Kitobni o'qish: «The Sayings of Mrs. Solomon»

GREETING

Hearken, my Daughter, and give ear unto my wisdom, that thou mayest understand man– his goings and his comings, his stayings out and his return in the morning, his words of honey and his ways of guile.

Beloved, question me not, whence I have learned of man, his secrets. Have I not known one man well? And verily, a woman need know but one man, in order to understand all men; whereas a man may know all women and understand not one of them.

For men are of but one pattern, whereof thou needest but to discover the secret combination; but women are as the Yale lock– no two of them are alike.

Lo! What a paradox is man – even a puzzle which worketh backward!

He mistaketh a sweet scent for a sweet disposition, and a subtile sachet for a subtile mind.

He voweth, “I admire a discreet woman!” – and inviteth the froward blonde of the chorus to supper.

He muttereth unto his wife, “Lo! I will go unto the corner for a cigar” – and behold, he wandereth unto many corners and returneth by a circular route.

He kisseth the woman whom he loveth not, and avoideth her whom he loveth, lest his heart become entangled. Yea, he seeketh always the wrong woman that he may forget his heart’s desire.

Yet, whichever he weddeth, he regretteth it all the days of his life.

SELAH

BOOK OF HUSBANDS

CHAPTER ONE

Verily, my Daughter, an husband is a Good Thing. He giveth the house a “finished” look, even as a rubber plant and a door-plate.

He suggesteth ready-money, and is an adornment like unto a potted palm upon the piazza.

When he sitteth beside thee in the tabernacle, he is as a certificate of respectability; yea in the eyes of society, he is better than a written recommendation.

Verily, he is as necessary unto thy dinner table as a centerpiece, and more impressive than cut flowers and a butler in livery.

When he taketh thee abroad to dine, the waiter shall not lead thee into dim and draughty corners, but shall run nimbly and place thee in a choice spot within hearing of the music.

For a lone woman in a great restaurant looketh pitiful; but an husband looketh like a real tip.

When thou goest unto an hotel in his company, the clerk shall not offer thee a room upon the air-shaft; and the bell-boys shall answer thy ring with flying feet and a glad smile. For an husband is as good as much credit.

Yea, when thou goest forth to shop, saying “Send this thing to Mrs. Jones”, the clerk shall treat thee almost as an equal.

Women shall not gossip about thee, and men shall come unto thy teas with an easy mind, knowing thou canst have no designs upon them. Thy family shall call thee “settled”, and no woman shall call thee “Poor Thing!”

Therefore, I say unto thee, if thou findest thine husband less them thine ideal, weep not, but be of good cheer.

For what profiteth it a woman, though she have every other luxury in all the world, and have not a little husband in her home?

CHAPTER TWO

A perfect husband, who can find one?

For his price is far above gold bonds.

The heart of his wife rejoiceth in him, and he shall have no lack of encouragement.

He worketh willingly with his hands and bringeth home all his shekels.

He riseth without calling and lifteth the ice from off the dumbwaiter. He starteth the kitchen range. He considereth his wife, and kisseth her occasionally.

Six days of the week doth he labor for his moneys, and upon the seventh doeth chores within the house for relaxation.

With his own hands he runneth the lawn mower and washeth the dog.

He layeth his hands to the parlor curtains and putteth up the portieres.

He hooketh his wife’s dresses up the back, without mutterings.

He putteth the cat out by night.

He is not afraid of the cook.

His ashes fall not upon the carpet, and his cigarette burneth not holes in the draperies.

For he doeth his smoking on the piazza.

He weareth everlasting socks and seweth on his own buttons.

His overcoat doeth him two seasons.

Yet, when he ventureth abroad with his wife he donneth a dress suit without grumbling.

The grouch knoweth him not and his breakfast always pleaseth him. His mouth is filled with praises for his wife’s cooking. He doth not expect chicken salad from left-over veal, neither the making of lobster patties from an ham-bone.

His wife is known within the gates, when she sitteth among the officers of her Club, by the fit of her gowns and her imported hats. He luncheth meagrely upon a sandwich that he may adorn her with fine jewels. He grumbleth not at the bills.

He openeth his mouth with praises and noteth her new frock. And the word of flattery is on his tongue.

He perceiveth not the existence of other women.

He may be trusted to mail a letter.

Lo, many men have I met in the world, but none like unto him.

Yet have ye all seen him – in your dreams!

CHAPTER THREE

Behold, my Daughter, the Lord maketh a man – but the wife maketh an husband.

For Man is but the raw material whereon a woman putteth the finishing touches.

Yea, and whatsoever pattern of husband thou selectest, thou shalt find him like unto a shop-made garment, which must be trimmed over and cut down, and ironed out, and built up to fit the matrimonial situation.

Verily, the best of husbands hath many raw edges, and many unnecessary pleats in his temper, and many wrinkles in his disposition, which must be removed.

Lo, I charge thee, be wary in thy choice. For, many shall call, but few shall propose. And, a wise damsel shall with difficulty select that which fitteth her disposition and matcheth her tastes – even that which shall not pinch upon the bank account, neither stretch upon the truth, neither shrink nor run nor fade.

At the second-hand counter thou shalt find many widowers, which have been remodelled by another hand. And these are easy to acquire. Yet an hand-me-down may have been spoiled in the making, and become frayed at the edges of the temper, and shiny on the seamy-side.

