Happiness and Marriage | Page 5

slattern's dress and
smelling like a drug-shop. Her husband in despair gives up trying to
understand her, or to love her either.
The woman in such a case is apt to suffer most. Why not? She makes it
the business of her life to "suffer." She prides herself on how much she
has had to "suffer," and "bear." She cultivates her "feelings" to the limit.
A man thinks it "unmanly" to give way to "feelings." So he uses all his
wits to keep from doing so, and to enable him to hide his own
disappointment and make the best of life as he finds it.
A man uses his best judgment when he meets disappointment. A
woman trots out her "feelings" and her best pocket-handkerchief, and
calls in the neighbors. So the woman gets the lion's share of
"sympathy"--which means that all the other women get out their best

handkerchiefs and try to imagine just how they would "feel" if in her
place.
Of course there are exceptions. I have heard of men who wept and
retailed their woes; and I have heard of women with gumption.
The woman who wrote the letter at the head of this chapter is a feel-er,
not a thinker. She looks at the forlorn, bedraggled specimens of her
own sex and "feels" with them, never THINKING that the women
themselves have anything to do with making their conditions. She
"feels" with the woman because she is a woman. Being an unthinking
creature she cannot "feel" for the man at all.
Woman is the weaker creature for no other reason than that she lives in
her "feelings."
Man is the stronger for no other reason than that he uses his wits and
his will to control his feelings. "B. B." has seen children gazing into
shop windows. Immediately she imagines how she would "feel" if in
their places. She does not stop to THINK that in all probability the
simple act of gazing into the window may bring more real joy to those
children than the possession of the whole windowful of toys would
bring to some rich man's child. She does not think that life consists not
in possessions or environment, but in the ability to use possessions or
environment. If she were an Edwin Abbey or a Michael Angelo she
would gaze on our chromo-bedecked walls and work herself up into a
great state of "feeling" because we had to have such miserable daubs
instead of real works of art. If she saw us gazing on an Abbey or
Angelo picture she would weep tears to think we couldn't have such
pictures instead of those hideous bright chromos on our walls. It would
never occur to her that we might be privately comparing her Abbeys
and Angelos with our chromos, and wondering how anybody could
possibly see beauty in the Abbeys and Angelos.
About nine-tenths of women's so-called "sympathy" is just about as
foolish and misplaced as that. If "B. B." would go up and get
acquainted with some of those small youngsters she sees gazing into
the shop windows she would find some of her illusions dispelled. She

would find among them less "longing" than she thinks, and more
wonder and criticism and pure curiosity--such as she would find in her
own heart if she were gazing at a curio collection.
I remember a large family of very small boys that I used to "feel" for,
very deeply. Poor little pinched, ragged looking fellows they were, and
always working before and after school hours. I gave them nickels and
dimes and my children's outgrown clothes, and new fleece lined gloves
for their blue little hands. They kept the clothes hung up at home and
the gloves stuffed in their pants pockets. And one day I discovered that
every one of those small youngsters had a bank account--something I
had never had in my life! They lived as they liked to live, and I had
been harrowing my feelings and carrying their (?) burdens for nothing.
This world is not a pitiful place. It is a lovely great world, full of all
sorts of people, every one of whom exactly fits into his conditions.
And the loveliest thing of all about this bright, blessed old world is that
there is not a man, woman or child in it who cannot change his
environment if he doesn't like the one he now occupies. He can THINK
his way into anything.
A real, deep, tender feeling will prompt one to do all he can to alleviate
distress or add to the world's joy. Real feeling prompts to action. But
this sentimental slush which slops over on anything and everything in
general is nothing but an imitation of the real thing. To sympathize to
the extent of acting