My Friends:
I had a purpose in writing this novel. It was to honor and magnify the
sweetness and dignity of the condition of Motherhood, and of those
womanly virtues and graces, which make the Home the cornerstone of the
Nation. For it is not with modern Americans, as it was with the old
Greek and Roman world. They put the family below the State, and the
citizen absorbed the man. On the contrary, we know, that just as the
Family principle is strong the heart of the Nation is sound. "Give me
one domestic grace," said a famous leader of men, "and I will turn it
into a hundred public virtues."
A Home, however splendidly appointed, is ill furnished without the sound
of children's voices; and the patter of children's feet. It may be
strictly orderly, but it is silent and forlorn; and has an air of
solitude. Solitude is a great affliction, and Domestic Solitude is one
of its hardest forms. No number of balls and dinner parties, no visits
from friends, can make up for the absence of sons and daughters round
the family table and the family hearth.
Yet there certainly is a restless feminine minority, who declare, both
by precept and example, Family Life to be a servitude. Alas! They have
not given themselves opportunity to discover that self-sacrifice is the
meat and drink of all true affection.
But women have learned within the last two decades to listen to every
side of an argument. Their Club life, with its variety of "views," has
led them to decide that every phase of a question ought to be
attentively considered. So I do not doubt that my story will receive
justice, and I hope approval, from all the women--and men--that read it.
Affectionately to all,
AMELIA E. BARR.