But a bachelor who hath passed forty is a remnant; and there is no good material left in him. His sentiments are moth-eaten and his tender speeches shop-worn. His manners shall require much basting and his morals many patches. The gloss hath been rubbed off his illusions and the color hath gone out of his emotions. Yet, a clever damsel shall, peradventure, take one of these and remodel him to seem as new.

For the happiest wife is not she that getteth the best husband, but she that maketh the best of that which she getteth. Verily, verily, an husband is a work of art which must be executed by hand; for there is no factory which turneth them out to order.

CHAPTER FOUR

Go to the lemon grove, oh, thou Scholarette! For no woman with brains hath ever plucked a peach in the Garden of Matrimony.

Nay, it is not given unto one woman to possess both real ability and a real husband.

For unto a successful woman an husband is but an adjunct; and no man yearneth to be an annex!

Alas! He preferreth soft, sweet things, and unto him a woman that knoweth her own mind is an abomination.

Verily, verily, a woman with nerves affecteth a man as a mosquito that buzzeth throughout a summer night. She wearieth him.

But a woman with nerve is as a cold bath on a winter morning. She shocketh him!

Lo, an intelligent opinion in the mouth of a woman horrifieth a man even as the scissors in the mouth of a babe.

And a wife with judgment which exceedeth his own is more uncanny than a pet parrot which saith the appropriate thing at the right moment. She appalleth him!

My Daughter, in all the land dost thou know of one clever woman who hath been happily married?

Nay! For I say unto thee there can be but one mind, one opinion, and one throne in an household; and every man claimeth these for himself.

Then, oh, thou Temperamental One, whatsoever thou receivest in the love game, accept it gladly and rejoice thereat.

For, whether it be a babe torn from the cradle or an octogenarian spared from the grave; whether it be a left-over bachelor, or an hand-me-down widower; though thou weddest fourscore times, thou shalt do no better!

Verily, verily, in the life of every woman, there cometh a season when she yearneth for sentiment, and neither the love of her “art” nor the adoration of a poodle dog is sufficient.

And a little unhappiness with an husband is more to be desired than great loneliness without one.

Go to! Life without one of these is as spaghetti without sauce and more insipid than bouillon without salt.

Therefore, my Daughter, gather in the Lemon which Fate awardeth thee and let thine heart be comforted.

For though wine is desirable, yet lemonade is not to be despised; and even an Highbrow shall find an husband an agreeable distraction from serious things!

CHAPTER FIVE

How long, oh thou Credulous One, wilt thou continue to marry for a change; and the lawyers delight in their fees, and the neighbors in their “I-said-so’s”?

For lo, though there be many varieties of men, there is but one kind of husband!

Yea, though a man wed seven times seven times, he maketh not the same mistake twice.

But the woman who weddeth a second time, repeateth her own history.

Verily, verily, if thou wilt but close thine eyes, thou canst not perceive from his words, neither from the cloves upon his breath, nor the ardor of his greeting, whether it be thy first or thy second husband, that kisseth thee.

For one man’s chin is as rough as another’s, and one man’s lies are as smooth as another’s.

One man’s razor is as sacred as another’s, and one man’s excuses are as old as another’s.

One man roareth, like unto another, when he is hungry.

One man growleth, like unto another, when he is fed.

One man groaneth, like unto another, when he hath over-eaten.

One man looketh as uncanny as another without a collar, and as weird as another without a shave.

One man streweth his cigar ashes upon the carpet, and leaveth his stubs in the pin-tray, even as another.

One man burieth himself in the pillows in the morning, and in the newspapers in the evening, and refuseth to be torn therefrom – even as another.

One man offereth up the morning and evening growl, and celebrateth the Sunday forenoon grouch as regularly as another.

Why, then, wilt thou continue to hearken unto their promises? For, before marriage, all men are promising; but matrimony is a chemical which transmuteth each and every one of them from a lover into a critic, from an admirer into a scoffer, from an adorer into a judge, and from a slave into a sultan.

Verily, verily, there is this difference only in husbands:

That the first maketh thee weep;

The second maketh thee wonder;

But the third maketh thee weary!

SELAH

BOOK OF FLIRTS

CHAPTER ONE

Lo! wondrous are the workings of a man’s heart, my Daughter.

His love is a thing which riseth and falleth as the stock market; yea, like a football that goeth up, it descendeth swiftly.

Behold, when a man first meeteth a damsel, she pleaseth his eyes. Moreover, she is different from the girl before and affordeth a pleasant change. He adoreth her from afar and indulgeth in foolish pipe-dreams. He investeth in new cravats and is particular concerning his collars.

He calleth at first, timidly; he getteth on the good side of the family. He bringeth burnt offerings of expensive flowers and sweets from Huyler’s. He readeth the Rubáiyát unto her and inviteth her to meet his sister.

And, behold, there cometh a day when he kisseth her suddenly and without warning.

And another when he kisseth her again – easily.

And another when he kisseth her much and often.

And another when he kisseth her more casually.

And another when he departeth early, and kisseth her but once – “Good night”.

And another when he faileth to call.

Then, peradventure, she writeth him a letter – which he putteth in his pocket and forgetteth to answer. She summoneth him over the telephone and he goeth into the booth wearily. She reproacheth and revileth him. He picketh a quarrel.

She sobbeth “All is over between us!” He answereth “Oh, very well! Even as thou sayest!”

