The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 21, 1904, Page 12

HY is the American woman so popular in English society? is her charmingly as- ve personality acknowl- d everywhere? W' she received nights d Earls and belted churls such powering enthusiasm? something subtle, elusive and clings to her particular identity, stolid Britisher, while falling at her feet and metaphor- nature and for more than not the ally kissing the hem of her garments, is that she manages to make such a fool of them! To which she might reply, on demand, that if he were not a fool already she would not find her task so easy. For the American woman is, above all the women in the world, clever—or let us say “brainy” t§ an almost incredible height of braininess. She is “all there.” She can take the measure of a man in about ten minutes and classify him as though he were a botanical specimen. She realizes all his limitations, his “notions” and his special and particu- lar fads, and she has the uncommonly good sense not to expect much of him. She would not “take any” on the lily- maid of Astolat, the fair Elaine, who spent her time in polishing the shield of Lancelot and who finally died of love for that most immoral but fascinating knight of the round table. No, she wouldn’t polish a shield, you bet! She would make Lancelot polish it himself for all he was worth, and polish her own dear little boots and shoes for her into the bargain. That is one of her secrets—masterfulness—or, let us say queenliness, which sounds better. The lord of creation can do nothing in the way of ordering her about, because as the lady of creation she expects to or- der him about—and she does. She ex- pects to be worked for, worshiped and generally attended to, and she gets her way. What she wants, she will have, though “companies” smash and mighty combines split into infinite nothing- ness; and, more than any*tamer of wild forest animals, she makes all her male lions and bears dance at her bidding. Perhaps the-chief note In the ever- ascending scale of her innumerable at- tractions is her intemse vitality. The mixed blood of many intelligent races courses through her delicate veins and wonders vaguely how it THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. gives a joyous lightness to the bound- ing of her heart and the swift grace of her step. She is full of energy as well as charm. If she sets out to enjoy herself, she enjoys her She talks and laughs not a mere elf thoroughy. She is well-dressed automaton freely. class like the great majority of upp British dames. She is under the im- pression (a perfectly correct one) that tongues were given to converse with, and that lips, especially pretty ones, were made to smile with. She is, taken at her best, eminently good-natured and refreshingly free from the jaun- diced spite against others of her own sex which savors the afternoon chit- ter-chatter of nine out of every ten English spinsters and matrons taken together in conclave. She would, on the whoie, rather say a kind thing than a cruel one. Perhaps this is because she is herself so triumphant in her so- cial career—because she is too certain of her own power to feel “the pangs of unrequited love,” or to allow herself to be stung by the “green-eyed mon- ster,” jealousy. Her care is always rolling over roses—there is always a British title going a-begging—always some decayed or degenerate or semi- drunken peer, whose fortunes are on the verge of black ruin, ready and willing to devour, monster like, the ho- locaust of an American virgin, pro- vided bags of bullion lare flung, with her, into his capacious maw. Though certainly, one should look upon the frequent marriages of American heir- esses with effete British nobles, as the carrying out of a wise and timely dis- pensation of Providence. New blood— fresh sap—is sorely needed to invigor- ate the grand old tree of the British aristocracy, which has of late been looking sadly as though dry rot were setting in, as though the woodlice were at work in its heart and the rats bur- rowing holes at its root. But, thanks to the importation of a few clean- minded, sweet-souled American wo- men, some of the most decayed places in the venerable stem have been purged and purified—the sap has risen and new boughs and buds of promise are sprouting. And it isfull time that this should be. For we have had to look with shame vf@yv- and regret upon many of our English lords caught in gambling dens—and shown up in dishonorable bankruptcies —some of them have disported them- selves upon the “variety” stage, clad in women's petticoats and singing comic songs for a fee—others have ‘“hired themselves out” as dummy figures of attraction at evening parties, accepting flve guineas for each appearance—and they have become painfully familiar objects in the divorce coutt, where the stories of their most unsavory man- ners and customs, as detailed in the press, have offered singular “instruc- tion and example” to those ‘lower” classes whom they are supposed to more or less influence. A return to the old motto of “noblesse oblige” would not be objectionable; a readoption of old unblemished escutcheons of honor would be appreciated, even by the so- called “‘vulgar”—and a great noble who is at the same time a great man, would, in this present day, be accepted by all classes with a universal feeling of grateful surprise and admiration. But, revenons a nos moutons—the so- cial popularity of the American wo- man in English society. That this is popular is an admitted and contest- able fact. She oompetes with the na- tive British female product at every