men of our time have asked with Emerson, “that woman only show us how
she can best be served;” and woman has replied: the chance of the
seedling and of the animalcule is all I ask—the chance for growth and
self development, the permission to be true to the aspirations of my
soul without incurring the blight of your censure and ridicule.
“Audetque viris concurrere virgo.”
In soul-culture woman at last dares to contend with men, and we may cite
Grant Allen (who certainly cannot be suspected of advocating the
unsexing of woman) as an example of the broadening effect of this
contest on the ideas at least of the men of the day. He says in his
_Plain Words on the Woman Question_, recently published:
“The position of woman was not [in the past] a position which could bear
the test of nineteenth-century scrutiny. Their education was inadequate,
their social status was humiliating, their political power was nil,
their practical and personal grievances were innumerable; above all,
their relations to the family—to their husbands, their children, their
friends, their property—was simply insupportable.”
And again: “As a body we ‘Advanced men’ are, I think, prepared to
reconsider, and to reconsider fundamentally, without prejudice or
misconception, the entire question of the relation between the sexes. We
are ready to make any modifications in those relations which will
satisfy the woman’s just aspiration for personal independence, for
intellectual and moral development, for physical culture, for political
activity, and for a voice in the arrangement of her own affairs, both
domestic and national.”
Now this is magnanimous enough, surely; and quite a step from eighteenth
century preaching, is it not? The higher education of Woman has
certainly developed the men;—let us see what it has done for the women.
Matthew Arnold during his last visit to America in ’82 or ’83, lectured
before a certain coeducational college in the West. After the lecture he
remarked, with some surprise, to a lady professor, that the young women
in his audience, he noticed, paid as close attention as the men, “_all
the way through_.” This led, of course, to a spirited discussion of the
higher education for women, during which he said to his enthusiastic
interlocutor, eyeing her philosophically through his English eyeglass:
“But—eh—don’t you think it—eh—spoils their _chawnces_, you know!”
Now, as to the result to women, this is the most serious argument ever
used against the higher education. If it interferes with marriage,
classical training has a grave objection to weigh and answer.
For I agree with Mr. Allen at least on this one point, that there must
be marrying and giving in marriage even till the end of time.
I grant you that intellectual development, with the self-reliance and
capacity for earning a livelihood which it gives, renders woman less
dependent on the marriage relation for physical support (which, by the
way, does not always accompany it). Neither is she compelled to look to
sexual love as the one sensation capable of giving tone and relish,
movement and vim to the life she leads. Her horison is extended. Her
sympathies are broadened and deepened and multiplied. She is in closer
touch with nature. Not a bud that opens, not a dew drop, not a ray of
light, not a cloud-burst or a thunderbolt, but adds to the expansiveness
and zest of her soul. And if the sun of an absorbing passion be gone
down, still ’tis night that brings the stars. She has remaining the
mellow, less obtrusive, but none the less enchanting and inspiring light
of friendship, and into its charmed circle she may gather the best the
world has known. She can commune with Socrates about the _daimon_ he
knew and to which she too can bear witness; she can revel in the majesty
of Dante, the sweetness of Virgil, the simplicity of Homer, the strength
of Milton. She can listen to the pulsing heart throbs of passionate
Sappho’s encaged soul, as she beats her bruised wings against her prison
bars and struggles to flutter out into Heaven’s æther, and the fires of
her own soul cry back as she listens. “Yes; Sappho, I know it all; I
know it all.” Here, at last, can be communion without suspicion;
friendship without misunderstanding; love without jealousy.
We must admit then that Byron’s picture, whether a thing of beauty or
not, has faded from the canvas of to-day.
“Man’s love,” he wrote, “is of man’s life a thing apart,
’Tis woman’s whole existence.
Man may range the court, camp, church, the vessel and the mart,
Sword, gown, gain, glory offer in exchange.
Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart—
And few there are whom these cannot estrange.
Men have all these resources, we _but one—
To love again and be again undone_.”
This may have been true when written. _It is not true to-day._ The old,
subjective, stagnant, indolent and wretched life for woman has gone. She
has as many resources as men, as many activities beckon her on. As large
possibilities swell and inspire her heart.
Now, then, does it destroy or diminish her capacity for loving?
Her standards have undoubtedly gone up. The necessity of speculating in
‘chawnces’ has probably shifted. The question is not now with the woman
“How shall I so cramp, stunt, simplify and nullify myself as to make me
elegible to the honor of being swallowed up into some little man?” but
the problem, I trow, now rests with the man as to how he can so develop
his God-given powers as to reach the ideal of a generation of women who
demand the noblest, grandest and best achievements of which he is
capable; and this surely is the only fair and natural adjustment of the
chances. Nature never meant that the ideals and standards of the world
should be dwarfing and minimizing ones, and the men should thank us for
requiring of them the richest fruits which they can grow. If it makes
them work, all the better for them.
