diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 05:04:54 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 05:04:54 -0800 |
| commit | 097e88540fe90051361a473a1092bc0acd15a552 (patch) | |
| tree | 9cc020188fe13b1c44e04ab0306b8d23f8e26a4f | |
| parent | 5efcb7c775cec267bf98e6d97bba323ffb98ec76 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-0.txt | 9125 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-0.zip | bin | 213258 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h.zip | bin | 2210211 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/67405-h.htm | 9683 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/001.jpg | bin | 57263 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/002.jpg | bin | 10973 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/003.jpg | bin | 190235 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/004.jpg | bin | 10635 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/005.jpg | bin | 211095 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/006.jpg | bin | 11683 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/007.jpg | bin | 131423 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/008.jpg | bin | 10732 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/009.jpg | bin | 126934 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/011.jpg | bin | 187124 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/012.jpg | bin | 11633 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/013.jpg | bin | 129289 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/014.jpg | bin | 9595 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/015.jpg | bin | 149797 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/016.jpg | bin | 11353 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/017.jpg | bin | 184937 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/018.jpg | bin | 12865 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/019.jpg | bin | 163064 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/020.jpg | bin | 11962 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/021.jpg | bin | 171447 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/022.jpg | bin | 12520 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/023.jpg | bin | 179751 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/67405-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 64453 -> 0 bytes |
30 files changed, 17 insertions, 18808 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90cba96 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67405 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67405) diff --git a/old/67405-0.txt b/old/67405-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a16ff0a..0000000 --- a/old/67405-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9125 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Woman in the golden ages, by Amelia -Gere Mason - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Woman in the golden ages - -Author: Amelia Gere Mason - -Release Date: February 14, 2022 [eBook #67405] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Turgut Dincer and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOMAN IN THE GOLDEN -AGES *** - - - - - - _Woman in the - Golden Ages_ - - - _By_ - - _Amelia Gere Mason_ - - [Illustration: Decorative image] - - _New York_ - _The Century Co._ - _1901_ - - - - - Copyright, 1901, by - THE CENTURY CO. - - _Published October, 1901._ - - THE DEVINNE PRESS. - - - - - TO THE - REPRESENTATIVE WOMEN - OF TO-DAY - - - - -PREFACE - - -In this series of detached essays I have tried to gather and group -the most salient and essential facts relating to the character, -position, and intellectual attainments of women in the great ages -of the world. It is not an easy matter to trace with any exactness -the lives of women of classic times, as they were largely ignored by -men who chronicled events. If the historians gave them any place at -all, it was an insignificant one, concerning only their relations to -men, and they were more inclined to sing the praises of those who -ministered to masculine caprices than of those distinguished for any -merit whatever. There were exceptions in the cases of a few women -of very remarkable gifts; but even these were subject to the worst -aspersions, for the simple reason that they had the courage of their -talents and convictions. This fashion of considering women only as -convenient appendages of men may account largely for the space given -to those of more beauty and sensuous charm than decorum--a fact which -has doubtless misled after-ages. It accounts also for the reckless -flings of satirists and comedians, who were even less to be trusted in -early times than they are to-day. Truth compels me to recall more or -less the contemptuous attitude of men, as it was too large a factor in -determining the position of women to be omitted. But in no case has it -been exaggerated, or set down in a spirit of antagonism. - -The most striking points in the lives of world-famous women are -sufficiently familiar. True or false, they are often quoted in proof -of one theory or another. But a few isolated facts gathered at random -count for little. It is only in the grouping of many facts of many ages -that the real quality of the old types of womanhood can be clearly -discerned. One is constantly confronted, however, with discrepancies -in the records. This may be readily understood when we consider the -impossibility of getting a correct version of things that happen next -door to us. Reports of events and estimates of character are about as -various as the people who offer them. One can only accept those which -have the most inherent probability, or are given by the chronicler who -has the best reputation for veracity. So far as possible, I have relied -upon contemporary writers for the facts of their own age; but I am also -indebted largely to the research of the great modern historians. In the -few classic or Italian translations, I have usually availed myself of -those nearest at hand, if they had the stamp of authority, though they -might not always be the latest, perhaps not even the best. - -These essays are limited mainly to the golden ages of Greece, Rome, and -the Renaissance, with a brief interlude that serves as a transition -from pagan to medieval times. The mantle of the great Italians fell -upon the women of the golden age of France, who reached the summit of -the power and influence of their sex in the past. The personality and -intellectual influence of these women I have considered at length in -“The Women of the French Salons.” - -The inevitable “woman question” is not touched except as it may appear -in the effort to show, in a small degree, the intellectual quality -and influence of some of the representative women of the past, and -to vindicate them from charges which are often as untrue as unjust. -Without any pretension to profound learning or philosophic criticism, -I have simply presented the most significant facts available, with -their various settings, and a few plain conclusions which may be -insufficient, but which are at least sincere and carefully considered. -In estimates of people I have taken the most charitable view possible -without sacrificing truth to imagination. It is the safer side in which -to err, as the world has always been much more active in the spread of -calumny than of praise, especially where women are concerned. - -There is no pretense to historical continuity, or to a serious study of -present conditions, in the single modern essay. It simply considers one -phase of our own age, which we doubtless claim to be altogether golden. - -The work has been a labor of love. If I have succeeded in throwing any -fresh light upon the women of long ago, many of whom are already half -mythical, or in giving a clear impression of what we owe them, my long -and pleasant hours among old chronicles and forgotten records will not -have been in vain. - - AMELIA GERE MASON. - - August, 1901. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - PREFACE vii - - INTRODUCTION xiii - - WOMAN IN GREEK POETRY 1 - - SAPPHO AND THE FIRST WOMAN’S CLUB 25 - - GLIMPSES OF THE SPARTAN WOMAN 51 - - THE ATHENIAN WOMAN, ASPASIA, AND - THE FIRST SALON 69 - - REVOLT OF THE ROMAN WOMEN 105 - - THE “NEW WOMAN” OF OLD ROME 137 - - SOME FAMOUS WOMEN OF IMPERIAL ROME 167 - - MARCELLA, PAULA, AND THE FIRST CONVENT 205 - - THE LEARNED WOMEN OF THE RENAISSANCE 241 - - THE LITERARY COURTS AND PLATONIC - LOVE 291 - - SALON AND WOMAN’S CLUB 353 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -It has been quite gravely asserted of late that “woman has just -discovered her intellect.” As a result of this we are told with great -earnestness that the nineteenth century belonged to her by virtue -of conquest, and that she is entering upon a new era of power and -intelligence which is to usher in the millennium. - -On the other hand, we are assured with equal persistency that the -divine order of things is being upset: that women are spoiled by -over-education; that the time-honored privileges of men are ruthlessly -invaded and their mental vigor endangered; that morals are suffering; -that all the good old ideals are in process of destruction; and that we -have the dismal prospect of being ruled, to our sorrow, by a race of -Minervas who neglect their families, if they have any, and insist upon -running things in their own way, to the ruin of social order--all of -which has been said periodically since the beginning of the world. - -With these serious questions I do not attempt to deal any further -than to picture, to the best of my ability in a limited space, -the position of women in the great ages of the past, and the -personality, aspirations, and achievements of a few of their most -famous representatives, so far as this is possible after the lapse of -centuries. From a multiplicity of facts which point their own moral, -each one of us may draw his or her special lessons. - -It is quite true that the woman of to-day is putting her intellect to -new uses; possibly she has become more vividly conscious of it. We know -also that the average intelligence of all classes of women, as well -as of men, was never so high as now. But the intrinsic force of the -human intellect is not measured by averages. A thousand satellites do -not make a sun, though they may shine for ages by the light of one. -Then, whatever our achievements may be--and I do not underrate them--it -would reflect rather seriously on the feminine mind to suppose that -it could lie practically dormant all these centuries, even under the -heavy disabilities which were imposed upon it. The fact that women -have always been in subjection and on the whole very much oppressed -and trampled upon, especially in the early ages, makes it all the more -remarkable that they have left so many striking examples, not only -of the highest wisdom and intelligence, but of the highest executive -power, ever since Deborah sat as a judge in Israel, Miriam sang -immortal songs of heroic deeds, and Semiramis conquered Asia. - -No doubt our own deserts are great, and we do well to burn a fair -amount of incense to them; but possibly the smoke of it is so dense -that we fail to see all the fine things that have been done before -us. Other women have been as clever as we are, and as strong, if not -individually stronger; many have been as good, a few perhaps have been -more wicked than most of us; and the majority have had a great deal -more to complain of. “There is nothing new under the sun” was written -so long ago that it seems as if there could have been nothing old. -Even the “new woman” has her prototypes in the past, who have thought, -written, lectured, ruled, asserted themselves, and been honored as well -as talked about in their day. Men have prophesied strange revolutions -in human affairs because of them, and sometimes have sent them back to -the chimney-corner and silence, as one of our own chivalrous writers -says they will do again if this irrepressible being who presumes to -have opinions makes things too uncomfortable for them. But the world -has gone on marrying and giving in marriage, and growing in the main, -let us hope, happier and better, while the social condition of women -has steadily improved, with an occasional reaction, in spite of the -fears of the timid and the sneers of the cynical. - -It may be safely said that there was not much in the lives of the -women of two or three thousand years ago which we should care to -repeat. Their field was, as a rule, narrow and restricted, their -privileges were few, their burdens and sorrows were many. To go -outside the sphere prescribed for them called for great talent and -great courage, since respectability was usually regarded as synonymous -with insignificance. But even in this aspiring, much-knowing, -self-gratulatory, woman-honoring twentieth century, whenever we are -told that the feminine intellect is inherently weak and has never -created anything worthy of immortality, we point with pride to Sappho, -the one woman poet of the world whose claim to the first rank has -never been disputed. If we wish to illustrate the social and political -influence of woman, we cite Aspasia, the trusted confidante and adviser -of the greatest statesmen and philosophers, as well as the presiding -genius of the first salon of which we have any knowledge. Yet these -women lived in the dawn of the present order of things. We may recall -the scholarly mind and masterly executive qualities of Zenobia, which -perhaps have never been exceeded; the profound learning and brilliant -oratory of Hypatia, who was torn in pieces because of them by the -fanatical Alexandrian mob; Cornelia, gifted and austere, adding the -courage of a Stoic to the tenderness of a mother; Livia, wise, tactful, -and far-seeing; Marcella, saint and _grande dame_, a savante, -a leader, and a heroine. Other figures of the classic ages, grave -and thoughtful, clever and brilliant, or mystical and sweet, pass in -stately array before us, each supreme in her own field. It may have -been an intellectual gift that she had; it may have been a masterful -character, or a heroic virtue, or a spirit of sublime self-sacrifice, -or a faith so exalted that it has illuminated all the centuries. Each -of these traits has its illustrious examples among the women of long -ago. - -Passing ages of darkness, in which here and there the talent of a -Countess Matilda or an Héloïse shone brightly through the mists of -ignorance and superstition, we find the women of a new era delving side -by side with men in the mines of classic lore, and bringing to their -work the same enthusiasm, the same untiring patience. We find them, -too, versed in all the learning of their time. If we are disposed to -plume ourselves overmuch on our intellectual glories, it may serve as -a lesson in humility to recall the wonderful women of the Renaissance, -who filled chairs of philosophy and law in the universities, sustained -public theses, spoke in Latin before learned societies, wrote pure -Greek and studied Hebrew, preached in cathedrals were sent on special -embassies and consulted on grave affairs of State by popes and kings. -With all our latter-day prestige and the chivalry of modern men, it -would be difficult to imagine Leo XIII or the German Emperor consulting -a woman on serious questions of policy, or even listening to one unless -she were a queen with power that must be reckoned with. If they did, it -would be behind closed doors where no one could know it. Yet we have -wise women and able ones. - -When men lost themselves in metaphysical abstractions it was the “new -woman” of the Renaissance who lent wings to their minds and stimulated -creation. A touch from her uncaged intellect thrilled the learning -of the age and put into it a soul. A Vittoria Colonna inspires a -Michelangelo, writes an immortal _in memoriam_, and brings poetry -to the service of religion. An Olympia Morata pauses in her high -intellectual flight to give an object-lesson in moral courage and the -virtues of a gentle womanhood. A Catherine of Siena thinks as well as -loves, writes as well as prays; the head of Christendom is moved by her -wise counsels, and the currents of the world are changed. - -It was woman, too, who married thought to life, presided at the -birth of society, and diffused the seeds of the new knowledge. She -took philosophy out of the obscurity of ponderous tomes, and made -men reduce it to clear terms with the logical processes left out, so -that the unlettered might read. If men held the palm of supremacy in -reason and abstract thought, women illuminated them by sentiment -and imagination, so touching the world to living issues. The swift, -facile, intuitive intellects of women complemented the slower and more -logical minds of men, and it is this union that creates life in all its -larger, more enduring forms. It was the social gifts of women added -to a flexible intelligence that raised conversation to a fine art. A -Duchess Leonora, an Isabella d’Este, a Duchess Elisabetta, call about -them the wit, learning, talent, and genius of an age, and in this -atmosphere poets, artists, and men of letters find an audience and an -inspiration. Each gives of his best, which is fostered and turned into -new channels. Standards are raised by the association of various forms -of excellence, and society reaches a higher altitude of living and -thinking. To be sure, the day comes when it matters more to talk and be -talked about than it does to know. The rank weeds of mediocrity spring -up in profusion and overshadow the flowers. The ideals droop and the -brilliant age ends. But it has fulfilled its mission, and all ages end, -great and small, luminous and dark alike. - -Did men degenerate in the intellectual companionship of women? To what -glorious heights did they attain in the dark ages, when no woman’s -voice was heard, except in prayer? What heights have they reached in -any period that did not find its ideals in brute force, when, at least, -a few women of light and leading did not stand at their side, though -only by courtesy, instead of sitting at their feet? - -Did women lose in morals when they gained in intelligence, as men so -often delight to tell us? Quite the reverse, if I have read history -aright. In seasons of moral decadence it is the women of serious -education who have been among the first to lift their voices against -the sins of the period in which they lived. If they were often swept -along by the current which they had no power to stem, it was because -of their helplessness, not of their knowledge. They were not faultless -but human, and subject at all periods to the same conditions that were -fatal to men, who claimed supremacy in strength. If they have sometimes -broken on the rocks of superstition, it was because they had too little -intelligence, not too much. - -Have they lost the tender instincts of wifehood and motherhood? The -records of the world are full of the unselfish devotion of great wives -and great mothers, and the men who shine most conspicuously on the -pages of history, from Cæsar and the Gracchi to George Washington and -Daniel Webster, have been the sons of able and intelligent women. A -cultivated intellect is not a guaranty of virtue, but it has never yet -made a woman forget her love and allegiance to a strong and noble man, -or turn a cold ear to the artless prattle of a child, though vanity -and weakness and folly have done so very often. But it has many a time -given her the power and the impulse to rear a world-famed monument to -the one, and to give the best work and thought of a self-sacrificing -life for the glory of the other. It is not simply heredity, but the -atmosphere and companionship of the first years, that make or mar a -destiny. But let us not confound intelligent women with pedants and -pretenders, or great women with small ones on a pedestal of any sort, -self-erected or other. - -All this I trust will be made clear by illustration in these pages, -together with the fact that the intellects of at least a few women have -been very much awake in all the golden ages of the world, and exercised -on many of the same problems that confront them to-day. The question of -equality has been discussed in every period. It is needless to pursue -these discussions here any further than to recall them. It does not -signify whether women have or have not done this, that, or the other -thing as well as men--whether they have or have not been conspicuous -for creative genius, or scientific genius, or any other special form -of genius. It is as idle to ask whether they are, on the whole, equal -or inferior to men, as to ask whether an artist is equal to a general, -an inventor to a philosopher, or a poet to a man of science. There are -certain things that will always be done better by men; there are other -things of equal value to the happiness and well-being of the race, -and worthy of equal honor, that will always be done better by women; -there are still other and many things that may be done equally well by -either. The final proof of ability lies in its tangible result, and it -is a waste of words to speculate on unknown quantities, or to say that -under certain conditions women might have attained specific heights -which they have not attained. No doubt it is true, but one cannot -deal with shadows. We have to consider things as they are, with the -possibilities toward which they point. - -But the past we have, with its achievements and its lessons. We find -that women, with all their restrictions and in spite of denunciations -from men which seem incredible, have long ago touched their highest -mark in poetry, in wisdom, in administration, in learning, and -in social power. In the great ages of the flowering of the human -intellect, a rare few have always stood on the heights, beacon-stars -which sent out their rays to distant centuries. As the world has -advanced they have increased in number more than in altitude; but -barriers have been removed, one after another, until they have -practically ceased to exist. It is worth while, however, to bear in -mind that four hundred years ago a woman, with many disabilities, -had ample facilities for reaching her full intellectual stature with -honor and without hindrance. Why did her sex lose these privileges so -liberally accorded to men, in the “land of the free” and the early -nineteenth century? - -We too have our stars--our women who think, our women who know, our -women who do; we too have our special distinctions--our triumphs in -new fields in which we have had no rivals. But I have touched only a -single phase of modern life. There are too many fresh and difficult -problems to be disposed of in an essay. Then we can hardly hear the -message of the age for the din of the voices. It is true enough that -the old ideals are disappearing. What we do not know yet is whether, -apart from the intelligence which gives all life a fresh impulse and -meaning, the new ones forced upon us by the march of events are better. -It suffices here to say that what really signifies to the woman of -to-day is to expand in her own natural proportions, to maintain her -own individuality without the loss of her essential charm, to temper -strength of soul with tenderness, to strive for achievement instead -of the passing honors of the hour, to preserve the fine and dignified -quality of an enlarged and perfected womanhood. It is not as the poor -copy of a man that she will ever come into her rightful kingdom. Duty -or necessity may lead one into strange and hard paths, but the crown of -glory is not for those who fling away their birthright to join in the -strident chorus of the eager crowd that kneels before the glittering -altars of the money-gods, or to follow the procession that throngs the -dusty highways and, lifting its eyes no more to the mountain-tops, -sings its own apotheosis in the market-place. - - - - -WOMAN IN GREEK POETRY - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · Denunciation of Woman in Early Poets · - · Kindlier Attitude of Homer · - · Penelope · Nausicaä · Andromache · Helen · - · Contemptuous Attitude of the Dramatists · - · Their Fine Types · - · Iphigenia · Alcestis · Antigone · - · Consideration for Women in the Heroic Age · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -“The badness of man is better than the goodness of woman,” says a -Jewish proverb. And worse still, “A man of straw is better than a -woman of gold.” As men made the proverbs, these may be commended for -modesty as well as chivalry. The climax is reached in this amiable -sentiment: “A dead wife is the best goods in a man’s house.” Under such -teaching it is not at all surprising that the Jews began their morning -invocations, two thousand years ago, with these significant words: -“Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who hast not -made me a heathen, who hast not made me a slave, who hast not made me a -woman.” - -These are very good samples of the manner in which women were talked -of in ancient days. In Egypt, however, they fared rather better. We -are even told that men pledged obedience to their wives, in which case -they doubtless spoke of them more respectfully. At all events, they had -great political influence, were honored as priestess or prophetess, -and had the privilege of owning themselves and their belongings. But a -state of affairs in which - - Men indoors sit weaving at the loom, - And wives outdoors must earn their daily bread, - -has its unpleasant side. How it was regarded by women does not appear, -but if they found a paradise they were speedily driven out of it. -Evidently men did not find the exchange of occupations agreeable. Two -or three centuries before our era, a Greek ruler came to the throne, -who had other views, and every woman awoke one morning to the fact -that her day was ended, her power was gone, and that she owned nothing -at all. Everything that she had, from her house and her land to her -feathers and her jewels, was practically confiscated, so that she could -no longer dispose of it. These women had rights, and lost them. Why -they were taken away we do not know. Possibly too much was claimed. But -all this goes to prove that “chivalrous man” cannot be trusted so long -as he holds not simply the balance of power, but the whole of it. - -Apart from this little episode, the early world never drifted far from -the traditions of the Garden of Eden, where Adam naturally reserved -the supremacy for himself, and sent obedient Eve about her housewifely -duties among the roses and myrtles. If these were soon turned into -thorns and thistles, it was only her proper punishment for bringing -into the world its burden of human ills. - -The changes were rung on this theme in all races and languages. -The esthetic Greeks surpassed the Jews in their denunciations, and -exhausted their wit in cynical phrases that lacked even the dignity of -criticism. No writers have abused women more persistently. It is an -evidence of great moral vitality that, in the face of such undisguised -contempt, they were able to maintain any prestige at all. If we may -credit the poets who gave the realistic side of things, there was -neither honor nor joy in the life of the average woman who dwelt in the -shadow of Helicon. It was bare and cheerless, without even the sympathy -that tempers the hardest fate. This pastoral existence, which seems -so serene, had its serpent, and that serpent was a woman. A wife was -a necessary evil. If a man did not marry, he was doomed to a desolate -age; if he did, his happiness was sure to be ruined. Out of ten types -of women described by the elder Simonides, only one was fit for a wife, -and this was because she had the nature of a bee and was likely to add -to her husband’s fortune. As the proportion was so small, the risk may -be imagined. Her side of the question was never taken into account -at all. The comfort of so insignificant a being was really not worth -considering. “A man has but two pleasant days with his wife,” says the -satirist; “one when he marries her, the other when he buries her.” - -Hesiod mentions, among the troubles of having a wife, that she insists -upon sitting at table with her husband. Later, when the Greeks found -their pleasure in fields of the intellect which were closed to women, -even this poor privilege was usually denied her, and always when other -men were present. Hesiod was evidently a disappointed man, and took -dark views of things, women in particular, but he only followed the -fashion of his time in making them responsible for the troubles and -sorrows of men. It was the old, old story: “The woman gave me, and I -did eat.” She was the Pandora who had let loose upon the world all the -ills, and kept in her box the hope that might have made them tolerable. -If she found her position an unpleasant one, she had the consolation -of being told that she was one of the evils sent into the world by the -gods, to punish men for the sin of Prometheus. The other was disease. - -This is a sorry picture, but it reflects the usual Greek attitude -toward women, and cannot be ignored, much as we should like to honor -the sense of justice, and the heart as well as the intellect of men of -so brilliant a race. - - -II - -There is another side, however, upon which it is more pleasing to -dwell. By some curious paradox, the Hellenic poets, who delighted in -saying such disagreeable things, have given us many of the finest types -of womanhood, though these women lived only in the imagination of great -men, or so near the border-land of shadows as to be half mythical. -It may be said to the credit of Homer that he never joined in the -popular chorus of abuse. His women are not permitted to forget their -subjection, but the high-born ones at least are treated with gentle -courtesy, and he indulges in no superfluous flings at their inferiority -or general worthlessness. Many of them hold places of honor and power. -These women of a primitive age, who stand at the portals of the young -world luminous and smiling, or draped in the stately dignity of antique -goddesses, still retain the distinction of classic ideals. They look -out from the misty dawn of things with veiled faces, but we know that -love shone from their soft eyes, and words of wisdom fell from their -rosy lips. - - The vulgar of my sex I most exceed - In real power, when most humane my deed, - -says the gentle Penelope, as, tear-dimmed and constant, she weaves and -unweaves the many-colored threads, and waits for her royal lord, who -basks in the smiles of Calypso over the sea, and forgets her until he -tires of the fascinating siren and begins to long for his home. If -there was a trace of artfulness in the innocent device of the faithful -wife, it was all the weapon she had to save her honor. - -There is no lovelier picture of radiant girlhood than the graceful -Nausicaä, as she takes the silken reins in her white hands, and drives -across the plains in the first flush of the morning to help her maids -“wash their fair garments in the limpid streams.” When the snowy robes -are laid in the sun to dry, they play a game of ball, this daughter of -kings leading all the rest. We hear the echo of her silvery laughter, -and see the flash of her shining veil as her light feet fly over the -greensward. But the dignity of the princess asserts itself with the -forethought and sympathy of the woman in the discreet words with which -she greets the destitute stranger, and modestly directs him to her -royal mother. Her swift eye notes his air of distinction, his courteous -address, and she naïvely wishes in her heart that the gods would send -her such a husband. It is to Arête that she bids him go, to the beloved -queen who shares the throne of Alcinous with “honors never before given -to a woman.” Simple is this gentle lady and gracious, whether she sits -in her stately palace working rare designs in crimson and purple wools, -or gives wise counsel to her husband, or goes abroad among the people, -who adore her as a goddess, - - To heal divisions, to relieve the oppressed, - In virtue rich, in blessing others, blessed. - -A more touching though less radiant figure is Andromache, who shows -no trace of weakness as she folds her child to her bosom, after the -tender farewell of her brave husband, and goes home, sad and prophetic, -to “ply her melancholy loom,” and brood over the hopelessness of her -coming fate. - -These are the great Homeric types, women of simple and noble outlines, -untouched by the fires of passion, wise, loyal, efficient, and brave, -but rich in sympathy and all sweet affections. The central figures of -the fireside, with needle and distaff in hand, they were not without a -fine intelligence which, after the fashion of primitive times, found -its field in the every-day problems of life. The mysteries of knowledge -and speculation had not opened to them. - - There is no fairer thing - Than when the lord and lady with one soul - One home possess. - -This was the poet’s domestic ideal, and the ages have not brought a -better one, though they have brought us many things to make it more -beautiful. - -But what shall we say of Helen, the alluring child of fancy and -romance, who stands as an eternal type of the beauty that led captive -the Hellenic world? Even this fair-haired daughter of the gods, who -set nations at variance, and did so many things not to be commended, -gathers a subtle charm from the domestic setting which the poet’s art -has given her. She sits serenely in the midst of the woes she has -brought, teaching her maidens to work after strange patterns, and -weaving her own tragic story in the golden web. It does not occur to -her that she is very wicked; indeed, she thinks regretfully that, after -all, she is worthy of a braver man. The tears that fall do not dim her -brightness. Gray-haired men go to their death under the spell of her -divine loveliness, but forget to chide. She is the helpless victim of -Aphrodite, who is indulgently charged with all her frailties. Twice -ten years have gone since she sailed away from Sparta, but when her -forgiving husband takes her home she has lost none of that mystic -beauty which is “never stale and never old.” She takes her place as -naturally as if she had not left it, plays again the pleasant rôle of -hostess, and looks with care after the comfort of her guests. When -Telemachus goes to see her, and recalls the uncertain fate of the -wandering heroes, she gives him the “star-bright” veil her own hands -have wrought to help dry the tears she has caused to flow. But she is -troubled by no superfluous grief. What the gods send she tranquilly -accepts. - -When the poets began to analyze, the glamour of this witching goddess -was lost, and she became a sinning, soul-destroying woman, a human -Circe that lured men to ruin. But the Greeks did not like to see their -idols slandered or broken, so in later times they gave her a shadowy -existence on the banks of the Nile, where we catch a last glimpse of -her, sitting unruffled among the palms, in all the splendor of her -radiant beauty, twining wreaths of lotus-flowers for her golden hair, -and learning rare secrets of Eastern looms, while men fought and died -across the sea for a phantom. It is not upon these fanciful pictures, -however, that we like to dwell. The Helen who lives and breathes -for us is the Helen of Homer, fair and sweet, more sinned against -than sinning, pitying the sorrows she cannot cure, but saved by her -matchless charm from the chilling frost of mortal censure. - -These women of Homer were mostly wives and daughters of kings. Whether -it was because he had been greeted with gentle words and caressing -smiles by the fair patricians to whom he recited his verses that he -painted them in such glowing colors, or because the women of the heroic -age really had the unstudied grace and simple dignity that spring from -conscious freedom, we cannot know. But it is certain that the measure -of honor and liberty which they enjoyed was a privilege of caste rather -than of sex, though it gave them a virile quality, and added a fresh -luster of spontaneity to their domestic virtues. - -The lesser women had small consideration. We find the captives, even of -royal descent, tossed about among their masters with no regard to their -wishes, or rights--if they had any, which seems doubtful. The gentle -Briseïs, a high priest’s daughter, and as potent a factor in the final -disasters of the Greeks as the divine Helen herself, was the merest -puppet in the hands of the so-called heroes who quarreled over her, and -Chryseïs was only saved from the same fate by the kind interference of -Apollo. The bitterest drop in the cup of Hector was the thought of his -wife led away weeping by some “mail-clad Achaian,” with no one to hear -her cries or save her from the hopeless fate of weaving and carrying -water at the bidding of another. The women of the people fared little -better, if as well. Ulysses had no hesitation in putting to death a -dozen of his wife’s maids whose conduct did not please him, and he -threatened his devoted nurse Euryclea with a like fate, if she revealed -the secret of his identity, which she had been the first to divine. - - -III - -It is difficult to comprehend the attitude of the dramatists of the -golden age toward women. They have left many fine and powerful types; -they have created heroines of singular moral grandeur and a superb -quality of courage that led them to face death or the bitterest fate as -serenely as if they were composing themselves to pleasant dreams; but -there was no insult or injustice too great to be heaped upon their sex. - - There is not anything, nor will be ever, - Than woman worse, let what will fall on man, - -says Sophocles. Æschylus, who is, on the whole, the most kindly -disposed, makes Eteocles call the Theban maidens a “brood intolerable,” -“loathed of the wise,” and emphasizes his opinion in these flattering -lines: - - Ne’er be it mine, in ill estate or good, - To dwell together with the race of women. - -Euripides strikes the bitterest note of all, and sums up his verdict -with crushing force: - - Dire is the violence of ocean waves, - And dire the blast of rivers and hot fires, - And dire is want and dire are countless things, - But nothing is so dire and dread as woman. - No painting could express her dreadfulness, - No words describe it. If a god made woman - And fashioned her, he was for men the artist - Of woes unnumbered, and their deadly foe. - -And this in spite of such characters as Alcestis and Iphigenia, who, -from a man’s point of view, certainly deserved an apotheosis! It is -said that Euripides was unfortunate in his wives, which may account, -in part, for his cynical temper. One might suspect that the author of -such a diatribe gave ample cause for disaffection, and that he had -no more than his deserts. But he seems to have avenged himself, as -smaller men have done, by railing at the whole sex. It is easy enough -to understand the portrayal of a Phædra or a Medea in dark colors, and -one can forgive the mad ravings of despair. But so many needless words -of general contempt signify more than a dramatic purpose. To-day they -would not be possible in a civilized country. The drama reflects the -dominant sentiments of the time, if not always those of the author, -and the frequency of such ungracious, not to say virulent, attacks -proves the complaisance of a Greek audience and the absence of all -consideration for women. Even Aristophanes takes Euripides to task for -being a woman-hater, and turns upon him the sharpest points of his -satire; but he has himself added the last touch of abuse, which only -misses its aim for modern ears by its incredible coarseness. He gives -to women all of the lowest vices, without a redeeming virtue. Their -presence at the comedy was quite out of the question. - -One is tempted to multiply these quotations, as they put in so vivid -a light the injustice suffered by women when the expression of such -sentiments was habitual. The saddest feature of it is that men -abused them for the ignorance and frivolity which they had themselves -practically compelled. The dramatists lived and wrote in an age when -men had reached a higher plane of knowledge from which orthodox women -were rigidly excluded. The natural consequence of this exclusion was a -total lack of companionship, which sent the Attic woman into a species -of slavery, while her husband found his society in a class that was -better educated and more interesting, but less respectable. This -state of things was reflected in Athenian literature, especially in -the comedies, and it doubtless led to the general disdain of women so -freely expressed in the tragedies. To reconcile such an attitude with -the strong character of many of the women portrayed is not easy, unless -we take them as object-lessons to their sex in the honor and glory of -self-sacrifice. - -In the glamour the poets have cast about their great creations, and -the marvelous power with which they have made these women live for us, -we are apt to lose sight of the fact that the moral force of the best -of them is centered in the superhuman immolation of themselves for the -benefit of men, to whom it never occurs that any consideration whatever -is due to these innocent sufferers. They are subject to men, and ready -to lay down their lives, if need be to make the world comfortable and -pleasant for them; yet they have only sorrow for themselves. - - More than a thousand women is one man - Worthy to see the light of life, - -says the young Iphigenia, as she folds her saffron veil about her, and -goes to her doom with words of love and forgiveness, praying for the -cruel masters she dies to save. The essence of her training, as of -her religion, lies in this meekly uttered sentiment, though the fated -child pleads for pity, since “the sorriest life is better than the -noblest death.” Strong men, among whom are her father and Achilles, -the heroes of the ancient world, stand calmly by and let her die. The -powerful lover, who will give his life later to avenge the death of -his friend, is sorry to lose so sweet a flower for his wife, but he -makes no real effort to save her. When she is told that the gods have -decreed her sacrifice for the good of her country, the cry of nature is -silenced, the touching appeal is stilled. She rises to a divine height -of courage, and is the consoler rather than the consoled. - -Not less pathetic is the fate of Alcestis, though it is a voluntary -one. She robes herself for the tomb as tranquilly as if she were going -out on a message of mercy. With sad dignity she crowns with myrtle the -altar at which she prays, but not until she takes leave of the familiar -room so consecrated by love and happiness do the tears begin to fall. -This tender wife, who freely gives her life to save her husband, does -not falter as she passionately embraces her weeping children, and bids -a kind farewell to her pitying servants. The only thing she asks for -herself is to see the sun once more, and she tries to inspire this -selfish, posing, half-hearted husband with her own fortitude, as her -spirit “glides on light wing down the silent paths of sleep.” One -cannot help wondering if she never had a misgiving that the man who -could ask his wife to comfort him for his unspeakable misery in letting -her die for him was not worth dying for. But the Greek women had been -long trained in the school of passive suffering, and it never seemed -to occur to them that it was not quite in the nature of things for the -weaker half of the human family to have a monopoly of the sacrifices. -It was a part of their destiny; the gods so willed it. Men looked upon -it as a comfortable arrangement for themselves, that had good moral -results for women. To-day we are inclined to ask why a discipline that -is good for women, and tends toward their moral perfection, is not also -good for men, who have a like need of being perfected. - -But, in spite of rational theories, the world’s heart still thrills -to a generous emotion so overpowering as to drown all consideration -of self, whether or not it is faulty in its mundane wisdom or its -arithmetic. And this it is which casts so lasting a glamour over the -women who loom out of the twilight of that far-off time, in noble -proportions that dwarf the selfish, arrogant men with whom they are -mated. They rise to the dignity of goddesses in their divine pity and -courage, while the great Achilles, the masculine ideal of the Greeks, -weeps like a child, and sends a generation of men to sleep on the -plains of Troy, because he cannot have what he wishes. - -Yet it is in the minds of men that these women were conceived, and -it is impossible to suppose that they had not at least some faint -counterpart in real life, though possibly men, and women as well, are -apt to make ideals of what they think ought to be rather than of what -is. But why did the Greek poets cast such ridicule and dishonor upon -the sex which they have shown capable of such supreme devotion and such -exalted virtues? - -There is a touch of justice in the bitter scorn with which the blind -Œdipus speaks of his sons who - - Keep house at home like maidens in their prime, - -while his daughters wear themselves to death for him and for his -sorrows. - - No women they, but men in will to toil. - -Perhaps Antigone is a trifle too coldly perfect, too faultlessly -wise--a tacit reflection upon every-day human nature, that likes its -ease, and counts the cost of its renunciations. We look for a trace -of weakness, a warm burst of living tenderness. But duty is shy like -love, and chary of expression. “I do not love a friend who loves in -words,” is the cry of her steadfast soul. There she stands, in the -still majesty of a sorrow that lies too deep for tears, supreme among -the classic types of the world as a model of filial devotion. Cordelia, -true and loyal as she is, and tender at heart, does not approach her -in strength and dignity. But the duty of the Greek heroine does not -end with her father’s death. She lays down her life at last that the -false-hearted brother, who has given her no gentle consideration in -her days of helplessness and despair, may not lie unburied on the -plains of Thebes, and so wander without rest in Hades. She laments -the lost pleasures of living. No husband or children are to be hers. -Yet no enthusiasm of passion or romance tempers this “cold statue’s -fine-wrought grace.” The man she was to marry is secondary. Love, in -our sense, does not enter as a motive power into her life, but her -human need of sympathy is shown in a few pathetic words: - - And yet, of all my friends, - Not one bewails my fate; - No kindly tear is shed. - -There are a few women of colossal wickedness who serve as foils, -or shadows in the picture. Their very sins are a part of the -overmastering strength that defies its hard limitations. “Of all -things, as many as have life and intellect, we women are the most -wretched race; we must first purchase a husband with excess of money, -then receive him as our lord,” is the bitter protest of the wronged -Medea, and the key-note to her tragical destiny. Clytemnestra says -that she has always been trained to obey, but she towers far above her -warrior husband in force as in crime. She resents his unfaithfulness; -she does not forgive him for the inhuman sacrifice of their innocent -daughter; she meets him on his own ground. It is appalling, the stern -and pitiless passion with which her untamed spirit, spurred on by the -white-hot hate which is often a great love reversed, tramples upon -every human impulse, and sweeps a whole race with her to destruction. -The clash of elemental forces is there, even though the responsibility -is shifted upon the gods, who use these frail mortals as blind -instruments in their inscrutable plans. - -But these monsters of crime are few, and seem to throw into stronger -relief the self-forgetful women who exalt their inferior position, -and bend their heads to the yoke with such stately dignity that they -seem to command even in obeying. For, in spite of the important part -assigned them in the world of affairs as well as at the fireside, -they are constantly reminded of their little worth. “Let not women -counsel,” is the advice of men to the wisest of them. - - Woman, know - That silence is a woman’s noblest part, - -says the ill-tempered Ajax to his amiable wife. This gentle Tecmessa -wishes to die with him, for “Why should I wish to live if you are -dead?” He only tells her to mind her own affairs and be silent. -Telemachus orders his faithful mother not to meddle with men’s -business, but it was precisely because she did meddle with it, and -tried, by various simple arts, to bring order into the chaos men had -raised, that his royal father had any home to return to, or any kingdom -to leave to his ungracious son. - - -IV - -So far as we can gather from Homer, women of the better sort had a -degree of consideration in the heroic age which they lost at a later -period. When men fought or tilled the soil, it was in the natural -order of things that they should stay at home to look after their -children and households. The division of duties was fair enough. In a -reign of brute force they needed protection, and though it was pretty -well settled that men were born to rule and women to be ruled, there -was evidently a great deal of pleasant companionship in family life. -Compared with the seclusion of the Oriental harem, the position of -these women was one of freedom, and it lasted to historic times. Their -supreme distinction was a moral one. Books they had not. Of literature -nothing was known beyond the verses and tales of wandering minstrels. -Art was little more than a handicraft. If men worked in marble or in -metal, women designed patterns for weaving and embroidery. Men had -not begun to put their thoughts or speculations into enduring form, -and women were not excluded from a large part of their lives. But -so perfectly did many of them realize the world’s ideal of feminine -virtues that we ask no more. They stand upon pedestals, like the -masterpieces of Greek sculpture, noble in their simplicity and lovely -in the repose of their surpassing strength. - -But the dramatists reflected in a thousand ways the altered spirit of -an age in which good women had no visible part. Their immortal heroines -are equally strong and instinct with vitality, though less simple and -of severer mold, but they are revered from afar as the goddesses were, -while real women are a target for abuse and ridicule. It is to no rare -and perishable beauty, no fleeting grace, no intellectual brilliancy, -that they owe their eternal charm, but to their moral greatness, their -strength of sacrifice. These exalted ideals, so bravely tender, so -patiently enduring, were the victims of adverse destiny or of their -own devotion. But the world held for them no reward in the masculine -heart. There were many women in classic story who died for men, but -only one for whom men were willing to die, and this was Helen, whose -divine beauty appealed to the senses and the imagination. She was made -to be loved, to command; all others were made to serve. The Greeks -adored beauty; they lived in it, they created it. Here lay their -pride; here more than once they found their Nemesis. But virtue they -gave a place apart, as they did the wise Athena, who towered in golden -isolation over the Attic divinities. It had no share in the joy of -existence. - -Beneath the glad pæans of heroes we hear at intervals, across the ages, -the clear voices of women chanting a miserere in an undertone of sorrow -or despair. Doubtless the poets saw and felt the tragical side of their -lives, but tradition had the inevitability of fate, as it has had in -other times. They have given us great and lonely ideals of womanhood, -but a somber picture of the place held by living women in the Athenian -world. - - - - -SAPPHO AND THE FIRST WOMAN’S CLUB - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · Golden Age of Lyric Poetry · - · The Mythical and the Real Sappho · - · Her Poems · - · Contrast with Hebrew Singers · - · Poet of Nature and Passion · - · The First Woman’s Club · - · Æolian and Doric Poetesses · - · Honors to the Genius of Hellenic Women · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -A woman and a poet; adored by men and loved by her own sex; artist, -singer, teacher, leader; an exile and an immortal--all this was the -Sappho who stood upon the heights twenty-five centuries ago and sang -the verses that thrilled the heart of the world. She lived in the -brilliant period when lyric poetry reached its zenith and was its -finest representative. Before her no woman had appeared in a distinctly -literary rôle, so far as we know. To-day she still stands supreme in -her own field. - -This “violet-crowned, pure, sweetly smiling Sappho,” who sang so -divinely, and vanished so theatrically from Leucadia’s “rock of woe,” -was long veiled in the mists of romance. The tragical muse pictured in -flowing draperies, with a crown of laurel on her head and a lyre in her -hand, chanting her swan-song before cooling her heart of flame in the -blue sea at her feet, was as intangible to us as one of Fra Angelico’s -angels. She looked out of a land of mystery and shadows, with nothing -human about her save that she loved, and suffered, and died. “Do thou, -gentle Love, place wings beneath me as I fall, that I may not be the -reproach of the Leucadian waves,” is her pathetic prayer, and here she -fades from our sight. - -But it has been fairly settled that this romantic story was a dream; -that Phaon was only a mythical Adonis; that Sappho did not follow him -across the sea, did not die of love, and never took the fatal leap at -all. The sentimental tourist who sighs over her melancholy fate to-day, -as he passes the bare white cliffs of Santa Maura, so long consecrated -to tragedies of love and sorrow, pays his sympathetic tribute to a -phantom. She went to Sicily, it seems, but not for love. It is supposed -that she was exiled. There were political conspiracies for which men -were banished, and she may have written revolutionary songs. Possibly -she held too radical opinions on the privileges of her sex. But all -this is the purest surmise. In any case, her offense could not have -been a grave one, as she returned in a few years to Mytilene, where she -was adored by a fickle public as the glory of her native city, and -honored with altars and temples after her death. Her face was stamped -upon coins--“though she was a woman,” said Aristotle. The outlines are -clear and strong, with the virile quality so marked in most statues of -Greek women. She was also represented, with Alcæus, on a vase of the -next century, as not only beautiful, but tall and stately. - -A thousand years afterward a statue of her is said to have been one -of the ornaments of the gymnasium at Byzantium. But coin and bust and -statue give us many faces. Which was the real one? We are more familiar -with the ideal Sappho in the modern portrait in which Alma-Tadema has -so subtly caught the prophetic light of her soul, her eager intellect, -her unconscious grace, and the slumbering passion in her eloquent eyes. - -But recent critics tell us that even her beauty was a fiction of the -imagination. Does she not say of herself, in the burning lines of -Ovid, that she was brown and of low stature, though her name filled -all lands? Or was it the sweet humility of love that made her own -attractions seem to her slender and insufficient? She had been dead six -hundred years or so when Ovid wrote, and his knowledge could not have -been infallible. - -Men of her own time called her the “beautiful Sappho,” the “flower -of the graces,” and Greek standards of beauty included height and -stateliness. Perhaps they were under the magic spell of her genius, and -indulged in glowing figures of speech. At all events, modern scholars -are more literal, and they have mostly decided that she was a small, -dark woman, of noble birth, who was early left a widow with one fair -daughter, “Cleïs, the beloved, with a form like a golden flower.” This -was also the name of her own mother. One of her brothers held the -honorable office of cup-bearer; the other went to Egypt, and, much to -the displeasure of his gifted sister, married a woman of more charms -than discretion, for whom he had paid a large ransom. This famous -beauty of Naucratis became very rich, and, possibly by way of atonement -for her sins, made a generous offering at the temple of Delphi. It -was even said that she immortalized herself by building the third -pyramid; but these tales, whether true or not, have been relegated to -the region of myths. We learn from Sappho herself that she quarreled -with her brother on account of this _mésalliance_. These are scant -materials on which to base a life, but they include about all the facts -we have of - - That mighty songstress, whose unrivaled powers - Weave for the Muse a crown of deathless flowers. - -We do not even know when or where or how she died, though epitaphs in -the strain of these flattering and prosaic lines are numerous. - -If her personality is veiled to us, still less do we know what manner -of woman she was. The Attic comedians said unpleasant things about -her a century after she died, and no one lived who could dispute -them. Unfortunately, no infallible certificate of character can be -found to protect a name that has been only a historic memory two or -three thousand years. It is certain, however, that Æolian women had -an honored place in society and literature. They formed a center of -intellectual light in which the brilliant Sappho reigned supreme, and -it was no unusual thing to see them at banquets and festivals with -men. A well-born Athenian woman would have lost the rather illusory -privileges of her position by such freedom. She was decorously ignorant -and stayed at home. It was a foregone conclusion in Athens that a woman -who was educated and a poet could not be respectable, and if the facts -were against this conclusion, so much the worse for the facts. - -Hence it was quite natural that Sappho, who did not go into seclusion -or hide her light, should be decried by the satirists who had never -seen her. A hundred years had sufficed to dim the incidents of her -life, and left them free to invent any romance they chose. Her supposed -love-affairs were a fruitful theme. That men died before she was born, -or were born after she died, were impertinent details which were not -held to interfere in the least with their tender relations toward her. -It is true that she wrote with a pen dipped in fire, but poems and -tales of passion are not held even to-day as evidence against the fair -fame of the author, whatever might be thought of her good taste. The -Greek standards of morality were, at best, far from ours, and the frank -naturalism of that age would be likely to shock our sense of decorum. -But there is no indication that Sappho fell below these standards, and -there is much to show that she rose above them. “I love delicacy,” she -writes, “and for me love has the sun’s splendor and beauty.” Alcæus, -her fellow-poet and rival, addresses her as “pure, sweetly smiling -Sappho.” When he grows too ardent in his love, she rebukes him with -gentle dignity: “Hadst thou felt desire for things good or noble, and -had not thy tongue framed some evil speech, shame had not filled thine -eyes, but thou hadst spoken honestly about it.” And why did she feel -her brother’s disgrace so keenly if her own life was open to reproach? - -We gather from herself that she was simple, amiable, and sunny, -with a Greek love of life and all that pertains to it. “I am not of -revengeful temper,” she says, “but have a childlike mind.” To this -naïve confession she adds a choice bit of wisdom: “When anger spreads -through the breast, guard thy tongue from barking idly.” She tells her -daughter not to mourn for her, as “a poet’s home is not a fit place -for lamentation.” In the spirit of her age and race, she insists that -“death is an evil; the gods have so judged; had it been good, they -would die.” - -Whatever her character and personal history may have been, we know that -she wrote perfect lyrics with the spark of immortality in them, and -gathered about her in the sunny island of Lesbos a circle of educated -women who devoted themselves to the study of music, poetry, and the -arts of refined living. Her genius has been recognized by poets, -philosophers, and critics, as well as by simpler people who felt in her -verse the “touch of nature” that “makes the whole world kin.” She was -the “divine Muse” of Plato, and shared the lyric throne with Pindar. -Aristotle quoted her, and the austere Solon was so charmed with one -of her odes that he said he could not die until he had learned it. -Strabo writes that “at no period on record has any woman been known who -compared with her in the least degree as a poet.” Horace and Catullus -imitated her, Ovid paraphrased her, but no one has caught the essence -of her fiery spirit. Plutarch likens her to the “heart of a volcano.” -Longinus called her celebrated ode, “not a passion, but a congress of -passions.” Modern men have tried to put her golden-winged, fire-tipped -words into another tongue, and turned with despair from the task. It is -like trying to seize the light that blazes in the heart of the diamond, -or the fiery tints that hide in the opal. Perhaps Swinburne has best -caught the spirit and the music of - - Songs that move the heart of the shaken heaven, - Songs that break the heart of the earth with pity. - -But even this exquisite artist in words says: “Where Catullus failed I -could not hope to succeed.” - -There were nine volumes of her works in the days of Horace. To-day -scarcely more than two hundred lines survive. Besides the two immortal -odes, we have only fragments, gems scattered here and there through the -writers of antiquity. To the everlasting discredit of an ignorant and -fanatical age, the fathers denounced her, and the Byzantine emperors -or the ascetic monks of a later time burned these so-called relics of -paganism, to supply their place with books of devotion and lives of the -saints. When the Hellenic spirit woke again, after a sleep of more than -a thousand years, it was too late. These poems had perished with many -monumental works of the intellect, and scholars thought their lives -well spent if they found a line or two from the lost treasures. - -But what was the life from which Sappho sprang, that she could reach -the topmost bough of fame at a single flight? The lucid note, the -tropical passion, the musical flow--these nature might give; but where -did she learn the fine sense of proportion, the perfection of metrical -form, the mastery of the secrets of language, which placed her at the -head of the lyric poets of Greece? The voices which might have told us -are silent. Sparta was making heroic men and women, not literature. -Athens was struggling through her stormy youth, and pluming her wings -for the highest flight of all. The great Hebrew poetry was contemporary -with Sappho, but she shows no trace of its influence. If she ever saw -or heard it, her spirit was utterly alien to it. Still less had she -in common with the inspired woman who led the armies of Israel to -victory, six or seven centuries before, and chanted in stately measure -the immortal song of their triumphs. It may be noted here that it -was a woman who fired the hearts of these wandering people to brave -deeds, when men drew back, timid and disheartened; it was a woman who -went before them into battle; and it was a woman who broke into that -impassioned poem which has come down to us across the ages as one of -the great martial hymns of the world. But Deborah, the soldier, poet, -prophetess, judge, and minstrel, never walked in the flowery paths of -beauty and love. Her virile soul rose on the wings of a sublime faith, -far above the things of sense. Behind that chorus of joy and exultation -lay the long-baffled hopes, aspirations, and energies of an oppressed -people, but it celebrated the apotheosis of force. It was a barbaric -song, wild and revengeful even in its splendid imagery and patriotic -fervor. Miriam took her timbrel, and sang in the same strain of power -and majesty, inspired by the same soaring imagination. But we find -no touch of a woman’s pity or tenderness in these pæans of victory. -Their note is strong and exultant, alive with the lofty enthusiasm of -a religious race in which the passion for art and beauty was not yet -born. Sappho had caught nothing from these singers of an earlier time. -She does not live in the bracing air of great ideals, nor does she -dwell upon any vexed moral problems, after the manner of later poets. -She is simply human, and strikes a personal note, the charm of which is -unfailing, and will be fresh as long as flowers bloom, or men and women -live and love. - -This sweet-voiced singer seems to have risen full-fledged with the -dawn, and her notes were liquid and clear as the song of the lark that -soars out of the morning mists, and makes the sky vocal with melody. -The freshness of the woods and the wild freedom of the air are in -them. She loves the flowers, the running streams, the silver moon, -the “golden-sandaled dawn,” the “dear, glad angel of the spring, the -nightingale.” Hesperus, fairest of stars, “brings all that bright -morning scattered,” and smiles on “dark-eyed sleep, child of night.” -Again she says, “The stars about the fair moon hide their bright faces -when she lights up all the earth with silver.” Was it the music of -her voice that the doves heard “when their hearts turned cold and they -dropped their wings”? She sings the praise of the purple hyacinth, the -blushing apple-blossom, and the pale Lesbian rose, which she loves -best of all. Dica is bidden to twine wreaths, “for even the blessed -Graces look kindlier on a flowery sacrifice, and turn their faces -from those who lack garlands.” In the garden of the nymphs, “the cool -water gurgles through apple-boughs, and slumber streams from quivering -leaves.” To this passionate love of nature, so vividly told in rare and -exquisite figures and in phrases “shot with a thousand hues,” she adds -a sensibility that responds to every breath that passes. “I flutter -like a child after her mother,” is her cry. She likens a bird to a -flower that grows in a garden and has nothing to fear from the storms. -A woman alone is like a wild flower which no one takes care of. She -touches every phase of love from the divine tenderness of girlhood to -the wild passion that shakes the soul, “a wind on the mountains falling -on oaks.” Her words flash and burn with the heart-consuming fire of -her race. The lines in which she entreats the “star-throned Aphrodite” -to have pity on her anguish, glow with a white heat. The swift-winged -doves had brought the fickle goddess once before to soothe her pain -with sweet promises and an immortal smile. Will she not come again and -lift the ache from her tortured soul, and give her what she asks? - -The intensity of passion reaches its climax in the ode to Anactoria. -Simple as it is, the vocabulary of “bitter-sweet” emotion is exhausted. -In her most impassioned verses, our own Mrs. Browning does not quite -forget to reflect about her love. She sets it forth in subtly woven -thoughts, and lets it filter through her mind until it takes the -color of it. Sappho sings of passion pure and artless. She does not -think about it, she does not analyze it. It possesses her heart -and imagination, and she tells it so simply, so sincerely, and so -truly, that the familiar story never loses its charm. She sang in the -childhood of the world, when people felt more than they thought, when -love was a sensation, a joy, a passion, a pain, not a sentiment. If she -did not spiritualize her theme, she purified it of the coarseness which -made the love-songs of men, before and afterward, unfit for a delicate -ear. This first touch of a woman in literature was to refine it, though -it was many centuries before she had the power to lead men to take love -from the exclusive domain of the senses and give it a soul. - - -II - -But it is not alone as a singer that Sappho has come down to us. She -was the leader of an intellectual movement among women that was -without a parallel in classic times. We may greet her as not only the -first of woman poets, but as the founder of the first “woman’s club” -known to us. It is not certain that it had either a constitution or -by-laws, and it discussed poetry and esthetics instead of science and -social economics. But the measure of the intellect is not so much what -we discuss as the quality of thought we bring into the discussion. It -is easy enough to talk platitudes about literature or philosophy, and -not so easy as one might imagine to talk wisely and well about poetry, -or manners, or the art of living; and it is easier to do any of these -things than it is to write what is worth talking about. The women who -came to Sappho from the isles of the Ægean and the far hills of Greece -seem to have been more intent upon writing poems than talking about -them. There is no trace of brilliant conversation, or critical papers, -or gathered sheaves of the knowledge that comes so freely under our own -hand. Unfortunately, there was no secretary in this primitive club to -take notes for posterity, or, if there was, the records have been lost. -We know little of its sayings, though there are scattered traces of its -doings. A few faint echoes have come to us across the centuries,--a -verse, a line, a trait, a word, a heart-cry,--and that is all. Even -these give us glimpses of its personal rather than of its intellectual -side. Of the quality of its work we cannot judge, as there is little -of it left. That it was thought worthy of praise in its day, with -Sappho as a standard, proves at least a high degree of merit. She was -musician as well as poet, and trained many of the maidens for singing -in sacred festivals, as well as in the arts of poetry and manners. -When they married, she wrote their bridal odes. These she sang with -the lyre, and one of her minor claims to fame was her invention of the -plectrum, which brought out the full resources of this instrument. -For Timas, who died unmarried, she wrote a touching elegy, which was -sung at her tomb by the maidens, who cut off their curls as a token of -sorrow. - -The most gifted of Sappho’s friends was Erinna, who died at nineteen, -leaving among other things a poem of three hundred verses, which was -said to deserve a place beside the epics of Homer. She sang of the -sorrows of a maiden whose mother compelled her to spin when she wished -to serve the Muses. There is also a tradition that she wrote an epitaph -for a companion of “birth and lineage high,” who died on her wedding -day, and “changed bridal songs to sound of sob and tear.” She was -thought to surpass her teacher in hexameters. Sappho reproved her for -being so scornful, and this is all the trait we have of this precocious -child of genius, who preferred poetry to spinning. Her own epitaph -speaks for itself: - - These are Erinna’s songs; how sweet, though slight! - For she was but a girl of nineteen years. - Yet stronger far than what most men can write: - Had death delayed, whose fame had equaled hers? - -The only thing about Andromeda of which we are sure is that she dressed -badly. “What woman ever charmed thy mind who wore a graceless dress, or -did not know how to draw her garments about her ankles?” says Sappho -to this formidable rival who stole away from her the fickle heart of -Atthis. Of the brilliant Gorgo she grew tired. It is supposed that -these two were at the head of other clubs or schools. Damophyla wrote a -hymn to Artemis, the patron goddess of pure-souled maidens, which was -modeled after Sappho and had great praise in its day, but no fragment -of it is left. - -“The fair-haired Lesbian,” so famed as the poet of nature and passion, -was not without a wise philosophy of life, and she assumes the rôle -of mentor with pitiless candor. “He who is fair to look upon is -good, and he who is good will soon be fair,” is her motto; but she -tells Mnasidica that her “gloomy temper spoils her, though she has a -more beautiful form than the tender Gyrinna.” Her house is devoted -to the service of the Muses and must be cheerful, but she shuts out -of an honorable immortality those who prefer worldly fortune to the -pleasures of the intellect. To a rich woman without education she -says: “Where thou diest there wilt thou lie, and no one will remember -thy name in times to come, because thou hast no share in the roses of -Pieria. Inglorious wilt thou wander about in Hades and flit among its -dark shades.” She does not forget the finer graces of character, and -evidently realizes the insidious fascination of material things. A -moralist of to-day might be expected to tell us that “wealth without -virtue is a dangerous guest,” but we are not apt to credit the gifted -singers of the ancient world with so much ethical insight, least of all -the women of a sensuous and passionate race, which loved before all -things beauty and the pleasures of life. - -These few touches of wisdom, satire, and criticism, relieved by the -love of Sappho for the friends and pupils to whom she is a model, an -adviser, and an inspiration, throw a passing side-light on a group -of clever women who flit like phantoms across the pages of history, -most of them names and nothing more. They are of interest in showing -us that the women of ages ago had the same aspirations that we have -to-day, together with the same faults, the same virtues, and the same -griefs, though they had not learned to moralize their sensations or -intellectualize their passions. They show us, too, another phase of -the elusive being who dazzled the world in its youth, leaving a few -records traced in flame, and charged with an ever-baffling secret for -all coming generations. - -“Men, I think, will remember us hereafter,” she says with subtle -foresight, a line that Swinburne has so gracefully expanded in words -taken in part from her own lips: - - I, Sappho, shall be one with all these things, - With all high things forever; and my face - Seen once, my songs once heard in a strange place, - Cleave to men’s lives, and waste the days thereof - With gladness and much sadness and long love. - - -III - -The little coterie that wrote and talked and worked in the direction -of finer ideals of life and manners, under the influence of the first -woman poet of the world, has made the island of Lesbos, with its -varying charm of sea and sky, and beautiful gardens, and singing birds, -and sparkling fountains, and white cliffs outlined like sculpture in -the crystalline air, luminous for all time. Of its four more or less -famous poets, three were women, but Sappho has overshadowed all the -rest. The very atmosphere woke the imagination, and made their hearts -sing aloud with love and joy, varied by an occasional note of sorrow -and pain. They came from all lands, these gifted maidens, to sit at the -feet of Sappho, and to carry back to their distant homes the spirit of -poesy and song which inspired so many Hellenic women to brave deeds -as well as to tender and heroic words. But the passion of southern -seas became a religious enthusiasm in the sheltered and somber plains -of Bœotia, where the lives of women had been so bare and hard, and -Hesiod with his fellow-poets had given them such cold consolation. The -songs of love were turned to processional hymns chanted by white-robed -virgins as they brought offerings to the shrines of their gods. - -It may have been the fame of Sappho that fired the genius of Myrtis -and Corinna. Possibly some dark-eyed maiden had come back from Lesbos -to spread the cult of knowledge and beauty, to found other esthetic -clubs which should give a new impulse to women’s lives. But when we try -to give a living form to these famous poets, we grasp at shadows. We -simply know that they lived and sang and had their little day of glory, -with grand tombs at the end, and statues in various parts of Greece. -They were teachers of Pindar, and Corinna is said to have defeated him -five times in poetic contests at Thebes. Several centuries later there -was still at Tanagra a picture representing her in the act of binding a -fillet about her beautiful head, probably in token of these victories. -Five crowns on her tomb also told the story. She was the friend and -critic of the great lyric poet, but he said some unkind things of his -successful rival, and insisted that the prize was due to her beauty -rather than her genius. In spite of this, he went to her for counsel. -She had advised him to use the Greek myths in his poems, and he did -it so lavishly that she wittily told him to “sow with the hand and not -pour out of a sack.” She was not quite generous, however, to her other -friend, who also won a prize in the same manner. She says, “I blame -the clear-toned Myrtis that she, a woman born, should enter the lists -with Pindar.” Why it was not proper for a sister poet who had taught -both of them to do what she did herself, is not clear. She was called -the first of the nine lyrical muses, who were the earthly counterparts -of the “celestial nine.” Myrtis was another. As the immortal Maids -who dwelt on the slopes of Helicon were apt to visit their rivals -with summary vengeance of much more serious character, perhaps their -mortal representatives ought to be forgiven for a shade of jealousy so -delicately implied. - -Corinna left five books of poems, but small trace of them remains. Many -of her verses were sung by maidens at religious festivals. Her modest -niche in the temple of fame she owes mainly to her victories over -Pindar, though she was second only to Sappho. Why her work, which was -crowned with so many laurels, has not lived beside his, is one of the -mysteries of buried ages. Perhaps it was because she made use of purely -local legends and the local dialect, to which many thought she owed her -success in her own day. - -This wave of feminine genius that passed over the hills and valleys of -Greece spent itself in little more than a century on Doric soil. The -last of the lyrical muses were Praxilla and Telesilla. We have a faint -glimpse of the first at Sicyon, where she lived, and ancient critics -gave her a place by the side of Anacreon. She drew her inspiration -largely from mythology, and sang successfully on that favorite theme -of poetic maidens, the death of Adonis. In the most critical age of -Greece she was honored with a statue by Lysippus, which may be taken as -sufficient proof that she was much more than a writer of sentimental -verses. - -More noted was Telesilla, the poet and heroine of Argos, an antique -Joan of Arc, whose exaltation took a poetic form instead of a religious -one. A curious little story, mythical or otherwise, is related of -her. She was very ill and consulted the oracle, which told her to -devote herself to the Muses. This species of mind-cure proved more -effective than medicine, and she recovered under the magic of music -and poetry. But she had the spirit of an Amazon as well as the genius -of a poet. At a crisis in the war with Sparta, she armed the women, -and manned the walls with slaves too young or too old to fight. The -Spartans thought it discreditable to kill the women, and disgraceful -to be beaten by them, so they retreated. The event was commemorated -by an annual festival at which men appeared in feminine attire. Many -centuries afterward a statue of Telesilla was still standing on a -pillar in front of the temple of Aphrodite at Argos. She held in her -hand a helmet which she was about to put on her head, and several -volumes of poetry were lying at her feet. Among her themes were the -fated daughters of the weeping Niobe; she also wrote famous hymns to -Artemis and Apollo. In spite of her allegiance to the Muses, she was -more conspicuous for her service to Ares, who was henceforth worshiped -at Argos as the patron deity of women. - -The poetry of the Æolians was largely inspired by love, or a religion -of beauty. But the Doric genius was not a lyrical one, and the -passionate personal note which made the charm of Sappho and her -contemporaries was lost in stirring martial strains. Women ceased to -write or to be known at all in literature until a later time, when they -dipped into philosophy a little, especially in the Dorian colonies, -where they were educated and held in great consideration. Pythagoras -had many feminine followers, and his school at Crotona was continued -after his death by his wife Theano and a daughter who had assisted him. -But most of them live, if at all, only as names, or in the reflected -light of famous men whose disciples they were. - - -IV - -At no other time in the history of the world has the poetry of women -reached the height or the honor it attained in this first flowering of -their intellect and imagination. One may doubtless take with a shade of -reservation the “female Homers,” like Anyta, of whom we have only a few -epigrams, but there is a dim and rather vague tradition of seventy-six -women poets in a scattered and by no means large population. In the -revival of poetry during the Renaissance, there were about sixty, -and none of them had the same quality of perfection which we find -in Sappho. No one claims that we have equaled her to-day on her own -ground, however superior our achievements may be in other directions. - -That the Æolian women did so much with so little, and in spite of their -limited advantages, is the best proof of their inborn gifts. Mediocre -talents do not thrive in so adverse a soil, though this outburst of -mental vigor belongs to a time when women had a degree of freedom and -honor which for some reason they lost in the golden age of Athens. -But the books they wrote were not printed, the manuscript copies were -limited, most of them were lost with other classic works, and the few -that escaped the pitiless fingers of time were destroyed by fanatics -and iconoclasts. Yet one woman shines across twenty-five centuries as a -star of the first magnitude, and we have fading glimpses of others who -received honors due only to genius, or to talent of the first order. -They were not judged apart as women, for they have come down to us as -peers of great men. The divine gift of genius was rare then, as now -and always, but even in women it did not lack recognition. To prove -the gift and exact the homage, perhaps in any age, we have simply to -show the fruit, except in a decadence, when the finest fruit loses its -savor for corrupted tastes. If the number who wrote for immortality was -small, it must be remembered that probably there were not enough people -in all Greece to make a good-sized modern city. - -The statues that were reared to these women have long since vanished -from the classic hills they graced, and their voices are heard only -in the faintest of musical echoes. Most of them have fallen into -eternal silence. That there were many others devoted to things of -the intellect, but unknown to fame, it is fair to presume, as we see -only those who look back upon us from the shining peaks of that far -past, while the dark waters of oblivion have settled over the possible -treasures of its sunny slopes and fragrant valleys. How many of our -own women, with their myriads of books, lectures, and clubs, their -university courses, their versatile intellects, and their unlimited -freedom, are likely to be quoted two or three thousand years hence, and -set in the firmament to live forever? - -To be sure, we stand upon a higher moral and social level, we have -more knowledge, our field of action is broader, our ideals of virtue -are higher, and we have privileges and pleasures of which they never -dreamed. It is quite impossible to put ourselves on the simple plane of -these women. The world has grown old and sophisticated; we have learned -to classify ourselves, to choose our fields of knowledge, to consecrate -our talents to what we call larger uses. Perhaps we never again can -reach the lyrical heights of these children of passion, imagination, -and song. Our triumphs are of another sort. But whatever intellectual -distinctions we may attain, it is to this youth of the world that we -must look for the apotheosis of love and beauty. - -It is needless to ask why we can point to no second Sappho. There is -but one Parthenon. Broken and crumbling, it stands in its white majesty -forever alone. The Hellenic spirit is as dead as the gods of Olympus. - - - - -GLIMPSES OF THE SPARTAN WOMAN - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · Homeric and Spartan Types Compared · - · Training of the Spartan Woman · - · Her Education Superior to that of Men · - · Her Executive Talent · - · Her Heroism · - · Agesistrata Cratesiclea Chelonis · - · The Puritans of the Classic World · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -The strength and vigor of the Homeric types reappear in the Spartan -woman, but without their sweetness and charm. Was this charm the subtle -touch of the poet’s imagination, or was it due in part to the setting -that brought into relief their most lovable qualities? Their central -point of character was a domestic one, and round this clustered all the -gentler virtues. The central trait of the Spartan woman was patriotism, -and to this even the tenderest affections were subordinate. The colder -light of history shows them in outlines that are hard and stern. The -fine symmetry of an ideal womanhood was lost in the excess of a single -virtue that overshadowed all the others. Some one tells a mother who is -waiting for tidings of a battle that her five sons have perished. “You -contemptible slave,” she replies, “that is not what I wish to know. -How fares my country?” On learning that it was victorious, she says, -“Willingly then do I hear of the death of my sons.” “A glorious fate!” -exclaims another, to a friend who offered her sympathy for the loss of -her boy in war. “Did I not bear him that he might die for Sparta?” Here -lay the first and last duty of these women. Natural affection, private -interest, inclination, everything we deem sacred, even to life, was -at the bidding of the State, which strangled itself and its citizens -with petty tyrannies in the name of liberty. They were dedicated to the -State, ordered to rear men for the State, sacrificed to the State. This -destiny they accepted without a murmur, finding in it their glory and -their pride. - -Even as children the Spartan women caught the spirit of civic devotion, -which was to be the dominant one in their lives. An anecdote in point -is told of the little Gorgo, who was afterward the wife of the brave -Leonidas. When a child of eight years, she happened to be in the room -one day while a messenger was trying to bribe her father to aid the -Persians. He offered ten talents at first, and gradually raised the -sum until the child, suspecting danger, said: “Go away, father; this -stranger will corrupt you.” It is pleasant to record that her advice -was laughingly taken. When she was grown to womanhood, she rendered -great service to her country, and proved her own sagacity, by finding -a message of vital concern so concealed in a wax tablet that no one had -suspected it. “You Lacedæmonians are the only women in the world to -rule men,” said a foreigner to her. “We are the only women who bring -forth men,” was the ready reply. When her distinguished husband went -away to his last battle, with forebodings of his fate, he could find -no better parting words than these: “Marry nobly and bear brave sons.” -We might regard the consolation as questionable, but it shows the -inexorable tyranny of a single idea. - -It was from Sparta that the beautiful Helen sailed away on that fateful -day which changed the face of the primitive world, and the tradition -of her loveliness was not lost. The Spartan women were still noted for -beauty of a healthy, vigorous, luxuriant sort, but it seems to have -lacked the distinctly feminine and magical quality that raised Helen to -the ranks of the goddesses. They were of firmer mold and less sensuous -type. Aphrodite fared badly among the sturdy people in the valley of -the Eurotas. She had but one temple, and even there she sat armed with -a sword and veiled, with ignominious fetters on her feet. Artemis, -active, fleet of foot, and strong, held the place of honor. Delicacy -and tenderness were marks of inferiority which Spartan training tended -to efface. These brave, decided, clear-headed, and efficient women had -abundant heroism, but little of the warm, sympathetic temperament which -we call womanly and they called weak. This goes far to prove that, -within certain limits, the accepted standard of what is womanly, and -what is not, depends largely upon custom, or fashion, or expediency, -and suggests some unpleasant possibilities if the race of women should -be fully educated to the hard uses and material ideals of a purely -industrial or commercial life, as outlined in the brains of many -modern social reformers. Such uses may be a present necessity rather -than a choice, but whether the gain in strength and independence will -compensate for the inevitable loss of many gentler qualities is one of -the problems for the future to solve. In any case, the old theory of a -divine law that has fixed the nature as well as the status of women in -the economy of creation, is likely to be seriously disturbed, as it was -in the Sparta of old. In the martial chorus that called itself the song -of liberty, the musical, love-inspired voices of women were lost. It -celebrated the apotheosis of force, which has always been fatal to the -finer and more spiritual gifts of the less militant sex. But for once -it served them indirectly a good turn, in spite of certain hardening -effects upon the character and manners. This is quite evident when we -compare the Doric woman with the secluded Athenian of softer ways but -with no outlet for her intelligence, and apparently no influence. - -Fortunately the supreme aim of the founders of Sparta was one which -they were wise enough to know could not be attained without a larger -freedom and development for women. It was a one-sided training that -was given them, and the freedom was not altogether satisfactory from -our point of view, if indeed we should call it freedom at all. But as -an important factor in the State they were duly honored. It was an -accepted theory that brave and vigorous men must spring from brave and -vigorous women, so the aim of all their discipline was to make strong -and healthy mothers. No delicate girl was allowed to marry, for the -same reason that no sickly child was allowed to live. To insure the -vitality of the race and the consequent glory of the State, girls were -trained with boys in athletic exercises. They ran, wrestled, and boxed -with them in public,--sometimes with no veil but their modesty,--danced -with them at festivals, and marched freely with them in religious -processions. All this naturally gave them masculine manners, and -inevitably led to a spirit of independence and a virile character. The -more refined Athenians criticized them and looked upon them much as the -conventional Parisian of to-day, who will not send a daughter across -the street without a chaperon, looks upon the irrepressible American -girl of the frontier. Contrary also to the usual fashion, it was the -maidens who had the privilege of living in the public view. They did -not even veil their faces, as the married women did. - -With all their mannish tendencies, the Spartan women are said to have -been noted for purity of character. It is safe perhaps to take with -a degree of reservation the assertion that immorality according to -their standards was practically unknown. We might at least justly find -fault with the standards, and object to the material view taken of -relations which we are in the habit of investing with a delicate halo -of romance. It was an affair of the State, however, rather than of the -individual, and it is a nice point to decide as to the morality of -women who accepted from necessity certain prescribed modes of living -in which they had no choice. So peculiar were the general notions of -decorum that it was considered disgraceful for a bridegroom to be -seen in the company of his wife; yet he could exchange her at will -or at the command of the rulers, and jealousy was laughed at as a -“vain and womanish passion.” But it was the pride of the Spartans -that no invasion of the sanctity of the home was ever heard of! They -excused themselves for what we should call moral delinquencies of the -worst sort--if indeed they thought any excuse needed, which is not -probable--by the convenient maxim that the end justifies the means. The -interests of the State were above any moral law whatever. No doubt the -arbitrary manner in which women were often disposed of for the public -good, or at the caprice of their lords, seemed to them a better sort of -fate than living in seclusion, as their Attic sisters did, under the -roof of a man who gave them no liberty, and no society, not even his -own. They certainly were not troubled with an excess of sentiment; but -marriages were, on the whole, happy, and love was often a factor in -them, which was rarely the case among their more civilized neighbors. -It was not in the nature of these practical people to look at things -from an esthetic point of view. Their notions were confessedly -utilitarian. To-day we should call many of them scientific. Happily, -modern science has not yet meddled quite so far with the rights of the -individual, though clearly headed in that direction. - -If the Spartan woman did not relish such cavalier treatment, she had -the small comfort of knowing that men were not free themselves, and -that really, on the whole, she had the best of it. “The door of his -court is the boundary of every man’s freedom,” was a Lacedæmonian -maxim. Outside of it, all of his movements were controlled by the -State. In this paradise of socialism, he was punished for not marrying, -for waiting too long, and for marrying the wrong woman, that is, one -who was too old, or too young, or too rich, or too far above or below -him in station. Archidamus, one of their rulers, was fined for marrying -a little woman, because she would “bring them a race of pygmies -instead of kings.” There were special penalties for those who sought -money instead of merit and suitability. The fortune-hunter fared badly -in Sparta. We have grown civilized and changed all that. A man suffered -his penalty for remaining single, even if he were a coward whom no one -was permitted to marry, which seems doubly hard. The poor bachelors -who would not or could not take a wife, were stripped and marched in a -procession about the market-place on a cold day once a year, as a fit -target for ridicule and contempt, not to say more tangible missiles. -If any woman had a private grudge, she might vent it with impunity, -even to blows, while the unfortunate victim was forced to chant his -own miserere. Maiden ladies of mature age were rare among the hills of -Lacedæmon. - -Notwithstanding the low ideals which would seem to have reduced the -women of Sparta to the position of useful animals, valued solely for -their physical vigor and fitness to be mothers of a hardy race, they -evidently constituted a leisure class which had a monopoly of whatever -learning and refinement were to be found there. They lived in such -comfort as they could command, while their husbands slept on cold beds -of reeds, dined on black bread and coarse rations at the public table, -and practised every form of asceticism to fit themselves for war. -Their sons were taken from them at seven, to be put under the training -of men and subjected to the same stern discipline. The spinning, -weaving, and other work of the family was given to slaves, so that -the privileges of luxury and idleness fell to the women alone. They -came and went as they chose, and were even thought to have intellects -worth cultivating. Men looked upon literary and artistic pursuits as -effeminate. A Spartan king replied to some one who brought to his -notice the greatest musician of his time, by pointing to his cook -as the best maker of black broth. This social Utopia in which the -individual was lost in the mass, and no one could safely be superior to -his neighbor, was the blessed haven of mediocrity and what we should -call indolence. War was the only honorable business; even trade and -the mechanic arts were left to slaves. A Spartan visiting Athens was -much disturbed on hearing that a man had been fined for idleness, and -naïvely asked to see one who was punished for keeping up his dignity. -Life was materialized, and all fine ideals were destroyed save the -single one of national glory, for which they willingly stifled personal -feeling and personal talent. Things of the intellect and spirit were -quite ignored. - -But the Doric women had to some extent the tastes of the Æolians, -and were as a rule far better educated than their husbands. We hear -of clubs or associations of women for the cultivation of the mind, -and for teaching girls after the fashion of the time. In music -they excelled. Aristophanes introduces in “Lysistrata” choruses of -Spartan and Athenian maidens who sing in friendly rivalry. Many of -the _parthenia_, or processional hymns, were written by foreign -poets for these young girls, whose spiritual aspirations found vent in -that way. They did not give voice to personal emotions, but to great -religious or patriotic enthusiasms. - -Whatever education may have been given to women, it is not likely that -their intellectual standards were very broad or very high; at least, -we have no visible evidence of it, as we find no living trace of their -talents for some centuries after the brief poetic flowering that -followed Sappho, and even then not in Sparta. It was among the Dorians -of a later time, and mainly in the colonies, that the feminine taste -for literature revived, but it took a didactic or philosophical form, -and they wrote in prose. - -The talent of the Spartan women was largely executive, and they were -noted for judgment, as well as for heroism. As nurses they were in -great demand in other parts of Greece. A strong proof of their gifts -of administration is found in the fact that they had equal rights of -inheritance with men, and came in time to own two fifths of the land -and a large share of the personal property. This gave them a dignity -and influence not accorded to their sex elsewhere. Aristotle did not -like their freedom and power. He claimed that they ruled their husbands -too imperiously; also, that they were liable to be troublesome in times -of war, as it was impossible to bring them under military discipline. -If they ruled the rulers, he thought that the results would be the -same as if they ruled in their own right. Plutarch tells us that “the -Spartans listened to their wives, and women were permitted to meddle -more with public business than men with the domestic.” Again he says -that “women considered themselves absolute mistresses in their houses; -indeed, they wanted a share in affairs of State, and delivered their -opinions with great freedom concerning the most weighty matters.” But -freedom is relative, and a little of it goes a great way where there -has been, as a rule, none at all. It does not seem that any fears on -this subject were realized, as their influence, so far as we know, was -conservative, and they were subordinate in theory if not always in -fact. “When I was a girl I was taught to obey my father, and I obeyed -him,” said a woman, when asked to do something of doubtful propriety; -“and when I became a wife I obeyed my husband; if you have anything -just to urge, make it known to him first.” A clever if not very -chivalrous writer of the time says: “It becomes a man to talk much, and -a woman to rejoice in all she hears”--a comfortable arrangement for -dull husbands, who would be sure at least of an appreciative audience -at home. - -But we find instances of heroic devotion among these hardy women, -for which we look in vain among the ignorant and secluded wives of -Athens. It is a pity that Plutarch did not give some of them a distinct -place in his gallery of celebrities. He had a superior wife himself, -a well-bred woman of dignity, tenderness, great mental vigor, simple -taste, and distinguished virtues, who was above the vanities of her -time, and bore sorrow like a philosopher. He loved her devotedly, -praised her fortitude, and admired her strength. This perhaps accounts -for the fact that he was kindly disposed toward women in general, and -thought that their fame should be known, since love of glory was not -confined to one sex. But if he did not set them on a pinnacle of their -own, he has shown us by various anecdotes that they could counsel -like seers and die like heroes. In the decline of Sparta, when Agis -planned to restore the old simplicity it had lost with the coming of -luxury and foreign ways, he asked the aid of his mother, the brave -Agesistrata, a woman of great wealth and influence. She thought the -division of property he proposed neither wise nor practicable, and -advised him against it. But when she found his heart set upon it as a -means of winning glory, as well as bringing back the people to virtue -and simpler manners, she consented not only to give up her own great -fortune, but to induce others to join her. As the wealth of Sparta was -largely in the hands of women who were less disinterested and did not -care to lose either their luxuries or their power, this socialistic -movement failed, and its self-sacrificing leaders were put to death. -When Agesistrata was led into the prison to see her son, he lay -strangled before her. She tenderly placed her own dead mother by his -side, and baring her neck with calm dignity, said: “May this prove for -the good of Sparta.” - -In the second attempt to restore the prestige of the falling State, -Cratesiclea rivals the great heroines of the dramatists in her noble -self-surrender. Ptolemy demanded, as the price of his alliance, that -Cleomenes should send his mother and son to Egypt as hostages. When she -heard of it she smilingly said: “Was this the thing you have so long -hesitated to tell me? Send this body of mine at once where it will be -of the most use to Sparta, before age renders it good for nothing.” -She went without tears, saying that no one must see them weep. Finding -afterward that the king was hampered by the fear that some ill might -befall them, she sent him word to do what was best, and never mind what -became of an old woman and a little child. This enterprise, too, was a -futile one, but the women who had inspired men with their own courage -and devotion died as bravely as they had lived. It is a touching scene -where the young and beautiful wife of Panteus pays the last offices to -her dead friends, then, folding her robe modestly about her, tranquilly -tells the executioner to do his work. - -“In women too there lives the strength of battle,” says Sophocles, and -nowhere could he have found such heroic examples as among the rugged -hills of Sparta. Out of such material, Antigones and Iphigenias are -created. - -Beneath a discipline of the affections so severe that it seems as -if they must have been crushed altogether, we sometimes fall upon -unsuspected depths of tenderness. Chelonis left her husband in his -day of power, to care for her father, who had been deposed and was -in disgrace and need. When the political tables were turned, and her -father was again on the throne, she pleaded with eloquence and tears -for her husband’s life. Her wise and tactful words saved him, but he -was exiled. She was urged by her family to stay and enjoy the fruits of -their victory, but, turning sorrowfully away, she took her children, -kissed the altar where they had found a sanctuary, and went out with -her disgraced husband to poverty and obscurity. - -We cannot measure these Spartan women by the standards of to-day. They -did not belong to the age of university courses, society functions, -and Christian ideals. Love as we understand it played a small part in -their lives, and of romance there is little trace, though examples of -conjugal affection are not rare. Of what we call learning they probably -had very little, and of esthetic taste still less, but of clear -judgment, solid character, and fearless courage, they had a great deal. -They were trained as companions and helpers of men, not as their toys, -though they were always subject to them. It was a simple life they -led--a life with few graces and few of our complexities. They were the -Puritans of the classic world, without the Puritan conscience or moral -sense, but with more than Puritan courage and fortitude. - - - - -THE ATHENIAN WOMAN, ASPASIA, AND THE FIRST SALON - - · Vassalage of the Athenian Woman · - · Her Ignorance and Seclusion · - · Religious Festivals · The Hetæræ · - · Aspasia · Her Position · Her Gifts · - · Tribute of Socrates · - · Devotion of Pericles · - · The First Salon · Opinions of the Philosophers · - · Woman’s Inferior Position a Cause of Athenian Decline · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -The Athenians agreed with the opinion ascribed to Pericles that “the -best wife is the one of whom the least is said either of good or -evil.” But this wise statesman does not seem to have found his theory -agreeable in practice, as he sent away his own wife, who was quite -innocent even of local fame, to put in her place the cleverest and most -talked of woman of her time. She accepted the inevitable with becoming -philosophy, if not gratefully, and it must be said to his credit that -he was kind enough to help her to another husband. But what became of -his theory? One is tempted to think that Thucydides, who put these -words into his mouth, was speaking largely for himself, as it is clear -that he thought women too unimportant, if not too precious, to be -talked about; else why did the great historian so utterly ignore them? - -It is a significant fact which upsets many pleasant little theories -about the superior justice of a democracy, that women who shared the -power and glory of their husbands in the heroic age,--even if they -had little of their own,--and preserved a measure of influence under -the rule of kings in historic times, lost their honored position in -republican Athens. In a rule of the people they had no longer the -prestige of an aristocracy, and they did not count politically. As they -held no recognized place of honor, and it was not respectable to shine -by their talents, they had no apparent claim to consideration. They -might stand on a pedestal to add to the glory of men, they might grace -a hereditary throne for the honor of a family, but it never occurred to -the classic world that woman sprang, as the witty Frenchman said, “from -the side of Adam, and not from his feet.” - -To all intents and purposes, the Attic women were slaves, with no -rights and few privileges. We do not know much about them directly, as -they left no record of themselves, and very little was written of them -except by the satirists, who are always ready to distort the truth in -order to “point a moral or adorn a tale.” Historians were strangely -silent regarding them; unless of royal lineage, women were too -insignificant. It is difficult, in the face of the few facts we know, -to credit the brilliant Athenians with any chivalry. We must either -suppose that the poets were a sour and disappointed race, or that they -reflected the spirit of their time. Apart from the few great ideals -that lived in the imaginations of men, everything that has come down to -us shows the light estimate in which women were held. They were a lower -order of beings, and anything done by their advice was invalid. “Women -are an evil,” says the comedian, “and yet, my countrymen, one cannot -set up a house without evil; for to be married or not to be married is -alike bad.” This arrogant and contemptuous tone runs through the Attic -literature, as I have shown more fully elsewhere. - -From the vague and shadowy outlines of a life that was practically -shut out from the light of day twenty-five centuries ago, we cannot -gather with certainty even the moral and domestic value of women who -were treated with lofty disdain by poets, satirists, and historians -alike. But we do know that intellectually they counted for nothing, -within the pale of orthodox society. At a period when the central idea -was culture, when art was at its zenith, and there were giants in -literature, the wives and daughters of men noted before all things for -brilliancy and _esprit_ had fallen into hopeless ignorance and -vassalage. They lacked even the companionship and the small diversions -of the Oriental harem, where the inmates, though they had only a -small fraction of a husband, could break the monotony by gossiping -or quarreling with the other wives. The women of the better class at -Athens had special apartments, usually in the upper story, so that they -could not go out without being seen. Men went to market themselves -or sent their slaves. We learn from Aristophanes that they often put -their wives under lock and key, with a seal when they went away, also -that they kept Molossian hounds to frighten away possible lovers. A -woman addressed her husband as “master,” was always a minor, and could -transact no business on her own account, which even Plato thought -unjust. If he died she was not his heir, but the ward of her son or -of some male relative. In her marriage she was not consulted, and she -was never supposed to know any man but the one chosen for her. Solon, -who wished to prevent mercenary marriages, decreed that no dowries -should be given, and that the bride could have only three suits of -clothes; later, unions were arranged by the families, on a basis of -equal fortunes. Infidelity on the part of the husband was no ground -of complaint. As wives were so closely guarded there does not seem to -have been much danger of indiscretions, but they were sent away on the -slightest suspicion, and their punishments were carried to the utmost -refinement of cruelty. In spite of this surveillance, possibly because -of it, sins against morality were more frequent than in Sparta. - -After the age of sixty, women were permitted to go to funerals outside -of their families, if they would not mourn too violently. These -occasions must have been rather welcome than otherwise, as Greek -funerals were not hopelessly solemn affairs, except to the immediate -family. Brides had the special privilege of sitting at table at their -own wedding banquets, to which only relatives or very near friends -were asked. The amusements of women seem to have consisted largely in -looking out of the window and making their toilets. If they went to the -theater at all, they were limited to tragedy and had to take back seats. - -We have an account of one model husband who is not content that his -young wife should simply know how to spin, weave, and direct her maids, -so he tries to educate her. She is only fifteen, and he says that she -has lived under the strictest restraint so that she might “see as -little, hear as little, and ask as few questions as possible.” When -he has her properly domesticated so that she dares to speak in his -presence, he explains their mutual responsibilities in terms that must -have mystified this child of nature a little, tells her to do well -what the gods have suited to her and men approve, to use no cosmetics -or aids to beauty, and to knead bread or fold linen for exercise, -since she must not walk out. The main thing he dwells upon is the -necessity of looking closely after their common fortunes; but she has -also to take care of the children, and nurse the slaves when they -are ill. He kindly admits that if she is superior to him she will be -mistress,--taking good care, however, that such an unfortunate state -of affairs shall not exist so far as education is concerned,--and -assures her that the better she serves the interests of his family -and household, the more she will be honored. This is all very well -so far as it goes, and we may readily admit that it is of more vital -importance to administer the affairs of one’s family with judgment and -dignity than to talk about art or read Homer. But the docile wife had -a housekeeper as well as plenty of slaves, and, naturally, abundant -leisure. It certainly implied a degree of what Socrates called “manly -understanding” on her part, to follow her husband’s abstruse reasoning -on the duties of women, and his minute instructions for carrying them -out; yet this wise representative of the most civilized race the world -has known never so much as hints that she has an intellect. - -Socrates listens with great interest to this advanced theory of -wife-training as it is unfolded to him, and sagely remarks that the -husband is responsible for her errors if he does not properly teach -her. It seems that he did not try the system on Xanthippe, or if he -did it was a dismal failure, as the much-abused woman is never quoted -as a model or a saint, and we do not hear that he taxed himself with -her shortcomings. He said that he married her for the excitement of -conquest--the same motive that leads a man to try his power over a -high-spirited horse; also as a discipline, because he was sure that he -could endure every one else if he could endure her. It would be curious -to know what she thought about it, but one cannot help suspecting that -she had the lion’s share of the discipline, and that Socrates was a -greater success as a philosopher and talker than as a husband. - -There was one exception, however, to this rigid seclusion, a small -recognition of the fact that women probably have souls. They were -allowed a part in religious festivals, and these were events in their -lives. They meant a breath of fresh air and a glimpse of the outer -world. Perhaps they meant also a little spiritual consolation, which -must often have been greatly needed; but of this we are not sure. The -Hellenic divinities were not eminently consoling, and the wise Athena -was particularly unsympathetic, though the Athenian virgins had at -least the pleasure of making her richly ornamented robes, and putting -them on her once a year. The woman in the comedy says that at seven she -could carry the peplum in the procession, at ten she ground cakes for -the patron goddess, and when she grew to be a beautiful maiden, she -had charge of the sacred basket. - -One can imagine the flutter of pleasure with which the young girls -of the golden age of Athens donned their white draperies and -gold-embroidered mantles to march in the Panathenaic procession to the -Acropolis. Their snowy veils floated airily in the breeze, as they went -up the marble steps of the propylæa chanting choral hymns and carrying -in their hands the branches of silvery olive to lay at the feet of -the stately goddess. How bright the sky! how blue the sparkling sea! -How beautiful the white temples and colonnades, alive with sculptured -heroes! Before them rose Hymettus in its robe of violet haze, and -the cone of Lycabettus, sharply outlined in the clear air. Sheltered -behind the low hills on the other side of the vast olive-groves, the -magnificent temple of Eleusis, with its heart of mystery, towered in -its peerless majesty, and the restless waves of Salamis lapped the -shore at its side. This world of beauty was young then and fresh, -with no age-old tragedies to sadden the brilliant crowd that wound in -dazzling array through the forest of columns and statues. The flower of -Athens was there--brave, handsome, and clever men, poets, artists, and -philosophers, warriors on prancing horses, beautiful women and laughing -children. If the uncaged maidens were tempted to flirt a little with -their soft, dark eyes, who can blame them? They were young and human, -companionship was sweet, and they too had tender hearts, though small -account was made of them. - -But the day ends. The sacred Athena is resplendent in her new robe. The -gay crowd moves back past the exquisite little Ionic temple of Victory -and down the massive steps into the agora, where life goes on as -before. Men throng the porticos and talk of the new play of Sophocles, -or the last statue of Phidias, or the prospects of war, or any of -the thousand and one things that come uppermost in the affairs of a -great city. When the shadows fall and the stars come out bright and -shining in that crystal air, they gather at banquets or symposia, where -flute-players and dancing-girls are brought in to amuse them, or some -Lais or Phryne of the hour enthralls them by her beauty and dazzles -them with her wit. But the wives and daughters of these men, who do not -see fit to educate them for companions, go back to their lonely homes -and to an isolation from all social and intellectual interests as deep -as if they were asleep in the sculptured tombs of the Via Sacra. - -The women of Athens fulfilled their duties with becoming modesty, so -far as we know. They were respectably ignorant, and did not encroach -upon the time-honored privileges of men. It is true that Elpinice, the -sister of Cimon, was a trifle strong-minded, and, taking the Spartan -women as models, went about alone; but we do not hear that she had -any following. Unpleasant things were said about her, which we are -safe in doubting, as unpleasant things have always been said of women -who presumed to have opinions of their own, or to walk outside of the -straight line of tradition. At all events, a rich Athenian fell in love -with her, and was glad to take her without a dowry and pay the fine of -her distinguished father. But it is certain that no appreciable number -of Attic ladies were disposed to incur the odium of public opinion so -distinctly expressed in these words: - - Good women must abide within the house; - Those whom we meet abroad are nothing worth. - -Why in the face of such reverent submission were they so contemptuously -spoken of? We are often told to-day that women cannot expect any -privileges when they want rights. It may be pertinent to ask, in the -name of consistency, why they had no privileges when they sat humbly at -the feet of their husbands and demanded no rights? - -But it was among these women that the great dramatists lived and -created the masterpieces of the world. It may be that they saw and felt -the cheerless side of so fettered a life, and that is why they painted -their heroines in such somber colors, too often innocent victims of -men’s misdeeds, and doomed to suffering with the sad inevitability -of fate. But the noble character and fine intelligence given to so -many of them must have had some counterpart in reality. Did the city -that produced Antigone, Iphigenia, and Alcestis, have no great women, -or did their creators look elsewhere for the moral dignity that made -them possible? And where were the models found? Not, surely, among the -hetæræ whose power, whatever it may have been, was not a moral one. Not -even among the goddesses, who were notoriously vain, selfish, crafty, -and cruel. We know that a thousand untold tales of virtue and heroism -are hidden behind closed doors, and we may well believe they were not -without precedent among these apparently colorless and pent-up lives. - -Then it is easy perhaps to err in assuming that there were no women who -rose above hard conditions into a degree of companionship with their -husbands. It is true they had no education and were excluded from the -society of men who had it, but it is impossible to suppose that the -women of so brilliant a race were utterly without the clear perception -and flexible intelligence which made its men so famous. Nor can we -infer invariable misery. There have been good men in all ages who -loved their families, and women whose light could not be extinguished. -The great Cimon is said to have had an ardent affection for his wife, -and he was inconsolable after her death, though he did not curb his -wandering fancies while she lived. Socrates mentions Niceratus as “one -who was in love with his wife and loved by her.” There is a familiar -anecdote of Themistocles that puts him in a pleasant light. He said in -a laughing way that his little son was greater than any man in Greece, -“for the Athenians command the Greeks, I command the Athenians, his -mother commands me, and he commands his mother.” If reports be true, -however, the influence of his wife was largely theoretical, as it did -not suffice to keep him from doing some very disreputable things. But -he wished a worthy man for his daughter, rather than a rich one, saying -he “would prefer a man without money to money without a man.” Aristotle -is not quoted among the champions of women, but he tenderly loved his -own wife, whom he married in spite of the reverses which had ruined her -family. Her life was brief, but he left orders that when he died her -remains should be transferred to the tomb which held his own, according -to her last request. This was done long years after her death, though -he had another wife whose virtues he commends, asking his friends to -give her kind attention and provide her with a suitable husband if she -wishes to marry again. These instances among well-known men are worthy -of note, and others might be cited. But the exceptions prove the rule, -and the very fact that it was a matter of comment when a man was in -love with his wife shows that it was rare. - - -II - -It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that the great Athenians -were without the sympathy and influence of educated women; indeed, -it may be safely said that no great things in art or literature have -ever been done without this inspiration. The ignorance of the Attic -woman had its natural protest, though it did not come from an orthodox -source. Respectability was on the side of servitude. It had a dull -time, but it was decorous, and consoled itself, as it has often done -since, with the reflection that dullness was its natural lot. No doubt -it took pride in its nothingness, and looked with haughty disdain upon -the clever foreign women who were free to do as they chose. Fashion is -imperious, not to say cruel, and even the Chinese lady hobbles along on -her distorted feet with a happy consciousness