“The good Englishwoman,” an untranslatable phrase—I beseech our French neighbours not to translate it _la bonne anglaise_—is an expression which has a corresponding reality. We all know it, in our flesh, in our bones, in our minds and in our souls. The Englishwoman is a definite person to all of us in England: she is not merely the female of the species living in these isles, she has a significance in the world at large. We love her and we honour her, but we do not often reflect what it is that we love and honour. It is a mental occupation which might be more frequently indulged in, were we not such indifferent reflectors. The ingenious Henry Adams, that enlightened but pensive American, whose death has just given us one of the most fascinating books of modern times, spent his whole life in reflecting on his countrymen, with results which are stimulating if not encouraging. He did not spend so much time reflecting on his countrywomen, though he said that he owed more to them than to any man, but his reflections on that head resolved themselves into a question which no Englishman would formulate in similar circumstances. Henry Adams used to invite agreeable and witty people to dine,[1] and, at an unexpected moment, to propound to the “brightest” of the women the question: “Why is the American woman a failure?” He meant a failure as a force rather than as an individual, but it was an irritating question all the same, nor is it surprising that it usually drew the answer: “Because the American man is a failure.” The Englishman would be too chivalrous to ask such a question of his guests, but he would not even formulate it. The Englishman, even a considerably sophisticated one, could never think of the Englishwoman as a failure, whether as an individual, a force or an inspiration. He is bound by his experience, his upbringing and his instincts to think of her as a success. Let us then put the question “Why is the Englishwoman a success?” We shall get no very good impromptu answers, nor do I suggest that “Because the Englishman is a success” would be the correct one. We should be the last to take so much credit to ourselves. We are justly proud of the Englishwoman, but what is it of which we are proud? Of all the approving epithets that have been applied to women, which do we choose for our own? Is our pride in their beauty, their brilliance, their courage, their wit, their tact, their energy, their endurance, their sagacity, their skill in handicraft, their devotion to their young, their taste in art and dress, their grace of movement, the sweetness of their speech or the greatness of their minds? Are they only an attraction or an independent force? Are they better mistresses or mothers? When Henry Adams lived in this country as a young man he found that "Englishwomen, from the educational point of view, could give nothing until they approached forty years old. Then they become very interesting—very charming—to the