. But in America the duchesses have to rub shoulders
with him every day. And--which is worth noting--their husbands also rub
shoulders with his wife.

* * * * *

Which brings us to the second root-fact, which is almost as disturbing
and confounding to casual observation as the first, namely, the much
larger part in the intellectual life of the country played by women in
America. Intellectuality or culture in its narrower sense--meaning a
familiarity with art and letters--is not commonly regarded by Englishmen
as an essential possession in a wife. The lack of it is certainly not
considered by the American woman a cardinal offence in a husband. I know
many American men who, on being consulted on any matter of literary or
artistic taste, say at once: "I don't know. I leave all that to my
wife."

An Englishman in an English house, looking at the family portraits, may
ask his hostess who painted a certain picture.

"I don't know," she will say, "I must ask my husband. Will, who is the
portrait of your grandfather by--the one over there in his robes?"

"Raeburn," says Will.

"Of course," says the wife. "I never can remember the artists' names;
they are so confusing--especially the English ones."

The Englishman thinks no worse of her; but the American woman,
listening, wishes that she had a portrait of her husband's grandfather
by Raeburn and opines that she would know the artist's name.

The same Englishman goes to America and, being entertained, asks a
similar question of his host.

"I don't know," says the man, "I must ask my wife. Mary, who painted
that picture over there--the big tree and the blue sky?"

"Rousseau," says Mary.

"Of course," says the husband. "I never can remember the names of these
fellows. They mix me all up--especially the French ones."

And the Englishman returning home tells his friends of the queer fellow
with whom he dined over there--"an awfully good chap, you know"--who
owned all sorts of jolly paintings--Rousseaux and things--and did not
even know the names of the artists: "Had to ask his wife, by Jove!"

It is not for one moment claimed that there are not in England many
women fully as cultured as the most cultured and fairest Americans; that
there are not many Englishwomen much better informed, much more widely
read, than their husbands. The phenomenon, however, is not nearly as
common as in America, where, it has already been suggested, it is
pro