of distinction that amply -repays her for all her suffering. - -But social conventions had small weight with the foreign hetæræ or -companions, who had no legal rights, and no caste to lose. The real -power of women was in their hands. They were intelligent, often -gifted, and the better class had refined and graceful manners, which -the Athenian wives evidently had not. It was said of them that they -were delicate at table, and not like the native women, who “stuffed -their cheeks, and tore off the meat.” They were also noted for wit and -_esprit_, a quality of volatilized intellect that has always had -great social charm. These advanced women of the day, who cast into the -shade their illiterate sisters, monopolized both attention and honors. -Men praised the good women who stayed at home and looked after their -families, but sought the society of clever ones who did neither of -these fine things. With curious inconsistency, they found the culture -which was reprehensible and out of the proper order of nature in their -wives and daughters so charming in other women as to merit the highest -distinction. Poets sang of them, artists immortalized them, statesmen -and philosophers paid court to them. - - ’T is not for nothing that where’er we go - We find a temple of hetæræ there, - But nowhere one to any wedded wife, - -says the poet. - -Unfortunately, talent and the virtues did not always go together, and -it is impossible, at this distance, to determine with any certainty -who were good and who were not. In the conservative circles of Athens, -intelligence itself was a vice in women, and put them under a ban. -They might pray to Athena, and offer incense to her, and embroider her -robes, but it would not do to take this personification of wisdom and -knowledge for a model; indeed, it is not quite clear why so dangerous -a representative of the sex that was thought to have no intellect worth -considering should have been chosen to preside over all the Attic -divinities. There was a time, according to Varro, when it had been -customary for women to take part with men in public councils. In the -early ages they voted to name Athens after Athena, outvoting the men by -one. Poseidon was angry, and the sea overflowed. To appease the god, -the citizens imposed a punishment on their wives. They were to lose -their votes, the children were to receive no more their mother’s name, -and they were no longer called Athenians. Perhaps this is why they were -relegated forever after to ignorance and obscurity. Athena, however, -retained her power, and men still worshiped the gray-eyed goddess in -the abstract, as their fathers had done, doubtless quite content that -the superfluous wisdom of woman should be given a pedestal so high -and remote that it was not likely to cause serious inconvenience in -family relations. But their personal devotion was largely reserved for -Aphrodite, who was more beautiful and facile, if not so wise, and still -less fit to be held up as a worthy example for her sex. The race had -not greatly changed since its men went to their death for the “divine -Helen,” and thought the world well lost for a sight of her radiant -beauty. - -The witty Phryne, whose exquisite face and form was made immortal by -Apelles and Praxiteles, was given a statue of gold between two kings -at Delphi. In the cypress-grove at Corinth there was a monument to the -beautiful Lais, who had enriched the city with fine architecture. Lamia -built a splendid portico for the people of Sicyon, and a temple at -Athens was consecrated to her under the name of Aphrodite. One of the -most striking and costly monuments in Greece was also erected there to -Pythionice. The wit and fascination of Glycera brought her the honors -due to a queen. Some of her letters to Menander were preserved, and -they were said to show not only a tender and delicate sentiment, but a -fine intellectual sympathy with her poet lover. No doubt the tributes -offered to the notoriously dissolute women were largely the expression -of a beauty-loving people who cherished “art for art’s sake.” - -But there were other women with serious gifts of a high order, who -were far less likely to be honored with temples and statues. Leontium, -the disciple and favorite of Epicurus, wrote a treatise against -Theophrastus that was quoted by Cicero as a model of style. She -had a thoughtful face, and was painted in a meditative attitude by -Theodorus. It matters little whether Diotima was Arcadian priestess -or philosopher; she was the friend of Socrates, the counselor of the -wisest and subtlest of men. It was her high and spiritual conception -of love that he quoted at the famous symposium of Plato, raising the -conversation from a curious blending of unholy passion and metaphysical -subtlety to a region of light. Famous among the disciples of Pythagoras -was Perictione, who attracted the attention of Aristotle by writing -on such grave subjects as “Wisdom” and “The Harmony of Woman.” She -was duly conservative, and accepted the passive position of her -sex, dwelling on their need of a forbearing spirit. Possibly this -amiable attitude accounts in part for the kind consideration of the -philosopher. More advanced and less popular was Hipparchia, the wife -of Crates, an eminent Cynic, who called the statue of Phryne “a votive -offering of the profligacy of Greece.” She recognized virtue as the -supreme end of life, but contended that “virtue is the same in a man -as in a woman.” To Theodorus she said: “What Theodorus is not wrong -in doing, the same thing Hipparchia ought not to be wrong in doing.” -That she was severely attacked goes without saying. Such sentiments -were subversive of the inalienable rights of man, in the code of the -classic world. It was easier and more agreeable to discredit the woman -than to raise their own standards. Themista, the wife of Leon, was a -philosopher, corresponded with Epicurus, and was called by Cicero “a -sort of female Solon.” Lastheneia was a pupil of Plato, and went so far -as to disguise herself in a man’s robes in order to hear him discourse -at the Academy. - -Perhaps it is unfair to group these women together. They were of -different shades, and not all contemporary. Some of them were -Athenians. Of most of them we have no knowledge except such as may -be gathered from a few passing words in connection with famous men, -and even this is involved in doubt and contradiction. What were the -attractions of Archaianassa, to whom Plato wrote sonnets, or did she -ever exist outside of the realm of dreams? - - For dear to me Theoris is, - -says Sophocles. Did he find in her the talent that inspired his own? -And what was the secret of Archippa’s influence, that he should have -left her his fortune? Or is she, too, a myth? Nor can we divine the -gifts that drew the eloquent Isocrates to Metaneira. - -How far the honor accorded to so many of the hetæræ was due to their -talents and how far to their personal fascination, it is difficult to -say. In many cases, beauty was their chief distinction. Some are known -to have been fair and frail; others were apparently of good character -as well as brilliant intellect. A poet of the time speaks of one as - - Pure and on virtue’s strictest model formed. - -It would not be quite safe, however, to measure them by our standards. -We may go to the Greeks for art and literature, but not for morals. -Things that we consider criminal, they looked upon as quite natural and -innocent. No doubt, too, many things which we consider so harmless as -to pass unnoted would have been censured by them as violations of all -laws of decorum. - - -III - -There was one woman, however, whose individuality was too strong -to be altogether merged into that of the man with whom her name is -associated. Aspasia stands supreme, after Sappho, as the most brilliant -and lettered woman of classic times. The center of a circle so luminous -that the ages have not greatly dimmed its radiance, she is likely to -live as long as the world cherishes the memory of its greatest men. -She was the prototype of the charming and intellectual women who made -the literary courts of the Renaissance so famous two thousand years -afterward; also of the more familiar ones who shone as leaders of the -powerful salons of France a century or two later. Even to-day the -aspiring woman who dreams of reviving the social triumphs of her sex -recalls the golden days of Athens and wonders what magic drew so many -of the great poets, statesmen, and philosophers of the world from the -groves of the Academy, the colonnades of the Lyceum, the porticos, and -the gymnasia, to pour their treasures of wit and thought at the feet -of the fair Ionian. She may remember, too, that this fascinating woman -was not only the high priestess who presided at the birth of society -as we know it, but was also the first to assert the right of the wife -to be educated, that she might live as the peer and companion of her -husband, not as his slave. - -Little is known of the facts of her life. She was the first woman who -came from Miletus, the pleasure-loving city of roses, and song, and -beautiful maidens. Why or how she left her home we are not told, but -there is a vague tradition that her parents were dead and that she went -away with the famous Thargelia, whose vigorous intellect, together with -her wit and beauty, made her a political power in Thessaly and the wife -of one of its kings during the Persian wars, though her personality is -the faintest of shadows to-day. It is supposed that Aspasia was young, -scarcely more than twenty, when she came to Athens, possibly to live -with a relative; but this is only a surmise. As a foreigner, whatever -her rank, she was outside the pale of good society. The high-born -Athenian women looked askance at her, were jealous of her, and said -wicked things about her. To be sure, the all-powerful Pericles took her -to his home and called her his wife, but she was not a citizen like -themselves, and could not lawfully bear his name. - -The relation, however, left-handed though it may have been, was -a recognized and permanent one, not less regular perhaps than the -morganatic marriages of royal princes to-day, which make a woman a pure -and legal wife but never a queen. So rare was the devotion of the grave -statesman that it was thought worthy of record, and it was a matter -of gossip that he kissed Aspasia when he went out and when he came -in--clearly a startling innovation among Athenian husbands. Still more -astonishing was the fact that he listened to her counsel and talked -with her on State affairs, which, according to their traditions, no -reputable woman ought to know anything about. Plutarch tells us that -some went so far as to say that he paid court to her on account of her -wisdom and political sagacity. Socrates confesses his own indebtedness -to her in the use of language, and says that she made many great -orators. He thinks it no wonder that Pericles can speak, as he has so -excellent a mistress in the art of rhetoric, one who could even write -his speeches. He was himself so pleased with a funeral oration she had -spoken in his presence, partly from previous thought and partly from -the inspiration of the moment, that he learned it by heart. A friend -to whom he repeated it was amazed that a woman could compose such a -speech, and Socrates added that he might recall many more if he would -not tell. This special address was such a masterpiece of wisdom and -eloquence that Pericles was asked to give it every year. As he was -quite able to write his own, there was no room for jealousy, even if -Aspasia sometimes found in the same field a happy outlet for her fine -talent and living enthusiasm. - -All this points to a strong probability that the gifted Milesian came -to Athens to teach rhetoric and other arts of which she was mistress, -as a Frenchwoman might seek her fortune in our own country to-day. But -she had not the same immunity from criticism, as the very fact of her -talents, and her ability to utilize them, sufficed to put her under -a cloud. This, too, might account for the wicked things Aristophanes -said of her, but we cannot imagine that Socrates would have advised -his friends to send their sons to her for training had they been true. -He knew her well, had profited by her instructions, and no one will -charge him with gallantry or the disposition to give undue praise. He -was essentially a truth-seeker. It is a matter of note, too, that the -philosophers had only pleasant words for Aspasia. Her detractors were -the satirists and comic poets; but who ever went to either for justice -or truth? She was clear-sighted, penetrating, and versed not only in -letters but in civil affairs, so it was easy enough to say that she was -the power behind the throne in the Samian and Peloponnesian wars. It is -certain, however, that Pericles was too wise a statesman to be led into -a war by any one against his judgment. It is quite likely that she had -young girls in her house who came to be instructed in the refinements -and amenities of life, as poetic maidens had flocked to Sappho from all -the isles of the sea a century or so before. This again was a fruitful -source of calumny and satire. But it is impossible to read the Attic -comedians without a conviction that they measured every one by their -own moral standards, which were of the lowest and coarsest. A woman -who could discuss philosophy with Socrates and Anaxagoras, art with -Phidias, poetry with Sophocles and Euripides, politics and history with -Thucydides, if occasion offered, and affairs of the gay world with the -young Alcibiades, was not likely to escape the tongue of scandal among -people who numbered the silent subjection of women among their most -sacred traditions. - -Of the beauty of Aspasia we are not sure. We hear of her -“honey-colored” or golden hair, of her “small, high-arched foot,” of -her “silvery voice”; but no one of her time has told us that she was -beautiful. There is a bust on which her name is inscribed, but it gives -us no clue to the living charm that held great men captive. Did this -charm lie in the depth and brilliancy of the veiled eyes, in the tender -curve of the half-voluptuous mouth, or in the subtle and variable light -of the soul that forever eludes the chilling marble? Another bust, -supposed to represent her, has a gentler quality, a finer distinction, -with a faint shadow on the thoughtful face. But the secret of her power -did not lie in any rare perfection of form or feature. Perhaps this -secret is always difficult to define. Of her fascinating personality we -are left in no doubt. With the qualities of _esprit_ that belonged -to her race, and all the winning graces of her Ionian culture, she -combined an intellect of firm and substantial fiber. She was noted for -the divining spirit which instinctively recognized the special gifts -of her friends; she had, too, the tact and finesse to make the most of -them. This is _par excellence_ the talent of the social leader. - -The salon of Aspasia was the first of which we have any record. -The stars of the Attic world gathered there, men who were in the -advance-guard of Hellenic thought. Reclining on the many-colored -cushions beneath the white pillars, with pictured walls and rare -tapestries and exquisite statues of Greek divinities about them, they -talked of the new temples; of the last word in art; of the triumph -of Sophocles, who had just won the prize of tragedy in the theater -of Dionysus; perhaps of Æschylus, who had gone away broken-hearted; -of happiness, morals, love, and immortality. The thoughtful woman -who sat there radiant in her saffron draperies was not silent. Men -marveled at her eager intellect, her grasp of Athenian possibilities; -they were charmed with her graceful ways and musical speech. We hear -of symposia in other houses, where a Theodota dances, the free wit -of Lais flashes, and conversation glides on a low and vulgar level, -but no wife or daughter ever appears. There is nothing to indicate -that the coterie of Aspasia was otherwise than decorous. Music there -was, as the accomplished Ionian played the cithara with skill and -taste. Wit there must have been, as no company of Athenians was ever -without it. But more was said of its serious side. One of the sons of -Pericles, angry because his father would not give him all the money he -wished, ridiculed this circle of philosophers and the hours they spent -in discussing theories or splitting metaphysical hairs. Their learned -disquisitions were not at all to the taste of the pleasure-loving youth. - -A few men had the courage to bring their wives, and Aspasia talked to -them of their duties and the need of cultivating their minds. Nor did -she forget the value of manners and the graces. It is said that she -wrote a book on cosmetics; but all her teaching, so far as we know it, -went to show that personal charm lay not so much in physical beauty as -in the culture of the intellect. The few direct words we have from her -lips prove that, with a clear sense of values, she was the true child -of an age and race that was singularly devoid of sentiment. If she -taught Socrates in some things, she was evidently his pupil in others. -This is curiously illustrated in an anecdote related by Æschines. - -“Tell me,” says Aspasia, one day, to the wife of Xenophon, “if your -neighbor had finer gold than you have, whether you would prefer her -gold or your own.” - -“I should prefer hers,” was the reply. - -“Suppose that she had dresses and ornaments of more value than yours; -would you prefer your own or hers?” - -“Hers, to be sure.” - -“If she had a better husband than you have, which would you choose?” - -The lady blushed and was silent. - -The hostess then turned to the husband with like questions. - -“I ask you, O Xenophon, whether, if your neighbor had a better horse -than yours, you would prefer your own or his.” - -“Certainly his,” was the prompt answer. - -“If he had a better farm than yours, which would you wish to own?” - -“Beyond doubt, that which is best.” - -“Suppose that he had a better wife than you have, would you prefer his -wife?” - -The conversation became embarrassing, and Xenophon was discreetly -silent. - -The conclusion was obvious. This too logical questioner advised those -present to order their lives so that there should be no more admirable -woman or more excellent man; then each would always prefer the other -to any one else--a piece of wise counsel that might be profitably -considered, in spite of its veiled sophistry. Evidently she did not -regard love as a flame that burns without fuel, though in her notions -of human perfectibility she makes small account of the quality of the -material. - -This parlor-talk is a trifle didactic, and lacks the modern elements -of popularity, but it is not in the least the talk of such a woman -as the enemies of Aspasia pictured her. It was clearly a party of -innovation that she led, but it was not a party of corrupt tastes. It -was for her opinions that she suffered. Just what connection moral -turpitude has with a question of the infallibility of any special -form of belief is not apparent, but a charge of impiety cast a darker -shadow upon her reputation. In this case it meant little more than a -doubt as to the divinity of their quarrelsome and immoral gods, which -we should consider highly creditable. She was too rational for a good -orthodox pagan. Or it may have meant simply that her house was a -rendezvous for the free-thinking philosophers. Here, too, was a woman -who took the unheard-of liberty of presiding over her husband’s house, -making it agreeable for his friends and attractive for himself. She -had put dangerous notions into the heads of Athenian wives. Who was -this impertinent foreigner, that she should presume to tell them how -to please their husbands? How, indeed, could they please them better -than to keep a decorous silence in their apartments, and let their -noble lords bring dancing- and talking-women to their banquets, and do -otherwise as they liked? Of course she did not respect the gods, and -deserved death. - -And so she was taken before the judges. The dignified and austere -Pericles wept as he pleaded her cause, and his tears won it. She was -released, but Anaxagoras, who was under the same charge of impiety -because he gave natural causes to apparently supernatural things, as -Galileo did centuries later, thought it safe to go away until the -fickle Athenians, the French of the classic world, found something else -to occupy them. - -Without the poetic genius or the passionate intensity of Sappho, -Aspasia seems to have had greater breadth and largeness of mind, with -the calm judgment and clear reason that belong to a more sophisticated -age. She was evidently solid as well as brilliant. That she was -eminently tactful and had a great deal of the Greek subtlety counted -for much in her success. She had also the perfect comprehension of -genius, which is an inspiration, and nearly allied to genius itself. -In the vast plans for the glory of Athens, she could hardly have been -ignored by the man who adored her and consulted her on the gravest -matters. It is not as the Omphale to this Hercules, the Hera to this -Zeus, that she has come down to us, save in the jeer of the satirist, -but as the watchful Egeria, who whispered prophetic words of wisdom in -the ears of the great Athenian. Who knows how far the world owes to her -fine insight and critical taste the superb flowering of art which left -an immortal heritage to all the ages? - -With the death of Pericles and the dispersion of the distinguished -group that surrounded him, Aspasia disappears. There was no place at -that time for talents like hers, apart from a great man’s protection. -It was rumored that she afterward married a rich but obscure citizen, -whom she raised by her abilities to a high position in the State, -though he did not live long enough to reap much glory from it. The -affair savors of the mythical, and perhaps we are safe in giving it -little credence. We should like to believe that the woman who had been -blessed with the love of a Pericles could never console herself with a -lesser man. - -Of versatile gifts and endless shades of temperament, teacher, thinker, -artist in words and life, critic, musician, friend of women and -inspirer of men, but before all things a harmony uniting the grace -and sensibility of her sex with a masculine strength of intellect, -this gracious Ionian stands with Sappho on the pinnacle of Hellenic -culture, each in her own field the highest feminine representative of -an esthetic race. Her mission was not an ethical one, and she cannot -be so judged; but against the censure of the enemies and rivals of -Pericles, as well as of her own, we have abundant evidence that, in her -virtues, as in her talents, she surpassed the standards of her class -and time. It was not of a light-minded woman that Pericles said when -dying: “Athens intrusted her greatness and Aspasia her happiness to me.” - - -IV - -It is not unlikely that Aspasia had much to do with modifying the low -views held regarding her sex, and with promoting the discussions of -the philosophers who came after her. Socrates had her example before -him when he said that the talent of women was not at all inferior -to that of men, though they lacked bodily vigor and strength. Plato -accorded them the same talents as men, though less in degree; indeed, -he went so far as to advise a common training, as in Sparta, on the -ground that gifts are diffused equally between the sexes. Aristotle is -less generous to women. He accords them weaker reasoning powers, and -insists upon their silent and passive obedience; but he preaches to -men justice, appreciation, and the sanctity of marriage. On the whole, -from our point of view, he paints a more agreeable society than Plato, -in spite of the greater equality taught by the latter. The satirists -were not slow to take up the matter, and Aristophanes drew a doleful -picture of women donning male attire and going to the agora to reform -the State, while their husbands were left to look after things at home. -They start out with the idea of making everybody happy. There are to be -no rich, no poor, no thefts, no slanders, no miseries. Praxagora pleads -her cause with all the force and energy of the modern woman who seeks -political rights, but she is less poised and goes further. The State is -to be intrusted to women. They are successful managers at home and have -shown their superior gifts of administration. In any case, they could -not do worse than men have done. They end, however, by voting unlimited -communism and outdoing the demagogues. This “woman’s congress” was not -an unqualified success; indeed, it was a disgraceful failure, as it was -intended to be: but it cast into like ridicule the philosophers and -the “strong-minded” women, among whom Aspasia was doubtless included, -as she had convictions, though the conversations in her salon probably -marked the limit of their public expression. Who the others were we do -not know, but it is clear that there was an undercurrent of “divine -discontent” among the women of two thousand years ago. History repeats -itself, and the “woman question” is not a new one, though we have made -immense strides in the rational consideration of it. - -It is sufficiently clear that the harmonious development of the -Hellenic women was in proportion to their liberty of action, and the -most fault was found with them where they had the least freedom. If -the spirited women of Sparta had been born in conservative Athens -the world might never have known that they were capable of so much -strength and heroism. The sparks hidden in their cramped souls would -have gone out for lack of air. If the secluded Athenian woman had been -born in Sparta, who can say that she might not have been as clever as -Gorgo, as brave as Cratesiclea, and as independent as Lampito? It is -possible that the genius of Sappho would have been smothered in the -social atmosphere of either place. There is ample evidence that the -intellects of Greek women expanded fast enough when the conventional -pressure was even partly removed. Nor is it true that they retrograded -in morals as they advanced in intelligence. Never did the Attic poets -point their shafts of satire so sharply as against the follies of the -ignorant women who were limited mainly to their apartments, far from -the possible corruption of knowledge or the visible temptation to sin. -The tone of morality was purer even among the free Spartan women, who -had more education but less surveillance. - -There is nothing more vitally significant in the lives of Athenian -wives than the extent to which they saw themselves set aside and -neglected for foreigners of more brilliant accomplishments, because -they could not or would not break the bonds of fashionable tradition, -which decreed for them silence and seclusion. In primitive conditions -where no one is educated, the virtues may suffice for companionship; -but at a certain stage of civilization, when men read and think, the -woman who does not is sure to be practically excluded from his society, -though she may still be his housekeeper or the toy of an idle hour. -Athens in the height of her glory presented the strange anomaly of a -respectable illiterate class from which the mothers of future citizens -must be taken, and an educated class without civil rights who could -not marry Athenians. If the latter had any domestic ties at all, they -were forced into morganatic relations. This did not of necessity imply -laxity of character; indeed, it was not always condemned by Athenian -moralists. But no class could long maintain any high standard of virtue -under such conditions. They opened the way for endless license. The gay -and dissolute women from the East flocked to the Hellenic cities, and -in the reckless corruption that followed, wise men trace a potent cause -of Athenian decline. - - - - -REVOLT OF THE ROMAN WOMEN - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · The Woman Question an Old One · - · Character and Virtues of Early Roman Women · - · Instances of Heroism · - · Their Disabilities · - · Primitive Roman Morals · - · Servitude of Wives · Husband Poisoning · - · The Oppian Law · The Revolt · - · Crabbed Cato · Change in Laws · - · Second Revolt · Hortensia · - · The Marriage Question · - · Intellectual Movement · Cornelia · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -Not long ago an able and eloquent man, well known in political life, -made the astonishing statement that from the time Eve left paradise to -the advent of the modern champion of her sex, “woman was apparently -content with her subordination.” It is not proposed here to enter at -all into the present phases of a subject that has been sufficiently -discussed, or to define the precise point where those who belong to -what our noble friend is pleased to call the “inferior and defective -half of the race” may with reason protest; but as a matter of fact -there has never been so prolonged and serious a commotion on the -much-talked-of “woman question” as in the Rome of two thousand years -ago; and perhaps no recorded moment in the history of women has been -of such far-reaching importance as those struggles for justice and -recognition. With possibly one exception, the points at issue were not -quite the same as in the middle of the nineteenth century, but they -involved many of the same privileges. The contention concerned not only -a woman’s right to a voice in the control of her own property, but to -some consideration in marriage, and a measure of personal liberty. The -laws that grew out of it, in the slow process of years, have served -as a basis for the codes that have more or less governed civilized -countries ever since, and though these have often deviated far from the -liberal standard of the statutes of Justinian, they have never fallen -permanently to the old level. A certain marked resemblance in the -character and growth of the Roman and the Anglo-Saxon woman gives us a -special interest in these controversies and their practical outcome. - -That the Roman woman had ample cause for protest could hardly be -questioned to-day, even by the most determined advocate of the old -order of things. The contrast between the character and ability so -conspicuously shown by what she did at various times for her country, -and the humiliation of her position, was too great. In the qualities -of temperament and imagination which, if given free scope, make poets -and artists, the Grecian women surpassed her. But the very traits of -sensibility that constituted their fascination rendered them an easy -prey to the rule of a master. Their chief legacy to posterity was an -esthetic one. The talent of the Roman woman was of another sort. She -was of a masterful type, striking in physique, strong in purpose, -clear in judgment, with the pride and dignity of a race born to rule -the world. It was through her practical wisdom in directing affairs, -together with her courage, foresight, and indomitable will, that she -gained in the end a degree of independence which perhaps we should -hardly call by that name to-day, but which was relative freedom and -left a permanent trace on after-ages. - -Of the heroism, political sagacity, and moral value of the Roman women -we have abundant evidence, but it is difficult to catch the outline -of faces seen in half-lights, or of characters revealed only on one -side. They did not write of themselves, or of each other, as women -of later and, to some extent, even of earlier ages have done. There -was no Sappho to sing of their joys and sorrows, or give us a clue to -what they thought and felt. Men who wrote freely of affairs reserved -small space for them, so we know little of their personal life, except -through passing glimpses in a few private letters, and the cynical if -not malicious pictures of satirists. The Romans were not a creative -or imaginative race, and have left us none of the great ideals of -womanhood that grace the pages of the Greek poets. No Helen with her -divine beauty and charm, no Antigone with her strength of sacrifice, -no Andromache with her tender and winning personality, shows us the -manner of woman that lived in the minds and hearts of men. But if the -delicacy of shading which reveals fine complexities of character is -wanting, we have a few records of brave deeds and individual virtues -that are likely to stand as long as the world to show us the quality -that made them possible. Alcestis going serenely to her death for her -weak and selfish lord is not more heroic than Lucretia, who saved the -falling liberties of Rome by plunging the dagger into her heart and -calling upon her husband to avenge her outraged honor. Iphigenia is not -a more touching figure than the innocent Virginia, sacrificed, not to -the gods, but to the brutality of wicked men. - -From Tanaquil, whose ambition and prophetic insight led the first -Tarquin to leave his simple Etruscan home for a Roman throne, to the -wise Livia, who shared the power and glory of Augustus for more than -half a century, women came to the front in many a public crisis. Men -gave them no real liberty, but they did give them monuments. These -are mostly gone now, but the records of them are left. Standing by -the Capitol to-day and looking across the crumbling temples, columns, -statues, and arches which have preserved for us the memories of Old -Rome, one is forcibly reminded of the important part played by women in -laying the foundations of the long faded glory that still lends these -ruins so melancholy and picturesque a charm. The strength and courage -of the Roman woman were immortalized in the equestrian statue of the -daring Clœlia, in the Via Sacra, that stretches before us. Not far off -was the temple of Juno, where the festivals of the Matronalia were held -for centuries, in honor of the women who settled the contest between -the Romans and the Sabines. Beyond the walls on the way to the Alban -hills was the temple of Fortuna Muliebris, which bore lasting testimony -to the wisdom and patriotism of Valeria, its first priestess; also to -the gentle but powerful influence of Volumnia and Virgilia, who, led by -her counsels, saved the city from a too ambitious son and brother. It -was the spirit of the divine Egeria that whispered prophetic words of -warning to Numa in the secluded grotto beyond the Aventine. The Sibyls -held the secrets of divination, and in the vaults at our feet they -deposited the books that foretold the destinies of Rome. - -There still stands the little temple where the white-robed Vestals -watched over the holy Palladium and took care that the sacred fire -should never go out for eleven hundred years. Men on the heights of -power bowed to the authority of these consecrated women, who occupied -everywhere the place of honor, settled disputes, testified without -oath, and brought pardon even to a criminal who met them by accident. -All this, whether fact or legend, was a tacit recognition of the -judgment, purity, and insight of woman. It might not be desirable to -give her any rights civil or social, but, as a sort of compensation, -men quieted their consciences and gave themselves a comfortable feeling -of being just, if indeed they ever had any doubt on that point, by -offering her more or less theoretical honor, and a shadowy place near -the gods, where they could avail themselves of her wisdom without any -personal inconvenience. In addition to this, they built her a little -temple dedicated to the goddess Viriplaca, Appeaser of Husbands, where -she could solace her bruised heart by confiding her wrongs and sorrows -to this conciliatory divinity, who seems to have been useful mainly as -a repository of tears, though her office was to compose differences. It -has long since vanished, but it speaks volumes for the helplessness of -women that it ever existed at all. It told the tragedy of many a Roman -matron’s life. - - -II - -We have seen a little of what these women were and what they did. What -they suffered can be better gathered from a glance at their position -and the share they had in the liberties they had done so much to -foster and save. Of freedom the Roman woman of earlier times had none -at all, though she was not secluded like her Athenian sisters, and -her place in the family was a better one. Her character was formed, -like that of our Puritan mothers, in times of toil and danger, when -she worked side by side with men for a common end, and, in both, their -strength of purpose and spirit of heroic sacrifice lasted long after -the hard conditions of primitive life had passed. Besides, the natural -talent for administration which shone through all her limitations was -to a certain degree recognized by her husband, and she was often his -counselor, as well as the instructor of his children, even beyond the -seven years prescribed. But all this did not suffice to give her any -liberty of thought or action, and she was to all intents and purposes -a slave, subject to the caprices of a master who might choose to be -kind, though, in case he did not, she had no protection either in law -or custom; and we all know how soon the consciousness of absolute power -warps the sensibilities of even the gentlest. “Created to please and -obey,” says Gibbon, “she was never supposed to have reached the age of -reason and experience.” She was under guardianship all her life, first -of her father, then of her husband, and, at his death, of her nearest -male relative. For centuries she had no right to her own property, no -control of her own person, no choice in marriage, no recourse against -cruelty and oppression. “The husband has absolute power over the wife,” -said the stern old Cato; “it is for him to condemn and punish her for -any shameful act, such as taking wine or violating the moral law.” To -show what was possible in the way of surveillance, we are told that he -was in the habit of kissing her, when he came home, to satisfy himself -that she had not been drinking. One man who found his wife sipping wine -beat her to death; another dismissed his weaker half because she was -seen on the street without a veil; and a daring woman was sent away -because she went to the circus without leave. Any man could spend his -wife’s money, beat her, sell her, give her to some one else when he was -tired of her, even put her to death, “acting as accuser, judge, jury, -and executioner.” In the last case it was better to call her friends -into council, perhaps even necessary, if they were powerful enough to -ask for an explanation; but “a man can do as he likes with his own” -was sufficient to cover any injustice or any crime. Even in the last -days of the Republic, when the laws were greatly modified, the younger -Cato, a man noted for his stoical virtues, gave his wife to his friend -Hortensius, and after his death took her back--with a dowry added. What -she thought of the matter signified little. It does not appear that she -was even consulted. The family was the unit, and the man was the family. - -It is fair to say that it was not women alone who suffered from this -peculiar phase of Roman society, as men had little more freedom so long -as their fathers lived; but it fell much more severely on those who -were, in the nature of things, more helpless. The best they could hope -for was a change of masters, which might be for the worse; and who was -to protect them from their irresponsible protectors, even with all the -safeguards supposed to be provided by law? For this evidently put them -where Terence did the philosophers, along with horses and hunting-dogs, -that were owned but not necessarily considered. - -It is said, in praise of the morals of Rome during its first centuries, -that there was not a divorce for five hundred years. The exact nature -of this merit is seen more clearly when we find that a woman could -not apply for a divorce, or expect a redress of any wrong, whatever -might befall her; while a man simply sent away his wife, if she did -not please him, without any formalities, and with slight, if any, -penalties. This did not release her from perpetual servitude, though -he was free to follow his inclinations, amenable to no law and no -obligation. It is true, however, that Roman matrons prided themselves -on their dignity. A certain respect was exacted for them, and -familiarity in their presence was a punishable offense. They took every -occasion also to show appreciation of their defenders. They mourned a -year for Brutus, who died in avenging Lucretia’s honor, and did the -same later for his upright colleague. - -Many years afterward there was a temple of patrician chastity in which -women assembled for sacred rites, but they found as many causes for -contention as some of our societies do to-day. One noble matron lost -caste by marrying a plebeian, and was excluded. She protested in vain. -Her birth, her spotless fame, her devotion to her husband, counted for -nothing so long as that husband did not belong to the elect. There -was no lack of spirited words, but the matter did not end here. This -slighted Virginia started another association on her own ground, set -apart a chapel in her house, and erected an altar to plebeian chastity. -The standards were to be much higher. She called together the plebeian -ladies, and proposed that they emulate one another in virtue, as men -did in valor. No woman of doubtful honor or twice married was admitted. -Unfortunately, this organization in time opened its doors too wide, and -shared the fate of many others. - -On another occasion Quinta Claudia, one of the leading matrons of Rome, -played so conspicuous a part that she won immortality and a statue -of brass. She was at the head of a delegation appointed to meet the -Idæan Mother, who was expected at Terracina, and whose coming was of -great importance, as various strange happenings showed conclusively -that Juno was angry and needed propitiation. It was decided that the -most virtuous man in the State should accompany the matrons, but it -was only after much tribulation that the Senate found one fit to be -intrusted with the office, and this was a young Scipio. Unfortunately, -the vessel containing the image went aground, and the augurs declared -that only a woman of spotless character could dislodge it. Quinta -Claudia was equal to the occasion. She seized the oar, with a prayer to -Cybele; the boat moved from its place as if by magic, and was safely -carried to its destination. The lady’s fair fame, which had been a -little clouded, was forever established by a direct interposition of -the gods. The matrons acquitted themselves with honor and, it is to be -hoped, to the satisfaction of the goddess, who was duly installed in -her temple. - -All this goes to prove that the women of twenty centuries ago often -combined in the interest of religion and morals, and were quite capable -of managing public as well as private affairs; also that great value -was attached to the austere virtues. The wise Cato is said to have -erased the name of a Roman from the list of senators because he kissed -his wife in the presence of his daughters--a worse penalty than the -old Blue Laws imposed on the man who kissed his wife on Sunday. It is -a pity that this crabbed censor, of many theoretical virtues and a few -practical ones set in thorns, failed to appreciate the dignity and -decorum of the Roman matron. It was this same rigid Cato who, in spite -of the fact that he “preferred a good husband to a great senator,” -was so inconsistently shocked that a Roman lady should presume to be a -companion to her noble lord. He looked upon a wife as a necessary evil, -and declared that “the lives of men would be less godless if they were -quit of women.” - -There was no question of love or inclination in arranging a Roman -marriage. It was simply a contract between citizens, a State affair -intended solely to perpetuate the race in its purity, and to preserve -family and religious traditions. In its best form it was for centuries -restricted to patricians, who alone were privileged to take the mystic -bread together. This constituted a religious marriage, and only this -could give their children pure descent or admission to the highest -functions of the State. There were two lower grades of civil marriage, -but each gave a man supreme control of his wife, without the dignity -of consecration. Whatever cruelty and suffering might result from this -one-sided relation,--and the possibilities were enormous,--a woman was -expected to love the husband chosen by her friends, for himself alone, -and a bridegroom’s presents were limited by custom, so that she might -not be tempted to love him for what he could give her. She must go -out to meet him, submit patiently to any indignities he might offer, -and mourn him in due form when he died. _Her_ death he was not -required to mourn at all. His infidelities she must never see, as any -complaint was likely to meet with a dismissal, and she knew that even -her father would say it served her right for interfering in any way -with a man’s privilege of doing as he liked. - -That a woman ever did love her husband under such conditions proves -that her heart was as tender as her capacity for self-sacrifice was -great; also that men were by no means as wicked or tyrannical as they -had the power to be. We know that liberty is not always insured by an -edict, nor does cruelty or injustice invariably follow the lack of a -decree against it. There are many notable instances of the devotion of -Roman women and the affection of Roman men; indeed, it is quite certain -that there was a great deal of happy domestic life. Men naturally -accepted the traditions of a society into which they had been born, and -women did not question them unless their burdens became intolerable, -and even these they considered a part of their destiny, as good women -had done before them--and have done since. But power is a dangerous -gift for the best of us, and without some strong safeguard, moral or -legal, brute force inevitably asserts itself over helplessness. In -modern times a sentiment grown into a tradition has done much toward -tempering the condition of women even under arbitrary rule, though -their own increased intelligence has done more. Sentiment, however, was -not a quality of the average Roman character. Men were masterful and -passionate, eager of power and impatient of contradiction. To offset -this, they often had a strong family feeling and a certain sense of -justice, besides a natural love of peace in the home; but this did not -suffice to curb the violence and cruelty of the wicked, nor to render -the position of the high-spirited wife a possible one. The stuff out -of which Lucretias and Cornelias are made is not the stuff to bear -habitual oppression silently, beyond a certain point. - -It was doubtless this oppression that was responsible for a startling -epidemic of husband-poisoning in the fourth century before Christ. The -women who prepared the drugs were betrayed by a maid, and one hundred -and seventy matrons--some of them patricians--were found guilty. The -leaders were forced to take their own poisons, and died with the -calmness of Stoics. Two hundred years afterward there was another -epidemic of the same sort, and many eminent men paid the penalty of -their cruelties with their lives. This mode of redressing wrongs became -too common to be passed to the account of individual crime. It was the -protest of helpless ignorance that had found no other weapon. - -About this time, however, the Roman matrons took a more civilized and -rational method of asserting their rights. It was an innovation to -claim any, but they were too proud to accept the hopeless vassalage of -the Athenian woman. Indignant at the inferiority of their condition, -without recourse or refuge against cruelty and injustice, hampered by -needless and petty restrictions, they rebelled at last. - - -III - -One sees little clearly through the mists of two thousand years, and -we know few details of what seems to have been the first concerted -revolt on the part of women. The visible cause was a trivial one, but -it was the proverbial last drop, and served at least to bring dismay -into the councils of men, and afterward, possibly, reflection. The -Roman woman was patriotic and quite ready, at need, to give all and -ask nothing. When money was required to carry on the Punic wars, she -poured out her jewels and personal treasures with lavish generosity; -nor did she murmur when the Oppian law decreed that she must no longer -wear purple or many-colored robes, that her gold ornaments must weigh -no more than half an ounce, and that she must walk if she went out, as -the use of a carriage in the city was a forbidden luxury. These were -small privileges, but they were about all she had, and when the crisis -was past, she asked a repeal of the decree. She met the usual rebuff of -those who seek to regain a lost point. Men saw in such a request only -an “irruption of female emancipators,” dangerous alike to religion and -the State. Cato, the austere, refused a petition which he regarded as -a subversion of order and a rebellion against lawful masters. He said -that the claim of women to any rights or any voice in public affairs -was a proof that men had lost their majesty as well as their authority; -such a thing could not have happened if each one had kept his own wife -in proper subjection. “Our privileges,” he continues, “overpowered at -home by female contumacy, are, even here in the forum, spurned and -trodden under foot”; indeed, he begins to fear that “the whole race -of males may be utterly destroyed by a conspiracy of women.” He rails -at the matrons, who throng the forum, for “running into public and -addressing other women’s husbands.” It “does not concern them what laws -are passed or repealed.” He bewails the “good old days” when women were -forced to obey their fathers, brothers, or husbands. “Now they are so -lost to a sense of decency as to ask favors of other men.” “Women,” he -says, “bear law with impatience.” They long for liberty, which is not -good for them. With all the old restrictions, it is difficult to keep -them within bounds. “The moment they have arrived at equality they will -be our superiors”--a dangerous admission surely. He calls the affair a -sedition, an insurrection, a secession of women. - -But the matrons had some able defenders. Lucius Valerius, who had -asked the repeal of this obnoxious law, spoke for them. He objects -to calling a natural request by such hard names, and quotes from -antiquity to prove that it is not a new thing for Roman matrons to come -out in public, as they have often done so in the interest of the State, -and “always to its advantage.” He recalls the various times when they -saved Rome, and refers to the generosity with which they invariably -responded to a call for help. No one objected when they appeared for -the general good; why should they be censured when they asked a favor -for themselves? In reply to the accusation of extravagance, he says: -“When you wear purple on your own robe, why will you not permit your -wife a purple mantle?”... “Will you spend more on your horse than on -your wife?” Then he asks why women who have always been noted for -modesty should lose it now through the repeal of a law that has not -been in existence more than twenty years. One is tempted to quote -at length from these speeches, because they show us how the Romans -discussed certain questions that are familiar to-day. To be sure, it -was only a woman’s privilege of dressing as she chose that they were -considering, but it really involved her right to ask anything which her -lord and master did not freely accord. We hear practically the same -arguments, the same fears, the same special pleadings on both sides, at -each new step in the social advancement of women. - -The Roman matrons, however, were not discouraged by criticism. They -flocked to the forum in greater numbers than ever. Women came in from -the towns and villages to aid them. The senators were so astounded -at their audacity that they solemnly implored the gods to reveal the -nature of the omen. They stigmatized the leaders as “androgynes” or -“he-women,” a term of contempt so freely applied in this country, -less than fifty years ago, to those who bravely presented the claims -of their sex to larger consideration, and who, silver-haired and -venerable, are so widely honored to-day. We do not hear that there were -any congresses or conventions, but these Roman ladies held meetings, -went into the streets for votes, and appealed to nobles, officials, -and strangers alike. They sought the tribunes in their houses, and -used all their arts of persuasion. There were fair-minded men then as -now, and the spirited rebels won their cause, though Cato revenged -himself for his defeat by imposing a heavy tax on the dress, ornaments, -and carriages of women. It is said that they put on their gay robes -and jewels at once, and celebrated their victory by dancing in the -legislative halls. - -Not far from this time, possibly a little before, a dowry was set -apart for women. But there was a growing jealousy of their increasing -independence, and, a few years later, it was proposed to take away -from them the right of inheritance. It was feared that too much -property might fall into their hands, as had been the case in Sparta; -also, that their taste for elegant living might lead to degeneracy of -manners and morals. The irrepressible Cato again came to the front -and declaimed against the arrogance and tyranny of rich women. After -bringing their husbands a large dowry, he said, they even had the -presumption to retain some of their own money for themselves and ask -payment if they lent it to their masters! Men could not be expected to -tolerate such insufferable insolence on the part of their “reserved -slaves.” And so the decree was passed. But it was more honored in -the breach than in the observance, and became a dead letter, as men -themselves thought it unjust. - -How far the gradual change in the laws was due to the efforts of -women and how far to the justice of men, it is not easy to determine; -but the astonished attitude of the latter when they felt that their -time-honored supremacy was in peril shows better than anything else the -real significance of the movement which was precipitated by so slight a -cause. It is quite safe to say that without an emphatic protest there -would have been no thought of justice. Traditions are only broken from -the inside where they press heavily. In this case it was a daring and -unheard-of thing to run against the current of centuries of passive -submission; but “it is the first step that costs.” When the right of -being heard had been once asserted, grave statesmen and jurists took -up the matter and solved it as best they could, with an evident desire -to be just and kind, as they understood it. It could hardly be expected -that half of the human family would voluntarily relinquish the absolute -ownership of the other half, or even believe it to be good for the -other half that they should do so. Men are not so constituted. The -institutions and customs that had come to them from their fathers they -felt bound to pass on, as far as possible, intact. Besides, all vital -changes must be slow, unless they are to be chaotic. But the leaven of -a new intelligence worked surely, if not swiftly. - -The masses of the Roman women never passed out of a condition which we -should call subjection, though they did secure at last the use of their -own fortunes, relative freedom in the marriage contract, and a certain -protection against money-hunting and spendthrift husbands. In the -reign of Augustus the wife was given a guaranty for her own property, -and the husband was forbidden to alienate the dowry. The mother was -in a measure freed from oppressive guardianship, which later ceased -altogether. Under Hadrian she was permitted to make a will without -consulting any one, also to inherit from her sons. In many regards the -Romans after the Antonines were more just to women than are most of -the civilized nations of to-day. But these changes were the work of -centuries, and it is possible here to touch only upon a few essential -points. - -There was a second revolt more than a hundred years after the first, -when the triumvirs levied on the rich women of Rome a tax which -compelled many of them to sacrifice their jewels. They appealed to -Octavia to use her influence, also to the able mother of Antony, both -of whom favored them; but his wife, the Fulvia of unpleasant fame, -treated them with intolerable rudeness. Again they thronged the forum; -but they had made vast strides in intelligence, and this time the -eloquent daughter of a famous orator was chosen to plead for them. It -was no longer a simple matter of personal injustice, but also a moral -question upon which thoughtful women had distinct opinions and the -ability to express them. Hortensia spoke for peace. “Do not ask us,” -she says, “to contribute to the fratricidal war that is rending the -Republic.” Her appeal for justice recalls a plea so often heard to-day, -in a form that is but slightly altered. “Why should we pay taxes,” -she says, “when we have no part in the honors, the commands, the -statecraft, for which you contend against each other with such harmful -results?... When have taxes ever been imposed on women?” Quintilian -refers to this address of a brilliant matron as worthy to be read for -its excellence, and “not merely as an honor to her sex.” - -These spirited and high-born women were sent home, as the others had -been, but the people again came to their aid, and it was found best to -limit the tax to a few who could bear the burden easily. - - -IV - -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. - - - - -THE “NEW WOMAN” OF OLD ROME - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · Wickedness of Imperial Days · - · The Reverse of the Picture · - · Parallel between the Romans and Ourselves · - · Their “New Woman” · - · Her Political Wisdom · Her Relative Independence · - · Literature in the Golden Age · - · Horace · Ovid · - · Tributes to Cultivated Women in Letters of Cicero · - · Literary Circles · Opinions of Satirists · - · Reaction on Manners · - · Tributes in Letters of Pliny and Seneca · - · Glimpses of Family Life in Correspondence of Marcus Aurelius - and Fronto · - · Public Honors to Women · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -A great deal has been said of the Roman women of imperial days. Much -of it is not to their credit, but the bad are apt to be more striking -figures than the good, and to overshadow them in a long perspective. -The world likes to put its saints in a special category, and worship -them from afar. It seems fitting that they should sing hymns and pray -for suffering humanity in a cloistral seclusion, but they are rarely -quoted as representative of their age. On the other hand, it holds -up its brilliant or high-placed sinners as examples to be shunned; -but it talks about them and lifts them on a pedestal to show us how -wicked they are, until in the course of centuries they come to be -looked upon as representing the women of their time, when in fact they -represent only its worst type. Two thousand years hence, no doubt a -few conspicuous women noted to-day for brilliancy, beauty, or special -gifts, rather than for flawless character, will stand out in more -luminous colors than the great mass of refined and cultivated ones -who have dazzled their generation less and graced it more. Possibly -they may even furnish a text on which some strenuous moralist of -the fortieth century will expatiate, with illustrations from our -big-lettered journals, to show the corruption of our manners and the -dangers that lie in the cultivation of feminine intellect! And yet we -know that the moral standards of the world were never so high as in -these days when the influence of women in the mass is greater than ever -before. - -Of the colossal wickedness of imperial Rome there is no question, and -sinners were not rare among women. But the Julias and Messalinas did -not represent the average tone of Roman society, any more than the too -numerous examples of vice in high places reflect the average morality -of the great cities of to-day. A careful study of those times reveals, -beneath the surface of the life most conspicuous for its brilliancy -and its vices, a type of womanhood as strong and heroic as we find in -primitive days, with the added wisdom, culture, and helpfulness which -had grown out of the freer development of the intellect. - -The Romans of the last century of the Republic had, like ourselves, -their corrupt politicians, their struggles for office, their -demagogues, and their wars for liberty--meaning their own. They had -also their plutocrats, their parvenus, their love of glittering -splendor, their rage for culture, their patrons of art, who brought the -masterpieces over the seas, and, not least, their “new woman.” I use -the phrase in its best, not in its extreme, sense; the exaggeration -of a good type is always a bad one. This last product of a growing -civilization did not claim political rights or industrial privileges, -as we understand them; she did not write books of any note, or seek -university honors in cap and gown; nor did she combine in world-wide -organizations to better herself and other people: but she did a great -many things in similar directions, that were quite as new and vital -to the world in which she lived. If she did not say much about the -higher education, she was beginning to have a good deal of the best -that was known. The example of the learned as well as virtuous and -womanly Cornelia had not been lost. It was no longer sufficient to -say, in the language of an old epitaph, that a woman was “good and -beautiful, an indefatigable spinner, pious, reserved, chaste, and a -good housekeeper.” The conservative matron still prided herself on -these qualities which had so long constituted the glory of her sex, but -it was decreed that she must have something more. In the new order of -things, she shared in the cultivation of the intellect, and ignorance -had lost its place among the virtues. Girls were educated with boys, -read the same books, and studied the same subjects. To keep pace with -the age, a woman must be familiar with Greek as well as Roman letters. -She must also know how to sing and dance. “This helps them to find -husbands,” says Statius, who had little money to give his daughter, but -felt sure she could marry well because she was a “cultivated woman.” -The line of co-education, however, was drawn at singing and dancing, -where it began with us. In earlier times these accomplishments and -the knowledge of various languages were among the attractions of the -courtezan. - -The new Roman woman did not live her life apart from men, any more -than did the women of the old régime. Probably it never occurred to -her that it would be either pleasant or desirable to do so. She simply -wished to be considered as a peer and companion. Nor does she seem to -have been aggressive in public affairs. If she busied herself with -them, it was in counsels with men, and her influence was mainly an -indirect one. She had freed herself from some of the worst features of -an irresponsible masculine rule, but she was still in leading-strings, -though the strings were longer and gave her a little more freedom of -movement. There were many women of the newer generation who added to -the simple virtues of the home the larger interests of the citizen, -and conspicuous political wisdom as well as great intelligence. We -first hear of them in councils of State through the letters of Cicero, -who gossiped so agreeably, and at times so critically, of passing -events. He speaks of the companions and advisers he found with Brutus -at Antium, among whom were the heroic Portia, wife of the misguided -leader, his sister Tertulla, and his mother Servilia, a woman of high -attainments and masterful character, who had been the lifelong friend -of Cæsar. The influence of this able and accomplished matron over the -great statesman did not wane with her beauty, as it lasted to the -end, though she could not save him from the fatal blow dealt by her -son. The tongue of scandal did not spare her, but at this time she -was old and past the suspicion of seeking to gain her purposes by the -arts of coquetry. Cicero feared her power, as her force of intellect -and masculine judgment had great weight in the discussions of these -self-styled patriots. She even went so far as to engage to have -certain important changes made in a decree of the Senate, which, for -a woman, was going very far indeed. One is often struck with the fact -that so many great Romans chose their women friends for qualities of -intellect and character rather than for youth or beauty. When ambition -is uppermost it has a keen eye for those who can minister to it, and a -woman’s talents, so lightly considered before, begin to have their due -appreciation. To a friend who said to Cæsar that certain things were -not very easy for a woman to do, he simply replied: “Semiramis ruled -Assyria, and the Amazons conquered Asia.” It is known that he paid -great deference to his mother, the wise and stately Aurelia, to whose -careful training he owed so much. Later, women publicly recommended -candidates for important offices. Seneca acknowledged that he owed the -questorship to his aunt, who was one of the most modest and reserved as -well as intelligent of matrons. “They govern our houses, the tribunals, -the armies,” said a censor to the Senate. If their counsels were not -always for the best,--and even men are not infallible,--they were -usually in the interest of good morals and good government. - -Nor was it uncommon for the Roman woman to plead her own cause in the -forum. There was a senator’s wife who appeared often in the courts, -and her name, Afrania, was applied to those who followed her example. -The only speech that has come down to us was the celebrated plea of -Hortensia for her own sex. This was much praised, not only by great -men of that day but in after times. It showed breadth of intellect -and a firm grasp of affairs. The privilege of speaking in the forum -was withdrawn on account of the violence of a certain Calphurnia--an -incident that might suggest a little wholesome moderation to some -of our own councils and too zealous reformers. There were also -sacerdotal honors open to aspiring women. The Flaminica Augustalis -offered sacrifices for the people on city altars, and the services of -various divinities were always in the charge of women. There was no -systematized philanthropy such as we have to-day, but we hear of much -private beneficence. Women founded schools for girls and institutions -for orphans. They built porticos and temples, erected monuments and -established libraries; indeed, their gifts were often recognized by -statues in their honor. We hear of societies of women who discuss -city affairs and consider rewards to be conferred on magistrates of -conspicuous merit. The names of others appear in inscriptions on tombs; -but their mission is not clear. There were also women who practised -medicine; this, however, may not have implied great knowledge in an age -when science, as we understand it, was unknown. - - -II - -But a clearer idea of the representative Roman woman on her -intellectual side, and of the estimation in which she was held, is -gathered through her relation to the world of letters, and in the -glimpses of a sympathetic family life which we find in the private -correspondence of some great men. - -In the golden age of Augustus politics had ceased to be profitable or -even safe, and the educated classes turned to literature for occupation -and amusement, when they did not turn to something worse. It was the -fashion to patronize letters, and every idler prided himself on writing -elegant verses. In the words of Horace: - - Now the light people bend to other aims; - A lust of scribbling every breast inflames; - Our youth, our senators, with bays are crowned, - And rhymes eternal as our feasts go round. - -Even Augustus wrote bad epigrams and a worse tragedy. Public libraries -were numerous,--there were twenty-nine,--and busts of great masters -were placed beside their works. Authors were petted and flattered, and -they flattered their patrons in turn. These were the days when Horace -lived at his ease on his Sabine farm, gently satirizing the follies -and vices that were preparing the decay of this pleasure-loving world, -posing a little perhaps, and taking a lofty tone toward the courtly -Mæcenas and his powerful master, who honored the brilliant poet and -were glad to let him do as he liked. “Do you know that I am angry with -you for not addressing to me one of your epistles?” wrote Augustus. -“Are you afraid that posterity will reproach you for being my friend? -If you are so proud as to scorn my friendship, that is no reason why -I should lightly esteem yours in return.” The epistle came, but the -little gray-haired man, who saw so clearly and wrote so wisely, went -on his way serenely among his own hills, stretching himself lazily -on the grass by some ruined temple or running stream, and sending -pleasant though sometimes caustic words to the friends he would not -take the trouble to go and see unless peremptorily summoned. Such was -the relation between the ruler of the world and those who conferred -distinction on his reign. Ovid discoursed upon love, and became a lion, -until he forgot to confine himself to theory, and went a step too far -in practice. Then he was sent away from his honored place among the -gilded youth who basked in the smiles of an emperor’s granddaughter, -to meditate on the vanity of life and the uncertainty of fame, by the -desolate shores of the Euxine. - -In this blending of literature and fashion women had a prominent -place, though not as writers. No woman of the educated class could -write for money, and talent of that sort, even if she had it, would -have brought her little consideration. Whatever she may have done in -that direction was like foam on the crest of a wave. It vanished with -the moment. At a later period there were a few who wrote poetry of -which a trace is left. Balbilla, who was taken to Egypt in the train -of Hadrian and the good Empress Sabina, went out to hear the song with -which Memnon greeted his mother Aurora at dawn, and scratched some -verses on the statue in honor of her visit. Possibly they were only -the flattering trifles of a clever courtier, but they were graven on -stone and outlasted many better things. Of wider fame was Sulpicia, -the wife of a noted man in the reign of Domitian, who wrote a poem on -“Conjugal Love,” also a satire on an edict banishing the philosophers, -fragments of which still exist. She had the old Roman spirit, but was -less conciliatory than the eloquent Hortensia of an earlier day, who -was tired of the brutalities of war. She mourned the degeneracy of the -age, calling for “reverses that will awaken patriotism, yes, reverses -to make Rome strong again, to rouse her from the soft and enervating -languor of a fatal peace.” The able but wicked Agrippina, of tragical -memory, wrote the story of her life which gave to Tacitus many facts -and points for his “Annals.” Doubtless there were other things that -went the way of the passing epigrams and verses of Augustus and his -elegant courtiers. Twenty centuries hence who will ever hear of the -thousands, yes, millions of more or less clever essays and poems -written by men and women to-day and multiplied indefinitely by a facile -press? What will the future antiquarian who searches the pages of a -nineteenth-century anthology know of us, save that every man and woman -wrote, but nothing lived, except perhaps a volume or two from the work -of a few poets, essayists, and historians, who can be counted on one’s -fingers? Oh, yes; there are the novelists whose value is measured by -figures and dollars, who multiply as the locusts do. Fine as we may -think them to-day, how many of their books will survive the sifting of -time? They may be piled in old libraries, but who will take the trouble -to dive into a mass that literally has no bottom? Will the world forget -that women did anything worth preserving? Yet our women are educated; -some of them are scholars, most of them are intelligent; many write -well, and a few surpassingly well. - -But if women did not write, they used their influence to find a hearing -for those who did. Of the learning of the time they had their share, -though it may not have been very profound. Ovid tells us that “there -are learned fair, a very limited number; another set are not learned, -but they wish to be so.” He writes of a gay world which is not too -decorous or too serious, but in the category of a woman’s attractions -he mentions as necessary a knowledge of the great poets, both Greek -and Latin, among whom he modestly counts himself. Women of fashion had -poets or philosophers to read or talk to them, even at their toilets, -while the maids brushed their hair. They discussed Plato and Aristotle -as we do Browning and economics. They dabbled in the mysteries of -Isis and Osiris as we do in theosophy and Buddhism; speculated on -Christianity as we do on lesser faiths, and began to doubt their -falling gods. Philosophy was “the religion of polite society,” but -women have always been drawn toward a faith that appeals to the -emotions. Then there were the recitations and public readings, in which -they were actors as well as listeners. - -We have glimpses of the more seriously intellectual side of the Roman -woman in the private letters of Cicero, which show us also the pleasant -family life that gives us the best test of its value and sincerity. -The brilliant orator seems to have had a special liking for able and -accomplished matrons. In his youth he sought their society in order to -polish and perfect his style. He speaks in special praise of Lælia, -the wife of Scævola with whom he studied law, also of her daughter -and granddaughters--all of whom excelled in conversation of a high -order; he refers often to Cærellia, a woman of learning and talent, -with whom he corresponded for many years; and he says that Caius Curio -owes his great fame as an orator to the conversations in his mother’s -house. Many other women he mentions whose attainments in literature, -philosophy, and eloquence did honor to their sex and placed them -on a level with the great men of their time. This was in the late -days of the Republic, when genuine talent was not yet swamped in the -pretensions of mediocrity. - -The praise of his daughter Tullia is always on his lips. She was -versed in polite letters, “the best and most learned of women,” and -he valued her companionship beyond anything in life. It seems that she -was unfortunate in husbands, and they gave him a good deal of trouble; -but when she died the light went out of his world. His letters are full -of tears, and he plans the most magnificent of monuments. He would -deify her, and draw from all writers, Greek and Latin, to transmit to -posterity her perfections and his own boundless love. But precious -time was lost in dreams of the impossible, and swift fate overtook -him before any of them crystallized. Instead of the splendid temple -that was to last forever, only a few crumbling stones of his villa on -the lonely heights of Tusculum are left to-day to recall the young, -beautiful, and gifted woman in whose “sweet conversation” the great -statesman could “drop all his cares and troubles.” Here she looked for -the last time across the Campagna upon the shining array of marbles, -columns, and palaces that were the pride of Rome in its glory, and -went away from it all, leaving behind her a fast vanishing name, the -fragrance of a fresh young life, and a desolate heart. - -But if these charming pictures reveal a sympathetic side of the -intimate life of the new age, they give us also the shadows that were -creeping over it. The great man, who said so many fine things and did -so many weak ones, has always a tender message for the little Attica, -the daughter of his friend, but he fears the fortune-hunters, and -objects to a husband proposed for her, because he has paid court to a -rich woman who is old and has been several times married. For his own -wife, Terentia, he has less consideration. She is not facile enough, -and finds too much fault with his way of doing things. Perhaps she -presses her influence too far, and fails to pay proper deference to -his authority. To be sure, he calls her “my light, my darling,” says -she is in his thoughts night and day, praises her ability, and trusts -her judgment until his affairs begin to go wrong. All this, however, -does not prevent his sending her away after thirty years of devotion, -and marrying his lovely young ward, who is rich enough to pay his -debts. The latter is divorced in turn because she does not sufficiently -mourn the loss of his idolized daughter, and his closing years are -burdened with the care of restoring her dowry, which draws from him -many a bitter complaint. There is a strange note of irony in the tone -of the much-married, much-sinning, and perfidious Antony, who publicly -censures the “Father of his Country” for repudiating a wife with whom -he has grown old. But the high-spirited Terentia solaced herself with -his friend Sallust, and married one or two others after his death. -Evidently no hearts were broken, as she lived some years beyond a -century. - -In the literary circles of a later generation we hear of noble ladies -of serious tastes meeting to converse about the poets. Juvenal -and Martial ridiculed them as Molière did the Précieuses centuries -afterward. “I hate a woman who never violates the rules of grammar, -and quotes verses I never knew,” says Juvenal. “A husband should have -the privilege of committing a solecism.” He objects to being bored at -supper with impertinent questions about Homer and Vergil, or misplaced -sympathy with the unhappy Dido, who, no doubt, ought to have taken her -desertion philosophically instead of making it so unpleasant for her -hero lover. He even suggests that women blessed with literary tastes -should put on the tunics of the bolder sex and do various mannish -things which are sometimes recommended by the satirists of to-day. It -is with a sigh of regret that he recalls the “good old days of poverty -and morals,” when it was written on a woman’s tombstone that she “spun -wool and looked after her house.” “A good wife is rarer than a white -crow,” is his amiable conclusion. - -All this goes to prove that in the first century women passed through -the same ordeal of criticism as they have in the nineteenth. The -satirists of to-day are no kinder to the Dante and Browning clubs, and -mourn equally over the “good old days” when they were in no danger of -a rival or a critic at the breakfast-table. Doubtless that age had -its little pretensions and affectations, as every other great age has -had--not excepting our own. There were women who talked platitudes -about things of which they knew nothing, and men who did the same thing -or worse on other lines laughed at them just as men do now at similar -follies, though often without the talent of a Juvenal or a Martial, -and, it is fair to say, without their incredible coarseness. The coming -of women into literature has made the latter practically impossible. - -But even Martial had his better moments. He speaks of a young girl -who has the eloquence of Plato, the austerity of the philosophers, -and writes verses worthy of a chaste Sappho. One might imagine that -his enthusiasm had run away with his prejudices, if Martial could be -supposed to have had enthusiasms, as he warmly congratulates the friend -who is to marry this prodigy. Possibly he preferred her as the wife of -some one else, as he stipulates for himself, on another occasion, a -wife who is “not too learned.” - -There was a great deal to censure in this dilettante world. The -fashionable life of Rome had drifted into hopeless corruption, in spite -of the efforts of good men and women to stem the tide. Long before, the -Senate had ordered a temple to Venus Verticordia, the Venus that turns -hearts to virtue; but the new goddess was not eminently successful -among the votaries of pleasure, who preferred to offer incense to -the more beautiful and less respectable one. The old patricians had -their faults and sins, but the new moneyed aristocracy was a great -deal worse, as the _noblesse oblige_ had ceased to exist, and -there were no moral ideals to take the place of it. “First let us seek -for fortune,” says the satirist; “virtue is of no importance. Hail -to wealth!” “His Majesty Gold” was as powerful as he is to-day, and -his worship was coarser. “He says silly things, but money serves for -intellect,” remarks a wit of the time. Literature declined with morals. -“These are only stores and shops, these schools in which wisdom is sold -and supplied like goods,” said one who mourned over the degeneracy of -the times. That women should suffer with the rest was inevitable. They -are not faultless; indeed, they are very simply human. If they are -usually found in the front ranks of great moral movements, they are not -always able to stand individually against the resistless tide which we -call the spirit of the age. - - -III - -The changes which a century or so had wrought in the position and -education of women reacted on manners. The pagan virtues were -essentially masculine ones, and even women had always been more noted -for courage and stoical heroism than for the softer Christian qualities -which are called feminine. In the old days they had been subservient -because they were virtually slaves. For the same reason they were -expected to be blindly obedient. Their servile attitude toward men was -a duty; tradition gave it the force of a sentiment. Nor did the fact -that many Roman women had risen above their conditions, and shown great -dignity and strength, alter this general relation. It was not in their -nature, however, to be timid, or tender, or clinging. Sensibility was -a weakness and a trait of inferior classes. Love was a passion, or a -duty, or a habit, but not a sentiment. The new woman of the golden -age of Augustus was strong, dignified, self-poised, and commanding. -The fashionable set accented this tone and became haughty, arrogant, -and masculine in manner. It looked upon the conservative matron who -was disposed to preserve old traditions as antiquated. The change, in -its various gradations, was quite similar to that which passed over -Anglo-Saxon women in the century that has just closed. We also have our -golden mean of poise and dignity, as represented by the conservative -who are yet of the new age in culture, breadth, and intelligence; -we, too, have a few of the emancipated who like to demonstrate their -new-found independence by a defiance of social conventions; then we -have our ultra-fashionable parvenus who fancy arrogance a badge of -position, and pronounced manners a sign of modish distinction. Of -these classes, the first and the last were the most defined in Roman -society, but it is mainly in the last that we find the degeneracy of -morals which made a large section of it infamous. - -Of the women of the conservative ruling classes we have pleasant -glimpses in the letters of Pliny, which picture an intelligent and -sympathetic family life that constantly recalls our own. His wife, -Calphurnia, sets his verses to music and sings them, greatly to his -surprise and delight. She has a taste for books and commits his -compositions to memory. He says she has an excellent understanding, -consummate prudence, and an affection for her husband that attests the -purity of her heart. It is not his person but his character that she -loves, so he is assured of lasting harmony. When absent, he entreats -her to write every day, even twice a day. If he has only his wife and -a few friends at his summer villa, he has some author to read to them, -and afterward music or an interlude. Then he walks with his family -and talks of literature. The charming little domestic traits, so -unconsciously revealed in these letters, are as creditable to himself -as to the wife who adores him. There is a touch of sentiment that we -rarely find in pagan life. - -These letters throw many side-lights on other households. Pliny has -a word of profound sympathy for the sorrow of a friend who lived -thirty-nine cloudless years with a wife whose virtues would have -made her “an ornament even in former times,” and was left desolate -by her loss. We find a touching allusion to the fortitude of Fannia, -who has the qualities of a “heroine of ancient story.” She was -banished for supplying materials for her husband’s “Life.” “Pleasing -in conversation, polite in address, venerable in demeanor,” she is -quoted as a model for wives. She was a worthy granddaughter of the -famous Arria, who refused to survive her husband when he was condemned -to death, and gave him courage by first plunging the dagger into her -own breast, saying, “Pætus, it does not hurt,” as she drew it out and -passed it to him. Another of his friends lost a daughter of fourteen, -who, he says, combined the wisdom of age and the discretion of a matron -with the sprightliness of youth and the sweetness of virgin modesty. -She was devoted to reading and study, caring little for amusements. -Pompeius Saturninus read him some letters from his wife which were so -fine that he thought he was listening to Plautus and Terence in prose; -indeed, he suspects the husband of writing them himself, in spite of -his denial, though he considers him deserving of equal praise, whether -he wrote them or trained her genius to such a degree of perfection. It -is worthy of note that, while these letters show us the intelligent -companionship between husbands and wives which had taken the place -of the old relations of superior and inferior, as well as the fine -attainments of many women and the honor in which they were held, they -also pay the highest tribute to virtues that still shone brightly in an -age when it had become a fashion to speak of them as things of the past. - -“Morals are gone,” said Seneca. “Evil triumphs. All virtue, all -justice, is disappearing. That is what was exclaimed in our fathers’ -days, what they are repeating to-day, and what will be the cry of our -children.” If we may credit the history of that age, there was reason -enough for the cry, but there was another side to the dark picture. -This critical philosopher did not spare the vices and follies of -the great ladies of his time, and any tribute of his to the talents -and virtues of women is of value, as it is not likely to incline to -the side of flattery. In his letters of consolation to his mother, -Helvia, he mentions the fact that she is “learned in the principles -of all the sciences,” in spite of the old-fashioned notions of his -father, who “feared letters as a means of corruption for women.” More -liberal himself, he exhorts her to return to them as “a source of -safety, consolation, and joy.” To Marcia he writes in a tone that is -appreciative, though a trifle patronizing: “Who dares say that nature -in creating woman has gifted her less generously, or restricted for her -the sphere of the virtues? Her moral strength, do not doubt it, equals -ours.... Habit will render her, like us, capable of great efforts, -as of great griefs.” An incident of his own family life is worth -repeating, as it shows a pleasant and not uncommon side of domestic -relations at a period when Roman morals were at the worst. His wife was -solicitous for his health. “As my life depends upon hers,” he says, “I -shall follow her advice, because in doing so I am caring for her. Can -anything be more agreeable than to feel that in loving your wife you -are loving yourself?” The devotion on her side was more heroic, if less -reasonable. When he was politely advised to take himself to some other -world where he would be less in the way of his civil superiors, she -insisted upon dying with him. He tried in vain to dissuade her, but, -finding her persistent, he gave his consent, saying: “Let the fortitude -of so courageous an end be alike in both of us, but let there be more -in your death to win fame.” Her veins were opened with his; but Nero -did not need to get rid of her just then, so the attendants quickly -bound her wounds and saved her. This devoted Paulina had only the -satisfaction of sacrificing her color, as she was noted for her extreme -pallor to the end of her life. - -We have other letters from a thinker and seer of the next century, -which give us as sympathetic an insight into the private life of -the Antonines as Cicero and Pliny give us into that of their own -contemporaries in the two preceding ones. Nowhere does Marcus Aurelius -appear in so human a light as in this correspondence with Fronto, the -distinguished master and philosopher, which came to us at a late day -out of the silence of ages. It reveals one of the rare friendships -of the world, and incidentally throws a pleasant light on the family -relations of the wisest and simplest of emperors. - -History has cast a cloud over the wives of the Antonines--whether -justly or not we can never know. In an age of great vices, even virtue -is not safe, and the scandal-lover has always delighted to tear fair -names. But the testimony of a husband surely ought to count for more -than the flippant gossip of the idle voluptuary or the witty sneer of -the satirist. Referring to the elder Faustina, Antoninus Pius says: “I -would rather spend my life with her in Gyaros than live without her in -a palace.” As this desolate abode of the exile was supposed to be very -uncomfortable, the compliment was not a light one. It is not in such -terms that men write of faithless wives, nor is it in the nature of -such women to wear the white veil of innocence for a series of years -in the presence of those nearest to them. There was a temple built in -her honor which still keeps guard as a church over the Roman forum, a -permanent monument to the devotion of this tender husband. A charitable -institution for girls, that bore her name, has long since gone the way -of all perishable things. - -In the letters of Aurelius, which cover a wide range of thought and -experience, there are constant references to his family. It is -difficult to believe the younger Faustina as wicked as men have painted -her. One of the most beautiful women of her time, as brilliant and -sweet as she was beautiful, the idol of her household, the object of -affectionate care on the part of her husband, this gracious woman has -been a mystery to successive generations. What if the lightly spoken -word of a malicious rival, or a dark insinuation from some impertinent -admirer whose vanity she may have wounded, kindled a fire which the -ages cannot put out? Such things have been, and may be again. “I thank -the gods for giving me a wife so kind, so tender to her children, so -simple,” said the philosopher, who kept his soul at a serene altitude -above things of sense; but he broke down when his children suffered or -died, and mourned this much-loved wife as a saint, giving her divine -honors. He also put a gold statue of her in the seat she had been in -the habit of occupying at the theater, and had her represented in a -bas-relief as borne to heaven, while he gazed after her with longing -eyes. - -Fronto writes that the mother of Marcus Aurelius laughingly -declares herself jealous of him. He asks tenderly after the ailing -_domnula_, who is the idol of her father’s heart. Of his own -daughter Gratia he has much to tell, playing gracefully with her name. -He chats pleasantly of sleep, of health, of dreams, of the art of -speech, in which he was himself a master. But this is varied with -words of affection, with tender references to the children, their -pretty voices and their winning ways. He had given the little prince -a silver trumpet on his birthday, and draws a charming picture of the -group about their mother, the beautiful Faustina. But he loses his own -admirable and much-loved wife; then his grandson dies; and his heart is -torn with grief, as with sympathy for the sorrow of the gentle Gratia. -Joy falls away from the spent life of the white-haired philosopher. He -finds nothing to bind him longer to a sad world. His silvery periods -have lost their charm. He lays down his pen, and his last words are -full of pathos. He writes to an emperor who, like himself, has lived on -the heights of a calm reason. The blows of fate have struck them both, -and they weep, like others. - -I have quoted more or less from the letters of four thoughtful and -clear-sighted men, because their personal details and general tone go -farther than any assertion to prove the pure and intelligent character -of a large section of Roman womanhood and its refining influence in the -family. They are a flattering tribute, not only to the women of the -new age, but to the fine qualities of a corresponding circle of men. -The life revealed by these distinguished observers who have talked so -familiarly of its every-day side is certainly remote from that which -has been dwelt upon by satirists and historians, but we cannot doubt -that it represents the domestic relations of an important class. It is -fair to presume that the women of culture and virtue who came within -their horizon were not exceptions. - - -IV - -Of the increasing influence of Roman matrons, a strong proof may be -found in the public honors they began to receive. Many of these were -of a conveniently perfunctory sort, and meant little more than a -tribute to the vanity of a family which demanded respect for its name; -but they had their significance. It became a fashion to give women a -semblance of power that was not always genuine, and to compensate them -for any sorrow or neglect they might have had in this world with a fine -position and a grand title, which cost little, in the next. Julius -Cæsar was far from a model husband, but he celebrated the virtues -of his young wife Cornelia, whom he loved devotedly, in an eloquent -oration over her remains. He also pronounced a public eulogy for his -aunt Julia, wife of Marius who came in for a large share of the glory. -Augustus, a boy of twelve, gave a funeral oration over his grandmother. -He also honored his sister, the amiable Octavia, with a eulogy and a -national funeral, the first one ever given to a woman who was not a -sovereign. If there have been others I do not recall them. He decreed -divine honors to Livia, but he died before her, and her ungrateful -son forbade them, though the more appreciative Senate proclaimed her -“Mother of her Country,” and voted a funeral arch in her memory. Later, -this Roman Juno was placed in the ranks of the gods by her grand-nephew -Claudius, who was not wholly disinterested, as he did not wish to owe -his descent to a simple mortal. The emptiness of some of these numerous -honors was aptly illustrated by Nero, who killed his young but not -immaculate wife, Poppæa, with a kick, then, like a dutiful husband, -pronounced her eulogy and made her a diva! Many of them, however, were -paid to worth and to great services for the State. - -“I feel that I am becoming a god,” said Vespasian, when dying, with a -skeptical smile at his approaching apotheosis. Women are more trustful. -Perhaps they took their divine honors more seriously, and found in them -a sort of consolation, as when, in later ages, they looked wistfully -from the sorrows of life toward a saint’s crown. - -We have seen the Roman women of primitive times reach great heights of -courage and patriotism; we have seen them rise from virtual bondage to -a measure of freedom and consideration. In the days of Scipio and the -Gracchi they had won the privileges of education, and a certain respect -for their intellectual abilities, as well as for their virtues. We find -them later not only noted for fine domestic qualities, but patrons -of literature, and helpful companions of great husbands and sons. The -last days of the Republic saw many strong and capable women, and we -begin to trace their influence in large affairs. The instances were not -numerous, perhaps, but individual talent asserted itself. With the new -intelligence they moved rapidly, as our women have done, and apparently -without aggression. But it was not until the privileges of rank offset -in a degree the disabilities of sex that the Roman woman reached the -height of her power and her honors. No doubt she sometimes schemed -for a throne in the interest of a husband or a son, but she often -proved herself eminently qualified for her own part in its duties and -responsibilities. If her talents and energies sometimes went wrong in -the lurid and immoral world in which she found herself, they were more -frequently exerted for the general good. - - - - -SOME FAMOUS WOMEN OF IMPERIAL ROME - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · Three Types of Roman Womanhood · - · Livia · Octavia · Julia · - · Corruption of the Age not Due to Women · - · Persecution of Virtue · Multiplication of Divorces · - · Good Women in Public Life · - · Plotina · Julia Domna · Julia Mæsa · - · Soæmias · Mamæa · - · The Old Type Gives Place to the New · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -If one wishes to gain a clear notion of the dominant traits of the -Roman woman of twenty centuries ago, there is no better way than to -walk observantly through the old galleries where so many of them still -live in marble, side by side with the men who made or marred their -fortunes. There, graven in stone, one sees at a glance the strength, -the passion, the pride, the ambition, that left its stamp upon an age. -There too is the weakness, the sensuality, the arrogance, the cruelty, -that ruined a life and brought misery upon a generation. Most of these -women belonged to a class that held a conspicuous place in the public -view by virtue of its position. Some were wicked, a few were great, and -many were good though they rarely get the credit of it. To make them -live again is not easy, perhaps not possible, but we gather from many a -record curious and interesting facts regarding them. Their surroundings -are measurably familiar to us. We know how they looked, how they -dressed their hair, how they wore their robes, how they carried -themselves. With here and there a trait, an act, a passing word, an -anecdote, in their relations to men and society, we may compose a -picture which, if not exact, will give a fair idea of the manner of -women they were. - -There were three matrons in the family of the first emperor who may be -taken as representatives of three dominant types of Roman womanhood. -In Livia, we have the woman of affairs; in Octavia, the woman of the -family; in Julia, the woman of the gay world. The first had before all -things the genius of administration which was the special gift of her -race; the second united the sweetest family affections with loyalty and -moral strength; the last was of the numerous and dangerous class that -made of society an occupation, and of pleasure an end. - -Of the long line of capable women who had so strong and so lasting -an influence in Roman affair--sometimes for good and sometimes for -ill--the first and the best known was Livia. Standing as she did in the -blazing light that shines upon a throne, we see her on many sides--if -not always clearly, at least in bold outlines. That she had beauty, -tact, fascination, and a gracious address, doubtless counted for -much in her youth; but it was through her wise judgment, far-seeing -intellect, well-poised character, and keen practical sense of values -that this remarkable woman shared the fortunes and held the affection -of Augustus for more than half a century, and had a voice in the -destinies of Rome for seventy years. She has been given the purity -of Diana, the benevolence of Ceres, the wisdom and craft of Minerva. -There are many busts and statues of her, but they vary, and it is not -possible to know which best represents the real woman. We see her in -marble as Ceres--a commanding figure, with strength in every line. The -passion that lies in the delicate, half-sensuous curve of the lips is -overshadowed by the will that shows itself in the firm poise of the -head, and the intellect that sits in the ample forehead and looks out -of the serene eyes. “In features Venus, in manner Juno,” says Ovid, -who had ample reason to know the power of this discreet matron. She -frowned upon the license of the gay set to which he belonged, and it is -not unlikely that she had something to do with the hopeless exile that -pressed so heavily on his last years. But he declares that “she has -raised her head above all vices,” dwelling upon her strength and the -fact that “with the power to injure, she has injured no one.” - -Whatever the faults of Livia may have been, no shadow rested on her -womanly honor. Probably she had no choice when, at eighteen, the -emperor took her from her husband--who found it best to submit amiably -where the caprices of his sovereign were concerned--and made her his -wife, this complaisant but elderly soldier of culture and influence -acting as her father or guardian in the ceremony, and dying soon after. -If he bore any ill will it does not appear, as he left his two children -to the care of his successor. At the same time, Augustus sent away his -own wife, the too jealous and exacting mother of Julia, on the day of -his daughter’s birth. The only failing of Scribonia seems to have been -that she was imperious and did not bear her wrongs with sufficient -equanimity. - -This new union lasted fifty-two years, and the last recorded words of -the husband were, “Livia, farewell, and do not forget our love.” To -some one who asked her how she retained her influence so long, she -replied: “That comes from my moderation and my honesty. I have done -with joy all that he wished, without trying to meddle with his affairs -or showing the least jealousy as to his infidelities, which I never -seemed to see.” As a recipe for the management of husbands the last -might be open to grave objection, from a woman’s point of view, but it -was the undisputed privilege of Roman men, indeed of all men in early -times,--to say nothing of later ones,--to be made comfortable under any -circumstances; and they made no pretense to morality. As to meddling, -Livia evidently did it as though she did it not, as it was well known -that she tempered the harshness of her husband and modified many of his -stern decrees. - -Perhaps a better explanation of his devotion might have been found in -the rare union of beauty and intelligence with the domestic virtues -which he took so much pleasure in extolling. In the waning of her -personal charms, she took care not to lose the attractions of a -versatile intellect and agreeable manners, also to sheathe in velvet -the delicate, closely welded chains of daily habit. She knew how to -submit and she knew how to rule. Since life is always a series of -compromises, perhaps its finest art lies just here. Maintaining the -traditions of her sex, she wove and made her husband’s clothes. As -she had six hundred or more attendants to fold her own garments and -minister to her comfort, it is not likely that these domestic duties -weighed very heavily. Doubtless a little supervision sufficed for a -great deal of credit. A well-managed household does not imply doing -things one’s self so much as the knowledge and ability to put the -machinery in running order; and Livia was before all things executive, -which has much more to do with brains than with virtues. - -Like her husband, or because of him, she hated luxury and ostentation -in her daily life. Her house was small and simple, but decorated with -taste. The pleasures of sense had little weight with her; indeed, -there was a trace of asceticism in her character and in her way -of living. She had various theories which we call fads. These are -specially noticeable in an epicurean age, when a fortune was spent on a -dinner. She limited herself to a diet of fruits and vegetables, drank -a certain wine that suited the health better than the palate, and had -great faith in the virtues of cold water. Augustus was cured of a grave -malady by cold baths, but rumor said that the young Marcellus died of -them. Just why Livia was blamed is not clear, as the treatment was -prescribed by Musa, the great physician; but it was new, and she had -made it a fashion. - -That she had many lovable traits is shown not only by the lifelong -devotion of her husband, but in the adoring affection of those who -served her. In recent years a large columbarium has been found which -she consecrated to the ashes of her numerous household, each of whom -had his little urn with a fitting inscription. She used her large -fortune generously, helped the persecuted, established a school for -poor but well-born children, and did a great many charitable things. -It may be true that she was cruel to her enemies, but she was loyal to -her friends and untiring in their interests. Wisely holding the threads -of a large and diverse patronage, she kept herself in touch with the -intelligence of the new age, and was inspired by a broad and catholic -public spirit. She is said to have built and endowed the Temple of -Concord, also a portico rich in ancient paintings, which bore her -name. If she was at home at the wheel or loom and looking after the -personal comfort of her husband, she was equally so in the coteries -of the learned and in the councils of State. She was called cold, but -there were slumbering depths of feeling in that strong soul which few -had fathomed. When her son Drusus died, it is said that only the tender -interference of her husband prevented her from starving herself to -death in the violence of her grief. But she quickly regained her poise, -and went about her duties public and private with no outward sign of -the sorrow that had come to her like a bolt out of a clear sky. She had -much of the fortitude of the Stoics in the days when philosophy was the -fashionable religion. But she went to the wise and learned Arius for -help and consolation, as women of later ages have gone to a spiritual -adviser. Seneca holds her up as a model of strength and well-regulated -sensibility. He dwells upon her heroic qualities and contrasts her -favorably with the more emotional Octavia, who mourned her life away -over the death of her son and other domestic misfortunes. - -There was another and less sympathetic side to her character. Without -imagination, and little touched with sentiment, her life seems to -have been guided by a calm reason which was always at the service of -a towering ambition--a trait which, sooner or later, is sure to make -the gentlest man or woman hard and cruel toward any one who stands in -its way. This ambition was her master passion, and in its direction -lay her faults. To her judgment and discrimination was added the -craft of a diplomatist. Her grandson Caligula called her a “Ulysses -in petticoats.” That she had any hand in the singular falling away, -one after another, of her husband’s direct heirs, or that she ever -passed the point where intrigue becomes crime, is the purest surmise. -She had too many enemies in his family, who feared and envied her, to -escape calumny; but though many dark rumors were in the air, nothing -was ever proved. One youth was ill and died in Gaul, another in the -far East. It is too much to suppose that she could safely have helped -them out of the world at that distance, even had she wished to do so. -That she schemed long and successfully to raise her son Tiberius to the -throne is certain. That he repaid her with a great deal of ingratitude -is equally so. Perhaps he could not forget that it was her ambition -which compelled him to send away his much-loved wife, Vipsania,--whom -he could never meet afterward without tears,--to marry the already -notorious Julia, for whom he had a distinct aversion. But no one then -stopped to consider sensibilities. If Livia was sometimes hard and -cruel, she lived in an age when people who did many kind and generous -things had no hesitation in walking over a rival, crushing an enemy, or -even courteously suggesting to a friend who became inconvenient that -it would be wise for him to take himself out of the world. The man of -to-day is content with crushing rivals and ruining enemies in the name -of high-sounding virtues, but he has grown humane, and lets them live. -The time when fierce ambitions drove innocent victims out of life is -gone by. But we can judge people only by the standards of their own -day, and there is much evidence that Livia surpassed those of her time -in justice and compassion. - -Fortune certainly favored the aspiring empress. Her gentle -sister-in-law, Octavia, died in good time for her ends. The brilliant -Julia, who won hearts and stood in her way, plunged recklessly to -her own ruin, taking with her into a hopeless exile the wronged but -troublesome Scribonia. Of this step-daughter’s sons, two were dead -in a far country, and the remaining one was chained for his vices to -a desolate rock in the sea. Of her daughters, one followed in the -footsteps and the fate of her unfortunate mother; the other was the -first Agrippina, a proud, imperious woman with her mother’s beauty -and her father’s inflexible will and courage. This granddaughter of -Augustus, so noted for her virtues, her talents, and her sorrows, had -followed her husband’s fortunes with wifely devotion, commanded the -adoring soldiers in his absence, and returned heartbroken, with his -ashes, to stir up Rome against his supposed murderer, whose wife, -one of Livia’s friends, was implicated. Sure of the justice of her -cause and the sympathy of the people, she defied the cruel Tiberius -and the cool Livia,--who was bent upon saving her possibly innocent -favorites,--to be finally sent to starve on the rocky islet where -her erring mother had expiated her follies and her vices. She was a -tragical figure, this spirited and haughty Agrippina with the face -and air of a Minerva and the fiery spirit of Mars, who paid so heavy -a penalty for her virtue and her loyalty. It is said that Livia -interceded for her, though without avail; also that she supported the -second hapless Julia until her death. Whether this was a stroke of -diplomacy, or the impulse of a pitying heart, we cannot know. - -The center of a hostile group, it is clear that Livia’s rôle was -a difficult one, and the skill with which she disentangled these -conflicting interests is the best proof of her insight and worldly -tact. She had the instinct of leadership which divines men, women, and -possibilities, and is swift to bend circumstances to its own ends. If -she had her full share of troubles and chagrins, she hid them within -her heart, kept her own counsel in perilous crises, and pursued her way -with the calmness of a strong soul. By a singular fatality, every human -barrier was swept from her path, some by fate and their own misdoings, -some by more kindly nature, and some by intrigues, the mysteries of -which we cannot fathom. In the end she dominated friends and enemies -alike. - -But, in spite of her success, the last of her eighty-eight years were -burdened with griefs. Her heart was wounded in the tenderest point by -the son for whom she had toiled and schemed; her pride was humiliated, -and her hopes were dashed. That she played the sovereign and became -capricious and exacting, was perhaps in the nature of things. No -one was ever more flattered and honored by an admiring people. The -Senate paid court to her, her receptions were officially announced, -her signature was attached to decrees, she was attended by lictors -when she went out, and had an altar on which her name was adored. She -had a conspicuous place among the white-robed vestals and was made -a priestess of Augustus. When she was ill the world mourned; when -she recovered there were fêtes and votive offerings. “A woman in all -things more comparable to the gods than to men, who knew how to use her -power so as to turn away peril and advance the most deserving,” said -one of her contemporaries. She remained to the end a stately figure -among women who have held the reality of power without its titles, not -through the arts of the coquette, but through tact, wisdom, foresight, -and intellectual force. With less temperament and esthetic quality, she -recalls Aspasia in her vigor, her mental grasp, and her power to hold -the affection of a great man in an age when such love seems to have -been rare. Perhaps we find a closer resemblance in Mme. de Maintenon, -who combined her strength, her cold reason, and her political sagacity -with a finer modern culture. It may be that the latter used her power -less wisely, but she was a sadder woman. She reached the goal of her -ambition only after the loss of her illusions, if she ever had them, -and the task of catering to the caprices of a spoiled monarch was too -much for her. The records of her life reveal too surely the tragedy -of a soul; she lacked the stoical endurance to suffer and make no -sign. Livia apparently never ceased to love the husband of her youth, -and they worked in sympathy. With this firm foundation of happiness, -all things were possible. One can point to no mistakes that were made -through her counsels, and their weight is shown in the letters of -Augustus himself. Of her wisdom and moderation, no better evidence -is needed than the unparalleled cruelties of her son as soon as her -restraining influence was gone. - -We have able and gifted women to-day who are companions or mothers of -great rulers, but I can recall no one not a reigning queen who has a -like influence or has received equal honors. Have women of masterful -character lost the subtle art of fascination to make it available, or -are modern rulers smaller men, who fear a rival? With us, women of -this type find their place as presidents of charitable associations -or powerful clubs, or leaders of a conservative society. Sometimes -they are better known as wives and helpers of men with political -aspirations. But we rarely hear of them in the latter rôle, as they are -usually lost in a glory which they often make but do not visibly share. - - -II - -In striking contrast to the many-sided Livia is the less dominating -but more sympathetic Octavia, who lives through her virtues and her -sufferings rather than her talents. This much-loved sister of Augustus -represents the conservative element of the new age, with its amiable -weaknesses and time-honored graces. The idol of her brother, who, -nevertheless, did not hesitate to sacrifice her to his own interests -and ambitions, she was the victim of lifelong misfortune. She was said -to be more beautiful than her rival, Cleopatra. If her likeness in -marble can be trusted, she had not the air of command that one sees in -so many statues of Roman women. There is more of sensibility in the -poise of the delicately shaped head, with its broad, low forehead. In -the drooping corners of the full, tender mouth lies the sorrow of years -fallen into a settled melancholy. But there is no lack of strength -in the face, which shows also a quality of clear sense and practical -judgment. She was noted for dignity, reserve that verged upon coldness, -and great simplicity of manner. Her reputation was without a cloud. -It was the wish of her brother to take her from her first husband and -marry her to Pompey, in order to cement an alliance, but this proposal -she absolutely refused. - -After the death of Marcellus she was given, for reasons of State, to -the cowardly and perfidious Antony, the Senate even setting aside a -law that required a woman to wait ten months before remarriage. It -was thought that her beauty, with her graces of mind and character, -might win him from his follies--sad illusion, and source of many -tragedies. She composed grave differences and used her influence for -peace. When she returned from Athens, where she spent the first years -of her marriage and was greatly loved for her gentle qualities and her -fortitude in sorrow, she entreated her brother to forego his warlike -purposes. “The eyes of the world are necessarily turned on one who is -the wife of Antony and the sister of Cæsar,” she said; “and should -these chiefs of the empire, misled by hasty counsels, involve the whole -in war, whatever the event, it will be unhappy for me.” She gained -concessions from each, and averted the immediate trouble. - -But this conciliating spirit did not prevent the fickle Antony from -breaking her heart, as he had that of the fiery and ambitious Fulvia. -The strongest proof of her sweetness of temper and greatness of soul -may be found in the fact that she brought up the children of Fulvia -with her own, also the children of Cleopatra, after the latter’s death. - -The worst fault ascribed to Octavia was aiding in the divorce of her -own innocent daughter from Agrippa, the stern old soldier who was -chosen by Augustus as a desirable husband for his only child, the young -and widowed Julia. Whatever ambitions she may have had were crushed -by the death of her youthful son. Naturally she did not love the -intriguing sister-in-law, who ruled all about her in a way that was -none the less sure because it was quiet. It is even possible that she -was not unwilling to do what came in her path to circumvent the schemes -of Livia for her own family. “She detested all mothers,” says Seneca, -“and, above all, Livia,” who had domestic joys which she had not. But -Seneca may not have been quite just, as he preferred women of a strong, -heroic type, and this mother of sensibilities so acute that she fainted -when Vergil read his eulogy of Marcellus in her presence, was not -much to his liking. It is more probable, however, that resistance was -useless. Where the emperor decreed, she had only to obey. Once, indeed, -she had shown her loyalty and her strength by refusing a like proposal -in her own case, but the marriage of Julia was vital as a matter of -State, and it is not likely that Augustus would have sacrificed a -thing upon which he had set his heart, to the happiness of any woman -whatever. Perhaps, too, she shared the common belief that private -inclination must never stand in the way of public benefit. It was the -_noblesse oblige_ of good rulers. - -Octavia no doubt had her little foibles, though it is not at all -certain that this step was due to one of them; but she did not forget -the duties of her position. She had wide fame as a loyal, charitable, -self-sacrificing, and virtuous woman. In the spirit of the new age, -she patronized talent, and gave a public library to the portico which -Augustus had built in her honor, filling it with valuable paintings of -classical subjects. In the failure of her hopes and the loss of her -illusions, she still devoted herself to the children of Antony as well -as her own, and interested herself in arranging suitable marriages -for them. But these things failed to bring consolation to a bruised -heart, or serenity in the troubles that had fallen upon her. She shut -herself from the world after her last humiliations, and died of her -griefs at fifty-four, revered and idolized by the Roman people, who -resented her wrongs as much as they pitied her sufferings. But the son -she never ceased to mourn had been in his tomb many a year, and the -fickle husband who deserted her had ended his career in disgrace long -before. She did not live to see the downfall of Julia, the death of -her august brother, or the final triumph of Livia. She was spared, too, -the misfortunes that befell some of the children of her love and care. - -The details of Octavia’s life are few and meager. Fate gave her a -prominent part to play on the world’s stage, and she played it well, -but with an evident longing to fall back upon her affections. She was -never a woman of initiative, but she was clearly one of moral force, -framed to temper the friction of more powerful individualities, but to -be herself crushed in their collisions. She stands for the purest and -most gracious type of Roman womanhood. Many were stronger, many were -more brilliant, but few left a memory so fragrant or so sweet. - - -III - -There was another woman in the household of Augustus, who represented -the new age on its worst and most dangerous side. In Julia we have the -woman who lived to amuse herself, and left a name which has become -a synonym for the appalling corruption of Roman society. No one was -placed so high, no one fell so low; and no one has been so often quoted -to “point a moral or adorn a tale.” But it has often been the wrong -moral and the wrong tale. Bred austerely for a throne, versed in all -the culture of her time, this brilliant, haughty, impetuous daughter -of the emperor led the fast set at Rome for a few years, dazzled the -world with her wit and her toilets, shocked it with her escapades, only -to sink at last from her lofty pedestal to untold depths of infamy and -a living tomb. - -Given, a woman with the sensual, dominating inheritance of the Cæsars -and the pride of a new race that knows no law but its own will, -without the pride of character which serves always as a balance-wheel -to the passions; imagine her a widow at seventeen, and married again, -with no choice, to a plain but distinguished soldier, nearly thrice -her age, whose lack of patrician birth humiliated her, and whose -_bourgeois_ habits were not to her liking; surround her with -idle and conscienceless men who make love a pursuit and the arts of -flattery a study--and we have already the elements of a tragedy. This -hard-headed husband wearied her; his ways were foreign to her; his -world of interest was not hers. Even the public spirit which led him -to give so many fine temples and works of art to the city that honored -him annoyed her. She had the tastes of a dilettante, but she believed -firmly in the divine right of emperors and emperors’ daughters to -command all things for themselves. - -Nor did this petted child like any better the provincial notions of -her old-fashioned father. It did not suit her to sew and spin with her -stepmother, whose staid decorum irritated her. She belonged to the -pleasure-loving set of an age in which luxury was uppermost and vice -was a fine art. Fatal hour