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 | The woman who dared |  |
The morning sea-fog like an incense rose
Up to the sun and perished in his beam;
The sky's blue promise brightened through the veil.
With her unopened sketch-book in her hand,
Linda stood on the summit looking down
On Norman's Woe, and felt upon her brow
The cooling haze that foiled the August heat.
Near her knelt Rachel, hunting curiously
For the fine purple algæ of the clefts.
Good cause had Linda for a cheerful heart;
For had she not that day received by mail
A copy of “The Prospect of the Flowers,”—
Published in chromo, and these words from Diggin?
“Your future is assured: my bait is swallowed,
Bait, hook, and sinker, all; now let our fish
Have line enough and time enough for play,
And we will land him safely by and by.
A good fat fish he is, and thinks he 's cunning.
Enclosed you'll find a hundred-dollar bill;
Please send me a receipt. Keep very quiet.”
Up to the sun and perished in his beam;
The sky's blue promise brightened through the veil.
With her unopened sketch-book in her hand,
Linda stood on the summit looking down
On Norman's Woe, and felt upon her brow
The cooling haze that foiled the August heat.
193
For the fine purple algæ of the clefts.
Good cause had Linda for a cheerful heart;
For had she not that day received by mail
A copy of “The Prospect of the Flowers,”—
Published in chromo, and these words from Diggin?
“Your future is assured: my bait is swallowed,
Bait, hook, and sinker, all; now let our fish
Have line enough and time enough for play,
And we will land him safely by and by.
A good fat fish he is, and thinks he 's cunning.
Enclosed you'll find a hundred-dollar bill;
Please send me a receipt. Keep very quiet.”
Yet Linda was not altogether happy.
Why was it that Charles Lothian had called
Once, and once only, after their adventure?
Called just to ask her, How she found herself?
And, Did she overtask herself in rowing?
How happened it, in all her walks and rambles,
They rarely met, or, if they met, a bow
Formal and cold was all the interview?
While thus she mused, she started at a cry:
“Ah! here 's our siren, cumbent on the rocks!
Where should a siren be, if not on rocks?”
Old Lothian's voice! He came with rod and line
To try an angler's luck. Behind him stepped
Charles, who stood still, as if arrested, when
He noticed Linda.
Then, as if relenting
In some resolve, he jumped from rock to rock
To where she leaned; and, greeting her, inquired:
“Have you been sketching?”—“No, for indolence
Is now my occupation.”—“Here 's a book;
May I not look at it?”—“You may.”—“Is this
An album?”—“'T is my sketch-book.”—“Do you mean
These are your sketches, and original?”
“Ay, truly, mine; from nature every one.”
“But here we have high art! No amateur
Could color flower like that.”—“Ah! there you touch me;
For I'm no amateur in painting flowers,—
I get my living by it.”—“I could praise
That sea-view also,—what a depth of sky!
That beach,—that schooner flying from a squall,—
If I'm a judge, here 's something more than skill!”
Why was it that Charles Lothian had called
Once, and once only, after their adventure?
Called just to ask her, How she found herself?
And, Did she overtask herself in rowing?
194
They rarely met, or, if they met, a bow
Formal and cold was all the interview?
While thus she mused, she started at a cry:
“Ah! here 's our siren, cumbent on the rocks!
Where should a siren be, if not on rocks?”
Old Lothian's voice! He came with rod and line
To try an angler's luck. Behind him stepped
Charles, who stood still, as if arrested, when
He noticed Linda.
Then, as if relenting
In some resolve, he jumped from rock to rock
To where she leaned; and, greeting her, inquired:
“Have you been sketching?”—“No, for indolence
Is now my occupation.”—“Here 's a book;
May I not look at it?”—“You may.”—“Is this
An album?”—“'T is my sketch-book.”—“Do you mean
These are your sketches, and original?”
195
“But here we have high art! No amateur
Could color flower like that.”—“Ah! there you touch me;
For I'm no amateur in painting flowers,—
I get my living by it.”—“I could praise
That sea-view also,—what a depth of sky!
That beach,—that schooner flying from a squall,—
If I'm a judge, here 's something more than skill!”
Then the discourse slid off to woman's rights;
For Lothian held a newspaper which told
Of some convention, the report of which
Might raise a smile. One of the lady speakers,
It seems, would give her sex the privilege
Of taking the initiative in wooing,
If so disposed!