And, in time, he meeteth another damsel and doeth it all over again. Yea, the selfsame programme he repeateth unto the letter; yet, he never tireth.

For lo! though a man hath eaten his fill at one meal, why shall he lack appetite for the next?

Then, I charge thee, my Daughter, when love beginneth, question not any man how it will end; for it is only in the beginning of things that a man is interested; even in the cream from off the jug, the bubble of the champagne, the meat on the peach, and – the first kiss of a woman.

Yet, what mattereth the end? Is not the end of the cream, skimmed milk; and the end of a cigar, a stub; and the end of a peach, a stone; and the end of champagne, dregs; and the end of love, a quarrel? And which of these would ye choose?

Verily, the flirtations of a man’s bachelor days are, in passing, as the courses of the love-feast; but a wife is the black coffee which settleth him.

CHAPTER TWO

Marvellous, oh, my Daughter, is the way of a man with women; for every man hath a method and each his favorite stunt. And the stunt that he hath found to work successfully with one damsel shall be practised upon each in turn, even unto the finest details thereof.

Behold, one man shall come unto thee saying:

“How foolish are the sentimentalists! But, as for me, my motives are altruistic and disinterested; and a woman’s friendship is what I most desire.” Yet, I charge thee, seek among his women “friends” and thou shalt not find an homely damsel in all their number.

For this is the platonic stunt.

Now, another shall try thee by a simpler method.

Lo, suddenly and without warning, he shall arise and catch thee in his arms. And when thou smitest him upon the cheek, he shall be overcome with humiliation, crying:

“I could not help it!”

Yet be not persuaded, but put him down without mercy, lest peradventure, he kiss thee again.

For this is the impetuous stunt.

Yet observe how still another seeketh to be more subtile.

Mark how he sitteth afar off and talketh of love in the abstract; how he calleth three times a week, yet remaineth always impersonal; how he praiseth the shape of thine hand and admireth thy rings, yet toucheth not so much as the tips of thy fingers.

“Lo,” he thinketh in his heart, “I shall keep her guessing. Yea, I shall wrack her soul with thoughts of how I may be brought to subjection. And when she can no longer contain her curiosity, then will she seek to lure me, and I shall gather her in mine arms.”

And this is the elusive stunt.

But, I say unto thee, my Daughter, each of these is but as a chainstitch unto a rose pattern, beside him that playeth the frankly devoted.

For all women are unto him as one woman – and that one putty.

Lo, the look of “adoration” in his eyes is like unto the curl in his hair, always there; and he weareth his “protecting manner” as naturally and as constantly as his linen collar.

He is so attentive and the thoughtful thing cometh unto him as second nature.

Yea, though there be twenty damsels in the room, yet shall each be made to think in her heart:

“Lo, I am it!”

Verily, verily, all the days of his life he shall be waited on and cooed over and coddled by women; and his way shall be as one continuous path of conquests and thornless roses.

For this is the Stunt of Stunts!

CHAPTER THREE

I charge thee, my Daughter, seek not to break a man’s heart; for it is like unto family pride, or a pin, which may be bent, but cannot be broken! Yea, it is as a ball of India rubber which reboundeth easily after the worst shocks.

Lo, the heart of a woman is full of soft spots in which every man she hath once loved occupieth a “cozy corner”. She lingereth tenderly over the grave of a dead love; but a man flingeth a spadeful of earth thereon and proceedeth to dig a new one. And his heart is as a great cemetery!

A woman keepeth a bundle of love-letters tied in faded ribbons; but a man cleaneth his pipe bowl cheerfully with the stem of the rose which the girl-before-the-last hath worn in her hair.

A woman remembereth the dress she hath worn and the song she hath sung for each particular man; but a man remembereth not the scent of violet sachet when the odor of heliotrope is in his nostrils.

And, after six months, when he cometh by chance upon an old glove or a lock of hair at the bottom of his trunk, he casteth it into the fire, muttering, “Now, who the devil put that thing there?”

A woman recollecteth each pet name by which she hath been called; she alloweth no two men to label her alike. But unto a man, every woman becometh in turn “Little Girl” or “Baby” or “Honey”.

Lo, he is as one that playeth with skulls and sporteth with the bones of his ancestors; for he holdeth nothing sacred.

He eraseth one face from the tablet of memory, and draweth another across it.

He changeth his object of thought as readily as he changeth his clothes and his political opinions.

For a woman’s love is a slow flame which smouldereth always, but a man’s love is like unto a skyrocket, which sputtereth out and cannot be rekindled.

Verily, his “past” is always quite past, and his dead loves are quite dead. And there is nothing which is more wearisome unto him than the memory of yesterday’s wine, or yesterday’s flirtation.

CHAPTER FOUR

My Daughter, there are many styles of kisses, and they come in endless patterns, even as Oriental rugs.

There is the kiss that sootheth and the kiss that thrilleth, the kiss that flattereth and the kiss that is a pastime. But the best of all kisses is the first kiss; for it is the most difficult.

Yet, in all the days of thy life, no two men shall kiss thee alike. For one man shall regard thy kisses as a boon, and another shall regard them as an amusement; but an husband shall consider them, as the shaving of his chin, a morning duty.

Hast thou scorned a man’s kisses?

Then will he exalt thee, saying “Lo! she is very proper.” For he can think of no other reason why thou shouldst not desire to kiss him.