in any age when fashion laughs at morals and -glories in the _cachet_ of would-be elegant sin! “If my father -forgets that he is Cæsar, I who am his daughter have the right to -remember it,” said Julia, by way of comment on his democratic ways. -One day at the theater he noticed the contrast between the dignified -Livia, simply attired, but surrounded by grave statesmen and men of -distinction, and the gaily dressed Julia with her train of gilded, -dissolute youth. After his usual fashion of writing little notes when -he had anything to say, he sent the latter a line of reproof. “Do not -blame my young friends,” was her ready answer; “they will grow old -with me.” On another occasion, after he had found fault with her showy -appearance, she presented herself the next day in a plain and modest -costume. To his compliment on the becoming change, she replied: “To-day -I am dressed for my father; yesterday it was for my husband.” The -subtle satire in this remark was only apparent to those who knew that -she dressed for all the world rather than for either. - -She was gifted, witty, and cultured, we are told; but to be lettered -in the age of the Cæsars did not necessarily mean learning or serious -tastes. One must dabble a little in philosophy, read the Hellenic -poets, patronize famous Roman writers, and be able to talk of the -Greek artists who were designing temples and flooding the imperial -city with sculpture of various grades. It was even possible to have a -long-haired philosopher to dress the intellect, as the maid dressed -the person--the one a slave like the other. But all this might end -in little more than the trifling of the dilettante, and was quite -consistent with very bad morals--as it has always been and is to-day. -To discourse of Ovid’s “Art of Love” was agreeable enough, and not -mentally exacting. To be sure, the poet did not bring his admirers -into very respectable society; indeed, we should think it not only -altogether vulgar, but altogether base. But it appealed to the tastes -of these spoiled darlings of fortune who had nothing else to do but -amuse themselves--it did not matter how, so long as due regard was -paid to the so-called elegancies. From love, as the Romans understood -it, to unlimited license was but a step. They did not live in the -“beyond” of refined sentiment. They mixed very little intellect or -imagination with their passions, though they put a certain art into -the stimulants of their sensations. When Catullus wished to add a last -touch of seriousness to what he called his emotions, he said that he -loved Lesbia “not merely as men commonly loved a mistress, but as a -father loves his sons and his sons-in-law.” There was little romance -in this epicurean life, in spite of a great deal of simple family -affection outside of it, which these perfumed sybarites looked upon -as _bourgeois_. Splendor and not too decorous pleasure were -all-sufficient. Anything else they would have laughed at as moonshine. -“When Queen Money gave a dowry,” said Horace, with his inimitable -satire, “she gave beauty, nobility, friends, and fidelity.” With the -exception of Horace and Vergil, who had already grown too moral for the -highest fashion, Roman poetry was incredibly coarse and demoralizing; -but this was the literary food of the reckless and dashing group that -gravitated from the palace on the Palatine to Baiæ, the Newport of the -Roman world, rushing from one novelty to another, from one excess to a -deeper and more highly spiced one, until its rapid course was run. - -Of this society Julia was the center, the life, and the inspiration. -The days were past when the stern father put a man of high lineage -peremptorily in his place for presuming to address her in the beautiful -city by the sea. The complaisant husband, absorbed in affairs, no -doubt thought it best to let her go her own way, but he died possibly -unsuspecting. Again the still youthful widow was married in the -interest of the State and of Livia--to Livia’s son. The brooding, -gloomy student was equally far from filling the heart of the graceful -woman who was overflowing with the joy of life, and intoxicated with a -sense of power that knows no law. Livia may have been faulty enough, -but she was above the degradation of the senses. In Julia the virtues -of the Roman matron seem to have been lost. When her conduct came to -the knowledge of her inflexible father, he was as bitter as he had -been tender. Her maid hung herself, and Augustus only said: “I would -rather be the father of Phœbe than of Julia.” Of the youth entangled -with her, some were exiled and some took themselves out of a world -that was no longer possible for them. Among the latter was the clever, -fascinating, but dissolute son of Antony, who had been carefully reared -by Octavia and befriended by the emperor, only to repay their kindness -by striking both in the tenderest point. But Julia, the beautiful, -brilliant, flattered queen of society, was sent away from all her -pleasures, her luxuries, her gay companions, her matchless position, to -languish for fifteen years in a desolate exile, with no friend but the -mother who shared with her the bare necessaries of a squalid existence. -No wine, no luxury, no fine clothes, no men-servants without special -restrictions and surveillance. A rock for a home, the sea and the sky -for companions, and not even hope for consolation. And she was little -past thirty-five! Once she was removed to a stronghold of Calabria, -with a larger guard and no added comforts, but a little less severity. -Many times the Roman people, who had loved her buoyant spirit and -winning personality, begged her inexorable father to forgive her. “I -wish you all had such daughters and such wives,” was his only reply. -She died shortly after her father, to lie, unsung and forgotten, far -from her kindred in an unknown grave. Not a word is left to tell us the -details of that long tragedy. Her daughter Julia inherited her vices -and suffered a like fate. - - -IV - -It is needless to recall here the notorious women who followed in the -footsteps of Julia, and added to all her sins a cruelty which she had -not. The world is familiar enough with the crimes of Messalina, the -second Agrippina, Poppæa, and others whose names have become a by-word -and a reproach to womanhood. Men, and sometimes women, gravely tell -us that these moral monsters are a measure of Roman standards, and -a logical result of the culture of the feminine intellect. That two -things exist at the same time does not prove that one is the result of -the other. The facts in this case, indeed, prove quite the contrary. -It would be idle to say that the weaker half of the human family hold -a monopoly of the virtues, or that it is in the nature of things for -them to pass unscathed through the fiery ordeal of a corrupt age whose -supreme end lies in pleasures of sense. But even in Rome at its worst -there was a great deal of pure family life, and its conservation rested -with women. I have quoted elsewhere from the private letters of -distinguished Romans who have given us pleasant glimpses of refined, -accomplished, and learned women, as free from the taint of moral laxity -as our own; and this when men made no claims to morality themselves. To -the great body of Roman women a spotless virtue was among their most -cherished traditions. So far from finding their increased intelligence -a cause of the decline in morals, it is a fact that those of the -highest character and ability constantly suffered indignity and wrong, -because their presence was a restraint upon their unscrupulous masters. -Long domination had fostered the egotism of men to such an extent that -they could not brook opposition of any sort, and it was the ignorant -and flexible who bent the most easily to their will, even when it led -them to the last extreme of moral subservience. Only a fearless courage -and a strong conviction could venture to take high ground against the -fashionable sins of men in power. It is always more or less true that -when a dominant class lowers its moral standards, it likes to ostracize -those who even tacitly reflect upon it. - -Examples of this in Roman life are so numerous that two thousand -years have not sufficed to hide them all. Of women in high places who -suffered death or banishment for their virtues, the list is a long -one. Caligula decreed the same honors to his grandmother, the pure and -high-minded Antonia, which had been given to Livia. But when this -dignified matron, worthy daughter of the gentle Octavia, presumed to -reprove him for his vices, he starved her to death. Vitellius banished -his mother, Sextilia, a woman of admirable character, because she wept -at his elevation to the throne. This was a reproach which he could not -brook, and, failing to break her heart by his cruelties, he took her -life, or made it so intolerable that she was forced to end it herself. -It was impossible for a good woman to stay in the palace, and the -Empress Galeria begged permission to retire to a modest dwelling on the -Aventine. Domitian ordered a vestal, charged with scandalous acts which -were denied and not proved, to be buried alive; but he consistently -marked virtue for persecution, hesitated at no crime, and declared -a woman to be “a natural slave, with man for her divinely appointed -master.” Carrying this to its logical conclusion, he made the Palatine -unsafe for any woman. That the great heart of Roman womanhood was on -the side of loyalty and virtue, and looked upon conjugal infidelity -as a sin to be frowned upon even in men, is shown by their attitude -toward Nero when he sent away his young, lovely, and innocent wife, -Octavia, to marry the most dissolute woman of the time. Many men -remonstrated, and women rose in a body to demand her return. For the -moment he thought it best to yield to the popular clamor, but he soon -invented a pretext to send her to the long silence from which there -is no return. Yet she was beautiful, of cloudless fame, and had lived -hardly twenty years! Roman history is full of instances of moral -heroism on the part of women, that had no counterpart among men, and -of feminine virtue held at the expense of life. Servilia, the youthful -daughter of Soranus, took upon herself a fault for which it was sought -to compass her father’s death, and not being able to save him, died -with him. Women in great numbers retired in sad dignity from a society -whose current of vice they were powerless to change. A stately and -pathetic figure is Pomponia Græcina, who wore mourning for forty years, -and never smiled after her friend Julia, the daughter of Drusus, was -murdered by Messalina. It was a pitiless world in which neither virtue -nor life was safe, but it had its heroines, and they were not few. - -Nor can the number of divorces be placed to the account of women. When -a Julius Cæsar takes his tenderly loved daughter from her husband and -marries her to another man in the interest of his own ambitions; when -an Augustus makes laws against immorality, yet divorces an innocent -wife who objects to his own infidelities, and puts in her place a -beautiful woman of unsullied fame, whom he has taken from a worthy -man; when both of these rulers of the world compel good citizens to -divorce the consorts they possibly love, in order to dispose of one -or the other for personal ends or the good of the State--it is hardly -worth while to hold helpless women responsible for conditions made and -enforced by men in power, who are called wise and think themselves -passably good. The most that can be said is that women of knowledge and -character are less likely to bear wrong and abuse silently, but they -are more likely to uphold the dignity of the family and to ignore the -petty vanities and jealousies which are among the most prolific causes -of divorce. A cultivated intellect does not necessarily imply good -morals, but, other things being equal, an educated woman is less easily -led into wrong, as she has more resources and is better fitted to stand -on her own feet; unfortunately, this is precisely what her critics in -the past have not wished her to do. - -With so many conspicuous examples in high places, it is hardly strange -that divorces became deplorably common. “Does anybody blush at a -divorce,” says one, “since illustrious and noble women compute their -years, not by the number of consuls, but by the number of husbands they -have had?” We hear of a woman who was the twenty-first wife of her -twenty-third husband. The pretexts were often slight. It was said of -Mæcenas that he had been divorced a thousand times, though he had but -one wife, as he loved her and always married her over again. The woman -who had been but once married was honored as a _univira_. She -was too often, however, like a goddess worshiped from afar by men who -found both interest and pleasure in the number of their wives. Much of -the trouble was due to the fortune-hunters, who did not scruple to use -any means to get rid of a wife and retain her dowry, at the expense of -her fair name. Even good women were so wholly at the mercy of false -charges that Antoninus made a law that no man could bring suit against -his wife for immorality unless he could prove his own fidelity. We know -that wise and virtuous women were often forced to seclude themselves -from the aggressions of wicked men against whose machinations they were -unable to find protection. - -There was one law, however, which might be considered to advantage by -some of our own legislators. It had been decreed that no one should -marry sooner than six months after a divorce. Augustus extended the -time to eighteen months. We talk much and with a fine consciousness -of superior virtue about the chaotic state of Roman marriages. What -will our fortieth-century moralist who reads present history, as -photographed from day to day in the blazing journals, say of the -decadence of a civilization in which people may marry two hours after -divorce, or find themselves some fine morning released from their -marriage bonds without knowing it? And we are an eminently moral people. - -On the influence of the Roman women let the Romans speak for -themselves. It was proposed in the Senate that men should not be -permitted to take their wives into the provinces, as they had too much -power with the soldiers, interfered in settling business affairs, and -made another center of government--indeed, they sometimes “presided -at the drill of cohorts and the evolutions of the legions,” besides -dividing the homage. The majority of the senators objected to this -bill, and pronounced its author “no fit censor.” An able and eloquent -man, in reply to it, said that “much of the sternness of antiquity had -been changed into a better and more genial system.” A few concessions -had been made to the wants of women, but “in other respects man and -wife share alike.” There might be some scheming women, but were the -magistrates free from various unworthy passions, and was this a -reason why none should be sent to the provinces? If husbands were -sometimes corrupted by their wives, were single men any better? “It -is idle to shelter our own weakness under other names; for it is -the husband’s fault if the wife transgresses propriety.” This wise -orator was sustained by eminent men who gave their own fortunate -experiences, and the bill was lost. Such a tribute to the helpfulness -and strong character of the Roman woman may be commended to a few of -our enlightened thinkers who, curiously enough, use the low standards -of men who never pretended to be moral, and the frailties of dependent -women who were not permitted to be so, or of a class that has always -appealed to the weaknesses of men since the beginning of the world, -to prove the degeneracy of society under the influence of feminine -intelligence! It was never the woman of strong intellectual fiber and -serious interests that Rome had to fear. It was another class, that did -not, in any sense, represent her either in intelligence or character. - - -V - -The wicked side of the Roman woman--and this was sometimes very wicked -indeed--has been sufficiently emphasized. It is more agreeable and -perhaps more profitable to consider her better side. Her talent was -essentially administrative, and we find many illustrations of it among -those who were conspicuous in public life. There were strong and wise -women who had great power; as a rule, it was held wisely. Many of -them, indeed most of them, brought moral questions to bear upon State -problems, with a keen discriminating insight into conditions that -troubled the hearts of wise men. Their number was small, as no woman -below the rank of an empress was eligible to the smallest position -of influence, aside from the religious offices, which were largely -perfunctory; but it was sufficient to show a quality of womanhood that -was not only strong, but intrinsically fine and noble. - -Of these, as we have seen, the most striking representative was Livia. -Among those who followed more or less in her footsteps was Plotina, -the able and accomplished wife of Trajan. Trained in the philosophy of -the Stoics, her head was turned neither by prosperity nor misfortune. -She entered the palace, on her husband’s elevation to the throne, with -serene dignity, and said that she could leave it with equal calmness. -With less ambition than the first empress, she had a finer moral sense, -also the gravity and firmness of a matron of the old school. She loved -truth and justice better than the pageantry of courts, and ignored -the claims of an artificial society. A woman of brilliant intellect, -noble character, and exalted aims, she led a simple life in the midst -of luxury, and used her power not only to raise the tone of morals and -to foster a taste for letters, but to expose political corruptions, -suppress abuses, diminish unjust taxes, and promote financial reforms. -It was through her influence that Hadrian was adopted, a favor which he -recognized by extending her authority in his reign, and writing hymns -in her praise. The trace of asceticism in her character and manners did -not please the idlers who liked to bask in the sunshine of a gay and -luxurious court. She was censured and talked about, with little enough -reason as it seems, as no records have left a shadow on her reputation. -Her fault, in the eyes of bad men, lay in her moral force. To frown -upon vice, to oppose corruption in high places, was an unwarranted -interference with their natural rights. But good men sustained her. At -her death she was placed in the ranks of the gods and honored with a -temple dedicated to the “Mother of the People.” - -A more conspicuous example of the ability of the women who figured -in the public life of Rome is found in Julia Domna, the Syrian wife -of Septimius Severus, who is said to have owed his success to her -wise counsels. She was not simply an ambitious woman who schemed for -place and power. To a genius for diplomacy she added the fascinations -of beauty, wit, and imagination. She had a knowledge of history, -philosophy, geometry, and the sciences of her time, was a patron of -art, and made her court a center of all that was left of literature -and culture in an age of decadence. Her husband evidently did not -object to a learned woman, as he had a special admiration for Arria -“because she read Plato.” Then this clever wife--who was called -“Julia the philosopher,” surrounded herself with savants, and loved -to discuss great subjects--put her versatile intellect to his service -and advancement. Her youth was not free from rumors of follies, but -no woman of note escaped these, even if she were pure as Diana. Her -father was a “priest of the Sun,” and she was always a student, with -a tendency toward Oriental mysticism. She ruled wisely and made the -fortune of her family. In her last years she sought refuge from many -sorrows in the resources of her intellect, but these failed to bring -her happiness. The wicked Caracalla, who did not profit by his mother’s -wisdom, killed his brother in her arms, and finally broke her heart. - -Her sister, Julia Mæsa, shared her abilities, and, with the aid of -her daughters, secured the throne for her grandson. She was no doubt -ambitious, but was known as wise, just, and moderate. This family, -which ruled Rome for many years, was a remarkable one, but its credit -was sustained mainly by its women. One of the daughters of Julia Mæsa -was Soæmias, who was the first woman to take her place in the Senate -and attach her name to legislative decrees. She also presided over -the Little Senate, a sort of “woman’s club,” which regulated morals, -dress, etiquette, and other matters pertaining to her sex. It was -accused of gossip and scandal; but as this accusation has been made -against every association of women, from the coterie of Sappho to the -modern sewing-society and the last luncheon club, it cannot be taken -too seriously. Let the man who lounges about the clubs of to-day,--as -his Greek and Roman predecessors did about the porticos, gymnasia, or -baths,--and has never heard or repeated any gossip of his fellow-men -and -women, throw the first stone. - -But Soæmias had a bad son, the Heliogabulus of infamous note, whom -she could not save or reform, and she was wise enough to pave the -way for the succession of her sister’s more reputable one, after his -death. This sister, Mamæa, was virtually regent during the minority -of Alexander Severus, whose purity of character and conduct she -guarded with the greatest care. She tried to apply the moral ideals -of womanhood to the men of the period, and found the task a difficult -and thankless one. Without assuming the trappings of power, she -administered the affairs of the empire with wisdom and judgment. An -able, humane, and thoughtful woman of conservative tendencies and -limited ambition for herself, she declined to sit in the Senate, but -chose a body of just and learned counselors to decide upon public -questions, while she discussed Christianity with her friend Origen, -founded a school for the free education of orphans, gave her son a -serious training for his future responsibilities, and worked for the -moral betterment of a world that did not wish to be bettered in that -way. Her standards were too high, and she reformed too much for people -who found license and corruption more to their interest and liking. -The Senate was jealous of her wise and just counselors, who could not -be used as tools for unscrupulous ends. Impatient, at last, of their -interference, and incensed at a woman who wished a moral government, -it passed a law excluding women from its ranks and “devoting to the -infernal gods the head of the wretch by whom this decree should be -violated.” With singular consistency, however, it voted her an -apotheosis after ridding itself of the restraining influence of her -virtues by practically sending her to a violent death. - - -VI - -These few instances, gathered from many that are more or less familiar -to the student of history, may serve to show in some degree the -influence of strong and able women in the affairs of Old Rome. They -show, also, the intellectual as well as moral force of the best type -of pagan womanhood, which was formed after classic ideals of an heroic -pattern. - -There were still women of learning and distinction when the old -standards had fallen and society was sunk in the grossest materialism. -The last and greatest of these was an alien. It was at Tivoli, in the -shadow of the Sabine Hills, that Zenobia, a captive, and alone with -her children among the ruins of her past grandeur, solaced herself -with letters and philosophy. Her teacher, minister, counselor, and -friend, Longinus, had paid the penalty of his devotion with his life, -and the world was poorer by the loss of one of its immortal thinkers. -But he left an apt pupil in a woman who had treasured his wisdom -and profited by his marvelous knowledge. An Amazon in war, empress, -linguist, Platonist, with the grasp of a statesman and the insight of -a seer, this gifted, eloquent, and versatile woman of flashing dark -eyes, winning manners, and Oriental beauty, who graced a triumph like -a goddess and met misfortune like a philosopher, is a shining example -of the dignity and greatness of a type that was passing. “Who has ever -shown more prudence in council, more firmness in her undertakings, more -authority over her soldiers, more discernment in her conduct?” said her -arch-enemy Aurelian, who bowed to her talents, felt her fascinations, -but made a spectacle of her sorrow and humiliation to add a jewel to -his crown. - -It is idle to depreciate the qualities of the pagan women. Under all -their disabilities, which were many, those whose position gave them -a certain freedom of movement often attained great heights through -their gifts of character and intellect. There were great wives, great -mothers, great administrators, great rulers, great writers among the -more sensitive races, and great women, which means a symmetry of mind, -heart, and intellect in large proportions. But the ages in which they -lived were masculine ones--masculine in their cruelties and their -vices, as well as in their force and their theories of virtue. Women -did not escape the contagion, and when they plunged into abysses of -corruption, it was with the abandon of a passionate temperament. Still, -it was the voices of those who were too strong and too intelligent to -be blindly led that were first raised in a moral protest, the echo of -which has not yet died away. - - - - -MARCELLA, PAULA, AND THE FIRST CONVENT - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · Woman’s Need of a Faith · - · Rome in its Decadence · - · The Reaction of Roman Women · - · Marcella · The Church of the Household · - · Asella · Fabiola · Paula · - · Eustochium · Blæsilla · St. Jerome · Melania · - · The Convent at Bethlehem · - · Translation of the Latin Vulgate · - · Hebrew Studies · Death of Paula · - · Tragical Fate of Marcella · - · Revolution in Roman Society · - · Spread of Convents · Christian Ideals · - · Value of Able Women in the Early Church · - · St. Chrysostom · Olympias · - · Intellectual Decline of Women in the Dark Ages · - · Influence of the Renaissance · - · Condition Tempered by Chivalry · - · Elevated by the Renaissance · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -“The majority of men, and especially of women, whose imagination is -double, cannot live without a faith,” said the Abbé Galiani, “and those -who can, sustain the effort only in the greatest force and youth of -the soul.” How far this may be true it is needless to discuss here, -but it is certain enough that women have been the strongest agents -in the religious movements of the world. A tender heart may go with -a skeptical mind, but the fine type of womanhood, in which reason is -tempered with love and imagination, inevitably turns to some faith -for support in seasons of moral decadence as in moments of sorrow and -despair. This has never had a more striking illustration than in the -reaction of a large class of Roman women from the vices, follies, -and debasing pleasures of a civilization falling into ruin, toward an -extreme asceticism. At this moment in its history the golden age of -Rome was long past, and the world was to wait more than a thousand -years for another brilliant flowering of the human intellect on the -same soil. But glory of a different sort set its seal upon the women -of the darkening ages. To the enthusiasms of patriotism and passion, -culture and ambition, succeeded the enthusiasms of religion. - -In the fourth century the images of the pagan gods, white and silent on -their stone pedestals, still kept guard over the city. Their temples -were comparatively fresh, but the gods themselves were dead. The -seventy thousand statues that made Rome a forest of marbles in the days -of its glory had not lost their majesty, their beauty, or their grace; -but the spirit which had made them alive had gone with their virgin -purity. Pan held his flute as of old, but it was mute. Bacchus still -wore his vine-leaves and his air of rollicking mirth, but the bands -of roistering men who had once paid him homage no longer cared for a -god to preside over their plain worship of the senses. Venus had taken -off her divine halo and gone back to the foam of the sea whence she -came, leaving only the smiling face of a beautiful woman. The Muses -had ceased to dance to the lyre of Apollo, and the god of light was -asleep like the rest. Men and women had thrown aside the thin veil -of idealism with which they had once invested their sins, and Rome -was become a sink of iniquity without even the leaven of the Hellenic -imagination. Between a life of the senses and a life of the intellect, -it gravitated from a wild orgy to a passionless philosophy that held -its own pulse and counted its own heart-beats as it drifted curiously -and mockingly into the unknown. - -But women do not carry easily the burden of a cold skepticism, and -philosophy failed to satisfy them. When the age became hopelessly -corrupt, and men scoffed at morals, sending one another to death for -inconvenient virtues, they had been swept along with the current, -and many plunged into a life of the senses with the recklessness of -an ardent, virile temperament. But there was still a large number of -intelligent matrons who preserved the waning traditions of an educated -womanhood, and these revolted at the hopeless vacuum of a life devoted -to intrigue and the tiresome mysteries of the toilet. The jewels, -silks, and embroidered gauzes of fabulous cost had no more charm for -them. Nor did they care to please the curled and perfumed sybarites -who gambled or discussed the last bit of scandal in their pillared -halls, fanned by slaves, and crying out at the crumple of a rose-leaf. -The Roman women had been distinguished for the stronger qualities of -character. Their bounding energies had been shown in deeds of heroism. -They had to a large degree the ardors of the imagination. These traits, -together with the moral sense that lies at the base of the feminine -nature, though often submerged for a time, vindicated themselves in the -passionate devotion with which so many turned from a beautiful but bad -world toward things of the spirit. - -They had already been captivated in numbers by the mystic cults of the -Orient. Out of the East, whence came the pagan gods as well as the -luxury and sensualism which had sapped the moral life of Rome, came -also the “still small voice” of a new faith, with unfamiliar messages -of hope and consolation. It had been singing its hymns for nearly three -hundred years in that great under-world, of which little note had been -taken, except in periodical outbursts of persecution. In the vast -network of dark passages and lighted cells which lay far from the light -of the sun; beneath the shining temples and statues of the gods they -were undermining; beneath the groves, and gardens, and fountains, and -palaces in which vice reigned and idle voluptuaries were inventing new -refinements of sin to spur their jaded senses--the disciples of a lowly -faith which trampled upon all that these Epicureans loved, making a sin -of pleasure and a joy of suffering, had met to offer incense at strange -altars. It was women, with their natural tendency toward a personal -devotion and a self-sacrifice strengthened perhaps by the forced -self-effacement of centuries, who embraced with the most passionate -fervor a religion that deified all that was best and most distinctive -in their own natures. This religion, with its spirit of love, its trust -in some other existence that would compensate a thousandfold for the -sorrows of this, appealed to them irresistibly. Already it had brought -peace and a martyr’s crown to multitudes of the poor and ignorant who -had little to lose but their lives. It had gained, too, a firm foothold -among the cultivated classes, who did not always forsake the things of -the world in their acceptance of things of the spirit. But the fact -that it had become a State religion had not made it a fashionable one, -though its later votaries often outdid their pagan neighbors in luxury -and worldliness. - -One day in the later years of the fourth century, a rich, noble, -educated, and able woman withdrew in weariness and disgust from the -vanities and unblushing vices of Roman society, fitted up an oratory in -her stately palace on the Aventine, and asked her friends to join her -in the worship, duties, and sacrifices of the Christian faith. This was -the germ of the Church of the Household, the _Ecclesia Domestica_, -on which St. Jerome has thrown so bright a light--the small beginning -of the vast combinations of women, in which one of the greatest -religious movements of the world found its strongest instrument and -support. Nothing shows more clearly the strength and moral purity of -the large body of Roman womanhood than the numbers who flocked to a -standard that offered no worldly attractions, and imposed, as the first -of duties, self-renunciation and the denial of all pleasures of sense. - - -II - -It is not likely that Marcella had any thought of the vital -significance of a step that opened a new field to women, which absorbed -their talents and energies for ten centuries, sometimes for good, -sometimes for ill, and still holds a powerful attraction for certain -temperaments. She belonged to one of the noblest families of Rome, and -had led the life of the more serious of the rich patricians of her -time. Her mother was the Albina who had entertained Athanasius many -years before, and shown great interest in his ascetic teachings. He -held up solitude and meditation as an ideal, and no doubt his words, -which she must have heard discussed afterward, made a strong impression -on the imagination of the thoughtful child. They came back with a new -force later, when she lost her husband a few months after marriage. In -spite of much criticism, she retired from a world which no longer had -any attractions for her, gave away her jewels and personal adornments, -put on a simple brown robe, and gave herself to religious and -charitable work. At first she sought seclusion in her country villa, -but she was of too active and wholesome a temperament for a life of -solitary brooding and introspection. It was after the early days of her -grief were passed that she opened her palace on the Aventine, and made -it a center for the devotional women of Rome. - -There was nothing in the life she planned to tempt her ambition. Nor -did she abdicate the world and its pleasures on account of the waning -of her charms. She was still in the fullness of life, young, beautiful, -rich, and much sought in marriage by men of the highest rank and -position. In her persistent refusal of their brilliant offers she met -with great opposition from her family, who evidently preferred the -ascetic life for some one outside of their own circle. But she was a -woman of strong, vigorous intellect and firm character, as well as -fine moral aims and religious fervor. Born to lead and not to follow, -she was never the reflex of other minds. We find in all the known acts -of her life the stamp of a distinct and well-poised individuality. If -she started on a new path, it was through the reaction of a pure and -conscientious nature from a society in which the virtues seemed dying, -the need of an outlet for emotions suddenly turned upon themselves, and -the going out toward humanity of the unsatisfied longing of motherhood. - -To this quiet but palatial retreat on the Aventine--which tradition -places not far from the present site of Sta. Sabina--many women fled -from the gay world of splendor and fashion. They were mostly rich -and high-born; some were widows, who consecrated a broken life to -the service of God and their fellow-men; a few were devoted maidens. -The oldest of the little group was Asella, a sister of Marcella, who -had been drawn from childhood to an ascetic life. She dressed like a -pilgrim, lived on bread and water with a little salt, slept on the bare -ground, went out only to visit the graves of the martyrs, and held it a -jewel in her crown that she never spoke to a man, though she evidently -did not object to receiving letters from the good St. Jerome. He speaks -of her as “an illustrious lady, a model of perfection,” and says that -no one knew better how to combine “austerity of manner with grace of -language and serious charm. No one gave more gravity to joy, more -sweetness to melancholy. She rarely opened her mouth; her face spoke; -her silence was eloquent. A cell was her paradise, fasting her delight. -She did not see those to whom she was most tenderly attached, and was -full of holy ardor.” But hardships and low diet seem to have agreed -with this saintly woman, as she was well, in spite of them, through a -long life, in which she won praises from good and bad alike. Lea is a -dim figure at this distance, but she was spoken of as “the head of -a monastery and mother of virgins,” who died early and was greatly -honored for her goodness, her humility, her robe of sackcloth not too -well cared for, her days of fasting, and her nights of prayer. - -More noted was Fabiola, a member of the great Fabian family, who had -been divorced from a vicious husband and made a second marriage which -seems to have lain heavily on her tender conscience when she became a -widow shortly afterward. Indeed, she went so far in her remorse as to -stand in the crowd of penitents at the door of the Lateran on Easter -Eve, clad in coarse sackcloth, unveiled, and weeping, with ashes on her -head and hair trailing, as she prostrated herself and waited for public -absolution. It is said that bishop, priests, and people were alike -touched to tears at the humiliation of the young, gay, and beautiful -woman, the idol of a patrician society. But her religious enthusiasm -was more than a sudden outburst of feeling. This pale devotee gave -her large fortune to charity, built the first Christian hospital, -gathered from the streets the sick, the maimed, and the suffering, even -ministering with her own hands to outcast lepers. Her charities were -boundless, and extended to remote islands of the sea. St. Jerome calls -her a heroine of Christianity, the admiration of unbelievers. But her -intellect was clear and brilliant, and her close questionings spurred -him to write of many things which would otherwise have been left -in darkness. In her later days she surprised him one evening in the -convent at Bethlehem, where she was visiting her friends, by reciting -from memory a celebrated letter in praise of a solitary and ascetic -life which he had written to Heliodorus many years earlier. It was the -letter which had brought so much censure on the austere monk, as it -sent great numbers of noble women and many men into the ranks of the -hermits and cenobites. - -This woman of talent and fashion, who left the gay world to become -saint, philanthropist, nurse, and pilgrim, died shortly before the -terrible days came to Rome, and its temples resounded with psalms in -her honor. Young and old sang her praises. The galleries, housetops, -and public places could not contain the people who flocked to her -funeral. So wicked Rome, in the last days of its fading glory, paid -homage to women of great virtues, great deeds, and unselfish lives. - -But the most distinguished of the matrons who frequented the chapel -on the Aventine was Paula, a descendant of Scipio and the Gracchi on -one side, and, it was claimed, of Agamemnon on the other. The Romans -did not stop at myths or probabilities in their genealogies, and her -husband traced his ancestry to Æneas. But it is certain that Paula -belonged to the oldest and noblest family in Rome. She had an immense -fortune, and had passed her life in the fashionable circles of her -time. A widow at thirty-three, with five children, and inconsolable, -she suddenly laid aside the personal insignia of her rank, exchanged -cloth of gold for a nun’s robe, silken couches for the bare ground, -gaiety for prayers, and the costly pleasures of the sybarite for days -and nights of weeping over the most trivial faults, imaginary or real. -Even the stern St. Jerome begged her to limit her austerities; but -she said that she must disfigure a face she had been so wicked as to -paint, afflict a body which had tasted so much delight, and expiate her -laughter with her tears. She dressed and lived as poorly as the lowest -of her servants, and expressed a wish to be buried as a beggar. Full of -a sweet and tender humanity, however, she was no less pitiful to others -than severe to herself. - -Of her four daughters, Eustochium, a serious girl of sixteen, -sympathized most with her ascetic views and was closely associated -with her life-work. She was the first patrician maiden to take the -vow of perpetual virginity. But the flower of the family was her -sister Blæsilla, “older in nature, but inferior in vocation,” said St. -Jerome. Beautiful, gay, clever, young, and a widow after seven months -of marriage, she loved things of the world and had small taste for the -austerities of her mother. She found time for study, however, as she -spoke Greek fluently and learned Hebrew so rapidly that she bade fair -to equal Paula, who liked to sing the psalms of David in the rugged -and majestic language in which they were written. But a violent fever -turned her thoughts from mundane vanities to a life of asceticism. -No more long days before the mirror, no more decking of her pretty -little person. She put on the brown gown like the others, and devoted -her brilliant youth to the same service. But so excessive were her -penances, so rigorous her fastings, and so severe her austerities, that -she died of them at twenty, asking God to pardon her because she could -not carry out her plans of devotion and self-sacrifice. Her funeral -was hardly in keeping with these plans. All the world did honor to the -beautiful, accomplished woman who had forsaken a life of elegant ease -for the hardships of a self-imposed poverty. They covered her coffin -with cloth of gold, and the most distinguished men in Rome marched at -the head of the cortège. Her untimely death brought an outburst of -indignation against the mother who had encouraged a self-denial so hard -and unnatural. But this mother had fainted as she followed her idolized -daughter to the tomb. St. Jerome dwells upon the piety, innocence, -chastity, and virtues, as well as the more brilliant qualities, of -the _dévote_ who had gone so early, but while the tears flowed -down his own cheeks, he reproved Paula for permitting the mother to -overshadow the religieuse. He adds a curious bit of consolation, -however, for a spiritual adviser who has renounced all worldly motives -and interests, when he tells her that Blæsilla will live forever in his -writings, as every page will be marked with her name. This immortality -he modestly thinks will compensate her for the short time she spent on -earth. - - -III - -These brief outlines indicate the character and position of a few of -the best-known women who gathered about Marcella. Some of them lived -with her; others came from time to time, or were constant attendants -at the Bible readings and prayers. Saintly women, and worldly ones -who were doubtless eager to flock to the little chapel in a palace -that represented to them a great name, if not a living faith, had -been going in and out for some years before St. Jerome came from the -East at the summons of Pope Damasus, and was invited by Marcella to -stay at her house, after the manner of famous divines of all ages. It -is to this most interesting and learned of the early fathers that we -are indebted for the blaze of light that was thrown upon the Church -of the Household. It was also to this group of consecrated women that -St. Jerome owed the inspiration and the intelligent criticism that led -him to give the world some of the works on which his greatest fame -rests. The circle that listened to his persuasive eloquence, born of -a keen intellect, an ardent imagination, a passionate temperament, and -an exalted faith, was not an ignorant one. Most of these ladies spoke -Greek and were familiar with Greek letters. Some had learned Hebrew, -which was not included among the fashionable accomplishments of the -day. A few were women of brilliant ability and distinct individuality, -who could not live in the world without leaving some trace of -themselves. The discriminating mind of Marcella exercised itself on -every new problem. “During the whole of my residence at Rome she never -saw me without asking some question about history or dogma,” said St. -Jerome. “She was not satisfied with any answer I might give; she never -yielded to my authority only, but discussed the matter so thoroughly -that often I ceased to be the master and became the humble pupil.” It -would have been better for him if he had given more heed to her gentle -voice when she tried to temper his bitterness and restrain his unruly -tongue. We have another proof of the solid fiber of her intellect -in the fact that she was consulted on Biblical matters by Roman -ecclesiastics, even by the Pope himself; indeed, it was her counsel -that led Pope Anastasius to condemn the heresies of Origen in the synod. - -It may easily be imagined that the pale, slender, ascetic monk -of thirty-four, with the light of genius in his eye, the fire of -sublimated passion in his soul, and the vein of poetry running -through his nature, had a strange power over these women who lived on -moral heights quite above the heavy worldly atmosphere about them. -This spiritual exaltation has swayed women of ardent imagination ever -since the days of the apostles, and doubtless swayed them before. It -was the secret of Savonarola’s influence. Under the inspiration of -the persuasive Nicole, the earnest Arnauld, and the austere Pascal, -the great ladies of France put off their silks and jewels with their -mundane vanities, and knelt in the bare cells at Port-Royal, with the -haircloth and the iron girdle pressing the delicate flesh as they -prayed. Fénelon found his most ardent disciple in the mystic Mme. -Guyon. The pure soul of Mme. Swetchine responded to the earnest words -of Lacordaire as the Æolian harp vibrates to the lightest breath of -wind. “I cannot attach to your name the glory of the Roman women whom -St. Jerome has immortalized,” he says, “and yet you were of their -race.... The light of your soul illumined the land that received you, -and for forty years you were for us the sweetest echo of the gospel -and the surest road to honor.” It is needless to recall the power of -many spiritual men of our own race and day in leading the serious and -gay alike into paths of a rational self-renunciation. Perhaps the -little coterie in which St. Jerome found himself was more permanently -severe in its self-discipline than most of the later ones have been. -Doubtless there was a little blending of the church and the world, of -literature and prayers, of gilded trappings with the nun’s robe and the -monk’s cowl. But when these Roman women came into the devoted household -on the Aventine, they usually renounced the world very literally, -though it is not unlikely that they had a following of those who -mingled a pale and decorous piety with their worldly pleasures, as did -many of the priests whom St. Jerome attacks with such biting sarcasm. - -Then this monk of many dreams and visions, with his halo of saintship, -was fresh from the hermits and cenobites of the Thebaid. The even-song -that went up from countless caves and cabins under the clear Egyptian -sky still lingered in his ear as he expatiated on the paradise of -solitude. Forgetting in his zeal the violent moral struggles he had -passed through himself, he appealed to them in impassioned words to -immolate every natural affection on the altar of a faith that invited -them to a life of prayer and meditation far from the tempting delights -of a sinful world. It was under this teaching that the ascetic spirit -grew so strong as to call out the indignation of the pagan society of -Rome. People of the fourth century were as fond of gossip as are the -men and women of to-day, and no more charitable. Malicious tongues were -whispering evil things of the gifted and famous monk who exercised so -pernicious an influence over the wives and daughters of illustrious -Roman citizens, inciting them to fling away their fortunes for a dream -and seclude themselves from the world to which they belonged. He had -spent three years in an atmosphere that must have been grateful to -his restless and stormy spirit. But now he found that he was bringing -reproach upon those he most revered and loved, so in the summer of 385, -when Pope Damasus died, and his occupation was gone, he bade farewell -to his friends, and went back to the East, leaving a letter to Asella -in which he bitterly denounces those who had dared to malign him. Of -Paula he says that “her songs were psalms, her conversations were of -the gospel, her delight was in purity, her life a long fast.” Yet his -enemies had presumed to attack his attitude toward the saintly woman -whose “mourning and penance had touched his heart with sympathy and -veneration.” - -But his pleadings for a life of penitence and sacrifice had not been in -vain. A few months later Paula carried out a plan which had been for -some time maturing, and followed him, with her daughter Eustochium and -a train of consecrated virgins and attendants. The power of religious -enthusiasm was never shown more clearly than in this able and learned -matron, who had all the strength of the Roman character together with -the mystical exaltation of a Christian sibyl. That she was a woman of -ardent emotions is evident from the violence of her grief at the death -of her daughter and her husband. But in spite of her family affections -she was firm in her purpose to leave home and friends for a life of -hardship in the far East. The tears of her youngest daughter, Rufina, -who begged her to stay for her wedding day,--which, alas! she never -lived to see,--were of no avail. Her little son entreated her in vain. -The words of St. Jerome were ringing in her ears. “Though thy father -should lie on the threshold, trample over his body with dry eyes, and -fly to the standard of the cross,” he had said. “In this matter, to be -cruel is the only true filial affection.” - -Several years before, Melania, a widow of twenty-three, had sailed away -to the Thebaid, on a similar mission. She too had passed through great -sorrows. With strange calmness and without a tear, she had buried her -husband and two sons in quick succession, thanking God that she had no -longer any ties to stand between her and her pious duties. And for this -hardness St. Jerome had applauded her, holding her up as an example to -her sex! She too had turned away dry-eyed and inflexible from the tears -of the little son she left to the tender mercies of the pretor. Did -Mme. de Chantal recall these women, centuries after, when she walked -serenely over the prostrate body of her son, who had thrown himself -across the threshold to bar her departure from her home to a life of -spiritual consecration and conventual discipline under the direction of -St. François de Sales? - -We cannot follow the wanderings of these fourth-century pilgrims among -the hermits of the desert and the holy places of Syria. They were among -the first of a long line of women who have given up the luxuries and -refinements of life for a hut or a cave in the wilderness, and a bare, -hard existence, illuminated only by the “light that never was on sea -or land.” Melania established a convent on the Mount of Olives, with -Rufinus as the spiritual director, and here it is probable that Paula -visited her before settling finally near the Cave of the Nativity at -Bethlehem, where she built three convents, a hospital, and a monastery, -which was superintended by St. Jerome. It was here that the rich -descendant of the Scipios, who had gone from a palace to a cell, gave -herself to prayer and menial duties, while she scattered her fortune -among the poor. - - -IV - -The most immediate and important outcome of the Church of the Household -was this convent at Bethlehem, which had its origin in the brain of -Paula and was managed by her until her death. The little community, -with its austerities, its studies, its lowly duties, its charities, -and its peaceful life, was clearly visible while St. Jerome lived -to electrify the world periodically with some fresh outburst of rage -at its follies, or its presumption in differing in opinion from -himself. It was here that he did his greatest work, and it is of -special interest to us that he depended largely upon the intelligent -aid of Paula and Eustochium in his revision of the Septuagint and the -invaluable translation of the Bible known as the Latin Vulgate. His -instructions to them were minute, and his confidence in their ability -is shown in the preface to one of his works, where he says: “You, who -are so familiar with Hebrew literature and so skilled in judging the -merits of a translation, go over this one carefully, word by word, so -as to discover where I have added or omitted anything which is not in -the original.” They also revised with him and largely settled the text -of the Psalter which is in use to-day in the Latin churches. He said -that they acquired with ease, and spoke perfectly, the Hebrew language, -which had cost him so much labor. He was censured for dedicating -so many of his works to the women who had given him such efficient -help. His reply is of value, as it expressed the opinion of the most -scholarly and brilliant of the early fathers on the intellectual -ability of the sex which they seem, as a rule, to have taken the -greatest pleasure in denouncing. - -“As if these women were not more capable of forming a judgment upon -them than most men,” he says. “The good people who would have me -prefer them to you, O Paula and Eustochium, know as little of their -Bible as of Greek and Roman history. They do not know that Huldah -prophesied when men were silent, that Deborah overcame the enemies of -Israel when Barak trembled, that Judith and Esther saved the people of -God. So much for the Hebrews. As for the Greeks, who does not know that -Plato listened to the discourse of Aspasia, that Sappho held the lyre -beside Alcæus and Pindar, that Themistia was one of the philosophers -of Greece? And, among ourselves, Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi, -Portia the daughter of Cato and wife of Brutus, before whom the virtue -of the father and the austerity of the husband paled, do we not count -them among the glories of Rome?” - -Through the correspondence of these women with their friends, we have -various glimpses of their life, as well as of the changes that came to -the group on the Aventine. The heart of Paula was first saddened by the -death of her daughter Paulina, who had married a brother of Marcella, -and lived a life of great devotion in the world. Perhaps she found a -grain of consolation in the fact that Paulina’s large fortune was left -to her husband to be distributed among the poor. We have a glowing -account of the great funeral at St. Peter’s, where this sorrowing -husband scattered the gifts with his own hand to the starving -multitude, after turning his wife’s jewels and fine, gold-embroidered -robes into plain garments for the naked and needy. Then he went to his -desolate home, took the vows of poverty, and put on a monk’s cowl, -though he still held his seat in the Senate, where he doubtless felt -that he could render the best service. - -This grief was tempered for Paula by the glad tidings that the little -son she had left weeping on the shore had married Læta, a Christian, -who, with his approval, consecrated their daughter, a second Paula, to -the service of religion. It was the wife who wrote to her for direction -as to her child’s education; and we have an interesting letter from -St. Jerome giving careful instruction on all points that concern the -training of a young maiden. This Paula helped to cheer the last days of -her grandmother, and became the third abbess of the convent. - -Fabiola came once to visit them, and spent two years, entering into -all their duties, and brightening the little community with her quick -and eager intellect. But she died soon after her return to Rome. They -urged Marcella to join them, and sent vivid descriptions of their -idyllic life among the hills consecrated by so many sacred memories. -“In summer we seek the shade of our trees,” they write; “in autumn the -mild weather and pure air invite us to rest on a bed of fallen leaves; -in spring, when the fields are painted with flowers, we sing our -songs among the birds.” To be sure, they had the hospital work, the -menial duties, the prayers, and the penances, but they had, too, long -and pleasant hours to study the holy books. Then they were free from -the “need of seeing and being seen, of greeting and being greeted, of -praising and detracting, hearing and talking, of seeing the crowds of -the world.” The monastery and the convent were quite separate, but it -is likely that St. Jerome passed many moments in the converse of his -friends and helpers, though his instructions were largely given by -letter. These pastoral pictures, however, with their dark shadings, did -not tempt the Roman lady from her chosen work. With her clear and sane -intellect she saw her duty to those among whom she was born. - -After seventeen years of unselfish labor for the poor and suffering, -varied by the study of which we have the fruit, Paula died and was -laid away in the grotto at Bethlehem. In her last moments she replied -in Greek to a question of St. Jerome, that she felt no pain, and that -everything before her was calm and tranquil. All Palestine flocked to -her funeral, which was conducted by the Bishop of Jerusalem, and people -of every rank and grade looked with tears on her grave and majestic -features. “Illustrious by birth,” says St. Jerome, “more illustrious by -her piety, first in Rome by the wealth of her house, then more honored -by Christian poverty, she scorned pomp and glory, exchanged gilded -walls for a cabin, and won the esteem of the entire world.” - -Her mantle fell upon Eustochium, an earnest, sincere woman of serious -education but less strength and individuality than her mother, who -filled her place with dignity and ability for sixteen years. In the -first days of his grief St. Jerome was unable to take up his work, but -this sympathetic helper turned his thoughts by carrying to him the Book -of Ruth to be translated. At her death she was succeeded by her niece, -another Paula, who had been long associated with her. The younger -Melania, who had followed in the footsteps of her own grandmother, the -first woman to leave Rome for an ascetic retreat in the East, was there -also, and it was these women who, not long afterward, closed the eyes -of St. Jerome, already dimmed with age. - -But the close of Marcella’s life came some time before this last -light went out in the Syrian monastery, and it was tragical enough. -For thirty years she had devoted herself and her large wealth to the -unfortunate, and to the interests of the church she loved. During the -siege of Alaric and the terrible days that saw the ruin of Rome, she -was beaten and tortured to compel her to tell where she had hidden her -treasures; but these had all gone for the relief of the suffering, and -there was nothing to tell. A soldier with a kinder heart than the rest -helped her to reach the old Church of St. Paul without the walls, -together with Principia, the only companion left to her, whom she had -saved with great difficulty from the fury of her brutal captors. A few -days later she died of these tortures, and the maiden was left alone to -tell the tale. The Ecclesia Domestica appears no more in history. The -little group of devoted women was already scattered. Many were dead. -Some had found refuge in the convent at Bethlehem, some in the cells -of the Thebaid, and some had gone to carry the seeds of their faith to -remote places where we cannot trace them. Strictly speaking, this was -never a convent, as there were no vows and women went in and out at -pleasure. But it has been called the “Mother of Convents.” - - -V - -The revolution effected in Roman society through these intelligent -patrician matrons, whose names had great prestige, and whose wealth -seems to have been inexhaustible, was a vital and important one. -The women also show us, even in their often intemperate zeal, the -magnificent possibilities of the Roman character. But their value to -us lies largely in the results of the work they began, which expanded -into the vast system of convents that soon overspread the known world. -That these have been an unmixed good no one will contend to-day, but -that they fulfilled a mission which was, on the whole, a blessing in -its time, few, I think, will deny. For centuries they furnished an -outlet for the administrative talents as well as the surplus energies -and emotions of women. They were also a refuge for multitudes who had -no secure place in the world, and for those who did not wish to subject -themselves to the slavery of a forced and loveless marriage. If they -were not the best things possible, they were the best things available. -So far as these women led lives of active charity, and forgot their own -comfort in gentle ministrations to the poor and suffering, the results -were good for themselves and the world. When they lost their poise in -ecstatic visions, spent long hours in useless austerities and morbid -introspection, crushing every natural impulse in the effort to attain -an impossible holiness that was as airy and unsubstantial as the fabric -of a dream, they became abnormal, and the results were distinctly -bad; it was in the last analysis the apotheosis of emotionalism. The -old extremes of sensuality were followed by equal extremes in another -direction. To glorify pain, to neglect the person, to substitute states -of exaltation for family ties, was a mark of piety. The movement -started with an ideal of virgin purity that depreciated any life but -that of a celibate. The immoralities that early began to creep in with -the theories of spiritual marriage, even among the cenobites of the -desert, to the dismay of the fathers themselves, were doubtless due in -part to the repression of tender human affections, and in part to the -vow of obedience which placed pure and saintly women at the mercy of -the wolves in sheep’s clothing that speedily overran the church and the -world. - -The Christian ideals are essentially feminine ones. They exalt love, -not force, and glorify the finest and most distinctive traits of -womanhood. “Heavens, what wives these Christians have!” said a pagan -ruler, struck with their spirit of supreme self-sacrifice. “Kill me,” -said Eve to Adam, as they were being driven from the Garden of Eden; -“then perhaps God will put you back into paradise.” So wrote a man -centuries later who was trying to illustrate the unselfishness of woman -at the crucial point of her history. But the obedience which was so -beautiful to the husband was quite another matter when demanded by a -spiritual director, and family life began to suffer. Perhaps this state -of affairs is partly responsible for the bitter denunciations of women -in the writings of the fathers, though by no means confined to them. -“You are the devil’s gateway,” says Tertullian, “the unsealer of the -forbidden tree, the deserter from the divine law. You persuaded him -whom the devil was not brave enough to attack. You destroyed God’s -image, man.” “Eve was the principle of death,” wrote St. Jerome; but -remembering, perhaps, how far the work of his life had been aided by -women, he adds that “Mary is the source of life.” His attacks elsewhere -are frequent and merciless. “Woman has the poison of an asp and the -malice of a dragon,” is the kindly tribute of Gregory the Great. “Of -all wild beasts the most dangerous is woman,” says St. Chrysostom, who -owed so much to his own mother and loved her so devotedly. “It brings -great shame to reflect of what nature woman is,” writes Clement of -Alexandria. One might fill a book with similar quotations. “A woman -is an evil.” “A woman is a whited sepulcher.” This is the burden of -priestly complaint from St. Augustine to the Protestant Calvin and -John Knox, who sang variations on the same theme in a different key. -Not even the classic Greeks were more abusive. All this is specially -surprising, since we find no such spirit in the words of Christ, who -was invariably gentle toward women and tender even to their faults. St. -Paul was disposed to keep them in a very humble place, but, after all, -he was never incurably bitter. - -In spite of these persistent attacks, however, the church has availed -itself, throughout its history, of the talents of great women, from -the first St. Catherine to her namesake of Siena, from Marcella to -the gifted St. Theresa and Mère Angélique, the thoughtful saint of -Port-Royal. Women were associated with all the humane movements of -the primitive church. They held honorable and prominent positions as -deaconesses, were intrusted with grave responsibilities, and venerated -to an extent unheard of before. Salvina officially protected the -Eastern churches, and supplications for favors were addressed to her on -account of her ability and her influence at the court of the emperor. -St. Chrysostom always spoke of Olympias, the ablest of his deaconesses, -as his “dear and trusted friend.” A rich woman, noble, and a widow, -she had given up her life to the service of religion, and managed the -affairs of the great archbishop, who depended upon her as St. Ambrose -depended upon his sister Marcellina. When he was driven into exile, and -the flames were bursting from St. Sophia, it was to her, not to the -bishops, that he gave instructions for the government of his church in -his absence, which was destined to be final. - -It is worth while, perhaps, to quote a few lines from a letter written -by this celebrated man to a Roman lady whose influence he asked in -the interest of a general council. After a few generalities about the -sphere of her sex, he continues: “But in the work which has the service -of God for its object, in the church militant, these distinctions are -effaced, and it often happens that the woman excels the man in the -courage with which she supports her opinions and in her holy zeal.... -Do not consider as unbecoming to your sex that earnest work which in -any way promotes the welfare of the faithful.... I beg you to undertake -this with the utmost diligence; the more frightful the tempest, the -more precious the recompense for your share in calming it.” - -There were a great many other able women, and some wicked ones, -connected with the earlier movements of Christianity, especially in the -Eastern Church, but they do not fall within the scope of this paper. I -mention these few simply to show that it was by no means the emotional -enthusiasm of women which gave them so much influence in a field for -which they were peculiarly fitted, though this may account for much of -their subsequent power over the masses, and many of their errors. Most -of the leaders had great force of intellect and a special talent for -organization. - -The ultimate effect of conventual life on the minds of women is open -to serious question. The founders of the movement were matrons of -pagan education. The little circle on the Aventine, as we have seen, -was versed in the knowledge of the time. But learning was already -in its decline. About the time that Marcella was a victim to the -barbarians who destroyed the glory of Rome, the last great feminine -representative of the genius and culture of the classic world, the -beautiful and gifted Hypatia, was dead in Alexandria, a sacrifice to -the mad passions of a fanatical mob that marched under the banner of -One who came into the world with a message of peace and good will to -men. Even the semi-mythical St. Catherine, the patron saint of science, -philosophy, education, and eloquence, who lived not long before,--if -at all,--was brought up on Plato and taught by pagan masters. So clear -was the intellect of this prodigy of wisdom and knowledge that she was -called upon to dispute with fifty of the most learned pagans, and, if -the legends are to be trusted, vanquished them all on their own ground. -The philosopher and the saint were trained in the same schools, and -they were alike martyrs to their own learning and talents, though one -was a partizan of the old order of things, the other of the new. - -But those who followed them do not seem to have equaled the early -women who were the product of pagan schools. Polite letters were -discouraged, if not forbidden. St. Jerome himself mourns over the lost -hours spent over Cicero and the poets, though, fortunately for his -fame, he never wholly broke away from their influence. “What has Horace -to do with the Psalter, or Vergil with the gospels, or Cicero with the -apostles?” he said to Eustochium. No pursuit of secular knowledge was -ever countenanced in the large bodies of women swayed by a spiritual -director who would have burned Sappho and Euripides if he could, -and dominated by a visionary emotionalism turned out of its natural -channels and centered on a single idea. Great ability asserted itself, -not in learning, but in organization, leadership, and an ever-narrowing -discipline. - -The representative pagan woman had her shortcomings and her -disabilities. She had also her virtues. If she had less of the spirit -of religion, she had equally the spirit of patriotism, of culture, of -honor, and of duty. There was a finer sensibility among the Christian -women, and a stronger instinct of self-sacrifice. None of us will -depreciate the beauty of those traits, but without the firmness of -fiber that is fostered by trained intelligence, they have their -dangers. When they mark the permanent attitude of one class toward -another which in no wise recognizes any corresponding duty, they -inevitably result in the servility of the one and the tyranny of the -other. Such was the relative position of men and women in the dark -ages. Even chivalry which paid a tribute to weakness was largely a -theory, or a fashion that offered a new path to glory, and does not -bear too close a scrutiny, though it tempered the condition of women -and modified the character of men, upon whom it reflected great honor. -Its ideals were fine, but the gulf between the ideal and its attainment -in daily life was often a very wide one. There were conspicuous -examples of feminine courage and heroism as well as talent, but the -lives of women in these ages were not, as a rule, pleasant ones, in -spite of a certain halo of romance that was thrown about them. No doubt -it was their suffering and helplessness that sent so many of them into -convents where they frequently found a state of morals little better -than the one from which they fled. It was not until the Renaissance -brought back the old spirit of learning and a vigorous intellectual -life among women that they combined the sweetness of Christian virtues -with the dignity and strength born of knowledge and a measure of -freedom, took the rightful position that belongs to the mothers of the -race, and once more played a distinctly civilizing and beneficent rôle -on the world’s stage. - - - - -THE LEARNED WOMEN OF THE RENAISSANCE - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · Glorification of Women in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries · - · Their New Cult of Knowledge · - · Bitisia Gozzadina · - · Ideals of the Early Poets · - · Dante · Petrarch · Boccaccio · Medieval Saints · - · Catherine of Siena · Women in Universities · - · Precocious Girls · Olympia Morata · - · Women Poets · Veronica Gambara · - · Vittoria Colonna · - · High Moral Tone of Literary Women · - · An Exception · Tullia d’Aragona · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -There was a curious book written early in the sixteenth century by a -savant of Cologne, on “The Superiority of Women over Men.” It was one -out of many that were devoted to the glorification of the long-secluded -sex, but its title serves to indicate the nature of the epidemic of -eulogies that raged more or less for nearly two hundred years after -Boccaccio set the fashion. This he did by singing the praises of the -great heroines he brought out from the shadows of the past to adorn the -pages of his “Illustrious Women.” It seemed as if men had been struck -with a sudden remorse for the unkind things they had been saying about -women since the dawn of the world, and were trying to make amends by -putting them, theoretically at least, on a pinnacle of glory. Some -celebrated their beauty, others their virtues, and still others their -talents, while a few did not stop short of awarding them all the graces -and perfections. Paul de Ribera published “The Immortal Triumphs and -Heroic Enterprises of Eight Hundred and Forty-five Women,” which was -comprehensive if not convincing. Hilarion of Coste devoted two large -volumes to eulogies of women of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, -finding nearly two hundred to put into his Temple of Fame. What their -special claims to glory may have been I do not know beyond the fact -that they were pious and devout Catholics. One man who had contended -for the equality of the sexes tried afterward to refute himself; -but his recantation was half-hearted, as he confessed his private -conviction that logic was against him. - -Cardinal Pompeo Colonna takes it upon himself to demolish the old -creed that a woman is an inferior creature, convenient in the house, -but unfit for any large responsibility. He proves her capacity for -public life by many examples, treats lightly the plea of the moral -dangers that would beset her, and shows what men become when left -to their own devices. After giving exalted praise to the masterful, -accomplished women of his time, he cites his beautiful cousin, the -“divine Vittoria,” as a living model of talent and strength, as well as -of virtue, magnanimity, and devotion. More pointed and concise, though -less definite, was Monti, a famous Roman prelate, who said: “If men -complain of seeing themselves equaled or surpassed by women, so much -the worse for them. It is because they are not worthy of their wives.” -The climax of praise was reached in a work written to prove that women -are “nobler, braver, more tactful, more learned, more virtuous, and -more economical than men.” Such a pitch of adulation could hardly be -maintained without a protest, and there were a few men ungallant enough -to say that the best proof of their own sovereignty was the effort -needed to combat it. - -It is pleasant to record that the most ardent champions of feminine -ability were men of more than ordinary caliber. As men rarely -exaggerate the talents of women, though they sometimes make goddesses -of them, we may safely conclude that their pictures were not overdrawn -on that side. Truth, however, compels me to say that some of the -eulogists were accomplished courtiers with special appreciation of -queens and princesses who might make or mar their fortunes; also that -this complaisance was by no means universal. Whether the satirists, -novelists, and minor poets found the wicked more effective, from a -dramatic point of view, than the good, as many of their successors -do to-day, or the sensual age was more interested in pretty sinners -than in saints, it is certain that these writers paid scant honor to -women, and delighted to put them in the worst light, though satire -was in the main directed against the ignorant and the frivolous, not -against the intelligent or the strong. Even Montaigne refused to -look upon a woman otherwise than as a useful but inferior animal, -though he inconsistently chose one of these “inferior animals” as his -confidante and literary executor, because she was the “only person -he knew in whose literary judgment he could confide.” The scholarly -Erasmus said she was “a foolish, silly creature, no doubt, but amusing -and agreeable.” He was happy in the belief that “the great end of -her existence is to please men”; but he pays his own sex a poorer -compliment than we should like to when he adds that “she could not do -this without folly.” - -So much for the man’s point of view. But the women were not silent, and -a few glorified themselves as naïvely as some of their modern sisters -have done. If we ever had any doubts as to our own modesty they ought -to convince us of it. Lucrezia Marinelli, a clever Venetian and a -poet, defined herself quite clearly in a work entitled “The Nobleness -and Excellence of Women and the Faults and Imperfections of Men.” -As a comparison this seems rather unfair, but considering the fact -that men had for ages given themselves all the noble qualities and -women all the weak ones, they could not take serious exception to it. -Indeed, they evidently found it refreshing. It furnished them with a -new sensation, and was quite harmless on the practical side, as they -still held the reins of power. Marguerite of France, the brilliant and -lettered wife of Henry IV, tried to prove that women are very superior -to men, but, unfortunately, in her category of superiorities morals had -no place. Mlle. de Gournay was more generous, as well as more just, and -declared herself content with simple equality, though one cannot help -wondering how she settled that matter with her friend Montaigne. But -Mlle. Schurmann of Cologne thought that even this was going too far. It -seems as if she might fairly have claimed to be the peer of the average -man, since she spoke nine languages and was more or less noted as -painter, musician, sculptor, engraver, philosopher, mathematician, and -theologian. Just how much solid learning was implied in this formidable -list of accomplishments we cannot judge, but it is clear that there has -been a time before to-day when women aimed to know everything, though -there was a safeguard against shattered nerves in the fact that there -were not so many books to read nor so many brain-splitting problems -to solve. It is fair, however, to suppose that this learned lady did -not waste much time on clothes or five-o’clock teas. Louise Labé, the -poet and savante of Lyons, takes a more modern tone. In claiming -intellectual equality for women, she begs them not to permit themselves -to be despoiled of the “honest liberty so painfully won--the liberty of -knowing, thinking, working, shining.” In spite of her courageous words, -however, this paragon of so many talents and virtues, the glory of her -sex and the pride of her city, asserts herself in a half-deprecating -way, as if she were asking pardon for presuming to publish her little -verses, and shelters herself behind the admiring friends who are -willing to “take half the shame.” But she was a Frenchwoman, and her -day was not yet. Women had so long hidden their light, if they had any, -that it blinked perceptibly when exposed to the winds of heaven or the -more chilly breezes of masculine criticism. - -It is needless to extend the list of writers on this subject, but it -is a long and remarkable one. The books would make rather interesting -reading to-day, whatever we might think of their quality, as problems -familiar to us were pretty thoroughly if not always ably discussed, -and apparently with great good nature. A distinguished Frenchman, well -known in the salons of the eighteenth century, unearthed a great many -curious facts and opinions hidden away in these books, which are now -mostly buried too deep in the dust of old libraries for resurrection, -and his own wise and quite modern conclusions entitled him to more -consideration than he received from the women of his time. But this -rapid glimpse will suffice, perhaps, to show the spirit in which -latter-day questions were treated four or five centuries ago; also -to throw a strong light on the position of women during the period, -without very precise limits, known as the Renaissance--a period of -special interest to us, as it marks the dawn of a new era of feminine -intelligence. - - -II - -We do not know how it happened that Bitisia Gozzadina stepped out -of the traditional seclusion of her sex as early as the benighted -thirteenth century, to be made doctor of civil and canon law in the -University of Bologna at the age of twenty-seven. She had already -pronounced a funeral oration in Latin and otherwise distinguished -herself several years before. It is no longer the fashion to give Latin -orations outside of the universities, but we know how women fared a few -decades ago, when they tried to speak publicly in their own language. -It was perfectly understood that women of such oratorical proclivities -forfeited all right to social consideration. They were practically -ostracized. Happily, now they are treated about as well as they were -six hundred years ago, when people crowded the university halls and -even the public squares to listen to this remarkable woman. We do not -hear that she was called any disagreeable names, not even a bas-bleu, -though there is a vague tradition that she had peculiar notions about -dress. It is said that she had rare beauty, but her charm and esprit -made people forget it. - -There is nothing in the medieval ideals of womanhood to suggest such -a phenomenon, still less its cordial acceptance. Not even in the -early poets is there a trace of the type of woman which played so -distinguished a part in the golden age of the Renaissance. Beatrice -was little more than a beautiful abstraction, the spiritual ideal of -a man who dwelt mainly upon other-worldly matters. Petrarch found it -interesting to kneel before Madonna Laura in the clouds, and sing hymns -in her praise; but she was only an elusive figure on which to drape -poetic fancies. In these days, when it is quite the fashion to pull -the halos from the saints and put them on the sinners,--when even the -wicked Lucrezia Borgia has become a respectable wife and a particularly -good mother, who expiated the sins of her youth, if she had any, by her -pious devotion, her kindness to the poor, and her patronage of art and -literature,--it is not surprising to hear that Laura was a common-place -matron, “fair, fat, and forty,” who would have found it difficult to -live up to the ideals of her adorer,--even if she had known what they -were,--and prudently kept out of so rarefied an air. This blending of -chivalry and mysticism made fine poetry but not very substantial women. - -Boccaccio paid a generous tribute to the heroic qualities of the women -of the past, but he evidently preferred them at a distance or in books. -Personally he seems to have had no more taste for savantes than for -saints. He belonged to the new age, which glorified the joys of life -and liked to sing love-songs--not of the choicest--to frail beauties. -Fiammetta was, no doubt, a clever woman and a beautiful one, but she -was no divine Egeria to inspire him with high thoughts. If he did -brilliant things at her bidding, the trail of the serpent was over them -all. Perhaps he aimed to suit the taste of the day, which was neither -delicate nor moral; or he may have lived in bad company from which -he took his models. We should be sorry to take as representative the -heroines of the Decameron, who must have brought blushes, which the -twilight could not hide, to the faces of the little coterie of friends -that sat on the grass telling or listening to these tales during the -long summer evenings at Florence, when men and women were dying all -about them. But they give us one phase of the life of the time, and -reflect the taste of an audience composed mainly of men who laughed at -morals and deified art, regardless of its aim or its subject. The age -was not strait-laced, but Italian ladies were not permitted to read -Boccaccio. One story, however, they might read. When the poet wished to -portray a good woman, for a change, he made a fine little picture of -Griselda, the patient, who was duly thankful for every indignity her -amiable lord chose to offer, mainly because she thought her sufferings -made him happy. When these incredible cruelties culminated in sending -her away loaded with unmerited disgrace, she still thanked him like -a good wife who was grateful for being trampled upon, even when her -innocent heart was breaking. It was a fine object-lesson for the proper -education of girls, and this marvel of self-sacrifice was held up from -one end of Europe to the other as a model of womanhood. Poets painted -her over and over again, with race variations; moralists praised her; -and men quoted her to their wives. Some instinct of justice prompted -Boccaccio to reward her in the end for all this useless misery, which -was simply a test of her servile quality, by putting her again, after -a series of years, into the good graces of her inhuman husband; but -it is needless to say that such rewards of virtue, if they could be -considered rewards, are not in the way of a world in which these -lessons are read. - -All this shows how far the heroines of the early poets, whether -good or bad, differed from the strong, able, and accomplished women -who were recognized as the glories of the Renaissance. It suggests -also the lurid or colorless background against which the latter were -outlined. The cynical bachelor in Molière’s comedy summed up the whole -duty of woman according to the gospel of the middle ages--and, it -might be added, of many other ages--when he said that his wife must -know only how to “pray to God, love, sew, and spin.” The last three -qualifications were necessary for his own comfort, and he had the -penetration to divine that she might have ample need of the first on -her own account. Then it gave him an agreeable sense of security to -have a certain proprietorship in some one mildly affiliated with the -next world. “In thy orisons be all my sins remembered,” says Hamlet -to the fair Ophelia. A man might be the worst of sinners himself, -but he liked a seasoning of piety in his wife, provided it was not -too aggressive and left him free to be wicked if he chose. It was -like having an altar in the home, and gave it a desirable flavor of -saintliness. - -Beyond the fireside and the docile domestic slave, however, there was -another medieval ideal of womanhood, a _religieuse_ who prayed -and sang hymns in the cloister. Aside from this, it was her special -mission to help the poor, care for the sick, console the sorrowful, and -advance the interests of the church. But these women of the cloister, -who had the altar without the home, found a possible outlet for their -imprisoned intellects, if they had sufficient natural force. The Roman -Church, which had always frowned upon any exercise of a woman’s mental -gifts in a worldly sphere, was glad to avail itself of them in its own -interest, and there were a few women more or less distinguished both as -leaders of religious organizations and counselors of ecclesiastics, who -kept alive the prestige of their sex through centuries of darkness. It -was one of the strange paradoxes of that age, as of many others, that -a woman is an irrational being, too fragile to bear distinction of any -sort, except when her talents make for the glory of men or the church. -Activity in public affairs, so long as they were religious ones, was -not considered unwomanly, notwithstanding the conservative opinions -of St. Paul. No one took it amiss when Catherine of Siena used her -wisdom and eloquence in persuading the Pope to return from Avignon to -Rome after men’s counsels had failed. No one found fault because her -emotional exaltation was tempered by a vigorous intellect. She was a -thinker and seer, and wrote ably on political as well as ecclesiastical -questions. Her style was simple and classic; indeed, she was altogether -phenomenal, and had strange influence over the popes and kings to whom -she did not hesitate to tell unpleasant truths. It was quite fitting -that she should devote these gifts to the interests of her church and -incidentally of her country. Men honored her for it, and canonized her. - -This was a hundred and fifty years or so before the beautiful -Isabella of Cordova, who was more learned and less mystical, gave -up mundane pleasures for the classics and a degree in theology; -and Isabella Rosera devoted herself to the conversion of the Jews, -dazzled multitudes with her eloquence in the cathedral at Barcelona, -and expounded the subtleties of Duns Scotus before prelates and -cardinals at Rome. But in that interval women had made great strides -in intelligence, and the talents that shone so conspicuously in great -moral and religious movements had become a powerful factor in other -directions. Bitisia Gozzadina had multitudes of successors to her -honors. - - -III - -That women emerged so suddenly from a state of ignorance, superstition, -and mystic dreams to a position of intellectual distinction and -virtual though not legal equality with men, is one of the marvels of -the Renaissance. The change was as rapid and complete as that which -came over the women of the nineteenth century. It is scarcely less -remarkable, in the light of our own experience, that their new-born -passion for learning met with so little opposition. They did not find -it necessary to fight their own battles. There was no question of -asserting their right to the higher education, as we have been forced -to do. This was taken as a matter of course and without controversy. -They were educated on equal lines with men, and by the same masters; -nor were the most distinguished teachers of the age afraid of being -enervated by this contact with the feminine mind, as certain modern -professors claim to be. Doubtless they would have smiled at such a -reflection on their own mental vigor. - -One is constantly surprised by the extraordinary precocity of the -young girls. Cecilia, the daughter of an early Marquis of Mantua, was -trained with her brothers by the most famous master in Italy, and -wrote Greek with singular purity at ten. She refused a brilliant but -distasteful marriage, and devoted her life to literature. The little -Battista, whose talents descended to her illustrious granddaughter, -Vittoria Colonna, was chosen, at an age when girls are usually playing -with dolls or learning their letters, to greet Pius II in a Latin -address. Anna d’Este, who became the wife of the Duke of Guise, and -in later life was so prominent a patroness of letters in France, -translated Italian into Latin with ease at ten, and was otherwise a -prodigy. One might imagine these children to have been insufferable -little prigs, but such does not seem to have been the case. So far as -we can learn, they did not lose their simplicity, and grew up to be -capable, many-sided, and charming women, quite free from pedantry or -affectation of any sort. Without attaching too much importance to these -childish efforts, which were by no means uncommon, they are of value -mainly in showing the care given to the serious education of girls. - -It is certain that the place held by educated women was a new and -exceptional one. They filled chairs of philosophy and law, discoursed -in Latin before bishops and cardinals, spoke half a dozen or more -languages, understood the mysteries of statecraft better than any of -us do to-day, and were consulted on public affairs by the greatest -sovereigns of their age. Nor do we hear that they were unsexed or -out of their sphere. On the contrary, men recognized their talents -and gave them cordial appreciation. While the shafts of satire fell -thick and fast upon the follies peculiar to ignorance and weakness, -they were rarely aimed at those who, even to-day, would be more or -less stigmatized as strong-minded. Possibly a clue to this may be -found in the fact that in training the intellect they did not lose -their distinctive virtues and graces; they simply added the cult -of knowledge, which heightened all other charms. We find constant -reference to their attractions of person and character, as well as -of mind. Novella d’Andrea took her father’s place in his absence and -lectured on jurisprudence at the University of Bologna; but, either -from modesty or from the fear of distracting the too susceptible -students, she hid her lovely face behind a curtain. At a later time -Elena Cornaro--who was not only versed in mathematics, astronomy, -philosophy, theology, and six languages, but sang her own verses, gave -Latin eulogies, and lectured on various sciences--was crowned doctor of -philosophy at Padua. She took her honors modestly, and is said to have -been as pious as she was learned. - -In these days of specialties one looks with distrust on so formidable -an array of accomplishments. We are apt to think of such women as -either hopelessly superficial, or pedants without any fine human -quality. A few salient points from the life of one of the most -distinguished may serve to correct this impression. - - -IV - -Olympia Morata deserves, for her own sake, more than a passing mention. -She was by no means a simple receptacle of heterogeneous knowledge, -but a woman as noted for feminine virtues and strength of character as -for the brilliancy of her intellect. Her father was a distinguished -professor in the University of Ferrara, and his gifted daughter was fed -from infancy on the classics. At six she was taught by a learned canon -who advised her parents to put a pen in her hand instead of a needle. -At twelve she was well versed in Greek, Latin, and the sciences of -the day, petted and flattered by scholars old and young, compared to -the Muses and to all the feminine stars of antiquity, and in the way -of being altogether spoiled. In the midst of this chorus of praise she -donned the habit of a professor at sixteen, wrote dialogues in the -language of Vergil and Plato, a Greek essay on the Stoics, and many -poems. She also lectured without notes at the academy, before the court -and the university dons, on such themes as the paradoxes of Cicero, -speaking in Latin, and improvising at pleasure with perfect ease. The -great Roman orator was her model of style, and in a preface to one of -her lectures she says: “I come to my task as an unskilled artist who -can make nothing of a coarse-grained marble. But if you offer a block -of Parian to his chisel, he will no longer deem his work useless. The -beauty of the material will give value to his production. Perhaps it -will be so with mine. There are some tunes so full of melody that they -retain their sweetness even when played upon a poor instrument. Such -are the words of my author. In passing through my lips they will lose -nothing of their grace and majesty.” - -This brilliant and classical maiden passed eight or ten years of her -youth at the court of Ferrara in intimate companionship with Anna -d’Este and her mother, the “wise, witty, and virtuous” Duchess Renée. -These were the days when the latter had Bernardo Tasso, a fashionable -poet who was eclipsed by his greater son, for her private secretary, -and delighted to fill her apartments with men of learning. The little -Anna, too, a child of ten, had been brought up on the classics, and the -two girls, who studied Greek together, liked to talk of Plato, Apollo, -and the Muses much better than to gossip about dress and society, or -the gallants of the court. Even their diversions had a pagan flavor. -When Paul III came on a visit, the royal children played a comedy of -Terence to entertain his eighteen cardinals and forty bishops, with all -the magnates and great ladies that usually grace such festivities. It -is quite probable that the clever Olympia had much to do in directing -it. - -The literary academy of the duchess had a singular fascination for -the gifted young girl, who was one of its brightest ornaments. “Her -enthusiasm over antiquity became an idolatry, and badly prepared her -intellect for the doctrines of grace,” wrote one of her friends. “She -loved better the wisdom of Homer and Plato than the foolishness of St. -Paul.” She says of herself that she was full of the vanities of her -sex, though it is difficult to conceive of this worshiper of poets -and philosophers as very frivolous. That she had many attractions is -certain, as she won all hearts. “Thy face is not only beautiful and thy -grace charming,” said one of the great scholars of the time, “but thou -hast been elevated to the court by thy virtues.... Happy the princess -who has such a companion! Happy the parents of such a child, who -pronounce thy beautiful name within their doors! Blessed the husband -who shall win thy hand!” - -But this sunny life could not go on forever. The “Tenth Muse” was -called home to care for her father in his last illness, and proved as -capable in the qualities of a nurse as in those of a muse. At his death -the little family was left to her care. To make the prospect darker, -her friend Anna d’Este had just married and gone off to her brilliant -but not altogether smooth career in France, and the duchess gave her -a chilling reception that boded no good; indeed, night had overtaken -her, and she found herself cruelly dismissed in her hour of sorrow and -trouble. - -Other subjects had been discussed in this literary circle besides Greek -poetry and Ariosto and the courtly Bembo and the rising stars of the -day. Calvin had been there in disguise, and they had talked of free -will, predestination, and like heresies, much to the discomfiture of -the orthodox duke, whose interests did not lie in that direction. The -young savante had listened to these things, and her eager mind had -pondered on them. Perhaps, too, she was one of the group that discussed -high and grave themes when Vittoria Colonna was there. At all events, -the duchess had fallen into disgrace for her Protestant leanings, and -could do no more for her favorite, who was branded with a suspicion of -the same heresy. Indeed, she was herself confined for a time to one -wing of the palace and forbidden to see her children lest she should -contaminate them with her own liberal views. The only powerful friend -left to the desolate girl in her adversity was Lavinia della Rovere -of the ducal family of Urbino, who had shared her tastes, sympathized -with her views in happier times, and now proved her loyalty in various -ways that sustained her drooping heart. But there was another, equally -helpful if not so powerful, a young German of good family, who had -been a medical student in the university, and fallen in love with -this paragon of learning and accomplishments. He was true when others -fell away, and she gave him the devotion of her life. Both were under -the same ban, and soon after their marriage fled to Germany, with the -blessing of Lavinia and some valuable letters to her friends. - -It was a strange series of misfortunes that pursued this brave -couple. After drifting about in the vain search for a foothold in an -unsympathetic world, where they could think their own thoughts and -satisfy their modest wants, they found at last a home in which they set -up their household goods and gathered their few treasures with their -much-loved books. But when kings fall out other people suffer. No -sooner were they settled than the small city was besieged, and for many -months they went through all the horrors of war, famine, pestilence, -and, in the end, fire, which destroyed their small possessions, and -compelled them to flee for their lives through a hostile country, -scantily clothed, unprotected, and penniless. - -It is needless to follow their dark wanderings. Suffice it to say that -they found refuge at last in Heidelberg, where the husband was given -a professorship, and the wife, too, was offered the chair of Greek, -which she was never able to take. Her health had succumbed to her many -sufferings and hardships, and she died before she was twenty-nine. But -her strong soul rose above them all. “I am happy--entirely happy,” she -said at the close. “I have never known a spirit so bright and fair, or -a disposition so amiable and upright,” wrote her husband, who could not -survive her loss and followed her within a few months. - -There is more than the many-colored tissue of a life as sad as it -was brilliant in these records. They carry within them all the -possibilities of a strong and symmetrical womanhood. The rare quality -of her scholarship was never questioned. She was the admitted peer of -the most learned men of her time, one of whom expects her to “produce -something worthy of Sophocles.” But she was clever, winning, and -fascinating, as well as serious. Living for years among the gaieties -of a court, she went out into a world of storms and gloom without a -murmur or a regret, buoyed up by her love and unquestioning faith. She -refers more to the joys than to the sorrows of this tempestuous time. -Lavinia and the Duchess of Guise, the friends of her youth, were true -to the end. In her letters to them and to the learned men who never -lost sight of her, we have curious glimpses of the home of a woman -who was a disciple of the Muses and a savante of intrinsic quality. -While her husband prepares his lectures, she puts the house in order, -buys furniture, and manages servants who were about as troublesome as -they are to-day. One asks a florin a month, and reserves a part of -the time for her own profit. Others insist upon staying out late and -running in the streets. Most of them are grossly incompetent. Poor as -she is, she is always ready to help those who are in greater need, and -is constantly imposed upon. She even borrows money to send to an old -servant in distress. - -Then there are the evenings when grave professors come in, and they -talk in Latin of the affairs of the day, the religious persecutions, or -some disputed dogma. Sometimes they sing one of her Greek psalms which -her husband has set to music. She has her heart full with the care of -her young brother and the little daughter of a friend, who has been -sent to her for instruction. But her life is bound up in that of her -husband, whom she “cannot live without.” A pure and generous spirit, -happy in her sacrifices, and true to every relation, she is a living -refutation of the fallacy, too often heard even now, that learning and -the gentler qualities of womanhood do not go together. - -There were many other women of great distinction in the universities, -whose names still live in enduring characters after four or five -centuries--professors, and wives of professors who worked side by side -with their husbands, and received their due meed of consideration. We -have women of fine scholarly attainments to-day, though in the great -universities they are mostly relegated to the anterooms and honored -with second-class degrees; but fancy the consternation of the students -of Harvard or Oxford if asked to listen to the lecture of a woman on -law or philosophy, or, indeed, on any subject whatever! Yet there were -great men and great scholars in Italy, possibly too great to fear -competition. Society was in no sense upset, and, so far as women were -concerned, the harmony of creation was not interfered with. Indeed, the -best mothers and the most devoted, helpful wives in Italy of whom we -have any knowledge were among the women who spoke Latin, read Greek, -and worshiped at the shrine of the Muses--all of which may be commended -to the college girls of to-day as well as to their critics. - - -V - -In other fields there were equally accomplished women. Cassandra -Fidelis was the pride and glory of Venice in the days when Titian -walked along the shores of the Adriatic, absorbing the luminous tints -of sea and sky, and picturing to himself the faces that look out upon -us to-day from the buried centuries, instinct with color and the -fullness of life. Poet and philosopher, she wrote in many languages, -even spoke publicly at Padua. She caught, too, the spirit of beauty -and song, and was as noted for her music and her graceful manners as -for her learning. Men of letters paid court to her, Leo X wrote to -her, and Ferdinand tried to draw her to Naples; but the Doge refused -to part with this model of so many gifts and virtues. She lived a -century divided between literature and piety, but drifted at last, in -her widowhood, to the refuge of so many tired souls, and ended her -brilliant career in a convent. - -This remarkable flowering of the feminine intellect was not confined -to Italy. Besides the noted Spanish women already mentioned, there -were celebrated professors of rhetoric in the universities of Alcala -and Salamanca. Even more distinguished was Aloysia Sigea, a poet -and savante of Toledo, who surprised Paul III with a letter in five -languages, which he was able to answer in only three. Just why she -found it necessary to put what she had to say in five languages, -instead of one, does not appear, but she proved her right to be -considered a prodigy. Her fame was great, and she died young. - -Frenchwomen were less serious and made a stronger point of the arts of -pleasing. They approached literature with the air of a dilettante, who -finds in it an amusement or accomplishment rather than a passion or -an aim. At a later period they brought to its height a society based -upon talent and the less tangible quality of esprit. But we have the -virile intellect and versatile knowledge of the Renaissance in Mlle. de -Gournay, who aspired to the highest things, including the perfection of -friendship, which she said her sex had never been able to reach; and -the famous Marguerite, the witty, learned, independent, and original -sister of Francis I, who aimed at all knowledge, and tried her hand -at everything from writing verses and tales, patronizing letters, and -gathering a society of philosophers and poets, to reforming religion -and ruling a state. - -In England we find Lady Jane Grey at sixteen a mistress of many -languages and preferring Plato to a hunting-party; the Seymour sisters, -who were familiar with the sciences and wrote Latin verses; the -daughters of Sir Thomas More, whose talents and accomplishments were -only surpassed by their virtues; and many others, by no means least -Queen Elizabeth herself, whose attainments were overshadowed by her -genius of administration. The taste for knowledge was widely spread, -and it would take us far beyond the limits of this essay to recall the -women of many countries who were noted for learning and gifts that -must always be relatively rare in any age, though pretenders may be as -numerous as parrots in a tropical forest. - -But it is mainly the women of Italy, where this movement had its birth, -that we are considering here, and their talents were not confined to -the acquisition of knowledge. There were many poets among them. To be -sure, we find no Dante, or Petrarch, or Ariosto, or Tasso. Of creative -genius there was very little; of taste and skill and poetic feeling -there was a great deal. Domenichi made a collection of fifty women -poets who compared well with the average men of their time and far -surpassed them in refinement and moral purity. In their new enthusiasm -for things of the intellect, they never lost their simplicity of faith, -and were infected little, if at all, with the cynical skepticism of the -age. Some of these numerous poets were connected with the universities, -others belonged to the great world, and still others were women of -moderate station, who were honored at the various courts for their -gifts of mind. - -No doubt much of this poetry was mediocre. Indeed, men, aside from -the greatest, wrote very little that one now cares to read. It is a -truism that “poets are born, not made,” and they are not born very -often. But the work of women which was not even of the best received -high consideration. Tarquinia Molza, a maid of honor at Ferrara,--who -held public discussions with Tasso, wrote sonnets and epigrams, -and translated the dialogues of Plato,--was so celebrated for her -learning and poetic gifts that the Senate of Rome conferred upon her -the title of Roman Citizen. Laura Battiferri, one of the ornaments -of the court of Urbino, was spoken of as a rival of Sappho in genius -and her superior in modesty and decorum. She was an honored member of -the Academy of the Intronati at Siena. There were no women’s clubs -in those days. They were not needed when women were admitted to many -of the academies on equal terms with men. The number may have been -small, but evidently the way was clear. They were barred, if at all, by -incapacity, not by sex. - -One of the most celebrated of these numerous poets was Veronica -Gambara, Countess of Correggio, a woman of fine gifts, many virtues, -and great personal charm, who was left a widow after nine happy years -of marriage. Like her friend Vittoria Colonna, she spent the rest of -her life in mourning her husband, draping herself, her apartments, -and everything she had in black, and refusing all offers of a second -marriage. But this sable grief did not prevent her from managing her -affairs, her little state, and her two sons, both of whom reached high -positions, with great judgment and ability. Her husband had trusted -her implicitly, and left her in full control at his death. It was -largely to his memory that she devoted her poetic gifts. She did not -write a great deal, but her verses were simple and showed masculine -vigor. Many of them were tender, though by no means sentimental. She -wrote on the vanity of earthly things, a subject on which women have -always been specially eloquent, as they have so often written out of -their own sad experience. Her home at Bologna was a sort of academy, -where the most distinguished men of the age met, and it was noted as -a center of brilliant conversation. One of its chief attractions was -Cardinal Bembo, a lifelong friend, to whom she addressed a sonnet at -ten. Philosopher, high priest of Platonism, critic, poet, and man -of the world, this famous cardinal paid the highest tributes to the -distinguished women of his time. Intellectually he lived in an air -that was somewhat tenuous, but he sought the society of those who -loved things of the spirit--especially princesses. It was a convenient -fashion among these diplomats and churchmen to have two lives--one -poetic, Platonic, with ecstatic glimpses of the celestial, the other -running through various grades of the terrestrial. The versatile Bembo -was no exception. Veronica Gambara, who combined grace and delicacy -with a distinctly mundane vigor, sat metaphorically at his feet, and -was an ardent disciple of the new Platonic philosophy. She had natural -eloquence, and gave a charm to the serious discussions at her house. -Among her noted visitors was Charles V, who was fascinated by her -talents and gracious manners. She reproached him and Francis I with the -quarrels that had flooded Europe with tears, and wrote him a poem fired -with patriotic ardor, in which she asks peace for Italy and protection -against the infidel. In her poetry and her letters she followed -Petrarch. Without commanding genius, and less mystical than Vittoria -Colonna, but with possibly more strength in a limited range, she was -greatly considered for her learning, her poetry, her social graces, her -practical ability, and her spotless character. - -These are a few out of a multitude of poets and savantes who are of -little interest to-day, except as showing the notable attainments of -women in a new field and the drift of public sentiment regarding them. - - -VI - -There is one, however, who calls for more attention, not only because -of her enduring fame, but because she stood in a light so strong as -to make her, even at this distance, a living personality to us; -also because she represents the best phases of the Renaissance, its -learning, its intelligence, its enthusiasm, its subtle Platonism, -combined with a profound religious faith and a trace of the mysticism -of a simpler age. We are apt to recall Vittoria Colonna as half -poet, half saint. Her spiritual face looks out of a century of vice -and license, crowned with the delicate halo of a Madonna brooding -tenderly over the sins of the world in which she lives with an air of -apartness, as if she were in it but not of it. Whether we see her under -the soft skies of Ischia, happy and a bride, or seeking solace among -its orange-scented groves for the lost joys of her youth; at Naples, -holding a lettered court with the beautiful and accomplished Giulia -Gonzaga; at Rome, talking on high themes with a group of serious and -thoughtful men in the cool shadows of the Colonna gardens; at Ferrara, -discussing the new thought, receiving the homage of a distinguished -circle, and generously using her great name to shield the persecuted -and unhappy; or kneeling at prayers and chanting Misereres in the -cloisters where, at intervals, she hid a sorrowful heart--there is -always the same flavor of purity and saintliness in her character and -personality as in her genius. - -The romance of her life is well known. She was born in 1490,--just -before Lorenzo de’ Medici died and Savonarola expiated the crime of -being too good for his time,--in a gloomy old Colonna castle that -towers picturesquely above the rambling, medieval town of Marino among -the Alban hills. But she did not stay there long, as she was betrothed -at four to the Marquis of Pescara, and, for some inexplicable reason, -sent away to the sunny island of Ischia to be educated with him by his -sister Costanza d’Avalos, Duchess of Francavilla, a woman so noted for -wisdom, ability, and virtue that she was made governor, or châtelaine, -of the island at her husband’s death. For once, this commercial -arrangement proved a fortunate one, as the brilliant duchess was as -famous for her culture and the lettered society gathered about her as -for her practical talent in ruling. The gifted child grew up among -poets and men of learning, with her future lord as her playmate and a -woman of intellect as her guide. Add to this the changing splendors of -sea and sky, the haunting memories of the beautiful shore that curves -away from the headlands of Misenum to the Isles of the Sirens, the -repose broken only by the cool dripping of fountains, the plashing -of the indolent waves on the beach, and the plaintive songs of the -boatmen floating at evening across the tranquil water to find a sweet -refrain in the music of the vesper bell--and we have the _milieu_ -of the poet. There were royal festivities when the king came to break -the monotony of the days, occasional glimpses of the magnificent court -pageants at Naples, and rare visits to the somber ancestral home on -the Alban Lake. But the mind of the thoughtful maiden was more in -harmony with the quiet scenes among which most of her days were passed, -and had taken its permanent tone when the youthful lovers were married -at about eighteen, or possibly nineteen. - -Two or three years of unclouded happiness, and this idyllic life came -to an end. The marquis was called to the army, and the devoted wife saw -him only at long intervals during his brilliant career, which he closed -some fifteen years later with a tarnished name. The blow that shattered -the hopes of Vittoria came near costing her life. In the first agony of -her grief she fled to a convent, and wished to take the veil of a nun; -but she was too valuable in her own sphere to be lost to the world, and -Clement VII forbade it. Her only resource was to consecrate herself -to the memory of one she never ceased to call _mio bel sole_, to -religion, and to matters of the intellect. - -How she reconciled her undying love with the faithless and treacherous -character of her Spanish husband, who was willing to sell his loyalty -for a kingdom, we do not know. That she was ignorant of his disgrace is -not probable. She had given him high counsel, putting honor and virtue -above titles and worldly grandeur, and saying that she had no wish to -be the wife of a king, since she is already the wife of a captain who -has vanquished kings, not only by his bravery, but by his magnanimity. -But she had, to a marked degree, the fine idealism that gives vitality -to a sentiment. It is shown in the poise of the shapely head, in the -broad, high, speculative forehead that hid a wealth of imagination and -exalted feeling, in the large, soft, penetrating dark eyes, lighted -with sensibility, which relieved the delicately chiseled features and -firm but beautiful mouth from a tinge of asceticism. She was tall, -stately, and graceful, with a fair, variable face of pure outlines, and -hair of Titian gold. Her picture is one of a rare woman, capable of -high thought, great generosity, great sacrifice, and great devotion. -This love of her youth was interwoven with every fiber of her being. -The child with whom she had wandered hand in hand by the sea; the youth -who had responded to her every taste and thought, poetic like herself, -proud, accomplished, handsome, and knightly; the man who had whiled -away the hours of his captivity in writing for her a rather stilted -Dialogue of Love, were alike transfigured in her memory. If she heard -that he was a traitor, probably she did not believe it, and the very -fact of unmerited disgrace would have been an added claim upon her -affection. She was young, and naturally slow to think that an act which -Pope and cardinals had assured him was quite consistent with the finest -honor could be treasonable at all, though she had a keen moral sense -that led her straight to the heart of things. Then the harshness and -cruelty for which he was noted belonged to the exigencies of war, which -is never merciful. It was easy to malign him there. At all events, it -is certain that the faults of this brilliant cavalier of very flexible -honor were swept away in a flood of happy memories and imperishable -love. Many were the suitors who presented themselves to the gifted, -rich, and beautiful princess, who was scarcely past thirty-five; but -she had gathered the wealth of her affections in a vase that was -broken, and for her there was no second gathering. The spirit that held -captive her own still shone in the heavens as a sun that lighted the -inner temple of her soul and made its hidden treasures luminous. - -When she rallied a little from the first stunning blow, she began to -write. This had been one of the diversions of her youth, and she had -often sent tender verses to her husband. Now it offered an outlet to -her sorrows, and, at the same time, a tribute to his memory. Never -was such a monument dedicated to a man as this series of more than a -hundred sonnets. Her love colored all her thoughts, and gave to her -clear, strong intellect a living touch that comes only from the heart. -If one misses in these verses the fire of Sappho, one is conscious of -coming in contact with a pure and lofty soul in which earthly passion -has been transformed into a glow of divine tenderness. But the note of -longing and loneliness is always there. Laura was no more idealized by -her poet lover than was this unworthy man by his desolate wife. For -seven years her poems were a series of variations on the same theme. -The sun shone no longer for her; there was no more beauty in tree, or -flower, or sparkling waves; the birds were mute, and nature was draped -in gloom. In death only there was hope; but even here was the dreadful -possibility that she might not be perfect enough to meet this paragon -of all noble qualities in heaven. So Mrs. Browning might have written. -She had the same tendency to transfigure her idols in the light of the -imagination, the same meditative quality, the same fine idealism. But -she lived and died a happy wife, while her sister poet spent lonely -years in the companionship of a memory. - -Time, however, which tempers all things, if it does not change them, -brought a new element into her thoughts, and her elegiac songs rose to -cathedral hymns. In her religious sonnets she reveals the intrinsic -quality of her mind and its firm grasp of spiritual things. Some of -them touch on forbidden questions, and wander among the dangerous -heresies of the new age. Theology and poetry are not quite in accord, -and these are of value mainly as showing the liberal drift of her -opinions. Others are the spontaneous outpouring of a full and ardent -soul. Rich in thought, alive with feeling, and lighted with hope, they -soar on the wings of an exalted faith far above the heavy and sin-laden -air of her time. - - And, as the light streams gently from above, - Sin’s gloomy mantle bursts its bonds in twain, - And robed in white, I seem to feel again - The first sweet sense of innocence and love. - -This gentle-hearted poet was a purist in style, and chiseled carefully -the vase in which she put her thoughts, not for the sake of the vase, -but reverently, to make it worthy of the thought. These hymns fall upon -the ear like some thrilling strain from Palestrina, who translated -into song the dreams, the aspirations, the baffled hopes, the sorrows -of a race in its decline, and sent it along the centuries with its -everlasting message of love and consolation. There was something akin -in the two spirits that lived at the same time, though Palestrina was -young when the poet neared the evening. It was he who first gave to -music a living soul. Vittoria gave the world its first collection of -religious poems, and poured her own heart into them. Both vibrated to -the deepest note of their age. Only the arts differed, and the quality -of thought, and the outer vestments of life. - -But we are far from the days when this beautiful woman in her -magnificent robes of crimson velvet and gold, attended by six ladies -in azure damask and as many grooms in blue and yellow satin, was one -of the central figures in some royal wedding festivities at Naples. -Mundane pleasures had long ago lost their charm, and the still lovely -poet in her sable costume finds her consolation in ministering -to the poor and suffering, and in an active interest in all the -intellectual movements of her time. She was the friend of great men -and distinguished women. Cardinal Bembo, the famous “dictator of -letters,” lauds her virtues and her genius while he craves her favor. -She writes of the gifts of her “divine Bembo,” addresses sonnets to -him, and receives his “celestial, holy, and very Platonic” affection -with gracious