Well, my dear girl, I am at a disadvantage in not knowing you +better, and not knowing your husband at all. +<p>Husbands are like invalids, each needs a special prescription, +according to his ailment. +<p>But as all invalids can be benefited by certain sensible +suggestions, like taking simple food, and breathing and exercising +properly, and sleeping with open windows or out-of-doors, so all +husbands can be aided toward perpetual affection by the observance +of some general laws, on the part of the wife. +<p>I am, of course, to take it for granted that you have married a +man with principles and ideals, a man who loves you and desires to +make a good husband. I know you were not so unfortunate as to +possess a large amount of property for any man to seek, and so I +can rely upon the natural supposition that you were married for +love. +<p>It might be worth your while, right now, while your husband's +memory is fresh upon the subject, to ask him what particular +characteristics first won his attention, and what caused him to +select you for a life companion. +<p>Up to the present moment, perhaps, he has never told you any +more substantial reason for loving you than the usual lovers' +explanation—"Just because." But if you ask him to think it over, I +am sure he can give you a more explicit answer. +<p>After you have found what qualities, habits, actions, or +accomplishments attracted him, write them down in a little book and +refer to them two or three times a year. On these occasions ask +yourself if you are keeping these attractions fresh and bright as +they were in the days of courtship. Women easily drop the things +which won a man's heart, and are unconscious that the change they +bemoan began in themselves. But do not imagine you can rest at ease +after marriage with only the qualities, and charms, and virtues, +which won you a lover. To keep a husband in love is a more serious +consideration than to win a lover. +<p>You must add year by year to your attractions. +<p>As the deep bloom of first youth passes, you must cultivate +mental and spiritual traits which will give your face a lustre from +within. +<p>And as the mirth and fun of life drifts farther from you, and +you find the merry jest, which of old turned care into laughter, +less ready on your lip, you must cultivate a wholesome optimistic +view of life, to sustain your husband through the trials and +disasters besetting most mortal paths. +<p>Make one solemn resolve now, and never forget it. Say to +yourself, "On no other spot, in no other house on earth, shall my +husband find a more cheerful face, a more loving welcome, or a more +restful atmosphere, than he finds at home." +<p>No matter what vicissitudes arise, and what complications occur, +keep that resolve. It will at least help to sustain you with a +sense of self-respect, if unhappiness from any outside source +should shadow your life. An attractive home has become a sort of +platitude in speech, but it remains a thing of vital importance, +all the same, in actual life and in marriage. +<p>Think often and speak frequently to your husband of his good +qualities and of the things you most admire in him. +<p>Sincere and judicious praise is to noble nature like spring rain +and sun to the earth. Ignore or make light of his small failings, +and when you must criticize a serious fault, do not dwell upon it. +A husband and wife should endeavour to be such good friends that +kindly criticism is accepted as an evidence of mutual love which +desires the highest attainments for its object. +<p>But no man likes to think his wife has set about the task of +making him over, and if you have any such intention I beg you to +conceal it, and go about it slowly and with caution. +<p>A woman who knows how to praise more readily than she knows how +to criticize, and who has the tact and skill to adapt herself to a +man's moods and to find amusement and entertainment in his whims, +can lead him away from their indulgence without his knowledge. +<p>Such women are the real reformers of men, though they scorn the +word, and disclaim the effort. +<p>It is well to keep a man conscious that you are a refined and +delicate-minded woman, yet do not insist upon being worshipped on a +pedestal. It tires a man's neck to be for ever gazing upward, and +statues are less agreeable companions than human beings. +<p>If you wish to be thought spotless marble, instead of warm flesh +and blood, you should have gone into a museum, and refused +marriage. Remember God knew what He was about, when He fashioned +woman to be man's companion, mate, and mother of his children. +<p>Respect yourself in all those capacities, and regard the +fulfilment of each duty as sacred and beautiful. +<p>Do not thrust upon the man's mind continually the idea that you +are a vastly higher order of being than he is. +<p>He will reach your standard much sooner if you come half-way and +meet him on the plane of common sense and human understanding. +Meantime let him never doubt your abhorrence of vulgarity, and your +distaste for the familiarity which breeds contempt. +<p>It is a great art, when a wife knows how to attract a husband +year after year, with the allurements of the boudoir, and never to +disillusion him with the familiarities of the dressing-room. +<p>Such women there are, who have lived with their lovers in +poverty's close quarters, and through sickness and trouble, and yet +have never brushed the bloom from the fruit of romance. But she who +needs to be told in what this art consists, would never understand, +and she who understands, need not be told. +<p>Keep your husband certain of the fact that his attention and +society is more agreeable to you than that of any other man. But +never beg for his attentions, and do not permit him to think you +are incapable of enjoying yourself without his playing the devoted +cavalier. +<p>The moment a man feels such an attitude is compulsory, it +becomes irksome. Learn how to entertain yourself. Cling to your +accomplishments and add others. A man admires a progressive woman +who keeps step with the age. Study, and think, and read, and +cultivate the art of listening. This will make you interesting to +men and women alike, and your husband will hear you praised as an +agreeable and charming woman, and that always pleases a man, as it +indicates his good taste and good luck. +<p>Avoid giving your husband the impression that you expect a +detailed account of every moment spent away from you. Convince him +that you believe in his honour and loyalty, and that you have no +desire to control or influence his actions in any matters which do +not conflict with his self-respect or your pride. +<p>Cultivate the society of the women he admires. There is both +wisdom and tact in such a course. +<p>Wisdom in making an ideal a reality, and tact in avoiding any +semblance of that most unbecoming fault—jealousy. +<p>Let him see that you have absolute faith in your own powers to +hold him, and that you respect him too much to mistake a frank +admiration for an unworthy sentiment. Do not hesitate to speak with +equal frankness of the qualities you admire in other men. Educate +him in liberality and generosity, by example. +<p>Allow no one to criticize him in your presence, and do not +discuss his weaknesses with others. I have known wives to meet in +conclaves, and dissect husbands for an entire afternoon. And each +wife seemed anxious to pose as the most neglected and unappreciated +woman of the lot. With all the faults of the sterner sex, I never +heard of such a caucus of husbands. +<p>Take an interest in your husband's business affairs, and +sympathize with the cares and anxieties which beset him. Distract +his mind with pleasant or amusing conversation, when you find him +nervous and fagged in brain and body. +<p>Yet do not feel that you must never indicate any trouble of your +own, for it is conducive to selfishness when a wife hides all her +worries and indispositions to listen to those of her husband. But +since the work-a-day world, outside the home, is usually filled +with irritations for a busy man, it should be a wife's desire to +make his home-coming a season of anticipation and joy. +<p>Do not expect a husband to be happy and contented with a +continuous diet of love and sentiment and romance. He needs also +much that is practical and commonplace mingled with his mental +food. +<p>I have known an adoring young wife to irritate Cupid so he went +out and sat on the door-step, contemplating flight, by continual +neglect of small duties. +<p>There were never any matches in the receivers; when the husband +wanted one he was obliged to search the house. The newspaper he had +folded and left ready to read at leisure was used to light the +fire, although an overfilled waste-basket stood near. The +towel-rack was empty just when he wanted his bath, and his bedroom +slippers were always kicked so far under the bed that he was +obliged to crawl on all fours to reach them. +<p>Then his loving spouse was sure to want to be "cuddled" when he +was smoking his cigar and reading,—a triple occupation only +possible to a human freak, with three arms, four eyes, and two +mouths. +<p>Therefore I would urge you, my dear Edna, to mingle the +practical with the ideal, and common sense with sentiment, and tact +with affection, in your domestic life. +<p>These general rules are all I can give to guide your barque into +the smooth, sea of marital happiness. +<p>It is a wide sea, with many harbours and ports, and no two ships +start from exactly the same point or take exactly the same course. +You will encounter rocks and reefs, perhaps, which my boat escaped, +and I have no chart to guide you away from those rocks. +<p>If I knew you better, and knew your husband at all, I might +steer you a little farther out of Honeymoon Bay into calm waters, +and tell you how to reef your sails, and how to tack at certain +junctures of the voyage, and with the wind in certain directions. +<p>But if you keep your heart full of love, your mind clear of +distrust, and your lips free from faultfinding, and if you pray for +guidance and light upon your way, I am sure you cannot miss the +course. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Gladys_Weston"></a> +<h2>To Miss Gladys Weston</h2> +<p class="c3">Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living<br> +<p>It is indeed a problem, my dear Gladys, to face stern-visaged +Necessity after walking with laughing-lipped Pleasure for +twenty-two years. +<p>What an unforeseen event that your father should sink his +fortune in a rash venture and die of remorse and discouragement +scarcely six months after you were travelling through Europe with +me, and laughing at my vain attempts to make you economize. +<p>You have acted the noble and womanly part, in using the last +dollar of your father's property to pay his debts, and I could +imagine you doing no other way. +<p>But now comes the need of earning a livelihood for yourself, and +your delicate mother. +<p>I know you have gone over the list of your accomplishments and +taken stock of all your inherited and acquired qualities. You play +the piano well, but in these days of Paderewskies and pianolas, no +one wants to employ a young girl music-teacher. You do not sing, +and if you did, that would not afford you a means of support. The +best of natural voices need a fortune spent before half a fortune +can be earned. +<p>You dance like a fairy, and swim like a mermaid, and ride like +an Indian princess, but these accomplishments are not lucrative, +save in a Midway Plaisance or a Wild West show. You are well +educated and your memory is remarkable. You have a facility in +mathematics, and your knowledge of grammar and rhetoric will, as +you say, enable you to pass the examination for a teacher in the +public schools after a little brushing up and study. Then, with the +political influence of your father's old friends, you will no doubt +be able to obtain a position. +<p>I recollect you as surpassingly skilful with the needle. I know +you once saw a charming morning gown in Paris which I persuaded you +not to buy at the absurd price asked for it, after the merchant +understood we were Americans. And I remember how you passed to +another department, purchased materials, went home to our hotel, +and cut and made a surprising imitation of the gown at one-tenth +the cost. +<p>Why have you not considered turning this talent to account? +Though the world goes to war and ruin, yet women will dress, and +the need of good seamstresses ever exists. +<p>Go to some enterprising half-grown Western or interior Eastern +town, announce yourself in possession of all the Paris styles (as +you are), and launch out. Increase your prices gradually, and go +abroad on your savings at the end of a year, then come back with +new ideas, a larger stock, and higher prices. +<p>You will be on the road to fortune, and can retire with a +competence before you are middle-aged. A little skill with the +scissors and needle, lots of courage and audacity, and original +methods will make a woman succeed in this line of endeavour. +<p>But why do I not approve of the profession upon which you have +almost decided—that of teaching—you ask. +<p>I will tell you why. +<p>Next to motherhood, the profession of teacher in public or +private schools is the most important one on earth. +<p>It is, in a certain sense, more responsible than that of +motherhood, since the work of poor and bad mothers must be undone +by the teacher, and where the mother has three or four children for +a period of years to influence, the teacher has hundreds +continually. There are very few perfect teachers. There are too few +excellent ones. There are too many poor ones. I do not believe you +possess the requisites for the calling. +<p>A teacher should first of all love children as a class. Their +dependence, their ignorance, their helplessness, and their unformed +characters should appeal to a woman's mind, and make her forget +their many and varied faults and irritating qualities. You like +lovable, well-bred, and interesting children, but you are utterly +indifferent to all others. You adore beauty, and an ugly child +offends your taste. A stupid child irritates you. +<p>You have a wonderful power of acquiring and remembering +information, but you do not possess the knack of readily imparting +it. You expect others to grasp ideas in the same way you do. This +will make you unsympathetic and impatient as a teacher. You have no +conception of the influence a teacher exerts upon children in +public schools. You were educated in private schools and at home, I +know. I attended the country public school, and to this day I can +recall the benefits and misfortunes which resulted to me from +association with different teachers. Children are keenly alive to +the moods of teachers and are often adepts in mind-reading. +<p>A teacher should be able to enter into the hearts and souls of +the children under her charge, and she should find as great +pleasure in watching their minds develop as the musical genius in +watching a composition grow under his touch. +<p>An infinite number of things not included in the school routine +should be taught by teachers. Courtesy, kindness to dependents and +weaker creatures, a horror of cruelty in all forms, a love of +nature, politeness to associates, low speaking and light walking, +cleanliness and refinement of manner,—all these may be imparted by +a teacher who loves to teach, without extra time or fatigue. I fear +a proud disdain, and a scarcely hidden disgust, would be plainly +visible in your demeanour toward the majority of the untrained +little savages given to your charge in a public school. You have +not the love of humanity at large in your heart, nor the patience +and perseverance to make you take an optimistic view in the +colossal work of developing the minds of children. Therefore it +seems to me almost a sin for you to undertake the profession merely +because you need to earn a living. There are other things to be +considered besides your necessities. Fond as I am of you, I have +the betterment of humanity at my heart, too, and cannot feel it is +right for you to place yourself in a position where you will not be +doing the best for those dependent upon you that could be done. +<p>I have given up hope of seeing mothers made to realize their +responsibilities. But I still have hope of the teachers. On them +and their full understanding of all it is in their power to do, +lies the hope of the world. +<p>Therefore, my dear girl, I urge you to take up dressmaking or +millinery instead of school-teaching. +<p>If you ruin a piece of goods in the making, you can replace it +and profit by your error. But if you mar a child's nature in your +attempt to teach him, you have done an irreparable injury not only +to him but to humanity. +<p>If you saw a design started by a lace-maker, you would not think +of taking the work and attempting to complete it until you had +learned the art of lace-making. +<p>Just so you ought not to think of developing the wonderful +intricacies of a child's mind until you have learned how. +<p>It is all right to deliberately choose a vocation which gives us +contact only with inanimate things, but we have no right to take +the handling of human souls unless we are specially fitted for the +task. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Clarence_St_Claire"></a> +<h2>To Clarence St. Claire</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding His Sister's Betrothal<br> +<p>Your request, my dear Clarence, that I try to influence your +sister to change her determination in this matter, calls for some +very plain statements from me. +<p>I have known you and Elise since you were playing with marbles +and rattles, and your mother and I have been very good +acquaintances (scarcely intimate enough to be called friends) for +more than a score of years. You are very much like your mother, +both in exterior appearance and in mind. Elise is the image of her +father at the time he captured your mother's romantic fancy, and as +I recollect him when he died. +<p>You were five years old, Elise three, at that time. Your mother +lived with your father six years in months, an eternity in +experience. You know that she was unhappy, and that he +disillusioned her with love, and almost with life. He married your +mother solely for her fortune. She was a sweet and beautiful girl, +of excellent family, but your father had no qualities of mind or +soul which enabled him to appreciate or care for any woman, save as +she could be of use to him, socially and financially. +<p>In six years he managed to dispose of all but a mere pittance of +her fortune, and humiliated her in a thousand ways besides. His +only decent act was to die and leave her undisturbed for the +remainder of her life. Your uncle assisted in her support and saved +the remnant of her property, so that she has, by careful and +rigorous economy, been able to educate you and Elise, and keep up a +respectable appearance in a quiet way. +<p>Of course it was impossible to retain her place among the +associates of her better days, and you know how bitter this fact +has always made Elise. Your sister has the physical beauty and the +overwhelming love of money and power which characterized your +father. She has a modicum of your mother's sense of honour, but has +been reared in a way not calculated to develop much strength of +character. Your mother has been a slave to your sister. Elise is +incapable of a deep, intense love for any man, and your mother's +pessimistic ideas of love and marriage have still further acted +upon her brain cells and atrophied whatever impulses may have been +latent in her nature, to love and be loved. These qualities might +have been developed had Elise been under the tutelage of some one +versed in the science of brain building, but your mother, like most +mothers, was not aware of the tremendous possibilities within her +grasp, or of the effect of the ideas she expressed in the hearing +of her children. Neither did she seem to recognize the father's +traits in Elise, and undertake the work of eliminating them, as she +might have done. She has been an unselfish and devoted mother, and +has made too many sacrifices for Elise. At the same time, she has +awakened the mind of your sister to ideals of principle and honour +which will help her to be a better woman than her inheritance from +your father would otherwise permit. But now, at the age of +twenty-one, it is impossible to hope that she will develop into a +self-sacrificing, loving, womanly woman, whose happiness can be +found in a peaceful domestic life. She has seen your mother sad and +despondent, under the yoke of genteel poverty, and heard her bemoan +her lost privileges of wealth and station. This, added to her +natural craving for money and place, renders a wealthy marriage her +only hope of happiness on earth. +<p>Mr. Volney has an enormous fortune. He is, as you say, a senile +old man in his dotage. As you say again, such a marriage is a +travesty. But Elise is incapable of feeling the love which alone +renders marriage a holy institution. She has undesirable qualities +which ought not to be transmitted to children, and she is +absolutely devoid of maternal instincts. +<p>I have heard her say she would consider motherhood the greatest +disaster which could befall her. But she is unfitted for a +self-supporting career, and she wants a home and position. +<p>She has beauty, kind and generous impulses, and a love of +playing Lady Bountiful. It is not so much that she wants to benefit +the needy, as that she likes to place people under obligations and +to have them look up to her as a superior being. +<p>Old Mr. Volney is a miser, and his money is doing no one good. +He has only distant relatives, and by taking Elise for a wife +(according to law) he will wrong no one, and she will make much +better use of his fortune than his heirs would make. +<p>Your mother will be relieved of worry and care. Many worthy poor +people and charities will receive help, and Elise will have her +heart's desire—fine apparel, jewels, a social position, and no one +to bother her. The valet and nurse will look after Mr. Volney, and +his simple old heart will bask in the pride of an old man—the +possession of a pretty young wife. +<p>Had he full use of his mental faculties, and did he long for +love and devotion, I would try and dissuade Elise from the +marriage, but solely on <i>his</i> account, not on hers. +<p>The young man you mention, as your choice of a suitor for the +hand of your sister, might better go up in a balloon to seek for +Eutopia than to expect happiness as her husband. He has a sweet, +gentle, loving nature, a taste for quiet home joys, fondness for +children, and he has two thousand a year, with small prospects of +more in the near future. +<p>He should marry a modest, domestic girl, with tastes similar to +his own, and with no overweening ambitions. Elise would simply +drive him mad in a year's time, with her restless discontent, her +extravagance, and her desire for the expensive pleasures of earth. +It is useless to reason with her, or to expect her to model her +ideas to suit her circumstances. Inheritance and twenty-one years +of wrong education must be taken into consideration. What would +mean happiness for many women would mean misery for her. I can +imagine no more dreadful destiny than to be tied to a senile old +man by a legal ceremony, even were I given his millions in payment. +But that will mean happiness to Elise. +<p>I think we should let people seek their own ideals of happiness, +when they break no law, and injure no other life by it. +<p>I shall congratulate Elise by this post on having made so +fortunate an alliance. I could not congratulate her were she to +marry her young suitor. I shall congratulate your mother on having +nothing to worry about, regarding the future of Elise. +<p>And I advise you to take a philosophical view of the situation, +and to remember that, in judging the actions of our fellow beings, +we must take their temperaments, characteristics, and environment +into consideration, not our own. +<p>You have made the very common error of thinking, because Elise +is a handsome young girl, that love, and home, and children would +mean happiness to her. +<p>Women vary as greatly as do plants and flowers in their needs. +The horticulturist knows that he cannot treat them all alike, and +he studies their different requirements. +<p>To some he gives moisture and sun, to some shade, and to some +dry, sandy soil. The thistle pushes forth a gorgeous bloom from an +arid bed. It would die in the pond where the lily thrives. +<p>Too much sentiment is wasted in this world and too much effort +expended in trying to make all people happy in some one way. +<p>When I was a little girl, a Sunday-school superintendent +presented every girl in the class with a doll, and each doll was +exactly the same. Most little girls like dolls, but I never played +with one, as they were always so hopelessly inanimate. If the good +man had given me a sled, or a book, or a picture, I would have been +happy. As it was, his gift was a failure. You want to present your +sister with a devoted young husband, a cottage, and several +children, because you think every woman should possess these +things. Your sister happens to be one who prefers a wealthy old +invalid. +<p>Let her have what she wants, my dear Clarence, and let her work +out her destiny in her own way. She will do less harm in the world +than if you forced her into your way. Now you must remember that +you asked me to help you in this matter, and I could only write you +the absolute facts of the situation, as I knew it to be. I feel +fairly confident that you will accept my point of view, and act as +best man at your sister's wedding. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Margaret_Riley"></a> +<h2>To Miss Margaret Riley</h2> +<p class="c3">Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors<br> +<p>Your letter has been destroyed, as you requested, and you need +not fear my betraying your confidence. +<p>Your mother was so long in my employ that I feel almost like a +foster-mother to you, having seen you grow up from the cradle to +self-supporting young womanhood. +<p>The troubles and evils which you mention as existing about you, +I know to be quite universal in all large shops, factories, and +department stores, indeed in all houses where the two sexes are +employed. +<p>I know that a certain order of men in power use that power to +lower the ideals and standards of womanhood when they can. +<p>A pretty young girl once in my service related to me the +cold-blooded suggestions made to her by her employer to increase +the miserable wage paid her in a sweat-shop. +<p>The sacrifice of her virtue seemed no more to this man than the +sale of an old garment. +<p>The girl did not make the sacrifice, however, and she did not +starve, freeze, or die. She managed to exist and to better her +condition by doing domestic work and saving her money to fit +herself for more congenial employment. When I last saw her she was +planning to become a trained nurse, and had paid for a course of +instruction in massage. I tell you this merely to illustrate a fact +I fully believe, that any girl who is determined to live an +honourable life and retain her self-respect can make her way in the +world and rise from lesser to higher positions, if she is patient +and willing to do what is termed menial work as a stepping-stone. +You tell me that scores of girls are kept in poorly paying, +inferior positions when capable of filling better places, simply +because they will not accept the dishonourable attentions of some +of the men in authority. +<p>You beg me to arouse the good women of America to a crusade +against what you say is a growing evil and to boycott such shops +and stores. +<p>But you ask me to do what is an impracticable thing. +<p>You would not like to be called as a witness were this matter +brought before the courts. Were all the good women of America to +begin such a crusade, where would they obtain the proofs of their +accusations? +<p>And even if the witnesses were ready, there is not a newspaper +in the land that would dare champion the reform. And no great +reform can be made without the aid of the press. The daily papers, +as you say, give columns to protests against lesser evils, but you +must know that these newspapers are largely supported by the +profitable advertisements of manufactories and dry-goods houses. +Glance over the columns of any of our large dailies and see how +much space such advertising occupies. +<p>Imagine what it would mean to lose all this high-priced +patronage. Therefore, even if the most moral of editors knew that +these establishments were undermining our social conditions and +invading our homes, I doubt if he could be induced to make a +protest. It is a curious thing to see how many are the kinds of +victims caught and held in the clutches of the money-devil-fish in +our wonderful land of freedom. +<p>Even clergymen who are preaching morality and brotherly love are +compelled to keep their mouths shut on certain evils and abuses, +lest they offend the pillars of the church and deprive the treasury +of its income. +<p>In a certain New England town famous for its educational +institution, a clergyman denounced a corporation which had swindled +the poor and deceived scores of citizens. He was requested to +discontinue further references to the matter, as the church +treasury was supplied by the money which accrued from this +monopoly. +<p>The most powerful members of the church were officers in the +corporation. +<p>The young clergyman sent in his resignation and gave up an +assured salary to follow the light of his own conscience. But there +are few with his bravery and, therefore, the strongholds of +selfishness and self-indulgence remain impregnable. While we admire +the splendid character which makes a man capable of refusing a +salary which means hush-money, we can at the same time understand +the difficult position of a clergyman with a hungry brood of +children to support, who hesitates at such a move. We can +understand how he argues with himself, that by taking the money of +the monopolists, he is able to do more good for humanity than by +refusing it, and losing both influence and income. It is a false +argument, yet the worn and weary mind of the average orthodox +minister will accept it as the advisable course to pursue. So you +will see how difficult is the task you suggest my undertaking. You +tell me that it is useless for you to leave one shop and go to +another, as all are more or less conducted on the same lines; and +that it is mere chance if a girl finds herself in a position where +she can advance on her merits. Even then a sudden change in heads +of departments some day may destroy all her hopes. +<p>You say I have no idea how many girls go wrong just through the +persecution and tyranny of these men—forced to fall in order to +keep herself fed and clothed. I repeat what I said already in this +connection,—that I am certain any girl determined to keep herself +above reproach and ambitious to rise in the world can do so. She +may have to endure many privations and sorrows for a time, and that +time may seem long and weary, <i>but a change will come for the +better as surely as spring follows winter, if she does not +waver</i>. +<p>If you will look carefully into the facts of the cases which +fall under your observation, I am confident you will see that it is +vanity and indolence, not hunger and oppression, which cause the +majority of the girls you mention to go astray. They desire to make +as good an appearance, and to be given the same privileges of +leisure, as the favourite who has been promoted through unworthy +methods. +<p>You tell me you would rather jump from Brooklyn Bridge and end +the struggle at once than lose your self-respect, but that you are +weary of seeing the girls with less conscience, and lesser +capabilities, pushed ahead of you and your worthy associates. Yet I +am certain from the tone of your letter that you will never forget +your self-respect, and I have faith that you can make your way in +the world in spite of all the designing masculine oppressors in +existence. +<p>So will any woman, who sets her mark high, and believes in the +invincible power of her own spirit to conquer all the demons of +earth. +<p>Do not imagine your position is one of unusual trial and +temptation. A young actress of my acquaintance has been obliged to +fight her way slowly to partial recognition because she would not +accept the conditions offered, with leading rôles and fine +wardrobe, by two polygamous-minded managers. +<p>She is making her way, however, and the very battle she is +fighting with life has strengthened her powers as an artist. A +young stenographer has been compelled to give up two positions +because she would not allow the loverlike attentions of married +employers. She was called a silly prude and discharged. Yet she is +occupying an excellent position with a clean high-class business +house to-day. +<p>Domestics are sometimes driven from private homes by the same +pursuit of the employer. Men are only in a state of evolution, and +the animal instincts are still strong in them. The world has +allowed them so much license, and society has been so lenient with +their misdeeds, that it has been difficult for them to practise +self-control and aspire to a higher standard. You must be sorry for +them and do what you can to help them understand the worth and +value of true womanhood. Never for one instant believe that you can +be hindered by the machinations of a few unworthy men, from +reaching any goal you set. +<p>One good, intelligently virtuous woman, determined to make the +most of her capabilities by fair methods, can overcome a whole army +of self-indulgent, sensual men, and compel them to doff their hats +to her. I am always deeply sympathetic toward the girl who is +tempted through her emotions, or her affections, to forget herself. +But I have no great pity for the woman who sells herself. There are +always charitable societies, and there are always menial labours to +do, and either door of escape from the sale of honour would be +sought by the girl of right ideals. It is a bitter experience to +see the woman who <i>has</i> stepped down into the soil of life +flaunting her finery and her power in the face of virtue. But look +about you and see how soon the finery becomes tatters—how soon the +power is transferred to another. +<p>Woman's position in the world is growing better, brighter, and +more independent with each year. There are more avenues open to +her—larger opportunities waiting for the employment of her +abilities. She has tried a thorny path for centuries, but she has +small reason to despair of her outlook to-day. +<p>Each woman must fight her battle alone, and walk by the light +from within. +<p>The world gives her only a superficial protection, either +through its courts or its society. +<p>Men demand virtue from woman and endeavour in every way to lead +her away from its path. +<p>But the divinity within her can carry her to the heights, if she +will not be lured by the voice of the senses, or frightened by the +demands of the appetite, or debased by the mercenary spirit of the +age. +<p>Go on in your brave determination to lead a sensible and moral +life, my dear girl, and let your example be a guide to others, and +prove that woman may succeed on the right basis if she will, in +spite of temptations and oppressions. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Gladys_Weston2"></a> +<h2>To Miss Gladys Weston</h2> +<p class="c3">After Three Years as a Teacher<br> +<p>The way you took my frank criticisms and doubts of your ability +to make a good school-teacher, proves you to be a girl of much +character. Your success proves, too, that given the general +qualifications of a fairly capable and educated human being, add +concentration and will, and we can achieve wonders in any line of +work we undertake. I am still of the opinion that no woman of my +acquaintance was more wholly unfit to teach young children, as they +should be taught, than your fair self as I last knew you. +<p>I take pride in believing that my heroic methods were what +brought out the undeveloped qualities you needed to ensure such +success. +<p>There are certain natures that need to be antagonized before +they do their best. Others are prostrated and robbed of all +strength by a criticism or a doubt. +<p>You have realized this, I am sure, in your experiences with +pupils. "<i>You cannot do it</i>" is a more stimulating war-cry to +some people than "<i>You can</i>." And to such the sneer of the foe +does more good, than the smile of the friend. A phrenologist would +tell us that strongly developed organs of self-esteem and love of +approbation accompanied this trait of character. +<p>I am sure it proves to be the case with you. +<p>Brought up as you were, the only child of indulgent parents, and +given admiration and praise by all your associates, you could +hardly reach the age of twenty-two without having developed +self-esteem and love of praise. You were naturally brighter than +most of your companions. (They were also children of fortune, as +the term goes, but to my idea the children reared in wealth, are +usually children of misfortune. For the real fortune of life is to +encounter the discipline which brings out our strongest qualities.) +<p>Your father was a poor boy, who fought his way up to wealth and +power before you were born; but he unfortunately wanted the earth +beside, and so died in poverty after staking all he had, which was +enough, to make more, which he did not need. +<p>You inherit much of his force of character, and that is what +gave you the reputation of extreme cleverness among your more +commonplace companions. Compared with the really brilliant and +talented people of earth, you are not clever. That is why I found +you so companionable and charming, no doubt; for the brilliant +people—especially women—are rarely companionable for more than a +few hours at a time. I gave you that supreme test of friendship—the +companionship of travel for a period of months. And I loved you +better at the end of the time than at the beginning. +<p>I have often thought how much less occupation there would be for +the divorce courts and how many more "indefinitely postponed" +announcements of engagements would result from an established +custom of a pre-betrothal trip! +<p>If a young man and woman who were enamoured could travel for two +or three months, with a chaperon (in the shape of a mother-in-law +or two), the lawyers would lose much profit; but I fear race +suicide might ensue. Nothing, unless it is the sick-room or the +card-table, brings out the real characteristics of human beings +like travel. +<p>The irritating delays of boats and trains, and the still more +irritating unresponsiveness of officials, when asked the cause, +will test the temper and the patience of even a pair of lovers. It +is not surprising if the traveller does lose both at times, but it +is admirable if he does not. I remember how adorable you were, +while I was a bundle of dynamite, ready to explode and send the +stolid, uncommunicative conductor and brakemen into a journey +through space, when we suffered that long delay coming from +California. It is due the travelling public to explain such delays, +but the railroads of America have grown to feel that they owe no +explanation to any one, even to God, for what they do or do not. +While I lost vitality and composure by such idle reflections, you +were amusing the nervous travellers by your bright bits of +narrative and ready repartee. That fortunate fellow you have +promised to marry at the end of two years has no idea what a +charming companion he will find in you for travel. +<p>It is interesting to have you say you feel that you need two +more years as a teacher, before you are fully developed enough to +take up the responsibilities of marriage. You will be twenty-seven +then:—that is the age at which the average American girl begins to +be most interesting, and the age when she is first physically +mature. +<p>And your children will be more fully endowed mentally than if +you had become a mother in your teens. +<p>As a rule the brainy people of the world are not born of very +youthful parents; you will find youth gives physique, maturity +gives brains to offspring. +<p>I did not quite finish my train of reasoning about your +self-esteem. +<p>It was because you had always believed yourself to be capable of +doing anything you undertook to do, that you were roused by my +assertion that you could not make a good school-teacher, to attempt +it. I hurt your pride a bit, and you were determined to prove me +wrong. Had you been self-depreciating and oversensitive, what I +said would have turned you from that field of effort. And that +would have been a desirable result, since one who can be turned +from any undertaking <i>ought to be</i>. +<p>I still think the world has lost a wonderful artist by your not +entering the lists of designers and dressmakers. But since my +recital of the faults which would prevent your success as a teacher +led you to overcome them, I am proud and glad, that you have gone +on in the work you contemplated. Good teachers are more needed than +good dressmakers. +<p>And you are sweet and charming as usual, to tell me that your +popularity with children and parents, is greatly due to that letter +of mine. +<p>What you write me of the young girl who is making you so much +trouble by her jealousy of all other pupils, interests and saddens +me. Her devotion to you is of that morbid type, so unwholesome and +so dangerous to her peace, and the peace of all her associates. It +is a misfortune that mothers do not take such traits in early +babyhood, and eradicate them by patient, practical methods. +Instead, this mother, like many others, seems to think her little +girl should be favoured and flattered because of her morbid +tendency. +<p>She mistakes selfishness, envy, greediness, and hysteria for a +loving nature. +<p>I can imagine your feelings when this mother told you with a +proud smile, "Allie always wants the whole attention of any one she +loves, and cannot stand sharing her friends. She was always that +way at home. We never could pet her little brother without her +going into a spasm. And you must be careful about showing the other +children attention before her. It just breaks her heart—she is so +sensitive." +<p>Oh, mothers, mothers, what are you thinking about, to be so +blind to the work put in your hands to do? +<p>You have little time comparatively to work upon this perverted +young mind: but under no conditions favour her, and, no matter what +scenes she makes, continue to give praise and affection to the +other children when it is their due. The prominence of her parents +in the neighbourhood, and the power her father wields in the school +board, need not worry you. Go ahead and do what is best for the +child and for the school at large. Never deviate one inch from your +convictions. Take Allie some day to a garden where there are many +flowers, and talk to her about them. Speak of all their different +charms, and gather a bouquet. Then say to her, "Now, Allie, you and +I love each of these pretty flowers, and see how sweetly they +nestle together in your hand. Not one is jealous of the other. Each +has its place, and would be missed were it not there. The bouquet +needs them all. Just so I need all the dear children in my school, +and just so I would miss any one. It makes me ashamed to think any +little girl is more selfish and unreasonable than a plant, for +little girls are a higher order of creation, and we expect more of +them than we expect of plants or of animals. All are parts of God, +but the human kingdom is the highest expression of the Creator. +<p>"When you show such jealousy of other children I lose respect +for you, and cannot love you as much as I love them. When you are +gentle and good, and take your share of my love and attention, and +let others have their share, then I am proud of you and fond of +you. Suppose one plant said to the sunlight that it must have all +the sun, would not that be ridiculous and selfish?" +<p>I would make frequent references to this idea when alone with +her, and indeed it would serve as an excellent subject for a talk +to all your pupils some day. Then try and make Allie understand how +unbecoming and unlovable jealousy is, and how it renders a man or +woman an object of pity and ridicule to others. +<p>Praise the people you know who are liberal and broad, and +absolutely ignore her moods when in school. +<p>Perhaps in time you can do a little toward awakening her mind to +a more wholesome outlook. +<p>What you tell me of her hysterical devotion to one of her +classmates, makes me realize that the girl needs careful guidance. +<p>You should talk to her mother, and warn her against encouraging +such conditions of mind in her child. +<p>Urge her to keep the girl occupied, and to give her much +out-door life, and to teach her that pronounced demonstrations of +affection are not good form between young girls. The mother should +be careful what books she reads, and should see that she makes no +long visits to other homes and receives no guests for a continued +time. The child needs to cultivate universal love, not individual +devotion. +<p>Ideals, principles, ambitions, should be given the girl, not +close companions, for her nature is like a rank, weedy flower that +needs refining and cultivating into a perfected blossom. +<p>All this needs a mother's constant care and tact and +watchfulness. It is work she should have begun when her little girl +first indicated her unfortunate tendencies. +<p>It is late for you to undertake a reconstruction of the +misshapen character, but you may be able to begin an improvement, +and if you can obtain the mother's cooperation the full formation +may be accomplished. +<p>And do not fail to use mental suggestion constantly, and to help +the child by your assertions to be what you want her to become. +Dwell in conversation with her and in her presence, upon the +lovableness and charm of generosity of spirit in general, rather +than on the selfishness you observe in herself. +<p>At her least indication of an improvement, give her warm praise. +Be careful about bestowing caresses upon her, as she needs to be +guarded against hysteria, I should judge from your description. To +some children they are the sunlight, to others miasma. +<p>Think of yourself as God's agent, given charge of his unfinished +work, and recognize the unseen influences ready to aid you with +suggestion and courage when you appeal to them. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_a_Young_Friend"></a> +<h2>To a Young Friend</h2> +<p class="c3">Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical +Thoughts of the Day +<p>Your letter bubbled with enthusiasm, and steamed with optimism. +I am rejoiced that you have come into so healthful a line of +thought, for I know of no one who was in more immediate need of it +than you, when we last met. +<p>As your hostess, I could not tell you how wearing to the nerves +your continual reverting to your physical ills became: and I hope I +did not seem wholly unsympathetic to you when I so frequently made +the effort to change the conversation to more cheerful topics. +<p>And now you tell me that you are astounded to find how universal +is this topic with all classes, and on all occasions when one or +two human beings gather together even in "His name." Your recital +of the church sewing-bee, where all the good Christian women +described their diseases and the different operations they and +their friends had undergone, is as amusing as it is distressingly +realistic. +<p>What a pity that the old theology fostered the idea that God +especially loved the people he afflicted with illness and poverty +and trouble! It has filled the world with egotistical and selfish +invalids and idlers, who have believed they were "God's chosen +ones," instead of realizing that they were the natural results of +broken laws, which might be mended by the aid of the God-power in +themselves, once they understood it. +<p>How Christians have reconciled the idea of a God of love with a +God who wanted his chosen ones to be sick and poor, is a problem I +cannot solve. +<p>Of course you are well, and growing stronger daily, now that you +realize the fact that God made only health, wealth, and love, and +that he intended all his children to share his opulence. +<p>As soon as the mind is filled with a dominating idea, no lesser +ones can find lodgment therein. +<p>A woman of my acquaintance suffered agonies from seasickness. +<p>She crossed the ocean twice each year, yet seemed unable to +accustom herself to the experience. +<p>On her last voyage her child fell dangerously sick with typhoid +fever on the second day out at sea. +<p>So wrought up was the mother, and so filled with the thought of +her child, that she never felt one moment's seasickness. Her mind +was otherwise occupied. +<p>Now you have filled your mind with a consciousness of your +divine right to health and happiness, and the thought of sickness +and disease has no room. +<p>Yet do not be discouraged if you feel the old ailments and +indispositions returning at times. A complete change in mental +habits, is difficult to obtain in a moment. +<p>Be satisfied to grow slowly. A wise philosopher has said, "It is +not in never falling that we show our strength, but in our ability +to rise after repeated falls, and to continue our journey in +triumph." +<p>Avoid talking your belief to every individual you meet. It will +be breaking your string of pearls for the feet of swine to tread +upon. Those who are ready for these truths will indicate the fact +to you, and then will be your time for speech. And when you do +speak, say little, and say it briefly and to the point. +<p>Leave some things for other minds to study out alone. The people +who are not ready for higher ideals of religion and life, will only +ridicule or combat your theories and beliefs, if you force them to +listen. +<p>Wait until you have fully illustrated by your own conduct of +life, that you have something beside vague theories to prove your +statements of the power of the mind to conquer circumstance. The +world is full to-day of bedraggled and haggard men and women, who +are talking loudly of the power of mind to restore youth and +health, and bestow riches and success. +<p>Do not add yourself to the unlovely and tiresome army of +talkers, until you prove yourself a doer. +<p>And even after you have shown a record of health and prosperity +and usefulness, let your silent influence speak louder than your +uttered words. +<p>The moment a philosopher becomes a bore, he ceases to be a +philosopher. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Wilfred_Clayborn"></a> +<h2>To Wilfred Clayborn</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning His Education and His Profession<br> +<p>My Dear Nephew:—I have considered your request from all sides, +and have resolved to disappoint you. This seems to me the kindest +thing I can do under the circumstances. +<p>You have gone through two years of college life, and I am sure +you are not an ignoramus. Most of the great men of the world's +history have enjoyed no fuller educational advantages. To lend you +money to finish the college course, would be to help you to start +life at the age of twenty-two under the burden of debt. If you are +determined to finish a college course, and feel that only by so +doing will you equip yourself for the duties of life, I would +advise you to drop out for a year and teach, or go into any kind of +work which will enable you to earn enough to proceed with your +studies. However hard and however disappointing this advice seems +to you, I know it suggests a course which will do more for your +character than all the money I could lend you. +<p>Aside from the fact that you would begin life with a debt, is +the possibility of your contracting the debt habit. +<p>One man in a thousand who borrows money to help himself along in +early life is benefited by it. +<p>The other 999 are harmed. +<p>To do anything on another's money is to lean on the shoulder of +another instead of walking upright. It is not good calisthenic +exercise. +<p>A few years ago I would have acceded to your request. +<p>But each year I live I realize more and more that lending money +is the last method to be used in helping people to better +themselves. In almost every case where I have lent money, I have +lived to regret it. Not because I lost my money (which has usually +been the fact), but because I lost respect for my friends. +<p>I remember the case of a young newspaper man and author, who +came to me for the loan of five dollars. I had never seen him +before, but I knew his brother, a brilliant playwright, in a social +way. +<p>The young man told me he had met with a series of disasters on +the voyage to New York, and was stranded there absolutely +penniless, although money would come at almost any hour from his +brother. +<p>Besides this, he showed me letters from editors who had taken +work which would be paid for on publication. +<p>"I do not know any one here," the young man said, "and to-day, +when I used my last twenty-five cents, I thought of you in +desperation. +<p>"Your acquaintance with my brother would serve as an +introduction, I felt, and I was confident you would realize my +straits when I told you my errand." +<p>Of course I lent the young man five dollars. "I am sure it must +be a great humiliation for you to ask for this," I said, "and I am +certain you will repay it, though many former experiences have made +me question the memory of friends and strangers to whom I have been +of similar assistance." +<p>One week later the young man called to tell me he had not been +able to do more than keep himself sustained at lunch-counters since +he called, but hoped soon to obtain a position on a daily +newspaper. +<p>That was ten years ago. The young man sat in an orchestra chair +the other night at the theatre directly in front of me, and his +attire was faultlessly up to date. From the costume of his +companion, I should judge their carriage waited outside. +<p>The young man did not seem to recognize me, and no doubt the +incident I mention has escaped his memory. +<p>In all probability I was but one of a score of people who helped +him with small loans. Had the young man had been forced to appeal +to the society organized in every city for aiding the deserving +poor, by being sent disappointed from my door, the ordeal would +have so hurt his pride, that he might not have become the +professional borrower he undoubtedly is. +<p>I could relate innumerable cases of a similar nature. One man, +who was a fashionable teacher of French among the millionaires of +New York for several seasons, appealed to me at a time of year when +all his patrons were out of the city for a loan to enable him to +give his wife medical treatment. +<p>He was to repay it in the autumn. Instead, he came to me then +with a much more distressing story of immediate need and seeming +proof of money coming to him in a few months. To my chagrin, the +loan I advanced was employed in giving a feast to friends at his +daughter's wedding, after which he obliterated himself from my +vision. +<p>Financial aid lent a woman who soon afterward circled Europe, +brought no reimbursement. Her handsomely engraved card, with the +"Russell Square Hotel, London," as address, reached me instead of +the interest money which perhaps paid the engraver. +<p>Money lent a young man to start a small business, was used for +his wedding expenses, and an interval of five years brings no word +from him. Poor and despicable beings indeed, become the victims of +the borrowing habit. It is the shattered faith in humanity, and the +heart hurts that I regret, rather than the loss of what can be +replaced. I tell you these incidents that you may realize how I +have come to regard money-lending, as a species of unkindness to a +friend or relative. +<p>It is only one step removed from giving a sick or overtaxed man +or woman a morphine powder. +<p>Sleep and rest ensue, but ten to one the habit is formed for +life. +<p>The happy experiences of my life in money-lending, have been two +instances where I offered loans which were not asked, and which +proved to be bridges over the chasm of temporary misfortune, to the +success awaiting a worthy woman and man. The really deserving +rarely ask for loans. +<p>I can imagine with what pleasure you would take a cheque from +this letter, for the amount which would carry you through college. +<p>Yet when you had finished your course, you would find so many +things you wanted to do, and must do, the debt would become too +heavy to lift, save by borrowing from some one else. +<p>If not that, then you would impose upon the fact of our +relationship, and on your belief that I had plenty of means without +the amount you owed me: and so you would join the great army of +good-for-nothings in the world. +<p>There is one thing you must always remember: +<p>No matter how close the blood tie between two beings, even +twins, each soul comes into the world alone, and with a separate +life destiny to work out. +<p>If I have worked out my destiny to financial independence, that +does not entitle you to a share of it. If it seems best for me to +aid you, it is not because a blood tie makes it a duty. I grow to +believe there is a sort of curse on money which is not earned, even +when it is bestowed by father, on son or daughter. +<p>It cripples individual development. Only when money is earned is +it blest. +<p>Regarding your future profession, I cannot agree with your idea +that because you feel no particular love for any one calling, and +have a halfway tendency toward several, that you will never be a +success. Great geniuses are often consumed with a passion for some +one line of study or employment, but there have been many great men +who did not know what they were fitted to do until accident or +necessity gave them an opportunity. +<p>Success means simply concentration and perseverance. +<p>Whether you decide to be a mechanic, a lawyer, a doctor, or a +merchant, the one thing to do is to fix all your mental powers upon +the goal you select, and then call all the forces from within and +from without, to aid you to reach it. +<p>It would, of course, be folly for you to select a profession +which requires special talent. No matter how you might concentrate +and apply yourself, you could never be a great poet, a great +artist, or a great musician. +<p>You have not the creative genius. +<p>But law, medicine, mechanics, or mercantile matters, with your +good brain and fair education, you could conquer. +<p>You say you vacillate from one to another, like the wind which +goes to the four points of the compass in twenty-four hours. +<p>But you are very young, and this should not discourage you. +<p>It would be well to think the four vocations over quietly, when +alone, and sit down by yourself early in the morning asking for +guidance. Then, when you feel you have made a decision, let nothing +turn you from it. +<p>Direct all your studies and thoughts to further that decision. +<p>Think of yourself as achieving the very highest success in your +chosen field, and work for that end. +<p>You cannot fail. +<p>If you desire light from without upon the best path to pursue, I +would advise you to find a good phrenologist, and have a careful +reading made of your head. Its formation and the development of its +organs would indicate in what direction lay your greatest strength, +and where you needed to be especially watchful. +<p>But remember if your phrenologist tells you that you have a weak +will, it does not mean that you must necessarily <i>always</i> have +a weak will. It means that you are to strengthen it, by +concentration. There is a great truth underlying phrenology, +palmistry, and astrology; but it is ridiculous to accept their +verdicts as final and unchangeable, and it is unwise to ignore the +good they may do, rightly applied and understood. +<p>I recall the fact that you were born in early June. I know +enough about the influence of the planets upon a child born at that +period to assert that you are particularly inclined to a Gemini +nature—the twin nature, which wants to do two things at one time. +You want to stay in and go out, to read a book and play tennis, to +swim and sit on the sand. Later in life, you will want to remain +single and marry, and travel and remain at home, unless you begin +<i>now</i> to select one course of the two which are for ever +presenting themselves to you, in small and large matters. +<p>Whenever you feel yourself vacillating between two impulses, +take yourself at once in hand, decide upon the preferable course, +and go ahead. Dominate your astrological tendencies, do not be +dominated by them. Dominate your weaknesses as exhibited by your +phrenological chart, and build up the brain cells which need +strengthening, and lessen the power of the undesirable qualities by +giving them no food or indulgence. +<p>It is a great thing to understand yourself as you are, and then +to go ahead and make yourself what you desire to be. +<p>When a carpenter starts to build a house, he knows just what +tools and what materials to work with are his. If there is a broken +implement, he replaces it with another, and if he is short of +material he supplies it. But young men set forth to make futures +and fortunes, with no knowledge of their own equipment. +<p>They do not know their own strongest or weakest traits, and are +unprepared for the temptations and obstacles that await them. +<p>I would advise you to call in the aid of all the occult +sciences, to help you in forming an estimate of your own higher and +lower tendencies, and in deciding for what line of occupation you +were best fitted. Then, after you have compared the statistics so +gathered with your own idea of yourself, you should proceed to make +your character what you wish it to be. +<p>This work will be ten thousand times more profitable to you than +a mere routine of college studies, gained by running in debt. +<p>To know yourself is far better knowledge than to know Virgil. +And to make yourself is a million times better than to have any one +else make you. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Elsie_Dean"></a> +<h2>To Miss Elsie Dean</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration<br> +<p>During your visit here with my niece, I became much interested +in you. +<p>Zoe had often written me of her affection for you, and I can +readily understand her feeling, now that I have your personal +acquaintance. +<p>You have no mother, and your father, you say, absorbed in +business, like so many American fathers, seems almost a stranger. +Even the most devoted fathers, rarely understand their daughters. +<p>Now, I want to take the part of a mother and write you to-day, +as I would write my own daughter, had one been bestowed upon me +with the many other blessings which are mine. +<p>I could not ask for a fairer, more amiable, or brighter daughter +than you, nor one possessed of a kinder or more unselfish nature. +<p>You are lovable, entertaining, industrious, and refined. +<p>But you possess one fault which needs eradicating, or at least a +propensity which needs directing. +<p><i>It is the habit of exaggeration in conversation</i>. +<p>I noticed that small happenings, amusing or exciting, became +events of colossal importance when related by you. +<p>I noticed that brief remarks were amplified and grew into +something like orations when you repeated them. +<p>I confess that you made small incidents more interesting, and +insignificant words acquired poetic meaning under your tongue. +<p>And I confess also that you never once wronged or injured any +one by your exaggerations—save yourself. +<p>Zoe often said to me, "Isn't it wonderful how Elsie's +imagination lends a halo to the commonest event," and all your +friends know that you have this habit of hyperbole in conversation. +<p>Now, in your early girlhood, it is lightly regarded as "Elsie's +way." Later, in your maturity, I fear it will be called a harsher +name. +<p>When you come to the time of life that larger subjects than +girlish pranks and badinage engage your mind, it will be necessary +for you to be more exact in your descriptions of occurrences and +conversations. Besides this, there is the heritage of your unborn +children to consider. I once knew a little girl who possessed the +same vivid imagination, and allowed it to continue unchecked +through life. She married, and her son, to-day, is utterly devoid +of fine moral senses. He is a mental monstrosity—incapable of +telling the truth. His falsehoods are many and varied, and his name +is a synonym of untruth. He relates, as truth, the most marvellous +exploits in which he really never took part, and describes scenes +and places he has never visited, save through the pages of some +novel. +<p>His lack of moral sense has blighted his mother's life, and she +is wholly unconscious that he is only an exaggerated edition of +herself. +<p>I think, as a rule, such imaginations as you possess belong to +the literary mind. I would advise you to turn your attention to +story-writing, and in that occupation you will find vent for your +romantic tendencies. +<p>Meanwhile watch yourself and control your speech. +<p>Learn to be exact. +<p>Tell the truth in small matters, and do not allow yourself to +indulge in seemingly harmless white lies of exaggeration. +<p>There are times when we should refrain from speaking all the +truth, but we should refrain by silence or an adroit change of +subject. We should not feel called upon to relate all the +unpleasant truths we know of people. +<p>When asked what we know of some acquaintance, we are justified +in telling the worthy and commendable traits, and saying nothing of +the faults. +<p>Therefore, while to suppress a portion of the truth is at times +wise and kind, to distort it, or misstate facts, is never needed +and never excusable. +<p>When you and Zoe came from your drive one day you were full of +excitement over an adventure with a Greek road merchant. +<p>As you told the story, the handsome peddler had accosted you at +the exit of the post-office and asked you to look at his wares. +<p>When you declined he became familiar, paid a compliment to Zoe's +beauty, and assured her that a certain lace shawl in his possession +would be irresistible draped about her face. +<p>Then he had pursued the carriage on his wheel and continued to +"make eyes" and pay compliments to the very gate of my home, where +he abandoned the chase. +<p>The facts were, according to further investigation, that the man +paid a simple trade compliment in reference to the shawl and its +becomingness to a pretty face, mounted his wheel and rode away, as +it happened, in the same direction you and Zoe were taking. +<p>Again, you related a bit of repartee between Zoe and a caller, +which I had chanced to over-hear, and out of two short sentences +you made a small brochure, most amusing, but most untrue. +<p>It was complimentary to both Zoe and her caller, yet it was not +the conversation which took place, and therefore was not truthful. +<p>These are trifling incidents, yet they are the straws, telling +that the wind blows from the marsh-lands of inexactness—not from +the mountain tops of truth. +<p>Once a woman loses a sense of the great value of absolute +truthfulness, she has blurred the clear mirror of her soul. +<p>Put yourself upon a diet of <i>facts</i>, my sweet young friend, +and cure this propensity, harmless enough now, but dangerous for +your future. +<p>Watch your tongue that it does not say <i>five or six</i> when +it should say <i>two</i>, or <i>yards</i> when it should say +<i>inches</i>. +<p>Even in the smallest matters, practise the habit of being exact. +<p>You will thank me for this advice sometime, even if it seems +unreasonable to you to-day, and remember, I would not take the +liberty or the trouble to so advise you, did I not love you and +feel anxious for your welfare. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Sybyl_Marchmont"></a> +<h2>To Sybyl Marchmont</h2> +<p class="c3">Who Has Learned Her Origin<br> +<p>Your despairing letter lies before me. I wish you were here, my +dear child, that I might talk from my heart, instead of writing +from it. I am sorry that the secret, so long hidden, has been +revealed to you, and in such a despicable manner. +<p>An anonymous letter always carries with it the venom of a +serpent. I have long known your history, though the world generally +believed you to be the actual daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont, +who adopted you when you were scarcely one week old. +<p>No daughter ever received more affection or better care than +these good people gave you. Mrs. Marchmont lived always with a fear +in her heart that you might learn your history from some idle or +malicious lip, and before she died begged me to be your comforting +friend, if that hour ever came, which has now arrived. +<p>As your mother's nearest friend, it is natural you should turn +to me in your crucial hour of pain. And in reply to your questions +regarding the truth of this anonymous assertion, I will tell you +all I know. +<p>Your own mother was well born, and a girl of great beauty and +charm. She was of foreign blood, and her parents, after the foreign +custom, selected for her, at the age of seventeen, a man of mature +years and unattractive personality, but some fortune. The family +lived in a seaport town, and your mother attracted the eye of a +young seafaring man, holding a government position. An intense and +uncontrollable love sprang up between them. Your mother had been +kept in ignorance of God's great law of sex attraction, its purpose +and its results, and she was like a new-born babe towed on the sea +of her own suddenly awakened emotion. +<p>It was arranged that your mother was to elope with her lover on +his next arrival in port. All plans were to be made by him during +the voyage on which he went forth, after a stolen interview with +your mother. He was lost at sea, and all on board the ship perished +with him. Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont chanced to be sojourning in the +place at the time of your birth. Mr. Marchmont had longed for a +child, and the tragic story came to his ears through the physician +of your mother's family, and he and his wife decided to adopt you +and take you to America. +<p>I was the one friend who shared with Mrs. Marchmont the story of +your birth. Other friends knew she had adopted a child, and of +course all sorts of rumours were afloat for a time. Mr. Marchmont's +nephew was particularly unfriendly, I remember, as he had believed +himself heir to his uncle's estate until your adoption. +<p>Some three years ago I chanced to be in the seaport town where +you were born, and I made quiet inquiries about your mother. I +learned that she had recently died, leaving a husband and three +children. I hunted up the children, and found them to be most +uninteresting and ordinary. The oldest daughter I met and studied. +She was plain and commonplace in appearance, and the other children +were dull and unattractive. +<p>The husband was the elderly man selected by your grandparents. +Just how he had been led to accept the second place in your +mother's life, and whether he had known of the tragedy, I could not +learn without asking more questions than I deemed wise. +<p>But what I want to impress upon your mind by this recital is, +<i>your own divine inheritance of love,</i> the inheritance which +has bestowed upon you physical beauty, mental power, and rare +qualities of heart and soul. I know few women so endowed by the +Creator as you. I know of few young girls—in fact, not one—I would +so gladly and proudly claim as a daughter, or wish a daughter to be +like, as your lovely self. +<p>When I read your letter, with its wild expressions of +self-abasement and despair and regret that you were in the world, +where, you seemed to believe, you had no right to be, I could not +help picturing to myself the dull face and disagreeable personality +of your half-sister, the child whom you no doubt believe has a +greater right than yourself on earth. Now whatever society has +decided is legal and right for human beings, you must not forget +that God also has made rules, and that those rules must first be +obeyed, before the rules of man can be regarded as perfect. +<p>God's first law, regarding the propagation of the human species, +is that the <i>mother must be dominated by a supreme and ruling +emotion to give to the world the highest type of a child</i>. +<p>Your mother loved your father with all her heart and soul. She +was a young girl, ignorant of the world. She thought of her lover +as her rightful mate, and lived but for the hour when he should +rescue her from the unhappy fate arranged by unwise and +sordid-minded parents. +<p>Your father loved her, and they were in God's sight more truly +husband and wife than the soulless and loveless ceremony of the law +made her and her legal husband afterward. +<p>It is a great misfortune that your parents lacked the +self-control which is necessary to every well-balanced human being +who seeks for the fullest development. It is a sad thing that over +your life this shadow of unlegalized birth must rest. +<p>But were I given the choice to-day to be what you are, or what +your sister is, and what thousands of children born of loveless +marriages are, I would not for one second hesitate in my choice. +<p>The world needs marriage laws to keep any order in society. +<p>The wisely reared and well-balanced woman will keep herself in +womanly reserve for her legal husband. +<p>Your mother, by a moment's weakness and loss of self-control, +left a blight upon her life for ever, and a shadow upon yours. +<p>But do not for one instant think of yourself as anything but +<i>a child of God</i>, endowed with all the wealth of the spiritual +kingdom, whatever the law may withhold from you here. +<p>You are legitimized by love, your sister is legitimate by law. +She is illegitimate in the sight of heaven, you in sight of earth. +<p>Be glad of your beautiful nature and beautiful qualities, and do +not spoil them by despondency or pessimism. +<p>Think of yourself as if you were a child of Adam and Eve, born +before the serpent appeared, when there was no law but the law of +love to govern two souls, drawn together by irresistible +attraction. +<p>The best and highest qualities of two human beings meet and +mingle in your nature. Do you suppose the great Creator of all +things regards you as base born, when he has so endowed you with +all that makes woman lovable and charming. +<p>Live up to your divine inheritance, my dear girl. Make the world +better for your presence in it, and bear your sorrow with that +resignation and philosophy which all human beings must cultivate if +they do not wish to become weak repiners when they face the sorrows +of life. +<p>Look the world squarely in the eyes, and feel no shame. +<p>Your mother's marriage to the man she detested, and the birth of +children conceived in loathing, were acts which in my mind called +for more shame on her part than your own birth. Both were +misfortunes for her, since only by living an orderly, controlled, +and lawful life can any human being find happiness or self-respect +in the world. +<p>But when we come to the close analysis of motives and impulses, +many an act the world condemns is far less reprehensible than other +acts which meet its loud acclaim. +<p>You have received from the vast spiritual realms about us your +rarely beautiful qualities. Go forth and give them to humanity. +<p>Be strong, be good, be brave, be happy. +<p>No one and nothing can harm you but your own mind. +<p>The world, as we encounter it, is but an echo of our own strong +convictions. Respect yourself absolutely, believe in yourself +absolutely, and the world will respect you and believe in you. +<p>Say to yourself every hour, "I am God's divine creature," and no +one will dare look you in the eyes and say you are anything less +than that. +<p>The arms of infinite love enfold you—have no fear. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Diana_Rivers"></a> +<h2>To Miss Diana Rivers</h2> +<p class="c3">Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist<br> +<p>Your interesting letter regarding your future plans has been +food for my thoughts ever since its receipt this morning. +<p>I remember when you were my guest a year ago that you told me +you felt like a big bird in a small cage. Every time you tried to +spread your wings you were bruised by bars. Your home environment +with its few duties and small responsibilities, your church and +your charities, failed to give you full opportunity for the +exercise of all your vital forces. +<p>I knew then that you were longing for a career, and I felt +confident that some word would come from you before long, +announcing a change in your life. +<p>I was prepared to hear one of two things—that you were soon to +be married, or that you had decided to enter the dramatic +profession. When a young and attractive woman grows restless and +eager for change, she is, unconsciously to herself, sending out a +challenge to Fate to create new conditions in her life. Despite the +fact that no male member in the "Fate" family has ever attained +prominence in the eyes of the world, and that the three sisters +have claimed so much power over the destinies of the human family, +a little investigation will prove that they never make any +pronounced move without calling in the aid of Cupid. +<p>Cupid is their prime minister, and we all know that prime +ministers are the power behind the throne of rulers. +<p>When you sent out your eager thoughts for "something to happen," +to change the monotony of your existence, I knew the Fate sisters +were quite likely telegraphing Cupid that his assistance was needed +to quiet a small riot in the human family. +<p>Once they set Cupid busy with a human heart, the Fates need give +it no further attention. When Cupid reports that his work with the +heart is finished, then the Angel of Resignation or the Angel of +Death must finish the task. +<p>Knowing you to be particularly fond of the theatre as a +distraction, I had thought you might essay the rôle of +society actress, confounding appreciation for talent, as so many +women do; and when your letter opened with the announcement that +you were about to give me a great surprise, I was prepared to hear +that you were billed to appear in a walking rôle, with a road +company, next season, with promises of greater things "soon +afterward." +<p>But I confess to absolute surprise, as I read on, and learned +that your career was to lead you, not through Lovers' Lane, not +before the footlights, but along the hurly-burly byways and +highways of American newspaper work, beginning with interviews and +reporting. Allow me to quote from your letter before me. +<p>"I do not imagine I have talent save the talent for work. I am, +as you know, well educated, as that expression goes to-day. I have +always found expression with the pen an easy mode of communicating +my impressions and ideas. +<p>"I am observing, and I have a keen sense of humour, and I have +(so people tell me) an agreeable personality. I know the value of +correct dressing, and I am not oversensitive. That is, I am not one +who will go down at the first rebuff. I have the real American +spirit, which makes me believe myself as good as anybody, and you +know my family name is one to buoy up that impression. Therefore, +it seems to me I cannot fail to attain some degree of success. I am +sure to obtain entrée to people and functions, and I can +describe what I see and hear in attractive form. I shall shrink at +no task, however difficult, and stop at no obstacle. +<p>"I am determined to make a success as a reporter and a +correspondent, and after I have achieved something in that line I +may look to an editorial position; and who knows but my fertile +imagination, coupled with the experiences sure to come to me, may +develop the great American novelist the world is waiting?" +<p>This is all interesting and admirable reasoning. +<p>But, having seen much of the world, and known much of the +various types of young women writers and reporters and +correspondents, I feel like discussing the subject of your +profession with you. At the instigation, perhaps, of some editor +who makes the mistake of thinking success must be reached through +sensationalism, you may be tempted to make your pen, not +<i>mightier</i>, but more <i>cruel</i> than the sword. +<p>I remember once upon a time meeting a young woman who had come, +unbidden by the hostess, to "write up" a social function where a +number of celebrated people were congregated. +<p>Her employer had sent her to the house, telling her to obtain an +entree by fair means or foul; and as she was well dressed and quiet +in manner, she was not repulsed by an amiable hostess. This lady +realized that the reporter has his or her living to make, and must +be either helped or hindered by the willingness or unwillingness of +people to furnish material for copy. Being informed that the young +woman was "literary," and chancing to stand near her for a few +moments, I asked her the nature of her work. +<p>The young woman looked a trifle embarrassed, as she answered: +"Well, to tell you the truth, I write a good many disagreeable and +nasty things about people, especially people in public life. The +editors who take my work will have that kind. I have essayed better +things, and they would not touch them. So I am compelled to write +the stuff they do want. I must make a living." When I read the +"stuff" in question, I was inclined to doubt the assertion of the +writer that "she must make a living." The world would be the better +should she and all her kind cease to exist. Ridicule, falsehood, +and insinuation were the leading traits of the young woman's +literary style. Costumes and personalities were caricatured, and +conversations and actions misstated. The entire article would have +been libelous, had it not been too cowardly to deserve so bold a +word. +<p>It is useless for any man or woman to assert that such +reportorial work is done from necessity. The blackmailer and the +pickpocket have as much right to the plea, as the newspaper +masked-assassin, with the concealed weapon of a pen. +<p>If you are ever asked by any editor to do this reportorial +stiletto work, let me urge you to take to professional burglary, +rather than consent to write what such an employer demands. +<p>It is far less despicable to rob houses of things of mercantile +value, than to rob characters and reputations and personalities. +Again, when you are sent out upon a commission to obtain an +interview with any person, obtain what you seek and take nothing +else away with you. +<p>Just as you would scorn to pawn the watch of the famous actress +which you may find lying on the table as you pass out, so scorn to +sell any personal speech she may have carelessly dropped in your +hearing which you know was not intended for publication. Petty +larceny is not a noble feature of interviewing. Even though a +facility for selling such dishonestly gained property to advantage +be yours, do not convince yourself or be convinced that larceny +should be included in your reportorial duties. +<p>I recollect speaking with you once upon the difficulties young +women encountered who attempted to win honours in a dramatic +career. You felt that the necessity to cater to the ideas and +wishes of inferior minds, in representing a character on the stage, +would be one of the hardest phases of stage life to meet. +<p>"To be loud and spectacular where I wanted to be refined and +subtle," you said, "just to catch some rough audience and fill the +house, would be insupportable. And yet I know actresses ofttimes +must do that very thing, to keep a foothold in the profession." +<p>I am wondering how you will meet what seems to me a more +humiliating rôle, when you are sent out by an editor to gain +an entree to some person who does not wish to be interviewed. +<p>Will you, when refused entrance at the front door, go in at the +rear and hobnob with the servants? will you spy, and watch and wait +on street corners, and hide yourself in hallways, and intercept and +surprise, and congratulate yourself when you have trapped your +prey? That is the shameful pathway which nowadays leads to what is +called "successful newspaper work." +<p>You need to realize the facts before you enter the profession. +Were you my daughter, I am certain I should feel much less concern +were you to enter the theatrical field. +<p>And yet if you choose to stand by your ideals, and retain your +self-respect, you can do so, and succeed in journalism. +<p>If you have, as you say, observation, expression, humour, and +ambition, you can create a style of your own: which will not +necessitate the loss of all womanly sense of decency and pride in +dealing with your fellow beings. It might be well for you to +cultivate and add to the list of your qualities appreciation of all +that is best in human nature and worthiest of respect. If you +understand the law of concentration and demand, you can obtain an +entrance to the people you wish to see, through the front hall and +a properly engraved card. +<p>If that fails, a polite and frank note, stating your purpose and +intimating your self-respecting ideas of your profession, may prove +effective. Once establish your reputation as an interviewer who is +not a highwayman in disguise, and you will achieve tenfold the +success your less reputable confrères gain in the long run. +Try and remember always that fame, glory, or even crime, do not +destroy all human sensibilities, or render the possessor +invulnerable to the thrust of a pen. +<p>The greatest warrior who ever conquered armies has still the +power to feel hurt when he sees some personal blemish or misfortune +described in print. +<p>You would never be guilty of saying to any man's face, "How +hideous your harelip renders you"—and why should you go from his +presence and make such a statement to the whole world concerning +him? One of the most gifted men America ever claimed was driven +from his native land by the cruel, bald, and heartless +personalities of newspaper critics, who seemed to consider it +necessary to comment on his physical infirmities whenever his +genius was mentioned. +<p>During the lifetime of one of England's great literary women, an +American correspondent who had been given an interview in her home +described her as possessing the "face of a horse." Surely this was +agreeable reading for a gifted woman whose genius had delighted +thousands! +<p>It has sometimes seemed to me that theatrical road life with a +one-night-stand company would be less brutalizing to the finer +sensibilities, and less lowering to the ideals of a young girl, +than the method of work required of many newspaper reporters in +America to-day. The editor who scores the actress for lax morals +seems often to ignore the fact that there is a mental as well as a +physical prostitution. +<p>Look to it that you do not trail your banner of noble womanhood +in the dust, at the demand of any editor or syndicate. Keep your +purity of pen, as well as your chastity of body, and believe no man +who tells you that you will get on better in the world by selling +either. There is room higher up. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Nanette"></a> +<h2>To Nanette</h2> +<p class="c3">A Former Maid<br> +<p>Curiously enough, my dear little Nanette, I was thinking about +you, and wishing to know something of you, the very day your letter +came. +<p>Of many who have been helpers in my employ, you were one of the +few who seemed to care more for me than for the wages I paid. +<p>There was between us that ideal condition which I wish might +exist between all employers and employees. You wanted the work you +were fitted to do, and I wanted such work done. You were glad of +the money it brought you, and I was glad to recompense you. You +wanted appreciation and sympathy and consideration aside from your +earnings, and I wanted a personal interest in my affairs, and a +friendly wish to please me, aside from the mere work well done. You +never seemed to me less womanly or less refined because you were a +wage-earner, and I did not represent to you oppression or monopoly +merely because I paid the money and you received it. I took you +into my confidence in many ways, and you made me feel I was your +friend as well as your employer. We enjoyed cosy chats, and yet you +no more desired or wished to be present at my social functions than +you desired me to enter into all your merrymakings and pleasures. +You were, in fact, one of the most agreeable and sensible women I +have ever known in any station in life. And now you write me that +you are engaged to be married, and ask me to give you counsel in a +very serious matter. +<p>Together with your other excellent qualities, you have possessed +economy and prudence. +<p>At the age of twenty-five you have a tidy bank-account, the +savings of eleven years. This money is increasing, year by year, +and drawing a small interest. +<p>Now comes your lover, a hard-working and sober young man, so you +say, but earning only a small salary as a clerk. +<p>He has met with some reverses, and is temporarily embarrassed. +He wants you to lend him a few hundred dollars, and he will pay you +the same interest you are now receiving, but you fear it would be +unwomanly on your part to take this interest money. At the same +time you feel a reluctance to break in upon your savings, which you +had planned to use in helping establish a home. You want to +befriend your lover, and you want to be wise and careful, and so +you write to me, your old-time adviser, for counsel. I fear I may +hurt your feelings in what I am about to say. +<p>I have seen much of the world, and have studied humanity in many +phases and in many classes. +<p>There is one type of man I have never yet known to be strong, +reliable, and trustworthy,—a man for a woman to lean upon in times +of trouble and sorrow,—a man I would like to see any friend take +for a life companion,—<i>and that is the young man who asks a loan +of money from a woman he loves, or one who loves him</i>. Believe +me, there is some lack of real moral fibre in such a man. +<p>A husband and wife many years married, and united by common +interests, may become so one in purpose and thought that a common +purse would be as natural to them as a common dinner-table. +<p>With mutual interests, planning for their future and the future +of their children, there could be no talk of "My money" and "Your +money" between them. +<p>But before marriage, or immediately after, the man who begins to +ask a woman for the use of her purse, should be distrusted by her. +He could not broach such a subject unless he lacked a certain +refined strength which makes a manly man a woman's protector by +nature. Even where no sentiment exists between a man and a woman, +the really strong men of the world never become borrowers from +women. If through friendly interest and affection some woman +compelled such a man to take a loan, he would know no rest or peace +of mind until he had liquidated the debt. +<p>When a man is a woman's lover, and asks her to advance money to +him for any reason, she may as well realize at once the reed on +which she will lean if she accepts him for a life companion. To +deceive herself for a moment with the idea that he will be a staff +of strength, is but to delay disillusion. A vital quality is left +out of his character. +<p>He is but one step removed from the man who <i>seeks</i> a woman +because she has money. And he is the most despicable of the human +race. +<p>I have known three women of different social positions to lend +money to their lovers. +<p>One man invested it and lost it, and never made an effort to +reimburse the lady, who broke her engagement in consequence, after +two unhappy years. Another went away owing the money, and was never +again heard from. The third married the unwise woman who had loaned +him her competence, and continued to look to her for support. +<p>Therefore, my dear Nanette, I would urge you to think twice, and +yet a third time, before you lend your fiancé your savings. +<p>Tell him frankly that you will feel more respect for him if he +is willing to sacrifice comfort and save from his own income enough +to lift the debt he has incurred, and that you are sure he will +feel less humiliated as time goes by if he is not financially in +debt to you. If he were to fall ill tell him it would be your first +impulse to devote your money to his care; but while he is +able-bodied and well, you do not like to have him lean on you for +aid. +<p>You can judge something of the man's character by the way he +receives this statement from you. +<p>And whatever may result, even if it is the end of your +engagement, do not grieve your heart away over it. Better far to +have the end come now than to marry a dependent and shiftless man, +who will humiliate your pride by a thousand and one mean traits. +The moment a young wife becomes the financial head of a household, +and the man depends upon her to keep the family free from debt, +sentiment and romance fly from the windows of the heart, and poor +Cupid goes away with his head under his wing. This situation might +befall people long married, as I said before, without causing +disaster, because the wife would have years of other experiences +stored up in memory, to maintain her respect for her husband. +<p>The natural instinct of a manly man is to be the protector and +the breadwinner. He loves to shield and support the woman of his +choice. If she has any talent or profession which gives her +satisfaction to pursue, and which yields her an income, he will, if +broad-minded and sympathetic, place no obstacle in her path so long +as this vocation is no barrier to their domestic happiness. But he +is sensitive to her assuming any of the financial burdens of life. +<p>If circumstances render it necessary for her to do so, he +suffers keenly, and the utmost delicacy and consideration on her +part alone can save him from utter humiliation. +<p>This is the attitude of the manly man, my dear Nanette, the man +who makes the good husband and father. +<p>The unselfish, broad-minded and considerate wife will lead a +husband to think of her right to aid in the establishment and +maintenance of a home when she is able to do her part. But the man +who makes a good husband never suggests it as her duty, or asks her +to advance money. +<p>It is commendable in you to wish to aid in making a home. It is +unmanly in your lover to ask you to help him pay his debts. Beware +of the lover who asks for or accepts a loan. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_The_Rev_Wilton_Marsh"></a> +<h2>To The Rev. Wilton Marsh</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding His Son and Daughter<br> +<p>My dear Cousin Wilton:—You have no idea how your letter took me +back to my merry girlhood, when you and I resided in the same +neighbourhood, and I was the concern of your precociously serious +mind. Yes, indeed, I do realize what a mistake you made in living +the repressed life you did all those early boyhood years. What a +pity your parents reared one of your sensitive and imaginative +nature in the gloomy old doctrines of a depressing religion, which +so misrepresented the God of love: and how odd that your father and +mine should have been born of the same parents, educated in the +same schools, and yet be no more alike in beliefs or methods of +life than two people of a different race and era. +<p>And again it is not strange, when we realize that hundreds of +generations lie back of both parents, and innumerable ancestors of +both father and mother contribute their different mentalities to +the children in a family. Back of that is the great philosophy of +reincarnation—the truth of which impresses me more and more each +year I live. +<p>Do you recall your horror the first time I told you I had read a +book on reincarnation, and confessed that it had made me anxious to +study the theory? +<p>You said I was a pagan and a heathen, and that I would surely be +damned forever unless I turned to the way of salvation. +<p>And do you recall your misery when I seized you one evening at +your birthday party (you were twenty), and dragged you about the +room in a waltz? That is, I waltzed, while you hobbled about like a +lame calf, much to the amusement of most of the company. +<p>There were more who sympathized with my views of life than with +yours. You were such a wet blanket on our youthful spirits. Your +ever-blazing lake of brimstone did not even serve to warm the +blanket. +<p>I have been gratified to watch your growth the last ten years. +<p>You have so changed your point of view, which indicates your +real worth and progressive good sense. And when you tell me that +you have for years regretted your lost opportunities for natural +and moral pleasure, and that you suffered beyond your power to +describe in those old days in conquering your desire to dance and +play games, it brings the tears of mingled rage and pity to my +eyes. Rage at the old theology, and pity for the poor children +whose lives were shadowed by it. +<p>And now what you tell me of your son and daughter proves another +of my theories true, and shows me how nature revenges its wrongs. +<p>Children, my dear Wilton, especially the offspring of strong +characters, <i>inherit the suppressed tendencies of their +parents</i>. They bring into action the unexhausted impulses and +the ungratified desires of those parents. +<p>The greatest singers are almost invariably the offspring of +mothers or fathers who <i>were music hungry</i>, and who were given +no complete gratification of this craving. +<p>The poet, you will find, is the voice of an artistic-natured +parent, who was forced to be emotionally dumb. +<p>And the proverbial clergyman's son is merely the natural result +of the same cause. He is charged with the tendencies and impulses +which his father crucified. +<p>That your son loathes study, and hates church-going, and adores +a brass band and a circus, and runs away to the races, does not in +the least surprise me. Nor that your sixteen-year-old daughter +grows hysterical at the sound of dance music, and prefers a +theatrical show in your village hall to a Sunday-school picnic, and +is mad to become an actress. +<p class="c3">They are your own wronged and starved emotions +personified, and crying out to you for justice. +<p>The very best thing for you to do with the boy is to put him +into a gymnasium and a football team as soon as possible. Offer no +opposition when he wants to see a good horse-race. Urge him to go, +and ask him to tell you all about it when he returns. Begin right +now to get close to the heart of your children. +<p>Once you do that, once you convince them you are near enough to +their lives to understand their needs and to try and gratify their +natural longings, all your worries will take wing and fly away; for +your children will cease to hide and cloak their actions and +natures, and they will no longer wish to deceive or attempt to defy +you. +<p>Send your daughter where she can learn dancing, in company with +other refined and well-bred young people. You have so far +emancipated yourself from your old superstitions and beliefs that +this action on your part will not antagonize the desirable members +of your congregation. +<p>Only a remnant of the old bigots and intolerants are to be found +in any congregation of intelligent people of to-day. +<p>If that remnant is shaken out of its winding-sheet by being +antagonized, you may galvanize it into life. +<p>At all events, do not endanger the peace of your home and the +happiness of your children, for fear of antagonizing a few +parishioners of arrested spiritual development. +<p>Give your son and daughter an outlet for the youthful vitality +which is like steam: a moving power when used, dangerous and +destructive when pent up. +<p>Take young Wilton and Rebecca into a room, and talk the whole +matter over. +<p>Tell them how deeply you love them, and how you have just come +to realize the mistake you have made in trying to eradicate from +them the natural desire for wholesome pleasure instead of giving it +proper avenues of expression. +<p>Say frankly that you see your error, and that you intend to +rectify it. +<p>Ask their coöperation, and appeal to their good taste and +affection not to mortify or humiliate you in your position of +clergyman, by overstepping the bounds of decorum or discretion. +<p>Lead them to talk of their ambitions and desires, and, as +consistently as you can, gratify them. +<p>Let your daughter come to me for a season. I will help to +reshape and modify her ideals of enjoyment to some degree. +<p>I am sure if she sees a few of our best spectacular plays, and +hears good music, and enjoys beautiful rhythmic dancing, she will +not be so carried away with the travelling show. +<p>I will acquaint her with some of the commonplace facts +concerning the lives of theatrical people, and show her the frayed +tinsel and worn faces by daylight. This will do more for her than +all your sermons on the dangers of a theatrical career. +<p>The young heart is fascinated with the thought of danger and +temptation. +<p>It is repelled by the commonplace and the ugly. +<p>When you talk to a young mind in a whisper and behind locked +doors about a temptation to be avoided, you but give edge to +appetite and curiosity. +<p>When you bring the temptation out into the glare of sunlight, +and speak of it in presence of the whole world, you dispel the +illusion. +<p>I will gather together some data concerning the sporting men of +America, and send your son. I will also mail him the sporting +papers regularly. Let him talk and read openly about the subject, +and it will lose half its weird charm. +<p>He, too, should learn to dance, swim, fence, and ride. His +bounding vitality needs directing in wholesome channels. I have +never understood the prejudice against dancing. +<p>To me, it is a form of religious praise of the Creator of youth, +health, vitality, and grace. I have always loved dancing, and the +exercise, besides being eminently beneficial to the health and +wonderfully conducive to grace is, to my thinking, highly moral in +its effect. Its only danger lies in wrong associations, and these +seem to threaten young people who are restricted from the enjoyment +in their homes and among their rightful companions. +<p>I cannot help thinking that Loie Fuller should have a niche in +the hall of fame, among the "Immortals," for having given the last +century her exquisitely beautiful creations in dancing. +<p>No woman has given us a great epic, or a great painting, or a +great musical composition, but she has given us a great dance-poem, +which is at the same time a painting and a song. Oh, you poor +starved, blind soul, to be deprived of such beautiful spectacles. +How I pity you, and how I pray you to give your children the +privileges you have missed through a belittling idea of your +Creator. +<p>Do you fancy God would punish beautiful young Rebecca for +dancing, any sooner than he would blight the willow-tree for waving +its graceful arms to the tune the wind-harps play? +<p>Come up out of the jungles of ignorance and bigotry, my dear +cousin, and live on the hilltops and bring your children with you. +For there you will all find yourself nearer to God and to humanity. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Charles_McAllister"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Charles McAllister</h2> +<p class="c3">Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne<br> +<p>I am glad that for once you have written and asked my advice +before you began your course of action. +<p>You wrote me after you entered Vassar and asked me what I +thought of your doing so. +<p>You wrote me after you married Doctor McAllister, and asked me +what I thought of that. My reply was a wedding gift and a telegram +of good wishes. Now, after three years of married life, you write +again and ask me to decide a question which has caused some +discussion between you and the doctor. +<p>"He did not take my view of the matter at first," you say, "but +he does now. Still, I feel that I would like another unprejudiced +opinion before I take the contemplated step. You knew I left +college before finishing my course. I was in love and the doctor +urged me not to make him wait another year. He said I knew enough +to make him happy, and so I consented." +<p>Then you proceed to tell me that you have never regretted this +step, and that you have the best husband in the world. But you have +decided musical gifts, and before meeting the doctor you intended +going abroad to cultivate them after you finished at Vassar. This +old ambition has taken hold of you again, and you want to join a +friend, one of your classmates, who sails in June to study art in +Europe. You desire to take a two or three years' course, and then +you will be equipped with an accomplishment which could be made a +profession if necessity demanded. +<p>"One never knows what the future holds," you say, "and it is the +duty of every woman to make the most of herself." Both remarks are +as true as they are trite. An almost graduate of Vassar should be +more original in expressing herself. +<p>But there is another duty a woman should not forget—the duty to +stand by her marriage vows and to make her husband a good wife. It +seems the doctor did not eagerly approve your idea at the +beginning. I am glad he did not. Unless a wife is in a precarious +state of health or has an ailing child, I always suspect the +honesty of a husband who cheerfully seconds her suggestion of a +protracted absence from home. +<p>When a man shows no regret at having his wife away for an entire +season, there is something wrong with his heart. +<p>Love does not find its home there, or he could not speed her +going so far, and for so long a time, at the bidding of ambition or +pleasure. You evidently have won the doctor over by argument, and +made him feel that he is selfish to tie you down or clip the wings +of your ambition. The American husband is so fearful of seeming a +tyrant. "He realizes now," you say, "that a woman has the right to +develop the talents God gave her just as a man does, and that it is +a wrong against her 'higher self' to crush down these ambitions. He +realizes, too, that this separation means greater powers of +usefulness for me in the future, and greater opportunities for +pleasure. It will be a long and lonely time for both of us, as I +shall only come home once or twice and the doctor may not be able +to go over at all, though I hope he will. But the expense of my +studies will of course be great, and we shall both need to +economize. It is my intention to start a little conservatory after +I return and take a few high-priced pupils. In that way I can +reimburse our expenditure." +<p>But can you, my dear Winifred, <i>reimburse your mutual losses +in other ways</i>? You do not seem to realize what such a +separation may mean. You are both young and both attractive. I know +now that you are beginning to be angry at my suggestion, but, +fortunately, you cannot interrupt me, and you must hear what I have +to say. +<p>Of course you are not a frivolous flirt, or a silly-headed +creature with no ideals or principles. You have nothing of the +adventuress in your composition, but you are a young woman, with +personal charms and talents, and life will be unutterably desolate +for you if you make a recluse of yourself. You will be surrounded +by people of artistic temperaments and tastes, and I know, if you +do not, that many of these people do lack ideals, and some of them +lack principles and take pride in the fact. "Art for art's sake, +life for pleasure's sake," is their motto. The entire situation +will be full of danger for you. But far more danger will surround +your husband. A man's temptations are always greater than a +woman's. That is, there are <i>more</i> temptations in his pathway, +from the fact that he is by nature and environment less guarded and +protected, and the penalties for folly are less severe. And of all +men, unless it is a clergyman, a physician is most exposed to +temptation. He is the confidant of hysterical women and the sharer +of domestic secrets. Many a woman believes she is ill only because +she desires the sympathy of her doctor, just as many a woman +fancies herself disturbed with religious agitation only because she +wants the society of her minister. +<p>Of course a doctor of any character or principle does not +compromise his reputation or disgrace his calling readily. I hear +Doctor McAllister spoken of as a man of high standing, and his +picture shows a well-balanced head and an honest, manly face. But +"A man's a man for a' that," my dear Winifred. +<p>We must accept facts as they exist all about us, and we must not +demand of half-evolved human beings what we would expect of wholly +divine creatures. It is an unnatural position for a man to be +separated from the wife he loves for months and years. +<p>Unless he is sustained by intense religious beliefs, extreme +sympathy or sorrow for her (as he might be were she compelled by +some great trouble or duty to be absent), it is impossible for him +not to grow in a measure forgetful of his ideals of constancy, and +to drift into bachelor habits of distraction. Men do a thousand and +one things for amusement which no woman could or would. Gilded and +glittering halls of vice are inviting the inspection and patronage +of men who are left at home by journeying and pleasure-seeking +wives. +<p>I know this terrible statement to be absolutely +true—<i>gambling-houses and dens of infamy speak of their "best +season" when wives leave town for summer outings, just as a farmer +speaks of his harvest season when crops are ripe.</i> I do not +suppose your husband will seek the companionship of gamblers or +depraved souls during your absence. Men as seemingly high and +strong as he have fallen so low, but I do not believe he will. Yet, +so long as we know such conditions exist, and so long as men as a +class take the liberties they do when left to find distraction and +entertainment, it seems to me little less than criminal when a +young wife like yourself deliberately leaves her home and husband +for the sake of any possible attainment. +<p>You have no right to marry a man and then to make his happiness +and his comfort secondary to your ambitions. +<p>If he had neglected you, if he failed to support you, if he was +not loyal to you, it would be different. +<p>But you say he is "the best of men," and that you never have +regretted marrying him. +<p>Then let me beg of you to stand by him, as a wife should, and to +make what progress in your music you can at home, and wait until +your husband can accompany you before you go abroad to study. +<p>The highway of divorce is crowded with the student wives who +have been "abroad to study," leaving their husbands at home to earn +the money. Do not be one of them. +<p>There are greater things than a satisfied ambition, and a clean, +happy, united married life is one. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Charles Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Maternity<br> +<p>I have tried to imagine myself in your place, as you requested, +before answering your letter. +<p>To be the mother of two children, and to know that a third may +be added before the fifth anniversary of your wedding, is for the +most maternal of women a situation requiring rare patience and much +philosophy. +<p>I know that your strength is depleted, that you are nervously +unstrung, and I can understand your despondent state of mind. +<p>It seems to you that all romance and sentiment in life is being +sacrificed to breeding the species. You feel that you have some +personal privileges as a wife and a woman, not less than a mother. +<p>Like yourself, I do not believe woman's only mission in life to +be the production of offspring, yet I consider motherhood the +highest privilege accorded her who has for it the right physical +and moral qualities. +<p>Only strong, sensible, and healthy women should become mothers, +and it is a mistake for even such as they to be kept constantly in +that occupation. +<p>You possess all the requisites, and you ought to bring fine +children into the world, since you married the man you loved, and +have been happy with him. +<p>But I can understand your reluctance to pass through the ordeal +which modern motherhood in civilized races means, for a third time, +in so short a period. But try and take another view of the +situation. +<p>Benjamin Franklin was the fifteenth child of a poor tallow +chandler. It is altogether probable that his coming seemed a +misfortune to his mother, taxed with the care of such a brood. +Think what the world would have missed had he not come to earth. +<p>Then think of this unborn child as something wonderful and +divine, given to you to perfect. Believe it is to be the greatest +blessing to you and to the whole world. +<p>Cultivate love and protection in your heart for it. +<p>Tell yourself every hour of the day that the God of love will +not desert you or deprive you of strength and courage for your +ordeal. That he will be ever near, and sustain and comfort you. +<p>Desire all beautiful and good qualities to be given your child, +and resolutely turn away from the contemplation of anything that is +hideous, or unwholesome, or depressing. +<p>Look for pleasing objects, read cheerful and uplifting books, +and from infinite space call to you all ministering influences. +<p>Consider how short a time, when compared to the span of human +life, expectant motherhood occupies, and realize the vastness of +its influence upon the nature of the child, and through that nature +upon all humanity. +<p>Once you grasp that consciousness, you will feel your closeness +to the Creator of all things. +<p>Indeed, there is no other being on earth so nearly Godlike in +power as the mother who realizes what her influence over her unborn +child may be. +<p>The hard and painful path for you to walk is but a short one +compared to the long roadway to eternity for your child. +<p>Perhaps some great statesman, or some great artist, or some +great scientist or philosopher is lying under your heart, and it is +in your power to make or mar his development. Perhaps a Joan of +Arc, or a Rosa Bonheur, or a Martha Washington will crown you with +pride. +<p>Such genius and influence for good as the world has never before +known, from mortal sources, may be given to it through your unborn +child. How wonderful your privilege, how vast your power! +<p>Only a few short months, and then the growing wonder of a +child's unfolding mind, to beautify your days. +<p>Think of it in this way, dear little tired and nervous woman, +and God and all his angels will hover over you, I know, and all +will be well with you. +<p>My prayers are with you. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Alfred_Duncan"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Alfred Duncan</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning the Ministry<br> +<p>And so you have changed your plan of life and, instead of +becoming an experimenter with the flesh, are going to be a healer +of souls. +<p>And what do I think about it? I am glad you are not to be an +M.D. There is an era coming when the doctor will be a prehistoric +creature. Oh, it is far, far away, but already the most progressive +minds have ceased to regard the family physician as an infallible +being. +<p>Medicine has made the least progress of any of the sciences in +the last few centuries. +<p>Credulity has cured more people than pills. +<p>Were you to study medicine, I should advise you to take up +surgery, osteopathy, electricity, the Kneippe Cure, milk diet, and +all the various methods of stimulating circulation; for the people +who patronize these treatments are increasing, as the powder and +pill patrons are on the decrease. +<p>Then, too, I should urge you to make a careful study of mental +and spiritual methods of cure, that you might be wholly equipped +for the dawn of the new age. You are a young man, and you will +probably live to see a wonderful change in the treatment of +disease, and to find the physician of the old school relegated to +the historian. +<p>But just as carefully you should now survey the religious +horizon, before beginning your studies for the ministry. +<p>It is utterly useless to stand with lifted eyes and say, "The +faith of my parents is good enough for me—good enough for all +mankind." +<p>Had the children of ancient Salem said that, and their children +repeated it, you would probably be lighting faggots at this moment +to roast a "witch," instead of a brother of the opposite creed. +<p>The narrow, intolerant old dogmas have been forced into +elasticity by the later generations, and the broadening work still +goes on. +<p>It makes no difference how satisfied you may be with a +prospective lake of fire for your enemies, the congregations you +are to address will not listen to that style of sermon as did your +grandparents. +<p>Only the ignorant minds to-day harbour ideas of cruelty and +revenge in connection with a Creator. +<p>Thinkers find such theories inconsistent with religious belief. +Individual thought is leading to individual faith. +<p>Where once I believed in a universal church for all the world, I +now believe in a separate creed for each soul, one fashioned to +suit his own particular need, with the underlying basis of love for +all created things as its foundation. +<p>Let each man worship in his own way, and follow his own ideal of +duty to God and humanity. +<p>If it is the pleasure of one to give up all his worldly goods, +and to go and live and labour among the poor, wish him Godspeed; +but if another keeps his place among men of affairs, makes money +honestly, and uses it unselfishly, let him, too, have your +blessing, since he is setting a good example for the +worldly-minded. If one man finds himself nearer to God on Sunday by +going out and peacefully enjoying the beauties of nature and the +association of his kind, do not try to convince him that he is on +the highway to perdition because he does not sit in a pew and +listen to depressing sermons. +<p>The day is over for that type of clergyman to succeed. +<p>Make a study of the needs of men <i>to-day</i>, and suit your +sermons to those needs. +<p>Men need to know more of the wonders of God's universe. Talk to +them in a brief, concise, interesting manner of the recent +discoveries of science, and their frequent remarkable corroboration +of the old religious theories. Thousands of years ago, in Egypt and +India, wise men said that metals and all created things possessed +life, and were a part of one great immortal whole, of which man was +the highest expression. +<p>Science is "discovering" and proving the truth of many +statements made by those old seers and savants. Call the attention +of the men of to-day to this fact, and set them thinking on the +wonders of the immortal soul. +<p>The man of to-day is an egotist regarding his scientific +achievements. He has grown to think of himself as a giant before +whose material success all other things must give way. He believes +that he has discovered, invented, photographed and made profitable +all the "facts" of the universe, and is inclined to regard with +intolerance any idea beyond his own mechanical domain. +<p>Tell him how much was divined thousands of years ago, and lead +him to realize the mighty depths of the unsounded ocean of his own +being. +<p>To know your own triple self, body, mind, and spirit, and to +make yourself a complete man, with the body beautiful, the mind +clear, the spirit radiant, is better than to have all the Bibles of +the ages, in all their ancient languages, at your tongue's tip. +<p>Help men to the building of character, which shall enable them +to be honest in street and mart, unselfish in home and society, and +sympathetic to their fellow pilgrims. +<p>Salvation is gained as a house is built, brick by brick, day +after day, not by spasmodic efforts one day in the week, and the +destruction of that effort in the remaining six. +<p>And each man must be his own mason, and select and lay his own +bricks. All the clergyman can do is to act the part of overseer. +<p>The man who goes to another, and expects his prayers to save +him, is like the mason who expects the "boss" to do his work, while +he draws the pay. Do no man's task—physical, mental, or spiritual. +That is not friendship or religion. Your work is to stimulate +others to do their own work, think their own thoughts, and live +their own lives. +<p>The world to-day demands facts to sustain faith. +<p><i>Spiritual facts are to be obtained</i>. +<p>Find them: for once convinced of the continuation of life beyond +the grave, and of the necessity to earn its privileges, by +self-conquest and character-building, humanity will rise "from the +lowly earth to the vaulted skies," and will realize that this earth +is but the anteroom to larger spheres of usefulness. +<p>Go forth and find—go forth and find, and do not be afraid to +strike out of beaten paths and avoid ruts. Cultivate spiritual +courage. It is what few clergymen possess, and it will give you +individuality at least. +<p>Preach the religion of happy harmonious homes. Make men and +women realize that heaven must begin here, in order to continue +farther on, and that the angelic qualities, of love, sympathy, +goodness, appreciation, must be rehearsed in the body, before they +can be successfully enacted in full-dress angel costume with wings. +<p>God will not care for the eternal praises sung about his throne +by a man who swears at his wife on earth, or a wife who nags her +husband and children. It is no use expecting a rôle in a +continuous performance of happiness in heaven, if you do not learn +one line of the part on earth. +<p>Make your congregations think of the necessity to <i>live</i> +their religion in earth's commonplace daily situations. +<p>That is the religion the world needs. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Charles_Gray"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Charles Gray</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Polygamy<br> +<p>All that you say, regarding the excitement over the seating of +your Salt Lake Senator, is quite true. +<p>I have visited your city, and have made the acquaintance of many +of your people, and I know the private life of the gentleman you +sent to represent you in Washington is beyond reproach. +<p>He is a good husband, a good father, a good citizen. He was born +of a polygamous father and mother, and his childhood's home was a +happy one. He was educated in the belief that it was wrong for a +man to cohabit with any woman not his wife, but right for him to +marry many wives. +<p>He has not married many wives, however, and does not intend to. +His private life, his domestic life and his financial record are +all clean and clear of stain. +<p>So much cannot be said of many other Senators and +Representatives at our capitol. +<p>Good women are horrified when seeking government positions to +find how the sacrifice of virtue is demanded as payment for +influence. +<p>These statements cannot be evaded or denied. Let one who +questions them investigate the conditions existing in Washington in +the past and to-day. +<p>What a record it would be were every girl and woman who had been +led into the path of folly by married Senators and Representatives +to come forth and tell her story! +<p>There are clean, decent, high-minded men in both houses. There +are good citizens, good patriots, good men there. +<p>But so long as one married seducer and misleader of women +retains a seat in either house unmolested, so long as one man stays +who is unfaithful to his marriage vows, the opposers of the Senator +from Utah should base their objections on other than moral grounds. +<p>But despite the facts you bring to bear on your argument, that +polygamy leads to more morality in the homes of the land than our +present conditions illustrate, I must disagree with you. +<p>I am opposed to polygamy. Any social arrangement which licenses +men to possess several women, to give full rein to their desires, +is a block to the wheels of progress. +<p>Not until man learns the lesson of self-control, as woman has +learned it, will humanity reach its highest development. +<p>Not until man ceases to place himself on a par with the +unreasoning male animal, when he argues on the subject of the +sexual relations, will he become the master of circumstance he is +meant to be. +<p>One man and one woman living sexually true to each other is the +ideal domestic life. Better strive toward that ideal, and fail and +strive again, than to lower it and accept license and +self-indulgence as the standard, under some religious name. +<p>Polyandry and polygamy are both evidences of a crude and +half-evolved humanity. +<p>They belong to a society which has not learned the law of +self-control as a part of its religious creed and the march of +progress. The light of science makes havoc of all such primitive +conditions. +<p>You tell me that your father was the husband of three wives, and +that all lived under one roof in sisterly love, and that you never +heard an unkind word spoken in your home, and that all three wives +loved you as a son. You tell me your father held high ideals of +womankind, and that the existence of a fallen woman was impossible +in your community. +<p>Now I contend that any woman who accepts less than the full +loyalty of the man to whom she gives herself for life <i>has fallen +from woman's highest estate</i>. She lowers not only herself, but +the whole sex. +<p>To take a third of a man's love, and to share his physical and +mental and spiritual comradeship with two other wives, is far more +immoral, to my thinking, than to take the whole of a man without +legal authority. +<p>It drags down and belittles woman in the eyes of man. It is +useless to contend that such conditions lead to respect. +<p>There is too much of the big male I, and the little female you, +in the arrangement. There is too much of the old idea that God made +man, and accident made woman, for man's use. There is too much of +self-indulgence for the man, and repression for the woman,—a +condition which has blocked the highest development of the race for +centuries. +<p>Meanwhile, I think it a great pity that society does not hold +the expectant mother in the same reverence as in your community. +That is certainly a lesson we can learn from the Mormons. And that +explains why your children, born of polygamous mothers, are +stronger physically, and more universally endowed mentally, than +the average children in the world at large. +<p>Mothers were guarded and protected and revered, and children +were made welcome, and no such crime as darkens our own social +world—the crime of destroying embryo life—was known in your midst. +<p>It is a glorious heritage to give a child this parental love and +welcome. It lasts through eternity. +<p>But it does not seem to me that it is necessary to have polygamy +prevail in order to produce right conditions for the propagation of +offspring. In time the world will realize the importance of +teaching men and women how to become good parents. +<p>It will learn, too, the magnificent results to be obtained from +one moral code for both sexes, and this result could never be +obtained in a polygamous community. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Walter_Smeed"></a> +<h2>To Walter Smeed</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Creeds and Marriage<br> +<p>Before you left us, I realized that you and my pretty secretary +were finding matters of mutual interest. +<p>Therefore, I am not surprised that you are thinking seriously of +her as a future companion. +<p>Rosalie is a charming, intelligent, warm-hearted, excellent +girl, and there is no reason why she would not make you a good +wife, save the one you mention—the difference in your creeds. +<p>You are a Roman Catholic, Rosalie is a devout Protestant. +<p>Were the cases reversed, and were you the Protestant and Rosalie +the Catholic, I should say the chances of happiness were greater +than as conditions now stand. +<p>As a rule, the most religious man is more liberal than the +religious woman. And when marriage between a Roman Catholic and a +Protestant is the question, there is need of greater liberality on +the part of the Protestant than on that of the Catholic. +<p>Why? Because with the Protestant there is no consideration to be +thought of outside of his or her own convictions and feelings. +<p>With the Catholic, the power of the Church and the law regarding +the rearing of the children in its faith walks beside the +contracting party, sits at the table, and sleeps on the marital +couch. +<p>There is no happiness for the husband or wife who has entered +into such a marriage, after the arrival of children, unless the +laws of the Church are obeyed. +<p>When the wife is a Catholic, the fact that she is a good woman +and true wife satisfies the Protestant husband, as a rule, and he +makes no objection to her carrying out the contract with her Church +regarding the education of the children. +<p>If they are as moral and good as their mother, he does not care +what faith occupies their hearts or in what way they worship God. +<p>But to the mother this is a matter of vital importance. +<p>Woman is by nature more devout than man. +<p>Woman is by nature more tyrannical than man. +<p>Take those two characteristics, and add to them the tendency of +many women to bigotry and intolerance, and it makes the matter of +creeds vital in marriage. +<p>Rosalie is broader-minded than many women, yet she is devoted to +the Congregational Church, and rarely misses attendance. +<p>It will be an easy matter for her to accept your faith for +yourself and to allow you to attend your own church, and she is, I +am sure, broad enough to go with you occasionally, if you request +it. +<p>But when she becomes a mother, and the children's minds are +unfolding, I doubt her willingness to have them brought up in any +faith save her own. +<p>To an unwedded girl in love, a child is a very indistinct +creature. +<p>To a mother, it is a very real being. +<p>I have seen men as deeply in love as you are, with women as +liberal-minded as Rosalie, become very unhappy after marriage +through the opposite ideas of the wife regarding the education of +children. +<p>You must remember how much more closely a mother's life is +entwined about her children, and how much more of their association +usually falls to her than to the father. +<p>This is especially true of daughters, and is true of sons up to +a certain age. +<p>You can understand, I am sure, how much more companionship a +mother would find in children who accepted her faith and attended +her church than in those whose spiritual paths led in another +direction. +<p>I know Rosalie realizes that a good life, not a certain creed, +leads to the goal she seeks, after this phase of existence closes, +and she does not ask you to change your faith. But while she would +also believe her children were on the road to that goal, she would +want them to walk through her path and by her side. +<p>It will be hard to relinquish the woman you love, to-day, for +the children who might not come to-morrow. +<p>Yet I can give you the counsel you asked on this matter only +from my personal observation of similar unions. +<p>I should advise you to try an absence of some duration, and to +forget Rosalie if you can, since you have not yet declared +yourself. +<p>Better a little temporary sorrow than a life of discord. +<p>As you grow older your religion will, in all probability, gain a +stronger ascendency over your nature, and the church to which you +belong is very tenacious in its hold upon its members. +<p>Rosalie is not of a yielding nature, and as I said before, she +is more devoted to her church than most young women of the day. +<p>The physical phases of your love blind you now. But these phases +are only a part of the tie which must bind husband and wife to make +love enduring through all of life's vicissitudes. +<p>There must be mental companionship, and to be a complete union +there must be sympathy in spiritual ideas. +<p>The very young do not realize this fact, but it is forced upon +the mature. +<p>Marital love is like a tree. It first roots in the soil of +earth, and then lifts its branches to the heavens. Unless it does +so lift its branches it is stunted and deformed, and is not a tree. +Unless it roots in earth it is not a tree, but an air-plant or a +cobweb. +<p>You want to be sure the tree you are thinking to make a shelter +for your whole life, will have far-reaching and uplifting branches, +and will not be merely an earth-bound twig. +<p>Since your church permits no second marriage save by the door of +death, do not make a mistake in your first. +<p>Take a year, at least, of absence and separation, and think the +matter over. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Sybyl_Marchmont2"></a> +<h2>To Sybyl Marchmont</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single<br> +<p>It is with genuine regret that I learn of your determination to +send my nephew out of your life. Wilfred is a royal fellow, as that +term is employed by us. He is what a man of royal descent in +monarchies rarely proves to be,—self-reliant, enterprising, +industrious, clean, and with high ideals of woman. +<p>Eight years ago I declined a request of his for a loan, and told +him my reasons—that I believed loans were an injury to our friends +or relatives. My letter seemed to arouse all the strength latent in +his nature, and he has made a remarkable record for himself since +that time. I have known that he was deeply in love with you for the +last two years, and I had hoped you would listen to his plea. He +tells me that you imparted your history to him, and that you say it +is your intention to remain single, as you would not like to bring +children into the world to suffer from the stigma upon your name. +He has shown me your letter wherein you say, "I am not in fault for +having to blush for the sins of my parents; but I would be in fault +if my children had to blush for the blemish upon the name of their +grandparents. I do not feel I could meet their questioning eyes +when they asked me about my parents. I can better bear the loss of +the personal happiness of a home and a husband's love." +<p>Wilfred is just the man to protect you and to keep the world at +a distance, where it could not affect your life by its comments. He +regards your birth in the same light that I do, and would rather +transmit your lovely qualities of soul and mind to his descendants +than the traits of many proudly born girls who are ready to take +him at the first asking: for you must know how popular he is with +our sex. +<p>I can not believe you are insensible to his magnetic and lovable +qualities, but, as you say, you have been so saddened by the sudden +knowledge of your history that it has blunted your emotions in +other directions. I can only hope this will wear away and that you +will reconsider your resolve and consent to make Wilfred the happy +and proud man you could, by becoming his wife. +<p><i>Never forget that God created love and man created +marriage</i>. +<p>And to be born of a loveless union is a darker blight than to be +born in love without union. +<p>But what I want to talk about now, is your determination to live +a single life and to devote yourself to reclaiming weak and erring +women. You are young to enter this field of work, yet at +twenty-four you are older than many women of thirty-five, because +you have had the prematurely ripening rain of sorrow on your life. +I know you will go into the work you mention with the sympathy and +understanding which alone can make any reformatory work successful. +Yet you are going to encounter experiences which will shock and +pain you, in ways you do not imagine now. +<p>You are starting out with the idea of most sympathetic good +women, that all erring souls of their own sex fall through betrayed +trust, and broken promises, and misplaced love. Such cases you will +encounter, and they will most readily respond to your efforts for +their reformation. But many of those you seek to aid will have gone +on the road to folly through mercenary motives, and this will prove +a vast obstacle. +<p>When a woman sells to Mammon, under any stress of circumstance, +that which belongs to Cupid, there is something left out of her +nature and character which renders the efforts of the reformers +almost useless. You know all real, lasting reform must come from +within. The woman who has once decided that fine apparel, and +comfort, and leisure, are of more value to her than her virtue +usually reaches old age or disease before the reformer can even +gain her attention. You will find many such among your +protégées, and you may as well leave them to work out +their own reformation, and turn your energies to those who long for +a better life. +<p>It is that longing which means real reformation. To paraphrase +an old couplet—<span class="c4">The soul reformed against its +will</span><br> +<span class="c4">Clings to the same old vices still.</span><br> +<p>I do not believe in a forced morality, save as a protection to a +community. I believe in it as a legal fence, but it possesses no +value as a religious motive. It helps to save society some +annoyance, but it does not materially improve the condition of +humanity. Such improvements must come from the desire of men and +women to reach higher standards. So, after you have planted a +little seed in the mind of the mercenary Magdalene which may in +time sprout and grow, pass on, and find those who have gone wrong +from other causes, and who are longing for a hand to lead them +right. +<p>And of all things do not expect a girl who has lived in the +glare of red lights, and listened to the blare of bands, and worn +the ofttimes becoming garb of folly, and stimulated her spirits +with intoxicants—do not expect her, I say, to suddenly be contented +with quiet and solitude, and drudgery, and cheap, unlovely +garments, and goodness. Give her something to entertain her and to +occupy her mind, give her something to live for and hope for and to +be pleased over, besides the mere fact of reformation. The opium +victim, you must remember, can not at once partake of wholesome +food and be well and happy in the thought that he has given up his +drug. Neither can the folly victim. The standards of happiness and +contentment which the moral woman has always found satisfactory, +she too often considers sufficient for the sister who has wandered +from the path. But they are standards which, once lost, must be +gained step by step, painfully and slowly. They are not reached by +a bound. As much as possible keep your reformed sister's mind from +dwelling on the past, or from talking of her mistakes and sins. +Blot them from her memory by new and interesting plans and +occupations. The way to live a new life is to live it. +<p>And our thoughts and conversation are important parts of living. +Instead of praying aloud to God to forgive her sins, show the God +spirit in yourself by forgiving and forgetting and helping her to +forget. +<p>And now a word about yourself. +<p>You are twenty-four, lovely, sympathetic, fond of children and +animals, wholesome and normal in your habits, without crankiness, +and popular with both sexes. While there are many wives and widows +possessed of these qualities, there seems to be some handicap to +the spinster in the race of life who undertakes to arrive at middle +age with all the womanly attributes. Almost invariably she drops +some of them by the wayside. She becomes overorderly and fussy—so +that association with her for any length of time is +insupportable—or careless and indifferent. Or she may grow +inordinately devoted to animal pets, and bitter and critical toward +children and married people. +<p>She may develop mannish traits, and dress and appear more like a +man than a feminine woman. +<p>She may ride a hobby, to the discomfort of all other equestrians +or pedestrians on the earth's highway. She may grow so +argumentative and positive that she is intolerant and intolerable. +And whichever of these peculiarities are hers, she is quite sure to +be wholly unconscious of it, while she is quick to see that of +another. Now watch yourself, my dear Sybyl, as you walk alone +toward middle life; do not allow yourself to grow queer or +impossible. It was God's intent that every plant should blossom and +bear fruit, and that every human being should mate and produce +offspring. The plant that fails in any of its functions is usually +blighted in some way, and the woman who fails of life's full +experiences seems to show some repellent peculiarity. But she need +not, once she sets a watch upon herself; she has a conscious soul +and mind, and can control such tendencies if she will. +<p>It is unnatural for a woman to live without the daily +companionship of man. The superior single woman must make tenfold +the effort of the inferior wife, to maintain her balance into +maturity, because of her enforced solitude. As the wife-mother +grows older she is kept in touch with youth, and with the world, +while the opportunities for close companionship with the young +lessen as a single woman passes forty, unless she makes herself +especially adaptable, agreeable, and sympathetic. +<p>And this is what I want you to do. At twenty-four it is none too +soon to begin planning for a charming maturity. +<p>If you are determined upon a life of celibacy, determine also to +be the most wholesome, and normal, and all around liberal, womanly +spinster the world has ever seen. +<p>Peace and happiness to you in your chosen lot. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon2"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Charles Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Sister and Her Children<br> +<p>No, my dear Edna, I do not think it strange that you should seek +advice on this subject from a woman who has no living children. +<p>It seems to me no one is fitted to give such unbiased counsel +regarding the training of children as the woman of observation, +sympathy, and feeling, who has none of her own. +<p>Had I offspring, I would be influenced by my own successes, and +prejudiced by my own failures, and unable to put myself in your +place, as I now do. +<p>A mother rarely observes other people's children, save to +compare them unfavourably with her own. I regret to say that +motherhood with the average woman seems to be a narrowing +experience, and renders her less capable of taking a large, +unselfish view of humanity. +<p>The soldier in the thick of battle is able to tell only of what +he personally experienced and saw, just in the spot where he was +engaged in action. +<p>The general who sits outside the fray and watches the contest +can form a much clearer idea of where the mistakes occurred, and +where the greatest skill was displayed. +<p>I am that general, my dear friend, standing outside the field of +motherhood, and viewing the efforts of my battling sisters to rear +desirable men and women. And I am glad you have appealed to me +while your two children are yet babies to give you counsel, for I +can tell you where thousands have failed. +<p>And I thank you and your husband for reposing so much confidence +in my ideas. +<p>I think, perhaps, we had better speak of the postscript of your +letter first. You ask my opinion regarding the chaperon for your +sixteen-year-old sister, who is going abroad to study for a period +of years. Mrs. Walton will take her and keep her in her home in +Paris, and Miss Brown also stands ready to make her one of three +young girls she desires to chaperon and guide through a foreign +course of study in France and Germany. +<p>You like the idea of having your sister in a home without the +association of other American girls, until she perfects herself in +French, but you are worried about Mrs. Walton's being a divorced +woman. Miss Brown, the spotless spinster, seems the safer guide to +your friends, you tell me. +<p>I know the majority of women would feel that a single woman of +good standing and ungossiped reputation was a safe and desirable +protector for a young girl. +<p>The same majority would hesitate to send their girls away with a +divorced woman. +<p>But as I remarked in the beginning, I have stood outside the +fray and watched similar ventures, and I have grown to realize that +it is not mere respectability and chastity in a woman which make +her a safe chaperon for a young girl,—it is a deep, full, broad +understanding of temperaments and temptations. +<p>Had I a daughter or a sister like your sweet Millie, I would not +allow her to live one year under the dominion of such a woman as +Miss Brown for any consideration. Why? because Miss Brown is all +brain and bigotry. She is narrow and high, not deep and broad. +<p>She is so orthodox that she incites heresy in the rebellious +mind of independent youth. She is so moral she makes one long for +adventure. She would not listen to any questioning of old +traditions, or any speculative philosophizing of a curious young +mind, and she would be intolerant with any girl who showed an +inclination to flirt or be indiscreet. +<p>Your sister Millie is as coquettish as the rose that lifts its +fair face to the sun, and the breeze, and the bee, and expects to +be admired. She is as innocent as the rose, too, but that fact Miss +Brown would never associate with coquetry. +<p>She would class it with vulgarity and degeneracy. Miss Brown is +a handsome woman, but she has no sex instincts. She does not +believe with the scientist, "that in the process of evolution it is +only with the coming of the sex relation that life is enabled to +rise to higher forms." +<p>She believes in brain and spirit, and is utterly devoid of that +feminine impulse to make herself attractive to men, and wholly +incapable of understanding the fascination that Folly holds out to +youth. She has never experienced any temptation, and she would be +shocked at any girl who fell below her standard. +<p>She would carefully protect Millie from danger by high walls, +but she would never eradicate the danger impulse from her nature by +sympathetic counsel, as a more human woman could. +<p>Mrs. Walton is a much better guide for your sister. +<p>She ran away from boarding-school at seventeen, and married the +reckless son of a rich man. She had a stepmother of the traditional +type, and had never known a happy home life. She was of a loving +and trusting and at the same time a coquettish nature, and she +attracted young Walton's eye while out for a walk with a "Miss +Brown" order of duenna. The duenna saw the little embryo +flirtation, and became very much horrified, and preached the girl a +long sermon, and set a close watch upon her actions. +<p>There was no wise, loving guidance of a young girl's life barque +from the reefs of adventure. It was homily and force. The result +was, that the girl escaped from school before six weeks passed, and +married her admirer. +<p>He was fifteen years her senior, a reckless man of the world, +even older in experience than in years. He proved a very bad +husband, but his young wife remained with him until his own father +urged her to leave him. She was quietly divorced, and has lived +abroad almost ever since, and holds an excellent position in the +French capital, as well as in other European centres, and she is +most exemplary in her life. Mr. Walton is now an inmate of a +sanitarium, a victim of paresis. +<p>I can imagine no one so well fitted to exert the wisest +influence upon Millie's life as Mrs. Walton. +<p>There is a woman who has run the whole gamut of girlish folly, +and who knows all the phases of temptation. She knows what it is to +possess physical attractions, and to be flattered by the admiration +of men, and she has passed through the dark waters of disillusion +and sorrow. She would be the one to help Millie out of dangerous +places by sympathy and understanding, instead of using sermons and +keys. +<p>She would mould her young, wax-like character by the warmth of +love, instead of freezing it by austere axioms. +<p>Miss Brown would make an indiscreet young girl feel hopelessly +vulgar and immodest; Mrs. Walton that she understood all about her +foolish pranks, and was able to lead her in the better paths. +<p>Miss Brown prides herself upon never having lost her head with +any man. +<p>Mrs. Walton is like some other women I have known, who have made +mistakes of judgment. She lost her head, but in the losing and the +sorrow that ensued she found a heart for all humanity. +<p>There are women in this world whose cold-white chastity freezes +the poor wayfarer who tries to find in their vicinity rest and +comfort and courage. +<p>Other women cast a cooling shadow, in which the sun-scorched +pilgrim finds peace—the shadow of a past error, from which spring +fragrant ferns and sweet grasses, where tired and bleeding feet may +softly tread. +<p>Mrs. Walton's life casts the shadow of divorce on her pathway, +but it is only the warm, restful shadow of a ripening and mellowing +sorrow. Do not fear to have Millie walk in it. +<p>It will be better for her than the steady glare from a glacier. +<p>I find I have said so much about your sister that I must reserve +my counsel about your children for another letter. +<p>Your postscript was brief, but pregnant with suggestion, and +called for this long reply. +<p>I shall write you again in a few days. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon3"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Charles Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Children<br> +<p>Your wish to have your son, who is now four years old, begin to +develop the manly qualities, and your oldest daughter, who has +reached the mature age of three, start wisely on the path to lovely +womanhood, is far from being premature. +<p>"The tree inclines as the twig is bent," we are told. +<p>Most mothers wait until the tree is in blossom before they begin +to train its inclination. +<p>Your boy is quite old enough to be taught manly pride, in being +useful to you and his sisters. +<p>Such things are not successfully taught by preaching or scolding +or punishing; but are more easily inculcated by tact and praise, +object-lesson and play. +<p>A four-year-old boy is all ears when his father's praises and +achievements are recounted. Any father, save a brute, is a hero in +the eyes of his four-year-old son. I am sure Mr. Gordon has many +admirable traits you can use as interesting topics. +<p>Tell little Charlie how proud you are to have a son who will be +like his father, and attend to the needs of and look after the +interests of his mother and sisters. +<p>Make him think that to be of service to you or his sisters is +one of the first steps toward manhood, as indeed it is. +<p>When he performs any small kindness, praise his manliness. +<p>Teach him to open doors, and to make way for women and elders, +as a part of manly courtesy. +<p>Speak with gentle disapproval of the unfortunately common type +of American boy who pushes women and older people aside to scramble +into public conveyances and secure a seat before them. +<p>Say how proud you are that your son could not be guilty of such +unmanly conduct. +<p>When you are walking with him, call his attention to any woman +or child or poor man in trouble, and if his services can be of use, +urge him to offer them. +<p>I saw one day a small boy spring to the aid of an old coloured +woman who had dropped a lot of parcels in the street, and I thought +it was a certain evidence that his mother was a rare and sweet +woman. For the manners of little boys are almost invariably what +their mothers make them. +<p>Awake early in his heart a sympathy for the deformed, the +crippled, and otherwise unfortunate beings. +<p>There is no other country where such vulgar and heartless +curiosity, and even ridicule, is bestowed upon grotesque or +unsightly types of humanity, as in America. +<p>A little dwarfed girl in New York City committed suicide a few +years ago because she was so weary of being laughed at and +ridiculed by her associates in the street and at school. +<p>Think of that, in this Christian age, and in the metropolis of +America! +<p>An old street peddler was set upon by school-children and so +annoyed and misused that he became insane. +<p>Another was injured by street children—the children of the +public schools—and died from the effects of their abuse. +<p>This is the fault of mothers who have never deemed it their duty +and privilege to awaken the tender and protective qualities in the +character of their children. +<p>Speak often to your boy of the pathos of dumb animals dependent +upon human thoughtfulness for food, drink, and decent usage. +<p>Say what a privilege it seems to you to be able to befriend +them, and to be a voice for them in making others realize their +duty to our dumb brothers. +<p>Obtain interesting books on natural history and read stories of +animal life to your boy. Instruct him in the habits of beast, bird, +and insect, and talk to him of the wonderful domestic instincts and +affections in many of our speechless associates. The exhilaration +of the wild bird, and the happiness of the deer and the hare in the +woods and fields, call to his mind day by day. It will be more +gratifying to you when he is man grown to feel he is the loving +friend and protector, rather than the skilled hunter of bird and +beast. +<p>The higher order of man does not seek slaughter for amusement. +He realizes that he has no right to take, save for self-protection, +that which he cannot give. +<p>Make your son a higher order of man by developing those brain +cells and leaving the destructive and cruel portions of the brain +to shrink from lack of use. +<p>Even in his play with his inanimate toys, you can be arousing +the best or the worst part of your boy's nature. +<p>The child who whips and screams at his hobby-horse usually, when +a man, whips and bellows at his flesh and blood steed. +<p>Tell him the play-horse is more easily managed by coaxing and +petting, and that loud voices make it nervous and frightened. +<p>Suggest water and feed at suitable times, and express sorrow for +the horses with no kind boys to look out for them. +<p>Start a humane society in the nursery and make your boy +president and your little girl honorary member, and act as +treasurer and secretary yourself. +<p>Give him a medal when he offers food to a hungry street animal +or speaks to a driver cruel to his horse, or performs any other +kind act. This will be interesting play to your children, and it +will be sowing seed in fallow ground. +<p>Your baby girl is already old enough to take pride in picking up +the toys she scatters, and putting her chair where it belongs. Make +it a part of your hour of sport with her to help her do these +things. She will not know she is being taught order. +<p>I learned this lesson from a famous author whose baby son was +anxious to play about the library where his father was at work. +<p>The first act of the toddler was to toss all the books in sight +upon the floor and to sit down and turn the leaves, hunting for +pictures. This performance interested him for half an hour, when he +proceeded to seek new fields of action. +<p>"But now let us have great fun putting all the books back just +where we found them," cried the tactful father, with a wink and a +laugh, which made the child believe he was to enjoy the sport of +his life. And it <i>was</i> made sport by the foolish pranks of the +father who knew how little it took to interest a child. +<p>The next day, and the next, the same fall and rise in the book +market took place, but on the fourth day the father was too deeply +engrossed in work to assist in the replacing of the books: when, +lo! the small lad, after a wistful waiting and unanswered call, +proceeded to put the books all back alone. +<p><i>The first important brick in the foundation wall of order was +laid</i>. +<p>So you can teach your little girl all the womanly habits of +method, and order, and neatness, and system, if you have the +patience to act the part of playmate with her a few moments daily. +<p>As she grows in understanding and years, keep yourself at her +side, her nearest friend. Let her feel that she can express her +every thought to you, and that every question which presents itself +to her developing mind, you will seek to answer to the best of your +ability. +<p>Be her confidant, her adviser, her friend, and let her find +pride and happiness in doing things for you. +<p>Never act as maid or domestic to your daughter. +<p>Be the queen and make her your first lady-in-waiting, and show +her the courtesy and appreciation her position demands from +royalty. She will be a better daughter, and a better wife and +mother, later in life, if you do not make the mistake of the +average American mother of waiting upon her from the cradle to the +altar. Let her grow up with the quiet understanding that you are to +be first considered, in matters social and financial. Your wardrobe +must be as well looked after as her own, and if there is to be +economy for one, let her practise it. +<p>The daughter who has a whole household sacrificing and toiling +for her pleasures is spoiled for a wife and woman. The most +admirable young women I have known—and I have known many—are those +who were taught to take it as a matter of course that the mother +was first to be considered, and lovingly served. +<p>Do not be afraid of making your daughter vain by telling her the +attractive features she may possess. +<p>Some one else will if you do not, and it is well for her to hear +it from lips which may more successfully offer counsel afterward. A +certain confidence in her own charms gives a sensibly reared young +woman a poise and self-possession which is to be desired. A touch +of feminine vanity renders a woman more anxious to please, and more +alert to keep always at her best. +<p>But beware of having her acquire egotism. Silly conceit is the +death-blow to higher attainments and to all charm. +<p>Teach your daughter early the accomplishment of listening well. +She will be certain to please if she understands its value. +<p>A woman who looks the converser in the eyes, and does not allow +her glance to wander and become distrait, and who does not +interrupt before the recital is finished, can be sure of popularity +with both men and women. +<p>Give both your son and daughter confidence in themselves and +belief in their power to achieve. There is tremendous power in the +early inoculation by the home influence of self-confidence, when it +is tempered by modesty and consideration for others. +<p>Remember whatever in your own bringing up seems to-day +unfortunate, and avoid it in the training of your children. +<p>Remember whatever was good and helpful, and emulate it. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Zoe_Clayborn_Artist"></a> +<h2>To Miss Zoe Clayborn Artist</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning the Attentions of Married Men<br> +<p>I am sure, my dear niece, that you are a good and pure-minded +girl, and that you mean to live a life above reproach, and I fully +understand your rebellion against many of the conventional forms +which are incompatible with the career of a "girl bachelor," as you +like to call yourself. But let us look at the subject from all +sides, while you are on the threshold of life, in the morning of +your career, and before you have made any more serious mistakes +than the one you mention. +<p>For it was a mistake when you accepted Mr. Gordon's telephone +message to lunch alone with him at a restaurant, even though you +knew his wife might not object. +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are happily married, parents of several +children. They are broader and more liberal and more unselfish than +most parents, and they went out of their path to extend courtesies +to you, a young country girl—at first because you were my niece, +then because they liked you personally. +<p>When I first wrote Mrs. Gordon that you were to open a studio in +Chicago after your course of study in the East, she expressed deep +interest in you, and seemed anxious to have you consider her as a +friend—always ready to act as a chaperon or adviser when you felt +the need of wiser guidance than your own impulses. +<p>Mrs. Gordon knew that your experience of the world was limited +to a country village in the West, and two years' study at the Pratt +Institute. While there she knew you boarded with a cousin of your +mother's, and enjoyed the association and privileges of the +daughters of the home. +<p>To start alone in Chicago, and live in your studio, and dine +from a chafing-dish, and sleep in an unfolded combination bureau +and refrigerator—has more fascinations to your mind than to Mrs. +Gordon's. She was reared in comfort, bordering on luxury, and while +her early home life was not happy, she enjoyed all the refinements +and all the privileges of protected girlhood. +<p>She knows city life as you cannot know it, and, although she +discards many of the burden—some conventions of society, she +realizes the necessity of observing some of its laws. +<p>She wanted you to feel that you had the background of a +wholesome home, and the protection of clean, well-behaved married +friends in your exposed situation; her attitude to you is just what +she would want another woman to hold toward her daughter, were she +grown up and alone in a large city. +<p>You have been her guest, and she has been your good friend. Mr. +Gordon admired you from the first, and that was a new incentive for +this most tactful and liberal of wives to befriend you. She always +cultivates the women he likes. +<p>This is excellent policy on the part of a wife. If the husband +has any really noble qualities or possesses a sterling character, +he will appreciate and respect his wife's confidence, and never +violate it; and added to this, he will usually become disillusioned +with the women he has admired from a distance, when he sees them +frequently at too close range. +<p>A wife can make no greater mistake than trying to fence her +husband about and obtruding high walls between him and the women he +admires. Far better bring them near and turn on the calcium light. +<p>Mr. Gordon is a born lover of the fair sex, a born gallant. He +is, at the same time, a clean, self-respecting man. But he has +grown a trifle selfish and a bit vain of late years. +<p>He does not fully realize what the interesting family of +children he shows with such pride to his friends has meant to their +mother. +<p>It has not occurred to him that to be the mother of three +children, the youngest one year old, after six years of married +life, has required a greater outlay of all the mental, moral, and +physical forces than has been demanded of their father. +<p>He is a good husband,—yet he is not the absolutely unselfish and +liberal and thoughtful husband that Mrs. Gordon is wife. +<p>If she seemed to you at all nervous, or less adaptable to your +moods than he, you should stop and consider the many causes which +might have led to this condition. +<p>You are young, handsome, gifted, and unconventional, and all +these things appeal to men. You can attract all the admirers you +want, and more than you need, to enlarge your ideas of life, and +extend your knowledge of human nature. +<p>You say your ambition is to know the world thoroughly,—that it +will aid your art. +<p>I think that is true, if you do not pass the border-line and +lose your ideals and sacrifice your principles. Once you do that, +your art will lose what it can never regain. +<p>And remember this, my dear girl, no human being ever lived or +ever will live who gained anything worth having <i>by sacrificing +the golden rule.</i> In your search for knowledge of the world, and +acquaintance with human nature, <i>keep that motto ever before your +soul's sight,</i> "Do unto others as you would have them do unto +you." +<p>You say Mr. Gordon said or did nothing in that +tête-à-tête luncheon his wife might not have +heard or seen, but the fact that he talked entirely about you and +art, and other universal subjects, and seemingly avoided any +reference to his wife and children, surprised you. +<p>And now you are wondering if you did wrong to accept this +invitation. Never accept invitations of any kind from married men, +unless the wife or some member of the family is included. +<p>No matter how willing the wife may be to have you enjoy her +husband's company, avoid tête-à-tête situations +with benedicts. +<p>You say you are not egotistical enough to imagine Mr. Gordon had +any hidden motive for wanting to be alone with you, or for +seemingly forgetting in his conversation that he was a husband and +father. Yet I can see that in a measure it disillusioned you. +<p>You do not ask a man to fling his wife and children at the head +of each woman he meets, but you like him to recognize their +existence. +<p>You are a young, romantic girl seeking the ideal. +<p>You want to find happy wives and husbands,—men and women who +have sailed away from the Strands of Imagination to the more +beautiful land of the Real, from whose shores they beckon you, +saying: "Here is happiness and great joy. Come and join us, and +feel no fear in flinging the illusions of youth behind you." +<p>If married men only knew that is what young women are +seeking,—if married women only knew that is what young men are +seeking, what reconstruction would take place in the deportment of +husbands and wives! +<p>Never yet did a married woman indulge in flirtatious or +sentimental converse with a bachelor without lowering herself and +all women in his heart of hearts. +<p>Never yet did a married man seem to forget his domestic ties in +the presence of single women without losing a portion of their +respect, however they may have been flattered by his attentions. +<p>In every man's heart, in every woman's, is this longing to find +husbands and wives who are satisfied and happy and proud, above all +other things, of their loyalty. +<p>It would be well for you to keep this fact before the minds of +the men you meet. You can, in a small way, do your little toward +educating on this subject the married men you encounter. And you +can save yourself some embarrassing experiences. +<p>It is no compliment to you if the husband of your friend, or a +stranger, falls in love with you. +<p>It is an easy matter for a young, attractive woman to infatuate +irresponsible men. +<p>It is a far greater compliment to you when women respect and +trust you, and when you help elevate the ideals of weak men +regarding your sex. +<p>You can study the whole Encyclopedia of Manhood without breaking +through the glass doors of your friend's bookcases. And you can +live a free, unconventional life without sacrificing one principle, +though you may ignore some customs. It is not the custom in +conventional society for young women to go to theatres or dinners +alone with young men. Yet I am perfectly willing you should join +the large army of self-supporting, self-respecting, and well +educated girls who do these things. You have been reared with that +American idea of independence, and with that confidence in your +ability to protect your virtue and good name, which carries the +vast majority of our young women safely through all the +vicissitudes of youth, and sends them chaste wives to the altar. +Our American men understand this attitude of our girls, and half of +them respect it, without being forced to, as the other half can be, +if woman so wills. +<p>There is no reason, to my thinking, why you should not enjoy the +companionship of interesting bachelors and widowers, and take the +courtesies they offer, with no chaperon but your own pride, taste, +and will. So long as you know, and these men know, that you are +doing nothing and going nowhere you need remember with shame or +regret, the next day, just so long you are on no dangerous path. +<p>But you must draw the line at married men, happy or unhappy. Any +confidential, tête-à-tête companionship of a +single woman with a married man cheapens her in the eyes of all +other men and women. +<p>It is a simpler matter to drift into free and easy manners and +call them "bohemian" than to cleanse your reputation of their +stain, or lift your mind from the mire to which they inevitably +lead. +<p>Once a woman begins to excuse her lawless conduct on the ground +of her "artistic temperament," there are no depths to which she may +not sink. +<p>Take pride in being at once independent yet discreet; artistic, +yet sensible; a student of men, yet an example of high-minded +womanhood; an open foe to needless conventions, yet a staunch +friend of principles; daring in methods, yet irreproachable in +conduct; and however adored by men, worthy of trust by all women. +<p>Do not take the admiration of men too seriously. Waste no +vitality in a rage over their weaknesses and vices. Regard them +with patience and inspire them to strive for a better goal than +self-indulgence. +<p>You can safely take it for granted that many who approach you +with compliments for your charms, and pleas for your favours, would +make the same advances to any other attractive girl they chanced to +encounter. +<p>Too many young women mistake a habit for a grand passion. And +they forget, while they are studying man, that he is studying +woman, and testing her susceptibility to flattery and her readiness +to believe in his simulated infatuation. +<p>Do not fall into the error of so many young country girls in a +large city, and imagine you can establish new laws, create a new +order of things, and teach men new lessons. +<p>A great city is like an ever-burning fire,—the newcomers who +thrust in their fingers will be scorched and scarred, but the fire +will not be changed or extinguished. +<p><i>Keep out of the fire</i>. +<p>There is no reason why you should scar yourself or smoke your +garments while keeping comfortably warm. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Charles_Gordon"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Charles Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years +of Married Life<br> +<p>I have read your letter with care. I can readily understand that +you would not appeal to your wife's mother in this matter upon +which you write me, as she has been the typical mother-in-law,—the +woman who never gets along well with her children, and who never +wants others to succeed where she fails. I recollect your telling +me how she marred the wedding ceremony, by weeping and fainting, +after having nagged her poor daughter during twenty years of life, +and interfered with her friendships, through that peculiar jealousy +which she misnamed "devoted love." +<p>And now you are afraid that your wife is developing the same +propensity, and you ask me to use my influence to cure her of it in +its incipiency. You think I stand closer to Edna than any other +friend. +<p>"It is only during the last two or three years that Edna has +shown this tendency," you say. "Until then she seemed to me the +most sensible and liberal-minded of women, always admiring the +people I liked, and even going out of her way to be courteous and +cordial to a woman I praised. Of late she has seemed so different, +and has often been sarcastic, or sulky, or hysterical, when I +showed the common gallantries of a man fond of the society of +ladies." +<p>You think it is her inherited tendency cropping out, and that +she is unconscious of it herself. +<p>Well now permit me, my dear Mr. Gordon, to be very frank with +you. +<p>I met your wife only once before she married you. +<p>She was a merry-hearted, healthy girl, with superb colour, and +the figure of a young Venus. She was a belle, and much admired by +many worth-while men. +<p>During her honeymoon, she wrote me a most charming letter +speaking of her happiness, and of her desire to make you an ideal +wife. +<p>You and Edna were my guests for a few days when your first child +was a year old. She seemed more beautiful than ever, with an added +spiritual charm, and you were the soul of devotion. +<p>You are the type of man who pays a compliment as naturally as he +breathes, and whose vision is a sensitive plate which retains an +impression of every feminine grace. This impression is developed in +the memory-room afterward, and framed in your conversation. +<p>The ordinary mind calls such a man a flirt, or, in common +parlance, "a jollier;" but I know you to be merely appreciative of +womankind in general, while your heart is beautifully loyal to its +ideal. You are a clean, wholesome man, who could not descend to +intrigue. You are fine-looking, and you possess a gift in +conversing. +<p>Of course women are attracted to you. Edna was proud of this +fact, and seemed to genuinely enjoy your popularity. +<p>That was five years ago. +<p>One year ago I visited your home. Edna was the mother of three +children, born during the first five years of marriage. +<p>She had sacrificed her bloom to her babies, and was pallid and +anaemic. Her form had lost its exquisites curves, and she seemed +years older than her age-older indeed than you, although she is +four years your junior. It is a mere incident to be a father of +three children. It is a lifetime experience to be their mother. She +had developed nerves, and tears came as readily as laughter came of +old. +<p>She was devoted to her children, and felt a deep earnestness +regarding her responsibility as a mother. But she was still the +intensely loving wife, while you had sunk your rôle of +lover-husband in that of adoring father. +<p>You did not seem to think of Edna's delicate state of health, or +notice her fading beauty. You regarded her as a faithful nurse for +your children, and whenever you spoke of her it was as the mother, +not as the sweetheart and wife. +<p>When I mentioned the drain upon a woman's vitality to bring +three robust children into life in five years, you said it was only +a "natural function," and referred to the old-time families of ten +and twelve children. Your grandmother had fourteen, you said, and +was the picture of health at seventy-five. +<p>My own grandmother gave ten children to the world. But we must +recollect how different was the environment in those days. +<p>Our grandmothers lived in the country, and knew none of the +strain and excitement of these modern times. The high pressure of +social and financial conditions, as we know them, the effort to +live up to the modern standards, the congested city life and the +expensive country life, all these things make motherhood a +different ordeal for our women than our grandmothers. Where our +grandfathers took their share of the care and guidance of children, +and the children came up in a wholesome country fashion, our men +to-day are so driven by the money gadfly that they can only whirl +around and around and attend "to business," and all the care of the +children falls upon the mother, or else upon the nurses and +governesses, who in turn are a care and a worry to the wife. +<p>You assured me Edna had all the assistants in caring for her +children she wanted, but you did not realize that every paid +employé in a household is, as a rule, just so much more care +to the mistress, not less than a tax on the husband's purse and, +consequently, on his time. +<p>What Edna craves is <i>your</i> love, <i>your</i> attention, +<i>your</i> sympathy, not the service of paid domestics. She wants +you to notice her fading bloom, and to take her in your arms and +say, tenderly, "Little girl, we must get those old roses back. And +we must go away for a new honeymoon, all alone, and forget every +care, even if we forget the babies for a few days." +<p>One little speech like that, one little outing like that, would +do more toward driving away the demon of jealousy than all I could +by a thousand sermons and homilies. +<p>I remember at your own board you made me uncomfortable talking +about my complexion, which you chose to say was "remarkable for a +woman of my age." And then you proceeded to describe some wonderful +beauty you had seen at the Country Club the day previous, and all +the time I saw the tears hidden back under the lids of Edna's tired +eyes, and a hurt look on her pale face. Do you imagine she was +<i>jealous</i> of your compliment to me? or of your praise of the +girl's beauty at the Country Club? +<p>No, no, my dear Mr. Gordon, I know Edna too well to accuse her +of such petty feelings. She was only hurt at your lack of taste in +accenting her own lost bloom by needlessly emphasizing another's +possession of what had once been hers. +<p>Yet she called upon the young lady that very day and invited her +to luncheon, and even then you indulged in pronounced admiration of +the guest's cheeks, gallantly requesting your wife to have the +bouquet of carnation pinks removed from the table, as they were so +shamed by the complexions of the ladies. +<p>Of course it was gracefully worded in the plural, but your +pallid wife could not claim her share of it, and you should have +realized the fact. And the reason she could not was that she had +sacrificed her health in your service, in giving your children to +you, and in losing her lover. +<p>She adores her splendid babies, but she is still a woman and a +wife,—though you seem to ignore that she is anything but a mother. +<p>Right about face, Mr. Gordon, and become the lover you were, and +jealousy will be driven from your threshold. +<p>It is your own lack of thoughtfulness, your own tactless and +tasteless methods with your wife, which have caused the change in +her manner. She is not jealous, she is only lonely, heart-hungry, +disillusioned. +<p>You are less noble, less considerate, less tender, less +sympathetic than she believed. For the man to whom these adjectives +can be applied will guard, love, and cherish the wife of his youth, +and the mother of his children, before all other considerations; +and he will understand how sensitive a fading wife may be, and not +confound that sensitiveness with ignoble jealousy. +<p>It is you, Charles Gordon, who must cure your wife of nerves, +hysteria, and incipient jealousy, not I. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Clarence_St_Claire"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Clarence St. Claire</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Husband<br> +<p>I am sorry that your matrimonial barque meets so many rough +winds while hardly out of Honeymoon Bay. +<p>Clarence and you seemed so deeply in love when I last saw you, +six months after your wedding, that I had hoped all might go well +with you. +<p>I knew the disposition of Clarence to be tainted with jealousy, +but hoped you would be able to eradicate it from his nature. +<p>You know his poor mother suffered agonies from the infidelities +of his father before Clarence was born. She had married a handsome +foreigner with whom she was desperately enamoured, while he cared +only for the fortune she brought him. +<p>While still in the full light of the honeymoon he began to +indulge in flirtations and amours, and poor Clarence, during the +important prenatal period of life, received the mark of suspicion +and the tendency to hypersensitiveness which then dominated the +mother. +<p>By the time Elise was born she had passed through the whole +process, and was passive and indifferent. +<p>I cannot help a sensation of amusement, even in face of the +condition you describe (which is little short of tragic), as I +recall the letter Clarence wrote begging me to try and prevent, by +fair means or foul, his sister's marriage to old Mr. Volney. +<p>That was two years before you and Clarence were married. +<p>Elise, we all know, wedded for the money and position Mr. Volney +gave, in return for her young beauty. +<p>Clarence and you were ideal lovers, seeing nothing in the world +outside of your own selves. +<p>Yet Elise is quite contented, and Mr. Volney uses what little +brain he has left to exult over his possession of such a beautiful +young wife. +<p>Elise upholds his dignity and flatters him into a belief that he +is a great philanthropist and a social power, and in this way she +has the handling of his millions, which is her idea of happiness. +She travels, entertains, and poses for photographs and paintings in +imported gowns, and there is no rumour of discontent or divorce. +<p>Meanwhile, Clarence, who was so opposed to her marriage because +it was loveless, is making a mess of his own love-match, through +his jealousy. +<p>You, who knew him to be insanely jealous as a lover, and who +seemed to be flattered with what you thought a proof of his +devotion, appeal to me now to know what to do with the husband who +is destroying your love and your happiness! Surely, if Elise knew +of this she might well say, "He laughs best who laughs last." +<p>I know that you were absorbed in Clarence for the first year of +your married life, and that you gave no least cause for any +jealousy, and I know, as you say, that even then he was often +morbid and unhappy over nothing at all. +<p>He was jealous even of girl friends and relatives, and if you +attended a matinée with one of them, he sulked the whole +evening. +<p>This was little more than he did as a lover, and you should have +begun in those days to reason him out of such moods. +<p>You imagined then it was his mad love for you which caused his +unreasonable jealousy. +<p>But jealousy is self-love, and selfishness lies at the root of +such conditions of mind as his. +<p>A woman should say to a man who sulks or goes into tantrums when +she pays courteous attentions to relatives or acquaintances, "You +are lowering my ideal of you—I cannot love a man who will indulge +such unworthy moods. You insult my womanhood and doubt my +principles by your suspicions; you intimate that I have neither +truth, or judgment, or pride. You must conquer yourself, and learn +to trust me and to believe in me, or I must decide I am no woman +for you to take as a life companion." A man should take the same +course toward a jealous sweetheart or wife. +<p>A few quiet but firm assertions of this nature, when you were +being wooed, would have given Clarence an idea that he could lose +you, and that he was making himself ridiculous in your eyes. +Instead, you boasted to your friends how wildly infatuated he was, +and Clarence took new pride in his own blemish of character. +<p>Now that you have to live day, and night, and week, and month, +and year, with this trait, it seems a less romantic phase of +devotion, I fancy. But you are not wise to grow reckless and ignore +the wishes of your husband in all ways, because he is unreasonable. +"Since he is so absolutely impossible to please," you say, "I may +as well please myself. I have decided to take some of the liberties +so many of my acquaintances do, and enjoy life outside my home if I +cannot enjoy it within." +<p>Then you proceed to tell me how more than half your associates +drive, lunch, and dine with men acquaintances, and how +old-fashioned they consider your scruples. And you tell me that, +despite your rectitude, Clarence insults you almost daily by his +unreasoning jealousy of men, women, and even children. +<p>"I have about made up my mind to be less prudish and enjoy +myself, as I am sure Clarence cannot be any more jealous than he +is," you say. +<p>Now since you have asked my advice in the matter, I can only +urge you to reconsider this last determination. +<p>So long as you are, according to law and in the eyes of the +world, the wife of a man, you cannot escape comment if you are +frequently seen in public places alone with another. +<p>Were you to look into the hearts of other men who ask you to +dine, drive, or lunch alone with them, you would find a feeling of +increased respect when you decline, although they may show only +disappointment on the surface. I know that many wives of +unblemished reputation accept courtesies of this kind from +masculine friends, and I of course understand that circumstances +may arise which make an occasional acceptance proper. +<p>But the fewer such occasions, the better and the safer for the +married woman. The man who is perfectly willing his wife should +appear frequently in public with other men does not fully +appreciate the dignity of her position or his own, or else he has +lost his love for her. +<p>The fact that your husband is jealous without reason is no +excuse for giving him reason. The moment men know that a husband is +inclined to jealousy, he falls in their estimation, and they are +seized with a desire to aggravate him, while they sympathize with +the wife. +<p>The sympathetic friend of the abused wife is a dangerous +companion for her. He may mean to be platonic and kind, but almost +invariably he becomes sentimental and unsafe. +<p>Once in a thousand times the absolutely happy wife of a husband +she respects as well as loves can enjoy a platonic friendship with +a man who respects her, and himself, and her husband. But even that +situation is liable to prove insecure, if they are much together, +owing to the selfishness and weakness of human nature when the +barriers of convention are removed. +<p>But the unhappy wife must take no chances with Fate. +<p>She must either decide to accept her lot and bear it with +philosophy, or escape from it and begin life over, after the courts +have given her the right to reconstruct her destiny. +<p>You know all that entails. It is not a pleasant process. +<p>If your love for your husband is entirely dead, and you feel +that he has forfeited all right to your sympathy, pity, or +patience, then break the fetters and go free. But if you feel that +you are not ready for that ordeal, and that you must still remain +living under the same roof with him, and continue to bear his name, +then do not join the great army of wives who are to be seen in +public restaurants and hotels dining tête-à-tête +with "platonic friends" over emptied glasses. +<p>You can but make trouble for yourself and add to the misery of +your husband by such a course. In your particular case, I feel that +your knowledge of the jealous disposition of the man you married +renders it your duty to bear and forbear, and to try every method +of reformation before you resort to the very common highway of +divorce as an exit from your unhappiness. +<p>A woman has no right to complain of the fault in a husband which +she condoned in a lover. And a man has no right to complain of the +fault in a wife he condoned in a sweetheart. Yet both may strive to +correct that fault. +<p>Insist upon having women and men friends who can be received at +your home in presence of your husband. Make Clarence realize how he +belittles himself in your estimation by unreasoning jealousy. Give +him to understand that you want to love him and respect him, and +that you have no intention of lowering your standard of behaviour, +because he is constantly expecting you to. Tell him it mortifies +you to find greater pleasure away from him than in his presence, +yet when he insults you with his suspicions, and destroys your +comfort with his moods, you can no longer think of him as your +girlhood's ideal. +<p>Ask him to try, for your sake, to use more common sense and +self-control in this matter, and to help you to restore the +happiness which seems flying from your wedded lives. +<p>Do nothing to aggravate or irritate him, but do not give up your +friends of either sex; this is but to increase his inclination to +petty tyranny, while it will in no sense lessen his jealousy. +<p>And when you are alone, endeavour to think of him always as +sensible, reasonable, and kind. +<p>By your mental picture you can help to cure him of the blight he +received before his birth. It is the task set many a wife, to +counteract the errors and neglect of mothers. +<p>Look to the Divine source for help in your work, and remember +the lovely qualities Clarence possesses when he is not under the +ban of this prenatal mark. +<p>Love him out into the light if you can—and I believe you can if +you are not too soon discouraged. +<p>It is a nobler effort to try and create in your husband the +ideal you have in your mind, than to go seeking him elsewhere. +<p>Be patient and wait awhile. Such love as you and Clarence felt +in your courtship and early marriage cannot so soon have died. It +is only sleeping, and suffering from a nightmare. Awaken it to life +and reality and happiness. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Young_Mrs_Duncan"></a> +<h2>To Young Mrs. Duncan</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding Mothers-in-Law<br> +<p>And so the serpent has appeared in your Eden, attired in widow's +weeds, and talking the usual jargon of "devoted mother love." I do +not like to say I told you so, but you must remember our rather +spirited discussion of this very serpent, when you announced your +engagement and said Mr. Duncan's mother was to make her home with +you after your return from abroad. +<p>I had met Mrs. Duncan, and I knew her type all too well. Alfred +is her only child, and she adores him, naturally, but it is +adoration so mingled with selfishness and tyranny that it is +incapable of considering the welfare of its object. +<p>Mrs. Duncan was always jealous of any happiness which came to +her son through another source than herself. That type of mother +love is to be encountered every day, and that type of mother +believes herself to be the most devoted creature on earth; while +the fact is, she sits for ever in the boudoir of her mentality, +gazing at her own reflection. She loves her children because they +also reflect herself, and is incapable of unselfish pleasure in +their happiness apart from her. +<p>You will remember I urged you to wait until you could have a +home, however humble, alone with your husband, and even at the cost +of that most undesirable condition, a long engagement. +<p>But you assured me with much spirit that you had every +confidence in your power to win Mrs. Duncan's heart, and to crown +her declining years with peace and happiness. +<p>As well talk of decking a porcupine with wreaths of flowers, and +making it a household pet, to coddle and caress. +<p>When I congratulated Mrs. Duncan on her son's engagement to such +a sweet, bright girl as my cousin, she assumed a martyr expression +and said, "She hoped he would be happy, even if her own heart must +suffer the pain of losing an only son." +<p>"But," I urged, "he really adds to your life by bringing you the +companionship of a lovely daughter. My cousin will, I am sure, +prove such to you." +<p>"I have no doubt your cousin is a most estimable girl," Madame +Duncan answered, with dignity, "but I have never yet felt the need +of any close companion save my son. You, having no children, are +excusable for not understanding my feelings, now when another +claims his thoughts." +<p>"Yet the world is maintained by such occurrences," I replied. +"You took some mother's son, or you would not have had your own." +<p>With austere self-righteousness Mrs. Duncan corrected me. +<p>"I married an orphan," she said. +<p>"How thoughtful of you," I responded. "But you see it is not +lack of thought, only an accident of fate, which has prevented my +cousin from marrying an orphan. There are not enough desirable +orphans to keep our young women supplied with husbands, you know." +<p>I think Mrs. Duncan suspected me of covert sarcasm, for she +changed the topic of conversation. But I heard her afterward +talking to a bevy of women on the sorrow of giving up a child after +having reared him to manhood's estate, and her listeners all seemed +duly sympathetic. +<p>Of course, my dear Ruth, there is an element of sadness in the +happiest of marriages for the parents of children. I think it is +particularly sad when a mother gives up a daughter, whose every +thought she has shared, and whose every pleasure she has planned, +and sees her embark upon the uncertain ocean of marriage, with a +strange pilot at the helm. +<p>The really good and loving mother endears herself to that pilot, +and loves him and seeks his affection for her daughter's sake. She +hides her own sorrow in her heart, and does not shadow her +daughter's voyage by her repining. +<p>The man who is worthy of a good girl's love will understand what +it must mean to a mother to give her daughter to him, and he will +in every way seek to recompense her for her loss, by bestowing upon +her sympathy, courteous attentions, and a son's devotion. +<p>Just so will the girl, who is worthy of being a good man's wife, +seek to make his mother love her. +<p>I know how you have tried to win Mrs. Duncan's heart. I know +your amiable, sweet disposition, and your unselfishness and tact, +and I know how you failed. +<p>I can imagine your feelings when you overheard Mrs. Duncan say +to a caller that she was going to leave your house and take rooms +elsewhere, as she could not endure your "billing and cooing." +<p>Do you know, Ruth, that nearly all the trouble between +mothers-and daughters-in-law is due to vanity and jealousy. +<p>Fifty mothers are friends to their daughters' husbands where one +is a friend to her son's wife. That is because, wholly +unconsciously to herself, the mother resents another woman sharing +the attention of a man she loves. The fact that he is her son, and +that the love he gives his wife is a wholly different sentiment, +does not prevent blind, unreasoning jealousy from dominating her +nature. +<p>Mrs. Duncan wants to stand always in the centre of the stage, +with every other woman in the play in the background. +<p>It is a most pathetic situation for a man,—this position between +a wife and a jealous mother. My heart always aches for the man in +the case even more than for the woman who is misused. +<p>All young men are reared to think mother-love the most unselfish +and wonderful devotion on earth, even in the face of facts which so +often prove it otherwise; and when a son sees his mother unhappy he +is inclined to make every possible excuse for her, because he feels +that to take issue against her will put him in a false light before +the whole established order of society, and that he will beat his +head against traditions wherever he turns. +<p>So, he ofttimes tries to conciliate the wife he has promised to +cherish, and to convince her that she may exaggerate matters, and +that she may even be the aggressor, and then he finds himself +standing between two raging fires, with no escape save through +flames, and over hot fagots, which will leave him scarred for life. +<p>Sometimes the wife <i>is</i> in the wrong. Sometimes a man +marries a woman who is so narrow and so selfish and so jealous that +she begrudges the husband's mother her son's affection. But I must +affirm that, in my observation of humanity, I have seen but one +such wife, where I have seen ten jealous and unreasonable mothers. +<p>And with what pleasure and admiration I recall the few beautiful +and noble mothers-in-law I have known! I can count them on the +fingers of one hand without including the thumb. I mean mothers of +sons. +<p>There are just four whom I can recall. They really loved their +sons, and loved whatever and whoever gave those sons happiness. +<p>One mother objected to her son's choice before marriage, and +tried vainly to convince him that he had made a mistake. But after +his marriage she took the girl into her heart, made her a companion +and friend, and when the son began to discover her glaring faults, +she told him to be patient and wait, and that all would be well. +Instead of saying, "I told you so," she said, "Your wife is young, +and has had no wise hand to guide her. You married her for love, +and if you exercise the love-spirit, and are patient and +self-controlled in your treatment of her, she will overcome these +faults which annoy you." +<p>And day by day she called his attention to the pleasing +qualities the girl possessed, and by praise, tact, love, and +sympathy bridged over the threatened chasm. +<p>The couple live happily together to-day, thanks to the +mother-in-law. Oh, that there were more such mothers of sons! +<p>Be as patient and sweet as you can, dear Ruth, toward Mrs. +Duncan; think how difficult the situation is for your husband, and +say or do nothing to make it harder for him. But allow Mrs. Duncan +to live by herself, and, if need be, bear many privations +cheerfully that she may do so, and that you may have your own home +in peace. Every wife is entitled to that, and if she has made every +possible effort which love and tact can make to cast the seven +devils of jealousy out of her mother-in-law, and they still remain, +it is for the general welfare that two separate households exist. +<p>When a son has done all he can in reason to make his mother +happy, save to turn against the wife he has promised to cherish, he +is a cad and a weakling if he does the latter. He must learn that +it is a larger duty to be a just man than to be an obedient son. +<p>I am sure Mr. Duncan will have the character and judgment to do +what is right in this matter. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_a_Young_Man"></a> +<h2>To a Young Man</h2> +<p class="c3">Ambitious for Literary Honours<br> +<p>Your achievements in college, where you distinguished yourself +in rhetoric and literature, would justify you in thinking seriously +of a career as an author. +<p>And the fact that your father wishes you to take charge of his +brokerage business, and to relinquish your literary aspirations, +should not deter you from carrying out your ambitions. +<p>Prom your mother you inherit a mind and temperament which wholly +unfit you for the pursuits your father follows and enjoys. You are +no more suited to make a successful broker than he is fitted to +write an Iliad. +<p>Try and make him understand this, and try and convince him that +to yield to his wishes in this matter, means the sacrifice of your +tastes, the waste of your talents, and the destruction of your +happiness. +<p>If he cannot be convinced by your consistent and respectful +arguments, then you must quietly, but firmly, refuse to accept a +career distasteful to you. +<p>No parent has a right to drive a child into so undesirable a +path for life as this would prove to one of your nature. +<p>Your father would think the horticulturist insane, who took a +delicate fern and planted it in arid soil, on a hilltop, far from +shade, and expected it to thrive and bear blossoms like the cactus. +<p>Yet this would be no more unreasonable, than to expect a son of +your temperament and inclinations to be happy and successful in +Wall Street. +<p>It is a curious study to watch parents, and to observe their +utter lack of knowledge regarding a child's nature and +capabilities; and to find them not only ignorant in those important +matters, but unwilling to be enlightened. +<p>You say it makes your father angry to have any one refer to your +literary talents. +<p>I remember when your father bred race-horses, and how proud he +was that a two-year-old colt showed traits and points noticeably +like its high-priced dam. +<p>He chose for your mother, a woman of rare mind, and of poetic +taste, and why should he not be proud and glad that his son +resembles her? When will fathers learn that sons are more +frequently like their mothers, and daughters like their fathers, +than otherwise? +<p>The temporary dissatisfaction of your father is not so sad to +contemplate as your own lifelong disappointment if you accede to +his wishes in this matter. +<p>Each individual has a right to choose his own career in life, so +long as that career is respectable and bodes no evil to humanity. +<p>If, as your father threatens, he refuses to give you support +while you are exploring the field of literature, you should feel +grateful to him for this unintentional incentive to success. +<p>I do not agree with those who consider the necessity to earn +money a misfortune to genius. +<p>I believe the greatest works of art given to the world have been +brought to light through necessity. +<p>The artistic temperament is almost invariably combined with a +propensity to dream, and to float upon the clouds of imagination. +<p>The ranks of wealth and comfort are full of talented and +accomplished people who "never are, but always to be" great. +<p>One great man in a score may have been reared in affluence, but +I doubt if the statistics would show so large a percentage. +<p>There are many hills which contain valuable ore, but if the +owner sits in ease upon these elevations, and gazes at the sunsets, +he does not find the ore. If he is a poor man, and takes his pick +and <i>digs</i>, he finds his fortune. +<p>At first he may cast out only loose earth and stones, but by +this very necessity to find valuables, he continues to search until +the ore is reached. +<p>Were you to remain at home and enjoy all the benefits of your +father's wealth, I doubt if you would have the persistence to dig +down into the mine you possess within you. +<p>You would sit on the hilltop and dream. +<p>If you are forced to write to live, you may cast up some rubbish +from the surface; yet by the continual digging you will reveal all +that lies below. +<p>Regarding the style you speak of adopting, let your feeling come +<i>first</i>, your style of expressing that feeling <i>second</i>. +Say nothing merely to exhibit your style—and hold back some strong +feelings until you can give them the best expression. +<p>As to the methods of getting your work before the public and the +"influence" you need, I can only assure you that unless you write +with purpose, and power, and passionate enjoyment of your art, +forgetful of all things save your desire to express yourself, no +influence on earth can do more than give you a page in a magazine, +or a column in a newspaper for an occasion or two. And if you do +write under those conditions, you will need no influence: for it is +just such writing the world wants; and the editors and publishers +will be forced to read you, whether they are inclined to or not. +<p>Christopher Columbus found his continent because he was so +determined, so persistent, so certain that unknown lands awaited +him. +<p>It made no difference who told him that all the earth had been +discovered, and that he would never be able to succeed in his wild +venture. His purpose was too strong to be influenced by the doubts +of others. +<p>It has always seemed to me that God would have made a continent +to reward such a search, had it not already existed. +<p>Unless you set forth on the sea of literature, with the spirit +of a Columbus in your soul, you may as well give up the idea of +finding the Port of Glory. If you do set forth with that spirit, +you need ask no mortal influence. +<p>God is the only influence genius needs. +<p>Perseverance the only method. +<p>To find the way to success alone, is the test of talent. +<p>Some influential author might give you the entreé once to +a magazine. But editors and publishers are men of purely business +instincts, and they will not accept work on the recommendation of +any third party, which they think their public will not like. Their +constant effort is to find what that public <i>does like</i>, and +the unknown author has an equal advantage with the genius, if he +sends such material. +<p>An author once told me that he "trapped" twenty manuscripts and +sent them out to editors, and all came back unread, as his "trap" +proved. +<p>Since he sent them forth with such doubts in his mind, it is no +wonder his trap succeeded and his manuscripts failed. +<p>No great literary fire of purpose could be in the mind of a man +who spent thought and time on such a plot to trick an editor. And +because there was no great flame, the inanimate manuscripts were +returned unread. For even a package of paper sends out its "aura," +and invites or repels attention. +<p>If you are discouraged by the people who tell you that +"everything has been written," and that you can only be a faint +echo of greater souls, then you do not deserve success. I have no +doubt the croakers of that day told Shakespeare the same. +<p>It seems that Shakespeare did take many old themes and other +people's plots and ideas to re-create in his own way. And what a +way! Surely he who best uses an idea is most entitled to the +credit. +<p>There is nothing new under the sun, but there is always the new +audience. For the majestic old poem of Spring, bound over in new +covers of green, God creates fresh, eager young eyes and hearts +each year. And not yet has he said to the year, "Do not attempt +another spring—there have been so many before, you can but repeat +their beauties." Then why should any mortal say to the poet or the +author, "Do not try to write—it has all been said before." +<p>Proceed, my young friend, and write what is in your heart. +Nothing quite the same was ever in any heart before, and yet the +greater part of it has been in all hearts, and will be in all +hearts, so long as the world lasts. +<p>Remember that when you write from the heart, it will go to the +hearts of your readers: and when you write from your head it will +go no lower than the head. +<p>And if the critics score or ridicule you, consider yourself on +the path to success. +<p>If you have a message for the world, nothing and nobody can +prevent you from delivering it. +<p>He only fails who has nothing to say. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_McAllister"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. McAllister</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Little Girl<br> +<p>How strange it seems that your daughter is ten years old. +<p>It is such a brief hour since you wrote me you were eighteen and +had entered Vassar. Having no children of my own to stand as +milestones on life's highway, and keeping a very young heart in my +breast all these years, it seems at times little less than +impertinent in the children I have known to develop so rapidly into +matrons and fathers. +<p>I am glad for you that the doctor has reached the desirable goal +where he can rest from his laborious profession for two years, and +take that journey abroad you have so long contemplated. And I am +glad that you feel the satisfaction you say you do, in never having +left him alone for a whole season as you once thought of doing. +<p>A satisfied conscience is a better comrade to journey along +beside, than a remembered pleasure. +<p>But now about Genevieve. +<p>You tell me she is to be left with your sister, and that she +will, for the first time, attend the public school. +<p>You are right in thinking this will make her more American in +spirit than an education gained through home teaching or private +schools. +<p>The girl who attends private schools only, is almost invariably +inoculated with the serum of aristocracy. +<p>She believes herself a little higher order of being than the +children who attend public schools, and it requires continual +association with people of broad common sense to counteract this +influence. I know you and the doctor have exerted this influence, +but your sister might not realize the necessity of making a special +effort in that direction. +<p>Then, too, since the fathers or grandfathers of our most +conspicuous social leaders were self-made and self-taught, and +since our American society is composed of so many varied types of +humanity, it is well for a young girl to come in contact with all +classes while she is yet a child, that she may understand humanity +as she is sure to encounter it later. Yet, as you say, it is indeed +a serious thought to know your little rosebud of a child is to be +tossed into the dust of the public schoolroom. +<p>"I do not want the delicate leaves forced into premature blossom +or blight," you say, and I feel for you, as I read the words. +<p>You remember your own experience as a school-child in the +country, and you tell me you would fain guard your daughter from +hearing or seeing much that came to your ears and eyes as a +school-child. +<p>But now, my dear Winifred, listen. +<p>It is utterly and absolutely impossible for you to keep +Genevieve ignorant of <i>life</i>, or of the great fundamental +principles of life. It is utterly useless to undertake to ignore +the set impulse in all nature. Since God did not ignore it in +constructing the universe, parents cannot afford to in educating +children. The one thing to do is to teach your child early to +respect and revere the subject, and to regard all things pertaining +to birth as sacred, never to be lightly discussed. Wherever the +eyes of an observing child turn, they see something to arouse +curiosity upon this subject. +<p>All literature (the Bible particularly) contains some reference +to sex and birth. Unless you stuff the ears of children with +cotton, they must hear expressions, suggestions, and references, +which necessitate explanations of the same vital subject. From +insects to man, through all the various kingdoms, sex laws are the +foundation of life. +<p>Why parents have chosen to taboo this important subject, and why +they surround it with falsehood and subterfuge, and suggest that it +is unclean or vulgar, has always puzzled me. +<p>Inconceivable harm, lifelong disaster, has befallen many a girl +and many a boy through this mistaken attitude of parents to God's +basic law of the universe. +<p>Genevieve is only ten. But she is a child with a most inquiring +mind, and she already indicates a tendency to coquetry. She prefers +boys to dolls, and evidently finds them more interesting than +girls. +<p>The things you would guard her from knowing, she is sure to +learn in some undesirable and unfortunate manner, unless you +prepare her for them with loving delicacy and refinement. +<p>My suggestion is that you take a plant, and talk to her about +its growth. Tell her how it springs from a seed, and hides in the +bosom of the earth, expanding until it bursts through, and becomes +the baby of mother earth. +<p>Tell her, too, of the bird life in the egg, and make her realize +the mother-impulse in all nature. Then say to her that she is a +part of it all and that she came into life by the same divine law, +and that when she is older you will explain whatever puzzles her +young mind. +<p>Tell her that she was carried under your heart, as the sprout +was carried in the bosom of mother earth, and that it is a very +holy and beautiful thing; so holy and so beautiful that the refined +and sweet people of the world do not talk freely of the subject, +but keep it like a religion, for those very near to them. +<p>Then say, You will hear other children, who have not been told +this by their mothers, speak rudely and even jest on this subject. +They are to be pitied, for not knowing such jests are vulgar, but +you must walk away from them, and refuse to listen, after telling +them your mother has explained all you need to know. Impress upon +her that she is never to discuss the topic with any one else, +unless you advise her to do so. +<p>I have known only two mothers who took this method with their +children, but both succeeded in rearing beautiful and remarkable +daughters and sons. For the sons were included in the talk by one +mother, and they were ideal boys and gentlemen—popular with, and +respected by their comrades, in spite of their delicacy and reserve +on subjects jested over by other boys. +<p>I am sure that you can protect Genevieve from the soil and shock +you fear for her, by making her your confidante at this early age, +and by convincing her of your loving companionship in the future. +Under no other conditions would I for one day allow a little girl +(or a little boy for that matter) to attend a public school. Not +one parent in a thousand realizes the moral dangers surrounding +small children who go to and from school in country or city places. +<p>Many remember their own precocious education on forbidden +topics, yet seem to imagine their children will be immune from such +experiences. +<p>But until the Creator produces life by some new process, +children will never be exempt from curiosity regarding the present +method, and parents may as well realize the fact and become their +children's reverent instructors, instead of leaving them to be +taught God's holiest truths by vulgar chance or dreadful design. +<p>Do not imagine that innocence necessitates ignorance. +<p>Your child will be far more innocent minded, if you give her the +instruction I suggest, than if you leave her to ungoverned +imagination and unenlightened observation. +<p>Deep in each human entity the sex impulse is planted, and will +assert itself sooner or later. +<p>Ignorance and curiosity lead often to precocious development of +the impulse. By proper care on your part, your child's mind may be +kept normal, innocent, and wholesome. +<p>See to it that you give this important care before you leave. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Ray_Gilbert2"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Ray Gilbert</h2> +<p class="c3">Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty<br> +<p>My dear Mr. Gilbert:—Your letter followed me across the ocean, +and chanced to be the first one opened and read in my weighty home +mail to-day. I have lost all trace of you during the last six +years, in that wonderful way people can lose sight of one another +in a large city. Once or twice I heard you had just left some +social function as I arrived, or was expected just as I was +leaving, and once, recently, I saw you across the house at a first +night, with a very pretty girl at your side. I fancy this is the +"one woman in the world for you," of whom you speak in the letter +before me—the letter written the evening before your marriage. How +good you are to carry out my request made seven years ago, and to +write me this beautiful letter, after reading over and burning your +former boyish epistle, returning to me my reply. +<p>It is every man's duty to himself, his bride, and the other +woman, to destroy all evidences of past infatuations and +affections, before he enters the new life. It is every woman's duty +to do the same—<i>with a reservation</i>. Since men demand so much +more of a wife than a wife demands of a husband, a woman is wise to +retain any proof in her possession that some man has been an +honourable suitor for her hand. She should make no use of such +evidence, unless the unaccepted lover indulges in disrespectful +comments or revengeful libels, as some men are inclined to when the +fruit for which they reached is picked by another hand. +<p>And it is when the grapes are called sour that the evidence may +prove effective of their having been thought sweet and desirable. +<p>It is a curious fact that no woman thinks less of a man for his +having had his vain infatuations, and that all men think less of a +woman if she has loved without response. +<p>Therefore, it behoves her to destroy no evidence that the other +man, not herself, was the discarded party. +<p>But woe unto the man who retains old love-letters, or other +tokens of dead loves and perished desires. +<p>Few men could be guilty of showing or repeating the contents of +another man's love-letters. Women who are models of virtue and +goodness have been known to make public the letters written a man +in earlier years by another object of his affections. I have to my +personal knowledge known a woman to place before the eyes of a +third person, lines written evidently in the very heart's blood of +a former sweetheart of her husband-words the man believed he had +destroyed with other letters, more than a score of years before. +Imagine what the feelings of that early sweetheart, now a happy and +beloved wife, would be, did she know the words written so long ago +were spread before cold and critical eyes, and discussed by two +people who could have no comprehension of the conditions and +circumstances which led to their expression. +<p>Because I know otherwise tender-hearted and good women are +capable of such acts, I am glad you have obeyed my wish of seven +years ago, and that all proofs of your boyish infatuation for an +older woman are destroyed. You say you have told the girl you love +that you once were foolishly fond of me, and that I helped you to +higher ideals of womanhood and life. +<p>That is wise and well, since you found her to be broad and +sensible enough to share such a confidence. But had she seen your +written words to me and my reply, it would have been less agreeable +to her than to hear your own calm recital of the now dead passion. +<p>Words written in a state of high-wrought intensity retain a sort +of phosphoric luminosity, like certain decaying substances, and +even after the passage of years, and when the emotions which gave +them expression are dead and forgotten, they seem to emit life and +feeling. +<p><i>Burn your bridges as you walk along the highways of romance +to St. Benedict's land</i>. +<p>Since you compliment me by saying I have helped you to higher +ideals of life, will you allow me to give you a little advice +regarding your treatment of your wife? +<p>You have every reason to know that I have been a happy and +well-loved wife of the man of my choice. You know that I have +neither sought nor accepted the attentions of other men when they +crossed the danger-line lying between friendship and love. +<p>Therefore it may astonish you when I confess that, at the time +you temporarily lost your head, I was conscious of an undercurrent +of feminine vanity at the thought that I was capable of inspiring a +young and talented man with so sincere a feeling. +<p>A similar experience with an older man would have suggested an +insult, since older men understand human nature, and realize what a +flirtation with a married woman means. But your ingenuousness, and +your romantic, boyish temperament, were, in a measure, an excuse +for your folly, and made me lenient toward you. +<p>My happy life, my principles and ideals, submerged this +sentiment of feminine vanity to which I confess, but I knew it was +there, and it led me to much meditation, then and ever since, upon +the matter of woman's weakness and folly. +<p>As never before, I was able to understand how a neglected or +misused wife might mistake this very sentiment of flattered vanity +for the recognition of an affinity. +<p>Had I been suffering from coldness and indifference at home, how +acceptable your boyish devotion might have proved to me. +<p>And how easily I would have been persuaded by your blind +reasoning that we were intended by an all-wise Providence for life +companions. +<p>There is no sin a woman so readily forgives as a man's unruly +love for her, and hundreds of noble-hearted women have been led to +regard a lawless infatuation as a divine emotion, because they were +lonely, and neglected, and hungry for affection. +<p>See to it, my dear friend, as the years go by, that your wife +needs no romance from the outside world to embellish her life with +sentiment. +<p>Do not drop into the humdrum ways of many contented husbands, +and forget to pay the compliment, and cease to act the lover. +<p>Notice the gowns and hats your wife wears, and share her +pleasures and interests when it is possible. +<p>Not that you should always be together, for separate enjoyments +and occupations sometimes lend an added zest to life for husband +and wife, but do not drift apart in all your ideas and interests, +as have so many married people. +<p>You are the husband of a bright and lovely girl, and if you +forget this fact after a time, remember there are other Ray +Gilberts who may realize it, and seek to awaken such an interest in +her heart as you sought to arouse in mine. +<p>You found the room occupied by its rightful host. +<p>See it that no man finds the room vacant in your wife's heart. +<p>Study the art of keeping your wife interested and interesting. +<p>A woman thrives on love and appreciation. I know a beautiful +bride of eighty years, who has been the daily adoration of her +husband for more than half a century. +<p>She has been "infinite in her variety," and he has never failed +to appreciate and admire. +<p>Devote a portion of each day to talking to your wife about +herself. +<p>Then she will not find it a novelty when other men attempt the +same method of entertainment. +<p>Whatever other matters engross your time and attention, let your +wife realize that she stands first and foremost in your thoughts +and in your heart. +<p>Do not forget the delicacies of life, manner, speech, and +deportment in the intimacy of daily companionship. +<p>Never descend to the vulgar or the commonplace. +<p>One characteristic of men has always puzzled me. No matter how +wide has been a bachelor's experience with the wives and daughters +of other men, when he marries it never occurs to him that his wife +or daughters could meet temptation or know human weakness. +<p>It must be the egotism of the sex. +<p>Each man excuses the susceptibility of the women with whom he +has had romantic episodes, on the ground of his especial power or +charm. And when he marries, he believes his society renders all the +women of his family immune from other attractions. +<p>Do not rely upon the fact that your wife is legally bound to +you, and therefore need not be wooed by you hereafter. +<p>There are women who are born anew with each dawn, and who must +be won anew with each day, or the lover loses some precious quality +than can never be regained. +<p>It will pay you to study your wife as the years pass. +<p>Do not take for granted that you know her to-day, because you +knew her thoroughly last year. +<p>This is a long letter, but when one writes only once in seven +years, brevity is not to be expected. +<p>My greeting to you, and may the years be weaver's hands, which +shall interlace and bind two lives into one complete pattern. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_the_Sister_of_a_Great_Beauty"></a> +<h2>To the Sister of a Great Beauty</h2><br> +<p>I am far from laughing, my dear girl, at your assertion that +your position is little short of tragic. +<p>To be the ordinary sister of an extraordinary beauty, is a +position which calls for the exercise of all the great virtues in +order to be borne with dignity, good taste, and serenity. +<p>I remember seeing you and Pansy when you were ten and she twelve +years of age. I foresaw what lay before you then, and have often +wondered how you would meet the occasion when you were both +"finished," and at home under the same roof, and socially launched. +It was wise for your mother to separate you so early in life, and +place you under different teachers, and in different schools. +<p>It is difficult for a girl in her late childhood and early teens +to use philosophy and religion to support her, when she is made a +Cinderella by unthinking associates and friends, and forgotten and +neglected while a more attractive sister is lionized. +<p>Had you always walked in the shadow of your handsome sister +until to-day, I fancy your disposition would have become warped +with resentment and envy. +<p>And perhaps your feelings for Pansy would have been less +affectionate than now. +<p>I am glad to have you tell me that Pansy is so modest and +unassuming and so genuinely solicitous for your happiness. +<p>She must have been particularly fortunate in her environment +while at school to possess such qualities after knowing as she has +known for twenty-two years that her beauty is dazzling to the eye +of even the chance beholder. +<p>There is no greater obstacle to the development of the best +qualities in a young woman than the possession of such unusual +beauty. From her cradle she is made to realize its power, and men +and women teach her in a thousand unconscious ways to be selfish +and self-centred. She receives attentions, and her acquaintance is +sought, with no effort on her part, while more gifted and deserving +companions are unnoticed. She is made to realize that she is one to +be served, where less attractive girls are taught to "stand and +wait." +<p>The love nature of each human being is either developed or +stunted by neglect during the early years of life, and, as a rule, +the beautiful woman is incapable of a deep, absorbing, and +unselfish love, because she has grown up the receiver instead of +the giver. +<p>Were you, my dear Sallie, to know the number of great beauties +who have failed to find happiness in marriage, you would be amazed. +But the explanation is simple; for man is a being who, however he +may worship beauty before marriage, worships his own comfort more +deeply afterward. And it is rare indeed when a famous beauty +troubles herself to plan for the comfort or happiness of the man +she marries. It is the natural result of her education to think man +made to adore and serve her. +<p>I hope Pansy may keep her loving and lovable qualities, and that +she may marry before the adoration and admiration of many men +become necessary to her life. For the beauties' matrimonial barque +most often founders on the reef of plural lovers. +<p>As for yourself, I can only suggest that you acquire many +accomplishments, and perfect yourself in music and languages, and +that you seek for the attainment of all the subtle graces, which +are, in the long run, more lasting as sources of happiness for a +woman than mere beauty. It is a peculiarly significant fact that +the great passions of history have not been inspired by very young +or startlingly beautiful women, but by those of maturity and mental +charms. +<p>Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Aspasia, Petrarch's Laura, had all +crossed the line between youth and middle life, and there are no +authentic proofs that any one of the number was a dazzling beauty. +Some of the world's most alluring women have been absolutely plain. +<p>You are not plain. It is only by comparison that you so regard +yourself. +<p>There is much you can do to make yourself more attractive +personally. You know what Rochefoucauld said: "No woman is in fault +for not being beautiful at sixteen; any woman is in fault if she is +not beautiful at forty." +<p>However much it may sound like a platitude, it is a great and +eternal truth that your mental activities are chiselling your +features. By keeping yourself concerned with good, gracious, and +great thoughts, you are shaping your face into a noble beauty +minute by minute, and hour by hour. +<p>Avoid as much as possible looking at repulsive and ugly objects. +<p>Look at whatever is beautiful and seek for it. +<p>Search for whatever is admirable in nature and human nature, and +muse upon those things in your moments of solitude. +<p>Cultivate love-thoughts for humanity at large. +<p>Avoid severe criticisms, and develop sympathy and pity in your +soul. Study the comfort and pleasure of strangers in public places, +and friends and associates in nearer relations. +<p>Remember always how brief a thing, and ofttimes sad, life is to +many, and seek to brighten and better it as you pass along. +<p>Meanwhile, take care of your person, study your lines and your +features, and learn how to dress and how to carry yourself; how to +obtain "presence," that indescribable charm in woman. +<p>Take daily care of your complexion, which to a woman is of prime +importance. +<p>Call in the skill of the specialist to help you preserve and +beautify your skin and hair, just as the dentist and the oculist +are to be consulted to help you preserve teeth and eyes. Think +beauty for mind, soul, and body; live it, and believe it is your +right. +<p>And just as surely as you pursue this line of conduct for ten +years, just so surely will you find yourself at thirty far more +attractive than at twenty, and at forty more lovely than at thirty. +Learn to be a linguist, and acquire skill upon some one instrument, +that you may entertain those who care to converse, and give +pleasure to those who wish to be silent. +<p>You are young, and life with its splendid possibilities is +before you. There is nothing a woman with youth, will-power, and +<i>love</i> may not accomplish—even to the convincing of the world +that she is beautiful, when her mirror may say otherwise. +<p>For enduring and all-encompassing beauty is a composite thing, +and unless a woman possesses the spiritual and mental portions, the +physical phase soon loses its attractions for the cultivated eye; +while with the development of the first two, the third is certain +to come. +<p>Begin to-day, my dear girl, to <i>grow beauty</i> which shall +make you a power and an influence in the world where you move, and +which shall invite, rather than fear, the approach of time. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_White_Peak"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. White Peak</h2> +<p class="c3">One of the Pillars of Respectable Society<br> +<p>Ever since your call and our conversation regarding Sybyl +Marchmont, I have felt a rising tide of indignation. It has reached +the perigee mark and must overflow. If it reaches you and gives you +a thorough soaking, I shall feel satisfied. +<p>I have always known you were only half-developed. There are many +such people in the world. They serve their purpose and often do +much good. They miss a great deal of life, but as they rarely know +that they miss anything, it is a waste of sentiment to pity them. +<p>I have pitied you, nevertheless. I have often wished I could +give you the vital qualities you lack. +<p>My pity turned to indignation when I heard you express yourself +in such unqualified terms of condemnation regarding other women who +happened to be unlike you in temperament. +<p>You say there is a certain line which no well-born and womanly +woman can pass in thought or feeling or action. +<p>You regard the true women of earth as a higher and rarer order +of creation than the best of men, and any woman who by action or +word confesses herself to be quite human in her temperament, you +feel is, to a certain extent, "unclean and unsexed." You believe +the really good women of earth are always on a plane above and +beyond the physical. When any woman falls from her pedestal you +despise her. +<p>How dare you, madam, sitting in your cold, white chastity, lay +down laws of what you consider purity, morality, and cleanliness, +for other human souls? +<p>How dare you condemn those who do not reach your standard? +<p>What do you know of life, great, palpitating, throbbing, vital +life, terrible and beautiful life, terrible while passing through +the valleys of temptation, beautiful upon the heights of +self-control? +<p>How dare you assume greater virtue, greater respectability, +greater fineness of sentiment, than the tempest-tossed, +passion-beaten souls, about you? +<p>What do you know of real virtue, real strength? +<p>You have been poor, you tell me, in worldly riches, and you have +been lonely, yet you have never once degraded your womanhood by an +"unworthy " impulse. Never known a temptation of the senses. Those +things disgusted you. +<p>You have preferred toil to taking favours from inferiors, and +you have kept yourself clean in thought, word, and deed, and now +you have the reward of such virtues—a good home, a husband, and +children. +<p>You are a more devoted mother than wife, as you have always +dwelt upon a lofty white peak of chaste womanhood, from which any +descent into the earthly realms of life and love was repugnant—so +rarely "pure" and high your nature. +<p>Yet you have been a dutiful, loyal wife, and you are a devoted +mother. +<p>You despise all carnal-minded women, and cannot understand how +women fall—save that they lack good birth and breeding. +<p>You will aid in a benefit for their reformation, but you do not +want to see them or to come near them. It makes you ill. +<p>You are to be congratulated on never having added to the evil in +the world. +<p>But permit me, madam, to tell you some truths about yourself—and +the large army of "respectable women" you represent. +<p>However "well born" you may be, you are only half-born. The +complete human being has three sides to his nature—spiritual, +mental, physical. +<p>The men and women who are evenly developed on the three sides +are few. This is sometimes their fault—sometimes their misfortune. +<p>We all pity the human being who is mentally dwarfed. We are +sorry for the one whose spiritual nature is undeveloped. +<p>But why should the many women who are devoid of the physical +qualities of human nature presume to lay claim to perfection and to +regard the normal woman as a suspicious character? +<p>You have a fine, active mind, a highly spiritual nature, but you +are stunted in strong, physical emotion. You are incapable of it, +and pride yourself upon the fact. +<p>If that pleases you, well and good. +<p>But how dare you criticize God's <i>complete human</i> beings, +who feel the great vibrations of the universe, who glow and thrill +with that divine creative force, who live a thousand lives and die +a thousand deaths before they learn the glory of self-conquest. +<p>How dare you shrink even from those who fall by the wayside, and +call your shrinking "purity"! +<p>Let me ask you another question: +<p>How dare you turn away from that girl who went through the door +of the Magdalene Home you helped establish, with her fatherless +child in her arms? +<p>She fell from woman's holy estate! +<p>Yes, through mad love for a man—she loved him with her soul, her +mind, her body. She lacked knowledge, balance, and wisdom; she had +only love and passion. +<p>And you, madam, how about <i>your</i> children? +<p>They were born of a "dutiful" wife. You descended from your +lofty altitude unwillingly—only at duty's call. You are so +"refined," yet you are a loving mother and pose as the highest type +of woman. +<p><i>God never made in his whole universe of worlds such a "duty" +as unwilling motherhood</i>. Motherhood without the call of sex for +sex is indecent—criminal. You, too, madam, <i>fell</i>. +<p>That girl in yonder "home" your "charity" helped establish, who +loved unwisely, fell. Her fall was through love—yours through a +legal ceremony. +<p>All the churches, all the religions and the laws of earth, +cannot make motherhood holy and right without the mutual mental, +spiritual, and physical union of two beings. +<p>Heaven and earth <i>both</i> must sanction a child's conception +to produce a "well-born" soul. +<p>There is no greater sin on earth than the creation of a human +life without complete accord of the creators. +<p>No wonder the world is full of miserable half-born beings, when +mothers like <i>you</i> claim to be the Madonnas of earth. +<p>No wonder natural, complete, striving souls hide their true +natures under a false exterior, when women like <i>you</i> rule +church and society. +<p>What shame or degradation is there, pray, in being animate with +the all-pervading impulse which underlies the entire universe? +Every planet, every tree, every flower, every insect, is the result +of sex seeking sex, atom calling atom. +<p>The universe <i>is</i> because of the law of sex attraction. +<p>And you, poor, puny, pallid woman, dare decry and despise that +law, and dare insult God's animate creature! +<p>Know this, madam, there is no strength worth boasting that has +not conquered weakness. No virtue worth the name that has not +conquered temptation. No greatness of character that has not +overcome unworthy impulses. +<p>Enjoy your negative goodness and be glad you are "good." +<p>Morality is acceptable to the world, however it conies; but dare +not sit in judgment on other human beings fighting battles whose +smoke never reaches your nostrils, striving for heights of which +you never even dream, and who meanwhile have missed certain +degradations which you seem to consider creditable achievements. +<p>Madam, I bid you adieu. That word means "I commend you to God," +the God who made the two sexes, and intended love to unite them. +<p>May He enlighten you in other lives, if not in this. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Maria_Owens"></a> +<h2>To Maria Owens</h2> +<p class="c3">A New Woman Contemplating Marriage<br> +<p>Surprise, I am free to confess, was my dominant emotion on +reading your letter. Marriage and Maria had never associated +themselves in my mind, fond as I am of alliteration. +<p>Never in the ten years I have known you have I heard you devote +ten minutes to the subject of any man's good qualities. You always +have discoursed upon men's faults and vices, and upon their +tendency, since the beginning of time, to tyrannize over woman. I +was unable to disprove many of your statements, for I know the +weight of argument is upon your side, even while I boldly confess +my admiration and regard for men, as a class, is greater than that +for women. +<p>The fact that the world has allowed men such latitude, and such +license, and made them pay such very small penalties, comparatively +speaking, for very large offences, causes me to admire their +wonderful achievements in noble living all the more: and to place +the man of unblemished reputation and unquestioned probity on a +pedestal higher than any I could yet ask builded for woman. +<p>It is more difficult to be great before the extended tentacles +of the self-indulgence octopus than in the face of oppression and +danger. When the laws of the land and the sentiment of the people +permit a man to be selfish, licentious, tyrannical, and yet call +him great if he accomplishes heroic deeds, it proves what intrinsic +worth must lie in the nature of those who attain the heights of +unselfishness and benevolence, and martyrdom, asking no reward and +often receiving none until posterity bestows it. +<p>Those who can take the broad road of selfishness unmolested, and +choose the narrow path of high endeavour instead, seem to me +greater than those who overcome mere externals. +<p>Many such men have existed, and the steady, slow, but certain +progress of the world from barbarism to civilization, from accepted +cannibalism and slavery to ideals of brotherhood, we owe to them. +All new discoveries, all greatest achievements are due to men. +Woman, I know, has been handicapped and oppressed for centuries by +superstitions, and traditions, and unjust laws; but it is unfair to +ignore the bright, and see only the dark side of the picture, which +the centuries have painted for us, on the background of time. +<p>This letter is only a résumé of many conversations +between you and me, and it leads up to the explanation of why I am +somewhat dazed and stunned by your announcement that marriage is a +possible event in your near future. +<p>My self-conceit in regard to my knowledge of human nature every +now and then receives a blow. So soon as I have arrived at a +positive conviction that I understand any human being thoroughly, +and feel that I can safely predict what that person will or will +not do, I usually meet some such bewildering experience as this. +<p>I would have laughed at any one who suggested the possibility of +your considering a proposition of marriage. +<p>You tell me you are thirty-five years old, and say you have +never before met the man to whom your thoughts reverted, no matter +how you endeavoured to occupy yourself with other subjects. You +also tell me "he is not like other men." These two statements are +wonderfully familiar to me, indeed they have been confided to me in +precisely the same words by at least a score of women, young and +not so young, who met the compelling man. <i>Maria, I believe you +are in love</i>. Your heart is awakened from its stupor, caused by +an overdose of intellect. For too much intellect is often a drug +which deadens the consciousness of a woman's heart. But you have +been drugged so long that you are still under a hazy spell, to +judge from that portion of your letter which took the form of an +inquiry. +<p>You ask my opinion in regard to the point of disagreement +between you and your semi-fiancé. To much that you say I +agree. You have carved a name and a place for yourself in the +world. Your lectures, and your books, have made your name familiar +to many people. Your lover is unknown to the public, a man in the +private walks of life. Therefore you think if he loves you as he +should to become your husband, he ought to give up his own name and +take yours, or at least add yours to his own. You assure me it is +merely a matter of habit, that women have obliterated themselves on +the altar of marriage, and that it is time a new order was +instituted. You think the hour calls for pioneers to establish new +boundaries, in a new world where woman will be allowed to keep her +individuality after marriage. Meantime your lover does not feel +that you really love him, when you ask him to take this somewhat +radical step for your sake, or for the sake of all women, as you +put it. +<p>And there you both stand, with only this ridiculous barrier +between you and happiness. +<p>You are still influenced by the intellectual drug, and it +hinders your heart from following out its best impulses. You have +not yet learned more than the A B C of love, or you would know that +the greatest happiness in loving lies in sacrifice. To take and not +give, to gain something and give up nothing, is not loving. Now I +think I hear you saying, "But why should not my lover give this +proof of devotion as well as I? Why should not he be ready to +sacrifice a tradition, and a name, to please me? Why am I more +unloving, or selfish, than he, to refuse to give up my name?" +<p>My answer follows. +<p>Any woman who asks a man to give up his name and take hers +(unless some great legal matter which involves the property rights +of others hangs on so doing) asks him to make himself ridiculous in +the eyes of the world. She indicates, also, that her family name +and her own achievements are dearer to her than his. No woman loves +a man enough to be happy as his wife, if he is not dearer to her +than any mere personal success, however great. +<p>The man who asks a woman to take his name obeys a tradition and +a custom, to be sure, and the woman who accepts it does not display +any especially heroic trait. Therefore, what you demand of your +lover is a far greater proof of devotion than what he asks of you. +No woman who fully understood the meaning of love could ask this of +her future husband. If he occupied the place in her life which a +husband should, no matter what were her personal attainments, she +would glory in adding his name to her own, and in having its +shelter to hide under at times from the glare of publicity. +<p>Should you choose to keep your name Maria Owens with no +addition, for your lectures and your books, it is quite probable +your husband would not object. And again, if your achievements are +worth the thought you give them in this matter, they are great +enough to endure even should you add the name of Chester to that of +Owens. But certainly, if you love the man you think of marrying, +you will be happy in the thought of wearing his name legally and +socially in every-day life, and the sight of a card engraved, "Mrs. +Rupert Chester," will give your heart a sweeter thrill than it has +ever known in connection with the newspaper notices of Maria Owens. +<p>Unless you can arouse your heart to such an understanding of +love, you are not yet acquainted with the little god. If your lover +consents to the sacrifice you have demanded, he will indicate a +weakness of character which augurs ill for the future: and if you +insist upon the sacrifice, you will establish a selfish precedent +which can only make you a tyrant in your own domain, and at the +same time belittle your husband in the public eye. +<p>However proud and happy you may be in the thought of noble +achievements of your own, you must realize that there are many +brutal and painful phases to a public career for a woman. These +phases do not exist to any such degree for a man. I do not believe +it is the result of tradition or habit, but of sex and temperament, +that this difference exists, and that the shelter of a man's name +means more to woman than any shelter to be found in her own, and +that the sacrifice of her own name means less to her than the +sacrifice of his means to him. Unless you can reach this same +conclusion, do not marry—for you do not love. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_St_Claire"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. St. Claire</h2> +<p class="c3">The Young Divorcée<br> +<p>And so you have joined the increasing army of the +divorcées. +<p>It is worse than useless to discuss again the causes which led +to this situation, and now that the law of the land has made you a +free woman, the one thing for you to consider is your future, and +to formulate to some degree a code of conduct for your guidance. +<p>You are in the prime of beautiful womanhood, pleasing to the +eye, and agreeable to the mind. Women will regard you with more or +less mental reservation, and men will seek you at every +opportunity. +<p>Some witty creature has said, "A little widow is a dangerous +thing." +<p>It might be added, "A grass widow whets the appetites of +bovines". +<p>You will find yourself at a loss to choose when an escort is +needed, so many and persistent will be the applicants for the +position. +<p>After having passed through the black waters of an unhappy +marriage, this sudden freedom and return to the privileges of +girlhood will be liable to affect you like the glare of sunlight +after confinement in a dark room. +<p>You will be blinded for a time. It would be well for you to walk +slowly, and to use a cane of common sense, and even to feel your +way with the outstretched hands of discretion, until you become +accustomed to the light. +<p>To fall and scar yourself now, would be a disaster. +<p>It is a curious fact that a woman who has been unhappy with one +man usually finds many others ready to give her the opportunity for +a repetition of her experience. And it is equally curious that one +unhappy marriage frequently leads to another. +<p>A disastrous rencontre with Hymen seems to destroy a woman's +finer intuitions. If you feel that you must marry again, go slowly, +and wait until the bruised tendrils of your heart have healed and +are rooted in healthy soil. Do not let them twine about any sort of +a dead tree or frail reed. Run no chance of a second sorrow. +<p>One divorce always contains elements of tragedy. A second +becomes a farce. +<p>You tell me that you and your former husband entertain the +kindest feeling for each other. You have seen him and talked with +him on several occasions, and you regard him as a friend. You say +all love and sentiment perished long before your separation, and +that to continue as his wife was to die a thousand deaths daily. +<p>You tell me that your own higher development demanded this +separation. I know such situations do exist in the world of men and +women, and that to submit to them is a crime. Yet I also know that +this idea of "development" is used often as a cloak for all sorts +of selfish impulses and moods. +<p>Many men and women to-day seem to forget that certain other +objects besides happiness enter into self-development. +<p>It is not only the pilot who deserts the ship and swims ashore +who saves his life. The one who keeps his hand on the wheel, and +his eye on the lighthouse, he, too, sometimes saves his own life, +as well as saves the ship. +<p>But since to jump overboard was the only way to save your own +life, now that you are ashore, and dry, and comfortable, your first +consideration should be to avoid falling into mires and pits as you +go along. +<p>Though romance died out of your marriage, do not let it die out +of your heart. It is commendable that you feel no bitterness or +resentment toward your husband. But do not carry your kindly +feelings toward him to the extent of frequent association and +comradeship. +<p>Outside of criminal situations, life offers no more ghastly and +unpleasant picture than that of dead passion galvanized into a +semblance of friendship, and going about the world devoid of the +strong elements of either sentiment. +<p>There is something radically wrong with a woman's ideals when +she does not feel an instinctive unwillingness to be thrown with +the man from whom she has been divorced. +<p>There is something akin to degeneracy in the man or woman who +can contemplate without shrinking the intimate encounter of legally +parted husbands or wives. +<p>The softening of the human brain is a terrible malady. +<p>Quite as terrible is the hardening of the human heart. +<p>The loss of happiness is deemed a tragedy. But far greater is +the tragedy when the illusive charm of romance departs, and love +and marriage are reduced to the commonplace. Unless you find the +man who carries your whole nature by storm, and who makes you feel +that life without him will be insupportable, do not be led again to +the altar of marriage. +<p>Life has many avenues for a bright and charming woman which lead +to satisfaction and peace, if not to happiness. +<p>If you desire to be a picturesque figure in the world, remember +that the divorced woman who never marries again is far more so than +she who has taken the names of two living men. +<p>And remember how much there is in life to do for other people, +how much there is to achieve, and how much there is to enjoy, for +the woman who has eyes wherewith to see, and ears with which to +hear. +<p>Life is a privilege, even to the unhappy. It allows them the +opportunity to display the great qualities which God implanted in +every soul, and to give the world higher examples of character. +<p>He who leaves such an example to the world earns happiness for +eternity. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Jessie_Harcourt"></a> +<h2>To Miss Jessie Harcourt</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man<br> +<p>And so there is trouble in the house of Harcourt, my dear +Jessie. You want to marry your intellectual young lover, who has +only his pen between him and poverty, and your cruel father, who +owns the town, says it is an act of madness on your part, and of +presumption on his. +<p>And you are thinking of going to the nearest clergyman and +defying parental authority. +<p>You have even looked at rooms where you believe you and Ernest +could be ideally happy. And you want me to act as matron-of-honour +at that very informal little wedding. +<p>Now, my dear girl, before you take this important step, give the +matter careful study. +<p>Your impulses are beautiful, and your ideal natural and lovely. +God intended men and women to choose their mates in this very way, +with no consideration of a worldly nature to mar their happiness. +<p>But civilized young ladies are a far call from God's primitive +woman. You have lived for twenty-three years in the lap of modern +luxury. Your father prides himself upon the fact that, although +your mother died when you were very young, he has carefully +shielded you from everything which could cast a shadow upon your +name or nature. Your lover is fascinated with your absolute purity +and innocence. Yet he does not realize that a young woman who has +so long "sat in the lap of Luxury," is unfit to be a poor man's +wife. +<p>Some girl who might know much more than you of the dark and +vulgar side of life, would make him a better companion if he could +love her enough to ask her hand in marriage. +<p>The girl who has received the addresses of this fascinating old +fellow "Luxury," never quite forgets him, or ceases to bemoan him +if she throws him over for a poor man. +<p>To <i>look</i> at two rooms and a bath is one thing, to +<i>live</i> in them another, after having all your life occupied a +suite which a queen might envy, with retinues of servitors at call. +<p>You tell me you could die for your lover. +<p>But can you bathe from a wash-bowl and pitcher, and can you take +your meals at cheap restaurants, and make coffee and toast on an +oil-stove or a chafing-dish? +<p>Can you wear cheap clothing and ride in trolleys, and economize +on laundry bills to prove your love for this man? +<p>You never have known one single hardship in your life; you never +have faced poverty, or even experienced the ordinary economies of +well-to-do people. +<p>You are an only daughter of wealth—<i>American wealth</i>. That +sentence conveys a world of meaning. <i>It means that you are +spoiled for anything but comfort in this life</i>. +<p>For a few weeks you might believe yourself in a fairy-land of +romance if you married your lover and went to live in the two +rooms. But at the end of that period you would begin to realize +that you were in a very actual land of poverty and discomfort. +<p>Discomfort is relative. Those rooms to the shop-girl who had +toiled for years, and lived in a fourth-flight-back tenement, would +represent luxury. To you, after a few months, they would mean +absolute penury. +<p>You would begin to miss your beautiful home, and your maids, and +your carriages. Your husband would know you were missing them, and +he would be miserable. Unless your father came to your rescue, your +dream of romantic love would end in a nightmare of regret and +sorrow. +<p>Your father knows you,—the creature of refined tastes and +luxurious habits that he has made you,—and your lover does not. +Neither do you know yourself. +<p>It requires a woman in ten thousand, one possessed of absolute +heroism, like the old martyrs who sang at the stake while dying, to +do what you contemplate, and to be happy in the doing. +<p>Nothing like a life of self-indulgence disintegrates great +qualities. You are romantically and feverishly in love with a +handsome and gifted young man. But do not rush into a marriage with +him until you can bring your father to settle a competence upon +you, or until your lover has spanned the abyss of poverty with a +bridge of comfort. You have had no training in self-denial or +self-dependence. The altar is a bad place to begin your first +lesson. +<p>Wait awhile. I know my advice seems worldly and cold, but it is +the result of wide observation. +<p>If you cannot sit in your gold and white boudoir, and be true to +Ernest while he battles a few more years with destiny, then you +could not remain loyal in thought while you held your numb fingers +over a chilly radiator in an uncomfortable flat, or omitted dessert +from your dinner menu to cut down expenses. +<p>Your brain-cells have been developed in opulence. +<p>You could not train your mind to inexorable economy, even at the +command of Cupid. +<p>Take the advice of a woman of the world, my dear girl, and do +not attempt the impossible and so spoil two lives. +<p>Again I say, wait awhile. +<p>There are girls who could be perfectly happy in the position you +picture for yourself with Ernest, but not you. +<p>Better hide your ideal in your heart than shatter it on the +unswept hearthstone of the commonplace. +<p>Better be in your lover's life the unattained joy, than ruin his +happiness by discontent. +<p>It is less of a tragedy for a man to hear a woman say "I cannot +go with you," than to hear her say "I cannot stay with you." +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Jane_Carter"></a> +<h2>To Miss Jane Carter</h2> +<p class="c3">Of the W.C.T.U.<br> +<p>And so, my dear Jane, I have fallen from my pedestal, in your +estimation. Yet, having carefully regarded myself in the mirror, +and finding no discolorations, and feeling no wounds or contusions, +I think my pedestal must have been very near the earth, else I +would be conscious of some bruises. +<p>And now, Jane, to be frank, I am very glad to be off my perch. +<p>I do not want to dwell upon a pedestal. +<p>It necessitates a monotonous life, and it is an unsocial +position. +<p>I prefer to walk on the earth, among my fellow creatures. +<p>You were greatly shocked, I saw, when I told my little Russian +guest that she might light her cigarette in my boudoir. Your sudden +departure told its own story, and your letter was no surprise. But +I am glad you wrote me so frankly, as it gives me the opportunity +to be equally frank. +<p>There is nothing more beneficial, in true friendship, than a +free exchange of honest criticisms. +<p>You tell me that I lowered my standard by lending countenance to +a pernicious and unladylike habit. You felt I owed it to myself, as +a good woman, and to my home, as a respectable house, to show my +unswerving principles in this matter, and to indicate my +disapproval of a disgusting vice, which is growing in our midst. +<p>Life is too short, my dear Jane, in which to achieve all our +ideals, and to arrive at all our goals. +<p>I have learned the futility of attempting to reform the whole +world in one day. And I have also learned that there are more roads +than one, to all destinations. +<p>Miss Ordosky is the daughter of a dear old friend of my youth, +who married a Russian nobleman with more titles than dollars. +<p>Her parents are dead, and Wanda has come to her mother's native +land, to teach her father's language. She has come with all her +Russian habits and ideas accented by her mother's American +indifference to public opinion. The girl is young, lovely, and +wholly dependent upon herself for a livelihood. I invited her to be +my guest for two months, before establishing herself in her +business, with the hope of helping her to adapt herself somewhat to +American ideas and customs. +<p>I could never hope for such a result, had I antagonized her the +first day under my roof by an austere attitude toward a habit which +I knew she had been reared to think proper. +<p>I do not like to see a woman smoke, and I regret as much as you +do the increasing prevalence of the vice in America. +<p>Like almost every schoolgirl, I had my day of thinking a +surreptitious, cigarette was wonderfully cunning. +<p>That day passed, like the measles and the whooping-cough, and +left me immune. I have never seen a woman so beautiful and alluring +that she was not less charming when she put a cigarette to her +lips. I am confident the habit vitiates the blood, injures the +digestion, and renders the breath offensive. I have known many +American men who taught their wives to smoke; and I do not know +<i>one</i> who has not lived to regret it, when the cigarette he +fancied would be an occasional luxury became a necessity. +<p>A woman who expects ever to bring children into the world, is +little better than a criminal to form such a habit: for, argue as +we may for one moral code for both sexes, we cannot change nature's +law, which imposes the greater responsibility upon the mother of +the unborn child; the child she carries so many months beneath her +heart, giving it hour by hour the impression of her mental and +physical conditions. +<p>Fathers ought not to smoke or indulge in other bad habits. +<p><i>Mothers must not</i>. +<p>I hope in time to discuss these topics with Wanda, and to make +an impression upon her mind by my arguments. +<p>But your methods and mine, dear Jane, differ widely. And, +begging your pardon, I believe mine accomplish more good for a +larger number of human beings than yours. +<p>And, added to that fact, I get more happiness for myself out of +life. +<p>Miss Ordosky would have managed to smoke her cigarette, however +rigid had I been in expressing my principles. And she would have +found some excuse to shorten her visit under my roof, and then +where would be my opportunity to influence her? +<p>As it is, she puffs her cigarette in my company, listens to my +opinions, seems to respect my ideas, and is interested in my views +of life. We are becoming excellent comrades, and this is far more +gratifying to me than to know that I had antagonized her into a +formal acquaintance by my aggressive morality. I have an idea that, +before my pretty guest reaches the time when she will consider +wifehood and motherhood as life professions, I may convince her +from a scientific standpoint that she better abandon her +cigarettes. And to convince one's mind is far better than to drive +one to submission. +<p>And now, Jane, has it never occurred to you that you have made +some mistakes in life by the very methods you are so sorry I did +not pursue with Miss Ordosky? +<p>Years ago, I recall your surrounding a certain young man with an +aureole of idealism. Then you were obliged to dethrone him from his +pedestal because he, too, forsooth, smoked a cigar. +<p>That young man married a woman quite as worthy and good as +yourself, and he has made the best of husbands and citizens. I know +of no man who does more good in the world in a quiet way than this +same unpedestaled old admirer of yours. Whether he still smokes his +cigar or not I could not say. But as a man, it seems to me, he is +quite as worthy and noble a citizen, as you are a woman. +<p>I know that you are doing all you can, to spread the gospel of +clean living abroad in the land, and that your influence is all for +a higher standard of morality. +<p>But if you live on too high an altitude, in this world, and +refuse to associate with any one who will not climb up to your +plane, you are destined to a lonely life, and your sphere of +influence is limited. You will do far more good by taking your +place with other human beings, and by gradual, sane efforts leading +the thoughts of your associates to turn to your wholesome ideas of +life. You are making morality unpopular by your present aggressive +methods. And you are missing many sweet friendships and experiences +by your insistence that all your friends must follow the narrow +path you have decided is the only road to good behaviour. +<p>Come down from your pedestal, my dear Jane—come and dwell on the +earth. +<p>THE END. + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 12020-h.htm or 12020-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/2/12020/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For example: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + +</pre> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/12020-h/photo.jpg b/12020-h/photo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f6c4d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/12020-h/photo.jpg diff --git a/12020.txt b/12020.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..91725c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/12020.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6281 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Woman of the World + Her Counsel to Other People's Sons and Daughters + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: April 14, 2004 [EBook #12020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +[Illustration] + +A Woman of the World + +HER COUNSEL TO OTHER PEOPLE'S SONS AND DAUGHTERS + +By + +Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +1904 + +Fourth Impression, April, 1910 + + + + +Contents + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Law Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + +TO MISS WINIFRED CLAYBORNE, _At Vassar College_ + +TO EDNA GORDON, _During Her Honeymoon_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + +TO CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + +TO MISS MARGARET RILEY, _Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _After Three Years as a Teacher_ + +TO A YOUNG FRIEND, _Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical +Thoughts of the Day_ + +TO WILFRED CLAYBORN, _Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + +TO MISS ELSIE DEAN, _Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + +TO MISS DIANA RIVERS, _A Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a +Journalist_ + +TO NANETTE, _A Former Maid_ + +TO THE REV. WILTON MARSH, _Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES MCALLISTER, _Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Maternity_ + +TO MR. ALFRED DUNCAN, _Concerning the Ministry_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GRAY, _Concerning Polygamy_ + +TO WALTER SMEED, _Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Children_ + +TO Miss ZOE CLAYBORN, ARTIST, _Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven +Years of Married Life_ + +TO MRS. CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Concerning Her Husband_ + +TO YOUNG MRS. DUNCAN, _Regarding Mothers-in-Law._ + +TO A YOUNG MAN, _Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + +TO MRS. MCALLISTER, _Concerning Her Little Girl_ + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + +TO THE SISTER OF A GREAT BEAUTY + +TO MRS. WHITE PEAK, _One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + +TO MARIA OWENS, _A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + +TO MRS. ST. CLAIRE, _The Young Divorcee_ + +TO MISS JESSIE HARCOURT, _Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + +TO MISS JANE CARTER, _Of the W.C.T.U_ + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Late Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + + +Were you an older man, my dear Ray, your letter would be consigned to +the flames unanswered, and our friendship would become constrained and +formal, if it did not end utterly. But knowing you to be so many years +my junior, and so slightly acquainted with yourself or womankind, I am +going to be the friend you need, instead of the misfortune you invite. + +I will not say that your letter was a complete surprise to me. It is +seldom a woman is so unsophisticated in the ways of men that she is not +aware when friendship passes the borderline and trespasses on the domain +of passion. + +I realized on the last two occasions we met that you were not quite +normal. The first was at Mrs. Hanover's dinner; and I attributed some +indiscreet words and actions on your part to the very old Burgundy +served to a very young man. + +Since the memory of mortal, Bacchus has been a confederate of Cupid, and +the victims of the former have a period (though brief indeed) of +believing themselves slaves to the latter. + +As I chanced to be your right-hand neighbour at that very merry board, +where wit, wisdom, and beauty combined to condense hours into minutes, I +considered it a mere accident that you gave yourself to me with somewhat +marked devotion. Had I been any other one of the ladies present, it +would have been the same, I thought. Our next and last encounter, +however, set me thinking. + +It was fully a week later, and that most unromantic portion of the day, +between breakfast and luncheon. + +It was a Bagby recital, and you sought me out as I was listening to the +music, and caused me to leave before the programme was half done. You +were no longer under the dominion of Bacchus, though Euterpe may have +taken his task upon herself, as she often does, and your manner and +expression of countenance troubled me. + +I happen to be a woman whose heart life is absolutely complete. I have +realized my dreams, and have no least desire to turn them into +nightmares. I like original roles, too, and that of the really happy +wife is less hackneyed than the part of the "misunderstood woman." And I +find greater enjoyment in the steady flame of one lamp than in the +flaring light of many candles. + +I have taken a good deal of pride in keeping my lamp well trimmed and +brightly burning, and I was startled and offended at the idea of any man +coming so near he imagined he might blow out the light. + +Your letter, however, makes me more sorry than angry. + +You are passing through a phase of experience which comes to almost +every youth, between sixteen and twenty-four. + +Your affectional and romantic nature is blossoming out, and you are in +that transition period where an older woman appeals to you. + +Being crude and unformed yourself, the mature and ripened mind and body +attract you. + +A very young man is fascinated by an older woman's charms, just as a +very old man is drawn to a girl in her teens. + +This is according to the law of completion, each entity seeking for what +it does not possess. + +Ask any middle-aged man of your acquaintance to tell you the years of +the first woman he imagined he loved, and you will find you are +following a beaten path. + +Because you are a worth while young man, with a bright future before +you, I am, as I think of the matter, glad you selected me rather than +some other less happy or considerate woman, as the object of your +regard. + +An unhappy wife or an ambitious adventuress might mar your future, and +leave you with lowered ideals and blasted prospects. + +You tell me in your letter that for "a day of life and love with me you +would willingly give up the world and snap your fingers in the face of +conventional society, and even face death with a laugh." It is easy for +a passionate, romantic nature to work itself into a mood where those +words are felt when written, and sometimes the mood carries a man and a +woman through the fulfilment of such assertions. But invariably +afterward comes regret, remorse, and disillusion. + +No man enjoys having the world take him at his word, when he says he is +ready to give it up for the woman he loves. + +He wants the woman and the world, too. + +In the long run, he finds the world's respect more necessary to his +continued happiness than the woman's society. + +Just recall the history of all such cases you have known, and you will +find my assertions true. + +Thank your stars that I am not a reckless woman ready to take you at +your word, and thank your stars, too, that I am not a free woman who +would be foolish enough and selfish enough to harness a young husband to +a mature wife. I know you resent this reference to the difference in our +years, which may not be so marked to the observer to-day, but how would +it be ten, fifteen years from now? There are few disasters greater for +husband or wife than the marriage of a boy of twenty to a woman a dozen +years his senior. For when he reaches thirty-five, despair and misery +must almost inevitably face them both. + +You must forgive me when I tell you that one sentence in your letter +caused a broad smile. + +That sentence was, "Would to God I had met you when you were free to be +wooed and loved, as never man loved woman before." + +Now I have been married ten years, and you are twenty-three years old! +You must blame my imagination (not my heart, which has no intention of +being cruel) for the picture presented to my mind's eye by your wish. + +I saw myself in the full flower of young ladyhood, carrying at my side +an awkward lad of a dozen years, attired in knickerbockers, and +probably chewing a taffy stick, yet "wooing and loving as never man +loved before." + +I suppose, however, the idea in your mind was that you wished Fate had +made me of your own age, and left me free for you. + +But few boys of twenty-three are capable of knowing what they want in a +life companion. Ten years from now your ideal will have changed. + +You are in love with love, life, and all womankind, my dear boy, not +with me, your friend. + +Put away all such ideas, and settle down to hard study and serious +ambitions, and seal this letter of yours, which I am returning with my +reply, and lay it carefully away in some safe place. Mark it to be +destroyed unopened in case of your death. But if you live, I want you to +open, re-read and burn it on the evening before your marriage to some +lovely girl, who is probably rolling a hoop to-day; and if I am living, +I want you to write and thank me for what I have said to you here. I +hardly expect you will feel like doing it now, but I can wait. + +Do not write me again until that time, and when we meet, be my good +sensible friend--one I can introduce to my husband, for only such +friends do I care to know. + + + + +To Miss Winifred Clayborne + +_At Vassar College_ + + +My dear niece:--It was a pleasure to receive so long a letter from you +after almost two years of silence. It hardly seems possible that you are +eighteen years old. To have graduated from high school with such honours +that you are able to enter Vassar at so early an age is much to your +credit. + +I indulged in a good-natured laugh over your request for my advice +regarding a college course. You say, "I remember that I once heard you +state that you did not believe in higher education for women, and, +therefore, I am anxious to have your opinion of this undertaking of +mine." + +Now of course, my dear child, what you wish me to say is, that I am +charmed with your resolution to graduate from Vassar. You have entered +the college fully determined to take a complete course, and you surely +would not like a discouraging or disapproving letter from your auntie. + +"Please give me your opinion of my course of action" always means, +"Please approve of what I am doing." + +Well I _do_ approve. I always approve when a human being is carrying out +a determination, even if I am confident it is the wrong determination. + +The really useful knowledge of life must come through strong +convictions. Strong convictions are usually obtained only on the pathway +of personal experience. + +To argue a man out of a certain course of action rarely argues away his +own beliefs and desires in the matter. We may save him some bitter +experience in the contemplated project, but he is almost certain to find +that same bitter experience later, because he has been coerced, not +enlightened. + +Had he gained his knowledge in the first instance, he would have escaped +the later disaster. + +A college education does not seem to me the most desirable thing for a +woman, unless she intends to enter into educational pursuits as a means +of livelihood. I understand it is your intention to become a teacher, +and, therefore, you are wise to prepare yourself by a thorough +education. _Be the very best_, in whatever line of employment you enter. + +Scorn any half-way achievements. Make yourself a brilliantly educated +woman, but look to it that in the effort you do not forget two other +important matters--health and sympathy. My objection to higher education +for women, which you once heard me express, is founded on the fact that +I have met many college women who were anaemic and utterly devoid of +emotion. One beautiful young girl I recall who at fourteen years of age +seemed to embody all the physical and temperamental charms possible for +womankind. Softly rounded features, vivid colouring, voluptuous curves +of form, yet delicacy and refinement in every portion of her anatomy, +she breathed love and radiated sympathy. I thought of her as the ideal +woman in embryo; and the brightness of her intellect was the finishing +touch to a perfect girlhood. I saw her again at twenty-four. She had +graduated from an American college and had taken two years in a foreign +institution of learning. She had carried away all the honours--but, +alas, the higher education had carried away all her charms of person and +of temperament. Attenuated, pallid, sharp-featured, she appeared much +older than her years, and the lovely, confiding and tender qualities of +mind, which made her so attractive to older people, had given place to +cold austerity and hypercriticism. + +Men were only objects of amusement, indifference, or ridicule to her. +Sentiment she regarded as an indication of crudity, emotion as an +insignia of vulgarity. The heart was a purely physical organ, she knew +from her studies in anatomy. It was no more the seat of emotion than +the liver or lungs. The brain was the only portion of the human being +which appealed to her, and "educated" people were the only ones who +interested her, because they were capable of argument and discussion of +intellectual problems--her one source of entertainment. + +Half an hour in the society of this over-trained young person left one +exhausted and disillusioned with brainy women. I beg you to pay no such +price for an education as this young girl paid. I remember you as a +robust, rosy girl, with charming manners. Your mother was concerned, on +my last visit, because I called you a pretty girl in your hearing. She +said the one effort of her life was to rear a sensible Christian +daughter with no vanity. She could not understand my point of view when +I said I should regret it if a daughter of mine was without vanity, and +that I should strive to awaken it in her. Cultivate enough vanity to +care about your personal appearance and your deportment. No amount of +education can recompense a woman for the loss of complexion, figure, +or charm. And do not let your emotional and affectional nature grow +atrophied. + +Control your emotions, but do not crucify them. + +Do not mistake frigidity for serenity, nor austerity for self-control. +Be affable, amiable, and sweet, no matter how much you know. And listen +more than you talk. + +The woman who knows how to show interest is tenfold more attractive than +the woman who is for ever anxious to instruct. Learn how to call out the +best in other people, and lead them to talk of whatever most interests +them. In this way you will gain a wide knowledge of human nature, which +is the best education possible. Try and keep a little originality of +thought, which is the most difficult of all undertakings while in +college; and, if possible, be as lovable a woman when you go forth into +the world "finished" as when you entered the doors of your Alma Mater: +for to be unlovable is a far greater disaster than to be uneducated. + + + + +To Edna Gordon + +_During Her Honeymoon_ + + +I am very much flattered that you should write your first letter as Mrs. +Gordon to me. Its receipt was a surprise, as I have known you so +slightly--only when we were both guests under a friend's roof for one +week. + +I had no idea that you were noticing me particularly at that time, there +was such a merry crowd of younger people about you. How careful we +matrons should be, when in the presence of debutantes, for it seems they +are taking notes for future reference! + +I am glad that my behaviour and conversation were such that you feel you +can ask me for instructions at this important period of your life. Here +is the text you have given me: + +"_I want you to tell me, dear Mrs. West, how to be as happy, and loved, +and loving, after fifteen years of married life, as you are. I so dread +the waning of my honeymoon_." + +And now you want me to preach you a little sermon on this text. Well, my +dear girl, I am at a disadvantage in not knowing you better, and not +knowing your husband at all. + +Husbands are like invalids, each needs a special prescription, according +to his ailment. + +But as all invalids can be benefited by certain sensible suggestions, +like taking simple food, and breathing and exercising properly, and +sleeping with open windows or out-of-doors, so all husbands can be aided +toward perpetual affection by the observance of some general laws, on +the part of the wife. + +I am, of course, to take it for granted that you have married a man with +principles and ideals, a man who loves you and desires to make a good +husband. I know you were not so unfortunate as to possess a large amount +of property for any man to seek, and so I can rely upon the natural +supposition that you were married for love. + +It might be worth your while, right now, while your husband's memory is +fresh upon the subject, to ask him what particular characteristics first +won his attention, and what caused him to select you for a life +companion. + +Up to the present moment, perhaps, he has never told you any more +substantial reason for loving you than the usual lovers' +explanation--"Just because." But if you ask him to think it over, I am +sure he can give you a more explicit answer. + +After you have found what qualities, habits, actions, or accomplishments +attracted him, write them down in a little book and refer to them two or +three times a year. On these occasions ask yourself if you are keeping +these attractions fresh and bright as they were in the days of +courtship. Women easily drop the things which won a man's heart, and are +unconscious that the change they bemoan began in themselves. But do not +imagine you can rest at ease after marriage with only the qualities, +and charms, and virtues, which won you a lover. To keep a husband in +love is a more serious consideration than to win a lover. + +You must add year by year to your attractions. + +As the deep bloom of first youth passes, you must cultivate mental and +spiritual traits which will give your face a lustre from within. + +And as the mirth and fun of life drifts farther from you, and you find +the merry jest, which of old turned care into laughter, less ready on +your lip, you must cultivate a wholesome optimistic view of life, to +sustain your husband through the trials and disasters besetting most +mortal paths. + +Make one solemn resolve now, and never forget it. Say to yourself, "On +no other spot, in no other house on earth, shall my husband find a more +cheerful face, a more loving welcome, or a more restful atmosphere, than +he finds at home." + +No matter what vicissitudes arise, and what complications occur, keep +that resolve. It will at least help to sustain you with a sense of +self-respect, if unhappiness from any outside source should shadow your +life. An attractive home has become a sort of platitude in speech, but +it remains a thing of vital importance, all the same, in actual life and +in marriage. + +Think often and speak frequently to your husband of his good qualities +and of the things you most admire in him. + +Sincere and judicious praise is to noble nature like spring rain and sun +to the earth. Ignore or make light of his small failings, and when you +must criticize a serious fault, do not dwell upon it. A husband and wife +should endeavour to be such good friends that kindly criticism is +accepted as an evidence of mutual love which desires the highest +attainments for its object. + +But no man likes to think his wife has set about the task of making him +over, and if you have any such intention I beg you to conceal it, and go +about it slowly and with caution. + +A woman who knows how to praise more readily than she knows how to +criticize, and who has the tact and skill to adapt herself to a man's +moods and to find amusement and entertainment in his whims, can lead him +away from their indulgence without his knowledge. + +Such women are the real reformers of men, though they scorn the word, +and disclaim the effort. + +It is well to keep a man conscious that you are a refined and +delicate-minded woman, yet do not insist upon being worshipped on a +pedestal. It tires a man's neck to be for ever gazing upward, and +statues are less agreeable companions than human beings. + +If you wish to be thought spotless marble, instead of warm flesh and +blood, you should have gone into a museum, and refused marriage. +Remember God knew what He was about, when He fashioned woman to be man's +companion, mate, and mother of his children. + +Respect yourself in all those capacities, and regard the fulfilment of +each duty as sacred and beautiful. + +Do not thrust upon the man's mind continually the idea that you are a +vastly higher order of being than he is. + +He will reach your standard much sooner if you come half-way and meet +him on the plane of common sense and human understanding. Meantime let +him never doubt your abhorrence of vulgarity, and your distaste for the +familiarity which breeds contempt. + +It is a great art, when a wife knows how to attract a husband year after +year, with the allurements of the boudoir, and never to disillusion him +with the familiarities of the dressing-room. + +Such women there are, who have lived with their lovers in poverty's +close quarters, and through sickness and trouble, and yet have never +brushed the bloom from the fruit of romance. But she who needs to be +told in what this art consists, would never understand, and she who +understands, need not be told. + +Keep your husband certain of the fact that his attention and society is +more agreeable to you than that of any other man. But never beg for his +attentions, and do not permit him to think you are incapable of enjoying +yourself without his playing the devoted cavalier. + +The moment a man feels such an attitude is compulsory, it becomes +irksome. Learn how to entertain yourself. Cling to your accomplishments +and add others. A man admires a progressive woman who keeps step with +the age. Study, and think, and read, and cultivate the art of listening. +This will make you interesting to men and women alike, and your husband +will hear you praised as an agreeable and charming woman, and that +always pleases a man, as it indicates his good taste and good luck. + +Avoid giving your husband the impression that you expect a detailed +account of every moment spent away from you. Convince him that you +believe in his honour and loyalty, and that you have no desire to +control or influence his actions in any matters which do not conflict +with his self-respect or your pride. + +Cultivate the society of the women he admires. There is both wisdom and +tact in such a course. + +Wisdom in making an ideal a reality, and tact in avoiding any semblance +of that most unbecoming fault--jealousy. + +Let him see that you have absolute faith in your own powers to hold him, +and that you respect him too much to mistake a frank admiration for an +unworthy sentiment. Do not hesitate to speak with equal frankness of the +qualities you admire in other men. Educate him in liberality and +generosity, by example. + +Allow no one to criticize him in your presence, and do not discuss his +weaknesses with others. I have known wives to meet in conclaves, and +dissect husbands for an entire afternoon. And each wife seemed anxious +to pose as the most neglected and unappreciated woman of the lot. With +all the faults of the sterner sex, I never heard of such a caucus of +husbands. + +Take an interest in your husband's business affairs, and sympathize with +the cares and anxieties which beset him. Distract his mind with pleasant +or amusing conversation, when you find him nervous and fagged in brain +and body. + +Yet do not feel that you must never indicate any trouble of your own, +for it is conducive to selfishness when a wife hides all her worries and +indispositions to listen to those of her husband. But since the +work-a-day world, outside the home, is usually filled with irritations +for a busy man, it should be a wife's desire to make his home-coming a +season of anticipation and joy. + +Do not expect a husband to be happy and contented with a continuous diet +of love and sentiment and romance. He needs also much that is practical +and commonplace mingled with his mental food. + +I have known an adoring young wife to irritate Cupid so he went out and +sat on the door-step, contemplating flight, by continual neglect of +small duties. + +There were never any matches in the receivers; when the husband wanted +one he was obliged to search the house. The newspaper he had folded and +left ready to read at leisure was used to light the fire, although an +overfilled waste-basket stood near. The towel-rack was empty just when +he wanted his bath, and his bedroom slippers were always kicked so far +under the bed that he was obliged to crawl on all fours to reach them. + +Then his loving spouse was sure to want to be "cuddled" when he was +smoking his cigar and reading,--a triple occupation only possible to a +human freak, with three arms, four eyes, and two mouths. + +Therefore I would urge you, my dear Edna, to mingle the practical with +the ideal, and common sense with sentiment, and tact with affection, in +your domestic life. + +These general rules are all I can give to guide your barque into the +smooth, sea of marital happiness. + +It is a wide sea, with many harbours and ports, and no two ships start +from exactly the same point or take exactly the same course. You will +encounter rocks and reefs, perhaps, which my boat escaped, and I have no +chart to guide you away from those rocks. + +If I knew you better, and knew your husband at all, I might steer you a +little farther out of Honeymoon Bay into calm waters, and tell you how +to reef your sails, and how to tack at certain junctures of the voyage, +and with the wind in certain directions. + +But if you keep your heart full of love, your mind clear of distrust, +and your lips free from faultfinding, and if you pray for guidance and +light upon your way, I am sure you cannot miss the course. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + + +It is indeed a problem, my dear Gladys, to face stern-visaged Necessity +after walking with laughing-lipped Pleasure for twenty-two years. + +What an unforeseen event that your father should sink his fortune in a +rash venture and die of remorse and discouragement scarcely six months +after you were travelling through Europe with me, and laughing at my +vain attempts to make you economize. + +You have acted the noble and womanly part, in using the last dollar of +your father's property to pay his debts, and I could imagine you doing +no other way. + +But now comes the need of earning a livelihood for yourself, and your +delicate mother. + +I know you have gone over the list of your accomplishments and taken +stock of all your inherited and acquired qualities. You play the piano +well, but in these days of Paderewskies and pianolas, no one wants to +employ a young girl music-teacher. You do not sing, and if you did, that +would not afford you a means of support. The best of natural voices need +a fortune spent before half a fortune can be earned. + +You dance like a fairy, and swim like a mermaid, and ride like an Indian +princess, but these accomplishments are not lucrative, save in a Midway +Plaisance or a Wild West show. You are well educated and your memory is +remarkable. You have a facility in mathematics, and your knowledge of +grammar and rhetoric will, as you say, enable you to pass the +examination for a teacher in the public schools after a little brushing +up and study. Then, with the political influence of your father's old +friends, you will no doubt be able to obtain a position. + +I recollect you as surpassingly skilful with the needle. I know you +once saw a charming morning gown in Paris which I persuaded you not to +buy at the absurd price asked for it, after the merchant understood we +were Americans. And I remember how you passed to another department, +purchased materials, went home to our hotel, and cut and made a +surprising imitation of the gown at one-tenth the cost. + +Why have you not considered turning this talent to account? Though the +world goes to war and ruin, yet women will dress, and the need of good +seamstresses ever exists. + +Go to some enterprising half-grown Western or interior Eastern town, +announce yourself in possession of all the Paris styles (as you are), +and launch out. Increase your prices gradually, and go abroad on your +savings at the end of a year, then come back with new ideas, a larger +stock, and higher prices. + +You will be on the road to fortune, and can retire with a competence +before you are middle-aged. A little skill with the scissors and +needle, lots of courage and audacity, and original methods will make a +woman succeed in this line of endeavour. + +But why do I not approve of the profession upon which you have almost +decided--that of teaching--you ask. + +I will tell you why. + +Next to motherhood, the profession of teacher in public or private +schools is the most important one on earth. + +It is, in a certain sense, more responsible than that of motherhood, +since the work of poor and bad mothers must be undone by the teacher, +and where the mother has three or four children for a period of years to +influence, the teacher has hundreds continually. There are very few +perfect teachers. There are too few excellent ones. There are too many +poor ones. I do not believe you possess the requisites for the calling. + +A teacher should first of all love children as a class. Their +dependence, their ignorance, their helplessness, and their unformed +characters should appeal to a woman's mind, and make her forget their +many and varied faults and irritating qualities. You like lovable, +well-bred, and interesting children, but you are utterly indifferent to +all others. You adore beauty, and an ugly child offends your taste. A +stupid child irritates you. + +You have a wonderful power of acquiring and remembering information, but +you do not possess the knack of readily imparting it. You expect others +to grasp ideas in the same way you do. This will make you unsympathetic +and impatient as a teacher. You have no conception of the influence a +teacher exerts upon children in public schools. You were educated in +private schools and at home, I know. I attended the country public +school, and to this day I can recall the benefits and misfortunes which +resulted to me from association with different teachers. Children are +keenly alive to the moods of teachers and are often adepts in +mind-reading. + +A teacher should be able to enter into the hearts and souls of the +children under her charge, and she should find as great pleasure in +watching their minds develop as the musical genius in watching a +composition grow under his touch. + +An infinite number of things not included in the school routine should +be taught by teachers. Courtesy, kindness to dependents and weaker +creatures, a horror of cruelty in all forms, a love of nature, +politeness to associates, low speaking and light walking, cleanliness +and refinement of manner,--all these may be imparted by a teacher who +loves to teach, without extra time or fatigue. I fear a proud disdain, +and a scarcely hidden disgust, would be plainly visible in your +demeanour toward the majority of the untrained little savages given to +your charge in a public school. You have not the love of humanity at +large in your heart, nor the patience and perseverance to make you take +an optimistic view in the colossal work of developing the minds of +children. Therefore it seems to me almost a sin for you to undertake +the profession merely because you need to earn a living. There are other +things to be considered besides your necessities. Fond as I am of you, I +have the betterment of humanity at my heart, too, and cannot feel it is +right for you to place yourself in a position where you will not be +doing the best for those dependent upon you that could be done. + +I have given up hope of seeing mothers made to realize their +responsibilities. But I still have hope of the teachers. On them and +their full understanding of all it is in their power to do, lies the +hope of the world. + +Therefore, my dear girl, I urge you to take up dressmaking or millinery +instead of school-teaching. + +If you ruin a piece of goods in the making, you can replace it and +profit by your error. But if you mar a child's nature in your attempt to +teach him, you have done an irreparable injury not only to him but to +humanity. + +If you saw a design started by a lace-maker, you would not think of +taking the work and attempting to complete it until you had learned the +art of lace-making. + +Just so you ought not to think of developing the wonderful intricacies +of a child's mind until you have learned how. + +It is all right to deliberately choose a vocation which gives us contact +only with inanimate things, but we have no right to take the handling of +human souls unless we are specially fitted for the task. + + + + +To Clarence St. Claire + +_Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + + +Your request, my dear Clarence, that I try to influence your sister to +change her determination in this matter, calls for some very plain +statements from me. + +I have known you and Elise since you were playing with marbles and +rattles, and your mother and I have been very good acquaintances +(scarcely intimate enough to be called friends) for more than a score of +years. You are very much like your mother, both in exterior appearance +and in mind. Elise is the image of her father at the time he captured +your mother's romantic fancy, and as I recollect him when he died. + +You were five years old, Elise three, at that time. Your mother lived +with your father six years in months, an eternity in experience. You +know that she was unhappy, and that he disillusioned her with love, and +almost with life. He married your mother solely for her fortune. She was +a sweet and beautiful girl, of excellent family, but your father had no +qualities of mind or soul which enabled him to appreciate or care for +any woman, save as she could be of use to him, socially and financially. + +In six years he managed to dispose of all but a mere pittance of her +fortune, and humiliated her in a thousand ways besides. His only decent +act was to die and leave her undisturbed for the remainder of her life. +Your uncle assisted in her support and saved the remnant of her +property, so that she has, by careful and rigorous economy, been able to +educate you and Elise, and keep up a respectable appearance in a quiet +way. + +Of course it was impossible to retain her place among the associates of +her better days, and you know how bitter this fact has always made +Elise. Your sister has the physical beauty and the overwhelming love of +money and power which characterized your father. She has a modicum of +your mother's sense of honour, but has been reared in a way not +calculated to develop much strength of character. Your mother has been a +slave to your sister. Elise is incapable of a deep, intense love for any +man, and your mother's pessimistic ideas of love and marriage have still +further acted upon her brain cells and atrophied whatever impulses may +have been latent in her nature, to love and be loved. These qualities +might have been developed had Elise been under the tutelage of some one +versed in the science of brain building, but your mother, like most +mothers, was not aware of the tremendous possibilities within her grasp, +or of the effect of the ideas she expressed in the hearing of her +children. Neither did she seem to recognize the father's traits in +Elise, and undertake the work of eliminating them, as she might have +done. She has been an unselfish and devoted mother, and has made too +many sacrifices for Elise. At the same time, she has awakened the mind +of your sister to ideals of principle and honour which will help her to +be a better woman than her inheritance from your father would otherwise +permit. But now, at the age of twenty-one, it is impossible to hope that +she will develop into a self-sacrificing, loving, womanly woman, whose +happiness can be found in a peaceful domestic life. She has seen your +mother sad and despondent, under the yoke of genteel poverty, and heard +her bemoan her lost privileges of wealth and station. This, added to her +natural craving for money and place, renders a wealthy marriage her only +hope of happiness on earth. + +Mr. Volney has an enormous fortune. He is, as you say, a senile old man +in his dotage. As you say again, such a marriage is a travesty. But +Elise is incapable of feeling the love which alone renders marriage a +holy institution. She has undesirable qualities which ought not to be +transmitted to children, and she is absolutely devoid of maternal +instincts. + +I have heard her say she would consider motherhood the greatest +disaster which could befall her. But she is unfitted for a +self-supporting career, and she wants a home and position. + +She has beauty, kind and generous impulses, and a love of playing Lady +Bountiful. It is not so much that she wants to benefit the needy, as +that she likes to place people under obligations and to have them look +up to her as a superior being. + +Old Mr. Volney is a miser, and his money is doing no one good. He has +only distant relatives, and by taking Elise for a wife (according to +law) he will wrong no one, and she will make much better use of his +fortune than his heirs would make. + +Your mother will be relieved of worry and care. Many worthy poor people +and charities will receive help, and Elise will have her heart's +desire--fine apparel, jewels, a social position, and no one to bother +her. The valet and nurse will look after Mr. Volney, and his simple old +heart will bask in the pride of an old man--the possession of a pretty +young wife. + +Had he full use of his mental faculties, and did he long for love and +devotion, I would try and dissuade Elise from the marriage, but solely +on _his_ account, not on hers. + +The young man you mention, as your choice of a suitor for the hand of +your sister, might better go up in a balloon to seek for Eutopia than to +expect happiness as her husband. He has a sweet, gentle, loving nature, +a taste for quiet home joys, fondness for children, and he has two +thousand a year, with small prospects of more in the near future. + +He should marry a modest, domestic girl, with tastes similar to his own, +and with no overweening ambitions. Elise would simply drive him mad in a +year's time, with her restless discontent, her extravagance, and her +desire for the expensive pleasures of earth. It is useless to reason +with her, or to expect her to model her ideas to suit her circumstances. +Inheritance and twenty-one years of wrong education must be taken into +consideration. What would mean happiness for many women would mean +misery for her. I can imagine no more dreadful destiny than to be tied +to a senile old man by a legal ceremony, even were I given his millions +in payment. But that will mean happiness to Elise. + +I think we should let people seek their own ideals of happiness, when +they break no law, and injure no other life by it. + +I shall congratulate Elise by this post on having made so fortunate an +alliance. I could not congratulate her were she to marry her young +suitor. I shall congratulate your mother on having nothing to worry +about, regarding the future of Elise. + +And I advise you to take a philosophical view of the situation, and to +remember that, in judging the actions of our fellow beings, we must take +their temperaments, characteristics, and environment into consideration, +not our own. + +You have made the very common error of thinking, because Elise is a +handsome young girl, that love, and home, and children would mean +happiness to her. + +Women vary as greatly as do plants and flowers in their needs. The +horticulturist knows that he cannot treat them all alike, and he studies +their different requirements. + +To some he gives moisture and sun, to some shade, and to some dry, sandy +soil. The thistle pushes forth a gorgeous bloom from an arid bed. It +would die in the pond where the lily thrives. + +Too much sentiment is wasted in this world and too much effort expended +in trying to make all people happy in some one way. + +When I was a little girl, a Sunday-school superintendent presented every +girl in the class with a doll, and each doll was exactly the same. Most +little girls like dolls, but I never played with one, as they were +always so hopelessly inanimate. If the good man had given me a sled, or +a book, or a picture, I would have been happy. As it was, his gift was a +failure. You want to present your sister with a devoted young husband, +a cottage, and several children, because you think every woman should +possess these things. Your sister happens to be one who prefers a +wealthy old invalid. + +Let her have what she wants, my dear Clarence, and let her work out her +destiny in her own way. She will do less harm in the world than if you +forced her into your way. Now you must remember that you asked me to +help you in this matter, and I could only write you the absolute facts +of the situation, as I knew it to be. I feel fairly confident that you +will accept my point of view, and act as best man at your sister's +wedding. + + + + +To Miss Margaret Riley + +_Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + + +Your letter has been destroyed, as you requested, and you need not fear +my betraying your confidence. + +Your mother was so long in my employ that I feel almost like a +foster-mother to you, having seen you grow up from the cradle to +self-supporting young womanhood. + +The troubles and evils which you mention as existing about you, I know +to be quite universal in all large shops, factories, and department +stores, indeed in all houses where the two sexes are employed. + +I know that a certain order of men in power use that power to lower the +ideals and standards of womanhood when they can. + +A pretty young girl once in my service related to me the cold-blooded +suggestions made to her by her employer to increase the miserable wage +paid her in a sweat-shop. + +The sacrifice of her virtue seemed no more to this man than the sale of +an old garment. + +The girl did not make the sacrifice, however, and she did not starve, +freeze, or die. She managed to exist and to better her condition by +doing domestic work and saving her money to fit herself for more +congenial employment. When I last saw her she was planning to become a +trained nurse, and had paid for a course of instruction in massage. I +tell you this merely to illustrate a fact I fully believe, that any girl +who is determined to live an honourable life and retain her self-respect +can make her way in the world and rise from lesser to higher positions, +if she is patient and willing to do what is termed menial work as a +stepping-stone. You tell me that scores of girls are kept in poorly +paying, inferior positions when capable of filling better places, +simply because they will not accept the dishonourable attentions of some +of the men in authority. + +You beg me to arouse the good women of America to a crusade against what +you say is a growing evil and to boycott such shops and stores. + +But you ask me to do what is an impracticable thing. + +You would not like to be called as a witness were this matter brought +before the courts. Were all the good women of America to begin such a +crusade, where would they obtain the proofs of their accusations? + +And even if the witnesses were ready, there is not a newspaper in the +land that would dare champion the reform. And no great reform can be +made without the aid of the press. The daily papers, as you say, give +columns to protests against lesser evils, but you must know that these +newspapers are largely supported by the profitable advertisements of +manufactories and dry-goods houses. Glance over the columns of any of +our large dailies and see how much space such advertising occupies. + +Imagine what it would mean to lose all this high-priced patronage. +Therefore, even if the most moral of editors knew that these +establishments were undermining our social conditions and invading our +homes, I doubt if he could be induced to make a protest. It is a curious +thing to see how many are the kinds of victims caught and held in the +clutches of the money-devil-fish in our wonderful land of freedom. + +Even clergymen who are preaching morality and brotherly love are +compelled to keep their mouths shut on certain evils and abuses, lest +they offend the pillars of the church and deprive the treasury of its +income. + +In a certain New England town famous for its educational institution, a +clergyman denounced a corporation which had swindled the poor and +deceived scores of citizens. He was requested to discontinue further +references to the matter, as the church treasury was supplied by the +money which accrued from this monopoly. + +The most powerful members of the church were officers in the +corporation. + +The young clergyman sent in his resignation and gave up an assured +salary to follow the light of his own conscience. But there are few with +his bravery and, therefore, the strongholds of selfishness and +self-indulgence remain impregnable. While we admire the splendid +character which makes a man capable of refusing a salary which means +hush-money, we can at the same time understand the difficult position of +a clergyman with a hungry brood of children to support, who hesitates at +such a move. We can understand how he argues with himself, that by +taking the money of the monopolists, he is able to do more good for +humanity than by refusing it, and losing both influence and income. It +is a false argument, yet the worn and weary mind of the average orthodox +minister will accept it as the advisable course to pursue. So you will +see how difficult is the task you suggest my undertaking. You tell me +that it is useless for you to leave one shop and go to another, as all +are more or less conducted on the same lines; and that it is mere chance +if a girl finds herself in a position where she can advance on her +merits. Even then a sudden change in heads of departments some day may +destroy all her hopes. + +You say I have no idea how many girls go wrong just through the +persecution and tyranny of these men--forced to fall in order to keep +herself fed and clothed. I repeat what I said already in this +connection,--that I am certain any girl determined to keep herself above +reproach and ambitious to rise in the world can do so. She may have to +endure many privations and sorrows for a time, and that time may seem +long and weary, _but a change will come for the better as surely as +spring follows winter, if she does not waver_. + +If you will look carefully into the facts of the cases which fall under +your observation, I am confident you will see that it is vanity and +indolence, not hunger and oppression, which cause the majority of the +girls you mention to go astray. They desire to make as good an +appearance, and to be given the same privileges of leisure, as the +favourite who has been promoted through unworthy methods. + +You tell me you would rather jump from Brooklyn Bridge and end the +struggle at once than lose your self-respect, but that you are weary of +seeing the girls with less conscience, and lesser capabilities, pushed +ahead of you and your worthy associates. Yet I am certain from the tone +of your letter that you will never forget your self-respect, and I have +faith that you can make your way in the world in spite of all the +designing masculine oppressors in existence. + +So will any woman, who sets her mark high, and believes in the +invincible power of her own spirit to conquer all the demons of earth. + +Do not imagine your position is one of unusual trial and temptation. A +young actress of my acquaintance has been obliged to fight her way +slowly to partial recognition because she would not accept the +conditions offered, with leading roles and fine wardrobe, by two +polygamous-minded managers. + +She is making her way, however, and the very battle she is fighting with +life has strengthened her powers as an artist. A young stenographer has +been compelled to give up two positions because she would not allow the +loverlike attentions of married employers. She was called a silly prude +and discharged. Yet she is occupying an excellent position with a clean +high-class business house to-day. + +Domestics are sometimes driven from private homes by the same pursuit of +the employer. Men are only in a state of evolution, and the animal +instincts are still strong in them. The world has allowed them so much +license, and society has been so lenient with their misdeeds, that it +has been difficult for them to practise self-control and aspire to a +higher standard. You must be sorry for them and do what you can to help +them understand the worth and value of true womanhood. Never for one +instant believe that you can be hindered by the machinations of a few +unworthy men, from reaching any goal you set. + +One good, intelligently virtuous woman, determined to make the most of +her capabilities by fair methods, can overcome a whole army of +self-indulgent, sensual men, and compel them to doff their hats to her. +I am always deeply sympathetic toward the girl who is tempted through +her emotions, or her affections, to forget herself. But I have no great +pity for the woman who sells herself. There are always charitable +societies, and there are always menial labours to do, and either door of +escape from the sale of honour would be sought by the girl of right +ideals. It is a bitter experience to see the woman who _has_ stepped +down into the soil of life flaunting her finery and her power in the +face of virtue. But look about you and see how soon the finery becomes +tatters--how soon the power is transferred to another. + +Woman's position in the world is growing better, brighter, and more +independent with each year. There are more avenues open to her--larger +opportunities waiting for the employment of her abilities. She has tried +a thorny path for centuries, but she has small reason to despair of her +outlook to-day. + +Each woman must fight her battle alone, and walk by the light from +within. + +The world gives her only a superficial protection, either through its +courts or its society. + +Men demand virtue from woman and endeavour in every way to lead her away +from its path. + +But the divinity within her can carry her to the heights, if she will +not be lured by the voice of the senses, or frightened by the demands of +the appetite, or debased by the mercenary spirit of the age. + +Go on in your brave determination to lead a sensible and moral life, my +dear girl, and let your example be a guide to others, and prove that +woman may succeed on the right basis if she will, in spite of +temptations and oppressions. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_After Three Years as a Teacher_ + + +The way you took my frank criticisms and doubts of your ability to make +a good school-teacher, proves you to be a girl of much character. Your +success proves, too, that given the general qualifications of a fairly +capable and educated human being, add concentration and will, and we can +achieve wonders in any line of work we undertake. I am still of the +opinion that no woman of my acquaintance was more wholly unfit to teach +young children, as they should be taught, than your fair self as I last +knew you. + +I take pride in believing that my heroic methods were what brought out +the undeveloped qualities you needed to ensure such success. + +There are certain natures that need to be antagonized before they do +their best. Others are prostrated and robbed of all strength by a +criticism or a doubt. + +You have realized this, I am sure, in your experiences with pupils. +"_You cannot do it_" is a more stimulating war-cry to some people than +"_You can_." And to such the sneer of the foe does more good, than the +smile of the friend. A phrenologist would tell us that strongly +developed organs of self-esteem and love of approbation accompanied this +trait of character. + +I am sure it proves to be the case with you. + +Brought up as you were, the only child of indulgent parents, and given +admiration and praise by all your associates, you could hardly reach the +age of twenty-two without having developed self-esteem and love of +praise. You were naturally brighter than most of your companions. (They +were also children of fortune, as the term goes, but to my idea the +children reared in wealth, are usually children of misfortune. For the +real fortune of life is to encounter the discipline which brings out +our strongest qualities.) + +Your father was a poor boy, who fought his way up to wealth and power +before you were born; but he unfortunately wanted the earth beside, and +so died in poverty after staking all he had, which was enough, to make +more, which he did not need. + +You inherit much of his force of character, and that is what gave you +the reputation of extreme cleverness among your more commonplace +companions. Compared with the really brilliant and talented people of +earth, you are not clever. That is why I found you so companionable and +charming, no doubt; for the brilliant people--especially women--are +rarely companionable for more than a few hours at a time. I gave you +that supreme test of friendship--the companionship of travel for a +period of months. And I loved you better at the end of the time than at +the beginning. + +I have often thought how much less occupation there would be for the +divorce courts and how many more "indefinitely postponed" announcements +of engagements would result from an established custom of a +pre-betrothal trip! + +If a young man and woman who were enamoured could travel for two or +three months, with a chaperon (in the shape of a mother-in-law or two), +the lawyers would lose much profit; but I fear race suicide might ensue. +Nothing, unless it is the sick-room or the card-table, brings out the +real characteristics of human beings like travel. + +The irritating delays of boats and trains, and the still more irritating +unresponsiveness of officials, when asked the cause, will test the +temper and the patience of even a pair of lovers. It is not surprising +if the traveller does lose both at times, but it is admirable if he does +not. I remember how adorable you were, while I was a bundle of dynamite, +ready to explode and send the stolid, uncommunicative conductor and +brakemen into a journey through space, when we suffered that long delay +coming from California. It is due the travelling public to explain such +delays, but the railroads of America have grown to feel that they owe no +explanation to any one, even to God, for what they do or do not. While I +lost vitality and composure by such idle reflections, you were amusing +the nervous travellers by your bright bits of narrative and ready +repartee. That fortunate fellow you have promised to marry at the end of +two years has no idea what a charming companion he will find in you for +travel. + +It is interesting to have you say you feel that you need two more years +as a teacher, before you are fully developed enough to take up the +responsibilities of marriage. You will be twenty-seven then:--that is +the age at which the average American girl begins to be most +interesting, and the age when she is first physically mature. + +And your children will be more fully endowed mentally than if you had +become a mother in your teens. + +As a rule the brainy people of the world are not born of very youthful +parents; you will find youth gives physique, maturity gives brains to +offspring. + +I did not quite finish my train of reasoning about your self-esteem. + +It was because you had always believed yourself to be capable of doing +anything you undertook to do, that you were roused by my assertion that +you could not make a good school-teacher, to attempt it. I hurt your +pride a bit, and you were determined to prove me wrong. Had you been +self-depreciating and oversensitive, what I said would have turned you +from that field of effort. And that would have been a desirable result, +since one who can be turned from any undertaking _ought to be_. + +I still think the world has lost a wonderful artist by your not entering +the lists of designers and dressmakers. But since my recital of the +faults which would prevent your success as a teacher led you to overcome +them, I am proud and glad, that you have gone on in the work you +contemplated. Good teachers are more needed than good dressmakers. + +And you are sweet and charming as usual, to tell me that your +popularity with children and parents, is greatly due to that letter of +mine. + +What you write me of the young girl who is making you so much trouble by +her jealousy of all other pupils, interests and saddens me. Her devotion +to you is of that morbid type, so unwholesome and so dangerous to her +peace, and the peace of all her associates. It is a misfortune that +mothers do not take such traits in early babyhood, and eradicate them by +patient, practical methods. Instead, this mother, like many others, +seems to think her little girl should be favoured and flattered because +of her morbid tendency. + +She mistakes selfishness, envy, greediness, and hysteria for a loving +nature. + +I can imagine your feelings when this mother told you with a proud +smile, "Allie always wants the whole attention of any one she loves, and +cannot stand sharing her friends. She was always that way at home. We +never could pet her little brother without her going into a spasm. And +you must be careful about showing the other children attention before +her. It just breaks her heart--she is so sensitive." + +Oh, mothers, mothers, what are you thinking about, to be so blind to the +work put in your hands to do? + +You have little time comparatively to work upon this perverted young +mind: but under no conditions favour her, and, no matter what scenes she +makes, continue to give praise and affection to the other children when +it is their due. The prominence of her parents in the neighbourhood, and +the power her father wields in the school board, need not worry you. Go +ahead and do what is best for the child and for the school at large. +Never deviate one inch from your convictions. Take Allie some day to a +garden where there are many flowers, and talk to her about them. Speak +of all their different charms, and gather a bouquet. Then say to her, +"Now, Allie, you and I love each of these pretty flowers, and see how +sweetly they nestle together in your hand. Not one is jealous of the +other. Each has its place, and would be missed were it not there. The +bouquet needs them all. Just so I need all the dear children in my +school, and just so I would miss any one. It makes me ashamed to think +any little girl is more selfish and unreasonable than a plant, for +little girls are a higher order of creation, and we expect more of them +than we expect of plants or of animals. All are parts of God, but the +human kingdom is the highest expression of the Creator. + +"When you show such jealousy of other children I lose respect for you, +and cannot love you as much as I love them. When you are gentle and +good, and take your share of my love and attention, and let others have +their share, then I am proud of you and fond of you. Suppose one plant +said to the sunlight that it must have all the sun, would not that be +ridiculous and selfish?" + +I would make frequent references to this idea when alone with her, and +indeed it would serve as an excellent subject for a talk to all your +pupils some day. Then try and make Allie understand how unbecoming and +unlovable jealousy is, and how it renders a man or woman an object of +pity and ridicule to others. + +Praise the people you know who are liberal and broad, and absolutely +ignore her moods when in school. + +Perhaps in time you can do a little toward awakening her mind to a more +wholesome outlook. + +What you tell me of her hysterical devotion to one of her classmates, +makes me realize that the girl needs careful guidance. + +You should talk to her mother, and warn her against encouraging such +conditions of mind in her child. + +Urge her to keep the girl occupied, and to give her much out-door life, +and to teach her that pronounced demonstrations of affection are not +good form between young girls. The mother should be careful what books +she reads, and should see that she makes no long visits to other homes +and receives no guests for a continued time. The child needs to +cultivate universal love, not individual devotion. + +Ideals, principles, ambitions, should be given the girl, not close +companions, for her nature is like a rank, weedy flower that needs +refining and cultivating into a perfected blossom. + +All this needs a mother's constant care and tact and watchfulness. It is +work she should have begun when her little girl first indicated her +unfortunate tendencies. + +It is late for you to undertake a reconstruction of the misshapen +character, but you may be able to begin an improvement, and if you can +obtain the mother's cooperation the full formation may be accomplished. + +And do not fail to use mental suggestion constantly, and to help the +child by your assertions to be what you want her to become. Dwell in +conversation with her and in her presence, upon the lovableness and +charm of generosity of spirit in general, rather than on the selfishness +you observe in herself. + +At her least indication of an improvement, give her warm praise. Be +careful about bestowing caresses upon her, as she needs to be guarded +against hysteria, I should judge from your description. To some children +they are the sunlight, to others miasma. + +Think of yourself as God's agent, given charge of his unfinished work, +and recognize the unseen influences ready to aid you with suggestion and +courage when you appeal to them. + + + + +To a Young Friend + +_Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical Thoughts of the Day_ + +Your letter bubbled with enthusiasm, and steamed with optimism. I am +rejoiced that you have come into so healthful a line of thought, for I +know of no one who was in more immediate need of it than you, when we +last met. + +As your hostess, I could not tell you how wearing to the nerves your +continual reverting to your physical ills became: and I hope I did not +seem wholly unsympathetic to you when I so frequently made the effort to +change the conversation to more cheerful topics. + +And now you tell me that you are astounded to find how universal is this +topic with all classes, and on all occasions when one or two human +beings gather together even in "His name." Your recital of the church +sewing-bee, where all the good Christian women described their diseases +and the different operations they and their friends had undergone, is as +amusing as it is distressingly realistic. + +What a pity that the old theology fostered the idea that God especially +loved the people he afflicted with illness and poverty and trouble! It +has filled the world with egotistical and selfish invalids and idlers, +who have believed they were "God's chosen ones," instead of realizing +that they were the natural results of broken laws, which might be mended +by the aid of the God-power in themselves, once they understood it. + +How Christians have reconciled the idea of a God of love with a God who +wanted his chosen ones to be sick and poor, is a problem I cannot solve. + +Of course you are well, and growing stronger daily, now that you realize +the fact that God made only health, wealth, and love, and that he +intended all his children to share his opulence. + +As soon as the mind is filled with a dominating idea, no lesser ones can +find lodgment therein. + +A woman of my acquaintance suffered agonies from seasickness. + +She crossed the ocean twice each year, yet seemed unable to accustom +herself to the experience. + +On her last voyage her child fell dangerously sick with typhoid fever on +the second day out at sea. + +So wrought up was the mother, and so filled with the thought of her +child, that she never felt one moment's seasickness. Her mind was +otherwise occupied. + +Now you have filled your mind with a consciousness of your divine right +to health and happiness, and the thought of sickness and disease has no +room. + +Yet do not be discouraged if you feel the old ailments and +indispositions returning at times. A complete change in mental habits, +is difficult to obtain in a moment. + +Be satisfied to grow slowly. A wise philosopher has said, "It is not in +never falling that we show our strength, but in our ability to rise +after repeated falls, and to continue our journey in triumph." + +Avoid talking your belief to every individual you meet. It will be +breaking your string of pearls for the feet of swine to tread upon. +Those who are ready for these truths will indicate the fact to you, and +then will be your time for speech. And when you do speak, say little, +and say it briefly and to the point. + +Leave some things for other minds to study out alone. The people who are +not ready for higher ideals of religion and life, will only ridicule or +combat your theories and beliefs, if you force them to listen. + +Wait until you have fully illustrated by your own conduct of life, that +you have something beside vague theories to prove your statements of the +power of the mind to conquer circumstance. The world is full to-day of +bedraggled and haggard men and women, who are talking loudly of the +power of mind to restore youth and health, and bestow riches and +success. + +Do not add yourself to the unlovely and tiresome army of talkers, until +you prove yourself a doer. + +And even after you have shown a record of health and prosperity and +usefulness, let your silent influence speak louder than your uttered +words. + +The moment a philosopher becomes a bore, he ceases to be a philosopher. + + + + +To Wilfred Clayborn + +_Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + + +My Dear Nephew:--I have considered your request from all sides, and have +resolved to disappoint you. This seems to me the kindest thing I can do +under the circumstances. + +You have gone through two years of college life, and I am sure you are +not an ignoramus. Most of the great men of the world's history have +enjoyed no fuller educational advantages. To lend you money to finish +the college course, would be to help you to start life at the age of +twenty-two under the burden of debt. If you are determined to finish a +college course, and feel that only by so doing will you equip yourself +for the duties of life, I would advise you to drop out for a year and +teach, or go into any kind of work which will enable you to earn enough +to proceed with your studies. However hard and however disappointing +this advice seems to you, I know it suggests a course which will do more +for your character than all the money I could lend you. + +Aside from the fact that you would begin life with a debt, is the +possibility of your contracting the debt habit. + +One man in a thousand who borrows money to help himself along in early +life is benefited by it. + +The other 999 are harmed. + +To do anything on another's money is to lean on the shoulder of another +instead of walking upright. It is not good calisthenic exercise. + +A few years ago I would have acceded to your request. + +But each year I live I realize more and more that lending money is the +last method to be used in helping people to better themselves. In almost +every case where I have lent money, I have lived to regret it. Not +because I lost my money (which has usually been the fact), but because +I lost respect for my friends. + +I remember the case of a young newspaper man and author, who came to me +for the loan of five dollars. I had never seen him before, but I knew +his brother, a brilliant playwright, in a social way. + +The young man told me he had met with a series of disasters on the +voyage to New York, and was stranded there absolutely penniless, +although money would come at almost any hour from his brother. + +Besides this, he showed me letters from editors who had taken work which +would be paid for on publication. + +"I do not know any one here," the young man said, "and to-day, when I +used my last twenty-five cents, I thought of you in desperation. + +"Your acquaintance with my brother would serve as an introduction, I +felt, and I was confident you would realize my straits when I told you +my errand." + +Of course I lent the young man five dollars. "I am sure it must be a +great humiliation for you to ask for this," I said, "and I am certain +you will repay it, though many former experiences have made me question +the memory of friends and strangers to whom I have been of similar +assistance." + +One week later the young man called to tell me he had not been able to +do more than keep himself sustained at lunch-counters since he called, +but hoped soon to obtain a position on a daily newspaper. + +That was ten years ago. The young man sat in an orchestra chair the +other night at the theatre directly in front of me, and his attire was +faultlessly up to date. From the costume of his companion, I should +judge their carriage waited outside. + +The young man did not seem to recognize me, and no doubt the incident I +mention has escaped his memory. + +In all probability I was but one of a score of people who helped him +with small loans. Had the young man had been forced to appeal to the +society organized in every city for aiding the deserving poor, by being +sent disappointed from my door, the ordeal would have so hurt his pride, +that he might not have become the professional borrower he undoubtedly +is. + +I could relate innumerable cases of a similar nature. One man, who was a +fashionable teacher of French among the millionaires of New York for +several seasons, appealed to me at a time of year when all his patrons +were out of the city for a loan to enable him to give his wife medical +treatment. + +He was to repay it in the autumn. Instead, he came to me then with a +much more distressing story of immediate need and seeming proof of money +coming to him in a few months. To my chagrin, the loan I advanced was +employed in giving a feast to friends at his daughter's wedding, after +which he obliterated himself from my vision. + +Financial aid lent a woman who soon afterward circled Europe, brought no +reimbursement. Her handsomely engraved card, with the "Russell Square +Hotel, London," as address, reached me instead of the interest money +which perhaps paid the engraver. + +Money lent a young man to start a small business, was used for his +wedding expenses, and an interval of five years brings no word from him. +Poor and despicable beings indeed, become the victims of the borrowing +habit. It is the shattered faith in humanity, and the heart hurts that I +regret, rather than the loss of what can be replaced. I tell you these +incidents that you may realize how I have come to regard money-lending, +as a species of unkindness to a friend or relative. + +It is only one step removed from giving a sick or overtaxed man or woman +a morphine powder. + +Sleep and rest ensue, but ten to one the habit is formed for life. + +The happy experiences of my life in money-lending, have been two +instances where I offered loans which were not asked, and which proved +to be bridges over the chasm of temporary misfortune, to the success +awaiting a worthy woman and man. The really deserving rarely ask for +loans. + +I can imagine with what pleasure you would take a cheque from this +letter, for the amount which would carry you through college. + +Yet when you had finished your course, you would find so many things you +wanted to do, and must do, the debt would become too heavy to lift, save +by borrowing from some one else. + +If not that, then you would impose upon the fact of our relationship, +and on your belief that I had plenty of means without the amount you +owed me: and so you would join the great army of good-for-nothings in +the world. + +There is one thing you must always remember: + +No matter how close the blood tie between two beings, even twins, each +soul comes into the world alone, and with a separate life destiny to +work out. + +If I have worked out my destiny to financial independence, that does +not entitle you to a share of it. If it seems best for me to aid you, it +is not because a blood tie makes it a duty. I grow to believe there is a +sort of curse on money which is not earned, even when it is bestowed by +father, on son or daughter. + +It cripples individual development. Only when money is earned is it +blest. + +Regarding your future profession, I cannot agree with your idea that +because you feel no particular love for any one calling, and have a +halfway tendency toward several, that you will never be a success. Great +geniuses are often consumed with a passion for some one line of study or +employment, but there have been many great men who did not know what +they were fitted to do until accident or necessity gave them an +opportunity. + +Success means simply concentration and perseverance. + +Whether you decide to be a mechanic, a lawyer, a doctor, or a merchant, +the one thing to do is to fix all your mental powers upon the goal you +select, and then call all the forces from within and from without, to +aid you to reach it. + +It would, of course, be folly for you to select a profession which +requires special talent. No matter how you might concentrate and apply +yourself, you could never be a great poet, a great artist, or a great +musician. + +You have not the creative genius. + +But law, medicine, mechanics, or mercantile matters, with your good +brain and fair education, you could conquer. + +You say you vacillate from one to another, like the wind which goes to +the four points of the compass in twenty-four hours. + +But you are very young, and this should not discourage you. + +It would be well to think the four vocations over quietly, when alone, +and sit down by yourself early in the morning asking for guidance. Then, +when you feel you have made a decision, let nothing turn you from it. + +Direct all your studies and thoughts to further that decision. + +Think of yourself as achieving the very highest success in your chosen +field, and work for that end. + +You cannot fail. + +If you desire light from without upon the best path to pursue, I would +advise you to find a good phrenologist, and have a careful reading made +of your head. Its formation and the development of its organs would +indicate in what direction lay your greatest strength, and where you +needed to be especially watchful. + +But remember if your phrenologist tells you that you have a weak will, +it does not mean that you must necessarily _always_ have a weak will. It +means that you are to strengthen it, by concentration. There is a great +truth underlying phrenology, palmistry, and astrology; but it is +ridiculous to accept their verdicts as final and unchangeable, and it is +unwise to ignore the good they may do, rightly applied and understood. + +I recall the fact that you were born in early June. I know enough about +the influence of the planets upon a child born at that period to assert +that you are particularly inclined to a Gemini nature--the twin nature, +which wants to do two things at one time. You want to stay in and go +out, to read a book and play tennis, to swim and sit on the sand. Later +in life, you will want to remain single and marry, and travel and remain +at home, unless you begin _now_ to select one course of the two which +are for ever presenting themselves to you, in small and large matters. + +Whenever you feel yourself vacillating between two impulses, take +yourself at once in hand, decide upon the preferable course, and go +ahead. Dominate your astrological tendencies, do not be dominated by +them. Dominate your weaknesses as exhibited by your phrenological chart, +and build up the brain cells which need strengthening, and lessen the +power of the undesirable qualities by giving them no food or indulgence. + +It is a great thing to understand yourself as you are, and then to go +ahead and make yourself what you desire to be. + +When a carpenter starts to build a house, he knows just what tools and +what materials to work with are his. If there is a broken implement, he +replaces it with another, and if he is short of material he supplies it. +But young men set forth to make futures and fortunes, with no knowledge +of their own equipment. + +They do not know their own strongest or weakest traits, and are +unprepared for the temptations and obstacles that await them. + +I would advise you to call in the aid of all the occult sciences, to +help you in forming an estimate of your own higher and lower tendencies, +and in deciding for what line of occupation you were best fitted. Then, +after you have compared the statistics so gathered with your own idea of +yourself, you should proceed to make your character what you wish it to +be. + +This work will be ten thousand times more profitable to you than a mere +routine of college studies, gained by running in debt. + +To know yourself is far better knowledge than to know Virgil. And to +make yourself is a million times better than to have any one else make +you. + + + + +To Miss Elsie Dean + +_Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + + +During your visit here with my niece, I became much interested in you. + +Zoe had often written me of her affection for you, and I can readily +understand her feeling, now that I have your personal acquaintance. + +You have no mother, and your father, you say, absorbed in business, like +so many American fathers, seems almost a stranger. Even the most devoted +fathers, rarely understand their daughters. + +Now, I want to take the part of a mother and write you to-day, as I +would write my own daughter, had one been bestowed upon me with the many +other blessings which are mine. + +I could not ask for a fairer, more amiable, or brighter daughter than +you, nor one possessed of a kinder or more unselfish nature. + +You are lovable, entertaining, industrious, and refined. + +But you possess one fault which needs eradicating, or at least a +propensity which needs directing. + +_It is the habit of exaggeration in conversation_. + +I noticed that small happenings, amusing or exciting, became events of +colossal importance when related by you. + +I noticed that brief remarks were amplified and grew into something like +orations when you repeated them. + +I confess that you made small incidents more interesting, and +insignificant words acquired poetic meaning under your tongue. + +And I confess also that you never once wronged or injured any one by +your exaggerations--save yourself. + +Zoe often said to me, "Isn't it wonderful how Elsie's imagination lends +a halo to the commonest event," and all your friends know that you have +this habit of hyperbole in conversation. + +Now, in your early girlhood, it is lightly regarded as "Elsie's way." +Later, in your maturity, I fear it will be called a harsher name. + +When you come to the time of life that larger subjects than girlish +pranks and badinage engage your mind, it will be necessary for you to be +more exact in your descriptions of occurrences and conversations. +Besides this, there is the heritage of your unborn children to consider. +I once knew a little girl who possessed the same vivid imagination, and +allowed it to continue unchecked through life. She married, and her son, +to-day, is utterly devoid of fine moral senses. He is a mental +monstrosity--incapable of telling the truth. His falsehoods are many and +varied, and his name is a synonym of untruth. He relates, as truth, the +most marvellous exploits in which he really never took part, and +describes scenes and places he has never visited, save through the +pages of some novel. + +His lack of moral sense has blighted his mother's life, and she is +wholly unconscious that he is only an exaggerated edition of herself. + +I think, as a rule, such imaginations as you possess belong to the +literary mind. I would advise you to turn your attention to +story-writing, and in that occupation you will find vent for your +romantic tendencies. + +Meanwhile watch yourself and control your speech. + +Learn to be exact. + +Tell the truth in small matters, and do not allow yourself to indulge in +seemingly harmless white lies of exaggeration. + +There are times when we should refrain from speaking all the truth, but +we should refrain by silence or an adroit change of subject. We should +not feel called upon to relate all the unpleasant truths we know of +people. + +When asked what we know of some acquaintance, we are justified in +telling the worthy and commendable traits, and saying nothing of the +faults. + +Therefore, while to suppress a portion of the truth is at times wise and +kind, to distort it, or misstate facts, is never needed and never +excusable. + +When you and Zoe came from your drive one day you were full of +excitement over an adventure with a Greek road merchant. + +As you told the story, the handsome peddler had accosted you at the exit +of the post-office and asked you to look at his wares. + +When you declined he became familiar, paid a compliment to Zoe's beauty, +and assured her that a certain lace shawl in his possession would be +irresistible draped about her face. + +Then he had pursued the carriage on his wheel and continued to "make +eyes" and pay compliments to the very gate of my home, where he +abandoned the chase. + +The facts were, according to further investigation, that the man paid a +simple trade compliment in reference to the shawl and its becomingness +to a pretty face, mounted his wheel and rode away, as it happened, in +the same direction you and Zoe were taking. + +Again, you related a bit of repartee between Zoe and a caller, which I +had chanced to over-hear, and out of two short sentences you made a +small brochure, most amusing, but most untrue. + +It was complimentary to both Zoe and her caller, yet it was not the +conversation which took place, and therefore was not truthful. + +These are trifling incidents, yet they are the straws, telling that the +wind blows from the marsh-lands of inexactness--not from the mountain +tops of truth. + +Once a woman loses a sense of the great value of absolute truthfulness, +she has blurred the clear mirror of her soul. + +Put yourself upon a diet of _facts_, my sweet young friend, and cure +this propensity, harmless enough now, but dangerous for your future. + +Watch your tongue that it does not say _five or six_ when it should say +_two_, or _yards_ when it should say _inches_. + +Even in the smallest matters, practise the habit of being exact. + +You will thank me for this advice sometime, even if it seems +unreasonable to you to-day, and remember, I would not take the liberty +or the trouble to so advise you, did I not love you and feel anxious for +your welfare. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + + +Your despairing letter lies before me. I wish you were here, my dear +child, that I might talk from my heart, instead of writing from it. I am +sorry that the secret, so long hidden, has been revealed to you, and in +such a despicable manner. + +An anonymous letter always carries with it the venom of a serpent. I +have long known your history, though the world generally believed you to +be the actual daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont, who adopted you when +you were scarcely one week old. + +No daughter ever received more affection or better care than these good +people gave you. Mrs. Marchmont lived always with a fear in her heart +that you might learn your history from some idle or malicious lip, and +before she died begged me to be your comforting friend, if that hour +ever came, which has now arrived. + +As your mother's nearest friend, it is natural you should turn to me in +your crucial hour of pain. And in reply to your questions regarding the +truth of this anonymous assertion, I will tell you all I know. + +Your own mother was well born, and a girl of great beauty and charm. She +was of foreign blood, and her parents, after the foreign custom, +selected for her, at the age of seventeen, a man of mature years and +unattractive personality, but some fortune. The family lived in a +seaport town, and your mother attracted the eye of a young seafaring +man, holding a government position. An intense and uncontrollable love +sprang up between them. Your mother had been kept in ignorance of God's +great law of sex attraction, its purpose and its results, and she was +like a new-born babe towed on the sea of her own suddenly awakened +emotion. + +It was arranged that your mother was to elope with her lover on his next +arrival in port. All plans were to be made by him during the voyage on +which he went forth, after a stolen interview with your mother. He was +lost at sea, and all on board the ship perished with him. Mr. and Mrs. +Marchmont chanced to be sojourning in the place at the time of your +birth. Mr. Marchmont had longed for a child, and the tragic story came +to his ears through the physician of your mother's family, and he and +his wife decided to adopt you and take you to America. + +I was the one friend who shared with Mrs. Marchmont the story of your +birth. Other friends knew she had adopted a child, and of course all +sorts of rumours were afloat for a time. Mr. Marchmont's nephew was +particularly unfriendly, I remember, as he had believed himself heir to +his uncle's estate until your adoption. + +Some three years ago I chanced to be in the seaport town where you were +born, and I made quiet inquiries about your mother. I learned that she +had recently died, leaving a husband and three children. I hunted up the +children, and found them to be most uninteresting and ordinary. The +oldest daughter I met and studied. She was plain and commonplace in +appearance, and the other children were dull and unattractive. + +The husband was the elderly man selected by your grandparents. Just how +he had been led to accept the second place in your mother's life, and +whether he had known of the tragedy, I could not learn without asking +more questions than I deemed wise. + +But what I want to impress upon your mind by this recital is, _your own +divine inheritance of love,_ the inheritance which has bestowed upon you +physical beauty, mental power, and rare qualities of heart and soul. I +know few women so endowed by the Creator as you. I know of few young +girls--in fact, not one--I would so gladly and proudly claim as a +daughter, or wish a daughter to be like, as your lovely self. + +When I read your letter, with its wild expressions of self-abasement and +despair and regret that you were in the world, where, you seemed to +believe, you had no right to be, I could not help picturing to myself +the dull face and disagreeable personality of your half-sister, the +child whom you no doubt believe has a greater right than yourself on +earth. Now whatever society has decided is legal and right for human +beings, you must not forget that God also has made rules, and that those +rules must first be obeyed, before the rules of man can be regarded as +perfect. + +God's first law, regarding the propagation of the human species, is that +the _mother must be dominated by a supreme and ruling emotion to give to +the world the highest type of a child_. + +Your mother loved your father with all her heart and soul. She was a +young girl, ignorant of the world. She thought of her lover as her +rightful mate, and lived but for the hour when he should rescue her +from the unhappy fate arranged by unwise and sordid-minded parents. + +Your father loved her, and they were in God's sight more truly husband +and wife than the soulless and loveless ceremony of the law made her and +her legal husband afterward. + +It is a great misfortune that your parents lacked the self-control which +is necessary to every well-balanced human being who seeks for the +fullest development. It is a sad thing that over your life this shadow +of unlegalized birth must rest. + +But were I given the choice to-day to be what you are, or what your +sister is, and what thousands of children born of loveless marriages +are, I would not for one second hesitate in my choice. + +The world needs marriage laws to keep any order in society. + +The wisely reared and well-balanced woman will keep herself in womanly +reserve for her legal husband. + +Your mother, by a moment's weakness and loss of self-control, left a +blight upon her life for ever, and a shadow upon yours. + +But do not for one instant think of yourself as anything but _a child of +God_, endowed with all the wealth of the spiritual kingdom, whatever the +law may withhold from you here. + +You are legitimized by love, your sister is legitimate by law. She is +illegitimate in the sight of heaven, you in sight of earth. + +Be glad of your beautiful nature and beautiful qualities, and do not +spoil them by despondency or pessimism. + +Think of yourself as if you were a child of Adam and Eve, born before +the serpent appeared, when there was no law but the law of love to +govern two souls, drawn together by irresistible attraction. + +The best and highest qualities of two human beings meet and mingle in +your nature. Do you suppose the great Creator of all things regards you +as base born, when he has so endowed you with all that makes woman +lovable and charming. + +Live up to your divine inheritance, my dear girl. Make the world better +for your presence in it, and bear your sorrow with that resignation and +philosophy which all human beings must cultivate if they do not wish to +become weak repiners when they face the sorrows of life. + +Look the world squarely in the eyes, and feel no shame. + +Your mother's marriage to the man she detested, and the birth of +children conceived in loathing, were acts which in my mind called for +more shame on her part than your own birth. Both were misfortunes for +her, since only by living an orderly, controlled, and lawful life can +any human being find happiness or self-respect in the world. + +But when we come to the close analysis of motives and impulses, many an +act the world condemns is far less reprehensible than other acts which +meet its loud acclaim. + +You have received from the vast spiritual realms about us your rarely +beautiful qualities. Go forth and give them to humanity. + +Be strong, be good, be brave, be happy. + +No one and nothing can harm you but your own mind. + +The world, as we encounter it, is but an echo of our own strong +convictions. Respect yourself absolutely, believe in yourself +absolutely, and the world will respect you and believe in you. + +Say to yourself every hour, "I am God's divine creature," and no one +will dare look you in the eyes and say you are anything less than that. + +The arms of infinite love enfold you--have no fear. + + + + +To Miss Diana Rivers + +_Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist_ + + +Your interesting letter regarding your future plans has been food for my +thoughts ever since its receipt this morning. + +I remember when you were my guest a year ago that you told me you felt +like a big bird in a small cage. Every time you tried to spread your +wings you were bruised by bars. Your home environment with its few +duties and small responsibilities, your church and your charities, +failed to give you full opportunity for the exercise of all your vital +forces. + +I knew then that you were longing for a career, and I felt confident +that some word would come from you before long, announcing a change in +your life. + +I was prepared to hear one of two things--that you were soon to be +married, or that you had decided to enter the dramatic profession. When +a young and attractive woman grows restless and eager for change, she +is, unconsciously to herself, sending out a challenge to Fate to create +new conditions in her life. Despite the fact that no male member in the +"Fate" family has ever attained prominence in the eyes of the world, and +that the three sisters have claimed so much power over the destinies of +the human family, a little investigation will prove that they never make +any pronounced move without calling in the aid of Cupid. + +Cupid is their prime minister, and we all know that prime ministers are +the power behind the throne of rulers. + +When you sent out your eager thoughts for "something to happen," to +change the monotony of your existence, I knew the Fate sisters were +quite likely telegraphing Cupid that his assistance was needed to quiet +a small riot in the human family. + +Once they set Cupid busy with a human heart, the Fates need give it no +further attention. When Cupid reports that his work with the heart is +finished, then the Angel of Resignation or the Angel of Death must +finish the task. + +Knowing you to be particularly fond of the theatre as a distraction, I +had thought you might essay the role of society actress, confounding +appreciation for talent, as so many women do; and when your letter +opened with the announcement that you were about to give me a great +surprise, I was prepared to hear that you were billed to appear in a +walking role, with a road company, next season, with promises of greater +things "soon afterward." + +But I confess to absolute surprise, as I read on, and learned that your +career was to lead you, not through Lovers' Lane, not before the +footlights, but along the hurly-burly byways and highways of American +newspaper work, beginning with interviews and reporting. Allow me to +quote from your letter before me. + +"I do not imagine I have talent save the talent for work. I am, as you +know, well educated, as that expression goes to-day. I have always found +expression with the pen an easy mode of communicating my impressions and +ideas. + +"I am observing, and I have a keen sense of humour, and I have (so +people tell me) an agreeable personality. I know the value of correct +dressing, and I am not oversensitive. That is, I am not one who will go +down at the first rebuff. I have the real American spirit, which makes +me believe myself as good as anybody, and you know my family name is one +to buoy up that impression. Therefore, it seems to me I cannot fail to +attain some degree of success. I am sure to obtain entree to people and +functions, and I can describe what I see and hear in attractive form. I +shall shrink at no task, however difficult, and stop at no obstacle. + +"I am determined to make a success as a reporter and a correspondent, +and after I have achieved something in that line I may look to an +editorial position; and who knows but my fertile imagination, coupled +with the experiences sure to come to me, may develop the great American +novelist the world is waiting?" + +This is all interesting and admirable reasoning. + +But, having seen much of the world, and known much of the various types +of young women writers and reporters and correspondents, I feel like +discussing the subject of your profession with you. At the instigation, +perhaps, of some editor who makes the mistake of thinking success must +be reached through sensationalism, you may be tempted to make your pen, +not _mightier_, but more _cruel_ than the sword. + +I remember once upon a time meeting a young woman who had come, unbidden +by the hostess, to "write up" a social function where a number of +celebrated people were congregated. + +Her employer had sent her to the house, telling her to obtain an entree +by fair means or foul; and as she was well dressed and quiet in manner, +she was not repulsed by an amiable hostess. This lady realized that the +reporter has his or her living to make, and must be either helped or +hindered by the willingness or unwillingness of people to furnish +material for copy. Being informed that the young woman was "literary," +and chancing to stand near her for a few moments, I asked her the nature +of her work. + +The young woman looked a trifle embarrassed, as she answered: "Well, to +tell you the truth, I write a good many disagreeable and nasty things +about people, especially people in public life. The editors who take my +work will have that kind. I have essayed better things, and they would +not touch them. So I am compelled to write the stuff they do want. I +must make a living." When I read the "stuff" in question, I was inclined +to doubt the assertion of the writer that "she must make a living." The +world would be the better should she and all her kind cease to exist. +Ridicule, falsehood, and insinuation were the leading traits of the +young woman's literary style. Costumes and personalities were +caricatured, and conversations and actions misstated. The entire article +would have been libelous, had it not been too cowardly to deserve so +bold a word. + +It is useless for any man or woman to assert that such reportorial work +is done from necessity. The blackmailer and the pickpocket have as much +right to the plea, as the newspaper masked-assassin, with the concealed +weapon of a pen. + +If you are ever asked by any editor to do this reportorial stiletto +work, let me urge you to take to professional burglary, rather than +consent to write what such an employer demands. + +It is far less despicable to rob houses of things of mercantile value, +than to rob characters and reputations and personalities. Again, when +you are sent out upon a commission to obtain an interview with any +person, obtain what you seek and take nothing else away with you. + +Just as you would scorn to pawn the watch of the famous actress which +you may find lying on the table as you pass out, so scorn to sell any +personal speech she may have carelessly dropped in your hearing which +you know was not intended for publication. Petty larceny is not a noble +feature of interviewing. Even though a facility for selling such +dishonestly gained property to advantage be yours, do not convince +yourself or be convinced that larceny should be included in your +reportorial duties. + +I recollect speaking with you once upon the difficulties young women +encountered who attempted to win honours in a dramatic career. You felt +that the necessity to cater to the ideas and wishes of inferior minds, +in representing a character on the stage, would be one of the hardest +phases of stage life to meet. + +"To be loud and spectacular where I wanted to be refined and subtle," +you said, "just to catch some rough audience and fill the house, would +be insupportable. And yet I know actresses ofttimes must do that very +thing, to keep a foothold in the profession." + +I am wondering how you will meet what seems to me a more humiliating +role, when you are sent out by an editor to gain an entree to some +person who does not wish to be interviewed. + +Will you, when refused entrance at the front door, go in at the rear and +hobnob with the servants? will you spy, and watch and wait on street +corners, and hide yourself in hallways, and intercept and surprise, and +congratulate yourself when you have trapped your prey? That is the +shameful pathway which nowadays leads to what is called "successful +newspaper work." + +You need to realize the facts before you enter the profession. Were you +my daughter, I am certain I should feel much less concern were you to +enter the theatrical field. + +And yet if you choose to stand by your ideals, and retain your +self-respect, you can do so, and succeed in journalism. + +If you have, as you say, observation, expression, humour, and ambition, +you can create a style of your own: which will not necessitate the loss +of all womanly sense of decency and pride in dealing with your fellow +beings. It might be well for you to cultivate and add to the list of +your qualities appreciation of all that is best in human nature and +worthiest of respect. If you understand the law of concentration and +demand, you can obtain an entrance to the people you wish to see, +through the front hall and a properly engraved card. + +If that fails, a polite and frank note, stating your purpose and +intimating your self-respecting ideas of your profession, may prove +effective. Once establish your reputation as an interviewer who is not a +highwayman in disguise, and you will achieve tenfold the success your +less reputable confreres gain in the long run. Try and remember always +that fame, glory, or even crime, do not destroy all human sensibilities, +or render the possessor invulnerable to the thrust of a pen. + +The greatest warrior who ever conquered armies has still the power to +feel hurt when he sees some personal blemish or misfortune described in +print. + +You would never be guilty of saying to any man's face, "How hideous +your harelip renders you"--and why should you go from his presence and +make such a statement to the whole world concerning him? One of the most +gifted men America ever claimed was driven from his native land by the +cruel, bald, and heartless personalities of newspaper critics, who +seemed to consider it necessary to comment on his physical infirmities +whenever his genius was mentioned. + +During the lifetime of one of England's great literary women, an +American correspondent who had been given an interview in her home +described her as possessing the "face of a horse." Surely this was +agreeable reading for a gifted woman whose genius had delighted +thousands! + +It has sometimes seemed to me that theatrical road life with a +one-night-stand company would be less brutalizing to the finer +sensibilities, and less lowering to the ideals of a young girl, than the +method of work required of many newspaper reporters in America to-day. +The editor who scores the actress for lax morals seems often to ignore +the fact that there is a mental as well as a physical prostitution. + +Look to it that you do not trail your banner of noble womanhood in the +dust, at the demand of any editor or syndicate. Keep your purity of pen, +as well as your chastity of body, and believe no man who tells you that +you will get on better in the world by selling either. There is room +higher up. + + + + +To Nanette + +_A Former Maid_ + + +Curiously enough, my dear little Nanette, I was thinking about you, and +wishing to know something of you, the very day your letter came. + +Of many who have been helpers in my employ, you were one of the few who +seemed to care more for me than for the wages I paid. + +There was between us that ideal condition which I wish might exist +between all employers and employees. You wanted the work you were fitted +to do, and I wanted such work done. You were glad of the money it +brought you, and I was glad to recompense you. You wanted appreciation +and sympathy and consideration aside from your earnings, and I wanted a +personal interest in my affairs, and a friendly wish to please me, +aside from the mere work well done. You never seemed to me less womanly +or less refined because you were a wage-earner, and I did not represent +to you oppression or monopoly merely because I paid the money and you +received it. I took you into my confidence in many ways, and you made me +feel I was your friend as well as your employer. We enjoyed cosy chats, +and yet you no more desired or wished to be present at my social +functions than you desired me to enter into all your merrymakings and +pleasures. You were, in fact, one of the most agreeable and sensible +women I have ever known in any station in life. And now you write me +that you are engaged to be married, and ask me to give you counsel in a +very serious matter. + +Together with your other excellent qualities, you have possessed economy +and prudence. + +At the age of twenty-five you have a tidy bank-account, the savings of +eleven years. This money is increasing, year by year, and drawing a +small interest. + +Now comes your lover, a hard-working and sober young man, so you say, +but earning only a small salary as a clerk. + +He has met with some reverses, and is temporarily embarrassed. He wants +you to lend him a few hundred dollars, and he will pay you the same +interest you are now receiving, but you fear it would be unwomanly on +your part to take this interest money. At the same time you feel a +reluctance to break in upon your savings, which you had planned to use +in helping establish a home. You want to befriend your lover, and you +want to be wise and careful, and so you write to me, your old-time +adviser, for counsel. I fear I may hurt your feelings in what I am about +to say. + +I have seen much of the world, and have studied humanity in many phases +and in many classes. + +There is one type of man I have never yet known to be strong, reliable, +and trustworthy,--a man for a woman to lean upon in times of trouble and +sorrow,--a man I would like to see any friend take for a life +companion,--_and that is the young man who asks a loan of money from a +woman he loves, or one who loves him_. Believe me, there is some lack of +real moral fibre in such a man. + +A husband and wife many years married, and united by common interests, +may become so one in purpose and thought that a common purse would be as +natural to them as a common dinner-table. + +With mutual interests, planning for their future and the future of their +children, there could be no talk of "My money" and "Your money" between +them. + +But before marriage, or immediately after, the man who begins to ask a +woman for the use of her purse, should be distrusted by her. He could +not broach such a subject unless he lacked a certain refined strength +which makes a manly man a woman's protector by nature. Even where no +sentiment exists between a man and a woman, the really strong men of the +world never become borrowers from women. If through friendly interest +and affection some woman compelled such a man to take a loan, he would +know no rest or peace of mind until he had liquidated the debt. + +When a man is a woman's lover, and asks her to advance money to him for +any reason, she may as well realize at once the reed on which she will +lean if she accepts him for a life companion. To deceive herself for a +moment with the idea that he will be a staff of strength, is but to +delay disillusion. A vital quality is left out of his character. + +He is but one step removed from the man who _seeks_ a woman because she +has money. And he is the most despicable of the human race. + +I have known three women of different social positions to lend money to +their lovers. + +One man invested it and lost it, and never made an effort to reimburse +the lady, who broke her engagement in consequence, after two unhappy +years. Another went away owing the money, and was never again heard +from. The third married the unwise woman who had loaned him her +competence, and continued to look to her for support. + +Therefore, my dear Nanette, I would urge you to think twice, and yet a +third time, before you lend your fiance your savings. + +Tell him frankly that you will feel more respect for him if he is +willing to sacrifice comfort and save from his own income enough to lift +the debt he has incurred, and that you are sure he will feel less +humiliated as time goes by if he is not financially in debt to you. If +he were to fall ill tell him it would be your first impulse to devote +your money to his care; but while he is able-bodied and well, you do not +like to have him lean on you for aid. + +You can judge something of the man's character by the way he receives +this statement from you. + +And whatever may result, even if it is the end of your engagement, do +not grieve your heart away over it. Better far to have the end come now +than to marry a dependent and shiftless man, who will humiliate your +pride by a thousand and one mean traits. The moment a young wife becomes +the financial head of a household, and the man depends upon her to keep +the family free from debt, sentiment and romance fly from the windows of +the heart, and poor Cupid goes away with his head under his wing. This +situation might befall people long married, as I said before, without +causing disaster, because the wife would have years of other experiences +stored up in memory, to maintain her respect for her husband. + +The natural instinct of a manly man is to be the protector and the +breadwinner. He loves to shield and support the woman of his choice. If +she has any talent or profession which gives her satisfaction to pursue, +and which yields her an income, he will, if broad-minded and +sympathetic, place no obstacle in her path so long as this vocation is +no barrier to their domestic happiness. But he is sensitive to her +assuming any of the financial burdens of life. + +If circumstances render it necessary for her to do so, he suffers +keenly, and the utmost delicacy and consideration on her part alone can +save him from utter humiliation. + +This is the attitude of the manly man, my dear Nanette, the man who +makes the good husband and father. + +The unselfish, broad-minded and considerate wife will lead a husband to +think of her right to aid in the establishment and maintenance of a home +when she is able to do her part. But the man who makes a good husband +never suggests it as her duty, or asks her to advance money. + +It is commendable in you to wish to aid in making a home. It is unmanly +in your lover to ask you to help him pay his debts. Beware of the lover +who asks for or accepts a loan. + + + + +To The Rev. Wilton Marsh + +_Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + + +My dear Cousin Wilton:--You have no idea how your letter took me back to +my merry girlhood, when you and I resided in the same neighbourhood, and +I was the concern of your precociously serious mind. Yes, indeed, I do +realize what a mistake you made in living the repressed life you did all +those early boyhood years. What a pity your parents reared one of your +sensitive and imaginative nature in the gloomy old doctrines of a +depressing religion, which so misrepresented the God of love: and how +odd that your father and mine should have been born of the same parents, +educated in the same schools, and yet be no more alike in beliefs or +methods of life than two people of a different race and era. + +And again it is not strange, when we realize that hundreds of +generations lie back of both parents, and innumerable ancestors of both +father and mother contribute their different mentalities to the children +in a family. Back of that is the great philosophy of reincarnation--the +truth of which impresses me more and more each year I live. + +Do you recall your horror the first time I told you I had read a book on +reincarnation, and confessed that it had made me anxious to study the +theory? + +You said I was a pagan and a heathen, and that I would surely be damned +forever unless I turned to the way of salvation. + +And do you recall your misery when I seized you one evening at your +birthday party (you were twenty), and dragged you about the room in a +waltz? That is, I waltzed, while you hobbled about like a lame calf, +much to the amusement of most of the company. + +There were more who sympathized with my views of life than with yours. +You were such a wet blanket on our youthful spirits. Your ever-blazing +lake of brimstone did not even serve to warm the blanket. + +I have been gratified to watch your growth the last ten years. + +You have so changed your point of view, which indicates your real worth +and progressive good sense. And when you tell me that you have for years +regretted your lost opportunities for natural and moral pleasure, and +that you suffered beyond your power to describe in those old days in +conquering your desire to dance and play games, it brings the tears of +mingled rage and pity to my eyes. Rage at the old theology, and pity for +the poor children whose lives were shadowed by it. + +And now what you tell me of your son and daughter proves another of my +theories true, and shows me how nature revenges its wrongs. + +Children, my dear Wilton, especially the offspring of strong characters, +_inherit the suppressed tendencies of their parents_. They bring into +action the unexhausted impulses and the ungratified desires of those +parents. + +The greatest singers are almost invariably the offspring of mothers or +fathers who _were music hungry_, and who were given no complete +gratification of this craving. + +The poet, you will find, is the voice of an artistic-natured parent, who +was forced to be emotionally dumb. + +And the proverbial clergyman's son is merely the natural result of the +same cause. He is charged with the tendencies and impulses which his +father crucified. + +That your son loathes study, and hates church-going, and adores a brass +band and a circus, and runs away to the races, does not in the least +surprise me. Nor that your sixteen-year-old daughter grows hysterical at +the sound of dance music, and prefers a theatrical show in your village +hall to a Sunday-school picnic, and is mad to become an actress. + +_They are your own wronged and starved emotions personified, and crying +out to you for justice._ + +The very best thing for you to do with the boy is to put him into a +gymnasium and a football team as soon as possible. Offer no opposition +when he wants to see a good horse-race. Urge him to go, and ask him to +tell you all about it when he returns. Begin right now to get close to +the heart of your children. + +Once you do that, once you convince them you are near enough to their +lives to understand their needs and to try and gratify their natural +longings, all your worries will take wing and fly away; for your +children will cease to hide and cloak their actions and natures, and +they will no longer wish to deceive or attempt to defy you. + +Send your daughter where she can learn dancing, in company with other +refined and well-bred young people. You have so far emancipated yourself +from your old superstitions and beliefs that this action on your part +will not antagonize the desirable members of your congregation. + +Only a remnant of the old bigots and intolerants are to be found in any +congregation of intelligent people of to-day. + +If that remnant is shaken out of its winding-sheet by being antagonized, +you may galvanize it into life. + +At all events, do not endanger the peace of your home and the happiness +of your children, for fear of antagonizing a few parishioners of +arrested spiritual development. + +Give your son and daughter an outlet for the youthful vitality which is +like steam: a moving power when used, dangerous and destructive when +pent up. + +Take young Wilton and Rebecca into a room, and talk the whole matter +over. + +Tell them how deeply you love them, and how you have just come to +realize the mistake you have made in trying to eradicate from them the +natural desire for wholesome pleasure instead of giving it proper +avenues of expression. + +Say frankly that you see your error, and that you intend to rectify it. + +Ask their cooeperation, and appeal to their good taste and affection not +to mortify or humiliate you in your position of clergyman, by +overstepping the bounds of decorum or discretion. + +Lead them to talk of their ambitions and desires, and, as consistently +as you can, gratify them. + +Let your daughter come to me for a season. I will help to reshape and +modify her ideals of enjoyment to some degree. + +I am sure if she sees a few of our best spectacular plays, and hears +good music, and enjoys beautiful rhythmic dancing, she will not be so +carried away with the travelling show. + +I will acquaint her with some of the commonplace facts concerning the +lives of theatrical people, and show her the frayed tinsel and worn +faces by daylight. This will do more for her than all your sermons on +the dangers of a theatrical career. + +The young heart is fascinated with the thought of danger and temptation. + +It is repelled by the commonplace and the ugly. + +When you talk to a young mind in a whisper and behind locked doors about +a temptation to be avoided, you but give edge to appetite and curiosity. + +When you bring the temptation out into the glare of sunlight, and speak +of it in presence of the whole world, you dispel the illusion. + +I will gather together some data concerning the sporting men of America, +and send your son. I will also mail him the sporting papers regularly. +Let him talk and read openly about the subject, and it will lose half +its weird charm. + +He, too, should learn to dance, swim, fence, and ride. His bounding +vitality needs directing in wholesome channels. I have never understood +the prejudice against dancing. + +To me, it is a form of religious praise of the Creator of youth, health, +vitality, and grace. I have always loved dancing, and the exercise, +besides being eminently beneficial to the health and wonderfully +conducive to grace is, to my thinking, highly moral in its effect. Its +only danger lies in wrong associations, and these seem to threaten young +people who are restricted from the enjoyment in their homes and among +their rightful companions. + +I cannot help thinking that Loie Fuller should have a niche in the hall +of fame, among the "Immortals," for having given the last century her +exquisitely beautiful creations in dancing. + +No woman has given us a great epic, or a great painting, or a great +musical composition, but she has given us a great dance-poem, which is +at the same time a painting and a song. Oh, you poor starved, blind +soul, to be deprived of such beautiful spectacles. How I pity you, and +how I pray you to give your children the privileges you have missed +through a belittling idea of your Creator. + +Do you fancy God would punish beautiful young Rebecca for dancing, any +sooner than he would blight the willow-tree for waving its graceful arms +to the tune the wind-harps play? + +Come up out of the jungles of ignorance and bigotry, my dear cousin, +and live on the hilltops and bring your children with you. For there you +will all find yourself nearer to God and to humanity. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles McAllister + +_Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + + +I am glad that for once you have written and asked my advice before you +began your course of action. + +You wrote me after you entered Vassar and asked me what I thought of +your doing so. + +You wrote me after you married Doctor McAllister, and asked me what I +thought of that. My reply was a wedding gift and a telegram of good +wishes. Now, after three years of married life, you write again and ask +me to decide a question which has caused some discussion between you and +the doctor. + +"He did not take my view of the matter at first," you say, "but he does +now. Still, I feel that I would like another unprejudiced opinion +before I take the contemplated step. You knew I left college before +finishing my course. I was in love and the doctor urged me not to make +him wait another year. He said I knew enough to make him happy, and so I +consented." + +Then you proceed to tell me that you have never regretted this step, and +that you have the best husband in the world. But you have decided +musical gifts, and before meeting the doctor you intended going abroad +to cultivate them after you finished at Vassar. This old ambition has +taken hold of you again, and you want to join a friend, one of your +classmates, who sails in June to study art in Europe. You desire to take +a two or three years' course, and then you will be equipped with an +accomplishment which could be made a profession if necessity demanded. + +"One never knows what the future holds," you say, "and it is the duty of +every woman to make the most of herself." Both remarks are as true as +they are trite. An almost graduate of Vassar should be more original in +expressing herself. + +But there is another duty a woman should not forget--the duty to stand +by her marriage vows and to make her husband a good wife. It seems the +doctor did not eagerly approve your idea at the beginning. I am glad he +did not. Unless a wife is in a precarious state of health or has an +ailing child, I always suspect the honesty of a husband who cheerfully +seconds her suggestion of a protracted absence from home. + +When a man shows no regret at having his wife away for an entire season, +there is something wrong with his heart. + +Love does not find its home there, or he could not speed her going so +far, and for so long a time, at the bidding of ambition or pleasure. You +evidently have won the doctor over by argument, and made him feel that +he is selfish to tie you down or clip the wings of your ambition. The +American husband is so fearful of seeming a tyrant. "He realizes now," +you say, "that a woman has the right to develop the talents God gave +her just as a man does, and that it is a wrong against her 'higher self' +to crush down these ambitions. He realizes, too, that this separation +means greater powers of usefulness for me in the future, and greater +opportunities for pleasure. It will be a long and lonely time for both +of us, as I shall only come home once or twice and the doctor may not be +able to go over at all, though I hope he will. But the expense of my +studies will of course be great, and we shall both need to economize. It +is my intention to start a little conservatory after I return and take a +few high-priced pupils. In that way I can reimburse our expenditure." + +But can you, my dear Winifred, _reimburse your mutual losses in other +ways_? You do not seem to realize what such a separation may mean. You +are both young and both attractive. I know now that you are beginning to +be angry at my suggestion, but, fortunately, you cannot interrupt me, +and you must hear what I have to say. + +Of course you are not a frivolous flirt, or a silly-headed creature +with no ideals or principles. You have nothing of the adventuress in +your composition, but you are a young woman, with personal charms and +talents, and life will be unutterably desolate for you if you make a +recluse of yourself. You will be surrounded by people of artistic +temperaments and tastes, and I know, if you do not, that many of these +people do lack ideals, and some of them lack principles and take pride +in the fact. "Art for art's sake, life for pleasure's sake," is their +motto. The entire situation will be full of danger for you. But far more +danger will surround your husband. A man's temptations are always +greater than a woman's. That is, there are _more_ temptations in his +pathway, from the fact that he is by nature and environment less guarded +and protected, and the penalties for folly are less severe. And of all +men, unless it is a clergyman, a physician is most exposed to +temptation. He is the confidant of hysterical women and the sharer of +domestic secrets. Many a woman believes she is ill only because she +desires the sympathy of her doctor, just as many a woman fancies herself +disturbed with religious agitation only because she wants the society of +her minister. + +Of course a doctor of any character or principle does not compromise his +reputation or disgrace his calling readily. I hear Doctor McAllister +spoken of as a man of high standing, and his picture shows a +well-balanced head and an honest, manly face. But "A man's a man for a' +that," my dear Winifred. + +We must accept facts as they exist all about us, and we must not demand +of half-evolved human beings what we would expect of wholly divine +creatures. It is an unnatural position for a man to be separated from +the wife he loves for months and years. + +Unless he is sustained by intense religious beliefs, extreme sympathy or +sorrow for her (as he might be were she compelled by some great trouble +or duty to be absent), it is impossible for him not to grow in a measure +forgetful of his ideals of constancy, and to drift into bachelor habits +of distraction. Men do a thousand and one things for amusement which no +woman could or would. Gilded and glittering halls of vice are inviting +the inspection and patronage of men who are left at home by journeying +and pleasure-seeking wives. + +I know this terrible statement to be absolutely true--_gambling-houses +and dens of infamy speak of their "best season" when wives leave town +for summer outings, just as a farmer speaks of his harvest season when +crops are ripe._ I do not suppose your husband will seek the +companionship of gamblers or depraved souls during your absence. Men as +seemingly high and strong as he have fallen so low, but I do not believe +he will. Yet, so long as we know such conditions exist, and so long as +men as a class take the liberties they do when left to find distraction +and entertainment, it seems to me little less than criminal when a young +wife like yourself deliberately leaves her home and husband for the sake +of any possible attainment. + +You have no right to marry a man and then to make his happiness and his +comfort secondary to your ambitions. + +If he had neglected you, if he failed to support you, if he was not +loyal to you, it would be different. + +But you say he is "the best of men," and that you never have regretted +marrying him. + +Then let me beg of you to stand by him, as a wife should, and to make +what progress in your music you can at home, and wait until your husband +can accompany you before you go abroad to study. + +The highway of divorce is crowded with the student wives who have been +"abroad to study," leaving their husbands at home to earn the money. Do +not be one of them. + +There are greater things than a satisfied ambition, and a clean, happy, +united married life is one. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Maternity_ + + +I have tried to imagine myself in your place, as you requested, before +answering your letter. + +To be the mother of two children, and to know that a third may be added +before the fifth anniversary of your wedding, is for the most maternal +of women a situation requiring rare patience and much philosophy. + +I know that your strength is depleted, that you are nervously unstrung, +and I can understand your despondent state of mind. + +It seems to you that all romance and sentiment in life is being +sacrificed to breeding the species. You feel that you have some personal +privileges as a wife and a woman, not less than a mother. + +Like yourself, I do not believe woman's only mission in life to be the +production of offspring, yet I consider motherhood the highest privilege +accorded her who has for it the right physical and moral qualities. + +Only strong, sensible, and healthy women should become mothers, and it +is a mistake for even such as they to be kept constantly in that +occupation. + +You possess all the requisites, and you ought to bring fine children +into the world, since you married the man you loved, and have been happy +with him. + +But I can understand your reluctance to pass through the ordeal which +modern motherhood in civilized races means, for a third time, in so +short a period. But try and take another view of the situation. + +Benjamin Franklin was the fifteenth child of a poor tallow chandler. It +is altogether probable that his coming seemed a misfortune to his +mother, taxed with the care of such a brood. Think what the world would +have missed had he not come to earth. + +Then think of this unborn child as something wonderful and divine, given +to you to perfect. Believe it is to be the greatest blessing to you and +to the whole world. + +Cultivate love and protection in your heart for it. + +Tell yourself every hour of the day that the God of love will not desert +you or deprive you of strength and courage for your ordeal. That he will +be ever near, and sustain and comfort you. + +Desire all beautiful and good qualities to be given your child, and +resolutely turn away from the contemplation of anything that is hideous, +or unwholesome, or depressing. + +Look for pleasing objects, read cheerful and uplifting books, and from +infinite space call to you all ministering influences. + +Consider how short a time, when compared to the span of human life, +expectant motherhood occupies, and realize the vastness of its +influence upon the nature of the child, and through that nature upon all +humanity. + +Once you grasp that consciousness, you will feel your closeness to the +Creator of all things. + +Indeed, there is no other being on earth so nearly Godlike in power as +the mother who realizes what her influence over her unborn child may be. + +The hard and painful path for you to walk is but a short one compared to +the long roadway to eternity for your child. + +Perhaps some great statesman, or some great artist, or some great +scientist or philosopher is lying under your heart, and it is in your +power to make or mar his development. Perhaps a Joan of Arc, or a Rosa +Bonheur, or a Martha Washington will crown you with pride. + +Such genius and influence for good as the world has never before known, +from mortal sources, may be given to it through your unborn child. How +wonderful your privilege, how vast your power! + +Only a few short months, and then the growing wonder of a child's +unfolding mind, to beautify your days. + +Think of it in this way, dear little tired and nervous woman, and God +and all his angels will hover over you, I know, and all will be well +with you. + +My prayers are with you. + + + + +To Mr. Alfred Duncan + +_Concerning the Ministry_ + + +And so you have changed your plan of life and, instead of becoming an +experimenter with the flesh, are going to be a healer of souls. + +And what do I think about it? I am glad you are not to be an M.D. There +is an era coming when the doctor will be a prehistoric creature. Oh, it +is far, far away, but already the most progressive minds have ceased to +regard the family physician as an infallible being. + +Medicine has made the least progress of any of the sciences in the last +few centuries. + +Credulity has cured more people than pills. + +Were you to study medicine, I should advise you to take up surgery, +osteopathy, electricity, the Kneippe Cure, milk diet, and all the +various methods of stimulating circulation; for the people who +patronize these treatments are increasing, as the powder and pill +patrons are on the decrease. + +Then, too, I should urge you to make a careful study of mental and +spiritual methods of cure, that you might be wholly equipped for the +dawn of the new age. You are a young man, and you will probably live to +see a wonderful change in the treatment of disease, and to find the +physician of the old school relegated to the historian. + +But just as carefully you should now survey the religious horizon, +before beginning your studies for the ministry. + +It is utterly useless to stand with lifted eyes and say, "The faith of +my parents is good enough for me--good enough for all mankind." + +Had the children of ancient Salem said that, and their children repeated +it, you would probably be lighting faggots at this moment to roast a +"witch," instead of a brother of the opposite creed. + +The narrow, intolerant old dogmas have been forced into elasticity by +the later generations, and the broadening work still goes on. + +It makes no difference how satisfied you may be with a prospective lake +of fire for your enemies, the congregations you are to address will not +listen to that style of sermon as did your grandparents. + +Only the ignorant minds to-day harbour ideas of cruelty and revenge in +connection with a Creator. + +Thinkers find such theories inconsistent with religious belief. +Individual thought is leading to individual faith. + +Where once I believed in a universal church for all the world, I now +believe in a separate creed for each soul, one fashioned to suit his own +particular need, with the underlying basis of love for all created +things as its foundation. + +Let each man worship in his own way, and follow his own ideal of duty to +God and humanity. + +If it is the pleasure of one to give up all his worldly goods, and to +go and live and labour among the poor, wish him Godspeed; but if another +keeps his place among men of affairs, makes money honestly, and uses it +unselfishly, let him, too, have your blessing, since he is setting a +good example for the worldly-minded. If one man finds himself nearer to +God on Sunday by going out and peacefully enjoying the beauties of +nature and the association of his kind, do not try to convince him that +he is on the highway to perdition because he does not sit in a pew and +listen to depressing sermons. + +The day is over for that type of clergyman to succeed. + +Make a study of the needs of men _to-day_, and suit your sermons to +those needs. + +Men need to know more of the wonders of God's universe. Talk to them in +a brief, concise, interesting manner of the recent discoveries of +science, and their frequent remarkable corroboration of the old +religious theories. Thousands of years ago, in Egypt and India, wise men +said that metals and all created things possessed life, and were a part +of one great immortal whole, of which man was the highest expression. + +Science is "discovering" and proving the truth of many statements made +by those old seers and savants. Call the attention of the men of to-day +to this fact, and set them thinking on the wonders of the immortal soul. + +The man of to-day is an egotist regarding his scientific achievements. +He has grown to think of himself as a giant before whose material +success all other things must give way. He believes that he has +discovered, invented, photographed and made profitable all the "facts" +of the universe, and is inclined to regard with intolerance any idea +beyond his own mechanical domain. + +Tell him how much was divined thousands of years ago, and lead him to +realize the mighty depths of the unsounded ocean of his own being. + +To know your own triple self, body, mind, and spirit, and to make +yourself a complete man, with the body beautiful, the mind clear, the +spirit radiant, is better than to have all the Bibles of the ages, in +all their ancient languages, at your tongue's tip. + +Help men to the building of character, which shall enable them to be +honest in street and mart, unselfish in home and society, and +sympathetic to their fellow pilgrims. + +Salvation is gained as a house is built, brick by brick, day after day, +not by spasmodic efforts one day in the week, and the destruction of +that effort in the remaining six. + +And each man must be his own mason, and select and lay his own bricks. +All the clergyman can do is to act the part of overseer. + +The man who goes to another, and expects his prayers to save him, is +like the mason who expects the "boss" to do his work, while he draws the +pay. Do no man's task--physical, mental, or spiritual. That is not +friendship or religion. Your work is to stimulate others to do their own +work, think their own thoughts, and live their own lives. + +The world to-day demands facts to sustain faith. + +_Spiritual facts are to be obtained_. + +Find them: for once convinced of the continuation of life beyond the +grave, and of the necessity to earn its privileges, by self-conquest and +character-building, humanity will rise "from the lowly earth to the +vaulted skies," and will realize that this earth is but the anteroom to +larger spheres of usefulness. + +Go forth and find--go forth and find, and do not be afraid to strike out +of beaten paths and avoid ruts. Cultivate spiritual courage. It is what +few clergymen possess, and it will give you individuality at least. + +Preach the religion of happy harmonious homes. Make men and women +realize that heaven must begin here, in order to continue farther on, +and that the angelic qualities, of love, sympathy, goodness, +appreciation, must be rehearsed in the body, before they can be +successfully enacted in full-dress angel costume with wings. + +God will not care for the eternal praises sung about his throne by a man +who swears at his wife on earth, or a wife who nags her husband and +children. It is no use expecting a role in a continuous performance of +happiness in heaven, if you do not learn one line of the part on earth. + +Make your congregations think of the necessity to _live_ their religion +in earth's commonplace daily situations. + +That is the religion the world needs. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gray + +_Concerning Polygamy_ + + +All that you say, regarding the excitement over the seating of your Salt +Lake Senator, is quite true. + +I have visited your city, and have made the acquaintance of many of your +people, and I know the private life of the gentleman you sent to +represent you in Washington is beyond reproach. + +He is a good husband, a good father, a good citizen. He was born of a +polygamous father and mother, and his childhood's home was a happy one. +He was educated in the belief that it was wrong for a man to cohabit +with any woman not his wife, but right for him to marry many wives. + +He has not married many wives, however, and does not intend to. His +private life, his domestic life and his financial record are all clean +and clear of stain. + +So much cannot be said of many other Senators and Representatives at our +capitol. + +Good women are horrified when seeking government positions to find how +the sacrifice of virtue is demanded as payment for influence. + +These statements cannot be evaded or denied. Let one who questions them +investigate the conditions existing in Washington in the past and +to-day. + +What a record it would be were every girl and woman who had been led +into the path of folly by married Senators and Representatives to come +forth and tell her story! + +There are clean, decent, high-minded men in both houses. There are good +citizens, good patriots, good men there. + +But so long as one married seducer and misleader of women retains a seat +in either house unmolested, so long as one man stays who is unfaithful +to his marriage vows, the opposers of the Senator from Utah should base +their objections on other than moral grounds. + +But despite the facts you bring to bear on your argument, that polygamy +leads to more morality in the homes of the land than our present +conditions illustrate, I must disagree with you. + +I am opposed to polygamy. Any social arrangement which licenses men to +possess several women, to give full rein to their desires, is a block to +the wheels of progress. + +Not until man learns the lesson of self-control, as woman has learned +it, will humanity reach its highest development. + +Not until man ceases to place himself on a par with the unreasoning male +animal, when he argues on the subject of the sexual relations, will he +become the master of circumstance he is meant to be. + +One man and one woman living sexually true to each other is the ideal +domestic life. Better strive toward that ideal, and fail and strive +again, than to lower it and accept license and self-indulgence as the +standard, under some religious name. + +Polyandry and polygamy are both evidences of a crude and half-evolved +humanity. + +They belong to a society which has not learned the law of self-control +as a part of its religious creed and the march of progress. The light of +science makes havoc of all such primitive conditions. + +You tell me that your father was the husband of three wives, and that +all lived under one roof in sisterly love, and that you never heard an +unkind word spoken in your home, and that all three wives loved you as a +son. You tell me your father held high ideals of womankind, and that the +existence of a fallen woman was impossible in your community. + +Now I contend that any woman who accepts less than the full loyalty of +the man to whom she gives herself for life _has fallen from woman's +highest estate_. She lowers not only herself, but the whole sex. + +To take a third of a man's love, and to share his physical and mental +and spiritual comradeship with two other wives, is far more immoral, to +my thinking, than to take the whole of a man without legal authority. + +It drags down and belittles woman in the eyes of man. It is useless to +contend that such conditions lead to respect. + +There is too much of the big male I, and the little female you, in the +arrangement. There is too much of the old idea that God made man, and +accident made woman, for man's use. There is too much of self-indulgence +for the man, and repression for the woman,--a condition which has +blocked the highest development of the race for centuries. + +Meanwhile, I think it a great pity that society does not hold the +expectant mother in the same reverence as in your community. That is +certainly a lesson we can learn from the Mormons. And that explains why +your children, born of polygamous mothers, are stronger physically, and +more universally endowed mentally, than the average children in the +world at large. + +Mothers were guarded and protected and revered, and children were made +welcome, and no such crime as darkens our own social world--the crime of +destroying embryo life--was known in your midst. + +It is a glorious heritage to give a child this parental love and +welcome. It lasts through eternity. + +But it does not seem to me that it is necessary to have polygamy prevail +in order to produce right conditions for the propagation of offspring. +In time the world will realize the importance of teaching men and women +how to become good parents. + +It will learn, too, the magnificent results to be obtained from one +moral code for both sexes, and this result could never be obtained in a +polygamous community. + + + + +To Walter Smeed + +_Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + + +Before you left us, I realized that you and my pretty secretary were +finding matters of mutual interest. + +Therefore, I am not surprised that you are thinking seriously of her as +a future companion. + +Rosalie is a charming, intelligent, warm-hearted, excellent girl, and +there is no reason why she would not make you a good wife, save the one +you mention--the difference in your creeds. + +You are a Roman Catholic, Rosalie is a devout Protestant. + +Were the cases reversed, and were you the Protestant and Rosalie the +Catholic, I should say the chances of happiness were greater than as +conditions now stand. + +As a rule, the most religious man is more liberal than the religious +woman. And when marriage between a Roman Catholic and a Protestant is +the question, there is need of greater liberality on the part of the +Protestant than on that of the Catholic. + +Why? Because with the Protestant there is no consideration to be thought +of outside of his or her own convictions and feelings. + +With the Catholic, the power of the Church and the law regarding the +rearing of the children in its faith walks beside the contracting party, +sits at the table, and sleeps on the marital couch. + +There is no happiness for the husband or wife who has entered into such +a marriage, after the arrival of children, unless the laws of the Church +are obeyed. + +When the wife is a Catholic, the fact that she is a good woman and true +wife satisfies the Protestant husband, as a rule, and he makes no +objection to her carrying out the contract with her Church regarding the +education of the children. + +If they are as moral and good as their mother, he does not care what +faith occupies their hearts or in what way they worship God. + +But to the mother this is a matter of vital importance. + +Woman is by nature more devout than man. + +Woman is by nature more tyrannical than man. + +Take those two characteristics, and add to them the tendency of many +women to bigotry and intolerance, and it makes the matter of creeds +vital in marriage. + +Rosalie is broader-minded than many women, yet she is devoted to the +Congregational Church, and rarely misses attendance. + +It will be an easy matter for her to accept your faith for yourself and +to allow you to attend your own church, and she is, I am sure, broad +enough to go with you occasionally, if you request it. + +But when she becomes a mother, and the children's minds are unfolding, I +doubt her willingness to have them brought up in any faith save her own. + +To an unwedded girl in love, a child is a very indistinct creature. + +To a mother, it is a very real being. + +I have seen men as deeply in love as you are, with women as +liberal-minded as Rosalie, become very unhappy after marriage through +the opposite ideas of the wife regarding the education of children. + +You must remember how much more closely a mother's life is entwined +about her children, and how much more of their association usually falls +to her than to the father. + +This is especially true of daughters, and is true of sons up to a +certain age. + +You can understand, I am sure, how much more companionship a mother +would find in children who accepted her faith and attended her church +than in those whose spiritual paths led in another direction. + +I know Rosalie realizes that a good life, not a certain creed, leads to +the goal she seeks, after this phase of existence closes, and she does +not ask you to change your faith. But while she would also believe her +children were on the road to that goal, she would want them to walk +through her path and by her side. + +It will be hard to relinquish the woman you love, to-day, for the +children who might not come to-morrow. + +Yet I can give you the counsel you asked on this matter only from my +personal observation of similar unions. + +I should advise you to try an absence of some duration, and to forget +Rosalie if you can, since you have not yet declared yourself. + +Better a little temporary sorrow than a life of discord. + +As you grow older your religion will, in all probability, gain a +stronger ascendency over your nature, and the church to which you belong +is very tenacious in its hold upon its members. + +Rosalie is not of a yielding nature, and as I said before, she is more +devoted to her church than most young women of the day. + +The physical phases of your love blind you now. But these phases are +only a part of the tie which must bind husband and wife to make love +enduring through all of life's vicissitudes. + +There must be mental companionship, and to be a complete union there +must be sympathy in spiritual ideas. + +The very young do not realize this fact, but it is forced upon the +mature. + +Marital love is like a tree. It first roots in the soil of earth, and +then lifts its branches to the heavens. Unless it does so lift its +branches it is stunted and deformed, and is not a tree. Unless it roots +in earth it is not a tree, but an air-plant or a cobweb. + +You want to be sure the tree you are thinking to make a shelter for your +whole life, will have far-reaching and uplifting branches, and will not +be merely an earth-bound twig. + +Since your church permits no second marriage save by the door of death, +do not make a mistake in your first. + +Take a year, at least, of absence and separation, and think the matter +over. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + + +It is with genuine regret that I learn of your determination to send my +nephew out of your life. Wilfred is a royal fellow, as that term is +employed by us. He is what a man of royal descent in monarchies rarely +proves to be,--self-reliant, enterprising, industrious, clean, and with +high ideals of woman. + +Eight years ago I declined a request of his for a loan, and told him my +reasons--that I believed loans were an injury to our friends or +relatives. My letter seemed to arouse all the strength latent in his +nature, and he has made a remarkable record for himself since that time. +I have known that he was deeply in love with you for the last two years, +and I had hoped you would listen to his plea. He tells me that you +imparted your history to him, and that you say it is your intention to +remain single, as you would not like to bring children into the world to +suffer from the stigma upon your name. He has shown me your letter +wherein you say, "I am not in fault for having to blush for the sins of +my parents; but I would be in fault if my children had to blush for the +blemish upon the name of their grandparents. I do not feel I could meet +their questioning eyes when they asked me about my parents. I can better +bear the loss of the personal happiness of a home and a husband's love." + +Wilfred is just the man to protect you and to keep the world at a +distance, where it could not affect your life by its comments. He +regards your birth in the same light that I do, and would rather +transmit your lovely qualities of soul and mind to his descendants than +the traits of many proudly born girls who are ready to take him at the +first asking: for you must know how popular he is with our sex. + +I can not believe you are insensible to his magnetic and lovable +qualities, but, as you say, you have been so saddened by the sudden +knowledge of your history that it has blunted your emotions in other +directions. I can only hope this will wear away and that you will +reconsider your resolve and consent to make Wilfred the happy and proud +man you could, by becoming his wife. + +_Never forget that God created love and man created marriage_. + +And to be born of a loveless union is a darker blight than to be born in +love without union. + +But what I want to talk about now, is your determination to live a +single life and to devote yourself to reclaiming weak and erring women. +You are young to enter this field of work, yet at twenty-four you are +older than many women of thirty-five, because you have had the +prematurely ripening rain of sorrow on your life. I know you will go +into the work you mention with the sympathy and understanding which +alone can make any reformatory work successful. Yet you are going to +encounter experiences which will shock and pain you, in ways you do not +imagine now. + +You are starting out with the idea of most sympathetic good women, that +all erring souls of their own sex fall through betrayed trust, and +broken promises, and misplaced love. Such cases you will encounter, and +they will most readily respond to your efforts for their reformation. +But many of those you seek to aid will have gone on the road to folly +through mercenary motives, and this will prove a vast obstacle. + +When a woman sells to Mammon, under any stress of circumstance, that +which belongs to Cupid, there is something left out of her nature and +character which renders the efforts of the reformers almost useless. You +know all real, lasting reform must come from within. The woman who has +once decided that fine apparel, and comfort, and leisure, are of more +value to her than her virtue usually reaches old age or disease before +the reformer can even gain her attention. You will find many such among +your protegees, and you may as well leave them to work out their own +reformation, and turn your energies to those who long for a better life. + +It is that longing which means real reformation. To paraphrase an old +couplet-- + + The soul reformed against its will + Clings to the same old vices still. + +I do not believe in a forced morality, save as a protection to a +community. I believe in it as a legal fence, but it possesses no value +as a religious motive. It helps to save society some annoyance, but it +does not materially improve the condition of humanity. Such improvements +must come from the desire of men and women to reach higher standards. +So, after you have planted a little seed in the mind of the mercenary +Magdalene which may in time sprout and grow, pass on, and find those who +have gone wrong from other causes, and who are longing for a hand to +lead them right. + +And of all things do not expect a girl who has lived in the glare of red +lights, and listened to the blare of bands, and worn the ofttimes +becoming garb of folly, and stimulated her spirits with intoxicants--do +not expect her, I say, to suddenly be contented with quiet and solitude, +and drudgery, and cheap, unlovely garments, and goodness. Give her +something to entertain her and to occupy her mind, give her something to +live for and hope for and to be pleased over, besides the mere fact of +reformation. The opium victim, you must remember, can not at once +partake of wholesome food and be well and happy in the thought that he +has given up his drug. Neither can the folly victim. The standards of +happiness and contentment which the moral woman has always found +satisfactory, she too often considers sufficient for the sister who has +wandered from the path. But they are standards which, once lost, must be +gained step by step, painfully and slowly. They are not reached by a +bound. As much as possible keep your reformed sister's mind from +dwelling on the past, or from talking of her mistakes and sins. Blot +them from her memory by new and interesting plans and occupations. The +way to live a new life is to live it. + +And our thoughts and conversation are important parts of living. Instead +of praying aloud to God to forgive her sins, show the God spirit in +yourself by forgiving and forgetting and helping her to forget. + +And now a word about yourself. + +You are twenty-four, lovely, sympathetic, fond of children and animals, +wholesome and normal in your habits, without crankiness, and popular +with both sexes. While there are many wives and widows possessed of +these qualities, there seems to be some handicap to the spinster in the +race of life who undertakes to arrive at middle age with all the womanly +attributes. Almost invariably she drops some of them by the wayside. She +becomes overorderly and fussy--so that association with her for any +length of time is insupportable--or careless and indifferent. Or she may +grow inordinately devoted to animal pets, and bitter and critical toward +children and married people. + +She may develop mannish traits, and dress and appear more like a man +than a feminine woman. + +She may ride a hobby, to the discomfort of all other equestrians or +pedestrians on the earth's highway. She may grow so argumentative and +positive that she is intolerant and intolerable. And whichever of these +peculiarities are hers, she is quite sure to be wholly unconscious of +it, while she is quick to see that of another. Now watch yourself, my +dear Sybyl, as you walk alone toward middle life; do not allow yourself +to grow queer or impossible. It was God's intent that every plant should +blossom and bear fruit, and that every human being should mate and +produce offspring. The plant that fails in any of its functions is +usually blighted in some way, and the woman who fails of life's full +experiences seems to show some repellent peculiarity. But she need not, +once she sets a watch upon herself; she has a conscious soul and mind, +and can control such tendencies if she will. + +It is unnatural for a woman to live without the daily companionship of +man. The superior single woman must make tenfold the effort of the +inferior wife, to maintain her balance into maturity, because of her +enforced solitude. As the wife-mother grows older she is kept in touch +with youth, and with the world, while the opportunities for close +companionship with the young lessen as a single woman passes forty, +unless she makes herself especially adaptable, agreeable, and +sympathetic. + +And this is what I want you to do. At twenty-four it is none too soon to +begin planning for a charming maturity. + +If you are determined upon a life of celibacy, determine also to be the +most wholesome, and normal, and all around liberal, womanly spinster the +world has ever seen. + +Peace and happiness to you in your chosen lot. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + + +No, my dear Edna, I do not think it strange that you should seek advice +on this subject from a woman who has no living children. + +It seems to me no one is fitted to give such unbiased counsel regarding +the training of children as the woman of observation, sympathy, and +feeling, who has none of her own. + +Had I offspring, I would be influenced by my own successes, and +prejudiced by my own failures, and unable to put myself in your place, +as I now do. + +A mother rarely observes other people's children, save to compare them +unfavourably with her own. I regret to say that motherhood with the +average woman seems to be a narrowing experience, and renders her less +capable of taking a large, unselfish view of humanity. + +The soldier in the thick of battle is able to tell only of what he +personally experienced and saw, just in the spot where he was engaged in +action. + +The general who sits outside the fray and watches the contest can form a +much clearer idea of where the mistakes occurred, and where the greatest +skill was displayed. + +I am that general, my dear friend, standing outside the field of +motherhood, and viewing the efforts of my battling sisters to rear +desirable men and women. And I am glad you have appealed to me while +your two children are yet babies to give you counsel, for I can tell you +where thousands have failed. + +And I thank you and your husband for reposing so much confidence in my +ideas. + +I think, perhaps, we had better speak of the postscript of your letter +first. You ask my opinion regarding the chaperon for your +sixteen-year-old sister, who is going abroad to study for a period of +years. Mrs. Walton will take her and keep her in her home in Paris, and +Miss Brown also stands ready to make her one of three young girls she +desires to chaperon and guide through a foreign course of study in +France and Germany. + +You like the idea of having your sister in a home without the +association of other American girls, until she perfects herself in +French, but you are worried about Mrs. Walton's being a divorced woman. +Miss Brown, the spotless spinster, seems the safer guide to your +friends, you tell me. + +I know the majority of women would feel that a single woman of good +standing and ungossiped reputation was a safe and desirable protector +for a young girl. + +The same majority would hesitate to send their girls away with a +divorced woman. + +But as I remarked in the beginning, I have stood outside the fray and +watched similar ventures, and I have grown to realize that it is not +mere respectability and chastity in a woman which make her a safe +chaperon for a young girl,--it is a deep, full, broad understanding of +temperaments and temptations. + +Had I a daughter or a sister like your sweet Millie, I would not allow +her to live one year under the dominion of such a woman as Miss Brown +for any consideration. Why? because Miss Brown is all brain and bigotry. +She is narrow and high, not deep and broad. + +She is so orthodox that she incites heresy in the rebellious mind of +independent youth. She is so moral she makes one long for adventure. She +would not listen to any questioning of old traditions, or any +speculative philosophizing of a curious young mind, and she would be +intolerant with any girl who showed an inclination to flirt or be +indiscreet. + +Your sister Millie is as coquettish as the rose that lifts its fair face +to the sun, and the breeze, and the bee, and expects to be admired. She +is as innocent as the rose, too, but that fact Miss Brown would never +associate with coquetry. + +She would class it with vulgarity and degeneracy. Miss Brown is a +handsome woman, but she has no sex instincts. She does not believe with +the scientist, "that in the process of evolution it is only with the +coming of the sex relation that life is enabled to rise to higher +forms." + +She believes in brain and spirit, and is utterly devoid of that feminine +impulse to make herself attractive to men, and wholly incapable of +understanding the fascination that Folly holds out to youth. She has +never experienced any temptation, and she would be shocked at any girl +who fell below her standard. + +She would carefully protect Millie from danger by high walls, but she +would never eradicate the danger impulse from her nature by sympathetic +counsel, as a more human woman could. + +Mrs. Walton is a much better guide for your sister. + +She ran away from boarding-school at seventeen, and married the reckless +son of a rich man. She had a stepmother of the traditional type, and +had never known a happy home life. She was of a loving and trusting and +at the same time a coquettish nature, and she attracted young Walton's +eye while out for a walk with a "Miss Brown" order of duenna. The +duenna saw the little embryo flirtation, and became very much horrified, +and preached the girl a long sermon, and set a close watch upon her +actions. + +There was no wise, loving guidance of a young girl's life barque from +the reefs of adventure. It was homily and force. The result was, that +the girl escaped from school before six weeks passed, and married her +admirer. + +He was fifteen years her senior, a reckless man of the world, even older +in experience than in years. He proved a very bad husband, but his young +wife remained with him until his own father urged her to leave him. She +was quietly divorced, and has lived abroad almost ever since, and holds +an excellent position in the French capital, as well as in other +European centres, and she is most exemplary in her life. Mr. Walton is +now an inmate of a sanitarium, a victim of paresis. + +I can imagine no one so well fitted to exert the wisest influence upon +Millie's life as Mrs. Walton. + +There is a woman who has run the whole gamut of girlish folly, and who +knows all the phases of temptation. She knows what it is to possess +physical attractions, and to be flattered by the admiration of men, and +she has passed through the dark waters of disillusion and sorrow. She +would be the one to help Millie out of dangerous places by sympathy and +understanding, instead of using sermons and keys. + +She would mould her young, wax-like character by the warmth of love, +instead of freezing it by austere axioms. + +Miss Brown would make an indiscreet young girl feel hopelessly vulgar +and immodest; Mrs. Walton that she understood all about her foolish +pranks, and was able to lead her in the better paths. + +Miss Brown prides herself upon never having lost her head with any man. + +Mrs. Walton is like some other women I have known, who have made +mistakes of judgment. She lost her head, but in the losing and the +sorrow that ensued she found a heart for all humanity. + +There are women in this world whose cold-white chastity freezes the poor +wayfarer who tries to find in their vicinity rest and comfort and +courage. + +Other women cast a cooling shadow, in which the sun-scorched pilgrim +finds peace--the shadow of a past error, from which spring fragrant +ferns and sweet grasses, where tired and bleeding feet may softly tread. + +Mrs. Walton's life casts the shadow of divorce on her pathway, but it is +only the warm, restful shadow of a ripening and mellowing sorrow. Do not +fear to have Millie walk in it. + +It will be better for her than the steady glare from a glacier. + +I find I have said so much about your sister that I must reserve my +counsel about your children for another letter. + +Your postscript was brief, but pregnant with suggestion, and called for +this long reply. + +I shall write you again in a few days. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Children_ + + +Your wish to have your son, who is now four years old, begin to develop +the manly qualities, and your oldest daughter, who has reached the +mature age of three, start wisely on the path to lovely womanhood, is +far from being premature. + +"The tree inclines as the twig is bent," we are told. + +Most mothers wait until the tree is in blossom before they begin to +train its inclination. + +Your boy is quite old enough to be taught manly pride, in being useful +to you and his sisters. + +Such things are not successfully taught by preaching or scolding or +punishing; but are more easily inculcated by tact and praise, +object-lesson and play. + +A four-year-old boy is all ears when his father's praises and +achievements are recounted. Any father, save a brute, is a hero in the +eyes of his four-year-old son. I am sure Mr. Gordon has many admirable +traits you can use as interesting topics. + +Tell little Charlie how proud you are to have a son who will be like his +father, and attend to the needs of and look after the interests of his +mother and sisters. + +Make him think that to be of service to you or his sisters is one of the +first steps toward manhood, as indeed it is. + +When he performs any small kindness, praise his manliness. + +Teach him to open doors, and to make way for women and elders, as a part +of manly courtesy. + +Speak with gentle disapproval of the unfortunately common type of +American boy who pushes women and older people aside to scramble into +public conveyances and secure a seat before them. + +Say how proud you are that your son could not be guilty of such unmanly +conduct. + +When you are walking with him, call his attention to any woman or child +or poor man in trouble, and if his services can be of use, urge him to +offer them. + +I saw one day a small boy spring to the aid of an old coloured woman who +had dropped a lot of parcels in the street, and I thought it was a +certain evidence that his mother was a rare and sweet woman. For the +manners of little boys are almost invariably what their mothers make +them. + +Awake early in his heart a sympathy for the deformed, the crippled, and +otherwise unfortunate beings. + +There is no other country where such vulgar and heartless curiosity, and +even ridicule, is bestowed upon grotesque or unsightly types of +humanity, as in America. + +A little dwarfed girl in New York City committed suicide a few years +ago because she was so weary of being laughed at and ridiculed by her +associates in the street and at school. + +Think of that, in this Christian age, and in the metropolis of America! + +An old street peddler was set upon by school-children and so annoyed and +misused that he became insane. + +Another was injured by street children--the children of the public +schools--and died from the effects of their abuse. + +This is the fault of mothers who have never deemed it their duty and +privilege to awaken the tender and protective qualities in the character +of their children. + +Speak often to your boy of the pathos of dumb animals dependent upon +human thoughtfulness for food, drink, and decent usage. + +Say what a privilege it seems to you to be able to befriend them, and to +be a voice for them in making others realize their duty to our dumb +brothers. + +Obtain interesting books on natural history and read stories of animal +life to your boy. Instruct him in the habits of beast, bird, and insect, +and talk to him of the wonderful domestic instincts and affections in +many of our speechless associates. The exhilaration of the wild bird, +and the happiness of the deer and the hare in the woods and fields, call +to his mind day by day. It will be more gratifying to you when he is man +grown to feel he is the loving friend and protector, rather than the +skilled hunter of bird and beast. + +The higher order of man does not seek slaughter for amusement. He +realizes that he has no right to take, save for self-protection, that +which he cannot give. + +Make your son a higher order of man by developing those brain cells and +leaving the destructive and cruel portions of the brain to shrink from +lack of use. + +Even in his play with his inanimate toys, you can be arousing the best +or the worst part of your boy's nature. + +The child who whips and screams at his hobby-horse usually, when a man, +whips and bellows at his flesh and blood steed. + +Tell him the play-horse is more easily managed by coaxing and petting, +and that loud voices make it nervous and frightened. + +Suggest water and feed at suitable times, and express sorrow for the +horses with no kind boys to look out for them. + +Start a humane society in the nursery and make your boy president and +your little girl honorary member, and act as treasurer and secretary +yourself. + +Give him a medal when he offers food to a hungry street animal or speaks +to a driver cruel to his horse, or performs any other kind act. This +will be interesting play to your children, and it will be sowing seed in +fallow ground. + +Your baby girl is already old enough to take pride in picking up the +toys she scatters, and putting her chair where it belongs. Make it a +part of your hour of sport with her to help her do these things. She +will not know she is being taught order. + +I learned this lesson from a famous author whose baby son was anxious +to play about the library where his father was at work. + +The first act of the toddler was to toss all the books in sight upon the +floor and to sit down and turn the leaves, hunting for pictures. This +performance interested him for half an hour, when he proceeded to seek +new fields of action. + +"But now let us have great fun putting all the books back just where we +found them," cried the tactful father, with a wink and a laugh, which +made the child believe he was to enjoy the sport of his life. And it +_was_ made sport by the foolish pranks of the father who knew how little +it took to interest a child. + +The next day, and the next, the same fall and rise in the book market +took place, but on the fourth day the father was too deeply engrossed in +work to assist in the replacing of the books: when, lo! the small lad, +after a wistful waiting and unanswered call, proceeded to put the books +all back alone. + +_The first important brick in the foundation wall of order was laid_. + +So you can teach your little girl all the womanly habits of method, and +order, and neatness, and system, if you have the patience to act the +part of playmate with her a few moments daily. + +As she grows in understanding and years, keep yourself at her side, her +nearest friend. Let her feel that she can express her every thought to +you, and that every question which presents itself to her developing +mind, you will seek to answer to the best of your ability. + +Be her confidant, her adviser, her friend, and let her find pride and +happiness in doing things for you. + +Never act as maid or domestic to your daughter. + +Be the queen and make her your first lady-in-waiting, and show her the +courtesy and appreciation her position demands from royalty. She will be +a better daughter, and a better wife and mother, later in life, if you +do not make the mistake of the average American mother of waiting upon +her from the cradle to the altar. Let her grow up with the quiet +understanding that you are to be first considered, in matters social and +financial. Your wardrobe must be as well looked after as her own, and if +there is to be economy for one, let her practise it. + +The daughter who has a whole household sacrificing and toiling for her +pleasures is spoiled for a wife and woman. The most admirable young +women I have known--and I have known many--are those who were taught to +take it as a matter of course that the mother was first to be +considered, and lovingly served. + +Do not be afraid of making your daughter vain by telling her the +attractive features she may possess. + +Some one else will if you do not, and it is well for her to hear it from +lips which may more successfully offer counsel afterward. A certain +confidence in her own charms gives a sensibly reared young woman a poise +and self-possession which is to be desired. A touch of feminine vanity +renders a woman more anxious to please, and more alert to keep always at +her best. + +But beware of having her acquire egotism. Silly conceit is the +death-blow to higher attainments and to all charm. + +Teach your daughter early the accomplishment of listening well. She will +be certain to please if she understands its value. + +A woman who looks the converser in the eyes, and does not allow her +glance to wander and become distrait, and who does not interrupt before +the recital is finished, can be sure of popularity with both men and +women. + +Give both your son and daughter confidence in themselves and belief in +their power to achieve. There is tremendous power in the early +inoculation by the home influence of self-confidence, when it is +tempered by modesty and consideration for others. + +Remember whatever in your own bringing up seems to-day unfortunate, and +avoid it in the training of your children. + +Remember whatever was good and helpful, and emulate it. + + + + +To Miss Zoe Clayborn Artist + +_Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + + +I am sure, my dear niece, that you are a good and pure-minded girl, and +that you mean to live a life above reproach, and I fully understand your +rebellion against many of the conventional forms which are incompatible +with the career of a "girl bachelor," as you like to call yourself. But +let us look at the subject from all sides, while you are on the +threshold of life, in the morning of your career, and before you have +made any more serious mistakes than the one you mention. + +For it was a mistake when you accepted Mr. Gordon's telephone message to +lunch alone with him at a restaurant, even though you knew his wife +might not object. + +Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are happily married, parents of several children. +They are broader and more liberal and more unselfish than most parents, +and they went out of their path to extend courtesies to you, a young +country girl--at first because you were my niece, then because they +liked you personally. + +When I first wrote Mrs. Gordon that you were to open a studio in Chicago +after your course of study in the East, she expressed deep interest in +you, and seemed anxious to have you consider her as a friend--always +ready to act as a chaperon or adviser when you felt the need of wiser +guidance than your own impulses. + +Mrs. Gordon knew that your experience of the world was limited to a +country village in the West, and two years' study at the Pratt +Institute. While there she knew you boarded with a cousin of your +mother's, and enjoyed the association and privileges of the daughters of +the home. + +To start alone in Chicago, and live in your studio, and dine from a +chafing-dish, and sleep in an unfolded combination bureau and +refrigerator--has more fascinations to your mind than to Mrs. Gordon's. +She was reared in comfort, bordering on luxury, and while her early home +life was not happy, she enjoyed all the refinements and all the +privileges of protected girlhood. + +She knows city life as you cannot know it, and, although she discards +many of the burden-some conventions of society, she realizes the +necessity of observing some of its laws. + +She wanted you to feel that you had the background of a wholesome home, +and the protection of clean, well-behaved married friends in your +exposed situation; her attitude to you is just what she would want +another woman to hold toward her daughter, were she grown up and alone +in a large city. + +You have been her guest, and she has been your good friend. Mr. Gordon +admired you from the first, and that was a new incentive for this most +tactful and liberal of wives to befriend you. She always cultivates the +women he likes. + +This is excellent policy on the part of a wife. If the husband has any +really noble qualities or possesses a sterling character, he will +appreciate and respect his wife's confidence, and never violate it; and +added to this, he will usually become disillusioned with the women he +has admired from a distance, when he sees them frequently at too close +range. + +A wife can make no greater mistake than trying to fence her husband +about and obtruding high walls between him and the women he admires. Far +better bring them near and turn on the calcium light. + +Mr. Gordon is a born lover of the fair sex, a born gallant. He is, at +the same time, a clean, self-respecting man. But he has grown a trifle +selfish and a bit vain of late years. + +He does not fully realize what the interesting family of children he +shows with such pride to his friends has meant to their mother. + +It has not occurred to him that to be the mother of three children, the +youngest one year old, after six years of married life, has required a +greater outlay of all the mental, moral, and physical forces than has +been demanded of their father. + +He is a good husband,--yet he is not the absolutely unselfish and +liberal and thoughtful husband that Mrs. Gordon is wife. + +If she seemed to you at all nervous, or less adaptable to your moods +than he, you should stop and consider the many causes which might have +led to this condition. + +You are young, handsome, gifted, and unconventional, and all these +things appeal to men. You can attract all the admirers you want, and +more than you need, to enlarge your ideas of life, and extend your +knowledge of human nature. + +You say your ambition is to know the world thoroughly,--that it will aid +your art. + +I think that is true, if you do not pass the border-line and lose your +ideals and sacrifice your principles. Once you do that, your art will +lose what it can never regain. + +And remember this, my dear girl, no human being ever lived or ever will +live who gained anything worth having _by sacrificing the golden rule._ +In your search for knowledge of the world, and acquaintance with human +nature, _keep that motto ever before your soul's sight,_ "Do unto +others as you would have them do unto you." + +You say Mr. Gordon said or did nothing in that tete-a-tete luncheon his +wife might not have heard or seen, but the fact that he talked entirely +about you and art, and other universal subjects, and seemingly avoided +any reference to his wife and children, surprised you. + +And now you are wondering if you did wrong to accept this invitation. +Never accept invitations of any kind from married men, unless the wife +or some member of the family is included. + +No matter how willing the wife may be to have you enjoy her husband's +company, avoid tete-a-tete situations with benedicts. + +You say you are not egotistical enough to imagine Mr. Gordon had any +hidden motive for wanting to be alone with you, or for seemingly +forgetting in his conversation that he was a husband and father. Yet I +can see that in a measure it disillusioned you. + +You do not ask a man to fling his wife and children at the head of each +woman he meets, but you like him to recognize their existence. + +You are a young, romantic girl seeking the ideal. + +You want to find happy wives and husbands,--men and women who have +sailed away from the Strands of Imagination to the more beautiful land +of the Real, from whose shores they beckon you, saying: "Here is +happiness and great joy. Come and join us, and feel no fear in flinging +the illusions of youth behind you." + +If married men only knew that is what young women are seeking,--if +married women only knew that is what young men are seeking, what +reconstruction would take place in the deportment of husbands and wives! + +Never yet did a married woman indulge in flirtatious or sentimental +converse with a bachelor without lowering herself and all women in his +heart of hearts. + +Never yet did a married man seem to forget his domestic ties in the +presence of single women without losing a portion of their respect, +however they may have been flattered by his attentions. + +In every man's heart, in every woman's, is this longing to find husbands +and wives who are satisfied and happy and proud, above all other things, +of their loyalty. + +It would be well for you to keep this fact before the minds of the men +you meet. You can, in a small way, do your little toward educating on +this subject the married men you encounter. And you can save yourself +some embarrassing experiences. + +It is no compliment to you if the husband of your friend, or a stranger, +falls in love with you. + +It is an easy matter for a young, attractive woman to infatuate +irresponsible men. + +It is a far greater compliment to you when women respect and trust you, +and when you help elevate the ideals of weak men regarding your sex. + +You can study the whole Encyclopedia of Manhood without breaking through +the glass doors of your friend's bookcases. And you can live a free, +unconventional life without sacrificing one principle, though you may +ignore some customs. It is not the custom in conventional society for +young women to go to theatres or dinners alone with young men. Yet I am +perfectly willing you should join the large army of self-supporting, +self-respecting, and well educated girls who do these things. You have +been reared with that American idea of independence, and with that +confidence in your ability to protect your virtue and good name, which +carries the vast majority of our young women safely through all the +vicissitudes of youth, and sends them chaste wives to the altar. Our +American men understand this attitude of our girls, and half of them +respect it, without being forced to, as the other half can be, if woman +so wills. + +There is no reason, to my thinking, why you should not enjoy the +companionship of interesting bachelors and widowers, and take the +courtesies they offer, with no chaperon but your own pride, taste, and +will. So long as you know, and these men know, that you are doing +nothing and going nowhere you need remember with shame or regret, the +next day, just so long you are on no dangerous path. + +But you must draw the line at married men, happy or unhappy. Any +confidential, tete-a-tete companionship of a single woman with a married +man cheapens her in the eyes of all other men and women. + +It is a simpler matter to drift into free and easy manners and call them +"bohemian" than to cleanse your reputation of their stain, or lift your +mind from the mire to which they inevitably lead. + +Once a woman begins to excuse her lawless conduct on the ground of her +"artistic temperament," there are no depths to which she may not sink. + +Take pride in being at once independent yet discreet; artistic, yet +sensible; a student of men, yet an example of high-minded womanhood; an +open foe to needless conventions, yet a staunch friend of principles; +daring in methods, yet irreproachable in conduct; and however adored by +men, worthy of trust by all women. + +Do not take the admiration of men too seriously. Waste no vitality in a +rage over their weaknesses and vices. Regard them with patience and +inspire them to strive for a better goal than self-indulgence. + +You can safely take it for granted that many who approach you with +compliments for your charms, and pleas for your favours, would make the +same advances to any other attractive girl they chanced to encounter. + +Too many young women mistake a habit for a grand passion. And they +forget, while they are studying man, that he is studying woman, and +testing her susceptibility to flattery and her readiness to believe in +his simulated infatuation. + +Do not fall into the error of so many young country girls in a large +city, and imagine you can establish new laws, create a new order of +things, and teach men new lessons. + +A great city is like an ever-burning fire,--the newcomers who thrust in +their fingers will be scorched and scarred, but the fire will not be +changed or extinguished. + +_Keep out of the fire_. + +There is no reason why you should scar yourself or smoke your garments +while keeping comfortably warm. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years of Married Life_ + + +I have read your letter with care. I can readily understand that you +would not appeal to your wife's mother in this matter upon which you +write me, as she has been the typical mother-in-law,--the woman who +never gets along well with her children, and who never wants others to +succeed where she fails. I recollect your telling me how she marred the +wedding ceremony, by weeping and fainting, after having nagged her poor +daughter during twenty years of life, and interfered with her +friendships, through that peculiar jealousy which she misnamed "devoted +love." + +And now you are afraid that your wife is developing the same +propensity, and you ask me to use my influence to cure her of it in its +incipiency. You think I stand closer to Edna than any other friend. + +"It is only during the last two or three years that Edna has shown this +tendency," you say. "Until then she seemed to me the most sensible and +liberal-minded of women, always admiring the people I liked, and even +going out of her way to be courteous and cordial to a woman I praised. +Of late she has seemed so different, and has often been sarcastic, or +sulky, or hysterical, when I showed the common gallantries of a man fond +of the society of ladies." + +You think it is her inherited tendency cropping out, and that she is +unconscious of it herself. + +Well now permit me, my dear Mr. Gordon, to be very frank with you. + +I met your wife only once before she married you. + +She was a merry-hearted, healthy girl, with superb colour, and the +figure of a young Venus. She was a belle, and much admired by many +worth-while men. + +During her honeymoon, she wrote me a most charming letter speaking of +her happiness, and of her desire to make you an ideal wife. + +You and Edna were my guests for a few days when your first child was a +year old. She seemed more beautiful than ever, with an added spiritual +charm, and you were the soul of devotion. + +You are the type of man who pays a compliment as naturally as he +breathes, and whose vision is a sensitive plate which retains an +impression of every feminine grace. This impression is developed in the +memory-room afterward, and framed in your conversation. + +The ordinary mind calls such a man a flirt, or, in common parlance, "a +jollier;" but I know you to be merely appreciative of womankind in +general, while your heart is beautifully loyal to its ideal. You are a +clean, wholesome man, who could not descend to intrigue. You are +fine-looking, and you possess a gift in conversing. + +Of course women are attracted to you. Edna was proud of this fact, and +seemed to genuinely enjoy your popularity. + +That was five years ago. + +One year ago I visited your home. Edna was the mother of three children, +born during the first five years of marriage. + +She had sacrificed her bloom to her babies, and was pallid and anaemic. +Her form had lost its exquisites curves, and she seemed years older than +her age--older indeed than you, although she is four years your junior. +It is a mere incident to be a father of three children. It is a lifetime +experience to be their mother. She had developed nerves, and tears came +as readily as laughter came of old. + +She was devoted to her children, and felt a deep earnestness regarding +her responsibility as a mother. But she was still the intensely loving +wife, while you had sunk your role of lover-husband in that of adoring +father. + +You did not seem to think of Edna's delicate state of health, or notice +her fading beauty. You regarded her as a faithful nurse for your +children, and whenever you spoke of her it was as the mother, not as the +sweetheart and wife. + +When I mentioned the drain upon a woman's vitality to bring three robust +children into life in five years, you said it was only a "natural +function," and referred to the old-time families of ten and twelve +children. Your grandmother had fourteen, you said, and was the picture +of health at seventy-five. + +My own grandmother gave ten children to the world. But we must recollect +how different was the environment in those days. + +Our grandmothers lived in the country, and knew none of the strain and +excitement of these modern times. The high pressure of social and +financial conditions, as we know them, the effort to live up to the +modern standards, the congested city life and the expensive country +life, all these things make motherhood a different ordeal for our women +than our grandmothers. Where our grandfathers took their share of the +care and guidance of children, and the children came up in a wholesome +country fashion, our men to-day are so driven by the money gadfly that +they can only whirl around and around and attend "to business," and all +the care of the children falls upon the mother, or else upon the nurses +and governesses, who in turn are a care and a worry to the wife. + +You assured me Edna had all the assistants in caring for her children +she wanted, but you did not realize that every paid employe in a +household is, as a rule, just so much more care to the mistress, not +less than a tax on the husband's purse and, consequently, on his time. + +What Edna craves is _your_ love, _your_ attention, _your_ sympathy, not +the service of paid domestics. She wants you to notice her fading bloom, +and to take her in your arms and say, tenderly, "Little girl, we must +get those old roses back. And we must go away for a new honeymoon, all +alone, and forget every care, even if we forget the babies for a few +days." + +One little speech like that, one little outing like that, would do more +toward driving away the demon of jealousy than all I could by a thousand +sermons and homilies. + +I remember at your own board you made me uncomfortable talking about my +complexion, which you chose to say was "remarkable for a woman of my +age." And then you proceeded to describe some wonderful beauty you had +seen at the Country Club the day previous, and all the time I saw the +tears hidden back under the lids of Edna's tired eyes, and a hurt look +on her pale face. Do you imagine she was _jealous_ of your compliment to +me? or of your praise of the girl's beauty at the Country Club? + +No, no, my dear Mr. Gordon, I know Edna too well to accuse her of such +petty feelings. She was only hurt at your lack of taste in accenting her +own lost bloom by needlessly emphasizing another's possession of what +had once been hers. + +Yet she called upon the young lady that very day and invited her to +luncheon, and even then you indulged in pronounced admiration of the +guest's cheeks, gallantly requesting your wife to have the bouquet of +carnation pinks removed from the table, as they were so shamed by the +complexions of the ladies. + +Of course it was gracefully worded in the plural, but your pallid wife +could not claim her share of it, and you should have realized the fact. +And the reason she could not was that she had sacrificed her health in +your service, in giving your children to you, and in losing her lover. + +She adores her splendid babies, but she is still a woman and a +wife,--though you seem to ignore that she is anything but a mother. + +Right about face, Mr. Gordon, and become the lover you were, and +jealousy will be driven from your threshold. + +It is your own lack of thoughtfulness, your own tactless and tasteless +methods with your wife, which have caused the change in her manner. She +is not jealous, she is only lonely, heart-hungry, disillusioned. + +You are less noble, less considerate, less tender, less sympathetic +than she believed. For the man to whom these adjectives can be applied +will guard, love, and cherish the wife of his youth, and the mother of +his children, before all other considerations; and he will understand +how sensitive a fading wife may be, and not confound that sensitiveness +with ignoble jealousy. + +It is you, Charles Gordon, who must cure your wife of nerves, hysteria, +and incipient jealousy, not I. + + + + +To Mrs. Clarence St. Claire + +_Concerning Her Husband_ + + +I am sorry that your matrimonial barque meets so many rough winds while +hardly out of Honeymoon Bay. + +Clarence and you seemed so deeply in love when I last saw you, six +months after your wedding, that I had hoped all might go well with you. + +I knew the disposition of Clarence to be tainted with jealousy, but +hoped you would be able to eradicate it from his nature. + +You know his poor mother suffered agonies from the infidelities of his +father before Clarence was born. She had married a handsome foreigner +with whom she was desperately enamoured, while he cared only for the +fortune she brought him. + +While still in the full light of the honeymoon he began to indulge in +flirtations and amours, and poor Clarence, during the important prenatal +period of life, received the mark of suspicion and the tendency to +hypersensitiveness which then dominated the mother. + +By the time Elise was born she had passed through the whole process, and +was passive and indifferent. + +I cannot help a sensation of amusement, even in face of the condition +you describe (which is little short of tragic), as I recall the letter +Clarence wrote begging me to try and prevent, by fair means or foul, his +sister's marriage to old Mr. Volney. + +That was two years before you and Clarence were married. + +Elise, we all know, wedded for the money and position Mr. Volney gave, +in return for her young beauty. + +Clarence and you were ideal lovers, seeing nothing in the world outside +of your own selves. + +Yet Elise is quite contented, and Mr. Volney uses what little brain he +has left to exult over his possession of such a beautiful young wife. + +Elise upholds his dignity and flatters him into a belief that he is a +great philanthropist and a social power, and in this way she has the +handling of his millions, which is her idea of happiness. She travels, +entertains, and poses for photographs and paintings in imported gowns, +and there is no rumour of discontent or divorce. + +Meanwhile, Clarence, who was so opposed to her marriage because it was +loveless, is making a mess of his own love-match, through his jealousy. + +You, who knew him to be insanely jealous as a lover, and who seemed to +be flattered with what you thought a proof of his devotion, appeal to me +now to know what to do with the husband who is destroying your love and +your happiness! Surely, if Elise knew of this she might well say, "He +laughs best who laughs last." + +I know that you were absorbed in Clarence for the first year of your +married life, and that you gave no least cause for any jealousy, and I +know, as you say, that even then he was often morbid and unhappy over +nothing at all. + +He was jealous even of girl friends and relatives, and if you attended a +matinee with one of them, he sulked the whole evening. + +This was little more than he did as a lover, and you should have begun +in those days to reason him out of such moods. + +You imagined then it was his mad love for you which caused his +unreasonable jealousy. + +But jealousy is self-love, and selfishness lies at the root of such +conditions of mind as his. + +A woman should say to a man who sulks or goes into tantrums when she +pays courteous attentions to relatives or acquaintances, "You are +lowering my ideal of you--I cannot love a man who will indulge such +unworthy moods. You insult my womanhood and doubt my principles by your +suspicions; you intimate that I have neither truth, or judgment, or +pride. You must conquer yourself, and learn to trust me and to believe +in me, or I must decide I am no woman for you to take as a life +companion." A man should take the same course toward a jealous +sweetheart or wife. + +A few quiet but firm assertions of this nature, when you were being +wooed, would have given Clarence an idea that he could lose you, and +that he was making himself ridiculous in your eyes. Instead, you boasted +to your friends how wildly infatuated he was, and Clarence took new +pride in his own blemish of character. + +Now that you have to live day, and night, and week, and month, and year, +with this trait, it seems a less romantic phase of devotion, I fancy. +But you are not wise to grow reckless and ignore the wishes of your +husband in all ways, because he is unreasonable. "Since he is so +absolutely impossible to please," you say, "I may as well please myself. +I have decided to take some of the liberties so many of my acquaintances +do, and enjoy life outside my home if I cannot enjoy it within." + +Then you proceed to tell me how more than half your associates drive, +lunch, and dine with men acquaintances, and how old-fashioned they +consider your scruples. And you tell me that, despite your rectitude, +Clarence insults you almost daily by his unreasoning jealousy of men, +women, and even children. + +"I have about made up my mind to be less prudish and enjoy myself, as I +am sure Clarence cannot be any more jealous than he is," you say. + +Now since you have asked my advice in the matter, I can only urge you to +reconsider this last determination. + +So long as you are, according to law and in the eyes of the world, the +wife of a man, you cannot escape comment if you are frequently seen in +public places alone with another. + +Were you to look into the hearts of other men who ask you to dine, +drive, or lunch alone with them, you would find a feeling of increased +respect when you decline, although they may show only disappointment on +the surface. I know that many wives of unblemished reputation accept +courtesies of this kind from masculine friends, and I of course +understand that circumstances may arise which make an occasional +acceptance proper. + +But the fewer such occasions, the better and the safer for the married +woman. The man who is perfectly willing his wife should appear +frequently in public with other men does not fully appreciate the +dignity of her position or his own, or else he has lost his love for +her. + +The fact that your husband is jealous without reason is no excuse for +giving him reason. The moment men know that a husband is inclined to +jealousy, he falls in their estimation, and they are seized with a +desire to aggravate him, while they sympathize with the wife. + +The sympathetic friend of the abused wife is a dangerous companion for +her. He may mean to be platonic and kind, but almost invariably he +becomes sentimental and unsafe. + +Once in a thousand times the absolutely happy wife of a husband she +respects as well as loves can enjoy a platonic friendship with a man who +respects her, and himself, and her husband. But even that situation is +liable to prove insecure, if they are much together, owing to the +selfishness and weakness of human nature when the barriers of convention +are removed. + +But the unhappy wife must take no chances with Fate. + +She must either decide to accept her lot and bear it with philosophy, or +escape from it and begin life over, after the courts have given her the +right to reconstruct her destiny. + +You know all that entails. It is not a pleasant process. + +If your love for your husband is entirely dead, and you feel that he has +forfeited all right to your sympathy, pity, or patience, then break the +fetters and go free. But if you feel that you are not ready for that +ordeal, and that you must still remain living under the same roof with +him, and continue to bear his name, then do not join the great army of +wives who are to be seen in public restaurants and hotels dining +tete-a-tete with "platonic friends" over emptied glasses. + +You can but make trouble for yourself and add to the misery of your +husband by such a course. In your particular case, I feel that your +knowledge of the jealous disposition of the man you married renders it +your duty to bear and forbear, and to try every method of reformation +before you resort to the very common highway of divorce as an exit from +your unhappiness. + +A woman has no right to complain of the fault in a husband which she +condoned in a lover. And a man has no right to complain of the fault in +a wife he condoned in a sweetheart. Yet both may strive to correct that +fault. + +Insist upon having women and men friends who can be received at your +home in presence of your husband. Make Clarence realize how he belittles +himself in your estimation by unreasoning jealousy. Give him to +understand that you want to love him and respect him, and that you have +no intention of lowering your standard of behaviour, because he is +constantly expecting you to. Tell him it mortifies you to find greater +pleasure away from him than in his presence, yet when he insults you +with his suspicions, and destroys your comfort with his moods, you can +no longer think of him as your girlhood's ideal. + +Ask him to try, for your sake, to use more common sense and self-control +in this matter, and to help you to restore the happiness which seems +flying from your wedded lives. + +Do nothing to aggravate or irritate him, but do not give up your friends +of either sex; this is but to increase his inclination to petty tyranny, +while it will in no sense lessen his jealousy. + +And when you are alone, endeavour to think of him always as sensible, +reasonable, and kind. + +By your mental picture you can help to cure him of the blight he +received before his birth. It is the task set many a wife, to counteract +the errors and neglect of mothers. + +Look to the Divine source for help in your work, and remember the lovely +qualities Clarence possesses when he is not under the ban of this +prenatal mark. + +Love him out into the light if you can--and I believe you can if you are +not too soon discouraged. + +It is a nobler effort to try and create in your husband the ideal you +have in your mind, than to go seeking him elsewhere. + +Be patient and wait awhile. Such love as you and Clarence felt in your +courtship and early marriage cannot so soon have died. It is only +sleeping, and suffering from a nightmare. Awaken it to life and reality +and happiness. + + + + +To Young Mrs. Duncan + +_Regarding Mothers-in-Law_ + + +And so the serpent has appeared in your Eden, attired in widow's weeds, +and talking the usual jargon of "devoted mother love." I do not like to +say I told you so, but you must remember our rather spirited discussion +of this very serpent, when you announced your engagement and said Mr. +Duncan's mother was to make her home with you after your return from +abroad. + +I had met Mrs. Duncan, and I knew her type all too well. Alfred is her +only child, and she adores him, naturally, but it is adoration so +mingled with selfishness and tyranny that it is incapable of considering +the welfare of its object. + +Mrs. Duncan was always jealous of any happiness which came to her son +through another source than herself. That type of mother love is to be +encountered every day, and that type of mother believes herself to be +the most devoted creature on earth; while the fact is, she sits for ever +in the boudoir of her mentality, gazing at her own reflection. She loves +her children because they also reflect herself, and is incapable of +unselfish pleasure in their happiness apart from her. + +You will remember I urged you to wait until you could have a home, +however humble, alone with your husband, and even at the cost of that +most undesirable condition, a long engagement. + +But you assured me with much spirit that you had every confidence in +your power to win Mrs. Duncan's heart, and to crown her declining years +with peace and happiness. + +As well talk of decking a porcupine with wreaths of flowers, and making +it a household pet, to coddle and caress. + +When I congratulated Mrs. Duncan on her son's engagement to such a +sweet, bright girl as my cousin, she assumed a martyr expression and +said, "She hoped he would be happy, even if her own heart must suffer +the pain of losing an only son." + +"But," I urged, "he really adds to your life by bringing you the +companionship of a lovely daughter. My cousin will, I am sure, prove +such to you." + +"I have no doubt your cousin is a most estimable girl," Madame Duncan +answered, with dignity, "but I have never yet felt the need of any close +companion save my son. You, having no children, are excusable for not +understanding my feelings, now when another claims his thoughts." + +"Yet the world is maintained by such occurrences," I replied. "You took +some mother's son, or you would not have had your own." + +With austere self-righteousness Mrs. Duncan corrected me. + +"I married an orphan," she said. + +"How thoughtful of you," I responded. "But you see it is not lack of +thought, only an accident of fate, which has prevented my cousin from +marrying an orphan. There are not enough desirable orphans to keep our +young women supplied with husbands, you know." + +I think Mrs. Duncan suspected me of covert sarcasm, for she changed the +topic of conversation. But I heard her afterward talking to a bevy of +women on the sorrow of giving up a child after having reared him to +manhood's estate, and her listeners all seemed duly sympathetic. + +Of course, my dear Ruth, there is an element of sadness in the happiest +of marriages for the parents of children. I think it is particularly sad +when a mother gives up a daughter, whose every thought she has shared, +and whose every pleasure she has planned, and sees her embark upon the +uncertain ocean of marriage, with a strange pilot at the helm. + +The really good and loving mother endears herself to that pilot, and +loves him and seeks his affection for her daughter's sake. She hides +her own sorrow in her heart, and does not shadow her daughter's voyage +by her repining. + +The man who is worthy of a good girl's love will understand what it must +mean to a mother to give her daughter to him, and he will in every way +seek to recompense her for her loss, by bestowing upon her sympathy, +courteous attentions, and a son's devotion. + +Just so will the girl, who is worthy of being a good man's wife, seek to +make his mother love her. + +I know how you have tried to win Mrs. Duncan's heart. I know your +amiable, sweet disposition, and your unselfishness and tact, and I know +how you failed. + +I can imagine your feelings when you overheard Mrs. Duncan say to a +caller that she was going to leave your house and take rooms elsewhere, +as she could not endure your "billing and cooing." + +Do you know, Ruth, that nearly all the trouble between mothers-and +daughters-in-law is due to vanity and jealousy. + +Fifty mothers are friends to their daughters' husbands where one is a +friend to her son's wife. That is because, wholly unconsciously to +herself, the mother resents another woman sharing the attention of a man +she loves. The fact that he is her son, and that the love he gives his +wife is a wholly different sentiment, does not prevent blind, +unreasoning jealousy from dominating her nature. + +Mrs. Duncan wants to stand always in the centre of the stage, with every +other woman in the play in the background. + +It is a most pathetic situation for a man,--this position between a wife +and a jealous mother. My heart always aches for the man in the case even +more than for the woman who is misused. + +All young men are reared to think mother-love the most unselfish and +wonderful devotion on earth, even in the face of facts which so often +prove it otherwise; and when a son sees his mother unhappy he is +inclined to make every possible excuse for her, because he feels that to +take issue against her will put him in a false light before the whole +established order of society, and that he will beat his head against +traditions wherever he turns. + +So, he ofttimes tries to conciliate the wife he has promised to cherish, +and to convince her that she may exaggerate matters, and that she may +even be the aggressor, and then he finds himself standing between two +raging fires, with no escape save through flames, and over hot fagots, +which will leave him scarred for life. + +Sometimes the wife _is_ in the wrong. Sometimes a man marries a woman +who is so narrow and so selfish and so jealous that she begrudges the +husband's mother her son's affection. But I must affirm that, in my +observation of humanity, I have seen but one such wife, where I have +seen ten jealous and unreasonable mothers. + +And with what pleasure and admiration I recall the few beautiful and +noble mothers-in-law I have known! I can count them on the fingers of +one hand without including the thumb. I mean mothers of sons. + +There are just four whom I can recall. They really loved their sons, and +loved whatever and whoever gave those sons happiness. + +One mother objected to her son's choice before marriage, and tried +vainly to convince him that he had made a mistake. But after his +marriage she took the girl into her heart, made her a companion and +friend, and when the son began to discover her glaring faults, she told +him to be patient and wait, and that all would be well. Instead of +saying, "I told you so," she said, "Your wife is young, and has had no +wise hand to guide her. You married her for love, and if you exercise +the love-spirit, and are patient and self-controlled in your treatment +of her, she will overcome these faults which annoy you." + +And day by day she called his attention to the pleasing qualities the +girl possessed, and by praise, tact, love, and sympathy bridged over +the threatened chasm. + +The couple live happily together to-day, thanks to the mother-in-law. +Oh, that there were more such mothers of sons! + +Be as patient and sweet as you can, dear Ruth, toward Mrs. Duncan; think +how difficult the situation is for your husband, and say or do nothing +to make it harder for him. But allow Mrs. Duncan to live by herself, +and, if need be, bear many privations cheerfully that she may do so, and +that you may have your own home in peace. Every wife is entitled to +that, and if she has made every possible effort which love and tact can +make to cast the seven devils of jealousy out of her mother-in-law, and +they still remain, it is for the general welfare that two separate +households exist. + +When a son has done all he can in reason to make his mother happy, save +to turn against the wife he has promised to cherish, he is a cad and a +weakling if he does the latter. He must learn that it is a larger duty +to be a just man than to be an obedient son. + +I am sure Mr. Duncan will have the character and judgment to do what is +right in this matter. + + + + +To a Young Man + +_Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + + +Your achievements in college, where you distinguished yourself in +rhetoric and literature, would justify you in thinking seriously of a +career as an author. + +And the fact that your father wishes you to take charge of his brokerage +business, and to relinquish your literary aspirations, should not deter +you from carrying out your ambitions. + +Prom your mother you inherit a mind and temperament which wholly unfit +you for the pursuits your father follows and enjoys. You are no more +suited to make a successful broker than he is fitted to write an Iliad. + +Try and make him understand this, and try and convince him that to +yield to his wishes in this matter, means the sacrifice of your tastes, +the waste of your talents, and the destruction of your happiness. + +If he cannot be convinced by your consistent and respectful arguments, +then you must quietly, but firmly, refuse to accept a career distasteful +to you. + +No parent has a right to drive a child into so undesirable a path for +life as this would prove to one of your nature. + +Your father would think the horticulturist insane, who took a delicate +fern and planted it in arid soil, on a hilltop, far from shade, and +expected it to thrive and bear blossoms like the cactus. + +Yet this would be no more unreasonable, than to expect a son of your +temperament and inclinations to be happy and successful in Wall Street. + +It is a curious study to watch parents, and to observe their utter lack +of knowledge regarding a child's nature and capabilities; and to find +them not only ignorant in those important matters, but unwilling to be +enlightened. + +You say it makes your father angry to have any one refer to your +literary talents. + +I remember when your father bred race-horses, and how proud he was that +a two-year-old colt showed traits and points noticeably like its +high-priced dam. + +He chose for your mother, a woman of rare mind, and of poetic taste, and +why should he not be proud and glad that his son resembles her? When +will fathers learn that sons are more frequently like their mothers, and +daughters like their fathers, than otherwise? + +The temporary dissatisfaction of your father is not so sad to +contemplate as your own lifelong disappointment if you accede to his +wishes in this matter. + +Each individual has a right to choose his own career in life, so long as +that career is respectable and bodes no evil to humanity. + +If, as your father threatens, he refuses to give you support while you +are exploring the field of literature, you should feel grateful to him +for this unintentional incentive to success. + +I do not agree with those who consider the necessity to earn money a +misfortune to genius. + +I believe the greatest works of art given to the world have been brought +to light through necessity. + +The artistic temperament is almost invariably combined with a propensity +to dream, and to float upon the clouds of imagination. + +The ranks of wealth and comfort are full of talented and accomplished +people who "never are, but always to be" great. + +One great man in a score may have been reared in affluence, but I doubt +if the statistics would show so large a percentage. + +There are many hills which contain valuable ore, but if the owner sits +in ease upon these elevations, and gazes at the sunsets, he does not +find the ore. If he is a poor man, and takes his pick and _digs_, he +finds his fortune. + +At first he may cast out only loose earth and stones, but by this very +necessity to find valuables, he continues to search until the ore is +reached. + +Were you to remain at home and enjoy all the benefits of your father's +wealth, I doubt if you would have the persistence to dig down into the +mine you possess within you. + +You would sit on the hilltop and dream. + +If you are forced to write to live, you may cast up some rubbish from +the surface; yet by the continual digging you will reveal all that lies +below. + +Regarding the style you speak of adopting, let your feeling come +_first_, your style of expressing that feeling _second_. Say nothing +merely to exhibit your style--and hold back some strong feelings until +you can give them the best expression. + +As to the methods of getting your work before the public and the +"influence" you need, I can only assure you that unless you write with +purpose, and power, and passionate enjoyment of your art, forgetful of +all things save your desire to express yourself, no influence on earth +can do more than give you a page in a magazine, or a column in a +newspaper for an occasion or two. And if you do write under those +conditions, you will need no influence: for it is just such writing the +world wants; and the editors and publishers will be forced to read you, +whether they are inclined to or not. + +Christopher Columbus found his continent because he was so determined, +so persistent, so certain that unknown lands awaited him. + +It made no difference who told him that all the earth had been +discovered, and that he would never be able to succeed in his wild +venture. His purpose was too strong to be influenced by the doubts of +others. + +It has always seemed to me that God would have made a continent to +reward such a search, had it not already existed. + +Unless you set forth on the sea of literature, with the spirit of a +Columbus in your soul, you may as well give up the idea of finding the +Port of Glory. If you do set forth with that spirit, you need ask no +mortal influence. + +God is the only influence genius needs. + +Perseverance the only method. + +To find the way to success alone, is the test of talent. + +Some influential author might give you the entree once to a magazine. +But editors and publishers are men of purely business instincts, and +they will not accept work on the recommendation of any third party, +which they think their public will not like. Their constant effort is to +find what that public _does like_, and the unknown author has an equal +advantage with the genius, if he sends such material. + +An author once told me that he "trapped" twenty manuscripts and sent +them out to editors, and all came back unread, as his "trap" proved. + +Since he sent them forth with such doubts in his mind, it is no wonder +his trap succeeded and his manuscripts failed. + +No great literary fire of purpose could be in the mind of a man who +spent thought and time on such a plot to trick an editor. And because +there was no great flame, the inanimate manuscripts were returned +unread. For even a package of paper sends out its "aura," and invites or +repels attention. + +If you are discouraged by the people who tell you that "everything has +been written," and that you can only be a faint echo of greater souls, +then you do not deserve success. I have no doubt the croakers of that +day told Shakespeare the same. + +It seems that Shakespeare did take many old themes and other people's +plots and ideas to re-create in his own way. And what a way! Surely he +who best uses an idea is most entitled to the credit. + +There is nothing new under the sun, but there is always the new +audience. For the majestic old poem of Spring, bound over in new covers +of green, God creates fresh, eager young eyes and hearts each year. And +not yet has he said to the year, "Do not attempt another spring--there +have been so many before, you can but repeat their beauties." Then why +should any mortal say to the poet or the author, "Do not try to +write--it has all been said before." + +Proceed, my young friend, and write what is in your heart. Nothing quite +the same was ever in any heart before, and yet the greater part of it +has been in all hearts, and will be in all hearts, so long as the world +lasts. + +Remember that when you write from the heart, it will go to the hearts of +your readers: and when you write from your head it will go no lower than +the head. + +And if the critics score or ridicule you, consider yourself on the path +to success. + +If you have a message for the world, nothing and nobody can prevent you +from delivering it. + +He only fails who has nothing to say. + + + + +To Mrs. McAllister + +_Concerning Her Little Girl_ + + +How strange it seems that your daughter is ten years old. + +It is such a brief hour since you wrote me you were eighteen and had +entered Vassar. Having no children of my own to stand as milestones on +life's highway, and keeping a very young heart in my breast all these +years, it seems at times little less than impertinent in the children I +have known to develop so rapidly into matrons and fathers. + +I am glad for you that the doctor has reached the desirable goal where +he can rest from his laborious profession for two years, and take that +journey abroad you have so long contemplated. And I am glad that you +feel the satisfaction you say you do, in never having left him alone +for a whole season as you once thought of doing. + +A satisfied conscience is a better comrade to journey along beside, than +a remembered pleasure. + +But now about Genevieve. + +You tell me she is to be left with your sister, and that she will, for +the first time, attend the public school. + +You are right in thinking this will make her more American in spirit +than an education gained through home teaching or private schools. + +The girl who attends private schools only, is almost invariably +inoculated with the serum of aristocracy. + +She believes herself a little higher order of being than the children +who attend public schools, and it requires continual association with +people of broad common sense to counteract this influence. I know you +and the doctor have exerted this influence, but your sister might not +realize the necessity of making a special effort in that direction. + +Then, too, since the fathers or grandfathers of our most conspicuous +social leaders were self-made and self-taught, and since our American +society is composed of so many varied types of humanity, it is well for +a young girl to come in contact with all classes while she is yet a +child, that she may understand humanity as she is sure to encounter it +later. Yet, as you say, it is indeed a serious thought to know your +little rosebud of a child is to be tossed into the dust of the public +schoolroom. + +"I do not want the delicate leaves forced into premature blossom or +blight," you say, and I feel for you, as I read the words. + +You remember your own experience as a school-child in the country, and +you tell me you would fain guard your daughter from hearing or seeing +much that came to your ears and eyes as a school-child. + +But now, my dear Winifred, listen. + +It is utterly and absolutely impossible for you to keep Genevieve +ignorant of _life_, or of the great fundamental principles of life. It +is utterly useless to undertake to ignore the set impulse in all nature. +Since God did not ignore it in constructing the universe, parents cannot +afford to in educating children. The one thing to do is to teach your +child early to respect and revere the subject, and to regard all things +pertaining to birth as sacred, never to be lightly discussed. Wherever +the eyes of an observing child turn, they see something to arouse +curiosity upon this subject. + +All literature (the Bible particularly) contains some reference to sex +and birth. Unless you stuff the ears of children with cotton, they must +hear expressions, suggestions, and references, which necessitate +explanations of the same vital subject. From insects to man, through all +the various kingdoms, sex laws are the foundation of life. + +Why parents have chosen to taboo this important subject, and why they +surround it with falsehood and subterfuge, and suggest that it is +unclean or vulgar, has always puzzled me. + +Inconceivable harm, lifelong disaster, has befallen many a girl and many +a boy through this mistaken attitude of parents to God's basic law of +the universe. + +Genevieve is only ten. But she is a child with a most inquiring mind, +and she already indicates a tendency to coquetry. She prefers boys to +dolls, and evidently finds them more interesting than girls. + +The things you would guard her from knowing, she is sure to learn in +some undesirable and unfortunate manner, unless you prepare her for them +with loving delicacy and refinement. + +My suggestion is that you take a plant, and talk to her about its +growth. Tell her how it springs from a seed, and hides in the bosom of +the earth, expanding until it bursts through, and becomes the baby of +mother earth. + +Tell her, too, of the bird life in the egg, and make her realize the +mother-impulse in all nature. Then say to her that she is a part of it +all and that she came into life by the same divine law, and that when +she is older you will explain whatever puzzles her young mind. + +Tell her that she was carried under your heart, as the sprout was +carried in the bosom of mother earth, and that it is a very holy and +beautiful thing; so holy and so beautiful that the refined and sweet +people of the world do not talk freely of the subject, but keep it like +a religion, for those very near to them. + +Then say, You will hear other children, who have not been told this by +their mothers, speak rudely and even jest on this subject. They are to +be pitied, for not knowing such jests are vulgar, but you must walk away +from them, and refuse to listen, after telling them your mother has +explained all you need to know. Impress upon her that she is never to +discuss the topic with any one else, unless you advise her to do so. + +I have known only two mothers who took this method with their children, +but both succeeded in rearing beautiful and remarkable daughters and +sons. For the sons were included in the talk by one mother, and they +were ideal boys and gentlemen--popular with, and respected by their +comrades, in spite of their delicacy and reserve on subjects jested over +by other boys. + +I am sure that you can protect Genevieve from the soil and shock you +fear for her, by making her your confidante at this early age, and by +convincing her of your loving companionship in the future. Under no +other conditions would I for one day allow a little girl (or a little +boy for that matter) to attend a public school. Not one parent in a +thousand realizes the moral dangers surrounding small children who go to +and from school in country or city places. + +Many remember their own precocious education on forbidden topics, yet +seem to imagine their children will be immune from such experiences. + +But until the Creator produces life by some new process, children will +never be exempt from curiosity regarding the present method, and parents +may as well realize the fact and become their children's reverent +instructors, instead of leaving them to be taught God's holiest truths +by vulgar chance or dreadful design. + +Do not imagine that innocence necessitates ignorance. + +Your child will be far more innocent minded, if you give her the +instruction I suggest, than if you leave her to ungoverned imagination +and unenlightened observation. + +Deep in each human entity the sex impulse is planted, and will assert +itself sooner or later. + +Ignorance and curiosity lead often to precocious development of the +impulse. By proper care on your part, your child's mind may be kept +normal, innocent, and wholesome. + +See to it that you give this important care before you leave. + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + + +My dear Mr. Gilbert:--Your letter followed me across the ocean, and +chanced to be the first one opened and read in my weighty home mail +to-day. I have lost all trace of you during the last six years, in that +wonderful way people can lose sight of one another in a large city. Once +or twice I heard you had just left some social function as I arrived, or +was expected just as I was leaving, and once, recently, I saw you across +the house at a first night, with a very pretty girl at your side. I +fancy this is the "one woman in the world for you," of whom you speak in +the letter before me--the letter written the evening before your +marriage. How good you are to carry out my request made seven years +ago, and to write me this beautiful letter, after reading over and +burning your former boyish epistle, returning to me my reply. + +It is every man's duty to himself, his bride, and the other woman, to +destroy all evidences of past infatuations and affections, before he +enters the new life. It is every woman's duty to do the same--_with a +reservation_. Since men demand so much more of a wife than a wife +demands of a husband, a woman is wise to retain any proof in her +possession that some man has been an honourable suitor for her hand. She +should make no use of such evidence, unless the unaccepted lover +indulges in disrespectful comments or revengeful libels, as some men are +inclined to when the fruit for which they reached is picked by another +hand. + +And it is when the grapes are called sour that the evidence may prove +effective of their having been thought sweet and desirable. + +It is a curious fact that no woman thinks less of a man for his having +had his vain infatuations, and that all men think less of a woman if she +has loved without response. + +Therefore, it behoves her to destroy no evidence that the other man, not +herself, was the discarded party. + +But woe unto the man who retains old love-letters, or other tokens of +dead loves and perished desires. + +Few men could be guilty of showing or repeating the contents of another +man's love-letters. Women who are models of virtue and goodness have +been known to make public the letters written a man in earlier years by +another object of his affections. I have to my personal knowledge known +a woman to place before the eyes of a third person, lines written +evidently in the very heart's blood of a former sweetheart of her +husband--words the man believed he had destroyed with other letters, +more than a score of years before. Imagine what the feelings of that +early sweetheart, now a happy and beloved wife, would be, did she know +the words written so long ago were spread before cold and critical +eyes, and discussed by two people who could have no comprehension of the +conditions and circumstances which led to their expression. + +Because I know otherwise tender-hearted and good women are capable of +such acts, I am glad you have obeyed my wish of seven years ago, and +that all proofs of your boyish infatuation for an older woman are +destroyed. You say you have told the girl you love that you once were +foolishly fond of me, and that I helped you to higher ideals of +womanhood and life. + +That is wise and well, since you found her to be broad and sensible +enough to share such a confidence. But had she seen your written words +to me and my reply, it would have been less agreeable to her than to +hear your own calm recital of the now dead passion. + +Words written in a state of high-wrought intensity retain a sort of +phosphoric luminosity, like certain decaying substances, and even after +the passage of years, and when the emotions which gave them expression +are dead and for-gotten, they seem to emit life and feeling. + +_Burn your bridges as you walk along the highways of romance to St. +Benedict's land_. + +Since you compliment me by saying I have helped you to higher ideals of +life, will you allow me to give you a little advice regarding your +treatment of your wife? + +You have every reason to know that I have been a happy and well-loved +wife of the man of my choice. You know that I have neither sought nor +accepted the attentions of other men when they crossed the danger-line +lying between friendship and love. + +Therefore it may astonish you when I confess that, at the time you +temporarily lost your head, I was conscious of an undercurrent of +feminine vanity at the thought that I was capable of inspiring a young +and talented man with so sincere a feeling. + +A similar experience with an older man would have suggested an insult, +since older men understand human nature, and realize what a flirtation +with a married woman means. But your ingenuousness, and your romantic, +boyish temperament, were, in a measure, an excuse for your folly, and +made me lenient toward you. + +My happy life, my principles and ideals, submerged this sentiment of +feminine vanity to which I confess, but I knew it was there, and it led +me to much meditation, then and ever since, upon the matter of woman's +weakness and folly. + +As never before, I was able to understand how a neglected or misused +wife might mistake this very sentiment of flattered vanity for the +recognition of an affinity. + +Had I been suffering from coldness and indifference at home, how +acceptable your boyish devotion might have proved to me. + +And how easily I would have been persuaded by your blind reasoning that +we were intended by an all-wise Providence for life companions. + +There is no sin a woman so readily forgives as a man's unruly love for +her, and hundreds of noble-hearted women have been led to regard a +lawless infatuation as a divine emotion, because they were lonely, and +neglected, and hungry for affection. + +See to it, my dear friend, as the years go by, that your wife needs no +romance from the outside world to embellish her life with sentiment. + +Do not drop into the humdrum ways of many contented husbands, and forget +to pay the compliment, and cease to act the lover. + +Notice the gowns and hats your wife wears, and share her pleasures and +interests when it is possible. + +Not that you should always be together, for separate enjoyments and +occupations sometimes lend an added zest to life for husband and wife, +but do not drift apart in all your ideas and interests, as have so many +married people. + +You are the husband of a bright and lovely girl, and if you forget this +fact after a time, remember there are other Ray Gilberts who may realize +it, and seek to awaken such an interest in her heart as you sought to +arouse in mine. + +You found the room occupied by its rightful host. + +See it that no man finds the room vacant in your wife's heart. + +Study the art of keeping your wife interested and interesting. + +A woman thrives on love and appreciation. I know a beautiful bride of +eighty years, who has been the daily adoration of her husband for more +than half a century. + +She has been "infinite in her variety," and he has never failed to +appreciate and admire. + +Devote a portion of each day to talking to your wife about herself. + +Then she will not find it a novelty when other men attempt the same +method of entertainment. + +Whatever other matters engross your time and attention, let your wife +realize that she stands first and foremost in your thoughts and in your +heart. + +Do not forget the delicacies of life, manner, speech, and deportment in +the intimacy of daily companionship. + +Never descend to the vulgar or the commonplace. + +One characteristic of men has always puzzled me. No matter how wide has +been a bachelor's experience with the wives and daughters of other men, +when he marries it never occurs to him that his wife or daughters could +meet temptation or know human weakness. + +It must be the egotism of the sex. + +Each man excuses the susceptibility of the women with whom he has had +romantic episodes, on the ground of his especial power or charm. And +when he marries, he believes his society renders all the women of his +family immune from other attractions. + +Do not rely upon the fact that your wife is legally bound to you, and +therefore need not be wooed by you hereafter. + +There are women who are born anew with each dawn, and who must be won +anew with each day, or the lover loses some precious quality than can +never be regained. + +It will pay you to study your wife as the years pass. + +Do not take for granted that you know her to-day, because you knew her +thoroughly last year. + +This is a long letter, but when one writes only once in seven years, +brevity is not to be expected. + +My greeting to you, and may the years be weaver's hands, which shall +interlace and bind two lives into one complete pattern. + + + + +To the Sister of a Great Beauty + + +I am far from laughing, my dear girl, at your assertion that your +position is little short of tragic. + +To be the ordinary sister of an extraordinary beauty, is a position +which calls for the exercise of all the great virtues in order to be +borne with dignity, good taste, and serenity. + +I remember seeing you and Pansy when you were ten and she twelve years +of age. I foresaw what lay before you then, and have often wondered how +you would meet the occasion when you were both "finished," and at home +under the same roof, and socially launched. It was wise for your mother +to separate you so early in life, and place you under different +teachers, and in different schools. + +It is difficult for a girl in her late childhood and early teens to use +philosophy and religion to support her, when she is made a Cinderella by +unthinking associates and friends, and forgotten and neglected while a +more attractive sister is lionized. + +Had you always walked in the shadow of your handsome sister until +to-day, I fancy your disposition would have become warped with +resentment and envy. + +And perhaps your feelings for Pansy would have been less affectionate +than now. + +I am glad to have you tell me that Pansy is so modest and unassuming and +so genuinely solicitous for your happiness. + +She must have been particularly fortunate in her environment while at +school to possess such qualities after knowing as she has known for +twenty-two years that her beauty is dazzling to the eye of even the +chance beholder. + +There is no greater obstacle to the development of the best qualities +in a young woman than the possession of such unusual beauty. From her +cradle she is made to realize its power, and men and women teach her in +a thousand unconscious ways to be selfish and self-centred. She receives +attentions, and her acquaintance is sought, with no effort on her part, +while more gifted and deserving companions are unnoticed. She is made to +realize that she is one to be served, where less attractive girls are +taught to "stand and wait." + +The love nature of each human being is either developed or stunted by +neglect during the early years of life, and, as a rule, the beautiful +woman is incapable of a deep, absorbing, and unselfish love, because she +has grown up the receiver instead of the giver. + +Were you, my dear Sallie, to know the number of great beauties who have +failed to find happiness in marriage, you would be amazed. But the +explanation is simple; for man is a being who, however he may worship +beauty before marriage, worships his own comfort more deeply afterward. +And it is rare indeed when a famous beauty troubles herself to plan for +the comfort or happiness of the man she marries. It is the natural +result of her education to think man made to adore and serve her. + +I hope Pansy may keep her loving and lovable qualities, and that she may +marry before the adoration and admiration of many men become necessary +to her life. For the beauties' matrimonial barque most often founders on +the reef of plural lovers. + +As for yourself, I can only suggest that you acquire many +accomplishments, and perfect yourself in music and languages, and that +you seek for the attainment of all the subtle graces, which are, in the +long run, more lasting as sources of happiness for a woman than mere +beauty. It is a peculiarly significant fact that the great passions of +history have not been inspired by very young or startlingly beautiful +women, but by those of maturity and mental charms. + +Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Aspasia, Petrarch's Laura, had all crossed +the line between youth and middle life, and there are no authentic +proofs that any one of the number was a dazzling beauty. Some of the +world's most alluring women have been absolutely plain. + +You are not plain. It is only by comparison that you so regard yourself. + +There is much you can do to make yourself more attractive personally. +You know what Rochefoucauld said: "No woman is in fault for not being +beautiful at sixteen; any woman is in fault if she is not beautiful at +forty." + +However much it may sound like a platitude, it is a great and eternal +truth that your mental activities are chiselling your features. By +keeping yourself concerned with good, gracious, and great thoughts, you +are shaping your face into a noble beauty minute by minute, and hour by +hour. + +Avoid as much as possible looking at repulsive and ugly objects. + +Look at whatever is beautiful and seek for it. + +Search for whatever is admirable in nature and human nature, and muse +upon those things in your moments of solitude. + +Cultivate love-thoughts for humanity at large. + +Avoid severe criticisms, and develop sympathy and pity in your soul. +Study the comfort and pleasure of strangers in public places, and +friends and associates in nearer relations. + +Remember always how brief a thing, and ofttimes sad, life is to many, +and seek to brighten and better it as you pass along. + +Meanwhile, take care of your person, study your lines and your features, +and learn how to dress and how to carry yourself; how to obtain +"presence," that indescribable charm in woman. + +Take daily care of your complexion, which to a woman is of prime +importance. + +Call in the skill of the specialist to help you preserve and beautify +your skin and hair, just as the dentist and the oculist are to be +consulted to help you preserve teeth and eyes. Think beauty for mind, +soul, and body; live it, and believe it is your right. + +And just as surely as you pursue this line of conduct for ten years, +just so surely will you find yourself at thirty far more attractive than +at twenty, and at forty more lovely than at thirty. Learn to be a +linguist, and acquire skill upon some one instrument, that you may +entertain those who care to converse, and give pleasure to those who +wish to be silent. + +You are young, and life with its splendid possibilities is before you. +There is nothing a woman with youth, will-power, and _love_ may not +accomplish--even to the convincing of the world that she is beautiful, +when her mirror may say otherwise. + +For enduring and all-encompassing beauty is a composite thing, and +unless a woman possesses the spiritual and mental portions, the physical +phase soon loses its attractions for the cultivated eye; while with the +development of the first two, the third is certain to come. + +Begin to-day, my dear girl, to _grow beauty_ which shall make you a +power and an influence in the world where you move, and which shall +invite, rather than fear, the approach of time. + + + + +To Mrs. White Peak + +_One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + + +Ever since your call and our conversation regarding Sybyl Marchmont, I +have felt a rising tide of indignation. It has reached the perigee mark +and must overflow. If it reaches you and gives you a thorough soaking, I +shall feel satisfied. + +I have always known you were only half-developed. There are many such +people in the world. They serve their purpose and often do much good. +They miss a great deal of life, but as they rarely know that they miss +anything, it is a waste of sentiment to pity them. + +I have pitied you, nevertheless. I have often wished I could give you +the vital qualities you lack. + +My pity turned to indignation when I heard you express yourself in such +unqualified terms of condemnation regarding other women who happened to +be unlike you in temperament. + +You say there is a certain line which no well-born and womanly woman can +pass in thought or feeling or action. + +You regard the true women of earth as a higher and rarer order of +creation than the best of men, and any woman who by action or word +confesses herself to be quite human in her temperament, you feel is, to +a certain extent, "unclean and unsexed." You believe the really good +women of earth are always on a plane above and beyond the physical. When +any woman falls from her pedestal you despise her. + +How dare you, madam, sitting in your cold, white chastity, lay down laws +of what you consider purity, morality, and cleanliness, for other human +souls? + +How dare you condemn those who do not reach your standard? + +What do you know of life, great, palpitating, throbbing, vital life, +terrible and beautiful life, terrible while passing through the valleys +of temptation, beautiful upon the heights of self-control? + +How dare you assume greater virtue, greater respectability, greater +fineness of sentiment, than the tempest-tossed, passion-beaten souls, +about you? + +What do you know of real virtue, real strength? + +You have been poor, you tell me, in worldly riches, and you have been +lonely, yet you have never once degraded your womanhood by an "unworthy +" impulse. Never known a temptation of the senses. Those things +disgusted you. + +You have preferred toil to taking favours from inferiors, and you have +kept yourself clean in thought, word, and deed, and now you have the +reward of such virtues--a good home, a husband, and children. + +You are a more devoted mother than wife, as you have always dwelt upon a +lofty white peak of chaste womanhood, from which any descent into the +earthly realms of life and love was repugnant--so rarely "pure" and high +your nature. + +Yet you have been a dutiful, loyal wife, and you are a devoted mother. + +You despise all carnal-minded women, and cannot understand how women +fall--save that they lack good birth and breeding. + +You will aid in a benefit for their reformation, but you do not want to +see them or to come near them. It makes you ill. + +You are to be congratulated on never having added to the evil in the +world. + +But permit me, madam, to tell you some truths about yourself--and the +large army of "respectable women" you represent. + +However "well born" you may be, you are only half-born. The complete +human being has three sides to his nature--spiritual, mental, physical. + +The men and women who are evenly developed on the three sides are few. +This is sometimes their fault--sometimes their misfortune. + +We all pity the human being who is mentally dwarfed. We are sorry for +the one whose spiritual nature is undeveloped. + +But why should the many women who are devoid of the physical qualities +of human nature presume to lay claim to perfection and to regard the +normal woman as a suspicious character? + +You have a fine, active mind, a highly spiritual nature, but you are +stunted in strong, physical emotion. You are incapable of it, and pride +yourself upon the fact. + +If that pleases you, well and good. + +But how dare you criticize God's _complete human_ beings, who feel the +great vibrations of the universe, who glow and thrill with that divine +creative force, who live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths +before they learn the glory of self-conquest. + +How dare you shrink even from those who fall by the wayside, and call +your shrinking "purity"! + +Let me ask you another question: + +How dare you turn away from that girl who went through the door of the +Magdalene Home you helped establish, with her fatherless child in her +arms? + +She fell from woman's holy estate! + +Yes, through mad love for a man--she loved him with her soul, her mind, +her body. She lacked knowledge, balance, and wisdom; she had only love +and passion. + +And you, madam, how about _your_ children? + +They were born of a "dutiful" wife. You descended from your lofty +altitude unwillingly--only at duty's call. You are so "refined," yet you +are a loving mother and pose as the highest type of woman. + +_God never made in his whole universe of worlds such a "duty" as +unwilling motherhood_. Motherhood without the call of sex for sex is +indecent--criminal. You, too, madam, _fell_. + +That girl in yonder "home" your "charity" helped establish, who loved +unwisely, fell. Her fall was through love--yours through a legal +ceremony. + +All the churches, all the religions and the laws of earth, cannot make +motherhood holy and right without the mutual mental, spiritual, and +physical union of two beings. + +Heaven and earth _both_ must sanction a child's conception to produce a +"well-born" soul. + +There is no greater sin on earth than the creation of a human life +without complete accord of the creators. + +No wonder the world is full of miserable half-born beings, when mothers +like _you_ claim to be the Madonnas of earth. + +No wonder natural, complete, striving souls hide their true natures +under a false exterior, when women like _you_ rule church and society. + +What shame or degradation is there, pray, in being animate with the +all-pervading impulse which underlies the entire universe? Every planet, +every tree, every flower, every insect, is the result of sex seeking +sex, atom calling atom. + +The universe _is_ because of the law of sex attraction. + +And you, poor, puny, pallid woman, dare decry and despise that law, and +dare insult God's animate creature! + +Know this, madam, there is no strength worth boasting that has not +conquered weakness. No virtue worth the name that has not conquered +temptation. No greatness of character that has not overcome unworthy +impulses. + +Enjoy your negative goodness and be glad you are "good." + +Morality is acceptable to the world, however it conies; but dare not sit +in judgment on other human beings fighting battles whose smoke never +reaches your nostrils, striving for heights of which you never even +dream, and who meanwhile have missed certain degradations which you seem +to consider creditable achievements. + +Madam, I bid you adieu. That word means "I commend you to God," the God +who made the two sexes, and intended love to unite them. + +May He enlighten you in other lives, if not in this. + + + + +To Maria Owens + +_A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + + +Surprise, I am free to confess, was my dominant emotion on reading your +letter. Marriage and Maria had never associated themselves in my mind, +fond as I am of alliteration. + +Never in the ten years I have known you have I heard you devote ten +minutes to the subject of any man's good qualities. You always have +discoursed upon men's faults and vices, and upon their tendency, since +the beginning of time, to tyrannize over woman. I was unable to +disprove many of your statements, for I know the weight of argument is +upon your side, even while I boldly confess my admiration and regard for +men, as a class, is greater than that for women. + +The fact that the world has allowed men such latitude, and such +license, and made them pay such very small penalties, comparatively +speaking, for very large offences, causes me to admire their wonderful +achievements in noble living all the more: and to place the man of +unblemished reputation and unquestioned probity on a pedestal higher +than any I could yet ask builded for woman. + +It is more difficult to be great before the extended tentacles of the +self-indulgence octopus than in the face of oppression and danger. When +the laws of the land and the sentiment of the people permit a man to be +selfish, licentious, tyrannical, and yet call him great if he +accomplishes heroic deeds, it proves what intrinsic worth must lie in +the nature of those who attain the heights of unselfishness and +benevolence, and martyrdom, asking no reward and often receiving none +until posterity bestows it. + +Those who can take the broad road of selfishness unmolested, and choose +the narrow path of high endeavour instead, seem to me greater than those +who overcome mere externals. + +Many such men have existed, and the steady, slow, but certain progress +of the world from barbarism to civilization, from accepted cannibalism +and slavery to ideals of brotherhood, we owe to them. All new +discoveries, all greatest achievements are due to men. Woman, I know, +has been handicapped and oppressed for centuries by superstitions, and +traditions, and unjust laws; but it is unfair to ignore the bright, and +see only the dark side of the picture, which the centuries have painted +for us, on the background of time. + +This letter is only a resume of many conversations between you and me, +and it leads up to the explanation of why I am somewhat dazed and +stunned by your announcement that marriage is a possible event in your +near future. + +My self-conceit in regard to my knowledge of human nature every now and +then receives a blow. So soon as I have arrived at a positive conviction +that I understand any human being thoroughly, and feel that I can safely +predict what that person will or will not do, I usually meet some such +bewildering experience as this. + +I would have laughed at any one who suggested the possibility of your +considering a proposition of marriage. + +You tell me you are thirty-five years old, and say you have never before +met the man to whom your thoughts reverted, no matter how you +endeavoured to occupy yourself with other subjects. You also tell me "he +is not like other men." These two statements are wonderfully familiar to +me, indeed they have been confided to me in precisely the same words by +at least a score of women, young and not so young, who met the +compelling man. _Maria, I believe you are in love_. Your heart is +awakened from its stupor, caused by an overdose of intellect. For too +much intellect is often a drug which deadens the consciousness of a +woman's heart. But you have been drugged so long that you are still +under a hazy spell, to judge from that portion of your letter which took +the form of an inquiry. + +You ask my opinion in regard to the point of disagreement between you +and your semi-fiance. To much that you say I agree. You have carved a +name and a place for yourself in the world. Your lectures, and your +books, have made your name familiar to many people. Your lover is +unknown to the public, a man in the private walks of life. Therefore you +think if he loves you as he should to become your husband, he ought to +give up his own name and take yours, or at least add yours to his own. +You assure me it is merely a matter of habit, that women have +obliterated themselves on the altar of marriage, and that it is time a +new order was instituted. You think the hour calls for pioneers to +establish new boundaries, in a new world where woman will be allowed to +keep her individuality after marriage. Meantime your lover does not feel +that you really love him, when you ask him to take this somewhat radical +step for your sake, or for the sake of all women, as you put it. + +And there you both stand, with only this ridiculous barrier between you +and happiness. + +You are still influenced by the intellectual drug, and it hinders your +heart from following out its best impulses. You have not yet learned +more than the A B C of love, or you would know that the greatest +happiness in loving lies in sacrifice. To take and not give, to gain +something and give up nothing, is not loving. Now I think I hear you +saying, "But why should not my lover give this proof of devotion as well +as I? Why should not he be ready to sacrifice a tradition, and a name, +to please me? Why am I more unloving, or selfish, than he, to refuse to +give up my name?" + +My answer follows. + +Any woman who asks a man to give up his name and take hers (unless some +great legal matter which involves the property rights of others hangs on +so doing) asks him to make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the world. +She indicates, also, that her family name and her own achievements are +dearer to her than his. No woman loves a man enough to be happy as his +wife, if he is not dearer to her than any mere personal success, however +great. + +The man who asks a woman to take his name obeys a tradition and a +custom, to be sure, and the woman who accepts it does not display any +especially heroic trait. Therefore, what you demand of your lover is a +far greater proof of devotion than what he asks of you. No woman who +fully understood the meaning of love could ask this of her future +husband. If he occupied the place in her life which a husband should, no +matter what were her personal attainments, she would glory in adding his +name to her own, and in having its shelter to hide under at times from +the glare of publicity. + +Should you choose to keep your name Maria Owens with no addition, for +your lectures and your books, it is quite probable your husband would +not object. And again, if your achievements are worth the thought you +give them in this matter, they are great enough to endure even should +you add the name of Chester to that of Owens. But certainly, if you love +the man you think of marrying, you will be happy in the thought of +wearing his name legally and socially in every-day life, and the sight +of a card engraved, "Mrs. Rupert Chester," will give your heart a +sweeter thrill than it has ever known in connection with the newspaper +notices of Maria Owens. + +Unless you can arouse your heart to such an understanding of love, you +are not yet acquainted with the little god. If your lover consents to +the sacrifice you have demanded, he will indicate a weakness of +character which augurs ill for the future: and if you insist upon the +sacrifice, you will establish a selfish precedent which can only make +you a tyrant in your own domain, and at the same time belittle your +husband in the public eye. + +However proud and happy you may be in the thought of noble achievements +of your own, you must realize that there are many brutal and painful +phases to a public career for a woman. These phases do not exist to any +such degree for a man. I do not believe it is the result of tradition or +habit, but of sex and temperament, that this difference exists, and that +the shelter of a man's name means more to woman than any shelter to be +found in her own, and that the sacrifice of her own name means less to +her than the sacrifice of his means to him. Unless you can reach this +same conclusion, do not marry--for you do not love. + + + + +To Mrs. St. Claire + +_The Young Divorcee_ + + +And so you have joined the increasing army of the divorcees. + +It is worse than useless to discuss again the causes which led to this +situation, and now that the law of the land has made you a free woman, +the one thing for you to consider is your future, and to formulate to +some degree a code of conduct for your guidance. + +You are in the prime of beautiful womanhood, pleasing to the eye, and +agreeable to the mind. Women will regard you with more or less mental +reservation, and men will seek you at every opportunity. + +Some witty creature has said, "A little widow is a dangerous thing." + +It might be added, "A grass widow whets the appetites of bovines". + +You will find yourself at a loss to choose when an escort is needed, so +many and persistent will be the applicants for the position. + +After having passed through the black waters of an unhappy marriage, +this sudden freedom and return to the privileges of girlhood will be +liable to affect you like the glare of sunlight after confinement in a +dark room. + +You will be blinded for a time. It would be well for you to walk slowly, +and to use a cane of common sense, and even to feel your way with the +outstretched hands of discretion, until you become accustomed to the +light. + +To fall and scar yourself now, would be a disaster. + +It is a curious fact that a woman who has been unhappy with one man +usually finds many others ready to give her the opportunity for a +repetition of her experience. And it is equally curious that one unhappy +marriage frequently leads to another. + +A disastrous rencontre with Hymen seems to destroy a woman's finer +intuitions. If you feel that you must marry again, go slowly, and wait +until the bruised tendrils of your heart have healed and are rooted in +healthy soil. Do not let them twine about any sort of a dead tree or +frail reed. Run no chance of a second sorrow. + +One divorce always contains elements of tragedy. A second becomes a +farce. + +You tell me that you and your former husband entertain the kindest +feeling for each other. You have seen him and talked with him on several +occasions, and you regard him as a friend. You say all love and +sentiment perished long before your separation, and that to continue as +his wife was to die a thousand deaths daily. + +You tell me that your own higher development demanded this separation. I +know such situations do exist in the world of men and women, and that to +submit to them is a crime. Yet I also know that this idea of +"development" is used often as a cloak for all sorts of selfish impulses +and moods. + +Many men and women to-day seem to forget that certain other objects +besides happiness enter into self-development. + +It is not only the pilot who deserts the ship and swims ashore who saves +his life. The one who keeps his hand on the wheel, and his eye on the +lighthouse, he, too, sometimes saves his own life, as well as saves the +ship. + +But since to jump overboard was the only way to save your own life, now +that you are ashore, and dry, and comfortable, your first consideration +should be to avoid falling into mires and pits as you go along. + +Though romance died out of your marriage, do not let it die out of your +heart. It is commendable that you feel no bitterness or resentment +toward your husband. But do not carry your kindly feelings toward him to +the extent of frequent association and comradeship. + +Outside of criminal situations, life offers no more ghastly and +unpleasant picture than that of dead passion galvanized into a semblance +of friendship, and going about the world devoid of the strong elements +of either sentiment. + +There is something radically wrong with a woman's ideals when she does +not feel an instinctive unwillingness to be thrown with the man from +whom she has been divorced. + +There is something akin to degeneracy in the man or woman who can +contemplate without shrinking the intimate encounter of legally parted +husbands or wives. + +The softening of the human brain is a terrible malady. + +Quite as terrible is the hardening of the human heart. + +The loss of happiness is deemed a tragedy. But far greater is the +tragedy when the illusive charm of romance departs, and love and +marriage are reduced to the commonplace. Unless you find the man who +carries your whole nature by storm, and who makes you feel that life +without him will be insupportable, do not be led again to the altar of +marriage. + +Life has many avenues for a bright and charming woman which lead to +satisfaction and peace, if not to happiness. + +If you desire to be a picturesque figure in the world, remember that the +divorced woman who never marries again is far more so than she who has +taken the names of two living men. + +And remember how much there is in life to do for other people, how much +there is to achieve, and how much there is to enjoy, for the woman who +has eyes wherewith to see, and ears with which to hear. + +Life is a privilege, even to the unhappy. It allows them the opportunity +to display the great qualities which God implanted in every soul, and to +give the world higher examples of character. + +He who leaves such an example to the world earns happiness for eternity. + + + + +To Miss Jessie Harcourt + +_Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + + +And so there is trouble in the house of Harcourt, my dear Jessie. You +want to marry your intellectual young lover, who has only his pen +between him and poverty, and your cruel father, who owns the town, says +it is an act of madness on your part, and of presumption on his. + +And you are thinking of going to the nearest clergyman and defying +parental authority. + +You have even looked at rooms where you believe you and Ernest could be +ideally happy. And you want me to act as matron-of-honour at that very +informal little wedding. + +Now, my dear girl, before you take this important step, give the matter +careful study. + +Your impulses are beautiful, and your ideal natural and lovely. God +intended men and women to choose their mates in this very way, with no +consideration of a worldly nature to mar their happiness. + +But civilized young ladies are a far call from God's primitive woman. +You have lived for twenty-three years in the lap of modern luxury. Your +father prides himself upon the fact that, although your mother died when +you were very young, he has carefully shielded you from everything which +could cast a shadow upon your name or nature. Your lover is fascinated +with your absolute purity and innocence. Yet he does not realize that a +young woman who has so long "sat in the lap of Luxury," is unfit to be a +poor man's wife. + +Some girl who might know much more than you of the dark and vulgar side +of life, would make him a better companion if he could love her enough +to ask her hand in marriage. + +The girl who has received the addresses of this fascinating old fellow +"Luxury," never quite forgets him, or ceases to bemoan him if she +throws him over for a poor man. + +To _look_ at two rooms and a bath is one thing, to _live_ in them +another, after having all your life occupied a suite which a queen might +envy, with retinues of servitors at call. + +You tell me you could die for your lover. + +But can you bathe from a wash-bowl and pitcher, and can you take your +meals at cheap restaurants, and make coffee and toast on an oil-stove or +a chafing-dish? + +Can you wear cheap clothing and ride in trolleys, and economize on +laundry bills to prove your love for this man? + +You never have known one single hardship in your life; you never have +faced poverty, or even experienced the ordinary economies of well-to-do +people. + +You are an only daughter of wealth--_American wealth_. That sentence +conveys a world of meaning. _It means that you are spoiled for anything +but comfort in this life_. + +For a few weeks you might believe yourself in a fairy-land of romance +if you married your lover and went to live in the two rooms. But at the +end of that period you would begin to realize that you were in a very +actual land of poverty and discomfort. + +Discomfort is relative. Those rooms to the shop-girl who had toiled for +years, and lived in a fourth-flight-back tenement, would represent +luxury. To you, after a few months, they would mean absolute penury. + +You would begin to miss your beautiful home, and your maids, and your +carriages. Your husband would know you were missing them, and he would +be miserable. Unless your father came to your rescue, your dream of +romantic love would end in a nightmare of regret and sorrow. + +Your father knows you,--the creature of refined tastes and luxurious +habits that he has made you,--and your lover does not. Neither do you +know yourself. + +It requires a woman in ten thousand, one possessed of absolute heroism, +like the old martyrs who sang at the stake while dying, to do what you +contemplate, and to be happy in the doing. + +Nothing like a life of self-indulgence disintegrates great qualities. +You are romantically and feverishly in love with a handsome and gifted +young man. But do not rush into a marriage with him until you can bring +your father to settle a competence upon you, or until your lover has +spanned the abyss of poverty with a bridge of comfort. You have had no +training in self-denial or self-dependence. The altar is a bad place to +begin your first lesson. + +Wait awhile. I know my advice seems worldly and cold, but it is the +result of wide observation. + +If you cannot sit in your gold and white boudoir, and be true to Ernest +while he battles a few more years with destiny, then you could not +remain loyal in thought while you held your numb fingers over a chilly +radiator in an uncomfortable flat, or omitted dessert from your dinner +menu to cut down expenses. + +Your brain-cells have been developed in opulence. + +You could not train your mind to inexorable economy, even at the command +of Cupid. + +Take the advice of a woman of the world, my dear girl, and do not +attempt the impossible and so spoil two lives. + +Again I say, wait awhile. + +There are girls who could be perfectly happy in the position you picture +for yourself with Ernest, but not you. + +Better hide your ideal in your heart than shatter it on the unswept +hearthstone of the commonplace. + +Better be in your lover's life the unattained joy, than ruin his +happiness by discontent. + +It is less of a tragedy for a man to hear a woman say "I cannot go with +you," than to hear her say "I cannot stay with you." + + + + +To Miss Jane Carter + +_Of the W.C.T.U._ + + +And so, my dear Jane, I have fallen from my pedestal, in your +estimation. Yet, having carefully regarded myself in the mirror, and +finding no discolorations, and feeling no wounds or contusions, I think +my pedestal must have been very near the earth, else I would be +conscious of some bruises. + +And now, Jane, to be frank, I am very glad to be off my perch. + +I do not want to dwell upon a pedestal. + +It necessitates a monotonous life, and it is an unsocial position. + +I prefer to walk on the earth, among my fellow creatures. + +You were greatly shocked, I saw, when I told my little Russian guest +that she might light her cigarette in my boudoir. Your sudden departure +told its own story, and your letter was no surprise. But I am glad you +wrote me so frankly, as it gives me the opportunity to be equally frank. + +There is nothing more beneficial, in true friendship, than a free +exchange of honest criticisms. + +You tell me that I lowered my standard by lending countenance to a +pernicious and unladylike habit. You felt I owed it to myself, as a good +woman, and to my home, as a respectable house, to show my unswerving +principles in this matter, and to indicate my disapproval of a +disgusting vice, which is growing in our midst. + +Life is too short, my dear Jane, in which to achieve all our ideals, and +to arrive at all our goals. + +I have learned the futility of attempting to reform the whole world in +one day. And I have also learned that there are more roads than one, to +all destinations. + +Miss Ordosky is the daughter of a dear old friend of my youth, who +married a Russian nobleman with more titles than dollars. + +Her parents are dead, and Wanda has come to her mother's native land, to +teach her father's language. She has come with all her Russian habits +and ideas accented by her mother's American indifference to public +opinion. The girl is young, lovely, and wholly dependent upon herself +for a livelihood. I invited her to be my guest for two months, before +establishing herself in her business, with the hope of helping her to +adapt herself somewhat to American ideas and customs. + +I could never hope for such a result, had I antagonized her the first +day under my roof by an austere attitude toward a habit which I knew she +had been reared to think proper. + +I do not like to see a woman smoke, and I regret as much as you do the +increasing prevalence of the vice in America. + +Like almost every schoolgirl, I had my day of thinking a surreptitious, +cigarette was wonderfully cunning. + +That day passed, like the measles and the whooping-cough, and left me +immune. I have never seen a woman so beautiful and alluring that she was +not less charming when she put a cigarette to her lips. I am confident +the habit vitiates the blood, injures the digestion, and renders the +breath offensive. I have known many American men who taught their wives +to smoke; and I do not know _one_ who has not lived to regret it, when +the cigarette he fancied would be an occasional luxury became a +necessity. + +A woman who expects ever to bring children into the world, is little +better than a criminal to form such a habit: for, argue as we may for +one moral code for both sexes, we cannot change nature's law, which +imposes the greater responsibility upon the mother of the unborn child; +the child she carries so many months beneath her heart, giving it hour +by hour the impression of her mental and physical conditions. + +Fathers ought not to smoke or indulge in other bad habits. + +_Mothers must not_. + +I hope in time to discuss these topics with Wanda, and to make an +impression upon her mind by my arguments. + +But your methods and mine, dear Jane, differ widely. And, begging your +pardon, I believe mine accomplish more good for a larger number of human +beings than yours. + +And, added to that fact, I get more happiness for myself out of life. + +Miss Ordosky would have managed to smoke her cigarette, however rigid +had I been in expressing my principles. And she would have found some +excuse to shorten her visit under my roof, and then where would be my +opportunity to influence her? + +As it is, she puffs her cigarette in my company, listens to my opinions, +seems to respect my ideas, and is interested in my views of life. We are +becoming excellent comrades, and this is far more gratifying to me than +to know that I had antagonized her into a formal acquaintance by my +aggressive morality. I have an idea that, before my pretty guest +reaches the time when she will consider wifehood and motherhood as life +professions, I may convince her from a scientific standpoint that she +better abandon her cigarettes. And to convince one's mind is far better +than to drive one to submission. + +And now, Jane, has it never occurred to you that you have made some +mistakes in life by the very methods you are so sorry I did not pursue +with Miss Ordosky? + +Years ago, I recall your surrounding a certain young man with an aureole +of idealism. Then you were obliged to dethrone him from his pedestal +because he, too, forsooth, smoked a cigar. + +That young man married a woman quite as worthy and good as yourself, and +he has made the best of husbands and citizens. I know of no man who does +more good in the world in a quiet way than this same unpedestaled old +admirer of yours. Whether he still smokes his cigar or not I could not +say. But as a man, it seems to me, he is quite as worthy and noble a +citizen, as you are a woman. + +I know that you are doing all you can, to spread the gospel of clean +living abroad in the land, and that your influence is all for a higher +standard of morality. + +But if you live on too high an altitude, in this world, and refuse to +associate with any one who will not climb up to your plane, you are +destined to a lonely life, and your sphere of influence is limited. You +will do far more good by taking your place with other human beings, and +by gradual, sane efforts leading the thoughts of your associates to turn +to your wholesome ideas of life. You are making morality unpopular by +your present aggressive methods. And you are missing many sweet +friendships and experiences by your insistence that all your friends +must follow the narrow path you have decided is the only road to good +behaviour. + +Come down from your pedestal, my dear Jane--come and dwell on the earth. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 12020.txt or 12020.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/2/12020/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd901cb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12020 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12020) diff --git a/old/12020-8.txt b/old/12020-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..67409bc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12020-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6281 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Woman of the World + Her Counsel to Other People's Sons and Daughters + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: April 14, 2004 [EBook #12020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +[Illustration] + +A Woman of the World + +HER COUNSEL TO OTHER PEOPLE'S SONS AND DAUGHTERS + +By + +Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +1904 + +Fourth Impression, April, 1910 + + + + +Contents + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Law Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + +TO MISS WINIFRED CLAYBORNE, _At Vassar College_ + +TO EDNA GORDON, _During Her Honeymoon_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + +TO CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + +TO MISS MARGARET RILEY, _Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _After Three Years as a Teacher_ + +TO A YOUNG FRIEND, _Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical +Thoughts of the Day_ + +TO WILFRED CLAYBORN, _Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + +TO MISS ELSIE DEAN, _Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + +TO MISS DIANA RIVERS, _A Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a +Journalist_ + +TO NANETTE, _A Former Maid_ + +TO THE REV. WILTON MARSH, _Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES MCALLISTER, _Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Maternity_ + +TO MR. ALFRED DUNCAN, _Concerning the Ministry_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GRAY, _Concerning Polygamy_ + +TO WALTER SMEED, _Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Children_ + +TO Miss ZOE CLAYBORN, ARTIST, _Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven +Years of Married Life_ + +TO MRS. CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Concerning Her Husband_ + +TO YOUNG MRS. DUNCAN, _Regarding Mothers-in-Law._ + +TO A YOUNG MAN, _Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + +TO MRS. MCALLISTER, _Concerning Her Little Girl_ + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + +TO THE SISTER OF A GREAT BEAUTY + +TO MRS. WHITE PEAK, _One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + +TO MARIA OWENS, _A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + +TO MRS. ST. CLAIRE, _The Young Divorcée_ + +TO MISS JESSIE HARCOURT, _Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + +TO MISS JANE CARTER, _Of the W.C.T.U_ + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Late Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + + +Were you an older man, my dear Ray, your letter would be consigned to +the flames unanswered, and our friendship would become constrained and +formal, if it did not end utterly. But knowing you to be so many years +my junior, and so slightly acquainted with yourself or womankind, I am +going to be the friend you need, instead of the misfortune you invite. + +I will not say that your letter was a complete surprise to me. It is +seldom a woman is so unsophisticated in the ways of men that she is not +aware when friendship passes the borderline and trespasses on the domain +of passion. + +I realized on the last two occasions we met that you were not quite +normal. The first was at Mrs. Hanover's dinner; and I attributed some +indiscreet words and actions on your part to the very old Burgundy +served to a very young man. + +Since the memory of mortal, Bacchus has been a confederate of Cupid, and +the victims of the former have a period (though brief indeed) of +believing themselves slaves to the latter. + +As I chanced to be your right-hand neighbour at that very merry board, +where wit, wisdom, and beauty combined to condense hours into minutes, I +considered it a mere accident that you gave yourself to me with somewhat +marked devotion. Had I been any other one of the ladies present, it +would have been the same, I thought. Our next and last encounter, +however, set me thinking. + +It was fully a week later, and that most unromantic portion of the day, +between breakfast and luncheon. + +It was a Bagby recital, and you sought me out as I was listening to the +music, and caused me to leave before the programme was half done. You +were no longer under the dominion of Bacchus, though Euterpe may have +taken his task upon herself, as she often does, and your manner and +expression of countenance troubled me. + +I happen to be a woman whose heart life is absolutely complete. I have +realized my dreams, and have no least desire to turn them into +nightmares. I like original rôles, too, and that of the really happy +wife is less hackneyed than the part of the "misunderstood woman." And I +find greater enjoyment in the steady flame of one lamp than in the +flaring light of many candles. + +I have taken a good deal of pride in keeping my lamp well trimmed and +brightly burning, and I was startled and offended at the idea of any man +coming so near he imagined he might blow out the light. + +Your letter, however, makes me more sorry than angry. + +You are passing through a phase of experience which comes to almost +every youth, between sixteen and twenty-four. + +Your affectional and romantic nature is blossoming out, and you are in +that transition period where an older woman appeals to you. + +Being crude and unformed yourself, the mature and ripened mind and body +attract you. + +A very young man is fascinated by an older woman's charms, just as a +very old man is drawn to a girl in her teens. + +This is according to the law of completion, each entity seeking for what +it does not possess. + +Ask any middle-aged man of your acquaintance to tell you the years of +the first woman he imagined he loved, and you will find you are +following a beaten path. + +Because you are a worth while young man, with a bright future before +you, I am, as I think of the matter, glad you selected me rather than +some other less happy or considerate woman, as the object of your +regard. + +An unhappy wife or an ambitious adventuress might mar your future, and +leave you with lowered ideals and blasted prospects. + +You tell me in your letter that for "a day of life and love with me you +would willingly give up the world and snap your fingers in the face of +conventional society, and even face death with a laugh." It is easy for +a passionate, romantic nature to work itself into a mood where those +words are felt when written, and sometimes the mood carries a man and a +woman through the fulfilment of such assertions. But invariably +afterward comes regret, remorse, and disillusion. + +No man enjoys having the world take him at his word, when he says he is +ready to give it up for the woman he loves. + +He wants the woman and the world, too. + +In the long run, he finds the world's respect more necessary to his +continued happiness than the woman's society. + +Just recall the history of all such cases you have known, and you will +find my assertions true. + +Thank your stars that I am not a reckless woman ready to take you at +your word, and thank your stars, too, that I am not a free woman who +would be foolish enough and selfish enough to harness a young husband to +a mature wife. I know you resent this reference to the difference in our +years, which may not be so marked to the observer to-day, but how would +it be ten, fifteen years from now? There are few disasters greater for +husband or wife than the marriage of a boy of twenty to a woman a dozen +years his senior. For when he reaches thirty-five, despair and misery +must almost inevitably face them both. + +You must forgive me when I tell you that one sentence in your letter +caused a broad smile. + +That sentence was, "Would to God I had met you when you were free to be +wooed and loved, as never man loved woman before." + +Now I have been married ten years, and you are twenty-three years old! +You must blame my imagination (not my heart, which has no intention of +being cruel) for the picture presented to my mind's eye by your wish. + +I saw myself in the full flower of young ladyhood, carrying at my side +an awkward lad of a dozen years, attired in knickerbockers, and +probably chewing a taffy stick, yet "wooing and loving as never man +loved before." + +I suppose, however, the idea in your mind was that you wished Fate had +made me of your own age, and left me free for you. + +But few boys of twenty-three are capable of knowing what they want in a +life companion. Ten years from now your ideal will have changed. + +You are in love with love, life, and all womankind, my dear boy, not +with me, your friend. + +Put away all such ideas, and settle down to hard study and serious +ambitions, and seal this letter of yours, which I am returning with my +reply, and lay it carefully away in some safe place. Mark it to be +destroyed unopened in case of your death. But if you live, I want you to +open, re-read and burn it on the evening before your marriage to some +lovely girl, who is probably rolling a hoop to-day; and if I am living, +I want you to write and thank me for what I have said to you here. I +hardly expect you will feel like doing it now, but I can wait. + +Do not write me again until that time, and when we meet, be my good +sensible friend--one I can introduce to my husband, for only such +friends do I care to know. + + + + +To Miss Winifred Clayborne + +_At Vassar College_ + + +My dear niece:--It was a pleasure to receive so long a letter from you +after almost two years of silence. It hardly seems possible that you are +eighteen years old. To have graduated from high school with such honours +that you are able to enter Vassar at so early an age is much to your +credit. + +I indulged in a good-natured laugh over your request for my advice +regarding a college course. You say, "I remember that I once heard you +state that you did not believe in higher education for women, and, +therefore, I am anxious to have your opinion of this undertaking of +mine." + +Now of course, my dear child, what you wish me to say is, that I am +charmed with your resolution to graduate from Vassar. You have entered +the college fully determined to take a complete course, and you surely +would not like a discouraging or disapproving letter from your auntie. + +"Please give me your opinion of my course of action" always means, +"Please approve of what I am doing." + +Well I _do_ approve. I always approve when a human being is carrying out +a determination, even if I am confident it is the wrong determination. + +The really useful knowledge of life must come through strong +convictions. Strong convictions are usually obtained only on the pathway +of personal experience. + +To argue a man out of a certain course of action rarely argues away his +own beliefs and desires in the matter. We may save him some bitter +experience in the contemplated project, but he is almost certain to find +that same bitter experience later, because he has been coerced, not +enlightened. + +Had he gained his knowledge in the first instance, he would have escaped +the later disaster. + +A college education does not seem to me the most desirable thing for a +woman, unless she intends to enter into educational pursuits as a means +of livelihood. I understand it is your intention to become a teacher, +and, therefore, you are wise to prepare yourself by a thorough +education. _Be the very best_, in whatever line of employment you enter. + +Scorn any half-way achievements. Make yourself a brilliantly educated +woman, but look to it that in the effort you do not forget two other +important matters--health and sympathy. My objection to higher education +for women, which you once heard me express, is founded on the fact that +I have met many college women who were anaemic and utterly devoid of +emotion. One beautiful young girl I recall who at fourteen years of age +seemed to embody all the physical and temperamental charms possible for +womankind. Softly rounded features, vivid colouring, voluptuous curves +of form, yet delicacy and refinement in every portion of her anatomy, +she breathed love and radiated sympathy. I thought of her as the ideal +woman in embryo; and the brightness of her intellect was the finishing +touch to a perfect girlhood. I saw her again at twenty-four. She had +graduated from an American college and had taken two years in a foreign +institution of learning. She had carried away all the honours--but, +alas, the higher education had carried away all her charms of person and +of temperament. Attenuated, pallid, sharp-featured, she appeared much +older than her years, and the lovely, confiding and tender qualities of +mind, which made her so attractive to older people, had given place to +cold austerity and hypercriticism. + +Men were only objects of amusement, indifference, or ridicule to her. +Sentiment she regarded as an indication of crudity, emotion as an +insignia of vulgarity. The heart was a purely physical organ, she knew +from her studies in anatomy. It was no more the seat of emotion than +the liver or lungs. The brain was the only portion of the human being +which appealed to her, and "educated" people were the only ones who +interested her, because they were capable of argument and discussion of +intellectual problems--her one source of entertainment. + +Half an hour in the society of this over-trained young person left one +exhausted and disillusioned with brainy women. I beg you to pay no such +price for an education as this young girl paid. I remember you as a +robust, rosy girl, with charming manners. Your mother was concerned, on +my last visit, because I called you a pretty girl in your hearing. She +said the one effort of her life was to rear a sensible Christian +daughter with no vanity. She could not understand my point of view when +I said I should regret it if a daughter of mine was without vanity, and +that I should strive to awaken it in her. Cultivate enough vanity to +care about your personal appearance and your deportment. No amount of +education can recompense a woman for the loss of complexion, figure, +or charm. And do not let your emotional and affectional nature grow +atrophied. + +Control your emotions, but do not crucify them. + +Do not mistake frigidity for serenity, nor austerity for self-control. +Be affable, amiable, and sweet, no matter how much you know. And listen +more than you talk. + +The woman who knows how to show interest is tenfold more attractive than +the woman who is for ever anxious to instruct. Learn how to call out the +best in other people, and lead them to talk of whatever most interests +them. In this way you will gain a wide knowledge of human nature, which +is the best education possible. Try and keep a little originality of +thought, which is the most difficult of all undertakings while in +college; and, if possible, be as lovable a woman when you go forth into +the world "finished" as when you entered the doors of your Alma Mater: +for to be unlovable is a far greater disaster than to be uneducated. + + + + +To Edna Gordon + +_During Her Honeymoon_ + + +I am very much flattered that you should write your first letter as Mrs. +Gordon to me. Its receipt was a surprise, as I have known you so +slightly--only when we were both guests under a friend's roof for one +week. + +I had no idea that you were noticing me particularly at that time, there +was such a merry crowd of younger people about you. How careful we +matrons should be, when in the presence of débutantes, for it seems they +are taking notes for future reference! + +I am glad that my behaviour and conversation were such that you feel you +can ask me for instructions at this important period of your life. Here +is the text you have given me: + +"_I want you to tell me, dear Mrs. West, how to be as happy, and loved, +and loving, after fifteen years of married life, as you are. I so dread +the waning of my honeymoon_." + +And now you want me to preach you a little sermon on this text. Well, my +dear girl, I am at a disadvantage in not knowing you better, and not +knowing your husband at all. + +Husbands are like invalids, each needs a special prescription, according +to his ailment. + +But as all invalids can be benefited by certain sensible suggestions, +like taking simple food, and breathing and exercising properly, and +sleeping with open windows or out-of-doors, so all husbands can be aided +toward perpetual affection by the observance of some general laws, on +the part of the wife. + +I am, of course, to take it for granted that you have married a man with +principles and ideals, a man who loves you and desires to make a good +husband. I know you were not so unfortunate as to possess a large amount +of property for any man to seek, and so I can rely upon the natural +supposition that you were married for love. + +It might be worth your while, right now, while your husband's memory is +fresh upon the subject, to ask him what particular characteristics first +won his attention, and what caused him to select you for a life +companion. + +Up to the present moment, perhaps, he has never told you any more +substantial reason for loving you than the usual lovers' +explanation--"Just because." But if you ask him to think it over, I am +sure he can give you a more explicit answer. + +After you have found what qualities, habits, actions, or accomplishments +attracted him, write them down in a little book and refer to them two or +three times a year. On these occasions ask yourself if you are keeping +these attractions fresh and bright as they were in the days of +courtship. Women easily drop the things which won a man's heart, and are +unconscious that the change they bemoan began in themselves. But do not +imagine you can rest at ease after marriage with only the qualities, +and charms, and virtues, which won you a lover. To keep a husband in +love is a more serious consideration than to win a lover. + +You must add year by year to your attractions. + +As the deep bloom of first youth passes, you must cultivate mental and +spiritual traits which will give your face a lustre from within. + +And as the mirth and fun of life drifts farther from you, and you find +the merry jest, which of old turned care into laughter, less ready on +your lip, you must cultivate a wholesome optimistic view of life, to +sustain your husband through the trials and disasters besetting most +mortal paths. + +Make one solemn resolve now, and never forget it. Say to yourself, "On +no other spot, in no other house on earth, shall my husband find a more +cheerful face, a more loving welcome, or a more restful atmosphere, than +he finds at home." + +No matter what vicissitudes arise, and what complications occur, keep +that resolve. It will at least help to sustain you with a sense of +self-respect, if unhappiness from any outside source should shadow your +life. An attractive home has become a sort of platitude in speech, but +it remains a thing of vital importance, all the same, in actual life and +in marriage. + +Think often and speak frequently to your husband of his good qualities +and of the things you most admire in him. + +Sincere and judicious praise is to noble nature like spring rain and sun +to the earth. Ignore or make light of his small failings, and when you +must criticize a serious fault, do not dwell upon it. A husband and wife +should endeavour to be such good friends that kindly criticism is +accepted as an evidence of mutual love which desires the highest +attainments for its object. + +But no man likes to think his wife has set about the task of making him +over, and if you have any such intention I beg you to conceal it, and go +about it slowly and with caution. + +A woman who knows how to praise more readily than she knows how to +criticize, and who has the tact and skill to adapt herself to a man's +moods and to find amusement and entertainment in his whims, can lead him +away from their indulgence without his knowledge. + +Such women are the real reformers of men, though they scorn the word, +and disclaim the effort. + +It is well to keep a man conscious that you are a refined and +delicate-minded woman, yet do not insist upon being worshipped on a +pedestal. It tires a man's neck to be for ever gazing upward, and +statues are less agreeable companions than human beings. + +If you wish to be thought spotless marble, instead of warm flesh and +blood, you should have gone into a museum, and refused marriage. +Remember God knew what He was about, when He fashioned woman to be man's +companion, mate, and mother of his children. + +Respect yourself in all those capacities, and regard the fulfilment of +each duty as sacred and beautiful. + +Do not thrust upon the man's mind continually the idea that you are a +vastly higher order of being than he is. + +He will reach your standard much sooner if you come half-way and meet +him on the plane of common sense and human understanding. Meantime let +him never doubt your abhorrence of vulgarity, and your distaste for the +familiarity which breeds contempt. + +It is a great art, when a wife knows how to attract a husband year after +year, with the allurements of the boudoir, and never to disillusion him +with the familiarities of the dressing-room. + +Such women there are, who have lived with their lovers in poverty's +close quarters, and through sickness and trouble, and yet have never +brushed the bloom from the fruit of romance. But she who needs to be +told in what this art consists, would never understand, and she who +understands, need not be told. + +Keep your husband certain of the fact that his attention and society is +more agreeable to you than that of any other man. But never beg for his +attentions, and do not permit him to think you are incapable of enjoying +yourself without his playing the devoted cavalier. + +The moment a man feels such an attitude is compulsory, it becomes +irksome. Learn how to entertain yourself. Cling to your accomplishments +and add others. A man admires a progressive woman who keeps step with +the age. Study, and think, and read, and cultivate the art of listening. +This will make you interesting to men and women alike, and your husband +will hear you praised as an agreeable and charming woman, and that +always pleases a man, as it indicates his good taste and good luck. + +Avoid giving your husband the impression that you expect a detailed +account of every moment spent away from you. Convince him that you +believe in his honour and loyalty, and that you have no desire to +control or influence his actions in any matters which do not conflict +with his self-respect or your pride. + +Cultivate the society of the women he admires. There is both wisdom and +tact in such a course. + +Wisdom in making an ideal a reality, and tact in avoiding any semblance +of that most unbecoming fault--jealousy. + +Let him see that you have absolute faith in your own powers to hold him, +and that you respect him too much to mistake a frank admiration for an +unworthy sentiment. Do not hesitate to speak with equal frankness of the +qualities you admire in other men. Educate him in liberality and +generosity, by example. + +Allow no one to criticize him in your presence, and do not discuss his +weaknesses with others. I have known wives to meet in conclaves, and +dissect husbands for an entire afternoon. And each wife seemed anxious +to pose as the most neglected and unappreciated woman of the lot. With +all the faults of the sterner sex, I never heard of such a caucus of +husbands. + +Take an interest in your husband's business affairs, and sympathize with +the cares and anxieties which beset him. Distract his mind with pleasant +or amusing conversation, when you find him nervous and fagged in brain +and body. + +Yet do not feel that you must never indicate any trouble of your own, +for it is conducive to selfishness when a wife hides all her worries and +indispositions to listen to those of her husband. But since the +work-a-day world, outside the home, is usually filled with irritations +for a busy man, it should be a wife's desire to make his home-coming a +season of anticipation and joy. + +Do not expect a husband to be happy and contented with a continuous diet +of love and sentiment and romance. He needs also much that is practical +and commonplace mingled with his mental food. + +I have known an adoring young wife to irritate Cupid so he went out and +sat on the door-step, contemplating flight, by continual neglect of +small duties. + +There were never any matches in the receivers; when the husband wanted +one he was obliged to search the house. The newspaper he had folded and +left ready to read at leisure was used to light the fire, although an +overfilled waste-basket stood near. The towel-rack was empty just when +he wanted his bath, and his bedroom slippers were always kicked so far +under the bed that he was obliged to crawl on all fours to reach them. + +Then his loving spouse was sure to want to be "cuddled" when he was +smoking his cigar and reading,--a triple occupation only possible to a +human freak, with three arms, four eyes, and two mouths. + +Therefore I would urge you, my dear Edna, to mingle the practical with +the ideal, and common sense with sentiment, and tact with affection, in +your domestic life. + +These general rules are all I can give to guide your barque into the +smooth, sea of marital happiness. + +It is a wide sea, with many harbours and ports, and no two ships start +from exactly the same point or take exactly the same course. You will +encounter rocks and reefs, perhaps, which my boat escaped, and I have no +chart to guide you away from those rocks. + +If I knew you better, and knew your husband at all, I might steer you a +little farther out of Honeymoon Bay into calm waters, and tell you how +to reef your sails, and how to tack at certain junctures of the voyage, +and with the wind in certain directions. + +But if you keep your heart full of love, your mind clear of distrust, +and your lips free from faultfinding, and if you pray for guidance and +light upon your way, I am sure you cannot miss the course. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + + +It is indeed a problem, my dear Gladys, to face stern-visaged Necessity +after walking with laughing-lipped Pleasure for twenty-two years. + +What an unforeseen event that your father should sink his fortune in a +rash venture and die of remorse and discouragement scarcely six months +after you were travelling through Europe with me, and laughing at my +vain attempts to make you economize. + +You have acted the noble and womanly part, in using the last dollar of +your father's property to pay his debts, and I could imagine you doing +no other way. + +But now comes the need of earning a livelihood for yourself, and your +delicate mother. + +I know you have gone over the list of your accomplishments and taken +stock of all your inherited and acquired qualities. You play the piano +well, but in these days of Paderewskies and pianolas, no one wants to +employ a young girl music-teacher. You do not sing, and if you did, that +would not afford you a means of support. The best of natural voices need +a fortune spent before half a fortune can be earned. + +You dance like a fairy, and swim like a mermaid, and ride like an Indian +princess, but these accomplishments are not lucrative, save in a Midway +Plaisance or a Wild West show. You are well educated and your memory is +remarkable. You have a facility in mathematics, and your knowledge of +grammar and rhetoric will, as you say, enable you to pass the +examination for a teacher in the public schools after a little brushing +up and study. Then, with the political influence of your father's old +friends, you will no doubt be able to obtain a position. + +I recollect you as surpassingly skilful with the needle. I know you +once saw a charming morning gown in Paris which I persuaded you not to +buy at the absurd price asked for it, after the merchant understood we +were Americans. And I remember how you passed to another department, +purchased materials, went home to our hotel, and cut and made a +surprising imitation of the gown at one-tenth the cost. + +Why have you not considered turning this talent to account? Though the +world goes to war and ruin, yet women will dress, and the need of good +seamstresses ever exists. + +Go to some enterprising half-grown Western or interior Eastern town, +announce yourself in possession of all the Paris styles (as you are), +and launch out. Increase your prices gradually, and go abroad on your +savings at the end of a year, then come back with new ideas, a larger +stock, and higher prices. + +You will be on the road to fortune, and can retire with a competence +before you are middle-aged. A little skill with the scissors and +needle, lots of courage and audacity, and original methods will make a +woman succeed in this line of endeavour. + +But why do I not approve of the profession upon which you have almost +decided--that of teaching--you ask. + +I will tell you why. + +Next to motherhood, the profession of teacher in public or private +schools is the most important one on earth. + +It is, in a certain sense, more responsible than that of motherhood, +since the work of poor and bad mothers must be undone by the teacher, +and where the mother has three or four children for a period of years to +influence, the teacher has hundreds continually. There are very few +perfect teachers. There are too few excellent ones. There are too many +poor ones. I do not believe you possess the requisites for the calling. + +A teacher should first of all love children as a class. Their +dependence, their ignorance, their helplessness, and their unformed +characters should appeal to a woman's mind, and make her forget their +many and varied faults and irritating qualities. You like lovable, +well-bred, and interesting children, but you are utterly indifferent to +all others. You adore beauty, and an ugly child offends your taste. A +stupid child irritates you. + +You have a wonderful power of acquiring and remembering information, but +you do not possess the knack of readily imparting it. You expect others +to grasp ideas in the same way you do. This will make you unsympathetic +and impatient as a teacher. You have no conception of the influence a +teacher exerts upon children in public schools. You were educated in +private schools and at home, I know. I attended the country public +school, and to this day I can recall the benefits and misfortunes which +resulted to me from association with different teachers. Children are +keenly alive to the moods of teachers and are often adepts in +mind-reading. + +A teacher should be able to enter into the hearts and souls of the +children under her charge, and she should find as great pleasure in +watching their minds develop as the musical genius in watching a +composition grow under his touch. + +An infinite number of things not included in the school routine should +be taught by teachers. Courtesy, kindness to dependents and weaker +creatures, a horror of cruelty in all forms, a love of nature, +politeness to associates, low speaking and light walking, cleanliness +and refinement of manner,--all these may be imparted by a teacher who +loves to teach, without extra time or fatigue. I fear a proud disdain, +and a scarcely hidden disgust, would be plainly visible in your +demeanour toward the majority of the untrained little savages given to +your charge in a public school. You have not the love of humanity at +large in your heart, nor the patience and perseverance to make you take +an optimistic view in the colossal work of developing the minds of +children. Therefore it seems to me almost a sin for you to undertake +the profession merely because you need to earn a living. There are other +things to be considered besides your necessities. Fond as I am of you, I +have the betterment of humanity at my heart, too, and cannot feel it is +right for you to place yourself in a position where you will not be +doing the best for those dependent upon you that could be done. + +I have given up hope of seeing mothers made to realize their +responsibilities. But I still have hope of the teachers. On them and +their full understanding of all it is in their power to do, lies the +hope of the world. + +Therefore, my dear girl, I urge you to take up dressmaking or millinery +instead of school-teaching. + +If you ruin a piece of goods in the making, you can replace it and +profit by your error. But if you mar a child's nature in your attempt to +teach him, you have done an irreparable injury not only to him but to +humanity. + +If you saw a design started by a lace-maker, you would not think of +taking the work and attempting to complete it until you had learned the +art of lace-making. + +Just so you ought not to think of developing the wonderful intricacies +of a child's mind until you have learned how. + +It is all right to deliberately choose a vocation which gives us contact +only with inanimate things, but we have no right to take the handling of +human souls unless we are specially fitted for the task. + + + + +To Clarence St. Claire + +_Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + + +Your request, my dear Clarence, that I try to influence your sister to +change her determination in this matter, calls for some very plain +statements from me. + +I have known you and Elise since you were playing with marbles and +rattles, and your mother and I have been very good acquaintances +(scarcely intimate enough to be called friends) for more than a score of +years. You are very much like your mother, both in exterior appearance +and in mind. Elise is the image of her father at the time he captured +your mother's romantic fancy, and as I recollect him when he died. + +You were five years old, Elise three, at that time. Your mother lived +with your father six years in months, an eternity in experience. You +know that she was unhappy, and that he disillusioned her with love, and +almost with life. He married your mother solely for her fortune. She was +a sweet and beautiful girl, of excellent family, but your father had no +qualities of mind or soul which enabled him to appreciate or care for +any woman, save as she could be of use to him, socially and financially. + +In six years he managed to dispose of all but a mere pittance of her +fortune, and humiliated her in a thousand ways besides. His only decent +act was to die and leave her undisturbed for the remainder of her life. +Your uncle assisted in her support and saved the remnant of her +property, so that she has, by careful and rigorous economy, been able to +educate you and Elise, and keep up a respectable appearance in a quiet +way. + +Of course it was impossible to retain her place among the associates of +her better days, and you know how bitter this fact has always made +Elise. Your sister has the physical beauty and the overwhelming love of +money and power which characterized your father. She has a modicum of +your mother's sense of honour, but has been reared in a way not +calculated to develop much strength of character. Your mother has been a +slave to your sister. Elise is incapable of a deep, intense love for any +man, and your mother's pessimistic ideas of love and marriage have still +further acted upon her brain cells and atrophied whatever impulses may +have been latent in her nature, to love and be loved. These qualities +might have been developed had Elise been under the tutelage of some one +versed in the science of brain building, but your mother, like most +mothers, was not aware of the tremendous possibilities within her grasp, +or of the effect of the ideas she expressed in the hearing of her +children. Neither did she seem to recognize the father's traits in +Elise, and undertake the work of eliminating them, as she might have +done. She has been an unselfish and devoted mother, and has made too +many sacrifices for Elise. At the same time, she has awakened the mind +of your sister to ideals of principle and honour which will help her to +be a better woman than her inheritance from your father would otherwise +permit. But now, at the age of twenty-one, it is impossible to hope that +she will develop into a self-sacrificing, loving, womanly woman, whose +happiness can be found in a peaceful domestic life. She has seen your +mother sad and despondent, under the yoke of genteel poverty, and heard +her bemoan her lost privileges of wealth and station. This, added to her +natural craving for money and place, renders a wealthy marriage her only +hope of happiness on earth. + +Mr. Volney has an enormous fortune. He is, as you say, a senile old man +in his dotage. As you say again, such a marriage is a travesty. But +Elise is incapable of feeling the love which alone renders marriage a +holy institution. She has undesirable qualities which ought not to be +transmitted to children, and she is absolutely devoid of maternal +instincts. + +I have heard her say she would consider motherhood the greatest +disaster which could befall her. But she is unfitted for a +self-supporting career, and she wants a home and position. + +She has beauty, kind and generous impulses, and a love of playing Lady +Bountiful. It is not so much that she wants to benefit the needy, as +that she likes to place people under obligations and to have them look +up to her as a superior being. + +Old Mr. Volney is a miser, and his money is doing no one good. He has +only distant relatives, and by taking Elise for a wife (according to +law) he will wrong no one, and she will make much better use of his +fortune than his heirs would make. + +Your mother will be relieved of worry and care. Many worthy poor people +and charities will receive help, and Elise will have her heart's +desire--fine apparel, jewels, a social position, and no one to bother +her. The valet and nurse will look after Mr. Volney, and his simple old +heart will bask in the pride of an old man--the possession of a pretty +young wife. + +Had he full use of his mental faculties, and did he long for love and +devotion, I would try and dissuade Elise from the marriage, but solely +on _his_ account, not on hers. + +The young man you mention, as your choice of a suitor for the hand of +your sister, might better go up in a balloon to seek for Eutopia than to +expect happiness as her husband. He has a sweet, gentle, loving nature, +a taste for quiet home joys, fondness for children, and he has two +thousand a year, with small prospects of more in the near future. + +He should marry a modest, domestic girl, with tastes similar to his own, +and with no overweening ambitions. Elise would simply drive him mad in a +year's time, with her restless discontent, her extravagance, and her +desire for the expensive pleasures of earth. It is useless to reason +with her, or to expect her to model her ideas to suit her circumstances. +Inheritance and twenty-one years of wrong education must be taken into +consideration. What would mean happiness for many women would mean +misery for her. I can imagine no more dreadful destiny than to be tied +to a senile old man by a legal ceremony, even were I given his millions +in payment. But that will mean happiness to Elise. + +I think we should let people seek their own ideals of happiness, when +they break no law, and injure no other life by it. + +I shall congratulate Elise by this post on having made so fortunate an +alliance. I could not congratulate her were she to marry her young +suitor. I shall congratulate your mother on having nothing to worry +about, regarding the future of Elise. + +And I advise you to take a philosophical view of the situation, and to +remember that, in judging the actions of our fellow beings, we must take +their temperaments, characteristics, and environment into consideration, +not our own. + +You have made the very common error of thinking, because Elise is a +handsome young girl, that love, and home, and children would mean +happiness to her. + +Women vary as greatly as do plants and flowers in their needs. The +horticulturist knows that he cannot treat them all alike, and he studies +their different requirements. + +To some he gives moisture and sun, to some shade, and to some dry, sandy +soil. The thistle pushes forth a gorgeous bloom from an arid bed. It +would die in the pond where the lily thrives. + +Too much sentiment is wasted in this world and too much effort expended +in trying to make all people happy in some one way. + +When I was a little girl, a Sunday-school superintendent presented every +girl in the class with a doll, and each doll was exactly the same. Most +little girls like dolls, but I never played with one, as they were +always so hopelessly inanimate. If the good man had given me a sled, or +a book, or a picture, I would have been happy. As it was, his gift was a +failure. You want to present your sister with a devoted young husband, +a cottage, and several children, because you think every woman should +possess these things. Your sister happens to be one who prefers a +wealthy old invalid. + +Let her have what she wants, my dear Clarence, and let her work out her +destiny in her own way. She will do less harm in the world than if you +forced her into your way. Now you must remember that you asked me to +help you in this matter, and I could only write you the absolute facts +of the situation, as I knew it to be. I feel fairly confident that you +will accept my point of view, and act as best man at your sister's +wedding. + + + + +To Miss Margaret Riley + +_Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + + +Your letter has been destroyed, as you requested, and you need not fear +my betraying your confidence. + +Your mother was so long in my employ that I feel almost like a +foster-mother to you, having seen you grow up from the cradle to +self-supporting young womanhood. + +The troubles and evils which you mention as existing about you, I know +to be quite universal in all large shops, factories, and department +stores, indeed in all houses where the two sexes are employed. + +I know that a certain order of men in power use that power to lower the +ideals and standards of womanhood when they can. + +A pretty young girl once in my service related to me the cold-blooded +suggestions made to her by her employer to increase the miserable wage +paid her in a sweat-shop. + +The sacrifice of her virtue seemed no more to this man than the sale of +an old garment. + +The girl did not make the sacrifice, however, and she did not starve, +freeze, or die. She managed to exist and to better her condition by +doing domestic work and saving her money to fit herself for more +congenial employment. When I last saw her she was planning to become a +trained nurse, and had paid for a course of instruction in massage. I +tell you this merely to illustrate a fact I fully believe, that any girl +who is determined to live an honourable life and retain her self-respect +can make her way in the world and rise from lesser to higher positions, +if she is patient and willing to do what is termed menial work as a +stepping-stone. You tell me that scores of girls are kept in poorly +paying, inferior positions when capable of filling better places, +simply because they will not accept the dishonourable attentions of some +of the men in authority. + +You beg me to arouse the good women of America to a crusade against what +you say is a growing evil and to boycott such shops and stores. + +But you ask me to do what is an impracticable thing. + +You would not like to be called as a witness were this matter brought +before the courts. Were all the good women of America to begin such a +crusade, where would they obtain the proofs of their accusations? + +And even if the witnesses were ready, there is not a newspaper in the +land that would dare champion the reform. And no great reform can be +made without the aid of the press. The daily papers, as you say, give +columns to protests against lesser evils, but you must know that these +newspapers are largely supported by the profitable advertisements of +manufactories and dry-goods houses. Glance over the columns of any of +our large dailies and see how much space such advertising occupies. + +Imagine what it would mean to lose all this high-priced patronage. +Therefore, even if the most moral of editors knew that these +establishments were undermining our social conditions and invading our +homes, I doubt if he could be induced to make a protest. It is a curious +thing to see how many are the kinds of victims caught and held in the +clutches of the money-devil-fish in our wonderful land of freedom. + +Even clergymen who are preaching morality and brotherly love are +compelled to keep their mouths shut on certain evils and abuses, lest +they offend the pillars of the church and deprive the treasury of its +income. + +In a certain New England town famous for its educational institution, a +clergyman denounced a corporation which had swindled the poor and +deceived scores of citizens. He was requested to discontinue further +references to the matter, as the church treasury was supplied by the +money which accrued from this monopoly. + +The most powerful members of the church were officers in the +corporation. + +The young clergyman sent in his resignation and gave up an assured +salary to follow the light of his own conscience. But there are few with +his bravery and, therefore, the strongholds of selfishness and +self-indulgence remain impregnable. While we admire the splendid +character which makes a man capable of refusing a salary which means +hush-money, we can at the same time understand the difficult position of +a clergyman with a hungry brood of children to support, who hesitates at +such a move. We can understand how he argues with himself, that by +taking the money of the monopolists, he is able to do more good for +humanity than by refusing it, and losing both influence and income. It +is a false argument, yet the worn and weary mind of the average orthodox +minister will accept it as the advisable course to pursue. So you will +see how difficult is the task you suggest my undertaking. You tell me +that it is useless for you to leave one shop and go to another, as all +are more or less conducted on the same lines; and that it is mere chance +if a girl finds herself in a position where she can advance on her +merits. Even then a sudden change in heads of departments some day may +destroy all her hopes. + +You say I have no idea how many girls go wrong just through the +persecution and tyranny of these men--forced to fall in order to keep +herself fed and clothed. I repeat what I said already in this +connection,--that I am certain any girl determined to keep herself above +reproach and ambitious to rise in the world can do so. She may have to +endure many privations and sorrows for a time, and that time may seem +long and weary, _but a change will come for the better as surely as +spring follows winter, if she does not waver_. + +If you will look carefully into the facts of the cases which fall under +your observation, I am confident you will see that it is vanity and +indolence, not hunger and oppression, which cause the majority of the +girls you mention to go astray. They desire to make as good an +appearance, and to be given the same privileges of leisure, as the +favourite who has been promoted through unworthy methods. + +You tell me you would rather jump from Brooklyn Bridge and end the +struggle at once than lose your self-respect, but that you are weary of +seeing the girls with less conscience, and lesser capabilities, pushed +ahead of you and your worthy associates. Yet I am certain from the tone +of your letter that you will never forget your self-respect, and I have +faith that you can make your way in the world in spite of all the +designing masculine oppressors in existence. + +So will any woman, who sets her mark high, and believes in the +invincible power of her own spirit to conquer all the demons of earth. + +Do not imagine your position is one of unusual trial and temptation. A +young actress of my acquaintance has been obliged to fight her way +slowly to partial recognition because she would not accept the +conditions offered, with leading rôles and fine wardrobe, by two +polygamous-minded managers. + +She is making her way, however, and the very battle she is fighting with +life has strengthened her powers as an artist. A young stenographer has +been compelled to give up two positions because she would not allow the +loverlike attentions of married employers. She was called a silly prude +and discharged. Yet she is occupying an excellent position with a clean +high-class business house to-day. + +Domestics are sometimes driven from private homes by the same pursuit of +the employer. Men are only in a state of evolution, and the animal +instincts are still strong in them. The world has allowed them so much +license, and society has been so lenient with their misdeeds, that it +has been difficult for them to practise self-control and aspire to a +higher standard. You must be sorry for them and do what you can to help +them understand the worth and value of true womanhood. Never for one +instant believe that you can be hindered by the machinations of a few +unworthy men, from reaching any goal you set. + +One good, intelligently virtuous woman, determined to make the most of +her capabilities by fair methods, can overcome a whole army of +self-indulgent, sensual men, and compel them to doff their hats to her. +I am always deeply sympathetic toward the girl who is tempted through +her emotions, or her affections, to forget herself. But I have no great +pity for the woman who sells herself. There are always charitable +societies, and there are always menial labours to do, and either door of +escape from the sale of honour would be sought by the girl of right +ideals. It is a bitter experience to see the woman who _has_ stepped +down into the soil of life flaunting her finery and her power in the +face of virtue. But look about you and see how soon the finery becomes +tatters--how soon the power is transferred to another. + +Woman's position in the world is growing better, brighter, and more +independent with each year. There are more avenues open to her--larger +opportunities waiting for the employment of her abilities. She has tried +a thorny path for centuries, but she has small reason to despair of her +outlook to-day. + +Each woman must fight her battle alone, and walk by the light from +within. + +The world gives her only a superficial protection, either through its +courts or its society. + +Men demand virtue from woman and endeavour in every way to lead her away +from its path. + +But the divinity within her can carry her to the heights, if she will +not be lured by the voice of the senses, or frightened by the demands of +the appetite, or debased by the mercenary spirit of the age. + +Go on in your brave determination to lead a sensible and moral life, my +dear girl, and let your example be a guide to others, and prove that +woman may succeed on the right basis if she will, in spite of +temptations and oppressions. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_After Three Years as a Teacher_ + + +The way you took my frank criticisms and doubts of your ability to make +a good school-teacher, proves you to be a girl of much character. Your +success proves, too, that given the general qualifications of a fairly +capable and educated human being, add concentration and will, and we can +achieve wonders in any line of work we undertake. I am still of the +opinion that no woman of my acquaintance was more wholly unfit to teach +young children, as they should be taught, than your fair self as I last +knew you. + +I take pride in believing that my heroic methods were what brought out +the undeveloped qualities you needed to ensure such success. + +There are certain natures that need to be antagonized before they do +their best. Others are prostrated and robbed of all strength by a +criticism or a doubt. + +You have realized this, I am sure, in your experiences with pupils. +"_You cannot do it_" is a more stimulating war-cry to some people than +"_You can_." And to such the sneer of the foe does more good, than the +smile of the friend. A phrenologist would tell us that strongly +developed organs of self-esteem and love of approbation accompanied this +trait of character. + +I am sure it proves to be the case with you. + +Brought up as you were, the only child of indulgent parents, and given +admiration and praise by all your associates, you could hardly reach the +age of twenty-two without having developed self-esteem and love of +praise. You were naturally brighter than most of your companions. (They +were also children of fortune, as the term goes, but to my idea the +children reared in wealth, are usually children of misfortune. For the +real fortune of life is to encounter the discipline which brings out +our strongest qualities.) + +Your father was a poor boy, who fought his way up to wealth and power +before you were born; but he unfortunately wanted the earth beside, and +so died in poverty after staking all he had, which was enough, to make +more, which he did not need. + +You inherit much of his force of character, and that is what gave you +the reputation of extreme cleverness among your more commonplace +companions. Compared with the really brilliant and talented people of +earth, you are not clever. That is why I found you so companionable and +charming, no doubt; for the brilliant people--especially women--are +rarely companionable for more than a few hours at a time. I gave you +that supreme test of friendship--the companionship of travel for a +period of months. And I loved you better at the end of the time than at +the beginning. + +I have often thought how much less occupation there would be for the +divorce courts and how many more "indefinitely postponed" announcements +of engagements would result from an established custom of a +pre-betrothal trip! + +If a young man and woman who were enamoured could travel for two or +three months, with a chaperon (in the shape of a mother-in-law or two), +the lawyers would lose much profit; but I fear race suicide might ensue. +Nothing, unless it is the sick-room or the card-table, brings out the +real characteristics of human beings like travel. + +The irritating delays of boats and trains, and the still more irritating +unresponsiveness of officials, when asked the cause, will test the +temper and the patience of even a pair of lovers. It is not surprising +if the traveller does lose both at times, but it is admirable if he does +not. I remember how adorable you were, while I was a bundle of dynamite, +ready to explode and send the stolid, uncommunicative conductor and +brakemen into a journey through space, when we suffered that long delay +coming from California. It is due the travelling public to explain such +delays, but the railroads of America have grown to feel that they owe no +explanation to any one, even to God, for what they do or do not. While I +lost vitality and composure by such idle reflections, you were amusing +the nervous travellers by your bright bits of narrative and ready +repartee. That fortunate fellow you have promised to marry at the end of +two years has no idea what a charming companion he will find in you for +travel. + +It is interesting to have you say you feel that you need two more years +as a teacher, before you are fully developed enough to take up the +responsibilities of marriage. You will be twenty-seven then:--that is +the age at which the average American girl begins to be most +interesting, and the age when she is first physically mature. + +And your children will be more fully endowed mentally than if you had +become a mother in your teens. + +As a rule the brainy people of the world are not born of very youthful +parents; you will find youth gives physique, maturity gives brains to +offspring. + +I did not quite finish my train of reasoning about your self-esteem. + +It was because you had always believed yourself to be capable of doing +anything you undertook to do, that you were roused by my assertion that +you could not make a good school-teacher, to attempt it. I hurt your +pride a bit, and you were determined to prove me wrong. Had you been +self-depreciating and oversensitive, what I said would have turned you +from that field of effort. And that would have been a desirable result, +since one who can be turned from any undertaking _ought to be_. + +I still think the world has lost a wonderful artist by your not entering +the lists of designers and dressmakers. But since my recital of the +faults which would prevent your success as a teacher led you to overcome +them, I am proud and glad, that you have gone on in the work you +contemplated. Good teachers are more needed than good dressmakers. + +And you are sweet and charming as usual, to tell me that your +popularity with children and parents, is greatly due to that letter of +mine. + +What you write me of the young girl who is making you so much trouble by +her jealousy of all other pupils, interests and saddens me. Her devotion +to you is of that morbid type, so unwholesome and so dangerous to her +peace, and the peace of all her associates. It is a misfortune that +mothers do not take such traits in early babyhood, and eradicate them by +patient, practical methods. Instead, this mother, like many others, +seems to think her little girl should be favoured and flattered because +of her morbid tendency. + +She mistakes selfishness, envy, greediness, and hysteria for a loving +nature. + +I can imagine your feelings when this mother told you with a proud +smile, "Allie always wants the whole attention of any one she loves, and +cannot stand sharing her friends. She was always that way at home. We +never could pet her little brother without her going into a spasm. And +you must be careful about showing the other children attention before +her. It just breaks her heart--she is so sensitive." + +Oh, mothers, mothers, what are you thinking about, to be so blind to the +work put in your hands to do? + +You have little time comparatively to work upon this perverted young +mind: but under no conditions favour her, and, no matter what scenes she +makes, continue to give praise and affection to the other children when +it is their due. The prominence of her parents in the neighbourhood, and +the power her father wields in the school board, need not worry you. Go +ahead and do what is best for the child and for the school at large. +Never deviate one inch from your convictions. Take Allie some day to a +garden where there are many flowers, and talk to her about them. Speak +of all their different charms, and gather a bouquet. Then say to her, +"Now, Allie, you and I love each of these pretty flowers, and see how +sweetly they nestle together in your hand. Not one is jealous of the +other. Each has its place, and would be missed were it not there. The +bouquet needs them all. Just so I need all the dear children in my +school, and just so I would miss any one. It makes me ashamed to think +any little girl is more selfish and unreasonable than a plant, for +little girls are a higher order of creation, and we expect more of them +than we expect of plants or of animals. All are parts of God, but the +human kingdom is the highest expression of the Creator. + +"When you show such jealousy of other children I lose respect for you, +and cannot love you as much as I love them. When you are gentle and +good, and take your share of my love and attention, and let others have +their share, then I am proud of you and fond of you. Suppose one plant +said to the sunlight that it must have all the sun, would not that be +ridiculous and selfish?" + +I would make frequent references to this idea when alone with her, and +indeed it would serve as an excellent subject for a talk to all your +pupils some day. Then try and make Allie understand how unbecoming and +unlovable jealousy is, and how it renders a man or woman an object of +pity and ridicule to others. + +Praise the people you know who are liberal and broad, and absolutely +ignore her moods when in school. + +Perhaps in time you can do a little toward awakening her mind to a more +wholesome outlook. + +What you tell me of her hysterical devotion to one of her classmates, +makes me realize that the girl needs careful guidance. + +You should talk to her mother, and warn her against encouraging such +conditions of mind in her child. + +Urge her to keep the girl occupied, and to give her much out-door life, +and to teach her that pronounced demonstrations of affection are not +good form between young girls. The mother should be careful what books +she reads, and should see that she makes no long visits to other homes +and receives no guests for a continued time. The child needs to +cultivate universal love, not individual devotion. + +Ideals, principles, ambitions, should be given the girl, not close +companions, for her nature is like a rank, weedy flower that needs +refining and cultivating into a perfected blossom. + +All this needs a mother's constant care and tact and watchfulness. It is +work she should have begun when her little girl first indicated her +unfortunate tendencies. + +It is late for you to undertake a reconstruction of the misshapen +character, but you may be able to begin an improvement, and if you can +obtain the mother's cooperation the full formation may be accomplished. + +And do not fail to use mental suggestion constantly, and to help the +child by your assertions to be what you want her to become. Dwell in +conversation with her and in her presence, upon the lovableness and +charm of generosity of spirit in general, rather than on the selfishness +you observe in herself. + +At her least indication of an improvement, give her warm praise. Be +careful about bestowing caresses upon her, as she needs to be guarded +against hysteria, I should judge from your description. To some children +they are the sunlight, to others miasma. + +Think of yourself as God's agent, given charge of his unfinished work, +and recognize the unseen influences ready to aid you with suggestion and +courage when you appeal to them. + + + + +To a Young Friend + +_Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical Thoughts of the Day_ + +Your letter bubbled with enthusiasm, and steamed with optimism. I am +rejoiced that you have come into so healthful a line of thought, for I +know of no one who was in more immediate need of it than you, when we +last met. + +As your hostess, I could not tell you how wearing to the nerves your +continual reverting to your physical ills became: and I hope I did not +seem wholly unsympathetic to you when I so frequently made the effort to +change the conversation to more cheerful topics. + +And now you tell me that you are astounded to find how universal is this +topic with all classes, and on all occasions when one or two human +beings gather together even in "His name." Your recital of the church +sewing-bee, where all the good Christian women described their diseases +and the different operations they and their friends had undergone, is as +amusing as it is distressingly realistic. + +What a pity that the old theology fostered the idea that God especially +loved the people he afflicted with illness and poverty and trouble! It +has filled the world with egotistical and selfish invalids and idlers, +who have believed they were "God's chosen ones," instead of realizing +that they were the natural results of broken laws, which might be mended +by the aid of the God-power in themselves, once they understood it. + +How Christians have reconciled the idea of a God of love with a God who +wanted his chosen ones to be sick and poor, is a problem I cannot solve. + +Of course you are well, and growing stronger daily, now that you realize +the fact that God made only health, wealth, and love, and that he +intended all his children to share his opulence. + +As soon as the mind is filled with a dominating idea, no lesser ones can +find lodgment therein. + +A woman of my acquaintance suffered agonies from seasickness. + +She crossed the ocean twice each year, yet seemed unable to accustom +herself to the experience. + +On her last voyage her child fell dangerously sick with typhoid fever on +the second day out at sea. + +So wrought up was the mother, and so filled with the thought of her +child, that she never felt one moment's seasickness. Her mind was +otherwise occupied. + +Now you have filled your mind with a consciousness of your divine right +to health and happiness, and the thought of sickness and disease has no +room. + +Yet do not be discouraged if you feel the old ailments and +indispositions returning at times. A complete change in mental habits, +is difficult to obtain in a moment. + +Be satisfied to grow slowly. A wise philosopher has said, "It is not in +never falling that we show our strength, but in our ability to rise +after repeated falls, and to continue our journey in triumph." + +Avoid talking your belief to every individual you meet. It will be +breaking your string of pearls for the feet of swine to tread upon. +Those who are ready for these truths will indicate the fact to you, and +then will be your time for speech. And when you do speak, say little, +and say it briefly and to the point. + +Leave some things for other minds to study out alone. The people who are +not ready for higher ideals of religion and life, will only ridicule or +combat your theories and beliefs, if you force them to listen. + +Wait until you have fully illustrated by your own conduct of life, that +you have something beside vague theories to prove your statements of the +power of the mind to conquer circumstance. The world is full to-day of +bedraggled and haggard men and women, who are talking loudly of the +power of mind to restore youth and health, and bestow riches and +success. + +Do not add yourself to the unlovely and tiresome army of talkers, until +you prove yourself a doer. + +And even after you have shown a record of health and prosperity and +usefulness, let your silent influence speak louder than your uttered +words. + +The moment a philosopher becomes a bore, he ceases to be a philosopher. + + + + +To Wilfred Clayborn + +_Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + + +My Dear Nephew:--I have considered your request from all sides, and have +resolved to disappoint you. This seems to me the kindest thing I can do +under the circumstances. + +You have gone through two years of college life, and I am sure you are +not an ignoramus. Most of the great men of the world's history have +enjoyed no fuller educational advantages. To lend you money to finish +the college course, would be to help you to start life at the age of +twenty-two under the burden of debt. If you are determined to finish a +college course, and feel that only by so doing will you equip yourself +for the duties of life, I would advise you to drop out for a year and +teach, or go into any kind of work which will enable you to earn enough +to proceed with your studies. However hard and however disappointing +this advice seems to you, I know it suggests a course which will do more +for your character than all the money I could lend you. + +Aside from the fact that you would begin life with a debt, is the +possibility of your contracting the debt habit. + +One man in a thousand who borrows money to help himself along in early +life is benefited by it. + +The other 999 are harmed. + +To do anything on another's money is to lean on the shoulder of another +instead of walking upright. It is not good calisthenic exercise. + +A few years ago I would have acceded to your request. + +But each year I live I realize more and more that lending money is the +last method to be used in helping people to better themselves. In almost +every case where I have lent money, I have lived to regret it. Not +because I lost my money (which has usually been the fact), but because +I lost respect for my friends. + +I remember the case of a young newspaper man and author, who came to me +for the loan of five dollars. I had never seen him before, but I knew +his brother, a brilliant playwright, in a social way. + +The young man told me he had met with a series of disasters on the +voyage to New York, and was stranded there absolutely penniless, +although money would come at almost any hour from his brother. + +Besides this, he showed me letters from editors who had taken work which +would be paid for on publication. + +"I do not know any one here," the young man said, "and to-day, when I +used my last twenty-five cents, I thought of you in desperation. + +"Your acquaintance with my brother would serve as an introduction, I +felt, and I was confident you would realize my straits when I told you +my errand." + +Of course I lent the young man five dollars. "I am sure it must be a +great humiliation for you to ask for this," I said, "and I am certain +you will repay it, though many former experiences have made me question +the memory of friends and strangers to whom I have been of similar +assistance." + +One week later the young man called to tell me he had not been able to +do more than keep himself sustained at lunch-counters since he called, +but hoped soon to obtain a position on a daily newspaper. + +That was ten years ago. The young man sat in an orchestra chair the +other night at the theatre directly in front of me, and his attire was +faultlessly up to date. From the costume of his companion, I should +judge their carriage waited outside. + +The young man did not seem to recognize me, and no doubt the incident I +mention has escaped his memory. + +In all probability I was but one of a score of people who helped him +with small loans. Had the young man had been forced to appeal to the +society organized in every city for aiding the deserving poor, by being +sent disappointed from my door, the ordeal would have so hurt his pride, +that he might not have become the professional borrower he undoubtedly +is. + +I could relate innumerable cases of a similar nature. One man, who was a +fashionable teacher of French among the millionaires of New York for +several seasons, appealed to me at a time of year when all his patrons +were out of the city for a loan to enable him to give his wife medical +treatment. + +He was to repay it in the autumn. Instead, he came to me then with a +much more distressing story of immediate need and seeming proof of money +coming to him in a few months. To my chagrin, the loan I advanced was +employed in giving a feast to friends at his daughter's wedding, after +which he obliterated himself from my vision. + +Financial aid lent a woman who soon afterward circled Europe, brought no +reimbursement. Her handsomely engraved card, with the "Russell Square +Hotel, London," as address, reached me instead of the interest money +which perhaps paid the engraver. + +Money lent a young man to start a small business, was used for his +wedding expenses, and an interval of five years brings no word from him. +Poor and despicable beings indeed, become the victims of the borrowing +habit. It is the shattered faith in humanity, and the heart hurts that I +regret, rather than the loss of what can be replaced. I tell you these +incidents that you may realize how I have come to regard money-lending, +as a species of unkindness to a friend or relative. + +It is only one step removed from giving a sick or overtaxed man or woman +a morphine powder. + +Sleep and rest ensue, but ten to one the habit is formed for life. + +The happy experiences of my life in money-lending, have been two +instances where I offered loans which were not asked, and which proved +to be bridges over the chasm of temporary misfortune, to the success +awaiting a worthy woman and man. The really deserving rarely ask for +loans. + +I can imagine with what pleasure you would take a cheque from this +letter, for the amount which would carry you through college. + +Yet when you had finished your course, you would find so many things you +wanted to do, and must do, the debt would become too heavy to lift, save +by borrowing from some one else. + +If not that, then you would impose upon the fact of our relationship, +and on your belief that I had plenty of means without the amount you +owed me: and so you would join the great army of good-for-nothings in +the world. + +There is one thing you must always remember: + +No matter how close the blood tie between two beings, even twins, each +soul comes into the world alone, and with a separate life destiny to +work out. + +If I have worked out my destiny to financial independence, that does +not entitle you to a share of it. If it seems best for me to aid you, it +is not because a blood tie makes it a duty. I grow to believe there is a +sort of curse on money which is not earned, even when it is bestowed by +father, on son or daughter. + +It cripples individual development. Only when money is earned is it +blest. + +Regarding your future profession, I cannot agree with your idea that +because you feel no particular love for any one calling, and have a +halfway tendency toward several, that you will never be a success. Great +geniuses are often consumed with a passion for some one line of study or +employment, but there have been many great men who did not know what +they were fitted to do until accident or necessity gave them an +opportunity. + +Success means simply concentration and perseverance. + +Whether you decide to be a mechanic, a lawyer, a doctor, or a merchant, +the one thing to do is to fix all your mental powers upon the goal you +select, and then call all the forces from within and from without, to +aid you to reach it. + +It would, of course, be folly for you to select a profession which +requires special talent. No matter how you might concentrate and apply +yourself, you could never be a great poet, a great artist, or a great +musician. + +You have not the creative genius. + +But law, medicine, mechanics, or mercantile matters, with your good +brain and fair education, you could conquer. + +You say you vacillate from one to another, like the wind which goes to +the four points of the compass in twenty-four hours. + +But you are very young, and this should not discourage you. + +It would be well to think the four vocations over quietly, when alone, +and sit down by yourself early in the morning asking for guidance. Then, +when you feel you have made a decision, let nothing turn you from it. + +Direct all your studies and thoughts to further that decision. + +Think of yourself as achieving the very highest success in your chosen +field, and work for that end. + +You cannot fail. + +If you desire light from without upon the best path to pursue, I would +advise you to find a good phrenologist, and have a careful reading made +of your head. Its formation and the development of its organs would +indicate in what direction lay your greatest strength, and where you +needed to be especially watchful. + +But remember if your phrenologist tells you that you have a weak will, +it does not mean that you must necessarily _always_ have a weak will. It +means that you are to strengthen it, by concentration. There is a great +truth underlying phrenology, palmistry, and astrology; but it is +ridiculous to accept their verdicts as final and unchangeable, and it is +unwise to ignore the good they may do, rightly applied and understood. + +I recall the fact that you were born in early June. I know enough about +the influence of the planets upon a child born at that period to assert +that you are particularly inclined to a Gemini nature--the twin nature, +which wants to do two things at one time. You want to stay in and go +out, to read a book and play tennis, to swim and sit on the sand. Later +in life, you will want to remain single and marry, and travel and remain +at home, unless you begin _now_ to select one course of the two which +are for ever presenting themselves to you, in small and large matters. + +Whenever you feel yourself vacillating between two impulses, take +yourself at once in hand, decide upon the preferable course, and go +ahead. Dominate your astrological tendencies, do not be dominated by +them. Dominate your weaknesses as exhibited by your phrenological chart, +and build up the brain cells which need strengthening, and lessen the +power of the undesirable qualities by giving them no food or indulgence. + +It is a great thing to understand yourself as you are, and then to go +ahead and make yourself what you desire to be. + +When a carpenter starts to build a house, he knows just what tools and +what materials to work with are his. If there is a broken implement, he +replaces it with another, and if he is short of material he supplies it. +But young men set forth to make futures and fortunes, with no knowledge +of their own equipment. + +They do not know their own strongest or weakest traits, and are +unprepared for the temptations and obstacles that await them. + +I would advise you to call in the aid of all the occult sciences, to +help you in forming an estimate of your own higher and lower tendencies, +and in deciding for what line of occupation you were best fitted. Then, +after you have compared the statistics so gathered with your own idea of +yourself, you should proceed to make your character what you wish it to +be. + +This work will be ten thousand times more profitable to you than a mere +routine of college studies, gained by running in debt. + +To know yourself is far better knowledge than to know Virgil. And to +make yourself is a million times better than to have any one else make +you. + + + + +To Miss Elsie Dean + +_Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + + +During your visit here with my niece, I became much interested in you. + +Zoe had often written me of her affection for you, and I can readily +understand her feeling, now that I have your personal acquaintance. + +You have no mother, and your father, you say, absorbed in business, like +so many American fathers, seems almost a stranger. Even the most devoted +fathers, rarely understand their daughters. + +Now, I want to take the part of a mother and write you to-day, as I +would write my own daughter, had one been bestowed upon me with the many +other blessings which are mine. + +I could not ask for a fairer, more amiable, or brighter daughter than +you, nor one possessed of a kinder or more unselfish nature. + +You are lovable, entertaining, industrious, and refined. + +But you possess one fault which needs eradicating, or at least a +propensity which needs directing. + +_It is the habit of exaggeration in conversation_. + +I noticed that small happenings, amusing or exciting, became events of +colossal importance when related by you. + +I noticed that brief remarks were amplified and grew into something like +orations when you repeated them. + +I confess that you made small incidents more interesting, and +insignificant words acquired poetic meaning under your tongue. + +And I confess also that you never once wronged or injured any one by +your exaggerations--save yourself. + +Zoe often said to me, "Isn't it wonderful how Elsie's imagination lends +a halo to the commonest event," and all your friends know that you have +this habit of hyperbole in conversation. + +Now, in your early girlhood, it is lightly regarded as "Elsie's way." +Later, in your maturity, I fear it will be called a harsher name. + +When you come to the time of life that larger subjects than girlish +pranks and badinage engage your mind, it will be necessary for you to be +more exact in your descriptions of occurrences and conversations. +Besides this, there is the heritage of your unborn children to consider. +I once knew a little girl who possessed the same vivid imagination, and +allowed it to continue unchecked through life. She married, and her son, +to-day, is utterly devoid of fine moral senses. He is a mental +monstrosity--incapable of telling the truth. His falsehoods are many and +varied, and his name is a synonym of untruth. He relates, as truth, the +most marvellous exploits in which he really never took part, and +describes scenes and places he has never visited, save through the +pages of some novel. + +His lack of moral sense has blighted his mother's life, and she is +wholly unconscious that he is only an exaggerated edition of herself. + +I think, as a rule, such imaginations as you possess belong to the +literary mind. I would advise you to turn your attention to +story-writing, and in that occupation you will find vent for your +romantic tendencies. + +Meanwhile watch yourself and control your speech. + +Learn to be exact. + +Tell the truth in small matters, and do not allow yourself to indulge in +seemingly harmless white lies of exaggeration. + +There are times when we should refrain from speaking all the truth, but +we should refrain by silence or an adroit change of subject. We should +not feel called upon to relate all the unpleasant truths we know of +people. + +When asked what we know of some acquaintance, we are justified in +telling the worthy and commendable traits, and saying nothing of the +faults. + +Therefore, while to suppress a portion of the truth is at times wise and +kind, to distort it, or misstate facts, is never needed and never +excusable. + +When you and Zoe came from your drive one day you were full of +excitement over an adventure with a Greek road merchant. + +As you told the story, the handsome peddler had accosted you at the exit +of the post-office and asked you to look at his wares. + +When you declined he became familiar, paid a compliment to Zoe's beauty, +and assured her that a certain lace shawl in his possession would be +irresistible draped about her face. + +Then he had pursued the carriage on his wheel and continued to "make +eyes" and pay compliments to the very gate of my home, where he +abandoned the chase. + +The facts were, according to further investigation, that the man paid a +simple trade compliment in reference to the shawl and its becomingness +to a pretty face, mounted his wheel and rode away, as it happened, in +the same direction you and Zoe were taking. + +Again, you related a bit of repartee between Zoe and a caller, which I +had chanced to over-hear, and out of two short sentences you made a +small brochure, most amusing, but most untrue. + +It was complimentary to both Zoe and her caller, yet it was not the +conversation which took place, and therefore was not truthful. + +These are trifling incidents, yet they are the straws, telling that the +wind blows from the marsh-lands of inexactness--not from the mountain +tops of truth. + +Once a woman loses a sense of the great value of absolute truthfulness, +she has blurred the clear mirror of her soul. + +Put yourself upon a diet of _facts_, my sweet young friend, and cure +this propensity, harmless enough now, but dangerous for your future. + +Watch your tongue that it does not say _five or six_ when it should say +_two_, or _yards_ when it should say _inches_. + +Even in the smallest matters, practise the habit of being exact. + +You will thank me for this advice sometime, even if it seems +unreasonable to you to-day, and remember, I would not take the liberty +or the trouble to so advise you, did I not love you and feel anxious for +your welfare. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + + +Your despairing letter lies before me. I wish you were here, my dear +child, that I might talk from my heart, instead of writing from it. I am +sorry that the secret, so long hidden, has been revealed to you, and in +such a despicable manner. + +An anonymous letter always carries with it the venom of a serpent. I +have long known your history, though the world generally believed you to +be the actual daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont, who adopted you when +you were scarcely one week old. + +No daughter ever received more affection or better care than these good +people gave you. Mrs. Marchmont lived always with a fear in her heart +that you might learn your history from some idle or malicious lip, and +before she died begged me to be your comforting friend, if that hour +ever came, which has now arrived. + +As your mother's nearest friend, it is natural you should turn to me in +your crucial hour of pain. And in reply to your questions regarding the +truth of this anonymous assertion, I will tell you all I know. + +Your own mother was well born, and a girl of great beauty and charm. She +was of foreign blood, and her parents, after the foreign custom, +selected for her, at the age of seventeen, a man of mature years and +unattractive personality, but some fortune. The family lived in a +seaport town, and your mother attracted the eye of a young seafaring +man, holding a government position. An intense and uncontrollable love +sprang up between them. Your mother had been kept in ignorance of God's +great law of sex attraction, its purpose and its results, and she was +like a new-born babe towed on the sea of her own suddenly awakened +emotion. + +It was arranged that your mother was to elope with her lover on his next +arrival in port. All plans were to be made by him during the voyage on +which he went forth, after a stolen interview with your mother. He was +lost at sea, and all on board the ship perished with him. Mr. and Mrs. +Marchmont chanced to be sojourning in the place at the time of your +birth. Mr. Marchmont had longed for a child, and the tragic story came +to his ears through the physician of your mother's family, and he and +his wife decided to adopt you and take you to America. + +I was the one friend who shared with Mrs. Marchmont the story of your +birth. Other friends knew she had adopted a child, and of course all +sorts of rumours were afloat for a time. Mr. Marchmont's nephew was +particularly unfriendly, I remember, as he had believed himself heir to +his uncle's estate until your adoption. + +Some three years ago I chanced to be in the seaport town where you were +born, and I made quiet inquiries about your mother. I learned that she +had recently died, leaving a husband and three children. I hunted up the +children, and found them to be most uninteresting and ordinary. The +oldest daughter I met and studied. She was plain and commonplace in +appearance, and the other children were dull and unattractive. + +The husband was the elderly man selected by your grandparents. Just how +he had been led to accept the second place in your mother's life, and +whether he had known of the tragedy, I could not learn without asking +more questions than I deemed wise. + +But what I want to impress upon your mind by this recital is, _your own +divine inheritance of love,_ the inheritance which has bestowed upon you +physical beauty, mental power, and rare qualities of heart and soul. I +know few women so endowed by the Creator as you. I know of few young +girls--in fact, not one--I would so gladly and proudly claim as a +daughter, or wish a daughter to be like, as your lovely self. + +When I read your letter, with its wild expressions of self-abasement and +despair and regret that you were in the world, where, you seemed to +believe, you had no right to be, I could not help picturing to myself +the dull face and disagreeable personality of your half-sister, the +child whom you no doubt believe has a greater right than yourself on +earth. Now whatever society has decided is legal and right for human +beings, you must not forget that God also has made rules, and that those +rules must first be obeyed, before the rules of man can be regarded as +perfect. + +God's first law, regarding the propagation of the human species, is that +the _mother must be dominated by a supreme and ruling emotion to give to +the world the highest type of a child_. + +Your mother loved your father with all her heart and soul. She was a +young girl, ignorant of the world. She thought of her lover as her +rightful mate, and lived but for the hour when he should rescue her +from the unhappy fate arranged by unwise and sordid-minded parents. + +Your father loved her, and they were in God's sight more truly husband +and wife than the soulless and loveless ceremony of the law made her and +her legal husband afterward. + +It is a great misfortune that your parents lacked the self-control which +is necessary to every well-balanced human being who seeks for the +fullest development. It is a sad thing that over your life this shadow +of unlegalized birth must rest. + +But were I given the choice to-day to be what you are, or what your +sister is, and what thousands of children born of loveless marriages +are, I would not for one second hesitate in my choice. + +The world needs marriage laws to keep any order in society. + +The wisely reared and well-balanced woman will keep herself in womanly +reserve for her legal husband. + +Your mother, by a moment's weakness and loss of self-control, left a +blight upon her life for ever, and a shadow upon yours. + +But do not for one instant think of yourself as anything but _a child of +God_, endowed with all the wealth of the spiritual kingdom, whatever the +law may withhold from you here. + +You are legitimized by love, your sister is legitimate by law. She is +illegitimate in the sight of heaven, you in sight of earth. + +Be glad of your beautiful nature and beautiful qualities, and do not +spoil them by despondency or pessimism. + +Think of yourself as if you were a child of Adam and Eve, born before +the serpent appeared, when there was no law but the law of love to +govern two souls, drawn together by irresistible attraction. + +The best and highest qualities of two human beings meet and mingle in +your nature. Do you suppose the great Creator of all things regards you +as base born, when he has so endowed you with all that makes woman +lovable and charming. + +Live up to your divine inheritance, my dear girl. Make the world better +for your presence in it, and bear your sorrow with that resignation and +philosophy which all human beings must cultivate if they do not wish to +become weak repiners when they face the sorrows of life. + +Look the world squarely in the eyes, and feel no shame. + +Your mother's marriage to the man she detested, and the birth of +children conceived in loathing, were acts which in my mind called for +more shame on her part than your own birth. Both were misfortunes for +her, since only by living an orderly, controlled, and lawful life can +any human being find happiness or self-respect in the world. + +But when we come to the close analysis of motives and impulses, many an +act the world condemns is far less reprehensible than other acts which +meet its loud acclaim. + +You have received from the vast spiritual realms about us your rarely +beautiful qualities. Go forth and give them to humanity. + +Be strong, be good, be brave, be happy. + +No one and nothing can harm you but your own mind. + +The world, as we encounter it, is but an echo of our own strong +convictions. Respect yourself absolutely, believe in yourself +absolutely, and the world will respect you and believe in you. + +Say to yourself every hour, "I am God's divine creature," and no one +will dare look you in the eyes and say you are anything less than that. + +The arms of infinite love enfold you--have no fear. + + + + +To Miss Diana Rivers + +_Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist_ + + +Your interesting letter regarding your future plans has been food for my +thoughts ever since its receipt this morning. + +I remember when you were my guest a year ago that you told me you felt +like a big bird in a small cage. Every time you tried to spread your +wings you were bruised by bars. Your home environment with its few +duties and small responsibilities, your church and your charities, +failed to give you full opportunity for the exercise of all your vital +forces. + +I knew then that you were longing for a career, and I felt confident +that some word would come from you before long, announcing a change in +your life. + +I was prepared to hear one of two things--that you were soon to be +married, or that you had decided to enter the dramatic profession. When +a young and attractive woman grows restless and eager for change, she +is, unconsciously to herself, sending out a challenge to Fate to create +new conditions in her life. Despite the fact that no male member in the +"Fate" family has ever attained prominence in the eyes of the world, and +that the three sisters have claimed so much power over the destinies of +the human family, a little investigation will prove that they never make +any pronounced move without calling in the aid of Cupid. + +Cupid is their prime minister, and we all know that prime ministers are +the power behind the throne of rulers. + +When you sent out your eager thoughts for "something to happen," to +change the monotony of your existence, I knew the Fate sisters were +quite likely telegraphing Cupid that his assistance was needed to quiet +a small riot in the human family. + +Once they set Cupid busy with a human heart, the Fates need give it no +further attention. When Cupid reports that his work with the heart is +finished, then the Angel of Resignation or the Angel of Death must +finish the task. + +Knowing you to be particularly fond of the theatre as a distraction, I +had thought you might essay the rôle of society actress, confounding +appreciation for talent, as so many women do; and when your letter +opened with the announcement that you were about to give me a great +surprise, I was prepared to hear that you were billed to appear in a +walking rôle, with a road company, next season, with promises of greater +things "soon afterward." + +But I confess to absolute surprise, as I read on, and learned that your +career was to lead you, not through Lovers' Lane, not before the +footlights, but along the hurly-burly byways and highways of American +newspaper work, beginning with interviews and reporting. Allow me to +quote from your letter before me. + +"I do not imagine I have talent save the talent for work. I am, as you +know, well educated, as that expression goes to-day. I have always found +expression with the pen an easy mode of communicating my impressions and +ideas. + +"I am observing, and I have a keen sense of humour, and I have (so +people tell me) an agreeable personality. I know the value of correct +dressing, and I am not oversensitive. That is, I am not one who will go +down at the first rebuff. I have the real American spirit, which makes +me believe myself as good as anybody, and you know my family name is one +to buoy up that impression. Therefore, it seems to me I cannot fail to +attain some degree of success. I am sure to obtain entrée to people and +functions, and I can describe what I see and hear in attractive form. I +shall shrink at no task, however difficult, and stop at no obstacle. + +"I am determined to make a success as a reporter and a correspondent, +and after I have achieved something in that line I may look to an +editorial position; and who knows but my fertile imagination, coupled +with the experiences sure to come to me, may develop the great American +novelist the world is waiting?" + +This is all interesting and admirable reasoning. + +But, having seen much of the world, and known much of the various types +of young women writers and reporters and correspondents, I feel like +discussing the subject of your profession with you. At the instigation, +perhaps, of some editor who makes the mistake of thinking success must +be reached through sensationalism, you may be tempted to make your pen, +not _mightier_, but more _cruel_ than the sword. + +I remember once upon a time meeting a young woman who had come, unbidden +by the hostess, to "write up" a social function where a number of +celebrated people were congregated. + +Her employer had sent her to the house, telling her to obtain an entree +by fair means or foul; and as she was well dressed and quiet in manner, +she was not repulsed by an amiable hostess. This lady realized that the +reporter has his or her living to make, and must be either helped or +hindered by the willingness or unwillingness of people to furnish +material for copy. Being informed that the young woman was "literary," +and chancing to stand near her for a few moments, I asked her the nature +of her work. + +The young woman looked a trifle embarrassed, as she answered: "Well, to +tell you the truth, I write a good many disagreeable and nasty things +about people, especially people in public life. The editors who take my +work will have that kind. I have essayed better things, and they would +not touch them. So I am compelled to write the stuff they do want. I +must make a living." When I read the "stuff" in question, I was inclined +to doubt the assertion of the writer that "she must make a living." The +world would be the better should she and all her kind cease to exist. +Ridicule, falsehood, and insinuation were the leading traits of the +young woman's literary style. Costumes and personalities were +caricatured, and conversations and actions misstated. The entire article +would have been libelous, had it not been too cowardly to deserve so +bold a word. + +It is useless for any man or woman to assert that such reportorial work +is done from necessity. The blackmailer and the pickpocket have as much +right to the plea, as the newspaper masked-assassin, with the concealed +weapon of a pen. + +If you are ever asked by any editor to do this reportorial stiletto +work, let me urge you to take to professional burglary, rather than +consent to write what such an employer demands. + +It is far less despicable to rob houses of things of mercantile value, +than to rob characters and reputations and personalities. Again, when +you are sent out upon a commission to obtain an interview with any +person, obtain what you seek and take nothing else away with you. + +Just as you would scorn to pawn the watch of the famous actress which +you may find lying on the table as you pass out, so scorn to sell any +personal speech she may have carelessly dropped in your hearing which +you know was not intended for publication. Petty larceny is not a noble +feature of interviewing. Even though a facility for selling such +dishonestly gained property to advantage be yours, do not convince +yourself or be convinced that larceny should be included in your +reportorial duties. + +I recollect speaking with you once upon the difficulties young women +encountered who attempted to win honours in a dramatic career. You felt +that the necessity to cater to the ideas and wishes of inferior minds, +in representing a character on the stage, would be one of the hardest +phases of stage life to meet. + +"To be loud and spectacular where I wanted to be refined and subtle," +you said, "just to catch some rough audience and fill the house, would +be insupportable. And yet I know actresses ofttimes must do that very +thing, to keep a foothold in the profession." + +I am wondering how you will meet what seems to me a more humiliating +rôle, when you are sent out by an editor to gain an entree to some +person who does not wish to be interviewed. + +Will you, when refused entrance at the front door, go in at the rear and +hobnob with the servants? will you spy, and watch and wait on street +corners, and hide yourself in hallways, and intercept and surprise, and +congratulate yourself when you have trapped your prey? That is the +shameful pathway which nowadays leads to what is called "successful +newspaper work." + +You need to realize the facts before you enter the profession. Were you +my daughter, I am certain I should feel much less concern were you to +enter the theatrical field. + +And yet if you choose to stand by your ideals, and retain your +self-respect, you can do so, and succeed in journalism. + +If you have, as you say, observation, expression, humour, and ambition, +you can create a style of your own: which will not necessitate the loss +of all womanly sense of decency and pride in dealing with your fellow +beings. It might be well for you to cultivate and add to the list of +your qualities appreciation of all that is best in human nature and +worthiest of respect. If you understand the law of concentration and +demand, you can obtain an entrance to the people you wish to see, +through the front hall and a properly engraved card. + +If that fails, a polite and frank note, stating your purpose and +intimating your self-respecting ideas of your profession, may prove +effective. Once establish your reputation as an interviewer who is not a +highwayman in disguise, and you will achieve tenfold the success your +less reputable confrères gain in the long run. Try and remember always +that fame, glory, or even crime, do not destroy all human sensibilities, +or render the possessor invulnerable to the thrust of a pen. + +The greatest warrior who ever conquered armies has still the power to +feel hurt when he sees some personal blemish or misfortune described in +print. + +You would never be guilty of saying to any man's face, "How hideous +your harelip renders you"--and why should you go from his presence and +make such a statement to the whole world concerning him? One of the most +gifted men America ever claimed was driven from his native land by the +cruel, bald, and heartless personalities of newspaper critics, who +seemed to consider it necessary to comment on his physical infirmities +whenever his genius was mentioned. + +During the lifetime of one of England's great literary women, an +American correspondent who had been given an interview in her home +described her as possessing the "face of a horse." Surely this was +agreeable reading for a gifted woman whose genius had delighted +thousands! + +It has sometimes seemed to me that theatrical road life with a +one-night-stand company would be less brutalizing to the finer +sensibilities, and less lowering to the ideals of a young girl, than the +method of work required of many newspaper reporters in America to-day. +The editor who scores the actress for lax morals seems often to ignore +the fact that there is a mental as well as a physical prostitution. + +Look to it that you do not trail your banner of noble womanhood in the +dust, at the demand of any editor or syndicate. Keep your purity of pen, +as well as your chastity of body, and believe no man who tells you that +you will get on better in the world by selling either. There is room +higher up. + + + + +To Nanette + +_A Former Maid_ + + +Curiously enough, my dear little Nanette, I was thinking about you, and +wishing to know something of you, the very day your letter came. + +Of many who have been helpers in my employ, you were one of the few who +seemed to care more for me than for the wages I paid. + +There was between us that ideal condition which I wish might exist +between all employers and employees. You wanted the work you were fitted +to do, and I wanted such work done. You were glad of the money it +brought you, and I was glad to recompense you. You wanted appreciation +and sympathy and consideration aside from your earnings, and I wanted a +personal interest in my affairs, and a friendly wish to please me, +aside from the mere work well done. You never seemed to me less womanly +or less refined because you were a wage-earner, and I did not represent +to you oppression or monopoly merely because I paid the money and you +received it. I took you into my confidence in many ways, and you made me +feel I was your friend as well as your employer. We enjoyed cosy chats, +and yet you no more desired or wished to be present at my social +functions than you desired me to enter into all your merrymakings and +pleasures. You were, in fact, one of the most agreeable and sensible +women I have ever known in any station in life. And now you write me +that you are engaged to be married, and ask me to give you counsel in a +very serious matter. + +Together with your other excellent qualities, you have possessed economy +and prudence. + +At the age of twenty-five you have a tidy bank-account, the savings of +eleven years. This money is increasing, year by year, and drawing a +small interest. + +Now comes your lover, a hard-working and sober young man, so you say, +but earning only a small salary as a clerk. + +He has met with some reverses, and is temporarily embarrassed. He wants +you to lend him a few hundred dollars, and he will pay you the same +interest you are now receiving, but you fear it would be unwomanly on +your part to take this interest money. At the same time you feel a +reluctance to break in upon your savings, which you had planned to use +in helping establish a home. You want to befriend your lover, and you +want to be wise and careful, and so you write to me, your old-time +adviser, for counsel. I fear I may hurt your feelings in what I am about +to say. + +I have seen much of the world, and have studied humanity in many phases +and in many classes. + +There is one type of man I have never yet known to be strong, reliable, +and trustworthy,--a man for a woman to lean upon in times of trouble and +sorrow,--a man I would like to see any friend take for a life +companion,--_and that is the young man who asks a loan of money from a +woman he loves, or one who loves him_. Believe me, there is some lack of +real moral fibre in such a man. + +A husband and wife many years married, and united by common interests, +may become so one in purpose and thought that a common purse would be as +natural to them as a common dinner-table. + +With mutual interests, planning for their future and the future of their +children, there could be no talk of "My money" and "Your money" between +them. + +But before marriage, or immediately after, the man who begins to ask a +woman for the use of her purse, should be distrusted by her. He could +not broach such a subject unless he lacked a certain refined strength +which makes a manly man a woman's protector by nature. Even where no +sentiment exists between a man and a woman, the really strong men of the +world never become borrowers from women. If through friendly interest +and affection some woman compelled such a man to take a loan, he would +know no rest or peace of mind until he had liquidated the debt. + +When a man is a woman's lover, and asks her to advance money to him for +any reason, she may as well realize at once the reed on which she will +lean if she accepts him for a life companion. To deceive herself for a +moment with the idea that he will be a staff of strength, is but to +delay disillusion. A vital quality is left out of his character. + +He is but one step removed from the man who _seeks_ a woman because she +has money. And he is the most despicable of the human race. + +I have known three women of different social positions to lend money to +their lovers. + +One man invested it and lost it, and never made an effort to reimburse +the lady, who broke her engagement in consequence, after two unhappy +years. Another went away owing the money, and was never again heard +from. The third married the unwise woman who had loaned him her +competence, and continued to look to her for support. + +Therefore, my dear Nanette, I would urge you to think twice, and yet a +third time, before you lend your fiancé your savings. + +Tell him frankly that you will feel more respect for him if he is +willing to sacrifice comfort and save from his own income enough to lift +the debt he has incurred, and that you are sure he will feel less +humiliated as time goes by if he is not financially in debt to you. If +he were to fall ill tell him it would be your first impulse to devote +your money to his care; but while he is able-bodied and well, you do not +like to have him lean on you for aid. + +You can judge something of the man's character by the way he receives +this statement from you. + +And whatever may result, even if it is the end of your engagement, do +not grieve your heart away over it. Better far to have the end come now +than to marry a dependent and shiftless man, who will humiliate your +pride by a thousand and one mean traits. The moment a young wife becomes +the financial head of a household, and the man depends upon her to keep +the family free from debt, sentiment and romance fly from the windows of +the heart, and poor Cupid goes away with his head under his wing. This +situation might befall people long married, as I said before, without +causing disaster, because the wife would have years of other experiences +stored up in memory, to maintain her respect for her husband. + +The natural instinct of a manly man is to be the protector and the +breadwinner. He loves to shield and support the woman of his choice. If +she has any talent or profession which gives her satisfaction to pursue, +and which yields her an income, he will, if broad-minded and +sympathetic, place no obstacle in her path so long as this vocation is +no barrier to their domestic happiness. But he is sensitive to her +assuming any of the financial burdens of life. + +If circumstances render it necessary for her to do so, he suffers +keenly, and the utmost delicacy and consideration on her part alone can +save him from utter humiliation. + +This is the attitude of the manly man, my dear Nanette, the man who +makes the good husband and father. + +The unselfish, broad-minded and considerate wife will lead a husband to +think of her right to aid in the establishment and maintenance of a home +when she is able to do her part. But the man who makes a good husband +never suggests it as her duty, or asks her to advance money. + +It is commendable in you to wish to aid in making a home. It is unmanly +in your lover to ask you to help him pay his debts. Beware of the lover +who asks for or accepts a loan. + + + + +To The Rev. Wilton Marsh + +_Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + + +My dear Cousin Wilton:--You have no idea how your letter took me back to +my merry girlhood, when you and I resided in the same neighbourhood, and +I was the concern of your precociously serious mind. Yes, indeed, I do +realize what a mistake you made in living the repressed life you did all +those early boyhood years. What a pity your parents reared one of your +sensitive and imaginative nature in the gloomy old doctrines of a +depressing religion, which so misrepresented the God of love: and how +odd that your father and mine should have been born of the same parents, +educated in the same schools, and yet be no more alike in beliefs or +methods of life than two people of a different race and era. + +And again it is not strange, when we realize that hundreds of +generations lie back of both parents, and innumerable ancestors of both +father and mother contribute their different mentalities to the children +in a family. Back of that is the great philosophy of reincarnation--the +truth of which impresses me more and more each year I live. + +Do you recall your horror the first time I told you I had read a book on +reincarnation, and confessed that it had made me anxious to study the +theory? + +You said I was a pagan and a heathen, and that I would surely be damned +forever unless I turned to the way of salvation. + +And do you recall your misery when I seized you one evening at your +birthday party (you were twenty), and dragged you about the room in a +waltz? That is, I waltzed, while you hobbled about like a lame calf, +much to the amusement of most of the company. + +There were more who sympathized with my views of life than with yours. +You were such a wet blanket on our youthful spirits. Your ever-blazing +lake of brimstone did not even serve to warm the blanket. + +I have been gratified to watch your growth the last ten years. + +You have so changed your point of view, which indicates your real worth +and progressive good sense. And when you tell me that you have for years +regretted your lost opportunities for natural and moral pleasure, and +that you suffered beyond your power to describe in those old days in +conquering your desire to dance and play games, it brings the tears of +mingled rage and pity to my eyes. Rage at the old theology, and pity for +the poor children whose lives were shadowed by it. + +And now what you tell me of your son and daughter proves another of my +theories true, and shows me how nature revenges its wrongs. + +Children, my dear Wilton, especially the offspring of strong characters, +_inherit the suppressed tendencies of their parents_. They bring into +action the unexhausted impulses and the ungratified desires of those +parents. + +The greatest singers are almost invariably the offspring of mothers or +fathers who _were music hungry_, and who were given no complete +gratification of this craving. + +The poet, you will find, is the voice of an artistic-natured parent, who +was forced to be emotionally dumb. + +And the proverbial clergyman's son is merely the natural result of the +same cause. He is charged with the tendencies and impulses which his +father crucified. + +That your son loathes study, and hates church-going, and adores a brass +band and a circus, and runs away to the races, does not in the least +surprise me. Nor that your sixteen-year-old daughter grows hysterical at +the sound of dance music, and prefers a theatrical show in your village +hall to a Sunday-school picnic, and is mad to become an actress. + +_They are your own wronged and starved emotions personified, and crying +out to you for justice._ + +The very best thing for you to do with the boy is to put him into a +gymnasium and a football team as soon as possible. Offer no opposition +when he wants to see a good horse-race. Urge him to go, and ask him to +tell you all about it when he returns. Begin right now to get close to +the heart of your children. + +Once you do that, once you convince them you are near enough to their +lives to understand their needs and to try and gratify their natural +longings, all your worries will take wing and fly away; for your +children will cease to hide and cloak their actions and natures, and +they will no longer wish to deceive or attempt to defy you. + +Send your daughter where she can learn dancing, in company with other +refined and well-bred young people. You have so far emancipated yourself +from your old superstitions and beliefs that this action on your part +will not antagonize the desirable members of your congregation. + +Only a remnant of the old bigots and intolerants are to be found in any +congregation of intelligent people of to-day. + +If that remnant is shaken out of its winding-sheet by being antagonized, +you may galvanize it into life. + +At all events, do not endanger the peace of your home and the happiness +of your children, for fear of antagonizing a few parishioners of +arrested spiritual development. + +Give your son and daughter an outlet for the youthful vitality which is +like steam: a moving power when used, dangerous and destructive when +pent up. + +Take young Wilton and Rebecca into a room, and talk the whole matter +over. + +Tell them how deeply you love them, and how you have just come to +realize the mistake you have made in trying to eradicate from them the +natural desire for wholesome pleasure instead of giving it proper +avenues of expression. + +Say frankly that you see your error, and that you intend to rectify it. + +Ask their coöperation, and appeal to their good taste and affection not +to mortify or humiliate you in your position of clergyman, by +overstepping the bounds of decorum or discretion. + +Lead them to talk of their ambitions and desires, and, as consistently +as you can, gratify them. + +Let your daughter come to me for a season. I will help to reshape and +modify her ideals of enjoyment to some degree. + +I am sure if she sees a few of our best spectacular plays, and hears +good music, and enjoys beautiful rhythmic dancing, she will not be so +carried away with the travelling show. + +I will acquaint her with some of the commonplace facts concerning the +lives of theatrical people, and show her the frayed tinsel and worn +faces by daylight. This will do more for her than all your sermons on +the dangers of a theatrical career. + +The young heart is fascinated with the thought of danger and temptation. + +It is repelled by the commonplace and the ugly. + +When you talk to a young mind in a whisper and behind locked doors about +a temptation to be avoided, you but give edge to appetite and curiosity. + +When you bring the temptation out into the glare of sunlight, and speak +of it in presence of the whole world, you dispel the illusion. + +I will gather together some data concerning the sporting men of America, +and send your son. I will also mail him the sporting papers regularly. +Let him talk and read openly about the subject, and it will lose half +its weird charm. + +He, too, should learn to dance, swim, fence, and ride. His bounding +vitality needs directing in wholesome channels. I have never understood +the prejudice against dancing. + +To me, it is a form of religious praise of the Creator of youth, health, +vitality, and grace. I have always loved dancing, and the exercise, +besides being eminently beneficial to the health and wonderfully +conducive to grace is, to my thinking, highly moral in its effect. Its +only danger lies in wrong associations, and these seem to threaten young +people who are restricted from the enjoyment in their homes and among +their rightful companions. + +I cannot help thinking that Loie Fuller should have a niche in the hall +of fame, among the "Immortals," for having given the last century her +exquisitely beautiful creations in dancing. + +No woman has given us a great epic, or a great painting, or a great +musical composition, but she has given us a great dance-poem, which is +at the same time a painting and a song. Oh, you poor starved, blind +soul, to be deprived of such beautiful spectacles. How I pity you, and +how I pray you to give your children the privileges you have missed +through a belittling idea of your Creator. + +Do you fancy God would punish beautiful young Rebecca for dancing, any +sooner than he would blight the willow-tree for waving its graceful arms +to the tune the wind-harps play? + +Come up out of the jungles of ignorance and bigotry, my dear cousin, +and live on the hilltops and bring your children with you. For there you +will all find yourself nearer to God and to humanity. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles McAllister + +_Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + + +I am glad that for once you have written and asked my advice before you +began your course of action. + +You wrote me after you entered Vassar and asked me what I thought of +your doing so. + +You wrote me after you married Doctor McAllister, and asked me what I +thought of that. My reply was a wedding gift and a telegram of good +wishes. Now, after three years of married life, you write again and ask +me to decide a question which has caused some discussion between you and +the doctor. + +"He did not take my view of the matter at first," you say, "but he does +now. Still, I feel that I would like another unprejudiced opinion +before I take the contemplated step. You knew I left college before +finishing my course. I was in love and the doctor urged me not to make +him wait another year. He said I knew enough to make him happy, and so I +consented." + +Then you proceed to tell me that you have never regretted this step, and +that you have the best husband in the world. But you have decided +musical gifts, and before meeting the doctor you intended going abroad +to cultivate them after you finished at Vassar. This old ambition has +taken hold of you again, and you want to join a friend, one of your +classmates, who sails in June to study art in Europe. You desire to take +a two or three years' course, and then you will be equipped with an +accomplishment which could be made a profession if necessity demanded. + +"One never knows what the future holds," you say, "and it is the duty of +every woman to make the most of herself." Both remarks are as true as +they are trite. An almost graduate of Vassar should be more original in +expressing herself. + +But there is another duty a woman should not forget--the duty to stand +by her marriage vows and to make her husband a good wife. It seems the +doctor did not eagerly approve your idea at the beginning. I am glad he +did not. Unless a wife is in a precarious state of health or has an +ailing child, I always suspect the honesty of a husband who cheerfully +seconds her suggestion of a protracted absence from home. + +When a man shows no regret at having his wife away for an entire season, +there is something wrong with his heart. + +Love does not find its home there, or he could not speed her going so +far, and for so long a time, at the bidding of ambition or pleasure. You +evidently have won the doctor over by argument, and made him feel that +he is selfish to tie you down or clip the wings of your ambition. The +American husband is so fearful of seeming a tyrant. "He realizes now," +you say, "that a woman has the right to develop the talents God gave +her just as a man does, and that it is a wrong against her 'higher self' +to crush down these ambitions. He realizes, too, that this separation +means greater powers of usefulness for me in the future, and greater +opportunities for pleasure. It will be a long and lonely time for both +of us, as I shall only come home once or twice and the doctor may not be +able to go over at all, though I hope he will. But the expense of my +studies will of course be great, and we shall both need to economize. It +is my intention to start a little conservatory after I return and take a +few high-priced pupils. In that way I can reimburse our expenditure." + +But can you, my dear Winifred, _reimburse your mutual losses in other +ways_? You do not seem to realize what such a separation may mean. You +are both young and both attractive. I know now that you are beginning to +be angry at my suggestion, but, fortunately, you cannot interrupt me, +and you must hear what I have to say. + +Of course you are not a frivolous flirt, or a silly-headed creature +with no ideals or principles. You have nothing of the adventuress in +your composition, but you are a young woman, with personal charms and +talents, and life will be unutterably desolate for you if you make a +recluse of yourself. You will be surrounded by people of artistic +temperaments and tastes, and I know, if you do not, that many of these +people do lack ideals, and some of them lack principles and take pride +in the fact. "Art for art's sake, life for pleasure's sake," is their +motto. The entire situation will be full of danger for you. But far more +danger will surround your husband. A man's temptations are always +greater than a woman's. That is, there are _more_ temptations in his +pathway, from the fact that he is by nature and environment less guarded +and protected, and the penalties for folly are less severe. And of all +men, unless it is a clergyman, a physician is most exposed to +temptation. He is the confidant of hysterical women and the sharer of +domestic secrets. Many a woman believes she is ill only because she +desires the sympathy of her doctor, just as many a woman fancies herself +disturbed with religious agitation only because she wants the society of +her minister. + +Of course a doctor of any character or principle does not compromise his +reputation or disgrace his calling readily. I hear Doctor McAllister +spoken of as a man of high standing, and his picture shows a +well-balanced head and an honest, manly face. But "A man's a man for a' +that," my dear Winifred. + +We must accept facts as they exist all about us, and we must not demand +of half-evolved human beings what we would expect of wholly divine +creatures. It is an unnatural position for a man to be separated from +the wife he loves for months and years. + +Unless he is sustained by intense religious beliefs, extreme sympathy or +sorrow for her (as he might be were she compelled by some great trouble +or duty to be absent), it is impossible for him not to grow in a measure +forgetful of his ideals of constancy, and to drift into bachelor habits +of distraction. Men do a thousand and one things for amusement which no +woman could or would. Gilded and glittering halls of vice are inviting +the inspection and patronage of men who are left at home by journeying +and pleasure-seeking wives. + +I know this terrible statement to be absolutely true--_gambling-houses +and dens of infamy speak of their "best season" when wives leave town +for summer outings, just as a farmer speaks of his harvest season when +crops are ripe._ I do not suppose your husband will seek the +companionship of gamblers or depraved souls during your absence. Men as +seemingly high and strong as he have fallen so low, but I do not believe +he will. Yet, so long as we know such conditions exist, and so long as +men as a class take the liberties they do when left to find distraction +and entertainment, it seems to me little less than criminal when a young +wife like yourself deliberately leaves her home and husband for the sake +of any possible attainment. + +You have no right to marry a man and then to make his happiness and his +comfort secondary to your ambitions. + +If he had neglected you, if he failed to support you, if he was not +loyal to you, it would be different. + +But you say he is "the best of men," and that you never have regretted +marrying him. + +Then let me beg of you to stand by him, as a wife should, and to make +what progress in your music you can at home, and wait until your husband +can accompany you before you go abroad to study. + +The highway of divorce is crowded with the student wives who have been +"abroad to study," leaving their husbands at home to earn the money. Do +not be one of them. + +There are greater things than a satisfied ambition, and a clean, happy, +united married life is one. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Maternity_ + + +I have tried to imagine myself in your place, as you requested, before +answering your letter. + +To be the mother of two children, and to know that a third may be added +before the fifth anniversary of your wedding, is for the most maternal +of women a situation requiring rare patience and much philosophy. + +I know that your strength is depleted, that you are nervously unstrung, +and I can understand your despondent state of mind. + +It seems to you that all romance and sentiment in life is being +sacrificed to breeding the species. You feel that you have some personal +privileges as a wife and a woman, not less than a mother. + +Like yourself, I do not believe woman's only mission in life to be the +production of offspring, yet I consider motherhood the highest privilege +accorded her who has for it the right physical and moral qualities. + +Only strong, sensible, and healthy women should become mothers, and it +is a mistake for even such as they to be kept constantly in that +occupation. + +You possess all the requisites, and you ought to bring fine children +into the world, since you married the man you loved, and have been happy +with him. + +But I can understand your reluctance to pass through the ordeal which +modern motherhood in civilized races means, for a third time, in so +short a period. But try and take another view of the situation. + +Benjamin Franklin was the fifteenth child of a poor tallow chandler. It +is altogether probable that his coming seemed a misfortune to his +mother, taxed with the care of such a brood. Think what the world would +have missed had he not come to earth. + +Then think of this unborn child as something wonderful and divine, given +to you to perfect. Believe it is to be the greatest blessing to you and +to the whole world. + +Cultivate love and protection in your heart for it. + +Tell yourself every hour of the day that the God of love will not desert +you or deprive you of strength and courage for your ordeal. That he will +be ever near, and sustain and comfort you. + +Desire all beautiful and good qualities to be given your child, and +resolutely turn away from the contemplation of anything that is hideous, +or unwholesome, or depressing. + +Look for pleasing objects, read cheerful and uplifting books, and from +infinite space call to you all ministering influences. + +Consider how short a time, when compared to the span of human life, +expectant motherhood occupies, and realize the vastness of its +influence upon the nature of the child, and through that nature upon all +humanity. + +Once you grasp that consciousness, you will feel your closeness to the +Creator of all things. + +Indeed, there is no other being on earth so nearly Godlike in power as +the mother who realizes what her influence over her unborn child may be. + +The hard and painful path for you to walk is but a short one compared to +the long roadway to eternity for your child. + +Perhaps some great statesman, or some great artist, or some great +scientist or philosopher is lying under your heart, and it is in your +power to make or mar his development. Perhaps a Joan of Arc, or a Rosa +Bonheur, or a Martha Washington will crown you with pride. + +Such genius and influence for good as the world has never before known, +from mortal sources, may be given to it through your unborn child. How +wonderful your privilege, how vast your power! + +Only a few short months, and then the growing wonder of a child's +unfolding mind, to beautify your days. + +Think of it in this way, dear little tired and nervous woman, and God +and all his angels will hover over you, I know, and all will be well +with you. + +My prayers are with you. + + + + +To Mr. Alfred Duncan + +_Concerning the Ministry_ + + +And so you have changed your plan of life and, instead of becoming an +experimenter with the flesh, are going to be a healer of souls. + +And what do I think about it? I am glad you are not to be an M.D. There +is an era coming when the doctor will be a prehistoric creature. Oh, it +is far, far away, but already the most progressive minds have ceased to +regard the family physician as an infallible being. + +Medicine has made the least progress of any of the sciences in the last +few centuries. + +Credulity has cured more people than pills. + +Were you to study medicine, I should advise you to take up surgery, +osteopathy, electricity, the Kneippe Cure, milk diet, and all the +various methods of stimulating circulation; for the people who +patronize these treatments are increasing, as the powder and pill +patrons are on the decrease. + +Then, too, I should urge you to make a careful study of mental and +spiritual methods of cure, that you might be wholly equipped for the +dawn of the new age. You are a young man, and you will probably live to +see a wonderful change in the treatment of disease, and to find the +physician of the old school relegated to the historian. + +But just as carefully you should now survey the religious horizon, +before beginning your studies for the ministry. + +It is utterly useless to stand with lifted eyes and say, "The faith of +my parents is good enough for me--good enough for all mankind." + +Had the children of ancient Salem said that, and their children repeated +it, you would probably be lighting faggots at this moment to roast a +"witch," instead of a brother of the opposite creed. + +The narrow, intolerant old dogmas have been forced into elasticity by +the later generations, and the broadening work still goes on. + +It makes no difference how satisfied you may be with a prospective lake +of fire for your enemies, the congregations you are to address will not +listen to that style of sermon as did your grandparents. + +Only the ignorant minds to-day harbour ideas of cruelty and revenge in +connection with a Creator. + +Thinkers find such theories inconsistent with religious belief. +Individual thought is leading to individual faith. + +Where once I believed in a universal church for all the world, I now +believe in a separate creed for each soul, one fashioned to suit his own +particular need, with the underlying basis of love for all created +things as its foundation. + +Let each man worship in his own way, and follow his own ideal of duty to +God and humanity. + +If it is the pleasure of one to give up all his worldly goods, and to +go and live and labour among the poor, wish him Godspeed; but if another +keeps his place among men of affairs, makes money honestly, and uses it +unselfishly, let him, too, have your blessing, since he is setting a +good example for the worldly-minded. If one man finds himself nearer to +God on Sunday by going out and peacefully enjoying the beauties of +nature and the association of his kind, do not try to convince him that +he is on the highway to perdition because he does not sit in a pew and +listen to depressing sermons. + +The day is over for that type of clergyman to succeed. + +Make a study of the needs of men _to-day_, and suit your sermons to +those needs. + +Men need to know more of the wonders of God's universe. Talk to them in +a brief, concise, interesting manner of the recent discoveries of +science, and their frequent remarkable corroboration of the old +religious theories. Thousands of years ago, in Egypt and India, wise men +said that metals and all created things possessed life, and were a part +of one great immortal whole, of which man was the highest expression. + +Science is "discovering" and proving the truth of many statements made +by those old seers and savants. Call the attention of the men of to-day +to this fact, and set them thinking on the wonders of the immortal soul. + +The man of to-day is an egotist regarding his scientific achievements. +He has grown to think of himself as a giant before whose material +success all other things must give way. He believes that he has +discovered, invented, photographed and made profitable all the "facts" +of the universe, and is inclined to regard with intolerance any idea +beyond his own mechanical domain. + +Tell him how much was divined thousands of years ago, and lead him to +realize the mighty depths of the unsounded ocean of his own being. + +To know your own triple self, body, mind, and spirit, and to make +yourself a complete man, with the body beautiful, the mind clear, the +spirit radiant, is better than to have all the Bibles of the ages, in +all their ancient languages, at your tongue's tip. + +Help men to the building of character, which shall enable them to be +honest in street and mart, unselfish in home and society, and +sympathetic to their fellow pilgrims. + +Salvation is gained as a house is built, brick by brick, day after day, +not by spasmodic efforts one day in the week, and the destruction of +that effort in the remaining six. + +And each man must be his own mason, and select and lay his own bricks. +All the clergyman can do is to act the part of overseer. + +The man who goes to another, and expects his prayers to save him, is +like the mason who expects the "boss" to do his work, while he draws the +pay. Do no man's task--physical, mental, or spiritual. That is not +friendship or religion. Your work is to stimulate others to do their own +work, think their own thoughts, and live their own lives. + +The world to-day demands facts to sustain faith. + +_Spiritual facts are to be obtained_. + +Find them: for once convinced of the continuation of life beyond the +grave, and of the necessity to earn its privileges, by self-conquest and +character-building, humanity will rise "from the lowly earth to the +vaulted skies," and will realize that this earth is but the anteroom to +larger spheres of usefulness. + +Go forth and find--go forth and find, and do not be afraid to strike out +of beaten paths and avoid ruts. Cultivate spiritual courage. It is what +few clergymen possess, and it will give you individuality at least. + +Preach the religion of happy harmonious homes. Make men and women +realize that heaven must begin here, in order to continue farther on, +and that the angelic qualities, of love, sympathy, goodness, +appreciation, must be rehearsed in the body, before they can be +successfully enacted in full-dress angel costume with wings. + +God will not care for the eternal praises sung about his throne by a man +who swears at his wife on earth, or a wife who nags her husband and +children. It is no use expecting a rôle in a continuous performance of +happiness in heaven, if you do not learn one line of the part on earth. + +Make your congregations think of the necessity to _live_ their religion +in earth's commonplace daily situations. + +That is the religion the world needs. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gray + +_Concerning Polygamy_ + + +All that you say, regarding the excitement over the seating of your Salt +Lake Senator, is quite true. + +I have visited your city, and have made the acquaintance of many of your +people, and I know the private life of the gentleman you sent to +represent you in Washington is beyond reproach. + +He is a good husband, a good father, a good citizen. He was born of a +polygamous father and mother, and his childhood's home was a happy one. +He was educated in the belief that it was wrong for a man to cohabit +with any woman not his wife, but right for him to marry many wives. + +He has not married many wives, however, and does not intend to. His +private life, his domestic life and his financial record are all clean +and clear of stain. + +So much cannot be said of many other Senators and Representatives at our +capitol. + +Good women are horrified when seeking government positions to find how +the sacrifice of virtue is demanded as payment for influence. + +These statements cannot be evaded or denied. Let one who questions them +investigate the conditions existing in Washington in the past and +to-day. + +What a record it would be were every girl and woman who had been led +into the path of folly by married Senators and Representatives to come +forth and tell her story! + +There are clean, decent, high-minded men in both houses. There are good +citizens, good patriots, good men there. + +But so long as one married seducer and misleader of women retains a seat +in either house unmolested, so long as one man stays who is unfaithful +to his marriage vows, the opposers of the Senator from Utah should base +their objections on other than moral grounds. + +But despite the facts you bring to bear on your argument, that polygamy +leads to more morality in the homes of the land than our present +conditions illustrate, I must disagree with you. + +I am opposed to polygamy. Any social arrangement which licenses men to +possess several women, to give full rein to their desires, is a block to +the wheels of progress. + +Not until man learns the lesson of self-control, as woman has learned +it, will humanity reach its highest development. + +Not until man ceases to place himself on a par with the unreasoning male +animal, when he argues on the subject of the sexual relations, will he +become the master of circumstance he is meant to be. + +One man and one woman living sexually true to each other is the ideal +domestic life. Better strive toward that ideal, and fail and strive +again, than to lower it and accept license and self-indulgence as the +standard, under some religious name. + +Polyandry and polygamy are both evidences of a crude and half-evolved +humanity. + +They belong to a society which has not learned the law of self-control +as a part of its religious creed and the march of progress. The light of +science makes havoc of all such primitive conditions. + +You tell me that your father was the husband of three wives, and that +all lived under one roof in sisterly love, and that you never heard an +unkind word spoken in your home, and that all three wives loved you as a +son. You tell me your father held high ideals of womankind, and that the +existence of a fallen woman was impossible in your community. + +Now I contend that any woman who accepts less than the full loyalty of +the man to whom she gives herself for life _has fallen from woman's +highest estate_. She lowers not only herself, but the whole sex. + +To take a third of a man's love, and to share his physical and mental +and spiritual comradeship with two other wives, is far more immoral, to +my thinking, than to take the whole of a man without legal authority. + +It drags down and belittles woman in the eyes of man. It is useless to +contend that such conditions lead to respect. + +There is too much of the big male I, and the little female you, in the +arrangement. There is too much of the old idea that God made man, and +accident made woman, for man's use. There is too much of self-indulgence +for the man, and repression for the woman,--a condition which has +blocked the highest development of the race for centuries. + +Meanwhile, I think it a great pity that society does not hold the +expectant mother in the same reverence as in your community. That is +certainly a lesson we can learn from the Mormons. And that explains why +your children, born of polygamous mothers, are stronger physically, and +more universally endowed mentally, than the average children in the +world at large. + +Mothers were guarded and protected and revered, and children were made +welcome, and no such crime as darkens our own social world--the crime of +destroying embryo life--was known in your midst. + +It is a glorious heritage to give a child this parental love and +welcome. It lasts through eternity. + +But it does not seem to me that it is necessary to have polygamy prevail +in order to produce right conditions for the propagation of offspring. +In time the world will realize the importance of teaching men and women +how to become good parents. + +It will learn, too, the magnificent results to be obtained from one +moral code for both sexes, and this result could never be obtained in a +polygamous community. + + + + +To Walter Smeed + +_Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + + +Before you left us, I realized that you and my pretty secretary were +finding matters of mutual interest. + +Therefore, I am not surprised that you are thinking seriously of her as +a future companion. + +Rosalie is a charming, intelligent, warm-hearted, excellent girl, and +there is no reason why she would not make you a good wife, save the one +you mention--the difference in your creeds. + +You are a Roman Catholic, Rosalie is a devout Protestant. + +Were the cases reversed, and were you the Protestant and Rosalie the +Catholic, I should say the chances of happiness were greater than as +conditions now stand. + +As a rule, the most religious man is more liberal than the religious +woman. And when marriage between a Roman Catholic and a Protestant is +the question, there is need of greater liberality on the part of the +Protestant than on that of the Catholic. + +Why? Because with the Protestant there is no consideration to be thought +of outside of his or her own convictions and feelings. + +With the Catholic, the power of the Church and the law regarding the +rearing of the children in its faith walks beside the contracting party, +sits at the table, and sleeps on the marital couch. + +There is no happiness for the husband or wife who has entered into such +a marriage, after the arrival of children, unless the laws of the Church +are obeyed. + +When the wife is a Catholic, the fact that she is a good woman and true +wife satisfies the Protestant husband, as a rule, and he makes no +objection to her carrying out the contract with her Church regarding the +education of the children. + +If they are as moral and good as their mother, he does not care what +faith occupies their hearts or in what way they worship God. + +But to the mother this is a matter of vital importance. + +Woman is by nature more devout than man. + +Woman is by nature more tyrannical than man. + +Take those two characteristics, and add to them the tendency of many +women to bigotry and intolerance, and it makes the matter of creeds +vital in marriage. + +Rosalie is broader-minded than many women, yet she is devoted to the +Congregational Church, and rarely misses attendance. + +It will be an easy matter for her to accept your faith for yourself and +to allow you to attend your own church, and she is, I am sure, broad +enough to go with you occasionally, if you request it. + +But when she becomes a mother, and the children's minds are unfolding, I +doubt her willingness to have them brought up in any faith save her own. + +To an unwedded girl in love, a child is a very indistinct creature. + +To a mother, it is a very real being. + +I have seen men as deeply in love as you are, with women as +liberal-minded as Rosalie, become very unhappy after marriage through +the opposite ideas of the wife regarding the education of children. + +You must remember how much more closely a mother's life is entwined +about her children, and how much more of their association usually falls +to her than to the father. + +This is especially true of daughters, and is true of sons up to a +certain age. + +You can understand, I am sure, how much more companionship a mother +would find in children who accepted her faith and attended her church +than in those whose spiritual paths led in another direction. + +I know Rosalie realizes that a good life, not a certain creed, leads to +the goal she seeks, after this phase of existence closes, and she does +not ask you to change your faith. But while she would also believe her +children were on the road to that goal, she would want them to walk +through her path and by her side. + +It will be hard to relinquish the woman you love, to-day, for the +children who might not come to-morrow. + +Yet I can give you the counsel you asked on this matter only from my +personal observation of similar unions. + +I should advise you to try an absence of some duration, and to forget +Rosalie if you can, since you have not yet declared yourself. + +Better a little temporary sorrow than a life of discord. + +As you grow older your religion will, in all probability, gain a +stronger ascendency over your nature, and the church to which you belong +is very tenacious in its hold upon its members. + +Rosalie is not of a yielding nature, and as I said before, she is more +devoted to her church than most young women of the day. + +The physical phases of your love blind you now. But these phases are +only a part of the tie which must bind husband and wife to make love +enduring through all of life's vicissitudes. + +There must be mental companionship, and to be a complete union there +must be sympathy in spiritual ideas. + +The very young do not realize this fact, but it is forced upon the +mature. + +Marital love is like a tree. It first roots in the soil of earth, and +then lifts its branches to the heavens. Unless it does so lift its +branches it is stunted and deformed, and is not a tree. Unless it roots +in earth it is not a tree, but an air-plant or a cobweb. + +You want to be sure the tree you are thinking to make a shelter for your +whole life, will have far-reaching and uplifting branches, and will not +be merely an earth-bound twig. + +Since your church permits no second marriage save by the door of death, +do not make a mistake in your first. + +Take a year, at least, of absence and separation, and think the matter +over. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + + +It is with genuine regret that I learn of your determination to send my +nephew out of your life. Wilfred is a royal fellow, as that term is +employed by us. He is what a man of royal descent in monarchies rarely +proves to be,--self-reliant, enterprising, industrious, clean, and with +high ideals of woman. + +Eight years ago I declined a request of his for a loan, and told him my +reasons--that I believed loans were an injury to our friends or +relatives. My letter seemed to arouse all the strength latent in his +nature, and he has made a remarkable record for himself since that time. +I have known that he was deeply in love with you for the last two years, +and I had hoped you would listen to his plea. He tells me that you +imparted your history to him, and that you say it is your intention to +remain single, as you would not like to bring children into the world to +suffer from the stigma upon your name. He has shown me your letter +wherein you say, "I am not in fault for having to blush for the sins of +my parents; but I would be in fault if my children had to blush for the +blemish upon the name of their grandparents. I do not feel I could meet +their questioning eyes when they asked me about my parents. I can better +bear the loss of the personal happiness of a home and a husband's love." + +Wilfred is just the man to protect you and to keep the world at a +distance, where it could not affect your life by its comments. He +regards your birth in the same light that I do, and would rather +transmit your lovely qualities of soul and mind to his descendants than +the traits of many proudly born girls who are ready to take him at the +first asking: for you must know how popular he is with our sex. + +I can not believe you are insensible to his magnetic and lovable +qualities, but, as you say, you have been so saddened by the sudden +knowledge of your history that it has blunted your emotions in other +directions. I can only hope this will wear away and that you will +reconsider your resolve and consent to make Wilfred the happy and proud +man you could, by becoming his wife. + +_Never forget that God created love and man created marriage_. + +And to be born of a loveless union is a darker blight than to be born in +love without union. + +But what I want to talk about now, is your determination to live a +single life and to devote yourself to reclaiming weak and erring women. +You are young to enter this field of work, yet at twenty-four you are +older than many women of thirty-five, because you have had the +prematurely ripening rain of sorrow on your life. I know you will go +into the work you mention with the sympathy and understanding which +alone can make any reformatory work successful. Yet you are going to +encounter experiences which will shock and pain you, in ways you do not +imagine now. + +You are starting out with the idea of most sympathetic good women, that +all erring souls of their own sex fall through betrayed trust, and +broken promises, and misplaced love. Such cases you will encounter, and +they will most readily respond to your efforts for their reformation. +But many of those you seek to aid will have gone on the road to folly +through mercenary motives, and this will prove a vast obstacle. + +When a woman sells to Mammon, under any stress of circumstance, that +which belongs to Cupid, there is something left out of her nature and +character which renders the efforts of the reformers almost useless. You +know all real, lasting reform must come from within. The woman who has +once decided that fine apparel, and comfort, and leisure, are of more +value to her than her virtue usually reaches old age or disease before +the reformer can even gain her attention. You will find many such among +your protégées, and you may as well leave them to work out their own +reformation, and turn your energies to those who long for a better life. + +It is that longing which means real reformation. To paraphrase an old +couplet-- + + The soul reformed against its will + Clings to the same old vices still. + +I do not believe in a forced morality, save as a protection to a +community. I believe in it as a legal fence, but it possesses no value +as a religious motive. It helps to save society some annoyance, but it +does not materially improve the condition of humanity. Such improvements +must come from the desire of men and women to reach higher standards. +So, after you have planted a little seed in the mind of the mercenary +Magdalene which may in time sprout and grow, pass on, and find those who +have gone wrong from other causes, and who are longing for a hand to +lead them right. + +And of all things do not expect a girl who has lived in the glare of red +lights, and listened to the blare of bands, and worn the ofttimes +becoming garb of folly, and stimulated her spirits with intoxicants--do +not expect her, I say, to suddenly be contented with quiet and solitude, +and drudgery, and cheap, unlovely garments, and goodness. Give her +something to entertain her and to occupy her mind, give her something to +live for and hope for and to be pleased over, besides the mere fact of +reformation. The opium victim, you must remember, can not at once +partake of wholesome food and be well and happy in the thought that he +has given up his drug. Neither can the folly victim. The standards of +happiness and contentment which the moral woman has always found +satisfactory, she too often considers sufficient for the sister who has +wandered from the path. But they are standards which, once lost, must be +gained step by step, painfully and slowly. They are not reached by a +bound. As much as possible keep your reformed sister's mind from +dwelling on the past, or from talking of her mistakes and sins. Blot +them from her memory by new and interesting plans and occupations. The +way to live a new life is to live it. + +And our thoughts and conversation are important parts of living. Instead +of praying aloud to God to forgive her sins, show the God spirit in +yourself by forgiving and forgetting and helping her to forget. + +And now a word about yourself. + +You are twenty-four, lovely, sympathetic, fond of children and animals, +wholesome and normal in your habits, without crankiness, and popular +with both sexes. While there are many wives and widows possessed of +these qualities, there seems to be some handicap to the spinster in the +race of life who undertakes to arrive at middle age with all the womanly +attributes. Almost invariably she drops some of them by the wayside. She +becomes overorderly and fussy--so that association with her for any +length of time is insupportable--or careless and indifferent. Or she may +grow inordinately devoted to animal pets, and bitter and critical toward +children and married people. + +She may develop mannish traits, and dress and appear more like a man +than a feminine woman. + +She may ride a hobby, to the discomfort of all other equestrians or +pedestrians on the earth's highway. She may grow so argumentative and +positive that she is intolerant and intolerable. And whichever of these +peculiarities are hers, she is quite sure to be wholly unconscious of +it, while she is quick to see that of another. Now watch yourself, my +dear Sybyl, as you walk alone toward middle life; do not allow yourself +to grow queer or impossible. It was God's intent that every plant should +blossom and bear fruit, and that every human being should mate and +produce offspring. The plant that fails in any of its functions is +usually blighted in some way, and the woman who fails of life's full +experiences seems to show some repellent peculiarity. But she need not, +once she sets a watch upon herself; she has a conscious soul and mind, +and can control such tendencies if she will. + +It is unnatural for a woman to live without the daily companionship of +man. The superior single woman must make tenfold the effort of the +inferior wife, to maintain her balance into maturity, because of her +enforced solitude. As the wife-mother grows older she is kept in touch +with youth, and with the world, while the opportunities for close +companionship with the young lessen as a single woman passes forty, +unless she makes herself especially adaptable, agreeable, and +sympathetic. + +And this is what I want you to do. At twenty-four it is none too soon to +begin planning for a charming maturity. + +If you are determined upon a life of celibacy, determine also to be the +most wholesome, and normal, and all around liberal, womanly spinster the +world has ever seen. + +Peace and happiness to you in your chosen lot. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + + +No, my dear Edna, I do not think it strange that you should seek advice +on this subject from a woman who has no living children. + +It seems to me no one is fitted to give such unbiased counsel regarding +the training of children as the woman of observation, sympathy, and +feeling, who has none of her own. + +Had I offspring, I would be influenced by my own successes, and +prejudiced by my own failures, and unable to put myself in your place, +as I now do. + +A mother rarely observes other people's children, save to compare them +unfavourably with her own. I regret to say that motherhood with the +average woman seems to be a narrowing experience, and renders her less +capable of taking a large, unselfish view of humanity. + +The soldier in the thick of battle is able to tell only of what he +personally experienced and saw, just in the spot where he was engaged in +action. + +The general who sits outside the fray and watches the contest can form a +much clearer idea of where the mistakes occurred, and where the greatest +skill was displayed. + +I am that general, my dear friend, standing outside the field of +motherhood, and viewing the efforts of my battling sisters to rear +desirable men and women. And I am glad you have appealed to me while +your two children are yet babies to give you counsel, for I can tell you +where thousands have failed. + +And I thank you and your husband for reposing so much confidence in my +ideas. + +I think, perhaps, we had better speak of the postscript of your letter +first. You ask my opinion regarding the chaperon for your +sixteen-year-old sister, who is going abroad to study for a period of +years. Mrs. Walton will take her and keep her in her home in Paris, and +Miss Brown also stands ready to make her one of three young girls she +desires to chaperon and guide through a foreign course of study in +France and Germany. + +You like the idea of having your sister in a home without the +association of other American girls, until she perfects herself in +French, but you are worried about Mrs. Walton's being a divorced woman. +Miss Brown, the spotless spinster, seems the safer guide to your +friends, you tell me. + +I know the majority of women would feel that a single woman of good +standing and ungossiped reputation was a safe and desirable protector +for a young girl. + +The same majority would hesitate to send their girls away with a +divorced woman. + +But as I remarked in the beginning, I have stood outside the fray and +watched similar ventures, and I have grown to realize that it is not +mere respectability and chastity in a woman which make her a safe +chaperon for a young girl,--it is a deep, full, broad understanding of +temperaments and temptations. + +Had I a daughter or a sister like your sweet Millie, I would not allow +her to live one year under the dominion of such a woman as Miss Brown +for any consideration. Why? because Miss Brown is all brain and bigotry. +She is narrow and high, not deep and broad. + +She is so orthodox that she incites heresy in the rebellious mind of +independent youth. She is so moral she makes one long for adventure. She +would not listen to any questioning of old traditions, or any +speculative philosophizing of a curious young mind, and she would be +intolerant with any girl who showed an inclination to flirt or be +indiscreet. + +Your sister Millie is as coquettish as the rose that lifts its fair face +to the sun, and the breeze, and the bee, and expects to be admired. She +is as innocent as the rose, too, but that fact Miss Brown would never +associate with coquetry. + +She would class it with vulgarity and degeneracy. Miss Brown is a +handsome woman, but she has no sex instincts. She does not believe with +the scientist, "that in the process of evolution it is only with the +coming of the sex relation that life is enabled to rise to higher +forms." + +She believes in brain and spirit, and is utterly devoid of that feminine +impulse to make herself attractive to men, and wholly incapable of +understanding the fascination that Folly holds out to youth. She has +never experienced any temptation, and she would be shocked at any girl +who fell below her standard. + +She would carefully protect Millie from danger by high walls, but she +would never eradicate the danger impulse from her nature by sympathetic +counsel, as a more human woman could. + +Mrs. Walton is a much better guide for your sister. + +She ran away from boarding-school at seventeen, and married the reckless +son of a rich man. She had a stepmother of the traditional type, and +had never known a happy home life. She was of a loving and trusting and +at the same time a coquettish nature, and she attracted young Walton's +eye while out for a walk with a "Miss Brown" order of duenna. The +duenna saw the little embryo flirtation, and became very much horrified, +and preached the girl a long sermon, and set a close watch upon her +actions. + +There was no wise, loving guidance of a young girl's life barque from +the reefs of adventure. It was homily and force. The result was, that +the girl escaped from school before six weeks passed, and married her +admirer. + +He was fifteen years her senior, a reckless man of the world, even older +in experience than in years. He proved a very bad husband, but his young +wife remained with him until his own father urged her to leave him. She +was quietly divorced, and has lived abroad almost ever since, and holds +an excellent position in the French capital, as well as in other +European centres, and she is most exemplary in her life. Mr. Walton is +now an inmate of a sanitarium, a victim of paresis. + +I can imagine no one so well fitted to exert the wisest influence upon +Millie's life as Mrs. Walton. + +There is a woman who has run the whole gamut of girlish folly, and who +knows all the phases of temptation. She knows what it is to possess +physical attractions, and to be flattered by the admiration of men, and +she has passed through the dark waters of disillusion and sorrow. She +would be the one to help Millie out of dangerous places by sympathy and +understanding, instead of using sermons and keys. + +She would mould her young, wax-like character by the warmth of love, +instead of freezing it by austere axioms. + +Miss Brown would make an indiscreet young girl feel hopelessly vulgar +and immodest; Mrs. Walton that she understood all about her foolish +pranks, and was able to lead her in the better paths. + +Miss Brown prides herself upon never having lost her head with any man. + +Mrs. Walton is like some other women I have known, who have made +mistakes of judgment. She lost her head, but in the losing and the +sorrow that ensued she found a heart for all humanity. + +There are women in this world whose cold-white chastity freezes the poor +wayfarer who tries to find in their vicinity rest and comfort and +courage. + +Other women cast a cooling shadow, in which the sun-scorched pilgrim +finds peace--the shadow of a past error, from which spring fragrant +ferns and sweet grasses, where tired and bleeding feet may softly tread. + +Mrs. Walton's life casts the shadow of divorce on her pathway, but it is +only the warm, restful shadow of a ripening and mellowing sorrow. Do not +fear to have Millie walk in it. + +It will be better for her than the steady glare from a glacier. + +I find I have said so much about your sister that I must reserve my +counsel about your children for another letter. + +Your postscript was brief, but pregnant with suggestion, and called for +this long reply. + +I shall write you again in a few days. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Children_ + + +Your wish to have your son, who is now four years old, begin to develop +the manly qualities, and your oldest daughter, who has reached the +mature age of three, start wisely on the path to lovely womanhood, is +far from being premature. + +"The tree inclines as the twig is bent," we are told. + +Most mothers wait until the tree is in blossom before they begin to +train its inclination. + +Your boy is quite old enough to be taught manly pride, in being useful +to you and his sisters. + +Such things are not successfully taught by preaching or scolding or +punishing; but are more easily inculcated by tact and praise, +object-lesson and play. + +A four-year-old boy is all ears when his father's praises and +achievements are recounted. Any father, save a brute, is a hero in the +eyes of his four-year-old son. I am sure Mr. Gordon has many admirable +traits you can use as interesting topics. + +Tell little Charlie how proud you are to have a son who will be like his +father, and attend to the needs of and look after the interests of his +mother and sisters. + +Make him think that to be of service to you or his sisters is one of the +first steps toward manhood, as indeed it is. + +When he performs any small kindness, praise his manliness. + +Teach him to open doors, and to make way for women and elders, as a part +of manly courtesy. + +Speak with gentle disapproval of the unfortunately common type of +American boy who pushes women and older people aside to scramble into +public conveyances and secure a seat before them. + +Say how proud you are that your son could not be guilty of such unmanly +conduct. + +When you are walking with him, call his attention to any woman or child +or poor man in trouble, and if his services can be of use, urge him to +offer them. + +I saw one day a small boy spring to the aid of an old coloured woman who +had dropped a lot of parcels in the street, and I thought it was a +certain evidence that his mother was a rare and sweet woman. For the +manners of little boys are almost invariably what their mothers make +them. + +Awake early in his heart a sympathy for the deformed, the crippled, and +otherwise unfortunate beings. + +There is no other country where such vulgar and heartless curiosity, and +even ridicule, is bestowed upon grotesque or unsightly types of +humanity, as in America. + +A little dwarfed girl in New York City committed suicide a few years +ago because she was so weary of being laughed at and ridiculed by her +associates in the street and at school. + +Think of that, in this Christian age, and in the metropolis of America! + +An old street peddler was set upon by school-children and so annoyed and +misused that he became insane. + +Another was injured by street children--the children of the public +schools--and died from the effects of their abuse. + +This is the fault of mothers who have never deemed it their duty and +privilege to awaken the tender and protective qualities in the character +of their children. + +Speak often to your boy of the pathos of dumb animals dependent upon +human thoughtfulness for food, drink, and decent usage. + +Say what a privilege it seems to you to be able to befriend them, and to +be a voice for them in making others realize their duty to our dumb +brothers. + +Obtain interesting books on natural history and read stories of animal +life to your boy. Instruct him in the habits of beast, bird, and insect, +and talk to him of the wonderful domestic instincts and affections in +many of our speechless associates. The exhilaration of the wild bird, +and the happiness of the deer and the hare in the woods and fields, call +to his mind day by day. It will be more gratifying to you when he is man +grown to feel he is the loving friend and protector, rather than the +skilled hunter of bird and beast. + +The higher order of man does not seek slaughter for amusement. He +realizes that he has no right to take, save for self-protection, that +which he cannot give. + +Make your son a higher order of man by developing those brain cells and +leaving the destructive and cruel portions of the brain to shrink from +lack of use. + +Even in his play with his inanimate toys, you can be arousing the best +or the worst part of your boy's nature. + +The child who whips and screams at his hobby-horse usually, when a man, +whips and bellows at his flesh and blood steed. + +Tell him the play-horse is more easily managed by coaxing and petting, +and that loud voices make it nervous and frightened. + +Suggest water and feed at suitable times, and express sorrow for the +horses with no kind boys to look out for them. + +Start a humane society in the nursery and make your boy president and +your little girl honorary member, and act as treasurer and secretary +yourself. + +Give him a medal when he offers food to a hungry street animal or speaks +to a driver cruel to his horse, or performs any other kind act. This +will be interesting play to your children, and it will be sowing seed in +fallow ground. + +Your baby girl is already old enough to take pride in picking up the +toys she scatters, and putting her chair where it belongs. Make it a +part of your hour of sport with her to help her do these things. She +will not know she is being taught order. + +I learned this lesson from a famous author whose baby son was anxious +to play about the library where his father was at work. + +The first act of the toddler was to toss all the books in sight upon the +floor and to sit down and turn the leaves, hunting for pictures. This +performance interested him for half an hour, when he proceeded to seek +new fields of action. + +"But now let us have great fun putting all the books back just where we +found them," cried the tactful father, with a wink and a laugh, which +made the child believe he was to enjoy the sport of his life. And it +_was_ made sport by the foolish pranks of the father who knew how little +it took to interest a child. + +The next day, and the next, the same fall and rise in the book market +took place, but on the fourth day the father was too deeply engrossed in +work to assist in the replacing of the books: when, lo! the small lad, +after a wistful waiting and unanswered call, proceeded to put the books +all back alone. + +_The first important brick in the foundation wall of order was laid_. + +So you can teach your little girl all the womanly habits of method, and +order, and neatness, and system, if you have the patience to act the +part of playmate with her a few moments daily. + +As she grows in understanding and years, keep yourself at her side, her +nearest friend. Let her feel that she can express her every thought to +you, and that every question which presents itself to her developing +mind, you will seek to answer to the best of your ability. + +Be her confidant, her adviser, her friend, and let her find pride and +happiness in doing things for you. + +Never act as maid or domestic to your daughter. + +Be the queen and make her your first lady-in-waiting, and show her the +courtesy and appreciation her position demands from royalty. She will be +a better daughter, and a better wife and mother, later in life, if you +do not make the mistake of the average American mother of waiting upon +her from the cradle to the altar. Let her grow up with the quiet +understanding that you are to be first considered, in matters social and +financial. Your wardrobe must be as well looked after as her own, and if +there is to be economy for one, let her practise it. + +The daughter who has a whole household sacrificing and toiling for her +pleasures is spoiled for a wife and woman. The most admirable young +women I have known--and I have known many--are those who were taught to +take it as a matter of course that the mother was first to be +considered, and lovingly served. + +Do not be afraid of making your daughter vain by telling her the +attractive features she may possess. + +Some one else will if you do not, and it is well for her to hear it from +lips which may more successfully offer counsel afterward. A certain +confidence in her own charms gives a sensibly reared young woman a poise +and self-possession which is to be desired. A touch of feminine vanity +renders a woman more anxious to please, and more alert to keep always at +her best. + +But beware of having her acquire egotism. Silly conceit is the +death-blow to higher attainments and to all charm. + +Teach your daughter early the accomplishment of listening well. She will +be certain to please if she understands its value. + +A woman who looks the converser in the eyes, and does not allow her +glance to wander and become distrait, and who does not interrupt before +the recital is finished, can be sure of popularity with both men and +women. + +Give both your son and daughter confidence in themselves and belief in +their power to achieve. There is tremendous power in the early +inoculation by the home influence of self-confidence, when it is +tempered by modesty and consideration for others. + +Remember whatever in your own bringing up seems to-day unfortunate, and +avoid it in the training of your children. + +Remember whatever was good and helpful, and emulate it. + + + + +To Miss Zoe Clayborn Artist + +_Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + + +I am sure, my dear niece, that you are a good and pure-minded girl, and +that you mean to live a life above reproach, and I fully understand your +rebellion against many of the conventional forms which are incompatible +with the career of a "girl bachelor," as you like to call yourself. But +let us look at the subject from all sides, while you are on the +threshold of life, in the morning of your career, and before you have +made any more serious mistakes than the one you mention. + +For it was a mistake when you accepted Mr. Gordon's telephone message to +lunch alone with him at a restaurant, even though you knew his wife +might not object. + +Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are happily married, parents of several children. +They are broader and more liberal and more unselfish than most parents, +and they went out of their path to extend courtesies to you, a young +country girl--at first because you were my niece, then because they +liked you personally. + +When I first wrote Mrs. Gordon that you were to open a studio in Chicago +after your course of study in the East, she expressed deep interest in +you, and seemed anxious to have you consider her as a friend--always +ready to act as a chaperon or adviser when you felt the need of wiser +guidance than your own impulses. + +Mrs. Gordon knew that your experience of the world was limited to a +country village in the West, and two years' study at the Pratt +Institute. While there she knew you boarded with a cousin of your +mother's, and enjoyed the association and privileges of the daughters of +the home. + +To start alone in Chicago, and live in your studio, and dine from a +chafing-dish, and sleep in an unfolded combination bureau and +refrigerator--has more fascinations to your mind than to Mrs. Gordon's. +She was reared in comfort, bordering on luxury, and while her early home +life was not happy, she enjoyed all the refinements and all the +privileges of protected girlhood. + +She knows city life as you cannot know it, and, although she discards +many of the burden-some conventions of society, she realizes the +necessity of observing some of its laws. + +She wanted you to feel that you had the background of a wholesome home, +and the protection of clean, well-behaved married friends in your +exposed situation; her attitude to you is just what she would want +another woman to hold toward her daughter, were she grown up and alone +in a large city. + +You have been her guest, and she has been your good friend. Mr. Gordon +admired you from the first, and that was a new incentive for this most +tactful and liberal of wives to befriend you. She always cultivates the +women he likes. + +This is excellent policy on the part of a wife. If the husband has any +really noble qualities or possesses a sterling character, he will +appreciate and respect his wife's confidence, and never violate it; and +added to this, he will usually become disillusioned with the women he +has admired from a distance, when he sees them frequently at too close +range. + +A wife can make no greater mistake than trying to fence her husband +about and obtruding high walls between him and the women he admires. Far +better bring them near and turn on the calcium light. + +Mr. Gordon is a born lover of the fair sex, a born gallant. He is, at +the same time, a clean, self-respecting man. But he has grown a trifle +selfish and a bit vain of late years. + +He does not fully realize what the interesting family of children he +shows with such pride to his friends has meant to their mother. + +It has not occurred to him that to be the mother of three children, the +youngest one year old, after six years of married life, has required a +greater outlay of all the mental, moral, and physical forces than has +been demanded of their father. + +He is a good husband,--yet he is not the absolutely unselfish and +liberal and thoughtful husband that Mrs. Gordon is wife. + +If she seemed to you at all nervous, or less adaptable to your moods +than he, you should stop and consider the many causes which might have +led to this condition. + +You are young, handsome, gifted, and unconventional, and all these +things appeal to men. You can attract all the admirers you want, and +more than you need, to enlarge your ideas of life, and extend your +knowledge of human nature. + +You say your ambition is to know the world thoroughly,--that it will aid +your art. + +I think that is true, if you do not pass the border-line and lose your +ideals and sacrifice your principles. Once you do that, your art will +lose what it can never regain. + +And remember this, my dear girl, no human being ever lived or ever will +live who gained anything worth having _by sacrificing the golden rule._ +In your search for knowledge of the world, and acquaintance with human +nature, _keep that motto ever before your soul's sight,_ "Do unto +others as you would have them do unto you." + +You say Mr. Gordon said or did nothing in that tête-à-tête luncheon his +wife might not have heard or seen, but the fact that he talked entirely +about you and art, and other universal subjects, and seemingly avoided +any reference to his wife and children, surprised you. + +And now you are wondering if you did wrong to accept this invitation. +Never accept invitations of any kind from married men, unless the wife +or some member of the family is included. + +No matter how willing the wife may be to have you enjoy her husband's +company, avoid tête-à-tête situations with benedicts. + +You say you are not egotistical enough to imagine Mr. Gordon had any +hidden motive for wanting to be alone with you, or for seemingly +forgetting in his conversation that he was a husband and father. Yet I +can see that in a measure it disillusioned you. + +You do not ask a man to fling his wife and children at the head of each +woman he meets, but you like him to recognize their existence. + +You are a young, romantic girl seeking the ideal. + +You want to find happy wives and husbands,--men and women who have +sailed away from the Strands of Imagination to the more beautiful land +of the Real, from whose shores they beckon you, saying: "Here is +happiness and great joy. Come and join us, and feel no fear in flinging +the illusions of youth behind you." + +If married men only knew that is what young women are seeking,--if +married women only knew that is what young men are seeking, what +reconstruction would take place in the deportment of husbands and wives! + +Never yet did a married woman indulge in flirtatious or sentimental +converse with a bachelor without lowering herself and all women in his +heart of hearts. + +Never yet did a married man seem to forget his domestic ties in the +presence of single women without losing a portion of their respect, +however they may have been flattered by his attentions. + +In every man's heart, in every woman's, is this longing to find husbands +and wives who are satisfied and happy and proud, above all other things, +of their loyalty. + +It would be well for you to keep this fact before the minds of the men +you meet. You can, in a small way, do your little toward educating on +this subject the married men you encounter. And you can save yourself +some embarrassing experiences. + +It is no compliment to you if the husband of your friend, or a stranger, +falls in love with you. + +It is an easy matter for a young, attractive woman to infatuate +irresponsible men. + +It is a far greater compliment to you when women respect and trust you, +and when you help elevate the ideals of weak men regarding your sex. + +You can study the whole Encyclopedia of Manhood without breaking through +the glass doors of your friend's bookcases. And you can live a free, +unconventional life without sacrificing one principle, though you may +ignore some customs. It is not the custom in conventional society for +young women to go to theatres or dinners alone with young men. Yet I am +perfectly willing you should join the large army of self-supporting, +self-respecting, and well educated girls who do these things. You have +been reared with that American idea of independence, and with that +confidence in your ability to protect your virtue and good name, which +carries the vast majority of our young women safely through all the +vicissitudes of youth, and sends them chaste wives to the altar. Our +American men understand this attitude of our girls, and half of them +respect it, without being forced to, as the other half can be, if woman +so wills. + +There is no reason, to my thinking, why you should not enjoy the +companionship of interesting bachelors and widowers, and take the +courtesies they offer, with no chaperon but your own pride, taste, and +will. So long as you know, and these men know, that you are doing +nothing and going nowhere you need remember with shame or regret, the +next day, just so long you are on no dangerous path. + +But you must draw the line at married men, happy or unhappy. Any +confidential, tête-à-tête companionship of a single woman with a married +man cheapens her in the eyes of all other men and women. + +It is a simpler matter to drift into free and easy manners and call them +"bohemian" than to cleanse your reputation of their stain, or lift your +mind from the mire to which they inevitably lead. + +Once a woman begins to excuse her lawless conduct on the ground of her +"artistic temperament," there are no depths to which she may not sink. + +Take pride in being at once independent yet discreet; artistic, yet +sensible; a student of men, yet an example of high-minded womanhood; an +open foe to needless conventions, yet a staunch friend of principles; +daring in methods, yet irreproachable in conduct; and however adored by +men, worthy of trust by all women. + +Do not take the admiration of men too seriously. Waste no vitality in a +rage over their weaknesses and vices. Regard them with patience and +inspire them to strive for a better goal than self-indulgence. + +You can safely take it for granted that many who approach you with +compliments for your charms, and pleas for your favours, would make the +same advances to any other attractive girl they chanced to encounter. + +Too many young women mistake a habit for a grand passion. And they +forget, while they are studying man, that he is studying woman, and +testing her susceptibility to flattery and her readiness to believe in +his simulated infatuation. + +Do not fall into the error of so many young country girls in a large +city, and imagine you can establish new laws, create a new order of +things, and teach men new lessons. + +A great city is like an ever-burning fire,--the newcomers who thrust in +their fingers will be scorched and scarred, but the fire will not be +changed or extinguished. + +_Keep out of the fire_. + +There is no reason why you should scar yourself or smoke your garments +while keeping comfortably warm. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years of Married Life_ + + +I have read your letter with care. I can readily understand that you +would not appeal to your wife's mother in this matter upon which you +write me, as she has been the typical mother-in-law,--the woman who +never gets along well with her children, and who never wants others to +succeed where she fails. I recollect your telling me how she marred the +wedding ceremony, by weeping and fainting, after having nagged her poor +daughter during twenty years of life, and interfered with her +friendships, through that peculiar jealousy which she misnamed "devoted +love." + +And now you are afraid that your wife is developing the same +propensity, and you ask me to use my influence to cure her of it in its +incipiency. You think I stand closer to Edna than any other friend. + +"It is only during the last two or three years that Edna has shown this +tendency," you say. "Until then she seemed to me the most sensible and +liberal-minded of women, always admiring the people I liked, and even +going out of her way to be courteous and cordial to a woman I praised. +Of late she has seemed so different, and has often been sarcastic, or +sulky, or hysterical, when I showed the common gallantries of a man fond +of the society of ladies." + +You think it is her inherited tendency cropping out, and that she is +unconscious of it herself. + +Well now permit me, my dear Mr. Gordon, to be very frank with you. + +I met your wife only once before she married you. + +She was a merry-hearted, healthy girl, with superb colour, and the +figure of a young Venus. She was a belle, and much admired by many +worth-while men. + +During her honeymoon, she wrote me a most charming letter speaking of +her happiness, and of her desire to make you an ideal wife. + +You and Edna were my guests for a few days when your first child was a +year old. She seemed more beautiful than ever, with an added spiritual +charm, and you were the soul of devotion. + +You are the type of man who pays a compliment as naturally as he +breathes, and whose vision is a sensitive plate which retains an +impression of every feminine grace. This impression is developed in the +memory-room afterward, and framed in your conversation. + +The ordinary mind calls such a man a flirt, or, in common parlance, "a +jollier;" but I know you to be merely appreciative of womankind in +general, while your heart is beautifully loyal to its ideal. You are a +clean, wholesome man, who could not descend to intrigue. You are +fine-looking, and you possess a gift in conversing. + +Of course women are attracted to you. Edna was proud of this fact, and +seemed to genuinely enjoy your popularity. + +That was five years ago. + +One year ago I visited your home. Edna was the mother of three children, +born during the first five years of marriage. + +She had sacrificed her bloom to her babies, and was pallid and anaemic. +Her form had lost its exquisites curves, and she seemed years older than +her age--older indeed than you, although she is four years your junior. +It is a mere incident to be a father of three children. It is a lifetime +experience to be their mother. She had developed nerves, and tears came +as readily as laughter came of old. + +She was devoted to her children, and felt a deep earnestness regarding +her responsibility as a mother. But she was still the intensely loving +wife, while you had sunk your rôle of lover-husband in that of adoring +father. + +You did not seem to think of Edna's delicate state of health, or notice +her fading beauty. You regarded her as a faithful nurse for your +children, and whenever you spoke of her it was as the mother, not as the +sweetheart and wife. + +When I mentioned the drain upon a woman's vitality to bring three robust +children into life in five years, you said it was only a "natural +function," and referred to the old-time families of ten and twelve +children. Your grandmother had fourteen, you said, and was the picture +of health at seventy-five. + +My own grandmother gave ten children to the world. But we must recollect +how different was the environment in those days. + +Our grandmothers lived in the country, and knew none of the strain and +excitement of these modern times. The high pressure of social and +financial conditions, as we know them, the effort to live up to the +modern standards, the congested city life and the expensive country +life, all these things make motherhood a different ordeal for our women +than our grandmothers. Where our grandfathers took their share of the +care and guidance of children, and the children came up in a wholesome +country fashion, our men to-day are so driven by the money gadfly that +they can only whirl around and around and attend "to business," and all +the care of the children falls upon the mother, or else upon the nurses +and governesses, who in turn are a care and a worry to the wife. + +You assured me Edna had all the assistants in caring for her children +she wanted, but you did not realize that every paid employé in a +household is, as a rule, just so much more care to the mistress, not +less than a tax on the husband's purse and, consequently, on his time. + +What Edna craves is _your_ love, _your_ attention, _your_ sympathy, not +the service of paid domestics. She wants you to notice her fading bloom, +and to take her in your arms and say, tenderly, "Little girl, we must +get those old roses back. And we must go away for a new honeymoon, all +alone, and forget every care, even if we forget the babies for a few +days." + +One little speech like that, one little outing like that, would do more +toward driving away the demon of jealousy than all I could by a thousand +sermons and homilies. + +I remember at your own board you made me uncomfortable talking about my +complexion, which you chose to say was "remarkable for a woman of my +age." And then you proceeded to describe some wonderful beauty you had +seen at the Country Club the day previous, and all the time I saw the +tears hidden back under the lids of Edna's tired eyes, and a hurt look +on her pale face. Do you imagine she was _jealous_ of your compliment to +me? or of your praise of the girl's beauty at the Country Club? + +No, no, my dear Mr. Gordon, I know Edna too well to accuse her of such +petty feelings. She was only hurt at your lack of taste in accenting her +own lost bloom by needlessly emphasizing another's possession of what +had once been hers. + +Yet she called upon the young lady that very day and invited her to +luncheon, and even then you indulged in pronounced admiration of the +guest's cheeks, gallantly requesting your wife to have the bouquet of +carnation pinks removed from the table, as they were so shamed by the +complexions of the ladies. + +Of course it was gracefully worded in the plural, but your pallid wife +could not claim her share of it, and you should have realized the fact. +And the reason she could not was that she had sacrificed her health in +your service, in giving your children to you, and in losing her lover. + +She adores her splendid babies, but she is still a woman and a +wife,--though you seem to ignore that she is anything but a mother. + +Right about face, Mr. Gordon, and become the lover you were, and +jealousy will be driven from your threshold. + +It is your own lack of thoughtfulness, your own tactless and tasteless +methods with your wife, which have caused the change in her manner. She +is not jealous, she is only lonely, heart-hungry, disillusioned. + +You are less noble, less considerate, less tender, less sympathetic +than she believed. For the man to whom these adjectives can be applied +will guard, love, and cherish the wife of his youth, and the mother of +his children, before all other considerations; and he will understand +how sensitive a fading wife may be, and not confound that sensitiveness +with ignoble jealousy. + +It is you, Charles Gordon, who must cure your wife of nerves, hysteria, +and incipient jealousy, not I. + + + + +To Mrs. Clarence St. Claire + +_Concerning Her Husband_ + + +I am sorry that your matrimonial barque meets so many rough winds while +hardly out of Honeymoon Bay. + +Clarence and you seemed so deeply in love when I last saw you, six +months after your wedding, that I had hoped all might go well with you. + +I knew the disposition of Clarence to be tainted with jealousy, but +hoped you would be able to eradicate it from his nature. + +You know his poor mother suffered agonies from the infidelities of his +father before Clarence was born. She had married a handsome foreigner +with whom she was desperately enamoured, while he cared only for the +fortune she brought him. + +While still in the full light of the honeymoon he began to indulge in +flirtations and amours, and poor Clarence, during the important prenatal +period of life, received the mark of suspicion and the tendency to +hypersensitiveness which then dominated the mother. + +By the time Elise was born she had passed through the whole process, and +was passive and indifferent. + +I cannot help a sensation of amusement, even in face of the condition +you describe (which is little short of tragic), as I recall the letter +Clarence wrote begging me to try and prevent, by fair means or foul, his +sister's marriage to old Mr. Volney. + +That was two years before you and Clarence were married. + +Elise, we all know, wedded for the money and position Mr. Volney gave, +in return for her young beauty. + +Clarence and you were ideal lovers, seeing nothing in the world outside +of your own selves. + +Yet Elise is quite contented, and Mr. Volney uses what little brain he +has left to exult over his possession of such a beautiful young wife. + +Elise upholds his dignity and flatters him into a belief that he is a +great philanthropist and a social power, and in this way she has the +handling of his millions, which is her idea of happiness. She travels, +entertains, and poses for photographs and paintings in imported gowns, +and there is no rumour of discontent or divorce. + +Meanwhile, Clarence, who was so opposed to her marriage because it was +loveless, is making a mess of his own love-match, through his jealousy. + +You, who knew him to be insanely jealous as a lover, and who seemed to +be flattered with what you thought a proof of his devotion, appeal to me +now to know what to do with the husband who is destroying your love and +your happiness! Surely, if Elise knew of this she might well say, "He +laughs best who laughs last." + +I know that you were absorbed in Clarence for the first year of your +married life, and that you gave no least cause for any jealousy, and I +know, as you say, that even then he was often morbid and unhappy over +nothing at all. + +He was jealous even of girl friends and relatives, and if you attended a +matinée with one of them, he sulked the whole evening. + +This was little more than he did as a lover, and you should have begun +in those days to reason him out of such moods. + +You imagined then it was his mad love for you which caused his +unreasonable jealousy. + +But jealousy is self-love, and selfishness lies at the root of such +conditions of mind as his. + +A woman should say to a man who sulks or goes into tantrums when she +pays courteous attentions to relatives or acquaintances, "You are +lowering my ideal of you--I cannot love a man who will indulge such +unworthy moods. You insult my womanhood and doubt my principles by your +suspicions; you intimate that I have neither truth, or judgment, or +pride. You must conquer yourself, and learn to trust me and to believe +in me, or I must decide I am no woman for you to take as a life +companion." A man should take the same course toward a jealous +sweetheart or wife. + +A few quiet but firm assertions of this nature, when you were being +wooed, would have given Clarence an idea that he could lose you, and +that he was making himself ridiculous in your eyes. Instead, you boasted +to your friends how wildly infatuated he was, and Clarence took new +pride in his own blemish of character. + +Now that you have to live day, and night, and week, and month, and year, +with this trait, it seems a less romantic phase of devotion, I fancy. +But you are not wise to grow reckless and ignore the wishes of your +husband in all ways, because he is unreasonable. "Since he is so +absolutely impossible to please," you say, "I may as well please myself. +I have decided to take some of the liberties so many of my acquaintances +do, and enjoy life outside my home if I cannot enjoy it within." + +Then you proceed to tell me how more than half your associates drive, +lunch, and dine with men acquaintances, and how old-fashioned they +consider your scruples. And you tell me that, despite your rectitude, +Clarence insults you almost daily by his unreasoning jealousy of men, +women, and even children. + +"I have about made up my mind to be less prudish and enjoy myself, as I +am sure Clarence cannot be any more jealous than he is," you say. + +Now since you have asked my advice in the matter, I can only urge you to +reconsider this last determination. + +So long as you are, according to law and in the eyes of the world, the +wife of a man, you cannot escape comment if you are frequently seen in +public places alone with another. + +Were you to look into the hearts of other men who ask you to dine, +drive, or lunch alone with them, you would find a feeling of increased +respect when you decline, although they may show only disappointment on +the surface. I know that many wives of unblemished reputation accept +courtesies of this kind from masculine friends, and I of course +understand that circumstances may arise which make an occasional +acceptance proper. + +But the fewer such occasions, the better and the safer for the married +woman. The man who is perfectly willing his wife should appear +frequently in public with other men does not fully appreciate the +dignity of her position or his own, or else he has lost his love for +her. + +The fact that your husband is jealous without reason is no excuse for +giving him reason. The moment men know that a husband is inclined to +jealousy, he falls in their estimation, and they are seized with a +desire to aggravate him, while they sympathize with the wife. + +The sympathetic friend of the abused wife is a dangerous companion for +her. He may mean to be platonic and kind, but almost invariably he +becomes sentimental and unsafe. + +Once in a thousand times the absolutely happy wife of a husband she +respects as well as loves can enjoy a platonic friendship with a man who +respects her, and himself, and her husband. But even that situation is +liable to prove insecure, if they are much together, owing to the +selfishness and weakness of human nature when the barriers of convention +are removed. + +But the unhappy wife must take no chances with Fate. + +She must either decide to accept her lot and bear it with philosophy, or +escape from it and begin life over, after the courts have given her the +right to reconstruct her destiny. + +You know all that entails. It is not a pleasant process. + +If your love for your husband is entirely dead, and you feel that he has +forfeited all right to your sympathy, pity, or patience, then break the +fetters and go free. But if you feel that you are not ready for that +ordeal, and that you must still remain living under the same roof with +him, and continue to bear his name, then do not join the great army of +wives who are to be seen in public restaurants and hotels dining +tête-à-tête with "platonic friends" over emptied glasses. + +You can but make trouble for yourself and add to the misery of your +husband by such a course. In your particular case, I feel that your +knowledge of the jealous disposition of the man you married renders it +your duty to bear and forbear, and to try every method of reformation +before you resort to the very common highway of divorce as an exit from +your unhappiness. + +A woman has no right to complain of the fault in a husband which she +condoned in a lover. And a man has no right to complain of the fault in +a wife he condoned in a sweetheart. Yet both may strive to correct that +fault. + +Insist upon having women and men friends who can be received at your +home in presence of your husband. Make Clarence realize how he belittles +himself in your estimation by unreasoning jealousy. Give him to +understand that you want to love him and respect him, and that you have +no intention of lowering your standard of behaviour, because he is +constantly expecting you to. Tell him it mortifies you to find greater +pleasure away from him than in his presence, yet when he insults you +with his suspicions, and destroys your comfort with his moods, you can +no longer think of him as your girlhood's ideal. + +Ask him to try, for your sake, to use more common sense and self-control +in this matter, and to help you to restore the happiness which seems +flying from your wedded lives. + +Do nothing to aggravate or irritate him, but do not give up your friends +of either sex; this is but to increase his inclination to petty tyranny, +while it will in no sense lessen his jealousy. + +And when you are alone, endeavour to think of him always as sensible, +reasonable, and kind. + +By your mental picture you can help to cure him of the blight he +received before his birth. It is the task set many a wife, to counteract +the errors and neglect of mothers. + +Look to the Divine source for help in your work, and remember the lovely +qualities Clarence possesses when he is not under the ban of this +prenatal mark. + +Love him out into the light if you can--and I believe you can if you are +not too soon discouraged. + +It is a nobler effort to try and create in your husband the ideal you +have in your mind, than to go seeking him elsewhere. + +Be patient and wait awhile. Such love as you and Clarence felt in your +courtship and early marriage cannot so soon have died. It is only +sleeping, and suffering from a nightmare. Awaken it to life and reality +and happiness. + + + + +To Young Mrs. Duncan + +_Regarding Mothers-in-Law_ + + +And so the serpent has appeared in your Eden, attired in widow's weeds, +and talking the usual jargon of "devoted mother love." I do not like to +say I told you so, but you must remember our rather spirited discussion +of this very serpent, when you announced your engagement and said Mr. +Duncan's mother was to make her home with you after your return from +abroad. + +I had met Mrs. Duncan, and I knew her type all too well. Alfred is her +only child, and she adores him, naturally, but it is adoration so +mingled with selfishness and tyranny that it is incapable of considering +the welfare of its object. + +Mrs. Duncan was always jealous of any happiness which came to her son +through another source than herself. That type of mother love is to be +encountered every day, and that type of mother believes herself to be +the most devoted creature on earth; while the fact is, she sits for ever +in the boudoir of her mentality, gazing at her own reflection. She loves +her children because they also reflect herself, and is incapable of +unselfish pleasure in their happiness apart from her. + +You will remember I urged you to wait until you could have a home, +however humble, alone with your husband, and even at the cost of that +most undesirable condition, a long engagement. + +But you assured me with much spirit that you had every confidence in +your power to win Mrs. Duncan's heart, and to crown her declining years +with peace and happiness. + +As well talk of decking a porcupine with wreaths of flowers, and making +it a household pet, to coddle and caress. + +When I congratulated Mrs. Duncan on her son's engagement to such a +sweet, bright girl as my cousin, she assumed a martyr expression and +said, "She hoped he would be happy, even if her own heart must suffer +the pain of losing an only son." + +"But," I urged, "he really adds to your life by bringing you the +companionship of a lovely daughter. My cousin will, I am sure, prove +such to you." + +"I have no doubt your cousin is a most estimable girl," Madame Duncan +answered, with dignity, "but I have never yet felt the need of any close +companion save my son. You, having no children, are excusable for not +understanding my feelings, now when another claims his thoughts." + +"Yet the world is maintained by such occurrences," I replied. "You took +some mother's son, or you would not have had your own." + +With austere self-righteousness Mrs. Duncan corrected me. + +"I married an orphan," she said. + +"How thoughtful of you," I responded. "But you see it is not lack of +thought, only an accident of fate, which has prevented my cousin from +marrying an orphan. There are not enough desirable orphans to keep our +young women supplied with husbands, you know." + +I think Mrs. Duncan suspected me of covert sarcasm, for she changed the +topic of conversation. But I heard her afterward talking to a bevy of +women on the sorrow of giving up a child after having reared him to +manhood's estate, and her listeners all seemed duly sympathetic. + +Of course, my dear Ruth, there is an element of sadness in the happiest +of marriages for the parents of children. I think it is particularly sad +when a mother gives up a daughter, whose every thought she has shared, +and whose every pleasure she has planned, and sees her embark upon the +uncertain ocean of marriage, with a strange pilot at the helm. + +The really good and loving mother endears herself to that pilot, and +loves him and seeks his affection for her daughter's sake. She hides +her own sorrow in her heart, and does not shadow her daughter's voyage +by her repining. + +The man who is worthy of a good girl's love will understand what it must +mean to a mother to give her daughter to him, and he will in every way +seek to recompense her for her loss, by bestowing upon her sympathy, +courteous attentions, and a son's devotion. + +Just so will the girl, who is worthy of being a good man's wife, seek to +make his mother love her. + +I know how you have tried to win Mrs. Duncan's heart. I know your +amiable, sweet disposition, and your unselfishness and tact, and I know +how you failed. + +I can imagine your feelings when you overheard Mrs. Duncan say to a +caller that she was going to leave your house and take rooms elsewhere, +as she could not endure your "billing and cooing." + +Do you know, Ruth, that nearly all the trouble between mothers-and +daughters-in-law is due to vanity and jealousy. + +Fifty mothers are friends to their daughters' husbands where one is a +friend to her son's wife. That is because, wholly unconsciously to +herself, the mother resents another woman sharing the attention of a man +she loves. The fact that he is her son, and that the love he gives his +wife is a wholly different sentiment, does not prevent blind, +unreasoning jealousy from dominating her nature. + +Mrs. Duncan wants to stand always in the centre of the stage, with every +other woman in the play in the background. + +It is a most pathetic situation for a man,--this position between a wife +and a jealous mother. My heart always aches for the man in the case even +more than for the woman who is misused. + +All young men are reared to think mother-love the most unselfish and +wonderful devotion on earth, even in the face of facts which so often +prove it otherwise; and when a son sees his mother unhappy he is +inclined to make every possible excuse for her, because he feels that to +take issue against her will put him in a false light before the whole +established order of society, and that he will beat his head against +traditions wherever he turns. + +So, he ofttimes tries to conciliate the wife he has promised to cherish, +and to convince her that she may exaggerate matters, and that she may +even be the aggressor, and then he finds himself standing between two +raging fires, with no escape save through flames, and over hot fagots, +which will leave him scarred for life. + +Sometimes the wife _is_ in the wrong. Sometimes a man marries a woman +who is so narrow and so selfish and so jealous that she begrudges the +husband's mother her son's affection. But I must affirm that, in my +observation of humanity, I have seen but one such wife, where I have +seen ten jealous and unreasonable mothers. + +And with what pleasure and admiration I recall the few beautiful and +noble mothers-in-law I have known! I can count them on the fingers of +one hand without including the thumb. I mean mothers of sons. + +There are just four whom I can recall. They really loved their sons, and +loved whatever and whoever gave those sons happiness. + +One mother objected to her son's choice before marriage, and tried +vainly to convince him that he had made a mistake. But after his +marriage she took the girl into her heart, made her a companion and +friend, and when the son began to discover her glaring faults, she told +him to be patient and wait, and that all would be well. Instead of +saying, "I told you so," she said, "Your wife is young, and has had no +wise hand to guide her. You married her for love, and if you exercise +the love-spirit, and are patient and self-controlled in your treatment +of her, she will overcome these faults which annoy you." + +And day by day she called his attention to the pleasing qualities the +girl possessed, and by praise, tact, love, and sympathy bridged over +the threatened chasm. + +The couple live happily together to-day, thanks to the mother-in-law. +Oh, that there were more such mothers of sons! + +Be as patient and sweet as you can, dear Ruth, toward Mrs. Duncan; think +how difficult the situation is for your husband, and say or do nothing +to make it harder for him. But allow Mrs. Duncan to live by herself, +and, if need be, bear many privations cheerfully that she may do so, and +that you may have your own home in peace. Every wife is entitled to +that, and if she has made every possible effort which love and tact can +make to cast the seven devils of jealousy out of her mother-in-law, and +they still remain, it is for the general welfare that two separate +households exist. + +When a son has done all he can in reason to make his mother happy, save +to turn against the wife he has promised to cherish, he is a cad and a +weakling if he does the latter. He must learn that it is a larger duty +to be a just man than to be an obedient son. + +I am sure Mr. Duncan will have the character and judgment to do what is +right in this matter. + + + + +To a Young Man + +_Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + + +Your achievements in college, where you distinguished yourself in +rhetoric and literature, would justify you in thinking seriously of a +career as an author. + +And the fact that your father wishes you to take charge of his brokerage +business, and to relinquish your literary aspirations, should not deter +you from carrying out your ambitions. + +Prom your mother you inherit a mind and temperament which wholly unfit +you for the pursuits your father follows and enjoys. You are no more +suited to make a successful broker than he is fitted to write an Iliad. + +Try and make him understand this, and try and convince him that to +yield to his wishes in this matter, means the sacrifice of your tastes, +the waste of your talents, and the destruction of your happiness. + +If he cannot be convinced by your consistent and respectful arguments, +then you must quietly, but firmly, refuse to accept a career distasteful +to you. + +No parent has a right to drive a child into so undesirable a path for +life as this would prove to one of your nature. + +Your father would think the horticulturist insane, who took a delicate +fern and planted it in arid soil, on a hilltop, far from shade, and +expected it to thrive and bear blossoms like the cactus. + +Yet this would be no more unreasonable, than to expect a son of your +temperament and inclinations to be happy and successful in Wall Street. + +It is a curious study to watch parents, and to observe their utter lack +of knowledge regarding a child's nature and capabilities; and to find +them not only ignorant in those important matters, but unwilling to be +enlightened. + +You say it makes your father angry to have any one refer to your +literary talents. + +I remember when your father bred race-horses, and how proud he was that +a two-year-old colt showed traits and points noticeably like its +high-priced dam. + +He chose for your mother, a woman of rare mind, and of poetic taste, and +why should he not be proud and glad that his son resembles her? When +will fathers learn that sons are more frequently like their mothers, and +daughters like their fathers, than otherwise? + +The temporary dissatisfaction of your father is not so sad to +contemplate as your own lifelong disappointment if you accede to his +wishes in this matter. + +Each individual has a right to choose his own career in life, so long as +that career is respectable and bodes no evil to humanity. + +If, as your father threatens, he refuses to give you support while you +are exploring the field of literature, you should feel grateful to him +for this unintentional incentive to success. + +I do not agree with those who consider the necessity to earn money a +misfortune to genius. + +I believe the greatest works of art given to the world have been brought +to light through necessity. + +The artistic temperament is almost invariably combined with a propensity +to dream, and to float upon the clouds of imagination. + +The ranks of wealth and comfort are full of talented and accomplished +people who "never are, but always to be" great. + +One great man in a score may have been reared in affluence, but I doubt +if the statistics would show so large a percentage. + +There are many hills which contain valuable ore, but if the owner sits +in ease upon these elevations, and gazes at the sunsets, he does not +find the ore. If he is a poor man, and takes his pick and _digs_, he +finds his fortune. + +At first he may cast out only loose earth and stones, but by this very +necessity to find valuables, he continues to search until the ore is +reached. + +Were you to remain at home and enjoy all the benefits of your father's +wealth, I doubt if you would have the persistence to dig down into the +mine you possess within you. + +You would sit on the hilltop and dream. + +If you are forced to write to live, you may cast up some rubbish from +the surface; yet by the continual digging you will reveal all that lies +below. + +Regarding the style you speak of adopting, let your feeling come +_first_, your style of expressing that feeling _second_. Say nothing +merely to exhibit your style--and hold back some strong feelings until +you can give them the best expression. + +As to the methods of getting your work before the public and the +"influence" you need, I can only assure you that unless you write with +purpose, and power, and passionate enjoyment of your art, forgetful of +all things save your desire to express yourself, no influence on earth +can do more than give you a page in a magazine, or a column in a +newspaper for an occasion or two. And if you do write under those +conditions, you will need no influence: for it is just such writing the +world wants; and the editors and publishers will be forced to read you, +whether they are inclined to or not. + +Christopher Columbus found his continent because he was so determined, +so persistent, so certain that unknown lands awaited him. + +It made no difference who told him that all the earth had been +discovered, and that he would never be able to succeed in his wild +venture. His purpose was too strong to be influenced by the doubts of +others. + +It has always seemed to me that God would have made a continent to +reward such a search, had it not already existed. + +Unless you set forth on the sea of literature, with the spirit of a +Columbus in your soul, you may as well give up the idea of finding the +Port of Glory. If you do set forth with that spirit, you need ask no +mortal influence. + +God is the only influence genius needs. + +Perseverance the only method. + +To find the way to success alone, is the test of talent. + +Some influential author might give you the entreé once to a magazine. +But editors and publishers are men of purely business instincts, and +they will not accept work on the recommendation of any third party, +which they think their public will not like. Their constant effort is to +find what that public _does like_, and the unknown author has an equal +advantage with the genius, if he sends such material. + +An author once told me that he "trapped" twenty manuscripts and sent +them out to editors, and all came back unread, as his "trap" proved. + +Since he sent them forth with such doubts in his mind, it is no wonder +his trap succeeded and his manuscripts failed. + +No great literary fire of purpose could be in the mind of a man who +spent thought and time on such a plot to trick an editor. And because +there was no great flame, the inanimate manuscripts were returned +unread. For even a package of paper sends out its "aura," and invites or +repels attention. + +If you are discouraged by the people who tell you that "everything has +been written," and that you can only be a faint echo of greater souls, +then you do not deserve success. I have no doubt the croakers of that +day told Shakespeare the same. + +It seems that Shakespeare did take many old themes and other people's +plots and ideas to re-create in his own way. And what a way! Surely he +who best uses an idea is most entitled to the credit. + +There is nothing new under the sun, but there is always the new +audience. For the majestic old poem of Spring, bound over in new covers +of green, God creates fresh, eager young eyes and hearts each year. And +not yet has he said to the year, "Do not attempt another spring--there +have been so many before, you can but repeat their beauties." Then why +should any mortal say to the poet or the author, "Do not try to +write--it has all been said before." + +Proceed, my young friend, and write what is in your heart. Nothing quite +the same was ever in any heart before, and yet the greater part of it +has been in all hearts, and will be in all hearts, so long as the world +lasts. + +Remember that when you write from the heart, it will go to the hearts of +your readers: and when you write from your head it will go no lower than +the head. + +And if the critics score or ridicule you, consider yourself on the path +to success. + +If you have a message for the world, nothing and nobody can prevent you +from delivering it. + +He only fails who has nothing to say. + + + + +To Mrs. McAllister + +_Concerning Her Little Girl_ + + +How strange it seems that your daughter is ten years old. + +It is such a brief hour since you wrote me you were eighteen and had +entered Vassar. Having no children of my own to stand as milestones on +life's highway, and keeping a very young heart in my breast all these +years, it seems at times little less than impertinent in the children I +have known to develop so rapidly into matrons and fathers. + +I am glad for you that the doctor has reached the desirable goal where +he can rest from his laborious profession for two years, and take that +journey abroad you have so long contemplated. And I am glad that you +feel the satisfaction you say you do, in never having left him alone +for a whole season as you once thought of doing. + +A satisfied conscience is a better comrade to journey along beside, than +a remembered pleasure. + +But now about Genevieve. + +You tell me she is to be left with your sister, and that she will, for +the first time, attend the public school. + +You are right in thinking this will make her more American in spirit +than an education gained through home teaching or private schools. + +The girl who attends private schools only, is almost invariably +inoculated with the serum of aristocracy. + +She believes herself a little higher order of being than the children +who attend public schools, and it requires continual association with +people of broad common sense to counteract this influence. I know you +and the doctor have exerted this influence, but your sister might not +realize the necessity of making a special effort in that direction. + +Then, too, since the fathers or grandfathers of our most conspicuous +social leaders were self-made and self-taught, and since our American +society is composed of so many varied types of humanity, it is well for +a young girl to come in contact with all classes while she is yet a +child, that she may understand humanity as she is sure to encounter it +later. Yet, as you say, it is indeed a serious thought to know your +little rosebud of a child is to be tossed into the dust of the public +schoolroom. + +"I do not want the delicate leaves forced into premature blossom or +blight," you say, and I feel for you, as I read the words. + +You remember your own experience as a school-child in the country, and +you tell me you would fain guard your daughter from hearing or seeing +much that came to your ears and eyes as a school-child. + +But now, my dear Winifred, listen. + +It is utterly and absolutely impossible for you to keep Genevieve +ignorant of _life_, or of the great fundamental principles of life. It +is utterly useless to undertake to ignore the set impulse in all nature. +Since God did not ignore it in constructing the universe, parents cannot +afford to in educating children. The one thing to do is to teach your +child early to respect and revere the subject, and to regard all things +pertaining to birth as sacred, never to be lightly discussed. Wherever +the eyes of an observing child turn, they see something to arouse +curiosity upon this subject. + +All literature (the Bible particularly) contains some reference to sex +and birth. Unless you stuff the ears of children with cotton, they must +hear expressions, suggestions, and references, which necessitate +explanations of the same vital subject. From insects to man, through all +the various kingdoms, sex laws are the foundation of life. + +Why parents have chosen to taboo this important subject, and why they +surround it with falsehood and subterfuge, and suggest that it is +unclean or vulgar, has always puzzled me. + +Inconceivable harm, lifelong disaster, has befallen many a girl and many +a boy through this mistaken attitude of parents to God's basic law of +the universe. + +Genevieve is only ten. But she is a child with a most inquiring mind, +and she already indicates a tendency to coquetry. She prefers boys to +dolls, and evidently finds them more interesting than girls. + +The things you would guard her from knowing, she is sure to learn in +some undesirable and unfortunate manner, unless you prepare her for them +with loving delicacy and refinement. + +My suggestion is that you take a plant, and talk to her about its +growth. Tell her how it springs from a seed, and hides in the bosom of +the earth, expanding until it bursts through, and becomes the baby of +mother earth. + +Tell her, too, of the bird life in the egg, and make her realize the +mother-impulse in all nature. Then say to her that she is a part of it +all and that she came into life by the same divine law, and that when +she is older you will explain whatever puzzles her young mind. + +Tell her that she was carried under your heart, as the sprout was +carried in the bosom of mother earth, and that it is a very holy and +beautiful thing; so holy and so beautiful that the refined and sweet +people of the world do not talk freely of the subject, but keep it like +a religion, for those very near to them. + +Then say, You will hear other children, who have not been told this by +their mothers, speak rudely and even jest on this subject. They are to +be pitied, for not knowing such jests are vulgar, but you must walk away +from them, and refuse to listen, after telling them your mother has +explained all you need to know. Impress upon her that she is never to +discuss the topic with any one else, unless you advise her to do so. + +I have known only two mothers who took this method with their children, +but both succeeded in rearing beautiful and remarkable daughters and +sons. For the sons were included in the talk by one mother, and they +were ideal boys and gentlemen--popular with, and respected by their +comrades, in spite of their delicacy and reserve on subjects jested over +by other boys. + +I am sure that you can protect Genevieve from the soil and shock you +fear for her, by making her your confidante at this early age, and by +convincing her of your loving companionship in the future. Under no +other conditions would I for one day allow a little girl (or a little +boy for that matter) to attend a public school. Not one parent in a +thousand realizes the moral dangers surrounding small children who go to +and from school in country or city places. + +Many remember their own precocious education on forbidden topics, yet +seem to imagine their children will be immune from such experiences. + +But until the Creator produces life by some new process, children will +never be exempt from curiosity regarding the present method, and parents +may as well realize the fact and become their children's reverent +instructors, instead of leaving them to be taught God's holiest truths +by vulgar chance or dreadful design. + +Do not imagine that innocence necessitates ignorance. + +Your child will be far more innocent minded, if you give her the +instruction I suggest, than if you leave her to ungoverned imagination +and unenlightened observation. + +Deep in each human entity the sex impulse is planted, and will assert +itself sooner or later. + +Ignorance and curiosity lead often to precocious development of the +impulse. By proper care on your part, your child's mind may be kept +normal, innocent, and wholesome. + +See to it that you give this important care before you leave. + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + + +My dear Mr. Gilbert:--Your letter followed me across the ocean, and +chanced to be the first one opened and read in my weighty home mail +to-day. I have lost all trace of you during the last six years, in that +wonderful way people can lose sight of one another in a large city. Once +or twice I heard you had just left some social function as I arrived, or +was expected just as I was leaving, and once, recently, I saw you across +the house at a first night, with a very pretty girl at your side. I +fancy this is the "one woman in the world for you," of whom you speak in +the letter before me--the letter written the evening before your +marriage. How good you are to carry out my request made seven years +ago, and to write me this beautiful letter, after reading over and +burning your former boyish epistle, returning to me my reply. + +It is every man's duty to himself, his bride, and the other woman, to +destroy all evidences of past infatuations and affections, before he +enters the new life. It is every woman's duty to do the same--_with a +reservation_. Since men demand so much more of a wife than a wife +demands of a husband, a woman is wise to retain any proof in her +possession that some man has been an honourable suitor for her hand. She +should make no use of such evidence, unless the unaccepted lover +indulges in disrespectful comments or revengeful libels, as some men are +inclined to when the fruit for which they reached is picked by another +hand. + +And it is when the grapes are called sour that the evidence may prove +effective of their having been thought sweet and desirable. + +It is a curious fact that no woman thinks less of a man for his having +had his vain infatuations, and that all men think less of a woman if she +has loved without response. + +Therefore, it behoves her to destroy no evidence that the other man, not +herself, was the discarded party. + +But woe unto the man who retains old love-letters, or other tokens of +dead loves and perished desires. + +Few men could be guilty of showing or repeating the contents of another +man's love-letters. Women who are models of virtue and goodness have +been known to make public the letters written a man in earlier years by +another object of his affections. I have to my personal knowledge known +a woman to place before the eyes of a third person, lines written +evidently in the very heart's blood of a former sweetheart of her +husband--words the man believed he had destroyed with other letters, +more than a score of years before. Imagine what the feelings of that +early sweetheart, now a happy and beloved wife, would be, did she know +the words written so long ago were spread before cold and critical +eyes, and discussed by two people who could have no comprehension of the +conditions and circumstances which led to their expression. + +Because I know otherwise tender-hearted and good women are capable of +such acts, I am glad you have obeyed my wish of seven years ago, and +that all proofs of your boyish infatuation for an older woman are +destroyed. You say you have told the girl you love that you once were +foolishly fond of me, and that I helped you to higher ideals of +womanhood and life. + +That is wise and well, since you found her to be broad and sensible +enough to share such a confidence. But had she seen your written words +to me and my reply, it would have been less agreeable to her than to +hear your own calm recital of the now dead passion. + +Words written in a state of high-wrought intensity retain a sort of +phosphoric luminosity, like certain decaying substances, and even after +the passage of years, and when the emotions which gave them expression +are dead and for-gotten, they seem to emit life and feeling. + +_Burn your bridges as you walk along the highways of romance to St. +Benedict's land_. + +Since you compliment me by saying I have helped you to higher ideals of +life, will you allow me to give you a little advice regarding your +treatment of your wife? + +You have every reason to know that I have been a happy and well-loved +wife of the man of my choice. You know that I have neither sought nor +accepted the attentions of other men when they crossed the danger-line +lying between friendship and love. + +Therefore it may astonish you when I confess that, at the time you +temporarily lost your head, I was conscious of an undercurrent of +feminine vanity at the thought that I was capable of inspiring a young +and talented man with so sincere a feeling. + +A similar experience with an older man would have suggested an insult, +since older men understand human nature, and realize what a flirtation +with a married woman means. But your ingenuousness, and your romantic, +boyish temperament, were, in a measure, an excuse for your folly, and +made me lenient toward you. + +My happy life, my principles and ideals, submerged this sentiment of +feminine vanity to which I confess, but I knew it was there, and it led +me to much meditation, then and ever since, upon the matter of woman's +weakness and folly. + +As never before, I was able to understand how a neglected or misused +wife might mistake this very sentiment of flattered vanity for the +recognition of an affinity. + +Had I been suffering from coldness and indifference at home, how +acceptable your boyish devotion might have proved to me. + +And how easily I would have been persuaded by your blind reasoning that +we were intended by an all-wise Providence for life companions. + +There is no sin a woman so readily forgives as a man's unruly love for +her, and hundreds of noble-hearted women have been led to regard a +lawless infatuation as a divine emotion, because they were lonely, and +neglected, and hungry for affection. + +See to it, my dear friend, as the years go by, that your wife needs no +romance from the outside world to embellish her life with sentiment. + +Do not drop into the humdrum ways of many contented husbands, and forget +to pay the compliment, and cease to act the lover. + +Notice the gowns and hats your wife wears, and share her pleasures and +interests when it is possible. + +Not that you should always be together, for separate enjoyments and +occupations sometimes lend an added zest to life for husband and wife, +but do not drift apart in all your ideas and interests, as have so many +married people. + +You are the husband of a bright and lovely girl, and if you forget this +fact after a time, remember there are other Ray Gilberts who may realize +it, and seek to awaken such an interest in her heart as you sought to +arouse in mine. + +You found the room occupied by its rightful host. + +See it that no man finds the room vacant in your wife's heart. + +Study the art of keeping your wife interested and interesting. + +A woman thrives on love and appreciation. I know a beautiful bride of +eighty years, who has been the daily adoration of her husband for more +than half a century. + +She has been "infinite in her variety," and he has never failed to +appreciate and admire. + +Devote a portion of each day to talking to your wife about herself. + +Then she will not find it a novelty when other men attempt the same +method of entertainment. + +Whatever other matters engross your time and attention, let your wife +realize that she stands first and foremost in your thoughts and in your +heart. + +Do not forget the delicacies of life, manner, speech, and deportment in +the intimacy of daily companionship. + +Never descend to the vulgar or the commonplace. + +One characteristic of men has always puzzled me. No matter how wide has +been a bachelor's experience with the wives and daughters of other men, +when he marries it never occurs to him that his wife or daughters could +meet temptation or know human weakness. + +It must be the egotism of the sex. + +Each man excuses the susceptibility of the women with whom he has had +romantic episodes, on the ground of his especial power or charm. And +when he marries, he believes his society renders all the women of his +family immune from other attractions. + +Do not rely upon the fact that your wife is legally bound to you, and +therefore need not be wooed by you hereafter. + +There are women who are born anew with each dawn, and who must be won +anew with each day, or the lover loses some precious quality than can +never be regained. + +It will pay you to study your wife as the years pass. + +Do not take for granted that you know her to-day, because you knew her +thoroughly last year. + +This is a long letter, but when one writes only once in seven years, +brevity is not to be expected. + +My greeting to you, and may the years be weaver's hands, which shall +interlace and bind two lives into one complete pattern. + + + + +To the Sister of a Great Beauty + + +I am far from laughing, my dear girl, at your assertion that your +position is little short of tragic. + +To be the ordinary sister of an extraordinary beauty, is a position +which calls for the exercise of all the great virtues in order to be +borne with dignity, good taste, and serenity. + +I remember seeing you and Pansy when you were ten and she twelve years +of age. I foresaw what lay before you then, and have often wondered how +you would meet the occasion when you were both "finished," and at home +under the same roof, and socially launched. It was wise for your mother +to separate you so early in life, and place you under different +teachers, and in different schools. + +It is difficult for a girl in her late childhood and early teens to use +philosophy and religion to support her, when she is made a Cinderella by +unthinking associates and friends, and forgotten and neglected while a +more attractive sister is lionized. + +Had you always walked in the shadow of your handsome sister until +to-day, I fancy your disposition would have become warped with +resentment and envy. + +And perhaps your feelings for Pansy would have been less affectionate +than now. + +I am glad to have you tell me that Pansy is so modest and unassuming and +so genuinely solicitous for your happiness. + +She must have been particularly fortunate in her environment while at +school to possess such qualities after knowing as she has known for +twenty-two years that her beauty is dazzling to the eye of even the +chance beholder. + +There is no greater obstacle to the development of the best qualities +in a young woman than the possession of such unusual beauty. From her +cradle she is made to realize its power, and men and women teach her in +a thousand unconscious ways to be selfish and self-centred. She receives +attentions, and her acquaintance is sought, with no effort on her part, +while more gifted and deserving companions are unnoticed. She is made to +realize that she is one to be served, where less attractive girls are +taught to "stand and wait." + +The love nature of each human being is either developed or stunted by +neglect during the early years of life, and, as a rule, the beautiful +woman is incapable of a deep, absorbing, and unselfish love, because she +has grown up the receiver instead of the giver. + +Were you, my dear Sallie, to know the number of great beauties who have +failed to find happiness in marriage, you would be amazed. But the +explanation is simple; for man is a being who, however he may worship +beauty before marriage, worships his own comfort more deeply afterward. +And it is rare indeed when a famous beauty troubles herself to plan for +the comfort or happiness of the man she marries. It is the natural +result of her education to think man made to adore and serve her. + +I hope Pansy may keep her loving and lovable qualities, and that she may +marry before the adoration and admiration of many men become necessary +to her life. For the beauties' matrimonial barque most often founders on +the reef of plural lovers. + +As for yourself, I can only suggest that you acquire many +accomplishments, and perfect yourself in music and languages, and that +you seek for the attainment of all the subtle graces, which are, in the +long run, more lasting as sources of happiness for a woman than mere +beauty. It is a peculiarly significant fact that the great passions of +history have not been inspired by very young or startlingly beautiful +women, but by those of maturity and mental charms. + +Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Aspasia, Petrarch's Laura, had all crossed +the line between youth and middle life, and there are no authentic +proofs that any one of the number was a dazzling beauty. Some of the +world's most alluring women have been absolutely plain. + +You are not plain. It is only by comparison that you so regard yourself. + +There is much you can do to make yourself more attractive personally. +You know what Rochefoucauld said: "No woman is in fault for not being +beautiful at sixteen; any woman is in fault if she is not beautiful at +forty." + +However much it may sound like a platitude, it is a great and eternal +truth that your mental activities are chiselling your features. By +keeping yourself concerned with good, gracious, and great thoughts, you +are shaping your face into a noble beauty minute by minute, and hour by +hour. + +Avoid as much as possible looking at repulsive and ugly objects. + +Look at whatever is beautiful and seek for it. + +Search for whatever is admirable in nature and human nature, and muse +upon those things in your moments of solitude. + +Cultivate love-thoughts for humanity at large. + +Avoid severe criticisms, and develop sympathy and pity in your soul. +Study the comfort and pleasure of strangers in public places, and +friends and associates in nearer relations. + +Remember always how brief a thing, and ofttimes sad, life is to many, +and seek to brighten and better it as you pass along. + +Meanwhile, take care of your person, study your lines and your features, +and learn how to dress and how to carry yourself; how to obtain +"presence," that indescribable charm in woman. + +Take daily care of your complexion, which to a woman is of prime +importance. + +Call in the skill of the specialist to help you preserve and beautify +your skin and hair, just as the dentist and the oculist are to be +consulted to help you preserve teeth and eyes. Think beauty for mind, +soul, and body; live it, and believe it is your right. + +And just as surely as you pursue this line of conduct for ten years, +just so surely will you find yourself at thirty far more attractive than +at twenty, and at forty more lovely than at thirty. Learn to be a +linguist, and acquire skill upon some one instrument, that you may +entertain those who care to converse, and give pleasure to those who +wish to be silent. + +You are young, and life with its splendid possibilities is before you. +There is nothing a woman with youth, will-power, and _love_ may not +accomplish--even to the convincing of the world that she is beautiful, +when her mirror may say otherwise. + +For enduring and all-encompassing beauty is a composite thing, and +unless a woman possesses the spiritual and mental portions, the physical +phase soon loses its attractions for the cultivated eye; while with the +development of the first two, the third is certain to come. + +Begin to-day, my dear girl, to _grow beauty_ which shall make you a +power and an influence in the world where you move, and which shall +invite, rather than fear, the approach of time. + + + + +To Mrs. White Peak + +_One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + + +Ever since your call and our conversation regarding Sybyl Marchmont, I +have felt a rising tide of indignation. It has reached the perigee mark +and must overflow. If it reaches you and gives you a thorough soaking, I +shall feel satisfied. + +I have always known you were only half-developed. There are many such +people in the world. They serve their purpose and often do much good. +They miss a great deal of life, but as they rarely know that they miss +anything, it is a waste of sentiment to pity them. + +I have pitied you, nevertheless. I have often wished I could give you +the vital qualities you lack. + +My pity turned to indignation when I heard you express yourself in such +unqualified terms of condemnation regarding other women who happened to +be unlike you in temperament. + +You say there is a certain line which no well-born and womanly woman can +pass in thought or feeling or action. + +You regard the true women of earth as a higher and rarer order of +creation than the best of men, and any woman who by action or word +confesses herself to be quite human in her temperament, you feel is, to +a certain extent, "unclean and unsexed." You believe the really good +women of earth are always on a plane above and beyond the physical. When +any woman falls from her pedestal you despise her. + +How dare you, madam, sitting in your cold, white chastity, lay down laws +of what you consider purity, morality, and cleanliness, for other human +souls? + +How dare you condemn those who do not reach your standard? + +What do you know of life, great, palpitating, throbbing, vital life, +terrible and beautiful life, terrible while passing through the valleys +of temptation, beautiful upon the heights of self-control? + +How dare you assume greater virtue, greater respectability, greater +fineness of sentiment, than the tempest-tossed, passion-beaten souls, +about you? + +What do you know of real virtue, real strength? + +You have been poor, you tell me, in worldly riches, and you have been +lonely, yet you have never once degraded your womanhood by an "unworthy +" impulse. Never known a temptation of the senses. Those things +disgusted you. + +You have preferred toil to taking favours from inferiors, and you have +kept yourself clean in thought, word, and deed, and now you have the +reward of such virtues--a good home, a husband, and children. + +You are a more devoted mother than wife, as you have always dwelt upon a +lofty white peak of chaste womanhood, from which any descent into the +earthly realms of life and love was repugnant--so rarely "pure" and high +your nature. + +Yet you have been a dutiful, loyal wife, and you are a devoted mother. + +You despise all carnal-minded women, and cannot understand how women +fall--save that they lack good birth and breeding. + +You will aid in a benefit for their reformation, but you do not want to +see them or to come near them. It makes you ill. + +You are to be congratulated on never having added to the evil in the +world. + +But permit me, madam, to tell you some truths about yourself--and the +large army of "respectable women" you represent. + +However "well born" you may be, you are only half-born. The complete +human being has three sides to his nature--spiritual, mental, physical. + +The men and women who are evenly developed on the three sides are few. +This is sometimes their fault--sometimes their misfortune. + +We all pity the human being who is mentally dwarfed. We are sorry for +the one whose spiritual nature is undeveloped. + +But why should the many women who are devoid of the physical qualities +of human nature presume to lay claim to perfection and to regard the +normal woman as a suspicious character? + +You have a fine, active mind, a highly spiritual nature, but you are +stunted in strong, physical emotion. You are incapable of it, and pride +yourself upon the fact. + +If that pleases you, well and good. + +But how dare you criticize God's _complete human_ beings, who feel the +great vibrations of the universe, who glow and thrill with that divine +creative force, who live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths +before they learn the glory of self-conquest. + +How dare you shrink even from those who fall by the wayside, and call +your shrinking "purity"! + +Let me ask you another question: + +How dare you turn away from that girl who went through the door of the +Magdalene Home you helped establish, with her fatherless child in her +arms? + +She fell from woman's holy estate! + +Yes, through mad love for a man--she loved him with her soul, her mind, +her body. She lacked knowledge, balance, and wisdom; she had only love +and passion. + +And you, madam, how about _your_ children? + +They were born of a "dutiful" wife. You descended from your lofty +altitude unwillingly--only at duty's call. You are so "refined," yet you +are a loving mother and pose as the highest type of woman. + +_God never made in his whole universe of worlds such a "duty" as +unwilling motherhood_. Motherhood without the call of sex for sex is +indecent--criminal. You, too, madam, _fell_. + +That girl in yonder "home" your "charity" helped establish, who loved +unwisely, fell. Her fall was through love--yours through a legal +ceremony. + +All the churches, all the religions and the laws of earth, cannot make +motherhood holy and right without the mutual mental, spiritual, and +physical union of two beings. + +Heaven and earth _both_ must sanction a child's conception to produce a +"well-born" soul. + +There is no greater sin on earth than the creation of a human life +without complete accord of the creators. + +No wonder the world is full of miserable half-born beings, when mothers +like _you_ claim to be the Madonnas of earth. + +No wonder natural, complete, striving souls hide their true natures +under a false exterior, when women like _you_ rule church and society. + +What shame or degradation is there, pray, in being animate with the +all-pervading impulse which underlies the entire universe? Every planet, +every tree, every flower, every insect, is the result of sex seeking +sex, atom calling atom. + +The universe _is_ because of the law of sex attraction. + +And you, poor, puny, pallid woman, dare decry and despise that law, and +dare insult God's animate creature! + +Know this, madam, there is no strength worth boasting that has not +conquered weakness. No virtue worth the name that has not conquered +temptation. No greatness of character that has not overcome unworthy +impulses. + +Enjoy your negative goodness and be glad you are "good." + +Morality is acceptable to the world, however it conies; but dare not sit +in judgment on other human beings fighting battles whose smoke never +reaches your nostrils, striving for heights of which you never even +dream, and who meanwhile have missed certain degradations which you seem +to consider creditable achievements. + +Madam, I bid you adieu. That word means "I commend you to God," the God +who made the two sexes, and intended love to unite them. + +May He enlighten you in other lives, if not in this. + + + + +To Maria Owens + +_A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + + +Surprise, I am free to confess, was my dominant emotion on reading your +letter. Marriage and Maria had never associated themselves in my mind, +fond as I am of alliteration. + +Never in the ten years I have known you have I heard you devote ten +minutes to the subject of any man's good qualities. You always have +discoursed upon men's faults and vices, and upon their tendency, since +the beginning of time, to tyrannize over woman. I was unable to +disprove many of your statements, for I know the weight of argument is +upon your side, even while I boldly confess my admiration and regard for +men, as a class, is greater than that for women. + +The fact that the world has allowed men such latitude, and such +license, and made them pay such very small penalties, comparatively +speaking, for very large offences, causes me to admire their wonderful +achievements in noble living all the more: and to place the man of +unblemished reputation and unquestioned probity on a pedestal higher +than any I could yet ask builded for woman. + +It is more difficult to be great before the extended tentacles of the +self-indulgence octopus than in the face of oppression and danger. When +the laws of the land and the sentiment of the people permit a man to be +selfish, licentious, tyrannical, and yet call him great if he +accomplishes heroic deeds, it proves what intrinsic worth must lie in +the nature of those who attain the heights of unselfishness and +benevolence, and martyrdom, asking no reward and often receiving none +until posterity bestows it. + +Those who can take the broad road of selfishness unmolested, and choose +the narrow path of high endeavour instead, seem to me greater than those +who overcome mere externals. + +Many such men have existed, and the steady, slow, but certain progress +of the world from barbarism to civilization, from accepted cannibalism +and slavery to ideals of brotherhood, we owe to them. All new +discoveries, all greatest achievements are due to men. Woman, I know, +has been handicapped and oppressed for centuries by superstitions, and +traditions, and unjust laws; but it is unfair to ignore the bright, and +see only the dark side of the picture, which the centuries have painted +for us, on the background of time. + +This letter is only a résumé of many conversations between you and me, +and it leads up to the explanation of why I am somewhat dazed and +stunned by your announcement that marriage is a possible event in your +near future. + +My self-conceit in regard to my knowledge of human nature every now and +then receives a blow. So soon as I have arrived at a positive conviction +that I understand any human being thoroughly, and feel that I can safely +predict what that person will or will not do, I usually meet some such +bewildering experience as this. + +I would have laughed at any one who suggested the possibility of your +considering a proposition of marriage. + +You tell me you are thirty-five years old, and say you have never before +met the man to whom your thoughts reverted, no matter how you +endeavoured to occupy yourself with other subjects. You also tell me "he +is not like other men." These two statements are wonderfully familiar to +me, indeed they have been confided to me in precisely the same words by +at least a score of women, young and not so young, who met the +compelling man. _Maria, I believe you are in love_. Your heart is +awakened from its stupor, caused by an overdose of intellect. For too +much intellect is often a drug which deadens the consciousness of a +woman's heart. But you have been drugged so long that you are still +under a hazy spell, to judge from that portion of your letter which took +the form of an inquiry. + +You ask my opinion in regard to the point of disagreement between you +and your semi-fiancé. To much that you say I agree. You have carved a +name and a place for yourself in the world. Your lectures, and your +books, have made your name familiar to many people. Your lover is +unknown to the public, a man in the private walks of life. Therefore you +think if he loves you as he should to become your husband, he ought to +give up his own name and take yours, or at least add yours to his own. +You assure me it is merely a matter of habit, that women have +obliterated themselves on the altar of marriage, and that it is time a +new order was instituted. You think the hour calls for pioneers to +establish new boundaries, in a new world where woman will be allowed to +keep her individuality after marriage. Meantime your lover does not feel +that you really love him, when you ask him to take this somewhat radical +step for your sake, or for the sake of all women, as you put it. + +And there you both stand, with only this ridiculous barrier between you +and happiness. + +You are still influenced by the intellectual drug, and it hinders your +heart from following out its best impulses. You have not yet learned +more than the A B C of love, or you would know that the greatest +happiness in loving lies in sacrifice. To take and not give, to gain +something and give up nothing, is not loving. Now I think I hear you +saying, "But why should not my lover give this proof of devotion as well +as I? Why should not he be ready to sacrifice a tradition, and a name, +to please me? Why am I more unloving, or selfish, than he, to refuse to +give up my name?" + +My answer follows. + +Any woman who asks a man to give up his name and take hers (unless some +great legal matter which involves the property rights of others hangs on +so doing) asks him to make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the world. +She indicates, also, that her family name and her own achievements are +dearer to her than his. No woman loves a man enough to be happy as his +wife, if he is not dearer to her than any mere personal success, however +great. + +The man who asks a woman to take his name obeys a tradition and a +custom, to be sure, and the woman who accepts it does not display any +especially heroic trait. Therefore, what you demand of your lover is a +far greater proof of devotion than what he asks of you. No woman who +fully understood the meaning of love could ask this of her future +husband. If he occupied the place in her life which a husband should, no +matter what were her personal attainments, she would glory in adding his +name to her own, and in having its shelter to hide under at times from +the glare of publicity. + +Should you choose to keep your name Maria Owens with no addition, for +your lectures and your books, it is quite probable your husband would +not object. And again, if your achievements are worth the thought you +give them in this matter, they are great enough to endure even should +you add the name of Chester to that of Owens. But certainly, if you love +the man you think of marrying, you will be happy in the thought of +wearing his name legally and socially in every-day life, and the sight +of a card engraved, "Mrs. Rupert Chester," will give your heart a +sweeter thrill than it has ever known in connection with the newspaper +notices of Maria Owens. + +Unless you can arouse your heart to such an understanding of love, you +are not yet acquainted with the little god. If your lover consents to +the sacrifice you have demanded, he will indicate a weakness of +character which augurs ill for the future: and if you insist upon the +sacrifice, you will establish a selfish precedent which can only make +you a tyrant in your own domain, and at the same time belittle your +husband in the public eye. + +However proud and happy you may be in the thought of noble achievements +of your own, you must realize that there are many brutal and painful +phases to a public career for a woman. These phases do not exist to any +such degree for a man. I do not believe it is the result of tradition or +habit, but of sex and temperament, that this difference exists, and that +the shelter of a man's name means more to woman than any shelter to be +found in her own, and that the sacrifice of her own name means less to +her than the sacrifice of his means to him. Unless you can reach this +same conclusion, do not marry--for you do not love. + + + + +To Mrs. St. Claire + +_The Young Divorcée_ + + +And so you have joined the increasing army of the divorcées. + +It is worse than useless to discuss again the causes which led to this +situation, and now that the law of the land has made you a free woman, +the one thing for you to consider is your future, and to formulate to +some degree a code of conduct for your guidance. + +You are in the prime of beautiful womanhood, pleasing to the eye, and +agreeable to the mind. Women will regard you with more or less mental +reservation, and men will seek you at every opportunity. + +Some witty creature has said, "A little widow is a dangerous thing." + +It might be added, "A grass widow whets the appetites of bovines". + +You will find yourself at a loss to choose when an escort is needed, so +many and persistent will be the applicants for the position. + +After having passed through the black waters of an unhappy marriage, +this sudden freedom and return to the privileges of girlhood will be +liable to affect you like the glare of sunlight after confinement in a +dark room. + +You will be blinded for a time. It would be well for you to walk slowly, +and to use a cane of common sense, and even to feel your way with the +outstretched hands of discretion, until you become accustomed to the +light. + +To fall and scar yourself now, would be a disaster. + +It is a curious fact that a woman who has been unhappy with one man +usually finds many others ready to give her the opportunity for a +repetition of her experience. And it is equally curious that one unhappy +marriage frequently leads to another. + +A disastrous rencontre with Hymen seems to destroy a woman's finer +intuitions. If you feel that you must marry again, go slowly, and wait +until the bruised tendrils of your heart have healed and are rooted in +healthy soil. Do not let them twine about any sort of a dead tree or +frail reed. Run no chance of a second sorrow. + +One divorce always contains elements of tragedy. A second becomes a +farce. + +You tell me that you and your former husband entertain the kindest +feeling for each other. You have seen him and talked with him on several +occasions, and you regard him as a friend. You say all love and +sentiment perished long before your separation, and that to continue as +his wife was to die a thousand deaths daily. + +You tell me that your own higher development demanded this separation. I +know such situations do exist in the world of men and women, and that to +submit to them is a crime. Yet I also know that this idea of +"development" is used often as a cloak for all sorts of selfish impulses +and moods. + +Many men and women to-day seem to forget that certain other objects +besides happiness enter into self-development. + +It is not only the pilot who deserts the ship and swims ashore who saves +his life. The one who keeps his hand on the wheel, and his eye on the +lighthouse, he, too, sometimes saves his own life, as well as saves the +ship. + +But since to jump overboard was the only way to save your own life, now +that you are ashore, and dry, and comfortable, your first consideration +should be to avoid falling into mires and pits as you go along. + +Though romance died out of your marriage, do not let it die out of your +heart. It is commendable that you feel no bitterness or resentment +toward your husband. But do not carry your kindly feelings toward him to +the extent of frequent association and comradeship. + +Outside of criminal situations, life offers no more ghastly and +unpleasant picture than that of dead passion galvanized into a semblance +of friendship, and going about the world devoid of the strong elements +of either sentiment. + +There is something radically wrong with a woman's ideals when she does +not feel an instinctive unwillingness to be thrown with the man from +whom she has been divorced. + +There is something akin to degeneracy in the man or woman who can +contemplate without shrinking the intimate encounter of legally parted +husbands or wives. + +The softening of the human brain is a terrible malady. + +Quite as terrible is the hardening of the human heart. + +The loss of happiness is deemed a tragedy. But far greater is the +tragedy when the illusive charm of romance departs, and love and +marriage are reduced to the commonplace. Unless you find the man who +carries your whole nature by storm, and who makes you feel that life +without him will be insupportable, do not be led again to the altar of +marriage. + +Life has many avenues for a bright and charming woman which lead to +satisfaction and peace, if not to happiness. + +If you desire to be a picturesque figure in the world, remember that the +divorced woman who never marries again is far more so than she who has +taken the names of two living men. + +And remember how much there is in life to do for other people, how much +there is to achieve, and how much there is to enjoy, for the woman who +has eyes wherewith to see, and ears with which to hear. + +Life is a privilege, even to the unhappy. It allows them the opportunity +to display the great qualities which God implanted in every soul, and to +give the world higher examples of character. + +He who leaves such an example to the world earns happiness for eternity. + + + + +To Miss Jessie Harcourt + +_Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + + +And so there is trouble in the house of Harcourt, my dear Jessie. You +want to marry your intellectual young lover, who has only his pen +between him and poverty, and your cruel father, who owns the town, says +it is an act of madness on your part, and of presumption on his. + +And you are thinking of going to the nearest clergyman and defying +parental authority. + +You have even looked at rooms where you believe you and Ernest could be +ideally happy. And you want me to act as matron-of-honour at that very +informal little wedding. + +Now, my dear girl, before you take this important step, give the matter +careful study. + +Your impulses are beautiful, and your ideal natural and lovely. God +intended men and women to choose their mates in this very way, with no +consideration of a worldly nature to mar their happiness. + +But civilized young ladies are a far call from God's primitive woman. +You have lived for twenty-three years in the lap of modern luxury. Your +father prides himself upon the fact that, although your mother died when +you were very young, he has carefully shielded you from everything which +could cast a shadow upon your name or nature. Your lover is fascinated +with your absolute purity and innocence. Yet he does not realize that a +young woman who has so long "sat in the lap of Luxury," is unfit to be a +poor man's wife. + +Some girl who might know much more than you of the dark and vulgar side +of life, would make him a better companion if he could love her enough +to ask her hand in marriage. + +The girl who has received the addresses of this fascinating old fellow +"Luxury," never quite forgets him, or ceases to bemoan him if she +throws him over for a poor man. + +To _look_ at two rooms and a bath is one thing, to _live_ in them +another, after having all your life occupied a suite which a queen might +envy, with retinues of servitors at call. + +You tell me you could die for your lover. + +But can you bathe from a wash-bowl and pitcher, and can you take your +meals at cheap restaurants, and make coffee and toast on an oil-stove or +a chafing-dish? + +Can you wear cheap clothing and ride in trolleys, and economize on +laundry bills to prove your love for this man? + +You never have known one single hardship in your life; you never have +faced poverty, or even experienced the ordinary economies of well-to-do +people. + +You are an only daughter of wealth--_American wealth_. That sentence +conveys a world of meaning. _It means that you are spoiled for anything +but comfort in this life_. + +For a few weeks you might believe yourself in a fairy-land of romance +if you married your lover and went to live in the two rooms. But at the +end of that period you would begin to realize that you were in a very +actual land of poverty and discomfort. + +Discomfort is relative. Those rooms to the shop-girl who had toiled for +years, and lived in a fourth-flight-back tenement, would represent +luxury. To you, after a few months, they would mean absolute penury. + +You would begin to miss your beautiful home, and your maids, and your +carriages. Your husband would know you were missing them, and he would +be miserable. Unless your father came to your rescue, your dream of +romantic love would end in a nightmare of regret and sorrow. + +Your father knows you,--the creature of refined tastes and luxurious +habits that he has made you,--and your lover does not. Neither do you +know yourself. + +It requires a woman in ten thousand, one possessed of absolute heroism, +like the old martyrs who sang at the stake while dying, to do what you +contemplate, and to be happy in the doing. + +Nothing like a life of self-indulgence disintegrates great qualities. +You are romantically and feverishly in love with a handsome and gifted +young man. But do not rush into a marriage with him until you can bring +your father to settle a competence upon you, or until your lover has +spanned the abyss of poverty with a bridge of comfort. You have had no +training in self-denial or self-dependence. The altar is a bad place to +begin your first lesson. + +Wait awhile. I know my advice seems worldly and cold, but it is the +result of wide observation. + +If you cannot sit in your gold and white boudoir, and be true to Ernest +while he battles a few more years with destiny, then you could not +remain loyal in thought while you held your numb fingers over a chilly +radiator in an uncomfortable flat, or omitted dessert from your dinner +menu to cut down expenses. + +Your brain-cells have been developed in opulence. + +You could not train your mind to inexorable economy, even at the command +of Cupid. + +Take the advice of a woman of the world, my dear girl, and do not +attempt the impossible and so spoil two lives. + +Again I say, wait awhile. + +There are girls who could be perfectly happy in the position you picture +for yourself with Ernest, but not you. + +Better hide your ideal in your heart than shatter it on the unswept +hearthstone of the commonplace. + +Better be in your lover's life the unattained joy, than ruin his +happiness by discontent. + +It is less of a tragedy for a man to hear a woman say "I cannot go with +you," than to hear her say "I cannot stay with you." + + + + +To Miss Jane Carter + +_Of the W.C.T.U._ + + +And so, my dear Jane, I have fallen from my pedestal, in your +estimation. Yet, having carefully regarded myself in the mirror, and +finding no discolorations, and feeling no wounds or contusions, I think +my pedestal must have been very near the earth, else I would be +conscious of some bruises. + +And now, Jane, to be frank, I am very glad to be off my perch. + +I do not want to dwell upon a pedestal. + +It necessitates a monotonous life, and it is an unsocial position. + +I prefer to walk on the earth, among my fellow creatures. + +You were greatly shocked, I saw, when I told my little Russian guest +that she might light her cigarette in my boudoir. Your sudden departure +told its own story, and your letter was no surprise. But I am glad you +wrote me so frankly, as it gives me the opportunity to be equally frank. + +There is nothing more beneficial, in true friendship, than a free +exchange of honest criticisms. + +You tell me that I lowered my standard by lending countenance to a +pernicious and unladylike habit. You felt I owed it to myself, as a good +woman, and to my home, as a respectable house, to show my unswerving +principles in this matter, and to indicate my disapproval of a +disgusting vice, which is growing in our midst. + +Life is too short, my dear Jane, in which to achieve all our ideals, and +to arrive at all our goals. + +I have learned the futility of attempting to reform the whole world in +one day. And I have also learned that there are more roads than one, to +all destinations. + +Miss Ordosky is the daughter of a dear old friend of my youth, who +married a Russian nobleman with more titles than dollars. + +Her parents are dead, and Wanda has come to her mother's native land, to +teach her father's language. She has come with all her Russian habits +and ideas accented by her mother's American indifference to public +opinion. The girl is young, lovely, and wholly dependent upon herself +for a livelihood. I invited her to be my guest for two months, before +establishing herself in her business, with the hope of helping her to +adapt herself somewhat to American ideas and customs. + +I could never hope for such a result, had I antagonized her the first +day under my roof by an austere attitude toward a habit which I knew she +had been reared to think proper. + +I do not like to see a woman smoke, and I regret as much as you do the +increasing prevalence of the vice in America. + +Like almost every schoolgirl, I had my day of thinking a surreptitious, +cigarette was wonderfully cunning. + +That day passed, like the measles and the whooping-cough, and left me +immune. I have never seen a woman so beautiful and alluring that she was +not less charming when she put a cigarette to her lips. I am confident +the habit vitiates the blood, injures the digestion, and renders the +breath offensive. I have known many American men who taught their wives +to smoke; and I do not know _one_ who has not lived to regret it, when +the cigarette he fancied would be an occasional luxury became a +necessity. + +A woman who expects ever to bring children into the world, is little +better than a criminal to form such a habit: for, argue as we may for +one moral code for both sexes, we cannot change nature's law, which +imposes the greater responsibility upon the mother of the unborn child; +the child she carries so many months beneath her heart, giving it hour +by hour the impression of her mental and physical conditions. + +Fathers ought not to smoke or indulge in other bad habits. + +_Mothers must not_. + +I hope in time to discuss these topics with Wanda, and to make an +impression upon her mind by my arguments. + +But your methods and mine, dear Jane, differ widely. And, begging your +pardon, I believe mine accomplish more good for a larger number of human +beings than yours. + +And, added to that fact, I get more happiness for myself out of life. + +Miss Ordosky would have managed to smoke her cigarette, however rigid +had I been in expressing my principles. And she would have found some +excuse to shorten her visit under my roof, and then where would be my +opportunity to influence her? + +As it is, she puffs her cigarette in my company, listens to my opinions, +seems to respect my ideas, and is interested in my views of life. We are +becoming excellent comrades, and this is far more gratifying to me than +to know that I had antagonized her into a formal acquaintance by my +aggressive morality. I have an idea that, before my pretty guest +reaches the time when she will consider wifehood and motherhood as life +professions, I may convince her from a scientific standpoint that she +better abandon her cigarettes. And to convince one's mind is far better +than to drive one to submission. + +And now, Jane, has it never occurred to you that you have made some +mistakes in life by the very methods you are so sorry I did not pursue +with Miss Ordosky? + +Years ago, I recall your surrounding a certain young man with an aureole +of idealism. Then you were obliged to dethrone him from his pedestal +because he, too, forsooth, smoked a cigar. + +That young man married a woman quite as worthy and good as yourself, and +he has made the best of husbands and citizens. I know of no man who does +more good in the world in a quiet way than this same unpedestaled old +admirer of yours. Whether he still smokes his cigar or not I could not +say. But as a man, it seems to me, he is quite as worthy and noble a +citizen, as you are a woman. + +I know that you are doing all you can, to spread the gospel of clean +living abroad in the land, and that your influence is all for a higher +standard of morality. + +But if you live on too high an altitude, in this world, and refuse to +associate with any one who will not climb up to your plane, you are +destined to a lonely life, and your sphere of influence is limited. You +will do far more good by taking your place with other human beings, and +by gradual, sane efforts leading the thoughts of your associates to turn +to your wholesome ideas of life. You are making morality unpopular by +your present aggressive methods. And you are missing many sweet +friendships and experiences by your insistence that all your friends +must follow the narrow path you have decided is the only road to good +behaviour. + +Come down from your pedestal, my dear Jane--come and dwell on the earth. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 12020-8.txt or 12020-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/2/12020/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Woman of the World + Her Counsel to Other People's Sons and Daughters + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: April 14, 2004 [EBook #12020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + +<br> +<div class="c1"><img src="photo.jpg" alt=""></div> +<h1>A Woman of the World</h1> +<div class="c1">HER COUNSEL TO OTHER PEOPLE'S SONS AND +DAUGHTERS</div><br> +<br> +<h3>By</h3> +<h2>Ella Wheeler Wilcox</h2> +<div class="c1">1904</div><br> +<br> +<div class="c1">Fourth Impression, April, 1910</div><br> +<br> +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="Contents"></a> +<h2>Contents</h2><a href="#To_Mr_Ray_Gilbert"><b>To Mr. Ray +Gilbert,</b></a> <i>Law Student, Aged Twenty-three</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Winifred_Clayborne"><b>To Miss Winifred +Clayborne,</b></a> <i>At Vassar College</i><br> +<a href="#To_Edna_Gordon"><b>To Edna Gordon,</b></a> <i>During Her +Honeymoon</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Gladys_Weston"><b>To Miss Gladys Weston,</b></a> +<i>Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living</i><br> +<a href="#To_Clarence_St_Claire"><b>To Clarence St. Claire,</b></a> +<i>Regarding His Sister's Betrothal</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Margaret_Riley"><b>To Miss Margaret +Riley,</b></a> <i>Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Gladys_Weston2"><b>To Miss Gladys Weston,</b></a> +<i>After Three Years as a Teacher</i><br> +<a href="#To_a_Young_Friend"><b>To a Young Friend,</b></a> <i>Who +Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical Thoughts of the +Day</i><br> +<a href="#To_Wilfred_Clayborn"><b>To Wilfred Clayborn,</b></a> +<i>Concerning His Education and His Profession</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Elsie_Dean"><b>To Miss Elsie Dean,</b></a> +<i>Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration</i><br> +<a href="#To_Sybyl_Marchmont"><b>To Sybyl Marchmont,</b></a> <i>Who +Has Learned Her Origin</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Diana_Rivers"><b>To Miss Diana Rivers,</b></a> +<i>A Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist</i><br> +<a href="#To_Nanette"><b>To Nanette,</b></a> <i>A Former +Maid</i><br> +<a href="#To_The_Rev_Wilton_Marsh"><b>To The Rev. Wilton +Marsh,</b></a> <i>Regarding His Son and Daughter</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Charles_McAllister"><b>To Mrs. Charles +McAllister,</b></a> <i>Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon"><b>To Mrs. Charles Gordon,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Maternity</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mr_Alfred_Duncan"><b>To Mr. Alfred Duncan,</b></a> +<i>Concerning the Ministry</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mr_Charles_Gray"><b>To Mr. Charles Gray,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Polygamy</i><br> +<a href="#To_Walter_Smeed"><b>To Walter Smeed,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Creeds and Marriage</i><br> +<a href="#To_Sybyl_Marchmont2"><b>To Sybyl Marchmont,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon2"><b>To Mrs. Charles Gordon,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Her Sister and Her Children</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon3"><b>To Mrs. Charles Gordon,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Her Children</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Zoe_Clayborn_Artist"><b>To Miss Zoe Clayborn +Artist,</b></a> <i>Concerning the Attentions of Married Men</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mr_Charles_Gordon"><b>To Mr. Charles Gordon,</b></a> +<i>Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years of Married +Life</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_Clarence_St_Claire"><b>To Mrs. Clarence St. +Claire,</b></a> <i>Concerning Her Husband</i><br> +<a href="#To_Young_Mrs_Duncan"><b>To Young Mrs. Duncan,</b></a> +<i>Regarding Mothers-in-Law.</i><br> +<a href="#To_a_Young_Man"><b>To a Young Man,</b></a> <i>Ambitious +for Literary Honours</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_McAllister"><b>To Mrs. McAllister,</b></a> +<i>Concerning Her Little Girl</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mr_Ray_Gilbert2"><b>To Mr. Ray Gilbert,</b></a> +<i>Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty</i><br> +<a href="#To_the_Sister_of_a_Great_Beauty"><b>To the Sister of a +Great Beauty,</b></a><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_White_Peak"><b>To Mrs. White Peak,</b></a> <i>One +of the Pillars of Respectable Society</i><br> +<a href="#To_Maria_Owens"><b>To Maria Owens,</b></a> <i>A New Woman +Contemplating Marriage</i><br> +<a href="#To_Mrs_St_Claire"><b>To Mrs. St. Claire,</b></a> <i>The +Young Divorcée</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Jessie_Harcourt"><b>To Miss Jessie +Harcourt,</b></a> <i>Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young +Man</i><br> +<a href="#To_Miss_Jane_Carter"><b>To Miss Jane Carter,</b></a> +<i>Of the W.C.T.U</i><br> +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Ray_Gilbert"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Ray Gilbert</h2> +<p class="c3">Late Student, Aged Twenty-three<br> +<p>Were you an older man, my dear Ray, your letter would be +consigned to the flames unanswered, and our friendship would become +constrained and formal, if it did not end utterly. But knowing you +to be so many years my junior, and so slightly acquainted with +yourself or womankind, I am going to be the friend you need, +instead of the misfortune you invite. +<p>I will not say that your letter was a complete surprise to me. +It is seldom a woman is so unsophisticated in the ways of men that +she is not aware when friendship passes the borderline and +trespasses on the domain of passion. +<p>I realized on the last two occasions we met that you were not +quite normal. The first was at Mrs. Hanover's dinner; and I +attributed some indiscreet words and actions on your part to the +very old Burgundy served to a very young man. +<p>Since the memory of mortal, Bacchus has been a confederate of +Cupid, and the victims of the former have a period (though brief +indeed) of believing themselves slaves to the latter. +<p>As I chanced to be your right-hand neighbour at that very merry +board, where wit, wisdom, and beauty combined to condense hours +into minutes, I considered it a mere accident that you gave +yourself to me with somewhat marked devotion. Had I been any other +one of the ladies present, it would have been the same, I thought. +Our next and last encounter, however, set me thinking. +<p>It was fully a week later, and that most unromantic portion of +the day, between breakfast and luncheon. +<p>It was a Bagby recital, and you sought me out as I was listening +to the music, and caused me to leave before the programme was half +done. You were no longer under the dominion of Bacchus, though +Euterpe may have taken his task upon herself, as she often does, +and your manner and expression of countenance troubled me. +<p>I happen to be a woman whose heart life is absolutely complete. +I have realized my dreams, and have no least desire to turn them +into nightmares. I like original rôles, too, and that of the +really happy wife is less hackneyed than the part of the +"misunderstood woman." And I find greater enjoyment in the steady +flame of one lamp than in the flaring light of many candles. +<p>I have taken a good deal of pride in keeping my lamp well +trimmed and brightly burning, and I was startled and offended at +the idea of any man coming so near he imagined he might blow out +the light. +<p>Your letter, however, makes me more sorry than angry. +<p>You are passing through a phase of experience which comes to +almost every youth, between sixteen and twenty-four. +<p>Your affectional and romantic nature is blossoming out, and you +are in that transition period where an older woman appeals to you. +<p>Being crude and unformed yourself, the mature and ripened mind +and body attract you. +<p>A very young man is fascinated by an older woman's charms, just +as a very old man is drawn to a girl in her teens. +<p>This is according to the law of completion, each entity seeking +for what it does not possess. +<p>Ask any middle-aged man of your acquaintance to tell you the +years of the first woman he imagined he loved, and you will find +you are following a beaten path. +<p>Because you are a worth while young man, with a bright future +before you, I am, as I think of the matter, glad you selected me +rather than some other less happy or considerate woman, as the +object of your regard. +<p>An unhappy wife or an ambitious adventuress might mar your +future, and leave you with lowered ideals and blasted prospects. +<p>You tell me in your letter that for "a day of life and love with +me you would willingly give up the world and snap your fingers in +the face of conventional society, and even face death with a +laugh." It is easy for a passionate, romantic nature to work itself +into a mood where those words are felt when written, and sometimes +the mood carries a man and a woman through the fulfilment of such +assertions. But invariably afterward comes regret, remorse, and +disillusion. +<p>No man enjoys having the world take him at his word, when he +says he is ready to give it up for the woman he loves. +<p>He wants the woman and the world, too. +<p>In the long run, he finds the world's respect more necessary to +his continued happiness than the woman's society. +<p>Just recall the history of all such cases you have known, and +you will find my assertions true. +<p>Thank your stars that I am not a reckless woman ready to take +you at your word, and thank your stars, too, that I am not a free +woman who would be foolish enough and selfish enough to harness a +young husband to a mature wife. I know you resent this reference to +the difference in our years, which may not be so marked to the +observer to-day, but how would it be ten, fifteen years from now? +There are few disasters greater for husband or wife than the +marriage of a boy of twenty to a woman a dozen years his senior. +For when he reaches thirty-five, despair and misery must almost +inevitably face them both. +<p>You must forgive me when I tell you that one sentence in your +letter caused a broad smile. +<p>That sentence was, "Would to God I had met you when you were +free to be wooed and loved, as never man loved woman before." +<p>Now I have been married ten years, and you are twenty-three +years old! You must blame my imagination (not my heart, which has +no intention of being cruel) for the picture presented to my mind's +eye by your wish. +<p>I saw myself in the full flower of young ladyhood, carrying at +my side an awkward lad of a dozen years, attired in knickerbockers, +and probably chewing a taffy stick, yet "wooing and loving as never +man loved before." +<p>I suppose, however, the idea in your mind was that you wished +Fate had made me of your own age, and left me free for you. +<p>But few boys of twenty-three are capable of knowing what they +want in a life companion. Ten years from now your ideal will have +changed. +<p>You are in love with love, life, and all womankind, my dear boy, +not with me, your friend. +<p>Put away all such ideas, and settle down to hard study and +serious ambitions, and seal this letter of yours, which I am +returning with my reply, and lay it carefully away in some safe +place. Mark it to be destroyed unopened in case of your death. But +if you live, I want you to open, re-read and burn it on the evening +before your marriage to some lovely girl, who is probably rolling a +hoop to-day; and if I am living, I want you to write and thank me +for what I have said to you here. I hardly expect you will feel +like doing it now, but I can wait. +<p>Do not write me again until that time, and when we meet, be my +good sensible friend—one I can introduce to my husband, for only +such friends do I care to know. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Winifred_Clayborne"></a> +<h2>To Miss Winifred Clayborne</h2> +<p class="c3">At Vassar College<br> +<p>My dear niece:—It was a pleasure to receive so long a letter +from you after almost two years of silence. It hardly seems +possible that you are eighteen years old. To have graduated from +high school with such honours that you are able to enter Vassar at +so early an age is much to your credit. +<p>I indulged in a good-natured laugh over your request for my +advice regarding a college course. You say, "I remember that I once +heard you state that you did not believe in higher education for +women, and, therefore, I am anxious to have your opinion of this +undertaking of mine." +<p>Now of course, my dear child, what you wish me to say is, that I +am charmed with your resolution to graduate from Vassar. You have +entered the college fully determined to take a complete course, and +you surely would not like a discouraging or disapproving letter +from your auntie. +<p>"Please give me your opinion of my course of action" always +means, "Please approve of what I am doing." +<p>Well I <i>do</i> approve. I always approve when a human being is +carrying out a determination, even if I am confident it is the +wrong determination. +<p>The really useful knowledge of life must come through strong +convictions. Strong convictions are usually obtained only on the +pathway of personal experience. +<p>To argue a man out of a certain course of action rarely argues +away his own beliefs and desires in the matter. We may save him +some bitter experience in the contemplated project, but he is +almost certain to find that same bitter experience later, because +he has been coerced, not enlightened. +<p>Had he gained his knowledge in the first instance, he would have +escaped the later disaster. +<p>A college education does not seem to me the most desirable thing +for a woman, unless she intends to enter into educational pursuits +as a means of livelihood. I understand it is your intention to +become a teacher, and, therefore, you are wise to prepare yourself +by a thorough education. <i>Be the very best</i>, in whatever line +of employment you enter. +<p>Scorn any half-way achievements. Make yourself a brilliantly +educated woman, but look to it that in the effort you do not forget +two other important matters—health and sympathy. My objection to +higher education for women, which you once heard me express, is +founded on the fact that I have met many college women who were +anaemic and utterly devoid of emotion. One beautiful young girl I +recall who at fourteen years of age seemed to embody all the +physical and temperamental charms possible for womankind. Softly +rounded features, vivid colouring, voluptuous curves of form, yet +delicacy and refinement in every portion of her anatomy, she +breathed love and radiated sympathy. I thought of her as the ideal +woman in embryo; and the brightness of her intellect was the +finishing touch to a perfect girlhood. I saw her again at +twenty-four. She had graduated from an American college and had +taken two years in a foreign institution of learning. She had +carried away all the honours—but, alas, the higher education had +carried away all her charms of person and of temperament. +Attenuated, pallid, sharp-featured, she appeared much older than +her years, and the lovely, confiding and tender qualities of mind, +which made her so attractive to older people, had given place to +cold austerity and hypercriticism. +<p>Men were only objects of amusement, indifference, or ridicule to +her. Sentiment she regarded as an indication of crudity, emotion as +an insignia of vulgarity. The heart was a purely physical organ, +she knew from her studies in anatomy. It was no more the seat of +emotion than the liver or lungs. The brain was the only portion of +the human being which appealed to her, and "educated" people were +the only ones who interested her, because they were capable of +argument and discussion of intellectual problems—her one source of +entertainment. +<p>Half an hour in the society of this over-trained young person +left one exhausted and disillusioned with brainy women. I beg you +to pay no such price for an education as this young girl paid. I +remember you as a robust, rosy girl, with charming manners. Your +mother was concerned, on my last visit, because I called you a +pretty girl in your hearing. She said the one effort of her life +was to rear a sensible Christian daughter with no vanity. She could +not understand my point of view when I said I should regret it if a +daughter of mine was without vanity, and that I should strive to +awaken it in her. Cultivate enough vanity to care about your +personal appearance and your deportment. No amount of education can +recompense a woman for the loss of complexion, figure, or charm. +And do not let your emotional and affectional nature grow +atrophied. +<p>Control your emotions, but do not crucify them. +<p>Do not mistake frigidity for serenity, nor austerity for +self-control. Be affable, amiable, and sweet, no matter how much +you know. And listen more than you talk. +<p>The woman who knows how to show interest is tenfold more +attractive than the woman who is for ever anxious to instruct. +Learn how to call out the best in other people, and lead them to +talk of whatever most interests them. In this way you will gain a +wide knowledge of human nature, which is the best education +possible. Try and keep a little originality of thought, which is +the most difficult of all undertakings while in college; and, if +possible, be as lovable a woman when you go forth into the world +"finished" as when you entered the doors of your Alma Mater: for to +be unlovable is a far greater disaster than to be uneducated. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Edna_Gordon"></a> +<h2>To Edna Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">During Her Honeymoon<br> +<p>I am very much flattered that you should write your first letter +as Mrs. Gordon to me. Its receipt was a surprise, as I have known +you so slightly—only when we were both guests under a friend's roof +for one week. +<p>I had no idea that you were noticing me particularly at that +time, there was such a merry crowd of younger people about you. How +careful we matrons should be, when in the presence of +débutantes, for it seems they are taking notes for future +reference! +<p>I am glad that my behaviour and conversation were such that you +feel you can ask me for instructions at this important period of +your life. Here is the text you have given me: +<p>"<i>I want you to tell me, dear Mrs. West, how to be as happy, +and loved, and loving, after fifteen years of married life, as you +are. I so dread the waning of my honeymoon</i>." +<p>And now you want me to preach you a little sermon on this text. +Well, my dear girl, I am at a disadvantage in not knowing you +better, and not knowing your husband at all. +<p>Husbands are like invalids, each needs a special prescription, +according to his ailment. +<p>But as all invalids can be benefited by certain sensible +suggestions, like taking simple food, and breathing and exercising +properly, and sleeping with open windows or out-of-doors, so all +husbands can be aided toward perpetual affection by the observance +of some general laws, on the part of the wife. +<p>I am, of course, to take it for granted that you have married a +man with principles and ideals, a man who loves you and desires to +make a good husband. I know you were not so unfortunate as to +possess a large amount of property for any man to seek, and so I +can rely upon the natural supposition that you were married for +love. +<p>It might be worth your while, right now, while your husband's +memory is fresh upon the subject, to ask him what particular +characteristics first won his attention, and what caused him to +select you for a life companion. +<p>Up to the present moment, perhaps, he has never told you any +more substantial reason for loving you than the usual lovers' +explanation—"Just because." But if you ask him to think it over, I +am sure he can give you a more explicit answer. +<p>After you have found what qualities, habits, actions, or +accomplishments attracted him, write them down in a little book and +refer to them two or three times a year. On these occasions ask +yourself if you are keeping these attractions fresh and bright as +they were in the days of courtship. Women easily drop the things +which won a man's heart, and are unconscious that the change they +bemoan began in themselves. But do not imagine you can rest at ease +after marriage with only the qualities, and charms, and virtues, +which won you a lover. To keep a husband in love is a more serious +consideration than to win a lover. +<p>You must add year by year to your attractions. +<p>As the deep bloom of first youth passes, you must cultivate +mental and spiritual traits which will give your face a lustre from +within. +<p>And as the mirth and fun of life drifts farther from you, and +you find the merry jest, which of old turned care into laughter, +less ready on your lip, you must cultivate a wholesome optimistic +view of life, to sustain your husband through the trials and +disasters besetting most mortal paths. +<p>Make one solemn resolve now, and never forget it. Say to +yourself, "On no other spot, in no other house on earth, shall my +husband find a more cheerful face, a more loving welcome, or a more +restful atmosphere, than he finds at home." +<p>No matter what vicissitudes arise, and what complications occur, +keep that resolve. It will at least help to sustain you with a +sense of self-respect, if unhappiness from any outside source +should shadow your life. An attractive home has become a sort of +platitude in speech, but it remains a thing of vital importance, +all the same, in actual life and in marriage. +<p>Think often and speak frequently to your husband of his good +qualities and of the things you most admire in him. +<p>Sincere and judicious praise is to noble nature like spring rain +and sun to the earth. Ignore or make light of his small failings, +and when you must criticize a serious fault, do not dwell upon it. +A husband and wife should endeavour to be such good friends that +kindly criticism is accepted as an evidence of mutual love which +desires the highest attainments for its object. +<p>But no man likes to think his wife has set about the task of +making him over, and if you have any such intention I beg you to +conceal it, and go about it slowly and with caution. +<p>A woman who knows how to praise more readily than she knows how +to criticize, and who has the tact and skill to adapt herself to a +man's moods and to find amusement and entertainment in his whims, +can lead him away from their indulgence without his knowledge. +<p>Such women are the real reformers of men, though they scorn the +word, and disclaim the effort. +<p>It is well to keep a man conscious that you are a refined and +delicate-minded woman, yet do not insist upon being worshipped on a +pedestal. It tires a man's neck to be for ever gazing upward, and +statues are less agreeable companions than human beings. +<p>If you wish to be thought spotless marble, instead of warm flesh +and blood, you should have gone into a museum, and refused +marriage. Remember God knew what He was about, when He fashioned +woman to be man's companion, mate, and mother of his children. +<p>Respect yourself in all those capacities, and regard the +fulfilment of each duty as sacred and beautiful. +<p>Do not thrust upon the man's mind continually the idea that you +are a vastly higher order of being than he is. +<p>He will reach your standard much sooner if you come half-way and +meet him on the plane of common sense and human understanding. +Meantime let him never doubt your abhorrence of vulgarity, and your +distaste for the familiarity which breeds contempt. +<p>It is a great art, when a wife knows how to attract a husband +year after year, with the allurements of the boudoir, and never to +disillusion him with the familiarities of the dressing-room. +<p>Such women there are, who have lived with their lovers in +poverty's close quarters, and through sickness and trouble, and yet +have never brushed the bloom from the fruit of romance. But she who +needs to be told in what this art consists, would never understand, +and she who understands, need not be told. +<p>Keep your husband certain of the fact that his attention and +society is more agreeable to you than that of any other man. But +never beg for his attentions, and do not permit him to think you +are incapable of enjoying yourself without his playing the devoted +cavalier. +<p>The moment a man feels such an attitude is compulsory, it +becomes irksome. Learn how to entertain yourself. Cling to your +accomplishments and add others. A man admires a progressive woman +who keeps step with the age. Study, and think, and read, and +cultivate the art of listening. This will make you interesting to +men and women alike, and your husband will hear you praised as an +agreeable and charming woman, and that always pleases a man, as it +indicates his good taste and good luck. +<p>Avoid giving your husband the impression that you expect a +detailed account of every moment spent away from you. Convince him +that you believe in his honour and loyalty, and that you have no +desire to control or influence his actions in any matters which do +not conflict with his self-respect or your pride. +<p>Cultivate the society of the women he admires. There is both +wisdom and tact in such a course. +<p>Wisdom in making an ideal a reality, and tact in avoiding any +semblance of that most unbecoming fault—jealousy. +<p>Let him see that you have absolute faith in your own powers to +hold him, and that you respect him too much to mistake a frank +admiration for an unworthy sentiment. Do not hesitate to speak with +equal frankness of the qualities you admire in other men. Educate +him in liberality and generosity, by example. +<p>Allow no one to criticize him in your presence, and do not +discuss his weaknesses with others. I have known wives to meet in +conclaves, and dissect husbands for an entire afternoon. And each +wife seemed anxious to pose as the most neglected and unappreciated +woman of the lot. With all the faults of the sterner sex, I never +heard of such a caucus of husbands. +<p>Take an interest in your husband's business affairs, and +sympathize with the cares and anxieties which beset him. Distract +his mind with pleasant or amusing conversation, when you find him +nervous and fagged in brain and body. +<p>Yet do not feel that you must never indicate any trouble of your +own, for it is conducive to selfishness when a wife hides all her +worries and indispositions to listen to those of her husband. But +since the work-a-day world, outside the home, is usually filled +with irritations for a busy man, it should be a wife's desire to +make his home-coming a season of anticipation and joy. +<p>Do not expect a husband to be happy and contented with a +continuous diet of love and sentiment and romance. He needs also +much that is practical and commonplace mingled with his mental +food. +<p>I have known an adoring young wife to irritate Cupid so he went +out and sat on the door-step, contemplating flight, by continual +neglect of small duties. +<p>There were never any matches in the receivers; when the husband +wanted one he was obliged to search the house. The newspaper he had +folded and left ready to read at leisure was used to light the +fire, although an overfilled waste-basket stood near. The +towel-rack was empty just when he wanted his bath, and his bedroom +slippers were always kicked so far under the bed that he was +obliged to crawl on all fours to reach them. +<p>Then his loving spouse was sure to want to be "cuddled" when he +was smoking his cigar and reading,—a triple occupation only +possible to a human freak, with three arms, four eyes, and two +mouths. +<p>Therefore I would urge you, my dear Edna, to mingle the +practical with the ideal, and common sense with sentiment, and tact +with affection, in your domestic life. +<p>These general rules are all I can give to guide your barque into +the smooth, sea of marital happiness. +<p>It is a wide sea, with many harbours and ports, and no two ships +start from exactly the same point or take exactly the same course. +You will encounter rocks and reefs, perhaps, which my boat escaped, +and I have no chart to guide you away from those rocks. +<p>If I knew you better, and knew your husband at all, I might +steer you a little farther out of Honeymoon Bay into calm waters, +and tell you how to reef your sails, and how to tack at certain +junctures of the voyage, and with the wind in certain directions. +<p>But if you keep your heart full of love, your mind clear of +distrust, and your lips free from faultfinding, and if you pray for +guidance and light upon your way, I am sure you cannot miss the +course. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Gladys_Weston"></a> +<h2>To Miss Gladys Weston</h2> +<p class="c3">Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living<br> +<p>It is indeed a problem, my dear Gladys, to face stern-visaged +Necessity after walking with laughing-lipped Pleasure for +twenty-two years. +<p>What an unforeseen event that your father should sink his +fortune in a rash venture and die of remorse and discouragement +scarcely six months after you were travelling through Europe with +me, and laughing at my vain attempts to make you economize. +<p>You have acted the noble and womanly part, in using the last +dollar of your father's property to pay his debts, and I could +imagine you doing no other way. +<p>But now comes the need of earning a livelihood for yourself, and +your delicate mother. +<p>I know you have gone over the list of your accomplishments and +taken stock of all your inherited and acquired qualities. You play +the piano well, but in these days of Paderewskies and pianolas, no +one wants to employ a young girl music-teacher. You do not sing, +and if you did, that would not afford you a means of support. The +best of natural voices need a fortune spent before half a fortune +can be earned. +<p>You dance like a fairy, and swim like a mermaid, and ride like +an Indian princess, but these accomplishments are not lucrative, +save in a Midway Plaisance or a Wild West show. You are well +educated and your memory is remarkable. You have a facility in +mathematics, and your knowledge of grammar and rhetoric will, as +you say, enable you to pass the examination for a teacher in the +public schools after a little brushing up and study. Then, with the +political influence of your father's old friends, you will no doubt +be able to obtain a position. +<p>I recollect you as surpassingly skilful with the needle. I know +you once saw a charming morning gown in Paris which I persuaded you +not to buy at the absurd price asked for it, after the merchant +understood we were Americans. And I remember how you passed to +another department, purchased materials, went home to our hotel, +and cut and made a surprising imitation of the gown at one-tenth +the cost. +<p>Why have you not considered turning this talent to account? +Though the world goes to war and ruin, yet women will dress, and +the need of good seamstresses ever exists. +<p>Go to some enterprising half-grown Western or interior Eastern +town, announce yourself in possession of all the Paris styles (as +you are), and launch out. Increase your prices gradually, and go +abroad on your savings at the end of a year, then come back with +new ideas, a larger stock, and higher prices. +<p>You will be on the road to fortune, and can retire with a +competence before you are middle-aged. A little skill with the +scissors and needle, lots of courage and audacity, and original +methods will make a woman succeed in this line of endeavour. +<p>But why do I not approve of the profession upon which you have +almost decided—that of teaching—you ask. +<p>I will tell you why. +<p>Next to motherhood, the profession of teacher in public or +private schools is the most important one on earth. +<p>It is, in a certain sense, more responsible than that of +motherhood, since the work of poor and bad mothers must be undone +by the teacher, and where the mother has three or four children for +a period of years to influence, the teacher has hundreds +continually. There are very few perfect teachers. There are too few +excellent ones. There are too many poor ones. I do not believe you +possess the requisites for the calling. +<p>A teacher should first of all love children as a class. Their +dependence, their ignorance, their helplessness, and their unformed +characters should appeal to a woman's mind, and make her forget +their many and varied faults and irritating qualities. You like +lovable, well-bred, and interesting children, but you are utterly +indifferent to all others. You adore beauty, and an ugly child +offends your taste. A stupid child irritates you. +<p>You have a wonderful power of acquiring and remembering +information, but you do not possess the knack of readily imparting +it. You expect others to grasp ideas in the same way you do. This +will make you unsympathetic and impatient as a teacher. You have no +conception of the influence a teacher exerts upon children in +public schools. You were educated in private schools and at home, I +know. I attended the country public school, and to this day I can +recall the benefits and misfortunes which resulted to me from +association with different teachers. Children are keenly alive to +the moods of teachers and are often adepts in mind-reading. +<p>A teacher should be able to enter into the hearts and souls of +the children under her charge, and she should find as great +pleasure in watching their minds develop as the musical genius in +watching a composition grow under his touch. +<p>An infinite number of things not included in the school routine +should be taught by teachers. Courtesy, kindness to dependents and +weaker creatures, a horror of cruelty in all forms, a love of +nature, politeness to associates, low speaking and light walking, +cleanliness and refinement of manner,—all these may be imparted by +a teacher who loves to teach, without extra time or fatigue. I fear +a proud disdain, and a scarcely hidden disgust, would be plainly +visible in your demeanour toward the majority of the untrained +little savages given to your charge in a public school. You have +not the love of humanity at large in your heart, nor the patience +and perseverance to make you take an optimistic view in the +colossal work of developing the minds of children. Therefore it +seems to me almost a sin for you to undertake the profession merely +because you need to earn a living. There are other things to be +considered besides your necessities. Fond as I am of you, I have +the betterment of humanity at my heart, too, and cannot feel it is +right for you to place yourself in a position where you will not be +doing the best for those dependent upon you that could be done. +<p>I have given up hope of seeing mothers made to realize their +responsibilities. But I still have hope of the teachers. On them +and their full understanding of all it is in their power to do, +lies the hope of the world. +<p>Therefore, my dear girl, I urge you to take up dressmaking or +millinery instead of school-teaching. +<p>If you ruin a piece of goods in the making, you can replace it +and profit by your error. But if you mar a child's nature in your +attempt to teach him, you have done an irreparable injury not only +to him but to humanity. +<p>If you saw a design started by a lace-maker, you would not think +of taking the work and attempting to complete it until you had +learned the art of lace-making. +<p>Just so you ought not to think of developing the wonderful +intricacies of a child's mind until you have learned how. +<p>It is all right to deliberately choose a vocation which gives us +contact only with inanimate things, but we have no right to take +the handling of human souls unless we are specially fitted for the +task. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Clarence_St_Claire"></a> +<h2>To Clarence St. Claire</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding His Sister's Betrothal<br> +<p>Your request, my dear Clarence, that I try to influence your +sister to change her determination in this matter, calls for some +very plain statements from me. +<p>I have known you and Elise since you were playing with marbles +and rattles, and your mother and I have been very good +acquaintances (scarcely intimate enough to be called friends) for +more than a score of years. You are very much like your mother, +both in exterior appearance and in mind. Elise is the image of her +father at the time he captured your mother's romantic fancy, and as +I recollect him when he died. +<p>You were five years old, Elise three, at that time. Your mother +lived with your father six years in months, an eternity in +experience. You know that she was unhappy, and that he +disillusioned her with love, and almost with life. He married your +mother solely for her fortune. She was a sweet and beautiful girl, +of excellent family, but your father had no qualities of mind or +soul which enabled him to appreciate or care for any woman, save as +she could be of use to him, socially and financially. +<p>In six years he managed to dispose of all but a mere pittance of +her fortune, and humiliated her in a thousand ways besides. His +only decent act was to die and leave her undisturbed for the +remainder of her life. Your uncle assisted in her support and saved +the remnant of her property, so that she has, by careful and +rigorous economy, been able to educate you and Elise, and keep up a +respectable appearance in a quiet way. +<p>Of course it was impossible to retain her place among the +associates of her better days, and you know how bitter this fact +has always made Elise. Your sister has the physical beauty and the +overwhelming love of money and power which characterized your +father. She has a modicum of your mother's sense of honour, but has +been reared in a way not calculated to develop much strength of +character. Your mother has been a slave to your sister. Elise is +incapable of a deep, intense love for any man, and your mother's +pessimistic ideas of love and marriage have still further acted +upon her brain cells and atrophied whatever impulses may have been +latent in her nature, to love and be loved. These qualities might +have been developed had Elise been under the tutelage of some one +versed in the science of brain building, but your mother, like most +mothers, was not aware of the tremendous possibilities within her +grasp, or of the effect of the ideas she expressed in the hearing +of her children. Neither did she seem to recognize the father's +traits in Elise, and undertake the work of eliminating them, as she +might have done. She has been an unselfish and devoted mother, and +has made too many sacrifices for Elise. At the same time, she has +awakened the mind of your sister to ideals of principle and honour +which will help her to be a better woman than her inheritance from +your father would otherwise permit. But now, at the age of +twenty-one, it is impossible to hope that she will develop into a +self-sacrificing, loving, womanly woman, whose happiness can be +found in a peaceful domestic life. She has seen your mother sad and +despondent, under the yoke of genteel poverty, and heard her bemoan +her lost privileges of wealth and station. This, added to her +natural craving for money and place, renders a wealthy marriage her +only hope of happiness on earth. +<p>Mr. Volney has an enormous fortune. He is, as you say, a senile +old man in his dotage. As you say again, such a marriage is a +travesty. But Elise is incapable of feeling the love which alone +renders marriage a holy institution. She has undesirable qualities +which ought not to be transmitted to children, and she is +absolutely devoid of maternal instincts. +<p>I have heard her say she would consider motherhood the greatest +disaster which could befall her. But she is unfitted for a +self-supporting career, and she wants a home and position. +<p>She has beauty, kind and generous impulses, and a love of +playing Lady Bountiful. It is not so much that she wants to benefit +the needy, as that she likes to place people under obligations and +to have them look up to her as a superior being. +<p>Old Mr. Volney is a miser, and his money is doing no one good. +He has only distant relatives, and by taking Elise for a wife +(according to law) he will wrong no one, and she will make much +better use of his fortune than his heirs would make. +<p>Your mother will be relieved of worry and care. Many worthy poor +people and charities will receive help, and Elise will have her +heart's desire—fine apparel, jewels, a social position, and no one +to bother her. The valet and nurse will look after Mr. Volney, and +his simple old heart will bask in the pride of an old man—the +possession of a pretty young wife. +<p>Had he full use of his mental faculties, and did he long for +love and devotion, I would try and dissuade Elise from the +marriage, but solely on <i>his</i> account, not on hers. +<p>The young man you mention, as your choice of a suitor for the +hand of your sister, might better go up in a balloon to seek for +Eutopia than to expect happiness as her husband. He has a sweet, +gentle, loving nature, a taste for quiet home joys, fondness for +children, and he has two thousand a year, with small prospects of +more in the near future. +<p>He should marry a modest, domestic girl, with tastes similar to +his own, and with no overweening ambitions. Elise would simply +drive him mad in a year's time, with her restless discontent, her +extravagance, and her desire for the expensive pleasures of earth. +It is useless to reason with her, or to expect her to model her +ideas to suit her circumstances. Inheritance and twenty-one years +of wrong education must be taken into consideration. What would +mean happiness for many women would mean misery for her. I can +imagine no more dreadful destiny than to be tied to a senile old +man by a legal ceremony, even were I given his millions in payment. +But that will mean happiness to Elise. +<p>I think we should let people seek their own ideals of happiness, +when they break no law, and injure no other life by it. +<p>I shall congratulate Elise by this post on having made so +fortunate an alliance. I could not congratulate her were she to +marry her young suitor. I shall congratulate your mother on having +nothing to worry about, regarding the future of Elise. +<p>And I advise you to take a philosophical view of the situation, +and to remember that, in judging the actions of our fellow beings, +we must take their temperaments, characteristics, and environment +into consideration, not our own. +<p>You have made the very common error of thinking, because Elise +is a handsome young girl, that love, and home, and children would +mean happiness to her. +<p>Women vary as greatly as do plants and flowers in their needs. +The horticulturist knows that he cannot treat them all alike, and +he studies their different requirements. +<p>To some he gives moisture and sun, to some shade, and to some +dry, sandy soil. The thistle pushes forth a gorgeous bloom from an +arid bed. It would die in the pond where the lily thrives. +<p>Too much sentiment is wasted in this world and too much effort +expended in trying to make all people happy in some one way. +<p>When I was a little girl, a Sunday-school superintendent +presented every girl in the class with a doll, and each doll was +exactly the same. Most little girls like dolls, but I never played +with one, as they were always so hopelessly inanimate. If the good +man had given me a sled, or a book, or a picture, I would have been +happy. As it was, his gift was a failure. You want to present your +sister with a devoted young husband, a cottage, and several +children, because you think every woman should possess these +things. Your sister happens to be one who prefers a wealthy old +invalid. +<p>Let her have what she wants, my dear Clarence, and let her work +out her destiny in her own way. She will do less harm in the world +than if you forced her into your way. Now you must remember that +you asked me to help you in this matter, and I could only write you +the absolute facts of the situation, as I knew it to be. I feel +fairly confident that you will accept my point of view, and act as +best man at your sister's wedding. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Margaret_Riley"></a> +<h2>To Miss Margaret Riley</h2> +<p class="c3">Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors<br> +<p>Your letter has been destroyed, as you requested, and you need +not fear my betraying your confidence. +<p>Your mother was so long in my employ that I feel almost like a +foster-mother to you, having seen you grow up from the cradle to +self-supporting young womanhood. +<p>The troubles and evils which you mention as existing about you, +I know to be quite universal in all large shops, factories, and +department stores, indeed in all houses where the two sexes are +employed. +<p>I know that a certain order of men in power use that power to +lower the ideals and standards of womanhood when they can. +<p>A pretty young girl once in my service related to me the +cold-blooded suggestions made to her by her employer to increase +the miserable wage paid her in a sweat-shop. +<p>The sacrifice of her virtue seemed no more to this man than the +sale of an old garment. +<p>The girl did not make the sacrifice, however, and she did not +starve, freeze, or die. She managed to exist and to better her +condition by doing domestic work and saving her money to fit +herself for more congenial employment. When I last saw her she was +planning to become a trained nurse, and had paid for a course of +instruction in massage. I tell you this merely to illustrate a fact +I fully believe, that any girl who is determined to live an +honourable life and retain her self-respect can make her way in the +world and rise from lesser to higher positions, if she is patient +and willing to do what is termed menial work as a stepping-stone. +You tell me that scores of girls are kept in poorly paying, +inferior positions when capable of filling better places, simply +because they will not accept the dishonourable attentions of some +of the men in authority. +<p>You beg me to arouse the good women of America to a crusade +against what you say is a growing evil and to boycott such shops +and stores. +<p>But you ask me to do what is an impracticable thing. +<p>You would not like to be called as a witness were this matter +brought before the courts. Were all the good women of America to +begin such a crusade, where would they obtain the proofs of their +accusations? +<p>And even if the witnesses were ready, there is not a newspaper +in the land that would dare champion the reform. And no great +reform can be made without the aid of the press. The daily papers, +as you say, give columns to protests against lesser evils, but you +must know that these newspapers are largely supported by the +profitable advertisements of manufactories and dry-goods houses. +Glance over the columns of any of our large dailies and see how +much space such advertising occupies. +<p>Imagine what it would mean to lose all this high-priced +patronage. Therefore, even if the most moral of editors knew that +these establishments were undermining our social conditions and +invading our homes, I doubt if he could be induced to make a +protest. It is a curious thing to see how many are the kinds of +victims caught and held in the clutches of the money-devil-fish in +our wonderful land of freedom. +<p>Even clergymen who are preaching morality and brotherly love are +compelled to keep their mouths shut on certain evils and abuses, +lest they offend the pillars of the church and deprive the treasury +of its income. +<p>In a certain New England town famous for its educational +institution, a clergyman denounced a corporation which had swindled +the poor and deceived scores of citizens. He was requested to +discontinue further references to the matter, as the church +treasury was supplied by the money which accrued from this +monopoly. +<p>The most powerful members of the church were officers in the +corporation. +<p>The young clergyman sent in his resignation and gave up an +assured salary to follow the light of his own conscience. But there +are few with his bravery and, therefore, the strongholds of +selfishness and self-indulgence remain impregnable. While we admire +the splendid character which makes a man capable of refusing a +salary which means hush-money, we can at the same time understand +the difficult position of a clergyman with a hungry brood of +children to support, who hesitates at such a move. We can +understand how he argues with himself, that by taking the money of +the monopolists, he is able to do more good for humanity than by +refusing it, and losing both influence and income. It is a false +argument, yet the worn and weary mind of the average orthodox +minister will accept it as the advisable course to pursue. So you +will see how difficult is the task you suggest my undertaking. You +tell me that it is useless for you to leave one shop and go to +another, as all are more or less conducted on the same lines; and +that it is mere chance if a girl finds herself in a position where +she can advance on her merits. Even then a sudden change in heads +of departments some day may destroy all her hopes. +<p>You say I have no idea how many girls go wrong just through the +persecution and tyranny of these men—forced to fall in order to +keep herself fed and clothed. I repeat what I said already in this +connection,—that I am certain any girl determined to keep herself +above reproach and ambitious to rise in the world can do so. She +may have to endure many privations and sorrows for a time, and that +time may seem long and weary, <i>but a change will come for the +better as surely as spring follows winter, if she does not +waver</i>. +<p>If you will look carefully into the facts of the cases which +fall under your observation, I am confident you will see that it is +vanity and indolence, not hunger and oppression, which cause the +majority of the girls you mention to go astray. They desire to make +as good an appearance, and to be given the same privileges of +leisure, as the favourite who has been promoted through unworthy +methods. +<p>You tell me you would rather jump from Brooklyn Bridge and end +the struggle at once than lose your self-respect, but that you are +weary of seeing the girls with less conscience, and lesser +capabilities, pushed ahead of you and your worthy associates. Yet I +am certain from the tone of your letter that you will never forget +your self-respect, and I have faith that you can make your way in +the world in spite of all the designing masculine oppressors in +existence. +<p>So will any woman, who sets her mark high, and believes in the +invincible power of her own spirit to conquer all the demons of +earth. +<p>Do not imagine your position is one of unusual trial and +temptation. A young actress of my acquaintance has been obliged to +fight her way slowly to partial recognition because she would not +accept the conditions offered, with leading rôles and fine +wardrobe, by two polygamous-minded managers. +<p>She is making her way, however, and the very battle she is +fighting with life has strengthened her powers as an artist. A +young stenographer has been compelled to give up two positions +because she would not allow the loverlike attentions of married +employers. She was called a silly prude and discharged. Yet she is +occupying an excellent position with a clean high-class business +house to-day. +<p>Domestics are sometimes driven from private homes by the same +pursuit of the employer. Men are only in a state of evolution, and +the animal instincts are still strong in them. The world has +allowed them so much license, and society has been so lenient with +their misdeeds, that it has been difficult for them to practise +self-control and aspire to a higher standard. You must be sorry for +them and do what you can to help them understand the worth and +value of true womanhood. Never for one instant believe that you can +be hindered by the machinations of a few unworthy men, from +reaching any goal you set. +<p>One good, intelligently virtuous woman, determined to make the +most of her capabilities by fair methods, can overcome a whole army +of self-indulgent, sensual men, and compel them to doff their hats +to her. I am always deeply sympathetic toward the girl who is +tempted through her emotions, or her affections, to forget herself. +But I have no great pity for the woman who sells herself. There are +always charitable societies, and there are always menial labours to +do, and either door of escape from the sale of honour would be +sought by the girl of right ideals. It is a bitter experience to +see the woman who <i>has</i> stepped down into the soil of life +flaunting her finery and her power in the face of virtue. But look +about you and see how soon the finery becomes tatters—how soon the +power is transferred to another. +<p>Woman's position in the world is growing better, brighter, and +more independent with each year. There are more avenues open to +her—larger opportunities waiting for the employment of her +abilities. She has tried a thorny path for centuries, but she has +small reason to despair of her outlook to-day. +<p>Each woman must fight her battle alone, and walk by the light +from within. +<p>The world gives her only a superficial protection, either +through its courts or its society. +<p>Men demand virtue from woman and endeavour in every way to lead +her away from its path. +<p>But the divinity within her can carry her to the heights, if she +will not be lured by the voice of the senses, or frightened by the +demands of the appetite, or debased by the mercenary spirit of the +age. +<p>Go on in your brave determination to lead a sensible and moral +life, my dear girl, and let your example be a guide to others, and +prove that woman may succeed on the right basis if she will, in +spite of temptations and oppressions. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Gladys_Weston2"></a> +<h2>To Miss Gladys Weston</h2> +<p class="c3">After Three Years as a Teacher<br> +<p>The way you took my frank criticisms and doubts of your ability +to make a good school-teacher, proves you to be a girl of much +character. Your success proves, too, that given the general +qualifications of a fairly capable and educated human being, add +concentration and will, and we can achieve wonders in any line of +work we undertake. I am still of the opinion that no woman of my +acquaintance was more wholly unfit to teach young children, as they +should be taught, than your fair self as I last knew you. +<p>I take pride in believing that my heroic methods were what +brought out the undeveloped qualities you needed to ensure such +success. +<p>There are certain natures that need to be antagonized before +they do their best. Others are prostrated and robbed of all +strength by a criticism or a doubt. +<p>You have realized this, I am sure, in your experiences with +pupils. "<i>You cannot do it</i>" is a more stimulating war-cry to +some people than "<i>You can</i>." And to such the sneer of the foe +does more good, than the smile of the friend. A phrenologist would +tell us that strongly developed organs of self-esteem and love of +approbation accompanied this trait of character. +<p>I am sure it proves to be the case with you. +<p>Brought up as you were, the only child of indulgent parents, and +given admiration and praise by all your associates, you could +hardly reach the age of twenty-two without having developed +self-esteem and love of praise. You were naturally brighter than +most of your companions. (They were also children of fortune, as +the term goes, but to my idea the children reared in wealth, are +usually children of misfortune. For the real fortune of life is to +encounter the discipline which brings out our strongest qualities.) +<p>Your father was a poor boy, who fought his way up to wealth and +power before you were born; but he unfortunately wanted the earth +beside, and so died in poverty after staking all he had, which was +enough, to make more, which he did not need. +<p>You inherit much of his force of character, and that is what +gave you the reputation of extreme cleverness among your more +commonplace companions. Compared with the really brilliant and +talented people of earth, you are not clever. That is why I found +you so companionable and charming, no doubt; for the brilliant +people—especially women—are rarely companionable for more than a +few hours at a time. I gave you that supreme test of friendship—the +companionship of travel for a period of months. And I loved you +better at the end of the time than at the beginning. +<p>I have often thought how much less occupation there would be for +the divorce courts and how many more "indefinitely postponed" +announcements of engagements would result from an established +custom of a pre-betrothal trip! +<p>If a young man and woman who were enamoured could travel for two +or three months, with a chaperon (in the shape of a mother-in-law +or two), the lawyers would lose much profit; but I fear race +suicide might ensue. Nothing, unless it is the sick-room or the +card-table, brings out the real characteristics of human beings +like travel. +<p>The irritating delays of boats and trains, and the still more +irritating unresponsiveness of officials, when asked the cause, +will test the temper and the patience of even a pair of lovers. It +is not surprising if the traveller does lose both at times, but it +is admirable if he does not. I remember how adorable you were, +while I was a bundle of dynamite, ready to explode and send the +stolid, uncommunicative conductor and brakemen into a journey +through space, when we suffered that long delay coming from +California. It is due the travelling public to explain such delays, +but the railroads of America have grown to feel that they owe no +explanation to any one, even to God, for what they do or do not. +While I lost vitality and composure by such idle reflections, you +were amusing the nervous travellers by your bright bits of +narrative and ready repartee. That fortunate fellow you have +promised to marry at the end of two years has no idea what a +charming companion he will find in you for travel. +<p>It is interesting to have you say you feel that you need two +more years as a teacher, before you are fully developed enough to +take up the responsibilities of marriage. You will be twenty-seven +then:—that is the age at which the average American girl begins to +be most interesting, and the age when she is first physically +mature. +<p>And your children will be more fully endowed mentally than if +you had become a mother in your teens. +<p>As a rule the brainy people of the world are not born of very +youthful parents; you will find youth gives physique, maturity +gives brains to offspring. +<p>I did not quite finish my train of reasoning about your +self-esteem. +<p>It was because you had always believed yourself to be capable of +doing anything you undertook to do, that you were roused by my +assertion that you could not make a good school-teacher, to attempt +it. I hurt your pride a bit, and you were determined to prove me +wrong. Had you been self-depreciating and oversensitive, what I +said would have turned you from that field of effort. And that +would have been a desirable result, since one who can be turned +from any undertaking <i>ought to be</i>. +<p>I still think the world has lost a wonderful artist by your not +entering the lists of designers and dressmakers. But since my +recital of the faults which would prevent your success as a teacher +led you to overcome them, I am proud and glad, that you have gone +on in the work you contemplated. Good teachers are more needed than +good dressmakers. +<p>And you are sweet and charming as usual, to tell me that your +popularity with children and parents, is greatly due to that letter +of mine. +<p>What you write me of the young girl who is making you so much +trouble by her jealousy of all other pupils, interests and saddens +me. Her devotion to you is of that morbid type, so unwholesome and +so dangerous to her peace, and the peace of all her associates. It +is a misfortune that mothers do not take such traits in early +babyhood, and eradicate them by patient, practical methods. +Instead, this mother, like many others, seems to think her little +girl should be favoured and flattered because of her morbid +tendency. +<p>She mistakes selfishness, envy, greediness, and hysteria for a +loving nature. +<p>I can imagine your feelings when this mother told you with a +proud smile, "Allie always wants the whole attention of any one she +loves, and cannot stand sharing her friends. She was always that +way at home. We never could pet her little brother without her +going into a spasm. And you must be careful about showing the other +children attention before her. It just breaks her heart—she is so +sensitive." +<p>Oh, mothers, mothers, what are you thinking about, to be so +blind to the work put in your hands to do? +<p>You have little time comparatively to work upon this perverted +young mind: but under no conditions favour her, and, no matter what +scenes she makes, continue to give praise and affection to the +other children when it is their due. The prominence of her parents +in the neighbourhood, and the power her father wields in the school +board, need not worry you. Go ahead and do what is best for the +child and for the school at large. Never deviate one inch from your +convictions. Take Allie some day to a garden where there are many +flowers, and talk to her about them. Speak of all their different +charms, and gather a bouquet. Then say to her, "Now, Allie, you and +I love each of these pretty flowers, and see how sweetly they +nestle together in your hand. Not one is jealous of the other. Each +has its place, and would be missed were it not there. The bouquet +needs them all. Just so I need all the dear children in my school, +and just so I would miss any one. It makes me ashamed to think any +little girl is more selfish and unreasonable than a plant, for +little girls are a higher order of creation, and we expect more of +them than we expect of plants or of animals. All are parts of God, +but the human kingdom is the highest expression of the Creator. +<p>"When you show such jealousy of other children I lose respect +for you, and cannot love you as much as I love them. When you are +gentle and good, and take your share of my love and attention, and +let others have their share, then I am proud of you and fond of +you. Suppose one plant said to the sunlight that it must have all +the sun, would not that be ridiculous and selfish?" +<p>I would make frequent references to this idea when alone with +her, and indeed it would serve as an excellent subject for a talk +to all your pupils some day. Then try and make Allie understand how +unbecoming and unlovable jealousy is, and how it renders a man or +woman an object of pity and ridicule to others. +<p>Praise the people you know who are liberal and broad, and +absolutely ignore her moods when in school. +<p>Perhaps in time you can do a little toward awakening her mind to +a more wholesome outlook. +<p>What you tell me of her hysterical devotion to one of her +classmates, makes me realize that the girl needs careful guidance. +<p>You should talk to her mother, and warn her against encouraging +such conditions of mind in her child. +<p>Urge her to keep the girl occupied, and to give her much +out-door life, and to teach her that pronounced demonstrations of +affection are not good form between young girls. The mother should +be careful what books she reads, and should see that she makes no +long visits to other homes and receives no guests for a continued +time. The child needs to cultivate universal love, not individual +devotion. +<p>Ideals, principles, ambitions, should be given the girl, not +close companions, for her nature is like a rank, weedy flower that +needs refining and cultivating into a perfected blossom. +<p>All this needs a mother's constant care and tact and +watchfulness. It is work she should have begun when her little girl +first indicated her unfortunate tendencies. +<p>It is late for you to undertake a reconstruction of the +misshapen character, but you may be able to begin an improvement, +and if you can obtain the mother's cooperation the full formation +may be accomplished. +<p>And do not fail to use mental suggestion constantly, and to help +the child by your assertions to be what you want her to become. +Dwell in conversation with her and in her presence, upon the +lovableness and charm of generosity of spirit in general, rather +than on the selfishness you observe in herself. +<p>At her least indication of an improvement, give her warm praise. +Be careful about bestowing caresses upon her, as she needs to be +guarded against hysteria, I should judge from your description. To +some children they are the sunlight, to others miasma. +<p>Think of yourself as God's agent, given charge of his unfinished +work, and recognize the unseen influences ready to aid you with +suggestion and courage when you appeal to them. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_a_Young_Friend"></a> +<h2>To a Young Friend</h2> +<p class="c3">Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical +Thoughts of the Day +<p>Your letter bubbled with enthusiasm, and steamed with optimism. +I am rejoiced that you have come into so healthful a line of +thought, for I know of no one who was in more immediate need of it +than you, when we last met. +<p>As your hostess, I could not tell you how wearing to the nerves +your continual reverting to your physical ills became: and I hope I +did not seem wholly unsympathetic to you when I so frequently made +the effort to change the conversation to more cheerful topics. +<p>And now you tell me that you are astounded to find how universal +is this topic with all classes, and on all occasions when one or +two human beings gather together even in "His name." Your recital +of the church sewing-bee, where all the good Christian women +described their diseases and the different operations they and +their friends had undergone, is as amusing as it is distressingly +realistic. +<p>What a pity that the old theology fostered the idea that God +especially loved the people he afflicted with illness and poverty +and trouble! It has filled the world with egotistical and selfish +invalids and idlers, who have believed they were "God's chosen +ones," instead of realizing that they were the natural results of +broken laws, which might be mended by the aid of the God-power in +themselves, once they understood it. +<p>How Christians have reconciled the idea of a God of love with a +God who wanted his chosen ones to be sick and poor, is a problem I +cannot solve. +<p>Of course you are well, and growing stronger daily, now that you +realize the fact that God made only health, wealth, and love, and +that he intended all his children to share his opulence. +<p>As soon as the mind is filled with a dominating idea, no lesser +ones can find lodgment therein. +<p>A woman of my acquaintance suffered agonies from seasickness. +<p>She crossed the ocean twice each year, yet seemed unable to +accustom herself to the experience. +<p>On her last voyage her child fell dangerously sick with typhoid +fever on the second day out at sea. +<p>So wrought up was the mother, and so filled with the thought of +her child, that she never felt one moment's seasickness. Her mind +was otherwise occupied. +<p>Now you have filled your mind with a consciousness of your +divine right to health and happiness, and the thought of sickness +and disease has no room. +<p>Yet do not be discouraged if you feel the old ailments and +indispositions returning at times. A complete change in mental +habits, is difficult to obtain in a moment. +<p>Be satisfied to grow slowly. A wise philosopher has said, "It is +not in never falling that we show our strength, but in our ability +to rise after repeated falls, and to continue our journey in +triumph." +<p>Avoid talking your belief to every individual you meet. It will +be breaking your string of pearls for the feet of swine to tread +upon. Those who are ready for these truths will indicate the fact +to you, and then will be your time for speech. And when you do +speak, say little, and say it briefly and to the point. +<p>Leave some things for other minds to study out alone. The people +who are not ready for higher ideals of religion and life, will only +ridicule or combat your theories and beliefs, if you force them to +listen. +<p>Wait until you have fully illustrated by your own conduct of +life, that you have something beside vague theories to prove your +statements of the power of the mind to conquer circumstance. The +world is full to-day of bedraggled and haggard men and women, who +are talking loudly of the power of mind to restore youth and +health, and bestow riches and success. +<p>Do not add yourself to the unlovely and tiresome army of +talkers, until you prove yourself a doer. +<p>And even after you have shown a record of health and prosperity +and usefulness, let your silent influence speak louder than your +uttered words. +<p>The moment a philosopher becomes a bore, he ceases to be a +philosopher. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Wilfred_Clayborn"></a> +<h2>To Wilfred Clayborn</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning His Education and His Profession<br> +<p>My Dear Nephew:—I have considered your request from all sides, +and have resolved to disappoint you. This seems to me the kindest +thing I can do under the circumstances. +<p>You have gone through two years of college life, and I am sure +you are not an ignoramus. Most of the great men of the world's +history have enjoyed no fuller educational advantages. To lend you +money to finish the college course, would be to help you to start +life at the age of twenty-two under the burden of debt. If you are +determined to finish a college course, and feel that only by so +doing will you equip yourself for the duties of life, I would +advise you to drop out for a year and teach, or go into any kind of +work which will enable you to earn enough to proceed with your +studies. However hard and however disappointing this advice seems +to you, I know it suggests a course which will do more for your +character than all the money I could lend you. +<p>Aside from the fact that you would begin life with a debt, is +the possibility of your contracting the debt habit. +<p>One man in a thousand who borrows money to help himself along in +early life is benefited by it. +<p>The other 999 are harmed. +<p>To do anything on another's money is to lean on the shoulder of +another instead of walking upright. It is not good calisthenic +exercise. +<p>A few years ago I would have acceded to your request. +<p>But each year I live I realize more and more that lending money +is the last method to be used in helping people to better +themselves. In almost every case where I have lent money, I have +lived to regret it. Not because I lost my money (which has usually +been the fact), but because I lost respect for my friends. +<p>I remember the case of a young newspaper man and author, who +came to me for the loan of five dollars. I had never seen him +before, but I knew his brother, a brilliant playwright, in a social +way. +<p>The young man told me he had met with a series of disasters on +the voyage to New York, and was stranded there absolutely +penniless, although money would come at almost any hour from his +brother. +<p>Besides this, he showed me letters from editors who had taken +work which would be paid for on publication. +<p>"I do not know any one here," the young man said, "and to-day, +when I used my last twenty-five cents, I thought of you in +desperation. +<p>"Your acquaintance with my brother would serve as an +introduction, I felt, and I was confident you would realize my +straits when I told you my errand." +<p>Of course I lent the young man five dollars. "I am sure it must +be a great humiliation for you to ask for this," I said, "and I am +certain you will repay it, though many former experiences have made +me question the memory of friends and strangers to whom I have been +of similar assistance." +<p>One week later the young man called to tell me he had not been +able to do more than keep himself sustained at lunch-counters since +he called, but hoped soon to obtain a position on a daily +newspaper. +<p>That was ten years ago. The young man sat in an orchestra chair +the other night at the theatre directly in front of me, and his +attire was faultlessly up to date. From the costume of his +companion, I should judge their carriage waited outside. +<p>The young man did not seem to recognize me, and no doubt the +incident I mention has escaped his memory. +<p>In all probability I was but one of a score of people who helped +him with small loans. Had the young man had been forced to appeal +to the society organized in every city for aiding the deserving +poor, by being sent disappointed from my door, the ordeal would +have so hurt his pride, that he might not have become the +professional borrower he undoubtedly is. +<p>I could relate innumerable cases of a similar nature. One man, +who was a fashionable teacher of French among the millionaires of +New York for several seasons, appealed to me at a time of year when +all his patrons were out of the city for a loan to enable him to +give his wife medical treatment. +<p>He was to repay it in the autumn. Instead, he came to me then +with a much more distressing story of immediate need and seeming +proof of money coming to him in a few months. To my chagrin, the +loan I advanced was employed in giving a feast to friends at his +daughter's wedding, after which he obliterated himself from my +vision. +<p>Financial aid lent a woman who soon afterward circled Europe, +brought no reimbursement. Her handsomely engraved card, with the +"Russell Square Hotel, London," as address, reached me instead of +the interest money which perhaps paid the engraver. +<p>Money lent a young man to start a small business, was used for +his wedding expenses, and an interval of five years brings no word +from him. Poor and despicable beings indeed, become the victims of +the borrowing habit. It is the shattered faith in humanity, and the +heart hurts that I regret, rather than the loss of what can be +replaced. I tell you these incidents that you may realize how I +have come to regard money-lending, as a species of unkindness to a +friend or relative. +<p>It is only one step removed from giving a sick or overtaxed man +or woman a morphine powder. +<p>Sleep and rest ensue, but ten to one the habit is formed for +life. +<p>The happy experiences of my life in money-lending, have been two +instances where I offered loans which were not asked, and which +proved to be bridges over the chasm of temporary misfortune, to the +success awaiting a worthy woman and man. The really deserving +rarely ask for loans. +<p>I can imagine with what pleasure you would take a cheque from +this letter, for the amount which would carry you through college. +<p>Yet when you had finished your course, you would find so many +things you wanted to do, and must do, the debt would become too +heavy to lift, save by borrowing from some one else. +<p>If not that, then you would impose upon the fact of our +relationship, and on your belief that I had plenty of means without +the amount you owed me: and so you would join the great army of +good-for-nothings in the world. +<p>There is one thing you must always remember: +<p>No matter how close the blood tie between two beings, even +twins, each soul comes into the world alone, and with a separate +life destiny to work out. +<p>If I have worked out my destiny to financial independence, that +does not entitle you to a share of it. If it seems best for me to +aid you, it is not because a blood tie makes it a duty. I grow to +believe there is a sort of curse on money which is not earned, even +when it is bestowed by father, on son or daughter. +<p>It cripples individual development. Only when money is earned is +it blest. +<p>Regarding your future profession, I cannot agree with your idea +that because you feel no particular love for any one calling, and +have a halfway tendency toward several, that you will never be a +success. Great geniuses are often consumed with a passion for some +one line of study or employment, but there have been many great men +who did not know what they were fitted to do until accident or +necessity gave them an opportunity. +<p>Success means simply concentration and perseverance. +<p>Whether you decide to be a mechanic, a lawyer, a doctor, or a +merchant, the one thing to do is to fix all your mental powers upon +the goal you select, and then call all the forces from within and +from without, to aid you to reach it. +<p>It would, of course, be folly for you to select a profession +which requires special talent. No matter how you might concentrate +and apply yourself, you could never be a great poet, a great +artist, or a great musician. +<p>You have not the creative genius. +<p>But law, medicine, mechanics, or mercantile matters, with your +good brain and fair education, you could conquer. +<p>You say you vacillate from one to another, like the wind which +goes to the four points of the compass in twenty-four hours. +<p>But you are very young, and this should not discourage you. +<p>It would be well to think the four vocations over quietly, when +alone, and sit down by yourself early in the morning asking for +guidance. Then, when you feel you have made a decision, let nothing +turn you from it. +<p>Direct all your studies and thoughts to further that decision. +<p>Think of yourself as achieving the very highest success in your +chosen field, and work for that end. +<p>You cannot fail. +<p>If you desire light from without upon the best path to pursue, I +would advise you to find a good phrenologist, and have a careful +reading made of your head. Its formation and the development of its +organs would indicate in what direction lay your greatest strength, +and where you needed to be especially watchful. +<p>But remember if your phrenologist tells you that you have a weak +will, it does not mean that you must necessarily <i>always</i> have +a weak will. It means that you are to strengthen it, by +concentration. There is a great truth underlying phrenology, +palmistry, and astrology; but it is ridiculous to accept their +verdicts as final and unchangeable, and it is unwise to ignore the +good they may do, rightly applied and understood. +<p>I recall the fact that you were born in early June. I know +enough about the influence of the planets upon a child born at that +period to assert that you are particularly inclined to a Gemini +nature—the twin nature, which wants to do two things at one time. +You want to stay in and go out, to read a book and play tennis, to +swim and sit on the sand. Later in life, you will want to remain +single and marry, and travel and remain at home, unless you begin +<i>now</i> to select one course of the two which are for ever +presenting themselves to you, in small and large matters. +<p>Whenever you feel yourself vacillating between two impulses, +take yourself at once in hand, decide upon the preferable course, +and go ahead. Dominate your astrological tendencies, do not be +dominated by them. Dominate your weaknesses as exhibited by your +phrenological chart, and build up the brain cells which need +strengthening, and lessen the power of the undesirable qualities by +giving them no food or indulgence. +<p>It is a great thing to understand yourself as you are, and then +to go ahead and make yourself what you desire to be. +<p>When a carpenter starts to build a house, he knows just what +tools and what materials to work with are his. If there is a broken +implement, he replaces it with another, and if he is short of +material he supplies it. But young men set forth to make futures +and fortunes, with no knowledge of their own equipment. +<p>They do not know their own strongest or weakest traits, and are +unprepared for the temptations and obstacles that await them. +<p>I would advise you to call in the aid of all the occult +sciences, to help you in forming an estimate of your own higher and +lower tendencies, and in deciding for what line of occupation you +were best fitted. Then, after you have compared the statistics so +gathered with your own idea of yourself, you should proceed to make +your character what you wish it to be. +<p>This work will be ten thousand times more profitable to you than +a mere routine of college studies, gained by running in debt. +<p>To know yourself is far better knowledge than to know Virgil. +And to make yourself is a million times better than to have any one +else make you. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Elsie_Dean"></a> +<h2>To Miss Elsie Dean</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration<br> +<p>During your visit here with my niece, I became much interested +in you. +<p>Zoe had often written me of her affection for you, and I can +readily understand her feeling, now that I have your personal +acquaintance. +<p>You have no mother, and your father, you say, absorbed in +business, like so many American fathers, seems almost a stranger. +Even the most devoted fathers, rarely understand their daughters. +<p>Now, I want to take the part of a mother and write you to-day, +as I would write my own daughter, had one been bestowed upon me +with the many other blessings which are mine. +<p>I could not ask for a fairer, more amiable, or brighter daughter +than you, nor one possessed of a kinder or more unselfish nature. +<p>You are lovable, entertaining, industrious, and refined. +<p>But you possess one fault which needs eradicating, or at least a +propensity which needs directing. +<p><i>It is the habit of exaggeration in conversation</i>. +<p>I noticed that small happenings, amusing or exciting, became +events of colossal importance when related by you. +<p>I noticed that brief remarks were amplified and grew into +something like orations when you repeated them. +<p>I confess that you made small incidents more interesting, and +insignificant words acquired poetic meaning under your tongue. +<p>And I confess also that you never once wronged or injured any +one by your exaggerations—save yourself. +<p>Zoe often said to me, "Isn't it wonderful how Elsie's +imagination lends a halo to the commonest event," and all your +friends know that you have this habit of hyperbole in conversation. +<p>Now, in your early girlhood, it is lightly regarded as "Elsie's +way." Later, in your maturity, I fear it will be called a harsher +name. +<p>When you come to the time of life that larger subjects than +girlish pranks and badinage engage your mind, it will be necessary +for you to be more exact in your descriptions of occurrences and +conversations. Besides this, there is the heritage of your unborn +children to consider. I once knew a little girl who possessed the +same vivid imagination, and allowed it to continue unchecked +through life. She married, and her son, to-day, is utterly devoid +of fine moral senses. He is a mental monstrosity—incapable of +telling the truth. His falsehoods are many and varied, and his name +is a synonym of untruth. He relates, as truth, the most marvellous +exploits in which he really never took part, and describes scenes +and places he has never visited, save through the pages of some +novel. +<p>His lack of moral sense has blighted his mother's life, and she +is wholly unconscious that he is only an exaggerated edition of +herself. +<p>I think, as a rule, such imaginations as you possess belong to +the literary mind. I would advise you to turn your attention to +story-writing, and in that occupation you will find vent for your +romantic tendencies. +<p>Meanwhile watch yourself and control your speech. +<p>Learn to be exact. +<p>Tell the truth in small matters, and do not allow yourself to +indulge in seemingly harmless white lies of exaggeration. +<p>There are times when we should refrain from speaking all the +truth, but we should refrain by silence or an adroit change of +subject. We should not feel called upon to relate all the +unpleasant truths we know of people. +<p>When asked what we know of some acquaintance, we are justified +in telling the worthy and commendable traits, and saying nothing of +the faults. +<p>Therefore, while to suppress a portion of the truth is at times +wise and kind, to distort it, or misstate facts, is never needed +and never excusable. +<p>When you and Zoe came from your drive one day you were full of +excitement over an adventure with a Greek road merchant. +<p>As you told the story, the handsome peddler had accosted you at +the exit of the post-office and asked you to look at his wares. +<p>When you declined he became familiar, paid a compliment to Zoe's +beauty, and assured her that a certain lace shawl in his possession +would be irresistible draped about her face. +<p>Then he had pursued the carriage on his wheel and continued to +"make eyes" and pay compliments to the very gate of my home, where +he abandoned the chase. +<p>The facts were, according to further investigation, that the man +paid a simple trade compliment in reference to the shawl and its +becomingness to a pretty face, mounted his wheel and rode away, as +it happened, in the same direction you and Zoe were taking. +<p>Again, you related a bit of repartee between Zoe and a caller, +which I had chanced to over-hear, and out of two short sentences +you made a small brochure, most amusing, but most untrue. +<p>It was complimentary to both Zoe and her caller, yet it was not +the conversation which took place, and therefore was not truthful. +<p>These are trifling incidents, yet they are the straws, telling +that the wind blows from the marsh-lands of inexactness—not from +the mountain tops of truth. +<p>Once a woman loses a sense of the great value of absolute +truthfulness, she has blurred the clear mirror of her soul. +<p>Put yourself upon a diet of <i>facts</i>, my sweet young friend, +and cure this propensity, harmless enough now, but dangerous for +your future. +<p>Watch your tongue that it does not say <i>five or six</i> when +it should say <i>two</i>, or <i>yards</i> when it should say +<i>inches</i>. +<p>Even in the smallest matters, practise the habit of being exact. +<p>You will thank me for this advice sometime, even if it seems +unreasonable to you to-day, and remember, I would not take the +liberty or the trouble to so advise you, did I not love you and +feel anxious for your welfare. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Sybyl_Marchmont"></a> +<h2>To Sybyl Marchmont</h2> +<p class="c3">Who Has Learned Her Origin<br> +<p>Your despairing letter lies before me. I wish you were here, my +dear child, that I might talk from my heart, instead of writing +from it. I am sorry that the secret, so long hidden, has been +revealed to you, and in such a despicable manner. +<p>An anonymous letter always carries with it the venom of a +serpent. I have long known your history, though the world generally +believed you to be the actual daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont, +who adopted you when you were scarcely one week old. +<p>No daughter ever received more affection or better care than +these good people gave you. Mrs. Marchmont lived always with a fear +in her heart that you might learn your history from some idle or +malicious lip, and before she died begged me to be your comforting +friend, if that hour ever came, which has now arrived. +<p>As your mother's nearest friend, it is natural you should turn +to me in your crucial hour of pain. And in reply to your questions +regarding the truth of this anonymous assertion, I will tell you +all I know. +<p>Your own mother was well born, and a girl of great beauty and +charm. She was of foreign blood, and her parents, after the foreign +custom, selected for her, at the age of seventeen, a man of mature +years and unattractive personality, but some fortune. The family +lived in a seaport town, and your mother attracted the eye of a +young seafaring man, holding a government position. An intense and +uncontrollable love sprang up between them. Your mother had been +kept in ignorance of God's great law of sex attraction, its purpose +and its results, and she was like a new-born babe towed on the sea +of her own suddenly awakened emotion. +<p>It was arranged that your mother was to elope with her lover on +his next arrival in port. All plans were to be made by him during +the voyage on which he went forth, after a stolen interview with +your mother. He was lost at sea, and all on board the ship perished +with him. Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont chanced to be sojourning in the +place at the time of your birth. Mr. Marchmont had longed for a +child, and the tragic story came to his ears through the physician +of your mother's family, and he and his wife decided to adopt you +and take you to America. +<p>I was the one friend who shared with Mrs. Marchmont the story of +your birth. Other friends knew she had adopted a child, and of +course all sorts of rumours were afloat for a time. Mr. Marchmont's +nephew was particularly unfriendly, I remember, as he had believed +himself heir to his uncle's estate until your adoption. +<p>Some three years ago I chanced to be in the seaport town where +you were born, and I made quiet inquiries about your mother. I +learned that she had recently died, leaving a husband and three +children. I hunted up the children, and found them to be most +uninteresting and ordinary. The oldest daughter I met and studied. +She was plain and commonplace in appearance, and the other children +were dull and unattractive. +<p>The husband was the elderly man selected by your grandparents. +Just how he had been led to accept the second place in your +mother's life, and whether he had known of the tragedy, I could not +learn without asking more questions than I deemed wise. +<p>But what I want to impress upon your mind by this recital is, +<i>your own divine inheritance of love,</i> the inheritance which +has bestowed upon you physical beauty, mental power, and rare +qualities of heart and soul. I know few women so endowed by the +Creator as you. I know of few young girls—in fact, not one—I would +so gladly and proudly claim as a daughter, or wish a daughter to be +like, as your lovely self. +<p>When I read your letter, with its wild expressions of +self-abasement and despair and regret that you were in the world, +where, you seemed to believe, you had no right to be, I could not +help picturing to myself the dull face and disagreeable personality +of your half-sister, the child whom you no doubt believe has a +greater right than yourself on earth. Now whatever society has +decided is legal and right for human beings, you must not forget +that God also has made rules, and that those rules must first be +obeyed, before the rules of man can be regarded as perfect. +<p>God's first law, regarding the propagation of the human species, +is that the <i>mother must be dominated by a supreme and ruling +emotion to give to the world the highest type of a child</i>. +<p>Your mother loved your father with all her heart and soul. She +was a young girl, ignorant of the world. She thought of her lover +as her rightful mate, and lived but for the hour when he should +rescue her from the unhappy fate arranged by unwise and +sordid-minded parents. +<p>Your father loved her, and they were in God's sight more truly +husband and wife than the soulless and loveless ceremony of the law +made her and her legal husband afterward. +<p>It is a great misfortune that your parents lacked the +self-control which is necessary to every well-balanced human being +who seeks for the fullest development. It is a sad thing that over +your life this shadow of unlegalized birth must rest. +<p>But were I given the choice to-day to be what you are, or what +your sister is, and what thousands of children born of loveless +marriages are, I would not for one second hesitate in my choice. +<p>The world needs marriage laws to keep any order in society. +<p>The wisely reared and well-balanced woman will keep herself in +womanly reserve for her legal husband. +<p>Your mother, by a moment's weakness and loss of self-control, +left a blight upon her life for ever, and a shadow upon yours. +<p>But do not for one instant think of yourself as anything but +<i>a child of God</i>, endowed with all the wealth of the spiritual +kingdom, whatever the law may withhold from you here. +<p>You are legitimized by love, your sister is legitimate by law. +She is illegitimate in the sight of heaven, you in sight of earth. +<p>Be glad of your beautiful nature and beautiful qualities, and do +not spoil them by despondency or pessimism. +<p>Think of yourself as if you were a child of Adam and Eve, born +before the serpent appeared, when there was no law but the law of +love to govern two souls, drawn together by irresistible +attraction. +<p>The best and highest qualities of two human beings meet and +mingle in your nature. Do you suppose the great Creator of all +things regards you as base born, when he has so endowed you with +all that makes woman lovable and charming. +<p>Live up to your divine inheritance, my dear girl. Make the world +better for your presence in it, and bear your sorrow with that +resignation and philosophy which all human beings must cultivate if +they do not wish to become weak repiners when they face the sorrows +of life. +<p>Look the world squarely in the eyes, and feel no shame. +<p>Your mother's marriage to the man she detested, and the birth of +children conceived in loathing, were acts which in my mind called +for more shame on her part than your own birth. Both were +misfortunes for her, since only by living an orderly, controlled, +and lawful life can any human being find happiness or self-respect +in the world. +<p>But when we come to the close analysis of motives and impulses, +many an act the world condemns is far less reprehensible than other +acts which meet its loud acclaim. +<p>You have received from the vast spiritual realms about us your +rarely beautiful qualities. Go forth and give them to humanity. +<p>Be strong, be good, be brave, be happy. +<p>No one and nothing can harm you but your own mind. +<p>The world, as we encounter it, is but an echo of our own strong +convictions. Respect yourself absolutely, believe in yourself +absolutely, and the world will respect you and believe in you. +<p>Say to yourself every hour, "I am God's divine creature," and no +one will dare look you in the eyes and say you are anything less +than that. +<p>The arms of infinite love enfold you—have no fear. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Diana_Rivers"></a> +<h2>To Miss Diana Rivers</h2> +<p class="c3">Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist<br> +<p>Your interesting letter regarding your future plans has been +food for my thoughts ever since its receipt this morning. +<p>I remember when you were my guest a year ago that you told me +you felt like a big bird in a small cage. Every time you tried to +spread your wings you were bruised by bars. Your home environment +with its few duties and small responsibilities, your church and +your charities, failed to give you full opportunity for the +exercise of all your vital forces. +<p>I knew then that you were longing for a career, and I felt +confident that some word would come from you before long, +announcing a change in your life. +<p>I was prepared to hear one of two things—that you were soon to +be married, or that you had decided to enter the dramatic +profession. When a young and attractive woman grows restless and +eager for change, she is, unconsciously to herself, sending out a +challenge to Fate to create new conditions in her life. Despite the +fact that no male member in the "Fate" family has ever attained +prominence in the eyes of the world, and that the three sisters +have claimed so much power over the destinies of the human family, +a little investigation will prove that they never make any +pronounced move without calling in the aid of Cupid. +<p>Cupid is their prime minister, and we all know that prime +ministers are the power behind the throne of rulers. +<p>When you sent out your eager thoughts for "something to happen," +to change the monotony of your existence, I knew the Fate sisters +were quite likely telegraphing Cupid that his assistance was needed +to quiet a small riot in the human family. +<p>Once they set Cupid busy with a human heart, the Fates need give +it no further attention. When Cupid reports that his work with the +heart is finished, then the Angel of Resignation or the Angel of +Death must finish the task. +<p>Knowing you to be particularly fond of the theatre as a +distraction, I had thought you might essay the rôle of +society actress, confounding appreciation for talent, as so many +women do; and when your letter opened with the announcement that +you were about to give me a great surprise, I was prepared to hear +that you were billed to appear in a walking rôle, with a road +company, next season, with promises of greater things "soon +afterward." +<p>But I confess to absolute surprise, as I read on, and learned +that your career was to lead you, not through Lovers' Lane, not +before the footlights, but along the hurly-burly byways and +highways of American newspaper work, beginning with interviews and +reporting. Allow me to quote from your letter before me. +<p>"I do not imagine I have talent save the talent for work. I am, +as you know, well educated, as that expression goes to-day. I have +always found expression with the pen an easy mode of communicating +my impressions and ideas. +<p>"I am observing, and I have a keen sense of humour, and I have +(so people tell me) an agreeable personality. I know the value of +correct dressing, and I am not oversensitive. That is, I am not one +who will go down at the first rebuff. I have the real American +spirit, which makes me believe myself as good as anybody, and you +know my family name is one to buoy up that impression. Therefore, +it seems to me I cannot fail to attain some degree of success. I am +sure to obtain entrée to people and functions, and I can +describe what I see and hear in attractive form. I shall shrink at +no task, however difficult, and stop at no obstacle. +<p>"I am determined to make a success as a reporter and a +correspondent, and after I have achieved something in that line I +may look to an editorial position; and who knows but my fertile +imagination, coupled with the experiences sure to come to me, may +develop the great American novelist the world is waiting?" +<p>This is all interesting and admirable reasoning. +<p>But, having seen much of the world, and known much of the +various types of young women writers and reporters and +correspondents, I feel like discussing the subject of your +profession with you. At the instigation, perhaps, of some editor +who makes the mistake of thinking success must be reached through +sensationalism, you may be tempted to make your pen, not +<i>mightier</i>, but more <i>cruel</i> than the sword. +<p>I remember once upon a time meeting a young woman who had come, +unbidden by the hostess, to "write up" a social function where a +number of celebrated people were congregated. +<p>Her employer had sent her to the house, telling her to obtain an +entree by fair means or foul; and as she was well dressed and quiet +in manner, she was not repulsed by an amiable hostess. This lady +realized that the reporter has his or her living to make, and must +be either helped or hindered by the willingness or unwillingness of +people to furnish material for copy. Being informed that the young +woman was "literary," and chancing to stand near her for a few +moments, I asked her the nature of her work. +<p>The young woman looked a trifle embarrassed, as she answered: +"Well, to tell you the truth, I write a good many disagreeable and +nasty things about people, especially people in public life. The +editors who take my work will have that kind. I have essayed better +things, and they would not touch them. So I am compelled to write +the stuff they do want. I must make a living." When I read the +"stuff" in question, I was inclined to doubt the assertion of the +writer that "she must make a living." The world would be the better +should she and all her kind cease to exist. Ridicule, falsehood, +and insinuation were the leading traits of the young woman's +literary style. Costumes and personalities were caricatured, and +conversations and actions misstated. The entire article would have +been libelous, had it not been too cowardly to deserve so bold a +word. +<p>It is useless for any man or woman to assert that such +reportorial work is done from necessity. The blackmailer and the +pickpocket have as much right to the plea, as the newspaper +masked-assassin, with the concealed weapon of a pen. +<p>If you are ever asked by any editor to do this reportorial +stiletto work, let me urge you to take to professional burglary, +rather than consent to write what such an employer demands. +<p>It is far less despicable to rob houses of things of mercantile +value, than to rob characters and reputations and personalities. +Again, when you are sent out upon a commission to obtain an +interview with any person, obtain what you seek and take nothing +else away with you. +<p>Just as you would scorn to pawn the watch of the famous actress +which you may find lying on the table as you pass out, so scorn to +sell any personal speech she may have carelessly dropped in your +hearing which you know was not intended for publication. Petty +larceny is not a noble feature of interviewing. Even though a +facility for selling such dishonestly gained property to advantage +be yours, do not convince yourself or be convinced that larceny +should be included in your reportorial duties. +<p>I recollect speaking with you once upon the difficulties young +women encountered who attempted to win honours in a dramatic +career. You felt that the necessity to cater to the ideas and +wishes of inferior minds, in representing a character on the stage, +would be one of the hardest phases of stage life to meet. +<p>"To be loud and spectacular where I wanted to be refined and +subtle," you said, "just to catch some rough audience and fill the +house, would be insupportable. And yet I know actresses ofttimes +must do that very thing, to keep a foothold in the profession." +<p>I am wondering how you will meet what seems to me a more +humiliating rôle, when you are sent out by an editor to gain +an entree to some person who does not wish to be interviewed. +<p>Will you, when refused entrance at the front door, go in at the +rear and hobnob with the servants? will you spy, and watch and wait +on street corners, and hide yourself in hallways, and intercept and +surprise, and congratulate yourself when you have trapped your +prey? That is the shameful pathway which nowadays leads to what is +called "successful newspaper work." +<p>You need to realize the facts before you enter the profession. +Were you my daughter, I am certain I should feel much less concern +were you to enter the theatrical field. +<p>And yet if you choose to stand by your ideals, and retain your +self-respect, you can do so, and succeed in journalism. +<p>If you have, as you say, observation, expression, humour, and +ambition, you can create a style of your own: which will not +necessitate the loss of all womanly sense of decency and pride in +dealing with your fellow beings. It might be well for you to +cultivate and add to the list of your qualities appreciation of all +that is best in human nature and worthiest of respect. If you +understand the law of concentration and demand, you can obtain an +entrance to the people you wish to see, through the front hall and +a properly engraved card. +<p>If that fails, a polite and frank note, stating your purpose and +intimating your self-respecting ideas of your profession, may prove +effective. Once establish your reputation as an interviewer who is +not a highwayman in disguise, and you will achieve tenfold the +success your less reputable confrères gain in the long run. +Try and remember always that fame, glory, or even crime, do not +destroy all human sensibilities, or render the possessor +invulnerable to the thrust of a pen. +<p>The greatest warrior who ever conquered armies has still the +power to feel hurt when he sees some personal blemish or misfortune +described in print. +<p>You would never be guilty of saying to any man's face, "How +hideous your harelip renders you"—and why should you go from his +presence and make such a statement to the whole world concerning +him? One of the most gifted men America ever claimed was driven +from his native land by the cruel, bald, and heartless +personalities of newspaper critics, who seemed to consider it +necessary to comment on his physical infirmities whenever his +genius was mentioned. +<p>During the lifetime of one of England's great literary women, an +American correspondent who had been given an interview in her home +described her as possessing the "face of a horse." Surely this was +agreeable reading for a gifted woman whose genius had delighted +thousands! +<p>It has sometimes seemed to me that theatrical road life with a +one-night-stand company would be less brutalizing to the finer +sensibilities, and less lowering to the ideals of a young girl, +than the method of work required of many newspaper reporters in +America to-day. The editor who scores the actress for lax morals +seems often to ignore the fact that there is a mental as well as a +physical prostitution. +<p>Look to it that you do not trail your banner of noble womanhood +in the dust, at the demand of any editor or syndicate. Keep your +purity of pen, as well as your chastity of body, and believe no man +who tells you that you will get on better in the world by selling +either. There is room higher up. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Nanette"></a> +<h2>To Nanette</h2> +<p class="c3">A Former Maid<br> +<p>Curiously enough, my dear little Nanette, I was thinking about +you, and wishing to know something of you, the very day your letter +came. +<p>Of many who have been helpers in my employ, you were one of the +few who seemed to care more for me than for the wages I paid. +<p>There was between us that ideal condition which I wish might +exist between all employers and employees. You wanted the work you +were fitted to do, and I wanted such work done. You were glad of +the money it brought you, and I was glad to recompense you. You +wanted appreciation and sympathy and consideration aside from your +earnings, and I wanted a personal interest in my affairs, and a +friendly wish to please me, aside from the mere work well done. You +never seemed to me less womanly or less refined because you were a +wage-earner, and I did not represent to you oppression or monopoly +merely because I paid the money and you received it. I took you +into my confidence in many ways, and you made me feel I was your +friend as well as your employer. We enjoyed cosy chats, and yet you +no more desired or wished to be present at my social functions than +you desired me to enter into all your merrymakings and pleasures. +You were, in fact, one of the most agreeable and sensible women I +have ever known in any station in life. And now you write me that +you are engaged to be married, and ask me to give you counsel in a +very serious matter. +<p>Together with your other excellent qualities, you have possessed +economy and prudence. +<p>At the age of twenty-five you have a tidy bank-account, the +savings of eleven years. This money is increasing, year by year, +and drawing a small interest. +<p>Now comes your lover, a hard-working and sober young man, so you +say, but earning only a small salary as a clerk. +<p>He has met with some reverses, and is temporarily embarrassed. +He wants you to lend him a few hundred dollars, and he will pay you +the same interest you are now receiving, but you fear it would be +unwomanly on your part to take this interest money. At the same +time you feel a reluctance to break in upon your savings, which you +had planned to use in helping establish a home. You want to +befriend your lover, and you want to be wise and careful, and so +you write to me, your old-time adviser, for counsel. I fear I may +hurt your feelings in what I am about to say. +<p>I have seen much of the world, and have studied humanity in many +phases and in many classes. +<p>There is one type of man I have never yet known to be strong, +reliable, and trustworthy,—a man for a woman to lean upon in times +of trouble and sorrow,—a man I would like to see any friend take +for a life companion,—<i>and that is the young man who asks a loan +of money from a woman he loves, or one who loves him</i>. Believe +me, there is some lack of real moral fibre in such a man. +<p>A husband and wife many years married, and united by common +interests, may become so one in purpose and thought that a common +purse would be as natural to them as a common dinner-table. +<p>With mutual interests, planning for their future and the future +of their children, there could be no talk of "My money" and "Your +money" between them. +<p>But before marriage, or immediately after, the man who begins to +ask a woman for the use of her purse, should be distrusted by her. +He could not broach such a subject unless he lacked a certain +refined strength which makes a manly man a woman's protector by +nature. Even where no sentiment exists between a man and a woman, +the really strong men of the world never become borrowers from +women. If through friendly interest and affection some woman +compelled such a man to take a loan, he would know no rest or peace +of mind until he had liquidated the debt. +<p>When a man is a woman's lover, and asks her to advance money to +him for any reason, she may as well realize at once the reed on +which she will lean if she accepts him for a life companion. To +deceive herself for a moment with the idea that he will be a staff +of strength, is but to delay disillusion. A vital quality is left +out of his character. +<p>He is but one step removed from the man who <i>seeks</i> a woman +because she has money. And he is the most despicable of the human +race. +<p>I have known three women of different social positions to lend +money to their lovers. +<p>One man invested it and lost it, and never made an effort to +reimburse the lady, who broke her engagement in consequence, after +two unhappy years. Another went away owing the money, and was never +again heard from. The third married the unwise woman who had loaned +him her competence, and continued to look to her for support. +<p>Therefore, my dear Nanette, I would urge you to think twice, and +yet a third time, before you lend your fiancé your savings. +<p>Tell him frankly that you will feel more respect for him if he +is willing to sacrifice comfort and save from his own income enough +to lift the debt he has incurred, and that you are sure he will +feel less humiliated as time goes by if he is not financially in +debt to you. If he were to fall ill tell him it would be your first +impulse to devote your money to his care; but while he is +able-bodied and well, you do not like to have him lean on you for +aid. +<p>You can judge something of the man's character by the way he +receives this statement from you. +<p>And whatever may result, even if it is the end of your +engagement, do not grieve your heart away over it. Better far to +have the end come now than to marry a dependent and shiftless man, +who will humiliate your pride by a thousand and one mean traits. +The moment a young wife becomes the financial head of a household, +and the man depends upon her to keep the family free from debt, +sentiment and romance fly from the windows of the heart, and poor +Cupid goes away with his head under his wing. This situation might +befall people long married, as I said before, without causing +disaster, because the wife would have years of other experiences +stored up in memory, to maintain her respect for her husband. +<p>The natural instinct of a manly man is to be the protector and +the breadwinner. He loves to shield and support the woman of his +choice. If she has any talent or profession which gives her +satisfaction to pursue, and which yields her an income, he will, if +broad-minded and sympathetic, place no obstacle in her path so long +as this vocation is no barrier to their domestic happiness. But he +is sensitive to her assuming any of the financial burdens of life. +<p>If circumstances render it necessary for her to do so, he +suffers keenly, and the utmost delicacy and consideration on her +part alone can save him from utter humiliation. +<p>This is the attitude of the manly man, my dear Nanette, the man +who makes the good husband and father. +<p>The unselfish, broad-minded and considerate wife will lead a +husband to think of her right to aid in the establishment and +maintenance of a home when she is able to do her part. But the man +who makes a good husband never suggests it as her duty, or asks her +to advance money. +<p>It is commendable in you to wish to aid in making a home. It is +unmanly in your lover to ask you to help him pay his debts. Beware +of the lover who asks for or accepts a loan. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_The_Rev_Wilton_Marsh"></a> +<h2>To The Rev. Wilton Marsh</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding His Son and Daughter<br> +<p>My dear Cousin Wilton:—You have no idea how your letter took me +back to my merry girlhood, when you and I resided in the same +neighbourhood, and I was the concern of your precociously serious +mind. Yes, indeed, I do realize what a mistake you made in living +the repressed life you did all those early boyhood years. What a +pity your parents reared one of your sensitive and imaginative +nature in the gloomy old doctrines of a depressing religion, which +so misrepresented the God of love: and how odd that your father and +mine should have been born of the same parents, educated in the +same schools, and yet be no more alike in beliefs or methods of +life than two people of a different race and era. +<p>And again it is not strange, when we realize that hundreds of +generations lie back of both parents, and innumerable ancestors of +both father and mother contribute their different mentalities to +the children in a family. Back of that is the great philosophy of +reincarnation—the truth of which impresses me more and more each +year I live. +<p>Do you recall your horror the first time I told you I had read a +book on reincarnation, and confessed that it had made me anxious to +study the theory? +<p>You said I was a pagan and a heathen, and that I would surely be +damned forever unless I turned to the way of salvation. +<p>And do you recall your misery when I seized you one evening at +your birthday party (you were twenty), and dragged you about the +room in a waltz? That is, I waltzed, while you hobbled about like a +lame calf, much to the amusement of most of the company. +<p>There were more who sympathized with my views of life than with +yours. You were such a wet blanket on our youthful spirits. Your +ever-blazing lake of brimstone did not even serve to warm the +blanket. +<p>I have been gratified to watch your growth the last ten years. +<p>You have so changed your point of view, which indicates your +real worth and progressive good sense. And when you tell me that +you have for years regretted your lost opportunities for natural +and moral pleasure, and that you suffered beyond your power to +describe in those old days in conquering your desire to dance and +play games, it brings the tears of mingled rage and pity to my +eyes. Rage at the old theology, and pity for the poor children +whose lives were shadowed by it. +<p>And now what you tell me of your son and daughter proves another +of my theories true, and shows me how nature revenges its wrongs. +<p>Children, my dear Wilton, especially the offspring of strong +characters, <i>inherit the suppressed tendencies of their +parents</i>. They bring into action the unexhausted impulses and +the ungratified desires of those parents. +<p>The greatest singers are almost invariably the offspring of +mothers or fathers who <i>were music hungry</i>, and who were given +no complete gratification of this craving. +<p>The poet, you will find, is the voice of an artistic-natured +parent, who was forced to be emotionally dumb. +<p>And the proverbial clergyman's son is merely the natural result +of the same cause. He is charged with the tendencies and impulses +which his father crucified. +<p>That your son loathes study, and hates church-going, and adores +a brass band and a circus, and runs away to the races, does not in +the least surprise me. Nor that your sixteen-year-old daughter +grows hysterical at the sound of dance music, and prefers a +theatrical show in your village hall to a Sunday-school picnic, and +is mad to become an actress. +<p class="c3">They are your own wronged and starved emotions +personified, and crying out to you for justice. +<p>The very best thing for you to do with the boy is to put him +into a gymnasium and a football team as soon as possible. Offer no +opposition when he wants to see a good horse-race. Urge him to go, +and ask him to tell you all about it when he returns. Begin right +now to get close to the heart of your children. +<p>Once you do that, once you convince them you are near enough to +their lives to understand their needs and to try and gratify their +natural longings, all your worries will take wing and fly away; for +your children will cease to hide and cloak their actions and +natures, and they will no longer wish to deceive or attempt to defy +you. +<p>Send your daughter where she can learn dancing, in company with +other refined and well-bred young people. You have so far +emancipated yourself from your old superstitions and beliefs that +this action on your part will not antagonize the desirable members +of your congregation. +<p>Only a remnant of the old bigots and intolerants are to be found +in any congregation of intelligent people of to-day. +<p>If that remnant is shaken out of its winding-sheet by being +antagonized, you may galvanize it into life. +<p>At all events, do not endanger the peace of your home and the +happiness of your children, for fear of antagonizing a few +parishioners of arrested spiritual development. +<p>Give your son and daughter an outlet for the youthful vitality +which is like steam: a moving power when used, dangerous and +destructive when pent up. +<p>Take young Wilton and Rebecca into a room, and talk the whole +matter over. +<p>Tell them how deeply you love them, and how you have just come +to realize the mistake you have made in trying to eradicate from +them the natural desire for wholesome pleasure instead of giving it +proper avenues of expression. +<p>Say frankly that you see your error, and that you intend to +rectify it. +<p>Ask their coöperation, and appeal to their good taste and +affection not to mortify or humiliate you in your position of +clergyman, by overstepping the bounds of decorum or discretion. +<p>Lead them to talk of their ambitions and desires, and, as +consistently as you can, gratify them. +<p>Let your daughter come to me for a season. I will help to +reshape and modify her ideals of enjoyment to some degree. +<p>I am sure if she sees a few of our best spectacular plays, and +hears good music, and enjoys beautiful rhythmic dancing, she will +not be so carried away with the travelling show. +<p>I will acquaint her with some of the commonplace facts +concerning the lives of theatrical people, and show her the frayed +tinsel and worn faces by daylight. This will do more for her than +all your sermons on the dangers of a theatrical career. +<p>The young heart is fascinated with the thought of danger and +temptation. +<p>It is repelled by the commonplace and the ugly. +<p>When you talk to a young mind in a whisper and behind locked +doors about a temptation to be avoided, you but give edge to +appetite and curiosity. +<p>When you bring the temptation out into the glare of sunlight, +and speak of it in presence of the whole world, you dispel the +illusion. +<p>I will gather together some data concerning the sporting men of +America, and send your son. I will also mail him the sporting +papers regularly. Let him talk and read openly about the subject, +and it will lose half its weird charm. +<p>He, too, should learn to dance, swim, fence, and ride. His +bounding vitality needs directing in wholesome channels. I have +never understood the prejudice against dancing. +<p>To me, it is a form of religious praise of the Creator of youth, +health, vitality, and grace. I have always loved dancing, and the +exercise, besides being eminently beneficial to the health and +wonderfully conducive to grace is, to my thinking, highly moral in +its effect. Its only danger lies in wrong associations, and these +seem to threaten young people who are restricted from the enjoyment +in their homes and among their rightful companions. +<p>I cannot help thinking that Loie Fuller should have a niche in +the hall of fame, among the "Immortals," for having given the last +century her exquisitely beautiful creations in dancing. +<p>No woman has given us a great epic, or a great painting, or a +great musical composition, but she has given us a great dance-poem, +which is at the same time a painting and a song. Oh, you poor +starved, blind soul, to be deprived of such beautiful spectacles. +How I pity you, and how I pray you to give your children the +privileges you have missed through a belittling idea of your +Creator. +<p>Do you fancy God would punish beautiful young Rebecca for +dancing, any sooner than he would blight the willow-tree for waving +its graceful arms to the tune the wind-harps play? +<p>Come up out of the jungles of ignorance and bigotry, my dear +cousin, and live on the hilltops and bring your children with you. +For there you will all find yourself nearer to God and to humanity. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Charles_McAllister"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Charles McAllister</h2> +<p class="c3">Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne<br> +<p>I am glad that for once you have written and asked my advice +before you began your course of action. +<p>You wrote me after you entered Vassar and asked me what I +thought of your doing so. +<p>You wrote me after you married Doctor McAllister, and asked me +what I thought of that. My reply was a wedding gift and a telegram +of good wishes. Now, after three years of married life, you write +again and ask me to decide a question which has caused some +discussion between you and the doctor. +<p>"He did not take my view of the matter at first," you say, "but +he does now. Still, I feel that I would like another unprejudiced +opinion before I take the contemplated step. You knew I left +college before finishing my course. I was in love and the doctor +urged me not to make him wait another year. He said I knew enough +to make him happy, and so I consented." +<p>Then you proceed to tell me that you have never regretted this +step, and that you have the best husband in the world. But you have +decided musical gifts, and before meeting the doctor you intended +going abroad to cultivate them after you finished at Vassar. This +old ambition has taken hold of you again, and you want to join a +friend, one of your classmates, who sails in June to study art in +Europe. You desire to take a two or three years' course, and then +you will be equipped with an accomplishment which could be made a +profession if necessity demanded. +<p>"One never knows what the future holds," you say, "and it is the +duty of every woman to make the most of herself." Both remarks are +as true as they are trite. An almost graduate of Vassar should be +more original in expressing herself. +<p>But there is another duty a woman should not forget—the duty to +stand by her marriage vows and to make her husband a good wife. It +seems the doctor did not eagerly approve your idea at the +beginning. I am glad he did not. Unless a wife is in a precarious +state of health or has an ailing child, I always suspect the +honesty of a husband who cheerfully seconds her suggestion of a +protracted absence from home. +<p>When a man shows no regret at having his wife away for an entire +season, there is something wrong with his heart. +<p>Love does not find its home there, or he could not speed her +going so far, and for so long a time, at the bidding of ambition or +pleasure. You evidently have won the doctor over by argument, and +made him feel that he is selfish to tie you down or clip the wings +of your ambition. The American husband is so fearful of seeming a +tyrant. "He realizes now," you say, "that a woman has the right to +develop the talents God gave her just as a man does, and that it is +a wrong against her 'higher self' to crush down these ambitions. He +realizes, too, that this separation means greater powers of +usefulness for me in the future, and greater opportunities for +pleasure. It will be a long and lonely time for both of us, as I +shall only come home once or twice and the doctor may not be able +to go over at all, though I hope he will. But the expense of my +studies will of course be great, and we shall both need to +economize. It is my intention to start a little conservatory after +I return and take a few high-priced pupils. In that way I can +reimburse our expenditure." +<p>But can you, my dear Winifred, <i>reimburse your mutual losses +in other ways</i>? You do not seem to realize what such a +separation may mean. You are both young and both attractive. I know +now that you are beginning to be angry at my suggestion, but, +fortunately, you cannot interrupt me, and you must hear what I have +to say. +<p>Of course you are not a frivolous flirt, or a silly-headed +creature with no ideals or principles. You have nothing of the +adventuress in your composition, but you are a young woman, with +personal charms and talents, and life will be unutterably desolate +for you if you make a recluse of yourself. You will be surrounded +by people of artistic temperaments and tastes, and I know, if you +do not, that many of these people do lack ideals, and some of them +lack principles and take pride in the fact. "Art for art's sake, +life for pleasure's sake," is their motto. The entire situation +will be full of danger for you. But far more danger will surround +your husband. A man's temptations are always greater than a +woman's. That is, there are <i>more</i> temptations in his pathway, +from the fact that he is by nature and environment less guarded and +protected, and the penalties for folly are less severe. And of all +men, unless it is a clergyman, a physician is most exposed to +temptation. He is the confidant of hysterical women and the sharer +of domestic secrets. Many a woman believes she is ill only because +she desires the sympathy of her doctor, just as many a woman +fancies herself disturbed with religious agitation only because she +wants the society of her minister. +<p>Of course a doctor of any character or principle does not +compromise his reputation or disgrace his calling readily. I hear +Doctor McAllister spoken of as a man of high standing, and his +picture shows a well-balanced head and an honest, manly face. But +"A man's a man for a' that," my dear Winifred. +<p>We must accept facts as they exist all about us, and we must not +demand of half-evolved human beings what we would expect of wholly +divine creatures. It is an unnatural position for a man to be +separated from the wife he loves for months and years. +<p>Unless he is sustained by intense religious beliefs, extreme +sympathy or sorrow for her (as he might be were she compelled by +some great trouble or duty to be absent), it is impossible for him +not to grow in a measure forgetful of his ideals of constancy, and +to drift into bachelor habits of distraction. Men do a thousand and +one things for amusement which no woman could or would. Gilded and +glittering halls of vice are inviting the inspection and patronage +of men who are left at home by journeying and pleasure-seeking +wives. +<p>I know this terrible statement to be absolutely +true—<i>gambling-houses and dens of infamy speak of their "best +season" when wives leave town for summer outings, just as a farmer +speaks of his harvest season when crops are ripe.</i> I do not +suppose your husband will seek the companionship of gamblers or +depraved souls during your absence. Men as seemingly high and +strong as he have fallen so low, but I do not believe he will. Yet, +so long as we know such conditions exist, and so long as men as a +class take the liberties they do when left to find distraction and +entertainment, it seems to me little less than criminal when a +young wife like yourself deliberately leaves her home and husband +for the sake of any possible attainment. +<p>You have no right to marry a man and then to make his happiness +and his comfort secondary to your ambitions. +<p>If he had neglected you, if he failed to support you, if he was +not loyal to you, it would be different. +<p>But you say he is "the best of men," and that you never have +regretted marrying him. +<p>Then let me beg of you to stand by him, as a wife should, and to +make what progress in your music you can at home, and wait until +your husband can accompany you before you go abroad to study. +<p>The highway of divorce is crowded with the student wives who +have been "abroad to study," leaving their husbands at home to earn +the money. Do not be one of them. +<p>There are greater things than a satisfied ambition, and a clean, +happy, united married life is one. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Charles Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Maternity<br> +<p>I have tried to imagine myself in your place, as you requested, +before answering your letter. +<p>To be the mother of two children, and to know that a third may +be added before the fifth anniversary of your wedding, is for the +most maternal of women a situation requiring rare patience and much +philosophy. +<p>I know that your strength is depleted, that you are nervously +unstrung, and I can understand your despondent state of mind. +<p>It seems to you that all romance and sentiment in life is being +sacrificed to breeding the species. You feel that you have some +personal privileges as a wife and a woman, not less than a mother. +<p>Like yourself, I do not believe woman's only mission in life to +be the production of offspring, yet I consider motherhood the +highest privilege accorded her who has for it the right physical +and moral qualities. +<p>Only strong, sensible, and healthy women should become mothers, +and it is a mistake for even such as they to be kept constantly in +that occupation. +<p>You possess all the requisites, and you ought to bring fine +children into the world, since you married the man you loved, and +have been happy with him. +<p>But I can understand your reluctance to pass through the ordeal +which modern motherhood in civilized races means, for a third time, +in so short a period. But try and take another view of the +situation. +<p>Benjamin Franklin was the fifteenth child of a poor tallow +chandler. It is altogether probable that his coming seemed a +misfortune to his mother, taxed with the care of such a brood. +Think what the world would have missed had he not come to earth. +<p>Then think of this unborn child as something wonderful and +divine, given to you to perfect. Believe it is to be the greatest +blessing to you and to the whole world. +<p>Cultivate love and protection in your heart for it. +<p>Tell yourself every hour of the day that the God of love will +not desert you or deprive you of strength and courage for your +ordeal. That he will be ever near, and sustain and comfort you. +<p>Desire all beautiful and good qualities to be given your child, +and resolutely turn away from the contemplation of anything that is +hideous, or unwholesome, or depressing. +<p>Look for pleasing objects, read cheerful and uplifting books, +and from infinite space call to you all ministering influences. +<p>Consider how short a time, when compared to the span of human +life, expectant motherhood occupies, and realize the vastness of +its influence upon the nature of the child, and through that nature +upon all humanity. +<p>Once you grasp that consciousness, you will feel your closeness +to the Creator of all things. +<p>Indeed, there is no other being on earth so nearly Godlike in +power as the mother who realizes what her influence over her unborn +child may be. +<p>The hard and painful path for you to walk is but a short one +compared to the long roadway to eternity for your child. +<p>Perhaps some great statesman, or some great artist, or some +great scientist or philosopher is lying under your heart, and it is +in your power to make or mar his development. Perhaps a Joan of +Arc, or a Rosa Bonheur, or a Martha Washington will crown you with +pride. +<p>Such genius and influence for good as the world has never before +known, from mortal sources, may be given to it through your unborn +child. How wonderful your privilege, how vast your power! +<p>Only a few short months, and then the growing wonder of a +child's unfolding mind, to beautify your days. +<p>Think of it in this way, dear little tired and nervous woman, +and God and all his angels will hover over you, I know, and all +will be well with you. +<p>My prayers are with you. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Alfred_Duncan"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Alfred Duncan</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning the Ministry<br> +<p>And so you have changed your plan of life and, instead of +becoming an experimenter with the flesh, are going to be a healer +of souls. +<p>And what do I think about it? I am glad you are not to be an +M.D. There is an era coming when the doctor will be a prehistoric +creature. Oh, it is far, far away, but already the most progressive +minds have ceased to regard the family physician as an infallible +being. +<p>Medicine has made the least progress of any of the sciences in +the last few centuries. +<p>Credulity has cured more people than pills. +<p>Were you to study medicine, I should advise you to take up +surgery, osteopathy, electricity, the Kneippe Cure, milk diet, and +all the various methods of stimulating circulation; for the people +who patronize these treatments are increasing, as the powder and +pill patrons are on the decrease. +<p>Then, too, I should urge you to make a careful study of mental +and spiritual methods of cure, that you might be wholly equipped +for the dawn of the new age. You are a young man, and you will +probably live to see a wonderful change in the treatment of +disease, and to find the physician of the old school relegated to +the historian. +<p>But just as carefully you should now survey the religious +horizon, before beginning your studies for the ministry. +<p>It is utterly useless to stand with lifted eyes and say, "The +faith of my parents is good enough for me—good enough for all +mankind." +<p>Had the children of ancient Salem said that, and their children +repeated it, you would probably be lighting faggots at this moment +to roast a "witch," instead of a brother of the opposite creed. +<p>The narrow, intolerant old dogmas have been forced into +elasticity by the later generations, and the broadening work still +goes on. +<p>It makes no difference how satisfied you may be with a +prospective lake of fire for your enemies, the congregations you +are to address will not listen to that style of sermon as did your +grandparents. +<p>Only the ignorant minds to-day harbour ideas of cruelty and +revenge in connection with a Creator. +<p>Thinkers find such theories inconsistent with religious belief. +Individual thought is leading to individual faith. +<p>Where once I believed in a universal church for all the world, I +now believe in a separate creed for each soul, one fashioned to +suit his own particular need, with the underlying basis of love for +all created things as its foundation. +<p>Let each man worship in his own way, and follow his own ideal of +duty to God and humanity. +<p>If it is the pleasure of one to give up all his worldly goods, +and to go and live and labour among the poor, wish him Godspeed; +but if another keeps his place among men of affairs, makes money +honestly, and uses it unselfishly, let him, too, have your +blessing, since he is setting a good example for the +worldly-minded. If one man finds himself nearer to God on Sunday by +going out and peacefully enjoying the beauties of nature and the +association of his kind, do not try to convince him that he is on +the highway to perdition because he does not sit in a pew and +listen to depressing sermons. +<p>The day is over for that type of clergyman to succeed. +<p>Make a study of the needs of men <i>to-day</i>, and suit your +sermons to those needs. +<p>Men need to know more of the wonders of God's universe. Talk to +them in a brief, concise, interesting manner of the recent +discoveries of science, and their frequent remarkable corroboration +of the old religious theories. Thousands of years ago, in Egypt and +India, wise men said that metals and all created things possessed +life, and were a part of one great immortal whole, of which man was +the highest expression. +<p>Science is "discovering" and proving the truth of many +statements made by those old seers and savants. Call the attention +of the men of to-day to this fact, and set them thinking on the +wonders of the immortal soul. +<p>The man of to-day is an egotist regarding his scientific +achievements. He has grown to think of himself as a giant before +whose material success all other things must give way. He believes +that he has discovered, invented, photographed and made profitable +all the "facts" of the universe, and is inclined to regard with +intolerance any idea beyond his own mechanical domain. +<p>Tell him how much was divined thousands of years ago, and lead +him to realize the mighty depths of the unsounded ocean of his own +being. +<p>To know your own triple self, body, mind, and spirit, and to +make yourself a complete man, with the body beautiful, the mind +clear, the spirit radiant, is better than to have all the Bibles of +the ages, in all their ancient languages, at your tongue's tip. +<p>Help men to the building of character, which shall enable them +to be honest in street and mart, unselfish in home and society, and +sympathetic to their fellow pilgrims. +<p>Salvation is gained as a house is built, brick by brick, day +after day, not by spasmodic efforts one day in the week, and the +destruction of that effort in the remaining six. +<p>And each man must be his own mason, and select and lay his own +bricks. All the clergyman can do is to act the part of overseer. +<p>The man who goes to another, and expects his prayers to save +him, is like the mason who expects the "boss" to do his work, while +he draws the pay. Do no man's task—physical, mental, or spiritual. +That is not friendship or religion. Your work is to stimulate +others to do their own work, think their own thoughts, and live +their own lives. +<p>The world to-day demands facts to sustain faith. +<p><i>Spiritual facts are to be obtained</i>. +<p>Find them: for once convinced of the continuation of life beyond +the grave, and of the necessity to earn its privileges, by +self-conquest and character-building, humanity will rise "from the +lowly earth to the vaulted skies," and will realize that this earth +is but the anteroom to larger spheres of usefulness. +<p>Go forth and find—go forth and find, and do not be afraid to +strike out of beaten paths and avoid ruts. Cultivate spiritual +courage. It is what few clergymen possess, and it will give you +individuality at least. +<p>Preach the religion of happy harmonious homes. Make men and +women realize that heaven must begin here, in order to continue +farther on, and that the angelic qualities, of love, sympathy, +goodness, appreciation, must be rehearsed in the body, before they +can be successfully enacted in full-dress angel costume with wings. +<p>God will not care for the eternal praises sung about his throne +by a man who swears at his wife on earth, or a wife who nags her +husband and children. It is no use expecting a rôle in a +continuous performance of happiness in heaven, if you do not learn +one line of the part on earth. +<p>Make your congregations think of the necessity to <i>live</i> +their religion in earth's commonplace daily situations. +<p>That is the religion the world needs. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Charles_Gray"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Charles Gray</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Polygamy<br> +<p>All that you say, regarding the excitement over the seating of +your Salt Lake Senator, is quite true. +<p>I have visited your city, and have made the acquaintance of many +of your people, and I know the private life of the gentleman you +sent to represent you in Washington is beyond reproach. +<p>He is a good husband, a good father, a good citizen. He was born +of a polygamous father and mother, and his childhood's home was a +happy one. He was educated in the belief that it was wrong for a +man to cohabit with any woman not his wife, but right for him to +marry many wives. +<p>He has not married many wives, however, and does not intend to. +His private life, his domestic life and his financial record are +all clean and clear of stain. +<p>So much cannot be said of many other Senators and +Representatives at our capitol. +<p>Good women are horrified when seeking government positions to +find how the sacrifice of virtue is demanded as payment for +influence. +<p>These statements cannot be evaded or denied. Let one who +questions them investigate the conditions existing in Washington in +the past and to-day. +<p>What a record it would be were every girl and woman who had been +led into the path of folly by married Senators and Representatives +to come forth and tell her story! +<p>There are clean, decent, high-minded men in both houses. There +are good citizens, good patriots, good men there. +<p>But so long as one married seducer and misleader of women +retains a seat in either house unmolested, so long as one man stays +who is unfaithful to his marriage vows, the opposers of the Senator +from Utah should base their objections on other than moral grounds. +<p>But despite the facts you bring to bear on your argument, that +polygamy leads to more morality in the homes of the land than our +present conditions illustrate, I must disagree with you. +<p>I am opposed to polygamy. Any social arrangement which licenses +men to possess several women, to give full rein to their desires, +is a block to the wheels of progress. +<p>Not until man learns the lesson of self-control, as woman has +learned it, will humanity reach its highest development. +<p>Not until man ceases to place himself on a par with the +unreasoning male animal, when he argues on the subject of the +sexual relations, will he become the master of circumstance he is +meant to be. +<p>One man and one woman living sexually true to each other is the +ideal domestic life. Better strive toward that ideal, and fail and +strive again, than to lower it and accept license and +self-indulgence as the standard, under some religious name. +<p>Polyandry and polygamy are both evidences of a crude and +half-evolved humanity. +<p>They belong to a society which has not learned the law of +self-control as a part of its religious creed and the march of +progress. The light of science makes havoc of all such primitive +conditions. +<p>You tell me that your father was the husband of three wives, and +that all lived under one roof in sisterly love, and that you never +heard an unkind word spoken in your home, and that all three wives +loved you as a son. You tell me your father held high ideals of +womankind, and that the existence of a fallen woman was impossible +in your community. +<p>Now I contend that any woman who accepts less than the full +loyalty of the man to whom she gives herself for life <i>has fallen +from woman's highest estate</i>. She lowers not only herself, but +the whole sex. +<p>To take a third of a man's love, and to share his physical and +mental and spiritual comradeship with two other wives, is far more +immoral, to my thinking, than to take the whole of a man without +legal authority. +<p>It drags down and belittles woman in the eyes of man. It is +useless to contend that such conditions lead to respect. +<p>There is too much of the big male I, and the little female you, +in the arrangement. There is too much of the old idea that God made +man, and accident made woman, for man's use. There is too much of +self-indulgence for the man, and repression for the woman,—a +condition which has blocked the highest development of the race for +centuries. +<p>Meanwhile, I think it a great pity that society does not hold +the expectant mother in the same reverence as in your community. +That is certainly a lesson we can learn from the Mormons. And that +explains why your children, born of polygamous mothers, are +stronger physically, and more universally endowed mentally, than +the average children in the world at large. +<p>Mothers were guarded and protected and revered, and children +were made welcome, and no such crime as darkens our own social +world—the crime of destroying embryo life—was known in your midst. +<p>It is a glorious heritage to give a child this parental love and +welcome. It lasts through eternity. +<p>But it does not seem to me that it is necessary to have polygamy +prevail in order to produce right conditions for the propagation of +offspring. In time the world will realize the importance of +teaching men and women how to become good parents. +<p>It will learn, too, the magnificent results to be obtained from +one moral code for both sexes, and this result could never be +obtained in a polygamous community. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Walter_Smeed"></a> +<h2>To Walter Smeed</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Creeds and Marriage<br> +<p>Before you left us, I realized that you and my pretty secretary +were finding matters of mutual interest. +<p>Therefore, I am not surprised that you are thinking seriously of +her as a future companion. +<p>Rosalie is a charming, intelligent, warm-hearted, excellent +girl, and there is no reason why she would not make you a good +wife, save the one you mention—the difference in your creeds. +<p>You are a Roman Catholic, Rosalie is a devout Protestant. +<p>Were the cases reversed, and were you the Protestant and Rosalie +the Catholic, I should say the chances of happiness were greater +than as conditions now stand. +<p>As a rule, the most religious man is more liberal than the +religious woman. And when marriage between a Roman Catholic and a +Protestant is the question, there is need of greater liberality on +the part of the Protestant than on that of the Catholic. +<p>Why? Because with the Protestant there is no consideration to be +thought of outside of his or her own convictions and feelings. +<p>With the Catholic, the power of the Church and the law regarding +the rearing of the children in its faith walks beside the +contracting party, sits at the table, and sleeps on the marital +couch. +<p>There is no happiness for the husband or wife who has entered +into such a marriage, after the arrival of children, unless the +laws of the Church are obeyed. +<p>When the wife is a Catholic, the fact that she is a good woman +and true wife satisfies the Protestant husband, as a rule, and he +makes no objection to her carrying out the contract with her Church +regarding the education of the children. +<p>If they are as moral and good as their mother, he does not care +what faith occupies their hearts or in what way they worship God. +<p>But to the mother this is a matter of vital importance. +<p>Woman is by nature more devout than man. +<p>Woman is by nature more tyrannical than man. +<p>Take those two characteristics, and add to them the tendency of +many women to bigotry and intolerance, and it makes the matter of +creeds vital in marriage. +<p>Rosalie is broader-minded than many women, yet she is devoted to +the Congregational Church, and rarely misses attendance. +<p>It will be an easy matter for her to accept your faith for +yourself and to allow you to attend your own church, and she is, I +am sure, broad enough to go with you occasionally, if you request +it. +<p>But when she becomes a mother, and the children's minds are +unfolding, I doubt her willingness to have them brought up in any +faith save her own. +<p>To an unwedded girl in love, a child is a very indistinct +creature. +<p>To a mother, it is a very real being. +<p>I have seen men as deeply in love as you are, with women as +liberal-minded as Rosalie, become very unhappy after marriage +through the opposite ideas of the wife regarding the education of +children. +<p>You must remember how much more closely a mother's life is +entwined about her children, and how much more of their association +usually falls to her than to the father. +<p>This is especially true of daughters, and is true of sons up to +a certain age. +<p>You can understand, I am sure, how much more companionship a +mother would find in children who accepted her faith and attended +her church than in those whose spiritual paths led in another +direction. +<p>I know Rosalie realizes that a good life, not a certain creed, +leads to the goal she seeks, after this phase of existence closes, +and she does not ask you to change your faith. But while she would +also believe her children were on the road to that goal, she would +want them to walk through her path and by her side. +<p>It will be hard to relinquish the woman you love, to-day, for +the children who might not come to-morrow. +<p>Yet I can give you the counsel you asked on this matter only +from my personal observation of similar unions. +<p>I should advise you to try an absence of some duration, and to +forget Rosalie if you can, since you have not yet declared +yourself. +<p>Better a little temporary sorrow than a life of discord. +<p>As you grow older your religion will, in all probability, gain a +stronger ascendency over your nature, and the church to which you +belong is very tenacious in its hold upon its members. +<p>Rosalie is not of a yielding nature, and as I said before, she +is more devoted to her church than most young women of the day. +<p>The physical phases of your love blind you now. But these phases +are only a part of the tie which must bind husband and wife to make +love enduring through all of life's vicissitudes. +<p>There must be mental companionship, and to be a complete union +there must be sympathy in spiritual ideas. +<p>The very young do not realize this fact, but it is forced upon +the mature. +<p>Marital love is like a tree. It first roots in the soil of +earth, and then lifts its branches to the heavens. Unless it does +so lift its branches it is stunted and deformed, and is not a tree. +Unless it roots in earth it is not a tree, but an air-plant or a +cobweb. +<p>You want to be sure the tree you are thinking to make a shelter +for your whole life, will have far-reaching and uplifting branches, +and will not be merely an earth-bound twig. +<p>Since your church permits no second marriage save by the door of +death, do not make a mistake in your first. +<p>Take a year, at least, of absence and separation, and think the +matter over. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Sybyl_Marchmont2"></a> +<h2>To Sybyl Marchmont</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single<br> +<p>It is with genuine regret that I learn of your determination to +send my nephew out of your life. Wilfred is a royal fellow, as that +term is employed by us. He is what a man of royal descent in +monarchies rarely proves to be,—self-reliant, enterprising, +industrious, clean, and with high ideals of woman. +<p>Eight years ago I declined a request of his for a loan, and told +him my reasons—that I believed loans were an injury to our friends +or relatives. My letter seemed to arouse all the strength latent in +his nature, and he has made a remarkable record for himself since +that time. I have known that he was deeply in love with you for the +last two years, and I had hoped you would listen to his plea. He +tells me that you imparted your history to him, and that you say it +is your intention to remain single, as you would not like to bring +children into the world to suffer from the stigma upon your name. +He has shown me your letter wherein you say, "I am not in fault for +having to blush for the sins of my parents; but I would be in fault +if my children had to blush for the blemish upon the name of their +grandparents. I do not feel I could meet their questioning eyes +when they asked me about my parents. I can better bear the loss of +the personal happiness of a home and a husband's love." +<p>Wilfred is just the man to protect you and to keep the world at +a distance, where it could not affect your life by its comments. He +regards your birth in the same light that I do, and would rather +transmit your lovely qualities of soul and mind to his descendants +than the traits of many proudly born girls who are ready to take +him at the first asking: for you must know how popular he is with +our sex. +<p>I can not believe you are insensible to his magnetic and lovable +qualities, but, as you say, you have been so saddened by the sudden +knowledge of your history that it has blunted your emotions in +other directions. I can only hope this will wear away and that you +will reconsider your resolve and consent to make Wilfred the happy +and proud man you could, by becoming his wife. +<p><i>Never forget that God created love and man created +marriage</i>. +<p>And to be born of a loveless union is a darker blight than to be +born in love without union. +<p>But what I want to talk about now, is your determination to live +a single life and to devote yourself to reclaiming weak and erring +women. You are young to enter this field of work, yet at +twenty-four you are older than many women of thirty-five, because +you have had the prematurely ripening rain of sorrow on your life. +I know you will go into the work you mention with the sympathy and +understanding which alone can make any reformatory work successful. +Yet you are going to encounter experiences which will shock and +pain you, in ways you do not imagine now. +<p>You are starting out with the idea of most sympathetic good +women, that all erring souls of their own sex fall through betrayed +trust, and broken promises, and misplaced love. Such cases you will +encounter, and they will most readily respond to your efforts for +their reformation. But many of those you seek to aid will have gone +on the road to folly through mercenary motives, and this will prove +a vast obstacle. +<p>When a woman sells to Mammon, under any stress of circumstance, +that which belongs to Cupid, there is something left out of her +nature and character which renders the efforts of the reformers +almost useless. You know all real, lasting reform must come from +within. The woman who has once decided that fine apparel, and +comfort, and leisure, are of more value to her than her virtue +usually reaches old age or disease before the reformer can even +gain her attention. You will find many such among your +protégées, and you may as well leave them to work out +their own reformation, and turn your energies to those who long for +a better life. +<p>It is that longing which means real reformation. To paraphrase +an old couplet—<span class="c4">The soul reformed against its +will</span><br> +<span class="c4">Clings to the same old vices still.</span><br> +<p>I do not believe in a forced morality, save as a protection to a +community. I believe in it as a legal fence, but it possesses no +value as a religious motive. It helps to save society some +annoyance, but it does not materially improve the condition of +humanity. Such improvements must come from the desire of men and +women to reach higher standards. So, after you have planted a +little seed in the mind of the mercenary Magdalene which may in +time sprout and grow, pass on, and find those who have gone wrong +from other causes, and who are longing for a hand to lead them +right. +<p>And of all things do not expect a girl who has lived in the +glare of red lights, and listened to the blare of bands, and worn +the ofttimes becoming garb of folly, and stimulated her spirits +with intoxicants—do not expect her, I say, to suddenly be contented +with quiet and solitude, and drudgery, and cheap, unlovely +garments, and goodness. Give her something to entertain her and to +occupy her mind, give her something to live for and hope for and to +be pleased over, besides the mere fact of reformation. The opium +victim, you must remember, can not at once partake of wholesome +food and be well and happy in the thought that he has given up his +drug. Neither can the folly victim. The standards of happiness and +contentment which the moral woman has always found satisfactory, +she too often considers sufficient for the sister who has wandered +from the path. But they are standards which, once lost, must be +gained step by step, painfully and slowly. They are not reached by +a bound. As much as possible keep your reformed sister's mind from +dwelling on the past, or from talking of her mistakes and sins. +Blot them from her memory by new and interesting plans and +occupations. The way to live a new life is to live it. +<p>And our thoughts and conversation are important parts of living. +Instead of praying aloud to God to forgive her sins, show the God +spirit in yourself by forgiving and forgetting and helping her to +forget. +<p>And now a word about yourself. +<p>You are twenty-four, lovely, sympathetic, fond of children and +animals, wholesome and normal in your habits, without crankiness, +and popular with both sexes. While there are many wives and widows +possessed of these qualities, there seems to be some handicap to +the spinster in the race of life who undertakes to arrive at middle +age with all the womanly attributes. Almost invariably she drops +some of them by the wayside. She becomes overorderly and fussy—so +that association with her for any length of time is +insupportable—or careless and indifferent. Or she may grow +inordinately devoted to animal pets, and bitter and critical toward +children and married people. +<p>She may develop mannish traits, and dress and appear more like a +man than a feminine woman. +<p>She may ride a hobby, to the discomfort of all other equestrians +or pedestrians on the earth's highway. She may grow so +argumentative and positive that she is intolerant and intolerable. +And whichever of these peculiarities are hers, she is quite sure to +be wholly unconscious of it, while she is quick to see that of +another. Now watch yourself, my dear Sybyl, as you walk alone +toward middle life; do not allow yourself to grow queer or +impossible. It was God's intent that every plant should blossom and +bear fruit, and that every human being should mate and produce +offspring. The plant that fails in any of its functions is usually +blighted in some way, and the woman who fails of life's full +experiences seems to show some repellent peculiarity. But she need +not, once she sets a watch upon herself; she has a conscious soul +and mind, and can control such tendencies if she will. +<p>It is unnatural for a woman to live without the daily +companionship of man. The superior single woman must make tenfold +the effort of the inferior wife, to maintain her balance into +maturity, because of her enforced solitude. As the wife-mother +grows older she is kept in touch with youth, and with the world, +while the opportunities for close companionship with the young +lessen as a single woman passes forty, unless she makes herself +especially adaptable, agreeable, and sympathetic. +<p>And this is what I want you to do. At twenty-four it is none too +soon to begin planning for a charming maturity. +<p>If you are determined upon a life of celibacy, determine also to +be the most wholesome, and normal, and all around liberal, womanly +spinster the world has ever seen. +<p>Peace and happiness to you in your chosen lot. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon2"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Charles Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Sister and Her Children<br> +<p>No, my dear Edna, I do not think it strange that you should seek +advice on this subject from a woman who has no living children. +<p>It seems to me no one is fitted to give such unbiased counsel +regarding the training of children as the woman of observation, +sympathy, and feeling, who has none of her own. +<p>Had I offspring, I would be influenced by my own successes, and +prejudiced by my own failures, and unable to put myself in your +place, as I now do. +<p>A mother rarely observes other people's children, save to +compare them unfavourably with her own. I regret to say that +motherhood with the average woman seems to be a narrowing +experience, and renders her less capable of taking a large, +unselfish view of humanity. +<p>The soldier in the thick of battle is able to tell only of what +he personally experienced and saw, just in the spot where he was +engaged in action. +<p>The general who sits outside the fray and watches the contest +can form a much clearer idea of where the mistakes occurred, and +where the greatest skill was displayed. +<p>I am that general, my dear friend, standing outside the field of +motherhood, and viewing the efforts of my battling sisters to rear +desirable men and women. And I am glad you have appealed to me +while your two children are yet babies to give you counsel, for I +can tell you where thousands have failed. +<p>And I thank you and your husband for reposing so much confidence +in my ideas. +<p>I think, perhaps, we had better speak of the postscript of your +letter first. You ask my opinion regarding the chaperon for your +sixteen-year-old sister, who is going abroad to study for a period +of years. Mrs. Walton will take her and keep her in her home in +Paris, and Miss Brown also stands ready to make her one of three +young girls she desires to chaperon and guide through a foreign +course of study in France and Germany. +<p>You like the idea of having your sister in a home without the +association of other American girls, until she perfects herself in +French, but you are worried about Mrs. Walton's being a divorced +woman. Miss Brown, the spotless spinster, seems the safer guide to +your friends, you tell me. +<p>I know the majority of women would feel that a single woman of +good standing and ungossiped reputation was a safe and desirable +protector for a young girl. +<p>The same majority would hesitate to send their girls away with a +divorced woman. +<p>But as I remarked in the beginning, I have stood outside the +fray and watched similar ventures, and I have grown to realize that +it is not mere respectability and chastity in a woman which make +her a safe chaperon for a young girl,—it is a deep, full, broad +understanding of temperaments and temptations. +<p>Had I a daughter or a sister like your sweet Millie, I would not +allow her to live one year under the dominion of such a woman as +Miss Brown for any consideration. Why? because Miss Brown is all +brain and bigotry. She is narrow and high, not deep and broad. +<p>She is so orthodox that she incites heresy in the rebellious +mind of independent youth. She is so moral she makes one long for +adventure. She would not listen to any questioning of old +traditions, or any speculative philosophizing of a curious young +mind, and she would be intolerant with any girl who showed an +inclination to flirt or be indiscreet. +<p>Your sister Millie is as coquettish as the rose that lifts its +fair face to the sun, and the breeze, and the bee, and expects to +be admired. She is as innocent as the rose, too, but that fact Miss +Brown would never associate with coquetry. +<p>She would class it with vulgarity and degeneracy. Miss Brown is +a handsome woman, but she has no sex instincts. She does not +believe with the scientist, "that in the process of evolution it is +only with the coming of the sex relation that life is enabled to +rise to higher forms." +<p>She believes in brain and spirit, and is utterly devoid of that +feminine impulse to make herself attractive to men, and wholly +incapable of understanding the fascination that Folly holds out to +youth. She has never experienced any temptation, and she would be +shocked at any girl who fell below her standard. +<p>She would carefully protect Millie from danger by high walls, +but she would never eradicate the danger impulse from her nature by +sympathetic counsel, as a more human woman could. +<p>Mrs. Walton is a much better guide for your sister. +<p>She ran away from boarding-school at seventeen, and married the +reckless son of a rich man. She had a stepmother of the traditional +type, and had never known a happy home life. She was of a loving +and trusting and at the same time a coquettish nature, and she +attracted young Walton's eye while out for a walk with a "Miss +Brown" order of duenna. The duenna saw the little embryo +flirtation, and became very much horrified, and preached the girl a +long sermon, and set a close watch upon her actions. +<p>There was no wise, loving guidance of a young girl's life barque +from the reefs of adventure. It was homily and force. The result +was, that the girl escaped from school before six weeks passed, and +married her admirer. +<p>He was fifteen years her senior, a reckless man of the world, +even older in experience than in years. He proved a very bad +husband, but his young wife remained with him until his own father +urged her to leave him. She was quietly divorced, and has lived +abroad almost ever since, and holds an excellent position in the +French capital, as well as in other European centres, and she is +most exemplary in her life. Mr. Walton is now an inmate of a +sanitarium, a victim of paresis. +<p>I can imagine no one so well fitted to exert the wisest +influence upon Millie's life as Mrs. Walton. +<p>There is a woman who has run the whole gamut of girlish folly, +and who knows all the phases of temptation. She knows what it is to +possess physical attractions, and to be flattered by the admiration +of men, and she has passed through the dark waters of disillusion +and sorrow. She would be the one to help Millie out of dangerous +places by sympathy and understanding, instead of using sermons and +keys. +<p>She would mould her young, wax-like character by the warmth of +love, instead of freezing it by austere axioms. +<p>Miss Brown would make an indiscreet young girl feel hopelessly +vulgar and immodest; Mrs. Walton that she understood all about her +foolish pranks, and was able to lead her in the better paths. +<p>Miss Brown prides herself upon never having lost her head with +any man. +<p>Mrs. Walton is like some other women I have known, who have made +mistakes of judgment. She lost her head, but in the losing and the +sorrow that ensued she found a heart for all humanity. +<p>There are women in this world whose cold-white chastity freezes +the poor wayfarer who tries to find in their vicinity rest and +comfort and courage. +<p>Other women cast a cooling shadow, in which the sun-scorched +pilgrim finds peace—the shadow of a past error, from which spring +fragrant ferns and sweet grasses, where tired and bleeding feet may +softly tread. +<p>Mrs. Walton's life casts the shadow of divorce on her pathway, +but it is only the warm, restful shadow of a ripening and mellowing +sorrow. Do not fear to have Millie walk in it. +<p>It will be better for her than the steady glare from a glacier. +<p>I find I have said so much about your sister that I must reserve +my counsel about your children for another letter. +<p>Your postscript was brief, but pregnant with suggestion, and +called for this long reply. +<p>I shall write you again in a few days. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Charles_Gordon3"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Charles Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Children<br> +<p>Your wish to have your son, who is now four years old, begin to +develop the manly qualities, and your oldest daughter, who has +reached the mature age of three, start wisely on the path to lovely +womanhood, is far from being premature. +<p>"The tree inclines as the twig is bent," we are told. +<p>Most mothers wait until the tree is in blossom before they begin +to train its inclination. +<p>Your boy is quite old enough to be taught manly pride, in being +useful to you and his sisters. +<p>Such things are not successfully taught by preaching or scolding +or punishing; but are more easily inculcated by tact and praise, +object-lesson and play. +<p>A four-year-old boy is all ears when his father's praises and +achievements are recounted. Any father, save a brute, is a hero in +the eyes of his four-year-old son. I am sure Mr. Gordon has many +admirable traits you can use as interesting topics. +<p>Tell little Charlie how proud you are to have a son who will be +like his father, and attend to the needs of and look after the +interests of his mother and sisters. +<p>Make him think that to be of service to you or his sisters is +one of the first steps toward manhood, as indeed it is. +<p>When he performs any small kindness, praise his manliness. +<p>Teach him to open doors, and to make way for women and elders, +as a part of manly courtesy. +<p>Speak with gentle disapproval of the unfortunately common type +of American boy who pushes women and older people aside to scramble +into public conveyances and secure a seat before them. +<p>Say how proud you are that your son could not be guilty of such +unmanly conduct. +<p>When you are walking with him, call his attention to any woman +or child or poor man in trouble, and if his services can be of use, +urge him to offer them. +<p>I saw one day a small boy spring to the aid of an old coloured +woman who had dropped a lot of parcels in the street, and I thought +it was a certain evidence that his mother was a rare and sweet +woman. For the manners of little boys are almost invariably what +their mothers make them. +<p>Awake early in his heart a sympathy for the deformed, the +crippled, and otherwise unfortunate beings. +<p>There is no other country where such vulgar and heartless +curiosity, and even ridicule, is bestowed upon grotesque or +unsightly types of humanity, as in America. +<p>A little dwarfed girl in New York City committed suicide a few +years ago because she was so weary of being laughed at and +ridiculed by her associates in the street and at school. +<p>Think of that, in this Christian age, and in the metropolis of +America! +<p>An old street peddler was set upon by school-children and so +annoyed and misused that he became insane. +<p>Another was injured by street children—the children of the +public schools—and died from the effects of their abuse. +<p>This is the fault of mothers who have never deemed it their duty +and privilege to awaken the tender and protective qualities in the +character of their children. +<p>Speak often to your boy of the pathos of dumb animals dependent +upon human thoughtfulness for food, drink, and decent usage. +<p>Say what a privilege it seems to you to be able to befriend +them, and to be a voice for them in making others realize their +duty to our dumb brothers. +<p>Obtain interesting books on natural history and read stories of +animal life to your boy. Instruct him in the habits of beast, bird, +and insect, and talk to him of the wonderful domestic instincts and +affections in many of our speechless associates. The exhilaration +of the wild bird, and the happiness of the deer and the hare in the +woods and fields, call to his mind day by day. It will be more +gratifying to you when he is man grown to feel he is the loving +friend and protector, rather than the skilled hunter of bird and +beast. +<p>The higher order of man does not seek slaughter for amusement. +He realizes that he has no right to take, save for self-protection, +that which he cannot give. +<p>Make your son a higher order of man by developing those brain +cells and leaving the destructive and cruel portions of the brain +to shrink from lack of use. +<p>Even in his play with his inanimate toys, you can be arousing +the best or the worst part of your boy's nature. +<p>The child who whips and screams at his hobby-horse usually, when +a man, whips and bellows at his flesh and blood steed. +<p>Tell him the play-horse is more easily managed by coaxing and +petting, and that loud voices make it nervous and frightened. +<p>Suggest water and feed at suitable times, and express sorrow for +the horses with no kind boys to look out for them. +<p>Start a humane society in the nursery and make your boy +president and your little girl honorary member, and act as +treasurer and secretary yourself. +<p>Give him a medal when he offers food to a hungry street animal +or speaks to a driver cruel to his horse, or performs any other +kind act. This will be interesting play to your children, and it +will be sowing seed in fallow ground. +<p>Your baby girl is already old enough to take pride in picking up +the toys she scatters, and putting her chair where it belongs. Make +it a part of your hour of sport with her to help her do these +things. She will not know she is being taught order. +<p>I learned this lesson from a famous author whose baby son was +anxious to play about the library where his father was at work. +<p>The first act of the toddler was to toss all the books in sight +upon the floor and to sit down and turn the leaves, hunting for +pictures. This performance interested him for half an hour, when he +proceeded to seek new fields of action. +<p>"But now let us have great fun putting all the books back just +where we found them," cried the tactful father, with a wink and a +laugh, which made the child believe he was to enjoy the sport of +his life. And it <i>was</i> made sport by the foolish pranks of the +father who knew how little it took to interest a child. +<p>The next day, and the next, the same fall and rise in the book +market took place, but on the fourth day the father was too deeply +engrossed in work to assist in the replacing of the books: when, +lo! the small lad, after a wistful waiting and unanswered call, +proceeded to put the books all back alone. +<p><i>The first important brick in the foundation wall of order was +laid</i>. +<p>So you can teach your little girl all the womanly habits of +method, and order, and neatness, and system, if you have the +patience to act the part of playmate with her a few moments daily. +<p>As she grows in understanding and years, keep yourself at her +side, her nearest friend. Let her feel that she can express her +every thought to you, and that every question which presents itself +to her developing mind, you will seek to answer to the best of your +ability. +<p>Be her confidant, her adviser, her friend, and let her find +pride and happiness in doing things for you. +<p>Never act as maid or domestic to your daughter. +<p>Be the queen and make her your first lady-in-waiting, and show +her the courtesy and appreciation her position demands from +royalty. She will be a better daughter, and a better wife and +mother, later in life, if you do not make the mistake of the +average American mother of waiting upon her from the cradle to the +altar. Let her grow up with the quiet understanding that you are to +be first considered, in matters social and financial. Your wardrobe +must be as well looked after as her own, and if there is to be +economy for one, let her practise it. +<p>The daughter who has a whole household sacrificing and toiling +for her pleasures is spoiled for a wife and woman. The most +admirable young women I have known—and I have known many—are those +who were taught to take it as a matter of course that the mother +was first to be considered, and lovingly served. +<p>Do not be afraid of making your daughter vain by telling her the +attractive features she may possess. +<p>Some one else will if you do not, and it is well for her to hear +it from lips which may more successfully offer counsel afterward. A +certain confidence in her own charms gives a sensibly reared young +woman a poise and self-possession which is to be desired. A touch +of feminine vanity renders a woman more anxious to please, and more +alert to keep always at her best. +<p>But beware of having her acquire egotism. Silly conceit is the +death-blow to higher attainments and to all charm. +<p>Teach your daughter early the accomplishment of listening well. +She will be certain to please if she understands its value. +<p>A woman who looks the converser in the eyes, and does not allow +her glance to wander and become distrait, and who does not +interrupt before the recital is finished, can be sure of popularity +with both men and women. +<p>Give both your son and daughter confidence in themselves and +belief in their power to achieve. There is tremendous power in the +early inoculation by the home influence of self-confidence, when it +is tempered by modesty and consideration for others. +<p>Remember whatever in your own bringing up seems to-day +unfortunate, and avoid it in the training of your children. +<p>Remember whatever was good and helpful, and emulate it. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Zoe_Clayborn_Artist"></a> +<h2>To Miss Zoe Clayborn Artist</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning the Attentions of Married Men<br> +<p>I am sure, my dear niece, that you are a good and pure-minded +girl, and that you mean to live a life above reproach, and I fully +understand your rebellion against many of the conventional forms +which are incompatible with the career of a "girl bachelor," as you +like to call yourself. But let us look at the subject from all +sides, while you are on the threshold of life, in the morning of +your career, and before you have made any more serious mistakes +than the one you mention. +<p>For it was a mistake when you accepted Mr. Gordon's telephone +message to lunch alone with him at a restaurant, even though you +knew his wife might not object. +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are happily married, parents of several +children. They are broader and more liberal and more unselfish than +most parents, and they went out of their path to extend courtesies +to you, a young country girl—at first because you were my niece, +then because they liked you personally. +<p>When I first wrote Mrs. Gordon that you were to open a studio in +Chicago after your course of study in the East, she expressed deep +interest in you, and seemed anxious to have you consider her as a +friend—always ready to act as a chaperon or adviser when you felt +the need of wiser guidance than your own impulses. +<p>Mrs. Gordon knew that your experience of the world was limited +to a country village in the West, and two years' study at the Pratt +Institute. While there she knew you boarded with a cousin of your +mother's, and enjoyed the association and privileges of the +daughters of the home. +<p>To start alone in Chicago, and live in your studio, and dine +from a chafing-dish, and sleep in an unfolded combination bureau +and refrigerator—has more fascinations to your mind than to Mrs. +Gordon's. She was reared in comfort, bordering on luxury, and while +her early home life was not happy, she enjoyed all the refinements +and all the privileges of protected girlhood. +<p>She knows city life as you cannot know it, and, although she +discards many of the burden—some conventions of society, she +realizes the necessity of observing some of its laws. +<p>She wanted you to feel that you had the background of a +wholesome home, and the protection of clean, well-behaved married +friends in your exposed situation; her attitude to you is just what +she would want another woman to hold toward her daughter, were she +grown up and alone in a large city. +<p>You have been her guest, and she has been your good friend. Mr. +Gordon admired you from the first, and that was a new incentive for +this most tactful and liberal of wives to befriend you. She always +cultivates the women he likes. +<p>This is excellent policy on the part of a wife. If the husband +has any really noble qualities or possesses a sterling character, +he will appreciate and respect his wife's confidence, and never +violate it; and added to this, he will usually become disillusioned +with the women he has admired from a distance, when he sees them +frequently at too close range. +<p>A wife can make no greater mistake than trying to fence her +husband about and obtruding high walls between him and the women he +admires. Far better bring them near and turn on the calcium light. +<p>Mr. Gordon is a born lover of the fair sex, a born gallant. He +is, at the same time, a clean, self-respecting man. But he has +grown a trifle selfish and a bit vain of late years. +<p>He does not fully realize what the interesting family of +children he shows with such pride to his friends has meant to their +mother. +<p>It has not occurred to him that to be the mother of three +children, the youngest one year old, after six years of married +life, has required a greater outlay of all the mental, moral, and +physical forces than has been demanded of their father. +<p>He is a good husband,—yet he is not the absolutely unselfish and +liberal and thoughtful husband that Mrs. Gordon is wife. +<p>If she seemed to you at all nervous, or less adaptable to your +moods than he, you should stop and consider the many causes which +might have led to this condition. +<p>You are young, handsome, gifted, and unconventional, and all +these things appeal to men. You can attract all the admirers you +want, and more than you need, to enlarge your ideas of life, and +extend your knowledge of human nature. +<p>You say your ambition is to know the world thoroughly,—that it +will aid your art. +<p>I think that is true, if you do not pass the border-line and +lose your ideals and sacrifice your principles. Once you do that, +your art will lose what it can never regain. +<p>And remember this, my dear girl, no human being ever lived or +ever will live who gained anything worth having <i>by sacrificing +the golden rule.</i> In your search for knowledge of the world, and +acquaintance with human nature, <i>keep that motto ever before your +soul's sight,</i> "Do unto others as you would have them do unto +you." +<p>You say Mr. Gordon said or did nothing in that +tête-à-tête luncheon his wife might not have +heard or seen, but the fact that he talked entirely about you and +art, and other universal subjects, and seemingly avoided any +reference to his wife and children, surprised you. +<p>And now you are wondering if you did wrong to accept this +invitation. Never accept invitations of any kind from married men, +unless the wife or some member of the family is included. +<p>No matter how willing the wife may be to have you enjoy her +husband's company, avoid tête-à-tête situations +with benedicts. +<p>You say you are not egotistical enough to imagine Mr. Gordon had +any hidden motive for wanting to be alone with you, or for +seemingly forgetting in his conversation that he was a husband and +father. Yet I can see that in a measure it disillusioned you. +<p>You do not ask a man to fling his wife and children at the head +of each woman he meets, but you like him to recognize their +existence. +<p>You are a young, romantic girl seeking the ideal. +<p>You want to find happy wives and husbands,—men and women who +have sailed away from the Strands of Imagination to the more +beautiful land of the Real, from whose shores they beckon you, +saying: "Here is happiness and great joy. Come and join us, and +feel no fear in flinging the illusions of youth behind you." +<p>If married men only knew that is what young women are +seeking,—if married women only knew that is what young men are +seeking, what reconstruction would take place in the deportment of +husbands and wives! +<p>Never yet did a married woman indulge in flirtatious or +sentimental converse with a bachelor without lowering herself and +all women in his heart of hearts. +<p>Never yet did a married man seem to forget his domestic ties in +the presence of single women without losing a portion of their +respect, however they may have been flattered by his attentions. +<p>In every man's heart, in every woman's, is this longing to find +husbands and wives who are satisfied and happy and proud, above all +other things, of their loyalty. +<p>It would be well for you to keep this fact before the minds of +the men you meet. You can, in a small way, do your little toward +educating on this subject the married men you encounter. And you +can save yourself some embarrassing experiences. +<p>It is no compliment to you if the husband of your friend, or a +stranger, falls in love with you. +<p>It is an easy matter for a young, attractive woman to infatuate +irresponsible men. +<p>It is a far greater compliment to you when women respect and +trust you, and when you help elevate the ideals of weak men +regarding your sex. +<p>You can study the whole Encyclopedia of Manhood without breaking +through the glass doors of your friend's bookcases. And you can +live a free, unconventional life without sacrificing one principle, +though you may ignore some customs. It is not the custom in +conventional society for young women to go to theatres or dinners +alone with young men. Yet I am perfectly willing you should join +the large army of self-supporting, self-respecting, and well +educated girls who do these things. You have been reared with that +American idea of independence, and with that confidence in your +ability to protect your virtue and good name, which carries the +vast majority of our young women safely through all the +vicissitudes of youth, and sends them chaste wives to the altar. +Our American men understand this attitude of our girls, and half of +them respect it, without being forced to, as the other half can be, +if woman so wills. +<p>There is no reason, to my thinking, why you should not enjoy the +companionship of interesting bachelors and widowers, and take the +courtesies they offer, with no chaperon but your own pride, taste, +and will. So long as you know, and these men know, that you are +doing nothing and going nowhere you need remember with shame or +regret, the next day, just so long you are on no dangerous path. +<p>But you must draw the line at married men, happy or unhappy. Any +confidential, tête-à-tête companionship of a +single woman with a married man cheapens her in the eyes of all +other men and women. +<p>It is a simpler matter to drift into free and easy manners and +call them "bohemian" than to cleanse your reputation of their +stain, or lift your mind from the mire to which they inevitably +lead. +<p>Once a woman begins to excuse her lawless conduct on the ground +of her "artistic temperament," there are no depths to which she may +not sink. +<p>Take pride in being at once independent yet discreet; artistic, +yet sensible; a student of men, yet an example of high-minded +womanhood; an open foe to needless conventions, yet a staunch +friend of principles; daring in methods, yet irreproachable in +conduct; and however adored by men, worthy of trust by all women. +<p>Do not take the admiration of men too seriously. Waste no +vitality in a rage over their weaknesses and vices. Regard them +with patience and inspire them to strive for a better goal than +self-indulgence. +<p>You can safely take it for granted that many who approach you +with compliments for your charms, and pleas for your favours, would +make the same advances to any other attractive girl they chanced to +encounter. +<p>Too many young women mistake a habit for a grand passion. And +they forget, while they are studying man, that he is studying +woman, and testing her susceptibility to flattery and her readiness +to believe in his simulated infatuation. +<p>Do not fall into the error of so many young country girls in a +large city, and imagine you can establish new laws, create a new +order of things, and teach men new lessons. +<p>A great city is like an ever-burning fire,—the newcomers who +thrust in their fingers will be scorched and scarred, but the fire +will not be changed or extinguished. +<p><i>Keep out of the fire</i>. +<p>There is no reason why you should scar yourself or smoke your +garments while keeping comfortably warm. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Charles_Gordon"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Charles Gordon</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years +of Married Life<br> +<p>I have read your letter with care. I can readily understand that +you would not appeal to your wife's mother in this matter upon +which you write me, as she has been the typical mother-in-law,—the +woman who never gets along well with her children, and who never +wants others to succeed where she fails. I recollect your telling +me how she marred the wedding ceremony, by weeping and fainting, +after having nagged her poor daughter during twenty years of life, +and interfered with her friendships, through that peculiar jealousy +which she misnamed "devoted love." +<p>And now you are afraid that your wife is developing the same +propensity, and you ask me to use my influence to cure her of it in +its incipiency. You think I stand closer to Edna than any other +friend. +<p>"It is only during the last two or three years that Edna has +shown this tendency," you say. "Until then she seemed to me the +most sensible and liberal-minded of women, always admiring the +people I liked, and even going out of her way to be courteous and +cordial to a woman I praised. Of late she has seemed so different, +and has often been sarcastic, or sulky, or hysterical, when I +showed the common gallantries of a man fond of the society of +ladies." +<p>You think it is her inherited tendency cropping out, and that +she is unconscious of it herself. +<p>Well now permit me, my dear Mr. Gordon, to be very frank with +you. +<p>I met your wife only once before she married you. +<p>She was a merry-hearted, healthy girl, with superb colour, and +the figure of a young Venus. She was a belle, and much admired by +many worth-while men. +<p>During her honeymoon, she wrote me a most charming letter +speaking of her happiness, and of her desire to make you an ideal +wife. +<p>You and Edna were my guests for a few days when your first child +was a year old. She seemed more beautiful than ever, with an added +spiritual charm, and you were the soul of devotion. +<p>You are the type of man who pays a compliment as naturally as he +breathes, and whose vision is a sensitive plate which retains an +impression of every feminine grace. This impression is developed in +the memory-room afterward, and framed in your conversation. +<p>The ordinary mind calls such a man a flirt, or, in common +parlance, "a jollier;" but I know you to be merely appreciative of +womankind in general, while your heart is beautifully loyal to its +ideal. You are a clean, wholesome man, who could not descend to +intrigue. You are fine-looking, and you possess a gift in +conversing. +<p>Of course women are attracted to you. Edna was proud of this +fact, and seemed to genuinely enjoy your popularity. +<p>That was five years ago. +<p>One year ago I visited your home. Edna was the mother of three +children, born during the first five years of marriage. +<p>She had sacrificed her bloom to her babies, and was pallid and +anaemic. Her form had lost its exquisites curves, and she seemed +years older than her age-older indeed than you, although she is +four years your junior. It is a mere incident to be a father of +three children. It is a lifetime experience to be their mother. She +had developed nerves, and tears came as readily as laughter came of +old. +<p>She was devoted to her children, and felt a deep earnestness +regarding her responsibility as a mother. But she was still the +intensely loving wife, while you had sunk your rôle of +lover-husband in that of adoring father. +<p>You did not seem to think of Edna's delicate state of health, or +notice her fading beauty. You regarded her as a faithful nurse for +your children, and whenever you spoke of her it was as the mother, +not as the sweetheart and wife. +<p>When I mentioned the drain upon a woman's vitality to bring +three robust children into life in five years, you said it was only +a "natural function," and referred to the old-time families of ten +and twelve children. Your grandmother had fourteen, you said, and +was the picture of health at seventy-five. +<p>My own grandmother gave ten children to the world. But we must +recollect how different was the environment in those days. +<p>Our grandmothers lived in the country, and knew none of the +strain and excitement of these modern times. The high pressure of +social and financial conditions, as we know them, the effort to +live up to the modern standards, the congested city life and the +expensive country life, all these things make motherhood a +different ordeal for our women than our grandmothers. Where our +grandfathers took their share of the care and guidance of children, +and the children came up in a wholesome country fashion, our men +to-day are so driven by the money gadfly that they can only whirl +around and around and attend "to business," and all the care of the +children falls upon the mother, or else upon the nurses and +governesses, who in turn are a care and a worry to the wife. +<p>You assured me Edna had all the assistants in caring for her +children she wanted, but you did not realize that every paid +employé in a household is, as a rule, just so much more care +to the mistress, not less than a tax on the husband's purse and, +consequently, on his time. +<p>What Edna craves is <i>your</i> love, <i>your</i> attention, +<i>your</i> sympathy, not the service of paid domestics. She wants +you to notice her fading bloom, and to take her in your arms and +say, tenderly, "Little girl, we must get those old roses back. And +we must go away for a new honeymoon, all alone, and forget every +care, even if we forget the babies for a few days." +<p>One little speech like that, one little outing like that, would +do more toward driving away the demon of jealousy than all I could +by a thousand sermons and homilies. +<p>I remember at your own board you made me uncomfortable talking +about my complexion, which you chose to say was "remarkable for a +woman of my age." And then you proceeded to describe some wonderful +beauty you had seen at the Country Club the day previous, and all +the time I saw the tears hidden back under the lids of Edna's tired +eyes, and a hurt look on her pale face. Do you imagine she was +<i>jealous</i> of your compliment to me? or of your praise of the +girl's beauty at the Country Club? +<p>No, no, my dear Mr. Gordon, I know Edna too well to accuse her +of such petty feelings. She was only hurt at your lack of taste in +accenting her own lost bloom by needlessly emphasizing another's +possession of what had once been hers. +<p>Yet she called upon the young lady that very day and invited her +to luncheon, and even then you indulged in pronounced admiration of +the guest's cheeks, gallantly requesting your wife to have the +bouquet of carnation pinks removed from the table, as they were so +shamed by the complexions of the ladies. +<p>Of course it was gracefully worded in the plural, but your +pallid wife could not claim her share of it, and you should have +realized the fact. And the reason she could not was that she had +sacrificed her health in your service, in giving your children to +you, and in losing her lover. +<p>She adores her splendid babies, but she is still a woman and a +wife,—though you seem to ignore that she is anything but a mother. +<p>Right about face, Mr. Gordon, and become the lover you were, and +jealousy will be driven from your threshold. +<p>It is your own lack of thoughtfulness, your own tactless and +tasteless methods with your wife, which have caused the change in +her manner. She is not jealous, she is only lonely, heart-hungry, +disillusioned. +<p>You are less noble, less considerate, less tender, less +sympathetic than she believed. For the man to whom these adjectives +can be applied will guard, love, and cherish the wife of his youth, +and the mother of his children, before all other considerations; +and he will understand how sensitive a fading wife may be, and not +confound that sensitiveness with ignoble jealousy. +<p>It is you, Charles Gordon, who must cure your wife of nerves, +hysteria, and incipient jealousy, not I. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_Clarence_St_Claire"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. Clarence St. Claire</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Husband<br> +<p>I am sorry that your matrimonial barque meets so many rough +winds while hardly out of Honeymoon Bay. +<p>Clarence and you seemed so deeply in love when I last saw you, +six months after your wedding, that I had hoped all might go well +with you. +<p>I knew the disposition of Clarence to be tainted with jealousy, +but hoped you would be able to eradicate it from his nature. +<p>You know his poor mother suffered agonies from the infidelities +of his father before Clarence was born. She had married a handsome +foreigner with whom she was desperately enamoured, while he cared +only for the fortune she brought him. +<p>While still in the full light of the honeymoon he began to +indulge in flirtations and amours, and poor Clarence, during the +important prenatal period of life, received the mark of suspicion +and the tendency to hypersensitiveness which then dominated the +mother. +<p>By the time Elise was born she had passed through the whole +process, and was passive and indifferent. +<p>I cannot help a sensation of amusement, even in face of the +condition you describe (which is little short of tragic), as I +recall the letter Clarence wrote begging me to try and prevent, by +fair means or foul, his sister's marriage to old Mr. Volney. +<p>That was two years before you and Clarence were married. +<p>Elise, we all know, wedded for the money and position Mr. Volney +gave, in return for her young beauty. +<p>Clarence and you were ideal lovers, seeing nothing in the world +outside of your own selves. +<p>Yet Elise is quite contented, and Mr. Volney uses what little +brain he has left to exult over his possession of such a beautiful +young wife. +<p>Elise upholds his dignity and flatters him into a belief that he +is a great philanthropist and a social power, and in this way she +has the handling of his millions, which is her idea of happiness. +She travels, entertains, and poses for photographs and paintings in +imported gowns, and there is no rumour of discontent or divorce. +<p>Meanwhile, Clarence, who was so opposed to her marriage because +it was loveless, is making a mess of his own love-match, through +his jealousy. +<p>You, who knew him to be insanely jealous as a lover, and who +seemed to be flattered with what you thought a proof of his +devotion, appeal to me now to know what to do with the husband who +is destroying your love and your happiness! Surely, if Elise knew +of this she might well say, "He laughs best who laughs last." +<p>I know that you were absorbed in Clarence for the first year of +your married life, and that you gave no least cause for any +jealousy, and I know, as you say, that even then he was often +morbid and unhappy over nothing at all. +<p>He was jealous even of girl friends and relatives, and if you +attended a matinée with one of them, he sulked the whole +evening. +<p>This was little more than he did as a lover, and you should have +begun in those days to reason him out of such moods. +<p>You imagined then it was his mad love for you which caused his +unreasonable jealousy. +<p>But jealousy is self-love, and selfishness lies at the root of +such conditions of mind as his. +<p>A woman should say to a man who sulks or goes into tantrums when +she pays courteous attentions to relatives or acquaintances, "You +are lowering my ideal of you—I cannot love a man who will indulge +such unworthy moods. You insult my womanhood and doubt my +principles by your suspicions; you intimate that I have neither +truth, or judgment, or pride. You must conquer yourself, and learn +to trust me and to believe in me, or I must decide I am no woman +for you to take as a life companion." A man should take the same +course toward a jealous sweetheart or wife. +<p>A few quiet but firm assertions of this nature, when you were +being wooed, would have given Clarence an idea that he could lose +you, and that he was making himself ridiculous in your eyes. +Instead, you boasted to your friends how wildly infatuated he was, +and Clarence took new pride in his own blemish of character. +<p>Now that you have to live day, and night, and week, and month, +and year, with this trait, it seems a less romantic phase of +devotion, I fancy. But you are not wise to grow reckless and ignore +the wishes of your husband in all ways, because he is unreasonable. +"Since he is so absolutely impossible to please," you say, "I may +as well please myself. I have decided to take some of the liberties +so many of my acquaintances do, and enjoy life outside my home if I +cannot enjoy it within." +<p>Then you proceed to tell me how more than half your associates +drive, lunch, and dine with men acquaintances, and how +old-fashioned they consider your scruples. And you tell me that, +despite your rectitude, Clarence insults you almost daily by his +unreasoning jealousy of men, women, and even children. +<p>"I have about made up my mind to be less prudish and enjoy +myself, as I am sure Clarence cannot be any more jealous than he +is," you say. +<p>Now since you have asked my advice in the matter, I can only +urge you to reconsider this last determination. +<p>So long as you are, according to law and in the eyes of the +world, the wife of a man, you cannot escape comment if you are +frequently seen in public places alone with another. +<p>Were you to look into the hearts of other men who ask you to +dine, drive, or lunch alone with them, you would find a feeling of +increased respect when you decline, although they may show only +disappointment on the surface. I know that many wives of +unblemished reputation accept courtesies of this kind from +masculine friends, and I of course understand that circumstances +may arise which make an occasional acceptance proper. +<p>But the fewer such occasions, the better and the safer for the +married woman. The man who is perfectly willing his wife should +appear frequently in public with other men does not fully +appreciate the dignity of her position or his own, or else he has +lost his love for her. +<p>The fact that your husband is jealous without reason is no +excuse for giving him reason. The moment men know that a husband is +inclined to jealousy, he falls in their estimation, and they are +seized with a desire to aggravate him, while they sympathize with +the wife. +<p>The sympathetic friend of the abused wife is a dangerous +companion for her. He may mean to be platonic and kind, but almost +invariably he becomes sentimental and unsafe. +<p>Once in a thousand times the absolutely happy wife of a husband +she respects as well as loves can enjoy a platonic friendship with +a man who respects her, and himself, and her husband. But even that +situation is liable to prove insecure, if they are much together, +owing to the selfishness and weakness of human nature when the +barriers of convention are removed. +<p>But the unhappy wife must take no chances with Fate. +<p>She must either decide to accept her lot and bear it with +philosophy, or escape from it and begin life over, after the courts +have given her the right to reconstruct her destiny. +<p>You know all that entails. It is not a pleasant process. +<p>If your love for your husband is entirely dead, and you feel +that he has forfeited all right to your sympathy, pity, or +patience, then break the fetters and go free. But if you feel that +you are not ready for that ordeal, and that you must still remain +living under the same roof with him, and continue to bear his name, +then do not join the great army of wives who are to be seen in +public restaurants and hotels dining tête-à-tête +with "platonic friends" over emptied glasses. +<p>You can but make trouble for yourself and add to the misery of +your husband by such a course. In your particular case, I feel that +your knowledge of the jealous disposition of the man you married +renders it your duty to bear and forbear, and to try every method +of reformation before you resort to the very common highway of +divorce as an exit from your unhappiness. +<p>A woman has no right to complain of the fault in a husband which +she condoned in a lover. And a man has no right to complain of the +fault in a wife he condoned in a sweetheart. Yet both may strive to +correct that fault. +<p>Insist upon having women and men friends who can be received at +your home in presence of your husband. Make Clarence realize how he +belittles himself in your estimation by unreasoning jealousy. Give +him to understand that you want to love him and respect him, and +that you have no intention of lowering your standard of behaviour, +because he is constantly expecting you to. Tell him it mortifies +you to find greater pleasure away from him than in his presence, +yet when he insults you with his suspicions, and destroys your +comfort with his moods, you can no longer think of him as your +girlhood's ideal. +<p>Ask him to try, for your sake, to use more common sense and +self-control in this matter, and to help you to restore the +happiness which seems flying from your wedded lives. +<p>Do nothing to aggravate or irritate him, but do not give up your +friends of either sex; this is but to increase his inclination to +petty tyranny, while it will in no sense lessen his jealousy. +<p>And when you are alone, endeavour to think of him always as +sensible, reasonable, and kind. +<p>By your mental picture you can help to cure him of the blight he +received before his birth. It is the task set many a wife, to +counteract the errors and neglect of mothers. +<p>Look to the Divine source for help in your work, and remember +the lovely qualities Clarence possesses when he is not under the +ban of this prenatal mark. +<p>Love him out into the light if you can—and I believe you can if +you are not too soon discouraged. +<p>It is a nobler effort to try and create in your husband the +ideal you have in your mind, than to go seeking him elsewhere. +<p>Be patient and wait awhile. Such love as you and Clarence felt +in your courtship and early marriage cannot so soon have died. It +is only sleeping, and suffering from a nightmare. Awaken it to life +and reality and happiness. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Young_Mrs_Duncan"></a> +<h2>To Young Mrs. Duncan</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding Mothers-in-Law<br> +<p>And so the serpent has appeared in your Eden, attired in widow's +weeds, and talking the usual jargon of "devoted mother love." I do +not like to say I told you so, but you must remember our rather +spirited discussion of this very serpent, when you announced your +engagement and said Mr. Duncan's mother was to make her home with +you after your return from abroad. +<p>I had met Mrs. Duncan, and I knew her type all too well. Alfred +is her only child, and she adores him, naturally, but it is +adoration so mingled with selfishness and tyranny that it is +incapable of considering the welfare of its object. +<p>Mrs. Duncan was always jealous of any happiness which came to +her son through another source than herself. That type of mother +love is to be encountered every day, and that type of mother +believes herself to be the most devoted creature on earth; while +the fact is, she sits for ever in the boudoir of her mentality, +gazing at her own reflection. She loves her children because they +also reflect herself, and is incapable of unselfish pleasure in +their happiness apart from her. +<p>You will remember I urged you to wait until you could have a +home, however humble, alone with your husband, and even at the cost +of that most undesirable condition, a long engagement. +<p>But you assured me with much spirit that you had every +confidence in your power to win Mrs. Duncan's heart, and to crown +her declining years with peace and happiness. +<p>As well talk of decking a porcupine with wreaths of flowers, and +making it a household pet, to coddle and caress. +<p>When I congratulated Mrs. Duncan on her son's engagement to such +a sweet, bright girl as my cousin, she assumed a martyr expression +and said, "She hoped he would be happy, even if her own heart must +suffer the pain of losing an only son." +<p>"But," I urged, "he really adds to your life by bringing you the +companionship of a lovely daughter. My cousin will, I am sure, +prove such to you." +<p>"I have no doubt your cousin is a most estimable girl," Madame +Duncan answered, with dignity, "but I have never yet felt the need +of any close companion save my son. You, having no children, are +excusable for not understanding my feelings, now when another +claims his thoughts." +<p>"Yet the world is maintained by such occurrences," I replied. +"You took some mother's son, or you would not have had your own." +<p>With austere self-righteousness Mrs. Duncan corrected me. +<p>"I married an orphan," she said. +<p>"How thoughtful of you," I responded. "But you see it is not +lack of thought, only an accident of fate, which has prevented my +cousin from marrying an orphan. There are not enough desirable +orphans to keep our young women supplied with husbands, you know." +<p>I think Mrs. Duncan suspected me of covert sarcasm, for she +changed the topic of conversation. But I heard her afterward +talking to a bevy of women on the sorrow of giving up a child after +having reared him to manhood's estate, and her listeners all seemed +duly sympathetic. +<p>Of course, my dear Ruth, there is an element of sadness in the +happiest of marriages for the parents of children. I think it is +particularly sad when a mother gives up a daughter, whose every +thought she has shared, and whose every pleasure she has planned, +and sees her embark upon the uncertain ocean of marriage, with a +strange pilot at the helm. +<p>The really good and loving mother endears herself to that pilot, +and loves him and seeks his affection for her daughter's sake. She +hides her own sorrow in her heart, and does not shadow her +daughter's voyage by her repining. +<p>The man who is worthy of a good girl's love will understand what +it must mean to a mother to give her daughter to him, and he will +in every way seek to recompense her for her loss, by bestowing upon +her sympathy, courteous attentions, and a son's devotion. +<p>Just so will the girl, who is worthy of being a good man's wife, +seek to make his mother love her. +<p>I know how you have tried to win Mrs. Duncan's heart. I know +your amiable, sweet disposition, and your unselfishness and tact, +and I know how you failed. +<p>I can imagine your feelings when you overheard Mrs. Duncan say +to a caller that she was going to leave your house and take rooms +elsewhere, as she could not endure your "billing and cooing." +<p>Do you know, Ruth, that nearly all the trouble between +mothers-and daughters-in-law is due to vanity and jealousy. +<p>Fifty mothers are friends to their daughters' husbands where one +is a friend to her son's wife. That is because, wholly +unconsciously to herself, the mother resents another woman sharing +the attention of a man she loves. The fact that he is her son, and +that the love he gives his wife is a wholly different sentiment, +does not prevent blind, unreasoning jealousy from dominating her +nature. +<p>Mrs. Duncan wants to stand always in the centre of the stage, +with every other woman in the play in the background. +<p>It is a most pathetic situation for a man,—this position between +a wife and a jealous mother. My heart always aches for the man in +the case even more than for the woman who is misused. +<p>All young men are reared to think mother-love the most unselfish +and wonderful devotion on earth, even in the face of facts which so +often prove it otherwise; and when a son sees his mother unhappy he +is inclined to make every possible excuse for her, because he feels +that to take issue against her will put him in a false light before +the whole established order of society, and that he will beat his +head against traditions wherever he turns. +<p>So, he ofttimes tries to conciliate the wife he has promised to +cherish, and to convince her that she may exaggerate matters, and +that she may even be the aggressor, and then he finds himself +standing between two raging fires, with no escape save through +flames, and over hot fagots, which will leave him scarred for life. +<p>Sometimes the wife <i>is</i> in the wrong. Sometimes a man +marries a woman who is so narrow and so selfish and so jealous that +she begrudges the husband's mother her son's affection. But I must +affirm that, in my observation of humanity, I have seen but one +such wife, where I have seen ten jealous and unreasonable mothers. +<p>And with what pleasure and admiration I recall the few beautiful +and noble mothers-in-law I have known! I can count them on the +fingers of one hand without including the thumb. I mean mothers of +sons. +<p>There are just four whom I can recall. They really loved their +sons, and loved whatever and whoever gave those sons happiness. +<p>One mother objected to her son's choice before marriage, and +tried vainly to convince him that he had made a mistake. But after +his marriage she took the girl into her heart, made her a companion +and friend, and when the son began to discover her glaring faults, +she told him to be patient and wait, and that all would be well. +Instead of saying, "I told you so," she said, "Your wife is young, +and has had no wise hand to guide her. You married her for love, +and if you exercise the love-spirit, and are patient and +self-controlled in your treatment of her, she will overcome these +faults which annoy you." +<p>And day by day she called his attention to the pleasing +qualities the girl possessed, and by praise, tact, love, and +sympathy bridged over the threatened chasm. +<p>The couple live happily together to-day, thanks to the +mother-in-law. Oh, that there were more such mothers of sons! +<p>Be as patient and sweet as you can, dear Ruth, toward Mrs. +Duncan; think how difficult the situation is for your husband, and +say or do nothing to make it harder for him. But allow Mrs. Duncan +to live by herself, and, if need be, bear many privations +cheerfully that she may do so, and that you may have your own home +in peace. Every wife is entitled to that, and if she has made every +possible effort which love and tact can make to cast the seven +devils of jealousy out of her mother-in-law, and they still remain, +it is for the general welfare that two separate households exist. +<p>When a son has done all he can in reason to make his mother +happy, save to turn against the wife he has promised to cherish, he +is a cad and a weakling if he does the latter. He must learn that +it is a larger duty to be a just man than to be an obedient son. +<p>I am sure Mr. Duncan will have the character and judgment to do +what is right in this matter. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_a_Young_Man"></a> +<h2>To a Young Man</h2> +<p class="c3">Ambitious for Literary Honours<br> +<p>Your achievements in college, where you distinguished yourself +in rhetoric and literature, would justify you in thinking seriously +of a career as an author. +<p>And the fact that your father wishes you to take charge of his +brokerage business, and to relinquish your literary aspirations, +should not deter you from carrying out your ambitions. +<p>Prom your mother you inherit a mind and temperament which wholly +unfit you for the pursuits your father follows and enjoys. You are +no more suited to make a successful broker than he is fitted to +write an Iliad. +<p>Try and make him understand this, and try and convince him that +to yield to his wishes in this matter, means the sacrifice of your +tastes, the waste of your talents, and the destruction of your +happiness. +<p>If he cannot be convinced by your consistent and respectful +arguments, then you must quietly, but firmly, refuse to accept a +career distasteful to you. +<p>No parent has a right to drive a child into so undesirable a +path for life as this would prove to one of your nature. +<p>Your father would think the horticulturist insane, who took a +delicate fern and planted it in arid soil, on a hilltop, far from +shade, and expected it to thrive and bear blossoms like the cactus. +<p>Yet this would be no more unreasonable, than to expect a son of +your temperament and inclinations to be happy and successful in +Wall Street. +<p>It is a curious study to watch parents, and to observe their +utter lack of knowledge regarding a child's nature and +capabilities; and to find them not only ignorant in those important +matters, but unwilling to be enlightened. +<p>You say it makes your father angry to have any one refer to your +literary talents. +<p>I remember when your father bred race-horses, and how proud he +was that a two-year-old colt showed traits and points noticeably +like its high-priced dam. +<p>He chose for your mother, a woman of rare mind, and of poetic +taste, and why should he not be proud and glad that his son +resembles her? When will fathers learn that sons are more +frequently like their mothers, and daughters like their fathers, +than otherwise? +<p>The temporary dissatisfaction of your father is not so sad to +contemplate as your own lifelong disappointment if you accede to +his wishes in this matter. +<p>Each individual has a right to choose his own career in life, so +long as that career is respectable and bodes no evil to humanity. +<p>If, as your father threatens, he refuses to give you support +while you are exploring the field of literature, you should feel +grateful to him for this unintentional incentive to success. +<p>I do not agree with those who consider the necessity to earn +money a misfortune to genius. +<p>I believe the greatest works of art given to the world have been +brought to light through necessity. +<p>The artistic temperament is almost invariably combined with a +propensity to dream, and to float upon the clouds of imagination. +<p>The ranks of wealth and comfort are full of talented and +accomplished people who "never are, but always to be" great. +<p>One great man in a score may have been reared in affluence, but +I doubt if the statistics would show so large a percentage. +<p>There are many hills which contain valuable ore, but if the +owner sits in ease upon these elevations, and gazes at the sunsets, +he does not find the ore. If he is a poor man, and takes his pick +and <i>digs</i>, he finds his fortune. +<p>At first he may cast out only loose earth and stones, but by +this very necessity to find valuables, he continues to search until +the ore is reached. +<p>Were you to remain at home and enjoy all the benefits of your +father's wealth, I doubt if you would have the persistence to dig +down into the mine you possess within you. +<p>You would sit on the hilltop and dream. +<p>If you are forced to write to live, you may cast up some rubbish +from the surface; yet by the continual digging you will reveal all +that lies below. +<p>Regarding the style you speak of adopting, let your feeling come +<i>first</i>, your style of expressing that feeling <i>second</i>. +Say nothing merely to exhibit your style—and hold back some strong +feelings until you can give them the best expression. +<p>As to the methods of getting your work before the public and the +"influence" you need, I can only assure you that unless you write +with purpose, and power, and passionate enjoyment of your art, +forgetful of all things save your desire to express yourself, no +influence on earth can do more than give you a page in a magazine, +or a column in a newspaper for an occasion or two. And if you do +write under those conditions, you will need no influence: for it is +just such writing the world wants; and the editors and publishers +will be forced to read you, whether they are inclined to or not. +<p>Christopher Columbus found his continent because he was so +determined, so persistent, so certain that unknown lands awaited +him. +<p>It made no difference who told him that all the earth had been +discovered, and that he would never be able to succeed in his wild +venture. His purpose was too strong to be influenced by the doubts +of others. +<p>It has always seemed to me that God would have made a continent +to reward such a search, had it not already existed. +<p>Unless you set forth on the sea of literature, with the spirit +of a Columbus in your soul, you may as well give up the idea of +finding the Port of Glory. If you do set forth with that spirit, +you need ask no mortal influence. +<p>God is the only influence genius needs. +<p>Perseverance the only method. +<p>To find the way to success alone, is the test of talent. +<p>Some influential author might give you the entreé once to +a magazine. But editors and publishers are men of purely business +instincts, and they will not accept work on the recommendation of +any third party, which they think their public will not like. Their +constant effort is to find what that public <i>does like</i>, and +the unknown author has an equal advantage with the genius, if he +sends such material. +<p>An author once told me that he "trapped" twenty manuscripts and +sent them out to editors, and all came back unread, as his "trap" +proved. +<p>Since he sent them forth with such doubts in his mind, it is no +wonder his trap succeeded and his manuscripts failed. +<p>No great literary fire of purpose could be in the mind of a man +who spent thought and time on such a plot to trick an editor. And +because there was no great flame, the inanimate manuscripts were +returned unread. For even a package of paper sends out its "aura," +and invites or repels attention. +<p>If you are discouraged by the people who tell you that +"everything has been written," and that you can only be a faint +echo of greater souls, then you do not deserve success. I have no +doubt the croakers of that day told Shakespeare the same. +<p>It seems that Shakespeare did take many old themes and other +people's plots and ideas to re-create in his own way. And what a +way! Surely he who best uses an idea is most entitled to the +credit. +<p>There is nothing new under the sun, but there is always the new +audience. For the majestic old poem of Spring, bound over in new +covers of green, God creates fresh, eager young eyes and hearts +each year. And not yet has he said to the year, "Do not attempt +another spring—there have been so many before, you can but repeat +their beauties." Then why should any mortal say to the poet or the +author, "Do not try to write—it has all been said before." +<p>Proceed, my young friend, and write what is in your heart. +Nothing quite the same was ever in any heart before, and yet the +greater part of it has been in all hearts, and will be in all +hearts, so long as the world lasts. +<p>Remember that when you write from the heart, it will go to the +hearts of your readers: and when you write from your head it will +go no lower than the head. +<p>And if the critics score or ridicule you, consider yourself on +the path to success. +<p>If you have a message for the world, nothing and nobody can +prevent you from delivering it. +<p>He only fails who has nothing to say. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_McAllister"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. McAllister</h2> +<p class="c3">Concerning Her Little Girl<br> +<p>How strange it seems that your daughter is ten years old. +<p>It is such a brief hour since you wrote me you were eighteen and +had entered Vassar. Having no children of my own to stand as +milestones on life's highway, and keeping a very young heart in my +breast all these years, it seems at times little less than +impertinent in the children I have known to develop so rapidly into +matrons and fathers. +<p>I am glad for you that the doctor has reached the desirable goal +where he can rest from his laborious profession for two years, and +take that journey abroad you have so long contemplated. And I am +glad that you feel the satisfaction you say you do, in never having +left him alone for a whole season as you once thought of doing. +<p>A satisfied conscience is a better comrade to journey along +beside, than a remembered pleasure. +<p>But now about Genevieve. +<p>You tell me she is to be left with your sister, and that she +will, for the first time, attend the public school. +<p>You are right in thinking this will make her more American in +spirit than an education gained through home teaching or private +schools. +<p>The girl who attends private schools only, is almost invariably +inoculated with the serum of aristocracy. +<p>She believes herself a little higher order of being than the +children who attend public schools, and it requires continual +association with people of broad common sense to counteract this +influence. I know you and the doctor have exerted this influence, +but your sister might not realize the necessity of making a special +effort in that direction. +<p>Then, too, since the fathers or grandfathers of our most +conspicuous social leaders were self-made and self-taught, and +since our American society is composed of so many varied types of +humanity, it is well for a young girl to come in contact with all +classes while she is yet a child, that she may understand humanity +as she is sure to encounter it later. Yet, as you say, it is indeed +a serious thought to know your little rosebud of a child is to be +tossed into the dust of the public schoolroom. +<p>"I do not want the delicate leaves forced into premature blossom +or blight," you say, and I feel for you, as I read the words. +<p>You remember your own experience as a school-child in the +country, and you tell me you would fain guard your daughter from +hearing or seeing much that came to your ears and eyes as a +school-child. +<p>But now, my dear Winifred, listen. +<p>It is utterly and absolutely impossible for you to keep +Genevieve ignorant of <i>life</i>, or of the great fundamental +principles of life. It is utterly useless to undertake to ignore +the set impulse in all nature. Since God did not ignore it in +constructing the universe, parents cannot afford to in educating +children. The one thing to do is to teach your child early to +respect and revere the subject, and to regard all things pertaining +to birth as sacred, never to be lightly discussed. Wherever the +eyes of an observing child turn, they see something to arouse +curiosity upon this subject. +<p>All literature (the Bible particularly) contains some reference +to sex and birth. Unless you stuff the ears of children with +cotton, they must hear expressions, suggestions, and references, +which necessitate explanations of the same vital subject. From +insects to man, through all the various kingdoms, sex laws are the +foundation of life. +<p>Why parents have chosen to taboo this important subject, and why +they surround it with falsehood and subterfuge, and suggest that it +is unclean or vulgar, has always puzzled me. +<p>Inconceivable harm, lifelong disaster, has befallen many a girl +and many a boy through this mistaken attitude of parents to God's +basic law of the universe. +<p>Genevieve is only ten. But she is a child with a most inquiring +mind, and she already indicates a tendency to coquetry. She prefers +boys to dolls, and evidently finds them more interesting than +girls. +<p>The things you would guard her from knowing, she is sure to +learn in some undesirable and unfortunate manner, unless you +prepare her for them with loving delicacy and refinement. +<p>My suggestion is that you take a plant, and talk to her about +its growth. Tell her how it springs from a seed, and hides in the +bosom of the earth, expanding until it bursts through, and becomes +the baby of mother earth. +<p>Tell her, too, of the bird life in the egg, and make her realize +the mother-impulse in all nature. Then say to her that she is a +part of it all and that she came into life by the same divine law, +and that when she is older you will explain whatever puzzles her +young mind. +<p>Tell her that she was carried under your heart, as the sprout +was carried in the bosom of mother earth, and that it is a very +holy and beautiful thing; so holy and so beautiful that the refined +and sweet people of the world do not talk freely of the subject, +but keep it like a religion, for those very near to them. +<p>Then say, You will hear other children, who have not been told +this by their mothers, speak rudely and even jest on this subject. +They are to be pitied, for not knowing such jests are vulgar, but +you must walk away from them, and refuse to listen, after telling +them your mother has explained all you need to know. Impress upon +her that she is never to discuss the topic with any one else, +unless you advise her to do so. +<p>I have known only two mothers who took this method with their +children, but both succeeded in rearing beautiful and remarkable +daughters and sons. For the sons were included in the talk by one +mother, and they were ideal boys and gentlemen—popular with, and +respected by their comrades, in spite of their delicacy and reserve +on subjects jested over by other boys. +<p>I am sure that you can protect Genevieve from the soil and shock +you fear for her, by making her your confidante at this early age, +and by convincing her of your loving companionship in the future. +Under no other conditions would I for one day allow a little girl +(or a little boy for that matter) to attend a public school. Not +one parent in a thousand realizes the moral dangers surrounding +small children who go to and from school in country or city places. +<p>Many remember their own precocious education on forbidden +topics, yet seem to imagine their children will be immune from such +experiences. +<p>But until the Creator produces life by some new process, +children will never be exempt from curiosity regarding the present +method, and parents may as well realize the fact and become their +children's reverent instructors, instead of leaving them to be +taught God's holiest truths by vulgar chance or dreadful design. +<p>Do not imagine that innocence necessitates ignorance. +<p>Your child will be far more innocent minded, if you give her the +instruction I suggest, than if you leave her to ungoverned +imagination and unenlightened observation. +<p>Deep in each human entity the sex impulse is planted, and will +assert itself sooner or later. +<p>Ignorance and curiosity lead often to precocious development of +the impulse. By proper care on your part, your child's mind may be +kept normal, innocent, and wholesome. +<p>See to it that you give this important care before you leave. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mr_Ray_Gilbert2"></a> +<h2>To Mr. Ray Gilbert</h2> +<p class="c3">Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty<br> +<p>My dear Mr. Gilbert:—Your letter followed me across the ocean, +and chanced to be the first one opened and read in my weighty home +mail to-day. I have lost all trace of you during the last six +years, in that wonderful way people can lose sight of one another +in a large city. Once or twice I heard you had just left some +social function as I arrived, or was expected just as I was +leaving, and once, recently, I saw you across the house at a first +night, with a very pretty girl at your side. I fancy this is the +"one woman in the world for you," of whom you speak in the letter +before me—the letter written the evening before your marriage. How +good you are to carry out my request made seven years ago, and to +write me this beautiful letter, after reading over and burning your +former boyish epistle, returning to me my reply. +<p>It is every man's duty to himself, his bride, and the other +woman, to destroy all evidences of past infatuations and +affections, before he enters the new life. It is every woman's duty +to do the same—<i>with a reservation</i>. Since men demand so much +more of a wife than a wife demands of a husband, a woman is wise to +retain any proof in her possession that some man has been an +honourable suitor for her hand. She should make no use of such +evidence, unless the unaccepted lover indulges in disrespectful +comments or revengeful libels, as some men are inclined to when the +fruit for which they reached is picked by another hand. +<p>And it is when the grapes are called sour that the evidence may +prove effective of their having been thought sweet and desirable. +<p>It is a curious fact that no woman thinks less of a man for his +having had his vain infatuations, and that all men think less of a +woman if she has loved without response. +<p>Therefore, it behoves her to destroy no evidence that the other +man, not herself, was the discarded party. +<p>But woe unto the man who retains old love-letters, or other +tokens of dead loves and perished desires. +<p>Few men could be guilty of showing or repeating the contents of +another man's love-letters. Women who are models of virtue and +goodness have been known to make public the letters written a man +in earlier years by another object of his affections. I have to my +personal knowledge known a woman to place before the eyes of a +third person, lines written evidently in the very heart's blood of +a former sweetheart of her husband-words the man believed he had +destroyed with other letters, more than a score of years before. +Imagine what the feelings of that early sweetheart, now a happy and +beloved wife, would be, did she know the words written so long ago +were spread before cold and critical eyes, and discussed by two +people who could have no comprehension of the conditions and +circumstances which led to their expression. +<p>Because I know otherwise tender-hearted and good women are +capable of such acts, I am glad you have obeyed my wish of seven +years ago, and that all proofs of your boyish infatuation for an +older woman are destroyed. You say you have told the girl you love +that you once were foolishly fond of me, and that I helped you to +higher ideals of womanhood and life. +<p>That is wise and well, since you found her to be broad and +sensible enough to share such a confidence. But had she seen your +written words to me and my reply, it would have been less agreeable +to her than to hear your own calm recital of the now dead passion. +<p>Words written in a state of high-wrought intensity retain a sort +of phosphoric luminosity, like certain decaying substances, and +even after the passage of years, and when the emotions which gave +them expression are dead and forgotten, they seem to emit life and +feeling. +<p><i>Burn your bridges as you walk along the highways of romance +to St. Benedict's land</i>. +<p>Since you compliment me by saying I have helped you to higher +ideals of life, will you allow me to give you a little advice +regarding your treatment of your wife? +<p>You have every reason to know that I have been a happy and +well-loved wife of the man of my choice. You know that I have +neither sought nor accepted the attentions of other men when they +crossed the danger-line lying between friendship and love. +<p>Therefore it may astonish you when I confess that, at the time +you temporarily lost your head, I was conscious of an undercurrent +of feminine vanity at the thought that I was capable of inspiring a +young and talented man with so sincere a feeling. +<p>A similar experience with an older man would have suggested an +insult, since older men understand human nature, and realize what a +flirtation with a married woman means. But your ingenuousness, and +your romantic, boyish temperament, were, in a measure, an excuse +for your folly, and made me lenient toward you. +<p>My happy life, my principles and ideals, submerged this +sentiment of feminine vanity to which I confess, but I knew it was +there, and it led me to much meditation, then and ever since, upon +the matter of woman's weakness and folly. +<p>As never before, I was able to understand how a neglected or +misused wife might mistake this very sentiment of flattered vanity +for the recognition of an affinity. +<p>Had I been suffering from coldness and indifference at home, how +acceptable your boyish devotion might have proved to me. +<p>And how easily I would have been persuaded by your blind +reasoning that we were intended by an all-wise Providence for life +companions. +<p>There is no sin a woman so readily forgives as a man's unruly +love for her, and hundreds of noble-hearted women have been led to +regard a lawless infatuation as a divine emotion, because they were +lonely, and neglected, and hungry for affection. +<p>See to it, my dear friend, as the years go by, that your wife +needs no romance from the outside world to embellish her life with +sentiment. +<p>Do not drop into the humdrum ways of many contented husbands, +and forget to pay the compliment, and cease to act the lover. +<p>Notice the gowns and hats your wife wears, and share her +pleasures and interests when it is possible. +<p>Not that you should always be together, for separate enjoyments +and occupations sometimes lend an added zest to life for husband +and wife, but do not drift apart in all your ideas and interests, +as have so many married people. +<p>You are the husband of a bright and lovely girl, and if you +forget this fact after a time, remember there are other Ray +Gilberts who may realize it, and seek to awaken such an interest in +her heart as you sought to arouse in mine. +<p>You found the room occupied by its rightful host. +<p>See it that no man finds the room vacant in your wife's heart. +<p>Study the art of keeping your wife interested and interesting. +<p>A woman thrives on love and appreciation. I know a beautiful +bride of eighty years, who has been the daily adoration of her +husband for more than half a century. +<p>She has been "infinite in her variety," and he has never failed +to appreciate and admire. +<p>Devote a portion of each day to talking to your wife about +herself. +<p>Then she will not find it a novelty when other men attempt the +same method of entertainment. +<p>Whatever other matters engross your time and attention, let your +wife realize that she stands first and foremost in your thoughts +and in your heart. +<p>Do not forget the delicacies of life, manner, speech, and +deportment in the intimacy of daily companionship. +<p>Never descend to the vulgar or the commonplace. +<p>One characteristic of men has always puzzled me. No matter how +wide has been a bachelor's experience with the wives and daughters +of other men, when he marries it never occurs to him that his wife +or daughters could meet temptation or know human weakness. +<p>It must be the egotism of the sex. +<p>Each man excuses the susceptibility of the women with whom he +has had romantic episodes, on the ground of his especial power or +charm. And when he marries, he believes his society renders all the +women of his family immune from other attractions. +<p>Do not rely upon the fact that your wife is legally bound to +you, and therefore need not be wooed by you hereafter. +<p>There are women who are born anew with each dawn, and who must +be won anew with each day, or the lover loses some precious quality +than can never be regained. +<p>It will pay you to study your wife as the years pass. +<p>Do not take for granted that you know her to-day, because you +knew her thoroughly last year. +<p>This is a long letter, but when one writes only once in seven +years, brevity is not to be expected. +<p>My greeting to you, and may the years be weaver's hands, which +shall interlace and bind two lives into one complete pattern. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_the_Sister_of_a_Great_Beauty"></a> +<h2>To the Sister of a Great Beauty</h2><br> +<p>I am far from laughing, my dear girl, at your assertion that +your position is little short of tragic. +<p>To be the ordinary sister of an extraordinary beauty, is a +position which calls for the exercise of all the great virtues in +order to be borne with dignity, good taste, and serenity. +<p>I remember seeing you and Pansy when you were ten and she twelve +years of age. I foresaw what lay before you then, and have often +wondered how you would meet the occasion when you were both +"finished," and at home under the same roof, and socially launched. +It was wise for your mother to separate you so early in life, and +place you under different teachers, and in different schools. +<p>It is difficult for a girl in her late childhood and early teens +to use philosophy and religion to support her, when she is made a +Cinderella by unthinking associates and friends, and forgotten and +neglected while a more attractive sister is lionized. +<p>Had you always walked in the shadow of your handsome sister +until to-day, I fancy your disposition would have become warped +with resentment and envy. +<p>And perhaps your feelings for Pansy would have been less +affectionate than now. +<p>I am glad to have you tell me that Pansy is so modest and +unassuming and so genuinely solicitous for your happiness. +<p>She must have been particularly fortunate in her environment +while at school to possess such qualities after knowing as she has +known for twenty-two years that her beauty is dazzling to the eye +of even the chance beholder. +<p>There is no greater obstacle to the development of the best +qualities in a young woman than the possession of such unusual +beauty. From her cradle she is made to realize its power, and men +and women teach her in a thousand unconscious ways to be selfish +and self-centred. She receives attentions, and her acquaintance is +sought, with no effort on her part, while more gifted and deserving +companions are unnoticed. She is made to realize that she is one to +be served, where less attractive girls are taught to "stand and +wait." +<p>The love nature of each human being is either developed or +stunted by neglect during the early years of life, and, as a rule, +the beautiful woman is incapable of a deep, absorbing, and +unselfish love, because she has grown up the receiver instead of +the giver. +<p>Were you, my dear Sallie, to know the number of great beauties +who have failed to find happiness in marriage, you would be amazed. +But the explanation is simple; for man is a being who, however he +may worship beauty before marriage, worships his own comfort more +deeply afterward. And it is rare indeed when a famous beauty +troubles herself to plan for the comfort or happiness of the man +she marries. It is the natural result of her education to think man +made to adore and serve her. +<p>I hope Pansy may keep her loving and lovable qualities, and that +she may marry before the adoration and admiration of many men +become necessary to her life. For the beauties' matrimonial barque +most often founders on the reef of plural lovers. +<p>As for yourself, I can only suggest that you acquire many +accomplishments, and perfect yourself in music and languages, and +that you seek for the attainment of all the subtle graces, which +are, in the long run, more lasting as sources of happiness for a +woman than mere beauty. It is a peculiarly significant fact that +the great passions of history have not been inspired by very young +or startlingly beautiful women, but by those of maturity and mental +charms. +<p>Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Aspasia, Petrarch's Laura, had all +crossed the line between youth and middle life, and there are no +authentic proofs that any one of the number was a dazzling beauty. +Some of the world's most alluring women have been absolutely plain. +<p>You are not plain. It is only by comparison that you so regard +yourself. +<p>There is much you can do to make yourself more attractive +personally. You know what Rochefoucauld said: "No woman is in fault +for not being beautiful at sixteen; any woman is in fault if she is +not beautiful at forty." +<p>However much it may sound like a platitude, it is a great and +eternal truth that your mental activities are chiselling your +features. By keeping yourself concerned with good, gracious, and +great thoughts, you are shaping your face into a noble beauty +minute by minute, and hour by hour. +<p>Avoid as much as possible looking at repulsive and ugly objects. +<p>Look at whatever is beautiful and seek for it. +<p>Search for whatever is admirable in nature and human nature, and +muse upon those things in your moments of solitude. +<p>Cultivate love-thoughts for humanity at large. +<p>Avoid severe criticisms, and develop sympathy and pity in your +soul. Study the comfort and pleasure of strangers in public places, +and friends and associates in nearer relations. +<p>Remember always how brief a thing, and ofttimes sad, life is to +many, and seek to brighten and better it as you pass along. +<p>Meanwhile, take care of your person, study your lines and your +features, and learn how to dress and how to carry yourself; how to +obtain "presence," that indescribable charm in woman. +<p>Take daily care of your complexion, which to a woman is of prime +importance. +<p>Call in the skill of the specialist to help you preserve and +beautify your skin and hair, just as the dentist and the oculist +are to be consulted to help you preserve teeth and eyes. Think +beauty for mind, soul, and body; live it, and believe it is your +right. +<p>And just as surely as you pursue this line of conduct for ten +years, just so surely will you find yourself at thirty far more +attractive than at twenty, and at forty more lovely than at thirty. +Learn to be a linguist, and acquire skill upon some one instrument, +that you may entertain those who care to converse, and give +pleasure to those who wish to be silent. +<p>You are young, and life with its splendid possibilities is +before you. There is nothing a woman with youth, will-power, and +<i>love</i> may not accomplish—even to the convincing of the world +that she is beautiful, when her mirror may say otherwise. +<p>For enduring and all-encompassing beauty is a composite thing, +and unless a woman possesses the spiritual and mental portions, the +physical phase soon loses its attractions for the cultivated eye; +while with the development of the first two, the third is certain +to come. +<p>Begin to-day, my dear girl, to <i>grow beauty</i> which shall +make you a power and an influence in the world where you move, and +which shall invite, rather than fear, the approach of time. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_White_Peak"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. White Peak</h2> +<p class="c3">One of the Pillars of Respectable Society<br> +<p>Ever since your call and our conversation regarding Sybyl +Marchmont, I have felt a rising tide of indignation. It has reached +the perigee mark and must overflow. If it reaches you and gives you +a thorough soaking, I shall feel satisfied. +<p>I have always known you were only half-developed. There are many +such people in the world. They serve their purpose and often do +much good. They miss a great deal of life, but as they rarely know +that they miss anything, it is a waste of sentiment to pity them. +<p>I have pitied you, nevertheless. I have often wished I could +give you the vital qualities you lack. +<p>My pity turned to indignation when I heard you express yourself +in such unqualified terms of condemnation regarding other women who +happened to be unlike you in temperament. +<p>You say there is a certain line which no well-born and womanly +woman can pass in thought or feeling or action. +<p>You regard the true women of earth as a higher and rarer order +of creation than the best of men, and any woman who by action or +word confesses herself to be quite human in her temperament, you +feel is, to a certain extent, "unclean and unsexed." You believe +the really good women of earth are always on a plane above and +beyond the physical. When any woman falls from her pedestal you +despise her. +<p>How dare you, madam, sitting in your cold, white chastity, lay +down laws of what you consider purity, morality, and cleanliness, +for other human souls? +<p>How dare you condemn those who do not reach your standard? +<p>What do you know of life, great, palpitating, throbbing, vital +life, terrible and beautiful life, terrible while passing through +the valleys of temptation, beautiful upon the heights of +self-control? +<p>How dare you assume greater virtue, greater respectability, +greater fineness of sentiment, than the tempest-tossed, +passion-beaten souls, about you? +<p>What do you know of real virtue, real strength? +<p>You have been poor, you tell me, in worldly riches, and you have +been lonely, yet you have never once degraded your womanhood by an +"unworthy " impulse. Never known a temptation of the senses. Those +things disgusted you. +<p>You have preferred toil to taking favours from inferiors, and +you have kept yourself clean in thought, word, and deed, and now +you have the reward of such virtues—a good home, a husband, and +children. +<p>You are a more devoted mother than wife, as you have always +dwelt upon a lofty white peak of chaste womanhood, from which any +descent into the earthly realms of life and love was repugnant—so +rarely "pure" and high your nature. +<p>Yet you have been a dutiful, loyal wife, and you are a devoted +mother. +<p>You despise all carnal-minded women, and cannot understand how +women fall—save that they lack good birth and breeding. +<p>You will aid in a benefit for their reformation, but you do not +want to see them or to come near them. It makes you ill. +<p>You are to be congratulated on never having added to the evil in +the world. +<p>But permit me, madam, to tell you some truths about yourself—and +the large army of "respectable women" you represent. +<p>However "well born" you may be, you are only half-born. The +complete human being has three sides to his nature—spiritual, +mental, physical. +<p>The men and women who are evenly developed on the three sides +are few. This is sometimes their fault—sometimes their misfortune. +<p>We all pity the human being who is mentally dwarfed. We are +sorry for the one whose spiritual nature is undeveloped. +<p>But why should the many women who are devoid of the physical +qualities of human nature presume to lay claim to perfection and to +regard the normal woman as a suspicious character? +<p>You have a fine, active mind, a highly spiritual nature, but you +are stunted in strong, physical emotion. You are incapable of it, +and pride yourself upon the fact. +<p>If that pleases you, well and good. +<p>But how dare you criticize God's <i>complete human</i> beings, +who feel the great vibrations of the universe, who glow and thrill +with that divine creative force, who live a thousand lives and die +a thousand deaths before they learn the glory of self-conquest. +<p>How dare you shrink even from those who fall by the wayside, and +call your shrinking "purity"! +<p>Let me ask you another question: +<p>How dare you turn away from that girl who went through the door +of the Magdalene Home you helped establish, with her fatherless +child in her arms? +<p>She fell from woman's holy estate! +<p>Yes, through mad love for a man—she loved him with her soul, her +mind, her body. She lacked knowledge, balance, and wisdom; she had +only love and passion. +<p>And you, madam, how about <i>your</i> children? +<p>They were born of a "dutiful" wife. You descended from your +lofty altitude unwillingly—only at duty's call. You are so +"refined," yet you are a loving mother and pose as the highest type +of woman. +<p><i>God never made in his whole universe of worlds such a "duty" +as unwilling motherhood</i>. Motherhood without the call of sex for +sex is indecent—criminal. You, too, madam, <i>fell</i>. +<p>That girl in yonder "home" your "charity" helped establish, who +loved unwisely, fell. Her fall was through love—yours through a +legal ceremony. +<p>All the churches, all the religions and the laws of earth, +cannot make motherhood holy and right without the mutual mental, +spiritual, and physical union of two beings. +<p>Heaven and earth <i>both</i> must sanction a child's conception +to produce a "well-born" soul. +<p>There is no greater sin on earth than the creation of a human +life without complete accord of the creators. +<p>No wonder the world is full of miserable half-born beings, when +mothers like <i>you</i> claim to be the Madonnas of earth. +<p>No wonder natural, complete, striving souls hide their true +natures under a false exterior, when women like <i>you</i> rule +church and society. +<p>What shame or degradation is there, pray, in being animate with +the all-pervading impulse which underlies the entire universe? +Every planet, every tree, every flower, every insect, is the result +of sex seeking sex, atom calling atom. +<p>The universe <i>is</i> because of the law of sex attraction. +<p>And you, poor, puny, pallid woman, dare decry and despise that +law, and dare insult God's animate creature! +<p>Know this, madam, there is no strength worth boasting that has +not conquered weakness. No virtue worth the name that has not +conquered temptation. No greatness of character that has not +overcome unworthy impulses. +<p>Enjoy your negative goodness and be glad you are "good." +<p>Morality is acceptable to the world, however it conies; but dare +not sit in judgment on other human beings fighting battles whose +smoke never reaches your nostrils, striving for heights of which +you never even dream, and who meanwhile have missed certain +degradations which you seem to consider creditable achievements. +<p>Madam, I bid you adieu. That word means "I commend you to God," +the God who made the two sexes, and intended love to unite them. +<p>May He enlighten you in other lives, if not in this. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Maria_Owens"></a> +<h2>To Maria Owens</h2> +<p class="c3">A New Woman Contemplating Marriage<br> +<p>Surprise, I am free to confess, was my dominant emotion on +reading your letter. Marriage and Maria had never associated +themselves in my mind, fond as I am of alliteration. +<p>Never in the ten years I have known you have I heard you devote +ten minutes to the subject of any man's good qualities. You always +have discoursed upon men's faults and vices, and upon their +tendency, since the beginning of time, to tyrannize over woman. I +was unable to disprove many of your statements, for I know the +weight of argument is upon your side, even while I boldly confess +my admiration and regard for men, as a class, is greater than that +for women. +<p>The fact that the world has allowed men such latitude, and such +license, and made them pay such very small penalties, comparatively +speaking, for very large offences, causes me to admire their +wonderful achievements in noble living all the more: and to place +the man of unblemished reputation and unquestioned probity on a +pedestal higher than any I could yet ask builded for woman. +<p>It is more difficult to be great before the extended tentacles +of the self-indulgence octopus than in the face of oppression and +danger. When the laws of the land and the sentiment of the people +permit a man to be selfish, licentious, tyrannical, and yet call +him great if he accomplishes heroic deeds, it proves what intrinsic +worth must lie in the nature of those who attain the heights of +unselfishness and benevolence, and martyrdom, asking no reward and +often receiving none until posterity bestows it. +<p>Those who can take the broad road of selfishness unmolested, and +choose the narrow path of high endeavour instead, seem to me +greater than those who overcome mere externals. +<p>Many such men have existed, and the steady, slow, but certain +progress of the world from barbarism to civilization, from accepted +cannibalism and slavery to ideals of brotherhood, we owe to them. +All new discoveries, all greatest achievements are due to men. +Woman, I know, has been handicapped and oppressed for centuries by +superstitions, and traditions, and unjust laws; but it is unfair to +ignore the bright, and see only the dark side of the picture, which +the centuries have painted for us, on the background of time. +<p>This letter is only a résumé of many conversations +between you and me, and it leads up to the explanation of why I am +somewhat dazed and stunned by your announcement that marriage is a +possible event in your near future. +<p>My self-conceit in regard to my knowledge of human nature every +now and then receives a blow. So soon as I have arrived at a +positive conviction that I understand any human being thoroughly, +and feel that I can safely predict what that person will or will +not do, I usually meet some such bewildering experience as this. +<p>I would have laughed at any one who suggested the possibility of +your considering a proposition of marriage. +<p>You tell me you are thirty-five years old, and say you have +never before met the man to whom your thoughts reverted, no matter +how you endeavoured to occupy yourself with other subjects. You +also tell me "he is not like other men." These two statements are +wonderfully familiar to me, indeed they have been confided to me in +precisely the same words by at least a score of women, young and +not so young, who met the compelling man. <i>Maria, I believe you +are in love</i>. Your heart is awakened from its stupor, caused by +an overdose of intellect. For too much intellect is often a drug +which deadens the consciousness of a woman's heart. But you have +been drugged so long that you are still under a hazy spell, to +judge from that portion of your letter which took the form of an +inquiry. +<p>You ask my opinion in regard to the point of disagreement +between you and your semi-fiancé. To much that you say I +agree. You have carved a name and a place for yourself in the +world. Your lectures, and your books, have made your name familiar +to many people. Your lover is unknown to the public, a man in the +private walks of life. Therefore you think if he loves you as he +should to become your husband, he ought to give up his own name and +take yours, or at least add yours to his own. You assure me it is +merely a matter of habit, that women have obliterated themselves on +the altar of marriage, and that it is time a new order was +instituted. You think the hour calls for pioneers to establish new +boundaries, in a new world where woman will be allowed to keep her +individuality after marriage. Meantime your lover does not feel +that you really love him, when you ask him to take this somewhat +radical step for your sake, or for the sake of all women, as you +put it. +<p>And there you both stand, with only this ridiculous barrier +between you and happiness. +<p>You are still influenced by the intellectual drug, and it +hinders your heart from following out its best impulses. You have +not yet learned more than the A B C of love, or you would know that +the greatest happiness in loving lies in sacrifice. To take and not +give, to gain something and give up nothing, is not loving. Now I +think I hear you saying, "But why should not my lover give this +proof of devotion as well as I? Why should not he be ready to +sacrifice a tradition, and a name, to please me? Why am I more +unloving, or selfish, than he, to refuse to give up my name?" +<p>My answer follows. +<p>Any woman who asks a man to give up his name and take hers +(unless some great legal matter which involves the property rights +of others hangs on so doing) asks him to make himself ridiculous in +the eyes of the world. She indicates, also, that her family name +and her own achievements are dearer to her than his. No woman loves +a man enough to be happy as his wife, if he is not dearer to her +than any mere personal success, however great. +<p>The man who asks a woman to take his name obeys a tradition and +a custom, to be sure, and the woman who accepts it does not display +any especially heroic trait. Therefore, what you demand of your +lover is a far greater proof of devotion than what he asks of you. +No woman who fully understood the meaning of love could ask this of +her future husband. If he occupied the place in her life which a +husband should, no matter what were her personal attainments, she +would glory in adding his name to her own, and in having its +shelter to hide under at times from the glare of publicity. +<p>Should you choose to keep your name Maria Owens with no +addition, for your lectures and your books, it is quite probable +your husband would not object. And again, if your achievements are +worth the thought you give them in this matter, they are great +enough to endure even should you add the name of Chester to that of +Owens. But certainly, if you love the man you think of marrying, +you will be happy in the thought of wearing his name legally and +socially in every-day life, and the sight of a card engraved, "Mrs. +Rupert Chester," will give your heart a sweeter thrill than it has +ever known in connection with the newspaper notices of Maria Owens. +<p>Unless you can arouse your heart to such an understanding of +love, you are not yet acquainted with the little god. If your lover +consents to the sacrifice you have demanded, he will indicate a +weakness of character which augurs ill for the future: and if you +insist upon the sacrifice, you will establish a selfish precedent +which can only make you a tyrant in your own domain, and at the +same time belittle your husband in the public eye. +<p>However proud and happy you may be in the thought of noble +achievements of your own, you must realize that there are many +brutal and painful phases to a public career for a woman. These +phases do not exist to any such degree for a man. I do not believe +it is the result of tradition or habit, but of sex and temperament, +that this difference exists, and that the shelter of a man's name +means more to woman than any shelter to be found in her own, and +that the sacrifice of her own name means less to her than the +sacrifice of his means to him. Unless you can reach this same +conclusion, do not marry—for you do not love. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Mrs_St_Claire"></a> +<h2>To Mrs. St. Claire</h2> +<p class="c3">The Young Divorcée<br> +<p>And so you have joined the increasing army of the +divorcées. +<p>It is worse than useless to discuss again the causes which led +to this situation, and now that the law of the land has made you a +free woman, the one thing for you to consider is your future, and +to formulate to some degree a code of conduct for your guidance. +<p>You are in the prime of beautiful womanhood, pleasing to the +eye, and agreeable to the mind. Women will regard you with more or +less mental reservation, and men will seek you at every +opportunity. +<p>Some witty creature has said, "A little widow is a dangerous +thing." +<p>It might be added, "A grass widow whets the appetites of +bovines". +<p>You will find yourself at a loss to choose when an escort is +needed, so many and persistent will be the applicants for the +position. +<p>After having passed through the black waters of an unhappy +marriage, this sudden freedom and return to the privileges of +girlhood will be liable to affect you like the glare of sunlight +after confinement in a dark room. +<p>You will be blinded for a time. It would be well for you to walk +slowly, and to use a cane of common sense, and even to feel your +way with the outstretched hands of discretion, until you become +accustomed to the light. +<p>To fall and scar yourself now, would be a disaster. +<p>It is a curious fact that a woman who has been unhappy with one +man usually finds many others ready to give her the opportunity for +a repetition of her experience. And it is equally curious that one +unhappy marriage frequently leads to another. +<p>A disastrous rencontre with Hymen seems to destroy a woman's +finer intuitions. If you feel that you must marry again, go slowly, +and wait until the bruised tendrils of your heart have healed and +are rooted in healthy soil. Do not let them twine about any sort of +a dead tree or frail reed. Run no chance of a second sorrow. +<p>One divorce always contains elements of tragedy. A second +becomes a farce. +<p>You tell me that you and your former husband entertain the +kindest feeling for each other. You have seen him and talked with +him on several occasions, and you regard him as a friend. You say +all love and sentiment perished long before your separation, and +that to continue as his wife was to die a thousand deaths daily. +<p>You tell me that your own higher development demanded this +separation. I know such situations do exist in the world of men and +women, and that to submit to them is a crime. Yet I also know that +this idea of "development" is used often as a cloak for all sorts +of selfish impulses and moods. +<p>Many men and women to-day seem to forget that certain other +objects besides happiness enter into self-development. +<p>It is not only the pilot who deserts the ship and swims ashore +who saves his life. The one who keeps his hand on the wheel, and +his eye on the lighthouse, he, too, sometimes saves his own life, +as well as saves the ship. +<p>But since to jump overboard was the only way to save your own +life, now that you are ashore, and dry, and comfortable, your first +consideration should be to avoid falling into mires and pits as you +go along. +<p>Though romance died out of your marriage, do not let it die out +of your heart. It is commendable that you feel no bitterness or +resentment toward your husband. But do not carry your kindly +feelings toward him to the extent of frequent association and +comradeship. +<p>Outside of criminal situations, life offers no more ghastly and +unpleasant picture than that of dead passion galvanized into a +semblance of friendship, and going about the world devoid of the +strong elements of either sentiment. +<p>There is something radically wrong with a woman's ideals when +she does not feel an instinctive unwillingness to be thrown with +the man from whom she has been divorced. +<p>There is something akin to degeneracy in the man or woman who +can contemplate without shrinking the intimate encounter of legally +parted husbands or wives. +<p>The softening of the human brain is a terrible malady. +<p>Quite as terrible is the hardening of the human heart. +<p>The loss of happiness is deemed a tragedy. But far greater is +the tragedy when the illusive charm of romance departs, and love +and marriage are reduced to the commonplace. Unless you find the +man who carries your whole nature by storm, and who makes you feel +that life without him will be insupportable, do not be led again to +the altar of marriage. +<p>Life has many avenues for a bright and charming woman which lead +to satisfaction and peace, if not to happiness. +<p>If you desire to be a picturesque figure in the world, remember +that the divorced woman who never marries again is far more so than +she who has taken the names of two living men. +<p>And remember how much there is in life to do for other people, +how much there is to achieve, and how much there is to enjoy, for +the woman who has eyes wherewith to see, and ears with which to +hear. +<p>Life is a privilege, even to the unhappy. It allows them the +opportunity to display the great qualities which God implanted in +every soul, and to give the world higher examples of character. +<p>He who leaves such an example to the world earns happiness for +eternity. +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Jessie_Harcourt"></a> +<h2>To Miss Jessie Harcourt</h2> +<p class="c3">Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man<br> +<p>And so there is trouble in the house of Harcourt, my dear +Jessie. You want to marry your intellectual young lover, who has +only his pen between him and poverty, and your cruel father, who +owns the town, says it is an act of madness on your part, and of +presumption on his. +<p>And you are thinking of going to the nearest clergyman and +defying parental authority. +<p>You have even looked at rooms where you believe you and Ernest +could be ideally happy. And you want me to act as matron-of-honour +at that very informal little wedding. +<p>Now, my dear girl, before you take this important step, give the +matter careful study. +<p>Your impulses are beautiful, and your ideal natural and lovely. +God intended men and women to choose their mates in this very way, +with no consideration of a worldly nature to mar their happiness. +<p>But civilized young ladies are a far call from God's primitive +woman. You have lived for twenty-three years in the lap of modern +luxury. Your father prides himself upon the fact that, although +your mother died when you were very young, he has carefully +shielded you from everything which could cast a shadow upon your +name or nature. Your lover is fascinated with your absolute purity +and innocence. Yet he does not realize that a young woman who has +so long "sat in the lap of Luxury," is unfit to be a poor man's +wife. +<p>Some girl who might know much more than you of the dark and +vulgar side of life, would make him a better companion if he could +love her enough to ask her hand in marriage. +<p>The girl who has received the addresses of this fascinating old +fellow "Luxury," never quite forgets him, or ceases to bemoan him +if she throws him over for a poor man. +<p>To <i>look</i> at two rooms and a bath is one thing, to +<i>live</i> in them another, after having all your life occupied a +suite which a queen might envy, with retinues of servitors at call. +<p>You tell me you could die for your lover. +<p>But can you bathe from a wash-bowl and pitcher, and can you take +your meals at cheap restaurants, and make coffee and toast on an +oil-stove or a chafing-dish? +<p>Can you wear cheap clothing and ride in trolleys, and economize +on laundry bills to prove your love for this man? +<p>You never have known one single hardship in your life; you never +have faced poverty, or even experienced the ordinary economies of +well-to-do people. +<p>You are an only daughter of wealth—<i>American wealth</i>. That +sentence conveys a world of meaning. <i>It means that you are +spoiled for anything but comfort in this life</i>. +<p>For a few weeks you might believe yourself in a fairy-land of +romance if you married your lover and went to live in the two +rooms. But at the end of that period you would begin to realize +that you were in a very actual land of poverty and discomfort. +<p>Discomfort is relative. Those rooms to the shop-girl who had +toiled for years, and lived in a fourth-flight-back tenement, would +represent luxury. To you, after a few months, they would mean +absolute penury. +<p>You would begin to miss your beautiful home, and your maids, and +your carriages. Your husband would know you were missing them, and +he would be miserable. Unless your father came to your rescue, your +dream of romantic love would end in a nightmare of regret and +sorrow. +<p>Your father knows you,—the creature of refined tastes and +luxurious habits that he has made you,—and your lover does not. +Neither do you know yourself. +<p>It requires a woman in ten thousand, one possessed of absolute +heroism, like the old martyrs who sang at the stake while dying, to +do what you contemplate, and to be happy in the doing. +<p>Nothing like a life of self-indulgence disintegrates great +qualities. You are romantically and feverishly in love with a +handsome and gifted young man. But do not rush into a marriage with +him until you can bring your father to settle a competence upon +you, or until your lover has spanned the abyss of poverty with a +bridge of comfort. You have had no training in self-denial or +self-dependence. The altar is a bad place to begin your first +lesson. +<p>Wait awhile. I know my advice seems worldly and cold, but it is +the result of wide observation. +<p>If you cannot sit in your gold and white boudoir, and be true to +Ernest while he battles a few more years with destiny, then you +could not remain loyal in thought while you held your numb fingers +over a chilly radiator in an uncomfortable flat, or omitted dessert +from your dinner menu to cut down expenses. +<p>Your brain-cells have been developed in opulence. +<p>You could not train your mind to inexorable economy, even at the +command of Cupid. +<p>Take the advice of a woman of the world, my dear girl, and do +not attempt the impossible and so spoil two lives. +<p>Again I say, wait awhile. +<p>There are girls who could be perfectly happy in the position you +picture for yourself with Ernest, but not you. +<p>Better hide your ideal in your heart than shatter it on the +unswept hearthstone of the commonplace. +<p>Better be in your lover's life the unattained joy, than ruin his +happiness by discontent. +<p>It is less of a tragedy for a man to hear a woman say "I cannot +go with you," than to hear her say "I cannot stay with you." +<hr class="c2"> +<a name="To_Miss_Jane_Carter"></a> +<h2>To Miss Jane Carter</h2> +<p class="c3">Of the W.C.T.U.<br> +<p>And so, my dear Jane, I have fallen from my pedestal, in your +estimation. Yet, having carefully regarded myself in the mirror, +and finding no discolorations, and feeling no wounds or contusions, +I think my pedestal must have been very near the earth, else I +would be conscious of some bruises. +<p>And now, Jane, to be frank, I am very glad to be off my perch. +<p>I do not want to dwell upon a pedestal. +<p>It necessitates a monotonous life, and it is an unsocial +position. +<p>I prefer to walk on the earth, among my fellow creatures. +<p>You were greatly shocked, I saw, when I told my little Russian +guest that she might light her cigarette in my boudoir. Your sudden +departure told its own story, and your letter was no surprise. But +I am glad you wrote me so frankly, as it gives me the opportunity +to be equally frank. +<p>There is nothing more beneficial, in true friendship, than a +free exchange of honest criticisms. +<p>You tell me that I lowered my standard by lending countenance to +a pernicious and unladylike habit. You felt I owed it to myself, as +a good woman, and to my home, as a respectable house, to show my +unswerving principles in this matter, and to indicate my +disapproval of a disgusting vice, which is growing in our midst. +<p>Life is too short, my dear Jane, in which to achieve all our +ideals, and to arrive at all our goals. +<p>I have learned the futility of attempting to reform the whole +world in one day. And I have also learned that there are more roads +than one, to all destinations. +<p>Miss Ordosky is the daughter of a dear old friend of my youth, +who married a Russian nobleman with more titles than dollars. +<p>Her parents are dead, and Wanda has come to her mother's native +land, to teach her father's language. She has come with all her +Russian habits and ideas accented by her mother's American +indifference to public opinion. The girl is young, lovely, and +wholly dependent upon herself for a livelihood. I invited her to be +my guest for two months, before establishing herself in her +business, with the hope of helping her to adapt herself somewhat to +American ideas and customs. +<p>I could never hope for such a result, had I antagonized her the +first day under my roof by an austere attitude toward a habit which +I knew she had been reared to think proper. +<p>I do not like to see a woman smoke, and I regret as much as you +do the increasing prevalence of the vice in America. +<p>Like almost every schoolgirl, I had my day of thinking a +surreptitious, cigarette was wonderfully cunning. +<p>That day passed, like the measles and the whooping-cough, and +left me immune. I have never seen a woman so beautiful and alluring +that she was not less charming when she put a cigarette to her +lips. I am confident the habit vitiates the blood, injures the +digestion, and renders the breath offensive. I have known many +American men who taught their wives to smoke; and I do not know +<i>one</i> who has not lived to regret it, when the cigarette he +fancied would be an occasional luxury became a necessity. +<p>A woman who expects ever to bring children into the world, is +little better than a criminal to form such a habit: for, argue as +we may for one moral code for both sexes, we cannot change nature's +law, which imposes the greater responsibility upon the mother of +the unborn child; the child she carries so many months beneath her +heart, giving it hour by hour the impression of her mental and +physical conditions. +<p>Fathers ought not to smoke or indulge in other bad habits. +<p><i>Mothers must not</i>. +<p>I hope in time to discuss these topics with Wanda, and to make +an impression upon her mind by my arguments. +<p>But your methods and mine, dear Jane, differ widely. And, +begging your pardon, I believe mine accomplish more good for a +larger number of human beings than yours. +<p>And, added to that fact, I get more happiness for myself out of +life. +<p>Miss Ordosky would have managed to smoke her cigarette, however +rigid had I been in expressing my principles. And she would have +found some excuse to shorten her visit under my roof, and then +where would be my opportunity to influence her? +<p>As it is, she puffs her cigarette in my company, listens to my +opinions, seems to respect my ideas, and is interested in my views +of life. We are becoming excellent comrades, and this is far more +gratifying to me than to know that I had antagonized her into a +formal acquaintance by my aggressive morality. I have an idea that, +before my pretty guest reaches the time when she will consider +wifehood and motherhood as life professions, I may convince her +from a scientific standpoint that she better abandon her +cigarettes. And to convince one's mind is far better than to drive +one to submission. +<p>And now, Jane, has it never occurred to you that you have made +some mistakes in life by the very methods you are so sorry I did +not pursue with Miss Ordosky? +<p>Years ago, I recall your surrounding a certain young man with an +aureole of idealism. Then you were obliged to dethrone him from his +pedestal because he, too, forsooth, smoked a cigar. +<p>That young man married a woman quite as worthy and good as +yourself, and he has made the best of husbands and citizens. I know +of no man who does more good in the world in a quiet way than this +same unpedestaled old admirer of yours. Whether he still smokes his +cigar or not I could not say. But as a man, it seems to me, he is +quite as worthy and noble a citizen, as you are a woman. +<p>I know that you are doing all you can, to spread the gospel of +clean living abroad in the land, and that your influence is all for +a higher standard of morality. +<p>But if you live on too high an altitude, in this world, and +refuse to associate with any one who will not climb up to your +plane, you are destined to a lonely life, and your sphere of +influence is limited. You will do far more good by taking your +place with other human beings, and by gradual, sane efforts leading +the thoughts of your associates to turn to your wholesome ideas of +life. You are making morality unpopular by your present aggressive +methods. And you are missing many sweet friendships and experiences +by your insistence that all your friends must follow the narrow +path you have decided is the only road to good behaviour. +<p>Come down from your pedestal, my dear Jane—come and dwell on the +earth. +<p>THE END. + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 12020-h.htm or 12020-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/2/12020/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Woman of the World + Her Counsel to Other People's Sons and Daughters + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +Release Date: April 14, 2004 [EBook #12020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + +[Illustration] + +A Woman of the World + +HER COUNSEL TO OTHER PEOPLE'S SONS AND DAUGHTERS + +By + +Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +1904 + +Fourth Impression, April, 1910 + + + + +Contents + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Law Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + +TO MISS WINIFRED CLAYBORNE, _At Vassar College_ + +TO EDNA GORDON, _During Her Honeymoon_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + +TO CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + +TO MISS MARGARET RILEY, _Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + +TO MISS GLADYS WESTON, _After Three Years as a Teacher_ + +TO A YOUNG FRIEND, _Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical +Thoughts of the Day_ + +TO WILFRED CLAYBORN, _Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + +TO MISS ELSIE DEAN, _Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + +TO MISS DIANA RIVERS, _A Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a +Journalist_ + +TO NANETTE, _A Former Maid_ + +TO THE REV. WILTON MARSH, _Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES MCALLISTER, _Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Maternity_ + +TO MR. ALFRED DUNCAN, _Concerning the Ministry_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GRAY, _Concerning Polygamy_ + +TO WALTER SMEED, _Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + +TO SYBYL MARCHMONT, _Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + +TO MRS. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning Her Children_ + +TO Miss ZOE CLAYBORN, ARTIST, _Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + +TO MR. CHARLES GORDON, _Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven +Years of Married Life_ + +TO MRS. CLARENCE ST. CLAIRE, _Concerning Her Husband_ + +TO YOUNG MRS. DUNCAN, _Regarding Mothers-in-Law._ + +TO A YOUNG MAN, _Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + +TO MRS. MCALLISTER, _Concerning Her Little Girl_ + +TO MR. RAY GILBERT, _Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + +TO THE SISTER OF A GREAT BEAUTY + +TO MRS. WHITE PEAK, _One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + +TO MARIA OWENS, _A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + +TO MRS. ST. CLAIRE, _The Young Divorcee_ + +TO MISS JESSIE HARCOURT, _Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + +TO MISS JANE CARTER, _Of the W.C.T.U_ + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Late Student, Aged Twenty-three_ + + +Were you an older man, my dear Ray, your letter would be consigned to +the flames unanswered, and our friendship would become constrained and +formal, if it did not end utterly. But knowing you to be so many years +my junior, and so slightly acquainted with yourself or womankind, I am +going to be the friend you need, instead of the misfortune you invite. + +I will not say that your letter was a complete surprise to me. It is +seldom a woman is so unsophisticated in the ways of men that she is not +aware when friendship passes the borderline and trespasses on the domain +of passion. + +I realized on the last two occasions we met that you were not quite +normal. The first was at Mrs. Hanover's dinner; and I attributed some +indiscreet words and actions on your part to the very old Burgundy +served to a very young man. + +Since the memory of mortal, Bacchus has been a confederate of Cupid, and +the victims of the former have a period (though brief indeed) of +believing themselves slaves to the latter. + +As I chanced to be your right-hand neighbour at that very merry board, +where wit, wisdom, and beauty combined to condense hours into minutes, I +considered it a mere accident that you gave yourself to me with somewhat +marked devotion. Had I been any other one of the ladies present, it +would have been the same, I thought. Our next and last encounter, +however, set me thinking. + +It was fully a week later, and that most unromantic portion of the day, +between breakfast and luncheon. + +It was a Bagby recital, and you sought me out as I was listening to the +music, and caused me to leave before the programme was half done. You +were no longer under the dominion of Bacchus, though Euterpe may have +taken his task upon herself, as she often does, and your manner and +expression of countenance troubled me. + +I happen to be a woman whose heart life is absolutely complete. I have +realized my dreams, and have no least desire to turn them into +nightmares. I like original roles, too, and that of the really happy +wife is less hackneyed than the part of the "misunderstood woman." And I +find greater enjoyment in the steady flame of one lamp than in the +flaring light of many candles. + +I have taken a good deal of pride in keeping my lamp well trimmed and +brightly burning, and I was startled and offended at the idea of any man +coming so near he imagined he might blow out the light. + +Your letter, however, makes me more sorry than angry. + +You are passing through a phase of experience which comes to almost +every youth, between sixteen and twenty-four. + +Your affectional and romantic nature is blossoming out, and you are in +that transition period where an older woman appeals to you. + +Being crude and unformed yourself, the mature and ripened mind and body +attract you. + +A very young man is fascinated by an older woman's charms, just as a +very old man is drawn to a girl in her teens. + +This is according to the law of completion, each entity seeking for what +it does not possess. + +Ask any middle-aged man of your acquaintance to tell you the years of +the first woman he imagined he loved, and you will find you are +following a beaten path. + +Because you are a worth while young man, with a bright future before +you, I am, as I think of the matter, glad you selected me rather than +some other less happy or considerate woman, as the object of your +regard. + +An unhappy wife or an ambitious adventuress might mar your future, and +leave you with lowered ideals and blasted prospects. + +You tell me in your letter that for "a day of life and love with me you +would willingly give up the world and snap your fingers in the face of +conventional society, and even face death with a laugh." It is easy for +a passionate, romantic nature to work itself into a mood where those +words are felt when written, and sometimes the mood carries a man and a +woman through the fulfilment of such assertions. But invariably +afterward comes regret, remorse, and disillusion. + +No man enjoys having the world take him at his word, when he says he is +ready to give it up for the woman he loves. + +He wants the woman and the world, too. + +In the long run, he finds the world's respect more necessary to his +continued happiness than the woman's society. + +Just recall the history of all such cases you have known, and you will +find my assertions true. + +Thank your stars that I am not a reckless woman ready to take you at +your word, and thank your stars, too, that I am not a free woman who +would be foolish enough and selfish enough to harness a young husband to +a mature wife. I know you resent this reference to the difference in our +years, which may not be so marked to the observer to-day, but how would +it be ten, fifteen years from now? There are few disasters greater for +husband or wife than the marriage of a boy of twenty to a woman a dozen +years his senior. For when he reaches thirty-five, despair and misery +must almost inevitably face them both. + +You must forgive me when I tell you that one sentence in your letter +caused a broad smile. + +That sentence was, "Would to God I had met you when you were free to be +wooed and loved, as never man loved woman before." + +Now I have been married ten years, and you are twenty-three years old! +You must blame my imagination (not my heart, which has no intention of +being cruel) for the picture presented to my mind's eye by your wish. + +I saw myself in the full flower of young ladyhood, carrying at my side +an awkward lad of a dozen years, attired in knickerbockers, and +probably chewing a taffy stick, yet "wooing and loving as never man +loved before." + +I suppose, however, the idea in your mind was that you wished Fate had +made me of your own age, and left me free for you. + +But few boys of twenty-three are capable of knowing what they want in a +life companion. Ten years from now your ideal will have changed. + +You are in love with love, life, and all womankind, my dear boy, not +with me, your friend. + +Put away all such ideas, and settle down to hard study and serious +ambitions, and seal this letter of yours, which I am returning with my +reply, and lay it carefully away in some safe place. Mark it to be +destroyed unopened in case of your death. But if you live, I want you to +open, re-read and burn it on the evening before your marriage to some +lovely girl, who is probably rolling a hoop to-day; and if I am living, +I want you to write and thank me for what I have said to you here. I +hardly expect you will feel like doing it now, but I can wait. + +Do not write me again until that time, and when we meet, be my good +sensible friend--one I can introduce to my husband, for only such +friends do I care to know. + + + + +To Miss Winifred Clayborne + +_At Vassar College_ + + +My dear niece:--It was a pleasure to receive so long a letter from you +after almost two years of silence. It hardly seems possible that you are +eighteen years old. To have graduated from high school with such honours +that you are able to enter Vassar at so early an age is much to your +credit. + +I indulged in a good-natured laugh over your request for my advice +regarding a college course. You say, "I remember that I once heard you +state that you did not believe in higher education for women, and, +therefore, I am anxious to have your opinion of this undertaking of +mine." + +Now of course, my dear child, what you wish me to say is, that I am +charmed with your resolution to graduate from Vassar. You have entered +the college fully determined to take a complete course, and you surely +would not like a discouraging or disapproving letter from your auntie. + +"Please give me your opinion of my course of action" always means, +"Please approve of what I am doing." + +Well I _do_ approve. I always approve when a human being is carrying out +a determination, even if I am confident it is the wrong determination. + +The really useful knowledge of life must come through strong +convictions. Strong convictions are usually obtained only on the pathway +of personal experience. + +To argue a man out of a certain course of action rarely argues away his +own beliefs and desires in the matter. We may save him some bitter +experience in the contemplated project, but he is almost certain to find +that same bitter experience later, because he has been coerced, not +enlightened. + +Had he gained his knowledge in the first instance, he would have escaped +the later disaster. + +A college education does not seem to me the most desirable thing for a +woman, unless she intends to enter into educational pursuits as a means +of livelihood. I understand it is your intention to become a teacher, +and, therefore, you are wise to prepare yourself by a thorough +education. _Be the very best_, in whatever line of employment you enter. + +Scorn any half-way achievements. Make yourself a brilliantly educated +woman, but look to it that in the effort you do not forget two other +important matters--health and sympathy. My objection to higher education +for women, which you once heard me express, is founded on the fact that +I have met many college women who were anaemic and utterly devoid of +emotion. One beautiful young girl I recall who at fourteen years of age +seemed to embody all the physical and temperamental charms possible for +womankind. Softly rounded features, vivid colouring, voluptuous curves +of form, yet delicacy and refinement in every portion of her anatomy, +she breathed love and radiated sympathy. I thought of her as the ideal +woman in embryo; and the brightness of her intellect was the finishing +touch to a perfect girlhood. I saw her again at twenty-four. She had +graduated from an American college and had taken two years in a foreign +institution of learning. She had carried away all the honours--but, +alas, the higher education had carried away all her charms of person and +of temperament. Attenuated, pallid, sharp-featured, she appeared much +older than her years, and the lovely, confiding and tender qualities of +mind, which made her so attractive to older people, had given place to +cold austerity and hypercriticism. + +Men were only objects of amusement, indifference, or ridicule to her. +Sentiment she regarded as an indication of crudity, emotion as an +insignia of vulgarity. The heart was a purely physical organ, she knew +from her studies in anatomy. It was no more the seat of emotion than +the liver or lungs. The brain was the only portion of the human being +which appealed to her, and "educated" people were the only ones who +interested her, because they were capable of argument and discussion of +intellectual problems--her one source of entertainment. + +Half an hour in the society of this over-trained young person left one +exhausted and disillusioned with brainy women. I beg you to pay no such +price for an education as this young girl paid. I remember you as a +robust, rosy girl, with charming manners. Your mother was concerned, on +my last visit, because I called you a pretty girl in your hearing. She +said the one effort of her life was to rear a sensible Christian +daughter with no vanity. She could not understand my point of view when +I said I should regret it if a daughter of mine was without vanity, and +that I should strive to awaken it in her. Cultivate enough vanity to +care about your personal appearance and your deportment. No amount of +education can recompense a woman for the loss of complexion, figure, +or charm. And do not let your emotional and affectional nature grow +atrophied. + +Control your emotions, but do not crucify them. + +Do not mistake frigidity for serenity, nor austerity for self-control. +Be affable, amiable, and sweet, no matter how much you know. And listen +more than you talk. + +The woman who knows how to show interest is tenfold more attractive than +the woman who is for ever anxious to instruct. Learn how to call out the +best in other people, and lead them to talk of whatever most interests +them. In this way you will gain a wide knowledge of human nature, which +is the best education possible. Try and keep a little originality of +thought, which is the most difficult of all undertakings while in +college; and, if possible, be as lovable a woman when you go forth into +the world "finished" as when you entered the doors of your Alma Mater: +for to be unlovable is a far greater disaster than to be uneducated. + + + + +To Edna Gordon + +_During Her Honeymoon_ + + +I am very much flattered that you should write your first letter as Mrs. +Gordon to me. Its receipt was a surprise, as I have known you so +slightly--only when we were both guests under a friend's roof for one +week. + +I had no idea that you were noticing me particularly at that time, there +was such a merry crowd of younger people about you. How careful we +matrons should be, when in the presence of debutantes, for it seems they +are taking notes for future reference! + +I am glad that my behaviour and conversation were such that you feel you +can ask me for instructions at this important period of your life. Here +is the text you have given me: + +"_I want you to tell me, dear Mrs. West, how to be as happy, and loved, +and loving, after fifteen years of married life, as you are. I so dread +the waning of my honeymoon_." + +And now you want me to preach you a little sermon on this text. Well, my +dear girl, I am at a disadvantage in not knowing you better, and not +knowing your husband at all. + +Husbands are like invalids, each needs a special prescription, according +to his ailment. + +But as all invalids can be benefited by certain sensible suggestions, +like taking simple food, and breathing and exercising properly, and +sleeping with open windows or out-of-doors, so all husbands can be aided +toward perpetual affection by the observance of some general laws, on +the part of the wife. + +I am, of course, to take it for granted that you have married a man with +principles and ideals, a man who loves you and desires to make a good +husband. I know you were not so unfortunate as to possess a large amount +of property for any man to seek, and so I can rely upon the natural +supposition that you were married for love. + +It might be worth your while, right now, while your husband's memory is +fresh upon the subject, to ask him what particular characteristics first +won his attention, and what caused him to select you for a life +companion. + +Up to the present moment, perhaps, he has never told you any more +substantial reason for loving you than the usual lovers' +explanation--"Just because." But if you ask him to think it over, I am +sure he can give you a more explicit answer. + +After you have found what qualities, habits, actions, or accomplishments +attracted him, write them down in a little book and refer to them two or +three times a year. On these occasions ask yourself if you are keeping +these attractions fresh and bright as they were in the days of +courtship. Women easily drop the things which won a man's heart, and are +unconscious that the change they bemoan began in themselves. But do not +imagine you can rest at ease after marriage with only the qualities, +and charms, and virtues, which won you a lover. To keep a husband in +love is a more serious consideration than to win a lover. + +You must add year by year to your attractions. + +As the deep bloom of first youth passes, you must cultivate mental and +spiritual traits which will give your face a lustre from within. + +And as the mirth and fun of life drifts farther from you, and you find +the merry jest, which of old turned care into laughter, less ready on +your lip, you must cultivate a wholesome optimistic view of life, to +sustain your husband through the trials and disasters besetting most +mortal paths. + +Make one solemn resolve now, and never forget it. Say to yourself, "On +no other spot, in no other house on earth, shall my husband find a more +cheerful face, a more loving welcome, or a more restful atmosphere, than +he finds at home." + +No matter what vicissitudes arise, and what complications occur, keep +that resolve. It will at least help to sustain you with a sense of +self-respect, if unhappiness from any outside source should shadow your +life. An attractive home has become a sort of platitude in speech, but +it remains a thing of vital importance, all the same, in actual life and +in marriage. + +Think often and speak frequently to your husband of his good qualities +and of the things you most admire in him. + +Sincere and judicious praise is to noble nature like spring rain and sun +to the earth. Ignore or make light of his small failings, and when you +must criticize a serious fault, do not dwell upon it. A husband and wife +should endeavour to be such good friends that kindly criticism is +accepted as an evidence of mutual love which desires the highest +attainments for its object. + +But no man likes to think his wife has set about the task of making him +over, and if you have any such intention I beg you to conceal it, and go +about it slowly and with caution. + +A woman who knows how to praise more readily than she knows how to +criticize, and who has the tact and skill to adapt herself to a man's +moods and to find amusement and entertainment in his whims, can lead him +away from their indulgence without his knowledge. + +Such women are the real reformers of men, though they scorn the word, +and disclaim the effort. + +It is well to keep a man conscious that you are a refined and +delicate-minded woman, yet do not insist upon being worshipped on a +pedestal. It tires a man's neck to be for ever gazing upward, and +statues are less agreeable companions than human beings. + +If you wish to be thought spotless marble, instead of warm flesh and +blood, you should have gone into a museum, and refused marriage. +Remember God knew what He was about, when He fashioned woman to be man's +companion, mate, and mother of his children. + +Respect yourself in all those capacities, and regard the fulfilment of +each duty as sacred and beautiful. + +Do not thrust upon the man's mind continually the idea that you are a +vastly higher order of being than he is. + +He will reach your standard much sooner if you come half-way and meet +him on the plane of common sense and human understanding. Meantime let +him never doubt your abhorrence of vulgarity, and your distaste for the +familiarity which breeds contempt. + +It is a great art, when a wife knows how to attract a husband year after +year, with the allurements of the boudoir, and never to disillusion him +with the familiarities of the dressing-room. + +Such women there are, who have lived with their lovers in poverty's +close quarters, and through sickness and trouble, and yet have never +brushed the bloom from the fruit of romance. But she who needs to be +told in what this art consists, would never understand, and she who +understands, need not be told. + +Keep your husband certain of the fact that his attention and society is +more agreeable to you than that of any other man. But never beg for his +attentions, and do not permit him to think you are incapable of enjoying +yourself without his playing the devoted cavalier. + +The moment a man feels such an attitude is compulsory, it becomes +irksome. Learn how to entertain yourself. Cling to your accomplishments +and add others. A man admires a progressive woman who keeps step with +the age. Study, and think, and read, and cultivate the art of listening. +This will make you interesting to men and women alike, and your husband +will hear you praised as an agreeable and charming woman, and that +always pleases a man, as it indicates his good taste and good luck. + +Avoid giving your husband the impression that you expect a detailed +account of every moment spent away from you. Convince him that you +believe in his honour and loyalty, and that you have no desire to +control or influence his actions in any matters which do not conflict +with his self-respect or your pride. + +Cultivate the society of the women he admires. There is both wisdom and +tact in such a course. + +Wisdom in making an ideal a reality, and tact in avoiding any semblance +of that most unbecoming fault--jealousy. + +Let him see that you have absolute faith in your own powers to hold him, +and that you respect him too much to mistake a frank admiration for an +unworthy sentiment. Do not hesitate to speak with equal frankness of the +qualities you admire in other men. Educate him in liberality and +generosity, by example. + +Allow no one to criticize him in your presence, and do not discuss his +weaknesses with others. I have known wives to meet in conclaves, and +dissect husbands for an entire afternoon. And each wife seemed anxious +to pose as the most neglected and unappreciated woman of the lot. With +all the faults of the sterner sex, I never heard of such a caucus of +husbands. + +Take an interest in your husband's business affairs, and sympathize with +the cares and anxieties which beset him. Distract his mind with pleasant +or amusing conversation, when you find him nervous and fagged in brain +and body. + +Yet do not feel that you must never indicate any trouble of your own, +for it is conducive to selfishness when a wife hides all her worries and +indispositions to listen to those of her husband. But since the +work-a-day world, outside the home, is usually filled with irritations +for a busy man, it should be a wife's desire to make his home-coming a +season of anticipation and joy. + +Do not expect a husband to be happy and contented with a continuous diet +of love and sentiment and romance. He needs also much that is practical +and commonplace mingled with his mental food. + +I have known an adoring young wife to irritate Cupid so he went out and +sat on the door-step, contemplating flight, by continual neglect of +small duties. + +There were never any matches in the receivers; when the husband wanted +one he was obliged to search the house. The newspaper he had folded and +left ready to read at leisure was used to light the fire, although an +overfilled waste-basket stood near. The towel-rack was empty just when +he wanted his bath, and his bedroom slippers were always kicked so far +under the bed that he was obliged to crawl on all fours to reach them. + +Then his loving spouse was sure to want to be "cuddled" when he was +smoking his cigar and reading,--a triple occupation only possible to a +human freak, with three arms, four eyes, and two mouths. + +Therefore I would urge you, my dear Edna, to mingle the practical with +the ideal, and common sense with sentiment, and tact with affection, in +your domestic life. + +These general rules are all I can give to guide your barque into the +smooth, sea of marital happiness. + +It is a wide sea, with many harbours and ports, and no two ships start +from exactly the same point or take exactly the same course. You will +encounter rocks and reefs, perhaps, which my boat escaped, and I have no +chart to guide you away from those rocks. + +If I knew you better, and knew your husband at all, I might steer you a +little farther out of Honeymoon Bay into calm waters, and tell you how +to reef your sails, and how to tack at certain junctures of the voyage, +and with the wind in certain directions. + +But if you keep your heart full of love, your mind clear of distrust, +and your lips free from faultfinding, and if you pray for guidance and +light upon your way, I am sure you cannot miss the course. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_Who Faces the Necessity to Earn a Living_ + + +It is indeed a problem, my dear Gladys, to face stern-visaged Necessity +after walking with laughing-lipped Pleasure for twenty-two years. + +What an unforeseen event that your father should sink his fortune in a +rash venture and die of remorse and discouragement scarcely six months +after you were travelling through Europe with me, and laughing at my +vain attempts to make you economize. + +You have acted the noble and womanly part, in using the last dollar of +your father's property to pay his debts, and I could imagine you doing +no other way. + +But now comes the need of earning a livelihood for yourself, and your +delicate mother. + +I know you have gone over the list of your accomplishments and taken +stock of all your inherited and acquired qualities. You play the piano +well, but in these days of Paderewskies and pianolas, no one wants to +employ a young girl music-teacher. You do not sing, and if you did, that +would not afford you a means of support. The best of natural voices need +a fortune spent before half a fortune can be earned. + +You dance like a fairy, and swim like a mermaid, and ride like an Indian +princess, but these accomplishments are not lucrative, save in a Midway +Plaisance or a Wild West show. You are well educated and your memory is +remarkable. You have a facility in mathematics, and your knowledge of +grammar and rhetoric will, as you say, enable you to pass the +examination for a teacher in the public schools after a little brushing +up and study. Then, with the political influence of your father's old +friends, you will no doubt be able to obtain a position. + +I recollect you as surpassingly skilful with the needle. I know you +once saw a charming morning gown in Paris which I persuaded you not to +buy at the absurd price asked for it, after the merchant understood we +were Americans. And I remember how you passed to another department, +purchased materials, went home to our hotel, and cut and made a +surprising imitation of the gown at one-tenth the cost. + +Why have you not considered turning this talent to account? Though the +world goes to war and ruin, yet women will dress, and the need of good +seamstresses ever exists. + +Go to some enterprising half-grown Western or interior Eastern town, +announce yourself in possession of all the Paris styles (as you are), +and launch out. Increase your prices gradually, and go abroad on your +savings at the end of a year, then come back with new ideas, a larger +stock, and higher prices. + +You will be on the road to fortune, and can retire with a competence +before you are middle-aged. A little skill with the scissors and +needle, lots of courage and audacity, and original methods will make a +woman succeed in this line of endeavour. + +But why do I not approve of the profession upon which you have almost +decided--that of teaching--you ask. + +I will tell you why. + +Next to motherhood, the profession of teacher in public or private +schools is the most important one on earth. + +It is, in a certain sense, more responsible than that of motherhood, +since the work of poor and bad mothers must be undone by the teacher, +and where the mother has three or four children for a period of years to +influence, the teacher has hundreds continually. There are very few +perfect teachers. There are too few excellent ones. There are too many +poor ones. I do not believe you possess the requisites for the calling. + +A teacher should first of all love children as a class. Their +dependence, their ignorance, their helplessness, and their unformed +characters should appeal to a woman's mind, and make her forget their +many and varied faults and irritating qualities. You like lovable, +well-bred, and interesting children, but you are utterly indifferent to +all others. You adore beauty, and an ugly child offends your taste. A +stupid child irritates you. + +You have a wonderful power of acquiring and remembering information, but +you do not possess the knack of readily imparting it. You expect others +to grasp ideas in the same way you do. This will make you unsympathetic +and impatient as a teacher. You have no conception of the influence a +teacher exerts upon children in public schools. You were educated in +private schools and at home, I know. I attended the country public +school, and to this day I can recall the benefits and misfortunes which +resulted to me from association with different teachers. Children are +keenly alive to the moods of teachers and are often adepts in +mind-reading. + +A teacher should be able to enter into the hearts and souls of the +children under her charge, and she should find as great pleasure in +watching their minds develop as the musical genius in watching a +composition grow under his touch. + +An infinite number of things not included in the school routine should +be taught by teachers. Courtesy, kindness to dependents and weaker +creatures, a horror of cruelty in all forms, a love of nature, +politeness to associates, low speaking and light walking, cleanliness +and refinement of manner,--all these may be imparted by a teacher who +loves to teach, without extra time or fatigue. I fear a proud disdain, +and a scarcely hidden disgust, would be plainly visible in your +demeanour toward the majority of the untrained little savages given to +your charge in a public school. You have not the love of humanity at +large in your heart, nor the patience and perseverance to make you take +an optimistic view in the colossal work of developing the minds of +children. Therefore it seems to me almost a sin for you to undertake +the profession merely because you need to earn a living. There are other +things to be considered besides your necessities. Fond as I am of you, I +have the betterment of humanity at my heart, too, and cannot feel it is +right for you to place yourself in a position where you will not be +doing the best for those dependent upon you that could be done. + +I have given up hope of seeing mothers made to realize their +responsibilities. But I still have hope of the teachers. On them and +their full understanding of all it is in their power to do, lies the +hope of the world. + +Therefore, my dear girl, I urge you to take up dressmaking or millinery +instead of school-teaching. + +If you ruin a piece of goods in the making, you can replace it and +profit by your error. But if you mar a child's nature in your attempt to +teach him, you have done an irreparable injury not only to him but to +humanity. + +If you saw a design started by a lace-maker, you would not think of +taking the work and attempting to complete it until you had learned the +art of lace-making. + +Just so you ought not to think of developing the wonderful intricacies +of a child's mind until you have learned how. + +It is all right to deliberately choose a vocation which gives us contact +only with inanimate things, but we have no right to take the handling of +human souls unless we are specially fitted for the task. + + + + +To Clarence St. Claire + +_Regarding His Sister's Betrothal_ + + +Your request, my dear Clarence, that I try to influence your sister to +change her determination in this matter, calls for some very plain +statements from me. + +I have known you and Elise since you were playing with marbles and +rattles, and your mother and I have been very good acquaintances +(scarcely intimate enough to be called friends) for more than a score of +years. You are very much like your mother, both in exterior appearance +and in mind. Elise is the image of her father at the time he captured +your mother's romantic fancy, and as I recollect him when he died. + +You were five years old, Elise three, at that time. Your mother lived +with your father six years in months, an eternity in experience. You +know that she was unhappy, and that he disillusioned her with love, and +almost with life. He married your mother solely for her fortune. She was +a sweet and beautiful girl, of excellent family, but your father had no +qualities of mind or soul which enabled him to appreciate or care for +any woman, save as she could be of use to him, socially and financially. + +In six years he managed to dispose of all but a mere pittance of her +fortune, and humiliated her in a thousand ways besides. His only decent +act was to die and leave her undisturbed for the remainder of her life. +Your uncle assisted in her support and saved the remnant of her +property, so that she has, by careful and rigorous economy, been able to +educate you and Elise, and keep up a respectable appearance in a quiet +way. + +Of course it was impossible to retain her place among the associates of +her better days, and you know how bitter this fact has always made +Elise. Your sister has the physical beauty and the overwhelming love of +money and power which characterized your father. She has a modicum of +your mother's sense of honour, but has been reared in a way not +calculated to develop much strength of character. Your mother has been a +slave to your sister. Elise is incapable of a deep, intense love for any +man, and your mother's pessimistic ideas of love and marriage have still +further acted upon her brain cells and atrophied whatever impulses may +have been latent in her nature, to love and be loved. These qualities +might have been developed had Elise been under the tutelage of some one +versed in the science of brain building, but your mother, like most +mothers, was not aware of the tremendous possibilities within her grasp, +or of the effect of the ideas she expressed in the hearing of her +children. Neither did she seem to recognize the father's traits in +Elise, and undertake the work of eliminating them, as she might have +done. She has been an unselfish and devoted mother, and has made too +many sacrifices for Elise. At the same time, she has awakened the mind +of your sister to ideals of principle and honour which will help her to +be a better woman than her inheritance from your father would otherwise +permit. But now, at the age of twenty-one, it is impossible to hope that +she will develop into a self-sacrificing, loving, womanly woman, whose +happiness can be found in a peaceful domestic life. She has seen your +mother sad and despondent, under the yoke of genteel poverty, and heard +her bemoan her lost privileges of wealth and station. This, added to her +natural craving for money and place, renders a wealthy marriage her only +hope of happiness on earth. + +Mr. Volney has an enormous fortune. He is, as you say, a senile old man +in his dotage. As you say again, such a marriage is a travesty. But +Elise is incapable of feeling the love which alone renders marriage a +holy institution. She has undesirable qualities which ought not to be +transmitted to children, and she is absolutely devoid of maternal +instincts. + +I have heard her say she would consider motherhood the greatest +disaster which could befall her. But she is unfitted for a +self-supporting career, and she wants a home and position. + +She has beauty, kind and generous impulses, and a love of playing Lady +Bountiful. It is not so much that she wants to benefit the needy, as +that she likes to place people under obligations and to have them look +up to her as a superior being. + +Old Mr. Volney is a miser, and his money is doing no one good. He has +only distant relatives, and by taking Elise for a wife (according to +law) he will wrong no one, and she will make much better use of his +fortune than his heirs would make. + +Your mother will be relieved of worry and care. Many worthy poor people +and charities will receive help, and Elise will have her heart's +desire--fine apparel, jewels, a social position, and no one to bother +her. The valet and nurse will look after Mr. Volney, and his simple old +heart will bask in the pride of an old man--the possession of a pretty +young wife. + +Had he full use of his mental faculties, and did he long for love and +devotion, I would try and dissuade Elise from the marriage, but solely +on _his_ account, not on hers. + +The young man you mention, as your choice of a suitor for the hand of +your sister, might better go up in a balloon to seek for Eutopia than to +expect happiness as her husband. He has a sweet, gentle, loving nature, +a taste for quiet home joys, fondness for children, and he has two +thousand a year, with small prospects of more in the near future. + +He should marry a modest, domestic girl, with tastes similar to his own, +and with no overweening ambitions. Elise would simply drive him mad in a +year's time, with her restless discontent, her extravagance, and her +desire for the expensive pleasures of earth. It is useless to reason +with her, or to expect her to model her ideas to suit her circumstances. +Inheritance and twenty-one years of wrong education must be taken into +consideration. What would mean happiness for many women would mean +misery for her. I can imagine no more dreadful destiny than to be tied +to a senile old man by a legal ceremony, even were I given his millions +in payment. But that will mean happiness to Elise. + +I think we should let people seek their own ideals of happiness, when +they break no law, and injure no other life by it. + +I shall congratulate Elise by this post on having made so fortunate an +alliance. I could not congratulate her were she to marry her young +suitor. I shall congratulate your mother on having nothing to worry +about, regarding the future of Elise. + +And I advise you to take a philosophical view of the situation, and to +remember that, in judging the actions of our fellow beings, we must take +their temperaments, characteristics, and environment into consideration, +not our own. + +You have made the very common error of thinking, because Elise is a +handsome young girl, that love, and home, and children would mean +happiness to her. + +Women vary as greatly as do plants and flowers in their needs. The +horticulturist knows that he cannot treat them all alike, and he studies +their different requirements. + +To some he gives moisture and sun, to some shade, and to some dry, sandy +soil. The thistle pushes forth a gorgeous bloom from an arid bed. It +would die in the pond where the lily thrives. + +Too much sentiment is wasted in this world and too much effort expended +in trying to make all people happy in some one way. + +When I was a little girl, a Sunday-school superintendent presented every +girl in the class with a doll, and each doll was exactly the same. Most +little girls like dolls, but I never played with one, as they were +always so hopelessly inanimate. If the good man had given me a sled, or +a book, or a picture, I would have been happy. As it was, his gift was a +failure. You want to present your sister with a devoted young husband, +a cottage, and several children, because you think every woman should +possess these things. Your sister happens to be one who prefers a +wealthy old invalid. + +Let her have what she wants, my dear Clarence, and let her work out her +destiny in her own way. She will do less harm in the world than if you +forced her into your way. Now you must remember that you asked me to +help you in this matter, and I could only write you the absolute facts +of the situation, as I knew it to be. I feel fairly confident that you +will accept my point of view, and act as best man at your sister's +wedding. + + + + +To Miss Margaret Riley + +_Shop Girl, Concerning Her Oppressors_ + + +Your letter has been destroyed, as you requested, and you need not fear +my betraying your confidence. + +Your mother was so long in my employ that I feel almost like a +foster-mother to you, having seen you grow up from the cradle to +self-supporting young womanhood. + +The troubles and evils which you mention as existing about you, I know +to be quite universal in all large shops, factories, and department +stores, indeed in all houses where the two sexes are employed. + +I know that a certain order of men in power use that power to lower the +ideals and standards of womanhood when they can. + +A pretty young girl once in my service related to me the cold-blooded +suggestions made to her by her employer to increase the miserable wage +paid her in a sweat-shop. + +The sacrifice of her virtue seemed no more to this man than the sale of +an old garment. + +The girl did not make the sacrifice, however, and she did not starve, +freeze, or die. She managed to exist and to better her condition by +doing domestic work and saving her money to fit herself for more +congenial employment. When I last saw her she was planning to become a +trained nurse, and had paid for a course of instruction in massage. I +tell you this merely to illustrate a fact I fully believe, that any girl +who is determined to live an honourable life and retain her self-respect +can make her way in the world and rise from lesser to higher positions, +if she is patient and willing to do what is termed menial work as a +stepping-stone. You tell me that scores of girls are kept in poorly +paying, inferior positions when capable of filling better places, +simply because they will not accept the dishonourable attentions of some +of the men in authority. + +You beg me to arouse the good women of America to a crusade against what +you say is a growing evil and to boycott such shops and stores. + +But you ask me to do what is an impracticable thing. + +You would not like to be called as a witness were this matter brought +before the courts. Were all the good women of America to begin such a +crusade, where would they obtain the proofs of their accusations? + +And even if the witnesses were ready, there is not a newspaper in the +land that would dare champion the reform. And no great reform can be +made without the aid of the press. The daily papers, as you say, give +columns to protests against lesser evils, but you must know that these +newspapers are largely supported by the profitable advertisements of +manufactories and dry-goods houses. Glance over the columns of any of +our large dailies and see how much space such advertising occupies. + +Imagine what it would mean to lose all this high-priced patronage. +Therefore, even if the most moral of editors knew that these +establishments were undermining our social conditions and invading our +homes, I doubt if he could be induced to make a protest. It is a curious +thing to see how many are the kinds of victims caught and held in the +clutches of the money-devil-fish in our wonderful land of freedom. + +Even clergymen who are preaching morality and brotherly love are +compelled to keep their mouths shut on certain evils and abuses, lest +they offend the pillars of the church and deprive the treasury of its +income. + +In a certain New England town famous for its educational institution, a +clergyman denounced a corporation which had swindled the poor and +deceived scores of citizens. He was requested to discontinue further +references to the matter, as the church treasury was supplied by the +money which accrued from this monopoly. + +The most powerful members of the church were officers in the +corporation. + +The young clergyman sent in his resignation and gave up an assured +salary to follow the light of his own conscience. But there are few with +his bravery and, therefore, the strongholds of selfishness and +self-indulgence remain impregnable. While we admire the splendid +character which makes a man capable of refusing a salary which means +hush-money, we can at the same time understand the difficult position of +a clergyman with a hungry brood of children to support, who hesitates at +such a move. We can understand how he argues with himself, that by +taking the money of the monopolists, he is able to do more good for +humanity than by refusing it, and losing both influence and income. It +is a false argument, yet the worn and weary mind of the average orthodox +minister will accept it as the advisable course to pursue. So you will +see how difficult is the task you suggest my undertaking. You tell me +that it is useless for you to leave one shop and go to another, as all +are more or less conducted on the same lines; and that it is mere chance +if a girl finds herself in a position where she can advance on her +merits. Even then a sudden change in heads of departments some day may +destroy all her hopes. + +You say I have no idea how many girls go wrong just through the +persecution and tyranny of these men--forced to fall in order to keep +herself fed and clothed. I repeat what I said already in this +connection,--that I am certain any girl determined to keep herself above +reproach and ambitious to rise in the world can do so. She may have to +endure many privations and sorrows for a time, and that time may seem +long and weary, _but a change will come for the better as surely as +spring follows winter, if she does not waver_. + +If you will look carefully into the facts of the cases which fall under +your observation, I am confident you will see that it is vanity and +indolence, not hunger and oppression, which cause the majority of the +girls you mention to go astray. They desire to make as good an +appearance, and to be given the same privileges of leisure, as the +favourite who has been promoted through unworthy methods. + +You tell me you would rather jump from Brooklyn Bridge and end the +struggle at once than lose your self-respect, but that you are weary of +seeing the girls with less conscience, and lesser capabilities, pushed +ahead of you and your worthy associates. Yet I am certain from the tone +of your letter that you will never forget your self-respect, and I have +faith that you can make your way in the world in spite of all the +designing masculine oppressors in existence. + +So will any woman, who sets her mark high, and believes in the +invincible power of her own spirit to conquer all the demons of earth. + +Do not imagine your position is one of unusual trial and temptation. A +young actress of my acquaintance has been obliged to fight her way +slowly to partial recognition because she would not accept the +conditions offered, with leading roles and fine wardrobe, by two +polygamous-minded managers. + +She is making her way, however, and the very battle she is fighting with +life has strengthened her powers as an artist. A young stenographer has +been compelled to give up two positions because she would not allow the +loverlike attentions of married employers. She was called a silly prude +and discharged. Yet she is occupying an excellent position with a clean +high-class business house to-day. + +Domestics are sometimes driven from private homes by the same pursuit of +the employer. Men are only in a state of evolution, and the animal +instincts are still strong in them. The world has allowed them so much +license, and society has been so lenient with their misdeeds, that it +has been difficult for them to practise self-control and aspire to a +higher standard. You must be sorry for them and do what you can to help +them understand the worth and value of true womanhood. Never for one +instant believe that you can be hindered by the machinations of a few +unworthy men, from reaching any goal you set. + +One good, intelligently virtuous woman, determined to make the most of +her capabilities by fair methods, can overcome a whole army of +self-indulgent, sensual men, and compel them to doff their hats to her. +I am always deeply sympathetic toward the girl who is tempted through +her emotions, or her affections, to forget herself. But I have no great +pity for the woman who sells herself. There are always charitable +societies, and there are always menial labours to do, and either door of +escape from the sale of honour would be sought by the girl of right +ideals. It is a bitter experience to see the woman who _has_ stepped +down into the soil of life flaunting her finery and her power in the +face of virtue. But look about you and see how soon the finery becomes +tatters--how soon the power is transferred to another. + +Woman's position in the world is growing better, brighter, and more +independent with each year. There are more avenues open to her--larger +opportunities waiting for the employment of her abilities. She has tried +a thorny path for centuries, but she has small reason to despair of her +outlook to-day. + +Each woman must fight her battle alone, and walk by the light from +within. + +The world gives her only a superficial protection, either through its +courts or its society. + +Men demand virtue from woman and endeavour in every way to lead her away +from its path. + +But the divinity within her can carry her to the heights, if she will +not be lured by the voice of the senses, or frightened by the demands of +the appetite, or debased by the mercenary spirit of the age. + +Go on in your brave determination to lead a sensible and moral life, my +dear girl, and let your example be a guide to others, and prove that +woman may succeed on the right basis if she will, in spite of +temptations and oppressions. + + + + +To Miss Gladys Weston + +_After Three Years as a Teacher_ + + +The way you took my frank criticisms and doubts of your ability to make +a good school-teacher, proves you to be a girl of much character. Your +success proves, too, that given the general qualifications of a fairly +capable and educated human being, add concentration and will, and we can +achieve wonders in any line of work we undertake. I am still of the +opinion that no woman of my acquaintance was more wholly unfit to teach +young children, as they should be taught, than your fair self as I last +knew you. + +I take pride in believing that my heroic methods were what brought out +the undeveloped qualities you needed to ensure such success. + +There are certain natures that need to be antagonized before they do +their best. Others are prostrated and robbed of all strength by a +criticism or a doubt. + +You have realized this, I am sure, in your experiences with pupils. +"_You cannot do it_" is a more stimulating war-cry to some people than +"_You can_." And to such the sneer of the foe does more good, than the +smile of the friend. A phrenologist would tell us that strongly +developed organs of self-esteem and love of approbation accompanied this +trait of character. + +I am sure it proves to be the case with you. + +Brought up as you were, the only child of indulgent parents, and given +admiration and praise by all your associates, you could hardly reach the +age of twenty-two without having developed self-esteem and love of +praise. You were naturally brighter than most of your companions. (They +were also children of fortune, as the term goes, but to my idea the +children reared in wealth, are usually children of misfortune. For the +real fortune of life is to encounter the discipline which brings out +our strongest qualities.) + +Your father was a poor boy, who fought his way up to wealth and power +before you were born; but he unfortunately wanted the earth beside, and +so died in poverty after staking all he had, which was enough, to make +more, which he did not need. + +You inherit much of his force of character, and that is what gave you +the reputation of extreme cleverness among your more commonplace +companions. Compared with the really brilliant and talented people of +earth, you are not clever. That is why I found you so companionable and +charming, no doubt; for the brilliant people--especially women--are +rarely companionable for more than a few hours at a time. I gave you +that supreme test of friendship--the companionship of travel for a +period of months. And I loved you better at the end of the time than at +the beginning. + +I have often thought how much less occupation there would be for the +divorce courts and how many more "indefinitely postponed" announcements +of engagements would result from an established custom of a +pre-betrothal trip! + +If a young man and woman who were enamoured could travel for two or +three months, with a chaperon (in the shape of a mother-in-law or two), +the lawyers would lose much profit; but I fear race suicide might ensue. +Nothing, unless it is the sick-room or the card-table, brings out the +real characteristics of human beings like travel. + +The irritating delays of boats and trains, and the still more irritating +unresponsiveness of officials, when asked the cause, will test the +temper and the patience of even a pair of lovers. It is not surprising +if the traveller does lose both at times, but it is admirable if he does +not. I remember how adorable you were, while I was a bundle of dynamite, +ready to explode and send the stolid, uncommunicative conductor and +brakemen into a journey through space, when we suffered that long delay +coming from California. It is due the travelling public to explain such +delays, but the railroads of America have grown to feel that they owe no +explanation to any one, even to God, for what they do or do not. While I +lost vitality and composure by such idle reflections, you were amusing +the nervous travellers by your bright bits of narrative and ready +repartee. That fortunate fellow you have promised to marry at the end of +two years has no idea what a charming companion he will find in you for +travel. + +It is interesting to have you say you feel that you need two more years +as a teacher, before you are fully developed enough to take up the +responsibilities of marriage. You will be twenty-seven then:--that is +the age at which the average American girl begins to be most +interesting, and the age when she is first physically mature. + +And your children will be more fully endowed mentally than if you had +become a mother in your teens. + +As a rule the brainy people of the world are not born of very youthful +parents; you will find youth gives physique, maturity gives brains to +offspring. + +I did not quite finish my train of reasoning about your self-esteem. + +It was because you had always believed yourself to be capable of doing +anything you undertook to do, that you were roused by my assertion that +you could not make a good school-teacher, to attempt it. I hurt your +pride a bit, and you were determined to prove me wrong. Had you been +self-depreciating and oversensitive, what I said would have turned you +from that field of effort. And that would have been a desirable result, +since one who can be turned from any undertaking _ought to be_. + +I still think the world has lost a wonderful artist by your not entering +the lists of designers and dressmakers. But since my recital of the +faults which would prevent your success as a teacher led you to overcome +them, I am proud and glad, that you have gone on in the work you +contemplated. Good teachers are more needed than good dressmakers. + +And you are sweet and charming as usual, to tell me that your +popularity with children and parents, is greatly due to that letter of +mine. + +What you write me of the young girl who is making you so much trouble by +her jealousy of all other pupils, interests and saddens me. Her devotion +to you is of that morbid type, so unwholesome and so dangerous to her +peace, and the peace of all her associates. It is a misfortune that +mothers do not take such traits in early babyhood, and eradicate them by +patient, practical methods. Instead, this mother, like many others, +seems to think her little girl should be favoured and flattered because +of her morbid tendency. + +She mistakes selfishness, envy, greediness, and hysteria for a loving +nature. + +I can imagine your feelings when this mother told you with a proud +smile, "Allie always wants the whole attention of any one she loves, and +cannot stand sharing her friends. She was always that way at home. We +never could pet her little brother without her going into a spasm. And +you must be careful about showing the other children attention before +her. It just breaks her heart--she is so sensitive." + +Oh, mothers, mothers, what are you thinking about, to be so blind to the +work put in your hands to do? + +You have little time comparatively to work upon this perverted young +mind: but under no conditions favour her, and, no matter what scenes she +makes, continue to give praise and affection to the other children when +it is their due. The prominence of her parents in the neighbourhood, and +the power her father wields in the school board, need not worry you. Go +ahead and do what is best for the child and for the school at large. +Never deviate one inch from your convictions. Take Allie some day to a +garden where there are many flowers, and talk to her about them. Speak +of all their different charms, and gather a bouquet. Then say to her, +"Now, Allie, you and I love each of these pretty flowers, and see how +sweetly they nestle together in your hand. Not one is jealous of the +other. Each has its place, and would be missed were it not there. The +bouquet needs them all. Just so I need all the dear children in my +school, and just so I would miss any one. It makes me ashamed to think +any little girl is more selfish and unreasonable than a plant, for +little girls are a higher order of creation, and we expect more of them +than we expect of plants or of animals. All are parts of God, but the +human kingdom is the highest expression of the Creator. + +"When you show such jealousy of other children I lose respect for you, +and cannot love you as much as I love them. When you are gentle and +good, and take your share of my love and attention, and let others have +their share, then I am proud of you and fond of you. Suppose one plant +said to the sunlight that it must have all the sun, would not that be +ridiculous and selfish?" + +I would make frequent references to this idea when alone with her, and +indeed it would serve as an excellent subject for a talk to all your +pupils some day. Then try and make Allie understand how unbecoming and +unlovable jealousy is, and how it renders a man or woman an object of +pity and ridicule to others. + +Praise the people you know who are liberal and broad, and absolutely +ignore her moods when in school. + +Perhaps in time you can do a little toward awakening her mind to a more +wholesome outlook. + +What you tell me of her hysterical devotion to one of her classmates, +makes me realize that the girl needs careful guidance. + +You should talk to her mother, and warn her against encouraging such +conditions of mind in her child. + +Urge her to keep the girl occupied, and to give her much out-door life, +and to teach her that pronounced demonstrations of affection are not +good form between young girls. The mother should be careful what books +she reads, and should see that she makes no long visits to other homes +and receives no guests for a continued time. The child needs to +cultivate universal love, not individual devotion. + +Ideals, principles, ambitions, should be given the girl, not close +companions, for her nature is like a rank, weedy flower that needs +refining and cultivating into a perfected blossom. + +All this needs a mother's constant care and tact and watchfulness. It is +work she should have begun when her little girl first indicated her +unfortunate tendencies. + +It is late for you to undertake a reconstruction of the misshapen +character, but you may be able to begin an improvement, and if you can +obtain the mother's cooperation the full formation may be accomplished. + +And do not fail to use mental suggestion constantly, and to help the +child by your assertions to be what you want her to become. Dwell in +conversation with her and in her presence, upon the lovableness and +charm of generosity of spirit in general, rather than on the selfishness +you observe in herself. + +At her least indication of an improvement, give her warm praise. Be +careful about bestowing caresses upon her, as she needs to be guarded +against hysteria, I should judge from your description. To some children +they are the sunlight, to others miasma. + +Think of yourself as God's agent, given charge of his unfinished work, +and recognize the unseen influences ready to aid you with suggestion and +courage when you appeal to them. + + + + +To a Young Friend + +_Who Has Become Interested in the Metaphysical Thoughts of the Day_ + +Your letter bubbled with enthusiasm, and steamed with optimism. I am +rejoiced that you have come into so healthful a line of thought, for I +know of no one who was in more immediate need of it than you, when we +last met. + +As your hostess, I could not tell you how wearing to the nerves your +continual reverting to your physical ills became: and I hope I did not +seem wholly unsympathetic to you when I so frequently made the effort to +change the conversation to more cheerful topics. + +And now you tell me that you are astounded to find how universal is this +topic with all classes, and on all occasions when one or two human +beings gather together even in "His name." Your recital of the church +sewing-bee, where all the good Christian women described their diseases +and the different operations they and their friends had undergone, is as +amusing as it is distressingly realistic. + +What a pity that the old theology fostered the idea that God especially +loved the people he afflicted with illness and poverty and trouble! It +has filled the world with egotistical and selfish invalids and idlers, +who have believed they were "God's chosen ones," instead of realizing +that they were the natural results of broken laws, which might be mended +by the aid of the God-power in themselves, once they understood it. + +How Christians have reconciled the idea of a God of love with a God who +wanted his chosen ones to be sick and poor, is a problem I cannot solve. + +Of course you are well, and growing stronger daily, now that you realize +the fact that God made only health, wealth, and love, and that he +intended all his children to share his opulence. + +As soon as the mind is filled with a dominating idea, no lesser ones can +find lodgment therein. + +A woman of my acquaintance suffered agonies from seasickness. + +She crossed the ocean twice each year, yet seemed unable to accustom +herself to the experience. + +On her last voyage her child fell dangerously sick with typhoid fever on +the second day out at sea. + +So wrought up was the mother, and so filled with the thought of her +child, that she never felt one moment's seasickness. Her mind was +otherwise occupied. + +Now you have filled your mind with a consciousness of your divine right +to health and happiness, and the thought of sickness and disease has no +room. + +Yet do not be discouraged if you feel the old ailments and +indispositions returning at times. A complete change in mental habits, +is difficult to obtain in a moment. + +Be satisfied to grow slowly. A wise philosopher has said, "It is not in +never falling that we show our strength, but in our ability to rise +after repeated falls, and to continue our journey in triumph." + +Avoid talking your belief to every individual you meet. It will be +breaking your string of pearls for the feet of swine to tread upon. +Those who are ready for these truths will indicate the fact to you, and +then will be your time for speech. And when you do speak, say little, +and say it briefly and to the point. + +Leave some things for other minds to study out alone. The people who are +not ready for higher ideals of religion and life, will only ridicule or +combat your theories and beliefs, if you force them to listen. + +Wait until you have fully illustrated by your own conduct of life, that +you have something beside vague theories to prove your statements of the +power of the mind to conquer circumstance. The world is full to-day of +bedraggled and haggard men and women, who are talking loudly of the +power of mind to restore youth and health, and bestow riches and +success. + +Do not add yourself to the unlovely and tiresome army of talkers, until +you prove yourself a doer. + +And even after you have shown a record of health and prosperity and +usefulness, let your silent influence speak louder than your uttered +words. + +The moment a philosopher becomes a bore, he ceases to be a philosopher. + + + + +To Wilfred Clayborn + +_Concerning His Education and His Profession_ + + +My Dear Nephew:--I have considered your request from all sides, and have +resolved to disappoint you. This seems to me the kindest thing I can do +under the circumstances. + +You have gone through two years of college life, and I am sure you are +not an ignoramus. Most of the great men of the world's history have +enjoyed no fuller educational advantages. To lend you money to finish +the college course, would be to help you to start life at the age of +twenty-two under the burden of debt. If you are determined to finish a +college course, and feel that only by so doing will you equip yourself +for the duties of life, I would advise you to drop out for a year and +teach, or go into any kind of work which will enable you to earn enough +to proceed with your studies. However hard and however disappointing +this advice seems to you, I know it suggests a course which will do more +for your character than all the money I could lend you. + +Aside from the fact that you would begin life with a debt, is the +possibility of your contracting the debt habit. + +One man in a thousand who borrows money to help himself along in early +life is benefited by it. + +The other 999 are harmed. + +To do anything on another's money is to lean on the shoulder of another +instead of walking upright. It is not good calisthenic exercise. + +A few years ago I would have acceded to your request. + +But each year I live I realize more and more that lending money is the +last method to be used in helping people to better themselves. In almost +every case where I have lent money, I have lived to regret it. Not +because I lost my money (which has usually been the fact), but because +I lost respect for my friends. + +I remember the case of a young newspaper man and author, who came to me +for the loan of five dollars. I had never seen him before, but I knew +his brother, a brilliant playwright, in a social way. + +The young man told me he had met with a series of disasters on the +voyage to New York, and was stranded there absolutely penniless, +although money would come at almost any hour from his brother. + +Besides this, he showed me letters from editors who had taken work which +would be paid for on publication. + +"I do not know any one here," the young man said, "and to-day, when I +used my last twenty-five cents, I thought of you in desperation. + +"Your acquaintance with my brother would serve as an introduction, I +felt, and I was confident you would realize my straits when I told you +my errand." + +Of course I lent the young man five dollars. "I am sure it must be a +great humiliation for you to ask for this," I said, "and I am certain +you will repay it, though many former experiences have made me question +the memory of friends and strangers to whom I have been of similar +assistance." + +One week later the young man called to tell me he had not been able to +do more than keep himself sustained at lunch-counters since he called, +but hoped soon to obtain a position on a daily newspaper. + +That was ten years ago. The young man sat in an orchestra chair the +other night at the theatre directly in front of me, and his attire was +faultlessly up to date. From the costume of his companion, I should +judge their carriage waited outside. + +The young man did not seem to recognize me, and no doubt the incident I +mention has escaped his memory. + +In all probability I was but one of a score of people who helped him +with small loans. Had the young man had been forced to appeal to the +society organized in every city for aiding the deserving poor, by being +sent disappointed from my door, the ordeal would have so hurt his pride, +that he might not have become the professional borrower he undoubtedly +is. + +I could relate innumerable cases of a similar nature. One man, who was a +fashionable teacher of French among the millionaires of New York for +several seasons, appealed to me at a time of year when all his patrons +were out of the city for a loan to enable him to give his wife medical +treatment. + +He was to repay it in the autumn. Instead, he came to me then with a +much more distressing story of immediate need and seeming proof of money +coming to him in a few months. To my chagrin, the loan I advanced was +employed in giving a feast to friends at his daughter's wedding, after +which he obliterated himself from my vision. + +Financial aid lent a woman who soon afterward circled Europe, brought no +reimbursement. Her handsomely engraved card, with the "Russell Square +Hotel, London," as address, reached me instead of the interest money +which perhaps paid the engraver. + +Money lent a young man to start a small business, was used for his +wedding expenses, and an interval of five years brings no word from him. +Poor and despicable beings indeed, become the victims of the borrowing +habit. It is the shattered faith in humanity, and the heart hurts that I +regret, rather than the loss of what can be replaced. I tell you these +incidents that you may realize how I have come to regard money-lending, +as a species of unkindness to a friend or relative. + +It is only one step removed from giving a sick or overtaxed man or woman +a morphine powder. + +Sleep and rest ensue, but ten to one the habit is formed for life. + +The happy experiences of my life in money-lending, have been two +instances where I offered loans which were not asked, and which proved +to be bridges over the chasm of temporary misfortune, to the success +awaiting a worthy woman and man. The really deserving rarely ask for +loans. + +I can imagine with what pleasure you would take a cheque from this +letter, for the amount which would carry you through college. + +Yet when you had finished your course, you would find so many things you +wanted to do, and must do, the debt would become too heavy to lift, save +by borrowing from some one else. + +If not that, then you would impose upon the fact of our relationship, +and on your belief that I had plenty of means without the amount you +owed me: and so you would join the great army of good-for-nothings in +the world. + +There is one thing you must always remember: + +No matter how close the blood tie between two beings, even twins, each +soul comes into the world alone, and with a separate life destiny to +work out. + +If I have worked out my destiny to financial independence, that does +not entitle you to a share of it. If it seems best for me to aid you, it +is not because a blood tie makes it a duty. I grow to believe there is a +sort of curse on money which is not earned, even when it is bestowed by +father, on son or daughter. + +It cripples individual development. Only when money is earned is it +blest. + +Regarding your future profession, I cannot agree with your idea that +because you feel no particular love for any one calling, and have a +halfway tendency toward several, that you will never be a success. Great +geniuses are often consumed with a passion for some one line of study or +employment, but there have been many great men who did not know what +they were fitted to do until accident or necessity gave them an +opportunity. + +Success means simply concentration and perseverance. + +Whether you decide to be a mechanic, a lawyer, a doctor, or a merchant, +the one thing to do is to fix all your mental powers upon the goal you +select, and then call all the forces from within and from without, to +aid you to reach it. + +It would, of course, be folly for you to select a profession which +requires special talent. No matter how you might concentrate and apply +yourself, you could never be a great poet, a great artist, or a great +musician. + +You have not the creative genius. + +But law, medicine, mechanics, or mercantile matters, with your good +brain and fair education, you could conquer. + +You say you vacillate from one to another, like the wind which goes to +the four points of the compass in twenty-four hours. + +But you are very young, and this should not discourage you. + +It would be well to think the four vocations over quietly, when alone, +and sit down by yourself early in the morning asking for guidance. Then, +when you feel you have made a decision, let nothing turn you from it. + +Direct all your studies and thoughts to further that decision. + +Think of yourself as achieving the very highest success in your chosen +field, and work for that end. + +You cannot fail. + +If you desire light from without upon the best path to pursue, I would +advise you to find a good phrenologist, and have a careful reading made +of your head. Its formation and the development of its organs would +indicate in what direction lay your greatest strength, and where you +needed to be especially watchful. + +But remember if your phrenologist tells you that you have a weak will, +it does not mean that you must necessarily _always_ have a weak will. It +means that you are to strengthen it, by concentration. There is a great +truth underlying phrenology, palmistry, and astrology; but it is +ridiculous to accept their verdicts as final and unchangeable, and it is +unwise to ignore the good they may do, rightly applied and understood. + +I recall the fact that you were born in early June. I know enough about +the influence of the planets upon a child born at that period to assert +that you are particularly inclined to a Gemini nature--the twin nature, +which wants to do two things at one time. You want to stay in and go +out, to read a book and play tennis, to swim and sit on the sand. Later +in life, you will want to remain single and marry, and travel and remain +at home, unless you begin _now_ to select one course of the two which +are for ever presenting themselves to you, in small and large matters. + +Whenever you feel yourself vacillating between two impulses, take +yourself at once in hand, decide upon the preferable course, and go +ahead. Dominate your astrological tendencies, do not be dominated by +them. Dominate your weaknesses as exhibited by your phrenological chart, +and build up the brain cells which need strengthening, and lessen the +power of the undesirable qualities by giving them no food or indulgence. + +It is a great thing to understand yourself as you are, and then to go +ahead and make yourself what you desire to be. + +When a carpenter starts to build a house, he knows just what tools and +what materials to work with are his. If there is a broken implement, he +replaces it with another, and if he is short of material he supplies it. +But young men set forth to make futures and fortunes, with no knowledge +of their own equipment. + +They do not know their own strongest or weakest traits, and are +unprepared for the temptations and obstacles that await them. + +I would advise you to call in the aid of all the occult sciences, to +help you in forming an estimate of your own higher and lower tendencies, +and in deciding for what line of occupation you were best fitted. Then, +after you have compared the statistics so gathered with your own idea of +yourself, you should proceed to make your character what you wish it to +be. + +This work will be ten thousand times more profitable to you than a mere +routine of college studies, gained by running in debt. + +To know yourself is far better knowledge than to know Virgil. And to +make yourself is a million times better than to have any one else make +you. + + + + +To Miss Elsie Dean + +_Regarding the Habit of Exaggeration_ + + +During your visit here with my niece, I became much interested in you. + +Zoe had often written me of her affection for you, and I can readily +understand her feeling, now that I have your personal acquaintance. + +You have no mother, and your father, you say, absorbed in business, like +so many American fathers, seems almost a stranger. Even the most devoted +fathers, rarely understand their daughters. + +Now, I want to take the part of a mother and write you to-day, as I +would write my own daughter, had one been bestowed upon me with the many +other blessings which are mine. + +I could not ask for a fairer, more amiable, or brighter daughter than +you, nor one possessed of a kinder or more unselfish nature. + +You are lovable, entertaining, industrious, and refined. + +But you possess one fault which needs eradicating, or at least a +propensity which needs directing. + +_It is the habit of exaggeration in conversation_. + +I noticed that small happenings, amusing or exciting, became events of +colossal importance when related by you. + +I noticed that brief remarks were amplified and grew into something like +orations when you repeated them. + +I confess that you made small incidents more interesting, and +insignificant words acquired poetic meaning under your tongue. + +And I confess also that you never once wronged or injured any one by +your exaggerations--save yourself. + +Zoe often said to me, "Isn't it wonderful how Elsie's imagination lends +a halo to the commonest event," and all your friends know that you have +this habit of hyperbole in conversation. + +Now, in your early girlhood, it is lightly regarded as "Elsie's way." +Later, in your maturity, I fear it will be called a harsher name. + +When you come to the time of life that larger subjects than girlish +pranks and badinage engage your mind, it will be necessary for you to be +more exact in your descriptions of occurrences and conversations. +Besides this, there is the heritage of your unborn children to consider. +I once knew a little girl who possessed the same vivid imagination, and +allowed it to continue unchecked through life. She married, and her son, +to-day, is utterly devoid of fine moral senses. He is a mental +monstrosity--incapable of telling the truth. His falsehoods are many and +varied, and his name is a synonym of untruth. He relates, as truth, the +most marvellous exploits in which he really never took part, and +describes scenes and places he has never visited, save through the +pages of some novel. + +His lack of moral sense has blighted his mother's life, and she is +wholly unconscious that he is only an exaggerated edition of herself. + +I think, as a rule, such imaginations as you possess belong to the +literary mind. I would advise you to turn your attention to +story-writing, and in that occupation you will find vent for your +romantic tendencies. + +Meanwhile watch yourself and control your speech. + +Learn to be exact. + +Tell the truth in small matters, and do not allow yourself to indulge in +seemingly harmless white lies of exaggeration. + +There are times when we should refrain from speaking all the truth, but +we should refrain by silence or an adroit change of subject. We should +not feel called upon to relate all the unpleasant truths we know of +people. + +When asked what we know of some acquaintance, we are justified in +telling the worthy and commendable traits, and saying nothing of the +faults. + +Therefore, while to suppress a portion of the truth is at times wise and +kind, to distort it, or misstate facts, is never needed and never +excusable. + +When you and Zoe came from your drive one day you were full of +excitement over an adventure with a Greek road merchant. + +As you told the story, the handsome peddler had accosted you at the exit +of the post-office and asked you to look at his wares. + +When you declined he became familiar, paid a compliment to Zoe's beauty, +and assured her that a certain lace shawl in his possession would be +irresistible draped about her face. + +Then he had pursued the carriage on his wheel and continued to "make +eyes" and pay compliments to the very gate of my home, where he +abandoned the chase. + +The facts were, according to further investigation, that the man paid a +simple trade compliment in reference to the shawl and its becomingness +to a pretty face, mounted his wheel and rode away, as it happened, in +the same direction you and Zoe were taking. + +Again, you related a bit of repartee between Zoe and a caller, which I +had chanced to over-hear, and out of two short sentences you made a +small brochure, most amusing, but most untrue. + +It was complimentary to both Zoe and her caller, yet it was not the +conversation which took place, and therefore was not truthful. + +These are trifling incidents, yet they are the straws, telling that the +wind blows from the marsh-lands of inexactness--not from the mountain +tops of truth. + +Once a woman loses a sense of the great value of absolute truthfulness, +she has blurred the clear mirror of her soul. + +Put yourself upon a diet of _facts_, my sweet young friend, and cure +this propensity, harmless enough now, but dangerous for your future. + +Watch your tongue that it does not say _five or six_ when it should say +_two_, or _yards_ when it should say _inches_. + +Even in the smallest matters, practise the habit of being exact. + +You will thank me for this advice sometime, even if it seems +unreasonable to you to-day, and remember, I would not take the liberty +or the trouble to so advise you, did I not love you and feel anxious for +your welfare. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Who Has Learned Her Origin_ + + +Your despairing letter lies before me. I wish you were here, my dear +child, that I might talk from my heart, instead of writing from it. I am +sorry that the secret, so long hidden, has been revealed to you, and in +such a despicable manner. + +An anonymous letter always carries with it the venom of a serpent. I +have long known your history, though the world generally believed you to +be the actual daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Marchmont, who adopted you when +you were scarcely one week old. + +No daughter ever received more affection or better care than these good +people gave you. Mrs. Marchmont lived always with a fear in her heart +that you might learn your history from some idle or malicious lip, and +before she died begged me to be your comforting friend, if that hour +ever came, which has now arrived. + +As your mother's nearest friend, it is natural you should turn to me in +your crucial hour of pain. And in reply to your questions regarding the +truth of this anonymous assertion, I will tell you all I know. + +Your own mother was well born, and a girl of great beauty and charm. She +was of foreign blood, and her parents, after the foreign custom, +selected for her, at the age of seventeen, a man of mature years and +unattractive personality, but some fortune. The family lived in a +seaport town, and your mother attracted the eye of a young seafaring +man, holding a government position. An intense and uncontrollable love +sprang up between them. Your mother had been kept in ignorance of God's +great law of sex attraction, its purpose and its results, and she was +like a new-born babe towed on the sea of her own suddenly awakened +emotion. + +It was arranged that your mother was to elope with her lover on his next +arrival in port. All plans were to be made by him during the voyage on +which he went forth, after a stolen interview with your mother. He was +lost at sea, and all on board the ship perished with him. Mr. and Mrs. +Marchmont chanced to be sojourning in the place at the time of your +birth. Mr. Marchmont had longed for a child, and the tragic story came +to his ears through the physician of your mother's family, and he and +his wife decided to adopt you and take you to America. + +I was the one friend who shared with Mrs. Marchmont the story of your +birth. Other friends knew she had adopted a child, and of course all +sorts of rumours were afloat for a time. Mr. Marchmont's nephew was +particularly unfriendly, I remember, as he had believed himself heir to +his uncle's estate until your adoption. + +Some three years ago I chanced to be in the seaport town where you were +born, and I made quiet inquiries about your mother. I learned that she +had recently died, leaving a husband and three children. I hunted up the +children, and found them to be most uninteresting and ordinary. The +oldest daughter I met and studied. She was plain and commonplace in +appearance, and the other children were dull and unattractive. + +The husband was the elderly man selected by your grandparents. Just how +he had been led to accept the second place in your mother's life, and +whether he had known of the tragedy, I could not learn without asking +more questions than I deemed wise. + +But what I want to impress upon your mind by this recital is, _your own +divine inheritance of love,_ the inheritance which has bestowed upon you +physical beauty, mental power, and rare qualities of heart and soul. I +know few women so endowed by the Creator as you. I know of few young +girls--in fact, not one--I would so gladly and proudly claim as a +daughter, or wish a daughter to be like, as your lovely self. + +When I read your letter, with its wild expressions of self-abasement and +despair and regret that you were in the world, where, you seemed to +believe, you had no right to be, I could not help picturing to myself +the dull face and disagreeable personality of your half-sister, the +child whom you no doubt believe has a greater right than yourself on +earth. Now whatever society has decided is legal and right for human +beings, you must not forget that God also has made rules, and that those +rules must first be obeyed, before the rules of man can be regarded as +perfect. + +God's first law, regarding the propagation of the human species, is that +the _mother must be dominated by a supreme and ruling emotion to give to +the world the highest type of a child_. + +Your mother loved your father with all her heart and soul. She was a +young girl, ignorant of the world. She thought of her lover as her +rightful mate, and lived but for the hour when he should rescue her +from the unhappy fate arranged by unwise and sordid-minded parents. + +Your father loved her, and they were in God's sight more truly husband +and wife than the soulless and loveless ceremony of the law made her and +her legal husband afterward. + +It is a great misfortune that your parents lacked the self-control which +is necessary to every well-balanced human being who seeks for the +fullest development. It is a sad thing that over your life this shadow +of unlegalized birth must rest. + +But were I given the choice to-day to be what you are, or what your +sister is, and what thousands of children born of loveless marriages +are, I would not for one second hesitate in my choice. + +The world needs marriage laws to keep any order in society. + +The wisely reared and well-balanced woman will keep herself in womanly +reserve for her legal husband. + +Your mother, by a moment's weakness and loss of self-control, left a +blight upon her life for ever, and a shadow upon yours. + +But do not for one instant think of yourself as anything but _a child of +God_, endowed with all the wealth of the spiritual kingdom, whatever the +law may withhold from you here. + +You are legitimized by love, your sister is legitimate by law. She is +illegitimate in the sight of heaven, you in sight of earth. + +Be glad of your beautiful nature and beautiful qualities, and do not +spoil them by despondency or pessimism. + +Think of yourself as if you were a child of Adam and Eve, born before +the serpent appeared, when there was no law but the law of love to +govern two souls, drawn together by irresistible attraction. + +The best and highest qualities of two human beings meet and mingle in +your nature. Do you suppose the great Creator of all things regards you +as base born, when he has so endowed you with all that makes woman +lovable and charming. + +Live up to your divine inheritance, my dear girl. Make the world better +for your presence in it, and bear your sorrow with that resignation and +philosophy which all human beings must cultivate if they do not wish to +become weak repiners when they face the sorrows of life. + +Look the world squarely in the eyes, and feel no shame. + +Your mother's marriage to the man she detested, and the birth of +children conceived in loathing, were acts which in my mind called for +more shame on her part than your own birth. Both were misfortunes for +her, since only by living an orderly, controlled, and lawful life can +any human being find happiness or self-respect in the world. + +But when we come to the close analysis of motives and impulses, many an +act the world condemns is far less reprehensible than other acts which +meet its loud acclaim. + +You have received from the vast spiritual realms about us your rarely +beautiful qualities. Go forth and give them to humanity. + +Be strong, be good, be brave, be happy. + +No one and nothing can harm you but your own mind. + +The world, as we encounter it, is but an echo of our own strong +convictions. Respect yourself absolutely, believe in yourself +absolutely, and the world will respect you and believe in you. + +Say to yourself every hour, "I am God's divine creature," and no one +will dare look you in the eyes and say you are anything less than that. + +The arms of infinite love enfold you--have no fear. + + + + +To Miss Diana Rivers + +_Young Lady Contemplating a Career as a Journalist_ + + +Your interesting letter regarding your future plans has been food for my +thoughts ever since its receipt this morning. + +I remember when you were my guest a year ago that you told me you felt +like a big bird in a small cage. Every time you tried to spread your +wings you were bruised by bars. Your home environment with its few +duties and small responsibilities, your church and your charities, +failed to give you full opportunity for the exercise of all your vital +forces. + +I knew then that you were longing for a career, and I felt confident +that some word would come from you before long, announcing a change in +your life. + +I was prepared to hear one of two things--that you were soon to be +married, or that you had decided to enter the dramatic profession. When +a young and attractive woman grows restless and eager for change, she +is, unconsciously to herself, sending out a challenge to Fate to create +new conditions in her life. Despite the fact that no male member in the +"Fate" family has ever attained prominence in the eyes of the world, and +that the three sisters have claimed so much power over the destinies of +the human family, a little investigation will prove that they never make +any pronounced move without calling in the aid of Cupid. + +Cupid is their prime minister, and we all know that prime ministers are +the power behind the throne of rulers. + +When you sent out your eager thoughts for "something to happen," to +change the monotony of your existence, I knew the Fate sisters were +quite likely telegraphing Cupid that his assistance was needed to quiet +a small riot in the human family. + +Once they set Cupid busy with a human heart, the Fates need give it no +further attention. When Cupid reports that his work with the heart is +finished, then the Angel of Resignation or the Angel of Death must +finish the task. + +Knowing you to be particularly fond of the theatre as a distraction, I +had thought you might essay the role of society actress, confounding +appreciation for talent, as so many women do; and when your letter +opened with the announcement that you were about to give me a great +surprise, I was prepared to hear that you were billed to appear in a +walking role, with a road company, next season, with promises of greater +things "soon afterward." + +But I confess to absolute surprise, as I read on, and learned that your +career was to lead you, not through Lovers' Lane, not before the +footlights, but along the hurly-burly byways and highways of American +newspaper work, beginning with interviews and reporting. Allow me to +quote from your letter before me. + +"I do not imagine I have talent save the talent for work. I am, as you +know, well educated, as that expression goes to-day. I have always found +expression with the pen an easy mode of communicating my impressions and +ideas. + +"I am observing, and I have a keen sense of humour, and I have (so +people tell me) an agreeable personality. I know the value of correct +dressing, and I am not oversensitive. That is, I am not one who will go +down at the first rebuff. I have the real American spirit, which makes +me believe myself as good as anybody, and you know my family name is one +to buoy up that impression. Therefore, it seems to me I cannot fail to +attain some degree of success. I am sure to obtain entree to people and +functions, and I can describe what I see and hear in attractive form. I +shall shrink at no task, however difficult, and stop at no obstacle. + +"I am determined to make a success as a reporter and a correspondent, +and after I have achieved something in that line I may look to an +editorial position; and who knows but my fertile imagination, coupled +with the experiences sure to come to me, may develop the great American +novelist the world is waiting?" + +This is all interesting and admirable reasoning. + +But, having seen much of the world, and known much of the various types +of young women writers and reporters and correspondents, I feel like +discussing the subject of your profession with you. At the instigation, +perhaps, of some editor who makes the mistake of thinking success must +be reached through sensationalism, you may be tempted to make your pen, +not _mightier_, but more _cruel_ than the sword. + +I remember once upon a time meeting a young woman who had come, unbidden +by the hostess, to "write up" a social function where a number of +celebrated people were congregated. + +Her employer had sent her to the house, telling her to obtain an entree +by fair means or foul; and as she was well dressed and quiet in manner, +she was not repulsed by an amiable hostess. This lady realized that the +reporter has his or her living to make, and must be either helped or +hindered by the willingness or unwillingness of people to furnish +material for copy. Being informed that the young woman was "literary," +and chancing to stand near her for a few moments, I asked her the nature +of her work. + +The young woman looked a trifle embarrassed, as she answered: "Well, to +tell you the truth, I write a good many disagreeable and nasty things +about people, especially people in public life. The editors who take my +work will have that kind. I have essayed better things, and they would +not touch them. So I am compelled to write the stuff they do want. I +must make a living." When I read the "stuff" in question, I was inclined +to doubt the assertion of the writer that "she must make a living." The +world would be the better should she and all her kind cease to exist. +Ridicule, falsehood, and insinuation were the leading traits of the +young woman's literary style. Costumes and personalities were +caricatured, and conversations and actions misstated. The entire article +would have been libelous, had it not been too cowardly to deserve so +bold a word. + +It is useless for any man or woman to assert that such reportorial work +is done from necessity. The blackmailer and the pickpocket have as much +right to the plea, as the newspaper masked-assassin, with the concealed +weapon of a pen. + +If you are ever asked by any editor to do this reportorial stiletto +work, let me urge you to take to professional burglary, rather than +consent to write what such an employer demands. + +It is far less despicable to rob houses of things of mercantile value, +than to rob characters and reputations and personalities. Again, when +you are sent out upon a commission to obtain an interview with any +person, obtain what you seek and take nothing else away with you. + +Just as you would scorn to pawn the watch of the famous actress which +you may find lying on the table as you pass out, so scorn to sell any +personal speech she may have carelessly dropped in your hearing which +you know was not intended for publication. Petty larceny is not a noble +feature of interviewing. Even though a facility for selling such +dishonestly gained property to advantage be yours, do not convince +yourself or be convinced that larceny should be included in your +reportorial duties. + +I recollect speaking with you once upon the difficulties young women +encountered who attempted to win honours in a dramatic career. You felt +that the necessity to cater to the ideas and wishes of inferior minds, +in representing a character on the stage, would be one of the hardest +phases of stage life to meet. + +"To be loud and spectacular where I wanted to be refined and subtle," +you said, "just to catch some rough audience and fill the house, would +be insupportable. And yet I know actresses ofttimes must do that very +thing, to keep a foothold in the profession." + +I am wondering how you will meet what seems to me a more humiliating +role, when you are sent out by an editor to gain an entree to some +person who does not wish to be interviewed. + +Will you, when refused entrance at the front door, go in at the rear and +hobnob with the servants? will you spy, and watch and wait on street +corners, and hide yourself in hallways, and intercept and surprise, and +congratulate yourself when you have trapped your prey? That is the +shameful pathway which nowadays leads to what is called "successful +newspaper work." + +You need to realize the facts before you enter the profession. Were you +my daughter, I am certain I should feel much less concern were you to +enter the theatrical field. + +And yet if you choose to stand by your ideals, and retain your +self-respect, you can do so, and succeed in journalism. + +If you have, as you say, observation, expression, humour, and ambition, +you can create a style of your own: which will not necessitate the loss +of all womanly sense of decency and pride in dealing with your fellow +beings. It might be well for you to cultivate and add to the list of +your qualities appreciation of all that is best in human nature and +worthiest of respect. If you understand the law of concentration and +demand, you can obtain an entrance to the people you wish to see, +through the front hall and a properly engraved card. + +If that fails, a polite and frank note, stating your purpose and +intimating your self-respecting ideas of your profession, may prove +effective. Once establish your reputation as an interviewer who is not a +highwayman in disguise, and you will achieve tenfold the success your +less reputable confreres gain in the long run. Try and remember always +that fame, glory, or even crime, do not destroy all human sensibilities, +or render the possessor invulnerable to the thrust of a pen. + +The greatest warrior who ever conquered armies has still the power to +feel hurt when he sees some personal blemish or misfortune described in +print. + +You would never be guilty of saying to any man's face, "How hideous +your harelip renders you"--and why should you go from his presence and +make such a statement to the whole world concerning him? One of the most +gifted men America ever claimed was driven from his native land by the +cruel, bald, and heartless personalities of newspaper critics, who +seemed to consider it necessary to comment on his physical infirmities +whenever his genius was mentioned. + +During the lifetime of one of England's great literary women, an +American correspondent who had been given an interview in her home +described her as possessing the "face of a horse." Surely this was +agreeable reading for a gifted woman whose genius had delighted +thousands! + +It has sometimes seemed to me that theatrical road life with a +one-night-stand company would be less brutalizing to the finer +sensibilities, and less lowering to the ideals of a young girl, than the +method of work required of many newspaper reporters in America to-day. +The editor who scores the actress for lax morals seems often to ignore +the fact that there is a mental as well as a physical prostitution. + +Look to it that you do not trail your banner of noble womanhood in the +dust, at the demand of any editor or syndicate. Keep your purity of pen, +as well as your chastity of body, and believe no man who tells you that +you will get on better in the world by selling either. There is room +higher up. + + + + +To Nanette + +_A Former Maid_ + + +Curiously enough, my dear little Nanette, I was thinking about you, and +wishing to know something of you, the very day your letter came. + +Of many who have been helpers in my employ, you were one of the few who +seemed to care more for me than for the wages I paid. + +There was between us that ideal condition which I wish might exist +between all employers and employees. You wanted the work you were fitted +to do, and I wanted such work done. You were glad of the money it +brought you, and I was glad to recompense you. You wanted appreciation +and sympathy and consideration aside from your earnings, and I wanted a +personal interest in my affairs, and a friendly wish to please me, +aside from the mere work well done. You never seemed to me less womanly +or less refined because you were a wage-earner, and I did not represent +to you oppression or monopoly merely because I paid the money and you +received it. I took you into my confidence in many ways, and you made me +feel I was your friend as well as your employer. We enjoyed cosy chats, +and yet you no more desired or wished to be present at my social +functions than you desired me to enter into all your merrymakings and +pleasures. You were, in fact, one of the most agreeable and sensible +women I have ever known in any station in life. And now you write me +that you are engaged to be married, and ask me to give you counsel in a +very serious matter. + +Together with your other excellent qualities, you have possessed economy +and prudence. + +At the age of twenty-five you have a tidy bank-account, the savings of +eleven years. This money is increasing, year by year, and drawing a +small interest. + +Now comes your lover, a hard-working and sober young man, so you say, +but earning only a small salary as a clerk. + +He has met with some reverses, and is temporarily embarrassed. He wants +you to lend him a few hundred dollars, and he will pay you the same +interest you are now receiving, but you fear it would be unwomanly on +your part to take this interest money. At the same time you feel a +reluctance to break in upon your savings, which you had planned to use +in helping establish a home. You want to befriend your lover, and you +want to be wise and careful, and so you write to me, your old-time +adviser, for counsel. I fear I may hurt your feelings in what I am about +to say. + +I have seen much of the world, and have studied humanity in many phases +and in many classes. + +There is one type of man I have never yet known to be strong, reliable, +and trustworthy,--a man for a woman to lean upon in times of trouble and +sorrow,--a man I would like to see any friend take for a life +companion,--_and that is the young man who asks a loan of money from a +woman he loves, or one who loves him_. Believe me, there is some lack of +real moral fibre in such a man. + +A husband and wife many years married, and united by common interests, +may become so one in purpose and thought that a common purse would be as +natural to them as a common dinner-table. + +With mutual interests, planning for their future and the future of their +children, there could be no talk of "My money" and "Your money" between +them. + +But before marriage, or immediately after, the man who begins to ask a +woman for the use of her purse, should be distrusted by her. He could +not broach such a subject unless he lacked a certain refined strength +which makes a manly man a woman's protector by nature. Even where no +sentiment exists between a man and a woman, the really strong men of the +world never become borrowers from women. If through friendly interest +and affection some woman compelled such a man to take a loan, he would +know no rest or peace of mind until he had liquidated the debt. + +When a man is a woman's lover, and asks her to advance money to him for +any reason, she may as well realize at once the reed on which she will +lean if she accepts him for a life companion. To deceive herself for a +moment with the idea that he will be a staff of strength, is but to +delay disillusion. A vital quality is left out of his character. + +He is but one step removed from the man who _seeks_ a woman because she +has money. And he is the most despicable of the human race. + +I have known three women of different social positions to lend money to +their lovers. + +One man invested it and lost it, and never made an effort to reimburse +the lady, who broke her engagement in consequence, after two unhappy +years. Another went away owing the money, and was never again heard +from. The third married the unwise woman who had loaned him her +competence, and continued to look to her for support. + +Therefore, my dear Nanette, I would urge you to think twice, and yet a +third time, before you lend your fiance your savings. + +Tell him frankly that you will feel more respect for him if he is +willing to sacrifice comfort and save from his own income enough to lift +the debt he has incurred, and that you are sure he will feel less +humiliated as time goes by if he is not financially in debt to you. If +he were to fall ill tell him it would be your first impulse to devote +your money to his care; but while he is able-bodied and well, you do not +like to have him lean on you for aid. + +You can judge something of the man's character by the way he receives +this statement from you. + +And whatever may result, even if it is the end of your engagement, do +not grieve your heart away over it. Better far to have the end come now +than to marry a dependent and shiftless man, who will humiliate your +pride by a thousand and one mean traits. The moment a young wife becomes +the financial head of a household, and the man depends upon her to keep +the family free from debt, sentiment and romance fly from the windows of +the heart, and poor Cupid goes away with his head under his wing. This +situation might befall people long married, as I said before, without +causing disaster, because the wife would have years of other experiences +stored up in memory, to maintain her respect for her husband. + +The natural instinct of a manly man is to be the protector and the +breadwinner. He loves to shield and support the woman of his choice. If +she has any talent or profession which gives her satisfaction to pursue, +and which yields her an income, he will, if broad-minded and +sympathetic, place no obstacle in her path so long as this vocation is +no barrier to their domestic happiness. But he is sensitive to her +assuming any of the financial burdens of life. + +If circumstances render it necessary for her to do so, he suffers +keenly, and the utmost delicacy and consideration on her part alone can +save him from utter humiliation. + +This is the attitude of the manly man, my dear Nanette, the man who +makes the good husband and father. + +The unselfish, broad-minded and considerate wife will lead a husband to +think of her right to aid in the establishment and maintenance of a home +when she is able to do her part. But the man who makes a good husband +never suggests it as her duty, or asks her to advance money. + +It is commendable in you to wish to aid in making a home. It is unmanly +in your lover to ask you to help him pay his debts. Beware of the lover +who asks for or accepts a loan. + + + + +To The Rev. Wilton Marsh + +_Regarding His Son and Daughter_ + + +My dear Cousin Wilton:--You have no idea how your letter took me back to +my merry girlhood, when you and I resided in the same neighbourhood, and +I was the concern of your precociously serious mind. Yes, indeed, I do +realize what a mistake you made in living the repressed life you did all +those early boyhood years. What a pity your parents reared one of your +sensitive and imaginative nature in the gloomy old doctrines of a +depressing religion, which so misrepresented the God of love: and how +odd that your father and mine should have been born of the same parents, +educated in the same schools, and yet be no more alike in beliefs or +methods of life than two people of a different race and era. + +And again it is not strange, when we realize that hundreds of +generations lie back of both parents, and innumerable ancestors of both +father and mother contribute their different mentalities to the children +in a family. Back of that is the great philosophy of reincarnation--the +truth of which impresses me more and more each year I live. + +Do you recall your horror the first time I told you I had read a book on +reincarnation, and confessed that it had made me anxious to study the +theory? + +You said I was a pagan and a heathen, and that I would surely be damned +forever unless I turned to the way of salvation. + +And do you recall your misery when I seized you one evening at your +birthday party (you were twenty), and dragged you about the room in a +waltz? That is, I waltzed, while you hobbled about like a lame calf, +much to the amusement of most of the company. + +There were more who sympathized with my views of life than with yours. +You were such a wet blanket on our youthful spirits. Your ever-blazing +lake of brimstone did not even serve to warm the blanket. + +I have been gratified to watch your growth the last ten years. + +You have so changed your point of view, which indicates your real worth +and progressive good sense. And when you tell me that you have for years +regretted your lost opportunities for natural and moral pleasure, and +that you suffered beyond your power to describe in those old days in +conquering your desire to dance and play games, it brings the tears of +mingled rage and pity to my eyes. Rage at the old theology, and pity for +the poor children whose lives were shadowed by it. + +And now what you tell me of your son and daughter proves another of my +theories true, and shows me how nature revenges its wrongs. + +Children, my dear Wilton, especially the offspring of strong characters, +_inherit the suppressed tendencies of their parents_. They bring into +action the unexhausted impulses and the ungratified desires of those +parents. + +The greatest singers are almost invariably the offspring of mothers or +fathers who _were music hungry_, and who were given no complete +gratification of this craving. + +The poet, you will find, is the voice of an artistic-natured parent, who +was forced to be emotionally dumb. + +And the proverbial clergyman's son is merely the natural result of the +same cause. He is charged with the tendencies and impulses which his +father crucified. + +That your son loathes study, and hates church-going, and adores a brass +band and a circus, and runs away to the races, does not in the least +surprise me. Nor that your sixteen-year-old daughter grows hysterical at +the sound of dance music, and prefers a theatrical show in your village +hall to a Sunday-school picnic, and is mad to become an actress. + +_They are your own wronged and starved emotions personified, and crying +out to you for justice._ + +The very best thing for you to do with the boy is to put him into a +gymnasium and a football team as soon as possible. Offer no opposition +when he wants to see a good horse-race. Urge him to go, and ask him to +tell you all about it when he returns. Begin right now to get close to +the heart of your children. + +Once you do that, once you convince them you are near enough to their +lives to understand their needs and to try and gratify their natural +longings, all your worries will take wing and fly away; for your +children will cease to hide and cloak their actions and natures, and +they will no longer wish to deceive or attempt to defy you. + +Send your daughter where she can learn dancing, in company with other +refined and well-bred young people. You have so far emancipated yourself +from your old superstitions and beliefs that this action on your part +will not antagonize the desirable members of your congregation. + +Only a remnant of the old bigots and intolerants are to be found in any +congregation of intelligent people of to-day. + +If that remnant is shaken out of its winding-sheet by being antagonized, +you may galvanize it into life. + +At all events, do not endanger the peace of your home and the happiness +of your children, for fear of antagonizing a few parishioners of +arrested spiritual development. + +Give your son and daughter an outlet for the youthful vitality which is +like steam: a moving power when used, dangerous and destructive when +pent up. + +Take young Wilton and Rebecca into a room, and talk the whole matter +over. + +Tell them how deeply you love them, and how you have just come to +realize the mistake you have made in trying to eradicate from them the +natural desire for wholesome pleasure instead of giving it proper +avenues of expression. + +Say frankly that you see your error, and that you intend to rectify it. + +Ask their cooeperation, and appeal to their good taste and affection not +to mortify or humiliate you in your position of clergyman, by +overstepping the bounds of decorum or discretion. + +Lead them to talk of their ambitions and desires, and, as consistently +as you can, gratify them. + +Let your daughter come to me for a season. I will help to reshape and +modify her ideals of enjoyment to some degree. + +I am sure if she sees a few of our best spectacular plays, and hears +good music, and enjoys beautiful rhythmic dancing, she will not be so +carried away with the travelling show. + +I will acquaint her with some of the commonplace facts concerning the +lives of theatrical people, and show her the frayed tinsel and worn +faces by daylight. This will do more for her than all your sermons on +the dangers of a theatrical career. + +The young heart is fascinated with the thought of danger and temptation. + +It is repelled by the commonplace and the ugly. + +When you talk to a young mind in a whisper and behind locked doors about +a temptation to be avoided, you but give edge to appetite and curiosity. + +When you bring the temptation out into the glare of sunlight, and speak +of it in presence of the whole world, you dispel the illusion. + +I will gather together some data concerning the sporting men of America, +and send your son. I will also mail him the sporting papers regularly. +Let him talk and read openly about the subject, and it will lose half +its weird charm. + +He, too, should learn to dance, swim, fence, and ride. His bounding +vitality needs directing in wholesome channels. I have never understood +the prejudice against dancing. + +To me, it is a form of religious praise of the Creator of youth, health, +vitality, and grace. I have always loved dancing, and the exercise, +besides being eminently beneficial to the health and wonderfully +conducive to grace is, to my thinking, highly moral in its effect. Its +only danger lies in wrong associations, and these seem to threaten young +people who are restricted from the enjoyment in their homes and among +their rightful companions. + +I cannot help thinking that Loie Fuller should have a niche in the hall +of fame, among the "Immortals," for having given the last century her +exquisitely beautiful creations in dancing. + +No woman has given us a great epic, or a great painting, or a great +musical composition, but she has given us a great dance-poem, which is +at the same time a painting and a song. Oh, you poor starved, blind +soul, to be deprived of such beautiful spectacles. How I pity you, and +how I pray you to give your children the privileges you have missed +through a belittling idea of your Creator. + +Do you fancy God would punish beautiful young Rebecca for dancing, any +sooner than he would blight the willow-tree for waving its graceful arms +to the tune the wind-harps play? + +Come up out of the jungles of ignorance and bigotry, my dear cousin, +and live on the hilltops and bring your children with you. For there you +will all find yourself nearer to God and to humanity. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles McAllister + +_Formerly Miss Winifred Clayborne_ + + +I am glad that for once you have written and asked my advice before you +began your course of action. + +You wrote me after you entered Vassar and asked me what I thought of +your doing so. + +You wrote me after you married Doctor McAllister, and asked me what I +thought of that. My reply was a wedding gift and a telegram of good +wishes. Now, after three years of married life, you write again and ask +me to decide a question which has caused some discussion between you and +the doctor. + +"He did not take my view of the matter at first," you say, "but he does +now. Still, I feel that I would like another unprejudiced opinion +before I take the contemplated step. You knew I left college before +finishing my course. I was in love and the doctor urged me not to make +him wait another year. He said I knew enough to make him happy, and so I +consented." + +Then you proceed to tell me that you have never regretted this step, and +that you have the best husband in the world. But you have decided +musical gifts, and before meeting the doctor you intended going abroad +to cultivate them after you finished at Vassar. This old ambition has +taken hold of you again, and you want to join a friend, one of your +classmates, who sails in June to study art in Europe. You desire to take +a two or three years' course, and then you will be equipped with an +accomplishment which could be made a profession if necessity demanded. + +"One never knows what the future holds," you say, "and it is the duty of +every woman to make the most of herself." Both remarks are as true as +they are trite. An almost graduate of Vassar should be more original in +expressing herself. + +But there is another duty a woman should not forget--the duty to stand +by her marriage vows and to make her husband a good wife. It seems the +doctor did not eagerly approve your idea at the beginning. I am glad he +did not. Unless a wife is in a precarious state of health or has an +ailing child, I always suspect the honesty of a husband who cheerfully +seconds her suggestion of a protracted absence from home. + +When a man shows no regret at having his wife away for an entire season, +there is something wrong with his heart. + +Love does not find its home there, or he could not speed her going so +far, and for so long a time, at the bidding of ambition or pleasure. You +evidently have won the doctor over by argument, and made him feel that +he is selfish to tie you down or clip the wings of your ambition. The +American husband is so fearful of seeming a tyrant. "He realizes now," +you say, "that a woman has the right to develop the talents God gave +her just as a man does, and that it is a wrong against her 'higher self' +to crush down these ambitions. He realizes, too, that this separation +means greater powers of usefulness for me in the future, and greater +opportunities for pleasure. It will be a long and lonely time for both +of us, as I shall only come home once or twice and the doctor may not be +able to go over at all, though I hope he will. But the expense of my +studies will of course be great, and we shall both need to economize. It +is my intention to start a little conservatory after I return and take a +few high-priced pupils. In that way I can reimburse our expenditure." + +But can you, my dear Winifred, _reimburse your mutual losses in other +ways_? You do not seem to realize what such a separation may mean. You +are both young and both attractive. I know now that you are beginning to +be angry at my suggestion, but, fortunately, you cannot interrupt me, +and you must hear what I have to say. + +Of course you are not a frivolous flirt, or a silly-headed creature +with no ideals or principles. You have nothing of the adventuress in +your composition, but you are a young woman, with personal charms and +talents, and life will be unutterably desolate for you if you make a +recluse of yourself. You will be surrounded by people of artistic +temperaments and tastes, and I know, if you do not, that many of these +people do lack ideals, and some of them lack principles and take pride +in the fact. "Art for art's sake, life for pleasure's sake," is their +motto. The entire situation will be full of danger for you. But far more +danger will surround your husband. A man's temptations are always +greater than a woman's. That is, there are _more_ temptations in his +pathway, from the fact that he is by nature and environment less guarded +and protected, and the penalties for folly are less severe. And of all +men, unless it is a clergyman, a physician is most exposed to +temptation. He is the confidant of hysterical women and the sharer of +domestic secrets. Many a woman believes she is ill only because she +desires the sympathy of her doctor, just as many a woman fancies herself +disturbed with religious agitation only because she wants the society of +her minister. + +Of course a doctor of any character or principle does not compromise his +reputation or disgrace his calling readily. I hear Doctor McAllister +spoken of as a man of high standing, and his picture shows a +well-balanced head and an honest, manly face. But "A man's a man for a' +that," my dear Winifred. + +We must accept facts as they exist all about us, and we must not demand +of half-evolved human beings what we would expect of wholly divine +creatures. It is an unnatural position for a man to be separated from +the wife he loves for months and years. + +Unless he is sustained by intense religious beliefs, extreme sympathy or +sorrow for her (as he might be were she compelled by some great trouble +or duty to be absent), it is impossible for him not to grow in a measure +forgetful of his ideals of constancy, and to drift into bachelor habits +of distraction. Men do a thousand and one things for amusement which no +woman could or would. Gilded and glittering halls of vice are inviting +the inspection and patronage of men who are left at home by journeying +and pleasure-seeking wives. + +I know this terrible statement to be absolutely true--_gambling-houses +and dens of infamy speak of their "best season" when wives leave town +for summer outings, just as a farmer speaks of his harvest season when +crops are ripe._ I do not suppose your husband will seek the +companionship of gamblers or depraved souls during your absence. Men as +seemingly high and strong as he have fallen so low, but I do not believe +he will. Yet, so long as we know such conditions exist, and so long as +men as a class take the liberties they do when left to find distraction +and entertainment, it seems to me little less than criminal when a young +wife like yourself deliberately leaves her home and husband for the sake +of any possible attainment. + +You have no right to marry a man and then to make his happiness and his +comfort secondary to your ambitions. + +If he had neglected you, if he failed to support you, if he was not +loyal to you, it would be different. + +But you say he is "the best of men," and that you never have regretted +marrying him. + +Then let me beg of you to stand by him, as a wife should, and to make +what progress in your music you can at home, and wait until your husband +can accompany you before you go abroad to study. + +The highway of divorce is crowded with the student wives who have been +"abroad to study," leaving their husbands at home to earn the money. Do +not be one of them. + +There are greater things than a satisfied ambition, and a clean, happy, +united married life is one. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Maternity_ + + +I have tried to imagine myself in your place, as you requested, before +answering your letter. + +To be the mother of two children, and to know that a third may be added +before the fifth anniversary of your wedding, is for the most maternal +of women a situation requiring rare patience and much philosophy. + +I know that your strength is depleted, that you are nervously unstrung, +and I can understand your despondent state of mind. + +It seems to you that all romance and sentiment in life is being +sacrificed to breeding the species. You feel that you have some personal +privileges as a wife and a woman, not less than a mother. + +Like yourself, I do not believe woman's only mission in life to be the +production of offspring, yet I consider motherhood the highest privilege +accorded her who has for it the right physical and moral qualities. + +Only strong, sensible, and healthy women should become mothers, and it +is a mistake for even such as they to be kept constantly in that +occupation. + +You possess all the requisites, and you ought to bring fine children +into the world, since you married the man you loved, and have been happy +with him. + +But I can understand your reluctance to pass through the ordeal which +modern motherhood in civilized races means, for a third time, in so +short a period. But try and take another view of the situation. + +Benjamin Franklin was the fifteenth child of a poor tallow chandler. It +is altogether probable that his coming seemed a misfortune to his +mother, taxed with the care of such a brood. Think what the world would +have missed had he not come to earth. + +Then think of this unborn child as something wonderful and divine, given +to you to perfect. Believe it is to be the greatest blessing to you and +to the whole world. + +Cultivate love and protection in your heart for it. + +Tell yourself every hour of the day that the God of love will not desert +you or deprive you of strength and courage for your ordeal. That he will +be ever near, and sustain and comfort you. + +Desire all beautiful and good qualities to be given your child, and +resolutely turn away from the contemplation of anything that is hideous, +or unwholesome, or depressing. + +Look for pleasing objects, read cheerful and uplifting books, and from +infinite space call to you all ministering influences. + +Consider how short a time, when compared to the span of human life, +expectant motherhood occupies, and realize the vastness of its +influence upon the nature of the child, and through that nature upon all +humanity. + +Once you grasp that consciousness, you will feel your closeness to the +Creator of all things. + +Indeed, there is no other being on earth so nearly Godlike in power as +the mother who realizes what her influence over her unborn child may be. + +The hard and painful path for you to walk is but a short one compared to +the long roadway to eternity for your child. + +Perhaps some great statesman, or some great artist, or some great +scientist or philosopher is lying under your heart, and it is in your +power to make or mar his development. Perhaps a Joan of Arc, or a Rosa +Bonheur, or a Martha Washington will crown you with pride. + +Such genius and influence for good as the world has never before known, +from mortal sources, may be given to it through your unborn child. How +wonderful your privilege, how vast your power! + +Only a few short months, and then the growing wonder of a child's +unfolding mind, to beautify your days. + +Think of it in this way, dear little tired and nervous woman, and God +and all his angels will hover over you, I know, and all will be well +with you. + +My prayers are with you. + + + + +To Mr. Alfred Duncan + +_Concerning the Ministry_ + + +And so you have changed your plan of life and, instead of becoming an +experimenter with the flesh, are going to be a healer of souls. + +And what do I think about it? I am glad you are not to be an M.D. There +is an era coming when the doctor will be a prehistoric creature. Oh, it +is far, far away, but already the most progressive minds have ceased to +regard the family physician as an infallible being. + +Medicine has made the least progress of any of the sciences in the last +few centuries. + +Credulity has cured more people than pills. + +Were you to study medicine, I should advise you to take up surgery, +osteopathy, electricity, the Kneippe Cure, milk diet, and all the +various methods of stimulating circulation; for the people who +patronize these treatments are increasing, as the powder and pill +patrons are on the decrease. + +Then, too, I should urge you to make a careful study of mental and +spiritual methods of cure, that you might be wholly equipped for the +dawn of the new age. You are a young man, and you will probably live to +see a wonderful change in the treatment of disease, and to find the +physician of the old school relegated to the historian. + +But just as carefully you should now survey the religious horizon, +before beginning your studies for the ministry. + +It is utterly useless to stand with lifted eyes and say, "The faith of +my parents is good enough for me--good enough for all mankind." + +Had the children of ancient Salem said that, and their children repeated +it, you would probably be lighting faggots at this moment to roast a +"witch," instead of a brother of the opposite creed. + +The narrow, intolerant old dogmas have been forced into elasticity by +the later generations, and the broadening work still goes on. + +It makes no difference how satisfied you may be with a prospective lake +of fire for your enemies, the congregations you are to address will not +listen to that style of sermon as did your grandparents. + +Only the ignorant minds to-day harbour ideas of cruelty and revenge in +connection with a Creator. + +Thinkers find such theories inconsistent with religious belief. +Individual thought is leading to individual faith. + +Where once I believed in a universal church for all the world, I now +believe in a separate creed for each soul, one fashioned to suit his own +particular need, with the underlying basis of love for all created +things as its foundation. + +Let each man worship in his own way, and follow his own ideal of duty to +God and humanity. + +If it is the pleasure of one to give up all his worldly goods, and to +go and live and labour among the poor, wish him Godspeed; but if another +keeps his place among men of affairs, makes money honestly, and uses it +unselfishly, let him, too, have your blessing, since he is setting a +good example for the worldly-minded. If one man finds himself nearer to +God on Sunday by going out and peacefully enjoying the beauties of +nature and the association of his kind, do not try to convince him that +he is on the highway to perdition because he does not sit in a pew and +listen to depressing sermons. + +The day is over for that type of clergyman to succeed. + +Make a study of the needs of men _to-day_, and suit your sermons to +those needs. + +Men need to know more of the wonders of God's universe. Talk to them in +a brief, concise, interesting manner of the recent discoveries of +science, and their frequent remarkable corroboration of the old +religious theories. Thousands of years ago, in Egypt and India, wise men +said that metals and all created things possessed life, and were a part +of one great immortal whole, of which man was the highest expression. + +Science is "discovering" and proving the truth of many statements made +by those old seers and savants. Call the attention of the men of to-day +to this fact, and set them thinking on the wonders of the immortal soul. + +The man of to-day is an egotist regarding his scientific achievements. +He has grown to think of himself as a giant before whose material +success all other things must give way. He believes that he has +discovered, invented, photographed and made profitable all the "facts" +of the universe, and is inclined to regard with intolerance any idea +beyond his own mechanical domain. + +Tell him how much was divined thousands of years ago, and lead him to +realize the mighty depths of the unsounded ocean of his own being. + +To know your own triple self, body, mind, and spirit, and to make +yourself a complete man, with the body beautiful, the mind clear, the +spirit radiant, is better than to have all the Bibles of the ages, in +all their ancient languages, at your tongue's tip. + +Help men to the building of character, which shall enable them to be +honest in street and mart, unselfish in home and society, and +sympathetic to their fellow pilgrims. + +Salvation is gained as a house is built, brick by brick, day after day, +not by spasmodic efforts one day in the week, and the destruction of +that effort in the remaining six. + +And each man must be his own mason, and select and lay his own bricks. +All the clergyman can do is to act the part of overseer. + +The man who goes to another, and expects his prayers to save him, is +like the mason who expects the "boss" to do his work, while he draws the +pay. Do no man's task--physical, mental, or spiritual. That is not +friendship or religion. Your work is to stimulate others to do their own +work, think their own thoughts, and live their own lives. + +The world to-day demands facts to sustain faith. + +_Spiritual facts are to be obtained_. + +Find them: for once convinced of the continuation of life beyond the +grave, and of the necessity to earn its privileges, by self-conquest and +character-building, humanity will rise "from the lowly earth to the +vaulted skies," and will realize that this earth is but the anteroom to +larger spheres of usefulness. + +Go forth and find--go forth and find, and do not be afraid to strike out +of beaten paths and avoid ruts. Cultivate spiritual courage. It is what +few clergymen possess, and it will give you individuality at least. + +Preach the religion of happy harmonious homes. Make men and women +realize that heaven must begin here, in order to continue farther on, +and that the angelic qualities, of love, sympathy, goodness, +appreciation, must be rehearsed in the body, before they can be +successfully enacted in full-dress angel costume with wings. + +God will not care for the eternal praises sung about his throne by a man +who swears at his wife on earth, or a wife who nags her husband and +children. It is no use expecting a role in a continuous performance of +happiness in heaven, if you do not learn one line of the part on earth. + +Make your congregations think of the necessity to _live_ their religion +in earth's commonplace daily situations. + +That is the religion the world needs. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gray + +_Concerning Polygamy_ + + +All that you say, regarding the excitement over the seating of your Salt +Lake Senator, is quite true. + +I have visited your city, and have made the acquaintance of many of your +people, and I know the private life of the gentleman you sent to +represent you in Washington is beyond reproach. + +He is a good husband, a good father, a good citizen. He was born of a +polygamous father and mother, and his childhood's home was a happy one. +He was educated in the belief that it was wrong for a man to cohabit +with any woman not his wife, but right for him to marry many wives. + +He has not married many wives, however, and does not intend to. His +private life, his domestic life and his financial record are all clean +and clear of stain. + +So much cannot be said of many other Senators and Representatives at our +capitol. + +Good women are horrified when seeking government positions to find how +the sacrifice of virtue is demanded as payment for influence. + +These statements cannot be evaded or denied. Let one who questions them +investigate the conditions existing in Washington in the past and +to-day. + +What a record it would be were every girl and woman who had been led +into the path of folly by married Senators and Representatives to come +forth and tell her story! + +There are clean, decent, high-minded men in both houses. There are good +citizens, good patriots, good men there. + +But so long as one married seducer and misleader of women retains a seat +in either house unmolested, so long as one man stays who is unfaithful +to his marriage vows, the opposers of the Senator from Utah should base +their objections on other than moral grounds. + +But despite the facts you bring to bear on your argument, that polygamy +leads to more morality in the homes of the land than our present +conditions illustrate, I must disagree with you. + +I am opposed to polygamy. Any social arrangement which licenses men to +possess several women, to give full rein to their desires, is a block to +the wheels of progress. + +Not until man learns the lesson of self-control, as woman has learned +it, will humanity reach its highest development. + +Not until man ceases to place himself on a par with the unreasoning male +animal, when he argues on the subject of the sexual relations, will he +become the master of circumstance he is meant to be. + +One man and one woman living sexually true to each other is the ideal +domestic life. Better strive toward that ideal, and fail and strive +again, than to lower it and accept license and self-indulgence as the +standard, under some religious name. + +Polyandry and polygamy are both evidences of a crude and half-evolved +humanity. + +They belong to a society which has not learned the law of self-control +as a part of its religious creed and the march of progress. The light of +science makes havoc of all such primitive conditions. + +You tell me that your father was the husband of three wives, and that +all lived under one roof in sisterly love, and that you never heard an +unkind word spoken in your home, and that all three wives loved you as a +son. You tell me your father held high ideals of womankind, and that the +existence of a fallen woman was impossible in your community. + +Now I contend that any woman who accepts less than the full loyalty of +the man to whom she gives herself for life _has fallen from woman's +highest estate_. She lowers not only herself, but the whole sex. + +To take a third of a man's love, and to share his physical and mental +and spiritual comradeship with two other wives, is far more immoral, to +my thinking, than to take the whole of a man without legal authority. + +It drags down and belittles woman in the eyes of man. It is useless to +contend that such conditions lead to respect. + +There is too much of the big male I, and the little female you, in the +arrangement. There is too much of the old idea that God made man, and +accident made woman, for man's use. There is too much of self-indulgence +for the man, and repression for the woman,--a condition which has +blocked the highest development of the race for centuries. + +Meanwhile, I think it a great pity that society does not hold the +expectant mother in the same reverence as in your community. That is +certainly a lesson we can learn from the Mormons. And that explains why +your children, born of polygamous mothers, are stronger physically, and +more universally endowed mentally, than the average children in the +world at large. + +Mothers were guarded and protected and revered, and children were made +welcome, and no such crime as darkens our own social world--the crime of +destroying embryo life--was known in your midst. + +It is a glorious heritage to give a child this parental love and +welcome. It lasts through eternity. + +But it does not seem to me that it is necessary to have polygamy prevail +in order to produce right conditions for the propagation of offspring. +In time the world will realize the importance of teaching men and women +how to become good parents. + +It will learn, too, the magnificent results to be obtained from one +moral code for both sexes, and this result could never be obtained in a +polygamous community. + + + + +To Walter Smeed + +_Concerning Creeds and Marriage_ + + +Before you left us, I realized that you and my pretty secretary were +finding matters of mutual interest. + +Therefore, I am not surprised that you are thinking seriously of her as +a future companion. + +Rosalie is a charming, intelligent, warm-hearted, excellent girl, and +there is no reason why she would not make you a good wife, save the one +you mention--the difference in your creeds. + +You are a Roman Catholic, Rosalie is a devout Protestant. + +Were the cases reversed, and were you the Protestant and Rosalie the +Catholic, I should say the chances of happiness were greater than as +conditions now stand. + +As a rule, the most religious man is more liberal than the religious +woman. And when marriage between a Roman Catholic and a Protestant is +the question, there is need of greater liberality on the part of the +Protestant than on that of the Catholic. + +Why? Because with the Protestant there is no consideration to be thought +of outside of his or her own convictions and feelings. + +With the Catholic, the power of the Church and the law regarding the +rearing of the children in its faith walks beside the contracting party, +sits at the table, and sleeps on the marital couch. + +There is no happiness for the husband or wife who has entered into such +a marriage, after the arrival of children, unless the laws of the Church +are obeyed. + +When the wife is a Catholic, the fact that she is a good woman and true +wife satisfies the Protestant husband, as a rule, and he makes no +objection to her carrying out the contract with her Church regarding the +education of the children. + +If they are as moral and good as their mother, he does not care what +faith occupies their hearts or in what way they worship God. + +But to the mother this is a matter of vital importance. + +Woman is by nature more devout than man. + +Woman is by nature more tyrannical than man. + +Take those two characteristics, and add to them the tendency of many +women to bigotry and intolerance, and it makes the matter of creeds +vital in marriage. + +Rosalie is broader-minded than many women, yet she is devoted to the +Congregational Church, and rarely misses attendance. + +It will be an easy matter for her to accept your faith for yourself and +to allow you to attend your own church, and she is, I am sure, broad +enough to go with you occasionally, if you request it. + +But when she becomes a mother, and the children's minds are unfolding, I +doubt her willingness to have them brought up in any faith save her own. + +To an unwedded girl in love, a child is a very indistinct creature. + +To a mother, it is a very real being. + +I have seen men as deeply in love as you are, with women as +liberal-minded as Rosalie, become very unhappy after marriage through +the opposite ideas of the wife regarding the education of children. + +You must remember how much more closely a mother's life is entwined +about her children, and how much more of their association usually falls +to her than to the father. + +This is especially true of daughters, and is true of sons up to a +certain age. + +You can understand, I am sure, how much more companionship a mother +would find in children who accepted her faith and attended her church +than in those whose spiritual paths led in another direction. + +I know Rosalie realizes that a good life, not a certain creed, leads to +the goal she seeks, after this phase of existence closes, and she does +not ask you to change your faith. But while she would also believe her +children were on the road to that goal, she would want them to walk +through her path and by her side. + +It will be hard to relinquish the woman you love, to-day, for the +children who might not come to-morrow. + +Yet I can give you the counsel you asked on this matter only from my +personal observation of similar unions. + +I should advise you to try an absence of some duration, and to forget +Rosalie if you can, since you have not yet declared yourself. + +Better a little temporary sorrow than a life of discord. + +As you grow older your religion will, in all probability, gain a +stronger ascendency over your nature, and the church to which you belong +is very tenacious in its hold upon its members. + +Rosalie is not of a yielding nature, and as I said before, she is more +devoted to her church than most young women of the day. + +The physical phases of your love blind you now. But these phases are +only a part of the tie which must bind husband and wife to make love +enduring through all of life's vicissitudes. + +There must be mental companionship, and to be a complete union there +must be sympathy in spiritual ideas. + +The very young do not realize this fact, but it is forced upon the +mature. + +Marital love is like a tree. It first roots in the soil of earth, and +then lifts its branches to the heavens. Unless it does so lift its +branches it is stunted and deformed, and is not a tree. Unless it roots +in earth it is not a tree, but an air-plant or a cobweb. + +You want to be sure the tree you are thinking to make a shelter for your +whole life, will have far-reaching and uplifting branches, and will not +be merely an earth-bound twig. + +Since your church permits no second marriage save by the door of death, +do not make a mistake in your first. + +Take a year, at least, of absence and separation, and think the matter +over. + + + + +To Sybyl Marchmont + +_Concerning Her Determination to Remain Single_ + + +It is with genuine regret that I learn of your determination to send my +nephew out of your life. Wilfred is a royal fellow, as that term is +employed by us. He is what a man of royal descent in monarchies rarely +proves to be,--self-reliant, enterprising, industrious, clean, and with +high ideals of woman. + +Eight years ago I declined a request of his for a loan, and told him my +reasons--that I believed loans were an injury to our friends or +relatives. My letter seemed to arouse all the strength latent in his +nature, and he has made a remarkable record for himself since that time. +I have known that he was deeply in love with you for the last two years, +and I had hoped you would listen to his plea. He tells me that you +imparted your history to him, and that you say it is your intention to +remain single, as you would not like to bring children into the world to +suffer from the stigma upon your name. He has shown me your letter +wherein you say, "I am not in fault for having to blush for the sins of +my parents; but I would be in fault if my children had to blush for the +blemish upon the name of their grandparents. I do not feel I could meet +their questioning eyes when they asked me about my parents. I can better +bear the loss of the personal happiness of a home and a husband's love." + +Wilfred is just the man to protect you and to keep the world at a +distance, where it could not affect your life by its comments. He +regards your birth in the same light that I do, and would rather +transmit your lovely qualities of soul and mind to his descendants than +the traits of many proudly born girls who are ready to take him at the +first asking: for you must know how popular he is with our sex. + +I can not believe you are insensible to his magnetic and lovable +qualities, but, as you say, you have been so saddened by the sudden +knowledge of your history that it has blunted your emotions in other +directions. I can only hope this will wear away and that you will +reconsider your resolve and consent to make Wilfred the happy and proud +man you could, by becoming his wife. + +_Never forget that God created love and man created marriage_. + +And to be born of a loveless union is a darker blight than to be born in +love without union. + +But what I want to talk about now, is your determination to live a +single life and to devote yourself to reclaiming weak and erring women. +You are young to enter this field of work, yet at twenty-four you are +older than many women of thirty-five, because you have had the +prematurely ripening rain of sorrow on your life. I know you will go +into the work you mention with the sympathy and understanding which +alone can make any reformatory work successful. Yet you are going to +encounter experiences which will shock and pain you, in ways you do not +imagine now. + +You are starting out with the idea of most sympathetic good women, that +all erring souls of their own sex fall through betrayed trust, and +broken promises, and misplaced love. Such cases you will encounter, and +they will most readily respond to your efforts for their reformation. +But many of those you seek to aid will have gone on the road to folly +through mercenary motives, and this will prove a vast obstacle. + +When a woman sells to Mammon, under any stress of circumstance, that +which belongs to Cupid, there is something left out of her nature and +character which renders the efforts of the reformers almost useless. You +know all real, lasting reform must come from within. The woman who has +once decided that fine apparel, and comfort, and leisure, are of more +value to her than her virtue usually reaches old age or disease before +the reformer can even gain her attention. You will find many such among +your protegees, and you may as well leave them to work out their own +reformation, and turn your energies to those who long for a better life. + +It is that longing which means real reformation. To paraphrase an old +couplet-- + + The soul reformed against its will + Clings to the same old vices still. + +I do not believe in a forced morality, save as a protection to a +community. I believe in it as a legal fence, but it possesses no value +as a religious motive. It helps to save society some annoyance, but it +does not materially improve the condition of humanity. Such improvements +must come from the desire of men and women to reach higher standards. +So, after you have planted a little seed in the mind of the mercenary +Magdalene which may in time sprout and grow, pass on, and find those who +have gone wrong from other causes, and who are longing for a hand to +lead them right. + +And of all things do not expect a girl who has lived in the glare of red +lights, and listened to the blare of bands, and worn the ofttimes +becoming garb of folly, and stimulated her spirits with intoxicants--do +not expect her, I say, to suddenly be contented with quiet and solitude, +and drudgery, and cheap, unlovely garments, and goodness. Give her +something to entertain her and to occupy her mind, give her something to +live for and hope for and to be pleased over, besides the mere fact of +reformation. The opium victim, you must remember, can not at once +partake of wholesome food and be well and happy in the thought that he +has given up his drug. Neither can the folly victim. The standards of +happiness and contentment which the moral woman has always found +satisfactory, she too often considers sufficient for the sister who has +wandered from the path. But they are standards which, once lost, must be +gained step by step, painfully and slowly. They are not reached by a +bound. As much as possible keep your reformed sister's mind from +dwelling on the past, or from talking of her mistakes and sins. Blot +them from her memory by new and interesting plans and occupations. The +way to live a new life is to live it. + +And our thoughts and conversation are important parts of living. Instead +of praying aloud to God to forgive her sins, show the God spirit in +yourself by forgiving and forgetting and helping her to forget. + +And now a word about yourself. + +You are twenty-four, lovely, sympathetic, fond of children and animals, +wholesome and normal in your habits, without crankiness, and popular +with both sexes. While there are many wives and widows possessed of +these qualities, there seems to be some handicap to the spinster in the +race of life who undertakes to arrive at middle age with all the womanly +attributes. Almost invariably she drops some of them by the wayside. She +becomes overorderly and fussy--so that association with her for any +length of time is insupportable--or careless and indifferent. Or she may +grow inordinately devoted to animal pets, and bitter and critical toward +children and married people. + +She may develop mannish traits, and dress and appear more like a man +than a feminine woman. + +She may ride a hobby, to the discomfort of all other equestrians or +pedestrians on the earth's highway. She may grow so argumentative and +positive that she is intolerant and intolerable. And whichever of these +peculiarities are hers, she is quite sure to be wholly unconscious of +it, while she is quick to see that of another. Now watch yourself, my +dear Sybyl, as you walk alone toward middle life; do not allow yourself +to grow queer or impossible. It was God's intent that every plant should +blossom and bear fruit, and that every human being should mate and +produce offspring. The plant that fails in any of its functions is +usually blighted in some way, and the woman who fails of life's full +experiences seems to show some repellent peculiarity. But she need not, +once she sets a watch upon herself; she has a conscious soul and mind, +and can control such tendencies if she will. + +It is unnatural for a woman to live without the daily companionship of +man. The superior single woman must make tenfold the effort of the +inferior wife, to maintain her balance into maturity, because of her +enforced solitude. As the wife-mother grows older she is kept in touch +with youth, and with the world, while the opportunities for close +companionship with the young lessen as a single woman passes forty, +unless she makes herself especially adaptable, agreeable, and +sympathetic. + +And this is what I want you to do. At twenty-four it is none too soon to +begin planning for a charming maturity. + +If you are determined upon a life of celibacy, determine also to be the +most wholesome, and normal, and all around liberal, womanly spinster the +world has ever seen. + +Peace and happiness to you in your chosen lot. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Sister and Her Children_ + + +No, my dear Edna, I do not think it strange that you should seek advice +on this subject from a woman who has no living children. + +It seems to me no one is fitted to give such unbiased counsel regarding +the training of children as the woman of observation, sympathy, and +feeling, who has none of her own. + +Had I offspring, I would be influenced by my own successes, and +prejudiced by my own failures, and unable to put myself in your place, +as I now do. + +A mother rarely observes other people's children, save to compare them +unfavourably with her own. I regret to say that motherhood with the +average woman seems to be a narrowing experience, and renders her less +capable of taking a large, unselfish view of humanity. + +The soldier in the thick of battle is able to tell only of what he +personally experienced and saw, just in the spot where he was engaged in +action. + +The general who sits outside the fray and watches the contest can form a +much clearer idea of where the mistakes occurred, and where the greatest +skill was displayed. + +I am that general, my dear friend, standing outside the field of +motherhood, and viewing the efforts of my battling sisters to rear +desirable men and women. And I am glad you have appealed to me while +your two children are yet babies to give you counsel, for I can tell you +where thousands have failed. + +And I thank you and your husband for reposing so much confidence in my +ideas. + +I think, perhaps, we had better speak of the postscript of your letter +first. You ask my opinion regarding the chaperon for your +sixteen-year-old sister, who is going abroad to study for a period of +years. Mrs. Walton will take her and keep her in her home in Paris, and +Miss Brown also stands ready to make her one of three young girls she +desires to chaperon and guide through a foreign course of study in +France and Germany. + +You like the idea of having your sister in a home without the +association of other American girls, until she perfects herself in +French, but you are worried about Mrs. Walton's being a divorced woman. +Miss Brown, the spotless spinster, seems the safer guide to your +friends, you tell me. + +I know the majority of women would feel that a single woman of good +standing and ungossiped reputation was a safe and desirable protector +for a young girl. + +The same majority would hesitate to send their girls away with a +divorced woman. + +But as I remarked in the beginning, I have stood outside the fray and +watched similar ventures, and I have grown to realize that it is not +mere respectability and chastity in a woman which make her a safe +chaperon for a young girl,--it is a deep, full, broad understanding of +temperaments and temptations. + +Had I a daughter or a sister like your sweet Millie, I would not allow +her to live one year under the dominion of such a woman as Miss Brown +for any consideration. Why? because Miss Brown is all brain and bigotry. +She is narrow and high, not deep and broad. + +She is so orthodox that she incites heresy in the rebellious mind of +independent youth. She is so moral she makes one long for adventure. She +would not listen to any questioning of old traditions, or any +speculative philosophizing of a curious young mind, and she would be +intolerant with any girl who showed an inclination to flirt or be +indiscreet. + +Your sister Millie is as coquettish as the rose that lifts its fair face +to the sun, and the breeze, and the bee, and expects to be admired. She +is as innocent as the rose, too, but that fact Miss Brown would never +associate with coquetry. + +She would class it with vulgarity and degeneracy. Miss Brown is a +handsome woman, but she has no sex instincts. She does not believe with +the scientist, "that in the process of evolution it is only with the +coming of the sex relation that life is enabled to rise to higher +forms." + +She believes in brain and spirit, and is utterly devoid of that feminine +impulse to make herself attractive to men, and wholly incapable of +understanding the fascination that Folly holds out to youth. She has +never experienced any temptation, and she would be shocked at any girl +who fell below her standard. + +She would carefully protect Millie from danger by high walls, but she +would never eradicate the danger impulse from her nature by sympathetic +counsel, as a more human woman could. + +Mrs. Walton is a much better guide for your sister. + +She ran away from boarding-school at seventeen, and married the reckless +son of a rich man. She had a stepmother of the traditional type, and +had never known a happy home life. She was of a loving and trusting and +at the same time a coquettish nature, and she attracted young Walton's +eye while out for a walk with a "Miss Brown" order of duenna. The +duenna saw the little embryo flirtation, and became very much horrified, +and preached the girl a long sermon, and set a close watch upon her +actions. + +There was no wise, loving guidance of a young girl's life barque from +the reefs of adventure. It was homily and force. The result was, that +the girl escaped from school before six weeks passed, and married her +admirer. + +He was fifteen years her senior, a reckless man of the world, even older +in experience than in years. He proved a very bad husband, but his young +wife remained with him until his own father urged her to leave him. She +was quietly divorced, and has lived abroad almost ever since, and holds +an excellent position in the French capital, as well as in other +European centres, and she is most exemplary in her life. Mr. Walton is +now an inmate of a sanitarium, a victim of paresis. + +I can imagine no one so well fitted to exert the wisest influence upon +Millie's life as Mrs. Walton. + +There is a woman who has run the whole gamut of girlish folly, and who +knows all the phases of temptation. She knows what it is to possess +physical attractions, and to be flattered by the admiration of men, and +she has passed through the dark waters of disillusion and sorrow. She +would be the one to help Millie out of dangerous places by sympathy and +understanding, instead of using sermons and keys. + +She would mould her young, wax-like character by the warmth of love, +instead of freezing it by austere axioms. + +Miss Brown would make an indiscreet young girl feel hopelessly vulgar +and immodest; Mrs. Walton that she understood all about her foolish +pranks, and was able to lead her in the better paths. + +Miss Brown prides herself upon never having lost her head with any man. + +Mrs. Walton is like some other women I have known, who have made +mistakes of judgment. She lost her head, but in the losing and the +sorrow that ensued she found a heart for all humanity. + +There are women in this world whose cold-white chastity freezes the poor +wayfarer who tries to find in their vicinity rest and comfort and +courage. + +Other women cast a cooling shadow, in which the sun-scorched pilgrim +finds peace--the shadow of a past error, from which spring fragrant +ferns and sweet grasses, where tired and bleeding feet may softly tread. + +Mrs. Walton's life casts the shadow of divorce on her pathway, but it is +only the warm, restful shadow of a ripening and mellowing sorrow. Do not +fear to have Millie walk in it. + +It will be better for her than the steady glare from a glacier. + +I find I have said so much about your sister that I must reserve my +counsel about your children for another letter. + +Your postscript was brief, but pregnant with suggestion, and called for +this long reply. + +I shall write you again in a few days. + + + + +To Mrs. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning Her Children_ + + +Your wish to have your son, who is now four years old, begin to develop +the manly qualities, and your oldest daughter, who has reached the +mature age of three, start wisely on the path to lovely womanhood, is +far from being premature. + +"The tree inclines as the twig is bent," we are told. + +Most mothers wait until the tree is in blossom before they begin to +train its inclination. + +Your boy is quite old enough to be taught manly pride, in being useful +to you and his sisters. + +Such things are not successfully taught by preaching or scolding or +punishing; but are more easily inculcated by tact and praise, +object-lesson and play. + +A four-year-old boy is all ears when his father's praises and +achievements are recounted. Any father, save a brute, is a hero in the +eyes of his four-year-old son. I am sure Mr. Gordon has many admirable +traits you can use as interesting topics. + +Tell little Charlie how proud you are to have a son who will be like his +father, and attend to the needs of and look after the interests of his +mother and sisters. + +Make him think that to be of service to you or his sisters is one of the +first steps toward manhood, as indeed it is. + +When he performs any small kindness, praise his manliness. + +Teach him to open doors, and to make way for women and elders, as a part +of manly courtesy. + +Speak with gentle disapproval of the unfortunately common type of +American boy who pushes women and older people aside to scramble into +public conveyances and secure a seat before them. + +Say how proud you are that your son could not be guilty of such unmanly +conduct. + +When you are walking with him, call his attention to any woman or child +or poor man in trouble, and if his services can be of use, urge him to +offer them. + +I saw one day a small boy spring to the aid of an old coloured woman who +had dropped a lot of parcels in the street, and I thought it was a +certain evidence that his mother was a rare and sweet woman. For the +manners of little boys are almost invariably what their mothers make +them. + +Awake early in his heart a sympathy for the deformed, the crippled, and +otherwise unfortunate beings. + +There is no other country where such vulgar and heartless curiosity, and +even ridicule, is bestowed upon grotesque or unsightly types of +humanity, as in America. + +A little dwarfed girl in New York City committed suicide a few years +ago because she was so weary of being laughed at and ridiculed by her +associates in the street and at school. + +Think of that, in this Christian age, and in the metropolis of America! + +An old street peddler was set upon by school-children and so annoyed and +misused that he became insane. + +Another was injured by street children--the children of the public +schools--and died from the effects of their abuse. + +This is the fault of mothers who have never deemed it their duty and +privilege to awaken the tender and protective qualities in the character +of their children. + +Speak often to your boy of the pathos of dumb animals dependent upon +human thoughtfulness for food, drink, and decent usage. + +Say what a privilege it seems to you to be able to befriend them, and to +be a voice for them in making others realize their duty to our dumb +brothers. + +Obtain interesting books on natural history and read stories of animal +life to your boy. Instruct him in the habits of beast, bird, and insect, +and talk to him of the wonderful domestic instincts and affections in +many of our speechless associates. The exhilaration of the wild bird, +and the happiness of the deer and the hare in the woods and fields, call +to his mind day by day. It will be more gratifying to you when he is man +grown to feel he is the loving friend and protector, rather than the +skilled hunter of bird and beast. + +The higher order of man does not seek slaughter for amusement. He +realizes that he has no right to take, save for self-protection, that +which he cannot give. + +Make your son a higher order of man by developing those brain cells and +leaving the destructive and cruel portions of the brain to shrink from +lack of use. + +Even in his play with his inanimate toys, you can be arousing the best +or the worst part of your boy's nature. + +The child who whips and screams at his hobby-horse usually, when a man, +whips and bellows at his flesh and blood steed. + +Tell him the play-horse is more easily managed by coaxing and petting, +and that loud voices make it nervous and frightened. + +Suggest water and feed at suitable times, and express sorrow for the +horses with no kind boys to look out for them. + +Start a humane society in the nursery and make your boy president and +your little girl honorary member, and act as treasurer and secretary +yourself. + +Give him a medal when he offers food to a hungry street animal or speaks +to a driver cruel to his horse, or performs any other kind act. This +will be interesting play to your children, and it will be sowing seed in +fallow ground. + +Your baby girl is already old enough to take pride in picking up the +toys she scatters, and putting her chair where it belongs. Make it a +part of your hour of sport with her to help her do these things. She +will not know she is being taught order. + +I learned this lesson from a famous author whose baby son was anxious +to play about the library where his father was at work. + +The first act of the toddler was to toss all the books in sight upon the +floor and to sit down and turn the leaves, hunting for pictures. This +performance interested him for half an hour, when he proceeded to seek +new fields of action. + +"But now let us have great fun putting all the books back just where we +found them," cried the tactful father, with a wink and a laugh, which +made the child believe he was to enjoy the sport of his life. And it +_was_ made sport by the foolish pranks of the father who knew how little +it took to interest a child. + +The next day, and the next, the same fall and rise in the book market +took place, but on the fourth day the father was too deeply engrossed in +work to assist in the replacing of the books: when, lo! the small lad, +after a wistful waiting and unanswered call, proceeded to put the books +all back alone. + +_The first important brick in the foundation wall of order was laid_. + +So you can teach your little girl all the womanly habits of method, and +order, and neatness, and system, if you have the patience to act the +part of playmate with her a few moments daily. + +As she grows in understanding and years, keep yourself at her side, her +nearest friend. Let her feel that she can express her every thought to +you, and that every question which presents itself to her developing +mind, you will seek to answer to the best of your ability. + +Be her confidant, her adviser, her friend, and let her find pride and +happiness in doing things for you. + +Never act as maid or domestic to your daughter. + +Be the queen and make her your first lady-in-waiting, and show her the +courtesy and appreciation her position demands from royalty. She will be +a better daughter, and a better wife and mother, later in life, if you +do not make the mistake of the average American mother of waiting upon +her from the cradle to the altar. Let her grow up with the quiet +understanding that you are to be first considered, in matters social and +financial. Your wardrobe must be as well looked after as her own, and if +there is to be economy for one, let her practise it. + +The daughter who has a whole household sacrificing and toiling for her +pleasures is spoiled for a wife and woman. The most admirable young +women I have known--and I have known many--are those who were taught to +take it as a matter of course that the mother was first to be +considered, and lovingly served. + +Do not be afraid of making your daughter vain by telling her the +attractive features she may possess. + +Some one else will if you do not, and it is well for her to hear it from +lips which may more successfully offer counsel afterward. A certain +confidence in her own charms gives a sensibly reared young woman a poise +and self-possession which is to be desired. A touch of feminine vanity +renders a woman more anxious to please, and more alert to keep always at +her best. + +But beware of having her acquire egotism. Silly conceit is the +death-blow to higher attainments and to all charm. + +Teach your daughter early the accomplishment of listening well. She will +be certain to please if she understands its value. + +A woman who looks the converser in the eyes, and does not allow her +glance to wander and become distrait, and who does not interrupt before +the recital is finished, can be sure of popularity with both men and +women. + +Give both your son and daughter confidence in themselves and belief in +their power to achieve. There is tremendous power in the early +inoculation by the home influence of self-confidence, when it is +tempered by modesty and consideration for others. + +Remember whatever in your own bringing up seems to-day unfortunate, and +avoid it in the training of your children. + +Remember whatever was good and helpful, and emulate it. + + + + +To Miss Zoe Clayborn Artist + +_Concerning the Attentions of Married Men_ + + +I am sure, my dear niece, that you are a good and pure-minded girl, and +that you mean to live a life above reproach, and I fully understand your +rebellion against many of the conventional forms which are incompatible +with the career of a "girl bachelor," as you like to call yourself. But +let us look at the subject from all sides, while you are on the +threshold of life, in the morning of your career, and before you have +made any more serious mistakes than the one you mention. + +For it was a mistake when you accepted Mr. Gordon's telephone message to +lunch alone with him at a restaurant, even though you knew his wife +might not object. + +Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are happily married, parents of several children. +They are broader and more liberal and more unselfish than most parents, +and they went out of their path to extend courtesies to you, a young +country girl--at first because you were my niece, then because they +liked you personally. + +When I first wrote Mrs. Gordon that you were to open a studio in Chicago +after your course of study in the East, she expressed deep interest in +you, and seemed anxious to have you consider her as a friend--always +ready to act as a chaperon or adviser when you felt the need of wiser +guidance than your own impulses. + +Mrs. Gordon knew that your experience of the world was limited to a +country village in the West, and two years' study at the Pratt +Institute. While there she knew you boarded with a cousin of your +mother's, and enjoyed the association and privileges of the daughters of +the home. + +To start alone in Chicago, and live in your studio, and dine from a +chafing-dish, and sleep in an unfolded combination bureau and +refrigerator--has more fascinations to your mind than to Mrs. Gordon's. +She was reared in comfort, bordering on luxury, and while her early home +life was not happy, she enjoyed all the refinements and all the +privileges of protected girlhood. + +She knows city life as you cannot know it, and, although she discards +many of the burden-some conventions of society, she realizes the +necessity of observing some of its laws. + +She wanted you to feel that you had the background of a wholesome home, +and the protection of clean, well-behaved married friends in your +exposed situation; her attitude to you is just what she would want +another woman to hold toward her daughter, were she grown up and alone +in a large city. + +You have been her guest, and she has been your good friend. Mr. Gordon +admired you from the first, and that was a new incentive for this most +tactful and liberal of wives to befriend you. She always cultivates the +women he likes. + +This is excellent policy on the part of a wife. If the husband has any +really noble qualities or possesses a sterling character, he will +appreciate and respect his wife's confidence, and never violate it; and +added to this, he will usually become disillusioned with the women he +has admired from a distance, when he sees them frequently at too close +range. + +A wife can make no greater mistake than trying to fence her husband +about and obtruding high walls between him and the women he admires. Far +better bring them near and turn on the calcium light. + +Mr. Gordon is a born lover of the fair sex, a born gallant. He is, at +the same time, a clean, self-respecting man. But he has grown a trifle +selfish and a bit vain of late years. + +He does not fully realize what the interesting family of children he +shows with such pride to his friends has meant to their mother. + +It has not occurred to him that to be the mother of three children, the +youngest one year old, after six years of married life, has required a +greater outlay of all the mental, moral, and physical forces than has +been demanded of their father. + +He is a good husband,--yet he is not the absolutely unselfish and +liberal and thoughtful husband that Mrs. Gordon is wife. + +If she seemed to you at all nervous, or less adaptable to your moods +than he, you should stop and consider the many causes which might have +led to this condition. + +You are young, handsome, gifted, and unconventional, and all these +things appeal to men. You can attract all the admirers you want, and +more than you need, to enlarge your ideas of life, and extend your +knowledge of human nature. + +You say your ambition is to know the world thoroughly,--that it will aid +your art. + +I think that is true, if you do not pass the border-line and lose your +ideals and sacrifice your principles. Once you do that, your art will +lose what it can never regain. + +And remember this, my dear girl, no human being ever lived or ever will +live who gained anything worth having _by sacrificing the golden rule._ +In your search for knowledge of the world, and acquaintance with human +nature, _keep that motto ever before your soul's sight,_ "Do unto +others as you would have them do unto you." + +You say Mr. Gordon said or did nothing in that tete-a-tete luncheon his +wife might not have heard or seen, but the fact that he talked entirely +about you and art, and other universal subjects, and seemingly avoided +any reference to his wife and children, surprised you. + +And now you are wondering if you did wrong to accept this invitation. +Never accept invitations of any kind from married men, unless the wife +or some member of the family is included. + +No matter how willing the wife may be to have you enjoy her husband's +company, avoid tete-a-tete situations with benedicts. + +You say you are not egotistical enough to imagine Mr. Gordon had any +hidden motive for wanting to be alone with you, or for seemingly +forgetting in his conversation that he was a husband and father. Yet I +can see that in a measure it disillusioned you. + +You do not ask a man to fling his wife and children at the head of each +woman he meets, but you like him to recognize their existence. + +You are a young, romantic girl seeking the ideal. + +You want to find happy wives and husbands,--men and women who have +sailed away from the Strands of Imagination to the more beautiful land +of the Real, from whose shores they beckon you, saying: "Here is +happiness and great joy. Come and join us, and feel no fear in flinging +the illusions of youth behind you." + +If married men only knew that is what young women are seeking,--if +married women only knew that is what young men are seeking, what +reconstruction would take place in the deportment of husbands and wives! + +Never yet did a married woman indulge in flirtatious or sentimental +converse with a bachelor without lowering herself and all women in his +heart of hearts. + +Never yet did a married man seem to forget his domestic ties in the +presence of single women without losing a portion of their respect, +however they may have been flattered by his attentions. + +In every man's heart, in every woman's, is this longing to find husbands +and wives who are satisfied and happy and proud, above all other things, +of their loyalty. + +It would be well for you to keep this fact before the minds of the men +you meet. You can, in a small way, do your little toward educating on +this subject the married men you encounter. And you can save yourself +some embarrassing experiences. + +It is no compliment to you if the husband of your friend, or a stranger, +falls in love with you. + +It is an easy matter for a young, attractive woman to infatuate +irresponsible men. + +It is a far greater compliment to you when women respect and trust you, +and when you help elevate the ideals of weak men regarding your sex. + +You can study the whole Encyclopedia of Manhood without breaking through +the glass doors of your friend's bookcases. And you can live a free, +unconventional life without sacrificing one principle, though you may +ignore some customs. It is not the custom in conventional society for +young women to go to theatres or dinners alone with young men. Yet I am +perfectly willing you should join the large army of self-supporting, +self-respecting, and well educated girls who do these things. You have +been reared with that American idea of independence, and with that +confidence in your ability to protect your virtue and good name, which +carries the vast majority of our young women safely through all the +vicissitudes of youth, and sends them chaste wives to the altar. Our +American men understand this attitude of our girls, and half of them +respect it, without being forced to, as the other half can be, if woman +so wills. + +There is no reason, to my thinking, why you should not enjoy the +companionship of interesting bachelors and widowers, and take the +courtesies they offer, with no chaperon but your own pride, taste, and +will. So long as you know, and these men know, that you are doing +nothing and going nowhere you need remember with shame or regret, the +next day, just so long you are on no dangerous path. + +But you must draw the line at married men, happy or unhappy. Any +confidential, tete-a-tete companionship of a single woman with a married +man cheapens her in the eyes of all other men and women. + +It is a simpler matter to drift into free and easy manners and call them +"bohemian" than to cleanse your reputation of their stain, or lift your +mind from the mire to which they inevitably lead. + +Once a woman begins to excuse her lawless conduct on the ground of her +"artistic temperament," there are no depths to which she may not sink. + +Take pride in being at once independent yet discreet; artistic, yet +sensible; a student of men, yet an example of high-minded womanhood; an +open foe to needless conventions, yet a staunch friend of principles; +daring in methods, yet irreproachable in conduct; and however adored by +men, worthy of trust by all women. + +Do not take the admiration of men too seriously. Waste no vitality in a +rage over their weaknesses and vices. Regard them with patience and +inspire them to strive for a better goal than self-indulgence. + +You can safely take it for granted that many who approach you with +compliments for your charms, and pleas for your favours, would make the +same advances to any other attractive girl they chanced to encounter. + +Too many young women mistake a habit for a grand passion. And they +forget, while they are studying man, that he is studying woman, and +testing her susceptibility to flattery and her readiness to believe in +his simulated infatuation. + +Do not fall into the error of so many young country girls in a large +city, and imagine you can establish new laws, create a new order of +things, and teach men new lessons. + +A great city is like an ever-burning fire,--the newcomers who thrust in +their fingers will be scorched and scarred, but the fire will not be +changed or extinguished. + +_Keep out of the fire_. + +There is no reason why you should scar yourself or smoke your garments +while keeping comfortably warm. + + + + +To Mr. Charles Gordon + +_Concerning the Jealousy of His Wife After Seven Years of Married Life_ + + +I have read your letter with care. I can readily understand that you +would not appeal to your wife's mother in this matter upon which you +write me, as she has been the typical mother-in-law,--the woman who +never gets along well with her children, and who never wants others to +succeed where she fails. I recollect your telling me how she marred the +wedding ceremony, by weeping and fainting, after having nagged her poor +daughter during twenty years of life, and interfered with her +friendships, through that peculiar jealousy which she misnamed "devoted +love." + +And now you are afraid that your wife is developing the same +propensity, and you ask me to use my influence to cure her of it in its +incipiency. You think I stand closer to Edna than any other friend. + +"It is only during the last two or three years that Edna has shown this +tendency," you say. "Until then she seemed to me the most sensible and +liberal-minded of women, always admiring the people I liked, and even +going out of her way to be courteous and cordial to a woman I praised. +Of late she has seemed so different, and has often been sarcastic, or +sulky, or hysterical, when I showed the common gallantries of a man fond +of the society of ladies." + +You think it is her inherited tendency cropping out, and that she is +unconscious of it herself. + +Well now permit me, my dear Mr. Gordon, to be very frank with you. + +I met your wife only once before she married you. + +She was a merry-hearted, healthy girl, with superb colour, and the +figure of a young Venus. She was a belle, and much admired by many +worth-while men. + +During her honeymoon, she wrote me a most charming letter speaking of +her happiness, and of her desire to make you an ideal wife. + +You and Edna were my guests for a few days when your first child was a +year old. She seemed more beautiful than ever, with an added spiritual +charm, and you were the soul of devotion. + +You are the type of man who pays a compliment as naturally as he +breathes, and whose vision is a sensitive plate which retains an +impression of every feminine grace. This impression is developed in the +memory-room afterward, and framed in your conversation. + +The ordinary mind calls such a man a flirt, or, in common parlance, "a +jollier;" but I know you to be merely appreciative of womankind in +general, while your heart is beautifully loyal to its ideal. You are a +clean, wholesome man, who could not descend to intrigue. You are +fine-looking, and you possess a gift in conversing. + +Of course women are attracted to you. Edna was proud of this fact, and +seemed to genuinely enjoy your popularity. + +That was five years ago. + +One year ago I visited your home. Edna was the mother of three children, +born during the first five years of marriage. + +She had sacrificed her bloom to her babies, and was pallid and anaemic. +Her form had lost its exquisites curves, and she seemed years older than +her age--older indeed than you, although she is four years your junior. +It is a mere incident to be a father of three children. It is a lifetime +experience to be their mother. She had developed nerves, and tears came +as readily as laughter came of old. + +She was devoted to her children, and felt a deep earnestness regarding +her responsibility as a mother. But she was still the intensely loving +wife, while you had sunk your role of lover-husband in that of adoring +father. + +You did not seem to think of Edna's delicate state of health, or notice +her fading beauty. You regarded her as a faithful nurse for your +children, and whenever you spoke of her it was as the mother, not as the +sweetheart and wife. + +When I mentioned the drain upon a woman's vitality to bring three robust +children into life in five years, you said it was only a "natural +function," and referred to the old-time families of ten and twelve +children. Your grandmother had fourteen, you said, and was the picture +of health at seventy-five. + +My own grandmother gave ten children to the world. But we must recollect +how different was the environment in those days. + +Our grandmothers lived in the country, and knew none of the strain and +excitement of these modern times. The high pressure of social and +financial conditions, as we know them, the effort to live up to the +modern standards, the congested city life and the expensive country +life, all these things make motherhood a different ordeal for our women +than our grandmothers. Where our grandfathers took their share of the +care and guidance of children, and the children came up in a wholesome +country fashion, our men to-day are so driven by the money gadfly that +they can only whirl around and around and attend "to business," and all +the care of the children falls upon the mother, or else upon the nurses +and governesses, who in turn are a care and a worry to the wife. + +You assured me Edna had all the assistants in caring for her children +she wanted, but you did not realize that every paid employe in a +household is, as a rule, just so much more care to the mistress, not +less than a tax on the husband's purse and, consequently, on his time. + +What Edna craves is _your_ love, _your_ attention, _your_ sympathy, not +the service of paid domestics. She wants you to notice her fading bloom, +and to take her in your arms and say, tenderly, "Little girl, we must +get those old roses back. And we must go away for a new honeymoon, all +alone, and forget every care, even if we forget the babies for a few +days." + +One little speech like that, one little outing like that, would do more +toward driving away the demon of jealousy than all I could by a thousand +sermons and homilies. + +I remember at your own board you made me uncomfortable talking about my +complexion, which you chose to say was "remarkable for a woman of my +age." And then you proceeded to describe some wonderful beauty you had +seen at the Country Club the day previous, and all the time I saw the +tears hidden back under the lids of Edna's tired eyes, and a hurt look +on her pale face. Do you imagine she was _jealous_ of your compliment to +me? or of your praise of the girl's beauty at the Country Club? + +No, no, my dear Mr. Gordon, I know Edna too well to accuse her of such +petty feelings. She was only hurt at your lack of taste in accenting her +own lost bloom by needlessly emphasizing another's possession of what +had once been hers. + +Yet she called upon the young lady that very day and invited her to +luncheon, and even then you indulged in pronounced admiration of the +guest's cheeks, gallantly requesting your wife to have the bouquet of +carnation pinks removed from the table, as they were so shamed by the +complexions of the ladies. + +Of course it was gracefully worded in the plural, but your pallid wife +could not claim her share of it, and you should have realized the fact. +And the reason she could not was that she had sacrificed her health in +your service, in giving your children to you, and in losing her lover. + +She adores her splendid babies, but she is still a woman and a +wife,--though you seem to ignore that she is anything but a mother. + +Right about face, Mr. Gordon, and become the lover you were, and +jealousy will be driven from your threshold. + +It is your own lack of thoughtfulness, your own tactless and tasteless +methods with your wife, which have caused the change in her manner. She +is not jealous, she is only lonely, heart-hungry, disillusioned. + +You are less noble, less considerate, less tender, less sympathetic +than she believed. For the man to whom these adjectives can be applied +will guard, love, and cherish the wife of his youth, and the mother of +his children, before all other considerations; and he will understand +how sensitive a fading wife may be, and not confound that sensitiveness +with ignoble jealousy. + +It is you, Charles Gordon, who must cure your wife of nerves, hysteria, +and incipient jealousy, not I. + + + + +To Mrs. Clarence St. Claire + +_Concerning Her Husband_ + + +I am sorry that your matrimonial barque meets so many rough winds while +hardly out of Honeymoon Bay. + +Clarence and you seemed so deeply in love when I last saw you, six +months after your wedding, that I had hoped all might go well with you. + +I knew the disposition of Clarence to be tainted with jealousy, but +hoped you would be able to eradicate it from his nature. + +You know his poor mother suffered agonies from the infidelities of his +father before Clarence was born. She had married a handsome foreigner +with whom she was desperately enamoured, while he cared only for the +fortune she brought him. + +While still in the full light of the honeymoon he began to indulge in +flirtations and amours, and poor Clarence, during the important prenatal +period of life, received the mark of suspicion and the tendency to +hypersensitiveness which then dominated the mother. + +By the time Elise was born she had passed through the whole process, and +was passive and indifferent. + +I cannot help a sensation of amusement, even in face of the condition +you describe (which is little short of tragic), as I recall the letter +Clarence wrote begging me to try and prevent, by fair means or foul, his +sister's marriage to old Mr. Volney. + +That was two years before you and Clarence were married. + +Elise, we all know, wedded for the money and position Mr. Volney gave, +in return for her young beauty. + +Clarence and you were ideal lovers, seeing nothing in the world outside +of your own selves. + +Yet Elise is quite contented, and Mr. Volney uses what little brain he +has left to exult over his possession of such a beautiful young wife. + +Elise upholds his dignity and flatters him into a belief that he is a +great philanthropist and a social power, and in this way she has the +handling of his millions, which is her idea of happiness. She travels, +entertains, and poses for photographs and paintings in imported gowns, +and there is no rumour of discontent or divorce. + +Meanwhile, Clarence, who was so opposed to her marriage because it was +loveless, is making a mess of his own love-match, through his jealousy. + +You, who knew him to be insanely jealous as a lover, and who seemed to +be flattered with what you thought a proof of his devotion, appeal to me +now to know what to do with the husband who is destroying your love and +your happiness! Surely, if Elise knew of this she might well say, "He +laughs best who laughs last." + +I know that you were absorbed in Clarence for the first year of your +married life, and that you gave no least cause for any jealousy, and I +know, as you say, that even then he was often morbid and unhappy over +nothing at all. + +He was jealous even of girl friends and relatives, and if you attended a +matinee with one of them, he sulked the whole evening. + +This was little more than he did as a lover, and you should have begun +in those days to reason him out of such moods. + +You imagined then it was his mad love for you which caused his +unreasonable jealousy. + +But jealousy is self-love, and selfishness lies at the root of such +conditions of mind as his. + +A woman should say to a man who sulks or goes into tantrums when she +pays courteous attentions to relatives or acquaintances, "You are +lowering my ideal of you--I cannot love a man who will indulge such +unworthy moods. You insult my womanhood and doubt my principles by your +suspicions; you intimate that I have neither truth, or judgment, or +pride. You must conquer yourself, and learn to trust me and to believe +in me, or I must decide I am no woman for you to take as a life +companion." A man should take the same course toward a jealous +sweetheart or wife. + +A few quiet but firm assertions of this nature, when you were being +wooed, would have given Clarence an idea that he could lose you, and +that he was making himself ridiculous in your eyes. Instead, you boasted +to your friends how wildly infatuated he was, and Clarence took new +pride in his own blemish of character. + +Now that you have to live day, and night, and week, and month, and year, +with this trait, it seems a less romantic phase of devotion, I fancy. +But you are not wise to grow reckless and ignore the wishes of your +husband in all ways, because he is unreasonable. "Since he is so +absolutely impossible to please," you say, "I may as well please myself. +I have decided to take some of the liberties so many of my acquaintances +do, and enjoy life outside my home if I cannot enjoy it within." + +Then you proceed to tell me how more than half your associates drive, +lunch, and dine with men acquaintances, and how old-fashioned they +consider your scruples. And you tell me that, despite your rectitude, +Clarence insults you almost daily by his unreasoning jealousy of men, +women, and even children. + +"I have about made up my mind to be less prudish and enjoy myself, as I +am sure Clarence cannot be any more jealous than he is," you say. + +Now since you have asked my advice in the matter, I can only urge you to +reconsider this last determination. + +So long as you are, according to law and in the eyes of the world, the +wife of a man, you cannot escape comment if you are frequently seen in +public places alone with another. + +Were you to look into the hearts of other men who ask you to dine, +drive, or lunch alone with them, you would find a feeling of increased +respect when you decline, although they may show only disappointment on +the surface. I know that many wives of unblemished reputation accept +courtesies of this kind from masculine friends, and I of course +understand that circumstances may arise which make an occasional +acceptance proper. + +But the fewer such occasions, the better and the safer for the married +woman. The man who is perfectly willing his wife should appear +frequently in public with other men does not fully appreciate the +dignity of her position or his own, or else he has lost his love for +her. + +The fact that your husband is jealous without reason is no excuse for +giving him reason. The moment men know that a husband is inclined to +jealousy, he falls in their estimation, and they are seized with a +desire to aggravate him, while they sympathize with the wife. + +The sympathetic friend of the abused wife is a dangerous companion for +her. He may mean to be platonic and kind, but almost invariably he +becomes sentimental and unsafe. + +Once in a thousand times the absolutely happy wife of a husband she +respects as well as loves can enjoy a platonic friendship with a man who +respects her, and himself, and her husband. But even that situation is +liable to prove insecure, if they are much together, owing to the +selfishness and weakness of human nature when the barriers of convention +are removed. + +But the unhappy wife must take no chances with Fate. + +She must either decide to accept her lot and bear it with philosophy, or +escape from it and begin life over, after the courts have given her the +right to reconstruct her destiny. + +You know all that entails. It is not a pleasant process. + +If your love for your husband is entirely dead, and you feel that he has +forfeited all right to your sympathy, pity, or patience, then break the +fetters and go free. But if you feel that you are not ready for that +ordeal, and that you must still remain living under the same roof with +him, and continue to bear his name, then do not join the great army of +wives who are to be seen in public restaurants and hotels dining +tete-a-tete with "platonic friends" over emptied glasses. + +You can but make trouble for yourself and add to the misery of your +husband by such a course. In your particular case, I feel that your +knowledge of the jealous disposition of the man you married renders it +your duty to bear and forbear, and to try every method of reformation +before you resort to the very common highway of divorce as an exit from +your unhappiness. + +A woman has no right to complain of the fault in a husband which she +condoned in a lover. And a man has no right to complain of the fault in +a wife he condoned in a sweetheart. Yet both may strive to correct that +fault. + +Insist upon having women and men friends who can be received at your +home in presence of your husband. Make Clarence realize how he belittles +himself in your estimation by unreasoning jealousy. Give him to +understand that you want to love him and respect him, and that you have +no intention of lowering your standard of behaviour, because he is +constantly expecting you to. Tell him it mortifies you to find greater +pleasure away from him than in his presence, yet when he insults you +with his suspicions, and destroys your comfort with his moods, you can +no longer think of him as your girlhood's ideal. + +Ask him to try, for your sake, to use more common sense and self-control +in this matter, and to help you to restore the happiness which seems +flying from your wedded lives. + +Do nothing to aggravate or irritate him, but do not give up your friends +of either sex; this is but to increase his inclination to petty tyranny, +while it will in no sense lessen his jealousy. + +And when you are alone, endeavour to think of him always as sensible, +reasonable, and kind. + +By your mental picture you can help to cure him of the blight he +received before his birth. It is the task set many a wife, to counteract +the errors and neglect of mothers. + +Look to the Divine source for help in your work, and remember the lovely +qualities Clarence possesses when he is not under the ban of this +prenatal mark. + +Love him out into the light if you can--and I believe you can if you are +not too soon discouraged. + +It is a nobler effort to try and create in your husband the ideal you +have in your mind, than to go seeking him elsewhere. + +Be patient and wait awhile. Such love as you and Clarence felt in your +courtship and early marriage cannot so soon have died. It is only +sleeping, and suffering from a nightmare. Awaken it to life and reality +and happiness. + + + + +To Young Mrs. Duncan + +_Regarding Mothers-in-Law_ + + +And so the serpent has appeared in your Eden, attired in widow's weeds, +and talking the usual jargon of "devoted mother love." I do not like to +say I told you so, but you must remember our rather spirited discussion +of this very serpent, when you announced your engagement and said Mr. +Duncan's mother was to make her home with you after your return from +abroad. + +I had met Mrs. Duncan, and I knew her type all too well. Alfred is her +only child, and she adores him, naturally, but it is adoration so +mingled with selfishness and tyranny that it is incapable of considering +the welfare of its object. + +Mrs. Duncan was always jealous of any happiness which came to her son +through another source than herself. That type of mother love is to be +encountered every day, and that type of mother believes herself to be +the most devoted creature on earth; while the fact is, she sits for ever +in the boudoir of her mentality, gazing at her own reflection. She loves +her children because they also reflect herself, and is incapable of +unselfish pleasure in their happiness apart from her. + +You will remember I urged you to wait until you could have a home, +however humble, alone with your husband, and even at the cost of that +most undesirable condition, a long engagement. + +But you assured me with much spirit that you had every confidence in +your power to win Mrs. Duncan's heart, and to crown her declining years +with peace and happiness. + +As well talk of decking a porcupine with wreaths of flowers, and making +it a household pet, to coddle and caress. + +When I congratulated Mrs. Duncan on her son's engagement to such a +sweet, bright girl as my cousin, she assumed a martyr expression and +said, "She hoped he would be happy, even if her own heart must suffer +the pain of losing an only son." + +"But," I urged, "he really adds to your life by bringing you the +companionship of a lovely daughter. My cousin will, I am sure, prove +such to you." + +"I have no doubt your cousin is a most estimable girl," Madame Duncan +answered, with dignity, "but I have never yet felt the need of any close +companion save my son. You, having no children, are excusable for not +understanding my feelings, now when another claims his thoughts." + +"Yet the world is maintained by such occurrences," I replied. "You took +some mother's son, or you would not have had your own." + +With austere self-righteousness Mrs. Duncan corrected me. + +"I married an orphan," she said. + +"How thoughtful of you," I responded. "But you see it is not lack of +thought, only an accident of fate, which has prevented my cousin from +marrying an orphan. There are not enough desirable orphans to keep our +young women supplied with husbands, you know." + +I think Mrs. Duncan suspected me of covert sarcasm, for she changed the +topic of conversation. But I heard her afterward talking to a bevy of +women on the sorrow of giving up a child after having reared him to +manhood's estate, and her listeners all seemed duly sympathetic. + +Of course, my dear Ruth, there is an element of sadness in the happiest +of marriages for the parents of children. I think it is particularly sad +when a mother gives up a daughter, whose every thought she has shared, +and whose every pleasure she has planned, and sees her embark upon the +uncertain ocean of marriage, with a strange pilot at the helm. + +The really good and loving mother endears herself to that pilot, and +loves him and seeks his affection for her daughter's sake. She hides +her own sorrow in her heart, and does not shadow her daughter's voyage +by her repining. + +The man who is worthy of a good girl's love will understand what it must +mean to a mother to give her daughter to him, and he will in every way +seek to recompense her for her loss, by bestowing upon her sympathy, +courteous attentions, and a son's devotion. + +Just so will the girl, who is worthy of being a good man's wife, seek to +make his mother love her. + +I know how you have tried to win Mrs. Duncan's heart. I know your +amiable, sweet disposition, and your unselfishness and tact, and I know +how you failed. + +I can imagine your feelings when you overheard Mrs. Duncan say to a +caller that she was going to leave your house and take rooms elsewhere, +as she could not endure your "billing and cooing." + +Do you know, Ruth, that nearly all the trouble between mothers-and +daughters-in-law is due to vanity and jealousy. + +Fifty mothers are friends to their daughters' husbands where one is a +friend to her son's wife. That is because, wholly unconsciously to +herself, the mother resents another woman sharing the attention of a man +she loves. The fact that he is her son, and that the love he gives his +wife is a wholly different sentiment, does not prevent blind, +unreasoning jealousy from dominating her nature. + +Mrs. Duncan wants to stand always in the centre of the stage, with every +other woman in the play in the background. + +It is a most pathetic situation for a man,--this position between a wife +and a jealous mother. My heart always aches for the man in the case even +more than for the woman who is misused. + +All young men are reared to think mother-love the most unselfish and +wonderful devotion on earth, even in the face of facts which so often +prove it otherwise; and when a son sees his mother unhappy he is +inclined to make every possible excuse for her, because he feels that to +take issue against her will put him in a false light before the whole +established order of society, and that he will beat his head against +traditions wherever he turns. + +So, he ofttimes tries to conciliate the wife he has promised to cherish, +and to convince her that she may exaggerate matters, and that she may +even be the aggressor, and then he finds himself standing between two +raging fires, with no escape save through flames, and over hot fagots, +which will leave him scarred for life. + +Sometimes the wife _is_ in the wrong. Sometimes a man marries a woman +who is so narrow and so selfish and so jealous that she begrudges the +husband's mother her son's affection. But I must affirm that, in my +observation of humanity, I have seen but one such wife, where I have +seen ten jealous and unreasonable mothers. + +And with what pleasure and admiration I recall the few beautiful and +noble mothers-in-law I have known! I can count them on the fingers of +one hand without including the thumb. I mean mothers of sons. + +There are just four whom I can recall. They really loved their sons, and +loved whatever and whoever gave those sons happiness. + +One mother objected to her son's choice before marriage, and tried +vainly to convince him that he had made a mistake. But after his +marriage she took the girl into her heart, made her a companion and +friend, and when the son began to discover her glaring faults, she told +him to be patient and wait, and that all would be well. Instead of +saying, "I told you so," she said, "Your wife is young, and has had no +wise hand to guide her. You married her for love, and if you exercise +the love-spirit, and are patient and self-controlled in your treatment +of her, she will overcome these faults which annoy you." + +And day by day she called his attention to the pleasing qualities the +girl possessed, and by praise, tact, love, and sympathy bridged over +the threatened chasm. + +The couple live happily together to-day, thanks to the mother-in-law. +Oh, that there were more such mothers of sons! + +Be as patient and sweet as you can, dear Ruth, toward Mrs. Duncan; think +how difficult the situation is for your husband, and say or do nothing +to make it harder for him. But allow Mrs. Duncan to live by herself, +and, if need be, bear many privations cheerfully that she may do so, and +that you may have your own home in peace. Every wife is entitled to +that, and if she has made every possible effort which love and tact can +make to cast the seven devils of jealousy out of her mother-in-law, and +they still remain, it is for the general welfare that two separate +households exist. + +When a son has done all he can in reason to make his mother happy, save +to turn against the wife he has promised to cherish, he is a cad and a +weakling if he does the latter. He must learn that it is a larger duty +to be a just man than to be an obedient son. + +I am sure Mr. Duncan will have the character and judgment to do what is +right in this matter. + + + + +To a Young Man + +_Ambitious for Literary Honours_ + + +Your achievements in college, where you distinguished yourself in +rhetoric and literature, would justify you in thinking seriously of a +career as an author. + +And the fact that your father wishes you to take charge of his brokerage +business, and to relinquish your literary aspirations, should not deter +you from carrying out your ambitions. + +Prom your mother you inherit a mind and temperament which wholly unfit +you for the pursuits your father follows and enjoys. You are no more +suited to make a successful broker than he is fitted to write an Iliad. + +Try and make him understand this, and try and convince him that to +yield to his wishes in this matter, means the sacrifice of your tastes, +the waste of your talents, and the destruction of your happiness. + +If he cannot be convinced by your consistent and respectful arguments, +then you must quietly, but firmly, refuse to accept a career distasteful +to you. + +No parent has a right to drive a child into so undesirable a path for +life as this would prove to one of your nature. + +Your father would think the horticulturist insane, who took a delicate +fern and planted it in arid soil, on a hilltop, far from shade, and +expected it to thrive and bear blossoms like the cactus. + +Yet this would be no more unreasonable, than to expect a son of your +temperament and inclinations to be happy and successful in Wall Street. + +It is a curious study to watch parents, and to observe their utter lack +of knowledge regarding a child's nature and capabilities; and to find +them not only ignorant in those important matters, but unwilling to be +enlightened. + +You say it makes your father angry to have any one refer to your +literary talents. + +I remember when your father bred race-horses, and how proud he was that +a two-year-old colt showed traits and points noticeably like its +high-priced dam. + +He chose for your mother, a woman of rare mind, and of poetic taste, and +why should he not be proud and glad that his son resembles her? When +will fathers learn that sons are more frequently like their mothers, and +daughters like their fathers, than otherwise? + +The temporary dissatisfaction of your father is not so sad to +contemplate as your own lifelong disappointment if you accede to his +wishes in this matter. + +Each individual has a right to choose his own career in life, so long as +that career is respectable and bodes no evil to humanity. + +If, as your father threatens, he refuses to give you support while you +are exploring the field of literature, you should feel grateful to him +for this unintentional incentive to success. + +I do not agree with those who consider the necessity to earn money a +misfortune to genius. + +I believe the greatest works of art given to the world have been brought +to light through necessity. + +The artistic temperament is almost invariably combined with a propensity +to dream, and to float upon the clouds of imagination. + +The ranks of wealth and comfort are full of talented and accomplished +people who "never are, but always to be" great. + +One great man in a score may have been reared in affluence, but I doubt +if the statistics would show so large a percentage. + +There are many hills which contain valuable ore, but if the owner sits +in ease upon these elevations, and gazes at the sunsets, he does not +find the ore. If he is a poor man, and takes his pick and _digs_, he +finds his fortune. + +At first he may cast out only loose earth and stones, but by this very +necessity to find valuables, he continues to search until the ore is +reached. + +Were you to remain at home and enjoy all the benefits of your father's +wealth, I doubt if you would have the persistence to dig down into the +mine you possess within you. + +You would sit on the hilltop and dream. + +If you are forced to write to live, you may cast up some rubbish from +the surface; yet by the continual digging you will reveal all that lies +below. + +Regarding the style you speak of adopting, let your feeling come +_first_, your style of expressing that feeling _second_. Say nothing +merely to exhibit your style--and hold back some strong feelings until +you can give them the best expression. + +As to the methods of getting your work before the public and the +"influence" you need, I can only assure you that unless you write with +purpose, and power, and passionate enjoyment of your art, forgetful of +all things save your desire to express yourself, no influence on earth +can do more than give you a page in a magazine, or a column in a +newspaper for an occasion or two. And if you do write under those +conditions, you will need no influence: for it is just such writing the +world wants; and the editors and publishers will be forced to read you, +whether they are inclined to or not. + +Christopher Columbus found his continent because he was so determined, +so persistent, so certain that unknown lands awaited him. + +It made no difference who told him that all the earth had been +discovered, and that he would never be able to succeed in his wild +venture. His purpose was too strong to be influenced by the doubts of +others. + +It has always seemed to me that God would have made a continent to +reward such a search, had it not already existed. + +Unless you set forth on the sea of literature, with the spirit of a +Columbus in your soul, you may as well give up the idea of finding the +Port of Glory. If you do set forth with that spirit, you need ask no +mortal influence. + +God is the only influence genius needs. + +Perseverance the only method. + +To find the way to success alone, is the test of talent. + +Some influential author might give you the entree once to a magazine. +But editors and publishers are men of purely business instincts, and +they will not accept work on the recommendation of any third party, +which they think their public will not like. Their constant effort is to +find what that public _does like_, and the unknown author has an equal +advantage with the genius, if he sends such material. + +An author once told me that he "trapped" twenty manuscripts and sent +them out to editors, and all came back unread, as his "trap" proved. + +Since he sent them forth with such doubts in his mind, it is no wonder +his trap succeeded and his manuscripts failed. + +No great literary fire of purpose could be in the mind of a man who +spent thought and time on such a plot to trick an editor. And because +there was no great flame, the inanimate manuscripts were returned +unread. For even a package of paper sends out its "aura," and invites or +repels attention. + +If you are discouraged by the people who tell you that "everything has +been written," and that you can only be a faint echo of greater souls, +then you do not deserve success. I have no doubt the croakers of that +day told Shakespeare the same. + +It seems that Shakespeare did take many old themes and other people's +plots and ideas to re-create in his own way. And what a way! Surely he +who best uses an idea is most entitled to the credit. + +There is nothing new under the sun, but there is always the new +audience. For the majestic old poem of Spring, bound over in new covers +of green, God creates fresh, eager young eyes and hearts each year. And +not yet has he said to the year, "Do not attempt another spring--there +have been so many before, you can but repeat their beauties." Then why +should any mortal say to the poet or the author, "Do not try to +write--it has all been said before." + +Proceed, my young friend, and write what is in your heart. Nothing quite +the same was ever in any heart before, and yet the greater part of it +has been in all hearts, and will be in all hearts, so long as the world +lasts. + +Remember that when you write from the heart, it will go to the hearts of +your readers: and when you write from your head it will go no lower than +the head. + +And if the critics score or ridicule you, consider yourself on the path +to success. + +If you have a message for the world, nothing and nobody can prevent you +from delivering it. + +He only fails who has nothing to say. + + + + +To Mrs. McAllister + +_Concerning Her Little Girl_ + + +How strange it seems that your daughter is ten years old. + +It is such a brief hour since you wrote me you were eighteen and had +entered Vassar. Having no children of my own to stand as milestones on +life's highway, and keeping a very young heart in my breast all these +years, it seems at times little less than impertinent in the children I +have known to develop so rapidly into matrons and fathers. + +I am glad for you that the doctor has reached the desirable goal where +he can rest from his laborious profession for two years, and take that +journey abroad you have so long contemplated. And I am glad that you +feel the satisfaction you say you do, in never having left him alone +for a whole season as you once thought of doing. + +A satisfied conscience is a better comrade to journey along beside, than +a remembered pleasure. + +But now about Genevieve. + +You tell me she is to be left with your sister, and that she will, for +the first time, attend the public school. + +You are right in thinking this will make her more American in spirit +than an education gained through home teaching or private schools. + +The girl who attends private schools only, is almost invariably +inoculated with the serum of aristocracy. + +She believes herself a little higher order of being than the children +who attend public schools, and it requires continual association with +people of broad common sense to counteract this influence. I know you +and the doctor have exerted this influence, but your sister might not +realize the necessity of making a special effort in that direction. + +Then, too, since the fathers or grandfathers of our most conspicuous +social leaders were self-made and self-taught, and since our American +society is composed of so many varied types of humanity, it is well for +a young girl to come in contact with all classes while she is yet a +child, that she may understand humanity as she is sure to encounter it +later. Yet, as you say, it is indeed a serious thought to know your +little rosebud of a child is to be tossed into the dust of the public +schoolroom. + +"I do not want the delicate leaves forced into premature blossom or +blight," you say, and I feel for you, as I read the words. + +You remember your own experience as a school-child in the country, and +you tell me you would fain guard your daughter from hearing or seeing +much that came to your ears and eyes as a school-child. + +But now, my dear Winifred, listen. + +It is utterly and absolutely impossible for you to keep Genevieve +ignorant of _life_, or of the great fundamental principles of life. It +is utterly useless to undertake to ignore the set impulse in all nature. +Since God did not ignore it in constructing the universe, parents cannot +afford to in educating children. The one thing to do is to teach your +child early to respect and revere the subject, and to regard all things +pertaining to birth as sacred, never to be lightly discussed. Wherever +the eyes of an observing child turn, they see something to arouse +curiosity upon this subject. + +All literature (the Bible particularly) contains some reference to sex +and birth. Unless you stuff the ears of children with cotton, they must +hear expressions, suggestions, and references, which necessitate +explanations of the same vital subject. From insects to man, through all +the various kingdoms, sex laws are the foundation of life. + +Why parents have chosen to taboo this important subject, and why they +surround it with falsehood and subterfuge, and suggest that it is +unclean or vulgar, has always puzzled me. + +Inconceivable harm, lifelong disaster, has befallen many a girl and many +a boy through this mistaken attitude of parents to God's basic law of +the universe. + +Genevieve is only ten. But she is a child with a most inquiring mind, +and she already indicates a tendency to coquetry. She prefers boys to +dolls, and evidently finds them more interesting than girls. + +The things you would guard her from knowing, she is sure to learn in +some undesirable and unfortunate manner, unless you prepare her for them +with loving delicacy and refinement. + +My suggestion is that you take a plant, and talk to her about its +growth. Tell her how it springs from a seed, and hides in the bosom of +the earth, expanding until it bursts through, and becomes the baby of +mother earth. + +Tell her, too, of the bird life in the egg, and make her realize the +mother-impulse in all nature. Then say to her that she is a part of it +all and that she came into life by the same divine law, and that when +she is older you will explain whatever puzzles her young mind. + +Tell her that she was carried under your heart, as the sprout was +carried in the bosom of mother earth, and that it is a very holy and +beautiful thing; so holy and so beautiful that the refined and sweet +people of the world do not talk freely of the subject, but keep it like +a religion, for those very near to them. + +Then say, You will hear other children, who have not been told this by +their mothers, speak rudely and even jest on this subject. They are to +be pitied, for not knowing such jests are vulgar, but you must walk away +from them, and refuse to listen, after telling them your mother has +explained all you need to know. Impress upon her that she is never to +discuss the topic with any one else, unless you advise her to do so. + +I have known only two mothers who took this method with their children, +but both succeeded in rearing beautiful and remarkable daughters and +sons. For the sons were included in the talk by one mother, and they +were ideal boys and gentlemen--popular with, and respected by their +comrades, in spite of their delicacy and reserve on subjects jested over +by other boys. + +I am sure that you can protect Genevieve from the soil and shock you +fear for her, by making her your confidante at this early age, and by +convincing her of your loving companionship in the future. Under no +other conditions would I for one day allow a little girl (or a little +boy for that matter) to attend a public school. Not one parent in a +thousand realizes the moral dangers surrounding small children who go to +and from school in country or city places. + +Many remember their own precocious education on forbidden topics, yet +seem to imagine their children will be immune from such experiences. + +But until the Creator produces life by some new process, children will +never be exempt from curiosity regarding the present method, and parents +may as well realize the fact and become their children's reverent +instructors, instead of leaving them to be taught God's holiest truths +by vulgar chance or dreadful design. + +Do not imagine that innocence necessitates ignorance. + +Your child will be far more innocent minded, if you give her the +instruction I suggest, than if you leave her to ungoverned imagination +and unenlightened observation. + +Deep in each human entity the sex impulse is planted, and will assert +itself sooner or later. + +Ignorance and curiosity lead often to precocious development of the +impulse. By proper care on your part, your child's mind may be kept +normal, innocent, and wholesome. + +See to it that you give this important care before you leave. + + + + +To Mr. Ray Gilbert + +_Attorney at Law, Aged Thirty_ + + +My dear Mr. Gilbert:--Your letter followed me across the ocean, and +chanced to be the first one opened and read in my weighty home mail +to-day. I have lost all trace of you during the last six years, in that +wonderful way people can lose sight of one another in a large city. Once +or twice I heard you had just left some social function as I arrived, or +was expected just as I was leaving, and once, recently, I saw you across +the house at a first night, with a very pretty girl at your side. I +fancy this is the "one woman in the world for you," of whom you speak in +the letter before me--the letter written the evening before your +marriage. How good you are to carry out my request made seven years +ago, and to write me this beautiful letter, after reading over and +burning your former boyish epistle, returning to me my reply. + +It is every man's duty to himself, his bride, and the other woman, to +destroy all evidences of past infatuations and affections, before he +enters the new life. It is every woman's duty to do the same--_with a +reservation_. Since men demand so much more of a wife than a wife +demands of a husband, a woman is wise to retain any proof in her +possession that some man has been an honourable suitor for her hand. She +should make no use of such evidence, unless the unaccepted lover +indulges in disrespectful comments or revengeful libels, as some men are +inclined to when the fruit for which they reached is picked by another +hand. + +And it is when the grapes are called sour that the evidence may prove +effective of their having been thought sweet and desirable. + +It is a curious fact that no woman thinks less of a man for his having +had his vain infatuations, and that all men think less of a woman if she +has loved without response. + +Therefore, it behoves her to destroy no evidence that the other man, not +herself, was the discarded party. + +But woe unto the man who retains old love-letters, or other tokens of +dead loves and perished desires. + +Few men could be guilty of showing or repeating the contents of another +man's love-letters. Women who are models of virtue and goodness have +been known to make public the letters written a man in earlier years by +another object of his affections. I have to my personal knowledge known +a woman to place before the eyes of a third person, lines written +evidently in the very heart's blood of a former sweetheart of her +husband--words the man believed he had destroyed with other letters, +more than a score of years before. Imagine what the feelings of that +early sweetheart, now a happy and beloved wife, would be, did she know +the words written so long ago were spread before cold and critical +eyes, and discussed by two people who could have no comprehension of the +conditions and circumstances which led to their expression. + +Because I know otherwise tender-hearted and good women are capable of +such acts, I am glad you have obeyed my wish of seven years ago, and +that all proofs of your boyish infatuation for an older woman are +destroyed. You say you have told the girl you love that you once were +foolishly fond of me, and that I helped you to higher ideals of +womanhood and life. + +That is wise and well, since you found her to be broad and sensible +enough to share such a confidence. But had she seen your written words +to me and my reply, it would have been less agreeable to her than to +hear your own calm recital of the now dead passion. + +Words written in a state of high-wrought intensity retain a sort of +phosphoric luminosity, like certain decaying substances, and even after +the passage of years, and when the emotions which gave them expression +are dead and for-gotten, they seem to emit life and feeling. + +_Burn your bridges as you walk along the highways of romance to St. +Benedict's land_. + +Since you compliment me by saying I have helped you to higher ideals of +life, will you allow me to give you a little advice regarding your +treatment of your wife? + +You have every reason to know that I have been a happy and well-loved +wife of the man of my choice. You know that I have neither sought nor +accepted the attentions of other men when they crossed the danger-line +lying between friendship and love. + +Therefore it may astonish you when I confess that, at the time you +temporarily lost your head, I was conscious of an undercurrent of +feminine vanity at the thought that I was capable of inspiring a young +and talented man with so sincere a feeling. + +A similar experience with an older man would have suggested an insult, +since older men understand human nature, and realize what a flirtation +with a married woman means. But your ingenuousness, and your romantic, +boyish temperament, were, in a measure, an excuse for your folly, and +made me lenient toward you. + +My happy life, my principles and ideals, submerged this sentiment of +feminine vanity to which I confess, but I knew it was there, and it led +me to much meditation, then and ever since, upon the matter of woman's +weakness and folly. + +As never before, I was able to understand how a neglected or misused +wife might mistake this very sentiment of flattered vanity for the +recognition of an affinity. + +Had I been suffering from coldness and indifference at home, how +acceptable your boyish devotion might have proved to me. + +And how easily I would have been persuaded by your blind reasoning that +we were intended by an all-wise Providence for life companions. + +There is no sin a woman so readily forgives as a man's unruly love for +her, and hundreds of noble-hearted women have been led to regard a +lawless infatuation as a divine emotion, because they were lonely, and +neglected, and hungry for affection. + +See to it, my dear friend, as the years go by, that your wife needs no +romance from the outside world to embellish her life with sentiment. + +Do not drop into the humdrum ways of many contented husbands, and forget +to pay the compliment, and cease to act the lover. + +Notice the gowns and hats your wife wears, and share her pleasures and +interests when it is possible. + +Not that you should always be together, for separate enjoyments and +occupations sometimes lend an added zest to life for husband and wife, +but do not drift apart in all your ideas and interests, as have so many +married people. + +You are the husband of a bright and lovely girl, and if you forget this +fact after a time, remember there are other Ray Gilberts who may realize +it, and seek to awaken such an interest in her heart as you sought to +arouse in mine. + +You found the room occupied by its rightful host. + +See it that no man finds the room vacant in your wife's heart. + +Study the art of keeping your wife interested and interesting. + +A woman thrives on love and appreciation. I know a beautiful bride of +eighty years, who has been the daily adoration of her husband for more +than half a century. + +She has been "infinite in her variety," and he has never failed to +appreciate and admire. + +Devote a portion of each day to talking to your wife about herself. + +Then she will not find it a novelty when other men attempt the same +method of entertainment. + +Whatever other matters engross your time and attention, let your wife +realize that she stands first and foremost in your thoughts and in your +heart. + +Do not forget the delicacies of life, manner, speech, and deportment in +the intimacy of daily companionship. + +Never descend to the vulgar or the commonplace. + +One characteristic of men has always puzzled me. No matter how wide has +been a bachelor's experience with the wives and daughters of other men, +when he marries it never occurs to him that his wife or daughters could +meet temptation or know human weakness. + +It must be the egotism of the sex. + +Each man excuses the susceptibility of the women with whom he has had +romantic episodes, on the ground of his especial power or charm. And +when he marries, he believes his society renders all the women of his +family immune from other attractions. + +Do not rely upon the fact that your wife is legally bound to you, and +therefore need not be wooed by you hereafter. + +There are women who are born anew with each dawn, and who must be won +anew with each day, or the lover loses some precious quality than can +never be regained. + +It will pay you to study your wife as the years pass. + +Do not take for granted that you know her to-day, because you knew her +thoroughly last year. + +This is a long letter, but when one writes only once in seven years, +brevity is not to be expected. + +My greeting to you, and may the years be weaver's hands, which shall +interlace and bind two lives into one complete pattern. + + + + +To the Sister of a Great Beauty + + +I am far from laughing, my dear girl, at your assertion that your +position is little short of tragic. + +To be the ordinary sister of an extraordinary beauty, is a position +which calls for the exercise of all the great virtues in order to be +borne with dignity, good taste, and serenity. + +I remember seeing you and Pansy when you were ten and she twelve years +of age. I foresaw what lay before you then, and have often wondered how +you would meet the occasion when you were both "finished," and at home +under the same roof, and socially launched. It was wise for your mother +to separate you so early in life, and place you under different +teachers, and in different schools. + +It is difficult for a girl in her late childhood and early teens to use +philosophy and religion to support her, when she is made a Cinderella by +unthinking associates and friends, and forgotten and neglected while a +more attractive sister is lionized. + +Had you always walked in the shadow of your handsome sister until +to-day, I fancy your disposition would have become warped with +resentment and envy. + +And perhaps your feelings for Pansy would have been less affectionate +than now. + +I am glad to have you tell me that Pansy is so modest and unassuming and +so genuinely solicitous for your happiness. + +She must have been particularly fortunate in her environment while at +school to possess such qualities after knowing as she has known for +twenty-two years that her beauty is dazzling to the eye of even the +chance beholder. + +There is no greater obstacle to the development of the best qualities +in a young woman than the possession of such unusual beauty. From her +cradle she is made to realize its power, and men and women teach her in +a thousand unconscious ways to be selfish and self-centred. She receives +attentions, and her acquaintance is sought, with no effort on her part, +while more gifted and deserving companions are unnoticed. She is made to +realize that she is one to be served, where less attractive girls are +taught to "stand and wait." + +The love nature of each human being is either developed or stunted by +neglect during the early years of life, and, as a rule, the beautiful +woman is incapable of a deep, absorbing, and unselfish love, because she +has grown up the receiver instead of the giver. + +Were you, my dear Sallie, to know the number of great beauties who have +failed to find happiness in marriage, you would be amazed. But the +explanation is simple; for man is a being who, however he may worship +beauty before marriage, worships his own comfort more deeply afterward. +And it is rare indeed when a famous beauty troubles herself to plan for +the comfort or happiness of the man she marries. It is the natural +result of her education to think man made to adore and serve her. + +I hope Pansy may keep her loving and lovable qualities, and that she may +marry before the adoration and admiration of many men become necessary +to her life. For the beauties' matrimonial barque most often founders on +the reef of plural lovers. + +As for yourself, I can only suggest that you acquire many +accomplishments, and perfect yourself in music and languages, and that +you seek for the attainment of all the subtle graces, which are, in the +long run, more lasting as sources of happiness for a woman than mere +beauty. It is a peculiarly significant fact that the great passions of +history have not been inspired by very young or startlingly beautiful +women, but by those of maturity and mental charms. + +Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Aspasia, Petrarch's Laura, had all crossed +the line between youth and middle life, and there are no authentic +proofs that any one of the number was a dazzling beauty. Some of the +world's most alluring women have been absolutely plain. + +You are not plain. It is only by comparison that you so regard yourself. + +There is much you can do to make yourself more attractive personally. +You know what Rochefoucauld said: "No woman is in fault for not being +beautiful at sixteen; any woman is in fault if she is not beautiful at +forty." + +However much it may sound like a platitude, it is a great and eternal +truth that your mental activities are chiselling your features. By +keeping yourself concerned with good, gracious, and great thoughts, you +are shaping your face into a noble beauty minute by minute, and hour by +hour. + +Avoid as much as possible looking at repulsive and ugly objects. + +Look at whatever is beautiful and seek for it. + +Search for whatever is admirable in nature and human nature, and muse +upon those things in your moments of solitude. + +Cultivate love-thoughts for humanity at large. + +Avoid severe criticisms, and develop sympathy and pity in your soul. +Study the comfort and pleasure of strangers in public places, and +friends and associates in nearer relations. + +Remember always how brief a thing, and ofttimes sad, life is to many, +and seek to brighten and better it as you pass along. + +Meanwhile, take care of your person, study your lines and your features, +and learn how to dress and how to carry yourself; how to obtain +"presence," that indescribable charm in woman. + +Take daily care of your complexion, which to a woman is of prime +importance. + +Call in the skill of the specialist to help you preserve and beautify +your skin and hair, just as the dentist and the oculist are to be +consulted to help you preserve teeth and eyes. Think beauty for mind, +soul, and body; live it, and believe it is your right. + +And just as surely as you pursue this line of conduct for ten years, +just so surely will you find yourself at thirty far more attractive than +at twenty, and at forty more lovely than at thirty. Learn to be a +linguist, and acquire skill upon some one instrument, that you may +entertain those who care to converse, and give pleasure to those who +wish to be silent. + +You are young, and life with its splendid possibilities is before you. +There is nothing a woman with youth, will-power, and _love_ may not +accomplish--even to the convincing of the world that she is beautiful, +when her mirror may say otherwise. + +For enduring and all-encompassing beauty is a composite thing, and +unless a woman possesses the spiritual and mental portions, the physical +phase soon loses its attractions for the cultivated eye; while with the +development of the first two, the third is certain to come. + +Begin to-day, my dear girl, to _grow beauty_ which shall make you a +power and an influence in the world where you move, and which shall +invite, rather than fear, the approach of time. + + + + +To Mrs. White Peak + +_One of the Pillars of Respectable Society_ + + +Ever since your call and our conversation regarding Sybyl Marchmont, I +have felt a rising tide of indignation. It has reached the perigee mark +and must overflow. If it reaches you and gives you a thorough soaking, I +shall feel satisfied. + +I have always known you were only half-developed. There are many such +people in the world. They serve their purpose and often do much good. +They miss a great deal of life, but as they rarely know that they miss +anything, it is a waste of sentiment to pity them. + +I have pitied you, nevertheless. I have often wished I could give you +the vital qualities you lack. + +My pity turned to indignation when I heard you express yourself in such +unqualified terms of condemnation regarding other women who happened to +be unlike you in temperament. + +You say there is a certain line which no well-born and womanly woman can +pass in thought or feeling or action. + +You regard the true women of earth as a higher and rarer order of +creation than the best of men, and any woman who by action or word +confesses herself to be quite human in her temperament, you feel is, to +a certain extent, "unclean and unsexed." You believe the really good +women of earth are always on a plane above and beyond the physical. When +any woman falls from her pedestal you despise her. + +How dare you, madam, sitting in your cold, white chastity, lay down laws +of what you consider purity, morality, and cleanliness, for other human +souls? + +How dare you condemn those who do not reach your standard? + +What do you know of life, great, palpitating, throbbing, vital life, +terrible and beautiful life, terrible while passing through the valleys +of temptation, beautiful upon the heights of self-control? + +How dare you assume greater virtue, greater respectability, greater +fineness of sentiment, than the tempest-tossed, passion-beaten souls, +about you? + +What do you know of real virtue, real strength? + +You have been poor, you tell me, in worldly riches, and you have been +lonely, yet you have never once degraded your womanhood by an "unworthy +" impulse. Never known a temptation of the senses. Those things +disgusted you. + +You have preferred toil to taking favours from inferiors, and you have +kept yourself clean in thought, word, and deed, and now you have the +reward of such virtues--a good home, a husband, and children. + +You are a more devoted mother than wife, as you have always dwelt upon a +lofty white peak of chaste womanhood, from which any descent into the +earthly realms of life and love was repugnant--so rarely "pure" and high +your nature. + +Yet you have been a dutiful, loyal wife, and you are a devoted mother. + +You despise all carnal-minded women, and cannot understand how women +fall--save that they lack good birth and breeding. + +You will aid in a benefit for their reformation, but you do not want to +see them or to come near them. It makes you ill. + +You are to be congratulated on never having added to the evil in the +world. + +But permit me, madam, to tell you some truths about yourself--and the +large army of "respectable women" you represent. + +However "well born" you may be, you are only half-born. The complete +human being has three sides to his nature--spiritual, mental, physical. + +The men and women who are evenly developed on the three sides are few. +This is sometimes their fault--sometimes their misfortune. + +We all pity the human being who is mentally dwarfed. We are sorry for +the one whose spiritual nature is undeveloped. + +But why should the many women who are devoid of the physical qualities +of human nature presume to lay claim to perfection and to regard the +normal woman as a suspicious character? + +You have a fine, active mind, a highly spiritual nature, but you are +stunted in strong, physical emotion. You are incapable of it, and pride +yourself upon the fact. + +If that pleases you, well and good. + +But how dare you criticize God's _complete human_ beings, who feel the +great vibrations of the universe, who glow and thrill with that divine +creative force, who live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths +before they learn the glory of self-conquest. + +How dare you shrink even from those who fall by the wayside, and call +your shrinking "purity"! + +Let me ask you another question: + +How dare you turn away from that girl who went through the door of the +Magdalene Home you helped establish, with her fatherless child in her +arms? + +She fell from woman's holy estate! + +Yes, through mad love for a man--she loved him with her soul, her mind, +her body. She lacked knowledge, balance, and wisdom; she had only love +and passion. + +And you, madam, how about _your_ children? + +They were born of a "dutiful" wife. You descended from your lofty +altitude unwillingly--only at duty's call. You are so "refined," yet you +are a loving mother and pose as the highest type of woman. + +_God never made in his whole universe of worlds such a "duty" as +unwilling motherhood_. Motherhood without the call of sex for sex is +indecent--criminal. You, too, madam, _fell_. + +That girl in yonder "home" your "charity" helped establish, who loved +unwisely, fell. Her fall was through love--yours through a legal +ceremony. + +All the churches, all the religions and the laws of earth, cannot make +motherhood holy and right without the mutual mental, spiritual, and +physical union of two beings. + +Heaven and earth _both_ must sanction a child's conception to produce a +"well-born" soul. + +There is no greater sin on earth than the creation of a human life +without complete accord of the creators. + +No wonder the world is full of miserable half-born beings, when mothers +like _you_ claim to be the Madonnas of earth. + +No wonder natural, complete, striving souls hide their true natures +under a false exterior, when women like _you_ rule church and society. + +What shame or degradation is there, pray, in being animate with the +all-pervading impulse which underlies the entire universe? Every planet, +every tree, every flower, every insect, is the result of sex seeking +sex, atom calling atom. + +The universe _is_ because of the law of sex attraction. + +And you, poor, puny, pallid woman, dare decry and despise that law, and +dare insult God's animate creature! + +Know this, madam, there is no strength worth boasting that has not +conquered weakness. No virtue worth the name that has not conquered +temptation. No greatness of character that has not overcome unworthy +impulses. + +Enjoy your negative goodness and be glad you are "good." + +Morality is acceptable to the world, however it conies; but dare not sit +in judgment on other human beings fighting battles whose smoke never +reaches your nostrils, striving for heights of which you never even +dream, and who meanwhile have missed certain degradations which you seem +to consider creditable achievements. + +Madam, I bid you adieu. That word means "I commend you to God," the God +who made the two sexes, and intended love to unite them. + +May He enlighten you in other lives, if not in this. + + + + +To Maria Owens + +_A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_ + + +Surprise, I am free to confess, was my dominant emotion on reading your +letter. Marriage and Maria had never associated themselves in my mind, +fond as I am of alliteration. + +Never in the ten years I have known you have I heard you devote ten +minutes to the subject of any man's good qualities. You always have +discoursed upon men's faults and vices, and upon their tendency, since +the beginning of time, to tyrannize over woman. I was unable to +disprove many of your statements, for I know the weight of argument is +upon your side, even while I boldly confess my admiration and regard for +men, as a class, is greater than that for women. + +The fact that the world has allowed men such latitude, and such +license, and made them pay such very small penalties, comparatively +speaking, for very large offences, causes me to admire their wonderful +achievements in noble living all the more: and to place the man of +unblemished reputation and unquestioned probity on a pedestal higher +than any I could yet ask builded for woman. + +It is more difficult to be great before the extended tentacles of the +self-indulgence octopus than in the face of oppression and danger. When +the laws of the land and the sentiment of the people permit a man to be +selfish, licentious, tyrannical, and yet call him great if he +accomplishes heroic deeds, it proves what intrinsic worth must lie in +the nature of those who attain the heights of unselfishness and +benevolence, and martyrdom, asking no reward and often receiving none +until posterity bestows it. + +Those who can take the broad road of selfishness unmolested, and choose +the narrow path of high endeavour instead, seem to me greater than those +who overcome mere externals. + +Many such men have existed, and the steady, slow, but certain progress +of the world from barbarism to civilization, from accepted cannibalism +and slavery to ideals of brotherhood, we owe to them. All new +discoveries, all greatest achievements are due to men. Woman, I know, +has been handicapped and oppressed for centuries by superstitions, and +traditions, and unjust laws; but it is unfair to ignore the bright, and +see only the dark side of the picture, which the centuries have painted +for us, on the background of time. + +This letter is only a resume of many conversations between you and me, +and it leads up to the explanation of why I am somewhat dazed and +stunned by your announcement that marriage is a possible event in your +near future. + +My self-conceit in regard to my knowledge of human nature every now and +then receives a blow. So soon as I have arrived at a positive conviction +that I understand any human being thoroughly, and feel that I can safely +predict what that person will or will not do, I usually meet some such +bewildering experience as this. + +I would have laughed at any one who suggested the possibility of your +considering a proposition of marriage. + +You tell me you are thirty-five years old, and say you have never before +met the man to whom your thoughts reverted, no matter how you +endeavoured to occupy yourself with other subjects. You also tell me "he +is not like other men." These two statements are wonderfully familiar to +me, indeed they have been confided to me in precisely the same words by +at least a score of women, young and not so young, who met the +compelling man. _Maria, I believe you are in love_. Your heart is +awakened from its stupor, caused by an overdose of intellect. For too +much intellect is often a drug which deadens the consciousness of a +woman's heart. But you have been drugged so long that you are still +under a hazy spell, to judge from that portion of your letter which took +the form of an inquiry. + +You ask my opinion in regard to the point of disagreement between you +and your semi-fiance. To much that you say I agree. You have carved a +name and a place for yourself in the world. Your lectures, and your +books, have made your name familiar to many people. Your lover is +unknown to the public, a man in the private walks of life. Therefore you +think if he loves you as he should to become your husband, he ought to +give up his own name and take yours, or at least add yours to his own. +You assure me it is merely a matter of habit, that women have +obliterated themselves on the altar of marriage, and that it is time a +new order was instituted. You think the hour calls for pioneers to +establish new boundaries, in a new world where woman will be allowed to +keep her individuality after marriage. Meantime your lover does not feel +that you really love him, when you ask him to take this somewhat radical +step for your sake, or for the sake of all women, as you put it. + +And there you both stand, with only this ridiculous barrier between you +and happiness. + +You are still influenced by the intellectual drug, and it hinders your +heart from following out its best impulses. You have not yet learned +more than the A B C of love, or you would know that the greatest +happiness in loving lies in sacrifice. To take and not give, to gain +something and give up nothing, is not loving. Now I think I hear you +saying, "But why should not my lover give this proof of devotion as well +as I? Why should not he be ready to sacrifice a tradition, and a name, +to please me? Why am I more unloving, or selfish, than he, to refuse to +give up my name?" + +My answer follows. + +Any woman who asks a man to give up his name and take hers (unless some +great legal matter which involves the property rights of others hangs on +so doing) asks him to make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the world. +She indicates, also, that her family name and her own achievements are +dearer to her than his. No woman loves a man enough to be happy as his +wife, if he is not dearer to her than any mere personal success, however +great. + +The man who asks a woman to take his name obeys a tradition and a +custom, to be sure, and the woman who accepts it does not display any +especially heroic trait. Therefore, what you demand of your lover is a +far greater proof of devotion than what he asks of you. No woman who +fully understood the meaning of love could ask this of her future +husband. If he occupied the place in her life which a husband should, no +matter what were her personal attainments, she would glory in adding his +name to her own, and in having its shelter to hide under at times from +the glare of publicity. + +Should you choose to keep your name Maria Owens with no addition, for +your lectures and your books, it is quite probable your husband would +not object. And again, if your achievements are worth the thought you +give them in this matter, they are great enough to endure even should +you add the name of Chester to that of Owens. But certainly, if you love +the man you think of marrying, you will be happy in the thought of +wearing his name legally and socially in every-day life, and the sight +of a card engraved, "Mrs. Rupert Chester," will give your heart a +sweeter thrill than it has ever known in connection with the newspaper +notices of Maria Owens. + +Unless you can arouse your heart to such an understanding of love, you +are not yet acquainted with the little god. If your lover consents to +the sacrifice you have demanded, he will indicate a weakness of +character which augurs ill for the future: and if you insist upon the +sacrifice, you will establish a selfish precedent which can only make +you a tyrant in your own domain, and at the same time belittle your +husband in the public eye. + +However proud and happy you may be in the thought of noble achievements +of your own, you must realize that there are many brutal and painful +phases to a public career for a woman. These phases do not exist to any +such degree for a man. I do not believe it is the result of tradition or +habit, but of sex and temperament, that this difference exists, and that +the shelter of a man's name means more to woman than any shelter to be +found in her own, and that the sacrifice of her own name means less to +her than the sacrifice of his means to him. Unless you can reach this +same conclusion, do not marry--for you do not love. + + + + +To Mrs. St. Claire + +_The Young Divorcee_ + + +And so you have joined the increasing army of the divorcees. + +It is worse than useless to discuss again the causes which led to this +situation, and now that the law of the land has made you a free woman, +the one thing for you to consider is your future, and to formulate to +some degree a code of conduct for your guidance. + +You are in the prime of beautiful womanhood, pleasing to the eye, and +agreeable to the mind. Women will regard you with more or less mental +reservation, and men will seek you at every opportunity. + +Some witty creature has said, "A little widow is a dangerous thing." + +It might be added, "A grass widow whets the appetites of bovines". + +You will find yourself at a loss to choose when an escort is needed, so +many and persistent will be the applicants for the position. + +After having passed through the black waters of an unhappy marriage, +this sudden freedom and return to the privileges of girlhood will be +liable to affect you like the glare of sunlight after confinement in a +dark room. + +You will be blinded for a time. It would be well for you to walk slowly, +and to use a cane of common sense, and even to feel your way with the +outstretched hands of discretion, until you become accustomed to the +light. + +To fall and scar yourself now, would be a disaster. + +It is a curious fact that a woman who has been unhappy with one man +usually finds many others ready to give her the opportunity for a +repetition of her experience. And it is equally curious that one unhappy +marriage frequently leads to another. + +A disastrous rencontre with Hymen seems to destroy a woman's finer +intuitions. If you feel that you must marry again, go slowly, and wait +until the bruised tendrils of your heart have healed and are rooted in +healthy soil. Do not let them twine about any sort of a dead tree or +frail reed. Run no chance of a second sorrow. + +One divorce always contains elements of tragedy. A second becomes a +farce. + +You tell me that you and your former husband entertain the kindest +feeling for each other. You have seen him and talked with him on several +occasions, and you regard him as a friend. You say all love and +sentiment perished long before your separation, and that to continue as +his wife was to die a thousand deaths daily. + +You tell me that your own higher development demanded this separation. I +know such situations do exist in the world of men and women, and that to +submit to them is a crime. Yet I also know that this idea of +"development" is used often as a cloak for all sorts of selfish impulses +and moods. + +Many men and women to-day seem to forget that certain other objects +besides happiness enter into self-development. + +It is not only the pilot who deserts the ship and swims ashore who saves +his life. The one who keeps his hand on the wheel, and his eye on the +lighthouse, he, too, sometimes saves his own life, as well as saves the +ship. + +But since to jump overboard was the only way to save your own life, now +that you are ashore, and dry, and comfortable, your first consideration +should be to avoid falling into mires and pits as you go along. + +Though romance died out of your marriage, do not let it die out of your +heart. It is commendable that you feel no bitterness or resentment +toward your husband. But do not carry your kindly feelings toward him to +the extent of frequent association and comradeship. + +Outside of criminal situations, life offers no more ghastly and +unpleasant picture than that of dead passion galvanized into a semblance +of friendship, and going about the world devoid of the strong elements +of either sentiment. + +There is something radically wrong with a woman's ideals when she does +not feel an instinctive unwillingness to be thrown with the man from +whom she has been divorced. + +There is something akin to degeneracy in the man or woman who can +contemplate without shrinking the intimate encounter of legally parted +husbands or wives. + +The softening of the human brain is a terrible malady. + +Quite as terrible is the hardening of the human heart. + +The loss of happiness is deemed a tragedy. But far greater is the +tragedy when the illusive charm of romance departs, and love and +marriage are reduced to the commonplace. Unless you find the man who +carries your whole nature by storm, and who makes you feel that life +without him will be insupportable, do not be led again to the altar of +marriage. + +Life has many avenues for a bright and charming woman which lead to +satisfaction and peace, if not to happiness. + +If you desire to be a picturesque figure in the world, remember that the +divorced woman who never marries again is far more so than she who has +taken the names of two living men. + +And remember how much there is in life to do for other people, how much +there is to achieve, and how much there is to enjoy, for the woman who +has eyes wherewith to see, and ears with which to hear. + +Life is a privilege, even to the unhappy. It allows them the opportunity +to display the great qualities which God implanted in every soul, and to +give the world higher examples of character. + +He who leaves such an example to the world earns happiness for eternity. + + + + +To Miss Jessie Harcourt + +_Regarding Her Marriage with a Poor Young Man_ + + +And so there is trouble in the house of Harcourt, my dear Jessie. You +want to marry your intellectual young lover, who has only his pen +between him and poverty, and your cruel father, who owns the town, says +it is an act of madness on your part, and of presumption on his. + +And you are thinking of going to the nearest clergyman and defying +parental authority. + +You have even looked at rooms where you believe you and Ernest could be +ideally happy. And you want me to act as matron-of-honour at that very +informal little wedding. + +Now, my dear girl, before you take this important step, give the matter +careful study. + +Your impulses are beautiful, and your ideal natural and lovely. God +intended men and women to choose their mates in this very way, with no +consideration of a worldly nature to mar their happiness. + +But civilized young ladies are a far call from God's primitive woman. +You have lived for twenty-three years in the lap of modern luxury. Your +father prides himself upon the fact that, although your mother died when +you were very young, he has carefully shielded you from everything which +could cast a shadow upon your name or nature. Your lover is fascinated +with your absolute purity and innocence. Yet he does not realize that a +young woman who has so long "sat in the lap of Luxury," is unfit to be a +poor man's wife. + +Some girl who might know much more than you of the dark and vulgar side +of life, would make him a better companion if he could love her enough +to ask her hand in marriage. + +The girl who has received the addresses of this fascinating old fellow +"Luxury," never quite forgets him, or ceases to bemoan him if she +throws him over for a poor man. + +To _look_ at two rooms and a bath is one thing, to _live_ in them +another, after having all your life occupied a suite which a queen might +envy, with retinues of servitors at call. + +You tell me you could die for your lover. + +But can you bathe from a wash-bowl and pitcher, and can you take your +meals at cheap restaurants, and make coffee and toast on an oil-stove or +a chafing-dish? + +Can you wear cheap clothing and ride in trolleys, and economize on +laundry bills to prove your love for this man? + +You never have known one single hardship in your life; you never have +faced poverty, or even experienced the ordinary economies of well-to-do +people. + +You are an only daughter of wealth--_American wealth_. That sentence +conveys a world of meaning. _It means that you are spoiled for anything +but comfort in this life_. + +For a few weeks you might believe yourself in a fairy-land of romance +if you married your lover and went to live in the two rooms. But at the +end of that period you would begin to realize that you were in a very +actual land of poverty and discomfort. + +Discomfort is relative. Those rooms to the shop-girl who had toiled for +years, and lived in a fourth-flight-back tenement, would represent +luxury. To you, after a few months, they would mean absolute penury. + +You would begin to miss your beautiful home, and your maids, and your +carriages. Your husband would know you were missing them, and he would +be miserable. Unless your father came to your rescue, your dream of +romantic love would end in a nightmare of regret and sorrow. + +Your father knows you,--the creature of refined tastes and luxurious +habits that he has made you,--and your lover does not. Neither do you +know yourself. + +It requires a woman in ten thousand, one possessed of absolute heroism, +like the old martyrs who sang at the stake while dying, to do what you +contemplate, and to be happy in the doing. + +Nothing like a life of self-indulgence disintegrates great qualities. +You are romantically and feverishly in love with a handsome and gifted +young man. But do not rush into a marriage with him until you can bring +your father to settle a competence upon you, or until your lover has +spanned the abyss of poverty with a bridge of comfort. You have had no +training in self-denial or self-dependence. The altar is a bad place to +begin your first lesson. + +Wait awhile. I know my advice seems worldly and cold, but it is the +result of wide observation. + +If you cannot sit in your gold and white boudoir, and be true to Ernest +while he battles a few more years with destiny, then you could not +remain loyal in thought while you held your numb fingers over a chilly +radiator in an uncomfortable flat, or omitted dessert from your dinner +menu to cut down expenses. + +Your brain-cells have been developed in opulence. + +You could not train your mind to inexorable economy, even at the command +of Cupid. + +Take the advice of a woman of the world, my dear girl, and do not +attempt the impossible and so spoil two lives. + +Again I say, wait awhile. + +There are girls who could be perfectly happy in the position you picture +for yourself with Ernest, but not you. + +Better hide your ideal in your heart than shatter it on the unswept +hearthstone of the commonplace. + +Better be in your lover's life the unattained joy, than ruin his +happiness by discontent. + +It is less of a tragedy for a man to hear a woman say "I cannot go with +you," than to hear her say "I cannot stay with you." + + + + +To Miss Jane Carter + +_Of the W.C.T.U._ + + +And so, my dear Jane, I have fallen from my pedestal, in your +estimation. Yet, having carefully regarded myself in the mirror, and +finding no discolorations, and feeling no wounds or contusions, I think +my pedestal must have been very near the earth, else I would be +conscious of some bruises. + +And now, Jane, to be frank, I am very glad to be off my perch. + +I do not want to dwell upon a pedestal. + +It necessitates a monotonous life, and it is an unsocial position. + +I prefer to walk on the earth, among my fellow creatures. + +You were greatly shocked, I saw, when I told my little Russian guest +that she might light her cigarette in my boudoir. Your sudden departure +told its own story, and your letter was no surprise. But I am glad you +wrote me so frankly, as it gives me the opportunity to be equally frank. + +There is nothing more beneficial, in true friendship, than a free +exchange of honest criticisms. + +You tell me that I lowered my standard by lending countenance to a +pernicious and unladylike habit. You felt I owed it to myself, as a good +woman, and to my home, as a respectable house, to show my unswerving +principles in this matter, and to indicate my disapproval of a +disgusting vice, which is growing in our midst. + +Life is too short, my dear Jane, in which to achieve all our ideals, and +to arrive at all our goals. + +I have learned the futility of attempting to reform the whole world in +one day. And I have also learned that there are more roads than one, to +all destinations. + +Miss Ordosky is the daughter of a dear old friend of my youth, who +married a Russian nobleman with more titles than dollars. + +Her parents are dead, and Wanda has come to her mother's native land, to +teach her father's language. She has come with all her Russian habits +and ideas accented by her mother's American indifference to public +opinion. The girl is young, lovely, and wholly dependent upon herself +for a livelihood. I invited her to be my guest for two months, before +establishing herself in her business, with the hope of helping her to +adapt herself somewhat to American ideas and customs. + +I could never hope for such a result, had I antagonized her the first +day under my roof by an austere attitude toward a habit which I knew she +had been reared to think proper. + +I do not like to see a woman smoke, and I regret as much as you do the +increasing prevalence of the vice in America. + +Like almost every schoolgirl, I had my day of thinking a surreptitious, +cigarette was wonderfully cunning. + +That day passed, like the measles and the whooping-cough, and left me +immune. I have never seen a woman so beautiful and alluring that she was +not less charming when she put a cigarette to her lips. I am confident +the habit vitiates the blood, injures the digestion, and renders the +breath offensive. I have known many American men who taught their wives +to smoke; and I do not know _one_ who has not lived to regret it, when +the cigarette he fancied would be an occasional luxury became a +necessity. + +A woman who expects ever to bring children into the world, is little +better than a criminal to form such a habit: for, argue as we may for +one moral code for both sexes, we cannot change nature's law, which +imposes the greater responsibility upon the mother of the unborn child; +the child she carries so many months beneath her heart, giving it hour +by hour the impression of her mental and physical conditions. + +Fathers ought not to smoke or indulge in other bad habits. + +_Mothers must not_. + +I hope in time to discuss these topics with Wanda, and to make an +impression upon her mind by my arguments. + +But your methods and mine, dear Jane, differ widely. And, begging your +pardon, I believe mine accomplish more good for a larger number of human +beings than yours. + +And, added to that fact, I get more happiness for myself out of life. + +Miss Ordosky would have managed to smoke her cigarette, however rigid +had I been in expressing my principles. And she would have found some +excuse to shorten her visit under my roof, and then where would be my +opportunity to influence her? + +As it is, she puffs her cigarette in my company, listens to my opinions, +seems to respect my ideas, and is interested in my views of life. We are +becoming excellent comrades, and this is far more gratifying to me than +to know that I had antagonized her into a formal acquaintance by my +aggressive morality. I have an idea that, before my pretty guest +reaches the time when she will consider wifehood and motherhood as life +professions, I may convince her from a scientific standpoint that she +better abandon her cigarettes. And to convince one's mind is far better +than to drive one to submission. + +And now, Jane, has it never occurred to you that you have made some +mistakes in life by the very methods you are so sorry I did not pursue +with Miss Ordosky? + +Years ago, I recall your surrounding a certain young man with an aureole +of idealism. Then you were obliged to dethrone him from his pedestal +because he, too, forsooth, smoked a cigar. + +That young man married a woman quite as worthy and good as yourself, and +he has made the best of husbands and citizens. I know of no man who does +more good in the world in a quiet way than this same unpedestaled old +admirer of yours. Whether he still smokes his cigar or not I could not +say. But as a man, it seems to me, he is quite as worthy and noble a +citizen, as you are a woman. + +I know that you are doing all you can, to spread the gospel of clean +living abroad in the land, and that your influence is all for a higher +standard of morality. + +But if you live on too high an altitude, in this world, and refuse to +associate with any one who will not climb up to your plane, you are +destined to a lonely life, and your sphere of influence is limited. You +will do far more good by taking your place with other human beings, and +by gradual, sane efforts leading the thoughts of your associates to turn +to your wholesome ideas of life. You are making morality unpopular by +your present aggressive methods. And you are missing many sweet +friendships and experiences by your insistence that all your friends +must follow the narrow path you have decided is the only road to good +behaviour. + +Come down from your pedestal, my dear Jane--come and dwell on the earth. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman of the World, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN OF THE WORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 12020.txt or 12020.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/2/12020/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Joris Van Dael and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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