“Indeed, why not?” cried Linda.
“Indeed, you almost take my breath away
With your Why not, Miss Percival! Why not?”
“Yes, I repeat,—if so disposed, why not?
For why should woman any more than man
Play the dissembler, with so much at stake?
I know the ready taunt that here will rise:
‘Already none too backward are our girls
In husband-seeking.’ Seeking in what way?
Seeking by stratagem and management,—
Not by frank, honest means! What food for mirth
'T would give to shallow men to see a woman
Court the relation, intertwined with all
Of purest happiness that she may crave,—
The ties of wife and mother! O, what pointing,
Sneering, and joking! And yet why should care
Thoughtful and pure and wisely provident,
That Nature's sacred prompting shall not fail,
Be one thing for a man, and quite another
For her, the woman? Why this flimsy mask?
This playing of a part, put on to suit,
Not the heart's need, but Fashion custom-bound?
Feigning we must be sought, and never seek?
Now, through these social hindrances and bars,
The bold, perhaps the intriguing, carry off
Prizes the true and modest ought to win.
And so we hear it coarsely said of husbands,
‘Better a poor one far, than none at all!’
A thought ignoble, and which no true woman
Should harbor for a moment. Give her freedom,
Freedom to seek, and she'll not harbor it!
Because if woman, equally with man,
Were privileged thus, she would discriminate
Much more than now, and fewer sordid unions
Would be the sure result. For what if man
Were chained to singleness until some woman
Might seek his hand in marriage, would he be
Likely as now to make a wise election?
Would he not say, ‘Time flies; my chances lessen
And I must plainly take what I can get?’
True, there are mercenary men enough,
Seeking rich dowries; they 'd find fewer dupes,
Were women free as men to seek and choose,
Banish the senseless inequality,
And you make marriage less a vulgar game
In which one tries to circumvent the other.
Oh! all this morbid ribaldry of men,
And all this passive imbecility,
And superstitious inactivity,
Dissimulation and improvidence,
False shame and lazy prejudice of women,
Where the great miracle of sex concerns us,
And Candor should be innocently wise,
And Knowledge should be reverently free,—
Is against nature
the whole question with scientific accuracy and force, so far as
analogies drawn from the habits of the lower animals can settle it.
But if the critic, while buttering his daily bread or putting cream
into his daily coffee, had acquainted himself with the habits of
the useful animal to which he is indebted, he would never have
been guilty of so prodigious a blunder. So far from passively
“waiting to be wooed,” the cow, when the sexual impulse is
awakened, will disturb the whole neighborhood by her bellowings.
Should the critic reply that this is because she is kept in an unnatural
state of restraint, such reply would add only additional
force to the contradiction of the argument which he would offer.
,—helps to hide the way
Out of the social horrors that confound us,
And launches thousands into paths impure,
Shutting them out from holy parentage.”
For Lothian held a newspaper which told
Of some convention, the report of which
Might raise a smile. One of the lady speakers,
It seems, would give her sex the privilege
Of taking the initiative in wooing,
If so disposed!
“Indeed, why not?” cried Linda.
“Indeed, you almost take my breath away
With your Why not, Miss Percival! Why not?”
196
For why should woman any more than man
Play the dissembler, with so much at stake?
I know the ready taunt that here will rise:
‘Already none too backward are our girls
In husband-seeking.’ Seeking in what way?
Seeking by stratagem and management,—
Not by frank, honest means! What food for mirth
'T would give to shallow men to see a woman
Court the relation, intertwined with all
Of purest happiness that she may crave,—
The ties of wife and mother! O, what pointing,
Sneering, and joking! And yet why should care
Thoughtful and pure and wisely provident,
That Nature's sacred prompting shall not fail,
Be one thing for a man, and quite another
For her, the woman? Why this flimsy mask?
This playing of a part, put on to suit,
Not the heart's need, but Fashion custom-bound?
Feigning we must be sought, and never seek?
197
The bold, perhaps the intriguing, carry off
Prizes the true and modest ought to win.
And so we hear it coarsely said of husbands,
‘Better a poor one far, than none at all!’