dignity. Castiglione sends her his manuscript of “Il -Cortegiano” for criticism, and complains that she held it too long -and copied it for other eyes. She gives discriminating praise of the -“subject as well as the tact, elegance, and animation of the style,” -but she suggests the wisdom of dwelling less persistently on the beauty -and virtue of living women. The unscrupulous but keen-witted Aretino -pays her compliments and begs her aid. “One must count with the tastes -of one’s contemporaries,” he writes, in half-apology for his own base -standards; “only amusement or scandal are lucrative; they burn with -unholy passions, as you do with an inextinguishable angelic flame. -Sermons and vespers for you, music and comedy for others.... Why write -serious books? After all, I write to live.” This was the note of the -new age in an ever-descending scale--the death-knell of all that is -fine and noble in any age. It is needless to ask what this high-souled -woman thought of sordid motives that were by no means confined to the -Italian decadence; but she managed the vain and vindictive man, who -held reputations in the hollow of his hand, with graceful dignity and -infinite tact. Living at a time when the great poets were passing, and -literature was fast becoming the trade of artisans who appealed to the -lowest passions of a sense-intoxicated people, or the tool of cynics -and courtiers, she held her own way serenely, superior to worldly -motives and worldly entanglements. There are numerous glimpses of her -in the poems and letters of her time, but the chorus of praise was -universal. “She has more eloquence and breathes more sweetness than all -other women,” says Ariosto, “and gives such force to her lofty words -that she adorns the heavens in our day with another sun.” And again: -“She has not only made herself immortal by her beautiful style, than -which I have heard none better, but she can raise from the tomb those -of whom she speaks or writes, and make them live forever.” - -It was her sympathy with all high things that made her so warm a -friend to the apostles of the new religious thought. Though an ardent -Catholic, she was no bigot to be held within the iron-bound limits of -a creed which had lost its moral force, no beauty-loving disciple of -an estheticism that veiled crime and corruption with the splendors -of a ceremonial, sang Te Deums over the triumphs of the wicked and -Misereres while plotting assassination. She felt the need of a purer -morality and a deeper spirituality, though, like Savonarola, she wished -reform within the church, not outside of it. We find her always in the -ranks of the thinkers. She was the devoted friend of Contarini, the -broad-minded cardinal, who grieved so sincerely over the universal -corruption, and died, possibly of that grief and his own helplessness, -before the hour came when it was a crime to speak one’s best thoughts. -He should have been Pope, she said in her sonnet on his death, to make -the age happy. It was a striking tribute to the vigorous quality of -her intellect that he dedicated to her his work “On Free Will.” Fra -Bernardino she defended when he fled to Switzerland and joined the -Lutherans, but she was powerless to help him in his hours of darkness. -Even this brought her under the suspicion of heresy. Carnesecchi, -another of her friends, was burned, and one of the chief accusations -against a Florentine who was condemned to a like fate years afterward -was that he belonged to her circle. “It is an inexpressible pleasure -to me that my counsels are approved by a woman of so much virtue and -wisdom,” wrote Sadolet to Cardinal Pole. She sustained these powerful -prelates by the prestige of her name and the fullness of her sympathy. -The liberal circle of her friend Renée attracted her to Ferrara, -but the air was full of suspicion. They talked much and pleasantly -of literature, poetry, and the arts; when they touched upon the new -thought which was revolutionizing the world, it was behind closed -doors, and with the vivid consciousness that the walls had ears which -stretched to Rome. - -But to-day Vittoria Colonna is known best as the friend of -Michelangelo, to whom she was a polar star, an inspiration, an -everlasting joy. “Without wings, I fly with your wings; by your genius -I am raised toward the skies,” he writes. “In your soul my thought is -born; my words are in your mind.” It was the perfect sympathy of finely -attuned spirits, the divine friendship that exists only between men -and women who live at an altitude far above the things of sense. The -age was full of talk about Platonic love. A few reached it, and they -were of the spiritual elect; but they did not talk much about it. To -this solitary artist, who dwelt on lonely heights, the divining and -sympathetic spirit of a thoughtful woman was a revelation. He wrote -sonnets to her, sometimes calm and philosophical, sometimes fiery and -passionate. He also sent her poems and sketches for criticism. The -tact with which she drew out the best in this colossal man is shown -by a conversation in the softly lighted Chapel of San Silvestro, as -recorded by an artist who was present. She had been listening to a -private exposition of St. Paul, but when Michelangelo came in, she -delicately turned the conversation upon the subject nearest his heart, -on which it was not easy to lead him to talk. Both were apart from the -spirit of an age that was fast tearing down the few ethical standards -it had, and virtually taking for its motto the most dangerous of -fallacies, “Art for art’s sake.” “True painting is only an image of -the perfection of God, a shadow of the pencil with which he paints, a -melody, a striving after harmony,” said the master. And the lady, in -her turn, spoke, until the tears fell, of the divine message of art -that “leads to piety, to glory, to greatness.” They discussed, too, her -project of building a convent on the spot where Nero had watched the -burning of Rome, that “virtuous women might efface the memory of so -wicked a man.” - -No shadow ever rested on this friendship. Michelangelo was past sixty -and Vittoria was not far from forty-seven when they met. There is no -trace of tender sentiment in their brief correspondence, though a deep -and abiding friendship is apparent. Once she playfully writes him to -curtail his letters lest they interfere with his duties at St. Peter’s -and keep her from the Chapel of St. Catherine, “so that one would fail -in duty to the sisters of Christ and the other to his Vicar.” She said -that those who knew only his works were ignorant of the best part of -the man. When she lay dead before him he kissed her hand reverently, -and went out in inconsolable grief to regret the rest of his life that -he had not dared to leave a kiss on the pure forehead. - -In early life, Vittoria, having no children of her own, had undertaken -the care of her husband’s cousin, the Marchese del Vasto, a boy of -singular beauty, fine gifts, but wild and passionate temper, which no -one had been able to control. Under her gentle and wise influence he -had grown to be a brilliant and accomplished man, who never ceased to -regard her with the greatest affection. She said that she could not be -considered childless after molding the moral character of this son of -her adoption. It was one of her great griefs that he died in the flower -of his manhood, when the shadows were darkening about her and she -needed more than ever his sympathy and support. - -At this time fate laid upon her a heavy hand. When Rome became -unsafe, she joined the devoted group that surrounded Cardinal Pole at -Viterbo; but the last years before her final illness were spent in the -Benedictine convent of St. Anne, where she prayed and wrote devotional -poems. When she grew ill a celebrated physician said that the fairest -light in this world would go out unless some physician for the mind -could be found. Her friends were scattered or dead; the misfortunes -of her family weighed heavily on her spirit; the cruelties of the -new régime had crushed the lives of many whom she loved; she had been -forced to stifle her purest convictions and to turn away from the -falling fortunes which she had no power to save. It was only a joy to -lay down the burden of her fifty-seven years, surrounded by the few who -were left to her. She ordered a simple burial, such as was given to the -sisters in the convent. There was no memorial, and, strange to say, no -one knows where she lies. - -No woman better refutes the theory that knowledge makes pedants, that -the gentler qualities fade before the cold light of the intellect. To -a vigorous, versatile mind, and the calm courage of her convictions, -Vittoria Colonna united a tender heart, fine sensibilities, and broad -sympathies. Her clear judgment was tempered by a winning sweetness. -The age of specialties was still in the distance, and the woman was -superior to any of her achievements. In a period that was notably lax -in morals, she carried herself among crowds of adorers with such gentle -dignity that no cloud ever shadowed her fair fame. With this rare -harmony of intellect, heart, and character, she held the essentials of -life above all its decorations; but she retained to the end the simple -graces, the flexible tact, and the stately manners of the _grande -dame_. - -This literary woman, great lady, and _dévote_ of centuries ago -belongs to a type that is out of fashion to-day; it was not common even -then. She was the perfected fruit of the finest spirit of her time. She -did not write for money or fame; she sought neither honors nor society -nor worldly pleasures, though she was a social queen by right of -inheritance. She loved high things for their own sake and because she -was akin to them. She loved her friends, too, for what they were, not -for what they brought her, and gave them of her best, even to her own -hurt. If she tried to reconcile her beliefs and her environment, it was -a fault of sanity and loyalty; to break with her church traditions was -to lose her influence and gain nothing. Possibly this is not the spirit -of a reformer, but it is the spirit of those who trust to the saving -quality of light rather than of heat. No doubt the conflict helped to -wear out her waning forces. In this restless age the world praises such -women from afar. They appeal to it as do the pictures of Raphael and -Fra Angelico, which we are quite ready to adore as they hang in gallery -or drawing-room, for some subtle quality of beauty consecrated by the -homage of centuries, though their underlying significance we may have -long outgrown. If they are seen at rare intervals in real life, we -give them a certain tribute of admiration, no doubt, but we are apt to -speak of them personally as visionary, antiquated, or other-worldly. -The lofty sentiment, the stateliness, the repose, the indefinable -distinction, are not in the line of modern ideals. - - -VII - -It is worthy of note that in an age which was essentially devoted to -beauty and a glorification of the senses, women almost invariably wrote -on sacred or ethical themes. Even love they transfigured into something -divine. The first-fruits of their intelligence were offered on the -shrine of a purer morality. As a rule, too, they were women of serious -tastes and conspicuous virtues. - -There was one poet, however, of some note who may be mentioned as an -exception to the consistently high character of the literary women of -a notably wicked period; but even her poems were largely religious in -tone. Tullia d’Aragona, who discussed affairs in Latin and wrote Greek -when a child, was a wit, a genius, and a brilliant woman. She had a -bad father, though he was a cardinal, and a mother who was beautiful -but is not plainly visible at this distance. The clever Tullia, who -had a questionable salon at Rome, with plenty of cardinals and princes -in her train, carried with her to other courts a certain prestige -which they did not scrutinize too closely, and she fascinated many men -who were not quite equal to the moral and intellectual altitude of a -Vittoria Colonna or an Olympia Morata. “Vittoria is a moon, Tullia a -sun,” said an enthusiastic admirer and fellow-poet. But in the waning -of her charms she turned seriously to literature, and wrote a poem of -thirty thousand lines, besides a curious dialogue on “The Infinity -of Love,” and many sonnets. At this time in her life, which verged -toward the twilight, she had put off frivolous things and was disposed -to moralize. In the preface to her poem she says that reading is a -resource for women when everything else fails; but she mourns over -the fact that Boccaccio, who claimed to write for them, said so many -things not fit to be read; that even Ariosto was not above reproach; -and closes by declaring that she has not put down a word that might -not be read by “maiden, nun, or widow at any hour”--all of which goes -to show the final tendency of women toward moral ideals, in spite of -the entanglements of very mundane surroundings. They take refuge in -charity and religion from a world that has ceased to charm, as men do -in cynicism and stimulants. - -This versatile poet of more esprit than decorum had a great deal of -incense offered her, and in the end won even the patronage of the -grave, virtuous, and sorrowful Eleanor of Toledo, but she died in -penitence and misery. As she lived and shone in the most dissolute -society of her day, and was trained from childhood with special -reference to pleasing men of brilliant position and gifts but low -morals, she by no means fitly represents the learned women of Italy, -whether of court or university. She belonged to a class apart. We lift -our eyes at the laxity of a society which could receive and smile upon -her, but we have not far to go to find the same complaisance even in -a period that prides itself on its superior morals. Our censor of -the twenty-fifth century may find here a text for a sermon on the -wickedness of the scientific age, which he will otherwise prove by -copious quotations from the glaring headlines of our daily journals. - -So far as appears, in an age when no man’s life was secure and no -woman’s honor was quite safe, when men in power did not scruple to -send those who were in their way out of the world, atoning for it, if -it needed atonement, at least celebrating it, by a grand Te Deum, or a -De Profundis,--which seems more suitable though less cheerful,--it was -the women of the highest intelligence who held the balance of humanity -and morals. There were wicked ones, no doubt, in abundance, as the -more facile and helpless sex was not free from the subtle influence of -the spirit of the age against which good men with all their vaunted -strength struggled in vain. But it can hardly be disputed that the -virtues and graces of character blossomed in the most significant -profusion among women of distinctly scholarly tastes, who found in the -pleasures of the intellect an unfailing resource against the vices as -well as the sorrows and disappointments of a bad and pitiless world. - - - - -THE LITERARY COURTS AND PLATONIC LOVE - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · Social Spirit of Women · - · Accomplished Princesses · Their Executive Ability · - · Caterina Sforza · Patrons of Letters · - · Court of Urbino · - · Duchess Elisabetta · Count Castiglione · - · Record of Conversations · Qualities of a Lady · - · A Medici Champion of Women · - · Platonic Love · Court of Ferrara · - · Boiardo · Ariosto · Duchess Leonora · - · Lucrezia Borgia · Renée · Tasso’s Leonora · - · Court of Mantua · Isabella d’Este · - · Court of Milan · Beatrice d’Este · - · Moral and Intellectual Value of Women of the Renaissance · - · From Court to Literary Salon · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -We have heard of a man who, after writing two hundred volumes or so -on various learned subjects, added a “Eulogy of Silence.” Among other -curious things, he said that he was “never more with those he loved -than when alone.” Men have sometimes been known to prefer society in -this form, but women rarely; they like things in the concrete, and they -like to talk about them. They may turn to a life of the spirit, but -even this they do not care to live in solitude. There are few anchorets -among them. In their exaltation, as in their pursuit of knowledge, they -seek companionship. - -Just how much women had to do with awakening the world from its long -sleep we do not know, but they were very active in keeping it awake -after it began to open its eyes. They mastered old languages, studied -old manuscripts, held public discussions on classic themes, wrote -verses, and entered with enthusiasm into the search for records that -had been lying in the dust for a thousand years. But they did more than -this: they revived the art of conversation and created society anew. -Possibly this was the most distinct heritage they left to the coming -ages. - -If conversation did not reach its maturity in Italy, it had its -brilliant youth there. Later it was taken up in France, spiced with -Gallic wit, and raised to the dignity of a fine art; but it lost a -little of its first seriousness. The accomplished princesses of the -Renaissance, who raved over a new-found line of Plato or Socrates, -and expatiated on the merits of a long-buried statue they had helped -to unearth, recalled the famous circle of Aspasia and made social -centers of their own. But they added a fresh and original flavor. One -does not copy accurately after fifteen or twenty centuries, nor even -after two or three; but we are safe in thinking that these groups -of poets, statesmen, prelates, artists, wits, and litterateurs, who -discussed the new life and thought, were not far behind their model -in brilliancy. If the men were not so great, the world was older, the -field of knowledge was wider, and there was more to talk about. Then, -there was but one Aspasia. If there were lesser stars of her own -sex, we do not know who they were. It was a brave woman, whatever her -abilities may have been, if she had a reputation to lose, that would -show her face in the society of those grand old Greeks who claimed the -universe for themselves and made of her an insignificant vassal. But -there was a multitude of women, both clever and learned, who added life -and piquancy to the coteries of the Renaissance. Men were proud of the -versatile wives and daughters who made their courts centers of light -and learning; if they were without lettered tastes themselves, they -were glad of the reflected glory. So, naturally, it was the ambition -of every well-born girl to fit herself to shine in these brilliant -circles, and every father who had a daughter of talent was conscious of -possessing a treasure of great value upon which too much care could not -be lavished. - -It must not be thought, however, that the women who made their courts -so famous were simply devotees of fashion, or the pretty toys of men’s -caprices, any more than they were colorless saints of the household or -cloister. They were not without high domestic and womanly virtues, but -they had also intelligence, a grasp of affairs, masterly character, and -the tact to make all these qualities available for the good of their -families and society. They were versed not only in classic lore, but in -the art of living. It was not weakness that constituted their charm; -it was their symmetry and the fullness of their strength. - -As we have already seen, it was an age of educated women. A lady was -expected to understand Latin, at least, besides her own language, and -Greek was a common acquirement. The earliest Greek grammar was written -by the celebrated Lascaris for Ippolita Sforza, the wife of Alfonso -and a ruling spirit at the lettered court of Naples. In her precocious -childhood this brilliant princess made a collection of Latin apothegms, -and a translation of Cicero’s “De Senectute,” which is said to be still -preserved in a convent at Rome. Plato, Seneca, and other philosophers -supplied the great ladies of four centuries ago with moral nutriment, -and Cicero was studied as a model of style. With the exception of -Vergil and parts of Horace, the Latin poets were too coarse, and -Boccaccio was forbidden; but Dante was a favorite companion of leisure -hours, and Petrarch, the high priest of Platonism, an idol. The “Lives -of the Fathers” and the chronicles of the saints were antidotes to the -worldliness of poets and historians. It was understood, however, that -literary tastes must not interfere with prayers and an intelligent -oversight of the household. - -Of their talent for administration these versatile princesses gave -ample evidence. They were constantly called upon to hold the reins -of government when their husbands were absent, and ruled with great -wisdom and skill. We do not hear that they talked much of their ability -to do various things not usually included among a woman’s duties, but -they did them at need as a matter of course. In affairs of delicate -diplomacy they were of special value, also in questions pertaining to -morals. It is interesting to know that this quarrelsome period had its -peace societies, as well as our own, and that the Pacieri, which was -organized to prevent litigation, was made up of men and women. Veronica -Gambara used her influence and her pen in the interest of peace, also -Vittoria Colonna, and many others. - -Some of the women who ruled so ably, however, were of virile temper, -and threw themselves with passionate energy into the storm and stress -of affairs, though it was rarely, if ever, from choice. In an emergency -they could ride fearlessly to the field of battle, or address a foreign -council. It was to save her children’s heritage that Caterina Sforza -defended the rocky fortress of Forli after the violent death of her -husband. She was a picturesque figure, this imposing lady of fair face, -golden hair, indomitable spirit, and fiery temper, as accomplished as -she was beautiful and brave, who rode at the head of her troops, and -graciously smiled upon the people, who loved her and were ready to die -for her. As a lovely bride of fifteen she had made a triumphal entry -into Rome, where she lived like a queen, and literally controlled the -fate of every one who sought aid, promotion, or a place of her uncle, -the formidable Sixtus IV, but she was destined to come to the front -in many a stormy crisis. She was only twenty-two when the Pope died -suddenly, but she took prompt possession of the castle of St. Angelo in -the name of her absent husband, who was Commander of the Forces, and -found there an asylum for her children until she could make terms that -saved the family fortunes. No wonder the husband took her with him when -he went to Venice, that he might avail himself of her swift and clear -judgment in his delicate negotiations. - -The history of this fifteenth-century heroine reads like the most -improbable romance. With the daring of a man, she had the flexibility -of a woman. If she could hold her own against an army and crush an -enemy with inexorable decision, she could care for the wounded like -a nurse. She danced as vigorously as she ruled, and did not disdain -the arts of a coquette or a diplomatist. One and the most obscure of -her three husbands she loved, but the others she served well. Of fear -she was incapable. “I am used to grief; I am not afraid of it,” she -wrote to her son from the solitary cell at Rome, where she was caged -for a time by the terrible Borgia Pope in the fortress over which she -had once ruled. But the careful, devoted mother, who was so full of -energy, so generous to her friends, so courageous in war, so subtle -in diplomacy, so dignified in misfortune, turned in her last years to -spiritual things with the same ardor she had given to mundane ones. She -had lived her life, and retired from its storms at thirty-nine. Then -she gave herself to the austerities of a convent at Florence, still -directing the education of her young children. If we do not approve of -all the methods of this irrepressible woman of clear head and strong -heart, we have to judge her by the standards of an age in which the -directors of the world’s conscience scoffed at morality and gave the -prizes of life to libertines and assassins. I quote her as one out of -many, to show the firm quality and abounding vitality as well as the -solid attainments of the women of this remarkable period. - -But the special mission of these princesses, so valiant on occasion, -was to patronize learning and the arts, to aid men of letters, to -diffuse a taste for the beautiful, to put a curb on license, so -far as this was possible, and to foster discussions of things high -and serious. They vied with one another in making their courts -intellectually luminous. The more we study them, the more we are -convinced of the beneficent influence of thoroughly trained, -broad-minded women in molding the destinies of nations as well as of -individuals. We are fascinated by their variable charm, their mastery -of life in its larger as well as its smaller phases. The woman who -led all hearts captive with her beauty, her gaiety, her kindness, the -faithful wife, the tender mother, the sympathetic friend, was also the -woman of lucid intellect and strong soul, who sustained her husband in -his darkest hours and added laurels to his glory while winning some for -herself. - - -II - -Of the Italian courts, it was only those led by able women that left -a permanent fame. If they are associated with the names of great men -who gave them the halo of their own glory, it was women who made a -society for these men, inspired them, and centralized their influence. -Urbino was called the Athens of Italy. During the reign of the Duchess -Elisabetta it is safe to say that there was hardly a man of distinction -in the country, whether poet, artist, prelate, or statesman, who did -not find his way there sooner or later. It may be pleasant to dwell -a little on this brilliant court, which was the best and purest of -its time and furnished the model upon which the Hôtel de Rambouillet -was founded more than a century afterward. It was more fortunate than -others in having a chronicler. Count Castiglione left a graphic picture -of its personnel and amusements, as well as a record of some of its -conversations, so that we know not only the quality of the people who -met there, but what they thought, what they talked about, and what they -did. He gives us the best glimpse we have of the society and manners of -the golden age of the Renaissance. - -But this atmosphere of culture and refinement was not made in a day. -It was largely due to the more or less gifted princesses who had -lived or ruled there for more than a hundred years. Far back toward -the beginning of the fifteenth century there was a Battista who was -distinguished for her piety, her talents, and her noble character. A -worthless husband drove her to seek refuge with her brother at Urbino, -where she solaced the wounds of her heart in writing sonnets and moral -essays on faith and human frailty, also in corresponding with scholars -and sending Latin letters to her father-in-law, a Malatesta, who had -fostered her literary tastes and evidently remained her friend. Her -daughter inherited her sorrows with her talents, and both closed -their lives, after the fashion of women to whom the world has not -been kind or has lost its charm, in the austerities of a convent. Her -granddaughter was Costanza Varana, a valued friend of philosophers -and men of learning; but she died early, leaving another Battista, -who was sent to Milan at four to be educated with her precocious -cousin Ippolita Sforza. The extraordinary gifts of this child have -already been mentioned, but she more than fulfilled her promise. At -fifteen, or earlier, she was married to Federigo, the great Duke of -Urbino, who shared the enthusiasm of the Medici in the revival of the -classics. This small duchess of vigorous intellect, much learning, and -strong character, was in full sympathy with her husband’s tastes, and -he speaks of her as “the ornament of his house, the delight of his -public and private hours.” If she could read Demosthenes and Plato, -and talk with the wisdom of Cicero, as one of her contemporaries tells -us, she was not spoiled for the practical duties of her position. -At an age when our school-girls are playing golf or conning their -lessons, she was prudently managing affairs of the State of which she -was regent in her husband’s absence. She was simple in manners, cared -little for dress, and put on her magnificent robes only for courtly -ceremonies to maintain the outward dignity of her place. At Rome she -was greatly honored by the Pope, whom she addressed in Latin, much to -his delight. But this beautiful, gifted, efficient, and adored woman -died at twenty-six, leaving seven children, a broken-hearted husband, -and a sorrowing people. The glories of her short, full life were sung -by poets, statesmen, and churchmen alike. She left the imperishable -stamp of intellect and taste on all her surroundings, and is of special -interest to us as the grandmother of Vittoria Colonna, in whom the -talent of generations found its consummate flower. - -But the luminous period of Urbino was during the reign of her son, who -added to the martial qualities and manly accomplishments of his age, -remarkable talent, great learning, and a singularly gentle character. -This was the Duke Guidobaldo, who consoled his friends in his last -moments with lines from Vergil. His health was always delicate, and the -brilliancy of his court was due to his wife, the celebrated Elisabetta -Gonzaga, who had been reared in the scholarly air of Mantua, where -the daughters were educated with the sons. She found in her new home -standards of culture that had been set, as we have seen, by a long line -of princesses devoted to things of the intellect. - -In its palmy days, the young Giuliano de’ Medici, son of the great -Lorenzo and brother of Leo X,--the one who was immortalized by -Michelangelo in the statue so familiar to the traveler in the Medicean -Chapel at Florence,--was living at Urbino during the exile of his -family. It was also the home of the “divine Bembo,” critic, Platonist, -arbiter of letters, finally cardinal, and one of the most famous men -of his time, though his claim to be called “divine” is not apparent. -The witty Mæcenas of this group was Bibbiena, poet, diplomat, man of -the world, a dilettante in taste and an Epicurean in philosophy, also -a cardinal and an aspirant for the papal throne. There were, too, -the Fregosos, men of strong intellect, many personal attractions, and -manly character, one of whom became the Doge of Genoa, and the other -a cardinal--with many others of fame and learning whose names signify -little to us to-day. By no means the least important member of the -household was Castiglione, the courtier and diplomat of classical -tastes and varied accomplishments, who has given us so pleasant a -glimpse of its sayings and doings. To this intellectual Mecca came, -from time to time, literary pilgrims from all parts of the world. - -It was the special mission of the Duchess Elisabetta to fuse these -elements into a society that should be a model for other courts -and coming generations. Here lies her originality and her claim to -distinction. This clever princess, who loved her husband devotedly, -cared for the poor and sorrowing among her people, and had moral -convictions of her own as well as ideas, was well fitted for her -position. Without any pretension to genius, she had a clear, -discriminating mind, rare intelligence, great beauty, and gracious -manners. Her character had a fine symmetry, and she was equally -successful in directing her household, conversing with great men, -and holding the reins of government when her husband--a condottiere -by profession, like most of the smaller princes--was in the field -elsewhere. Surrounded by adorers in an age when indiscretions, even -sins, were easily forgiven, no breath of censure ever touched her -fair name. Her dignity and a reserve that verged upon coldness gave -a pure tone to her court. She permitted neither malicious gossip nor -heated talk, and required unsullied honor and exemplary conduct of her -friends. We might question the standards a little, as men at least were -privileged beings not to be too closely scrutinized. - -In her social duties she had the efficient aid of Emilia Pia, the -duke’s sister-in-law, a woman of brilliant intellect and high -character, who had lost her husband in youth, and lived at Urbino. Of a -gayer turn, her ready wit and happy temperament, added to her knowledge -and personal fascination, made her the life of the house. Other and -younger ladies of well-known names and kindred tastes figure in its -diversions. - -The magnificent old palace that overlooked the city from its -picturesque site among the hills was one of the finest in Italy. Its -stately rooms were filled with rare treasures of painting, sculpture, -mosaic, and costly furniture. There were exquisite decorations in -marble and tarsia, and the walls were draped with rich tapestries. -Raphael was a youth then, and no doubt his first dreams had been -of these beautiful things, among which he must have rambled. It is -likely, too, that he met here the friends who were of so much service -to him afterward at Rome, among them Bibbiena, to whose grandniece -he was betrothed. His father had painted some of the frescos, and was -a welcome visitor. Other artists were invited there, and added to the -glories of the famous pile. Among these surroundings of art and beauty, -with the traditions of culture that lay behind them, clever, thoughtful -women and brilliant men met evening after evening to talk of the -world and its affairs, of things light and serious, of love, manners, -literature, statecraft, and philosophy. When they tired of grave -themes, they amused themselves with allegories, playful badinage, witty -repartees, and devices of all sorts to stimulate the intellect. After -supper there was music and dancing, if the conversation did not last -until the morning hours. Sometimes they had their own plays acted in -the pretty little theater. It was here that Bibbiena’s famous comedy, -“Calandra,” with its gorgeous pagan setting and its curious blending of -love and mythology, of nymphs, Cupids, and goddesses, was first given -to an admiring world. - -But we are most interested to-day in the conversations. Many evenings -were devoted to defining the character and duties of a courtier, -which differed little from those of a modern gentleman, except -in the exaggerated deference claimed to be due to a superior and -verging upon servility. It is more to the purpose here to touch -upon the discussions relating to women, as they furnish a key to -fifteenth-century manners which were the basis of all modern codes, -though to-day many of the best of their formulas are more conspicuous -in the breach than in the observance. - -It was agreed that a lady must be gracious, affable, discreet, of -character above reproach, free from pride or envy, and neither vain, -contentious, nor arrogant. To speak of the failings of others, or -listen to reflections upon them, was taken as an indication that one’s -own follies needed a vindication or a veil. This model lady must dress -with taste, but not think too much about it, and she was forbidden to -dye her hair, or use cosmetics and other artificial aids to beauty. Her -personal distinction lay in an elegant simplicity, without luxury or -pretension. She must know how to manage her children and her fortune, -as well as her household; but she was expected to be versed in letters, -music, and the arts, also to be able to converse on any topic of -the day without childish affectation of knowledge which she did not -possess. Modesty, tact, decorum, and purity of thought were cardinal -virtues, and religion was a matter of course. Noisy manners, egotism, -and familiarity were unpardonable. Dignity, self-possession, and a -gentle urbanity were marks of good breeding. No license in language -was permitted, but we cannot help wondering what they called license. -Men, it must be added, could be about as wicked as they liked, and, if -history is to be trusted, many in high places were very wicked indeed. -The latitude of the best of them in speech would be rather embarrassing -to the sensitive woman of our time; but the days of the précieuses -had not dawned, and no one hesitated to call a spade a spade, even -if it were a very black one. Women might blush and be silent, but -further protest was set down as disagreeable prudery. Perhaps the frank -naturalism of the Latin races must be taken into account, as it often -quite unconsciously shocks our own more delicate tastes even to-day. -But it was conceded that no man was so bad as not to esteem a woman of -pure character and refined sensibilities. - -These men and women who lived on the confines of two great centuries -and tried to introduce a finer code of manners and morals, touched also -on the equality of the sexes, a question which agitated that world as -it does our own. Some one asks, one evening, why women should not be -permitted to govern cities, make laws, and command armies. - -Giuliano de’ Medici, who was an ardent champion of the dependent sex, -replies that it might not be amiss. Many of them he declares to be as -capable of doing these things as men, and he cites history to show that -they have led armies and governed with equal prudence. To a friend who -mildly suggests that women are inferior, he says that “the difference -is accidental, not essential,” adding that the qualities of strength, -activity, and endurance are not always most esteemed, even in men. -As to mind, “whatever men can know and understand, women can also; -where one intellect penetrates, so does the other.... Many have been -learned in philosophy, written poetry, practised law, and spoken with -eloquence.” - -A gentleman of the party ungallantly remarks that women desire to be -men so as to be more perfect. - -Giuliano wisely answers that it is not for perfection, but for liberty -to shake off the power that men assume over them. He says they are more -firm and constant in affection, as men are apt to be wandering and -unsettled. When asked to name women who are equal to men, he replies -that he is confounded by numbers, but mentions, among others, “Portia, -Cornelia, and Nicostrata, mother of Evander, who taught the Latins -the use of letters.” “Rome,” he adds, “owes its greatness as much to -women as to men.... They were never in any age inferior, nor are they -now.” He goes on to cite Countess Matilda, Anne of France, wife of two -kings in succession, and inferior to neither, Marguerite, daughter -of Maximilian, famed for prudence and justice, Isabella of Mantua, -singularly great and virtuous, with many other noted women of his -time. “If there are Cleopatras, there are multitudes of Sardanapali who -are much worse.” - -The limits of this paper permit only the suggestion of a few points -in a long conversation which touched the subject on every side. It -was interspersed with thoughtful questions from the duchess, who did -not fail to interfere if it took too free a turn, also with brilliant -sallies of wit from Emilia Pia, and spicy comments from the less -serious members of the party. They were not all in accord with the -opinions quoted here, but, on the whole, Giuliano de’ Medici and his -supporters, who paid a fine tribute to the abilities of women without -wishing to impose upon them heavier duties, had the best of the -argument. - -From men, women, and manners, the transition to love was an easy one, -and this fifteenth-century coterie discussed it in all its variations, -as we discuss the last play, or the last novel, or the last word in -sociology, or the misty era of universal peace. It was not a new thing -to discourse upon the most interesting of human passions. Men had -talked of it centuries before on the banks of the Ilissus; but when -they passed from its lowest phases they lost themselves in metaphysical -subtleties. It became an intellectual aspiration, a “passion of the -reason,” without warmth or life. Diotima, a woman quoted by Socrates, -called it “a mystic dream of the beautiful and good”; but if she was -not a myth herself, she could not join the symposia of philosophers. -Outside of the circle of Aspasia, no respectable woman was admitted to -the conversations of men; indeed, these finely drawn dissertations on -love had small reference to her. In the classic world women had no part -in the marriage of souls. Love, when not purely a thing of the senses, -was a worship of beauty, and the Greek ideal of beauty was a masculine -one. They might die for a Helen, but it was not for love. These wise -talkers sent the flute-players to amuse their wives and daughters in -the inner court, while they considered high things, as well as many -not suitable for delicate ears. The coarser Romans treated love as -altogether a thing of the senses, with Ovid as a text. - -But in the golden age of the Renaissance, women no longer stayed in -the inner court, to gossip and listen to flute-players, while their -husbands talked on themes high or low. The worship of the Madonna, if -it had done little else, had idealized the pure affection of an exalted -womanhood. Chivalry following in its train had made the cult of woman -a fashion by giving her more or less of the homage already paid to her -divine representative, though this sentiment was less active in Italy -than in Provence or among the more romantic races. It was a tribute of -strength to helplessness, and had its roots in the finest traits of -men; but it exalted moral qualities rather than intellectual ones, and -was largely theoretical outside of a limited class. Now that men had -begun to dip into classic lore, however, they found a valuable ally in -women, and the old cult became a companionship. To be educated and a -princess was to be doubly a power, to have opinions which it was worth -while to consider. - -The princesses of Urbino had doubtless read Plato. In an age, too, -that occupied itself with Boccaccio, who had glorified the senses -and written books that no pure and refined woman could read, they -had turned to Dante and the spiritual love which was an inspiration -and a benediction. In the white soul of Beatrice they found the -exquisite flower of womanhood. They caught also the subtle fragrance -of the ideal love which Petrarch gave, first to a woman, then to an -unfading memory. It was of such a love they dreamed and liked to -talk. Then one of the chief apostles of Platonism was the brilliant -Bembo, who was the star of this company. “Through love,” he says, “the -supreme virtues rule the inferior.” He puts on record and dedicates -to Lucrezia Borgia the conversations of three days on its joys and -sorrows; but the subject was evidently exhausted, as, at the end, -a hermit gives a homily on the vanity of the world. He closes an -eloquent apostrophe, however, with these words: “Chase away ignorance -and make us see celestial beauty in its perfection. Love, it is the -communion with divine beauty, the banquet of angels, the heavenly -ambrosia.” On this theme his listeners rang the changes, but not -always on so ethereal a plane. The relative constancy of the sexes, -the divine right of man, the passive nature of woman, who was called -a pale moon to the masculine sun, and various other points, had their -fair share of discussion. Between terrestrial and celestial love -there are many gradations, and the character and temperament of the -men were clearly revealed in their opinions. Some were disposed to -be autocrats, others took issue with masculine egotism, and still -others dwelt on the sentimental side of the question. One of the -Fregosos rather ungraciously assumed the traditional attitude of his -sex and contended that women are “imperfect animals,” not at all to be -compared with men. But he was in an unpopular minority. The Duchess -Elisabetta was a well-poised, discreet woman, who was devoted to her -invalid husband, kept her admirers at a prudent distance, and was in -no wise a victim to superfluous sensibility. The effusive Bembo, who -was given to friendships touched with the fire of the imagination, was -untiring in his devotion to this Minerva, but he confessedly adored -her as a goddess from afar. The witty and brilliant Emilia Pia had a -temperament the reverse of sentimental, and was ready to demolish any -castle of moonlight with a shaft of merciless satire. Both brought a -solid equipment of common sense into an analysis that often reached a -very fine point. But this friendship that was not love, this love that -was a sublimated friendship, appealed to them as it did to many others -besides poets in a grossly material age. To separate the soul from the -senses and intellectualize the emotions, was the natural protest of -intelligent women against the old traditions that considered them only -as servants or toys of men’s fancies. It took them out of the realm of -the passions and “gave them wings for a sublime flight.” The mysticism -of love is closely related to the mysticism of religion, and the faith -that sees God in ecstatic visions is not far from the love that feeds -itself from spiritual sources. These rambling talks, to which the young -ladies listened curiously and with interest, though usually in discreet -silence, proved so absorbing that on the last of a series of evenings -devoted to the subject, the party forgot its usual gaieties, and did -not disperse until the birds began to sing in the trees and the rosy -dawn shone over the rugged heights of Monte Catri. - - -III - -It was these conversations that set in motion the wave of Platonism -which swept over the surface of society for two or three centuries, -until it lost itself in the pale inanities and vapid phrases of the -précieuses. We find it difficult now to conceive of a company of grave -dignitaries old and young, statesmen, wits, men of letters, and clever -women, chasing theories of love through an infinity of shades and -gradations, as seriously as we talk of trusts, strikes, education, and -the best means of making everybody happy. The subject had a perennial -interest for them. They considered it mathematically as to quantity, -spiritually as to quality. They quoted Plato on love and divine beauty, -but no one would have been more surprised at the application than the -philosopher himself. They proposed to do away with all the chagrins and -disenchantments of love, by making it altogether a dream, beautiful, no -doubt, but shadowy. As a last refuge, they put terrestrial love into -celestial robes and drowned themselves in illusions. Bembo wished to -serve Isabella d’Este “as if she were Pope,” but he sends her quite -tenderly the kiss of his soul, which she, no doubt, took gracefully -and at its value. She was not a sentimental woman; a clear, vigorous -intellect is a very good antidote against false sensibility. But -these other vigorous intellects were so busy weaving the tissue of -their dreams that they did not trouble themselves much about possible -applications. - -This Platonic mania, which ran through Italian society, and, if it did -nothing else, tempered its grossness and spiritualized its ideals, did -not originate at Urbino, though it probably blossomed into a fashion -there. Petrarch found the germ in Plato, but he developed it into fruit -of quite another color, and furnished the poets after him with a new -background for their fantasy-flowers. The magnificent Lorenzo, poet, -ruler, patron of letters, Platonist, and buffoon, went into poetic -raptures at the sight of the beautiful face of “la belle Simonetta” -as she lay white and cold on the bier that passed him in the street. -He dreamed of it, apostrophized it, grew melancholy over it, until he -found a living face almost as lovely about which to drape the pearls of -his poetic fancy. He wrote sonnets à la Petrarch, without the genuine -ring of Petrarch. It was all moonlight, the pale copy of a paler -emotion. But he did not in the least lose control of what he called his -heart, as he dutifully married the woman his clear-headed mother chose -for him; she was not at all a figure of romance and, it is to be hoped, -had small knowledge of the vagaries of her theoretically Platonic -husband. In any case, it was the destiny of her sex to submit to the -inevitable. - -But the dreams of the poets naturally found an echo in the hearts of -lonely women and artless maidens. When marriage was a matter of bargain -and sale, a union of fortune and interest in which love played no part, -sensibility was a subtle factor difficult to reckon with. A man had -legally, as well as morally, supreme control over his wife. He might -happen to love her and be kind to her, but if he chose to neglect her -or beat her, there was no one to find fault with him. This “divine -right” of man was the foundation-stone of society, and it was no more -possible to question it than it was to question the divine right of -popes and kings. Princesses were privileged beings who were both useful -and ornamental, but this did not save them from being ill-treated to -the last degree. No one thought of interfering when one of the later -Medici, angry at his sister, sent for her husband and, after telling -him that her frivolous conduct reflected on the decorum of his very -disreputable court, bade him remember that he was a Christian and a -gentleman, placed a villa at his disposal, and the hapless but too gay -Isabella, who went there with suspicious reluctance, suddenly died of a -convenient apoplexy, and appeared no more on this earthly scene to be -a thorn in the side of her brother’s favorite, the very beautiful but -too aspiring Bianca Capello. His sister-in-law, a much-wronged Spanish -princess, was invited to a gloomy old castle among the hills at the -same time, and disposed of in a similar way, by her amiable husband, -who asked forty thousand ducats for the deed, and expiated it at once -by a prayer to the Virgin, and a vow which he forgot. - -With all these tragic possibilities, it was out of the question to -secure a divorce for any incompatibility of temper, small or great, -unless his Holiness saw that it would serve some interest or caprice of -his own, and incidentally add to the glory of the church. But pent-up -emotions are apt to be troublesome, and it is hardly strange that these -women, with an abyss on one side and a vacuum on the other, sought a -way of reconciling matters that infringed visibly on no man’s rights. -They adopted the fashion of supplementing a terrestrial love that was -not very comfortable with a celestial one which, if rather attenuated, -seemed quite innocent and harmless, and gave them something pleasant -to think about. These airy and Platonic sentiments had a much more -substantial character among men and women who lived at a high mental -altitude. It is to live confessedly on a very low plane to deny that -there is a tie of the intellect which tends only to fine issues, and -is a source of light and inspiration. But this implies first of all -an intellect of distinct range, and a clear moral sense, that are not -always forthcoming. The friendship between Michelangelo and Vittoria -Colonna was a sympathy between two exalted souls who dwelt habitually -on the heights, far above the mists of sense and the banalities of -lesser minds. “Friendship is not a sentiment without fire,” wrote the -cold and skeptical Buffon to Mme. Necker, nearly four centuries later; -“it is rather a warming of the soul, an emotion, a movement sweeter -than that of any other passion, and also quite as strong.” But this -passion of friendship can exist in its perfection only between those in -whom sensibility lights the intellect without submerging it; on a lower -plane it has its dangers. - -In the days of the précieuses, the apostles of Platonic love cut the -cord that bound them to reality, and floated away on a cloud of pure -emotionalism. Merged in affectations, it finally evaporated in phrases -on the lips of sighing youths and romantic maidens. In the Anglo-Saxon -world it never had a very strong foothold. The race is not sufficiently -imaginative. - -There is no doubt that there has been a great deal of senseless talk -about Platonic love, and that it drew after it much that was far from -Platonic. We all know that one of the most conspicuous daughters of -devotion is hypocrisy, but who can hold religion responsible because -its garb is put on to disguise sin? The trouble is that the finest -spirits are apt to be measured by the standards of the lowest. It is -not easy to convince people of material ideals that all things are not -to be brought to their level. But this curious agitation had its place -and did its work. We may smile at the finely drawn sophistries of a -Bembo, who pointed to an ideal he sometimes failed to reach. It is easy -enough for cynics to say that Beatrice, the apotheosis of spiritual -love, died early, and was worshiped, not as a woman, but as a star -shining from inaccessible heights; that Laura, the ideal of the high -priest of Platonism, was simply a dream, intangible as the moonlight -and cold as the everlasting snows; that it is not good for every-day -men and women to see such visions, even if it were possible, nor to -dream such dreams, nor to live at such an altitude--all of which no -doubt has its side of truth. But the fact remains that it was largely -through the inspired vision, which looked past the entanglements -of sense into the pure heart and transparent soul of an idealized -womanhood, that the long-enduring sex came into its intellectual -kingdom. To the old ties of interest, passion, and habit, were added -those of the intellect and spirit. In this new contact of intelligences -society had its birth, women took their rightful places, and the world -found a new regenerating force. - - -IV - -The life at Urbino, with its literary flavor, its refined manners, -its serious conversations, and its Platonic dreams, took another tone -at Ferrara. This court was gayer, but hardly less noted as a center -of culture. No one chronicled its conversations, but the fame of its -poets illuminated it. Boiardo lived and wrote and administered affairs -in the magnificent old castle whose four towers frown to-day in lonely -grandeur over the silent and grass-grown streets of the once lively -city; Ariosto immortalized the women “as fair as good, and as learned -as they were fair,” who gathered artists, men of letters, statesmen, -cardinals, and philosophers within its tapestried walls; and the -genius of Tasso still sheds over it a melancholy splendor strangely -contrasting with the tragedy that left so dark a cloud on the last days -of its glory. - -The Duke Hercules I did a wise thing for the brilliancy of his reign -when he chose for his wife the learned and accomplished Leonora of -Aragon, who had grown up in the intellectual atmosphere of her royal -father’s court at Naples. She was a versatile princess, a lover of art, -a patron of letters, and an able, efficient woman, who gave equal care -to the fostering of talent and the practical interests of her people. -The art of gold and silver metal work, on which she was an authority, -reached great perfection under her patronage, and she gave her personal -supervision to the skilled embroiderers whom she brought from elsewhere -to stimulate the native artists. When her husband was absent he left -the government in her charge. Nothing shows more clearly the masterful -ability of these Italian princesses than the wisdom and facility with -which they managed public affairs, and the confidence reposed in them. -In this model republic of the twentieth century, who would think of -intrusting matters of State to the wife of president or governor in -any emergency whatever? Let us admit that women are not trained here -for such responsibilities, even if they cared to assume them; but why -treat us to a homily on their natural incapacity for affairs of State, -in the face of innumerable examples in the past that prove the contrary? - -And these women lost neither their charm nor their essentially feminine -qualities. Certainly there was no wiser mother than this same Duchess -Leonora. Her daughters had the best of masters, and were versed in all -the knowledge of the day, as well as in the lighter accomplishments. -They were schooled also in the duties of their high position, and were -never permitted to neglect their serious studies for amusement. While -they were busy with their tapestries some man of letters recited or -read to them. Perhaps it was Boiardo, perhaps another of the literary -stars of the court. The untiring mother had her reward in the fame and -virtuous character of these children. One of them, the beautiful and -gifted Isabella d’Este, had a brilliant career as the Marchioness of -Mantua, and her scarcely less fascinating sister Beatrice carried the -tastes of her own youth to the more splendid but corrupt court of the -Sforzas at Milan. - -The enlightened duchess, who seems to have been as kind as she was -capable, did not escape calumny, as few did in that age of license; but -she has a blessed immortality in the glowing lines of Ariosto, who -paid an eloquent tribute to her talents and virtues at her death. The -court of Ferrara never lost the lettered tone which she gave it, though -its fashions of living and thinking changed from time to time. - -One cannot quote her son’s wife, the fair-haired Lucrezia Borgia, as a -model princess, though in later years she partly redeemed the faults of -her past by her kindness to the poor, her intelligent patronage of art -and letters, and her devotion as wife and mother. It is not likely that -she was as black as she has been painted, or, as has been suggested by -later historians, Ariosto, with all his courtier love for paying pretty -compliments to women, especially princesses, would hardly have dared to -put her on a level with the Roman Lucretia in “charms and chastity,” -in a country where satire was merciless and scandal many-tongued. In -her tragical youth she was possibly more sinned against than sinning. -With a father who was the embodiment of all the vices, and brothers as -powerful as they were infamous, one can readily imagine that she had -little choice in her manner of life. It was quite in the interest of -this terrible trio that her three husbands were disposed of in one way -or another, and it was equally in their interest that the widowed Duke -Alfonso was virtually forced to marry her, though evidently against -his inclination. The wishes of a Holy Father with unlimited power -were compelling. And so it happened that this beautiful, clever, and -much-talked-of woman went to Ferrara with a flourish of trumpets, as -became a pope’s daughter. She was only twenty-five, though she had seen -tragedies enough to color a lifetime. On her way she visited Urbino -with her two thousand attendants,--princesses were costly guests in -those days,--and the good Duchess Elisabetta, by command of this wicked -and grasping Holy Father, who had designs on her own domains that might -be furthered by her absence, went with the much heralded bride to take -part in the magnificent wedding festivities. There was little in the -entry of this brilliant but very much clouded Lucrezia on her white -jennet, resplendent in satin and gold and flashing jewels, to suggest -the beauty and desirableness of “plain living and high thinking.” -To be sure, she had university dons to support her canopy, and all -the learning of Ferrara in her train; but it was a fashion of these -princesses to honor scholars. Then there were comedies of Plautus to -give the occasion a classic flavor, besides music, dancing, medieval -combats, Moorish interludes, and more barbaric amusements for the -multitude. The splendors of dress, the wealth of velvets, brocades, -gold, and gems, were all duly chronicled by the society reporter of the -time, and the descriptions of modern court balls seem modest and tame -in comparison. The good Duchess Leonora had been sleeping in her tomb -with the other princesses many a year, duly labeled by Ariosto. But -the pure-souled Isabella d’Este was there with a new and regal costume -for every scene, and no doubt various misgivings about her imposing -sister-in-law which she thought best to say nothing about. - -This dangerous Lucrezia, however, had her serious moments. After the -pageants were over, she took out of her traveling-case the Dante and -Petrarch she had brought for her daily reading, also some histories, -with her manual of devotion. She had, too, her literary circle of -poets, savants, men of letters, prelates, cardinals, and clever women -who spoke in Latin and wrote Greek quite naturally and as a matter of -course. They talked of manners, art, and philosophy, as at Urbino, but -perhaps not quite so seriously; they talked also of love, spiritual and -otherwise. The inevitable Bembo was there for a time, and afterward -wrote Platonic letters about literature to the friend of his soul, -which she answered with insight and discrimination as well as matronly -discretion. These letters were preserved, with a lock of her golden -hair. - -There is little trace of the early Lucrezia in her later years. No more -worldly vanities. She prayed a great deal, and spent her evenings in -working beautiful designs in embroidery with the ladies of her court. -“Her husband and his subjects all loved her for her gracious manners -and her piety,” we are told. She was not old when she died,--two or -three years past forty,--leaving an inconsolable husband and several -children. In a letter of condolence the Doge of Venice gives great -praise to her devotion and her fine qualities of character. The most -distinguished prelates of the day pay a tribute to her many virtues. -The experiences of her life, which were dark enough at its beginning -and too surely not blameless, are wrapped in a mystery so deep that we -cannot fairly judge them to-day. - -If the court of Ferrara was gay, literary, artistic, with more or less -of a dilettante tone under Lucrezia, it took quite another color in -the reign of her daughter-in-law, the serious and thoughtful Renée. -This princess had more solid qualities of intellect, but less beauty -and less charm. “She was good and clever, with a mind the best and -most acute possible,” says Brantôme. Her father was Louis XII, and -her mother Anne of Bretagne, whose talent and independent spirit she -inherited. She had Protestant tendencies, and brought strange guests -to these stately halls and haunts of poets. Calvin was among them. He -was young then, and came under the name of Charles d’Espeville--which -was much safer for an arch-heretic. With him came Clément Marot, a -poet and a heretic of milder type, who shone brilliantly at the court -of the clever Marguerite of Navarre. The stern moralist and ascetic -reformer was no friend to women, except as convenient appendages, and -these were apt to be troublesome unless kept in their lowly place. He -looked upon their government as “a deviation from the original and -proper order of nature, to be ranked no less than slavery among the -punishments consequent upon the fall of man.” In this case he evidently -found the punishment rather pleasant, as he stayed many months in -a court where the power of women was very much _en évidence_, -though it fell under an eclipse because of him. Perhaps he modified -his opinions for the moment in so stimulating an atmosphere. While he -never fails to denounce the “inferior sex” in plain terms, he is kind -enough to make discreet exceptions as to women in high places, who were -not made of common clay. It was certainly inconvenient for the duke to -have a wife with convictions, who persisted in compromising him with -the higher powers; but what would have become of the superior Calvin, -with the door closed upon him and the Inquisition on his track, if -this incapable being had been superintending the cook and the maids -or working patterns in embroidery, as she plainly ought to have been, -instead of courageously and with clear foresight despatching some -trustworthy friends to liberate the reverend suspect from his dangerous -and uncomfortable surveillance, and send him on his way to a freer air? - -There was much talk on free will and election, as well as of sinners -in power, and the need of grace and reformation, when Vittoria Colonna -came, a little later, to enjoy the liberty of thought and literary -discussion for which this court was famous, also to forward the -interest of her friend, the eloquent Fra Bernardino, who wished to -found here a Capuchin convent. It was quite safe to sit on the grass or -in the gardens during the long summer evenings, listening to a Greek -play, and talking about the respective merits of Homer and Petrarch, -who had been dead a long time, or the genius of Ariosto, who had just -closed his eyes after charming his age and saying so many agreeable -things about its women. But it was not so safe to reflect on wicked -popes, or call in question whatever dogma they might choose to present -to a credulous world. The Duchess Renée was made sadly conscious of -this fact, as was her gifted protégée, Olympia Morata. Her mind had a -mystical quality, and the germs of a more spiritual faith had taken -root there. But her amiable husband applied the screw as he was told. -To have one’s children taken away and to be confined in a remote -corner of one’s castle was too much to bear, and a suspiciously sudden -conversion under good orthodox ministrations was the result, with -convenient mental reservations to serve until the duke died and the -lady was safely back in France with her royal kin and the protecting -sympathy of her heretical friend, the gifted and powerful Marguerite of -many-sided fame. - -But in the meantime the literary talks went on, led by her brilliant -daughters, who contented themselves with topics that were less -explosive. Tasso said that Lucrezia and Leonora d’Este were “so well -versed in affairs of State and literature that no one could listen to -their conversation without amazement.” Here, as elsewhere, they talked -a great deal about matters of sentiment. Tasso held a controversy at -the academy on “Fifty Points of Love.” One of them was a question -whether men or women love the more constantly and intensely. Orsini -Cavaletti, a lady of distinction in literature and philosophy, claimed -the palm for her own sex, and came off with equal if not superior -honors before a learned and brilliant audience. What the other points -were I do not know. The amount of energy expended on such trivial -themes was curiously illustrated a few years before by Isotta Nogarola, -a lady of Verona, who discussed with learned men the question as -to whether Adam or Eve was the more guilty, and wrote a defense of -Eve which must have created more than a ripple of interest, as it -was printed a century afterward. This champion of justice was not a -reformer nor an _emancipée_, but a woman of rank and a friend of -popes, who had the courage to come to the rescue of her sex from the -denunciations of ages. Doubtless the discussion was largely a play of -wit and an exercise in analysis that applied itself to small things, -since it was not safe to attack great ones. - -But our unfortunate poet did not confine himself to theory, and love -proved a more disastrous subject for him than did religion for some of -his friends. It was to this same brilliant Leonora, whom he lauded to -the skies, that Tasso dared lift his eyes in too familiar or ambitious -a fashion before he was shut out of the world seven years as a madman. -Whatever the facts of this tragical romance may have been, we know that -the lady died at forty-five, in the odor of sanctity and unmarried, -while her gayer but equally clever sister became the wife of the last -Duke of Urbino, whom she found so dull and tiresome that she returned -after three years to her brother’s court, where the livelier tastes -were more to her liking. But its glories had already paled and its -stars had mostly set. Tasso was the last. - -The traveler of to-day looks with curious eye on the faded splendors of -the grim old castle, and speculates idly upon the tragedies that have -been acted within its silent walls. But he goes away to the poor little -cell at the hospital of St. Anna and drops a tear over the fate of the -poet who ate his heart out there. Time brings strange reparations, but -they are always too late. - - -V - -In the days when they were talking of men, women, and manners at -Urbino, and the brilliant Bembo was writing high-flown letters about -literature and celestial love to Lucrezia Borgia, or discoursing upon -the same themes, in the intervals of many graver ones, at Ferrara, and -Alexander VI was making the society of Rome as wicked as he knew how, -which was very wicked indeed, Isabella d’Este, wife of the Marquis -of Mantua, was the central figure of one of the most charming and -intellectual courts in Italy. This “noble-minded Isabel,” of whom -Ariosto says, - - I know not well if she more fair - May be entitled, or more chaste and sage, - -carried with her to the banks of the Mincio, already made classic as -the birthplace of Vergil, the literary tastes which had been nurtured -in the scholarly air of Ferrara. We have seen her developing as a child -under the care of the wise Leonora. At six she astonished the envoy -sent to arrange her betrothal, by her precocious intelligence, engaging -conversation, and graceful manners. It was a kindly fate that led her -to the court of the Gonzagas, which was famous for the learning and -culture of its women. - -Of all the princesses who shed such luster on this period she had, -perhaps, the most personal distinction. To the wisdom and force of -her mother she added more esprit and a warmer temperament. In tact, -dignity, learning, and the virtues of a well-poised character, she did -not surpass her husband’s sister, the much-loved Duchess Elisabetta of -Urbino, but she seems to have had more native brilliancy of intellect. -Living from 1474 to 1525, she was brought into familiar contact with -the most famous men and women of the golden age of the Renaissance, -and played an important part in many of its stormy crises, but, under -all conditions, one is impressed with her strong individuality, her -versatility, her intrepid spirit, and her unfailing charm. She combined -the tenderness of a woman with the mental vigor of a man. Fair, witty, -gracious, and a noted beauty, she was equally at home discussing art -and literature with the masters, and grave political problems with -popes and kings, arranging fêtes, ordering a picture, selecting a -brocade, or playing with a child. - -The old and imposing palace of Mantua to this day shows traces of the -taste and generosity of its most distinguished mistress. She filled it -with rare books, exquisite tapestries, and curios of all sorts, chosen -with the discrimination of a connoisseur. Its walls were decorated with -the masterpieces of Correggio, Mantegna, Perugino, and other great -artists whom she was proud to call her friends. Chief among those in -whose conversation she delighted were Titian and Leonardo da Vinci, who -immortalized her. A living portrait by the latter is still one of the -treasures of the Louvre. Her keen critical taste was quick to divine -intrinsic values, and she was always on the alert for fresh talent to -add to the glories of her little court. It was not rich, and we find -her troubled at the prospect of entertaining her sister’s magnificent -husband, Lodovico Sforza, who proposed to visit her with a retinue of a -thousand or so. But her money went freely for everything pertaining to -matters of intellect and taste. She sent her agents in all directions, -even to the far East, and a new-found statue, a rare bit of tapestry, -or a precious mosaic was an event of joy. Her own teeming imagination -was full of pictures, and she liked to suggest themes to artists, which -were not always easy to put into living form. But her sympathetic and -intelligent enthusiasm was in itself an inspiration. - -This critical, art-loving Isabella, however, was more than a -dilettante. Her heart went out to every form of suffering. Running over -with kindness, and always ready to help the needy and deserving, her -sympathies sometimes got the better of her judgment, and more than once -she had to regret enlisting her friends in the cause of the unworthy. -This generous quality was a part of her rich temperament. With her -intellectual tastes, and the many cares and responsibilities of her -position, she was no grave and cold Minerva. We find her everywhere -entering into the sports and gaieties of her age with the zest of a -woman abounding in spirit, vitality, and the joy of life. When she went -to see her sister at Milan, she rode, danced, hunted, made impromptu -verses, dazzled her friends with flashes of wit, and fascinated -old and young alike with her winning, lively ways. Her powerful -brother-in-law was always glad to consult her on serious questions of -State, as well as on his vast plans for making a beautiful and artistic -city. The things that were shaping themselves in the minds of great -artists appealed to her ardent imagination. “This is the school of -the _master_ and of those who _know_, the home of art and -understanding,” she wrote from there. - -Her letters to her family are always full of vivacity, clear and to -the point, but glowing with affection. The friendships she inspired -were devoted, even passionate. “It seems as if I had lost not only -a tenderly loved sister, but a part of myself,” wrote the Duchess -Elisabetta, after one of her visits. “I long to write to you every -hour.... If I could clearly express to you my grief, I am sure it would -have so much force that compassion would bring you back.” In such a -spirit these women wrote to one another. The Latin race is effusive, -and the art of expression, which is its supreme gift, no doubt often -ran ahead of the feeling or the thought; but these familiar letters -bear the stamp of sincerity and help us to know the manner of woman -that wrote them. - -This noble lady of so many gifts and graces was born to lead and not -to follow. She could take the affairs of government on occasion, and -was amply fitted to rule firmly and wisely. Her first aim was to -win the love of her people, which, she says, is of “more value to a -State than all its fortresses, treasures, and men-at-arms.” When her -husband had matters to settle that required delicate diplomacy, he -sent her on a special embassy to the Vatican, where the Pope loaded -her with honors and had Bibbiena’s new comedy, “Calandra,” played for -her entertainment. A helpful wife was this queen of the Renaissance, -and no one knew it better than her husband, whose profession was war, -which often led him far from the court she had made so famous. Perhaps -she had a trace of pardonable vanity. She deferred a visit to Venice -because she did not care to have her modest train brought into so close -a contrast with the imposing splendors of the “little sister” whom she -loved but did not attempt to rival on her own ground. The glories she -most sought were of the intellect and not to be bought with money. - -The distinctive quality she impressed upon her court was an artistic -one. Its art treasures were of the choicest, and the best plays, -classical or modern, were brought out there. Music was her passion. She -sang well herself, also played the lute and viol. In the days before -Palestrina had opened a new world of harmony, she maintained one of the -finest orchestras in Italy. No gifted musician ever appealed to her -in vain. But there was no field of thought in her time which she did -not explore. If her knowledge was not profound, it was wide, and she -looked at things largely from a human point of view, not superficially, -but sympathetically. She applied her intelligence and her talents not -only to the advancement of the fine arts, to the cultivation of the -best in literature, to the interests of her people, but to the art of -living with due regard for one’s duties and responsibilities to the -future as well as to the present. If Vittoria Colonna represents the -highest thought of her age as applied to things spiritual and literary, -Isabella d’Este is a living example of its finest mundane side. No one -better illustrates the power and the penetrating fragrance of a strong -and vivid personality. It is a type that has many imitators, but such a -gift, which is an assemblage of many gifts, cannot be copied. - -A court dominated by so rare a spirit, and attracting all the -refinement, talent, and intelligence of a brilliant age, could not be -otherwise than luminous. We have no record of its conversations, but -we know that its standards were high, and that the best passports of -admission there were achievements of the intellect. Rank no doubt had -its place, and manners were indispensable, but to genius and learning -much was forgiven. Purely material splendors had small weight. Some -of its princes had left traditions of culture, but it was a woman of -intellect, force, independence, and charm who gathered these into a -society that proved a center of light which shone brightly on after -generations. - - -VI - -Of scarcely less interest than Isabella d’Este is her sister Beatrice, -the fresh, dark-eyed, dark-haired, gay, and laughing girl who went -to Milan at fifteen as the bride of Lodovico Sforza, and died before -she was twenty-two, after condensing the experiences of a lifetime -in a few short years. This court has left the record of much sin and -many tragedies, and it furnished some great princesses to the smaller -and less imposing ones, but its literary glory was not so conspicuous -as its splendor and its crimes. A court that numbered Bramante and -Leonardo da Vinci among its stars, however, is not to be passed -lightly. These colossal men were not easy to command, and prince as -well as princess often appealed to them in vain. It is not likely that -they gave much precious time to courtly pleasures, as the first order -of genius thrives better in solitude or the sympathetic companionship -of the few, though Leonardo was much sought after for his personal -accomplishments. But the inspiration of an intelligent woman has more -to do with the results of genius than an unthinking and altogether -material world is apt to imagine. The Duchess Beatrice was the moving -spirit at Milan when its greatest artists were creating the monuments -that were to be its lasting glory. Under her critical eye, too, the -architects, painters, sculptors, and decorators made the church and -cloisters of Certosa things of imperishable beauty, happily unconscious -that they were building and carving the tomb of the little lady who was -so gracious and so appreciative. - -These artistic tastes, which she shared with her sister, were inherited -from her mother, and they were fostered in the court of her grandfather -at Naples, where she spent her childhood. At Ferrara she was a trifle -overshadowed by the more gifted and beautiful Isabella, but she still -lived in a stimulating atmosphere. From a worldly point of view it -was a brilliant prospect that opened before the young girl when she -went away from classical Ferrara as the child-wife of a man she had -never seen. On the personal side the clouds were dark, but that inner -realm in which lies happiness or misery was never considered. The -formidable Lodovico was certainly not good, but he had the cultivated -tastes of his time, and magnificent projects, into which the small -but clever duchess entered with enthusiasm. With grace, generosity, -a fine intellect, and a singularly brave and vigorous character, she -captivated at once the heart of the blasé prince, who had been none -too well pleased with the policy of her coming. No one loved better -the pageants, tournaments, and amusements of her age. No one rode more -fearlessly, hunted with more zest, or danced with more pleasure. She -pursued everything with the ardor of youth and a happy temperament. But -her careful training had not been in vain. This fifteen-year-old wife -reserved her leisure hours for serious things. She had a fine literary -as well as artistic taste, and filled her cabinet with rare and costly -books. It is common enough to collect costly books which are never -read, but not so common for pleasure-loving girls to take delight in -the masters of literature. Even in our enlightened day they are apt -to prefer novels, and usually very poor ones. Doubtless the Duchess -Beatrice had learned advisers, but she knew how to select them, which -is in itself a talent. There were many men of letters about the court, -and some of them read to her while she was busy with her needle, just -as others used to do in the old days at Ferrara. They did not read the -last romance, but great poems, sometimes the “Divine Comedy,” sometimes -Petrarch, sometimes later verses, or histories. The grand Lodovico -often stole in to listen, and gave thoughtful attention, especially to -the greater master. Perhaps he recalled those happy moments in his sad -captivity when the only thing he asked was a copy of Dante to while -away the long and lonely hours in a French prison. - -In the quiet summer days, among the groves and fountains of Vigevano or -Pavia, when the dripping of the water and the rustling of the leaves -made a sweet accompaniment for the strains of the orchestra that -floated away past the tree-tops and lost themselves in the upper air, -we find her listening to an animated discussion between Bramante and -Gaspari Visconti on the relative merits of Dante and Petrarch, with her -own sympathies on the side of the more spiritual poet. It was this same -Visconti who said that the talents and virtues of the discriminating -duchess surpassed those of the greatest women of antiquity. Giuliano -de’ Medici also speaks of her as a woman of “wonderful parts.” Poets, -artists, and singers flocked to her for patronage and recognition from -many countries, sure of a generous sympathy. - -Nor were her tastes and abilities limited to things gay, artistic, and -literary. She had a clear head and a facile talent. When scarcely more -than eighteen her husband sent her on a diplomatic mission to Venice, -where she spoke with grace and dignity before the doge and seigniory -on a matter of politics. No one questioned her modesty in doing so, and -every one praised her wise and tactful eloquence. She confesses to a -little tremulous apprehension, but writes in a naïve and artless way of -her cordial reception by the councilors, also of the magnificent fêtes -given in her honor. - -In the troubled days of Milan, when the aspiring Lodovico proved weak -and faint-hearted, it was his brave little wife who went with him to -the camp, reconciled the differences among the officers, and inspired -the soldiers with her own courage and enthusiasm. In the final crisis, -at this time, it was still the young and fearless woman who took prompt -measures to defend the city after her husband had fled and left her to -bear all the burdens alone. It is not a question here whether he was -right or wrong. The morals of politics were worse then, if possible, -than they are now, and he had at least a powerful following. On a -matter of public policy it is clear enough that she could not lead a -party in opposition to him. What she thought we do not know, though her -courage and her swift resources showed the quality of the woman. - -Many were the sad hours this inconstant husband gave her, but when she -was gone in the freshness of her innocent youth, he put himself and -everything about him in sable, refused to be comforted, and mourned -her the rest of his life. In spite of his wandering fancies, which -she had the spirit to curb, he said that he loved her better than -himself,--which, if true, was saying a great deal,--and that she had -been his adored companion no less in the cares of State than in his -hours of ease. That she shared his cruelties is not supposable from -anything we know of her character, but it is certain that he owed to -her taste and counsel much of his reputation as an enlightened ruler -who crowned his city with the glories of art. - -With her loss his star began to wane. “When the Duchess Beatrice died, -everything fell into ruin. The court, which had been a paradise of joy, -became a dark and gloomy inferno; poets and artists were forced to seek -another place.” So writes a man of letters, in the last days of the -fifteenth century, of a woman of twenty-one who had tried to make the -richest and worst court in Italy a home for literature, art, and all -that makes for the intellectual good of the race. - - -VII - -If I have lingered a little over personal details in these brief -sketches, it is the better to show the versatile character of the -women who shed so much luster on the golden age of the Renaissance. -Of the relative moral value of these representative women of their -time I think there is little question, in spite of the fact that the -age is so persistently quoted to prove that women degenerate in virtue -as they advance in intelligence. That the tone of morality was very -low, that vice was scarcely frowned upon, that men in power and out -of it broke every commandment in the decalogue without compunction or -even taking the trouble to put on a veil of respectability, and that -a large class of women were swept into the vortex of corruption, is -true enough. But it is also true that the strongest protest against -this state of affairs was made by women, and that the few prelates who -dared lift their voices against the scandals in high places numbered -their most zealous assistants among them. To say nothing of the -multitudes who cast their jewels and ornaments into the flames at the -bidding of Savonarola, and consecrated themselves to a pure and simple -if not ascetic life,--all of which may be set down to the account -of emotionalism rather than intelligence,--it was the women most -noted for talent and learning, whether princess, poet, or university -professor, who were most honored for their virtues. The pure-minded -Contarini found in Vittoria Colonna his strongest support in a hopeless -struggle against the sins and corruptions of the church. Olympia -Morata was a conspicuous example of great intellect and great learning -put to the service of a bettered humanity at serious, indeed fatal, -personal sacrifice. And she was not alone. There were numbers of these -women--poets, scholars, and thinkers--who lived spotless lives and -worked for the good of their sex and race. - -Of the noble ladies who presided over the literary courts, the few we -have recalled were among the greatest, and, with one exception, it -is generally conceded that their lives were without reproach. Others -were victims of a power over which they had no control. It must be -remembered that these women, however capable or high in place, were in -the last resort subject to the will of men. Their new intelligence had -made them helpers to be respected, and tempered a little the possible -tyranny of their self-constituted masters, but men themselves, the -nobler and wiser, saw the dangers in the abuse of their own power. -“If women corrupt, they have first been corrupted by their age,” said -Giuliano de’ Medici, the best and purest of his family, in one of the -conversations at Urbino, which, thanks to its women, had not only the -most intelligent but the most virtuous court in Italy. - -When a Borgia or some other pope equally devoid of moral sense, who -sits at the head of Christendom and directs its conscience, orders -at pleasure the marriage and divorce of his own daughter, or of any -other woman who can serve his political or mercenary ends, giving her -no choice and no recourse; when Imperias and Tullias preside over -the salons of Rome because etiquette forbids a pure and high-minded -woman to live in this lax society of prelates and cardinals, which -she would be likely to find neither safe nor agreeable, there is -little to be said about the connection between woman’s intelligence -and moral decadence. Imperias and Tullias have lived in all ages, and -they have flourished best where good women were the most ignorant and -colorless. Some of them have had talent and esprit. They have sung, -acted, danced, written sonnets, affected learning, patronized the arts, -even put on the garb of virtue and piety; but they can be no more cited -as representatives of the women of centuries ago than the same class -to-day can be taken as a measure of our own moral standards, which is -clearly impossible. Intelligence was never a guaranty of morals, as the -mind can be sharpened for bad ends as well as good ones. It is even -possible that the woman of education and strong mental fiber may be -more easily led into the sins of ambition, but she is far less likely -to drift into the follies of vanity, passion, and a weak will than -the ignorant one who has no rational outlet for her energies and her -untempered sensibilities. The faults, too, of a luminous age are seen -in a glare of light that is wholly wanting in periods of darkness when -vice shelters itself behind closed doors upon which it too often hangs -the drapery of virtue. - -It is difficult to measure the intellectual value of the women of the -Renaissance, as their influence went out in a thousand rills, seen and -unseen, to fertilize after-ages, and not least our own. There were many -good writers, but no great ones, unless we except Vittoria Colonna, -whose poems, though unequal, were of a high and intrinsic literary as -well as moral quality. As an _in memoriam_ her sonnets to her -husband are not likely to die, and as the first collection of sacred -poems her later work has a distinct and honorable place on the world’s -records. Why there were no artists of note is a problem not easy to -solve, as the field is one in which women seem especially fitted to -excel. Elisabetta Sirani might have won a high place on the roll of -fame, as great critics were struck with her vigor, her grasp of large -subjects, her facile style, and her careful finish; but she lived in -the decline of art, and died at twenty-six. Women were more famous as -scholars, and many of them stood on a level with distinguished men. -Educated with them in the best schools, their tastes were formed on the -best models. A lady who converses or lectures before learned dons in -Latin, and writes the purest Greek, is not a shallow pretender, though -she may be neither original nor profound. Nor do they seem to have been -pedants, though much of the phraseology of both men and women strikes -us now as stilted and inflated; it was the style of the day. No doubt -there was more or less dilettantism, which was a weakness of the time -that ended in the destruction of literary values; it is quite possible, -too, that many liked what it was the fashion to like, as they have done -in all ages, without any clear tastes or convictions of their own, -though this foible is by no means confined to women. That period, like -our own, had its army of pale imitators who follow in the wake of every -movement that is likely to reflect on them a small degree of honor, and -in the end sink its finest standards in hopeless mediocrity. - -But the influence of a multitude of highly educated and intelligent -women is too subtle and far-reaching to put into definite terms. To -trace it in its large results, even if this were possible, would take -us far beyond our present limits. It is felt at every moment, in the -home, in society, in amusements, in the church. It directs the currents -of men’s lives from the starting-point, it infolds them like light, it -is a stimulant and an inspiration. But no one knows precisely where it -begins or ends. This is why it has been so ignored, why men, except in -individual cases, have so persistently depreciated the qualities that -opened for them the way to the finest issues. - -The direct power of the learned princesses of the literary courts -is more readily seen. By virtue of their position, as well as their -talents, they created a society, spread a taste for things of the -intellect, and did a great deal to curb the vice and cruelty which -pressed with special severity on their own sex. If they could not -change the drift of the age, and were subject to conditions which -good men were unable to control, they tempered and modified them. -The whole Platonic movement, which they did so much to foster, was a -protest against the sensualism that has always been their worst enemy. -To sustain a spiritual cult in a race that worshiped, before all -things, material beauty was not easy. It had a tendency always to lose -itself in phrases and mystical subtleties, but it put woman on a new -pedestal, and social life on a higher plane. We have only to note the -bacchanalian revels of the poets, wits, and philosophers of Florence, -the orgies of folly, vulgarity, and sin which the great Lorenzo led and -the very wise Platonic Academy smiled upon, to learn the difference -between a lettered society of men without the tempering influence of -high-minded women, and the brilliant circles we have seen gathered -about princesses of learning, refinement, and grace, who guided its -amusements and restrained its license. No woman of conspicuous virtue -and ability has left a permanent stamp on the social life of Florence. -Clarice, the wife of the versatile Lorenzo, had many virtues, but she -was evidently in no sense a leader. Poliziano has no prejudice against -learned women, as he falls in love with the gifted and beautiful -Alessandra Scala and is inconsolable because she will not marry him. He -also pays court to Cassandra Fidelis, and corresponds with Lucrezia, -the mother of his patron, who is finely educated and writes poetry; but -he is angry when Clarice interferes with his manner of training her -children, “because she is a woman and unlettered”; indeed, he quarrels -with her about it and goes away. She, in her turn, finds fault with his -pagan morals, and is glad to be rid of his presence, no doubt with good -reason. But whatever she may have been as a mother, she seems to have -lacked the talent or the desire to gather about her a lettered society, -and the result is seen in the disgraceful orgies of her husband and his -clever satellites, with no advantage to the “unhampered intellects” -of these poets and savants, but with a decided disadvantage to their -manners and morals. - -It was during the reign of pure, highly educated, and able women that -the Italian courts reached their highest point of power and brilliancy. -When, by the accident of succession, those of smaller caliber and more -frivolous tastes took the scepter, they invariably declined and lost -their prestige. - -It is quite superfluous to cast a mantle of charity, or any mantle -whatever, over the crimes of the Renaissance, but I have tried in a -small way to recall another side of its abounding life, which had its -roots largely in the character of its forceful and intelligent women. -The age that gave us a Bianca Capello gave us also a Vittoria Colonna. -The one has long since been consigned to the fitful oblivion of -infamy; the other holds her imperishable place among the stars, still -lighting the sorrowful and world-weary with her messages of love and -hope. The centuries of beauty and sin when men like to say that woman -lost her birthright of virtue--a birthright which they never ceased -to invade from their own stronghold of power--saw her transfigured -by the imagination of Michelangelo into the immortal sibyls who sit -side by side with the prophets in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, -pure and passionless, with the brooding eyes that long ago fathomed -all the secrets of a suffering world, read in the mystic leaves the -records of nations still unborn, and saw from afar the light of the -ages--unchanging types of the wisdom and divination that lie in the -feminine soul. It saw, too, the Virgins of Fra Angelico, unfading -symbols of purity as of angelic sweetness; and the Madonnas of Raphael, -looking wistfully out of their repose with a ray of celestial love in -their eyes and a smile of eternal beauty on their lips. - - -VIII - -It is no part of the plan here to trace the causes of the decadence -in which men lost their liberty of thought and women their position. -Greed of money, greed of power, love of pleasure, the growth of -luxury, and the low ideals that surely follow in their train, brought -their logical results. The flower of estheticism that expands in -the rich splendors of its ripe perfection verges already toward its -dissolution. Then the Roman Catholic reaction, which forbade men to -think, sent women back to prayers and seclusion, as a business instead -of a resource; it was becoming, and quite safe. But the Italian -princesses had set a fashion of knowledge, and of putting society on -an intellectual plane, with what trimming of beauty and adornment of -manners they could add. The irrepressible and many-gifted Marguerite -of Navarre took it up with various changes and originalities of her -own. The clever Frenchwomen saw their opportunity, and when the courts -were sunk in vice and inanities, they drew out of the past its secret -of social power, and created the literary salon, which was one of -the glories of the golden age of France. The wave of knowledge which -had raised the Italian women so high, and then so strangely receded, -culminated again in the intellectual brilliancy and unparalleled -influence of the Frenchwomen of the eighteenth century. The rise and -fall of this movement and its central figures I have treated quite -fully elsewhere. Again the wave receded, with the coming of the -republic, to revive under other forms in our own country and our own -day. Will another decadence follow? The future alone can tell, and no -prophetic sibyl has read the secret of that future. Possibly it will -depend largely upon the poise and sanity of women themselves. - - - - -SALON AND WOMAN’S CLUB - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - · New Mania for Knowledge · - · Women’s Clubs as Central Points · - · Parallel between the Literary Salon and the - Woman’s Club · - · French and American Women · - · Attitude of Anglo-Saxon Men toward Women · - · Puritan Gospel of Feminine Liberty · - · The Woman’s Club not a School of Manners · - · Its Moral Value · - · Its Social and Intellectual Value · - · Imitation Culture · - · Special Distinction of American Women · - · Their Foibles · - · Multiplication of Clubs · - · Warning in the Excesses of the Later Salons · - · Tendency to Separate Men and Women · - · The Charm of Social Life · - · Wisdom of Consulting the Past · - - - - -[Illustration: Decorative image] - - -I - -It is not too much to say that the entire present generation of women -is going to school. Infancy cultivates its mind in the kindergarten, -while the woman of threescore seeks consolation and diversion in clubs -or a university course, instead of resigning herself to seclusion -and prayers, or the chimney-corner and knitting, after the manner of -her ancestors. Even our amusements carry instruction in solution. -Childhood takes in knowledge through its toys and games; the débutante -discusses Plato or Coquelin in the intervals of the waltz; youth and -maturity alike find their pleasure in papers, talks, plays, music, -and recitations. In these social menus everything is included, from a -Greek drama or an Oriental faith to Wagner and the latest theory of -economics. We have Kipling at breakfast, Rostand or Maeterlinck at -luncheon, and the new Utopia at dinner. After a brilliant day of being -adored and talked about, Browning has been duly labeled and put away, -but Homer classes and Dante classes still alternate with lectures -on the Impressionists or the Decadents. In this rage for knowledge, -science and philosophy are not forgotten. Fashion ranges the field -from occultism to agnosticism, from the qualities of a microbe to the -origin of man. To-day it searches the problems of this world, to-morrow -the mysteries of the next. There is nothing too large or too abstruse -for the eager, questioning spirit that seeks to know all things, or at -least to skim the surface of all things. - -Nor is this energetic pursuit of intelligence confined to towns or -cities. Go into the remote village or hamlet, and you will find the -inevitable club, where the merits of the last novel, the labor problem, -the political situation, the silver question, the Boer war, and the -state of the universe generally, are canvassed by a circle of women as -freely, and with as keen a zest, as the virtues and shortcomings of -their neighbors were talked over by their grandmothers--possibly may be -still by a few of their benighted contemporaries. - -In its extent, this mania for things of the intellect is phenomenal. -One might imagine that we were rapidly becoming a generation of -pedants. Perhaps we are saved from it by the perpetual change that -gives nothing time to crystallize. The central points of all this -movement are the women’s clubs, of which the social element is a -conspicuous feature, and we take our learning so comfortably diluted -and pleasantly varied that it ceases to be formidable, though on the -side of learning it may leave much to be desired. - -But it is notably in this mingling of literature and life that women -have always found their greatest intellectual influence, and the club -is not likely to prove an exception. The rapidity of its growth is -equaled only by the extent of its range. Of women’s clubs there is -literally no end, and they are yet in their vigorous youth. We have -literary clubs, and art clubs, and musical clubs; clubs for science, -and clubs for philanthropy; parliamentary clubs, and suffrage clubs, -and anti-suffrage clubs--clubs of every variety and every grade, from -the luncheon club, with its dilettante menu, and the more pretentious -chartered club, that aims at mastering a scheme of the world, to the -simple working-girls’ club, which is content with something less: -and all in the sacred name of culture. They multiply, federate, hold -conventions, organize congresses, and really form a vast educational -system that is fast changing old ideals and opening possibilities of -which no prophetic eye can see the end. That they have marvelously -raised the average standard of intelligence cannot be questioned, nor -that they have brought out a large number of able and interesting women -who have generously taken upon themselves not only their own share of -the work of the world, but a great deal more. - -One can hardly overrate the value of an institution which has given -light and an upward impulse to so many lives, and changed the -complexion of society so distinctly for the better. But it may be worth -while to ask if the women of to-day, with their splendid initiative -and boundless aspirations, are not going a little too fast, getting -entangled in too much machinery, losing their individuality in masses, -assuming more responsibility than they can well carry. Why is it that -lines too deep for harmonious thought are so early writing themselves -on the strong, tense, mobile, and delicate faces of American women? Why -is it that the pure joy of life seems to be lost in the restless and -insatiable passion for multitudes, so often thinly disguised as love -for knowledge, which is not seldom little more than the shell and husk -of things? Is the pursuit of culture degenerating into a pursuit of -clubs, and are we taking for ourselves new taskmasters more pitiless -than the old? “The emancipation of woman is fast becoming her slavery,” -said one who was caught in the whirl of the social machinery and could -find no point of repose. We pride ourselves on our liberty; but the -true value of liberty is to leave people free from a pressure that -prevents their fullest growth. What do we gain if we simply exchange -one tyranny for another? Apart from the fact that the finest flowers of -culture do not spring from a soil that is constantly turned, any more -than they do from a soil that is not turned at all, it is a question -of human limitations, of living so as to continue to live, of growing -so as to continue to grow. Nor is it simply a matter of individuals. -Societies, too, exhaust themselves; and those which reach an -exaggerated growth in a day are apt to perish in a day. It is not the -first time in the history of the world that there has been a brilliant -reign of intelligence among women, though perhaps there was never one -so widely spread as now. Why have they ended in more or less violent -reactions? We may not be able to answer the question satisfactorily, -but it gives us food for reflection. - - -II - -The most remarkable, though by no means the only, precedent we have for -a social organization planned by women on a basis of the intellect, was -the French literary salon of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. -These women had relatively as much intelligence as we have, and -possibly more power. It must be taken into consideration that they were -remote from us by race, religion, and political régime, as well as by -several generations of time, and that their spirit, aims, and methods -were as unlike ours as their points of view. But that which they did -on traditional lines and a small scale we are doing on new lines and -a very large scale. Their intellectual life found its outlet in the -salon, as ours does in the club. These equally represent the active -influence of women in their respective ages. Both have resulted in a -mania for knowledge, a change of ideals, a radical revolution in social -life, and an unprecedented increase in the authority of women. As they -have certain tendencies and dangers in common, it may be of interest to -trace a few points of resemblance and contrast between them; also to -glance at the elements which have gone into the club and are making it -so considerable a factor in American life. - -The salon, like the club, was founded and led by clever women in -the interests of culture, both literary and social; but, unlike the -club, it was devoted to bringing into relief the talents of men. The -difference, so far as manners are concerned, is a fundamental one. It -would never have occurred to the women of that age to band together -for self-improvement. If they had given the matter a thought, it would -not have seemed to them likely to come in that way; still less would -it have occurred to them that this mode of doing things could be of -any service in bettering the world or their own position. Rousseau, -who wrote so many fine phrases about liberty, and left women none at -all, not even the small privilege of protesting against injustice, -said that they were “made to please men”; and it is safe to say that -the Frenchwomen had no scheme of life apart from men, until they were -ready to go into seclusion for prayer and penance and preparation for -the next world. They accepted the fact that men had the ordering of -affairs, and that they could make their own influence felt only by -acting through them. “What is the difference whether women rule, or -the rulers are guided by women?” said Aristotle. “If the power is in -their hands, the result is the same.” It was simply a question of the -best way of ruling the rulers. In this case the rulers were of a race -that has not only a great liking for women in the concrete, but a -great admiration for woman in the abstract. So long as her gifts are -consecrated to his interest and pleasure, the Frenchman never objects -to them--indeed, he is disposed to pay much homage to them. In the -interest of some one else, or even in her own, it is another matter. -They might be inconvenient. But in this new kingdom of the salon he was -quite willing to accord her the supremacy, since she gave him the place -of honor and furnished an effective background for his talents without -too much parading her own. He had only to shine and be applauded. What -more could he desire? - -Naturally, under such conditions, among the first of her arts was -that of making things agreeable. If she had any fine moral lessons -to inculcate, she gave them in the form of sugared pills that were -pleasant to take. In her category of virtues the social ones were -uppermost; but they were the means to an end, and this end must not -be lost sight of. Her special mission was to correct coarse manners -and bad morals, as well as to secure due recognition for talent; but -she went about it in her own way. It may be said that, as a rule, the -Frenchwoman is much less interested in _what_ is done than in -_how_ it is done. In the early days of the salons she concerned -herself little, if at all, with theories and grave social problems; -but she did concern herself very much with questions of taste and -manners, the refinements of language and literature, the subtleties -of sentiment, the dignity of converse between men and women. Nor did -she bring to these questions an untrained mind. If she did not make -so much of a business of improving it as we do, she did not neglect -private study and the reading of the best books, which, though few, -were undiluted. “It gives dull colors to the mind to have no taste -for solid reading,” said Mme. de Sévigné, who delighted in Montaigne -and Pascal, Tacitus and Vergil, with various other classics which are -not exactly the food for frivolity. These women did not always spell -correctly, and would have declined altogether to write a paper on the -“Science of Government” or the “Philosophy of Confucius,”--subjects -which the school-girls of to-day feel quite competent to treat,--but -they showed surprising clearness and penetration in their criticisms -of literature and manners. The coteries which formed an audience for -Corneille, sympathized with the exalted thought of Pascal and Arnauld, -helped to modify and polish the maxims of La Rochefoucauld,--as those -which, a century or so later, discussed the tragedies of Voltaire -or the philosophy of Rousseau with men of genius who would have had -small patience with platitudes,--needed no lowering of levels to suit -their taste or comprehension. They were held firmly to fine literary -ideals. All they asked was simplicity of statement, and this was made a -fashion, to the lasting benefit of French literature. - -It is true that the movement of the salon was in the direction of a -brilliant social as well as a brilliant intellectual life; but to fuse -such varied materials, to unite men of action and men of letters, -nobles and philosophers, statesmen and poets, people within the pale -and people outside of it, in a harmonious society, presided over by -women who set up new standards and new codes of manners, meant more -than intelligence, more than social charm. It involved diplomacy of a -high order, which implies flexibility, penetration, and the subtler -qualities of the intellect, as well as tact, sympathy, and knowledge -of men. This was notably an outgrowth of the salon, where women owed -much of their influence to a quick perception of the fine shades of -temperament, genius, interest, and passion through which the world is -swayed. The result of such training was a mind singularly lucid, great -administrative ability, and a character full of the intangible quality -that we call charm. If it was a trifle weak as to moral fiber, this -may be largely laid to the standards of the time, which were not ours. -Mme. du Deffand put the philosophy of her age and race into an epigram -when she said that “the virtues are superior to the sentiments, but not -so agreeable.” Both temperament and education led these women toward -Hellenic ideals. The latter-day woman is inclined to look upon their -methods as trivial and their attitude as humiliating; but, whatever we -may think of their point of view, we must admit their masterly ability -in making vital changes for the better, and attaining a position of -influence which we have hardly yet secured for ourselves. They did much -more than form society, create a code of manners, and set the fashions, -which we are apt to look upon as their special province. They refined -the language, stimulated talent, gave fresh life to literature, exacted -a new respect for women, and held political as well as social and -academic honors in their hands. - -If they sometimes dipped into affairs of state in support of their -friends, and with a too incidental reference to the interests of the -State, I am not sure that even the men of our own time are absolutely -free from a personal tinge of the same sort, without the saving grace -of altruism. At all events, in the pursuit of a better order of things, -they took the pleasant path around the mountain rather than the -doubtful and untrodden path over it, which, since they could not go -over it if they tried, was, to my thinking, the wiser way. - - -III - -But other times, other conditions and other methods. It was a long step -from these fine ladies in rouge and ruffles to the earnest American -women of high aims and simpler lives who, not far from thirty years -ago, began seriously to group themselves in clubs for social fellowship -and mental culture. The difference is equally marked, now that these -gatherings are numbered by thousands. It is more vital than a variation -in manners, as it lies in the character of the two races. - -The club had no prestige of a class behind it, and concerned itself -little with traditions. It was a far more radical departure from the -old order than the salon, which, though it established a new social -basis, did it through delicate compromises that left the aristocratic -spirit intact. It was only in its later days that the iconoclasts -invaded it, to some extent, and made it a sort of hotbed for the -propagation of democratic theories which seemed quite harmless until, -one day, a spark set them ablaze, and the generation that had played -with them was swept to destruction. The club was democratic from the -foundation. It did not revolve round men of letters, or men of any -class. There was no man, or influence of man, behind it--no man in the -vista. It does not aim to bring into relief the talents of men, but -the talents of women who had come, perhaps, to wish a little glory on -their own account. There was no longer an outlet for their activities -in the salon, which belonged neither to the genius of the age nor the -genius of the race. The Anglo-Saxon man is not preëminently a social -being, and though he has not been entirely neglected in the matter of -vanity or personal susceptibility, he has rather less of either than -his Gallic compeers. Nor is he so amenable, either by temperament or -training, to the delicate arts that make social life agreeable. Half a -century or so ago, the American, in whose chivalrous regard for women -we take so much pride, was in the habit of saying many fine things -about them in what he was pleased to call the sphere God had assigned -them; indeed, he went so far as to offer a great deal of theoretical -incense to them as household divinities, with special and very human -limitations as to privileges. But he frowned distinctly upon any -intellectual tastes or aspirations. His attitude was tersely and -modestly expressed in Tennyson’s couplet: - - She knows but matters of the house, - And he, he knows a thousand things. - -This master of diverse knowledge would have smiled at the notion of -finding either profit or amusement in meeting women for the purpose of -conversation on the plane of the intellect. The few rare exceptions -only emphasize this fact. “A woman, if she have the misfortune of -knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can,” said Jane -Austen. We are far from that time; but men of affairs even now find -literary talks in the drawing-room tiresome, and persistently stay -away. Thoughts, too, had become a commodity with a market value, and -men of letters no longer found their pleasure or interest in wasting -them on limited coteries. They preferred sending them out to a larger -audience, at so much a page, while they smoked and chatted more at -their ease among themselves at their clubs. Whether they did not find -women inspiring,--which, under such conditions, is quite possible,--or -did not care to be inspired in that way, the rôle of inspirer was -clearly ended. The few efforts to take up the fallen scepter of the -salon proved futile in intellectual prestige, though they may have -served to while away some pleasant hours. A society based upon wealth -without the traditions of culture is apt to smother in accessories the -delicacy of insight and the esprit which were the life of the salons. -On the other hand, those who pose as apostles of plain living and high -thinking make the mistake of ignoring the imagination altogether, and -too often serve their feasts of reason without any sauces at all, which -fact should probably be laid to the account of the race that takes its -diversion as seriously as its work. After all, one cannot say “Let us -have esprit,” and have it, any more than one can say, “Let us have -charm,” and put it on like a garment. - -But the women of forty or fifty years ago lacked much more than a -social outlet for their talents and aspirations. They had no outlet of -any sort beyond charity and the fireside. The Frenchwomen had little, -if any, more real freedom, possibly not so much in some directions: -but rank brought them deference and consideration; the age of chivalry -had put them on a pedestal. It may have been a bit theoretical, but -an illusory power is better than none at all, as it has a certain -prestige. If they were queens without a very substantial kingdom, they -had, at least, the privileges, as well as the responsibilities, of high -positions, and shone with something more than reflected glory. Then -their talents were too valuable to be ignored, as they were the best of -purveyors to Gallic ambitions. The Roman Church, too, was far-seeing -when it provided an outlet for their surplus energies and emotions. If -they had no fireside of their own, or the world pressed heavily upon -them, they could retire from it, and hope for places of influence, even -of power, in some of the various religious orders. In any case, there -were peace and a dignified refuge. But it is a noteworthy fact that the -Reformation left to women all the sacrifices of their religion, and -none of its outward honors or consolations. If the philosophers had no -message of freedom for them, still less was it found on Puritan soil. -“Women are frail, impatient, feeble, and foolish,” said John Knox, who -was far from being a model of patience himself, and seems to have been -singularly swayed by these weak, inconsequent creatures above whom he -asserts that man is placed “as God is above the angels.” Milton has -left us in no doubt as to his position regarding them: - - My author and dispenser, what thou bidst - Unargued I obey: so God ordains; - God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more - Is woman’s happiest knowledge and her praise. - -Such was the Puritan gospel of liberty as applied to women. John Knox -and Milton joined in the chorus that glorified their vassalage, while -Calvin added a cordial refrain, with a prudent reservation as to queens -and princesses. - -It is needless to dwell upon this phase of a past the ideals of -which are as dead to us as the goddesses of Greece and the heroines -of the Nibelungenlied. It has been sufficiently emphasized already, -and concerns us here only as it shows us the spirit under which our -grandmothers were born and bred. It cannot be denied that they were a -wise, strong race, rearing thinkers and statesmen who have left few -worthy successors, though they did not spend much time in discussing -the best methods of training children, were better versed in domestic -than social economics, and doubtless had misty ideas about Buddhism -and the ultimate destiny of Woman. It may be superfluous, also, to say -that many of them had occasion to think little of their restrictions, -and would have resented the suggestion that they had any which were -not good for them, if not positively desirable. Limitations, even -hardships, do not necessarily imply misery. People are curiously -flexible, and get a sort of happiness from trying to fit themselves to -conditions which, though unpleasant, are inevitable. Then, conditions -are not always hard because they have unlimited possibilities in that -direction. One may even wear a chain and ball quite comfortably so long -as one stands still, or if the chain be a silken one and the ball cast -in pleasant places. The difficulty is that one does not always wish to -stand still; nor is it always possible, whatever the inclination may -be. The march of events is irresistible, and one is often forced to a -change of position to escape being trampled upon. Besides, in a society -that is based upon the right of people to do as they choose within -certain very flexible limits, one half is not likely to continue to do, -without a protest, what the other half says it ought to do, when it is -compelled to take its full share of burdens and rather more than its -full share of sacrifices, without any choice as to cakes and ale. These -daughters of liberty held no longer the places of honor accorded to -rank, and were not only without visible dignities of any kind, except -as the palest of satellites, but were largely, if not altogether, -excluded from the intellectual life of their husbands. They were told -to be content with the dignity of maternity, while they were virtually -shut out from the things that consecrate maternity. It was under such -conditions that the woman’s club was born. Men had already set up clubs -of their own, and women had no choice but to do the same thing, or -drift into the hopeless position of their respectable Athenian sisters -of the classic age, who lived in fashionable but ignorant seclusion, -while their brilliant husbands sought more congenial companionship -elsewhere. - -But women did not plan a club for amusement, as men have usually -done: they planned it for mental improvement. It was not without a -prophecy of the coming time that the characters of our grandmothers -were trained in so severe a school. They were the reverse of -pleasure-loving, and took even their diversions