I caught the end of An Ideal Husband on the tube as I was making my peach pancakes the other morning, and marveled at Gertrude's oh-so-charming put down of that wicked Mrs. Cheevley. Gosh, imagine a society where even insults are charming. It's like Elizabeth Bennet, who attracted Mr. Darcy with her pithy wit, which was in actuality usually a put-down. Even Mr. Collins has his charm, albeit bumbling and self-serving. Not many of us are willing to put forth the effort any more, I'm afraid. Charm, according to Webster, is to be alluring and fascinating. It doesn't rely on youth or beauty, but rather on a certain innate quality that shines forth, an inner glow of intelligence and certain interest in others. That is what is most charming, you know, when others seem really interested in ME. And of course, they may not be at all. Charm is a costume one steps into, a contrivance, a mask. Well, I don't know about you, but I don't want anyone to know EVERYTHING I think, and usually don't say very much of it out loud. So, artifice is a regular practice of the cow-waving-woman, anyway. Might as well add some charm to the equation. Could reap a Mr. Darcy!
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