To A Modern Woman with Social Ambitions. II.
ote.—My wife, Josephine, interposed again at this point. "I have been trying to make up my mind while you were writing," said she, "what she would do next. I mean this Mrs. Alexander Sherman of yours, or whatever her real name is. That is, supposing she had never written to you and sent you her photograph, and she were left to her own devices. I can't blame her exactly for sending the photograph, because you make it a condition of the correspondence; but I can see from her face that she was glad of the opportunity, and that she hopes you will admire it."
"Well, I have," said I.
"Yes, and I agree with you in your enthusiasm. She is handsome, and interesting looking, and ladylike. I was merely considering what she would be apt to do if she had no philosopher to advise her. She has a glad air as you have stated, indicating that she has no domestic or financial grievances, and I don't believe she thinks herself an artistic genius or intends to write a novel. I think, though, that her first tea would elate her a little. She would be glad it was over, but surprised that so many people came. It would set her thinking, and presently she would give a dinner or two and a luncheon or so, and she would go to other teas and dinners and luncheons, and would gradually become the fashion, so that when her friends and acquaintances wished to entertain they would think instinctively of Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Sherman. I am assuming, of course, that her husband is an amiable being and does not thwart her, and is willing to go to a reasonable number of entertainments. She would be punctilious about her calls, and make a point of appearing to remember people, even if she didn't have the least conception who they were, and would be generally blithe, tactful, and gracious. What is the matter, Mr. Philosopher? What would you have her do?" I had said nothing to induce this inquiry, but I suppose I must have writhed involuntarily.
"I dare say it's all right. I don't see that she could help it; but it sounds conventional," I answered.
"Of course it is conventional; yet, pray, how is she to avoid conventions? I know you are thinking to yourself that the calls are a waste of time—all men, whether they are philosophers or not, think that. I agree with you that if she were content to shut herself up and be an artistic genius, or merely an every-day wife and mother without social ambitions, she could lead a sane and sufficiently exemplary life without ever owning a visiting card. Remember, though, that this Mrs. Sherman of yours has social ambitions, and does not intend to hide her light under a bushel. I assume that she is too sensible to make herself a mere slave to her visiting list, but if you intend to advise her not to call on people who have asked her to dinner, and not to practise the polite observances of civilized society all over the world, I wash my hands of her at the start, and hand her right over to you. Besides, I'm only saying what I think from her face she'd be likely to do. You can give her any instructions you please, and—and we'll see if she follows them."
"I have no doubt it's necessary, if you say so," I answered, meekly. "I shall not venture to offer any radical advice on this point contrary to your judgment. I was merely surmising that the modern woman would find a way to free herself from the manacles of conventional call-paying, which I have heard you yourself declare eat into the flesh and poison the joy of life."
"I have said it in my weary moments," said Josephine, stoutly. "The modern woman uses her common-sense and does not let the manacles hamper her movements; but she knows that she cannot reap social rewards without performing social duties. The modern woman is free, if she sees fit, to disdain social life and all its concomitants and shut herself up in a studio or a college settlement; it is her affair to decide what she wishes to do. But if she decides to be a social promoter and leader, she must continue to call on the people who invite her to dinner, or she is not likely to be asked again."