Yet if thou hast consented to kiss only one man, he will say unto himself, “Verily, it is her habit. So doeth she with all mankind.” For every man judgeth thee by the way in which thou treatest him.

If a man kisseth thy hand gracefully, beware of him; for this is the habit of an accomplished flirt, which hath been acquired by much practice.

But if he kisseth thee first upon the forehead, and then upon the eyelids, and then upon the lips, thou mayest choose thy wedding gown and decide upon thy bridesmaids.

Lo, kissing is a fine art, and there are many artists; and one shall take a kiss from thee as though he doeth thee a favor, and another shall take a kiss as though he had taken thy pocketbook.

Yet, no man shall ever understand why thou seemest pleased, or why thou waxest wroth, when he kisseth thee; for it is all in the way of his wooing.

Verily, verily, a man who kisseth a woman with his hat on shall be annihilated.

But he, that kisseth her as though he had never kissed before and never should kiss again, shall wear an halo in her sight. For he knoweth the Art of Arts.

CHAPTER FIVE

Lo, my Daughter, a man came unto me saying:

“Let me be thy slave. For, behold, I am all devotion. And it is my delight to serve a fair woman.”

And I looked at him and smiled sadly.

For I knew that he was invulnerable; and all my weapons were broken against me.

But another came unto me saying:

“Behold! I am a woman-hater. Not one of them do I trust. Nay, not one can deceive and allure me. For I have their numbers, all of them.”

And my heart was gladdened. For, by that sign, I knew that he was easy. And my way was clear before me.

Verily, verily, men are of three varieties: the kind that must be driven with whip and spur; the kind that must be coaxed with apples and sugar; and the kind that must be blindfolded and backed into the shafts of matrimony.

And the woman-hater is like unto the last.

Therefore, I charge thee, when thou meetest one of these seek not to argue with him, neither to convince him; but agree with him sweetly, that all thy sex is weak and untrustworthy.

Discourse sorrowfully upon the pitfalls of flirtation, and the hollowness of love, and the horrors of matrimony.

Declare boldly thy scorn for the New Woman, and for the Old Woman, and for the Frivolous Woman, and for the Highbrow, and for the Lowbrow, and all the women that are on the earth and in the heavens above the earth.

And when thou hast disarmed him, taking all his arguments from out his mouth, speak sweetly concerning the beauties of platonic friendship and wax rapturous in its praises.

Bring the cushion for his head, and the footstool for his feet, and feed him from the chafing dish with the fruits of thine own cooking, saying:

“I prithee, do smoke, for it is so chummy! Yea, I beg of thee, treat me as thou wouldst a man friend.”

Let him hold thy hand.

And he shall say in his heart:

“Would to heaven I were not a Woman Hater, and that all women were like unto her; for she is sensible and sincere– and a bachelor flat was never like this!”

And upon the seventh evening he shall fall down before thee and retract all his words, eating them one by one.

And when thou remindest him of thy warnings and of thy fear of marriage, he will seek to persuade thee and will comfort thee with kisses and a solitaire.

Then shalt thou slip the bridle over his head and the reins shall be in thine hands. And there shall be one less Woman Hater in the world.

For a Woman Hater, my Beloved, is like unto the simple ostrich, which hideth its head in the sand and thinketh itself safe.

But he that professeth open adoration is like unto the park squirrel, which will eat out of thine hand but can never be caught!

CHAPTER SIX

My Daughter, a woman is a study in moods and tenses, but man is a simple proposition which worketh according to a “system”.

Behold, how the two regard a letter. For when a woman writeth she spelleth her soul out on paper; but a man putteth all his tender meanings between the lines. Yea, a woman’s letter is a confession, but a man’s letter is a veiled allusion which concealeth his thoughts. Verily, it is a work of art.

Yet, when a woman receiveth it, she readeth it over many times, and placeth it within her shirtwaist by day, and under her pillow by night. For she knoweth that, with temptations like unto telephones and post-cards within reach, a hand-written letter is a sign of devotion.

But, when a man receiveth a woman’s letter, he droppeth it in his pocket. Nay, not in the pocket above his heart, but in that pocket which containeth the fewest bills and receipts and lead pencils and other valuable things.

He carryeth it there faithfully – until he changeth his coat.

He layeth it away in an unused drawer amongst other trash.

He forgetteth it.

And, when years shall have passed, he findeth it and taketh it out curiously.

He regardeth it with astonishment.

He wrinkleth his brows with his great effort at recollection, saying: “Now who the dickens wrote this thing? Yea, who is ‘Mabel’?”

He giveth it up.

And lo! he proceedeth to make pipe-lighters of thine heart-to-heart effusion.

Behold thy letter, like unto his love, goeth up in smoke!

SELAH!

BOOK OF DAMSELS

CHAPTER ONE

Give ear, my Daughter, and receive my wisdom, for the husband-hunt leadeth over many hurdles and the trail of the Eligible Thing aboundeth in pitfalls.

Lo, the woods are full of men, but men are full of strange suspicions; and in elusiveness the fox is simple beside them.

I charge thee, seek not to be a fashion-plate; for a human “shriek” giveth warning and affrighteth the game. Verily a becoming frock of home manufacture is more to be desired than a French creation which maketh thee to resemble a bad dream!

Costly thy smile as thy dentist shall make it; for a pearl in the mouth exceedeth two on the finger. And it is better to be dead than unkissable.