seriously. The central -point of their lives was an inexorable sense of duty. Its twin trait -was energy. With a radical change of ideals their daughters did not -lose these traits. A religious devotion to one set of aims was simply -transferred to another. The road to their new Utopia was knowledge. -All things would come in its train--culture, independence, happiness, -the power to help a suffering world. It was this leaven of Puritan -traditions which gave the club an element that was not found in the -salon. The American woman may lack a little of that elusive quality, -half sensibility, half wit, which makes so much of the Frenchwoman’s -charm; she may lack, too, her perfection of tact, her inborn -genius for form and measure: but she has what the Frenchwoman has -not--something that belongs to a race in which the ethical overshadows -the artistic. It is devotion to principles rather than to persons, to -essentials rather than to forms. Her pursuit of knowledge may often be -superficial, from the immensity of the field she lays out for herself; -but her aims are serious, and lead her toward moral and sociological -questions, rather than matters of sentiment and taste. - -The woman’s club is not a school of manners, and concerns itself little -with the fine art of living. It claims to instruct, not to amuse--or, -rather, it seeks amusement in that way; and it is more interested in -doing things than in the modes of doing them. It does not rely upon -diplomacy to gain its ends, but upon the wisdom and justice of the -ends, appealing to the reason instead of the imagination. It also -deals more with masses than with individuals. No doubt, the necessity -of going outside the realm of personal feeling in managing public or -semi-public affairs helps to give the poise and self-command which go -far toward offsetting the intensity of temperament that has always made -the discussion of vital questions so perilous in gatherings of women, -though we have occasion enough to know that wisdom and sanity do not -invariably preside at gatherings of men, even supposably wise ones. The -qualities fostered by the club are energy, earnestness, independence, -versatility, and--not exactly intellectual conscience, which implies -traditional standards, but a sense of intellectual duty that is not -quite the same thing. All this is remote from the spirit of the salon, -with its social codes and conventions, its graceful amenities, its -sparkling wit, its play of sentiment, its diplomatic reserves, and its -clear intelligence working through endless private channels toward a -new order of things. It points to the club, not as a conservator of -social traditions, or a creator of social standards, or a tribunal of -criticism, but as a literary and political training-school, a maker -of citizens with a broader outlook into the world of affairs, a -powerful engine of moral force. Perhaps its greatest direct value at -present lies in this moral force, which is the outgrowth of centuries -of sternly moral heritage, and runs not only through philanthropic -channels, but through all the avenues of life. - -Of scarcely less importance are the impulse and direction the club has -given to the administrative talents of women--talents which mark their -special strength, and are far too valuable to be ignored at a time when -all the wisdom of the world is needed, in private as well as in public -affairs, to guide it safely through its threatening storms. - - -IV - -But it is of the intellectual and social value of the club that I -wish more especially to speak here. It is often asked by thoughtful -foreigners why American women, who are free to pursue any career they -like, with ample privileges of education and the universal reign of the -literary club, have produced no writers of the first order, measured -even by the standards of their own sex. One finds many clever ones, and -a few able ones, but no Jane Austen, no George Eliot, no Mme. de Staël, -no Mrs. Browning. This may be partly due to the fact that we have not -yet passed the period of going to school. It is possible that another -generation, reared in the stimulating atmosphere of this, may give -us some rare flower of genius, if its mental force be not weakened by -the general pouring-in process, or dissipated in the modern tendency -toward limitless expansion and dilution. But club life in itself is not -directly favorable to creative genius. The qualities of the imagination -never flourish in crowds, though a certain order of talent does -flourish there--a talent that brings quicker returns and more immediate -consideration, at far less cost. The salon made brilliant and versatile -women who were noted for conversation and diplomacy; it made charming -women who ruled men and affairs through rare gifts of administration, -tempered with intelligent sympathy and tact; it made executive women, -and finely critical women, and masterful women, who left a strong and -lasting impression upon the national life: but, though they lived in -the main intellectual current of their time, stimulated and inspired -its leaders, and had much to do with its direction, they seldom made a -serious effort in literature themselves. The few who have left a name -in letters only illustrate the fact that individual genius is a flower -of another growth. Mme. de Staël would have been a great woman under -any conditions; but we owe all of her best work in literature to her -exile from the social life of Paris, where her thoughts had no time -to crystallize. The gift of Mme. de Sévigné was nearly allied to a -conversational one, but her mind was matured and deepened during years -of seclusion under the lonely skies of Brittany. Mme. de la Fayette -left the world of the salons early, to find her literary inspiration -in the solitude of ill health and the stimulating friendship of La -Rochefoucauld. Mme. du Châtelet, whose talent was of another color, -wrote on philosophy and translated Newton, not in the breezy air of -the salons, but in the tranquil shades of Cirey and the less tranquil -society of Voltaire. There were other women who wrote, though they -usually chose to hide a light which was not a very brilliant one, and -to shine in other ways. It may be that it was the salon which made -these women possible, as it created an intellectual atmosphere in which -thought blossomed into intense and vivid life; but its direct tendency -was to foster in women talents of a quite different sort from creative -ones. It developed to a high degree, however, the fine discrimination -and critical sense which led Rousseau to say that “a point of morals -would not be better discussed in a society of philosophers than in that -of a pretty woman of Paris.” - -The clubs have hardly lived long enough to justify a final judgment as -to their outcome; but the best writers of our own time have not been, -as a rule, actively identified with them, though a few, whose minds -were already formed in another school, have had much to do in founding -and leading them. The many able women who have given their time and -talents to the clubs have oftener merged their literary gifts, if they -had them, into work of another sort, not less valuable in its way, but -less tangible and less individual. It is the work of the general, who -plans, organizes, sifts values, adapts means to definite ends, but who -lives too much in the swift current of affairs to give heed to the -voice of the imagination, or to master the art of literary form which -alone makes for thought a permanent abiding-place. - -But if the clubs do not produce great creative writers,--who, after -all, are born, not made,--they furnish a multitude of ready ones, and -an army of readers who are likely to have a dominant voice in the -taste of the next generation. The result is certain to be--indeed, is -already--a voluminous literature. The quantity of a thing, however, -does not insure its fine quality; oftener the reverse. Naturally, -the question of standards becomes one of grave importance, unless we -are ready to accept the rule of the average, which more than offsets -the rise of the lowest by the fall of the highest, with an ultimate -tendency downward. We grow in the direction of our ideals, and these -are measured by the height of our standards. That many of the clubs -have exalted ideals, and are doing a great deal of valuable work, is -not a matter of doubt. It is equally certain that some of them work -with a zeal that is not according to knowledge, through lack of -capable leaders, and through a fallacy, nowhere so fatal as in art and -letters, that the wish to do a thing is equivalent to a talent for -doing it. - -There is no doubt that American women read and discuss books enough. It -may be that we read too many. One may devour books as one does bonbons, -and with little more profit. Nor is there any doubt that we write -papers enough and hear talks enough on every imaginable subject, from -the antediluvians to Imperialism and the Chinese question. To whatever -all this mental activity may lead, it does not always lead to culture, -even of the mind, and I take the word, unqualified, to include much -more. It does lead to a broad diffusion of intelligence, but there is -an essential difference between intelligence and culture. Paradoxical -as it may seem, it is quite possible, in running after the one, to run -away from the other. The woman who belongs to ten or twelve clubs in -order to be of the new age, and to learn enough of all sorts of things -to be able to talk about them, may find her social compensation and a -harmless way of amusing herself, if she likes that sort of amusement; -but if she aims at mental culture, that is another affair. It is not -a matter of facts and phrases and formulas that one goes in search -of, but an inward growth, the result of long and loving companionship -with the best thought of the world, which is not at all the same -thing as a flitting acquaintance with a multitude of subjects, or -the ability to talk glib platitudes about the latest fads in art or -science or literature. Such companionship is found to only a limited -extent in gatherings of any sort; but stimulus and inspiration may be -found there, and here lies the true intellectual value of the club. To -thoughtful and sincere women, who have a certain amount of training and -natural gifts of assimilation, with small facilities for contact with -the thinking world, it is a priceless boon. But to narrow and untrained -intellects that like to flit from one thing to another, content with -a flying glimpse and a telling point or two which will go far toward -making them seem wise to the uninitiated, there are large possibilities -in the way of what we may call imitation culture. It is simply another -outlet for the ambition of the parvenu who puts on costly clothes and -rare jewels in the comfortable assurance that “fine feathers make fine -birds.” - - -V - -It will, I think, be conceded that the special distinction of the -American woman does not lie in her intellect or her learning. Brilliant -gifts and attainments, to a certain point, may indeed be exceptionally -frequent; but they have often been equaled, if not exceeded, in the -past. It lies, rather, in her facility for utilizing knowledge and -adapting it to visible ends. To a combination of many talents has -been added one to make them all available. It is essentially a talent -for “arriving,” in other words, a talent for success, either with or -without intellectual ability of a high order, and consists largely in -a keen insight as to serviceable values, with a marked aptness for -catching salient points and using them to the best advantage. It is -a variation of the same talent that has made our country the wonder -of the century. In men we call it business sagacity, but it may find -an outlet in many other channels besides the amassing of fortunes. In -women we call it cleverness, and its shades are endless. It makes the -success of the philanthropist, the leader, and the administrator of the -household, as well as the fortune of the social aspirant, and sometimes -of the charlatan. In itself it has no ethical quality. It is simply -an instrument, and its value depends upon the end for which it is -used. But the result of it is that no women in the world have so much -versatility, or make a little knowledge go so far. - -On the social side this talent is invaluable, and it is one of the -most piquant charms of the American woman, when the sharp corners of -provincialism are rubbed off. On the intellectual side, however, though -it gives an adaptable quality to genuine scholarship, it drifts easily -into superficiality and affectation. I do not mean to say that the club -is responsible for the fact that a hundred charlatans follow in the -wake of every real talent, as a hundred Tartufes in the wake of every -saint--when saints are in fashion; but it _is_ responsible when -it takes a bit of colored glass for a gem. It is sure, also, to suffer -from the pretension of those who illy represent it. The salon, which -made things of the intellect a fashion, received its worst blow in the -house of its friends. Madelon, in “Les Précieuses Ridicules,” looked -upon life as a failure if she chanced to miss the last romance, or -portrait, or madrigal, or sonnet; and Cathos declared that she should -die of shame if any one asked her about something new which she had -not seen. The pen of Molière sketched the crude copy of a fine thing -in colors too vivid to be mistaken, and henceforth the copy stood for -the thing. The world had its undiscriminating laugh at the salons; -good taste blushed at the company in which it found itself; and the -interests of intelligent women were put back for a generation. It was -not the first time that a good cause has suffered from its too zealous -followers, nor is it likely to be the last. The world moves in circles, -even if there be a spiral tendency upward, as the optimists amiably -assure us. - -Doubtless we fancy ourselves much wiser than those seventeenth-century -précieuses whose imitators did them so much harm. Certainly we put more -seriousness into our pretensions. But we have our own little faults and -affectations, though they are not precisely the same. We do not devote -ourselves to portraits, or sonnets, or madrigals. We do not moralize in -maxims, good or bad, nor do we pretend to be sentimental; indeed, we -pretend not to be, if we are. Sentiment is out of fashion. The modern -Philaminte may look with chilling pity upon her belated sister who -has the courage to like Tennyson and Mrs. Browning, when she ought to -prefer Ibsen and the symbolists; but she is not likely to faint at a -common word, or dismiss her cook for a solecism. Our foibles are of -quite another sort. Instead of painting little pictures on a small -canvas, we take a very large canvas and pad our pictures to fit it. We -do not map out the passions on a _carte du tendre_, or give our -valuable time to the discussion of a high-flown Platonism which cradles -a woman in rose-leaves, while her lover waits for her a dozen years -or so because it is vulgar to marry; but we map out the fields of the -intellect, extending from protoplasm to the fixed stars, and undertake -to traverse the whole as confidently as we start for a morning walk. -If we cannot get over the ground fast enough, we can take an electric -train and catch flying glimpses sufficient to give us a pleasant -consciousness of being intelligent and quite modern. - -Such vast aims are, no doubt, praiseworthy, and reflect great credit -on the clubs which have demonstrated so clearly the expansive quality -of the feminine mind; but they are also fatiguing, and suggest the -possibility that these same clubs are pushing us a little too fast -and too far. One is often forced to the conclusion that we should do -more if we did not try to do quite so much. It is very well to follow -Emerson’s advice to “hitch your wagon to a star”; but he never proposed -hitching it to all the constellations at once. When I hear the Greek -poets, the Italian painters, the English novelists, and the German -masters disposed of at a symposium in a single afternoon, as I did not -long ago, I wonder if the rare quality of mental distinction which made -the glory of the Immortals will exist at all in the future; whether we -shall not build tents for our thoughts instead of temples; whether, -indeed, the finest flavor of thought will not be as hopelessly lost as -the perfume of the flowers that are scattered in indiscriminate heaps -along the highways to show their quantity. - -Nor is there less danger in attempting too large things than too -many things. It is certainly courageous for a woman who knows little -of history, less of philosophy, and nothing at all about the art of -writing, to undertake the Herculean task of preparing a paper on “The -Pagan Philosophers and their Schools.” With the best efforts, she will -have only a few outlines of facts and second-hand opinions, which might -have a certain value if either she or her audience proposed to fill -them out. But this is precisely what the modern woman who wishes to -know a little of everything has no time to do, even if she have the -inclination. There is to be a similar outline of Greek literature the -next week, one of the middle ages the week after, and so on to the end -of the season, when she has a fine collection of skeletons, with no -flesh and blood on any of them, if, indeed, the skeletons themselves -have not vanished into thin air. The Forty Immortals would shrink with -dismay from the magnitude of such a scheme. The worst of it is that one -comes to have a false sense of perspective, and to judge works of the -intellect by their size instead of their quality--like the pretentious -but ignorant woman who gravely remarked, after hearing a brilliant -talk from a brilliant man on Irish wit, that she “did not find it very -improving.” There is, too, the natural result of calling things by the -wrong names, and mistaking the thinnest of veneering for culture. - -It is by no means necessary, or even desirable, that every woman -belonging to a club should be a savante; indeed, considering the -number of the clubs, I am not sure that this would not bring about a -more deplorable state of affairs than if there were none at all. It -may even be better for the average woman to know a little about many -things than all about one thing, if she has a certain discrimination -as to values, and the fine sense of proportion which is the result of -more or less mental training. But it _is_ desirable that each one -should have at least a little knowledge of what she undertakes to write -or talk about. Why a woman who might have something to say concerning -certain phases of our colonial life should be asked to write a paper -on Greek art, of which she has not even read, much less thought, or -one who is more or less familiar with various pleasant corners of -English literature should be called upon to entertain her hearers -on the Italian Renaissance, of which she knows nothing whatever, is -one of the mysteries of the new era. “I am so glad to see you,” said -one woman to a friend whom she met on the street. “I have a paper to -write on the symbolists. You know all about such things. What are the -symbolists, anyway?” We are told that when the blind lead the blind, -both are likely to come to grief. It is needless to say that these -faults are not universal, as there is a great deal of careful study and -fine thought in the clubs, but they are sufficiently common to be noted -among things to be avoided. - -A still more serious danger lies in the endless multiplication of -clubs, which offers an irresistible temptation to those who like to -cull a little here, and a little there, without too exacting effort -in any direction. They may all be valuable in themselves, but because -it is good to belong to one or two active clubs of different aims, -it does not follow that it is good to belong to a dozen; and I know -of a woman who claims with pride that she belongs to twenty-two! -“Moderation is the charm of life,” said Jean Paul, and one sees with -regret how little of that sort of charm there is left; indeed, I am -not sure that it has not ceased to be considered a charm. We may find -a note of warning in the later days of the great salons. The social -life of the eighteenth century reads like a page of our own, with its -whirl of _conversazioni_, its talks on science, its experiments -in chemistry, physiology, psychology, its mania for discussing -literature, art, and philosophy. The literary salons had blossomed -into great centers of intellectual brilliancy, of which all this life -was the natural pendant. It was the fashion then, as now, for women to -concern themselves with affairs of state; to talk of the rights of man, -though they had less to say than we have about the rights of woman; to -dream of a social millennium, which they were doomed to wade through -rivers of blood without reaching. They too invaded the secrets of the -laboratory, and even the surgeon’s domain. We hear of a young countess -who carried a skeleton in her trunk when she went on a journey, “as -one might carry a book to read,” in order to study anatomy. These -women, like ourselves, aimed to know a little of everything. They too -were fired with the passion for intelligence and the passion for -multitudes. With the craving for novelties came the ever-growing need -of a stronger spice to make them palatable. In this carnival of the -mind they lost their faith and simplicity, loved with their brains -instead of their hearts, forgot their natural duties, and found natural -ties irksome. Longing for rest without the power to rest, they suffered -from maladies of the nerves, and were devoured with the ennui of -exhaustion. Life lost its equilibrium, and the result was inevitable. -The reaction from the restlessness of an intellect that is not fed from -inner sources, but finds its stimulus and theater alike in the world, -was toward an exaggeration of the sensibilities. “If I could become -calm, I should believe myself on a wheel,” said one whose brilliancy -had dazzled a generation. This fatal “too much” was not the least of -the causes that lost to women the empire they had won. All movements -are measured, in the end, by a standard of common sense, and reactions -are in proportion to the deviation from a just mean. The revolution -which brought liberty to men, or at least shifted the burdens to -some one else, deprived women of what they had. They were forbidden -to organize, and sent back to the fireside and cradles. The republic -swept away from them the last vestige of political power, and gave them -nothing in the place of their lost social kingdom. They were forced to -speak with hushed voices in hidden coteries. Of these there were always -a few, but their prestige was gone. “There is one thing which is not -French,” said Napoleon; “it is that a woman can do as she pleases.” And -he proceeded straightway to give point to his theory by exiling the -ablest woman in France and silencing all the rest. - -We are apt to take high moral ground on the frivolity of these women, -and to pride ourselves on our superiority because we have such a -serious way of amusing ourselves--so serious, indeed, that we forget -there can be anything so questionable as frivolity about it. To be -sure, the clubs are free from many of the faults of the salons. They do -not put social conventions in the place of principles, nor substitute -an esthetic conscience for an ethical one; nor do they drift at all in -the direction of moral laxity. A movement of the intellect, too, which -has its roots in the character is more likely to last than one that -hangs on the suffrage of those it was meant to please and glorify. But -we have the same mental unrest, the same thirst for excitement, the -same feverish activity, the same indisposition to stay at home with -our thoughts. A fever of the intellect may be preferable to a fever -of the senses, and less harmful as an epidemic, but it tends equally -toward exhaustion and disintegration. It is not so much a question of -morals as a question of balance. The modern fashion, however, of doing -everything, even to thinking, in masses, is not altogether due to a -fever of the intellect, any more than it was a hundred years ago. Much -of it is doubtless due to a genuine love of knowledge, much of it to -a haunting desire to be doing something in the outside world, though -the thing done be possibly not at all worth the doing; but a great -deal of it is due to a sort of hyperæsthesia of the social sentiment, -or the mental restlessness that betrays a lack of poise and depth in -the character. We call it the spirit of the age--the innocent phantom -which has to bear the burden of most of our sins, and is gathering -so resistless a force that the strongest and wisest are swept along, -despite themselves, in its accelerating course. But the spirit of the -age is only the sum of individual forces. It needs only a sufficient -number of wise counter-forces to temper and modify it. - - -VI - -A word as to another phase of the club. We have seen that the salons -broke through the exclusive lines of rank, and created a society -based largely upon standards of the intellect, with a meeting-point -of good manners. The woman’s club has done a similar work toward -preventing the crystallization of American society on the basis of -wealth. Its standards are professedly of the mind, though they are -flexible enough to include a wide range of ability, aspiration, -and small distinctions of various sorts. It would be too much to -say that these elements are fused into anything like a homogeneous -society; but they have a recognized point of contact that suffices for -literary or charitable aims, though not altogether for social ones, -which demand the larger contact of personal sympathies, and a certain -community of language that comes within the province of manners. The -salons, however, were wise enough to establish and maintain the social -equilibrium between men and women, while the clubs seem to be rapidly -destroying it. Outside of a limited dinner-giving, amusement-loving -circle, it is undeniable that our social life is centering largely -in clubs composed exclusively of women, whose tastes are diverging -more and more from those of men, and in the functions growing out of -them. To these we may add a few receptions with a sprinkling of men, -and an endless procession of teas and luncheons with no men at all. -Private entertaining of a general character, with its varying flavor of -individuality, seems likely, with many other pleasant things, to become -a memory. If these clubs grew out of a state of affairs in which women -were virtually excluded from the intellectual life of men, we are fast -drifting toward the reverse condition, in which men will have no part -in the intellectual and very little in the social life of women. - -Whether this marked separation of interests beyond a reasonable point -be for the good of either men or women, is a matter of grave doubt. -It is certain that women who are brought into frequent contact with -the minds of men think more clearly and definitely, look at things -in a larger way, and do a finer quality of intellectual work, than -those who have been limited mainly to the companionship of their own -sex. Societies of women are apt to fail in breadth through too much -attention to technicalities out of season, to sacrifice the greater -good to personal prejudices, to emphasize a little brief authority, to -grow hard rather than strong, to become carping and critical without -the clearness of vision that gives a rational basis for criticism. -Nor does the fact that a great many women are superior to these -limitations, and that men are not invariably free from them, affect the -general drift of things. On the other side, it is equally true that men -have done the greatest work under the influence of able women, from the -days of Pericles and the great Greeks who found a fresh inspiration -in the salon of Aspasia, to the brilliant men of modern times, too -numerous to cite here, who have not failed to acknowledge their debt to -feminine judgment and criticism. Men, too, are naturally averse to the -trammels of form, and, left to themselves, rapidly lose the refinement -and courtesy that came in with the social reign of women. While the -best of each is drawn out through social contact on the plane of the -intellect, the worst is accented by separation. - -Then, aside from the fact that a large part of the happiness of the -world depends upon a certain degree of harmony in the tastes of men -and women, which is not likely to exist if they have utterly divergent -points of social interest, men are an incontestable factor in all -our plans for bettering matters, themselves included. We cannot -fairly claim to constitute more than half of the human family, and, -if we do not make some social compromise, we may share the fate of -the Princess Ida, and see all of our fine schemes melt away like -the fabric of a dream. We are not yet ready to establish an order -of intellectual vestals, though drifting in that direction; and, -since the women’s clubs do really constitute a distinct social life, -why not make them more effective on that side? Why leave all these -possibilities of power in the hands of those who make a business of -amusing themselves? It is a fashion to rail at society as frivolous; -but it is precisely what we make it, and it is ruled by women. If it -tends to grow vapid, and luxurious, and commercial, and artificial, we -have only to plan something as attractive on a finer and more natural -basis. And where do we find a better starting-point than in connection -with the women’s clubs? To be sure, men do not, as a rule, find them -interesting; indeed, they vote them a trifle dull, but that may be -because they have no vital part in them. Then, the fault may lie a -little in the women themselves. There is clearly a flaw somewhere -in our methods or our ideals. In trying to avoid the frivolities of -society, we may fall into the equally fatal error of failing to make -better things attractive, and so permit the busy men of to-day to slip -away altogether from the influence of what many are pleased to call -our finer moral and esthetic sense--to say nothing of what we lose -ourselves. It may be deplorable, but it is still a fact, that truth is -doubly captivating when served with the piquant sauces that make even -error dangerously fascinating. We have to deal with people as they are, -not as we think they ought to be. - -I am not disposed to quote the Frenchwomen of a century or so ago as -models. But there are many points we might take from them in the art -of making a social life on intellectual lines agreeable, as well as a -vital force. When women who are neither young nor beautiful dominate -an age of brilliant men through intellect and tact, it does no harm -to study their methods a little in an age when women of equal talent, -superior education, and finer moral aims succeed to only a limited -extent in doing more than stimulate one another--a good thing to do, -but not final. Those women, too, had old distinctions to reconcile, -and a powerful court for a rival. They had one advantage, as they made -a cult of esprit, which is a gift of their race, while we make a cult -of knowledge, which may be more substantial, but is less luminous, and -not so available socially. Besides, knowledge is a thing to be acquired -and not caviar to mediocrity, which is apt to use it crudely, and with -pretension. “Let your studies flow into your manners, and your readings -show themselves in your virtues,” said Mme. de Lambert. I am sorry to -say that the typical Frenchwoman of a hundred years ago did not always -take so exalted a view of her duties; but even as a matter of taste -she had too delicate a sense of proportion to merge the woman in the -intellect. She scattered about her the flavor of knowledge rather than -the knowledge itself; which is not so easy, as one does not have the -real flavor of knowledge without the essence of it, and something more. -Rare natural gifts have a distinction of their own, but in ordinary -life what one _is_ counts for more than what one _knows_, and -the secret of attraction lies rather in the sum of the qualities which -we call character than in the acquirements. A woman may be familiar -with Sanskrit, and calculate the distance of the fixed stars, without -being interesting, or even admirable, as a woman. The main point is to -preserve one’s symmetry, and one’s center of gravity; then, the more -knowledge the better. It may be that the flaw in our ideals lies just -here, and that in the too exclusive pursuit of certain things fine in -themselves, we neglect other things equally if not more vital. - -No doubt the Frenchwoman did much that she ought not to have done, and -left undone much that she ought to have done, just as we do, though the -things were not precisely the same; we know, too, that the time came -when she did lose her poise, and with it her power. But, with all her -faults, in the days of her glory she never forgot her point of view. -She was rarely aggressive, and, without being too conscious of herself -or her aims, it was a part of her esthetic creed to call out the best -in others. With consummate tact, she crowned her serious gifts with -the gracious ways and gentle amenities that disarmed antagonism and -diffused everywhere a breath of sweetness. She carried with her, too, -the sunshine that springs from an inexhaustible gaiety of heart, and -this was one source of her unfailing charm. Perhaps it was partly why -the literary salon retained its prestige for nearly two hundred years, -and, in spite of its errors, was brilliant and amusing, as well as an -intellectual force, to the end. - -It is far from my intention to repeat the old cry that other days were -better days, and other ways better ways, than ours. We have a life of -our own, and do not wish to copy one that is dead, or to put on manners -that do not fit us. But the essentials of human nature are eternally -the same, and in bringing new forces to bear upon it we may do well -sometimes to consult the wisdom of the past, to ponder the secret of -its failures as of its successes. It is not a matter of depreciating -our aims or our ways, but of getting the most out of them, perhaps -through some subtle touch that we have missed; also of preserving our -sanity and equilibrium in this new order of things, which tends always -to grow more complex and more bewildering. - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - -In a few cases, inconsistent hyphenization was standardized to use the -one more common throughout the text. - -Page 262: “set up their household gods” changed to “set up their -household goods” - -Page 346: “died at twenty-six” changed to “died at twenty-six.” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOMAN IN THE GOLDEN AGES *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/67405-0.zip b/old/67405-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4a8b4dc..0000000 --- a/old/67405-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h.zip b/old/67405-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0a1c88b..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/67405-h.htm b/old/67405-h/67405-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index d60cd71..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/67405-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9683 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - Woman in the Golden Ages, by Amelia Gere Mason—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent: 1em; -} - -.p0 {text-indent: 0em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} -table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; width: 75%; font-size: 1.1em;} -table.autotable td, -table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } -.x-ebookmaker table {width: 95%;} -.page {width: 2em;} - -.tdr {text-align: right;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} - -.w10 {width: 10%;} -.w5 {width: 5%;} -.w75 {width: 75%;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} -/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ -.poetry {display: inline-block;} -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -.space-above -{ - margin-top: 3em; -} - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Woman in the golden ages, by Amelia Gere Mason</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Woman in the golden ages</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Amelia Gere Mason</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 14, 2022 [eBook #67405]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Turgut Dincer and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOMAN IN THE GOLDEN AGES ***</div> - - - - - - -<h1><big><i>Woman in the<br /> -Golden Ages</i></big></h1> - -<p class="center p0"><i>By</i></p> - -<p class="center p0"><i><big>Amelia Gere Mason</big></i></p> - -<p class="center p0 space-above"><span class="figcenter" id="img001"> - <img src="images/001.jpg" class="w10" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0 space-above"><big><i>New York</i><br /> -<i>The Century Co.</i><br /> -<i>1901</i></big> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center p0">Copyright, 1901, by<br /> -<span class="smcap"><big>The Century Co.</big></span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="center p0"><i>Published October, 1901.</i></p> - -<p class="center space-above p0">THE DEVINNE PRESS. -</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> -<div class="chapter"></div> - - -<p class="center p0">TO THE<br /> -REPRESENTATIVE WOMEN<br /> -OF TO-DAY -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - - -<p>In this series of detached essays I have tried to gather and group -the most salient and essential facts relating to the character, -position, and intellectual attainments of women in the great ages -of the world. It is not an easy matter to trace with any exactness -the lives of women of classic times, as they were largely ignored by -men who chronicled events. If the historians gave them any place at -all, it was an insignificant one, concerning only their relations to -men, and they were more inclined to sing the praises of those who -ministered to masculine caprices than of those distinguished for any -merit whatever. There were exceptions in the cases of a few women -of very remarkable gifts; but even these were subject to the worst -aspersions, for the simple reason that they had the courage of their -talents and convictions. This<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</span> fashion of considering women only as -convenient appendages of men may account largely for the space given -to those of more beauty and sensuous charm than decorum—a fact which -has doubtless misled after-ages. It accounts also for the reckless -flings of satirists and comedians, who were even less to be trusted in -early times than they are to-day. Truth compels me to recall more or -less the contemptuous attitude of men, as it was too large a factor in -determining the position of women to be omitted. But in no case has it -been exaggerated, or set down in a spirit of antagonism.</p> - -<p>The most striking points in the lives of world-famous women are -sufficiently familiar. True or false, they are often quoted in proof -of one theory or another. But a few isolated facts gathered at random -count for little. It is only in the grouping of many facts of many ages -that the real quality of the old types of womanhood can be clearly -discerned. One is constantly confronted, however, with discrepancies -in the records. This may be readily understood when we consider the -impossibility of getting a correct version of things that happen next -door to us. Reports of events and estimates of character are about as -various as the people who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</span> offer them. One can only accept those which -have the most inherent probability, or are given by the chronicler who -has the best reputation for veracity. So far as possible, I have relied -upon contemporary writers for the facts of their own age; but I am also -indebted largely to the research of the great modern historians. In the -few classic or Italian translations, I have usually availed myself of -those nearest at hand, if they had the stamp of authority, though they -might not always be the latest, perhaps not even the best.</p> - -<p>These essays are limited mainly to the golden ages of Greece, Rome, and -the Renaissance, with a brief interlude that serves as a transition -from pagan to medieval times. The mantle of the great Italians fell -upon the women of the golden age of France, who reached the summit of -the power and influence of their sex in the past. The personality and -intellectual influence of these women I have considered at length in -“The Women of the French Salons.”</p> - -<p>The inevitable “woman question” is not touched except as it may appear -in the effort to show, in a small degree, the intellectual quality -and influence of some of the representative women of the past, and -to vindicate them from charges which are often<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</span> as untrue as unjust. -Without any pretension to profound learning or philosophic criticism, -I have simply presented the most significant facts available, with -their various settings, and a few plain conclusions which may be -insufficient, but which are at least sincere and carefully considered. -In estimates of people I have taken the most charitable view possible -without sacrificing truth to imagination. It is the safer side in which -to err, as the world has always been much more active in the spread of -calumny than of praise, especially where women are concerned.</p> - -<p>There is no pretense to historical continuity, or to a serious study of -present conditions, in the single modern essay. It simply considers one -phase of our own age, which we doubtless claim to be altogether golden.</p> - -<p>The work has been a labor of love. If I have succeeded in throwing any -fresh light upon the women of long ago, many of whom are already half -mythical, or in giving a clear impression of what we owe them, my long -and pleasant hours among old chronicles and forgotten records will not -have been in vain.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Amelia Gere Mason.</span><br /> -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>August, 1901.</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<th> -</th> -<th class="tdr page"> -PAGE -</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#PREFACE"><span class="smcap">Preface</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_vii">vii</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#INTRODUCTION"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_xiii">xiii</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Woman"><span class="smcap">Woman in Greek Poetry</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_3">1</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Sappho"><span class="smcap">Sappho and the First Woman’s Club</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_25">25</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Glimpses"><span class="smcap">Glimpses of the Spartan Woman</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_51">51</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Athenian"><span class="smcap">The Athenian Woman, Aspasia, and the First Salon</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_69">69</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Revolt"><span class="smcap">Revolt of the Roman Women</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_105">105</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#New"><span class="smcap">The “New Woman” of Old Rome</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_137">137</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Famous"><span class="smcap">Some Famous Women of Imperial Rome</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_167">167</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Marcella"><span class="smcap">Marcella, Paula, and the First Convent</span></a></td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_205">205</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Learned"><span class="smcap">The Learned Women of the Renaissance</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_241">241</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Literary"><span class="smcap">The Literary Courts and Platonic Love</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_291">291</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#Salon"><span class="smcap">Salon and Woman’s Club</span></a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_353">353</a> -</td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It has been quite gravely asserted of late that “woman has just -discovered her intellect.” As a result of this we are told with great -earnestness that the nineteenth century belonged to her by virtue -of conquest, and that she is entering upon a new era of power and -intelligence which is to usher in the millennium.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, we are assured with equal persistency that the -divine order of things is being upset: that women are spoiled by -over-education; that the time-honored privileges of men are ruthlessly -invaded and their mental vigor endangered; that morals are suffering; -that all the good old ideals are in process of destruction; and that we -have the dismal prospect of being ruled, to our sorrow, by a race of -Minervas who neglect their families, if they have any, and insist upon -running things in their own way, to the ruin of social order—all of -which has been said periodically since the beginning of the world.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</span></p> - -<p>With these serious questions I do not attempt to deal any further -than to picture, to the best of my ability in a limited space, -the position of women in the great ages of the past, and the -personality, aspirations, and achievements of a few of their most -famous representatives, so far as this is possible after the lapse of -centuries. From a multiplicity of facts which point their own moral, -each one of us may draw his or her special lessons.</p> - -<p>It is quite true that the woman of to-day is putting her intellect to -new uses; possibly she has become more vividly conscious of it. We know -also that the average intelligence of all classes of women, as well -as of men, was never so high as now. But the intrinsic force of the -human intellect is not measured by averages. A thousand satellites do -not make a sun, though they may shine for ages by the light of one. -Then, whatever our achievements may be—and I do not underrate them—it -would reflect rather seriously on the feminine mind to suppose that -it could lie practically dormant all these centuries, even under the -heavy disabilities which were imposed upon it. The fact that women -have always been in subjection and on the whole very much oppressed -and trampled upon, especially in the early ages, makes it all the more -remarkable that they have left so many striking examples, not only -of the highest wisdom and intelligence, but of the highest executive -power, ever since Deborah<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</span> sat as a judge in Israel, Miriam sang -immortal songs of heroic deeds, and Semiramis conquered Asia.</p> - -<p>No doubt our own deserts are great, and we do well to burn a fair -amount of incense to them; but possibly the smoke of it is so dense -that we fail to see all the fine things that have been done before -us. Other women have been as clever as we are, and as strong, if not -individually stronger; many have been as good, a few perhaps have been -more wicked than most of us; and the majority have had a great deal -more to complain of. “There is nothing new under the sun” was written -so long ago that it seems as if there could have been nothing old. -Even the “new woman” has her prototypes in the past, who have thought, -written, lectured, ruled, asserted themselves, and been honored as well -as talked about in their day. Men have prophesied strange revolutions -in human affairs because of them, and sometimes have sent them back to -the chimney-corner and silence, as one of our own chivalrous writers -says they will do again if this irrepressible being who presumes to -have opinions makes things too uncomfortable for them. But the world -has gone on marrying and giving in marriage, and growing in the main, -let us hope, happier and better, while the social condition of women -has steadily improved, with an occasional reaction, in spite of the -fears of the timid and the sneers of the cynical.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</span></p> - -<p>It may be safely said that there was not much in the lives of the -women of two or three thousand years ago which we should care to -repeat. Their field was, as a rule, narrow and restricted, their -privileges were few, their burdens and sorrows were many. To go -outside the sphere prescribed for them called for great talent and -great courage, since respectability was usually regarded as synonymous -with insignificance. But even in this aspiring, much-knowing, -self-gratulatory, woman-honoring twentieth century, whenever we are -told that the feminine intellect is inherently weak and has never -created anything worthy of immortality, we point with pride to Sappho, -the one woman poet of the world whose claim to the first rank has -never been disputed. If we wish to illustrate the social and political -influence of woman, we cite Aspasia, the trusted confidante and adviser -of the greatest statesmen and philosophers, as well as the presiding -genius of the first salon of which we have any knowledge. Yet these -women lived in the dawn of the present order of things. We may recall -the scholarly mind and masterly executive qualities of Zenobia, which -perhaps have never been exceeded; the profound learning and brilliant -oratory of Hypatia, who was torn in pieces because of them by the -fanatical Alexandrian mob; Cornelia, gifted and austere, adding the -courage of a Stoic to the tenderness of a mother; Livia, wise, tactful, -and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</span> far-seeing; Marcella, saint and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">grande dame</i>, a savante, -a leader, and a heroine. Other figures of the classic ages, grave -and thoughtful, clever and brilliant, or mystical and sweet, pass in -stately array before us, each supreme in her own field. It may have -been an intellectual gift that she had; it may have been a masterful -character, or a heroic virtue, or a spirit of sublime self-sacrifice, -or a faith so exalted that it has illuminated all the centuries. Each -of these traits has its illustrious examples among the women of long -ago.</p> - -<p>Passing ages of darkness, in which here and there the talent of a -Countess Matilda or an Héloïse shone brightly through the mists of -ignorance and superstition, we find the women of a new era delving side -by side with men in the mines of classic lore, and bringing to their -work the same enthusiasm, the same untiring patience. We find them, -too, versed in all the learning of their time. If we are disposed to -plume ourselves overmuch on our intellectual glories, it may serve as -a lesson in humility to recall the wonderful women of the Renaissance, -who filled chairs of philosophy and law in the universities, sustained -public theses, spoke in Latin before learned societies, wrote pure -Greek and studied Hebrew, preached in cathedrals were sent on special -embassies and consulted on grave affairs of State by popes and kings. -With all our latter-day prestige and the chivalry of modern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</span> men, it -would be difficult to imagine Leo XIII or the German Emperor consulting -a woman on serious questions of policy, or even listening to one unless -she were a queen with power that must be reckoned with. If they did, it -would be behind closed doors where no one could know it. Yet we have -wise women and able ones.</p> - -<p>When men lost themselves in metaphysical abstractions it was the “new -woman” of the Renaissance who lent wings to their minds and stimulated -creation. A touch from her uncaged intellect thrilled the learning -of the age and put into it a soul. A Vittoria Colonna inspires a -Michelangelo, writes an immortal <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">in memoriam</i>, and brings poetry -to the service of religion. An Olympia Morata pauses in her high -intellectual flight to give an object-lesson in moral courage and the -virtues of a gentle womanhood. A Catherine of Siena thinks as well as -loves, writes as well as prays; the head of Christendom is moved by her -wise counsels, and the currents of the world are changed.</p> - -<p>It was woman, too, who married thought to life, presided at the -birth of society, and diffused the seeds of the new knowledge. She -took philosophy out of the obscurity of ponderous tomes, and made -men reduce it to clear terms with the logical processes left out, so -that the unlettered might read. If men held the palm of supremacy in -reason<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</span> and abstract thought, women illuminated them by sentiment -and imagination, so touching the world to living issues. The swift, -facile, intuitive intellects of women complemented the slower and more -logical minds of men, and it is this union that creates life in all its -larger, more enduring forms. It was the social gifts of women added -to a flexible intelligence that raised conversation to a fine art. A -Duchess Leonora, an Isabella d’Este, a Duchess Elisabetta, call about -them the wit, learning, talent, and genius of an age, and in this -atmosphere poets, artists, and men of letters find an audience and an -inspiration. Each gives of his best, which is fostered and turned into -new channels. Standards are raised by the association of various forms -of excellence, and society reaches a higher altitude of living and -thinking. To be sure, the day comes when it matters more to talk and be -talked about than it does to know. The rank weeds of mediocrity spring -up in profusion and overshadow the flowers. The ideals droop and the -brilliant age ends. But it has fulfilled its mission, and all ages end, -great and small, luminous and dark alike.</p> - -<p>Did men degenerate in the intellectual companionship of women? To what -glorious heights did they attain in the dark ages, when no woman’s -voice was heard, except in prayer? What heights have they reached in -any period that did not find its ideals in brute force, when, at least, -a few women<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</span> of light and leading did not stand at their side, though -only by courtesy, instead of sitting at their feet?</p> - -<p>Did women lose in morals when they gained in intelligence, as men so -often delight to tell us? Quite the reverse, if I have read history -aright. In seasons of moral decadence it is the women of serious -education who have been among the first to lift their voices against -the sins of the period in which they lived. If they were often swept -along by the current which they had no power to stem, it was because -of their helplessness, not of their knowledge. They were not faultless -but human, and subject at all periods to the same conditions that were -fatal to men, who claimed supremacy in strength. If they have sometimes -broken on the rocks of superstition, it was because they had too little -intelligence, not too much.</p> - -<p>Have they lost the tender instincts of wifehood and motherhood? The -records of the world are full of the unselfish devotion of great wives -and great mothers, and the men who shine most conspicuously on the -pages of history, from Cæsar and the Gracchi to George Washington and -Daniel Webster, have been the sons of able and intelligent women. A -cultivated intellect is not a guaranty of virtue, but it has never yet -made a woman forget her love and allegiance to a strong and noble man, -or turn a cold ear to the artless prattle of a child, though vanity -and weakness and folly have done so very often. But it has many a time -given her the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</span> power and the impulse to rear a world-famed monument to -the one, and to give the best work and thought of a self-sacrificing -life for the glory of the other. It is not simply heredity, but the -atmosphere and companionship of the first years, that make or mar a -destiny. But let us not confound intelligent women with pedants and -pretenders, or great women with small ones on a pedestal of any sort, -self-erected or other.</p> - -<p>All this I trust will be made clear by illustration in these pages, -together with the fact that the intellects of at least a few women have -been very much awake in all the golden ages of the world, and exercised -on many of the same problems that confront them to-day. The question of -equality has been discussed in every period. It is needless to pursue -these discussions here any further than to recall them. It does not -signify whether women have or have not done this, that, or the other -thing as well as men—whether they have or have not been conspicuous -for creative genius, or scientific genius, or any other special form -of genius. It is as idle to ask whether they are, on the whole, equal -or inferior to men, as to ask whether an artist is equal to a general, -an inventor to a philosopher, or a poet to a man of science. There are -certain things that will always be done better by men; there are other -things of equal value to the happiness and well-being of the race, -and worthy of equal honor, that will always be done better by women; -there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</span> are still other and many things that may be done equally well by -either. The final proof of ability lies in its tangible result, and it -is a waste of words to speculate on unknown quantities, or to say that -under certain conditions women might have attained specific heights -which they have not attained. No doubt it is true, but one cannot -deal with shadows. We have to consider things as they are, with the -possibilities toward which they point.</p> - -<p>But the past we have, with its achievements and its lessons. We find -that women, with all their restrictions and in spite of denunciations -from men which seem incredible, have long ago touched their highest -mark in poetry, in wisdom, in administration, in learning, and -in social power. In the great ages of the flowering of the human -intellect, a rare few have always stood on the heights, beacon-stars -which sent out their rays to distant centuries. As the world has -advanced they have increased in number more than in altitude; but -barriers have been removed, one after another, until they have -practically ceased to exist. It is worth while, however, to bear in -mind that four hundred years ago a woman, with many disabilities, -had ample facilities for reaching her full intellectual stature with -honor and without hindrance. Why did her sex lose these privileges so -liberally accorded to men, in the “land of the free” and the early -nineteenth century?</p> - -<p>We too have our stars—our women who think,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</span> our women who know, our -women who do; we too have our special distinctions—our triumphs in -new fields in which we have had no rivals. But I have touched only a -single phase of modern life. There are too many fresh and difficult -problems to be disposed of in an essay. Then we can hardly hear the -message of the age for the din of the voices. It is true enough that -the old ideals are disappearing. What we do not know yet is whether, -apart from the intelligence which gives all life a fresh impulse and -meaning, the new ones forced upon us by the march of events are better. -It suffices here to say that what really signifies to the woman of -to-day is to expand in her own natural proportions, to maintain her -own individuality without the loss of her essential charm, to temper -strength of soul with tenderness, to strive for achievement instead -of the passing honors of the hour, to preserve the fine and dignified -quality of an enlarged and perfected womanhood. It is not as the poor -copy of a man that she will ever come into her rightful kingdom. Duty -or necessity may lead one into strange and hard paths, but the crown of -glory is not for those who fling away their birthright to join in the -strident chorus of the eager crowd that kneels before the glittering -altars of the money-gods, or to follow the procession that throngs the -dusty highways and, lifting its eyes no more to the mountain-tops, -sings its own apotheosis in the market-place.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Woman">WOMAN IN GREEK POETRY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img002"> - <img src="images/002.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· Denunciation of Woman in Early Poets ·<br /> -· Kindlier Attitude of Homer ·<br /> -· Penelope · Nausicaä · Andromache · Helen ·<br /> -· Contemptuous Attitude of the Dramatists ·<br /> -· Their Fine Types ·<br /> -· Iphigenia · Alcestis · Antigone ·<br /> -· Consideration for Women in the Heroic Age ·<br /></big> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img003"> - <img src="images/003.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>“The badness of man is better than the goodness of woman,” says a -Jewish proverb. And worse still, “A man of straw is better than a -woman of gold.” As men made the proverbs, these may be commended for -modesty as well as chivalry. The climax is reached in this amiable -sentiment: “A dead wife is the best goods in a man’s house.” Under such -teaching it is not at all surprising that the Jews began their morning -invocations, two thousand years ago, with these significant words: -“Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who hast not -made me a heathen, who hast not made me a slave, who hast not made me a -woman.”</p> - -<p>These are very good samples of the manner in which women were talked -of in ancient days. In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> Egypt, however, they fared rather better. We -are even told that men pledged obedience to their wives, in which case -they doubtless spoke of them more respectfully. At all events, they had -great political influence, were honored as priestess or prophetess, -and had the privilege of owning themselves and their belongings. But a -state of affairs in which</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -Men indoors sit weaving at the loom,<br /> -And wives outdoors must earn their daily bread,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">has its unpleasant side. How it was regarded by women does not appear, -but if they found a paradise they were speedily driven out of it. -Evidently men did not find the exchange of occupations agreeable. Two -or three centuries before our era, a Greek ruler came to the throne, -who had other views, and every woman awoke one morning to the fact -that her day was ended, her power was gone, and that she owned nothing -at all. Everything that she had, from her house and her land to her -feathers and her jewels, was practically confiscated, so that she could -no longer dispose of it. These women had rights, and lost them. Why -they were taken away we do not know. Possibly too much was claimed. But -all this goes to prove that “chivalrous man” cannot be trusted so long -as he holds not simply the balance of power, but the whole of it.</p> - -<p>Apart from this little episode, the early world never drifted far from -the traditions of the Garden<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> of Eden, where Adam naturally reserved -the supremacy for himself, and sent obedient Eve about her housewifely -duties among the roses and myrtles. If these were soon turned into -thorns and thistles, it was only her proper punishment for bringing -into the world its burden of human ills.</p> - -<p>The changes were rung on this theme in all races and languages. -The esthetic Greeks surpassed the Jews in their denunciations, and -exhausted their wit in cynical phrases that lacked even the dignity of -criticism. No writers have abused women more persistently. It is an -evidence of great moral vitality that, in the face of such undisguised -contempt, they were able to maintain any prestige at all. If we may -credit the poets who gave the realistic side of things, there was -neither honor nor joy in the life of the average woman who dwelt in the -shadow of Helicon. It was bare and cheerless, without even the sympathy -that tempers the hardest fate. This pastoral existence, which seems -so serene, had its serpent, and that serpent was a woman. A wife was -a necessary evil. If a man did not marry, he was doomed to a desolate -age; if he did, his happiness was sure to be ruined. Out of ten types -of women described by the elder Simonides, only one was fit for a wife, -and this was because she had the nature of a bee and was likely to add -to her husband’s fortune. As the proportion was so small, the risk may -be imagined. Her side of the question<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> was never taken into account -at all. The comfort of so insignificant a being was really not worth -considering. “A man has but two pleasant days with his wife,” says the -satirist; “one when he marries her, the other when he buries her.”</p> - -<p>Hesiod mentions, among the troubles of having a wife, that she insists -upon sitting at table with her husband. Later, when the Greeks found -their pleasure in fields of the intellect which were closed to women, -even this poor privilege was usually denied her, and always when other -men were present. Hesiod was evidently a disappointed man, and took -dark views of things, women in particular, but he only followed the -fashion of his time in making them responsible for the troubles and -sorrows of men. It was the old, old story: “The woman gave me, and I -did eat.” She was the Pandora who had let loose upon the world all the -ills, and kept in her box the hope that might have made them tolerable. -If she found her position an unpleasant one, she had the consolation -of being told that she was one of the evils sent into the world by the -gods, to punish men for the sin of Prometheus. The other was disease.</p> - -<p>This is a sorry picture, but it reflects the usual Greek attitude -toward women, and cannot be ignored, much as we should like to honor -the sense of justice, and the heart as well as the intellect of men of -so brilliant a race.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>There is another side, however, upon which it is more pleasing to -dwell. By some curious paradox, the Hellenic poets, who delighted in -saying such disagreeable things, have given us many of the finest types -of womanhood, though these women lived only in the imagination of great -men, or so near the border-land of shadows as to be half mythical. -It may be said to the credit of Homer that he never joined in the -popular chorus of abuse. His women are not permitted to forget their -subjection, but the high-born ones at least are treated with gentle -courtesy, and he indulges in no superfluous flings at their inferiority -or general worthlessness. Many of them hold places of honor and power. -These women of a primitive age, who stand at the portals of the young -world luminous and smiling, or draped in the stately dignity of antique -goddesses, still retain the distinction of classic ideals. They look -out from the misty dawn of things with veiled faces, but we know that -love shone from their soft eyes, and words of wisdom fell from their -rosy lips.</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -The vulgar of my sex I most exceed<br /> -In real power, when most humane my deed,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">says the gentle Penelope, as, tear-dimmed and constant, she weaves and -unweaves the many-colored<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> threads, and waits for her royal lord, who -basks in the smiles of Calypso over the sea, and forgets her until he -tires of the fascinating siren and begins to long for his home. If -there was a trace of artfulness in the innocent device of the faithful -wife, it was all the weapon she had to save her honor.</p> - -<p>There is no lovelier picture of radiant girlhood than the graceful -Nausicaä, as she takes the silken reins in her white hands, and drives -across the plains in the first flush of the morning to help her maids -“wash their fair garments in the limpid streams.” When the snowy robes -are laid in the sun to dry, they play a game of ball, this daughter of -kings leading all the rest. We hear the echo of her silvery laughter, -and see the flash of her shining veil as her light feet fly over the -greensward. But the dignity of the princess asserts itself with the -forethought and sympathy of the woman in the discreet words with which -she greets the destitute stranger, and modestly directs him to her -royal mother. Her swift eye notes his air of distinction, his courteous -address, and she naïvely wishes in her heart that the gods would send -her such a husband. It is to Arête that she bids him go, to the beloved -queen who shares the throne of Alcinous with “honors never before given -to a woman.” Simple is this gentle lady and gracious, whether she sits -in her stately palace working rare designs in crimson and purple wools, -or gives wise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> counsel to her husband, or goes abroad among the people, -who adore her as a goddess,</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -To heal divisions, to relieve the oppressed,<br /> -In virtue rich, in blessing others, blessed.<br /> -</p> - -<p>A more touching though less radiant figure is Andromache, who shows -no trace of weakness as she folds her child to her bosom, after the -tender farewell of her brave husband, and goes home, sad and prophetic, -to “ply her melancholy loom,” and brood over the hopelessness of her -coming fate.</p> - -<p>These are the great Homeric types, women of simple and noble outlines, -untouched by the fires of passion, wise, loyal, efficient, and brave, -but rich in sympathy and all sweet affections. The central figures of -the fireside, with needle and distaff in hand, they were not without a -fine intelligence which, after the fashion of primitive times, found -its field in the every-day problems of life. The mysteries of knowledge -and speculation had not opened to them.</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There is no fairer thing</span><br /> -Than when the lord and lady with one soul<br /> -One home possess.<br /> -</p> - -<p>This was the poet’s domestic ideal, and the ages have not brought a -better one, though they have brought us many things to make it more -beautiful.</p> - -<p>But what shall we say of Helen, the alluring child of fancy and -romance, who stands as an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> eternal type of the beauty that led captive -the Hellenic world? Even this fair-haired daughter of the gods, who -set nations at variance, and did so many things not to be commended, -gathers a subtle charm from the domestic setting which the poet’s art -has given her. She sits serenely in the midst of the woes she has -brought, teaching her maidens to work after strange patterns, and -weaving her own tragic story in the golden web. It does not occur to -her that she is very wicked; indeed, she thinks regretfully that, after -all, she is worthy of a braver man. The tears that fall do not dim her -brightness. Gray-haired men go to their death under the spell of her -divine loveliness, but forget to chide. She is the helpless victim of -Aphrodite, who is indulgently charged with all her frailties. Twice -ten years have gone since she sailed away from Sparta, but when her -forgiving husband takes her home she has lost none of that mystic -beauty which is “never stale and never old.” She takes her place as -naturally as if she had not left it, plays again the pleasant rôle of -hostess, and looks with care after the comfort of her guests. When -Telemachus goes to see her, and recalls the uncertain fate of the -wandering heroes, she gives him the “star-bright” veil her own hands -have wrought to help dry the tears she has caused to flow. But she is -troubled by no superfluous grief. What the gods send she tranquilly -accepts.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> - -<p>When the poets began to analyze, the glamour of this witching goddess -was lost, and she became a sinning, soul-destroying woman, a human -Circe that lured men to ruin. But the Greeks did not like to see their -idols slandered or broken, so in later times they gave her a shadowy -existence on the banks of the Nile, where we catch a last glimpse of -her, sitting unruffled among the palms, in all the splendor of her -radiant beauty, twining wreaths of lotus-flowers for her golden hair, -and learning rare secrets of Eastern looms, while men fought and died -across the sea for a phantom. It is not upon these fanciful pictures, -however, that we like to dwell. The Helen who lives and breathes -for us is the Helen of Homer, fair and sweet, more sinned against -than sinning, pitying the sorrows she cannot cure, but saved by her -matchless charm from the chilling frost of mortal censure.</p> - -<p>These women of Homer were mostly wives and daughters of kings. Whether -it was because he had been greeted with gentle words and caressing -smiles by the fair patricians to whom he recited his verses that he -painted them in such glowing colors, or because the women of the heroic -age really had the unstudied grace and simple dignity that spring from -conscious freedom, we cannot know. But it is certain that the measure -of honor and liberty which they enjoyed was a privilege of caste rather -than of sex, though it gave them a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> virile quality, and added a fresh -luster of spontaneity to their domestic virtues.</p> - -<p>The lesser women had small consideration. We find the captives, even of -royal descent, tossed about among their masters with no regard to their -wishes, or rights—if they had any, which seems doubtful. The gentle -Briseïs, a high priest’s daughter, and as potent a factor in the final -disasters of the Greeks as the divine Helen herself, was the merest -puppet in the hands of the so-called heroes who quarreled over her, and -Chryseïs was only saved from the same fate by the kind interference of -Apollo. The bitterest drop in the cup of Hector was the thought of his -wife led away weeping by some “mail-clad Achaian,” with no one to hear -her cries or save her from the hopeless fate of weaving and carrying -water at the bidding of another. The women of the people fared little -better, if as well. Ulysses had no hesitation in putting to death a -dozen of his wife’s maids whose conduct did not please him, and he -threatened his devoted nurse Euryclea with a like fate, if she revealed -the secret of his identity, which she had been the first to divine.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>It is difficult to comprehend the attitude of the dramatists of the -golden age toward women. They have left many fine and powerful types; -they have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> created heroines of singular moral grandeur and a superb -quality of courage that led them to face death or the bitterest fate as -serenely as if they were composing themselves to pleasant dreams; but -there was no insult or injustice too great to be heaped upon their sex.</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -There is not anything, nor will be ever,<br /> -Than woman worse, let what will fall on man,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">says Sophocles. Æschylus, who is, on the whole, the most kindly -disposed, makes Eteocles call the Theban maidens a “brood intolerable,” -“loathed of the wise,” and emphasizes his opinion in these flattering -lines:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -Ne’er be it mine, in ill estate or good,<br /> -To dwell together with the race of women.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Euripides strikes the bitterest note of all, and sums up his verdict -with crushing force:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -Dire is the violence of ocean waves,<br /> -And dire the blast of rivers and hot fires,<br /> -And dire is want and dire are countless things,<br /> -But nothing is so dire and dread as woman.<br /> -No painting could express her dreadfulness,<br /> -No words describe it. If a god made woman<br /> -And fashioned her, he was for men the artist<br /> -Of woes unnumbered, and their deadly foe.<br /> -</p> - -<p>And this in spite of such characters as Alcestis and Iphigenia, who, -from a man’s point of view,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> certainly deserved an apotheosis! It is -said that Euripides was unfortunate in his wives, which may account, -in part, for his cynical temper. One might suspect that the author of -such a diatribe gave ample cause for disaffection, and that he had -no more than his deserts. But he seems to have avenged himself, as -smaller men have done, by railing at the whole sex. It is easy enough -to understand the portrayal of a Phædra or a Medea in dark colors, and -one can forgive the mad ravings of despair. But so many needless words -of general contempt signify more than a dramatic purpose. To-day they -would not be possible in a civilized country. The drama reflects the -dominant sentiments of the time, if not always those of the author, -and the frequency of such ungracious, not to say virulent, attacks -proves the complaisance of a Greek audience and the absence of all -consideration for women. Even Aristophanes takes Euripides to task for -being a woman-hater, and turns upon him the sharpest points of his -satire; but he has himself added the last touch of abuse, which only -misses its aim for modern ears by its incredible coarseness. He gives -to women all of the lowest vices, without a redeeming virtue. Their -presence at the comedy was quite out of the question.</p> - -<p>One is tempted to multiply these quotations, as they put in so vivid -a light the injustice suffered by women when the expression of such -sentiments<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> was habitual. The saddest feature of it is that men -abused them for the ignorance and frivolity which they had themselves -practically compelled. The dramatists lived and wrote in an age when -men had reached a higher plane of knowledge from which orthodox women -were rigidly excluded. The natural consequence of this exclusion was a -total lack of companionship, which sent the Attic woman into a species -of slavery, while her husband found his society in a class that was -better educated and more interesting, but less respectable. This -state of things was reflected in Athenian literature, especially in -the comedies, and it doubtless led to the general disdain of women so -freely expressed in the tragedies. To reconcile such an attitude with -the strong character of many of the women portrayed is not easy, unless -we take them as object-lessons to their sex in the honor and glory of -self-sacrifice.</p> - -<p>In the glamour the poets have cast about their great creations, and -the marvelous power with which they have made these women live for us, -we are apt to lose sight of the fact that the moral force of the best -of them is centered in the superhuman immolation of themselves for the -benefit of men, to whom it never occurs that any consideration whatever -is due to these innocent sufferers. They are subject to men, and ready -to lay down their lives, if need be to make the world comfortable and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> -pleasant for them; yet they have only sorrow for themselves.</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -More than a thousand women is one man<br /> -Worthy to see the light of life,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">says the young Iphigenia, as she folds her saffron veil about her, and -goes to her doom with words of love and forgiveness, praying for the -cruel masters she dies to save. The essence of her training, as of -her religion, lies in this meekly uttered sentiment, though the fated -child pleads for pity, since “the sorriest life is better than the -noblest death.” Strong men, among whom are her father and Achilles, -the heroes of the ancient world, stand calmly by and let her die. The -powerful lover, who will give his life later to avenge the death of -his friend, is sorry to lose so sweet a flower for his wife, but he -makes no real effort to save her. When she is told that the gods have -decreed her sacrifice for the good of her country, the cry of nature is -silenced, the touching appeal is stilled. She rises to a divine height -of courage, and is the consoler rather than the consoled.</p> - -<p>Not less pathetic is the fate of Alcestis, though it is a voluntary -one. She robes herself for the tomb as tranquilly as if she were going -out on a message of mercy. With sad dignity she crowns with myrtle the -altar at which she prays, but not until she takes leave of the familiar -room so consecrated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> by love and happiness do the tears begin to fall. -This tender wife, who freely gives her life to save her husband, does -not falter as she passionately embraces her weeping children, and bids -a kind farewell to her pitying servants. The only thing she asks for -herself is to see the sun once more, and she tries to inspire this -selfish, posing, half-hearted husband with her own fortitude, as her -spirit “glides on light wing down the silent paths of sleep.” One -cannot help wondering if she never had a misgiving that the man who -could ask his wife to comfort him for his unspeakable misery in letting -her die for him was not worth dying for. But the Greek women had been -long trained in the school of passive suffering, and it never seemed -to occur to them that it was not quite in the nature of things for the -weaker half of the human family to have a monopoly of the sacrifices. -It was a part of their destiny; the gods so willed it. Men looked upon -it as a comfortable arrangement for themselves, that had good moral -results for women. To-day we are inclined to ask why a discipline that -is good for women, and tends toward their moral perfection, is not also -good for men, who have a like need of being perfected.</p> - -<p>But, in spite of rational theories, the world’s heart still thrills -to a generous emotion so overpowering as to drown all consideration -of self, whether or not it is faulty in its mundane wisdom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> or its -arithmetic. And this it is which casts so lasting a glamour over the -women who loom out of the twilight of that far-off time, in noble -proportions that dwarf the selfish, arrogant men with whom they are -mated. They rise to the dignity of goddesses in their divine pity and -courage, while the great Achilles, the masculine ideal of the Greeks, -weeps like a child, and sends a generation of men to sleep on the -plains of Troy, because he cannot have what he wishes.</p> - -<p>Yet it is in the minds of men that these women were conceived, and -it is impossible to suppose that they had not at least some faint -counterpart in real life, though possibly men, and women as well, are -apt to make ideals of what they think ought to be rather than of what -is. But why did the Greek poets cast such ridicule and dishonor upon -the sex which they have shown capable of such supreme devotion and such -exalted virtues?</p> - -<p>There is a touch of justice in the bitter scorn with which the blind -Œdipus speaks of his sons who</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -Keep house at home like maidens in their prime,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">while his daughters wear themselves to death for him and for his -sorrows.</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -No women they, but men in will to toil.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Perhaps Antigone is a trifle too coldly perfect, too faultlessly -wise—a tacit reflection upon every-day<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> human nature, that likes its -ease, and counts the cost of its renunciations. We look for a trace -of weakness, a warm burst of living tenderness. But duty is shy like -love, and chary of expression. “I do not love a friend who loves in -words,” is the cry of her steadfast soul. There she stands, in the -still majesty of a sorrow that lies too deep for tears, supreme among -the classic types of the world as a model of filial devotion. Cordelia, -true and loyal as she is, and tender at heart, does not approach her -in strength and dignity. But the duty of the Greek heroine does not -end with her father’s death. She lays down her life at last that the -false-hearted brother, who has given her no gentle consideration in -her days of helplessness and despair, may not lie unburied on the -plains of Thebes, and so wander without rest in Hades. She laments -the lost pleasures of living. No husband or children are to be hers. -Yet no enthusiasm of passion or romance tempers this “cold statue’s -fine-wrought grace.” The man she was to marry is secondary. Love, in -our sense, does not enter as a motive power into her life, but her -human need of sympathy is shown in a few pathetic words:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -And yet, of all my friends,<br /> -Not one bewails my fate;<br /> -No kindly tear is shed.<br /> -</p> - -<p>There are a few women of colossal wickedness who serve as foils, -or shadows in the picture. Their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> very sins are a part of the -overmastering strength that defies its hard limitations. “Of all -things, as many as have life and intellect, we women are the most -wretched race; we must first purchase a husband with excess of money, -then receive him as our lord,” is the bitter protest of the wronged -Medea, and the key-note to her tragical destiny. Clytemnestra says -that she has always been trained to obey, but she towers far above her -warrior husband in force as in crime. She resents his unfaithfulness; -she does not forgive him for the inhuman sacrifice of their innocent -daughter; she meets him on his own ground. It is appalling, the stern -and pitiless passion with which her untamed spirit, spurred on by the -white-hot hate which is often a great love reversed, tramples upon -every human impulse, and sweeps a whole race with her to destruction. -The clash of elemental forces is there, even though the responsibility -is shifted upon the gods, who use these frail mortals as blind -instruments in their inscrutable plans.</p> - -<p>But these monsters of crime are few, and seem to throw into stronger -relief the self-forgetful women who exalt their inferior position, -and bend their heads to the yoke with such stately dignity that they -seem to command even in obeying. For, in spite of the important part -assigned them in the world of affairs as well as at the fireside, -they are constantly reminded of their little worth. “Let not women<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> -counsel,” is the advice of men to the wisest of them.</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Woman, know</span><br /> -That silence is a woman’s noblest part,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">says the ill-tempered Ajax to his amiable wife. This gentle Tecmessa -wishes to die with him, for “Why should I wish to live if you are -dead?” He only tells her to mind her own affairs and be silent. -Telemachus orders his faithful mother not to meddle with men’s -business, but it was precisely because she did meddle with it, and -tried, by various simple arts, to bring order into the chaos men had -raised, that his royal father had any home to return to, or any kingdom -to leave to his ungracious son.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>So far as we can gather from Homer, women of the better sort had a -degree of consideration in the heroic age which they lost at a later -period. When men fought or tilled the soil, it was in the natural -order of things that they should stay at home to look after their -children and households. The division of duties was fair enough. In a -reign of brute force they needed protection, and though it was pretty -well settled that men were born to rule and women to be ruled, there -was evidently a great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> deal of pleasant companionship in family life. -Compared with the seclusion of the Oriental harem, the position of -these women was one of freedom, and it lasted to historic times. Their -supreme distinction was a moral one. Books they had not. Of literature -nothing was known beyond the verses and tales of wandering minstrels. -Art was little more than a handicraft. If men worked in marble or in -metal, women designed patterns for weaving and embroidery. Men had -not begun to put their thoughts or speculations into enduring form, -and women were not excluded from a large part of their lives. But -so perfectly did many of them realize the world’s ideal of feminine -virtues that we ask no more. They stand upon pedestals, like the -masterpieces of Greek sculpture, noble in their simplicity and lovely -in the repose of their surpassing strength.</p> - -<p>But the dramatists reflected in a thousand ways the altered spirit of -an age in which good women had no visible part. Their immortal heroines -are equally strong and instinct with vitality, though less simple and -of severer mold, but they are revered from afar as the goddesses were, -while real women are a target for abuse and ridicule. It is to no rare -and perishable beauty, no fleeting grace, no intellectual brilliancy, -that they owe their eternal charm, but to their moral greatness, their -strength of sacrifice. These exalted ideals, so bravely tender, so -patiently enduring, were the victims of adverse destiny<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> or of their -own devotion. But the world held for them no reward in the masculine -heart. There were many women in classic story who died for men, but -only one for whom men were willing to die, and this was Helen, whose -divine beauty appealed to the senses and the imagination. She was made -to be loved, to command; all others were made to serve. The Greeks -adored beauty; they lived in it, they created it. Here lay their -pride; here more than once they found their Nemesis. But virtue they -gave a place apart, as they did the wise Athena, who towered in golden -isolation over the Attic divinities. It had no share in the joy of -existence.</p> - -<p>Beneath the glad pæans of heroes we hear at intervals, across the ages, -the clear voices of women chanting a miserere in an undertone of sorrow -or despair. Doubtless the poets saw and felt the tragical side of their -lives, but tradition had the inevitability of fate, as it has had in -other times. They have given us great and lonely ideals of womanhood, -but a somber picture of the place held by living women in the Athenian -world.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Sappho">SAPPHO AND THE FIRST WOMAN’S CLUB</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img004"> - <img src="images/004.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big>· Golden Age of Lyric Poetry ·<br /> -· The Mythical and the Real Sappho ·<br /> -· Her Poems ·<br /> -· Contrast with Hebrew Singers ·<br /> -· Poet of Nature and Passion ·<br /> -· The First Woman’s Club ·<br /> -· Æolian and Doric Poetesses ·<br /> -· Honors to the Genius of Hellenic Women ·<br /></big> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img005"> - <img src="images/005.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>A woman and a poet; adored by men and loved by her own sex; artist, -singer, teacher, leader; an exile and an immortal—all this was the -Sappho who stood upon the heights twenty-five centuries ago and sang -the verses that thrilled the heart of the world. She lived in the -brilliant period when lyric poetry reached its zenith and was its -finest representative. Before her no woman had appeared in a distinctly -literary rôle, so far as we know. To-day she still stands supreme in -her own field.</p> - -<p>This “violet-crowned, pure, sweetly smiling Sappho,” who sang so -divinely, and vanished so theatrically from Leucadia’s “rock of woe,” -was long veiled in the mists of romance. The tragical<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> muse pictured in -flowing draperies, with a crown of laurel on her head and a lyre in her -hand, chanting her swan-song before cooling her heart of flame in the -blue sea at her feet, was as intangible to us as one of Fra Angelico’s -angels. She looked out of a land of mystery and shadows, with nothing -human about her save that she loved, and suffered, and died. “Do thou, -gentle Love, place wings beneath me as I fall, that I may not be the -reproach of the Leucadian waves,” is her pathetic prayer, and here she -fades from our sight.</p> - -<p>But it has been fairly settled that this romantic story was a dream; -that Phaon was only a mythical Adonis; that Sappho did not follow him -across the sea, did not die of love, and never took the fatal leap at -all. The sentimental tourist who sighs over her melancholy fate to-day, -as he passes the bare white cliffs of Santa Maura, so long consecrated -to tragedies of love and sorrow, pays his sympathetic tribute to a -phantom. She went to Sicily, it seems, but not for love. It is supposed -that she was exiled. There were political conspiracies for which men -were banished, and she may have written revolutionary songs. Possibly -she held too radical opinions on the privileges of her sex. But all -this is the purest surmise. In any case, her offense could not have -been a grave one, as she returned in a few years to Mytilene, where she -was adored by a fickle public as the glory of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> her native city, and -honored with altars and temples after her death. Her face was stamped -upon coins—“though she was a woman,” said Aristotle. The outlines are -clear and strong, with the virile quality so marked in most statues of -Greek women. She was also represented, with Alcæus, on a vase of the -next century, as not only beautiful, but tall and stately.</p> - -<p>A thousand years afterward a statue of her is said to have been one -of the ornaments of the gymnasium at Byzantium. But coin and bust and -statue give us many faces. Which was the real one? We are more familiar -with the ideal Sappho in the modern portrait in which Alma-Tadema has -so subtly caught the prophetic light of her soul, her eager intellect, -her unconscious grace, and the slumbering passion in her eloquent eyes.</p> - -<p>But recent critics tell us that even her beauty was a fiction of the -imagination. Does she not say of herself, in the burning lines of -Ovid, that she was brown and of low stature, though her name filled -all lands? Or was it the sweet humility of love that made her own -attractions seem to her slender and insufficient? She had been dead six -hundred years or so when Ovid wrote, and his knowledge could not have -been infallible.</p> - -<p>Men of her own time called her the “beautiful Sappho,” the “flower -of the graces,” and Greek<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> standards of beauty included height and -stateliness. Perhaps they were under the magic spell of her genius, and -indulged in glowing figures of speech. At all events, modern scholars -are more literal, and they have mostly decided that she was a small, -dark woman, of noble birth, who was early left a widow with one fair -daughter, “Cleïs, the beloved, with a form like a golden flower.” This -was also the name of her own mother. One of her brothers held the -honorable office of cup-bearer; the other went to Egypt, and, much to -the displeasure of his gifted sister, married a woman of more charms -than discretion, for whom he had paid a large ransom. This famous -beauty of Naucratis became very rich, and, possibly by way of atonement -for her sins, made a generous offering at the temple of Delphi. It -was even said that she immortalized herself by building the third -pyramid; but these tales, whether true or not, have been relegated to -the region of myths. We learn from Sappho herself that she quarreled -with her brother on account of this <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">mésalliance</i>. These are scant -materials on which to base a life, but they include about all the facts -we have of</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -That mighty songstress, whose unrivaled powers<br /> -Weave for the Muse a crown of deathless flowers.<br /> -</p> - -<p>We do not even know when or where or how she died, though epitaphs in -the strain of these flattering and prosaic lines are numerous.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> - -<p>If her personality is veiled to us, still less do we know what manner -of woman she was. The Attic comedians said unpleasant things about -her a century after she died, and no one lived who could dispute -them. Unfortunately, no infallible certificate of character can be -found to protect a name that has been only a historic memory two or -three thousand years. It is certain, however, that Æolian women had -an honored place in society and literature. They formed a center of -intellectual light in which the brilliant Sappho reigned supreme, and -it was no unusual thing to see them at banquets and festivals with -men. A well-born Athenian woman would have lost the rather illusory -privileges of her position by such freedom. She was decorously ignorant -and stayed at home. It was a foregone conclusion in Athens that a woman -who was educated and a poet could not be respectable, and if the facts -were against this conclusion, so much the worse for the facts.</p> - -<p>Hence it was quite natural that Sappho, who did not go into seclusion -or hide her light, should be decried by the satirists who had never -seen her. A hundred years had sufficed to dim the incidents of her -life, and left them free to invent any romance they chose. Her supposed -love-affairs were a fruitful theme. That men died before she was born, -or were born after she died, were impertinent details which were not -held to interfere in the least with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> their tender relations toward her. -It is true that she wrote with a pen dipped in fire, but poems and -tales of passion are not held even to-day as evidence against the fair -fame of the author, whatever might be thought of her good taste. The -Greek standards of morality were, at best, far from ours, and the frank -naturalism of that age would be likely to shock our sense of decorum. -But there is no indication that Sappho fell below these standards, and -there is much to show that she rose above them. “I love delicacy,” she -writes, “and for me love has the sun’s splendor and beauty.” Alcæus, -her fellow-poet and rival, addresses her as “pure, sweetly smiling -Sappho.” When he grows too ardent in his love, she rebukes him with -gentle dignity: “Hadst thou felt desire for things good or noble, and -had not thy tongue framed some evil speech, shame had not filled thine -eyes, but thou hadst spoken honestly about it.” And why did she feel -her brother’s disgrace so keenly if her own life was open to reproach?</p> - -<p>We gather from herself that she was simple, amiable, and sunny, -with a Greek love of life and all that pertains to it. “I am not of -revengeful temper,” she says, “but have a childlike mind.” To this -naïve confession she adds a choice bit of wisdom: “When anger spreads -through the breast, guard thy tongue from barking idly.” She tells her -daughter not to mourn for her, as “a poet’s home is not a fit place -for lamentation.” In the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> spirit of her age and race, she insists that -“death is an evil; the gods have so judged; had it been good, they -would die.”</p> - -<p>Whatever her character and personal history may have been, we know that -she wrote perfect lyrics with the spark of immortality in them, and -gathered about her in the sunny island of Lesbos a circle of educated -women who devoted themselves to the study of music, poetry, and the -arts of refined living. Her genius has been recognized by poets, -philosophers, and critics, as well as by simpler people who felt in her -verse the “touch of nature” that “makes the whole world kin.” She was -the “divine Muse” of Plato, and shared the lyric throne with Pindar. -Aristotle quoted her, and the austere Solon was so charmed with one -of her odes that he said he could not die until he had learned it. -Strabo writes that “at no period on record has any woman been known who -compared with her in the least degree as a poet.” Horace and Catullus -imitated her, Ovid paraphrased her, but no one has caught the essence -of her fiery spirit. Plutarch likens her to the “heart of a volcano.” -Longinus called her celebrated ode, “not a passion, but a congress of -passions.” Modern men have tried to put her golden-winged, fire-tipped -words into another tongue, and turned with despair from the task. It is -like trying to seize the light that blazes in the heart of the diamond, -or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> the fiery tints that hide in the opal. Perhaps Swinburne has best -caught the spirit and the music of</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -Songs that move the heart of the shaken heaven,<br /> -Songs that break the heart of the earth with pity.<br /> -</p> - -<p>But even this exquisite artist in words says: “Where Catullus failed I -could not hope to succeed.”</p> - -<p>There were nine volumes of her works in the days of Horace. To-day -scarcely more than two hundred lines survive. Besides the two immortal -odes, we have only fragments, gems scattered here and there through the -writers of antiquity. To the everlasting discredit of an ignorant and -fanatical age, the fathers denounced her, and the Byzantine emperors -or the ascetic monks of a later time burned these so-called relics of -paganism, to supply their place with books of devotion and lives of the -saints. When the Hellenic spirit woke again, after a sleep of more than -a thousand years, it was too late. These poems had perished with many -monumental works of the intellect, and scholars thought their lives -well spent if they found a line or two from the lost treasures.</p> - -<p>But what was the life from which Sappho sprang, that she could reach -the topmost bough of fame at a single flight? The lucid note, the -tropical passion, the musical flow—these nature might give;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> but where -did she learn the fine sense of proportion, the perfection of metrical -form, the mastery of the secrets of language, which placed her at the -head of the lyric poets of Greece? The voices which might have told us -are silent. Sparta was making heroic men and women, not literature. -Athens was struggling through her stormy youth, and pluming her wings -for the highest flight of all. The great Hebrew poetry was contemporary -with Sappho, but she shows no trace of its influence. If she ever saw -or heard it, her spirit was utterly alien to it. Still less had she -in common with the inspired woman who led the armies of Israel to -victory, six or seven centuries before, and chanted in stately measure -the immortal song of their triumphs. It may be noted here that it -was a woman who fired the hearts of these wandering people to brave -deeds, when men drew back, timid and disheartened; it was a woman who -went before them into battle; and it was a woman who broke into that -impassioned poem which has come down to us across the ages as one of -the great martial hymns of the world. But Deborah, the soldier, poet, -prophetess, judge, and minstrel, never walked in the flowery paths of -beauty and love. Her virile soul rose on the wings of a sublime faith, -far above the things of sense. Behind that chorus of joy and exultation -lay the long-baffled hopes, aspirations, and energies of an oppressed -people, but it celebrated the apotheosis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> of force. It was a barbaric -song, wild and revengeful even in its splendid imagery and patriotic -fervor. Miriam took her timbrel, and sang in the same strain of power -and majesty, inspired by the same soaring imagination. But we find -no touch of a woman’s pity or tenderness in these pæans of victory. -Their note is strong and exultant, alive with the lofty enthusiasm of -a religious race in which the passion for art and beauty was not yet -born. Sappho had caught nothing from these singers of an earlier time. -She does not live in the bracing air of great ideals, nor does she -dwell upon any vexed moral problems, after the manner of later poets. -She is simply human, and strikes a personal note, the charm of which is -unfailing, and will be fresh as long as flowers bloom, or men and women -live and love.</p> - -<p>This sweet-voiced singer seems to have risen full-fledged with the -dawn, and her notes were liquid and clear as the song of the lark that -soars out of the morning mists, and makes the sky vocal with melody. -The freshness of the woods and the wild freedom of the air are in -them. She loves the flowers, the running streams, the silver moon, -the “golden-sandaled dawn,” the “dear, glad angel of the spring, the -nightingale.” Hesperus, fairest of stars, “brings all that bright -morning scattered,” and smiles on “dark-eyed sleep, child of night.” -Again she says, “The stars about the fair moon hide their bright faces -when she lights up all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> earth with silver.” Was it the music of -her voice that the doves heard “when their hearts turned cold and they -dropped their wings”? She sings the praise of the purple hyacinth, the -blushing apple-blossom, and the pale Lesbian rose, which she loves -best of all. Dica is bidden to twine wreaths, “for even the blessed -Graces look kindlier on a flowery sacrifice, and turn their faces -from those who lack garlands.” In the garden of the nymphs, “the cool -water gurgles through apple-boughs, and slumber streams from quivering -leaves.” To this passionate love of nature, so vividly told in rare and -exquisite figures and in phrases “shot with a thousand hues,” she adds -a sensibility that responds to every breath that passes. “I flutter -like a child after her mother,” is her cry. She likens a bird to a -flower that grows in a garden and has nothing to fear from the storms. -A woman alone is like a wild flower which no one takes care of. She -touches every phase of love from the divine tenderness of girlhood to -the wild passion that shakes the soul, “a wind on the mountains falling -on oaks.” Her words flash and burn with the heart-consuming fire of -her race. The lines in which she entreats the “star-throned Aphrodite” -to have pity on her anguish, glow with a white heat. The swift-winged -doves had brought the fickle goddess once before to soothe her pain -with sweet promises and an immortal smile. Will she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> not come again and -lift the ache from her tortured soul, and give her what she asks?</p> - -<p>The intensity of passion reaches its climax in the ode to Anactoria. -Simple as it is, the vocabulary of “bitter-sweet” emotion is exhausted. -In her most impassioned verses, our own Mrs. Browning does not quite -forget to reflect about her love. She sets it forth in subtly woven -thoughts, and lets it filter through her mind until it takes the -color of it. Sappho sings of passion pure and artless. She does not -think about it, she does not analyze it. It possesses her heart -and imagination, and she tells it so simply, so sincerely, and so -truly, that the familiar story never loses its charm. She sang in the -childhood of the world, when people felt more than they thought, when -love was a sensation, a joy, a passion, a pain, not a sentiment. If she -did not spiritualize her theme, she purified it of the coarseness which -made the love-songs of men, before and afterward, unfit for a delicate -ear. This first touch of a woman in literature was to refine it, though -it was many centuries before she had the power to lead men to take love -from the exclusive domain of the senses and give it a soul.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>But it is not alone as a singer that Sappho has come down to us. She -was the leader of an intellectual<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> movement among women that was -without a parallel in classic times. We may greet her as not only the -first of woman poets, but as the founder of the first “woman’s club” -known to us. It is not certain that it had either a constitution or -by-laws, and it discussed poetry and esthetics instead of science and -social economics. But the measure of the intellect is not so much what -we discuss as the quality of thought we bring into the discussion. It -is easy enough to talk platitudes about literature or philosophy, and -not so easy as one might imagine to talk wisely and well about poetry, -or manners, or the art of living; and it is easier to do any of these -things than it is to write what is worth talking about. The women who -came to Sappho from the isles of the Ægean and the far hills of Greece -seem to have been more intent upon writing poems than talking about -them. There is no trace of brilliant conversation, or critical papers, -or gathered sheaves of the knowledge that comes so freely under our own -hand. Unfortunately, there was no secretary in this primitive club to -take notes for posterity, or, if there was, the records have been lost. -We know little of its sayings, though there are scattered traces of its -doings. A few faint echoes have come to us across the centuries,—a -verse, a line, a trait, a word, a heart-cry,—and that is all. Even -these give us glimpses of its personal rather than of its intellectual -side. Of the quality of its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> work we cannot judge, as there is little -of it left. That it was thought worthy of praise in its day, with -Sappho as a standard, proves at least a high degree of merit. She was -musician as well as poet, and trained many of the maidens for singing -in sacred festivals, as well as in the arts of poetry and manners. -When they married, she wrote their bridal odes. These she sang with -the lyre, and one of her minor claims to fame was her invention of the -plectrum, which brought out the full resources of this instrument. -For Timas, who died unmarried, she wrote a touching elegy, which was -sung at her tomb by the maidens, who cut off their curls as a token of -sorrow.</p> - -<p>The most gifted of Sappho’s friends was Erinna, who died at nineteen, -leaving among other things a poem of three hundred verses, which was -said to deserve a place beside the epics of Homer. She sang of the -sorrows of a maiden whose mother compelled her to spin when she wished -to serve the Muses. There is also a tradition that she wrote an epitaph -for a companion of “birth and lineage high,” who died on her wedding -day, and “changed bridal songs to sound of sob and tear.” She was -thought to surpass her teacher in hexameters. Sappho reproved her for -being so scornful, and this is all the trait we have of this precocious -child of genius, who preferred poetry to spinning. Her own epitaph -speaks for itself:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -These are Erinna’s songs; how sweet, though slight!<br /> -For she was but a girl of nineteen years.<br /> -Yet stronger far than what most men can write:<br /> -Had death delayed, whose fame had equaled hers?<br /> -</p> - -<p>The only thing about Andromeda of which we are sure is that she dressed -badly. “What woman ever charmed thy mind who wore a graceless dress, or -did not know how to draw her garments about her ankles?” says Sappho -to this formidable rival who stole away from her the fickle heart of -Atthis. Of the brilliant Gorgo she grew tired. It is supposed that -these two were at the head of other clubs or schools. Damophyla wrote a -hymn to Artemis, the patron goddess of pure-souled maidens, which was -modeled after Sappho and had great praise in its day, but no fragment -of it is left.</p> - -<p>“The fair-haired Lesbian,” so famed as the poet of nature and passion, -was not without a wise philosophy of life, and she assumes the rôle -of mentor with pitiless candor. “He who is fair to look upon is -good, and he who is good will soon be fair,” is her motto; but she -tells Mnasidica that her “gloomy temper spoils her, though she has a -more beautiful form than the tender Gyrinna.” Her house is devoted -to the service of the Muses and must be cheerful, but she shuts out -of an honorable immortality those who prefer worldly fortune to the -pleasures of the intellect. To a rich woman without education she -says: “Where thou diest there wilt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> thou lie, and no one will remember -thy name in times to come, because thou hast no share in the roses of -Pieria. Inglorious wilt thou wander about in Hades and flit among its -dark shades.” She does not forget the finer graces of character, and -evidently realizes the insidious fascination of material things. A -moralist of to-day might be expected to tell us that “wealth without -virtue is a dangerous guest,” but we are not apt to credit the gifted -singers of the ancient world with so much ethical insight, least of all -the women of a sensuous and passionate race, which loved before all -things beauty and the pleasures of life.</p> - -<p>These few touches of wisdom, satire, and criticism, relieved by the -love of Sappho for the friends and pupils to whom she is a model, an -adviser, and an inspiration, throw a passing side-light on a group -of clever women who flit like phantoms across the pages of history, -most of them names and nothing more. They are of interest in showing -us that the women of ages ago had the same aspirations that we have -to-day, together with the same faults, the same virtues, and the same -griefs, though they had not learned to moralize their sensations or -intellectualize their passions. They show us, too, another phase of -the elusive being who dazzled the world in its youth, leaving a few -records traced in flame, and charged with an ever-baffling secret for -all coming generations.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> - -<p>“Men, I think, will remember us hereafter,” she says with subtle -foresight, a line that Swinburne has so gracefully expanded in words -taken in part from her own lips:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -I, Sappho, shall be one with all these things,<br /> -With all high things forever; and my face<br /> -Seen once, my songs once heard in a strange place,<br /> -Cleave to men’s lives, and waste the days thereof<br /> -With gladness and much sadness and long love.<br /> -</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>The little coterie that wrote and talked and worked in the direction -of finer ideals of life and manners, under the influence of the first -woman poet of the world, has made the island of Lesbos, with its -varying charm of sea and sky, and beautiful gardens, and singing birds, -and sparkling fountains, and white cliffs outlined like sculpture in -the crystalline air, luminous for all time. Of its four more or less -famous poets, three were women, but Sappho has overshadowed all the -rest. The very atmosphere woke the imagination, and made their hearts -sing aloud with love and joy, varied by an occasional note of sorrow -and pain. They came from all lands, these gifted maidens, to sit at the -feet of Sappho, and to carry back to their distant homes the spirit of -poesy and song which inspired so many Hellenic women to brave deeds -as well as to tender and heroic words. But the passion of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> southern -seas became a religious enthusiasm in the sheltered and somber plains -of Bœotia, where the lives of women had been so bare and hard, and -Hesiod with his fellow-poets had given them such cold consolation. The -songs of love were turned to processional hymns chanted by white-robed -virgins as they brought offerings to the shrines of their gods.</p> - -<p>It may have been the fame of Sappho that fired the genius of Myrtis -and Corinna. Possibly some dark-eyed maiden had come back from Lesbos -to spread the cult of knowledge and beauty, to found other esthetic -clubs which should give a new impulse to women’s lives. But when we try -to give a living form to these famous poets, we grasp at shadows. We -simply know that they lived and sang and had their little day of glory, -with grand tombs at the end, and statues in various parts of Greece. -They were teachers of Pindar, and Corinna is said to have defeated him -five times in poetic contests at Thebes. Several centuries later there -was still at Tanagra a picture representing her in the act of binding a -fillet about her beautiful head, probably in token of these victories. -Five crowns on her tomb also told the story. She was the friend and -critic of the great lyric poet, but he said some unkind things of his -successful rival, and insisted that the prize was due to her beauty -rather than her genius. In spite of this, he went to her for counsel. -She had advised him to use the Greek<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> myths in his poems, and he did -it so lavishly that she wittily told him to “sow with the hand and not -pour out of a sack.” She was not quite generous, however, to her other -friend, who also won a prize in the same manner. She says, “I blame -the clear-toned Myrtis that she, a woman born, should enter the lists -with Pindar.” Why it was not proper for a sister poet who had taught -both of them to do what she did herself, is not clear. She was called -the first of the nine lyrical muses, who were the earthly counterparts -of the “celestial nine.” Myrtis was another. As the immortal Maids -who dwelt on the slopes of Helicon were apt to visit their rivals -with summary vengeance of much more serious character, perhaps their -mortal representatives ought to be forgiven for a shade of jealousy so -delicately implied.</p> - -<p>Corinna left five books of poems, but small trace of them remains. Many -of her verses were sung by maidens at religious festivals. Her modest -niche in the temple of fame she owes mainly to her victories over -Pindar, though she was second only to Sappho. Why her work, which was -crowned with so many laurels, has not lived beside his, is one of the -mysteries of buried ages. Perhaps it was because she made use of purely -local legends and the local dialect, to which many thought she owed her -success in her own day.</p> - -<p>This wave of feminine genius that passed over the hills and valleys of -Greece spent itself in little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> more than a century on Doric soil. The -last of the lyrical muses were Praxilla and Telesilla. We have a faint -glimpse of the first at Sicyon, where she lived, and ancient critics -gave her a place by the side of Anacreon. She drew her inspiration -largely from mythology, and sang successfully on that favorite theme -of poetic maidens, the death of Adonis. In the most critical age of -Greece she was honored with a statue by Lysippus, which may be taken as -sufficient proof that she was much more than a writer of sentimental -verses.</p> - -<p>More noted was Telesilla, the poet and heroine of Argos, an antique -Joan of Arc, whose exaltation took a poetic form instead of a religious -one. A curious little story, mythical or otherwise, is related of -her. She was very ill and consulted the oracle, which told her to -devote herself to the Muses. This species of mind-cure proved more -effective than medicine, and she recovered under the magic of music -and poetry. But she had the spirit of an Amazon as well as the genius -of a poet. At a crisis in the war with Sparta, she armed the women, -and manned the walls with slaves too young or too old to fight. The -Spartans thought it discreditable to kill the women, and disgraceful -to be beaten by them, so they retreated. The event was commemorated -by an annual festival at which men appeared in feminine attire. Many -centuries afterward a statue of Telesilla was still standing on a -pillar in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> front of the temple of Aphrodite at Argos. She held in her -hand a helmet which she was about to put on her head, and several -volumes of poetry were lying at her feet. Among her themes were the -fated daughters of the weeping Niobe; she also wrote famous hymns to -Artemis and Apollo. In spite of her allegiance to the Muses, she was -more conspicuous for her service to Ares, who was henceforth worshiped -at Argos as the patron deity of women.</p> - -<p>The poetry of the Æolians was largely inspired by love, or a religion -of beauty. But the Doric genius was not a lyrical one, and the -passionate personal note which made the charm of Sappho and her -contemporaries was lost in stirring martial strains. Women ceased to -write or to be known at all in literature until a later time, when they -dipped into philosophy a little, especially in the Dorian colonies, -where they were educated and held in great consideration. Pythagoras -had many feminine followers, and his school at Crotona was continued -after his death by his wife Theano and a daughter who had assisted him. -But most of them live, if at all, only as names, or in the reflected -light of famous men whose disciples they were.