The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 4, 1904, Page 14

THE . SAN FRANCISCO S CALL. DAY YIRRDW (g ‘Vz ~ ] i & 1904, Wy Central News and numerous fascinating tful A the members of 1 have the honor tricnds there is one 1 devotedly attentive 2 ) f years old, who is E giv ughter. It rely under s pos E e insti that when the kewise ad the so readily ather more had antici- is by his garde searched through : f the devas causes clum up a climbed ut unfor- climbing old lord puts were bal 1 how he reams of admitting hin least in the at the to r of the strar = that “Mister Sarpint” was « male genc Scripture leaves n or do on this point. It s v th pent was more sub- a beast of the field which 1 God had made. And he said womin- So that a *he” woman before “she” ever h Women should be ful for the sex of “Mister nd should also bear in mind particu was ‘“‘more an the field Lord On occa t 1 be nd a useful fact to remember. time, so re told an of chivalry. The word is stated in the dictionary »d from the French “cheval,” and “chivalrous were in b 1 meaning of the term merely men who rode about on horseback. But \ivalry has somehow come to.imply res devotion and rev nee fo wom The “chivalrou k ht is supposed to have gone ail over the aring the glove or the ribbon > faire” in his helmet, and to combat every that dared to question the her heauiy and virtue. that do not be- in he er existed he sst h been a mosi unnatural and r of humanity, as un- nitor, Adam, as he in the “Round finds an i called chival- Arthur. Their much to be d uct o Melia- the n 'y were t mode who jeer aw a woma nd honor in their smoking and rooms is a legend which like he * ec i and Evil” of Good stronger confirmation witnesseth. as yet Adam, taking him as ent day. has in various odd phases positions. During the n war he came out strong als who put the v mishaps on > children, losing offered a humiliating pectacle to the ed British public. Coward Adam'’s ‘and lame * policy, after making a blunder, is to adopt any lie, rather than say frankly and boldly—"I did it.” He will eat dirt by the bushel in preference to the nobler starvation act of singly facing his He is just now exhibiting himself to his usua! advantage in the Bniiish Parliament, while the nation foes. on waiting for the inevitable = of his various hesitations and in- efliciencies—the ster Adam, he clum un a tree.” For in most matters o . volitical and moral progress fMiculty is to obtain an up- ight, honest and impartial any ieading public man. y Dbe drifting devil-ward, n are judged to be more if they hold their watch it go. They must he truth. It would offend ople. It would upset so stis It would create a right, dowr dinion fro panic on the Stock Exchange. Tt would throw Wall street-into hysterics. The world’s vast public, composed of thinkin orking and more or less educated and intelligent people, may 1 y crave for a bold utterd: truth openly enunc and b maintained itical ir sch but to the weavers of po- rigue and the eeking governmental depart- s, the public is considered merely as a big child, to be soothed with loi- livon hrases and tickled rattle If the big child cries and ause it is hungry, they ta fair trade—if it com- yut hat its ministers of religion are ving to make it say its prayers back- . they promise a full “inquiry into recent abuses in the church.” But fine words butter no ps. Coward Adam al ciimbs up a tree as quickly as 1 when instead of fine words fine are demanded. Phy- sical feats physical gy of all kinds he ex but a mc difficulty always piac im as it did n Garden of Eden, in what he tionally term “an awk- lox Coward Adam at his tre a law court. Three valiant desc of Ananias, all bound in a to support their great ancestor's reputa- appeared inst me to try and hat 1 nted to build a free in Henley street, Stratford-on- vhe there were some old houses of Shakespeare's time which I judged it would be patriotic and nat- ural to save from wrackage. They said my motive was not to save houses, but to put up a la Carnegic 1tention of by I faced m rem any Lest nything E rs, 1 Buzfu I Dodson and woman against three v one witness who could an- fact that I n had so amed of comm a free- ime, and this witne a woman. She, being in the employ under the rule of Me nicses, was of course “'s their side, and not on mine, les Ana swore themselves black, in the face, yet in the heart— but despite the advantage they had of being three to one, they were proved libele and lost their cs going out court somew t less perkily than they came in. During the progress of the whole business 1 was very much interested = a kind of outside specta- tor, apart altogether from my own share in th® proceedi Coward Adam was climbing his tree all the time, and T watched him climb. “The woman whom tt gavest—" it was the same everlasting old cry! One of the Ananiases concerned had, some months before, contributed something to the press about “the unwritten laws of chivalry.” Oh, those unwritten laws! Why are they not called those un- acted laws? Seeing that Coward Adam always quotes them when ignoring them! “Never kiss and tell,” is, I believe, an “unwritten law of chivalry.” This law, so I understand, Coward Adam does sometimes manage to obey, albeit reluctantly. Because he would like to tell—he would very much like to tell— if—if the story of the kiss did not in- volve himself in the telling! But at this juncture “the unwritten laws of chivalry” step in and he is saved. And chivalry is the tree up which he climbs, chattering to himself the usual formula —"“The woman whom thou gavest to be with me”—ete., etc. Alas, poor woman! She has heard him saying this ever since she, in an unselfish de- sire to share her food with him, gave him the forbidden apple. No doubt she offered him its rosiest and ripest side. e