Cheap thy gloves, if need be, but expensive thy sachet; for a man knoweth not scent from sentiment.

Few thy rings, but many thy bangles; for a musical jingle fascinateth him even as the sound of a rattle fascinateth a babe. Yea, manicured nails and perfectly clean cuffs are more to be desired in the world of business than a knowledge of stenography. Modest thy hats, yet chic withal; and thy hair glorious. For a cheap coiffure is an abomination, but a made-to-order switch is a woman’s “crown of beauty”.

Look not upon the rouge-pot when it is too red, but delicate thy blushes and thy complexion put on with a fine brush and self-restraint.

Plain thy coat, but frilly thy petticoat and of all silk; for a feminine “swish” is as poetry unto the masculine ear.

Then, I say unto thee, waste not thy substance upon style. For a man knoweth not last year’s left-over from this year’s fad, but he knoweth a “vision” when he seeth her.

Verily, a wise virgin hideth her light under a bushel of simplicity, but a foolish damsel goeth forth resembling a human snare. She painteth her cheek as with house paint, and gildeth her hair with much gold. She adorneth herself with feathers and weareth dangling ear-rings. And at sight of her men fly on wings of fear.

CHAPTER TWO

Hear now, the Prayer of a Damsel of Babylon, which she chanteth in her heart:

Angels and Ministers of Grace, oh, hear me! Bestow upon me, I pray thee:

The smile of a seraph.

The voice of a dove.

The silence of the Sphinx.

The eyes of an houri.

The blindness of a bat.

The figure of a cloak model.

The wisdom of Solomon.

The ways of a kitten.

The conscience of a cat.

The self-control of a tin soldier.

The pliability of a sofa cushion.

The capriciousness of an automobile.

The sensitiveness of a suet pudding.

The intelligence of a pet clam.

The sweetness of a cream puff.

The ambition of a potato.

The meekness of a door-mat.

The opinions of an echo.

The fascinations of a chorus girl.

The patience of Griselda.

The mystery of the Catacombs.

The faith of a poodle.

And the endurance of Atlas.

These things I ask in order that I may be all things unto one man!

CHAPTER THREE

How little, O, my Daughter, how exceeding little shall satisfy the heart of a woman!

For a man’s love is like unto an orchid, which requireth tender persuasion and constant cultivation. But a woman’s love is like unto an air plant, which flourisheth continually upon imagination.

Now, I knew a damsel of Babylon, and she was exceeding fair, having dove’s eyes, and curling locks, and much moneys, and a motor car.

Wherefore the youths of the land flocked unto her house, and her parlor was always full, and her piazza running over.

And one of these was a medal-winner, called Clod, who possessed a football figure and a Gibson profile. But the least among them all was Wisenheimer, who was abbreviated and whose hair was thin upon the top.

And Clod come unto the damsel, bringing his medals and his loving cups and divers trophies. And when he had shown them all and had told her of his deeds of prowess, he sat afar off in a corner and conversed of generalities and of himself.

For he said in his heart, “When she hath seen what great works I am destined to accomplish, then will she gladly share them with me and shine in my reflected glory.”

But Wisenheimer concentrated all his conversation upon one topic, saying:

“How marvellous are thine eyes to-night, O Star of Beauty! And thy lips have a curve like unto the smile of Mona Lisa. Thy hair is of a wonderful softness; and what is that fascinating perfume thou usest? Lo, many damsels have I known, but thou excellest them all; for thou art as Maxine Elliot and Lillian Russell and the Venus de Milo in one!”

And the damsel was interested, and she said:

“Go on!”

Then Wisenheimer cast himself before her crying: “Lo, what am I, a worm and a parasite, that I should aspire to thy love?

“Behold, I am a sinner and full of evil, yet I need the love of a noble woman to save me! I am as nothing, and have accomplished nothing, yet I yearn for the inspiration of an angel to guide me and sustain me and spur me on to higher things!”

And lo, the maiden fell upon his neck and comforted him with kisses and with promises. And the wedding was set for October.

Yet all her friends said:

“What doth she see in him!”

But I say unto thee, the maiden was wise. For verily, verily, in the comedy of matrimony there is more joy in being a star than in being an understudy!

CHAPTER FOUR

Behold, my Daughter, how Man’s taste concerning women hath changed!

For lo, it hath come to pass that a maiden of sweet and simple sixteen is, unto a matron of fair and frivolous forty, as breakfast food unto caviar and old wine.

Yea, a man no longer yearneth for a babe to cuddle; and a clinging vine fretteth him, as a shoe that squeaketh or a chair that wobbleth. Moreover, he desireth rich things. And a widow with many shekels hath a more solid attraction than a damsel with naught but beauties of the soul.

Go to! The kiss of a damsel of sixteen is more insipid than pink ice-cream, but the kiss of a woman of forty hath the flavor of experience and vera violetta.

Lo, a damsel worshippeth a man as a demi-god and discourseth unto him of her “ideals”; but a matron mothereth him and cooeth unto him in baby talk. A damsel discusseth the weather with a youth and singeth “The Rosary” unto him; but a woman of forty discusseth his talents and singeth him lullabies. A maiden babbleth on as the brook, thinking to be always amusing, but a matron knoweth that after his labors of the day a man preferreth a down pillow unto fireworks.