turn—in her dress, in her ways, in her irresistible vivacity, and above all in her intelligence. When she knows things, she lets people know that she knows things. She cannot sit with her hands before her in stodgy silence, let- ting other folks talk. That is an Eng- lish habit. No doubt the English girl or woman knows quite as much as her ’\%&"4 : = [ but she has an un- American sister, happy knack of assuming to be a fool. She says little, and that little not to much purpose—she looks Jless—it |is dimly understood that shs plays hock- ey, tennis and golf, and has large feet. She is an athletic enigma. I write this, of course, solely concerning those Brit- ish women, young, middle-aged and elderly, who make ‘“‘sport” and outdoor exercise the chief aim and end of exist- ence. But I yield to none in my love and admiration for the real, genuine, un- modernized English maiden, at her gentlest and best; she Is the rosebud of the world. And I tender devout reverence and affection to the unfash- ionable, simple hearted, dear, loving and overbeloved English wife and mother; she is the rose in all its full- blown glory, Unfortunately, however, these English rosebuds and roses are seldom seen in the !weltering.lcram- bling crowd called ‘‘society.” They dwell in quiet country places where the lovely influences of their modest and retiring lives are felt but never seen. Society likes to be seen rather than felt. There is all the difference. And in that particular section of it whose aim is seeing to be seen and seen to be seeing the American worhan is as an oasis in the desert. She also wants to be seen, but she expresses that desire so naively and often so bewitchingly that it is a satisfaction to every one to grant her request. She also would see, and her eyes are so bright and roving and restless that Mother Britannia is perforce com- pelled to smile indulgently and to AIherican Women are. opulxr in Englamd | RMIARIE CORELLE, tnat much of the popularity attending an American girl when she first comes over to London for a’“season” is due to an idea which the stolid Britisher gets into his head, namely, that she has, she must have, money. The American girl and money are twins, according to the stolid Britisher’s be- lef. And when the stolid ‘Britisher fixes something, anything, into the passively resisting matter composing his brain ft would take leviathan with not one, but several hooks, to unfix it And thus it often happens that the sight of a charmingly dressed, grace- ful, generally “smart”. American girl attracts the stolid Britisher in _the first place because he says to himself, “money!” He knows all the incomes of all the best families in his own country, and none of them are big enough. to suit him. But the Ameri- can girl arrives as more or less of a financial mystery. She may have thou- sands, she may have millions; he can never be quite sure. And he does all he can to iIngratiate himself with her &nd give her a good time ‘on spec” to begin with, while he makes cautious and diplomatic inquiries. If his hopes rest on a firm basis his attentions are redoubled; if, on the contra are built on shifting sand he grac diminishes his ardor and like a ing flower” fades and “fizzles” away. I am here reminded of a certain Earl, renowned in the political and so- clal world, who, when a young man, went over on a visit to America and there fell or feigned to fall deeply in love with a very sweet, very beautiful, very gentle and lovable American girl. In a brief while he became engaged to her. The engagement was made public—the wedding day was almost The girl’s father was extremely wealthy and she was his only child and sole heiress. But an unfortunate failure—a gigantic collapse in the money market, made havoc of the father's fortunes and as soon as his ruin was declared beyond a doubt the noble Earl, without much hesitation or ado, broke off his engagement and rapidly decamped from the States back to his own country, where, as all the world knows, he did very well for himself. Strange to say, however, the &irl whom he had thus brutally for- saken for no fault of her own had leved him with all the romantic and trusting tenderness of first love and the heartless blow inflicted upon her by his noble and honorable lordship was one from which she never re- covered. The noble \and honorable has, I repeat, done ve\'lj well for him- self, though it is rumored that he sleeps badly and that he has occasion- ally been heard muttering after the fashion of Hamlet, Prince of Den- mark, “Oh, God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space were it not that 1 have bad dreams!” Marriage, however, is by no means the only, or even the chief resource in life of the American woman. She evidently looks with a certain favor on the holy estate of matrimony and is quite willing to become an excellent wife and mother if the lines of her destiny run that way, but Iif they should branch out in another direc- tion, she wastes no time in useless pin- ing. She is too vital, too capable, too intelligent and energetic altogether to play the role of an interesting martyr to male neglect. She will teach, or she will lecture—she will sing, or she will act—she will take her degrees in med- icine and surgery—she will practice for the bar—she will write books, and the days are fast approaching when she will become a high priéstess of the church, and will preach to the lost sheep of Israel as well as to the equally lost ones of New York or Chi- cago; she will be a “beauty doctor,” a “physical culture” woman, “a me- dium,” a stock-broker, a palmist, a florist, a house-decorator, a