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>At no other time in the history of the world has the poetry of women -reached the height or the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> honor it attained in this first flowering of -their intellect and imagination. One may doubtless take with a shade of -reservation the “female Homers,” like Anyta, of whom we have only a few -epigrams, but there is a dim and rather vague tradition of seventy-six -women poets in a scattered and by no means large population. In the -revival of poetry during the Renaissance, there were about sixty, -and none of them had the same quality of perfection which we find -in Sappho. No one claims that we have equaled her to-day on her own -ground, however superior our achievements may be in other directions.</p> - -<p>That the Æolian women did so much with so little, and in spite of their -limited advantages, is the best proof of their inborn gifts. Mediocre -talents do not thrive in so adverse a soil, though this outburst of -mental vigor belongs to a time when women had a degree of freedom and -honor which for some reason they lost in the golden age of Athens. -But the books they wrote were not printed, the manuscript copies were -limited, most of them were lost with other classic works, and the few -that escaped the pitiless fingers of time were destroyed by fanatics -and iconoclasts. Yet one woman shines across twenty-five centuries as a -star of the first magnitude, and we have fading glimpses of others who -received honors due only to genius, or to talent of the first order. -They were not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> judged apart as women, for they have come down to us as -peers of great men. The divine gift of genius was rare then, as now -and always, but even in women it did not lack recognition. To prove -the gift and exact the homage, perhaps in any age, we have simply to -show the fruit, except in a decadence, when the finest fruit loses its -savor for corrupted tastes. If the number who wrote for immortality was -small, it must be remembered that probably there were not enough people -in all Greece to make a good-sized modern city.</p> - -<p>The statues that were reared to these women have long since vanished -from the classic hills they graced, and their voices are heard only -in the faintest of musical echoes. Most of them have fallen into -eternal silence. That there were many others devoted to things of -the intellect, but unknown to fame, it is fair to presume, as we see -only those who look back upon us from the shining peaks of that far -past, while the dark waters of oblivion have settled over the possible -treasures of its sunny slopes and fragrant valleys. How many of our -own women, with their myriads of books, lectures, and clubs, their -university courses, their versatile intellects, and their unlimited -freedom, are likely to be quoted two or three thousand years hence, and -set in the firmament to live forever?</p> - -<p>To be sure, we stand upon a higher moral and social level, we have -more knowledge, our field of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> action is broader, our ideals of virtue -are higher, and we have privileges and pleasures of which they never -dreamed. It is quite impossible to put ourselves on the simple plane of -these women. The world has grown old and sophisticated; we have learned -to classify ourselves, to choose our fields of knowledge, to consecrate -our talents to what we call larger uses. Perhaps we never again can -reach the lyrical heights of these children of passion, imagination, -and song. Our triumphs are of another sort. But whatever intellectual -distinctions we may attain, it is to this youth of the world that we -must look for the apotheosis of love and beauty.</p> - -<p>It is needless to ask why we can point to no second Sappho. There is -but one Parthenon. Broken and crumbling, it stands in its white majesty -forever alone. The Hellenic spirit is as dead as the gods of Olympus.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Glimpses">GLIMPSES OF THE SPARTAN WOMAN</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img006"> - <img src="images/006.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· Homeric and Spartan Types Compared ·<br /> -· Training of the Spartan Woman ·<br /> -· Her Education Superior to that of Men ·<br /> -· Her Executive Talent ·<br /> -· Her Heroism ·<br /> -· Agesistrata Cratesiclea Chelonis ·<br /> -· The Puritans of the Classic World ·<br /></big> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img007"> - <img src="images/007.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - - -<p>The strength and vigor of the Homeric types reappear in the Spartan -woman, but without their sweetness and charm. Was this charm the subtle -touch of the poet’s imagination, or was it due in part to the setting -that brought into relief their most lovable qualities? Their central -point of character was a domestic one, and round this clustered all the -gentler virtues. The central trait of the Spartan woman was patriotism, -and to this even the tenderest affections were subordinate. The colder -light of history shows them in outlines that are hard and stern. The -fine symmetry of an ideal womanhood was lost in the excess of a single -virtue that overshadowed all the others. Some one tells a mother who is -waiting for tidings of a battle that her five sons have perished. “You -contemptible slave,” she replies, “that is not what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> I wish to know. -How fares my country?” On learning that it was victorious, she says, -“Willingly then do I hear of the death of my sons.” “A glorious fate!” -exclaims another, to a friend who offered her sympathy for the loss of -her boy in war. “Did I not bear him that he might die for Sparta?” Here -lay the first and last duty of these women. Natural affection, private -interest, inclination, everything we deem sacred, even to life, was -at the bidding of the State, which strangled itself and its citizens -with petty tyrannies in the name of liberty. They were dedicated to the -State, ordered to rear men for the State, sacrificed to the State. This -destiny they accepted without a murmur, finding in it their glory and -their pride.</p> - -<p>Even as children the Spartan women caught the spirit of civic devotion, -which was to be the dominant one in their lives. An anecdote in point -is told of the little Gorgo, who was afterward the wife of the brave -Leonidas. When a child of eight years, she happened to be in the room -one day while a messenger was trying to bribe her father to aid the -Persians. He offered ten talents at first, and gradually raised the -sum until the child, suspecting danger, said: “Go away, father; this -stranger will corrupt you.” It is pleasant to record that her advice -was laughingly taken. When she was grown to womanhood, she rendered -great service to her country, and proved her own sagacity,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> by finding -a message of vital concern so concealed in a wax tablet that no one had -suspected it. “You Lacedæmonians are the only women in the world to -rule men,” said a foreigner to her. “We are the only women who bring -forth men,” was the ready reply. When her distinguished husband went -away to his last battle, with forebodings of his fate, he could find -no better parting words than these: “Marry nobly and bear brave sons.” -We might regard the consolation as questionable, but it shows the -inexorable tyranny of a single idea.</p> - -<p>It was from Sparta that the beautiful Helen sailed away on that fateful -day which changed the face of the primitive world, and the tradition -of her loveliness was not lost. The Spartan women were still noted for -beauty of a healthy, vigorous, luxuriant sort, but it seems to have -lacked the distinctly feminine and magical quality that raised Helen to -the ranks of the goddesses. They were of firmer mold and less sensuous -type. Aphrodite fared badly among the sturdy people in the valley of -the Eurotas. She had but one temple, and even there she sat armed with -a sword and veiled, with ignominious fetters on her feet. Artemis, -active, fleet of foot, and strong, held the place of honor. Delicacy -and tenderness were marks of inferiority which Spartan training tended -to efface. These brave, decided, clear-headed, and efficient women had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> -abundant heroism, but little of the warm, sympathetic temperament which -we call womanly and they called weak. This goes far to prove that, -within certain limits, the accepted standard of what is womanly, and -what is not, depends largely upon custom, or fashion, or expediency, -and suggests some unpleasant possibilities if the race of women should -be fully educated to the hard uses and material ideals of a purely -industrial or commercial life, as outlined in the brains of many -modern social reformers. Such uses may be a present necessity rather -than a choice, but whether the gain in strength and independence will -compensate for the inevitable loss of many gentler qualities is one of -the problems for the future to solve. In any case, the old theory of a -divine law that has fixed the nature as well as the status of women in -the economy of creation, is likely to be seriously disturbed, as it was -in the Sparta of old. In the martial chorus that called itself the song -of liberty, the musical, love-inspired voices of women were lost. It -celebrated the apotheosis of force, which has always been fatal to the -finer and more spiritual gifts of the less militant sex. But for once -it served them indirectly a good turn, in spite of certain hardening -effects upon the character and manners. This is quite evident when we -compare the Doric woman with the secluded Athenian of softer ways but -with no outlet for her intelligence, and apparently no influence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p> - -<p>Fortunately the supreme aim of the founders of Sparta was one which -they were wise enough to know could not be attained without a larger -freedom and development for women. It was a one-sided training that -was given them, and the freedom was not altogether satisfactory from -our point of view, if indeed we should call it freedom at all. But as -an important factor in the State they were duly honored. It was an -accepted theory that brave and vigorous men must spring from brave and -vigorous women, so the aim of all their discipline was to make strong -and healthy mothers. No delicate girl was allowed to marry, for the -same reason that no sickly child was allowed to live. To insure the -vitality of the race and the consequent glory of the State, girls were -trained with boys in athletic exercises. They ran, wrestled, and boxed -with them in public,—sometimes with no veil but their modesty,—danced -with them at festivals, and marched freely with them in religious -processions. All this naturally gave them masculine manners, and -inevitably led to a spirit of independence and a virile character. The -more refined Athenians criticized them and looked upon them much as the -conventional Parisian of to-day, who will not send a daughter across -the street without a chaperon, looks upon the irrepressible American -girl of the frontier. Contrary also to the usual fashion, it was the -maidens who had the privilege of living in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> the public view. They did -not even veil their faces, as the married women did.</p> - -<p>With all their mannish tendencies, the Spartan women are said to have -been noted for purity of character. It is safe perhaps to take with -a degree of reservation the assertion that immorality according to -their standards was practically unknown. We might at least justly find -fault with the standards, and object to the material view taken of -relations which we are in the habit of investing with a delicate halo -of romance. It was an affair of the State, however, rather than of the -individual, and it is a nice point to decide as to the morality of -women who accepted from necessity certain prescribed modes of living -in which they had no choice. So peculiar were the general notions of -decorum that it was considered disgraceful for a bridegroom to be -seen in the company of his wife; yet he could exchange her at will -or at the command of the rulers, and jealousy was laughed at as a -“vain and womanish passion.” But it was the pride of the Spartans -that no invasion of the sanctity of the home was ever heard of! They -excused themselves for what we should call moral delinquencies of the -worst sort—if indeed they thought any excuse needed, which is not -probable—by the convenient maxim that the end justifies the means. The -interests of the State were above any moral law whatever. No doubt the -arbitrary manner in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> which women were often disposed of for the public -good, or at the caprice of their lords, seemed to them a better sort of -fate than living in seclusion, as their Attic sisters did, under the -roof of a man who gave them no liberty, and no society, not even his -own. They certainly were not troubled with an excess of sentiment; but -marriages were, on the whole, happy, and love was often a factor in -them, which was rarely the case among their more civilized neighbors. -It was not in the nature of these practical people to look at things -from an esthetic point of view. Their notions were confessedly -utilitarian. To-day we should call many of them scientific. Happily, -modern science has not yet meddled quite so far with the rights of the -individual, though clearly headed in that direction.</p> - -<p>If the Spartan woman did not relish such cavalier treatment, she had -the small comfort of knowing that men were not free themselves, and -that really, on the whole, she had the best of it. “The door of his -court is the boundary of every man’s freedom,” was a Lacedæmonian -maxim. Outside of it, all of his movements were controlled by the -State. In this paradise of socialism, he was punished for not marrying, -for waiting too long, and for marrying the wrong woman, that is, one -who was too old, or too young, or too rich, or too far above or below -him in station. Archidamus, one of their rulers, was fined for marrying -a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> woman, because she would “bring them a race of pygmies -instead of kings.” There were special penalties for those who sought -money instead of merit and suitability. The fortune-hunter fared badly -in Sparta. We have grown civilized and changed all that. A man suffered -his penalty for remaining single, even if he were a coward whom no one -was permitted to marry, which seems doubly hard. The poor bachelors -who would not or could not take a wife, were stripped and marched in a -procession about the market-place on a cold day once a year, as a fit -target for ridicule and contempt, not to say more tangible missiles. -If any woman had a private grudge, she might vent it with impunity, -even to blows, while the unfortunate victim was forced to chant his -own miserere. Maiden ladies of mature age were rare among the hills of -Lacedæmon.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding the low ideals which would seem to have reduced the -women of Sparta to the position of useful animals, valued solely for -their physical vigor and fitness to be mothers of a hardy race, they -evidently constituted a leisure class which had a monopoly of whatever -learning and refinement were to be found there. They lived in such -comfort as they could command, while their husbands slept on cold beds -of reeds, dined on black bread and coarse rations at the public table, -and practised every form of asceticism to fit themselves<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> for war. -Their sons were taken from them at seven, to be put under the training -of men and subjected to the same stern discipline. The spinning, -weaving, and other work of the family was given to slaves, so that -the privileges of luxury and idleness fell to the women alone. They -came and went as they chose, and were even thought to have intellects -worth cultivating. Men looked upon literary and artistic pursuits as -effeminate. A Spartan king replied to some one who brought to his -notice the greatest musician of his time, by pointing to his cook -as the best maker of black broth. This social Utopia in which the -individual was lost in the mass, and no one could safely be superior to -his neighbor, was the blessed haven of mediocrity and what we should -call indolence. War was the only honorable business; even trade and -the mechanic arts were left to slaves. A Spartan visiting Athens was -much disturbed on hearing that a man had been fined for idleness, and -naïvely asked to see one who was punished for keeping up his dignity. -Life was materialized, and all fine ideals were destroyed save the -single one of national glory, for which they willingly stifled personal -feeling and personal talent. Things of the intellect and spirit were -quite ignored.</p> - -<p>But the Doric women had to some extent the tastes of the Æolians, -and were as a rule far better educated than their husbands. We hear -of clubs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> or associations of women for the cultivation of the mind, -and for teaching girls after the fashion of the time. In music -they excelled. Aristophanes introduces in “Lysistrata” choruses of -Spartan and Athenian maidens who sing in friendly rivalry. Many of -the <i>parthenia</i>, or processional hymns, were written by foreign -poets for these young girls, whose spiritual aspirations found vent in -that way. They did not give voice to personal emotions, but to great -religious or patriotic enthusiasms.</p> - -<p>Whatever education may have been given to women, it is not likely that -their intellectual standards were very broad or very high; at least, -we have no visible evidence of it, as we find no living trace of their -talents for some centuries after the brief poetic flowering that -followed Sappho, and even then not in Sparta. It was among the Dorians -of a later time, and mainly in the colonies, that the feminine taste -for literature revived, but it took a didactic or philosophical form, -and they wrote in prose.</p> - -<p>The talent of the Spartan women was largely executive, and they were -noted for judgment, as well as for heroism. As nurses they were in -great demand in other parts of Greece. A strong proof of their gifts -of administration is found in the fact that they had equal rights of -inheritance with men, and came in time to own two fifths of the land -and a large share of the personal property. This gave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> them a dignity -and influence not accorded to their sex elsewhere. Aristotle did not -like their freedom and power. He claimed that they ruled their husbands -too imperiously; also, that they were liable to be troublesome in times -of war, as it was impossible to bring them under military discipline. -If they ruled the rulers, he thought that the results would be the -same as if they ruled in their own right. Plutarch tells us that “the -Spartans listened to their wives, and women were permitted to meddle -more with public business than men with the domestic.” Again he says -that “women considered themselves absolute mistresses in their houses; -indeed, they wanted a share in affairs of State, and delivered their -opinions with great freedom concerning the most weighty matters.” But -freedom is relative, and a little of it goes a great way where there -has been, as a rule, none at all. It does not seem that any fears on -this subject were realized, as their influence, so far as we know, was -conservative, and they were subordinate in theory if not always in -fact. “When I was a girl I was taught to obey my father, and I obeyed -him,” said a woman, when asked to do something of doubtful propriety; -“and when I became a wife I obeyed my husband; if you have anything -just to urge, make it known to him first.” A clever if not very -chivalrous writer of the time says: “It becomes a man to talk much, and -a woman to rejoice in all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> she hears”—a comfortable arrangement for -dull husbands, who would be sure at least of an appreciative audience -at home.</p> - -<p>But we find instances of heroic devotion among these hardy women, -for which we look in vain among the ignorant and secluded wives of -Athens. It is a pity that Plutarch did not give some of them a distinct -place in his gallery of celebrities. He had a superior wife himself, -a well-bred woman of dignity, tenderness, great mental vigor, simple -taste, and distinguished virtues, who was above the vanities of her -time, and bore sorrow like a philosopher. He loved her devotedly, -praised her fortitude, and admired her strength. This perhaps accounts -for the fact that he was kindly disposed toward women in general, and -thought that their fame should be known, since love of glory was not -confined to one sex. But if he did not set them on a pinnacle of their -own, he has shown us by various anecdotes that they could counsel -like seers and die like heroes. In the decline of Sparta, when Agis -planned to restore the old simplicity it had lost with the coming of -luxury and foreign ways, he asked the aid of his mother, the brave -Agesistrata, a woman of great wealth and influence. She thought the -division of property he proposed neither wise nor practicable, and -advised him against it. But when she found his heart set upon it as a -means of winning glory, as well as bringing back the people<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> to virtue -and simpler manners, she consented not only to give up her own great -fortune, but to induce others to join her. As the wealth of Sparta was -largely in the hands of women who were less disinterested and did not -care to lose either their luxuries or their power, this socialistic -movement failed, and its self-sacrificing leaders were put to death. -When Agesistrata was led into the prison to see her son, he lay -strangled before her. She tenderly placed her own dead mother by his -side, and baring her neck with calm dignity, said: “May this prove for -the good of Sparta.”</p> - -<p>In the second attempt to restore the prestige of the falling State, -Cratesiclea rivals the great heroines of the dramatists in her noble -self-surrender. Ptolemy demanded, as the price of his alliance, that -Cleomenes should send his mother and son to Egypt as hostages. When she -heard of it she smilingly said: “Was this the thing you have so long -hesitated to tell me? Send this body of mine at once where it will be -of the most use to Sparta, before age renders it good for nothing.” -She went without tears, saying that no one must see them weep. Finding -afterward that the king was hampered by the fear that some ill might -befall them, she sent him word to do what was best, and never mind what -became of an old woman and a little child. This enterprise, too, was a -futile one, but the women who had inspired men with their own courage -and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> devotion died as bravely as they had lived. It is a touching scene -where the young and beautiful wife of Panteus pays the last offices to -her dead friends, then, folding her robe modestly about her, tranquilly -tells the executioner to do his work.</p> - -<p>“In women too there lives the strength of battle,” says Sophocles, and -nowhere could he have found such heroic examples as among the rugged -hills of Sparta. Out of such material, Antigones and Iphigenias are -created.</p> - -<p>Beneath a discipline of the affections so severe that it seems as -if they must have been crushed altogether, we sometimes fall upon -unsuspected depths of tenderness. Chelonis left her husband in his -day of power, to care for her father, who had been deposed and was -in disgrace and need. When the political tables were turned, and her -father was again on the throne, she pleaded with eloquence and tears -for her husband’s life. Her wise and tactful words saved him, but he -was exiled. She was urged by her family to stay and enjoy the fruits of -their victory, but, turning sorrowfully away, she took her children, -kissed the altar where they had found a sanctuary, and went out with -her disgraced husband to poverty and obscurity.</p> - -<p>We cannot measure these Spartan women by the standards of to-day. They -did not belong to the age of university courses, society functions, -and Christian ideals. Love as we understand it played<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> a small part in -their lives, and of romance there is little trace, though examples of -conjugal affection are not rare. Of what we call learning they probably -had very little, and of esthetic taste still less, but of clear -judgment, solid character, and fearless courage, they had a great deal. -They were trained as companions and helpers of men, not as their toys, -though they were always subject to them. It was a simple life they -led—a life with few graces and few of our complexities. They were the -Puritans of the classic world, without the Puritan conscience or moral -sense, but with more than Puritan courage and fortitude.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Athenian">THE ATHENIAN WOMAN, ASPASIA, AND THE FIRST SALON</h2> -</div> -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img008"> - <img src="images/008.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0"><big> -· Vassalage of the Athenian Woman ·<br /> -· Her Ignorance and Seclusion ·<br /> -· Religious Festivals · The Hetæræ ·<br /> -· Aspasia · Her Position · Her Gifts ·<br /> -· Tribute of Socrates ·<br /> -· Devotion of Pericles ·<br /> -· The First Salon · Opinions of the Philosophers ·<br /> -· Woman’s Inferior Position a Cause of Athenian Decline ·</big><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img009"> - <img src="images/009.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>The Athenians agreed with the opinion ascribed to Pericles that “the -best wife is the one of whom the least is said either of good or -evil.” But this wise statesman does not seem to have found his theory -agreeable in practice, as he sent away his own wife, who was quite -innocent even of local fame, to put in her place the cleverest and most -talked of woman of her time. She accepted the inevitable with becoming -philosophy, if not gratefully, and it must be said to his credit that -he was kind enough to help her to another husband. But what became of -his theory? One is tempted to think that Thucydides, who put these -words into his mouth, was speaking largely for himself, as it is clear -that he thought women too unimportant, if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> not too precious, to be -talked about; else why did the great historian so utterly ignore them?</p> - -<p>It is a significant fact which upsets many pleasant little theories -about the superior justice of a democracy, that women who shared the -power and glory of their husbands in the heroic age,—even if they -had little of their own,—and preserved a measure of influence under -the rule of kings in historic times, lost their honored position in -republican Athens. In a rule of the people they had no longer the -prestige of an aristocracy, and they did not count politically. As they -held no recognized place of honor, and it was not respectable to shine -by their talents, they had no apparent claim to consideration. They -might stand on a pedestal to add to the glory of men, they might grace -a hereditary throne for the honor of a family, but it never occurred to -the classic world that woman sprang, as the witty Frenchman said, “from -the side of Adam, and not from his feet.”</p> - -<p>To all intents and purposes, the Attic women were slaves, with no -rights and few privileges. We do not know much about them directly, as -they left no record of themselves, and very little was written of them -except by the satirists, who are always ready to distort the truth in -order to “point a moral or adorn a tale.” Historians were strangely -silent regarding them; unless of royal lineage, women were too -insignificant. It is difficult,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> in the face of the few facts we know, -to credit the brilliant Athenians with any chivalry. We must either -suppose that the poets were a sour and disappointed race, or that they -reflected the spirit of their time. Apart from the few great ideals -that lived in the imaginations of men, everything that has come down to -us shows the light estimate in which women were held. They were a lower -order of beings, and anything done by their advice was invalid. “Women -are an evil,” says the comedian, “and yet, my countrymen, one cannot -set up a house without evil; for to be married or not to be married is -alike bad.” This arrogant and contemptuous tone runs through the Attic -literature, as I have shown more fully elsewhere.</p> - -<p>From the vague and shadowy outlines of a life that was practically -shut out from the light of day twenty-five centuries ago, we cannot -gather with certainty even the moral and domestic value of women who -were treated with lofty disdain by poets, satirists, and historians -alike. But we do know that intellectually they counted for nothing, -within the pale of orthodox society. At a period when the central idea -was culture, when art was at its zenith, and there were giants in -literature, the wives and daughters of men noted before all things for -brilliancy and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit</i> had fallen into hopeless ignorance and -vassalage. They lacked even the companionship and the small diversions -of the Oriental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> harem, where the inmates, though they had only a -small fraction of a husband, could break the monotony by gossiping -or quarreling with the other wives. The women of the better class at -Athens had special apartments, usually in the upper story, so that they -could not go out without being seen. Men went to market themselves -or sent their slaves. We learn from Aristophanes that they often put -their wives under lock and key, with a seal when they went away, also -that they kept Molossian hounds to frighten away possible lovers. A -woman addressed her husband as “master,” was always a minor, and could -transact no business on her own account, which even Plato thought -unjust. If he died she was not his heir, but the ward of her son or -of some male relative. In her marriage she was not consulted, and she -was never supposed to know any man but the one chosen for her. Solon, -who wished to prevent mercenary marriages, decreed that no dowries -should be given, and that the bride could have only three suits of -clothes; later, unions were arranged by the families, on a basis of -equal fortunes. Infidelity on the part of the husband was no ground -of complaint. As wives were so closely guarded there does not seem to -have been much danger of indiscretions, but they were sent away on the -slightest suspicion, and their punishments were carried to the utmost -refinement of cruelty. In spite of this surveillance, possibly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> because -of it, sins against morality were more frequent than in Sparta.</p> - -<p>After the age of sixty, women were permitted to go to funerals outside -of their families, if they would not mourn too violently. These -occasions must have been rather welcome than otherwise, as Greek -funerals were not hopelessly solemn affairs, except to the immediate -family. Brides had the special privilege of sitting at table at their -own wedding banquets, to which only relatives or very near friends -were asked. The amusements of women seem to have consisted largely in -looking out of the window and making their toilets. If they went to the -theater at all, they were limited to tragedy and had to take back seats.</p> - -<p>We have an account of one model husband who is not content that his -young wife should simply know how to spin, weave, and direct her maids, -so he tries to educate her. She is only fifteen, and he says that she -has lived under the strictest restraint so that she might “see as -little, hear as little, and ask as few questions as possible.” When -he has her properly domesticated so that she dares to speak in his -presence, he explains their mutual responsibilities in terms that must -have mystified this child of nature a little, tells her to do well -what the gods have suited to her and men approve, to use no cosmetics -or aids to beauty, and to knead bread or fold linen for exercise, -since she must not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> walk out. The main thing he dwells upon is the -necessity of looking closely after their common fortunes; but she has -also to take care of the children, and nurse the slaves when they -are ill. He kindly admits that if she is superior to him she will be -mistress,—taking good care, however, that such an unfortunate state -of affairs shall not exist so far as education is concerned,—and -assures her that the better she serves the interests of his family -and household, the more she will be honored. This is all very well -so far as it goes, and we may readily admit that it is of more vital -importance to administer the affairs of one’s family with judgment and -dignity than to talk about art or read Homer. But the docile wife had -a housekeeper as well as plenty of slaves, and, naturally, abundant -leisure. It certainly implied a degree of what Socrates called “manly -understanding” on her part, to follow her husband’s abstruse reasoning -on the duties of women, and his minute instructions for carrying them -out; yet this wise representative of the most civilized race the world -has known never so much as hints that she has an intellect.</p> - -<p>Socrates listens with great interest to this advanced theory of -wife-training as it is unfolded to him, and sagely remarks that the -husband is responsible for her errors if he does not properly teach -her. It seems that he did not try the system on Xanthippe, or if he -did it was a dismal failure,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> as the much-abused woman is never quoted -as a model or a saint, and we do not hear that he taxed himself with -her shortcomings. He said that he married her for the excitement of -conquest—the same motive that leads a man to try his power over a -high-spirited horse; also as a discipline, because he was sure that he -could endure every one else if he could endure her. It would be curious -to know what she thought about it, but one cannot help suspecting that -she had the lion’s share of the discipline, and that Socrates was a -greater success as a philosopher and talker than as a husband.</p> - -<p>There was one exception, however, to this rigid seclusion, a small -recognition of the fact that women probably have souls. They were -allowed a part in religious festivals, and these were events in their -lives. They meant a breath of fresh air and a glimpse of the outer -world. Perhaps they meant also a little spiritual consolation, which -must often have been greatly needed; but of this we are not sure. The -Hellenic divinities were not eminently consoling, and the wise Athena -was particularly unsympathetic, though the Athenian virgins had at -least the pleasure of making her richly ornamented robes, and putting -them on her once a year. The woman in the comedy says that at seven she -could carry the peplum in the procession, at ten she ground cakes for -the patron goddess, and when she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> grew to be a beautiful maiden, she -had charge of the sacred basket.</p> - -<p>One can imagine the flutter of pleasure with which the young girls -of the golden age of Athens donned their white draperies and -gold-embroidered mantles to march in the Panathenaic procession to the -Acropolis. Their snowy veils floated airily in the breeze, as they went -up the marble steps of the propylæa chanting choral hymns and carrying -in their hands the branches of silvery olive to lay at the feet of -the stately goddess. How bright the sky! how blue the sparkling sea! -How beautiful the white temples and colonnades, alive with sculptured -heroes! Before them rose Hymettus in its robe of violet haze, and -the cone of Lycabettus, sharply outlined in the clear air. Sheltered -behind the low hills on the other side of the vast olive-groves, the -magnificent temple of Eleusis, with its heart of mystery, towered in -its peerless majesty, and the restless waves of Salamis lapped the -shore at its side. This world of beauty was young then and fresh, -with no age-old tragedies to sadden the brilliant crowd that wound in -dazzling array through the forest of columns and statues. The flower of -Athens was there—brave, handsome, and clever men, poets, artists, and -philosophers, warriors on prancing horses, beautiful women and laughing -children. If the uncaged maidens were tempted to flirt a little with -their soft, dark eyes, who can blame<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> them? They were young and human, -companionship was sweet, and they too had tender hearts, though small -account was made of them.</p> - -<p>But the day ends. The sacred Athena is resplendent in her new robe. The -gay crowd moves back past the exquisite little Ionic temple of Victory -and down the massive steps into the agora, where life goes on as -before. Men throng the porticos and talk of the new play of Sophocles, -or the last statue of Phidias, or the prospects of war, or any of -the thousand and one things that come uppermost in the affairs of a -great city. When the shadows fall and the stars come out bright and -shining in that crystal air, they gather at banquets or symposia, where -flute-players and dancing-girls are brought in to amuse them, or some -Lais or Phryne of the hour enthralls them by her beauty and dazzles -them with her wit. But the wives and daughters of these men, who do not -see fit to educate them for companions, go back to their lonely homes -and to an isolation from all social and intellectual interests as deep -as if they were asleep in the sculptured tombs of the Via Sacra.</p> - -<p>The women of Athens fulfilled their duties with becoming modesty, so -far as we know. They were respectably ignorant, and did not encroach -upon the time-honored privileges of men. It is true that Elpinice, the -sister of Cimon, was a trifle strong-minded, and, taking the Spartan -women as models,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> went about alone; but we do not hear that she had -any following. Unpleasant things were said about her, which we are -safe in doubting, as unpleasant things have always been said of women -who presumed to have opinions of their own, or to walk outside of the -straight line of tradition. At all events, a rich Athenian fell in love -with her, and was glad to take her without a dowry and pay the fine of -her distinguished father. But it is certain that no appreciable number -of Attic ladies were disposed to incur the odium of public opinion so -distinctly expressed in these words:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -Good women must abide within the house;<br /> -Those whom we meet abroad are nothing worth.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Why in the face of such reverent submission were they so contemptuously -spoken of? We are often told to-day that women cannot expect any -privileges when they want rights. It may be pertinent to ask, in the -name of consistency, why they had no privileges when they sat humbly at -the feet of their husbands and demanded no rights?</p> - -<p>But it was among these women that the great dramatists lived and -created the masterpieces of the world. It may be that they saw and felt -the cheerless side of so fettered a life, and that is why they painted -their heroines in such somber colors, too often innocent victims of -men’s misdeeds, and doomed to suffering with the sad inevitability -of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> fate. But the noble character and fine intelligence given to so -many of them must have had some counterpart in reality. Did the city -that produced Antigone, Iphigenia, and Alcestis, have no great women, -or did their creators look elsewhere for the moral dignity that made -them possible? And where were the models found? Not, surely, among the -hetæræ whose power, whatever it may have been, was not a moral one. Not -even among the goddesses, who were notoriously vain, selfish, crafty, -and cruel. We know that a thousand untold tales of virtue and heroism -are hidden behind closed doors, and we may well believe they were not -without precedent among these apparently colorless and pent-up lives.</p> - -<p>Then it is easy perhaps to err in assuming that there were no women who -rose above hard conditions into a degree of companionship with their -husbands. It is true they had no education and were excluded from the -society of men who had it, but it is impossible to suppose that the -women of so brilliant a race were utterly without the clear perception -and flexible intelligence which made its men so famous. Nor can we -infer invariable misery. There have been good men in all ages who -loved their families, and women whose light could not be extinguished. -The great Cimon is said to have had an ardent affection for his wife, -and he was inconsolable after her death, though he did not curb his -wandering fancies while she lived. Socrates<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> mentions Niceratus as “one -who was in love with his wife and loved by her.” There is a familiar -anecdote of Themistocles that puts him in a pleasant light. He said in -a laughing way that his little son was greater than any man in Greece, -“for the Athenians command the Greeks, I command the Athenians, his -mother commands me, and he commands his mother.” If reports be true, -however, the influence of his wife was largely theoretical, as it did -not suffice to keep him from doing some very disreputable things. But -he wished a worthy man for his daughter, rather than a rich one, saying -he “would prefer a man without money to money without a man.” Aristotle -is not quoted among the champions of women, but he tenderly loved his -own wife, whom he married in spite of the reverses which had ruined her -family. Her life was brief, but he left orders that when he died her -remains should be transferred to the tomb which held his own, according -to her last request. This was done long years after her death, though -he had another wife whose virtues he commends, asking his friends to -give her kind attention and provide her with a suitable husband if she -wishes to marry again. These instances among well-known men are worthy -of note, and others might be cited. But the exceptions prove the rule, -and the very fact that it was a matter of comment when a man was in -love with his wife shows that it was rare.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that the great Athenians -were without the sympathy and influence of educated women; indeed, -it may be safely said that no great things in art or literature have -ever been done without this inspiration. The ignorance of the Attic -woman had its natural protest, though it did not come from an orthodox -source. Respectability was on the side of servitude. It had a dull -time, but it was decorous, and consoled itself, as it has often done -since, with the reflection that dullness was its natural lot. No doubt -it took pride in its nothingness, and looked with haughty disdain upon -the clever foreign women who were free to do as they chose. Fashion is -imperious, not to say cruel, and even the Chinese lady hobbles along on -her distorted feet with a happy consciousness of distinction that amply -repays her for all her suffering.</p> - -<p>But social conventions had small weight with the foreign hetæræ or -companions, who had no legal rights, and no caste to lose. The real -power of women was in their hands. They were intelligent, often -gifted, and the better class had refined and graceful manners, which -the Athenian wives evidently had not. It was said of them that they -were delicate at table, and not like the native women, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> “stuffed -their cheeks, and tore off the meat.” They were also noted for wit and -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit</i>, a quality of volatilized intellect that has always had -great social charm. These advanced women of the day, who cast into the -shade their illiterate sisters, monopolized both attention and honors. -Men praised the good women who stayed at home and looked after their -families, but sought the society of clever ones who did neither of -these fine things. With curious inconsistency, they found the culture -which was reprehensible and out of the proper order of nature in their -wives and daughters so charming in other women as to merit the highest -distinction. Poets sang of them, artists immortalized them, statesmen -and philosophers paid court to them.</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -’T is not for nothing that where’er we go<br /> -We find a temple of hetæræ there,<br /> -But nowhere one to any wedded wife,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">says the poet.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, talent and the virtues did not always go together, and -it is impossible, at this distance, to determine with any certainty -who were good and who were not. In the conservative circles of Athens, -intelligence itself was a vice in women, and put them under a ban. -They might pray to Athena, and offer incense to her, and embroider her -robes, but it would not do to take this personification of wisdom and -knowledge for a model; indeed, it is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> not quite clear why so dangerous -a representative of the sex that was thought to have no intellect worth -considering should have been chosen to preside over all the Attic -divinities. There was a time, according to Varro, when it had been -customary for women to take part with men in public councils. In the -early ages they voted to name Athens after Athena, outvoting the men by -one. Poseidon was angry, and the sea overflowed. To appease the god, -the citizens imposed a punishment on their wives. They were to lose -their votes, the children were to receive no more their mother’s name, -and they were no longer called Athenians. Perhaps this is why they were -relegated forever after to ignorance and obscurity. Athena, however, -retained her power, and men still worshiped the gray-eyed goddess in -the abstract, as their fathers had done, doubtless quite content that -the superfluous wisdom of woman should be given a pedestal so high -and remote that it was not likely to cause serious inconvenience in -family relations. But their personal devotion was largely reserved for -Aphrodite, who was more beautiful and facile, if not so wise, and still -less fit to be held up as a worthy example for her sex. The race had -not greatly changed since its men went to their death for the “divine -Helen,” and thought the world well lost for a sight of her radiant -beauty.</p> - -<p>The witty Phryne, whose exquisite face and form was made immortal by -Apelles and Praxiteles, was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> given a statue of gold between two kings -at Delphi. In the cypress-grove at Corinth there was a monument to the -beautiful Lais, who had enriched the city with fine architecture. Lamia -built a splendid portico for the people of Sicyon, and a temple at -Athens was consecrated to her under the name of Aphrodite. One of the -most striking and costly monuments in Greece was also erected there to -Pythionice. The wit and fascination of Glycera brought her the honors -due to a queen. Some of her letters to Menander were preserved, and -they were said to show not only a tender and delicate sentiment, but a -fine intellectual sympathy with her poet lover. No doubt the tributes -offered to the notoriously dissolute women were largely the expression -of a beauty-loving people who cherished “art for art’s sake.”</p> - -<p>But there were other women with serious gifts of a high order, who -were far less likely to be honored with temples and statues. Leontium, -the disciple and favorite of Epicurus, wrote a treatise against -Theophrastus that was quoted by Cicero as a model of style. She -had a thoughtful face, and was painted in a meditative attitude by -Theodorus. It matters little whether Diotima was Arcadian priestess -or philosopher; she was the friend of Socrates, the counselor of the -wisest and subtlest of men. It was her high and spiritual conception -of love that he quoted at the famous symposium of Plato, raising<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> the -conversation from a curious blending of unholy passion and metaphysical -subtlety to a region of light. Famous among the disciples of Pythagoras -was Perictione, who attracted the attention of Aristotle by writing -on such grave subjects as “Wisdom” and “The Harmony of Woman.” She -was duly conservative, and accepted the passive position of her -sex, dwelling on their need of a forbearing spirit. Possibly this -amiable attitude accounts in part for the kind consideration of the -philosopher. More advanced and less popular was Hipparchia, the wife -of Crates, an eminent Cynic, who called the statue of Phryne “a votive -offering of the profligacy of Greece.” She recognized virtue as the -supreme end of life, but contended that “virtue is the same in a man -as in a woman.” To Theodorus she said: “What Theodorus is not wrong -in doing, the same thing Hipparchia ought not to be wrong in doing.” -That she was severely attacked goes without saying. Such sentiments -were subversive of the inalienable rights of man, in the code of the -classic world. It was easier and more agreeable to discredit the woman -than to raise their own standards. Themista, the wife of Leon, was a -philosopher, corresponded with Epicurus, and was called by Cicero “a -sort of female Solon.” Lastheneia was a pupil of Plato, and went so far -as to disguise herself in a man’s robes in order to hear him discourse -at the Academy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></p> - -<p>Perhaps it is unfair to group these women together. They were of -different shades, and not all contemporary. Some of them were -Athenians. Of most of them we have no knowledge except such as may -be gathered from a few passing words in connection with famous men, -and even this is involved in doubt and contradiction. What were the -attractions of Archaianassa, to whom Plato wrote sonnets, or did she -ever exist outside of the realm of dreams?</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -For dear to me Theoris is,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">says Sophocles. Did he find in her the talent that inspired his own? -And what was the secret of Archippa’s influence, that he should have -left her his fortune? Or is she, too, a myth? Nor can we divine the -gifts that drew the eloquent Isocrates to Metaneira.</p> - -<p>How far the honor accorded to so many of the hetæræ was due to their -talents and how far to their personal fascination, it is difficult to -say. In many cases, beauty was their chief distinction. Some are known -to have been fair and frail; others were apparently of good character -as well as brilliant intellect. A poet of the time speaks of one as</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -Pure and on virtue’s strictest model formed.<br /> -</p> - -<p>It would not be quite safe, however, to measure them by our standards. -We may go to the Greeks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> for art and literature, but not for morals. -Things that we consider criminal, they looked upon as quite natural and -innocent. No doubt, too, many things which we consider so harmless as -to pass unnoted would have been censured by them as violations of all -laws of decorum.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>There was one woman, however, whose individuality was too strong -to be altogether merged into that of the man with whom her name is -associated. Aspasia stands supreme, after Sappho, as the most brilliant -and lettered woman of classic times. The center of a circle so luminous -that the ages have not greatly dimmed its radiance, she is likely to -live as long as the world cherishes the memory of its greatest men. -She was the prototype of the charming and intellectual women who made -the literary courts of the Renaissance so famous two thousand years -afterward; also of the more familiar ones who shone as leaders of the -powerful salons of France a century or two later. Even to-day the -aspiring woman who dreams of reviving the social triumphs of her sex -recalls the golden days of Athens and wonders what magic drew so many -of the great poets, statesmen, and philosophers of the world from the -groves of the Academy, the colonnades of the Lyceum, the porticos, and -the gymnasia, to pour their treasures<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> of wit and thought at the feet -of the fair Ionian. She may remember, too, that this fascinating woman -was not only the high priestess who presided at the birth of society -as we know it, but was also the first to assert the right of the wife -to be educated, that she might live as the peer and companion of her -husband, not as his slave.</p> - -<p>Little is known of the facts of her life. She was the first woman who -came from Miletus, the pleasure-loving city of roses, and song, and -beautiful maidens. Why or how she left her home we are not told, but -there is a vague tradition that her parents were dead and that she went -away with the famous Thargelia, whose vigorous intellect, together with -her wit and beauty, made her a political power in Thessaly and the wife -of one of its kings during the Persian wars, though her personality is -the faintest of shadows to-day. It is supposed that Aspasia was young, -scarcely more than twenty, when she came to Athens, possibly to live -with a relative; but this is only a surmise. As a foreigner, whatever -her rank, she was outside the pale of good society. The high-born -Athenian women looked askance at her, were jealous of her, and said -wicked things about her. To be sure, the all-powerful Pericles took her -to his home and called her his wife, but she was not a citizen like -themselves, and could not lawfully bear his name.</p> - -<p>The relation, however, left-handed though it may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> have been, was -a recognized and permanent one, not less regular perhaps than the -morganatic marriages of royal princes to-day, which make a woman a pure -and legal wife but never a queen. So rare was the devotion of the grave -statesman that it was thought worthy of record, and it was a matter -of gossip that he kissed Aspasia when he went out and when he came -in—clearly a startling innovation among Athenian husbands. Still more -astonishing was the fact that he listened to her counsel and talked -with her on State affairs, which, according to their traditions, no -reputable woman ought to know anything about. Plutarch tells us that -some went so far as to say that he paid court to her on account of her -wisdom and political sagacity. Socrates confesses his own indebtedness -to her in the use of language, and says that she made many great -orators. He thinks it no wonder that Pericles can speak, as he has so -excellent a mistress in the art of rhetoric, one who could even write -his speeches. He was himself so pleased with a funeral oration she had -spoken in his presence, partly from previous thought and partly from -the inspiration of the moment, that he learned it by heart. A friend -to whom he repeated it was amazed that a woman could compose such a -speech, and Socrates added that he might recall many more if he would -not tell. This special address was such a masterpiece of wisdom and -eloquence that Pericles was asked to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> give it every year. As he was -quite able to write his own, there was no room for jealousy, even if -Aspasia sometimes found in the same field a happy outlet for her fine -talent and living enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>All this points to a strong probability that the gifted Milesian came -to Athens to teach rhetoric and other arts of which she was mistress, -as a Frenchwoman might seek her fortune in our own country to-day. But -she had not the same immunity from criticism, as the very fact of her -talents, and her ability to utilize them, sufficed to put her under -a cloud. This, too, might account for the wicked things Aristophanes -said of her, but we cannot imagine that Socrates would have advised -his friends to send their sons to her for training had they been true. -He knew her well, had profited by her instructions, and no one will -charge him with gallantry or the disposition to give undue praise. He -was essentially a truth-seeker. It is a matter of note, too, that the -philosophers had only pleasant words for Aspasia. Her detractors were -the satirists and comic poets; but who ever went to either for justice -or truth? She was clear-sighted, penetrating, and versed not only in -letters but in civil affairs, so it was easy enough to say that she was -the power behind the throne in the Samian and Peloponnesian wars. It is -certain, however, that Pericles was too wise a statesman to be led into -a war by any one against his judgment. It is quite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> likely that she had -young girls in her house who came to be instructed in the refinements -and amenities of life, as poetic maidens had flocked to Sappho from all -the isles of the sea a century or so before. This again was a fruitful -source of calumny and satire. But it is impossible to read the Attic -comedians without a conviction that they measured every one by their -own moral standards, which were of the lowest and coarsest. A woman -who could discuss philosophy with Socrates and Anaxagoras, art with -Phidias, poetry with Sophocles and Euripides, politics and history with -Thucydides, if occasion offered, and affairs of the gay world with the -young Alcibiades, was not likely to escape the tongue of scandal among -people who numbered the silent subjection of women among their most -sacred traditions.</p> - -<p>Of the beauty of Aspasia we are not sure. We hear of her -“honey-colored” or golden hair, of her “small, high-arched foot,” of -her “silvery voice”; but no one of her time has told us that she was -beautiful. There is a bust on which her name is inscribed, but it gives -us no clue to the living charm that held great men captive. Did this -charm lie in the depth and brilliancy of the veiled eyes, in the tender -curve of the half-voluptuous mouth, or in the subtle and variable light -of the soul that forever eludes the chilling marble? Another bust, -supposed to represent her, has a gentler quality, a finer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> distinction, -with a faint shadow on the thoughtful face. But the secret of her power -did not lie in any rare perfection of form or feature. Perhaps this -secret is always difficult to define. Of her fascinating personality we -are left in no doubt. With the qualities of <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">esprit</i> that belonged -to her race, and all the winning graces of her Ionian culture, she -combined an intellect of firm and substantial fiber. She was noted for -the divining spirit which instinctively recognized the special gifts -of her friends; she had, too, the tact and finesse to make the most of -them. This is <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">par excellence</i> the talent of the social leader.</p> - -<p>The salon of Aspasia was the first of which we have any record. -The stars of the Attic world gathered there, men who were in the -advance-guard of Hellenic thought. Reclining on the many-colored -cushions beneath the white pillars, with pictured walls and rare -tapestries and exquisite statues of Greek divinities about them, they -talked of the new temples; of the last word in art; of the triumph -of Sophocles, who had just won the prize of tragedy in the theater -of Dionysus; perhaps of Æschylus, who had gone away broken-hearted; -of happiness, morals, love, and immortality. The thoughtful woman -who sat there radiant in her saffron draperies was not silent. Men -marveled at her eager intellect, her grasp of Athenian possibilities; -they were charmed with her graceful ways and musical speech. We hear -of symposia in other houses, where a Theodota<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> dances, the free wit -of Lais flashes, and conversation glides on a low and vulgar level, -but no wife or daughter ever appears. There is nothing to indicate -that the coterie of Aspasia was otherwise than decorous. Music there -was, as the accomplished Ionian played the cithara with skill and -taste. Wit there must have been, as no company of Athenians was ever -without it. But more was said of its serious side. One of the sons of -Pericles, angry because his father would not give him all the money he -wished, ridiculed this circle of philosophers and the hours they spent -in discussing theories or splitting metaphysical hairs. Their learned -disquisitions were not at all to the taste of the pleasure-loving youth.</p> - -<p>A few men had the courage to bring their wives, and Aspasia talked to -them of their duties and the need of cultivating their minds. Nor did -she forget the value of manners and the graces. It is said that she -wrote a book on cosmetics; but all her teaching, so far as we know it, -went to show that personal charm lay not so much in physical beauty as -in the culture of the intellect. The few direct words we have from her -lips prove that, with a clear sense of values, she was the true child -of an age and race that was singularly devoid of sentiment. If she -taught Socrates in some things, she was evidently his pupil in others. -This is curiously illustrated in an anecdote related by Æschines.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> - -<p>“Tell me,” says Aspasia, one day, to the wife of Xenophon, “if your -neighbor had finer gold than you have, whether you would prefer her -gold or your own.”</p> - -<p>“I should prefer hers,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>“Suppose that she had dresses and ornaments of more value than yours; -would you prefer your own or hers?”</p> - -<p>“Hers, to be sure.”</p> - -<p>“If she had a better husband than you have, which would you choose?”</p> - -<p>The lady blushed and was silent.</p> - -<p>The hostess then turned to the husband with like questions.</p> - -<p>“I ask you, O Xenophon, whether, if your neighbor had a better horse -than yours, you would prefer your own or his.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly his,” was the prompt answer.</p> - -<p>“If he had a better farm than yours, which would you wish to own?”</p> - -<p>“Beyond doubt, that which is best.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose that he had a better wife than you have, would you prefer his -wife?”</p> - -<p>The conversation became embarrassing, and Xenophon was discreetly -silent.</p> - -<p>The conclusion was obvious. This too logical questioner advised those -present to order their lives so that there should be no more admirable -woman or more excellent man; then each would always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> prefer the other -to any one else—a piece of wise counsel that might be profitably -considered, in spite of its veiled sophistry. Evidently she did not -regard love as a flame that burns without fuel, though in her notions -of human perfectibility she makes small account of the quality of the -material.</p> - -<p>This parlor-talk is a trifle didactic, and lacks the modern elements -of popularity, but it is not in the least the talk of such a woman -as the enemies of Aspasia pictured her. It was clearly a party of -innovation that she led, but it was not a party of corrupt tastes. It -was for her opinions that she suffered. Just what connection moral -turpitude has with a question of the infallibility of any special -form of belief is not apparent, but a charge of impiety cast a darker -shadow upon her reputation. In this case it meant little more than a -doubt as to the divinity of their quarrelsome and immoral gods, which -we should consider highly creditable. She was too rational for a good -orthodox pagan. Or it may have meant simply that her house was a -rendezvous for the free-thinking philosophers. Here, too, was a woman -who took the unheard-of liberty of presiding over her husband’s house, -making it agreeable for his friends and attractive for himself. She -had put dangerous notions into the heads of Athenian wives. Who was -this impertinent foreigner, that she should presume to tell them how -to please their husbands? How, indeed, could they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> please them better -than to keep a decorous silence in their apartments, and let their -noble lords bring dancing- and talking-women to their banquets, and do -otherwise as they liked? Of course she did not respect the gods, and -deserved death.</p> - -<p>And so she was taken before the judges. The dignified and austere -Pericles wept as he pleaded her cause, and his tears won it. She was -released, but Anaxagoras, who was under the same charge of impiety -because he gave natural causes to apparently supernatural things, as -Galileo did centuries later, thought it safe to go away until the -fickle Athenians, the French of the classic world, found something else -to occupy them.</p> - -<p>Without the poetic genius or the passionate intensity of Sappho, -Aspasia seems to have had greater breadth and largeness of mind, with -the calm judgment and clear reason that belong to a more sophisticated -age. She was evidently solid as well as brilliant. That she was -eminently tactful and had a great deal of the Greek subtlety counted -for much in her success. She had also the perfect comprehension of -genius, which is an inspiration, and nearly allied to genius itself. -In the vast plans for the glory of Athens, she could hardly have been -ignored by the man who adored her and consulted her on the gravest -matters. It is not as the Omphale to this Hercules, the Hera to this -Zeus, that she has come down to us, save in the jeer of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> satirist, -but as the watchful Egeria, who whispered prophetic words of wisdom in -the ears of the great Athenian. Who knows how far the world owes to her -fine insight and critical taste the superb flowering of art which left -an immortal heritage to all the ages?</p> - -<p>With the death of Pericles and the dispersion of the distinguished -group that surrounded him, Aspasia disappears. There was no place at -that time for talents like hers, apart from a great man’s protection. -It was rumored that she afterward married a rich but obscure citizen, -whom she raised by her abilities to a high position in the State, -though he did not live long enough to reap much glory from it. The -affair savors of the mythical, and perhaps we are safe in giving it -little credence. We should like to believe that the woman who had been -blessed with the love of a Pericles could never console herself with a -lesser man.</p> - -<p>Of versatile gifts and endless shades of temperament, teacher, thinker, -artist in words and life, critic, musician, friend of women and -inspirer of men, but before all things a harmony uniting the grace -and sensibility of her sex with a masculine strength of intellect, -this gracious Ionian stands with Sappho on the pinnacle of Hellenic -culture, each in her own field the highest feminine representative of -an esthetic race. Her mission was not an ethical one, and she cannot -be so judged; but against the censure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> of the enemies and rivals of -Pericles, as well as of her own, we have abundant evidence that, in her -virtues, as in her talents, she surpassed the standards of her class -and time. It was not of a light-minded woman that Pericles said when -dying: “Athens intrusted her greatness and Aspasia her happiness to me.”</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>It is not unlikely that Aspasia had much to do with modifying the low -views held regarding her sex, and with promoting the discussions of -the philosophers who came after her. Socrates had her example before -him when he said that the talent of women was not at all inferior -to that of men, though they lacked bodily vigor and strength. Plato -accorded them the same talents as men, though less in degree; indeed, -he went so far as to advise a common training, as in Sparta, on the -ground that gifts are diffused equally between the sexes. Aristotle is -less generous to women. He accords them weaker reasoning powers, and -insists upon their silent and passive obedience; but he preaches to -men justice, appreciation, and the sanctity of marriage. On the whole, -from our point of view, he paints a more agreeable society than Plato, -in spite of the greater equality taught by the latter. The satirists -were not slow to take up the matter, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> Aristophanes drew a doleful -picture of women donning male attire and going to the agora to reform -the State, while their husbands were left to look after things at home. -They start out with the idea of making everybody happy. There are to be -no rich, no poor, no thefts, no slanders, no miseries. Praxagora pleads -her cause with all the force and energy of the modern woman who seeks -political rights, but she is less poised and goes further. The State is -to be intrusted to women. They are successful managers at home and have -shown their superior gifts of administration. In any case, they could -not do worse than men have done. They end, however, by voting unlimited -communism and outdoing the demagogues. This “woman’s congress” was not -an unqualified success; indeed, it was a disgraceful failure, as it was -intended to be: but it cast into like ridicule the philosophers and -the “strong-minded” women, among whom Aspasia was doubtless included, -as she had convictions, though the conversations in her salon probably -marked the limit of their public expression. Who the others were we do -not know, but it is clear that there was an undercurrent of “divine -discontent” among the women of two thousand years ago. History repeats -itself, and the “woman question” is not a new one, though we have made -immense strides in the rational consideration of it.</p> - -<p>It is sufficiently clear that the harmonious development<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> of the -Hellenic women was in proportion to their liberty of action, and the -most fault was found with them where they had the least freedom. If -the spirited women of Sparta had been born in conservative Athens -the world might never have known that they were capable of so much -strength and heroism. The sparks hidden in their cramped souls would -have gone out for lack of air. If the secluded Athenian woman had been -born in Sparta, who can say that she might not have been as clever as -Gorgo, as brave as Cratesiclea, and as independent as Lampito? It is -possible that the genius of Sappho would have been smothered in the -social atmosphere of either place. There is ample evidence that the -intellects of Greek women expanded fast enough when the conventional -pressure was even partly removed. Nor is it true that they retrograded -in morals as they advanced in intelligence. Never did the Attic poets -point their shafts of satire so sharply as against the follies of the -ignorant women who were limited mainly to their apartments, far from -the possible corruption of knowledge or the visible temptation to sin. -The tone of morality was purer even among the free Spartan women, who -had more education but less surveillance.</p> - -<p>There is nothing more vitally significant in the lives of Athenian -wives than the extent to which they saw themselves set aside and -neglected for foreigners of more brilliant accomplishments, because<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> -they could not or would not break the bonds of fashionable tradition, -which decreed for them silence and seclusion. In primitive conditions -where no one is educated, the virtues may suffice for companionship; -but at a certain stage of civilization, when men read and think, the -woman who does not is sure to be practically excluded from his society, -though she may still be his housekeeper or the toy of an idle hour. -Athens in the height of her glory presented the strange anomaly of a -respectable illiterate class from which the mothers of future citizens -must be taken, and an educated class without civil rights who could -not marry Athenians. If the latter had any domestic ties at all, they -were forced into morganatic relations. This did not of necessity imply -laxity of character; indeed, it was not always condemned by Athenian -moralists. But no class could long maintain any high standard of virtue -under such conditions. They opened the way for endless license. The gay -and dissolute women from the East flocked to the Hellenic cities, and -in the reckless corruption that followed, wise men trace a potent cause -of Athenian decline.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Revolt">REVOLT OF THE ROMAN WOMEN</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/006.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· The Woman Question an Old One ·<br /> -· Character and Virtues of Early Roman Women ·<br /> -· Instances of Heroism ·<br /> -· Their Disabilities ·<br /> -· Primitive Roman Morals ·<br /> -· Servitude of Wives · Husband Poisoning ·<br /> -· The Oppian Law · The Revolt ·<br /> -· Crabbed Cato · Change in Laws ·<br /> -· Second Revolt · Hortensia ·<br /> -· The Marriage Question ·<br /> -· Intellectual Movement · Cornelia ·<br /></big> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img011"> - <img src="images/011.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>Not long ago an able and eloquent man, well known in political life, -made the astonishing statement that from the time Eve left paradise to -the advent of the modern champion of her sex, “woman was apparently -content with her subordination.” It is not proposed here to enter at -all into the present phases of a subject that has been sufficiently -discussed, or to define the precise point where those who belong to -what our noble friend is pleased to call the “inferior and defective -half of the race” may with reason protest; but as a matter of fact -there has never been so prolonged and serious a commotion on the -much-talked-of “woman question” as in the Rome of two thousand years -ago; and perhaps no recorded moment in the history of women has been -of such far-reaching<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> importance as those struggles for justice and -recognition. With possibly one exception, the points at issue were not -quite the same as in the middle of the nineteenth century, but they -involved many of the same privileges. The contention concerned not only -a woman’s right to a voice in the control of her own property, but to -some consideration in marriage, and a measure of personal liberty. The -laws that grew out of it, in the slow process of years, have served -as a basis for the codes that have more or less governed civilized -countries ever since, and though these have often deviated far from the -liberal standard of the statutes of Justinian, they have never fallen -permanently to the old level. A certain marked resemblance in the -character and growth of the Roman and the Anglo-Saxon woman gives us a -special interest in these controversies and their practical outcome.</p> - -<p>That the Roman woman had ample cause for protest could hardly be -questioned to-day, even by the most determined advocate of the old -order of things. The contrast between the character and ability so -conspicuously shown by what she did at various times for her country, -and the humiliation of her position, was too great. In the qualities -of temperament and imagination which, if given free scope, make poets -and artists, the Grecian women surpassed her. But the very traits of -sensibility that constituted their fascination rendered them an easy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> -prey to the rule of a master. Their chief legacy to posterity was an -esthetic one. The talent of the Roman woman was of another sort. She -was of a masterful type, striking in physique, strong in purpose, -clear in judgment, with the pride and dignity of a race born to rule -the world. It was through her practical wisdom in directing affairs, -together with her courage, foresight, and indomitable will, that she -gained in the end a degree of independence which perhaps we should -hardly call by that name to-day, but which was relative freedom and -left a permanent trace on after-ages.</p> - -<p>Of the heroism, political sagacity, and moral value of the Roman women -we have abundant evidence, but it is difficult to catch the outline -of faces seen in half-lights, or of characters revealed only on one -side. They did not write of themselves, or of each other, as women -of later and, to some extent, even of earlier ages have done. There -was no Sappho to sing of their joys and sorrows, or give us a clue to -what they thought and felt. Men who wrote freely of affairs reserved -small space for them, so we know little of their personal life, except -through passing glimpses in a few private letters, and the cynical if -not malicious pictures of satirists. The Romans were not a creative -or imaginative race, and have left us none of the great ideals of -womanhood that grace the pages of the Greek poets. No Helen with her -divine beauty and charm, no Antigone with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> her strength of sacrifice, -no Andromache with her tender and winning personality, shows us the -manner of woman that lived in the minds and hearts of men. But if the -delicacy of shading which reveals fine complexities of character is -wanting, we have a few records of brave deeds and individual virtues -that are likely to stand as long as the world to show us the quality -that made them possible. Alcestis going serenely to her death for her -weak and selfish lord is not more heroic than Lucretia, who saved the -falling liberties of Rome by plunging the dagger into her heart and -calling upon her husband to avenge her outraged honor. Iphigenia is not -a more touching figure than the innocent Virginia, sacrificed, not to -the gods, but to the brutality of wicked men.</p> - -<p>From Tanaquil, whose ambition and prophetic insight led the first -Tarquin to leave his simple Etruscan home for a Roman throne, to the -wise Livia, who shared the power and glory of Augustus for more than -half a century, women came to the front in many a public crisis. Men -gave them no real liberty, but they did give them monuments. These -are mostly gone now, but the records of them are left. Standing by -the Capitol to-day and looking across the crumbling temples, columns, -statues, and arches which have preserved for us the memories of Old -Rome, one is forcibly reminded of the important part played by women in -laying the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> foundations of the long faded glory that still lends these -ruins so melancholy and picturesque a charm. The strength and courage -of the Roman woman were immortalized in the equestrian statue of the -daring Clœlia, in the Via Sacra, that stretches before us. Not far off -was the temple of Juno, where the festivals of the Matronalia were held -for centuries, in honor of the women who settled the contest between -the Romans and the Sabines. Beyond the walls on the way to the Alban -hills was the temple of Fortuna Muliebris, which bore lasting testimony -to the wisdom and patriotism of Valeria, its first priestess; also to -the gentle but powerful influence of Volumnia and Virgilia, who, led by -her counsels, saved the city from a too ambitious son and brother. It -was the spirit of the divine Egeria that whispered prophetic words of -warning to Numa in the secluded grotto beyond the Aventine. The Sibyls -held the secrets of divination, and in the vaults at our feet they -deposited the books that foretold the destinies of Rome.</p> - -<p>There still stands the little temple where the white-robed Vestals -watched over the holy Palladium and took care that the sacred fire -should never go out for eleven hundred years. Men on the heights of -power bowed to the authority of these consecrated women, who occupied -everywhere the place of honor, settled disputes, testified without -oath, and brought pardon even to a criminal who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> met them by accident. -All this, whether fact or legend, was a tacit recognition of the -judgment, purity, and insight of woman. It might not be desirable to -give her any rights civil or social, but, as a sort of compensation, -men quieted their consciences and gave themselves a comfortable feeling -of being just, if indeed they ever had any doubt on that point, by -offering her more or less theoretical honor, and a shadowy place near -the gods, where they could avail themselves of her wisdom without any -personal inconvenience. In addition to this, they built her a little -temple dedicated to the goddess Viriplaca, Appeaser of Husbands, where -she could solace her bruised heart by confiding her wrongs and sorrows -to this conciliatory divinity, who seems to have been useful mainly as -a repository of tears, though her office was to compose differences. It -has long since vanished, but it speaks volumes for the helplessness of -women that it ever existed at all. It told the tragedy of many a Roman -matron’s life.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>We have seen a little of what these women were and what they did. What -they suffered can be better gathered from a glance at their position -and the share they had in the liberties they had done so much to -foster and save. Of freedom the Roman woman of earlier times had none -at all, though she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> was not secluded like her Athenian sisters, and -her place in the family was a better one. Her character was formed, -like that of our Puritan mothers, in times of toil and danger, when -she worked side by side with men for a common end, and, in both, their -strength of purpose and spirit of heroic sacrifice lasted long after -the hard conditions of primitive life had passed. Besides, the natural -talent for administration which shone through all her limitations was -to a certain degree recognized by her husband, and she was often his -counselor, as well as the instructor of his children, even beyond the -seven years prescribed. But all this did not suffice to give her any -liberty of thought or action, and she was to all intents and purposes -a slave, subject to the caprices of a master who might choose to be -kind, though, in case he did not, she had no protection either in law -or custom; and we all know how soon the consciousness of absolute power -warps the sensibilities of even the gentlest. “Created to please and -obey,” says Gibbon, “she was never supposed to have reached the age of -reason and experience.” She was under guardianship all her life, first -of her father, then of her husband, and, at his death, of her nearest -male relative. For centuries she had no right to her own property, no -control of her own person, no choice in marriage, no recourse against -cruelty and oppression. “The husband has absolute power over the wife,” -said the stern old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> Cato; “it is for him to condemn and punish her for -any shameful act, such as taking wine or violating the moral law.” To -show what was possible in the way of surveillance, we are told that he -was in the habit of kissing her, when he came home, to satisfy himself -that she had not been drinking. One man who found his wife sipping wine -beat her to death; another dismissed his weaker half because she was -seen on the street without a veil; and a daring woman was sent away -because she went to the circus without leave. Any man could spend his -wife’s money, beat her, sell her, give her to some one else when he was -tired of her, even put her to death, “acting as accuser, judge, jury, -and executioner.” In the last case it was better to call her friends -into council, perhaps even necessary, if they were powerful enough to -ask for an explanation; but “a man can do as he likes with his own” -was sufficient to cover any injustice or any crime. Even in the last -days of the Republic, when the laws were greatly modified, the younger -Cato, a man noted for his stoical virtues, gave his wife to his friend -Hortensius, and after his death took her back—with a dowry added. What -she thought of the matter signified little. It does not appear that she -was even consulted. The family was the unit, and the man was the family.</p> - -<p>It is fair to say that it was not women alone who suffered from this -peculiar phase of Roman society, as men had little more freedom so long -as their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> fathers lived; but it fell much more severely on those who -were, in the nature of things, more helpless. The best they could hope -for was a change of masters, which might be for the worse; and who was -to protect them from their irresponsible protectors, even with all the -safeguards supposed to be provided by law? For this evidently put them -where Terence did the philosophers, along with horses and hunting-dogs, -that were owned but not necessarily considered.</p> - -<p>It is said, in praise of the morals of Rome during its first centuries, -that there was not a divorce for five hundred years. The exact nature -of this merit is seen more clearly when we find that a woman could -not apply for a divorce, or expect a redress of any wrong, whatever -might befall her; while a man simply sent away his wife, if she did -not please him, without any formalities, and with slight, if any, -penalties. This did not release her from perpetual servitude, though -he was free to follow his inclinations, amenable to no law and no -obligation. It is true, however, that Roman matrons prided themselves -on their dignity. A certain respect was exacted for them, and -familiarity in their presence was a punishable offense. They took every -occasion also to show appreciation of their defenders. They mourned a -year for Brutus, who died in avenging Lucretia’s honor, and did the -same later for his upright colleague.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> - -<p>Many years afterward there was a temple of patrician chastity in which -women assembled for sacred rites, but they found as many causes for -contention as some of our societies do to-day. One noble matron lost -caste by marrying a plebeian, and was excluded. She protested in vain. -Her birth, her spotless fame, her devotion to her husband, counted for -nothing so long as that husband did not belong to the elect. There -was no lack of spirited words, but the matter did not end here. This -slighted Virginia started another association on her own ground, set -apart a chapel in her house, and erected an altar to plebeian chastity. -The standards were to be much higher. She called together the plebeian -ladies, and proposed that they emulate one another in virtue, as men -did in valor. No woman of doubtful honor or twice married was admitted. -Unfortunately, this organization in time opened its doors too wide, and -shared the fate of many others.</p> - -<p>On another occasion Quinta Claudia, one of the leading matrons of Rome, -played so conspicuous a part that she won immortality and a statue -of brass. She was at the head of a delegation appointed to meet the -Idæan Mother, who was expected at Terracina, and whose coming was of -great importance, as various strange happenings showed conclusively -that Juno was angry and needed propitiation. It was decided that the -most virtuous man in the State should accompany the matrons, but it -was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> only after much tribulation that the Senate found one fit to be -intrusted with the office, and this was a young Scipio. Unfortunately, -the vessel containing the image went aground, and the augurs declared -that only a woman of spotless character could dislodge it. Quinta -Claudia was equal to the occasion. She seized the oar, with a prayer to -Cybele; the boat moved from its place as if by magic, and was safely -carried to its destination. The lady’s fair fame, which had been a -little clouded, was forever established by a direct interposition of -the gods. The matrons acquitted themselves with honor and, it is to be -hoped, to the satisfaction of the goddess, who was duly installed in -her temple.</p> - -<p>All this goes to prove that the women of twenty centuries ago often -combined in the interest of religion and morals, and were quite capable -of managing public as well as private affairs; also that great value -was attached to the austere virtues. The wise Cato is said to have -erased the name of a Roman from the list of senators because he kissed -his wife in the presence of his daughters—a worse penalty than the -old Blue Laws imposed on the man who kissed his wife on Sunday. It is -a pity that this crabbed censor, of many theoretical virtues and a few -practical ones set in thorns, failed to appreciate the dignity and -decorum of the Roman matron. It was this same rigid Cato who, in spite -of the fact that he “preferred a good husband to a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> great senator,” -was so inconsistently shocked that a Roman lady should presume to be a -companion to her noble lord. He looked upon a wife as a necessary evil, -and declared that “the lives of men would be less godless if they were -quit of women.”</p> - -<p>There was no question of love or inclination in arranging a Roman -marriage. It was simply a contract between citizens, a State affair -intended solely to perpetuate the race in its purity, and to preserve -family and religious traditions. In its best form it was for centuries -restricted to patricians, who alone were privileged to take the mystic -bread together. This constituted a religious marriage, and only this -could give their children pure descent or admission to the highest -functions of the State. There were two lower grades of civil marriage, -but each gave a man supreme control of his wife, without the dignity -of consecration. Whatever cruelty and suffering might result from this -one-sided relation,—and the possibilities were enormous,—a woman was -expected to love the husband chosen by her friends, for himself alone, -and a bridegroom’s presents were limited by custom, so that she might -not be tempted to love him for what he could give her. She must go -out to meet him, submit patiently to any indignities he might offer, -and mourn him in due form when he died. <em>Her</em> death he was not -required to mourn at all. His infidelities she must never see, as any -complaint was likely to meet with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> a dismissal, and she knew that even -her father would say it served her right for interfering in any way -with a man’s privilege of doing as he liked.</p> - -<p>That a woman ever did love her husband under such conditions proves -that her heart was as tender as her capacity for self-sacrifice was -great; also that men were by no means as wicked or tyrannical as they -had the power to be. We know that liberty is not always insured by an -edict, nor does cruelty or injustice invariably follow the lack of a -decree against it. There are many notable instances of the devotion of -Roman women and the affection of Roman men; indeed, it is quite certain -that there was a great deal of happy domestic life. Men naturally -accepted the traditions of a society into which they had been born, and -women did not question them unless their burdens became intolerable, -and even these they considered a part of their destiny, as good women -had done before them—and have done since. But power is a dangerous -gift for the best of us, and without some strong safeguard, moral or -legal, brute force inevitably asserts itself over helplessness. In -modern times a sentiment grown into a tradition has done much toward -tempering the condition of women even under arbitrary rule, though -their own increased intelligence has done more. Sentiment, however, was -not a quality of the average Roman character. Men were masterful and -passionate, eager of power and impatient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> of contradiction. To offset -this, they often had a strong family feeling and a certain sense of -justice, besides a natural love of peace in the home; but this did not -suffice to curb the violence and cruelty of the wicked, nor to render -the position of the high-spirited wife a possible one. The stuff out -of which Lucretias and Cornelias are made is not the stuff to bear -habitual oppression silently, beyond a certain point.</p> - -<p>It was doubtless this oppression that was responsible for a startling -epidemic of husband-poisoning in the fourth century before Christ. The -women who prepared the drugs were betrayed by a maid, and one hundred -and seventy matrons—some of them patricians—were found guilty. The -leaders were forced to take their own poisons, and died with the -calmness of Stoics. Two hundred years afterward there was another -epidemic of the same sort, and many eminent men paid the penalty of -their cruelties with their lives. This mode of redressing wrongs became -too common to be passed to the account of individual crime. It was the -protest of helpless ignorance that had found no other weapon.</p> - -<p>About this time, however, the Roman matrons took a more civilized and -rational method of asserting their rights. It was an innovation to -claim any, but they were too proud to accept the hopeless vassalage of -the Athenian woman. Indignant at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> the inferiority of their condition, -without recourse or refuge against cruelty and injustice, hampered by -needless and petty restrictions, they rebelled at last.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>One sees little clearly through the mists of two thousand years, and -we know few details of what seems to have been the first concerted -revolt on the part of women. The visible cause was a trivial one, but -it was the proverbial last drop, and served at least to bring dismay -into the councils of men, and afterward, possibly, reflection. The -Roman woman was patriotic and quite ready, at need, to give all and -ask nothing. When money was required to carry on the Punic wars, she -poured out her jewels and personal treasures with lavish generosity; -nor did she murmur when the Oppian law decreed that she must no longer -wear purple or many-colored robes, that her gold ornaments must weigh -no more than half an ounce, and that she must walk if she went out, as -the use of a carriage in the city was a forbidden luxury. These were -small privileges, but they were about all she had, and when the crisis -was past, she asked a repeal of the decree. She met the usual rebuff of -those who seek to regain a lost point. Men saw in such a request only -an “irruption of female emancipators,” dangerous alike to religion and -the State. Cato, the austere, refused a petition<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> which he regarded as -a subversion of order and a rebellion against lawful masters. He said -that the claim of women to any rights or any voice in public affairs -was a proof that men had lost their majesty as well as their authority; -such a thing could not have happened if each one had kept his own wife -in proper subjection. “Our privileges,” he continues, “overpowered at -home by female contumacy, are, even here in the forum, spurned and -trodden under foot”; indeed, he begins to fear that “the whole race -of males may be utterly destroyed by a conspiracy of women.” He rails -at the matrons, who throng the forum, for “running into public and -addressing other women’s husbands.” It “does not concern them what laws -are passed or repealed.” He bewails the “good old days” when women were -forced to obey their fathers, brothers, or husbands. “Now they are so -lost to a sense of decency as to ask favors of other men.” “Women,” he -says, “bear law with impatience.” They long for liberty, which is not -good for them. With all the old restrictions, it is difficult to keep -them within bounds. “The moment they have arrived at equality they will -be our superiors”—a dangerous admission surely. He calls the affair a -sedition, an insurrection, a secession of women.</p> - -<p>But the matrons had some able defenders. Lucius Valerius, who had -asked the repeal of this obnoxious law, spoke for them. He objects -to calling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> a natural request by such hard names, and quotes from -antiquity to prove that it is not a new thing for Roman matrons to come -out in public, as they have often done so in the interest of the State, -and “always to its advantage.” He recalls the various times when they -saved Rome, and refers to the generosity with which they invariably -responded to a call for help. No one objected when they appeared for -the general good; why should they be censured when they asked a favor -for themselves? In reply to the accusation of extravagance, he says: -“When you wear purple on your own robe, why will you not permit your -wife a purple mantle?”... “Will you spend more on your horse than on -your wife?” Then he asks why women who have always been noted for -modesty should lose it now through the repeal of a law that has not -been in existence more than twenty years. One is tempted to quote -at length from these speeches, because they show us how the Romans -discussed certain questions that are familiar to-day. To be sure, it -was only a woman’s privilege of dressing as she chose that they were -considering, but it really involved her right to ask anything which her -lord and master did not freely accord. We hear practically the same -arguments, the same fears, the same special pleadings on both sides, at -each new step in the social advancement of women.</p> - -<p>The Roman matrons, however, were not discouraged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> by criticism. They -flocked to the forum in greater numbers than ever. Women came in from -the towns and villages to aid them. The senators were so astounded -at their audacity that they solemnly implored the gods to reveal the -nature of the omen. They stigmatized the leaders as “androgynes” or -“he-women,” a term of contempt so freely applied in this country, -less than fifty years ago, to those who bravely presented the claims -of their sex to larger consideration, and who, silver-haired and -venerable, are so widely honored to-day. We do not hear that there were -any congresses or conventions, but these Roman ladies held meetings, -went into the streets for votes, and appealed to nobles, officials, -and strangers alike. They sought the tribunes in their houses, and -used all their arts of persuasion. There were fair-minded men then as -now, and the spirited rebels won their cause, though Cato revenged -himself for his defeat by imposing a heavy tax on the dress, ornaments, -and carriages of women. It is said that they put on their gay robes -and jewels at once, and celebrated their victory by dancing in the -legislative halls.</p> - -<p>Not far from this time, possibly a little before, a dowry was set -apart for women. But there was a growing jealousy of their increasing -independence, and, a few years later, it was proposed to take away -from them the right of inheritance. It was feared that too much -property might fall into their hands,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> as had been the case in Sparta; -also, that their taste for elegant living might lead to degeneracy of -manners and morals. The irrepressible Cato again came to the front -and declaimed against the arrogance and tyranny of rich women. After -bringing their husbands a large dowry, he said, they even had the -presumption to retain some of their own money for themselves and ask -payment if they lent it to their masters! Men could not be expected to -tolerate such insufferable insolence on the part of their “reserved -slaves.” And so the decree was passed. But it was more honored in -the breach than in the observance, and became a dead letter, as men -themselves thought it unjust.</p> - -<p>How far the gradual change in the laws was due to the efforts of -women and how far to the justice of men, it is not easy to determine; -but the astonished attitude of the latter when they felt that their -time-honored supremacy was in peril shows better than anything else the -real significance of the movement which was precipitated by so slight a -cause. It is quite safe to say that without an emphatic protest there -would have been no thought of justice. Traditions are only broken from -the inside where they press heavily. In this case it was a daring and -unheard-of thing to run against the current of centuries of passive -submission; but “it is the first step that costs.” When the right of -being heard had been once asserted, grave statesmen and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> jurists took -up the matter and solved it as best they could, with an evident desire -to be just and kind, as they understood it. It could hardly be expected -that half of the human family would voluntarily relinquish the absolute -ownership of the other half, or even believe it to be good for the -other half that they should do so. Men are not so constituted. The -institutions and customs that had come to them from their fathers they -felt bound to pass on, as far as possible, intact. Besides, all vital -changes must be slow, unless they are to be chaotic. But the leaven of -a new intelligence worked surely, if not swiftly.</p> - -<p>The masses of the Roman women never passed out of a condition which we -should call subjection, though they did secure at last the use of their -own fortunes, relative freedom in the marriage contract, and a certain -protection against money-hunting and spendthrift husbands. In the -reign of Augustus the wife was given a guaranty for her own property, -and the husband was forbidden to alienate the dowry. The mother was -in a measure freed from oppressive guardianship, which later ceased -altogether. Under Hadrian she was permitted to make a will without -consulting any one, also to inherit from her sons. In many regards the -Romans after the Antonines were more just to women than are most of -the civilized nations of to-day. But these changes were the work of -centuries, and it is possible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> here to touch only upon a few essential -points.</p> - -<p>There was a second revolt more than a hundred years after the first, -when the triumvirs levied on the rich women of Rome a tax which -compelled many of them to sacrifice their jewels. They appealed to -Octavia to use her influence, also to the able mother of Antony, both -of whom favored them; but his wife, the Fulvia of unpleasant fame, -treated them with intolerable rudeness. Again they thronged the forum; -but they had made vast strides in intelligence, and this time the -eloquent daughter of a famous orator was chosen to plead for them. It -was no longer a simple matter of personal injustice, but also a moral -question upon which thoughtful women had distinct opinions and the -ability to express them. Hortensia spoke for peace. “Do not ask us,” -she says, “to contribute to the fratricidal war that is rending the -Republic.” Her appeal for justice recalls a plea so often heard to-day, -in a form that is but slightly altered. “Why should we pay taxes,” -she says, “when we have no part in the honors, the commands, the -statecraft, for which you contend against each other with such harmful -results?... When have taxes ever been imposed on women?” Quintilian -refers to this address of a brilliant matron as worthy to be read for -its excellence, and “not merely as an honor to her sex.”</p> - -<p>These spirited and high-born women were sent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> home, as the others had -been, but the people again came to their aid, and it was found best to -limit the tax to a few who could bear the burden easily.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> right of choice in -husbands and of breaking chains when they became intolerable.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>With the advance in education many of the obstacles<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="New">THE “NEW WOMAN” OF OLD ROME</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img012"> - <img src="images/012.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· Wickedness of Imperial Days ·<br /> -· The Reverse of the Picture ·<br /> -· Parallel between the Romans and Ourselves ·<br /> -· Their “New Woman” ·<br /> -· Her Political Wisdom · Her Relative Independence ·<br /> -· Literature in the Golden Age ·<br /> -· Horace · Ovid ·<br /> -· Tributes to Cultivated Women in Letters of Cicero ·<br /> -· Literary Circles · Opinions of Satirists ·<br /> -· Reaction on Manners ·<br /> -· Tributes in Letters of Pliny and Seneca ·<br /> -· Glimpses of Family Life in Correspondence of Marcus Aurelius and Fronto ·<br /> -· Public Honors to Women ·</big><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img013"> - <img src="images/013.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>A great deal has been said of the Roman women of imperial days. Much -of it is not to their credit, but the bad are apt to be more striking -figures than the good, and to overshadow them in a long perspective. -The world likes to put its saints in a special category, and worship -them from afar. It seems fitting that they should sing hymns and pray -for suffering humanity in a cloistral seclusion, but they are rarely -quoted as representative of their age. On the other hand, it holds -up its brilliant or high-placed sinners as examples to be shunned; -but it talks about them and lifts them on a pedestal to show us how -wicked they are, until in the course of centuries they come to be -looked upon as representing the women of their time, when in fact they -represent only its worst type. Two thousand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> years hence, no doubt a -few conspicuous women noted to-day for brilliancy, beauty, or special -gifts, rather than for flawless character, will stand out in more -luminous colors than the great mass of refined and cultivated ones -who have dazzled their generation less and graced it more. Possibly -they may even furnish a text on which some strenuous moralist of -the fortieth century will expatiate, with illustrations from our -big-lettered journals, to show the corruption of our manners and the -dangers that lie in the cultivation of feminine intellect! And yet we -know that the moral standards of the world were never so high as in -these days when the influence of women in the mass is greater than ever -before.</p> - -<p>Of the colossal wickedness of imperial Rome there is no question, and -sinners were not rare among women. But the Julias and Messalinas did -not represent the average tone of Roman society, any more than the too -numerous examples of vice in high places reflect the average morality -of the great cities of to-day. A careful study of those times reveals, -beneath the surface of the life most conspicuous for its brilliancy -and its vices, a type of womanhood as strong and heroic as we find in -primitive days, with the added wisdom, culture, and helpfulness which -had grown out of the freer development of the intellect.</p> - -<p>The Romans of the last century of the Republic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> had, like ourselves, -their corrupt politicians, their struggles for office, their -demagogues, and their wars for liberty—meaning their own. They had -also their plutocrats, their parvenus, their love of glittering -splendor, their rage for culture, their patrons of art, who brought the -masterpieces over the seas, and, not least, their “new woman.” I use -the phrase in its best, not in its extreme, sense; the exaggeration -of a good type is always a bad one. This last product of a growing -civilization did not claim political rights or industrial privileges, -as we understand them; she did not write books of any note, or seek -university honors in cap and gown; nor did she combine in world-wide -organizations to better herself and other people: but she did a great -many things in similar directions, that were quite as new and vital -to the world in which she lived. If she did not say much about the -higher education, she was beginning to have a good deal of the best -that was known. The example of the learned as well as virtuous and -womanly Cornelia had not been lost. It was no longer sufficient to -say, in the language of an old epitaph, that a woman was “good and -beautiful, an indefatigable spinner, pious, reserved, chaste, and a -good housekeeper.” The conservative matron still prided herself on -these qualities which had so long constituted the glory of her sex, but -it was decreed that she must have something more. In the new order of -things, she shared in the cultivation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> of the intellect, and ignorance -had lost its place among the virtues. Girls were educated with boys, -read the same books, and studied the same subjects. To keep pace with -the age, a woman must be familiar with Greek as well as Roman letters. -She must also know how to sing and dance. “This helps them to find -husbands,” says Statius, who had little money to give his daughter, but -felt sure she could marry well because she was a “cultivated woman.” -The line of co-education, however, was drawn at singing and dancing, -where it began with us. In earlier times these accomplishments and -the knowledge of various languages were among the attractions of the -courtezan.</p> - -<p>The new Roman woman did not live her life apart from men, any more -than did the women of the old régime. Probably it never occurred to -her that it would be either pleasant or desirable to do so. She simply -wished to be considered as a peer and companion. Nor does she seem to -have been aggressive in public affairs. If she busied herself with -them, it was in counsels with men, and her influence was mainly an -indirect one. She had freed herself from some of the worst features of -an irresponsible masculine rule, but she was still in leading-strings, -though the strings were longer and gave her a little more freedom of -movement. There were many women of the newer generation who added to -the simple virtues of the home the larger<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> interests of the citizen, -and conspicuous political wisdom as well as great intelligence. We -first hear of them in councils of State through the letters of Cicero, -who gossiped so agreeably, and at times so critically, of passing -events. He speaks of the companions and advisers he found with Brutus -at Antium, among whom were the heroic Portia, wife of the misguided -leader, his sister Tertulla, and his mother Servilia, a woman of high -attainments and masterful character, who had been the lifelong friend -of Cæsar. The influence of this able and accomplished matron over the -great statesman did not wane with her beauty, as it lasted to the -end, though she could not save him from the fatal blow dealt by her -son. The tongue of scandal did not spare her, but at this time she -was old and past the suspicion of seeking to gain her purposes by the -arts of coquetry. Cicero feared her power, as her force of intellect -and masculine judgment had great weight in the discussions of these -self-styled patriots. She even went so far as to engage to have -certain important changes made in a decree of the Senate, which, for -a woman, was going very far indeed. One is often struck with the fact -that so many great Romans chose their women friends for qualities of -intellect and character rather than for youth or beauty. When ambition -is uppermost it has a keen eye for those who can minister to it, and a -woman’s talents, so lightly considered before, begin to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> their due -appreciation. To a friend who said to Cæsar that certain things were -not very easy for a woman to do, he simply replied: “Semiramis ruled -Assyria, and the Amazons conquered Asia.” It is known that he paid -great deference to his mother, the wise and stately Aurelia, to whose -careful training he owed so much. Later, women publicly recommended -candidates for important offices. Seneca acknowledged that he owed the -questorship to his aunt, who was one of the most modest and reserved as -well as intelligent of matrons. “They govern our houses, the tribunals, -the armies,” said a censor to the Senate. If their counsels were not -always for the best,—and even men are not infallible,—they were -usually in the interest of good morals and good government.</p> - -<p>Nor was it uncommon for the Roman woman to plead her own cause in the -forum. There was a senator’s wife who appeared often in the courts, -and her name, Afrania, was applied to those who followed her example. -The only speech that has come down to us was the celebrated plea of -Hortensia for her own sex. This was much praised, not only by great -men of that day but in after times. It showed breadth of intellect -and a firm grasp of affairs. The privilege of speaking in the forum -was withdrawn on account of the violence of a certain Calphurnia—an -incident that might suggest a little wholesome moderation to some -of our own councils and too zealous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> reformers. There were also -sacerdotal honors open to aspiring women. The Flaminica Augustalis -offered sacrifices for the people on city altars, and the services of -various divinities were always in the charge of women. There was no -systematized philanthropy such as we have to-day, but we hear of much -private beneficence. Women founded schools for girls and institutions -for orphans. They built porticos and temples, erected monuments and -established libraries; indeed, their gifts were often recognized by -statues in their honor. We hear of societies of women who discuss -city affairs and consider rewards to be conferred on magistrates of -conspicuous merit. The names of others appear in inscriptions on tombs; -but their mission is not clear. There were also women who practised -medicine; this, however, may not have implied great knowledge in an age -when science, as we understand it, was unknown.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>But a clearer idea of the representative Roman woman on her -intellectual side, and of the estimation in which she was held, is -gathered through her relation to the world of letters, and in the -glimpses of a sympathetic family life which we find in the private -correspondence of some great men.</p> - -<p>In the golden age of Augustus politics had ceased<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> to be profitable or -even safe, and the educated classes turned to literature for occupation -and amusement, when they did not turn to something worse. It was the -fashion to patronize letters, and every idler prided himself on writing -elegant verses. In the words of Horace:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -Now the light people bend to other aims;<br /> -A lust of scribbling every breast inflames;<br /> -Our youth, our senators, with bays are crowned,<br /> -And rhymes eternal as our feasts go round.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Even Augustus wrote bad epigrams and a worse tragedy. Public libraries -were numerous,—there were twenty-nine,—and busts of great masters -were placed beside their works. Authors were petted and flattered, and -they flattered their patrons in turn. These were the days when Horace -lived at his ease on his Sabine farm, gently satirizing the follies -and vices that were preparing the decay of this pleasure-loving world, -posing a little perhaps, and taking a lofty tone toward the courtly -Mæcenas and his powerful master, who honored the brilliant poet and -were glad to let him do as he liked. “Do you know that I am angry with -you for not addressing to me one of your epistles?” wrote Augustus. -“Are you afraid that posterity will reproach you for being my friend? -If you are so proud as to scorn my friendship, that is no reason why -I should lightly esteem yours in return.” The epistle came, but the -little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> gray-haired man, who saw so clearly and wrote so wisely, went -on his way serenely among his own hills, stretching himself lazily -on the grass by some ruined temple or running stream, and sending -pleasant though sometimes caustic words to the friends he would not -take the trouble to go and see unless peremptorily summoned. Such was -the relation between the ruler of the world and those who conferred -distinction on his reign. Ovid discoursed upon love, and became a lion, -until he forgot to confine himself to theory, and went a step too far -in practice. Then he was sent away from his honored place among the -gilded youth who basked in the smiles of an emperor’s granddaughter, -to meditate on the vanity of life and the uncertainty of fame, by the -desolate shores of the Euxine.</p> - -<p>In this blending of literature and fashion women had a prominent -place, though not as writers. No woman of the educated class could -write for money, and talent of that sort, even if she had it, would -have brought her little consideration. Whatever she may have done in -that direction was like foam on the crest of a wave. It vanished with -the moment. At a later period there were a few who wrote poetry of -which a trace is left. Balbilla, who was taken to Egypt in the train -of Hadrian and the good Empress Sabina, went out to hear the song with -which Memnon greeted his mother Aurora at dawn, and scratched some -verses on the statue in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> honor of her visit. Possibly they were only -the flattering trifles of a clever courtier, but they were graven on -stone and outlasted many better things. Of wider fame was Sulpicia, -the wife of a noted man in the reign of Domitian, who wrote a poem on -“Conjugal Love,” also a satire on an edict banishing the philosophers, -fragments of which still exist. She had the old Roman spirit, but was -less conciliatory than the eloquent Hortensia of an earlier day, who -was tired of the brutalities of war. She mourned the degeneracy of the -age, calling for “reverses that will awaken patriotism, yes, reverses -to make Rome strong again, to rouse her from the soft and enervating -languor of a fatal peace.” The able but wicked Agrippina, of tragical -memory, wrote the story of her life which gave to Tacitus many facts -and points for his “Annals.” Doubtless there were other things that -went the way of the passing epigrams and verses of Augustus and his -elegant courtiers. Twenty centuries hence who will ever hear of the -thousands, yes, millions of more or less clever essays and poems -written by men and women to-day and multiplied indefinitely by a facile -press? What will the future antiquarian who searches the pages of a -nineteenth-century anthology know of us, save that every man and woman -wrote, but nothing lived, except perhaps a volume or two from the work -of a few poets, essayists, and historians, who can be counted on one’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> -fingers? Oh, yes; there are the novelists whose value is measured by -figures and dollars, who multiply as the locusts do. Fine as we may -think them to-day, how many of their books will survive the sifting of -time? They may be piled in old libraries, but who will take the trouble -to dive into a mass that literally has no bottom? Will the world forget -that women did anything worth preserving? Yet our women are educated; -some of them are scholars, most of them are intelligent; many write -well, and a few surpassingly well.</p> - -<p>But if women did not write, they used their influence to find a hearing -for those who did. Of the learning of the time they had their share, -though it may not have been very profound. Ovid tells us that “there -are learned fair, a very limited number; another set are not learned, -but they wish to be so.” He writes of a gay world which is not too -decorous or too serious, but in the category of a woman’s attractions -he mentions as necessary a knowledge of the great poets, both Greek -and Latin, among whom he modestly counts himself. Women of fashion had -poets or philosophers to read or talk to them, even at their toilets, -while the maids brushed their hair. They discussed Plato and Aristotle -as we do Browning and economics. They dabbled in the mysteries of -Isis and Osiris as we do in theosophy and Buddhism; speculated on -Christianity as we do on lesser faiths, and began to doubt their -falling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> gods. Philosophy was “the religion of polite society,” but -women have always been drawn toward a faith that appeals to the -emotions. Then there were the recitations and public readings, in which -they were actors as well as listeners.