A maiden pouteth and chafeth beneath his “moods”, but a matron ascertained whether they proceed from indigestion or an ingrowing temperament, and healeth them accordingly with soda mints or flattery.

A maiden seeketh to appear mysterious, and romantic, but a matron playeth always the platonic friend. She is so simple.

A maiden goeth roundabout ways to hasten a proposal, but a matron seemeth to put it off. She forbiddeth him to speak of marriage, even as she forbiddeth a small boy to touch the medicine which she hath determined he shall swallow. And lo, he yearneth straightway therefor.

Verily, verily, a maiden goeth forth with the sound of bugles and an airgun, but a matron setteth her trap in unseen places and lieth low.

A maiden challengeth a man with coquettishness, but a matron putteth him to sleep! For no man goeth into matrimony with his eyes open! Verily, verily, he falleth in love as he falleth out of bed, and awakeneth with a great shock, knowing not how it hath happened.

CHAPTER FIVE

Hast thou heard the tale of the wise and foolish virgins, oh, my Daughter? Then hearken! For this parable pointeth a great moral.

Now, the foolish virgin cried unto her sisters, early in the season, “Lo! the spirit of the love-chase is upon me! I must be up and doing. For the summer resort shall be my happy hunting ground, where the game is easy and plentiful.”

And she went her ways rejoicing, armed with three trunks and a pink parasol and girded about with lingerie frocks and a silk bathing suit.

Yet, when she had arrived upon the scene, behold there was naught within sight! Lo, each morning she wandered upon the beach with one callow college-youth and each evening danced gladly with a flirtatious octogenarian. All the damsels of the hotel, they waltzed in pairs and pretended to like it!

But the wise virgin sighed, “Alas! I cannot afford to go upon a vacation trip. Nay I must stay in town! For I shall be busy.”

And she was busy!

For, when all the other women had departed, the men of the town, being much bored and having naught else to do, flocked unto her door and made themselves comfortable upon her piazza.

Yea, in twos and threes came they, the simple youth with his mandolin and the wise youth with his Rubáiyát, the married man in his loneliness, and the bachelor whose sweetheart was abroad.

And she fed them iced drinks and flattery, and they absorbed all of it gladly – and were consoled!

And lo, before the summer had waned she wore six engagement rings; for the harvest was plentiful.

Verily, verily, a summer resort is a place wherein a woman will resort to anything, from a babe unto a grandfather, for amusement; but a womanless town is a ripe field.

CHAPTER SIX

Oh, ye damsels of Babylon! Ye followers after fads and wearers of pearl earrings! How long will ye seek to appear sophisticated? How long will ye continue to pose as cynics, and think it chic to be satirical and piquant to be capricious?

Know ye not, oh foolish ones, that a man dreadeth a female cynic as a small boy dreadeth an education? Yea, and a satirical damsel is unto him as a caterpillar upon the neck, which maketh him to shudder. But a capricious woman is as gravel in the shoes. She giveth him great pain.

Behold, a foolish damsel seeketh always to scintillate. She appeareth clothed in worldly wisdom and bristling with opinions. She provoketh arguments and answereth with repartee. She mocketh at a man’s sentiments and rebuketh him with epigrams. She maketh him to look foolish.

But a wise damsel is sweeter than distilled honey and more simple than the plot of a Robert Chambers novel. She lighteth her own way with the sun of her smiles, and smootheth all her paths with soft soap. She seeketh not her own glorification but poureth oil upon the vanity of the just and unjust alike.

Doth a youth argue with her, she is easily convinced and covereth him with approbation, saying: “How didst thou ever think of that?”

And, lo, his argument is broken against him.

Doth her Beloved call at eve, bringing with him the grouch “that knoweth no brother”, she greeteth him with the smile that knoweth no sister.

She ministereth unto him with cooling drinks and looks of sympathy.

She bringeth him the ash-tray and the shaded lamp and the foot-stool and the newspapers.

She urgeth him to smoke.

She forbeareth to talk.

And behold his mood dissolveth as the mist before the sun, and he exclaimeth in his heart: “Good Heavens! What would life be without this woman!”

He proposeth.

And all the days of her life she treadeth upon velvet.

Verily, verily, a wise woman preferreth peace of mind unto her own opinions, comfort unto her dignity, and an husband unto a reputation for brilliancy. She saith in her heart:

“I am not here to reform him, but to please him.”

And, lo, all the world is her roller coaster! For the price of peace is a perpetual smile!

SELAH

BOOK OF BACHELORS

CHAPTER ONE

Go to, my Daughter. Knowest thou a man who hath lived long in a bachelor flat? Then beware of him! For his ways are full of guile and he hath not a thrill left.

Alas, the bachelor flat is a curse sent upon Woman. For, lo, though a man hath dwelt in the back hall-room of a boarding-house for many years and hath suffered all its untold horrors, the moment he taketh a flat the sweet feminine thing seeketh him out and yearneth to make him “comfortable”.

And his days are made sad with sofa pillows and towel racks, and picture frames, and shaving-pads, and foot-stools, until his house resembleth a bargain counter, or the spoils from the harem of a sacked city.

He groaneth when he seeketh in corners for a spot wherein to place his forty-seventh cushion; he curseth when he returneth after dark and falleth over tabourets and other evidences of the pursuit of man; he laugheth as he borroweth old socks from his men friends that he may supply all of those who desire to do his mending. And to him, in matters of love, there is nothing new under the sun.