As to the adaptability of the educated woman to the marriage relation, I
shall simply quote from that excellent symposium of learned women that
appeared recently under Mrs. Armstrong’s signature in answer to the
“Plain Words” of Mr. Allen, already referred to. “Admitting no longer
any question as to their intellectual equality with the men whom they
meet, with the simplicity of conscious strength, they take their place
beside the men who challenge them, and fearlessly face the result of
their actions. They deny that their education in any way unfits them for
the duty of wifehood and maternity or primarily renders these conditions
any less attractive to them than to the domestic type of woman. On the
contrary, they hold that their knowledge of physiology makes them better
mothers and housekeepers; their knowledge of chemistry makes them better
cooks; while from their training in other natural sciences and in
mathematics, they obtain an accuracy and fair-mindedness which is of
great value to them in dealing with their children or employees.”
So much for their willingness. Now the apple may be good for food and
pleasant to the eyes, and a fruit to be desired to make one wise. Nay,
it may even assure you that it has no aversion whatever to being tasted.
Still, if you do not like the flavor all these recommendations are
nothing. Is the intellectual woman _desirable_ in the matrimonial
market?
This I cannot answer. I confess my ignorance. I am no judge of such
things. I have been told that strong-minded women could be, when they
thought it worth their while, quite endurable, and, judging from the
number of female names I find in college catalogues among the alumnae
with double patronymics, I surmise that quite a number of men are
willing to put up with them.
Now I would that my task ended here. Having shown that a great want of
the world in the past has been a feminine force; that that force can
have its full effect only through the untrammelled development of woman;
that such development, while it gives her to the world and to
civilization, does not necessarily remove her from the home and
fireside; finally, that while past centuries have witnessed sporadic
instances of this higher growth, still it was reserved for the latter
half of the nineteenth century to render it common and general enough to
be effective; I might close with a glowing prediction of what the
twentieth century may expect from this heritage of twin forces—the
masculine battered and toil-worn as a grim veteran after centuries of
warfare, but still strong, active, and vigorous, ready to help with his
hard-won experience the young recruit rejoicing in her newly found
freedom, who so confidently places her hand in his with mutual pledges
to redeem the ages.
“And so the twain upon the skirts of Time,
Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers,
Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be,
Self-reverent each and reverencing each.”
Fain would I follow them, but duty is nearer home. The high ground of
generalities is alluring but my pen is devoted to a special cause: and
with a view to further enlightenment on the achievements of the century
for THE HIGHER EDUCATION OF COLORED WOMEN, I wrote a few days ago to the
colleges which admit women and asked how many colored women had
completed the B. A. course in each during its entire history. These are
the figures returned: Fisk leads the way with twelve; Oberlin next with
five; Wilberforce, four; Ann Arbor and Wellesley three each, Livingstone
two, Atlanta one, Howard, as yet, none.
I then asked the principal of the Washington High School how many out of
a large number of female graduates from his school had chosen to go
forward and take a collegiate course. He replied that but one had ever
done so, and she was then in Cornell.[7]
Footnote 7:
Graduated from Scientific Course, June, 1890, the first colored woman
to graduate from Cornell.
Others ask questions too, sometimes, and I was asked a few years ago by
a white friend, “How is it that the men of your race seem to outstrip
the women in mental attainment?” “Oh,” I said, “so far as it is true,
the men, I suppose, from the life they lead, gain more by contact; and
so far as it is only apparent, I think the women are more quiet. They
don’t feel called to mount a barrel and harangue by the hour every time
they imagine they have produced an idea.”
But I am sure there is another reason which I did not at that time see
fit to give. The atmosphere, the standards, the requirements of our
little world do not afford any special stimulus to female development.
It seems hardly a gracious thing to say, but it strikes me as true, that
while our men seem thoroughly abreast of the times on almost every other
subject, when they strike the woman question they drop back into
sixteenth century logic. They leave nothing to be desired generally in
regard to gallantry and chivalry, but they actually do not seem
sometimes to have outgrown that old contemporary of chivalry—the idea
that women may stand on pedestals or live in doll houses, (if they
happen to have them) but they must not furrow their brows with thought
or attempt to help men tug at the great questions of the world. I fear
the majority of colored men do not yet think it worth while that women
aspire to higher education. Not many will subscribe to the “advanced”
ideas of Grant Allen already quoted. The three R’s, a little music and a
good deal of dancing, a first rate dress-maker and a bottle of magnolia
balm, are quite enough generally to render charming any woman possessed
of tact and the capacity for worshipping masculinity.
