But the most serious conflict was on the marriage question. The
attitude of the Roman man has been already touched upon--an attitude as
old as the world. In theory, a woman might be as chaste as Lucretia,
as wise as Minerva, as near to divinity as the Vestals; in fact, she
was only the servant of men’s interests or passions, and when she
ceased to be a willing or at least a passive one, the trouble began.
So long as marriage gave a man added dignity and somebody to rule
over, with no special obligations that were likely to be inconvenient,
or that could not be shaken off at will, things went smoothly enough
on his side. But when he had to deal with a being who demanded some
consideration, perhaps some sacrifice, it was another affair. His
privileges were seriously curtailed. If he married wealth, it was quite
possible for the owner to become imperious and exacting, as it was not
so easy to put away a wife when one must return her fortune. “I have
sold my authority for the dowry I have accepted,” says Plautus. As to
marrying from inclination, a man had little more freedom of action
than a maiden, while his father lived. If he was a patrician he must
marry within a limited class, much as he might like to go outside
of it; and so long as this law continued to exist, the penalty for
violating it was too severe to be braved. Besides, there were cares
and restrictions in the marriage relation for pleasure-loving men.
Wives without fortunes might be less exacting, but they were more
expensive, which was worse, since men preferred to spend their money on
themselves--a state of affairs toward which a certain class is rapidly
drifting to-day, if it is not there already. Statesmen began to be
alarmed. “If it were possible to do without wives, great cares would
be spared us,” said Metellus in an address to the Senate; “but since
nature has decreed that we cannot live without a wife, nor comfortably
with one, let us bear the burden manfully, and look to the perpetuity
of the State rather than to our own satisfaction.” It never seems to
have occurred to these consistent descendants of Adam to consider
the burdens of the woman at all. On her side, a rich woman hesitated
to take a master, if she was independent enough to have any choice,
which was rare, and without a dowry she was quite sure of finding a
capricious one, who would not scruple to neglect her. Some guaranties
she must have, and these men did not like to give. So men and women
alike combined against the existing order of things, men for the right
to do precisely as they pleased, women for the right of choice in
husbands and of breaking chains when they became intolerable.
It has often been stated, by moralists over-anxious to make out a
case, that this aversion to marriage, on the part of men, was due to
the laxity of women. Of this I do not find any evidence. It was due
in part to the restrictions already mentioned, and in part to the
increasing luxury which, added to the long habit of absolute power,
led to impatience of any domestic obligations, and a riot of the
senses, as it has always done, before and since. Besides, there were
the brilliant Oriental women who began to flock to Rome, bringing with
them Hellenic tastes, with subtle fascinations that stole away the
hearts of men and threatened a state of affairs similar to that which
existed in Athens. This the spirited Roman women could not tolerate. To
be thrust by strangers into a secondary place was not to be thought of
by these proud patricians, who refused to put themselves in a position
where such neglect was possible. They began to realize that the old
virtues did not suffice to hold men’s wandering fancies. It was very
well to carve on a woman’s tombstone, as a last word of praise, an
epitaph like this: “Gentle in words, graceful in manner; she loved her
husband devotedly; she kept her house, she spun wool.” But what availed
it when this husband left her to the companionship of her duties and
her virtues, while he gave what he called his affections to those who
had fewer virtues and more accomplishments? It was not laxity of
morals, but lack of intelligence and culture, that stood in the way
of the Roman woman in the days when Greek literature, Greek art, and
Greek refinement first came into fashion. That she protested against
traditions which made it superfluous, if not dangerous, to cultivate
her intellect, may fairly be assumed. But she had a powerful ally. On
this point the Romans showed far more wisdom than the Greeks. When they
saw their own daughters set aside for these fascinating rivals, they
began to educate them.
Just when the movement toward things of the intellect began among Roman
women, it is difficult to determine with any exactness. It was after
the Eastern wars and probably about the time of the first revolt. It
had not been long since men began to catch the spirit of Greek culture.