</p> - -<p>We have glimpses of the more seriously intellectual side of the Roman -woman in the private letters of Cicero, which show us also the pleasant -family life that gives us the best test of its value and sincerity. -The brilliant orator seems to have had a special liking for able and -accomplished matrons. In his youth he sought their society in order to -polish and perfect his style. He speaks in special praise of Lælia, -the wife of Scævola with whom he studied law, also of her daughter -and granddaughters—all of whom excelled in conversation of a high -order; he refers often to Cærellia, a woman of learning and talent, -with whom he corresponded for many years; and he says that Caius Curio -owes his great fame as an orator to the conversations in his mother’s -house. Many other women he mentions whose attainments in literature, -philosophy, and eloquence did honor to their sex and placed them -on a level with the great men of their time. This was in the late -days of the Republic, when genuine talent was not yet swamped in the -pretensions of mediocrity.</p> - -<p>The praise of his daughter Tullia is always on his lips. She was -versed in polite letters, “the best<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> and most learned of women,” and -he valued her companionship beyond anything in life. It seems that she -was unfortunate in husbands, and they gave him a good deal of trouble; -but when she died the light went out of his world. His letters are full -of tears, and he plans the most magnificent of monuments. He would -deify her, and draw from all writers, Greek and Latin, to transmit to -posterity her perfections and his own boundless love. But precious -time was lost in dreams of the impossible, and swift fate overtook -him before any of them crystallized. Instead of the splendid temple -that was to last forever, only a few crumbling stones of his villa on -the lonely heights of Tusculum are left to-day to recall the young, -beautiful, and gifted woman in whose “sweet conversation” the great -statesman could “drop all his cares and troubles.” Here she looked for -the last time across the Campagna upon the shining array of marbles, -columns, and palaces that were the pride of Rome in its glory, and -went away from it all, leaving behind her a fast vanishing name, the -fragrance of a fresh young life, and a desolate heart.</p> - -<p>But if these charming pictures reveal a sympathetic side of the -intimate life of the new age, they give us also the shadows that were -creeping over it. The great man, who said so many fine things and did -so many weak ones, has always a tender message for the little Attica, -the daughter of his friend,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> but he fears the fortune-hunters, and -objects to a husband proposed for her, because he has paid court to a -rich woman who is old and has been several times married. For his own -wife, Terentia, he has less consideration. She is not facile enough, -and finds too much fault with his way of doing things. Perhaps she -presses her influence too far, and fails to pay proper deference to -his authority. To be sure, he calls her “my light, my darling,” says -she is in his thoughts night and day, praises her ability, and trusts -her judgment until his affairs begin to go wrong. All this, however, -does not prevent his sending her away after thirty years of devotion, -and marrying his lovely young ward, who is rich enough to pay his -debts. The latter is divorced in turn because she does not sufficiently -mourn the loss of his idolized daughter, and his closing years are -burdened with the care of restoring her dowry, which draws from him -many a bitter complaint. There is a strange note of irony in the tone -of the much-married, much-sinning, and perfidious Antony, who publicly -censures the “Father of his Country” for repudiating a wife with whom -he has grown old. But the high-spirited Terentia solaced herself with -his friend Sallust, and married one or two others after his death. -Evidently no hearts were broken, as she lived some years beyond a -century.</p> - -<p>In the literary circles of a later generation we hear of noble ladies -of serious tastes meeting to converse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> about the poets. Juvenal -and Martial ridiculed them as Molière did the Précieuses centuries -afterward. “I hate a woman who never violates the rules of grammar, -and quotes verses I never knew,” says Juvenal. “A husband should have -the privilege of committing a solecism.” He objects to being bored at -supper with impertinent questions about Homer and Vergil, or misplaced -sympathy with the unhappy Dido, who, no doubt, ought to have taken her -desertion philosophically instead of making it so unpleasant for her -hero lover. He even suggests that women blessed with literary tastes -should put on the tunics of the bolder sex and do various mannish -things which are sometimes recommended by the satirists of to-day. It -is with a sigh of regret that he recalls the “good old days of poverty -and morals,” when it was written on a woman’s tombstone that she “spun -wool and looked after her house.” “A good wife is rarer than a white -crow,” is his amiable conclusion.</p> - -<p>All this goes to prove that in the first century women passed through -the same ordeal of criticism as they have in the nineteenth. The -satirists of to-day are no kinder to the Dante and Browning clubs, and -mourn equally over the “good old days” when they were in no danger of -a rival or a critic at the breakfast-table. Doubtless that age had -its little pretensions and affectations, as every other great age has -had—not excepting our own. There were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> women who talked platitudes -about things of which they knew nothing, and men who did the same thing -or worse on other lines laughed at them just as men do now at similar -follies, though often without the talent of a Juvenal or a Martial, -and, it is fair to say, without their incredible coarseness. The coming -of women into literature has made the latter practically impossible.</p> - -<p>But even Martial had his better moments. He speaks of a young girl -who has the eloquence of Plato, the austerity of the philosophers, -and writes verses worthy of a chaste Sappho. One might imagine that -his enthusiasm had run away with his prejudices, if Martial could be -supposed to have had enthusiasms, as he warmly congratulates the friend -who is to marry this prodigy. Possibly he preferred her as the wife of -some one else, as he stipulates for himself, on another occasion, a -wife who is “not too learned.”</p> - -<p>There was a great deal to censure in this dilettante world. The -fashionable life of Rome had drifted into hopeless corruption, in spite -of the efforts of good men and women to stem the tide. Long before, the -Senate had ordered a temple to Venus Verticordia, the Venus that turns -hearts to virtue; but the new goddess was not eminently successful -among the votaries of pleasure, who preferred to offer incense to -the more beautiful and less respectable one. The old patricians had -their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> faults and sins, but the new moneyed aristocracy was a great -deal worse, as the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">noblesse oblige</i> had ceased to exist, and -there were no moral ideals to take the place of it. “First let us seek -for fortune,” says the satirist; “virtue is of no importance. Hail -to wealth!” “His Majesty Gold” was as powerful as he is to-day, and -his worship was coarser. “He says silly things, but money serves for -intellect,” remarks a wit of the time. Literature declined with morals. -“These are only stores and shops, these schools in which wisdom is sold -and supplied like goods,” said one who mourned over the degeneracy of -the times. That women should suffer with the rest was inevitable. They -are not faultless; indeed, they are very simply human. If they are -usually found in the front ranks of great moral movements, they are not -always able to stand individually against the resistless tide which we -call the spirit of the age.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>The changes which a century or so had wrought in the position and -education of women reacted on manners. The pagan virtues were -essentially masculine ones, and even women had always been more noted -for courage and stoical heroism than for the softer Christian qualities -which are called feminine. In the old days they had been subservient -because<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> they were virtually slaves. For the same reason they were -expected to be blindly obedient. Their servile attitude toward men was -a duty; tradition gave it the force of a sentiment. Nor did the fact -that many Roman women had risen above their conditions, and shown great -dignity and strength, alter this general relation. It was not in their -nature, however, to be timid, or tender, or clinging. Sensibility was -a weakness and a trait of inferior classes. Love was a passion, or a -duty, or a habit, but not a sentiment. The new woman of the golden -age of Augustus was strong, dignified, self-poised, and commanding. -The fashionable set accented this tone and became haughty, arrogant, -and masculine in manner. It looked upon the conservative matron who -was disposed to preserve old traditions as antiquated. The change, in -its various gradations, was quite similar to that which passed over -Anglo-Saxon women in the century that has just closed. We also have our -golden mean of poise and dignity, as represented by the conservative -who are yet of the new age in culture, breadth, and intelligence; -we, too, have a few of the emancipated who like to demonstrate their -new-found independence by a defiance of social conventions; then we -have our ultra-fashionable parvenus who fancy arrogance a badge of -position, and pronounced manners a sign of modish distinction. Of -these classes, the first and the last were the most defined<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> in Roman -society, but it is mainly in the last that we find the degeneracy of -morals which made a large section of it infamous.</p> - -<p>Of the women of the conservative ruling classes we have pleasant -glimpses in the letters of Pliny, which picture an intelligent and -sympathetic family life that constantly recalls our own. His wife, -Calphurnia, sets his verses to music and sings them, greatly to his -surprise and delight. She has a taste for books and commits his -compositions to memory. He says she has an excellent understanding, -consummate prudence, and an affection for her husband that attests the -purity of her heart. It is not his person but his character that she -loves, so he is assured of lasting harmony. When absent, he entreats -her to write every day, even twice a day. If he has only his wife and -a few friends at his summer villa, he has some author to read to them, -and afterward music or an interlude. Then he walks with his family -and talks of literature. The charming little domestic traits, so -unconsciously revealed in these letters, are as creditable to himself -as to the wife who adores him. There is a touch of sentiment that we -rarely find in pagan life.</p> - -<p>These letters throw many side-lights on other households. Pliny has -a word of profound sympathy for the sorrow of a friend who lived -thirty-nine cloudless years with a wife whose virtues would have -made her “an ornament even in former times,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> and was left desolate -by her loss. We find a touching allusion to the fortitude of Fannia, -who has the qualities of a “heroine of ancient story.” She was -banished for supplying materials for her husband’s “Life.” “Pleasing -in conversation, polite in address, venerable in demeanor,” she is -quoted as a model for wives. She was a worthy granddaughter of the -famous Arria, who refused to survive her husband when he was condemned -to death, and gave him courage by first plunging the dagger into her -own breast, saying, “Pætus, it does not hurt,” as she drew it out and -passed it to him. Another of his friends lost a daughter of fourteen, -who, he says, combined the wisdom of age and the discretion of a matron -with the sprightliness of youth and the sweetness of virgin modesty. -She was devoted to reading and study, caring little for amusements. -Pompeius Saturninus read him some letters from his wife which were so -fine that he thought he was listening to Plautus and Terence in prose; -indeed, he suspects the husband of writing them himself, in spite of -his denial, though he considers him deserving of equal praise, whether -he wrote them or trained her genius to such a degree of perfection. It -is worthy of note that, while these letters show us the intelligent -companionship between husbands and wives which had taken the place -of the old relations of superior and inferior, as well as the fine -attainments of many women and the honor in which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> they were held, they -also pay the highest tribute to virtues that still shone brightly in an -age when it had become a fashion to speak of them as things of the past.</p> - -<p>“Morals are gone,” said Seneca. “Evil triumphs. All virtue, all -justice, is disappearing. That is what was exclaimed in our fathers’ -days, what they are repeating to-day, and what will be the cry of our -children.” If we may credit the history of that age, there was reason -enough for the cry, but there was another side to the dark picture. -This critical philosopher did not spare the vices and follies of -the great ladies of his time, and any tribute of his to the talents -and virtues of women is of value, as it is not likely to incline to -the side of flattery. In his letters of consolation to his mother, -Helvia, he mentions the fact that she is “learned in the principles -of all the sciences,” in spite of the old-fashioned notions of his -father, who “feared letters as a means of corruption for women.” More -liberal himself, he exhorts her to return to them as “a source of -safety, consolation, and joy.” To Marcia he writes in a tone that is -appreciative, though a trifle patronizing: “Who dares say that nature -in creating woman has gifted her less generously, or restricted for her -the sphere of the virtues? Her moral strength, do not doubt it, equals -ours.... Habit will render her, like us, capable of great efforts, -as of great griefs.” An incident of his own family life is worth -repeating,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> as it shows a pleasant and not uncommon side of domestic -relations at a period when Roman morals were at the worst. His wife was -solicitous for his health. “As my life depends upon hers,” he says, “I -shall follow her advice, because in doing so I am caring for her. Can -anything be more agreeable than to feel that in loving your wife you -are loving yourself?” The devotion on her side was more heroic, if less -reasonable. When he was politely advised to take himself to some other -world where he would be less in the way of his civil superiors, she -insisted upon dying with him. He tried in vain to dissuade her, but, -finding her persistent, he gave his consent, saying: “Let the fortitude -of so courageous an end be alike in both of us, but let there be more -in your death to win fame.” Her veins were opened with his; but Nero -did not need to get rid of her just then, so the attendants quickly -bound her wounds and saved her. This devoted Paulina had only the -satisfaction of sacrificing her color, as she was noted for her extreme -pallor to the end of her life.</p> - -<p>We have other letters from a thinker and seer of the next century, -which give us as sympathetic an insight into the private life of -the Antonines as Cicero and Pliny give us into that of their own -contemporaries in the two preceding ones. Nowhere does Marcus Aurelius -appear in so human a light as in this correspondence with Fronto, the -distinguished<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> master and philosopher, which came to us at a late day -out of the silence of ages. It reveals one of the rare friendships -of the world, and incidentally throws a pleasant light on the family -relations of the wisest and simplest of emperors.</p> - -<p>History has cast a cloud over the wives of the Antonines—whether -justly or not we can never know. In an age of great vices, even virtue -is not safe, and the scandal-lover has always delighted to tear fair -names. But the testimony of a husband surely ought to count for more -than the flippant gossip of the idle voluptuary or the witty sneer of -the satirist. Referring to the elder Faustina, Antoninus Pius says: “I -would rather spend my life with her in Gyaros than live without her in -a palace.” As this desolate abode of the exile was supposed to be very -uncomfortable, the compliment was not a light one. It is not in such -terms that men write of faithless wives, nor is it in the nature of -such women to wear the white veil of innocence for a series of years -in the presence of those nearest to them. There was a temple built in -her honor which still keeps guard as a church over the Roman forum, a -permanent monument to the devotion of this tender husband. A charitable -institution for girls, that bore her name, has long since gone the way -of all perishable things.</p> - -<p>In the letters of Aurelius, which cover a wide range of thought and -experience, there are constant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> references to his family. It is -difficult to believe the younger Faustina as wicked as men have painted -her. One of the most beautiful women of her time, as brilliant and -sweet as she was beautiful, the idol of her household, the object of -affectionate care on the part of her husband, this gracious woman has -been a mystery to successive generations. What if the lightly spoken -word of a malicious rival, or a dark insinuation from some impertinent -admirer whose vanity she may have wounded, kindled a fire which the -ages cannot put out? Such things have been, and may be again. “I thank -the gods for giving me a wife so kind, so tender to her children, so -simple,” said the philosopher, who kept his soul at a serene altitude -above things of sense; but he broke down when his children suffered or -died, and mourned this much-loved wife as a saint, giving her divine -honors. He also put a gold statue of her in the seat she had been in -the habit of occupying at the theater, and had her represented in a -bas-relief as borne to heaven, while he gazed after her with longing -eyes.</p> - -<p>Fronto writes that the mother of Marcus Aurelius laughingly -declares herself jealous of him. He asks tenderly after the ailing -<i>domnula</i>, who is the idol of her father’s heart. Of his own -daughter Gratia he has much to tell, playing gracefully with her name. -He chats pleasantly of sleep, of health, of dreams, of the art of -speech, in which he was himself a master.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> But this is varied with -words of affection, with tender references to the children, their -pretty voices and their winning ways. He had given the little prince -a silver trumpet on his birthday, and draws a charming picture of the -group about their mother, the beautiful Faustina. But he loses his own -admirable and much-loved wife; then his grandson dies; and his heart is -torn with grief, as with sympathy for the sorrow of the gentle Gratia. -Joy falls away from the spent life of the white-haired philosopher. He -finds nothing to bind him longer to a sad world. His silvery periods -have lost their charm. He lays down his pen, and his last words are -full of pathos. He writes to an emperor who, like himself, has lived on -the heights of a calm reason. The blows of fate have struck them both, -and they weep, like others.</p> - -<p>I have quoted more or less from the letters of four thoughtful and -clear-sighted men, because their personal details and general tone go -farther than any assertion to prove the pure and intelligent character -of a large section of Roman womanhood and its refining influence in the -family. They are a flattering tribute, not only to the women of the -new age, but to the fine qualities of a corresponding circle of men. -The life revealed by these distinguished observers who have talked so -familiarly of its every-day side is certainly remote from that which -has been dwelt upon by satirists and historians, but we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> cannot doubt -that it represents the domestic relations of an important class. It is -fair to presume that the women of culture and virtue who came within -their horizon were not exceptions.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>Of the increasing influence of Roman matrons, a strong proof may be -found in the public honors they began to receive. Many of these were -of a conveniently perfunctory sort, and meant little more than a -tribute to the vanity of a family which demanded respect for its name; -but they had their significance. It became a fashion to give women a -semblance of power that was not always genuine, and to compensate them -for any sorrow or neglect they might have had in this world with a fine -position and a grand title, which cost little, in the next. Julius -Cæsar was far from a model husband, but he celebrated the virtues -of his young wife Cornelia, whom he loved devotedly, in an eloquent -oration over her remains. He also pronounced a public eulogy for his -aunt Julia, wife of Marius who came in for a large share of the glory. -Augustus, a boy of twelve, gave a funeral oration over his grandmother. -He also honored his sister, the amiable Octavia, with a eulogy and a -national funeral, the first one ever given to a woman who was not a -sovereign. If there have been others I do not recall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> them. He decreed -divine honors to Livia, but he died before her, and her ungrateful -son forbade them, though the more appreciative Senate proclaimed her -“Mother of her Country,” and voted a funeral arch in her memory. Later, -this Roman Juno was placed in the ranks of the gods by her grand-nephew -Claudius, who was not wholly disinterested, as he did not wish to owe -his descent to a simple mortal. The emptiness of some of these numerous -honors was aptly illustrated by Nero, who killed his young but not -immaculate wife, Poppæa, with a kick, then, like a dutiful husband, -pronounced her eulogy and made her a diva! Many of them, however, were -paid to worth and to great services for the State.</p> - -<p>“I feel that I am becoming a god,” said Vespasian, when dying, with a -skeptical smile at his approaching apotheosis. Women are more trustful. -Perhaps they took their divine honors more seriously, and found in them -a sort of consolation, as when, in later ages, they looked wistfully -from the sorrows of life toward a saint’s crown.</p> - -<p>We have seen the Roman women of primitive times reach great heights of -courage and patriotism; we have seen them rise from virtual bondage to -a measure of freedom and consideration. In the days of Scipio and the -Gracchi they had won the privileges of education, and a certain respect -for their intellectual abilities, as well as for their virtues. We find -them later not only noted for fine domestic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> qualities, but patrons -of literature, and helpful companions of great husbands and sons. The -last days of the Republic saw many strong and capable women, and we -begin to trace their influence in large affairs. The instances were not -numerous, perhaps, but individual talent asserted itself. With the new -intelligence they moved rapidly, as our women have done, and apparently -without aggression. But it was not until the privileges of rank offset -in a degree the disabilities of sex that the Roman woman reached the -height of her power and her honors. No doubt she sometimes schemed -for a throne in the interest of a husband or a son, but she often -proved herself eminently qualified for her own part in its duties and -responsibilities. If her talents and energies sometimes went wrong in -the lurid and immoral world in which she found herself, they were more -frequently exerted for the general good.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Famous">SOME FAMOUS WOMEN OF IMPERIAL ROME</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img014"> - <img src="images/014.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· Three Types of Roman Womanhood ·<br /> -· Livia · Octavia · Julia ·<br /> -· Corruption of the Age not Due to Women ·<br /> -· Persecution of Virtue · Multiplication of Divorces ·<br /> -· Good Women in Public Life ·<br /> -· Plotina · Julia Domna · Julia Mæsa ·<br /> -· Soæmias · Mamæa ·<br /> -· The Old Type Gives Place to the New ·</big><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img015"> - <img src="images/015.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>If one wishes to gain a clear notion of the dominant traits of the -Roman woman of twenty centuries ago, there is no better way than to -walk observantly through the old galleries where so many of them still -live in marble, side by side with the men who made or marred their -fortunes. There, graven in stone, one sees at a glance the strength, -the passion, the pride, the ambition, that left its stamp upon an age. -There too is the weakness, the sensuality, the arrogance, the cruelty, -that ruined a life and brought misery upon a generation. Most of these -women belonged to a class that held a conspicuous place in the public -view by virtue of its position. Some were wicked, a few were great, and -many were good though they rarely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> get the credit of it. To make them -live again is not easy, perhaps not possible, but we gather from many a -record curious and interesting facts regarding them. Their surroundings -are measurably familiar to us. We know how they looked, how they -dressed their hair, how they wore their robes, how they carried -themselves. With here and there a trait, an act, a passing word, an -anecdote, in their relations to men and society, we may compose a -picture which, if not exact, will give a fair idea of the manner of -women they were.</p> - -<p>There were three matrons in the family of the first emperor who may be -taken as representatives of three dominant types of Roman womanhood. -In Livia, we have the woman of affairs; in Octavia, the woman of the -family; in Julia, the woman of the gay world. The first had before all -things the genius of administration which was the special gift of her -race; the second united the sweetest family affections with loyalty and -moral strength; the last was of the numerous and dangerous class that -made of society an occupation, and of pleasure an end.</p> - -<p>Of the long line of capable women who had so strong and so lasting -an influence in Roman affair—sometimes for good and sometimes for -ill—the first and the best known was Livia. Standing as she did in the -blazing light that shines upon a throne, we see her on many sides—if -not always clearly, at least in bold outlines. That she had beauty, -tact,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> fascination, and a gracious address, doubtless counted for -much in her youth; but it was through her wise judgment, far-seeing -intellect, well-poised character, and keen practical sense of values -that this remarkable woman shared the fortunes and held the affection -of Augustus for more than half a century, and had a voice in the -destinies of Rome for seventy years. She has been given the purity -of Diana, the benevolence of Ceres, the wisdom and craft of Minerva. -There are many busts and statues of her, but they vary, and it is not -possible to know which best represents the real woman. We see her in -marble as Ceres—a commanding figure, with strength in every line. The -passion that lies in the delicate, half-sensuous curve of the lips is -overshadowed by the will that shows itself in the firm poise of the -head, and the intellect that sits in the ample forehead and looks out -of the serene eyes. “In features Venus, in manner Juno,” says Ovid, -who had ample reason to know the power of this discreet matron. She -frowned upon the license of the gay set to which he belonged, and it is -not unlikely that she had something to do with the hopeless exile that -pressed so heavily on his last years. But he declares that “she has -raised her head above all vices,” dwelling upon her strength and the -fact that “with the power to injure, she has injured no one.”</p> - -<p>Whatever the faults of Livia may have been, no shadow rested on her -womanly honor. Probably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> she had no choice when, at eighteen, the -emperor took her from her husband—who found it best to submit amiably -where the caprices of his sovereign were concerned—and made her his -wife, this complaisant but elderly soldier of culture and influence -acting as her father or guardian in the ceremony, and dying soon after. -If he bore any ill will it does not appear, as he left his two children -to the care of his successor. At the same time, Augustus sent away his -own wife, the too jealous and exacting mother of Julia, on the day of -his daughter’s birth. The only failing of Scribonia seems to have been -that she was imperious and did not bear her wrongs with sufficient -equanimity.</p> - -<p>This new union lasted fifty-two years, and the last recorded words of -the husband were, “Livia, farewell, and do not forget our love.” To -some one who asked her how she retained her influence so long, she -replied: “That comes from my moderation and my honesty. I have done -with joy all that he wished, without trying to meddle with his affairs -or showing the least jealousy as to his infidelities, which I never -seemed to see.” As a recipe for the management of husbands the last -might be open to grave objection, from a woman’s point of view, but it -was the undisputed privilege of Roman men, indeed of all men in early -times,—to say nothing of later ones,—to be made comfortable under any -circumstances; and they made no pretense to morality.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> As to meddling, -Livia evidently did it as though she did it not, as it was well known -that she tempered the harshness of her husband and modified many of his -stern decrees.</p> - -<p>Perhaps a better explanation of his devotion might have been found in -the rare union of beauty and intelligence with the domestic virtues -which he took so much pleasure in extolling. In the waning of her -personal charms, she took care not to lose the attractions of a -versatile intellect and agreeable manners, also to sheathe in velvet -the delicate, closely welded chains of daily habit. She knew how to -submit and she knew how to rule. Since life is always a series of -compromises, perhaps its finest art lies just here. Maintaining the -traditions of her sex, she wove and made her husband’s clothes. As -she had six hundred or more attendants to fold her own garments and -minister to her comfort, it is not likely that these domestic duties -weighed very heavily. Doubtless a little supervision sufficed for a -great deal of credit. A well-managed household does not imply doing -things one’s self so much as the knowledge and ability to put the -machinery in running order; and Livia was before all things executive, -which has much more to do with brains than with virtues.</p> - -<p>Like her husband, or because of him, she hated luxury and ostentation -in her daily life. Her house was small and simple, but decorated with -taste. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> pleasures of sense had little weight with her; indeed, -there was a trace of asceticism in her character and in her way -of living. She had various theories which we call fads. These are -specially noticeable in an epicurean age, when a fortune was spent on a -dinner. She limited herself to a diet of fruits and vegetables, drank -a certain wine that suited the health better than the palate, and had -great faith in the virtues of cold water. Augustus was cured of a grave -malady by cold baths, but rumor said that the young Marcellus died of -them. Just why Livia was blamed is not clear, as the treatment was -prescribed by Musa, the great physician; but it was new, and she had -made it a fashion.</p> - -<p>That she had many lovable traits is shown not only by the lifelong -devotion of her husband, but in the adoring affection of those who -served her. In recent years a large columbarium has been found which -she consecrated to the ashes of her numerous household, each of whom -had his little urn with a fitting inscription. She used her large -fortune generously, helped the persecuted, established a school for -poor but well-born children, and did a great many charitable things. -It may be true that she was cruel to her enemies, but she was loyal to -her friends and untiring in their interests. Wisely holding the threads -of a large and diverse patronage, she kept herself in touch with the -intelligence of the new age, and was inspired by a broad and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> catholic -public spirit. She is said to have built and endowed the Temple of -Concord, also a portico rich in ancient paintings, which bore her -name. If she was at home at the wheel or loom and looking after the -personal comfort of her husband, she was equally so in the coteries -of the learned and in the councils of State. She was called cold, but -there were slumbering depths of feeling in that strong soul which few -had fathomed. When her son Drusus died, it is said that only the tender -interference of her husband prevented her from starving herself to -death in the violence of her grief. But she quickly regained her poise, -and went about her duties public and private with no outward sign of -the sorrow that had come to her like a bolt out of a clear sky. She had -much of the fortitude of the Stoics in the days when philosophy was the -fashionable religion. But she went to the wise and learned Arius for -help and consolation, as women of later ages have gone to a spiritual -adviser. Seneca holds her up as a model of strength and well-regulated -sensibility. He dwells upon her heroic qualities and contrasts her -favorably with the more emotional Octavia, who mourned her life away -over the death of her son and other domestic misfortunes.</p> - -<p>There was another and less sympathetic side to her character. Without -imagination, and little touched with sentiment, her life seems to -have been guided by a calm reason which was always at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> service of -a towering ambition—a trait which, sooner or later, is sure to make -the gentlest man or woman hard and cruel toward any one who stands in -its way. This ambition was her master passion, and in its direction -lay her faults. To her judgment and discrimination was added the -craft of a diplomatist. Her grandson Caligula called her a “Ulysses -in petticoats.” That she had any hand in the singular falling away, -one after another, of her husband’s direct heirs, or that she ever -passed the point where intrigue becomes crime, is the purest surmise. -She had too many enemies in his family, who feared and envied her, to -escape calumny; but though many dark rumors were in the air, nothing -was ever proved. One youth was ill and died in Gaul, another in the -far East. It is too much to suppose that she could safely have helped -them out of the world at that distance, even had she wished to do so. -That she schemed long and successfully to raise her son Tiberius to the -throne is certain. That he repaid her with a great deal of ingratitude -is equally so. Perhaps he could not forget that it was her ambition -which compelled him to send away his much-loved wife, Vipsania,—whom -he could never meet afterward without tears,—to marry the already -notorious Julia, for whom he had a distinct aversion. But no one then -stopped to consider sensibilities. If Livia was sometimes hard and -cruel, she lived in an age when people who did many kind and generous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -things had no hesitation in walking over a rival, crushing an enemy, or -even courteously suggesting to a friend who became inconvenient that -it would be wise for him to take himself out of the world. The man of -to-day is content with crushing rivals and ruining enemies in the name -of high-sounding virtues, but he has grown humane, and lets them live. -The time when fierce ambitions drove innocent victims out of life is -gone by. But we can judge people only by the standards of their own -day, and there is much evidence that Livia surpassed those of her time -in justice and compassion.</p> - -<p>Fortune certainly favored the aspiring empress. Her gentle -sister-in-law, Octavia, died in good time for her ends. The brilliant -Julia, who won hearts and stood in her way, plunged recklessly to -her own ruin, taking with her into a hopeless exile the wronged but -troublesome Scribonia. Of this step-daughter’s sons, two were dead -in a far country, and the remaining one was chained for his vices to -a desolate rock in the sea. Of her daughters, one followed in the -footsteps and the fate of her unfortunate mother; the other was the -first Agrippina, a proud, imperious woman with her mother’s beauty -and her father’s inflexible will and courage. This granddaughter of -Augustus, so noted for her virtues, her talents, and her sorrows, had -followed her husband’s fortunes with wifely devotion, commanded the -adoring soldiers in his absence, and returned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> heartbroken, with his -ashes, to stir up Rome against his supposed murderer, whose wife, -one of Livia’s friends, was implicated. Sure of the justice of her -cause and the sympathy of the people, she defied the cruel Tiberius -and the cool Livia,—who was bent upon saving her possibly innocent -favorites,—to be finally sent to starve on the rocky islet where -her erring mother had expiated her follies and her vices. She was a -tragical figure, this spirited and haughty Agrippina with the face -and air of a Minerva and the fiery spirit of Mars, who paid so heavy -a penalty for her virtue and her loyalty. It is said that Livia -interceded for her, though without avail; also that she supported the -second hapless Julia until her death. Whether this was a stroke of -diplomacy, or the impulse of a pitying heart, we cannot know.</p> - -<p>The center of a hostile group, it is clear that Livia’s rôle was -a difficult one, and the skill with which she disentangled these -conflicting interests is the best proof of her insight and worldly -tact. She had the instinct of leadership which divines men, women, and -possibilities, and is swift to bend circumstances to its own ends. If -she had her full share of troubles and chagrins, she hid them within -her heart, kept her own counsel in perilous crises, and pursued her way -with the calmness of a strong soul. By a singular fatality, every human -barrier was swept from her path, some by fate and their own misdoings, -some by more kindly nature, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> some by intrigues, the mysteries of -which we cannot fathom. In the end she dominated friends and enemies -alike.</p> - -<p>But, in spite of her success, the last of her eighty-eight years were -burdened with griefs. Her heart was wounded in the tenderest point by -the son for whom she had toiled and schemed; her pride was humiliated, -and her hopes were dashed. That she played the sovereign and became -capricious and exacting, was perhaps in the nature of things. No -one was ever more flattered and honored by an admiring people. The -Senate paid court to her, her receptions were officially announced, -her signature was attached to decrees, she was attended by lictors -when she went out, and had an altar on which her name was adored. She -had a conspicuous place among the white-robed vestals and was made -a priestess of Augustus. When she was ill the world mourned; when -she recovered there were fêtes and votive offerings. “A woman in all -things more comparable to the gods than to men, who knew how to use her -power so as to turn away peril and advance the most deserving,” said -one of her contemporaries. She remained to the end a stately figure -among women who have held the reality of power without its titles, not -through the arts of the coquette, but through tact, wisdom, foresight, -and intellectual force. With less temperament and esthetic quality, she -recalls Aspasia in her vigor, her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> mental grasp, and her power to hold -the affection of a great man in an age when such love seems to have -been rare. Perhaps we find a closer resemblance in <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> de Maintenon, -who combined her strength, her cold reason, and her political sagacity -with a finer modern culture. It may be that the latter used her power -less wisely, but she was a sadder woman. She reached the goal of her -ambition only after the loss of her illusions, if she ever had them, -and the task of catering to the caprices of a spoiled monarch was too -much for her. The records of her life reveal too surely the tragedy -of a soul; she lacked the stoical endurance to suffer and make no -sign. Livia apparently never ceased to love the husband of her youth, -and they worked in sympathy. With this firm foundation of happiness, -all things were possible. One can point to no mistakes that were made -through her counsels, and their weight is shown in the letters of -Augustus himself. Of her wisdom and moderation, no better evidence -is needed than the unparalleled cruelties of her son as soon as her -restraining influence was gone.</p> - -<p>We have able and gifted women to-day who are companions or mothers of -great rulers, but I can recall no one not a reigning queen who has a -like influence or has received equal honors. Have women of masterful -character lost the subtle art of fascination to make it available, or -are modern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> rulers smaller men, who fear a rival? With us, women of -this type find their place as presidents of charitable associations -or powerful clubs, or leaders of a conservative society. Sometimes -they are better known as wives and helpers of men with political -aspirations. But we rarely hear of them in the latter rôle, as they are -usually lost in a glory which they often make but do not visibly share.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>In striking contrast to the many-sided Livia is the less dominating -but more sympathetic Octavia, who lives through her virtues and her -sufferings rather than her talents. This much-loved sister of Augustus -represents the conservative element of the new age, with its amiable -weaknesses and time-honored graces. The idol of her brother, who, -nevertheless, did not hesitate to sacrifice her to his own interests -and ambitions, she was the victim of lifelong misfortune. She was said -to be more beautiful than her rival, Cleopatra. If her likeness in -marble can be trusted, she had not the air of command that one sees in -so many statues of Roman women. There is more of sensibility in the -poise of the delicately shaped head, with its broad, low forehead. In -the drooping corners of the full, tender mouth lies the sorrow of years -fallen into a settled melancholy. But there is no lack of strength<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> -in the face, which shows also a quality of clear sense and practical -judgment. She was noted for dignity, reserve that verged upon coldness, -and great simplicity of manner. Her reputation was without a cloud. -It was the wish of her brother to take her from her first husband and -marry her to Pompey, in order to cement an alliance, but this proposal -she absolutely refused.</p> - -<p>After the death of Marcellus she was given, for reasons of State, to -the cowardly and perfidious Antony, the Senate even setting aside a -law that required a woman to wait ten months before remarriage. It -was thought that her beauty, with her graces of mind and character, -might win him from his follies—sad illusion, and source of many -tragedies. She composed grave differences and used her influence for -peace. When she returned from Athens, where she spent the first years -of her marriage and was greatly loved for her gentle qualities and her -fortitude in sorrow, she entreated her brother to forego his warlike -purposes. “The eyes of the world are necessarily turned on one who is -the wife of Antony and the sister of Cæsar,” she said; “and should -these chiefs of the empire, misled by hasty counsels, involve the whole -in war, whatever the event, it will be unhappy for me.” She gained -concessions from each, and averted the immediate trouble.</p> - -<p>But this conciliating spirit did not prevent the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> fickle Antony from -breaking her heart, as he had that of the fiery and ambitious Fulvia. -The strongest proof of her sweetness of temper and greatness of soul -may be found in the fact that she brought up the children of Fulvia -with her own, also the children of Cleopatra, after the latter’s death.</p> - -<p>The worst fault ascribed to Octavia was aiding in the divorce of her -own innocent daughter from Agrippa, the stern old soldier who was -chosen by Augustus as a desirable husband for his only child, the young -and widowed Julia. Whatever ambitions she may have had were crushed -by the death of her youthful son. Naturally she did not love the -intriguing sister-in-law, who ruled all about her in a way that was -none the less sure because it was quiet. It is even possible that she -was not unwilling to do what came in her path to circumvent the schemes -of Livia for her own family. “She detested all mothers,” says Seneca, -“and, above all, Livia,” who had domestic joys which she had not. But -Seneca may not have been quite just, as he preferred women of a strong, -heroic type, and this mother of sensibilities so acute that she fainted -when Vergil read his eulogy of Marcellus in her presence, was not -much to his liking. It is more probable, however, that resistance was -useless. Where the emperor decreed, she had only to obey. Once, indeed, -she had shown her loyalty and her strength by refusing a like proposal -in her own case, but the marriage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> of Julia was vital as a matter of -State, and it is not likely that Augustus would have sacrificed a -thing upon which he had set his heart, to the happiness of any woman -whatever. Perhaps, too, she shared the common belief that private -inclination must never stand in the way of public benefit. It was the -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">noblesse oblige</i> of good rulers.</p> - -<p>Octavia no doubt had her little foibles, though it is not at all -certain that this step was due to one of them; but she did not forget -the duties of her position. She had wide fame as a loyal, charitable, -self-sacrificing, and virtuous woman. In the spirit of the new age, -she patronized talent, and gave a public library to the portico which -Augustus had built in her honor, filling it with valuable paintings of -classical subjects. In the failure of her hopes and the loss of her -illusions, she still devoted herself to the children of Antony as well -as her own, and interested herself in arranging suitable marriages -for them. But these things failed to bring consolation to a bruised -heart, or serenity in the troubles that had fallen upon her. She shut -herself from the world after her last humiliations, and died of her -griefs at fifty-four, revered and idolized by the Roman people, who -resented her wrongs as much as they pitied her sufferings. But the son -she never ceased to mourn had been in his tomb many a year, and the -fickle husband who deserted her had ended his career in disgrace long -before. She did not live<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> to see the downfall of Julia, the death of -her august brother, or the final triumph of Livia. She was spared, too, -the misfortunes that befell some of the children of her love and care.</p> - -<p>The details of Octavia’s life are few and meager. Fate gave her a -prominent part to play on the world’s stage, and she played it well, -but with an evident longing to fall back upon her affections. She was -never a woman of initiative, but she was clearly one of moral force, -framed to temper the friction of more powerful individualities, but to -be herself crushed in their collisions. She stands for the purest and -most gracious type of Roman womanhood. Many were stronger, many were -more brilliant, but few left a memory so fragrant or so sweet.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>There was another woman in the household of Augustus, who represented -the new age on its worst and most dangerous side. In Julia we have the -woman who lived to amuse herself, and left a name which has become -a synonym for the appalling corruption of Roman society. No one was -placed so high, no one fell so low; and no one has been so often quoted -to “point a moral or adorn a tale.” But it has often been the wrong -moral and the wrong tale. Bred austerely for a throne, versed in all -the culture of her time, this brilliant, haughty,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> impetuous daughter -of the emperor led the fast set at Rome for a few years, dazzled the -world with her wit and her toilets, shocked it with her escapades, only -to sink at last from her lofty pedestal to untold depths of infamy and -a living tomb.</p> - -<p>Given, a woman with the sensual, dominating inheritance of the Cæsars -and the pride of a new race that knows no law but its own will, -without the pride of character which serves always as a balance-wheel -to the passions; imagine her a widow at seventeen, and married again, -with no choice, to a plain but distinguished soldier, nearly thrice -her age, whose lack of patrician birth humiliated her, and whose -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">bourgeois</i> habits were not to her liking; surround her with -idle and conscienceless men who make love a pursuit and the arts of -flattery a study—and we have already the elements of a tragedy. This -hard-headed husband wearied her; his ways were foreign to her; his -world of interest was not hers. Even the public spirit which led him -to give so many fine temples and works of art to the city that honored -him annoyed her. She had the tastes of a dilettante, but she believed -firmly in the divine right of emperors and emperors’ daughters to -command all things for themselves.</p> - -<p>Nor did this petted child like any better the provincial notions of -her old-fashioned father. It did not suit her to sew and spin with her -stepmother, whose staid decorum irritated her. She belonged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> to the -pleasure-loving set of an age in which luxury was uppermost and vice -was a fine art. Fatal hour in any age when fashion laughs at morals and -glories in the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">cachet</i> of would-be elegant sin! “If my father -forgets that he is Cæsar, I who am his daughter have the right to -remember it,” said Julia, by way of comment on his democratic ways. -One day at the theater he noticed the contrast between the dignified -Livia, simply attired, but surrounded by grave statesmen and men of -distinction, and the gaily dressed Julia with her train of gilded, -dissolute youth. After his usual fashion of writing little notes when -he had anything to say, he sent the latter a line of reproof. “Do not -blame my young friends,” was her ready answer; “they will grow old -with me.” On another occasion, after he had found fault with her showy -appearance, she presented herself the next day in a plain and modest -costume. To his compliment on the becoming change, she replied: “To-day -I am dressed for my father; yesterday it was for my husband.” The -subtle satire in this remark was only apparent to those who knew that -she dressed for all the world rather than for either.</p> - -<p>She was gifted, witty, and cultured, we are told; but to be lettered -in the age of the Cæsars did not necessarily mean learning or serious -tastes. One must dabble a little in philosophy, read the Hellenic -poets, patronize famous Roman writers, and be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> able to talk of the -Greek artists who were designing temples and flooding the imperial -city with sculpture of various grades. It was even possible to have a -long-haired philosopher to dress the intellect, as the maid dressed -the person—the one a slave like the other. But all this might end -in little more than the trifling of the dilettante, and was quite -consistent with very bad morals—as it has always been and is to-day. -To discourse of Ovid’s “Art of Love” was agreeable enough, and not -mentally exacting. To be sure, the poet did not bring his admirers -into very respectable society; indeed, we should think it not only -altogether vulgar, but altogether base. But it appealed to the tastes -of these spoiled darlings of fortune who had nothing else to do but -amuse themselves—it did not matter how, so long as due regard was -paid to the so-called elegancies. From love, as the Romans understood -it, to unlimited license was but a step. They did not live in the -“beyond” of refined sentiment. They mixed very little intellect or -imagination with their passions, though they put a certain art into -the stimulants of their sensations. When Catullus wished to add a last -touch of seriousness to what he called his emotions, he said that he -loved Lesbia “not merely as men commonly loved a mistress, but as a -father loves his sons and his sons-in-law.” There was little romance -in this epicurean life, in spite of a great deal of simple family -affection outside of it,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> which these perfumed sybarites looked upon -as <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">bourgeois</i>. Splendor and not too decorous pleasure were -all-sufficient. Anything else they would have laughed at as moonshine. -“When Queen Money gave a dowry,” said Horace, with his inimitable -satire, “she gave beauty, nobility, friends, and fidelity.” With the -exception of Horace and Vergil, who had already grown too moral for the -highest fashion, Roman poetry was incredibly coarse and demoralizing; -but this was the literary food of the reckless and dashing group that -gravitated from the palace on the Palatine to Baiæ, the Newport of the -Roman world, rushing from one novelty to another, from one excess to a -deeper and more highly spiced one, until its rapid course was run.</p> - -<p>Of this society Julia was the center, the life, and the inspiration. -The days were past when the stern father put a man of high lineage -peremptorily in his place for presuming to address her in the beautiful -city by the sea. The complaisant husband, absorbed in affairs, no -doubt thought it best to let her go her own way, but he died possibly -unsuspecting. Again the still youthful widow was married in the -interest of the State and of Livia—to Livia’s son. The brooding, -gloomy student was equally far from filling the heart of the graceful -woman who was overflowing with the joy of life, and intoxicated with a -sense of power that knows no law. Livia may have been faulty enough, -but she was above the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> degradation of the senses. In Julia the virtues -of the Roman matron seem to have been lost. When her conduct came to -the knowledge of her inflexible father, he was as bitter as he had -been tender. Her maid hung herself, and Augustus only said: “I would -rather be the father of Phœbe than of Julia.” Of the youth entangled -with her, some were exiled and some took themselves out of a world -that was no longer possible for them. Among the latter was the clever, -fascinating, but dissolute son of Antony, who had been carefully reared -by Octavia and befriended by the emperor, only to repay their kindness -by striking both in the tenderest point. But Julia, the beautiful, -brilliant, flattered queen of society, was sent away from all her -pleasures, her luxuries, her gay companions, her matchless position, to -languish for fifteen years in a desolate exile, with no friend but the -mother who shared with her the bare necessaries of a squalid existence. -No wine, no luxury, no fine clothes, no men-servants without special -restrictions and surveillance. A rock for a home, the sea and the sky -for companions, and not even hope for consolation. And she was little -past thirty-five! Once she was removed to a stronghold of Calabria, -with a larger guard and no added comforts, but a little less severity. -Many times the Roman people, who had loved her buoyant spirit and -winning personality, begged her inexorable father to forgive her. “I -wish you all had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> such daughters and such wives,” was his only reply. -She died shortly after her father, to lie, unsung and forgotten, far -from her kindred in an unknown grave. Not a word is left to tell us the -details of that long tragedy. Her daughter Julia inherited her vices -and suffered a like fate.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>It is needless to recall here the notorious women who followed in the -footsteps of Julia, and added to all her sins a cruelty which she had -not. The world is familiar enough with the crimes of Messalina, the -second Agrippina, Poppæa, and others whose names have become a by-word -and a reproach to womanhood. Men, and sometimes women, gravely tell -us that these moral monsters are a measure of Roman standards, and -a logical result of the culture of the feminine intellect. That two -things exist at the same time does not prove that one is the result of -the other. The facts in this case, indeed, prove quite the contrary. -It would be idle to say that the weaker half of the human family hold -a monopoly of the virtues, or that it is in the nature of things for -them to pass unscathed through the fiery ordeal of a corrupt age whose -supreme end lies in pleasures of sense. But even in Rome at its worst -there was a great deal of pure family life, and its conservation rested -with women. I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> quoted elsewhere from the private letters of -distinguished Romans who have given us pleasant glimpses of refined, -accomplished, and learned women, as free from the taint of moral laxity -as our own; and this when men made no claims to morality themselves. To -the great body of Roman women a spotless virtue was among their most -cherished traditions. So far from finding their increased intelligence -a cause of the decline in morals, it is a fact that those of the -highest character and ability constantly suffered indignity and wrong, -because their presence was a restraint upon their unscrupulous masters. -Long domination had fostered the egotism of men to such an extent that -they could not brook opposition of any sort, and it was the ignorant -and flexible who bent the most easily to their will, even when it led -them to the last extreme of moral subservience. Only a fearless courage -and a strong conviction could venture to take high ground against the -fashionable sins of men in power. It is always more or less true that -when a dominant class lowers its moral standards, it likes to ostracize -those who even tacitly reflect upon it.</p> - -<p>Examples of this in Roman life are so numerous that two thousand -years have not sufficed to hide them all. Of women in high places who -suffered death or banishment for their virtues, the list is a long -one. Caligula decreed the same honors to his grandmother, the pure and -high-minded Antonia,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> which had been given to Livia. But when this -dignified matron, worthy daughter of the gentle Octavia, presumed to -reprove him for his vices, he starved her to death. Vitellius banished -his mother, Sextilia, a woman of admirable character, because she wept -at his elevation to the throne. This was a reproach which he could not -brook, and, failing to break her heart by his cruelties, he took her -life, or made it so intolerable that she was forced to end it herself. -It was impossible for a good woman to stay in the palace, and the -Empress Galeria begged permission to retire to a modest dwelling on the -Aventine. Domitian ordered a vestal, charged with scandalous acts which -were denied and not proved, to be buried alive; but he consistently -marked virtue for persecution, hesitated at no crime, and declared -a woman to be “a natural slave, with man for her divinely appointed -master.” Carrying this to its logical conclusion, he made the Palatine -unsafe for any woman. That the great heart of Roman womanhood was on -the side of loyalty and virtue, and looked upon conjugal infidelity -as a sin to be frowned upon even in men, is shown by their attitude -toward Nero when he sent away his young, lovely, and innocent wife, -Octavia, to marry the most dissolute woman of the time. Many men -remonstrated, and women rose in a body to demand her return. For the -moment he thought it best to yield to the popular clamor, but he soon -invented a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> pretext to send her to the long silence from which there -is no return. Yet she was beautiful, of cloudless fame, and had lived -hardly twenty years! Roman history is full of instances of moral -heroism on the part of women, that had no counterpart among men, and -of feminine virtue held at the expense of life. Servilia, the youthful -daughter of Soranus, took upon herself a fault for which it was sought -to compass her father’s death, and not being able to save him, died -with him. Women in great numbers retired in sad dignity from a society -whose current of vice they were powerless to change. A stately and -pathetic figure is Pomponia Græcina, who wore mourning for forty years, -and never smiled after her friend Julia, the daughter of Drusus, was -murdered by Messalina. It was a pitiless world in which neither virtue -nor life was safe, but it had its heroines, and they were not few.</p> - -<p>Nor can the number of divorces be placed to the account of women. When -a Julius Cæsar takes his tenderly loved daughter from her husband and -marries her to another man in the interest of his own ambitions; when -an Augustus makes laws against immorality, yet divorces an innocent -wife who objects to his own infidelities, and puts in her place a -beautiful woman of unsullied fame, whom he has taken from a worthy -man; when both of these rulers of the world compel good citizens to -divorce the consorts they possibly love, in order to dispose of one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> -or the other for personal ends or the good of the State—it is hardly -worth while to hold helpless women responsible for conditions made and -enforced by men in power, who are called wise and think themselves -passably good. The most that can be said is that women of knowledge and -character are less likely to bear wrong and abuse silently, but they -are more likely to uphold the dignity of the family and to ignore the -petty vanities and jealousies which are among the most prolific causes -of divorce. A cultivated intellect does not necessarily imply good -morals, but, other things being equal, an educated woman is less easily -led into wrong, as she has more resources and is better fitted to stand -on her own feet; unfortunately, this is precisely what her critics in -the past have not wished her to do.</p> - -<p>With so many conspicuous examples in high places, it is hardly strange -that divorces became deplorably common. “Does anybody blush at a -divorce,” says one, “since illustrious and noble women compute their -years, not by the number of consuls, but by the number of husbands they -have had?” We hear of a woman who was the twenty-first wife of her -twenty-third husband. The pretexts were often slight. It was said of -Mæcenas that he had been divorced a thousand times, though he had but -one wife, as he loved her and always married her over again. The woman -who had been but once married was honored as a <i>univira</i>. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> -was too often, however, like a goddess worshiped from afar by men who -found both interest and pleasure in the number of their wives. Much of -the trouble was due to the fortune-hunters, who did not scruple to use -any means to get rid of a wife and retain her dowry, at the expense of -her fair name. Even good women were so wholly at the mercy of false -charges that Antoninus made a law that no man could bring suit against -his wife for immorality unless he could prove his own fidelity. We know -that wise and virtuous women were often forced to seclude themselves -from the aggressions of wicked men against whose machinations they were -unable to find protection.</p> - -<p>There was one law, however, which might be considered to advantage by -some of our own legislators. It had been decreed that no one should -marry sooner than six months after a divorce. Augustus extended the -time to eighteen months. We talk much and with a fine consciousness -of superior virtue about the chaotic state of Roman marriages. What -will our fortieth-century moralist who reads present history, as -photographed from day to day in the blazing journals, say of the -decadence of a civilization in which people may marry two hours after -divorce, or find themselves some fine morning released from their -marriage bonds without knowing it? And we are an eminently moral people.</p> - -<p>On the influence of the Roman women let the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> Romans speak for -themselves. It was proposed in the Senate that men should not be -permitted to take their wives into the provinces, as they had too much -power with the soldiers, interfered in settling business affairs, and -made another center of government—indeed, they sometimes “presided -at the drill of cohorts and the evolutions of the legions,” besides -dividing the homage. The majority of the senators objected to this -bill, and pronounced its author “no fit censor.” An able and eloquent -man, in reply to it, said that “much of the sternness of antiquity had -been changed into a better and more genial system.” A few concessions -had been made to the wants of women, but “in other respects man and -wife share alike.” There might be some scheming women, but were the -magistrates free from various unworthy passions, and was this a -reason why none should be sent to the provinces? If husbands were -sometimes corrupted by their wives, were single men any better? “It -is idle to shelter our own weakness under other names; for it is -the husband’s fault if the wife transgresses propriety.” This wise -orator was sustained by eminent men who gave their own fortunate -experiences, and the bill was lost. Such a tribute to the helpfulness -and strong character of the Roman woman may be commended to a few of -our enlightened thinkers who, curiously enough, use the low standards -of men who never pretended to be moral, and the frailties of dependent -women who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> were not permitted to be so, or of a class that has always -appealed to the weaknesses of men since the beginning of the world, -to prove the degeneracy of society under the influence of feminine -intelligence! It was never the woman of strong intellectual fiber and -serious interests that Rome had to fear. It was another class, that did -not, in any sense, represent her either in intelligence or character.</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>The wicked side of the Roman woman—and this was sometimes very wicked -indeed—has been sufficiently emphasized. It is more agreeable and -perhaps more profitable to consider her better side. Her talent was -essentially administrative, and we find many illustrations of it among -those who were conspicuous in public life. There were strong and wise -women who had great power; as a rule, it was held wisely. Many of -them, indeed most of them, brought moral questions to bear upon State -problems, with a keen discriminating insight into conditions that -troubled the hearts of wise men. Their number was small, as no woman -below the rank of an empress was eligible to the smallest position -of influence, aside from the religious offices, which were largely -perfunctory; but it was sufficient to show a quality of womanhood that -was not only strong, but intrinsically fine and noble.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span></p> - -<p>Of these, as we have seen, the most striking representative was Livia. -Among those who followed more or less in her footsteps was Plotina, -the able and accomplished wife of Trajan. Trained in the philosophy of -the Stoics, her head was turned neither by prosperity nor misfortune. -She entered the palace, on her husband’s elevation to the throne, with -serene dignity, and said that she could leave it with equal calmness. -With less ambition than the first empress, she had a finer moral sense, -also the gravity and firmness of a matron of the old school. She loved -truth and justice better than the pageantry of courts, and ignored -the claims of an artificial society. A woman of brilliant intellect, -noble character, and exalted aims, she led a simple life in the midst -of luxury, and used her power not only to raise the tone of morals and -to foster a taste for letters, but to expose political corruptions, -suppress abuses, diminish unjust taxes, and promote financial reforms. -It was through her influence that Hadrian was adopted, a favor which he -recognized by extending her authority in his reign, and writing hymns -in her praise. The trace of asceticism in her character and manners did -not please the idlers who liked to bask in the sunshine of a gay and -luxurious court. She was censured and talked about, with little enough -reason as it seems, as no records have left a shadow on her reputation. -Her fault, in the eyes of bad men, lay in her moral force. To frown -upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> vice, to oppose corruption in high places, was an unwarranted -interference with their natural rights. But good men sustained her. At -her death she was placed in the ranks of the gods and honored with a -temple dedicated to the “Mother of the People.”</p> - -<p>A more conspicuous example of the ability of the women who figured -in the public life of Rome is found in Julia Domna, the Syrian wife -of Septimius Severus, who is said to have owed his success to her -wise counsels. She was not simply an ambitious woman who schemed for -place and power. To a genius for diplomacy she added the fascinations -of beauty, wit, and imagination. She had a knowledge of history, -philosophy, geometry, and the sciences of her time, was a patron of -art, and made her court a center of all that was left of literature -and culture in an age of decadence. Her husband evidently did not -object to a learned woman, as he had a special admiration for Arria -“because she read Plato.” Then this clever wife—who was called -“Julia the philosopher,” surrounded herself with savants, and loved -to discuss great subjects—put her versatile intellect to his service -and advancement. Her youth was not free from rumors of follies, but -no woman of note escaped these, even if she were pure as Diana. Her -father was a “priest of the Sun,” and she was always a student, with -a tendency toward Oriental mysticism. She ruled wisely and made the -fortune of her family. In her last years she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> sought refuge from many -sorrows in the resources of her intellect, but these failed to bring -her happiness. The wicked Caracalla, who did not profit by his mother’s -wisdom, killed his brother in her arms, and finally broke her heart.</p> - -<p>Her sister, Julia Mæsa, shared her abilities, and, with the aid of -her daughters, secured the throne for her grandson. She was no doubt -ambitious, but was known as wise, just, and moderate. This family, -which ruled Rome for many years, was a remarkable one, but its credit -was sustained mainly by its women. One of the daughters of Julia Mæsa -was Soæmias, who was the first woman to take her place in the Senate -and attach her name to legislative decrees. She also presided over -the Little Senate, a sort of “woman’s club,” which regulated morals, -dress, etiquette, and other matters pertaining to her sex. It was -accused of gossip and scandal; but as this accusation has been made -against every association of women, from the coterie of Sappho to the -modern sewing-society and the last luncheon club, it cannot be taken -too seriously. Let the man who lounges about the clubs of to-day,—as -his Greek and Roman predecessors did about the porticos, gymnasia, or -baths,—and has never heard or repeated any gossip of his fellow-men -and -women, throw the first stone.</p> - -<p>But Soæmias had a bad son, the Heliogabulus of infamous note, whom -she could not save or reform,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> and she was wise enough to pave the -way for the succession of her sister’s more reputable one, after his -death. This sister, Mamæa, was virtually regent during the minority -of Alexander Severus, whose purity of character and conduct she -guarded with the greatest care. She tried to apply the moral ideals -of womanhood to the men of the period, and found the task a difficult -and thankless one. Without assuming the trappings of power, she -administered the affairs of the empire with wisdom and judgment. An -able, humane, and thoughtful woman of conservative tendencies and -limited ambition for herself, she declined to sit in the Senate, but -chose a body of just and learned counselors to decide upon public -questions, while she discussed Christianity with her friend Origen, -founded a school for the free education of orphans, gave her son a -serious training for his future responsibilities, and worked for the -moral betterment of a world that did not wish to be bettered in that -way. Her standards were too high, and she reformed too much for people -who found license and corruption more to their interest and liking. -The Senate was jealous of her wise and just counselors, who could not -be used as tools for unscrupulous ends. Impatient, at last, of their -interference, and incensed at a woman who wished a moral government, -it passed a law excluding women from its ranks and “devoting to the -infernal gods the head of the wretch by whom this decree should be -violated.” With singular<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> consistency, however, it voted her an -apotheosis after ridding itself of the restraining influence of her -virtues by practically sending her to a violent death.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>These few instances, gathered from many that are more or less familiar -to the student of history, may serve to show in some degree the -influence of strong and able women in the affairs of Old Rome. They -show, also, the intellectual as well as moral force of the best type -of pagan womanhood, which was formed after classic ideals of an heroic -pattern.</p> - -<p>There were still women of learning and distinction when the old -standards had fallen and society was sunk in the grossest materialism. -The last and greatest of these was an alien. It was at Tivoli, in the -shadow of the Sabine Hills, that Zenobia, a captive, and alone with -her children among the ruins of her past grandeur, solaced herself -with letters and philosophy. Her teacher, minister, counselor, and -friend, Longinus, had paid the penalty of his devotion with his life, -and the world was poorer by the loss of one of its immortal thinkers. -But he left an apt pupil in a woman who had treasured his wisdom -and profited by his marvelous knowledge. An Amazon in war, empress, -linguist, Platonist, with the grasp of a statesman and the insight of -a seer, this gifted, eloquent, and versatile woman of flashing dark -eyes, winning manners, and Oriental<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> beauty, who graced a triumph like -a goddess and met misfortune like a philosopher, is a shining example -of the dignity and greatness of a type that was passing. “Who has ever -shown more prudence in council, more firmness in her undertakings, more -authority over her soldiers, more discernment in her conduct?” said her -arch-enemy Aurelian, who bowed to her talents, felt her fascinations, -but made a spectacle of her sorrow and humiliation to add a jewel to -his crown.</p> - -<p>It is idle to depreciate the qualities of the pagan women. Under all -their disabilities, which were many, those whose position gave them -a certain freedom of movement often attained great heights through -their gifts of character and intellect. There were great wives, great -mothers, great administrators, great rulers, great writers among the -more sensitive races, and great women, which means a symmetry of mind, -heart, and intellect in large proportions. But the ages in which they -lived were masculine ones—masculine in their cruelties and their -vices, as well as in their force and their theories of virtue. Women -did not escape the contagion, and when they plunged into abysses of -corruption, it was with the abandon of a passionate temperament. Still, -it was the voices of those who were too strong and too intelligent to -be blindly led that were first raised in a moral protest, the echo of -which has not yet died away.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Marcella">MARCELLA, PAULA, AND THE FIRST CONVENT</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img016"> - <img src="images/016.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· Woman’s Need of a Faith ·<br /> -· Rome in its Decadence ·<br /> -· The Reaction of Roman Women ·<br /> -· Marcella · The Church of the Household ·<br /> -· Asella · Fabiola · Paula ·<br /> -· Eustochium · Blæsilla · <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome · Melania ·<br /> -· The Convent at Bethlehem ·<br /> -· Translation of the Latin Vulgate ·<br /> -· Hebrew Studies · Death of Paula ·<br /> -· Tragical Fate of Marcella ·<br /> -· Revolution in Roman Society ·<br /> -· Spread of Convents · Christian Ideals ·<br /> -· Value of Able Women in the Early Church ·<br /> -· <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Chrysostom · Olympias ·<br /> -· Intellectual Decline of Women in the Dark Ages ·<br /> -· Influence of the Renaissance ·<br /> -· Condition Tempered by Chivalry ·<br /> -· Elevated by the Renaissance ·</big><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img017"> - <img src="images/017.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>“The majority of men, and especially of women, whose imagination is -double, cannot live without a faith,” said the Abbé Galiani, “and those -who can, sustain the effort only in the greatest force and youth of -the soul.” How far this may be true it is needless to discuss here, -but it is certain enough that women have been the strongest agents -in the religious movements of the world. A tender heart may go with -a skeptical mind, but the fine type of womanhood, in which reason is -tempered with love and imagination, inevitably turns to some faith -for support in seasons of moral decadence as in moments of sorrow and -despair. This has never had a more striking illustration than in the -reaction of a large class of Roman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> women from the vices, follies, -and debasing pleasures of a civilization falling into ruin, toward an -extreme asceticism. At this moment in its history the golden age of -Rome was long past, and the world was to wait more than a thousand -years for another brilliant flowering of the human intellect on the -same soil. But glory of a different sort set its seal upon the women -of the darkening ages. To the enthusiasms of patriotism and passion, -culture and ambition, succeeded the enthusiasms of religion.</p> - -<p>In the fourth century the images of the pagan gods, white and silent on -their stone pedestals, still kept guard over the city. Their temples -were comparatively fresh, but the gods themselves were dead. The -seventy thousand statues that made Rome a forest of marbles in the days -of its glory had not lost their majesty, their beauty, or their grace; -but the spirit which had made them alive had gone with their virgin -purity. Pan held his flute as of old, but it was mute. Bacchus still -wore his vine-leaves and his air of rollicking mirth, but the bands -of roistering men who had once paid him homage no longer cared for a -god to preside over their plain worship of the senses. Venus had taken -off her divine halo and gone back to the foam of the sea whence she -came, leaving only the smiling face of a beautiful woman. The Muses -had ceased to dance to the lyre of Apollo, and the god of light was -asleep like the rest. Men and women had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> thrown aside the thin veil -of idealism with which they had once invested their sins, and Rome -was become a sink of iniquity without even the leaven of the Hellenic -imagination. Between a life of the senses and a life of the intellect, -it gravitated from a wild orgy to a passionless philosophy that held -its own pulse and counted its own heart-beats as it drifted curiously -and mockingly into the unknown.</p> - -<p>But women do not carry easily the burden of a cold skepticism, and -philosophy failed to satisfy them. When the age became hopelessly -corrupt, and men scoffed at morals, sending one another to death for -inconvenient virtues, they had been swept along with the current, -and many plunged into a life of the senses with the recklessness of -an ardent, virile temperament. But there was still a large number of -intelligent matrons who preserved the waning traditions of an educated -womanhood, and these revolted at the hopeless vacuum of a life devoted -to intrigue and the tiresome mysteries of the toilet. The jewels, -silks, and embroidered gauzes of fabulous cost had no more charm for -them. Nor did they care to please the curled and perfumed sybarites -who gambled or discussed the last bit of scandal in their pillared -halls, fanned by slaves, and crying out at the crumple of a rose-leaf. -The Roman women had been distinguished for the stronger qualities of -character. Their bounding energies had been shown in deeds of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> heroism. -They had to a large degree the ardors of the imagination. These traits, -together with the moral sense that lies at the base of the feminine -nature, though often submerged for a time, vindicated themselves in the -passionate devotion with which so many turned from a beautiful but bad -world toward things of the spirit.</p> - -<p>They had already been captivated in numbers by the mystic cults of the -Orient. Out of the East, whence came the pagan gods as well as the -luxury and sensualism which had sapped the moral life of Rome, came -also the “still small voice” of a new faith, with unfamiliar messages -of hope and consolation. It had been singing its hymns for nearly three -hundred years in that great under-world, of which little note had been -taken, except in periodical outbursts of persecution. In the vast -network of dark passages and lighted cells which lay far from the light -of the sun; beneath the shining temples and statues of the gods they -were undermining; beneath the groves, and gardens, and fountains, and -palaces in which vice reigned and idle voluptuaries were inventing new -refinements of sin to spur their jaded senses—the disciples of a lowly -faith which trampled upon all that these Epicureans loved, making a sin -of pleasure and a joy of suffering, had met to offer incense at strange -altars. It was women, with their natural tendency toward a personal -devotion and a self-sacrifice strengthened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> perhaps by the forced -self-effacement of centuries, who embraced with the most passionate -fervor a religion that deified all that was best and most distinctive -in their own natures. This religion, with its spirit of love, its trust -in some other existence that would compensate a thousandfold for the -sorrows of this, appealed to them irresistibly. Already it had brought -peace and a martyr’s crown to multitudes of the poor and ignorant who -had little to lose but their lives. It had gained, too, a firm foothold -among the cultivated classes, who did not always forsake the things of -the world in their acceptance of things of the spirit. But the fact -that it had become a State religion had not made it a fashionable one, -though its later votaries often outdid their pagan neighbors in luxury -and worldliness.</p> - -<p>One day in the later years of the fourth century, a rich, noble, -educated, and able woman withdrew in weariness and disgust from the -vanities and unblushing vices of Roman society, fitted up an oratory in -her stately palace on the Aventine, and asked her friends to join her -in the worship, duties, and sacrifices of the Christian faith. This was -the germ of the Church of the Household, the <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">Ecclesia Domestica</i>, -on which <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome has thrown so bright a light—the small beginning -of the vast combinations of women, in which one of the greatest -religious movements of the world found its strongest instrument and -support. Nothing shows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> more clearly the strength and moral purity of -the large body of Roman womanhood than the numbers who flocked to a -standard that offered no worldly attractions, and imposed, as the first -of duties, self-renunciation and the denial of all pleasures of sense.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>It is not likely that Marcella had any thought of the vital -significance of a step that opened a new field to women, which absorbed -their talents and energies for ten centuries, sometimes for good, -sometimes for ill, and still holds a powerful attraction for certain -temperaments. She belonged to one of the noblest families of Rome, and -had led the life of the more serious of the rich patricians of her -time. Her mother was the Albina who had entertained Athanasius many -years before, and shown great interest in his ascetic teachings. He -held up solitude and meditation as an ideal, and no doubt his words, -which she must have heard discussed afterward, made a strong impression -on the imagination of the thoughtful child. They came back with a new -force later, when she lost her husband a few months after marriage. In -spite of much criticism, she retired from a world which no longer had -any attractions for her, gave away her jewels and personal adornments, -put on a simple brown<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> robe, and gave herself to religious and -charitable work. At first she sought seclusion in her country villa, -but she was of too active and wholesome a temperament for a life of -solitary brooding and introspection. It was after the early days of her -grief were passed that she opened her palace on the Aventine, and made -it a center for the devotional women of Rome.</p> - -<p>There was nothing in the life she planned to tempt her ambition. Nor -did she abdicate the world and its pleasures on account of the waning -of her charms. She was still in the fullness of life, young, beautiful, -rich, and much sought in marriage by men of the highest rank and -position. In her persistent refusal of their brilliant offers she met -with great opposition from her family, who evidently preferred the -ascetic life for some one outside of their own circle. But she was a -woman of strong, vigorous intellect and firm character, as well as -fine moral aims and religious fervor. Born to lead and not to follow, -she was never the reflex of other minds. We find in all the known acts -of her life the stamp of a distinct and well-poised individuality. If -she started on a new path, it was through the reaction of a pure and -conscientious nature from a society in which the virtues seemed dying, -the need of an outlet for emotions suddenly turned upon themselves, and -the going out toward humanity of the unsatisfied longing of motherhood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></p> - -<p>To this quiet but palatial retreat on the Aventine—which tradition -places not far from the present site of Sta. Sabina—many women fled -from the gay world of splendor and fashion. They were mostly rich -and high-born; some were widows, who consecrated a broken life to -the service of God and their fellow-men; a few were devoted maidens. -The oldest of the little group was Asella, a sister of Marcella, who -had been drawn from childhood to an ascetic life. She dressed like a -pilgrim, lived on bread and water with a little salt, slept on the bare -ground, went out only to visit the graves of the martyrs, and held it a -jewel in her crown that she never spoke to a man, though she evidently -did not object to receiving letters from the good <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome. He speaks -of her as “an illustrious lady, a model of perfection,” and says that -no one knew better how to combine “austerity of manner with grace of -language and serious charm. No one gave more gravity to joy, more -sweetness to melancholy. She rarely opened her mouth; her face spoke; -her silence was eloquent. A cell was her paradise, fasting her delight. -She did not see those to whom she was most tenderly attached, and was -full of holy ardor.” But hardships and low diet seem to have agreed -with this saintly woman, as she was well, in spite of them, through a -long life, in which she won praises from good and bad alike. Lea is a -dim figure at this distance, but she was spoken of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> as “the head of -a monastery and mother of virgins,” who died early and was greatly -honored for her goodness, her humility, her robe of sackcloth not too -well cared for, her days of fasting, and her nights of prayer.</p> - -<p>More noted was Fabiola, a member of the great Fabian family, who had -been divorced from a vicious husband and made a second marriage which -seems to have lain heavily on her tender conscience when she became a -widow shortly afterward. Indeed, she went so far in her remorse as to -stand in the crowd of penitents at the door of the Lateran on Easter -Eve, clad in coarse sackcloth, unveiled, and weeping, with ashes on her -head and hair trailing, as she prostrated herself and waited for public -absolution. It is said that bishop, priests, and people were alike -touched to tears at the humiliation of the young, gay, and beautiful -woman, the idol of a patrician society. But her religious enthusiasm -was more than a sudden outburst of feeling. This pale devotee gave -her large fortune to charity, built the first Christian hospital, -gathered from the streets the sick, the maimed, and the suffering, even -ministering with her own hands to outcast lepers. Her charities were -boundless, and extended to remote islands of the sea. <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome calls -her a heroine of Christianity, the admiration of unbelievers. But her -intellect was clear and brilliant, and her close questionings spurred -him to write of many things<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> which would otherwise have been left -in darkness. In her later days she surprised him one evening in the -convent at Bethlehem, where she was visiting her friends, by reciting -from memory a celebrated letter in praise of a solitary and ascetic -life which he had written to Heliodorus many years earlier. It was the -letter which had brought so much censure on the austere monk, as it -sent great numbers of noble women and many men into the ranks of the -hermits and cenobites.</p> - -<p>This woman of talent and fashion, who left the gay world to become -saint, philanthropist, nurse, and pilgrim, died shortly before the -terrible days came to Rome, and its temples resounded with psalms in -her honor. Young and old sang her praises. The galleries, housetops, -and public places could not contain the people who flocked to her -funeral. So wicked Rome, in the last days of its fading glory, paid -homage to women of great virtues, great deeds, and unselfish lives.</p> - -<p>But the most distinguished of the matrons who frequented the chapel -on the Aventine was Paula, a descendant of Scipio and the Gracchi on -one side, and, it was claimed, of Agamemnon on the other. The Romans -did not stop at myths or probabilities in their genealogies, and her -husband traced his ancestry to Æneas. But it is certain that Paula -belonged to the oldest and noblest family in Rome. She had an immense -fortune, and had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> passed her life in the fashionable circles of her -time. A widow at thirty-three, with five children, and inconsolable, -she suddenly laid aside the personal insignia of her rank, exchanged -cloth of gold for a nun’s robe, silken couches for the bare ground, -gaiety for prayers, and the costly pleasures of the sybarite for days -and nights of weeping over the most trivial faults, imaginary or real. -Even the stern <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome begged her to limit her austerities; but -she said that she must disfigure a face she had been so wicked as to -paint, afflict a body which had tasted so much delight, and expiate her -laughter with her tears. She dressed and lived as poorly as the lowest -of her servants, and expressed a wish to be buried as a beggar. Full of -a sweet and tender humanity, however, she was no less pitiful to others -than severe to herself.</p> - -<p>Of her four daughters, Eustochium, a serious girl of sixteen, -sympathized most with her ascetic views and was closely associated -with her life-work. She was the first patrician maiden to take the -vow of perpetual virginity. But the flower of the family was her -sister Blæsilla, “older in nature, but inferior in vocation,” said <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> -Jerome. Beautiful, gay, clever, young, and a widow after seven months -of marriage, she loved things of the world and had small taste for the -austerities of her mother. She found time for study, however, as she -spoke Greek fluently and learned Hebrew so rapidly that she bade<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> fair -to equal Paula, who liked to sing the psalms of David in the rugged -and majestic language in which they were written. But a violent fever -turned her thoughts from mundane vanities to a life of asceticism. -No more long days before the mirror, no more decking of her pretty -little person. She put on the brown gown like the others, and devoted -her brilliant youth to the same service. But so excessive were her -penances, so rigorous her fastings, and so severe her austerities, that -she died of them at twenty, asking God to pardon her because she could -not carry out her plans of devotion and self-sacrifice. Her funeral -was hardly in keeping with these plans. All the world did honor to the -beautiful, accomplished woman who had forsaken a life of elegant ease -for the hardships of a self-imposed poverty. They covered her coffin -with cloth of gold, and the most distinguished men in Rome marched at -the head of the cortège. Her untimely death brought an outburst of -indignation against the mother who had encouraged a self-denial so hard -and unnatural. But this mother had fainted as she followed her idolized -daughter to the tomb. <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome dwells upon the piety, innocence, -chastity, and virtues, as well as the more brilliant qualities, of -the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">dévote</i> who had gone so early, but while the tears flowed -down his own cheeks, he reproved Paula for permitting the mother to -overshadow the religieuse. He adds a curious bit of consolation,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> -however, for a spiritual adviser who has renounced all worldly motives -and interests, when he tells her that Blæsilla will live forever in his -writings, as every page will be marked with her name. This immortality -he modestly thinks will compensate her for the short time she spent on -earth.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>These brief outlines indicate the character and position of a few of -the best-known women who gathered about Marcella. Some of them lived -with her; others came from time to time, or were constant attendants -at the Bible readings and prayers. Saintly women, and worldly ones -who were doubtless eager to flock to the little chapel in a palace -that represented to them a great name, if not a living faith, had -been going in and out for some years before <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome came from the -East at the summons of Pope Damasus, and was invited by Marcella to -stay at her house, after the manner of famous divines of all ages. It -is to this most interesting and learned of the early fathers that we -are indebted for the blaze of light that was thrown upon the Church -of the Household. It was also to this group of consecrated women that -<abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome owed the inspiration and the intelligent criticism that led -him to give the world some of the works on which his greatest fame -rests. The circle that listened to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> his persuasive eloquence, born of -a keen intellect, an ardent imagination, a passionate temperament, and -an exalted faith, was not an ignorant one. Most of these ladies spoke -Greek and were familiar with Greek letters. Some had learned Hebrew, -which was not included among the fashionable accomplishments of the -day. A few were women of brilliant ability and distinct individuality, -who could not live in the world without leaving some trace of -themselves. The discriminating mind of Marcella exercised itself on -every new problem. “During the whole of my residence at Rome she never -saw me without asking some question about history or dogma,” said <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> -Jerome. “She was not satisfied with any answer I might give; she never -yielded to my authority only, but discussed the matter so thoroughly -that often I ceased to be the master and became the humble pupil.” It -would have been better for him if he had given more heed to her gentle -voice when she tried to temper his bitterness and restrain his unruly -tongue. We have another proof of the solid fiber of her intellect -in the fact that she was consulted on Biblical matters by Roman -ecclesiastics, even by the Pope himself; indeed, it was her counsel -that led Pope Anastasius to condemn the heresies of Origen in the synod.</p> - -<p>It may easily be imagined that the pale, slender, ascetic monk -of thirty-four, with the light of genius in his eye, the fire of -sublimated passion in his soul,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> and the vein of poetry running -through his nature, had a strange power over these women who lived on -moral heights quite above the heavy worldly atmosphere about them. -This spiritual exaltation has swayed women of ardent imagination ever -since the days of the apostles, and doubtless swayed them before. It -was the secret of Savonarola’s influence. Under the inspiration of -the persuasive Nicole, the earnest Arnauld, and the austere Pascal, -the great ladies of France put off their silks and jewels with their -mundane vanities, and knelt in the bare cells at Port-Royal, with the -haircloth and the iron girdle pressing the delicate flesh as they -prayed. Fénelon found his most ardent disciple in the mystic <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> -Guyon. The pure soul of <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> Swetchine responded to the earnest words -of Lacordaire as the Æolian harp vibrates to the lightest breath of -wind. “I cannot attach to your name the glory of the Roman women whom -<abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome has immortalized,” he says, “and yet you were of their -race.... The light of your soul illumined the land that received you, -and for forty years you were for us the sweetest echo of the gospel -and the surest road to honor.” It is needless to recall the power of -many spiritual men of our own race and day in leading the serious and -gay alike into paths of a rational self-renunciation. Perhaps the -little coterie in which <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome found himself was more permanently -severe in its self-discipline than most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> of the later ones have been. -Doubtless there was a little blending of the church and the world, of -literature and prayers, of gilded trappings with the nun’s robe and the -monk’s cowl. But when these Roman women came into the devoted household -on the Aventine, they usually renounced the world very literally, -though it is not unlikely that they had a following of those who -mingled a pale and decorous piety with their worldly pleasures, as did -many of the priests whom <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome attacks with such biting sarcasm.</p> - -<p>Then this monk of many dreams and visions, with his halo of saintship, -was fresh from the hermits and cenobites of the Thebaid. The even-song -that went up from countless caves and cabins under the clear Egyptian -sky still lingered in his ear as he expatiated on the paradise of -solitude. Forgetting in his zeal the violent moral struggles he had -passed through himself, he appealed to them in impassioned words to -immolate every natural affection on the altar of a faith that invited -them to a life of prayer and meditation far from the tempting delights -of a sinful world. It was under this teaching that the ascetic spirit -grew so strong as to call out the indignation of the pagan society of -Rome. People of the fourth century were as fond of gossip as are the -men and women of to-day, and no more charitable. Malicious tongues were -whispering evil things of the gifted and famous monk who exercised<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> so -pernicious an influence over the wives and daughters of illustrious -Roman citizens, inciting them to fling away their fortunes for a dream -and seclude themselves from the world to which they belonged. He had -spent three years in an atmosphere that must have been grateful to -his restless and stormy spirit. But now he found that he was bringing -reproach upon those he most revered and loved, so in the summer of 385, -when Pope Damasus died, and his occupation was gone, he bade farewell -to his friends, and went back to the East, leaving a letter to Asella -in which he bitterly denounces those who had dared to malign him. Of -Paula he says that “her songs were psalms, her conversations were of -the gospel, her delight was in purity, her life a long fast.” Yet his -enemies had presumed to attack his attitude toward the saintly woman -whose “mourning and penance had touched his heart with sympathy and -veneration.”</p> - -<p>But his pleadings for a life of penitence and sacrifice had not been in -vain. A few months later Paula carried out a plan which had been for -some time maturing, and followed him, with her daughter Eustochium and -a train of consecrated virgins and attendants. The power of religious -enthusiasm was never shown more clearly than in this able and learned -matron, who had all the strength of the Roman character together with -the mystical exaltation of a Christian sibyl. That she was a woman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> of -ardent emotions is evident from the violence of her grief at the death -of her daughter and her husband. But in spite of her family affections -she was firm in her purpose to leave home and friends for a life of -hardship in the far East. The tears of her youngest daughter, Rufina, -who begged her to stay for her wedding day,—which, alas! she never -lived to see,—were of no avail. Her little son entreated her in vain. -The words of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome were ringing in her ears. “Though thy father -should lie on the threshold, trample over his body with dry eyes, and -fly to the standard of the cross,” he had said. “In this matter, to be -cruel is the only true filial affection.”</p> - -<p>Several years before, Melania, a widow of twenty-three, had sailed away -to the Thebaid, on a similar mission. She too had passed through great -sorrows. With strange calmness and without a tear, she had buried her -husband and two sons in quick succession, thanking God that she had no -longer any ties to stand between her and her pious duties. And for this -hardness <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome had applauded her, holding her up as an example to -her sex! She too had turned away dry-eyed and inflexible from the tears -of the little son she left to the tender mercies of the pretor. Did -<abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> de Chantal recall these women, centuries after, when she walked -serenely over the prostrate body of her son, who had thrown himself -across the threshold to bar<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> her departure from her home to a life of -spiritual consecration and conventual discipline under the direction of -<abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> François de Sales?</p> - -<p>We cannot follow the wanderings of these fourth-century pilgrims among -the hermits of the desert and the holy places of Syria. They were among -the first of a long line of women who have given up the luxuries and -refinements of life for a hut or a cave in the wilderness, and a bare, -hard existence, illuminated only by the “light that never was on sea -or land.” Melania established a convent on the Mount of Olives, with -Rufinus as the spiritual director, and here it is probable that Paula -visited her before settling finally near the Cave of the Nativity at -Bethlehem, where she built three convents, a hospital, and a monastery, -which was superintended by <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome. It was here that the rich -descendant of the Scipios, who had gone from a palace to a cell, gave -herself to prayer and menial duties, while she scattered her fortune -among the poor.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>The most immediate and important outcome of the Church of the Household -was this convent at Bethlehem, which had its origin in the brain of -Paula and was managed by her until her death. The little community, -with its austerities, its studies, its lowly duties, its charities, -and its peaceful life, was clearly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> visible while <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome lived -to electrify the world periodically with some fresh outburst of rage -at its follies, or its presumption in differing in opinion from -himself. It was here that he did his greatest work, and it is of -special interest to us that he depended largely upon the intelligent -aid of Paula and Eustochium in his revision of the Septuagint and the -invaluable translation of the Bible known as the Latin Vulgate. His -instructions to them were minute, and his confidence in their ability -is shown in the preface to one of his works, where he says: “You, who -are so familiar with Hebrew literature and so skilled in judging the -merits of a translation, go over this one carefully, word by word, so -as to discover where I have added or omitted anything which is not in -the original.” They also revised with him and largely settled the text -of the Psalter which is in use to-day in the Latin churches. He said -that they acquired with ease, and spoke perfectly, the Hebrew language, -which had cost him so much labor. He was censured for dedicating -so many of his works to the women who had given him such efficient -help. His reply is of value, as it expressed the opinion of the most -scholarly and brilliant of the early fathers on the intellectual -ability of the sex which they seem, as a rule, to have taken the -greatest pleasure in denouncing.</p> - -<p>“As if these women were not more capable of forming a judgment upon -them than most men,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> he says. “The good people who would have me -prefer them to you, O Paula and Eustochium, know as little of their -Bible as of Greek and Roman history. They do not know that Huldah -prophesied when men were silent, that Deborah overcame the enemies of -Israel when Barak trembled, that Judith and Esther saved the people of -God. So much for the Hebrews. As for the Greeks, who does not know that -Plato listened to the discourse of Aspasia, that Sappho held the lyre -beside Alcæus and Pindar, that Themistia was one of the philosophers -of Greece? And, among ourselves, Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi, -Portia the daughter of Cato and wife of Brutus, before whom the virtue -of the father and the austerity of the husband paled, do we not count -them among the glories of Rome?”</p> - -<p>Through the correspondence of these women with their friends, we have -various glimpses of their life, as well as of the changes that came to -the group on the Aventine. The heart of Paula was first saddened by the -death of her daughter Paulina, who had married a brother of Marcella, -and lived a life of great devotion in the world. Perhaps she found a -grain of consolation in the fact that Paulina’s large fortune was left -to her husband to be distributed among the poor. We have a glowing -account of the great funeral at <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Peter’s, where this sorrowing -husband scattered the gifts with his own hand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> to the starving -multitude, after turning his wife’s jewels and fine, gold-embroidered -robes into plain garments for the naked and needy. Then he went to his -desolate home, took the vows of poverty, and put on a monk’s cowl, -though he still held his seat in the Senate, where he doubtless felt -that he could render the best service.</p> - -<p>This grief was tempered for Paula by the glad tidings that the little -son she had left weeping on the shore had married Læta, a Christian, -who, with his approval, consecrated their daughter, a second Paula, to -the service of religion. It was the wife who wrote to her for direction -as to her child’s education; and we have an interesting letter from -<abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome giving careful instruction on all points that concern the -training of a young maiden. This Paula helped to cheer the last days of -her grandmother, and became the third abbess of the convent.</p> - -<p>Fabiola came once to visit them, and spent two years, entering into -all their duties, and brightening the little community with her quick -and eager intellect. But she died soon after her return to Rome. They -urged Marcella to join them, and sent vivid descriptions of their -idyllic life among the hills consecrated by so many sacred memories. -“In summer we seek the shade of our trees,” they write; “in autumn the -mild weather and pure air invite us to rest on a bed of fallen leaves; -in spring, when the fields are painted with flowers, we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> sing our -songs among the birds.” To be sure, they had the hospital work, the -menial duties, the prayers, and the penances, but they had, too, long -and pleasant hours to study the holy books. Then they were free from -the “need of seeing and being seen, of greeting and being greeted, of -praising and detracting, hearing and talking, of seeing the crowds of -the world.” The monastery and the convent were quite separate, but it -is likely that <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome passed many moments in the converse of his -friends and helpers, though his instructions were largely given by -letter. These pastoral pictures, however, with their dark shadings, did -not tempt the Roman lady from her chosen work. With her clear and sane -intellect she saw her duty to those among whom she was born.</p> - -<p>After seventeen years of unselfish labor for the poor and suffering, -varied by the study of which we have the fruit, Paula died and was -laid away in the grotto at Bethlehem. In her last moments she replied -in Greek to a question of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome, that she felt no pain, and that -everything before her was calm and tranquil. All Palestine flocked to -her funeral, which was conducted by the Bishop of Jerusalem, and people -of every rank and grade looked with tears on her grave and majestic -features. “Illustrious by birth,” says <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome, “more illustrious by -her piety, first in Rome by the wealth of her house, then more honored -by Christian poverty,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> she scorned pomp and glory, exchanged gilded -walls for a cabin, and won the esteem of the entire world.”</p> - -<p>Her mantle fell upon Eustochium, an earnest, sincere woman of serious -education but less strength and individuality than her mother, who -filled her place with dignity and ability for sixteen years. In the -first days of his grief <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome was unable to take up his work, but -this sympathetic helper turned his thoughts by carrying to him the Book -of Ruth to be translated. At her death she was succeeded by her niece, -another Paula, who had been long associated with her. The younger -Melania, who had followed in the footsteps of her own grandmother, the -first woman to leave Rome for an ascetic retreat in the East, was there -also, and it was these women who, not long afterward, closed the eyes -of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome, already dimmed with age.</p> - -<p>But the close of Marcella’s life came some time before this last -light went out in the Syrian monastery, and it was tragical enough. -For thirty years she had devoted herself and her large wealth to the -unfortunate, and to the interests of the church she loved. During the -siege of Alaric and the terrible days that saw the ruin of Rome, she -was beaten and tortured to compel her to tell where she had hidden her -treasures; but these had all gone for the relief of the suffering, and -there was nothing to tell. A soldier with a kinder heart than the rest -helped her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> to reach the old Church of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Paul without the walls, -together with Principia, the only companion left to her, whom she had -saved with great difficulty from the fury of her brutal captors. A few -days later she died of these tortures, and the maiden was left alone to -tell the tale. The Ecclesia Domestica appears no more in history. The -little group of devoted women was already scattered. Many were dead. -Some had found refuge in the convent at Bethlehem, some in the cells -of the Thebaid, and some had gone to carry the seeds of their faith to -remote places where we cannot trace them. Strictly speaking, this was -never a convent, as there were no vows and women went in and out at -pleasure. But it has been called the “Mother of Convents.”</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>The revolution effected in Roman society through these intelligent -patrician matrons, whose names had great prestige, and whose wealth -seems to have been inexhaustible, was a vital and important one. -The women also show us, even in their often intemperate zeal, the -magnificent possibilities of the Roman character. But their value to -us lies largely in the results of the work they began, which expanded -into the vast system of convents that soon overspread the known world. -That these have been an unmixed good no one will contend to-day,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> but -that they fulfilled a mission which was, on the whole, a blessing in -its time, few, I think, will deny. For centuries they furnished an -outlet for the administrative talents as well as the surplus energies -and emotions of women. They were also a refuge for multitudes who had -no secure place in the world, and for those who did not wish to subject -themselves to the slavery of a forced and loveless marriage. If they -were not the best things possible, they were the best things available. -So far as these women led lives of active charity, and forgot their own -comfort in gentle ministrations to the poor and suffering, the results -were good for themselves and the world. When they lost their poise in -ecstatic visions, spent long hours in useless austerities and morbid -introspection, crushing every natural impulse in the effort to attain -an impossible holiness that was as airy and unsubstantial as the fabric -of a dream, they became abnormal, and the results were distinctly -bad; it was in the last analysis the apotheosis of emotionalism. The -old extremes of sensuality were followed by equal extremes in another -direction. To glorify pain, to neglect the person, to substitute states -of exaltation for family ties, was a mark of piety. The movement -started with an ideal of virgin purity that depreciated any life but -that of a celibate. The immoralities that early began to creep in with -the theories of spiritual marriage, even among the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> cenobites of the -desert, to the dismay of the fathers themselves, were doubtless due in -part to the repression of tender human affections, and in part to the -vow of obedience which placed pure and saintly women at the mercy of -the wolves in sheep’s clothing that speedily overran the church and the -world.</p> - -<p>The Christian ideals are essentially feminine ones. They exalt love, -not force, and glorify the finest and most distinctive traits of -womanhood. “Heavens, what wives these Christians have!” said a pagan -ruler, struck with their spirit of supreme self-sacrifice. “Kill me,” -said Eve to Adam, as they were being driven from the Garden of Eden; -“then perhaps God will put you back into paradise.” So wrote a man -centuries later who was trying to illustrate the unselfishness of woman -at the crucial point of her history. But the obedience which was so -beautiful to the husband was quite another matter when demanded by a -spiritual director, and family life began to suffer. Perhaps this state -of affairs is partly responsible for the bitter denunciations of women -in the writings of the fathers, though by no means confined to them. -“You are the devil’s gateway,” says Tertullian, “the unsealer of the -forbidden tree, the deserter from the divine law. You persuaded him -whom the devil was not brave enough to attack. You destroyed God’s -image, man.” “Eve was the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> principle of death,” wrote <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome; but -remembering, perhaps, how far the work of his life had been aided by -women, he adds that “Mary is the source of life.” His attacks elsewhere -are frequent and merciless. “Woman has the poison of an asp and the -malice of a dragon,” is the kindly tribute of Gregory the Great. “Of -all wild beasts the most dangerous is woman,” says <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Chrysostom, who -owed so much to his own mother and loved her so devotedly. “It brings -great shame to reflect of what nature woman is,” writes Clement of -Alexandria. One might fill a book with similar quotations. “A woman -is an evil.” “A woman is a whited sepulcher.” This is the burden of -priestly complaint from <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Augustine to the Protestant Calvin and -John Knox, who sang variations on the same theme in a different key. -Not even the classic Greeks were more abusive. All this is specially -surprising, since we find no such spirit in the words of Christ, who -was invariably gentle toward women and tender even to their faults. <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> -Paul was disposed to keep them in a very humble place, but, after all, -he was never incurably bitter.