For the man that weddeth a widow is number two, but the woman that weddeth a bachelor-flatee is number forty-two.

And when she mendeth his coat and patteth his pillow; when she kisseth him in the cleft within his chin and runneth her fingers through his hair, he feeleth no thrill. For these are unto him but as a tale that hath been many times told.

Verily, his sentiments are frayed at the edges and his emotions worn thin with usage. His heart is patched in many places and his illusions are as last year’s roses – withered.

Yea, his love is but as warmed-over pudding or cold veal served upon the second day; even as second-hand furniture, whereof the interior is motheaten.

But he is better than nothing.

CHAPTER TWO

Verily, verily, my Daughter, the fool hath said in her heart, “All men should marry! For there is a reason for everything under the sun, save a bachelor.”

But I have gone among the bachelors, questioning them, young and old; and I say unto thee, the “reasons” why a man taketh a stimulant are not more numerous and wonderful than the reasons why he doth not marry.

Behold, he doth not marry:

Because he is too young.

Because he is too old.

Because he hath not thought about it.

Because he hath thought too much about it.

Because he is poor and cannot afford a wife.

Because he is rich and doth not require a wife.

Because he loveth no woman.

Because he loveth all women.

Because he hath not met the right woman.

Because he hath met the right woman and been “disappointed”.

Because he hath many illusions concerning women.

Because he hath no illusions concerning them.

Because no woman is good enough.

Because he is not “good enough” for any woman.

Because he is not ready to settle down.

Because he is already settled down, and is content.

Because he is weak and fearful.

Because he is strong and impregnable.

And, likewise – just because.

CHAPTER THREE

Hearken, my Daughter, unto the parable of the merrie bachelor; hearken and be comforted.

For, I say unto thee, not one of these liveth but shall receive his just desert!

Now, in my youth, there came unto me such an one, saying, “Why shall I marry? For lo, have I not all the comforts of home, at half the expense? Behold, I have three good meals a day and a den filled with gew-gaws, which are the work of many damsels. Yea, and not one of them but yearneth to sew on my buttons.

“Moreover, I can go forth into the country in the summer time without having to pawn mine overcoat; and in the winter I can go unto my club without having to perjure my soul.

“Verily, verily, my life is like unto an eleven-course dinner.

“For on Monday I may talk art unto a high-browed damsel; and on Tuesday I may talk love unto a widow; and on Wednesday I may talk nonsense unto a fluffy thing.

“But a married man must talk domestic economy unto the same woman every night, which is like a table d’hote menu, of a deadening monotony.

“Behold, I offer no apology for my singleness; for I am unashamed! And my one fear is that I shall awaken from this dream!”

And I answered him, saying, “Even so!”

Yet, as time passed, the hairs dropped one by one from the head of the bachelor, until it shone as a great light.

Lo, from eating and drinking much good food and having no worries, he became round and pudgy, like unto a Billiken.

And the maidens of the land who had trembled at his approach now tittered merrily at sight of him. Yea, whereas, before, he had been able to spend an whole evening with one of them, bringing a box of cheap candy, he now spent all his savings upon them.

For it requireth real orchids and champagne to make a fat man fascinating.

And he observed the married men of his acquaintance, that from overworking they had still kept their figures and were interesting. Yea, and they flirted with their stenographers and were merry; but the bachelor not having to labor had accomplished nothing; for he had spent his days in yawning.

Then he came unto me, crying:

“Lo! At last I would marry and settle down. But she that I once loved hath married another. And how shall I choose a wife? For all women are as one woman unto me.”

And I mocked him with my ha-has, saying:

“My Son, I adjure thee, wed any woman thou canst! For the buds of the Nation are not collecting antiques. Yet, peradventure, one of these shall accept thee as a good thing; or another shall take thee as a last resort, when she hath passed her fifth season. Go to! Thou hast eaten the bread of life without honey thereon, and thou shalt hereafter be satisfied with the crumbs.”

Verily, verily, life without love is as a pipe without a light; but a man without a wife is as a helpless barge without a tow-boat.

CHAPTER FOUR

My Daughter, hear now the Thanksgiving Day prayer of a bachelor:

Oh, Lord, I thank Thee that Thou hast vouchsafed me another year of freedom. That I am still safe!

That Thou hast made me what I am– wise, unconquerable, immune!

That, although I have many times lost my heart, I have never yet lost my head.

That I did not marry my first love.

That, though the hairs of my head be numbered, they are still sufficient to cover my bald spot.

That, though my forehead gradually becometh more intellectual, it is not yet bare.

That I have never yet written a letter which could be held against me in a breach-of-promise suit, but have confined all my tender messages unto telegrams and postcards.

That all my words have been discreet and mine actions cautious and self-restrained.

That, although maidens may bestow upon me purple neckties, spotted scarfs, plaid mufflers and orange-colored gloves at Christmastide, I shall not be required to wear them.

That I am still regarded as eligible among maidens and matrons. That they have not found me out!

That, day by day, my heart is acquiring a coat of cement and my conscience a coat of mail.

That I have carefully preserved all my emotions in alcohol!

That there is no marrying nor giving in marriage in Heaven!

Yea, for good cigars, bachelor flats, vaudeville, briar pipes, clubs, apartment hotels, stenographers, comic operas, taxicabs and widows, Good Lord I thank Thee!

