AT THE PEN’S POINT

Southland Times, Issue 21091, 24 May 1930, Page 13

AT THE PEN’S POINT

THE HOMAGE THAT WAS

(By

Reginald Plumbob).

In days of old the prevailing fashion in knighthood was a rather ostentatious boldness. At the same time woman was the focussing point for chivalrous attention. Alas, it is not completely so to-day.

The ’male attitude of those heroic times can be easily understood. It was customary for knights and retainers to fare forth on quests which seem to-day rather childish, though at the time they were doubtless as exciting and nationally stimulative as a tour by the All Blacks is to us to-day. The bravery—or that discretion which is its better part—of those foreign-duty adventurers has no bearing on our present review. (Parenthetically, one may conjecture they were much like the goers-forth of later years—many with intense desire for hand-to-hand, ding-dong combat; others with equally ardent desire for staff jobs in back areas, where the tarnishing of accoutrements is so easily avoidable, and personal risk a negligible quantity. In the latter case an impressive display can be made without even physical discomfort. This is as it should be. An army must be handled with foresight; and the greater the opportunity for calm thinking the more effectively may essential details in the planning of a campaign be worked out.) Let us return to the courtly campaigners. An absence of months, or perhaps of years, would assuredly produce safl, sweet dreams of waiting Rosalinds, Guineveres and such prototypes of our modern Clarices, Myrtles and Muriels. The inclination would be to pedestal them as models of all the graces and virtues. It is possible, even probable, that dalliance with delectable foreign maids added a tinge of penitence to the homage bestowed on waiting divinities. The finished article of these cumulative circumstances must have been truly delightful and flattering to woman’s, innate vanity. In return the dear creatures remained as distinctly feminine as man could wish, and he felt repayed for his tenderness. Why is it the oldtime homage is rare to-day? Woman herself supplies the answer. Indulgent man, with dubious wisdom, made an experiment. He.loosened the shackles of centuries and gave her freedom. He has been repaid with hysterics, ingratitude and shrill clamour. Erratic ambition has given her impossible dreams of mental and physical equality with man —even superiority. Man regards these results with perplexity and regret. He knows his altruism has led him astray. The experience of ages lay behind his forefather’s attitude towards woman.. Heaven knows what mawkish sentiment prompted the later weakness.

There are occupations in which a woman can be of real service to her fellows; but, scorning these; she ineffectually, strives to master (or mistress) the callings for which man with his sturdier physique and calmer mentality alone is fitted. Every masculine profession is an apple to be nibbled by the unfettered female. Admittedly there have been cases wherein women have “made good,” but almost invariably the victories have been accomplished at the expense of their femininity—woman’s chief charm in the eyes of man. Success has brought with hardness and lines which no treatment can entirely eradicate. These things are certainly not of woman's seeking. They have no part in her philosophy of life. Otherwise the constant pursuit of attractiveness per changing fashions would be less .apparent. On the other hand, the facial hardness which comes of competitive endeavouor troubles man but little. In fact, he may regard it as an asset, since it gives him standing as one who has battled in the arena of commerce. It is a badge, and is suffered, or treasured, as such. There is another virtue in strong jaws and directgazing, hard eyes. They definitely lift their possessors from the class that apes in speech and bizarre raiment the modern flapper, till it almost seems that Nature, in- jest or mischance, bungled in the determination of sex.

Had dignity accompanied feminine endeavour the old homage might still be in evidence. But dignity was missing. The story of woman’s hysterical fight for political [tower is the most farce-like thing in history. It bristles with window smashing and banner flapping. One of its bright spots, or drab spots—as one’s "sympathy lies—was the pulling down of a galloping racehorse, a highly intellectual way of “getting the vote!” The affair certainlyended in the dull woman’s death; but at the same time it brought grave risk to an efficient jockey and a noble thoroughbred.

Surely and slowly (rather more rapidly perhaps in late years) woman’s shrill assertiveness and tragic misuse of her freedom and opportunity are sapping man’s patience. He grows less considerate towards the misguided rib. This is not pleasant to contemplate. But it does not call for despair. In every manly man there is a predisposition to pay homage to the other sex, and that homage will again be in evidence when woman, displays once more the qualities that merit it. . Meanwhile man—kindly, long-suffering man—is waiting a sign.