A thought ignoble, and which no true woman
Should harbor for a moment. Give her freedom,
Freedom to seek, and she'll not harbor it!
Because if woman, equally with man,
Were privileged thus, she would discriminate
Much more than now, and fewer sordid unions
Would be the sure result. For what if man
Were chained to singleness until some woman
Might seek his hand in marriage, would he be
Likely as now to make a wise election?
Would he not say, ‘Time flies; my chances lessen
And I must plainly take what I can get?’
True, there are mercenary men enough,
Seeking rich dowries; they 'd find fewer dupes,
Were women free as men to seek and choose,
198
And you make marriage less a vulgar game
In which one tries to circumvent the other.
Oh! all this morbid ribaldry of men,
And all this passive imbecility,
And superstitious inactivity,
Dissimulation and improvidence,
False shame and lazy prejudice of women,
Where the great miracle of sex concerns us,
And Candor should be innocently wise,
And Knowledge should be reverently free,—
Is against nature
A curious instance of the temerity with which flagrant errors are pressed into the service of criticism is presented in some remarks in the N. Y. Nation. “There is probably,” it says, “no incident of woman's condition which is more clearly natural than her passivity in all that relates to marriage. In waiting to be wooed, she not only complies with one of the conventional proprieties, but obeys what appears to be a law of sex, not amongst human beings only, but among all animals.”
These remarks have been adopted by many American journalists, and have been accepted perhaps by many readers as settling
270
Other examples in abundance, in confutation of his assumption, could no doubt be furnished. But even were that assumption true, we might sometimes be led to rather awkward results if we were to take the habits of the lower animals as authoritative. Certain animals have not infrequently an eccentric habit of destroying their offspring. Some of our Chinese brethren, borrowing a hint perhaps from the brute creation, are said to think it no sin to kill such female children as they have no use for. We hope that no enterprising critic will recommend such a solution as this of the woman problem.
Out of the social horrors that confound us,
And launches thousands into paths impure,
Shutting them out from holy parentage.”
“I hold,” said Charles, “the question is not one
Of reasoning, but of simple sentiment.
As it would shock me, should a woman speak
In virile baritone, so would I shudder
To hear a grave proposal marriageward
In alto or soprano.”
“'T would depend!
Depend on love,” said Linda; “love potential,
Or present.”—“Nay, 't would frighten love!” cried Charles,—
“Kill it outright.”—“Then would it not be love!
What! would you love a woman less because
She durst avow her love, before the cue
Had been imparted by your lordly lips?
Rare love would that be truly which could freeze
Because the truth came candid from her heart,
And in advance of the proprieties!”
“But may the woman I could love,” cried Charles,
“Forbear at least the rash experiment!”
“I doubt,” said Linda, “if you know your heart;
For hearts look to the substance, not the form.
Why should not woman seek her happiness
With brow as unabashed as man may wear
In seeking his? Ah! lack of candor here
Works more regrets, for woman and for man,
Than we can reckon. Let but woman feel
That in the social scheme she 's not a cipher,
The remedy, be sure, is not far off.”
Of reasoning, but of simple sentiment.
As it would shock me, should a woman speak
In virile baritone, so would I shudder
199
In alto or soprano.”
“'T would depend!
Depend on love,” said Linda; “love potential,
Or present.”—“Nay, 't would frighten love!” cried Charles,—
“Kill it outright.”—“Then would it not be love!
What! would you love a woman less because
She durst avow her love, before the cue
Had been imparted by your lordly lips?
Rare love would that be truly which could freeze
Because the truth came candid from her heart,
And in advance of the proprieties!”
“But may the woman I could love,” cried Charles,
“Forbear at least the rash experiment!”
“I doubt,” said Linda, “if you know your heart;
For hearts look to the substance, not the form.
Why should not woman seek her happiness
With brow as unabashed as man may wear
200
Works more regrets, for woman and for man,
Than we can reckon. Let but woman feel
That in the social scheme she 's not a cipher,
The remedy, be sure, is not far off.”
“To me it seems,” said Lothian, “that you war
Against our natural instincts: have they not
Settled the point, even as the world has done?”
Said Linda: “Instincts differ; they may be
Results of shallow prejudice or custom.
The Turk will tell you that polygamy
Is instinct; and the savage who stalks on
In dirty painted grandeur, while his squaw
Carries the burdens, might reply that instinct
Regulates that. So instinct proves too much.