For five hundred years after the foundation of Rome there was not a
book written, nor even a poem or a song. As soon as men began to study
and think, women were disposed to do the same thing. If they could not
well fight, they had the ability to learn. The pretensions of sex were
not emphasized, but individual attainment was not without recognition.
We begin to find women who were noted not only for strength, wisdom,
and administrative ability, but for literary taste and culture. The
austere virtues of Cornelia, who lived in the second century before
our era, are among the familiar facts of history. She has been often
quoted as the supreme exemplar of the crowning grace of womanhood, and
we know that she was honored at her death with a statue dedicated to
the “Mother of the Gracchi.” Of her refinement, knowledge, and love of
letters, less has been said, but it was largely because of these that
she was able to train great sons. Cicero, who pronounced her letters
among the purest specimens of style extant in his time, dwells upon the
fact that these sons were educated in the purity and elegance of their
mother’s language. Quintilian says that the “mother, whose learned
letters have come down to posterity, contributed greatly to their
eloquence.” Her passion for Hellenic poetry and philosophy was well
known. It was a part of her heritage from her father, the illustrious
Scipio, a great general with the tastes and abilities of a great
scholar. Cato found fault with him and said he must be brought down
to republican equality. This fiery radical and economist, who hated
luxury, reviled women who had opinions, preached morals which he did
not possess, whipped his slaves if anything was lost or spoiled, sold
them at auction when they were sick or old, and put them to death if
they did not please him,--this censor who was so generally disagreeable
that when he died a wit said, “Pluto dreaded to receive him because
he was always ready to bite,”--could not tolerate a man of refinement
who shaved every day and patronized Greek learning, whatever glory
he might reflect on his country. We do not know what he said about
Cornelia, but it may be imagined, as he was the determined adversary of
feminine culture.
The woman who brought up the Gracchi, and was so proud to show these
“jewels” to her finery-loving friends, was no pedant, but in her last
desolate years, when she was left alone with all her tragical memories,
her hospitable home at Misenum was a center for learned Greeks and
men of intellectual distinction. She was a woman of great force of
character, and the composure with which she bore her misfortune, and
talked of the deeds and sufferings of her sons, was sometimes thought
to show a lack of sensibility. Plutarch, with his usual insight and
cordial appreciation of women, said it indicated rather a lack of
understanding on the part of the critics that they did not know the
value of “a noble mind and liberal education” in supporting their
possessor under sorrow and calamity. This heroic mother of heroic
sons, who “refused Ptolemy and a crown,” was the first Roman matron of
distinguished intellectual attainments of whom we have any definite
knowledge, and the finest feminine representative of her age. Within
the next century there were many others more or less prominent in
social life.
With the advance in education many of the obstacles to marriage were
removed, and the dangers that had lurked in the ignorance of Athenian
women were averted. But the problem never ceased to be a troublesome
one. With the increase of wealth men grew more self-indulgent, and less
inclined to incur obligations of any sort. The despair of Augustus had
its humorous side. He exhausted his wit in devising means to induce men
to marry. In vain he gave honor and freedom to the married, exacted
fresh penalties from bachelors, who were forbidden to receive bequests,
and made laws against immorality. Fathers had precedence everywhere--in
affairs, at the theater, in public offices. “For less rewards than
these thousands would lose their lives,” he said. “Can they not tempt a
Roman citizen to marry a wife?” Some who wished the privileges without
the troubles compromised the matter by entering into formal contracts
with children four or five years of age. Others took a wife for a year
to comply with the law, and then dismissed her.
It is not the purpose here to pursue in detail this phase of Roman
life, nor to trace the slow and obscure changes in the laws that
followed the revolt of women from ages of oppression. This brief
outline suffices to show that the women of two thousand years ago were
far from accepting abject subservience without a protest; that they had
the spirit and intelligence to combine in their own defense; that they
won the privilege of virtually the same education which was given to
men, and so much consideration that the Romans of the third and fourth
centuries were more just to a woman’s rights of property than were the
Americans in the first half of the nineteenth. Happily better counsels
prevail here to-day; but it is a commentary on the instability of human
affairs that, even on the higher plane of morals and intelligence from
which we started, the battle had to be fought over again.