My readers will pardon my illustrating my point and also giving a reason
for the fear that is in me, by a little bit of personal experience. When
a child I was put into a school near home that professed to be normal
and collegiate, i. e. to prepare teachers for colored youth, furnish
candidates for the ministry, and offer collegiate training for those who
should be ready for it. Well, I found after a while that I had a good
deal of time on my hands. I had devoured what was put before me, and,
like Oliver Twist, was looking around to ask for more. I constantly felt
(as I suppose many an ambitious girl has felt) a thumping from within
unanswered by any beckoning from without. Class after class was
organized for these ministerial candidates (many of them men who had
been preaching before I was born). Into every one of these classes I was
expected to go, with the sole intent, I thought at the time, of enabling
the dear old principal, as he looked from the vacant countenances of his
sleepy old class over to where I sat, to get off his solitary pun—his
never-failing pleasantry, especially in hot weather—which was, as he
called out “Any one!” to the effect that “_any_ one” then meant “_Annie_
one.”
Finally a Greek class was to be formed. My inspiring preceptor informed
me that Greek had never been taught in the school, but that he was going
to form a class _for the candidates for the ministry_, and if I liked I
might join it. I replied—humbly I hope, as became a female of the human
species—that I would like very much to study Greek, and that I was
thankful for the opportunity, and so it went on. A boy, however meager
his equipment and shallow his pretentions, had only to declare a
floating intention to study theology and he could get all the support,
encouragement and stimulus he needed, be absolved from work and invested
beforehand with all the dignity of his far away office. While a
self-supporting girl had to struggle on by teaching in the summer and
working after school hours to keep up with her board bills, and actually
to fight her way against positive discouragements to the higher
education; till one such girl one day flared out and told the principal
“the only mission opening before a girl in his school was to marry one
of those candidates.” He said he didn’t know but it was. And when at
last that same girl announced her desire and intention to go to college
it was received with about the same incredulity and dismay as if a brass
button on one of those candidate’s coats had propounded a new method for
squaring the circle or trisecting the arc.
Now this is not fancy. It is a simple unvarnished photograph, and what I
believe was not in those days exceptional in colored schools, and I ask
the men and women who are teachers and co-workers for the highest
interests of the race, that they give the girls a chance! We might as
well expect to grow trees from leaves as hope to build up a civilization
or a manhood without taking into consideration our women and the home
life made by them, which must be the root and ground of the whole
matter. Let us insist then on special encouragement for the education of
our women and special care in their training. Let our girls feel that we
expect something more of them than that they merely look pretty and
appear well in society. Teach them that there is a race with special
needs which they and only they can help; that the world needs and is
already asking for their trained, efficient forces. Finally, if there is
an ambitious girl with pluck and brain to take the higher education,
encourage her to make the most of it. Let there be the same flourish of
trumpets and clapping of hands as when a boy announces his determination
to enter the lists; and then, as you know that she is physically the
weaker of the two, don’t stand from under and leave her to buffet the
waves alone. Let her know that your heart is following her, that your
hand, though she sees it not, is ready to support her. To be plain, I
mean let money be raised and scholarships be founded in our colleges and
universities for self-supporting, worthy young women, to offset and
balance the aid that can always be found for boys who will take
theology.
The earnest well trained Christian young woman, as a teacher, as a
home-maker, as wife, mother, or silent influence even, is as potent a
missionary agency among our people as is the theologian; and I claim
that at the present stage of our development in the South she is even
more important and necessary.
Let us then, here and now, recognize this force and resolve to make the
most of it—not the boys less, but the girls more.
“WOMAN VERSUS THE INDIAN.”
In the National Woman’s Council convened at Washington in February 1891,
among a number of thoughtful and suggestive papers read by eminent
women, was one by the Rev. Anna Shaw, bearing the above title.
That Miss Shaw is broad and just and liberal in principal is proved
beyond contradiction. Her noble generosity and womanly firmness are
unimpeachable. The unwavering stand taken by herself and Miss Anthony in
the subsequent color ripple in Wimodaughsis ought to be sufficient to
allay forever any doubts as to the pure gold of these two women.
Of Wimodaughsis (which, being interpreted for the uninitiated, is a
woman’s culture club whose name is made up of the first few letters of
the four words wives, mothers, daughters, and sisters) Miss Shaw is
president, and a lady from the Blue Grass State _was_ secretary.
Pandora’s box is opened in the ideal harmony of this modern Eden without
an Adam when a colored lady, a teacher in one of our schools, applies
for admission to its privileges and opportunities.
