And finally, in his reflections as an ill-used man tied for life to a
woman who knows not tact, Mr. Omicron asserted further that Mrs.
Omicron only thought of spending and titivating herself. To assert
that she only thought of spending did not satisfy his spleen; he must
add "titivating herself." He would admit, of course, that she did as a
fact sometimes think of other matters, but still he would uphold the
gravamen of his charge. And yet--excellent Omicron!--you have but to
look the truth in the face--as a plain common-sense man will--and to
use your imagination, in order to perceive that there really is no
gravamen in the charge.
Why did you insist on marrying Mrs. Omicron? She had the reputation of
being a good housekeeper (as girls go); she was a serious girl,
kind-hearted, of irreproachable family, having agreeable financial
expectations, clever, well-educated, good-tempered, pretty. But the
truth is that you married her for none of these attributes. You
married her because you were attracted to her; and what attracted you
was a mysterious, never-to-be-defined quality about her--an effluence,
an emanation, a lurking radiance, an entirely enigmatic charm. In the
end "charm" is the one word that even roughly indicates that element
in her personality which caused you to lose your head about her. A
similar phenomenon is to be observed in all marriages of inclination.
A similar phenomenon is at the bottom of most social movements. Why,
the Men's League for Women's Suffrage itself certainly came into being
through the strange workings of that same phenomenon! You married Mrs.
Omicron doubtless because she was "suitable," but her "suitability,"
for you, consisted in the way she breathed, the way she crossed a
room, a transient gesture, a vibration in her voice, a blush, a
glance, the curve of an arm--nothing, nothing--and yet everything!
You may condescend towards this quality of hers, Mr. Omicron--you may
try to dismiss it as "feminine charm," and have done with it. But you
cannot have done with it. And the fact will ever remain that you are
incapable of supplying it yourself, with all your talents and your
divine common sense. You are an extremely wise and good man, but you
cannot ravish the senses of a roomful of people by merely walking
downstairs, by merely throwing a shawl over your shoulders, by a
curious depression in the corner of one cheek. This gift of grace is
not yours. Wise as you are, you will be still wiser if you do not
treat it disdainfully. It is among the supreme things in the world. It
has made a mighty lot of history, and not improbably will make some
more--even yours.
You were not the only person aware of the formidable power (for
formidable it was) which she possessed over you. She, too, was aware
of it, and is still. She knows that when she exists in a particular
way, she will produce in your existence a sensation which, though
fleeting, you prefer to all other sensations--a sensation unique. And
this quality by which she disturbs and enchants you is her main
resource in the adventure of life. Shall she not cherish this quality,
adorn it, intensify it? On the contrary, you well know that you would
be very upset and amazed if Mrs. Omicron were to show signs of
neglecting this quality of hers which yearns for rings. And, if you
have ever entered a necktie-shop and been dazzled by the spectacle of
a fine necktie into "hanging expense"--if you have been through this
wondrous experience, your imagination, duly prodded, will enable you
to put yourself into Mrs. Omicron's place when she mentions the
subject of rings. "Titivating herself?" Good heavens, she is helping
the very earth to revolve! And you smote the defenceless creature with
a lethal word--because the butcher's boy dallied at a street-corner!
You insinuate that one frail hand may carry too many rings. You
reproduce your favourite word "moderation." Mr. Omicron, I take you. I
agree as to the danger. But if Mrs. Omicron is human, let us also bear
in mind the profound truth that not one of us is more human than
another.