always does—at first. Not after- As soon as he turns traitor and runs up a tree, she takes to pelting him, metaphorically speaking, with cocoanuts. This is quite natural on her part. She had thought him a man —and when he suddenly changes into a monkey, she doesn’t understand it. To this cause may possibly be attributed some of the ructions which occasion- ally jar the harmonious estate of mat- rimony, Coward Adam does very well in America. He sces his position there quite plainly. He knows that if he climbs his tree too often, hundreds of feminine hands will pull him down. So he resigns himself to the inevitable. He is not slow to repeat the customary whine—*“The woman whom thou gavest me”—but he says it quietly to himself between whiles. Because he knows that she knows all his share in the mischief. So he digs and delves, and finds gold and silver and limitless oil wherewith to turn into millions of dollars for her pleasure; he packs pork, lays railway tracks, starts companics, organizes oaxd y f0lar i‘ ( U S ( & “combines”—and strains every mnerve and sinew to “do” every other Adam save himself in his own particular line of business so that “the woman (or may we say the women?) whom thou gavest” may be clothed in Paris model gowns and wear jewels outrivaling in size and luster those of all the kings and queens that ever made their sad and stately progress through history. Indeed, Coward Adam, in the position he occupies as a free citizen of that mighty republic over which the wild eagle screams exultingly, looks a little bit like a beaten animal. But he bears his beating well, and is quite pleasant about it. In regard to “the woman whom thou gavest me” he is nearer the imaginary code of ‘“‘chivalry” than his Buropéan brother. 1f the original Adam had learned the ways of a mod- ern American gentleman of good edu- cation and fine manner, one can quite imagine him saying-“The woman whom thou gavest to be with me gen- erously offered me a share of the ap- A Y AN &V \td: NOLSES A0 @oxelli, ple, and I did eat. But the serpent whom thou didst permit to tell lies to my amiable partner concerning this special kind of fruit was chiefly to blame.” Coward Adam, as he is seen and known among the low classes, crops up every day in newspapers, which duly chronicle his various acts, such as promising marriage to poor working girls and robbing them of all their lit- tle savings, as well as of their good names—kicking his wife, starving his children and spending every penny he earns in the public-house. But he is just as frequently met with in the houses of the upper ten. He will wear the garb of a lord with ease, and, entering the house of another lord. will cozen his host's wife away from loyalty to her husband in quite the manner “friendly.” He is likewise to be found occasionally in the walks of literature, and where a woman is con- cerned in matters artistic will “down™ her if he can. He has always done his ~ 2 £l - A 'JN//?; ' S22 s CowArRp ADaM VE, OES Y 2.7, T AMERICR /E SEES ALS POSITH HERE QUITE best to hinder woman from receiving any acknowledgment for superior in- tellectual ability. Notably one may quote the case of Madame Curie, the discoverer of radium. Coward Adam says she discovered it by "a fluke"— that is to say, by chante. Most great discoveries occur, even to men, in the same way. In the present instance the “‘chance” came to a woman. Why should she not therefore have all the honor due to her?—the same honor precisely as would fall to the lot of a man in her place? Columns upon col- umns of praise would be bestowed upon her were she of Adam's sex, and all the academies of science would con- tend with each other as to which should offer her the best and most distinctive award. But Coward Adam cannot abide the thought that “the woman whom thou gavest” should take an occasionally higher rank than his own among the geniuses of his age. He must have everything or nothing. He tries to ignore the fact that woman is winning equal honors with himself in university degrees—he would fain forget that the two greatest monarchs Great Britain ever had were women— Elizabeth ‘and Victoria. There is a brave Adam, of course—a civilized creature, who owns and admits the brilliant achievements of woman with pride and tenderness—I am only just now speaking of the coward specimen. The brave Adam does not turn tail or climb trees, and he appears to have had nothing to do with the Garden of Eden. Very likely he was born some- where else. For he says—“The woman whom thou gavest to be with me is the joy of my life—the companion of my thoughts. To her my soul turns; for her my heart beats; in her I re- joice: her triumphs are my pride: her success is my delight. If danger threatens her, I will be her defender. not her accuser; should she be blamed for aught, I will take her fault upon myself, and will serve as a strong shield between her and calumny. This is the least I can do to prove my love toward her—for withdut her I should be the worst of creatures—a lonely soul in an_empty world!” S0 says, or may say brave Adam! But his coward brother does not undcr- stand such high-flown sentiments. 'oward Adam’s main object in life is to “avoid a scene” with either the Lord Almighty, Mister Sarpint or Missis Eve. He likes to wriggle out of diffi- culties, both public and private, in a quiet way. He does not understand the “methods'" of plain, blunt people who tell him frankly what a sneak he is. Ha is very ubiquitous and much more fre- quentiy to be met with than his braver twin. And if he should chance to read what T have set down here concerning usual: in him he will nrobably say as “The woman whom thou gavest” various. forms of anenymous vitup ation. But his active policy will main the same as it ever was—" Mis- ter Adam, he clum up a tree!