The Kentucky secretary, a lady zealous in good works and one who, I
can’t help imagining, belongs to that estimable class who daily thank
the Lord that He made the earth that they may have the job of
superintending its rotations, and who really would like to help
“elevate” the colored people (in her own way of course and so long as
they understand their places) is filled with grief and horror that any
persons of Negro extraction should aspire to learn type-writing or
languages or to enjoy any other advantages offered in the sacred halls
of Wimodaughsis. Indeed, she had not calculated that there were any
wives, mothers, daughters, and sisters, except white ones; and she is
really convinced that _Whimodaughsis_ would sound just as well, and then
it need mean just _white mothers, daughters and sisters_. In fact, so
far as there is anything in a name, nothing would be lost by omitting
for the sake of euphony, from this unique mosaic, the letters that
represent wives. _Whiwimodaughsis_ might be a little startling, and on
the whole wives would better yield to white; since clearly all women are
not wives, while surely all wives are daughters. The daughters therefore
could represent the wives and this immaculate assembly for propagating
liberal and progressive ideas and disseminating a broad and humanizing
culture might be spared the painful possibility of the sight of a black
man coming in the future to escort from an evening class this solitary
cream-colored applicant. Accordingly the Kentucky secretary took the
cream-colored applicant aside, and, with emotions befitting such an
epochmaking crisis, told her, “as kindly as she could,” that colored
people were not admitted to the classes, at the same time refunding the
money which said cream-colored applicant had paid for lessons in
type-writing.
When this little incident came to the knowledge of Miss Shaw, she said
firmly and emphatically, NO. As a minister of the gospel and as a
Christian woman, she could not lend her influence to such unreasonable
and uncharitable discrimination; and she must resign the honor of
president of Wimodaughsis if persons were to be proscribed solely on
account of their color.
To the honor of the board of managers, be it said, they sustained Miss
Shaw; and the Kentucky secretary, and those whom she succeeded in
inoculating with her prejudices, resigned.
’Twas only a ripple,—some bewailing of lost opportunity on the part of
those who could not or would not seize God’s opportunity for broadening
and enlarging their own souls—and then the work flowed on as before.
Susan B. Anthony and Anna Shaw are evidently too noble to be held in
thrall by the provincialisms of women who seem never to have breathed
the atmosphere beyond the confines of their grandfathers’ plantations.
It is only from the broad plateau of light and love that one can see
petty prejudice and narrow priggishness in their true perspective; and
it is on this high ground, as I sincerely believe, these two grand women
stand.
As leaders in the woman’s movement of to-day, they have need of
clearness of vision as well as firmness of soul in adjusting
recalcitrant forces, and wheeling into line the thousand and one
none-such, never-to-be-modified, won’t-be-dictated-to banners of their
somewhat mottled array.
The black woman and the southern woman, I imagine, often get them into
the predicament of the befuddled man who had to take singly across a
stream a bag of corn, a fox and a goose. There was no one to help, and
to leave the goose with the fox was death—with the corn, destruction. To
re-christen the animals, the lion could not be induced to lie down with
the lamb unless the lamb would take the inside berth.
The black woman appreciates the situation and can even sympathize with
the actors in the serio-comic dilemma.
But, may it not be that, as women, the very lessons which seem hardest
to master now, are possibly the ones most essential for our promotion to
a higher grade of work?
We assume to be leaders of thought and guardians of society. Our
country’s manners and morals are under our tutoring. Our standards are
law in our several little worlds. However tenaciously men may guard some
prerogatives, they are our willing slaves in that sphere which they have
always conceded to be woman’s. Here, no one dares demur when her fiat
has gone forth. The man would be mad who presumed, however inexplicable
and past finding out any reason for her action might be, to attempt to
open a door in her kingdom officially closed and regally sealed by her.
The American woman of to-day not only gives tone directly to her
immediate world, but her tiniest pulsation ripples out and out, down and
down, till the outermost circles and the deepest layers of society feel
the vibrations. It is pre-eminently an age of organizations. The
“leading woman,” the preacher, the reformer, the organizer “enthuses”
her lieutenants and captains, the literary women, the thinking women,
the strong, earnest, irresistible women; these in turn touch their
myriads of church clubs, social clubs, culture clubs, pleasure clubs and
charitable clubs, till the same lecture has been duly administered to
every married man in the land (not to speak of sons and brothers) from
the President in the White House to the stone-splitter of the ditches.
And so woman’s lightest whisper is heard as in Dionysius’ ear, by quick
relays and endless reproductions, through every recess and cavern as
well as on every hilltop and mountain in her vast domain. And her
mandates are obeyed. When she says “thumbs up,” woe to the luckless
thumb that falters in its rising. They may be little things, the
amenities of life, the little nothings which cost nothing and come to
nothing, and yet can make a sentient being so comfortable or so
miserable in this life, the oil of social machinery, which we call the
courtesies of life, all are under the magic key of woman’s permit.