dealer in lace and old curiosities—aye! she will even become a tram-car conductor if necessity compels and the situation is open to her—and she will manage a cattle ranch as easily as a household, should opportunity arise. Marriage is but & link in the long chaln of her “ general efficiency, and like Cleopatra, ‘‘age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety,” A curious fact and one worth noting is that we seldom or never hear Americans use the ill-bred expression “old maid” when alluding to such of their femi- nine relatives or friends who may happen to remain unmarried. They know too well that these confirmed and settled spinsters are as capable and as well to the front in the rush open all her social picture books for. of iife as the wedded wives, i not the pleasure of the spoilt child of eternal Mayflower pedigree. It has to be said and frankly admitted, too, more so—they know that among these unmarried feminine forces they have to reckon with some of the cleverest heads of the day to whem no oppor- brious term of contempt dare be ap- plied—women who are editors and proprietors of great newspapers— women who manage famous schools and colleges—women who, being left with large fortunes, dispense the same in magnificently organized but unadvertised charities—women who do s0 command by their unassisted in- fluence certain social movements and events that if indeed they were to something like confusion and rophe might ensue among the circles they control by the introdu tion of a new and possibly unde: able element. marry “0ld maid” may apply to the unfor- tunate female who has passed all the days of her youth in talking about men and in failing to catch so muc as one of the wandering tribe, and who, on arriving at forty years, meekly re- tires to the chimney cormer with a shawl over her shoulders and some use- ful knitting, but it carries neither meaning nor application to the brisk, brilliant American spinster who at fifty keeps her trim svelte figure, dresses well, goes here, there and everywhere, and sheds her beaming with good-natured tolerance, and perchance something of gratitude as well, on the men s has escaped. Life does not run only in one channel for the Ameri- can Woman. She does not “make tracks™ solely from the cradle to the altar, from the altar to the grave. She realizes that there is more fun to be got out of being born than just this little old measure meted out to her by the barbaric males of earliest barbaric periods, when women were yoked to the plow with cattle—as they still are in some parts of Switzerland. And it is the innate consciousness of her own power and intelligent ability that gives her the dominating charm—the mag- netic spell under which the stolid Brit- isher falls more or less stricken, stupe- fled and inert. He is never a great talker; she is. Her flow of conversa- tion bewilders him. She knows so much, too—she clatters of Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley, Keats—and he thinks he has heard of these people some- where before. He listens dumbly. Sometimes he scratches his head—oc- casionally he feels his' moustache, if* he has one. When she laughs, he smiles slowly and dublously. He hopes she is not laughing at him. He feels —he feels—dontcherknow—that e is “ripping.” He couldn’t tell you what he means by “ripping” to save his life. But painfully’ accustomed as he is to the dull and listless conversation of the British materfamilias, and to the half- hoydenish conduct of the British tom- boy girl who will insist on playing golf and hockey with him in order not to lose him out of her sight, he is alto- gether refreshed and relleved when the American Woman dawns upon his cloudy horizon, and instead of waiting upon him, commands him to wait upon her with one dazzling look of her bright, audacious eye. The American woman is not such a fool as to go play hookey with him at all times and in all weathers, thereby allowing him to take the unchecked measure of her ankles. She is too clever to do anything that might pos- sibly show her in an unlovely or un- graceful light. She takes care to keep her hands soft and small and white, that they may be duly caressable— and makes the best and prettiest of herself on all and every occasion. And that she has succeeded In taking Eng- lish society by storm is no matter for surprise. English soclety, unmixed with any foreign element, is frequently said to be the dullest in the world. It is an entertainment where no one is entertained. A ecivil apathy wraps each man and woman in its fibrous husk, and sets them separately apart behind barricades of the most idiotic conventionality. The American Woman is the only being that can break down these barricades and tear the husk to shreds. No wonder she is popular! The secret of her own success is in her own personal charm and vivacious intelligence—in her light scorn of stupid ceremonies—in the frank genial- ity of her disposition (when she can manage to keep it unspoiled by con- tact with the reserved hypocrisy of the “smart set,”) and the delightful spon- taniety of her thoughts which find such ready expression in equally spon- taneous speech. Altogether the Amer- ican Woman is a valuable importation into Great Britain. She is an mcar- nation of the present and an embyro of the future. She is a gifted daughter of the British race, holding within her bright, vital ambitious identity many of the greater responsibilities of Bri- tain. And to the question “Why is she popular?”’ the answer Is gimple—"be- cause she deserves to be!” smi (Copyrighted, 1904, by Central News and Press Exchaace.) I '