WOMEN’S RIGHT TO SECRETS

Otago Daily Times, Issue 18754, 6 January 1923, Page 10

WOMEN’S RIGHT TO SECRETS

WHEN MEN MARRY THEY MARRY A BUNCH OF WIVES,' NOT ONE. Miss Fay Compton, the gifted actress ■who played so fine a part in Barrie’s play “Quality Street,” and has now won a j brilliant success in another play called “Secrets,” insists in an article in , the Weekly Despatch on a woman’s “Right to Secrets.” “Every woman brings to the altar not only herself, but a hundred other selves as well. And the same is true of a man. It is ridiculous to imagine, when one marries, that one. marries a single person. One marries a whole bunch. Some of the bunch one knows and loves. The rest . . . secrets! “That is what so many men do not understand. Thev see a locked door and they at once think of Bluebeard. They do not understand this subtle joy we i have in hidden things. They do not | realise the. sense we have that the world i is like a Christmas stocking, black and j mysterious, bulging with strange, uni known delights, a thing to lie awake at ! nights about, a thing which would lose | its whole fascination if we knew what was I in it.” I —Women Live by Secrets.— ! “ ‘Sphinxes without secrets’—that is one i of a million definitions of which : have come from the mouths of men. . And | it is one of a million lies. | “For women live bv secrets. A cloak | is as necessary for tlie mind as for the j limbs. And men, in their heart of ; hearts, welcome the mystery. A woman ! who is an open book makes dull reading, i And a man from whom no secrets are hid ■ia either a cynic or a god. What would j life be if every soul walked the boards | with limelight searing deep into the secret I places of the heart? What would become of your romance if from the moment the play began the. curtain should never fall? : “That is the secret of a secret—i romance! A finger raised to laughing | lips, a long-drawn ssh in a darkening I room, the light rustle of skirts down distant corridors, a letter that brings a flush to the cheeks . . . secrets! “But there is another side to the picture. Eyes from which the laughter has faded, long sleepless nights until the dawn steals through lonely windows, bitter words and violent scenes, locked doors, partings, even death . . .secrets ; —The One Letter in a Locked Drawer.— .“Whence the change? The answer lies in one word —marriage. For it is marriage which only too often changes a secret from the fairy child of*a girl’s heart to a skeleton in the cupboard. “What is the reasdn? Why does the little romantic conceit which was the joy of yesterday turn to the ceaseless anxiety which may be the tragedy of to-mor-row? “Let me answer the question by telling a story. A few years ago I knew a girl to whom the gods seemed to have given almost everything—bright beauty, radiant youth, money, laughter. # And, of course, love, the sort of April love which deepens into the passion of summer. “Summer came, and with it the love which she had sought. She threw herself body and soul into the sunshine. But now and then, for a moment only, she would remember with a wistful smile a secret which she had known in the days of her Spring. ! “She kept a letter. It was only, one of many letters which long ago she had burnt. It had no real importance. Rather was it like the photographs which we cherish for their beautv only, because in some dim way they have become part of ourselves. “But a secret letter means a locked drawer. And a locked drawer needs explanations. And explanations, especially when they are innocent, lead to lies. And once the’ lie has been uttered there is no turning back. And for my friend it was the road leading from summer to winter. “Secrets! That is the tragedy of a secret after marriage, that it becets other secrets. It breeds, it multiplies, it is the father of a thousand mysteries. —Mutual Respect for Secrets.— “And yet—it is all so unnecessary! If men would only trust, if women would believe. these tragedies of misunderstanding would never occur. Half the magio of marriage lies in a mutual respect for each other’s secrets. “ ‘Should a woman tell?’ It is a naive ouestion. almost a foolish one. Of course, she must tell if there is any good, in telling. But if her secret is going to cause pain, if it is to be the means of giving useless suffering, then it stay! “I am acting in a play to-day in which endless suffering is caused by the secret a man hides from his wife. It is r. secret in his eyes only, for in realitv the woman knows but is silent. Should she have spoken ? i “I turn for the answer to a little ancient volume, with tom yellow leaves and a binding of faded green and gold—an old London dictionary. And this is what I read about a secret: ‘That which should never be entrusted to a fool, or to a wise man, or even to a friend; for a fool can conceal nothing; a wise man is not always wise; and a friend may change.’ “It is a cynical remark, but it has a great deal of truth in it,”