St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1893-01-15
De BREMONT'S GOSSIP
He Discusses the Independent
Young Woman Who Has
Aspirations.
Many Tears Of Disappoint-
msnt Precede Literary
Successes,
The Heartburn and Disillu-
Sio1nent Of Returned
Manuscripts.
Gomething on the Ever-Pop-
ular Subject of Fash
ions.

New YORK, Jan. l2.-ln every family
there is one who wants to leave the nest
of the parent bird earlier than the real
and explore the world for himself.
This is the case quite as much among
girls as among boys, particularly now
when independence" is the cry among
so many women.
In every family of ordinary numbers,
of ordinary ideas and attachments,
destined to make a mark in the world.
The struggles of this one, whose talent
is so often mistaken for caprice, whose
bursts Of briliancy are mistaken for
wilfu wanton moods, whose ambition
is mistaken for discomfort, are often
very hard and very lengthy. There is
hardly literary or artistic sue
cess which has not been earned
by years of "kicking," and many
tears of disappointment. In the
first place. the iledgeling must
really fly. Fly once and in public, and
the public-that great, cruel, unaccount-
able public that decides the position of
all talent-Will recognize it or ignore it.
The literary aspirant generally errs by
her own public. She has an idea-and
mind you 1t is a rare thing to have an
idea, although there is so much talk
about them-if YOU sift off the fine
words and quotations and the person
alitieS, there is seldom good, healthy
idea left.
Well. to return to our muttOnS, we
will suppose that the ardent literary
aSpirant has an idea. While she is pos
seSsed OF this idea, she fOrgetS her new
gown. and doesn't even wonder how the
bill will be paid. and she forgrts that
the person whom she thought she loved
has shown some very disappointing
qualities, and she is not worried by GER
tain pessimStic views which she has
developed concerning the future-in
fact, everything is obliterated by the
ide".s
And as she cherishes the idea, it
grows. Grows bigger and bigger. II is
the child of her brain and she clothes it.
as mathrrS clothe their babies in all
the prettiest clothing they can find.
Fine words, unusual words, musical
phrases, crisp descriptions, these are to
her idea what lace and muslin and rib
bon are to the baby. or course, by
the time the child Of the brain
is dressed it looks very much better
than it aid when it was first born. 1t
was poor. naked, meager little thing
then, and the author of its being felt
some doubts as to whether or not she
should own it. She has no'doubts at all
now; ii is, she thinkS-as all authors of
our being think-a better looking child
than other peoples, and she persuades
herself that it has a very strong indi-
viduality of its own. Even if it has, she
is not the Judge.
it is Impossible for her to be her own
public. AS she reads her own creation
over and over again she likes IL better
and better. When she first reads it
through, after being separated from it
for some time, she is little bit doubt
full as TO its merits, bat each reading en-
dearS it to her. a last she declares to
herself that it is very good, and without
word OF advice from any one, without
fear for its reception, she sends it off.
And sometimes it comes back! Sim
pie words those, but Oh! how much they
mean. Oh, the heartburn, the disillu-
sonment, the disappointment contained
in that returned manuscript. No pack
age of returned love letters ever caused
quite such a dreadful combination of
feelings.