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accumulated generation by generation upon women； and passed over
their sons。 Professors take it for granted； obviously by some
process other than the slow process of reason； that women derive
from their mothers and grandmothers； and men from their fathers and
grandfathers。 This； for instance； was written lately： 〃This power
＇it matters not what＇ would be about equal in the two sexes but for
the influence of heredity； which turns the scale in favour of the
woman； as for long generations the surroundings and conditions of
life of the female sex have developed in her a greater degree of the
power in question than circumstances have required from men。〃 〃Long
generations〃 of subjection are； strangely enough； held to excuse the
timorousness and the shifts of women to…day。 But the world；
unknowing； tampers with the courage of its sons by such a slovenly
indulgence。 It tampers with their intelligence by fostering the
ignorance of women。
And yet Shakespeare confessed the participation of man and woman in
their common heritage。 It is Cassius who speaks：
〃Have you not love enough to bear with me
When that rash humour which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful？〃
And Brutus who replies：
〃Yes； Cassius； and from henceforth
When you are over…earnest with your Brutus
He'll think your mother chides； and leave you so。〃
Dryden confessed it also in his praises of Anne Killigrew：
〃If by traduction came thy mind；
Our wonder is the less to find
A soul so charming from a stock so good。
Thy father was transfused into thy blood。〃
The winning of Waterloo upon the Eton playgrounds is very well； but
there have been some other； and happily minor； fields that were not
won … that were more or less lost。 Where did this loss take place；
if the gains were secured at football？ This inquiry is not quite so
cheerful as the other。 But while the victories were once going
forward in the playground； the defeats or disasters were once going
forward in some other place； presumably。 And this was surely the
place that was not a playground； the place where the future wives of
the football players were sitting still while their future husbands
were playing football。
This is the train of thought that followed the grey figure of a
woman on a bicycle in Oxford Street。 She had an enormous and top…
heavy omnibus at her back。 All the things on the near side of the
street … the things going her way … were going at different paces；
in two streams； overtaking and being overtaken。 The tributary
streets shot omnibuses and carriages； cabs and carts … some to go
her own way； some with an impetus that carried them curving into the
other current； and other some making a straight line right across
Oxford Street into the street opposite。 Besides all the unequal
movement； there were the stoppings。 It was a delicate tangle to
keep from knotting。 The nerves of the mouths of horses bore the
whole charge and answered it； as they do every day。
The woman in grey； quite alone； was immediately dependent on no
nerves but her own； which almost made her machine sensitive。 But
this alertness was joined to such perfect composure as no flutter of
a moment disturbed。 There was the steadiness of sleep； and a
vigilance more than that of an ordinary waking。
At the same time； the woman was doing what nothing in her youth
could well have prepared her for。 She must have passed a childhood
unlike the ordinary girl's childhood； if her steadiness or her
alertness had ever been educated； if she had been rebuked for
cowardice； for the egoistic distrust of general rules； or for claims
of exceptional chances。 Yet here she was； trusting not only herself
but a multitude of other people； taking her equal risk； giving a
watchful confidence to averages … that last； perhaps； her strangest
and greatest success。
No exceptions were hers； no appeals； and no forewarnings。 She
evidently had not in her mind a single phrase； familiar to women；
made to express no confidence except in accidents； and to proclaim a
prudent foresight of the less probable event。 No woman could ride a
bicycle along Oxford Street with any such baggage as that about her。
The woman in grey had a watchful confidence not only in a multitude
of men but in a multitude of things。 And it is very hard for any
untrained human being to practise confidence in things in motion …
things full of force； and； what is worse； of forces。 Moreover；
there is a supreme difficulty for a mind accustomed to search
timorously for some little place of insignificant rest on any
accessible point of stable equilibrium； and that is the difficulty
of holding itself nimbly secure in an equilibrium that is unstable。
Who can deny that women are generally used to look about for the
little stationary repose just described？ Whether in intellectual or
in spiritual things； they do not often live without it。
She； none the less； fled upon unstable equilibrium； escaped upon it；
depended upon it； trusted it； was ‘ware of it； was on guard against
it； as she sped amid her crowd her own unstable equilibrium； her
machine's； that of the judgment； the temper； the skill； the
perception； the strength of men and horses。
She had learnt the difficult peace of suspense。 She had learnt also
the lowly and self…denying faith in common chances。 She had learnt
to be content with her share … no more … in common security； and to
be pleased with her part in common hope。 For all this； it may be
repeated； she could have had but small preparation。 Yet no anxiety
was hers； no uneasy distrust and disbelief of that human thing … an
average of life and death。
To this courage the woman in grey had attained with a spring； and
she had seated herself suddenly upon a place of detachment between
earth and air； freed from the principal detentions； weights； and
embarrassments of the usual life of fear。 She had made herself； as
it were； light； so as not to dwell either in security or danger； but
to pass between them。 She confessed difficulty and peril by her
delicate evasions； and consented to rest in neither。 She would not
owe safety to the mere motionlessness of a seat on the solid earth；
but she used gravitation to balance the slight burdens of her
wariness and her confidence。 She put aside all the pride and vanity
of terror； and leapt into an unsure condition of liberty and
content。
She leapt； too； into a life of moments。 No pause was possible to
her as she went； except the vibrating pause of a perpetual change
and of an unflagging flight。 A woman； long educated to sit still；
does not suddenly learn to live a momentary life without strong
momentary resolution。 She has no light achievement in limiting not
only her foresight； which must become brief； but her memory； which
must do more； for it must rather cease than become brief。 Idle
memory wastes time and other things。 The moments of