Her Royal Highness Woman

by Max O'Rell

'What do we do?' he said. 'Why, we eat what we likes, we drink what we likes, and we don't care a d—— for nobody!'

There are well-meaning, most highly estimable, and talented ladies who go about the world preaching temperance—that is to say, total abstinence, not moderation.

Now, as a rule, these ladies have special reasons for so doing. Very often they have led a life of sorrow and misery with wretched husbands, and they should be pitied. But hundreds of thousands of women have good husbands who have not to be cured of habits which they never in their lives indulged in, and who would be condemned to deny themselves every little luxury that helps make life cheerful when used with moderation and discretion, if the preachings of these often unfortunate ladies were to take the shape of laws.

I have often had to listen to self-confessed reformed drunkards who preached to me, who never was once drunk in my life. The thing is ludicrous.

There exist, among the Anglo-Saxons, people to whom the strains of Wagner and Beethoven's music say absolutely nothing, to whom the Venus of Milo is indecent. They declare music wicked, unless it is out of tune, dancing absolutely shocking, and the fine arts immoral, and if they had their way, they would close the concert-halls and the museums on every day of the week. Because their minds are distorted, they would condemn people with lofty and artistic minds to never hear a masterpiece of music or behold a masterpiece of painting or statuary. I have met people who declared they would never again set foot inside the walls of the Louvre and of the British Museum. And if the Anglo-Saxon fanatics, those arch-enemies of art, make a little more progress, the future of that great institution is not safe.

As everybody knows, there exist in Great Britain and in America thousands of people who declare the stage to be a most wicked and immoral institution. For them a theatre is so contaminated a place that they would not go inside one even to hear a Bishop preach a sermon from the stage. For instance, in several colonial cities I appeared in the principal theatre; but my manager, on a return visit, always made me appear in the town-hall, or some other place of the kind, to attract the portion of the population who would not have come to hear me lecture inside a theatre.

All these movements, headed by women, are in the wrong direction. They interfere with the liberties of a great people, and punish thousands and thousands of good, orderly, well-behaved people to reach a score or two of bad ones, whom they often fail to reach, and oftener still fail to cure. I repeat it: There are many thousands of good people in this world for a very few thousands of bad ones. The laws should aim at reaching the former and protecting them. This world is considerably better than the fanatics of all denominations and superstitions would make us believe. For seventeen years I have travelled all over the world, and I have never met any but honourable people to deal with. For instance, I have given 2,300 lectures in my life, and only once did I come across a man who behaved dishonestly towards me. He ran away with the cash while I was speaking; but then it was on Sunday, and some good pious people said to me that Providence, in its wisdom, had punished me for my wickedness. I must say that I never could see very clearly why Providence, in its wisdom, should have allowed the thief to safely run away with the money; but the ways of Providence are inscrutable, and its decrees should not be discussed. I might add that the lecture was more of a harmless address—almost a little sermon—on the duty of cheerfulness; but two or three times it caused the audience to smile, and this is simply too awful to think of.

Yes, the world is good, very good, in spite of the calumnies that are constantly hurled at its face by the Pharisees of Anglo-Saxondom. Yes, full of good men, crammed with good women, and the excellent ladies of the philanthropic societies of America should take it for granted that there are many, many good and virtuous people besides themselves.

You don't cut down an apple-tree because there are two or three bad apples on it. You cut down the two or three bad apples, and all your efforts tend to see that the hundreds of good ones are made healthy, happy, and comfortable.

I have no hesitation in declaring, after six visits to that great and most hospitable country, that the American women of good society are probably the most intelligent, bright, and brilliant, and certainly the best educated and the most interesting, women in the world.