The woman of to-morrow

by Helen M. Winslow

And take my hand and say, “My name is Death”?

V
ON ENEMIES

Marcus Aurelius says: “No man can do me an injury unless he can make me misbehave myself.” An older authority than he said: “Love your enemies.” And a good way to love them is not to recognize them as enemies. The old Roman was right—as usual. The greatest harm any one can do us is to disturb the harmony of our souls. There is a serenity which is like an armor. It protects us from the stings of petty jealousy and the stabs of secret foes. Reports, false or true, of these things may come to our ears, but we shall possess our souls in large patience and refuse to be ruffled in spirit or worried by small fears. We shall not “misbehave ourselves.”

My mother—the best and wisest woman I ever knew, God bless her!—used to tell me that the person of whom it could be said, “He or she has not an enemy in the world,” never amounted to anything. Few who accomplish any real good in life escape the attacks of the envious. No matter how disinterested our purpose or how high our ideal, somebody is going to misunderstand; somebody is going to impute a selfish motive. Experience with the world will teach us to expect and make allowances for these things; but we need not be soured by them, nor lose sight of our own standard, provided it be a right one. Only by lowering our own ideals, by giving way to jealousy, envy, fear or discouragement can we really be touched by these outside things. Let us keep single to the purpose of pressing straight forward to the goal of right living and right thinking, not expecting every one to understand or even appreciate our motives, and our enemies can do us no real harm.

To be worried and fretted by little things; to live in a constant atmosphere of anxiety about what may or may not be said of us; to be continually dwelling upon the personal impression we are making on others; to be forever thinking of ourselves and never enlarging our vision to the greatness of humanity; to dwell upon the littleness of some people and forget the nobleness of others; these are the things that belittle us and keep our souls from growing. It matters not who or what are our enemies from without, so long as we keep free from those within. And when it comes to that, if we attend diligently to shutting the door on those within ourselves, we shall have no time for recognizing our foes from without. We need the spirit of serenity and sweetness and patience with our fellow-creatures; and to practice all these virtues. We need more toleration for the opinions and the expressions of opinion from others. We need to cultivate broader views; to remember the difference in environment among women; to remind ourselves that heredity and training in one part of the country may differ widely from the same things in another section; and to educate ourselves up to a standard where we can see that another woman is not necessarily wrong because she cannot see things in just the same light, nor believe just the same way that we do.

One of the greatest things any movement can do for women is to develop their sense of proportion. As the individual develops and broadens her sympathies by doing for others, the small personal side of life fades into the background; the weightier interests of humanity are grasped by degrees, and the better qualities of womanhood come out in bolder relief. In this evolution we are growing up to a point where petty jealousies will never be recognized and small enmities will have no place. Self-development and a new sort of self-possession is what we need.

“Human nature is so constituted,” some one says, “that it cannot see one person rising above his fellows without experiencing the pangs of jealousy. No sooner does one of us rise, either by force of our own abilities or by a combination of outside circumstances, than do some whom we had once called friends set to work to pull us down, to belittle our influence and to malign our motives. Human nature cannot stand success in other people.” Some human nature cannot, perhaps. But there are as many kinds of human nature as there are people in the world. We talk as if human nature was one solid lump of which everybody is fashioned, and consequently we must all be alike at heart—as a bushel of peas. Thank God there are more kindly natures in the world than unkindly, and a hundred good friends who rejoice at our success to one who gives it grudging favor. The world is a much better place than we give it credit for being. The trouble is we make more fuss over the one enemy than we do over five hundred friends, staunch and true. There is lots of lovable, kindly, faithful, generous human nature lying around loose. It is easy to forgive our enemies by forgetting that we have them. It is easy to make good cheer for others by keeping it first in our own hearts. The selfish inlooking soul is never happy; the broad-visioned worker for humanity may always be so. Which shall we choose?

Let us look out and not in; let us forget the annoyances of life and recognize only the kindness and nobleness of humanity; let us give generously of ourselves, seeking nothing in return.

We worry too much about what somebody has said or may say against us. Some petty criticism which should be beneath our notice keeps many a woman tossing on a restless pillow half the night.