It seems hardly worth while to say that this would be a more interesting
country if there were more interesting people in it. But the remark is
worth consideration in a land where things are so much estimated by what
they cost. It is a very expensive country, especially so in the matter of
education, and one cannot but reflect whether the result is in proportion
to the outlay. It costs a great many thousands of dollars and over four
years of time to produce a really good base-ball player, and the time and
money invested in the production of a society young woman are not less.
No complaint is made of the cost of these schools of the higher
education; the point is whether they produce interesting people. Of
course all women are interesting. It has got pretty well noised about the
world that American women are, on the whole, more interesting than any
others. This statement is not made boastfully, but simply as a market
quotation, as one might say. They are sought for; they rule high. They
have a “way”; they know how to be fascinating, to be agreeable; they
unite freedom of manner with modesty of behavior; they are apt to have
beauty, and if they have not, they know how to make others think they
have. Probably the Greek girls in their highest development under Phidias
were never so attractive as the American girls of this period; and if we
had a Phidias who could put their charms in marble, all the antique
galleries would close up and go out of business.
But it must be understood that in regard to them, as to the dictionaries,
it is necessary to “get the best.” Not all women are equally interesting,
and some of those on whom most educational money is lavished are the
least so. It can be said broadly that everybody is interesting up to a
certain point. There is no human being from whom the inquiring mind
cannot learn something. It is so with women. Some are interesting for
five minutes, some for ten, some for an hour; some are not exhausted in a
whole day; and some (and this shows the signal leniency of Providence)
are perennially entertaining, even in the presence of masculine
stupidity. Of course the radical trouble of this world is that there are
not more people who are interesting comrades, day in and day out, for a
lifetime. It is greatly to the credit of American women that so many of
them have this quality, and have developed it, unprotected, in free
competition with all countries which have been pouring in women without
the least duty laid upon their grace or beauty. We, have a tariff upon
knowledge--we try to shut out all of that by a duty on books; we have a
tariff on piety and intelligence in a duty on clergymen; we try to
exclude art by a levy on it; but we have never excluded the raw material
of beauty, and the result is that we can successfully compete in the
markets of the world.
This, however, is a digression. The reader wants to know what this
quality of being interesting has to do with girls' schools. It is
admitted that if one goes into a new place he estimates the agreeableness
of it according to the number of people it contains with whom it is a
pleasure to converse, who have either the ability to talk well or the
intelligence to listen appreciatingly even if deceivingly, whose society
has the beguiling charm that makes even natural scenery satisfactory. It
is admitted also that in our day the burden of this end of life, making
it agreeable, is mainly thrown upon women. Men make their business an
excuse for not being entertaining, or the few who cultivate the mind
(aside from the politicians, who always try to be winning) scarcely think
it worth while to contribute anything to make society bright and
engaging. Now if the girls' schools and colleges, technical and other,
merely add to the number of people who have practical training and
knowledge without personal charm, what becomes of social life? We are
impressed with the excellence of the schools and colleges for women
--impressed also with the co-educating institutions. There is no sight
more inspiring than an assemblage of four or five hundred young women
attacking literature, science, and all the arts. The grace and courage of
the attack alone are worth all it costs. All the arts and science and
literature are benefited, but one of the chief purposes that should be in
view is unattained if the young women are not made more interesting, both
to themselves and to others. Ability to earn an independent living may be
conceded to be important, health is indispensable, and beauty of face and
form are desirable; knowledge is priceless, and unselfish amiability is
above the price of rubies; but how shall we set a value, so far as the
pleasure of living is concerned, upon the power to be interesting? We
hear a good deal about the highly educated young woman with reverence,
about the emancipated young woman with fear and trembling, but what can
take the place of the interesting woman? Anxiety is this moment agitating
the minds of tens of thousands of mothers about the education of their
daughters. Suppose their education should be directed to the purpose of
making them interesting women, what a fascinating country this would be
about the year 1900.