And now in the name of peace and contentment, vouchsafe me another year of single blessedness.

Yea, give me liberty or give me death! Amen!

SELAH

BOOK OF SIRENS

CHAPTER ONE

Behold, my Daughter, I have parted from mine Appendix and my conscience is clear! Therefore do I fear but three things in all the world:

And the first of these is a mouse.

And the second is embonpoint.

But the third is a Trained Nurse!

For I have watched her at her work.

And, I charge thee, in the flutter of her apron there lurketh more danger than in the whole chorus of a comic opera. For a chorus girl practiseth her wiles upon strong men, but she seeketh him only that is stricken and at her mercy.

Yea, when he is down-and-out she getteth in her fine work.

Upon her head she weareth a cute cap, which glorifieth her as a halo in his sight. She walketh upon heels of velvet and cooeth unto him in a voice of silver.

Her smile runneth over and will not come off.

She hath dove’s eyes.

She batheth his brow with spikenard and myrrh, and anointeth him with alcohol. She arrangeth his pillows and comforteth his soul with words of cheer. She taketh his pulse!

He yearneth to be babied – and she babyeth him.

He pineth for sympathy – and she sympathizeth.

He seeketh comfort – and she maketh him comfortable.

And what chance hath a damsel at a pink tea beside a ministering angel such as one of these?

Go to, thou Simple One! What strength is there in a sick man that he shall flee before all the temptations of St. Anthony, in one?

Nay, though he be of stone and of adamant, though his heart be encased in barbed wire, yet shall he turn upon his pillow sighing:

“Alas Miriam is all right; but a wife was never like this!”

Yet how guileless is human nature! For, ye will keep your silver in a strong box and your jewels behind bars of iron; yet will ye trust your beloved in the hands of one of these.

Verily, verily, the Lorelei is passeé and witches are no more.

But a Little Trained Nurse is a dangerous thing!

CHAPTER TWO

Verily, my Daughter, there be these three: the maid, the matron, and the widow; and the luckiest of these is the widow.

For she hath graduated from the School of Experience and her crêpe veil glorifieth her as a diploma.

And, though she may live in a bachelor flat, none shall gossip about her; but whatsoever she doeth shall seem “cute” in the eyes of men.

When she talketh wittily they shall not say, “She knoweth too much”; and when she talketh foolishly they shall declare that she but seeketh to appear simple. If she smoketh a cigarette, she will make excuse, saying, “Mine husband taught me how to do this thing”, and all men shall call her “fascinating”.

Yea, she possesseth all the glory of matrimony, even unto “Mrs.” on her name, and none of the discomforts. She shall marry a second time if she so desireth; and if she doth not, who shall say that she could not?

For one man hath set his seal of approval upon her, and where one hath led the rest shall follow like unto a flock of Geese. Yea, in the matter of women, man hath great faith in the judgment of his brother, but he doubteth his own taste.

And, though a widow be neither wealthy, nor good to look upon; though she be fat and forty and frivolous; yet she understandeth how to make a man comfortable – which is the secret of all wisdom. She shall feed the lambs from the chafing-dish and the lions with honeyed words; she shall coax the smoker to smoke; she shall hold a match to his cigar; she shall bring a footstool for his feet and a couch pillow for his head; she shall mend his gloves and listen eagerly to his stories unto seven times seven times.

Yet envy her not, my daughter, for hath she not been married once? And a woman who hath once been married hath earned whatsoever she receiveth.

CHAPTER THREE

Heed my instructions, oh my Son, that thou mayest understand the Seven Poses of Woman!

For, whether she dwelleth in the high places or in the low places, her nets are cast into the sea, and her hooks are bated with perfume and chafing-dishes and domesticity.

Yea, though she hideth in a studio apartment and cryeth “I shall never marry!”, yet doth she seek to lure thee with joss sticks and pink tea and rarebits and the artistic temperament.

Likewise, beware when she patteth thy coat lapel; when she slippeth her hand confidingly into thine overcoat pocket be not persuaded. For the touch of a damsel’s fingers is alluring, but a wife’s “touch” is expensive.

Lo, when she mothereth thee; when she runneth her fingers through thy top hair; when she inquireth concerning thy health and urgeth thee to wear rubbers, be prepared to escape her; for, so doth she shear the lamb for the slaughter.

When her shoe cometh untied, when her side-comb falleth out, when her hair tumbleth down, in the game of tennis, turn away thine eyes, lest thou be undone. For, Circe was as naught, beside a woman with flowing hair.

When she “turneth” her ankle upon the golf links, I charge thee do not bear her in thine arms to safety; but, for thy soul’s sake, flee in search of a doctor, ’ere she turneth thine head also.

When she putteth perfume upon thy locks, oh beware of her! For she doeth this that she may mark thee for her own; and, until it be washed away, thou shalt be covered with shame in the eyes of the world.

But, when she coaxeth thee to be adorned, when she seeketh to manicure thy nails; when she patteth thy fingers and yearneth to bathe them with sweet ointments; when she weareth a cute apron and sitteth more near, I charge thee, clasp thine hands behind thee, crying:

“Nay! Thou mayest hold them, but thou shalt not manicure them!”

For by this strategy fell the Benedicts.

Go to, my Son! Ask me not how I have learned of Woman, concerning all her poses.

For lo, I am a woman, and I have tried them.