_A New Woman Contemplating Marriage_
Surprise, I am free to confess, was my dominant emotion on reading your
letter. Marriage and Maria had never associated themselves in my mind,
fond as I am of alliteration.
Never in the ten years I have known you have I heard you devote ten
minutes to the subject of any man's good qualities. You always have
discoursed upon men's faults and vices, and upon their tendency, since
the beginning of time, to tyrannize over woman. I was unable to
disprove many of your statements, for I know the weight of argument is
upon your side, even while I boldly confess my admiration and regard for
men, as a class, is greater than that for women.
The fact that the world has allowed men such latitude, and such
license, and made them pay such very small penalties, comparatively
speaking, for very large offences, causes me to admire their wonderful
achievements in noble living all the more: and to place the man of
unblemished reputation and unquestioned probity on a pedestal higher
than any I could yet ask builded for woman.
It is more difficult to be great before the extended tentacles of the
self-indulgence octopus than in the face of oppression and danger. When
the laws of the land and the sentiment of the people permit a man to be
selfish, licentious, tyrannical, and yet call him great if he
accomplishes heroic deeds, it proves what intrinsic worth must lie in
the nature of those who attain the heights of unselfishness and
benevolence, and martyrdom, asking no reward and often receiving none
until posterity bestows it.
Those who can take the broad road of selfishness unmolested, and choose
the narrow path of high endeavour instead, seem to me greater than those
who overcome mere externals.
Many such men have existed, and the steady, slow, but certain progress
of the world from barbarism to civilization, from accepted cannibalism
and slavery to ideals of brotherhood, we owe to them. All new
discoveries, all greatest achievements are due to men. Woman, I know,
has been handicapped and oppressed for centuries by superstitions, and
traditions, and unjust laws; but it is unfair to ignore the bright, and
see only the dark side of the picture, which the centuries have painted
for us, on the background of time.
This letter is only a résumé of many conversations between you and me,
and it leads up to the explanation of why I am somewhat dazed and
stunned by your announcement that marriage is a possible event in your
near future.
My self-conceit in regard to my knowledge of human nature every now and
then receives a blow. So soon as I have arrived at a positive conviction
that I understand any human being thoroughly, and feel that I can safely
predict what that person will or will not do, I usually meet some such
bewildering experience as this.
I would have laughed at any one who suggested the possibility of your
considering a proposition of marriage.
You tell me you are thirty-five years old, and say you have never before
met the man to whom your thoughts reverted, no matter how you
endeavoured to occupy yourself with other subjects. You also tell me "he
is not like other men." These two statements are wonderfully familiar to
me, indeed they have been confided to me in precisely the same words by
at least a score of women, young and not so young, who met the
compelling man. _Maria, I believe you are in love_. Your heart is
awakened from its stupor, caused by an overdose of intellect. For too
much intellect is often a drug which deadens the consciousness of a
woman's heart. But you have been drugged so long that you are still
under a hazy spell, to judge from that portion of your letter which took
the form of an inquiry.
You ask my opinion in regard to the point of disagreement between you
and your semi-fiancé. To much that you say I agree. You have carved a
name and a place for yourself in the world. Your lectures, and your
books, have made your name familiar to many people. Your lover is
unknown to the public, a man in the private walks of life. Therefore you
think if he loves you as he should to become your husband, he ought to
give up his own name and take yours, or at least add yours to his own.
You assure me it is merely a matter of habit, that women have
obliterated themselves on the altar of marriage, and that it is time a
new order was instituted. You think the hour calls for pioneers to
establish new boundaries, in a new world where woman will be allowed to
keep her individuality after marriage. Meantime your lover does not feel
that you really love him, when you ask him to take this somewhat radical
step for your sake, or for the sake of all women, as you put it.
And there you both stand, with only this ridiculous barrier between you
and happiness.
You are still influenced by the intellectual drug, and it hinders your
heart from following out its best impulses. You have not yet learned
more than the A B C of love, or you would know that the greatest
happiness in loving lies in sacrifice. To take and not give, to gain
something and give up nothing, is not loving. Now I think I hear you
saying, "But why should not my lover give this proof of devotion as well
as I? Why should not he be ready to sacrifice a tradition, and a name,
to please me? Why am I more unloving, or selfish, than he, to refuse to
give up my name?"
My answer follows.
Any woman who asks a man to give up his name and take hers (unless some
great legal matter which involves the property rights of others hangs on
so doing) asks him to make himself ridiculous in the eyes of the world.
She indicates, also, that her family name and her own achievements are
dearer to her than his. No woman loves a man enough to be happy as his
wife, if he is not dearer to her than any mere personal success, however
great.
The man who asks a woman to take his name obeys a tradition and a
custom, to be sure, and the woman who accepts it does not display any
especially heroic trait. Therefore, what you demand of your lover is a
far greater proof of devotion than what he asks of you. No woman who
fully understood the meaning of love could ask this of her future
husband. If he occupied the place in her life which a husband should, no
matter what were her personal attainments, she would glory in adding his
name to her own, and in having its shelter to hide under at times from
the glare of publicity.
Should you choose to keep your name Maria Owens with no addition, for
your lectures and your books, it is quite probable your husband would
not object. And again, if your achievements are worth the thought you
give them in this matter, they are great enough to endure even should
you add the name of Chester to that of Owens. But certainly, if you love
the man you think of marrying, you will be happy in the thought of
wearing his name legally and socially in every-day life, and the sight
of a card engraved, "Mrs. Rupert Chester," will give your heart a
sweeter thrill than it has ever known in connection with the newspaper
notices of Maria Owens.
Unless you can arouse your heart to such an understanding of love, you
are not yet acquainted with the little god. If your lover consents to
the sacrifice you have demanded, he will indicate a weakness of
character which augurs ill for the future: and if you insist upon the
sacrifice, you will establish a selfish precedent which can only make
you a tyrant in your own domain, and at the same time belittle your
husband in the public eye.
However proud and happy you may be in the thought of noble achievements
of your own, you must realize that there are many brutal and painful
phases to a public career for a woman. These phases do not exist to any
such degree for a man. I do not believe it is the result of tradition or
habit, but of sex and temperament, that this difference exists, and that
the shelter of a man's name means more to woman than any shelter to be
found in her own, and that the sacrifice of her own name means less to
her than the sacrifice of his means to him. Unless you can reach this
same conclusion, do not marry--for you do not love.