Queens and great heiresses are privileged
To intimate their matrimonial choice,—
Simply because superiority
In power or riches gives an apt excuse:
Let a plurality of women have
The wealth and power, and you might see reversed
What now you call an instinct. When a higher
Civilization shall make woman less
Dependent for protection and support
On man's caprice or pleasure, there may be
A higher sort of woman; one who shall
Feel that her lot is more in her own hands,
And she, like man, a free controlling force,
Not a mere pensioner on paternal bounty
Until some sultan throws the handkerchief.”
Against our natural instincts: have they not
Settled the point, even as the world has done?”
Said Linda: “Instincts differ; they may be
Results of shallow prejudice or custom.
The Turk will tell you that polygamy
Is instinct; and the savage who stalks on
In dirty painted grandeur, while his squaw
Carries the burdens, might reply that instinct
Regulates that. So instinct proves too much.
Queens and great heiresses are privileged
To intimate their matrimonial choice,—
Simply because superiority
In power or riches gives an apt excuse:
201
The wealth and power, and you might see reversed
What now you call an instinct. When a higher
Civilization shall make woman less
Dependent for protection and support
On man's caprice or pleasure, there may be
A higher sort of woman; one who shall
Feel that her lot is more in her own hands,
And she, like man, a free controlling force,
Not a mere pensioner on paternal bounty
Until some sultan throws the handkerchief.”
A cry of triumph from the fisherman,
Exuberant at having caught a bass,
Here ended the discussion, leaving Linda
With the last word. Charles went to chat with Rachel;
And Linda, summoned by vociferations
From the excited, the transported captor,
Descended to inspect the amazing fish.
“A beauty, is it not, Miss Percival?
A rare one, too, for this part of the coast!
'T will be a study how to have it cooked.
Now sit here, in the shadow of this rock.
Your father's name was Albert Percival?
So I supposed. I 've often heard my wife
Speak of him as of one she knew was wronged
Most foully in his wrestle with the law.
Have you not met with Harriet Percival?”
“Once only, and our interview was brief.
Is she not married?”—“No, nor like to be,
Although her fortune is a pretty one,
Even for these times,—two millions, I believe;
All which her mother may inherit soon;
For Harriet is an invalid, but hoards
Her income quite as thriftily as if
She looked for progeny and length of days.
The mother, as you may not be aware,
Has married an aspiring gentleman
Who means to build a palace on the Hudson,
And Harriet's money hence is greatly needed.”
The mist now cleared, and the sun shone in power,
So that the heat soon drove them to the woods.
The senior took his capture home for dinner;
Rachel strolled, picking berries by the brook;
And, under lofty pines, sat Charles and Linda,
And talked discursively, till Linda's thoughts,
Inclining now to memory, now to hope,
Vibrating from the future to the past,
Took, in a silent mood, this rhythmic form.
Exuberant at having caught a bass,
Here ended the discussion, leaving Linda
With the last word. Charles went to chat with Rachel;
And Linda, summoned by vociferations
From the excited, the transported captor,
Descended to inspect the amazing fish.
202
A rare one, too, for this part of the coast!
'T will be a study how to have it cooked.
Now sit here, in the shadow of this rock.
Your father's name was Albert Percival?
So I supposed. I 've often heard my wife
Speak of him as of one she knew was wronged
Most foully in his wrestle with the law.
Have you not met with Harriet Percival?”
“Once only, and our interview was brief.
Is she not married?”—“No, nor like to be,
Although her fortune is a pretty one,
Even for these times,—two millions, I believe;
All which her mother may inherit soon;
For Harriet is an invalid, but hoards
Her income quite as thriftily as if
She looked for progeny and length of days.
The mother, as you may not be aware,
Has married an aspiring gentleman
Who means to build a palace on the Hudson,
And Harriet's money hence is greatly needed.”
203
So that the heat soon drove them to the woods.
The senior took his capture home for dinner;
Rachel strolled, picking berries by the brook;
And, under lofty pines, sat Charles and Linda,
And talked discursively, till Linda's thoughts,
Inclining now to memory, now to hope,
Vibrating from the future to the past,
Took, in a silent mood, this rhythmic form.
| The woman who dared | |