A Platitude is a selfish creature, and never very grateful unless he expects a continuance of past favors. With him a cessation of favors means a cessation of gratitude. A limited number of the Platitude class still linger about me—principally on account of a long-contracted habit. They are content with whatever they get; they are entirely harmless, always useful in some way, and occasionally quite interesting.
A Pleasure is the direct opposite of a Platitude.
He is a clever man—clever in some one particular way. He is generally a man with many brilliant theories brilliantly brought forth. He is ready to entertain any proposition. He is ready to try any new field of human action. He is sometimes sympathetic, more frequently antagonistic. But my so-called Pleasures may not be forced under any one head which will accurately describe them as a class. Indeed, each one is a class within himself; that is my reason for using so broad a term as Pleasures: they are, in fact, Pleasures to me. They are really necessary to my happiness—not individually, but as an entirety.
Most of these men have been at some one time my lovers—at least after a fashion. Some of them are foolishly constant. They are not foolish on account of their constancy—a most commendable trait—but because of their inability to know just when to make a display of their devotion. The general run of lovers—at least mine—are distressingly inopportune. This a woman, in spite of herself, deeply resents; it is so unpardonably stupid of a sensible man not to know just when to make known his tender passion. Lovers seldom study the women they love. They labor hard and plow straight on, in spite of any timid opposition from the other quarter; they are heedless of the future; they are eager to gain the prize, and often stride far beyond—overstep the mark, which sometimes is but a mere shadow line.
Most women fail to understand why they are unable to retain their rejected lovers. To me the explanation is plain. The average woman has nothing to give her lover, when he asks the all-important question, but a few tender, meaningless words to environ her yes or no. Of course, when the answer is yes, they both feed on the thought of marriage until its consummation. But if she is forced to say no, it leaves her barren of any thing to offer in lieu of the affection demanded. She is at once destituted of resources. She has no mental reservoir out of which she may feed the man's desire, and gently but effectually turn it into an intellectual channel of her own making and directing. Therefore the man is lost to her—be he Platitude or Pleasure. She has made the fatal failure of neglecting to furnish—and at once—a sufficient amount of intellectual excitement to fascinate the man into lingering, and force him finally into a steadfast allegiance. Women ought never insult their rejected lovers by asking them for their friendship. Those things come, if come they can, of themselves. It is such an ugly mistake to insist on giving every thing a name. Emotions thrive so much better when they are nameless. We rightly label poisons, but why should we label perfumes? I love a touch of the vague and of the mysterious. It is the mystery-man who wins the woman. Direct courtships—when found in novels—read well, but they are not advisable in real life. Women like to upset well-laid plans by perverse and counter movements. A man must always let a woman do a reasonable share of the courting. I know so many men who have been courted outright by their wives—of course in a gentle, womanly way. It is often done. I have sometimes been so much interested in a man that I have fancied myself at last in love. But it is always a fleet-footed fancy. Interest and Love are not always the same—Robert Fairfield once interested me, but I never loved him.
I lead an ideal, independent life. I have no uncongenial family ties. My wishes, yea, even my whims, find instant gratification, if gratification is possible. I am just delicate enough to gain the tenderest consideration from all who know me. My little social sins gain the readiest forgiveness—from those who love me—and, in the eyes of some, grow into positive virtues. I maybe outrageously tardy for an engagement, or, without any particular reason, break it altogether, yet be understood and upheld. Platitudes do not always understand, and sometimes foolishly rebel. But it is of no use. I have a little way of making them believe that it was actually they and not I who had committed the offense. And they plead for me to forgive them!
My modes of life are somewhat peculiar—at least commonplace persons think them so. I give little lunches and dinners. I invite just whomsoever I please. Now and then, for the sake of good form, and of the good mother, I have regulation affairs, to which I bid the society regulars—the so-called first and best set, who take invitations as a matter of course, who consider themselves the social salt of the earth, who go every where, and move about the houses of other people as if they owned them. The Society Regular is a well-dressed, bad-mannered, somewhat disagreeable animal, devoid of innate delicacy, and absolutely without gratitude. They are Platitudes of the first water. They do not frequent my house. They never dine or lunch with me, my Pleasures and other Platitudes.
This regulation affair is generally and afternoon tea. I leave out my retinue, the Kaleidoscopic Circle, and tell them about it afterward. My Social Exquisites and my Social Drifters are reformed regulars—brands snatched from the burning by me. Briefless Barristers delight me very much. I have several interesting specimens in the legal line. It is interesting to have "young men of great promise" around me. True, their fees are small and few between, yet that enables them to see just that much more of me. In the old days I used to read law with them; but I have very wisely abandoned that little habit—it was tiresome.
I have one or two Men Who Have Risen. They are crude, uncultured creatures, but full of excellent points. One of them is a widower, who made his large fortune killing hogs, and afterward canning peas, tomatoes, etc. Of course he talks all the time about how he made his money. I am always an attentive listener, and I verily believe that I now have a practical knowledge of the hog business and canning interests of the country.