</p> - -<p>In spite of these persistent attacks, however, the church has availed -itself, throughout its history, of the talents of great women, from -the first <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Catherine to her namesake of Siena, from Marcella to -the gifted <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Theresa and Mère Angélique, the thoughtful saint of -Port-Royal. Women were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> associated with all the humane movements of -the primitive church. They held honorable and prominent positions as -deaconesses, were intrusted with grave responsibilities, and venerated -to an extent unheard of before. Salvina officially protected the -Eastern churches, and supplications for favors were addressed to her on -account of her ability and her influence at the court of the emperor. -<abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Chrysostom always spoke of Olympias, the ablest of his deaconesses, -as his “dear and trusted friend.” A rich woman, noble, and a widow, -she had given up her life to the service of religion, and managed the -affairs of the great archbishop, who depended upon her as <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Ambrose -depended upon his sister Marcellina. When he was driven into exile, and -the flames were bursting from <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Sophia, it was to her, not to the -bishops, that he gave instructions for the government of his church in -his absence, which was destined to be final.</p> - -<p>It is worth while, perhaps, to quote a few lines from a letter written -by this celebrated man to a Roman lady whose influence he asked in -the interest of a general council. After a few generalities about the -sphere of her sex, he continues: “But in the work which has the service -of God for its object, in the church militant, these distinctions are -effaced, and it often happens that the woman excels the man in the -courage with which she supports her opinions and in her holy zeal.... -Do not consider<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> as unbecoming to your sex that earnest work which in -any way promotes the welfare of the faithful.... I beg you to undertake -this with the utmost diligence; the more frightful the tempest, the -more precious the recompense for your share in calming it.”</p> - -<p>There were a great many other able women, and some wicked ones, -connected with the earlier movements of Christianity, especially in the -Eastern Church, but they do not fall within the scope of this paper. I -mention these few simply to show that it was by no means the emotional -enthusiasm of women which gave them so much influence in a field for -which they were peculiarly fitted, though this may account for much of -their subsequent power over the masses, and many of their errors. Most -of the leaders had great force of intellect and a special talent for -organization.</p> - -<p>The ultimate effect of conventual life on the minds of women is open -to serious question. The founders of the movement were matrons of -pagan education. The little circle on the Aventine, as we have seen, -was versed in the knowledge of the time. But learning was already -in its decline. About the time that Marcella was a victim to the -barbarians who destroyed the glory of Rome, the last great feminine -representative of the genius and culture of the classic world, the -beautiful and gifted Hypatia, was dead in Alexandria, a sacrifice to -the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> mad passions of a fanatical mob that marched under the banner of -One who came into the world with a message of peace and good will to -men. Even the semi-mythical <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Catherine, the patron saint of science, -philosophy, education, and eloquence, who lived not long before,—if -at all,—was brought up on Plato and taught by pagan masters. So clear -was the intellect of this prodigy of wisdom and knowledge that she was -called upon to dispute with fifty of the most learned pagans, and, if -the legends are to be trusted, vanquished them all on their own ground. -The philosopher and the saint were trained in the same schools, and -they were alike martyrs to their own learning and talents, though one -was a partizan of the old order of things, the other of the new.</p> - -<p>But those who followed them do not seem to have equaled the early -women who were the product of pagan schools. Polite letters were -discouraged, if not forbidden. <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Jerome himself mourns over the lost -hours spent over Cicero and the poets, though, fortunately for his -fame, he never wholly broke away from their influence. “What has Horace -to do with the Psalter, or Vergil with the gospels, or Cicero with the -apostles?” he said to Eustochium. No pursuit of secular knowledge was -ever countenanced in the large bodies of women swayed by a spiritual -director who would have burned Sappho and Euripides if he could,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> -and dominated by a visionary emotionalism turned out of its natural -channels and centered on a single idea. Great ability asserted itself, -not in learning, but in organization, leadership, and an ever-narrowing -discipline.</p> - -<p>The representative pagan woman had her shortcomings and her -disabilities. She had also her virtues. If she had less of the spirit -of religion, she had equally the spirit of patriotism, of culture, of -honor, and of duty. There was a finer sensibility among the Christian -women, and a stronger instinct of self-sacrifice. None of us will -depreciate the beauty of those traits, but without the firmness of -fiber that is fostered by trained intelligence, they have their -dangers. When they mark the permanent attitude of one class toward -another which in no wise recognizes any corresponding duty, they -inevitably result in the servility of the one and the tyranny of the -other. Such was the relative position of men and women in the dark -ages. Even chivalry which paid a tribute to weakness was largely a -theory, or a fashion that offered a new path to glory, and does not -bear too close a scrutiny, though it tempered the condition of women -and modified the character of men, upon whom it reflected great honor. -Its ideals were fine, but the gulf between the ideal and its attainment -in daily life was often a very wide one. There were conspicuous -examples of feminine courage and heroism<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span> as well as talent, but the -lives of women in these ages were not, as a rule, pleasant ones, in -spite of a certain halo of romance that was thrown about them. No doubt -it was their suffering and helplessness that sent so many of them into -convents where they frequently found a state of morals little better -than the one from which they fled. It was not until the Renaissance -brought back the old spirit of learning and a vigorous intellectual -life among women that they combined the sweetness of Christian virtues -with the dignity and strength born of knowledge and a measure of -freedom, took the rightful position that belongs to the mothers of the -race, and once more played a distinctly civilizing <span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span>and beneficent rôle -on the world’s stage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Learned">THE LEARNED WOMEN OF THE RENAISSANCE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img018"> - <img src="images/018.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· Glorification of Women in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries ·<br /> -· Their New Cult of Knowledge ·<br /> -· Bitisia Gozzadina ·<br /> -· Ideals of the Early Poets ·<br /> -· Dante · Petrarch · Boccaccio · Medieval Saints ·<br /> -· Catherine of Siena · Women in Universities ·<br /> -· Precocious Girls · Olympia Morata ·<br /> -· Women Poets · Veronica Gambara ·<br /> -· Vittoria Colonna ·<br /> -· High Moral Tone of Literary Women ·<br /> -· An Exception · Tullia d’Aragona ·</big><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img019"> - <img src="images/019.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>There was a curious book written early in the sixteenth century by a -savant of Cologne, on “The Superiority of Women over Men.” It was one -out of many that were devoted to the glorification of the long-secluded -sex, but its title serves to indicate the nature of the epidemic of -eulogies that raged more or less for nearly two hundred years after -Boccaccio set the fashion. This he did by singing the praises of the -great heroines he brought out from the shadows of the past to adorn the -pages of his “Illustrious Women.” It seemed as if men had been struck -with a sudden remorse for the unkind things they had been saying about -women since the dawn of the world, and were trying to make amends by -putting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> them, theoretically at least, on a pinnacle of glory. Some -celebrated their beauty, others their virtues, and still others their -talents, while a few did not stop short of awarding them all the graces -and perfections. Paul de Ribera published “The Immortal Triumphs and -Heroic Enterprises of Eight Hundred and Forty-five Women,” which was -comprehensive if not convincing. Hilarion of Coste devoted two large -volumes to eulogies of women of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, -finding nearly two hundred to put into his Temple of Fame. What their -special claims to glory may have been I do not know beyond the fact -that they were pious and devout Catholics. One man who had contended -for the equality of the sexes tried afterward to refute himself; -but his recantation was half-hearted, as he confessed his private -conviction that logic was against him.</p> - -<p>Cardinal Pompeo Colonna takes it upon himself to demolish the old -creed that a woman is an inferior creature, convenient in the house, -but unfit for any large responsibility. He proves her capacity for -public life by many examples, treats lightly the plea of the moral -dangers that would beset her, and shows what men become when left -to their own devices. After giving exalted praise to the masterful, -accomplished women of his time, he cites his beautiful cousin, the -“divine Vittoria,” as a living model of talent and strength, as well as -of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> virtue, magnanimity, and devotion. More pointed and concise, though -less definite, was Monti, a famous Roman prelate, who said: “If men -complain of seeing themselves equaled or surpassed by women, so much -the worse for them. It is because they are not worthy of their wives.” -The climax of praise was reached in a work written to prove that women -are “nobler, braver, more tactful, more learned, more virtuous, and -more economical than men.” Such a pitch of adulation could hardly be -maintained without a protest, and there were a few men ungallant enough -to say that the best proof of their own sovereignty was the effort -needed to combat it.</p> - -<p>It is pleasant to record that the most ardent champions of feminine -ability were men of more than ordinary caliber. As men rarely -exaggerate the talents of women, though they sometimes make goddesses -of them, we may safely conclude that their pictures were not overdrawn -on that side. Truth, however, compels me to say that some of the -eulogists were accomplished courtiers with special appreciation of -queens and princesses who might make or mar their fortunes; also that -this complaisance was by no means universal. Whether the satirists, -novelists, and minor poets found the wicked more effective, from a -dramatic point of view, than the good, as many of their successors -do to-day, or the sensual age was more interested in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> pretty sinners -than in saints, it is certain that these writers paid scant honor to -women, and delighted to put them in the worst light, though satire -was in the main directed against the ignorant and the frivolous, not -against the intelligent or the strong. Even Montaigne refused to -look upon a woman otherwise than as a useful but inferior animal, -though he inconsistently chose one of these “inferior animals” as his -confidante and literary executor, because she was the “only person -he knew in whose literary judgment he could confide.” The scholarly -Erasmus said she was “a foolish, silly creature, no doubt, but amusing -and agreeable.” He was happy in the belief that “the great end of -her existence is to please men”; but he pays his own sex a poorer -compliment than we should like to when he adds that “she could not do -this without folly.”</p> - -<p>So much for the man’s point of view. But the women were not silent, and -a few glorified themselves as naïvely as some of their modern sisters -have done. If we ever had any doubts as to our own modesty they ought -to convince us of it. Lucrezia Marinelli, a clever Venetian and a -poet, defined herself quite clearly in a work entitled “The Nobleness -and Excellence of Women and the Faults and Imperfections of Men.” -As a comparison this seems rather unfair, but considering the fact -that men had for ages given themselves all the noble<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> qualities and -women all the weak ones, they could not take serious exception to it. -Indeed, they evidently found it refreshing. It furnished them with a -new sensation, and was quite harmless on the practical side, as they -still held the reins of power. Marguerite of France, the brilliant and -lettered wife of Henry IV, tried to prove that women are very superior -to men, but, unfortunately, in her category of superiorities morals had -no place. <abbr title="Madamoiselle">Mlle.</abbr> de Gournay was more generous, as well as more just, and -declared herself content with simple equality, though one cannot help -wondering how she settled that matter with her friend Montaigne. But -<abbr title="Madamoiselle">Mlle.</abbr> Schurmann of Cologne thought that even this was going too far. It -seems as if she might fairly have claimed to be the peer of the average -man, since she spoke nine languages and was more or less noted as -painter, musician, sculptor, engraver, philosopher, mathematician, and -theologian. Just how much solid learning was implied in this formidable -list of accomplishments we cannot judge, but it is clear that there has -been a time before to-day when women aimed to know everything, though -there was a safeguard against shattered nerves in the fact that there -were not so many books to read nor so many brain-splitting problems -to solve. It is fair, however, to suppose that this learned lady did -not waste much time on clothes or five-o’clock teas. Louise Labé, the -poet<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span> and savante of Lyons, takes a more modern tone. In claiming -intellectual equality for women, she begs them not to permit themselves -to be despoiled of the “honest liberty so painfully won—the liberty of -knowing, thinking, working, shining.” In spite of her courageous words, -however, this paragon of so many talents and virtues, the glory of her -sex and the pride of her city, asserts herself in a half-deprecating -way, as if she were asking pardon for presuming to publish her little -verses, and shelters herself behind the admiring friends who are -willing to “take half the shame.” But she was a Frenchwoman, and her -day was not yet. Women had so long hidden their light, if they had any, -that it blinked perceptibly when exposed to the winds of heaven or the -more chilly breezes of masculine criticism.</p> - -<p>It is needless to extend the list of writers on this subject, but it -is a long and remarkable one. The books would make rather interesting -reading to-day, whatever we might think of their quality, as problems -familiar to us were pretty thoroughly if not always ably discussed, -and apparently with great good nature. A distinguished Frenchman, well -known in the salons of the eighteenth century, unearthed a great many -curious facts and opinions hidden away in these books, which are now -mostly buried too deep in the dust of old libraries for resurrection, -and his own wise and quite modern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span> conclusions entitled him to more -consideration than he received from the women of his time. But this -rapid glimpse will suffice, perhaps, to show the spirit in which -latter-day questions were treated four or five centuries ago; also -to throw a strong light on the position of women during the period, -without very precise limits, known as the Renaissance—a period of -special interest to us, as it marks the dawn of a new era of feminine -intelligence.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>We do not know how it happened that Bitisia Gozzadina stepped out -of the traditional seclusion of her sex as early as the benighted -thirteenth century, to be made doctor of civil and canon law in the -University of Bologna at the age of twenty-seven. She had already -pronounced a funeral oration in Latin and otherwise distinguished -herself several years before. It is no longer the fashion to give Latin -orations outside of the universities, but we know how women fared a few -decades ago, when they tried to speak publicly in their own language. -It was perfectly understood that women of such oratorical proclivities -forfeited all right to social consideration. They were practically -ostracized. Happily, now they are treated about as well as they were -six hundred years ago, when people crowded the university halls and -even<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> the public squares to listen to this remarkable woman. We do not -hear that she was called any disagreeable names, not even a bas-bleu, -though there is a vague tradition that she had peculiar notions about -dress. It is said that she had rare beauty, but her charm and esprit -made people forget it.</p> - -<p>There is nothing in the medieval ideals of womanhood to suggest such -a phenomenon, still less its cordial acceptance. Not even in the -early poets is there a trace of the type of woman which played so -distinguished a part in the golden age of the Renaissance. Beatrice -was little more than a beautiful abstraction, the spiritual ideal of -a man who dwelt mainly upon other-worldly matters. Petrarch found it -interesting to kneel before Madonna Laura in the clouds, and sing hymns -in her praise; but she was only an elusive figure on which to drape -poetic fancies. In these days, when it is quite the fashion to pull -the halos from the saints and put them on the sinners,—when even the -wicked Lucrezia Borgia has become a respectable wife and a particularly -good mother, who expiated the sins of her youth, if she had any, by her -pious devotion, her kindness to the poor, and her patronage of art and -literature,—it is not surprising to hear that Laura was a common-place -matron, “fair, fat, and forty,” who would have found it difficult to -live up to the ideals of her adorer,—even if she had known what they -were,—and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span> prudently kept out of so rarefied an air. This blending of -chivalry and mysticism made fine poetry but not very substantial women.</p> - -<p>Boccaccio paid a generous tribute to the heroic qualities of the women -of the past, but he evidently preferred them at a distance or in books. -Personally he seems to have had no more taste for savantes than for -saints. He belonged to the new age, which glorified the joys of life -and liked to sing love-songs—not of the choicest—to frail beauties. -Fiammetta was, no doubt, a clever woman and a beautiful one, but she -was no divine Egeria to inspire him with high thoughts. If he did -brilliant things at her bidding, the trail of the serpent was over them -all. Perhaps he aimed to suit the taste of the day, which was neither -delicate nor moral; or he may have lived in bad company from which -he took his models. We should be sorry to take as representative the -heroines of the Decameron, who must have brought blushes, which the -twilight could not hide, to the faces of the little coterie of friends -that sat on the grass telling or listening to these tales during the -long summer evenings at Florence, when men and women were dying all -about them. But they give us one phase of the life of the time, and -reflect the taste of an audience composed mainly of men who laughed at -morals and deified art, regardless of its aim or its subject. The age -was not strait-laced, but Italian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span> ladies were not permitted to read -Boccaccio. One story, however, they might read. When the poet wished to -portray a good woman, for a change, he made a fine little picture of -Griselda, the patient, who was duly thankful for every indignity her -amiable lord chose to offer, mainly because she thought her sufferings -made him happy. When these incredible cruelties culminated in sending -her away loaded with unmerited disgrace, she still thanked him like -a good wife who was grateful for being trampled upon, even when her -innocent heart was breaking. It was a fine object-lesson for the proper -education of girls, and this marvel of self-sacrifice was held up from -one end of Europe to the other as a model of womanhood. Poets painted -her over and over again, with race variations; moralists praised her; -and men quoted her to their wives. Some instinct of justice prompted -Boccaccio to reward her in the end for all this useless misery, which -was simply a test of her servile quality, by putting her again, after -a series of years, into the good graces of her inhuman husband; but -it is needless to say that such rewards of virtue, if they could be -considered rewards, are not in the way of a world in which these -lessons are read.</p> - -<p>All this shows how far the heroines of the early poets, whether -good or bad, differed from the strong, able, and accomplished women -who were recognized as the glories of the Renaissance. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span> suggests -also the lurid or colorless background against which the latter were -outlined. The cynical bachelor in Molière’s comedy summed up the whole -duty of woman according to the gospel of the middle ages—and, it -might be added, of many other ages—when he said that his wife must -know only how to “pray to God, love, sew, and spin.” The last three -qualifications were necessary for his own comfort, and he had the -penetration to divine that she might have ample need of the first on -her own account. Then it gave him an agreeable sense of security to -have a certain proprietorship in some one mildly affiliated with the -next world. “In thy orisons be all my sins remembered,” says Hamlet -to the fair Ophelia. A man might be the worst of sinners himself, -but he liked a seasoning of piety in his wife, provided it was not -too aggressive and left him free to be wicked if he chose. It was -like having an altar in the home, and gave it a desirable flavor of -saintliness.</p> - -<p>Beyond the fireside and the docile domestic slave, however, there was -another medieval ideal of womanhood, a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">religieuse</i> who prayed -and sang hymns in the cloister. Aside from this, it was her special -mission to help the poor, care for the sick, console the sorrowful, and -advance the interests of the church. But these women of the cloister, -who had the altar without the home, found a possible outlet for their -imprisoned intellects, if they had sufficient<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span> natural force. The Roman -Church, which had always frowned upon any exercise of a woman’s mental -gifts in a worldly sphere, was glad to avail itself of them in its own -interest, and there were a few women more or less distinguished both as -leaders of religious organizations and counselors of ecclesiastics, who -kept alive the prestige of their sex through centuries of darkness. It -was one of the strange paradoxes of that age, as of many others, that -a woman is an irrational being, too fragile to bear distinction of any -sort, except when her talents make for the glory of men or the church. -Activity in public affairs, so long as they were religious ones, was -not considered unwomanly, notwithstanding the conservative opinions -of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Paul. No one took it amiss when Catherine of Siena used her -wisdom and eloquence in persuading the Pope to return from Avignon to -Rome after men’s counsels had failed. No one found fault because her -emotional exaltation was tempered by a vigorous intellect. She was a -thinker and seer, and wrote ably on political as well as ecclesiastical -questions. Her style was simple and classic; indeed, she was altogether -phenomenal, and had strange influence over the popes and kings to whom -she did not hesitate to tell unpleasant truths. It was quite fitting -that she should devote these gifts to the interests of her church and -incidentally of her country. Men honored her for it, and canonized her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span></p> - -<p>This was a hundred and fifty years or so before the beautiful -Isabella of Cordova, who was more learned and less mystical, gave -up mundane pleasures for the classics and a degree in theology; -and Isabella Rosera devoted herself to the conversion of the Jews, -dazzled multitudes with her eloquence in the cathedral at Barcelona, -and expounded the subtleties of Duns Scotus before prelates and -cardinals at Rome. But in that interval women had made great strides -in intelligence, and the talents that shone so conspicuously in great -moral and religious movements had become a powerful factor in other -directions. Bitisia Gozzadina had multitudes of successors to her -honors.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>That women emerged so suddenly from a state of ignorance, superstition, -and mystic dreams to a position of intellectual distinction and -virtual though not legal equality with men, is one of the marvels of -the Renaissance. The change was as rapid and complete as that which -came over the women of the nineteenth century. It is scarcely less -remarkable, in the light of our own experience, that their new-born -passion for learning met with so little opposition. They did not find -it necessary to fight their own battles. There was no question of -asserting their right to the higher education, as we have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span> been forced -to do. This was taken as a matter of course and without controversy. -They were educated on equal lines with men, and by the same masters; -nor were the most distinguished teachers of the age afraid of being -enervated by this contact with the feminine mind, as certain modern -professors claim to be. Doubtless they would have smiled at such a -reflection on their own mental vigor.</p> - -<p>One is constantly surprised by the extraordinary precocity of the -young girls. Cecilia, the daughter of an early Marquis of Mantua, was -trained with her brothers by the most famous master in Italy, and -wrote Greek with singular purity at ten. She refused a brilliant but -distasteful marriage, and devoted her life to literature. The little -Battista, whose talents descended to her illustrious granddaughter, -Vittoria Colonna, was chosen, at an age when girls are usually playing -with dolls or learning their letters, to greet Pius II in a Latin -address. Anna d’Este, who became the wife of the Duke of Guise, and -in later life was so prominent a patroness of letters in France, -translated Italian into Latin with ease at ten, and was otherwise a -prodigy. One might imagine these children to have been insufferable -little prigs, but such does not seem to have been the case. So far as -we can learn, they did not lose their simplicity, and grew up to be -capable, many-sided, and charming women,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span> quite free from pedantry or -affectation of any sort. Without attaching too much importance to these -childish efforts, which were by no means uncommon, they are of value -mainly in showing the care given to the serious education of girls.</p> - -<p>It is certain that the place held by educated women was a new and -exceptional one. They filled chairs of philosophy and law, discoursed -in Latin before bishops and cardinals, spoke half a dozen or more -languages, understood the mysteries of statecraft better than any of -us do to-day, and were consulted on public affairs by the greatest -sovereigns of their age. Nor do we hear that they were unsexed or -out of their sphere. On the contrary, men recognized their talents -and gave them cordial appreciation. While the shafts of satire fell -thick and fast upon the follies peculiar to ignorance and weakness, -they were rarely aimed at those who, even to-day, would be more or -less stigmatized as strong-minded. Possibly a clue to this may be -found in the fact that in training the intellect they did not lose -their distinctive virtues and graces; they simply added the cult -of knowledge, which heightened all other charms. We find constant -reference to their attractions of person and character, as well as -of mind. Novella d’Andrea took her father’s place in his absence and -lectured on jurisprudence at the University of Bologna; but, either -from modesty or from the fear of distracting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span> the too susceptible -students, she hid her lovely face behind a curtain. At a later time -Elena Cornaro—who was not only versed in mathematics, astronomy, -philosophy, theology, and six languages, but sang her own verses, gave -Latin eulogies, and lectured on various sciences—was crowned doctor of -philosophy at Padua. She took her honors modestly, and is said to have -been as pious as she was learned.</p> - -<p>In these days of specialties one looks with distrust on so formidable -an array of accomplishments. We are apt to think of such women as -either hopelessly superficial, or pedants without any fine human -quality. A few salient points from the life of one of the most -distinguished may serve to correct this impression.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>Olympia Morata deserves, for her own sake, more than a passing mention. -She was by no means a simple receptacle of heterogeneous knowledge, -but a woman as noted for feminine virtues and strength of character as -for the brilliancy of her intellect. Her father was a distinguished -professor in the University of Ferrara, and his gifted daughter was fed -from infancy on the classics. At six she was taught by a learned canon -who advised her parents to put a pen in her hand instead of a needle. -At twelve she was well versed in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span> Greek, Latin, and the sciences of -the day, petted and flattered by scholars old and young, compared to -the Muses and to all the feminine stars of antiquity, and in the way -of being altogether spoiled. In the midst of this chorus of praise she -donned the habit of a professor at sixteen, wrote dialogues in the -language of Vergil and Plato, a Greek essay on the Stoics, and many -poems. She also lectured without notes at the academy, before the court -and the university dons, on such themes as the paradoxes of Cicero, -speaking in Latin, and improvising at pleasure with perfect ease. The -great Roman orator was her model of style, and in a preface to one of -her lectures she says: “I come to my task as an unskilled artist who -can make nothing of a coarse-grained marble. But if you offer a block -of Parian to his chisel, he will no longer deem his work useless. The -beauty of the material will give value to his production. Perhaps it -will be so with mine. There are some tunes so full of melody that they -retain their sweetness even when played upon a poor instrument. Such -are the words of my author. In passing through my lips they will lose -nothing of their grace and majesty.”</p> - -<p>This brilliant and classical maiden passed eight or ten years of her -youth at the court of Ferrara in intimate companionship with Anna -d’Este and her mother, the “wise, witty, and virtuous” Duchess Renée. -These were the days when the latter had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span> Bernardo Tasso, a fashionable -poet who was eclipsed by his greater son, for her private secretary, -and delighted to fill her apartments with men of learning. The little -Anna, too, a child of ten, had been brought up on the classics, and the -two girls, who studied Greek together, liked to talk of Plato, Apollo, -and the Muses much better than to gossip about dress and society, or -the gallants of the court. Even their diversions had a pagan flavor. -When Paul III came on a visit, the royal children played a comedy of -Terence to entertain his eighteen cardinals and forty bishops, with all -the magnates and great ladies that usually grace such festivities. It -is quite probable that the clever Olympia had much to do in directing -it.</p> - -<p>The literary academy of the duchess had a singular fascination for -the gifted young girl, who was one of its brightest ornaments. “Her -enthusiasm over antiquity became an idolatry, and badly prepared her -intellect for the doctrines of grace,” wrote one of her friends. “She -loved better the wisdom of Homer and Plato than the foolishness of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> -Paul.” She says of herself that she was full of the vanities of her -sex, though it is difficult to conceive of this worshiper of poets -and philosophers as very frivolous. That she had many attractions is -certain, as she won all hearts. “Thy face is not only beautiful and thy -grace charming,” said one of the great scholars of the time, “but thou -hast been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span> elevated to the court by thy virtues.... Happy the princess -who has such a companion! Happy the parents of such a child, who -pronounce thy beautiful name within their doors! Blessed the husband -who shall win thy hand!”</p> - -<p>But this sunny life could not go on forever. The “Tenth Muse” was -called home to care for her father in his last illness, and proved as -capable in the qualities of a nurse as in those of a muse. At his death -the little family was left to her care. To make the prospect darker, -her friend Anna d’Este had just married and gone off to her brilliant -but not altogether smooth career in France, and the duchess gave her -a chilling reception that boded no good; indeed, night had overtaken -her, and she found herself cruelly dismissed in her hour of sorrow and -trouble.</p> - -<p>Other subjects had been discussed in this literary circle besides Greek -poetry and Ariosto and the courtly Bembo and the rising stars of the -day. Calvin had been there in disguise, and they had talked of free -will, predestination, and like heresies, much to the discomfiture of -the orthodox duke, whose interests did not lie in that direction. The -young savante had listened to these things, and her eager mind had -pondered on them. Perhaps, too, she was one of the group that discussed -high and grave themes when Vittoria Colonna was there. At all events, -the duchess had fallen into disgrace<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span> for her Protestant leanings, and -could do no more for her favorite, who was branded with a suspicion of -the same heresy. Indeed, she was herself confined for a time to one -wing of the palace and forbidden to see her children lest she should -contaminate them with her own liberal views. The only powerful friend -left to the desolate girl in her adversity was Lavinia della Rovere -of the ducal family of Urbino, who had shared her tastes, sympathized -with her views in happier times, and now proved her loyalty in various -ways that sustained her drooping heart. But there was another, equally -helpful if not so powerful, a young German of good family, who had -been a medical student in the university, and fallen in love with -this paragon of learning and accomplishments. He was true when others -fell away, and she gave him the devotion of her life. Both were under -the same ban, and soon after their marriage fled to Germany, with the -blessing of Lavinia and some valuable letters to her friends.</p> - -<p>It was a strange series of misfortunes that pursued this brave -couple. After drifting about in the vain search for a foothold in an -unsympathetic world, where they could think their own thoughts and -satisfy their modest wants, they found at last a home in which they set -up their household goods and gathered their few treasures with their -much-loved books. But when kings fall out other people<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span> suffer. No -sooner were they settled than the small city was besieged, and for many -months they went through all the horrors of war, famine, pestilence, -and, in the end, fire, which destroyed their small possessions, and -compelled them to flee for their lives through a hostile country, -scantily clothed, unprotected, and penniless.</p> - -<p>It is needless to follow their dark wanderings. Suffice it to say that -they found refuge at last in Heidelberg, where the husband was given -a professorship, and the wife, too, was offered the chair of Greek, -which she was never able to take. Her health had succumbed to her many -sufferings and hardships, and she died before she was twenty-nine. But -her strong soul rose above them all. “I am happy—entirely happy,” she -said at the close. “I have never known a spirit so bright and fair, or -a disposition so amiable and upright,” wrote her husband, who could not -survive her loss and followed her within a few months.</p> - -<p>There is more than the many-colored tissue of a life as sad as it -was brilliant in these records. They carry within them all the -possibilities of a strong and symmetrical womanhood. The rare quality -of her scholarship was never questioned. She was the admitted peer of -the most learned men of her time, one of whom expects her to “produce -something worthy of Sophocles.” But she was clever, winning, and -fascinating, as well as serious. Living for years<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span> among the gaieties -of a court, she went out into a world of storms and gloom without a -murmur or a regret, buoyed up by her love and unquestioning faith. She -refers more to the joys than to the sorrows of this tempestuous time. -Lavinia and the Duchess of Guise, the friends of her youth, were true -to the end. In her letters to them and to the learned men who never -lost sight of her, we have curious glimpses of the home of a woman -who was a disciple of the Muses and a savante of intrinsic quality. -While her husband prepares his lectures, she puts the house in order, -buys furniture, and manages servants who were about as troublesome as -they are to-day. One asks a florin a month, and reserves a part of -the time for her own profit. Others insist upon staying out late and -running in the streets. Most of them are grossly incompetent. Poor as -she is, she is always ready to help those who are in greater need, and -is constantly imposed upon. She even borrows money to send to an old -servant in distress.</p> - -<p>Then there are the evenings when grave professors come in, and they -talk in Latin of the affairs of the day, the religious persecutions, or -some disputed dogma. Sometimes they sing one of her Greek psalms which -her husband has set to music. She has her heart full with the care of -her young brother and the little daughter of a friend, who has been -sent to her for instruction. But her life is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span> bound up in that of her -husband, whom she “cannot live without.” A pure and generous spirit, -happy in her sacrifices, and true to every relation, she is a living -refutation of the fallacy, too often heard even now, that learning and -the gentler qualities of womanhood do not go together.</p> - -<p>There were many other women of great distinction in the universities, -whose names still live in enduring characters after four or five -centuries—professors, and wives of professors who worked side by side -with their husbands, and received their due meed of consideration. We -have women of fine scholarly attainments to-day, though in the great -universities they are mostly relegated to the anterooms and honored -with second-class degrees; but fancy the consternation of the students -of Harvard or Oxford if asked to listen to the lecture of a woman on -law or philosophy, or, indeed, on any subject whatever! Yet there were -great men and great scholars in Italy, possibly too great to fear -competition. Society was in no sense upset, and, so far as women were -concerned, the harmony of creation was not interfered with. Indeed, the -best mothers and the most devoted, helpful wives in Italy of whom we -have any knowledge were among the women who spoke Latin, read Greek, -and worshiped at the shrine of the Muses—all of which may be commended -to the college girls of to-day as well as to their critics.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span></p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>In other fields there were equally accomplished women. Cassandra -Fidelis was the pride and glory of Venice in the days when Titian -walked along the shores of the Adriatic, absorbing the luminous tints -of sea and sky, and picturing to himself the faces that look out upon -us to-day from the buried centuries, instinct with color and the -fullness of life. Poet and philosopher, she wrote in many languages, -even spoke publicly at Padua. She caught, too, the spirit of beauty -and song, and was as noted for her music and her graceful manners as -for her learning. Men of letters paid court to her, Leo X wrote to -her, and Ferdinand tried to draw her to Naples; but the Doge refused -to part with this model of so many gifts and virtues. She lived a -century divided between literature and piety, but drifted at last, in -her widowhood, to the refuge of so many tired souls, and ended her -brilliant career in a convent.</p> - -<p>This remarkable flowering of the feminine intellect was not confined -to Italy. Besides the noted Spanish women already mentioned, there -were celebrated professors of rhetoric in the universities of Alcala -and Salamanca. Even more distinguished was Aloysia Sigea, a poet -and savante of Toledo, who surprised Paul III with a letter in five -languages, which he was able to answer in only three.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span> Just why she -found it necessary to put what she had to say in five languages, -instead of one, does not appear, but she proved her right to be -considered a prodigy. Her fame was great, and she died young.</p> - -<p>Frenchwomen were less serious and made a stronger point of the arts of -pleasing. They approached literature with the air of a dilettante, who -finds in it an amusement or accomplishment rather than a passion or -an aim. At a later period they brought to its height a society based -upon talent and the less tangible quality of esprit. But we have the -virile intellect and versatile knowledge of the Renaissance in <abbr title="Madamoiselle">Mlle.</abbr> de -Gournay, who aspired to the highest things, including the perfection of -friendship, which she said her sex had never been able to reach; and -the famous Marguerite, the witty, learned, independent, and original -sister of Francis I, who aimed at all knowledge, and tried her hand -at everything from writing verses and tales, patronizing letters, and -gathering a society of philosophers and poets, to reforming religion -and ruling a state.</p> - -<p>In England we find Lady Jane Grey at sixteen a mistress of many -languages and preferring Plato to a hunting-party; the Seymour sisters, -who were familiar with the sciences and wrote Latin verses; the -daughters of Sir Thomas More, whose talents and accomplishments were -only surpassed by their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span> virtues; and many others, by no means least -Queen Elizabeth herself, whose attainments were overshadowed by her -genius of administration. The taste for knowledge was widely spread, -and it would take us far beyond the limits of this essay to recall the -women of many countries who were noted for learning and gifts that -must always be relatively rare in any age, though pretenders may be as -numerous as parrots in a tropical forest.</p> - -<p>But it is mainly the women of Italy, where this movement had its birth, -that we are considering here, and their talents were not confined to -the acquisition of knowledge. There were many poets among them. To be -sure, we find no Dante, or Petrarch, or Ariosto, or Tasso. Of creative -genius there was very little; of taste and skill and poetic feeling -there was a great deal. Domenichi made a collection of fifty women -poets who compared well with the average men of their time and far -surpassed them in refinement and moral purity. In their new enthusiasm -for things of the intellect, they never lost their simplicity of faith, -and were infected little, if at all, with the cynical skepticism of the -age. Some of these numerous poets were connected with the universities, -others belonged to the great world, and still others were women of -moderate station, who were honored at the various courts for their -gifts of mind.</p> - -<p>No doubt much of this poetry was mediocre.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span> Indeed, men, aside from -the greatest, wrote very little that one now cares to read. It is a -truism that “poets are born, not made,” and they are not born very -often. But the work of women which was not even of the best received -high consideration. Tarquinia Molza, a maid of honor at Ferrara,—who -held public discussions with Tasso, wrote sonnets and epigrams, -and translated the dialogues of Plato,—was so celebrated for her -learning and poetic gifts that the Senate of Rome conferred upon her -the title of Roman Citizen. Laura Battiferri, one of the ornaments -of the court of Urbino, was spoken of as a rival of Sappho in genius -and her superior in modesty and decorum. She was an honored member of -the Academy of the Intronati at Siena. There were no women’s clubs -in those days. They were not needed when women were admitted to many -of the academies on equal terms with men. The number may have been -small, but evidently the way was clear. They were barred, if at all, by -incapacity, not by sex.</p> - -<p>One of the most celebrated of these numerous poets was Veronica -Gambara, Countess of Correggio, a woman of fine gifts, many virtues, -and great personal charm, who was left a widow after nine happy years -of marriage. Like her friend Vittoria Colonna, she spent the rest of -her life in mourning her husband, draping herself, her apartments, -and everything she had in black, and refusing all offers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span> of a second -marriage. But this sable grief did not prevent her from managing her -affairs, her little state, and her two sons, both of whom reached high -positions, with great judgment and ability. Her husband had trusted -her implicitly, and left her in full control at his death. It was -largely to his memory that she devoted her poetic gifts. She did not -write a great deal, but her verses were simple and showed masculine -vigor. Many of them were tender, though by no means sentimental. She -wrote on the vanity of earthly things, a subject on which women have -always been specially eloquent, as they have so often written out of -their own sad experience. Her home at Bologna was a sort of academy, -where the most distinguished men of the age met, and it was noted as -a center of brilliant conversation. One of its chief attractions was -Cardinal Bembo, a lifelong friend, to whom she addressed a sonnet at -ten. Philosopher, high priest of Platonism, critic, poet, and man -of the world, this famous cardinal paid the highest tributes to the -distinguished women of his time. Intellectually he lived in an air -that was somewhat tenuous, but he sought the society of those who -loved things of the spirit—especially princesses. It was a convenient -fashion among these diplomats and churchmen to have two lives—one -poetic, Platonic, with ecstatic glimpses of the celestial, the other -running through various grades of the terrestrial. The versatile<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</span> Bembo -was no exception. Veronica Gambara, who combined grace and delicacy -with a distinctly mundane vigor, sat metaphorically at his feet, and -was an ardent disciple of the new Platonic philosophy. She had natural -eloquence, and gave a charm to the serious discussions at her house. -Among her noted visitors was Charles V, who was fascinated by her -talents and gracious manners. She reproached him and Francis I with the -quarrels that had flooded Europe with tears, and wrote him a poem fired -with patriotic ardor, in which she asks peace for Italy and protection -against the infidel. In her poetry and her letters she followed -Petrarch. Without commanding genius, and less mystical than Vittoria -Colonna, but with possibly more strength in a limited range, she was -greatly considered for her learning, her poetry, her social graces, her -practical ability, and her spotless character.</p> - -<p>These are a few out of a multitude of poets and savantes who are of -little interest to-day, except as showing the notable attainments of -women in a new field and the drift of public sentiment regarding them.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>There is one, however, who calls for more attention, not only because -of her enduring fame, but because she stood in a light so strong as -to make her, even at this distance, a living personality to us;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span> -also because she represents the best phases of the Renaissance, its -learning, its intelligence, its enthusiasm, its subtle Platonism, -combined with a profound religious faith and a trace of the mysticism -of a simpler age. We are apt to recall Vittoria Colonna as half -poet, half saint. Her spiritual face looks out of a century of vice -and license, crowned with the delicate halo of a Madonna brooding -tenderly over the sins of the world in which she lives with an air of -apartness, as if she were in it but not of it. Whether we see her under -the soft skies of Ischia, happy and a bride, or seeking solace among -its orange-scented groves for the lost joys of her youth; at Naples, -holding a lettered court with the beautiful and accomplished Giulia -Gonzaga; at Rome, talking on high themes with a group of serious and -thoughtful men in the cool shadows of the Colonna gardens; at Ferrara, -discussing the new thought, receiving the homage of a distinguished -circle, and generously using her great name to shield the persecuted -and unhappy; or kneeling at prayers and chanting Misereres in the -cloisters where, at intervals, she hid a sorrowful heart—there is -always the same flavor of purity and saintliness in her character and -personality as in her genius.</p> - -<p>The romance of her life is well known. She was born in 1490,—just -before Lorenzo de’ Medici died and Savonarola expiated the crime of -being too good for his time,—in a gloomy old Colonna castle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span> that -towers picturesquely above the rambling, medieval town of Marino among -the Alban hills. But she did not stay there long, as she was betrothed -at four to the Marquis of Pescara, and, for some inexplicable reason, -sent away to the sunny island of Ischia to be educated with him by his -sister Costanza d’Avalos, Duchess of Francavilla, a woman so noted for -wisdom, ability, and virtue that she was made governor, or châtelaine, -of the island at her husband’s death. For once, this commercial -arrangement proved a fortunate one, as the brilliant duchess was as -famous for her culture and the lettered society gathered about her as -for her practical talent in ruling. The gifted child grew up among -poets and men of learning, with her future lord as her playmate and a -woman of intellect as her guide. Add to this the changing splendors of -sea and sky, the haunting memories of the beautiful shore that curves -away from the headlands of Misenum to the Isles of the Sirens, the -repose broken only by the cool dripping of fountains, the plashing -of the indolent waves on the beach, and the plaintive songs of the -boatmen floating at evening across the tranquil water to find a sweet -refrain in the music of the vesper bell—and we have the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">milieu</i> -of the poet. There were royal festivities when the king came to break -the monotony of the days, occasional glimpses of the magnificent court -pageants at Naples, and rare visits to the somber<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</span> ancestral home on -the Alban Lake. But the mind of the thoughtful maiden was more in -harmony with the quiet scenes among which most of her days were passed, -and had taken its permanent tone when the youthful lovers were married -at about eighteen, or possibly nineteen.</p> - -<p>Two or three years of unclouded happiness, and this idyllic life came -to an end. The marquis was called to the army, and the devoted wife saw -him only at long intervals during his brilliant career, which he closed -some fifteen years later with a tarnished name. The blow that shattered -the hopes of Vittoria came near costing her life. In the first agony of -her grief she fled to a convent, and wished to take the veil of a nun; -but she was too valuable in her own sphere to be lost to the world, and -Clement VII forbade it. Her only resource was to consecrate herself -to the memory of one she never ceased to call <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">mio bel sole</i>, to -religion, and to matters of the intellect.</p> - -<p>How she reconciled her undying love with the faithless and treacherous -character of her Spanish husband, who was willing to sell his loyalty -for a kingdom, we do not know. That she was ignorant of his disgrace is -not probable. She had given him high counsel, putting honor and virtue -above titles and worldly grandeur, and saying that she had no wish to -be the wife of a king, since she is already the wife of a captain who -has vanquished kings, not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</span> only by his bravery, but by his magnanimity. -But she had, to a marked degree, the fine idealism that gives vitality -to a sentiment. It is shown in the poise of the shapely head, in the -broad, high, speculative forehead that hid a wealth of imagination and -exalted feeling, in the large, soft, penetrating dark eyes, lighted -with sensibility, which relieved the delicately chiseled features and -firm but beautiful mouth from a tinge of asceticism. She was tall, -stately, and graceful, with a fair, variable face of pure outlines, and -hair of Titian gold. Her picture is one of a rare woman, capable of -high thought, great generosity, great sacrifice, and great devotion. -This love of her youth was interwoven with every fiber of her being. -The child with whom she had wandered hand in hand by the sea; the youth -who had responded to her every taste and thought, poetic like herself, -proud, accomplished, handsome, and knightly; the man who had whiled -away the hours of his captivity in writing for her a rather stilted -Dialogue of Love, were alike transfigured in her memory. If she heard -that he was a traitor, probably she did not believe it, and the very -fact of unmerited disgrace would have been an added claim upon her -affection. She was young, and naturally slow to think that an act which -Pope and cardinals had assured him was quite consistent with the finest -honor could be treasonable at all, though she had a keen moral sense -that led her straight to the heart of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span> things. Then the harshness and -cruelty for which he was noted belonged to the exigencies of war, which -is never merciful. It was easy to malign him there. At all events, it -is certain that the faults of this brilliant cavalier of very flexible -honor were swept away in a flood of happy memories and imperishable -love. Many were the suitors who presented themselves to the gifted, -rich, and beautiful princess, who was scarcely past thirty-five; but -she had gathered the wealth of her affections in a vase that was -broken, and for her there was no second gathering. The spirit that held -captive her own still shone in the heavens as a sun that lighted the -inner temple of her soul and made its hidden treasures luminous.</p> - -<p>When she rallied a little from the first stunning blow, she began to -write. This had been one of the diversions of her youth, and she had -often sent tender verses to her husband. Now it offered an outlet to -her sorrows, and, at the same time, a tribute to his memory. Never -was such a monument dedicated to a man as this series of more than a -hundred sonnets. Her love colored all her thoughts, and gave to her -clear, strong intellect a living touch that comes only from the heart. -If one misses in these verses the fire of Sappho, one is conscious of -coming in contact with a pure and lofty soul in which earthly passion -has been transformed into a glow of divine tenderness. But the note of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span> -longing and loneliness is always there. Laura was no more idealized by -her poet lover than was this unworthy man by his desolate wife. For -seven years her poems were a series of variations on the same theme. -The sun shone no longer for her; there was no more beauty in tree, or -flower, or sparkling waves; the birds were mute, and nature was draped -in gloom. In death only there was hope; but even here was the dreadful -possibility that she might not be perfect enough to meet this paragon -of all noble qualities in heaven. So Mrs. Browning might have written. -She had the same tendency to transfigure her idols in the light of the -imagination, the same meditative quality, the same fine idealism. But -she lived and died a happy wife, while her sister poet spent lonely -years in the companionship of a memory.</p> - -<p>Time, however, which tempers all things, if it does not change them, -brought a new element into her thoughts, and her elegiac songs rose to -cathedral hymns. In her religious sonnets she reveals the intrinsic -quality of her mind and its firm grasp of spiritual things. Some of -them touch on forbidden questions, and wander among the dangerous -heresies of the new age. Theology and poetry are not quite in accord, -and these are of value mainly as showing the liberal drift of her -opinions. Others are the spontaneous outpouring of a full and ardent -soul. Rich in thought, alive with feeling, and lighted with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span> hope, they -soar on the wings of an exalted faith far above the heavy and sin-laden -air of her time.</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -And, as the light streams gently from above,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sin’s gloomy mantle bursts its bonds in twain,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And robed in white, I seem to feel again</span><br /> -The first sweet sense of innocence and love.<br /> -</p> - -<p>This gentle-hearted poet was a purist in style, and chiseled carefully -the vase in which she put her thoughts, not for the sake of the vase, -but reverently, to make it worthy of the thought. These hymns fall upon -the ear like some thrilling strain from Palestrina, who translated -into song the dreams, the aspirations, the baffled hopes, the sorrows -of a race in its decline, and sent it along the centuries with its -everlasting message of love and consolation. There was something akin -in the two spirits that lived at the same time, though Palestrina was -young when the poet neared the evening. It was he who first gave to -music a living soul. Vittoria gave the world its first collection of -religious poems, and poured her own heart into them. Both vibrated to -the deepest note of their age. Only the arts differed, and the quality -of thought, and the outer vestments of life.</p> - -<p>But we are far from the days when this beautiful woman in her -magnificent robes of crimson velvet and gold, attended by six ladies -in azure damask and as many grooms in blue and yellow satin, was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span> one -of the central figures in some royal wedding festivities at Naples. -Mundane pleasures had long ago lost their charm, and the still lovely -poet in her sable costume finds her consolation in ministering -to the poor and suffering, and in an active interest in all the -intellectual movements of her time. She was the friend of great men -and distinguished women. Cardinal Bembo, the famous “dictator of -letters,” lauds her virtues and her genius while he craves her favor. -She writes of the gifts of her “divine Bembo,” addresses sonnets to -him, and receives his “celestial, holy, and very Platonic” affection -with gracious dignity. Castiglione sends her his manuscript of “Il -Cortegiano” for criticism, and complains that she held it too long -and copied it for other eyes. She gives discriminating praise of the -“subject as well as the tact, elegance, and animation of the style,” -but she suggests the wisdom of dwelling less persistently on the beauty -and virtue of living women. The unscrupulous but keen-witted Aretino -pays her compliments and begs her aid. “One must count with the tastes -of one’s contemporaries,” he writes, in half-apology for his own base -standards; “only amusement or scandal are lucrative; they burn with -unholy passions, as you do with an inextinguishable angelic flame. -Sermons and vespers for you, music and comedy for others.... Why write -serious books? After all, I write to live.” This was the note of the -new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span> age in an ever-descending scale—the death-knell of all that is -fine and noble in any age. It is needless to ask what this high-souled -woman thought of sordid motives that were by no means confined to the -Italian decadence; but she managed the vain and vindictive man, who -held reputations in the hollow of his hand, with graceful dignity and -infinite tact. Living at a time when the great poets were passing, and -literature was fast becoming the trade of artisans who appealed to the -lowest passions of a sense-intoxicated people, or the tool of cynics -and courtiers, she held her own way serenely, superior to worldly -motives and worldly entanglements. There are numerous glimpses of her -in the poems and letters of her time, but the chorus of praise was -universal. “She has more eloquence and breathes more sweetness than all -other women,” says Ariosto, “and gives such force to her lofty words -that she adorns the heavens in our day with another sun.” And again: -“She has not only made herself immortal by her beautiful style, than -which I have heard none better, but she can raise from the tomb those -of whom she speaks or writes, and make them live forever.”</p> - -<p>It was her sympathy with all high things that made her so warm a -friend to the apostles of the new religious thought. Though an ardent -Catholic, she was no bigot to be held within the iron-bound limits of -a creed which had lost its moral force, no beauty-loving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span> disciple of -an estheticism that veiled crime and corruption with the splendors -of a ceremonial, sang Te Deums over the triumphs of the wicked and -Misereres while plotting assassination. She felt the need of a purer -morality and a deeper spirituality, though, like Savonarola, she wished -reform within the church, not outside of it. We find her always in the -ranks of the thinkers. She was the devoted friend of Contarini, the -broad-minded cardinal, who grieved so sincerely over the universal -corruption, and died, possibly of that grief and his own helplessness, -before the hour came when it was a crime to speak one’s best thoughts. -He should have been Pope, she said in her sonnet on his death, to make -the age happy. It was a striking tribute to the vigorous quality of -her intellect that he dedicated to her his work “On Free Will.” Fra -Bernardino she defended when he fled to Switzerland and joined the -Lutherans, but she was powerless to help him in his hours of darkness. -Even this brought her under the suspicion of heresy. Carnesecchi, -another of her friends, was burned, and one of the chief accusations -against a Florentine who was condemned to a like fate years afterward -was that he belonged to her circle. “It is an inexpressible pleasure -to me that my counsels are approved by a woman of so much virtue and -wisdom,” wrote Sadolet to Cardinal Pole. She sustained these powerful -prelates by the prestige of her name and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span> the fullness of her sympathy. -The liberal circle of her friend Renée attracted her to Ferrara, -but the air was full of suspicion. They talked much and pleasantly -of literature, poetry, and the arts; when they touched upon the new -thought which was revolutionizing the world, it was behind closed -doors, and with the vivid consciousness that the walls had ears which -stretched to Rome.</p> - -<p>But to-day Vittoria Colonna is known best as the friend of -Michelangelo, to whom she was a polar star, an inspiration, an -everlasting joy. “Without wings, I fly with your wings; by your genius -I am raised toward the skies,” he writes. “In your soul my thought is -born; my words are in your mind.” It was the perfect sympathy of finely -attuned spirits, the divine friendship that exists only between men -and women who live at an altitude far above the things of sense. The -age was full of talk about Platonic love. A few reached it, and they -were of the spiritual elect; but they did not talk much about it. To -this solitary artist, who dwelt on lonely heights, the divining and -sympathetic spirit of a thoughtful woman was a revelation. He wrote -sonnets to her, sometimes calm and philosophical, sometimes fiery and -passionate. He also sent her poems and sketches for criticism. The -tact with which she drew out the best in this colossal man is shown -by a conversation in the softly lighted Chapel of San Silvestro, as -recorded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span> by an artist who was present. She had been listening to a -private exposition of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Paul, but when Michelangelo came in, she -delicately turned the conversation upon the subject nearest his heart, -on which it was not easy to lead him to talk. Both were apart from the -spirit of an age that was fast tearing down the few ethical standards -it had, and virtually taking for its motto the most dangerous of -fallacies, “Art for art’s sake.” “True painting is only an image of -the perfection of God, a shadow of the pencil with which he paints, a -melody, a striving after harmony,” said the master. And the lady, in -her turn, spoke, until the tears fell, of the divine message of art -that “leads to piety, to glory, to greatness.” They discussed, too, her -project of building a convent on the spot where Nero had watched the -burning of Rome, that “virtuous women might efface the memory of so -wicked a man.”</p> - -<p>No shadow ever rested on this friendship. Michelangelo was past sixty -and Vittoria was not far from forty-seven when they met. There is no -trace of tender sentiment in their brief correspondence, though a deep -and abiding friendship is apparent. Once she playfully writes him to -curtail his letters lest they interfere with his duties at <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Peter’s -and keep her from the Chapel of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Catherine, “so that one would fail -in duty to the sisters of Christ and the other to his Vicar.” She said -that those who knew only his works<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span> were ignorant of the best part of -the man. When she lay dead before him he kissed her hand reverently, -and went out in inconsolable grief to regret the rest of his life that -he had not dared to leave a kiss on the pure forehead.</p> - -<p>In early life, Vittoria, having no children of her own, had undertaken -the care of her husband’s cousin, the Marchese del Vasto, a boy of -singular beauty, fine gifts, but wild and passionate temper, which no -one had been able to control. Under her gentle and wise influence he -had grown to be a brilliant and accomplished man, who never ceased to -regard her with the greatest affection. She said that she could not be -considered childless after molding the moral character of this son of -her adoption. It was one of her great griefs that he died in the flower -of his manhood, when the shadows were darkening about her and she -needed more than ever his sympathy and support.</p> - -<p>At this time fate laid upon her a heavy hand. When Rome became -unsafe, she joined the devoted group that surrounded Cardinal Pole at -Viterbo; but the last years before her final illness were spent in the -Benedictine convent of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Anne, where she prayed and wrote devotional -poems. When she grew ill a celebrated physician said that the fairest -light in this world would go out unless some physician for the mind -could be found. Her friends were scattered or dead; the misfortunes -of her family weighed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span> heavily on her spirit; the cruelties of the -new régime had crushed the lives of many whom she loved; she had been -forced to stifle her purest convictions and to turn away from the -falling fortunes which she had no power to save. It was only a joy to -lay down the burden of her fifty-seven years, surrounded by the few who -were left to her. She ordered a simple burial, such as was given to the -sisters in the convent. There was no memorial, and, strange to say, no -one knows where she lies.</p> - -<p>No woman better refutes the theory that knowledge makes pedants, that -the gentler qualities fade before the cold light of the intellect. To -a vigorous, versatile mind, and the calm courage of her convictions, -Vittoria Colonna united a tender heart, fine sensibilities, and broad -sympathies. Her clear judgment was tempered by a winning sweetness. -The age of specialties was still in the distance, and the woman was -superior to any of her achievements. In a period that was notably lax -in morals, she carried herself among crowds of adorers with such gentle -dignity that no cloud ever shadowed her fair fame. With this rare -harmony of intellect, heart, and character, she held the essentials of -life above all its decorations; but she retained to the end the simple -graces, the flexible tact, and the stately manners of the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">grande -dame</i>.</p> - -<p>This literary woman, great lady, and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">dévote</i> of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span> centuries ago -belongs to a type that is out of fashion to-day; it was not common even -then. She was the perfected fruit of the finest spirit of her time. She -did not write for money or fame; she sought neither honors nor society -nor worldly pleasures, though she was a social queen by right of -inheritance. She loved high things for their own sake and because she -was akin to them. She loved her friends, too, for what they were, not -for what they brought her, and gave them of her best, even to her own -hurt. If she tried to reconcile her beliefs and her environment, it was -a fault of sanity and loyalty; to break with her church traditions was -to lose her influence and gain nothing. Possibly this is not the spirit -of a reformer, but it is the spirit of those who trust to the saving -quality of light rather than of heat. No doubt the conflict helped to -wear out her waning forces. In this restless age the world praises such -women from afar. They appeal to it as do the pictures of Raphael and -Fra Angelico, which we are quite ready to adore as they hang in gallery -or drawing-room, for some subtle quality of beauty consecrated by the -homage of centuries, though their underlying significance we may have -long outgrown. If they are seen at rare intervals in real life, we -give them a certain tribute of admiration, no doubt, but we are apt to -speak of them personally as visionary, antiquated, or other-worldly. -The lofty sentiment, the stateliness, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span> repose, the indefinable -distinction, are not in the line of modern ideals.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>It is worthy of note that in an age which was essentially devoted to -beauty and a glorification of the senses, women almost invariably wrote -on sacred or ethical themes. Even love they transfigured into something -divine. The first-fruits of their intelligence were offered on the -shrine of a purer morality. As a rule, too, they were women of serious -tastes and conspicuous virtues.</p> - -<p>There was one poet, however, of some note who may be mentioned as an -exception to the consistently high character of the literary women of -a notably wicked period; but even her poems were largely religious in -tone. Tullia d’Aragona, who discussed affairs in Latin and wrote Greek -when a child, was a wit, a genius, and a brilliant woman. She had a -bad father, though he was a cardinal, and a mother who was beautiful -but is not plainly visible at this distance. The clever Tullia, who -had a questionable salon at Rome, with plenty of cardinals and princes -in her train, carried with her to other courts a certain prestige -which they did not scrutinize too closely, and she fascinated many men -who were not quite equal to the moral and intellectual altitude of a -Vittoria Colonna or an Olympia Morata. “Vittoria is a moon, Tullia a -sun,” said an enthusiastic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span> admirer and fellow-poet. But in the waning -of her charms she turned seriously to literature, and wrote a poem of -thirty thousand lines, besides a curious dialogue on “The Infinity -of Love,” and many sonnets. At this time in her life, which verged -toward the twilight, she had put off frivolous things and was disposed -to moralize. In the preface to her poem she says that reading is a -resource for women when everything else fails; but she mourns over -the fact that Boccaccio, who claimed to write for them, said so many -things not fit to be read; that even Ariosto was not above reproach; -and closes by declaring that she has not put down a word that might -not be read by “maiden, nun, or widow at any hour”—all of which goes -to show the final tendency of women toward moral ideals, in spite of -the entanglements of very mundane surroundings. They take refuge in -charity and religion from a world that has ceased to charm, as men do -in cynicism and stimulants.</p> - -<p>This versatile poet of more esprit than decorum had a great deal of -incense offered her, and in the end won even the patronage of the -grave, virtuous, and sorrowful Eleanor of Toledo, but she died in -penitence and misery. As she lived and shone in the most dissolute -society of her day, and was trained from childhood with special -reference to pleasing men of brilliant position and gifts but low -morals, she by no means fitly represents the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span> learned women of Italy, -whether of court or university. She belonged to a class apart. We lift -our eyes at the laxity of a society which could receive and smile upon -her, but we have not far to go to find the same complaisance even in -a period that prides itself on its superior morals. Our censor of -the twenty-fifth century may find here a text for a sermon on the -wickedness of the scientific age, which he will otherwise prove by -copious quotations from the glaring headlines of our daily journals.</p> - -<p>So far as appears, in an age when no man’s life was secure and no -woman’s honor was quite safe, when men in power did not scruple to -send those who were in their way out of the world, atoning for it, if -it needed atonement, at least celebrating it, by a grand Te Deum, or a -De Profundis,—which seems more suitable though less cheerful,—it was -the women of the highest intelligence who held the balance of humanity -and morals. There were wicked ones, no doubt, in abundance, as the -more facile and helpless sex was not free from the subtle influence of -the spirit of the age against which good men with all their vaunted -strength struggled in vain. But it can hardly be disputed that the -virtues and graces of character blossomed in the most significant -profusion among women of distinctly scholarly tastes, who found in the -pleasures of the intellect an unfailing resource against the vices as -well as the sorrows and disappointments of a bad and pitiless world.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</span></p> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Literary">THE LITERARY COURTS AND PLATONIC LOVE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img020"> - <img src="images/020.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· Social Spirit of Women ·<br /> -· Accomplished Princesses · Their Executive Ability ·<br /> -· Caterina Sforza · Patrons of Letters ·<br /> -· Court of Urbino ·<br /> -· Duchess Elisabetta · Count Castiglione ·<br /> -· Record of Conversations · Qualities of a Lady ·<br /> -· A Medici Champion of Women ·<br /> -· Platonic Love · Court of Ferrara ·<br /> -· Boiardo · Ariosto · Duchess Leonora ·<br /> -· Lucrezia Borgia · Renée · Tasso’s Leonora ·<br /> -· Court of Mantua · Isabella d’Este ·<br /> -· Court of Milan · Beatrice d’Este ·<br /> -· Moral and Intellectual Value of Women of the Renaissance ·<br /> -· From Court to Literary Salon ·</big><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img021"> - <img src="images/021.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>We have heard of a man who, after writing two hundred volumes or so -on various learned subjects, added a “Eulogy of Silence.” Among other -curious things, he said that he was “never more with those he loved -than when alone.” Men have sometimes been known to prefer society in -this form, but women rarely; they like things in the concrete, and they -like to talk about them. They may turn to a life of the spirit, but -even this they do not care to live in solitude. There are few anchorets -among them. In their exaltation, as in their pursuit of knowledge, they -seek companionship.</p> - -<p>Just how much women had to do with awakening the world from its long -sleep we do not know, but they were very active in keeping it awake -after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span> it began to open its eyes. They mastered old languages, studied -old manuscripts, held public discussions on classic themes, wrote -verses, and entered with enthusiasm into the search for records that -had been lying in the dust for a thousand years. But they did more than -this: they revived the art of conversation and created society anew. -Possibly this was the most distinct heritage they left to the coming -ages.</p> - -<p>If conversation did not reach its maturity in Italy, it had its -brilliant youth there. Later it was taken up in France, spiced with -Gallic wit, and raised to the dignity of a fine art; but it lost a -little of its first seriousness. The accomplished princesses of the -Renaissance, who raved over a new-found line of Plato or Socrates, -and expatiated on the merits of a long-buried statue they had helped -to unearth, recalled the famous circle of Aspasia and made social -centers of their own. But they added a fresh and original flavor. One -does not copy accurately after fifteen or twenty centuries, nor even -after two or three; but we are safe in thinking that these groups -of poets, statesmen, prelates, artists, wits, and litterateurs, who -discussed the new life and thought, were not far behind their model -in brilliancy. If the men were not so great, the world was older, the -field of knowledge was wider, and there was more to talk about. Then, -there was but one Aspasia. If there were lesser<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</span> stars of her own -sex, we do not know who they were. It was a brave woman, whatever her -abilities may have been, if she had a reputation to lose, that would -show her face in the society of those grand old Greeks who claimed the -universe for themselves and made of her an insignificant vassal. But -there was a multitude of women, both clever and learned, who added life -and piquancy to the coteries of the Renaissance. Men were proud of the -versatile wives and daughters who made their courts centers of light -and learning; if they were without lettered tastes themselves, they -were glad of the reflected glory. So, naturally, it was the ambition -of every well-born girl to fit herself to shine in these brilliant -circles, and every father who had a daughter of talent was conscious of -possessing a treasure of great value upon which too much care could not -be lavished.</p> - -<p>It must not be thought, however, that the women who made their courts -so famous were simply devotees of fashion, or the pretty toys of men’s -caprices, any more than they were colorless saints of the household or -cloister. They were not without high domestic and womanly virtues, but -they had also intelligence, a grasp of affairs, masterly character, and -the tact to make all these qualities available for the good of their -families and society. They were versed not only in classic lore, but in -the art of living. It was not weakness that constituted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</span> their charm; -it was their symmetry and the fullness of their strength.</p> - -<p>As we have already seen, it was an age of educated women. A lady was -expected to understand Latin, at least, besides her own language, and -Greek was a common acquirement. The earliest Greek grammar was written -by the celebrated Lascaris for Ippolita Sforza, the wife of Alfonso -and a ruling spirit at the lettered court of Naples. In her precocious -childhood this brilliant princess made a collection of Latin apothegms, -and a translation of Cicero’s “De Senectute,” which is said to be still -preserved in a convent at Rome. Plato, Seneca, and other philosophers -supplied the great ladies of four centuries ago with moral nutriment, -and Cicero was studied as a model of style. With the exception of -Vergil and parts of Horace, the Latin poets were too coarse, and -Boccaccio was forbidden; but Dante was a favorite companion of leisure -hours, and Petrarch, the high priest of Platonism, an idol. The “Lives -of the Fathers” and the chronicles of the saints were antidotes to the -worldliness of poets and historians. It was understood, however, that -literary tastes must not interfere with prayers and an intelligent -oversight of the household.</p> - -<p>Of their talent for administration these versatile princesses gave -ample evidence. They were constantly called upon to hold the reins -of government<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</span> when their husbands were absent, and ruled with great -wisdom and skill. We do not hear that they talked much of their ability -to do various things not usually included among a woman’s duties, but -they did them at need as a matter of course. In affairs of delicate -diplomacy they were of special value, also in questions pertaining to -morals. It is interesting to know that this quarrelsome period had its -peace societies, as well as our own, and that the Pacieri, which was -organized to prevent litigation, was made up of men and women. Veronica -Gambara used her influence and her pen in the interest of peace, also -Vittoria Colonna, and many others.</p> - -<p>Some of the women who ruled so ably, however, were of virile temper, -and threw themselves with passionate energy into the storm and stress -of affairs, though it was rarely, if ever, from choice. In an emergency -they could ride fearlessly to the field of battle, or address a foreign -council. It was to save her children’s heritage that Caterina Sforza -defended the rocky fortress of Forli after the violent death of her -husband. She was a picturesque figure, this imposing lady of fair face, -golden hair, indomitable spirit, and fiery temper, as accomplished as -she was beautiful and brave, who rode at the head of her troops, and -graciously smiled upon the people, who loved her and were ready to die -for her. As a lovely bride of fifteen she had made a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</span> triumphal entry -into Rome, where she lived like a queen, and literally controlled the -fate of every one who sought aid, promotion, or a place of her uncle, -the formidable Sixtus IV, but she was destined to come to the front -in many a stormy crisis. She was only twenty-two when the Pope died -suddenly, but she took prompt possession of the castle of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Angelo in -the name of her absent husband, who was Commander of the Forces, and -found there an asylum for her children until she could make terms that -saved the family fortunes. No wonder the husband took her with him when -he went to Venice, that he might avail himself of her swift and clear -judgment in his delicate negotiations.</p> - -<p>The history of this fifteenth-century heroine reads like the most -improbable romance. With the daring of a man, she had the flexibility -of a woman. If she could hold her own against an army and crush an -enemy with inexorable decision, she could care for the wounded like -a nurse. She danced as vigorously as she ruled, and did not disdain -the arts of a coquette or a diplomatist. One and the most obscure of -her three husbands she loved, but the others she served well. Of fear -she was incapable. “I am used to grief; I am not afraid of it,” she -wrote to her son from the solitary cell at Rome, where she was caged -for a time by the terrible Borgia Pope in the fortress over which she -had once ruled. But the careful, devoted mother, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</span> was so full of -energy, so generous to her friends, so courageous in war, so subtle -in diplomacy, so dignified in misfortune, turned in her last years to -spiritual things with the same ardor she had given to mundane ones. She -had lived her life, and retired from its storms at thirty-nine. Then -she gave herself to the austerities of a convent at Florence, still -directing the education of her young children. If we do not approve of -all the methods of this irrepressible woman of clear head and strong -heart, we have to judge her by the standards of an age in which the -directors of the world’s conscience scoffed at morality and gave the -prizes of life to libertines and assassins. I quote her as one out of -many, to show the firm quality and abounding vitality as well as the -solid attainments of the women of this remarkable period.</p> - -<p>But the special mission of these princesses, so valiant on occasion, -was to patronize learning and the arts, to aid men of letters, to -diffuse a taste for the beautiful, to put a curb on license, so -far as this was possible, and to foster discussions of things high -and serious. They vied with one another in making their courts -intellectually luminous. The more we study them, the more we are -convinced of the beneficent influence of thoroughly trained, -broad-minded women in molding the destinies of nations as well as of -individuals. We are fascinated by their variable charm, their mastery -of life in its larger as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</span> well as its smaller phases. The woman who -led all hearts captive with her beauty, her gaiety, her kindness, the -faithful wife, the tender mother, the sympathetic friend, was also the -woman of lucid intellect and strong soul, who sustained her husband in -his darkest hours and added laurels to his glory while winning some for -herself.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Of the Italian courts, it was only those led by able women that left -a permanent fame. If they are associated with the names of great men -who gave them the halo of their own glory, it was women who made a -society for these men, inspired them, and centralized their influence. -Urbino was called the Athens of Italy. During the reign of the Duchess -Elisabetta it is safe to say that there was hardly a man of distinction -in the country, whether poet, artist, prelate, or statesman, who did -not find his way there sooner or later. It may be pleasant to dwell -a little on this brilliant court, which was the best and purest of -its time and furnished the model upon which the Hôtel de Rambouillet -was founded more than a century afterward. It was more fortunate than -others in having a chronicler. Count Castiglione left a graphic picture -of its personnel and amusements, as well as a record of some of its -conversations, so that we know not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</span> only the quality of the people who -met there, but what they thought, what they talked about, and what they -did. He gives us the best glimpse we have of the society and manners of -the golden age of the Renaissance.</p> - -<p>But this atmosphere of culture and refinement was not made in a day. -It was largely due to the more or less gifted princesses who had -lived or ruled there for more than a hundred years. Far back toward -the beginning of the fifteenth century there was a Battista who was -distinguished for her piety, her talents, and her noble character. A -worthless husband drove her to seek refuge with her brother at Urbino, -where she solaced the wounds of her heart in writing sonnets and moral -essays on faith and human frailty, also in corresponding with scholars -and sending Latin letters to her father-in-law, a Malatesta, who had -fostered her literary tastes and evidently remained her friend. Her -daughter inherited her sorrows with her talents, and both closed -their lives, after the fashion of women to whom the world has not -been kind or has lost its charm, in the austerities of a convent. Her -granddaughter was Costanza Varana, a valued friend of philosophers -and men of learning; but she died early, leaving another Battista, -who was sent to Milan at four to be educated with her precocious -cousin Ippolita Sforza. The extraordinary gifts of this child have -already been mentioned,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</span> but she more than fulfilled her promise. At -fifteen, or earlier, she was married to Federigo, the great Duke of -Urbino, who shared the enthusiasm of the Medici in the revival of the -classics. This small duchess of vigorous intellect, much learning, and -strong character, was in full sympathy with her husband’s tastes, and -he speaks of her as “the ornament of his house, the delight of his -public and private hours.” If she could read Demosthenes and Plato, -and talk with the wisdom of Cicero, as one of her contemporaries tells -us, she was not spoiled for the practical duties of her position. -At an age when our school-girls are playing golf or conning their -lessons, she was prudently managing affairs of the State of which she -was regent in her husband’s absence. She was simple in manners, cared -little for dress, and put on her magnificent robes only for courtly -ceremonies to maintain the outward dignity of her place. At Rome she -was greatly honored by the Pope, whom she addressed in Latin, much to -his delight. But this beautiful, gifted, efficient, and adored woman -died at twenty-six, leaving seven children, a broken-hearted husband, -and a sorrowing people. The glories of her short, full life were sung -by poets, statesmen, and churchmen alike. She left the imperishable -stamp of intellect and taste on all her surroundings, and is of special -interest to us as the grandmother of Vittoria Colonna, in whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</span> the -talent of generations found its consummate flower.</p> - -<p>But the luminous period of Urbino was during the reign of her son, who -added to the martial qualities and manly accomplishments of his age, -remarkable talent, great learning, and a singularly gentle character. -This was the Duke Guidobaldo, who consoled his friends in his last -moments with lines from Vergil. His health was always delicate, and the -brilliancy of his court was due to his wife, the celebrated Elisabetta -Gonzaga, who had been reared in the scholarly air of Mantua, where -the daughters were educated with the sons. She found in her new home -standards of culture that had been set, as we have seen, by a long line -of princesses devoted to things of the intellect.</p> - -<p>In its palmy days, the young Giuliano de’ Medici, son of the great -Lorenzo and brother of Leo X,—the one who was immortalized by -Michelangelo in the statue so familiar to the traveler in the Medicean -Chapel at Florence,—was living at Urbino during the exile of his -family. It was also the home of the “divine Bembo,” critic, Platonist, -arbiter of letters, finally cardinal, and one of the most famous men -of his time, though his claim to be called “divine” is not apparent. -The witty Mæcenas of this group was Bibbiena, poet, diplomat, man of -the world, a dilettante in taste and an Epicurean in philosophy, also -a cardinal and an aspirant for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</span> papal throne. There were, too, -the Fregosos, men of strong intellect, many personal attractions, and -manly character, one of whom became the Doge of Genoa, and the other -a cardinal—with many others of fame and learning whose names signify -little to us to-day. By no means the least important member of the -household was Castiglione, the courtier and diplomat of classical -tastes and varied accomplishments, who has given us so pleasant a -glimpse of its sayings and doings. To this intellectual Mecca came, -from time to time, literary pilgrims from all parts of the world.</p> - -<p>It was the special mission of the Duchess Elisabetta to fuse these -elements into a society that should be a model for other courts -and coming generations. Here lies her originality and her claim to -distinction. This clever princess, who loved her husband devotedly, -cared for the poor and sorrowing among her people, and had moral -convictions of her own as well as ideas, was well fitted for her -position. Without any pretension to genius, she had a clear, -discriminating mind, rare intelligence, great beauty, and gracious -manners. Her character had a fine symmetry, and she was equally -successful in directing her household, conversing with great men, -and holding the reins of government when her husband—a condottiere -by profession, like most of the smaller princes—was in the field -elsewhere. Surrounded by adorers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</span> in an age when indiscretions, even -sins, were easily forgiven, no breath of censure ever touched her -fair name. Her dignity and a reserve that verged upon coldness gave -a pure tone to her court. She permitted neither malicious gossip nor -heated talk, and required unsullied honor and exemplary conduct of her -friends. We might question the standards a little, as men at least were -privileged beings not to be too closely scrutinized.</p> - -<p>In her social duties she had the efficient aid of Emilia Pia, the -duke’s sister-in-law, a woman of brilliant intellect and high -character, who had lost her husband in youth, and lived at Urbino. Of a -gayer turn, her ready wit and happy temperament, added to her knowledge -and personal fascination, made her the life of the house. Other and -younger ladies of well-known names and kindred tastes figure in its -diversions.</p> - -<p>The magnificent old palace that overlooked the city from its -picturesque site among the hills was one of the finest in Italy. Its -stately rooms were filled with rare treasures of painting, sculpture, -mosaic, and costly furniture. There were exquisite decorations in -marble and tarsia, and the walls were draped with rich tapestries. -Raphael was a youth then, and no doubt his first dreams had been -of these beautiful things, among which he must have rambled. It is -likely, too, that he met here the friends who were of so much service -to him afterward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</span> at Rome, among them Bibbiena, to whose grandniece -he was betrothed. His father had painted some of the frescos, and was -a welcome visitor. Other artists were invited there, and added to the -glories of the famous pile. Among these surroundings of art and beauty, -with the traditions of culture that lay behind them, clever, thoughtful -women and brilliant men met evening after evening to talk of the -world and its affairs, of things light and serious, of love, manners, -literature, statecraft, and philosophy. When they tired of grave -themes, they amused themselves with allegories, playful badinage, witty -repartees, and devices of all sorts to stimulate the intellect. After -supper there was music and dancing, if the conversation did not last -until the morning hours. Sometimes they had their own plays acted in -the pretty little theater. It was here that Bibbiena’s famous comedy, -“Calandra,” with its gorgeous pagan setting and its curious blending of -love and mythology, of nymphs, Cupids, and goddesses, was first given -to an admiring world.</p> - -<p>But we are most interested to-day in the conversations. Many evenings -were devoted to defining the character and duties of a courtier, -which differed little from those of a modern gentleman, except -in the exaggerated deference claimed to be due to a superior and -verging upon servility. It is more to the purpose here to touch -upon the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</span> discussions relating to women, as they furnish a key to -fifteenth-century manners which were the basis of all modern codes, -though to-day many of the best of their formulas are more conspicuous -in the breach than in the observance.</p> - -<p>It was agreed that a lady must be gracious, affable, discreet, of -character above reproach, free from pride or envy, and neither vain, -contentious, nor arrogant. To speak of the failings of others, or -listen to reflections upon them, was taken as an indication that one’s -own follies needed a vindication or a veil. This model lady must dress -with taste, but not think too much about it, and she was forbidden to -dye her hair, or use cosmetics and other artificial aids to beauty. Her -personal distinction lay in an elegant simplicity, without luxury or -pretension. She must know how to manage her children and her fortune, -as well as her household; but she was expected to be versed in letters, -music, and the arts, also to be able to converse on any topic of -the day without childish affectation of knowledge which she did not -possess. Modesty, tact, decorum, and purity of thought were cardinal -virtues, and religion was a matter of course. Noisy manners, egotism, -and familiarity were unpardonable. Dignity, self-possession, and a -gentle urbanity were marks of good breeding. No license in language -was permitted, but we cannot help wondering what they called license. -Men,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</span> it must be added, could be about as wicked as they liked, and, if -history is to be trusted, many in high places were very wicked indeed. -The latitude of the best of them in speech would be rather embarrassing -to the sensitive woman of our time; but the days of the précieuses -had not dawned, and no one hesitated to call a spade a spade, even -if it were a very black one. Women might blush and be silent, but -further protest was set down as disagreeable prudery. Perhaps the frank -naturalism of the Latin races must be taken into account, as it often -quite unconsciously shocks our own more delicate tastes even to-day. -But it was conceded that no man was so bad as not to esteem a woman of -pure character and refined sensibilities.</p> - -<p>These men and women who lived on the confines of two great centuries -and tried to introduce a finer code of manners and morals, touched also -on the equality of the sexes, a question which agitated that world as -it does our own. Some one asks, one evening, why women should not be -permitted to govern cities, make laws, and command armies.</p> - -<p>Giuliano de’ Medici, who was an ardent champion of the dependent sex, -replies that it might not be amiss. Many of them he declares to be as -capable of doing these things as men, and he cites history to show that -they have led armies and governed with equal prudence. To a friend who -mildly suggests<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</span> that women are inferior, he says that “the difference -is accidental, not essential,” adding that the qualities of strength, -activity, and endurance are not always most esteemed, even in men. -As to mind, “whatever men can know and understand, women can also; -where one intellect penetrates, so does the other.... Many have been -learned in philosophy, written poetry, practised law, and spoken with -eloquence.”</p> - -<p>A gentleman of the party ungallantly remarks that women desire to be -men so as to be more perfect.</p> - -<p>Giuliano wisely answers that it is not for perfection, but for liberty -to shake off the power that men assume over them. He says they are more -firm and constant in affection, as men are apt to be wandering and -unsettled. When asked to name women who are equal to men, he replies -that he is confounded by numbers, but mentions, among others, “Portia, -Cornelia, and Nicostrata, mother of Evander, who taught the Latins -the use of letters.” “Rome,” he adds, “owes its greatness as much to -women as to men.... They were never in any age inferior, nor are they -now.” He goes on to cite Countess Matilda, Anne of France, wife of two -kings in succession, and inferior to neither, Marguerite, daughter -of Maximilian, famed for prudence and justice, Isabella of Mantua, -singularly great and virtuous, with many other noted women<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</span> of his -time. “If there are Cleopatras, there are multitudes of Sardanapali who -are much worse.”</p> - -<p>The limits of this paper permit only the suggestion of a few points -in a long conversation which touched the subject on every side. It -was interspersed with thoughtful questions from the duchess, who did -not fail to interfere if it took too free a turn, also with brilliant -sallies of wit from Emilia Pia, and spicy comments from the less -serious members of the party. They were not all in accord with the -opinions quoted here, but, on the whole, Giuliano de’ Medici and his -supporters, who paid a fine tribute to the abilities of women without -wishing to impose upon them heavier duties, had the best of the -argument.</p> - -<p>From men, women, and manners, the transition to love was an easy one, -and this fifteenth-century coterie discussed it in all its variations, -as we discuss the last play, or the last novel, or the last word in -sociology, or the misty era of universal peace. It was not a new thing -to discourse upon the most interesting of human passions. Men had -talked of it centuries before on the banks of the Ilissus; but when -they passed from its lowest phases they lost themselves in metaphysical -subtleties. It became an intellectual aspiration, a “passion of the -reason,” without warmth or life. Diotima, a woman quoted by Socrates, -called it “a mystic dream of the beautiful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</span> and good”; but if she was -not a myth herself, she could not join the symposia of philosophers. -Outside of the circle of Aspasia, no respectable woman was admitted to -the conversations of men; indeed, these finely drawn dissertations on -love had small reference to her. In the classic world women had no part -in the marriage of souls. Love, when not purely a thing of the senses, -was a worship of beauty, and the Greek ideal of beauty was a masculine -one. They might die for a Helen, but it was not for love. These wise -talkers sent the flute-players to amuse their wives and daughters in -the inner court, while they considered high things, as well as many -not suitable for delicate ears. The coarser Romans treated love as -altogether a thing of the senses, with Ovid as a text.</p> - -<p>But in the golden age of the Renaissance, women no longer stayed in -the inner court, to gossip and listen to flute-players, while their -husbands talked on themes high or low. The worship of the Madonna, if -it had done little else, had idealized the pure affection of an exalted -womanhood. Chivalry following in its train had made the cult of woman -a fashion by giving her more or less of the homage already paid to her -divine representative, though this sentiment was less active in Italy -than in Provence or among the more romantic races. It was a tribute of -strength to helplessness, and had its roots in the finest traits of -men; but it exalted moral qualities<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</span> rather than intellectual ones, and -was largely theoretical outside of a limited class. Now that men had -begun to dip into classic lore, however, they found a valuable ally in -women, and the old cult became a companionship. To be educated and a -princess was to be doubly a power, to have opinions which it was worth -while to consider.</p> - -<p>The princesses of Urbino had doubtless read Plato. In an age, too, -that occupied itself with Boccaccio, who had glorified the senses -and written books that no pure and refined woman could read, they -had turned to Dante and the spiritual love which was an inspiration -and a benediction. In the white soul of Beatrice they found the -exquisite flower of womanhood. They caught also the subtle fragrance -of the ideal love which Petrarch gave, first to a woman, then to an -unfading memory. It was of such a love they dreamed and liked to -talk. Then one of the chief apostles of Platonism was the brilliant -Bembo, who was the star of this company. “Through love,” he says, “the -supreme virtues rule the inferior.” He puts on record and dedicates -to Lucrezia Borgia the conversations of three days on its joys and -sorrows; but the subject was evidently exhausted, as, at the end, -a hermit gives a homily on the vanity of the world. He closes an -eloquent apostrophe, however, with these words: “Chase away ignorance -and make us see celestial beauty in its perfection. Love, it is the -communion with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</span> divine beauty, the banquet of angels, the heavenly -ambrosia.” On this theme his listeners rang the changes, but not -always on so ethereal a plane. The relative constancy of the sexes, -the divine right of man, the passive nature of woman, who was called -a pale moon to the masculine sun, and various other points, had their -fair share of discussion. Between terrestrial and celestial love -there are many gradations, and the character and temperament of the -men were clearly revealed in their opinions. Some were disposed to -be autocrats, others took issue with masculine egotism, and still -others dwelt on the sentimental side of the question. One of the -Fregosos rather ungraciously assumed the traditional attitude of his -sex and contended that women are “imperfect animals,” not at all to be -compared with men. But he was in an unpopular minority. The Duchess -Elisabetta was a well-poised, discreet woman, who was devoted to her -invalid husband, kept her admirers at a prudent distance, and was in -no wise a victim to superfluous sensibility. The effusive Bembo, who -was given to friendships touched with the fire of the imagination, was -untiring in his devotion to this Minerva, but he confessedly adored -her as a goddess from afar. The witty and brilliant Emilia Pia had a -temperament the reverse of sentimental, and was ready to demolish any -castle of moonlight with a shaft of merciless satire. Both brought a -solid equipment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</span> of common sense into an analysis that often reached a -very fine point. But this friendship that was not love, this love that -was a sublimated friendship, appealed to them as it did to many others -besides poets in a grossly material age. To separate the soul from the -senses and intellectualize the emotions, was the natural protest of -intelligent women against the old traditions that considered them only -as servants or toys of men’s fancies. It took them out of the realm of -the passions and “gave them wings for a sublime flight.” The mysticism -of love is closely related to the mysticism of religion, and the faith -that sees God in ecstatic visions is not far from the love that feeds -itself from spiritual sources. These rambling talks, to which the young -ladies listened curiously and with interest, though usually in discreet -silence, proved so absorbing that on the last of a series of evenings -devoted to the subject, the party forgot its usual gaieties, and did -not disperse until the birds began to sing in the trees and the rosy -dawn shone over the rugged heights of Monte Catri.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>It was these conversations that set in motion the wave of Platonism -which swept over the surface of society for two or three centuries, -until it lost itself in the pale inanities and vapid phrases of the -précieuses.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</span> We find it difficult now to conceive of a company of grave -dignitaries old and young, statesmen, wits, men of letters, and clever -women, chasing theories of love through an infinity of shades and -gradations, as seriously as we talk of trusts, strikes, education, and -the best means of making everybody happy. The subject had a perennial -interest for them. They considered it mathematically as to quantity, -spiritually as to quality. They quoted Plato on love and divine beauty, -but no one would have been more surprised at the application than the -philosopher himself. They proposed to do away with all the chagrins and -disenchantments of love, by making it altogether a dream, beautiful, no -doubt, but shadowy. As a last refuge, they put terrestrial love into -celestial robes and drowned themselves in illusions. Bembo wished to -serve Isabella d’Este “as if she were Pope,” but he sends her quite -tenderly the kiss of his soul, which she, no doubt, took gracefully -and at its value. She was not a sentimental woman; a clear, vigorous -intellect is a very good antidote against false sensibility. But -these other vigorous intellects were so busy weaving the tissue of -their dreams that they did not trouble themselves much about possible -applications.</p> - -<p>This Platonic mania, which ran through Italian society, and, if it did -nothing else, tempered its grossness and spiritualized its ideals, did -not originate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</span> at Urbino, though it probably blossomed into a fashion -there. Petrarch found the germ in Plato, but he developed it into fruit -of quite another color, and furnished the poets after him with a new -background for their fantasy-flowers. The magnificent Lorenzo, poet, -ruler, patron of letters, Platonist, and buffoon, went into poetic -raptures at the sight of the beautiful face of “la belle Simonetta” -as she lay white and cold on the bier that passed him in the street. -He dreamed of it, apostrophized it, grew melancholy over it, until he -found a living face almost as lovely about which to drape the pearls of -his poetic fancy. He wrote sonnets à la Petrarch, without the genuine -ring of Petrarch. It was all moonlight, the pale copy of a paler -emotion. But he did not in the least lose control of what he called his -heart, as he dutifully married the woman his clear-headed mother chose -for him; she was not at all a figure of romance and, it is to be hoped, -had small knowledge of the vagaries of her theoretically Platonic -husband. In any case, it was the destiny of her sex to submit to the -inevitable.</p> - -<p>But the dreams of the poets naturally found an echo in the hearts of -lonely women and artless maidens. When marriage was a matter of bargain -and sale, a union of fortune and interest in which love played no part, -sensibility was a subtle factor difficult to reckon with. A man had -legally, as well as morally, supreme control over his wife. He might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</span> -happen to love her and be kind to her, but if he chose to neglect her -or beat her, there was no one to find fault with him. This “divine -right” of man was the foundation-stone of society, and it was no more -possible to question it than it was to question the divine right of -popes and kings. Princesses were privileged beings who were both useful -and ornamental, but this did not save them from being ill-treated to -the last degree. No one thought of interfering when one of the later -Medici, angry at his sister, sent for her husband and, after telling -him that her frivolous conduct reflected on the decorum of his very -disreputable court, bade him remember that he was a Christian and a -gentleman, placed a villa at his disposal, and the hapless but too gay -Isabella, who went there with suspicious reluctance, suddenly died of a -convenient apoplexy, and appeared no more on this earthly scene to be -a thorn in the side of her brother’s favorite, the very beautiful but -too aspiring Bianca Capello. His sister-in-law, a much-wronged Spanish -princess, was invited to a gloomy old castle among the hills at the -same time, and disposed of in a similar way, by her amiable husband, -who asked forty thousand ducats for the deed, and expiated it at once -by a prayer to the Virgin, and a vow which he forgot.</p> - -<p>With all these tragic possibilities, it was out of the question to -secure a divorce for any incompatibility<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</span> of temper, small or great, -unless his Holiness saw that it would serve some interest or caprice of -his own, and incidentally add to the glory of the church. But pent-up -emotions are apt to be troublesome, and it is hardly strange that these -women, with an abyss on one side and a vacuum on the other, sought a -way of reconciling matters that infringed visibly on no man’s rights. -They adopted the fashion of supplementing a terrestrial love that was -not very comfortable with a celestial one which, if rather attenuated, -seemed quite innocent and harmless, and gave them something pleasant -to think about. These airy and Platonic sentiments had a much more -substantial character among men and women who lived at a high mental -altitude. It is to live confessedly on a very low plane to deny that -there is a tie of the intellect which tends only to fine issues, and -is a source of light and inspiration. But this implies first of all -an intellect of distinct range, and a clear moral sense, that are not -always forthcoming. The friendship between Michelangelo and Vittoria -Colonna was a sympathy between two exalted souls who dwelt habitually -on the heights, far above the mists of sense and the banalities of -lesser minds. “Friendship is not a sentiment without fire,” wrote the -cold and skeptical Buffon to <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> Necker, nearly four centuries later; -“it is rather a warming of the soul, an emotion, a movement sweeter -than that of any other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</span> passion, and also quite as strong.” But this -passion of friendship can exist in its perfection only between those in -whom sensibility lights the intellect without submerging it; on a lower -plane it has its dangers.</p> - -<p>In the days of the précieuses, the apostles of Platonic love cut the -cord that bound them to reality, and floated away on a cloud of pure -emotionalism. Merged in affectations, it finally evaporated in phrases -on the lips of sighing youths and romantic maidens. In the Anglo-Saxon -world it never had a very strong foothold. The race is not sufficiently -imaginative.</p> - -<p>There is no doubt that there has been a great deal of senseless talk -about Platonic love, and that it drew after it much that was far from -Platonic. We all know that one of the most conspicuous daughters of -devotion is hypocrisy, but who can hold religion responsible because -its garb is put on to disguise sin? The trouble is that the finest -spirits are apt to be measured by the standards of the lowest. It is -not easy to convince people of material ideals that all things are not -to be brought to their level. But this curious agitation had its place -and did its work. We may smile at the finely drawn sophistries of a -Bembo, who pointed to an ideal he sometimes failed to reach. It is easy -enough for cynics to say that Beatrice, the apotheosis of spiritual -love, died early, and was worshiped, not as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</span> a woman, but as a star -shining from inaccessible heights; that Laura, the ideal of the high -priest of Platonism, was simply a dream, intangible as the moonlight -and cold as the everlasting snows; that it is not good for every-day -men and women to see such visions, even if it were possible, nor to -dream such dreams, nor to live at such an altitude—all of which no -doubt has its side of truth. But the fact remains that it was largely -through the inspired vision, which looked past the entanglements -of sense into the pure heart and transparent soul of an idealized -womanhood, that the long-enduring sex came into its intellectual -kingdom. To the old ties of interest, passion, and habit, were added -those of the intellect and spirit. In this new contact of intelligences -society had its birth, women took their rightful places, and the world -found a new regenerating force.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>The life at Urbino, with its literary flavor, its refined manners, -its serious conversations, and its Platonic dreams, took another tone -at Ferrara. This court was gayer, but hardly less noted as a center -of culture. No one chronicled its conversations, but the fame of its -poets illuminated it. Boiardo lived and wrote and administered affairs -in the magnificent old castle whose four towers frown to-day in lonely -grandeur over the silent and grass-grown streets of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</span> the once lively -city; Ariosto immortalized the women “as fair as good, and as learned -as they were fair,” who gathered artists, men of letters, statesmen, -cardinals, and philosophers within its tapestried walls; and the -genius of Tasso still sheds over it a melancholy splendor strangely -contrasting with the tragedy that left so dark a cloud on the last days -of its glory.</p> - -<p>The Duke Hercules I did a wise thing for the brilliancy of his reign -when he chose for his wife the learned and accomplished Leonora of -Aragon, who had grown up in the intellectual atmosphere of her royal -father’s court at Naples. She was a versatile princess, a lover of art, -a patron of letters, and an able, efficient woman, who gave equal care -to the fostering of talent and the practical interests of her people. -The art of gold and silver metal work, on which she was an authority, -reached great perfection under her patronage, and she gave her personal -supervision to the skilled embroiderers whom she brought from elsewhere -to stimulate the native artists. When her husband was absent he left -the government in her charge. Nothing shows more clearly the masterful -ability of these Italian princesses than the wisdom and facility with -which they managed public affairs, and the confidence reposed in them. -In this model republic of the twentieth century, who would think of -intrusting matters of State to the wife of president or governor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</span> in -any emergency whatever? Let us admit that women are not trained here -for such responsibilities, even if they cared to assume them; but why -treat us to a homily on their natural incapacity for affairs of State, -in the face of innumerable examples in the past that prove the contrary?</p> - -<p>And these women lost neither their charm nor their essentially feminine -qualities. Certainly there was no wiser mother than this same Duchess -Leonora. Her daughters had the best of masters, and were versed in all -the knowledge of the day, as well as in the lighter accomplishments. -They were schooled also in the duties of their high position, and were -never permitted to neglect their serious studies for amusement. While -they were busy with their tapestries some man of letters recited or -read to them. Perhaps it was Boiardo, perhaps another of the literary -stars of the court. The untiring mother had her reward in the fame and -virtuous character of these children. One of them, the beautiful and -gifted Isabella d’Este, had a brilliant career as the Marchioness of -Mantua, and her scarcely less fascinating sister Beatrice carried the -tastes of her own youth to the more splendid but corrupt court of the -Sforzas at Milan.</p> - -<p>The enlightened duchess, who seems to have been as kind as she was -capable, did not escape calumny, as few did in that age of license; but -she has a blessed immortality in the glowing lines of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</span> Ariosto, who -paid an eloquent tribute to her talents and virtues at her death. The -court of Ferrara never lost the lettered tone which she gave it, though -its fashions of living and thinking changed from time to time.</p> - -<p>One cannot quote her son’s wife, the fair-haired Lucrezia Borgia, as a -model princess, though in later years she partly redeemed the faults of -her past by her kindness to the poor, her intelligent patronage of art -and letters, and her devotion as wife and mother. It is not likely that -she was as black as she has been painted, or, as has been suggested by -later historians, Ariosto, with all his courtier love for paying pretty -compliments to women, especially princesses, would hardly have dared to -put her on a level with the Roman Lucretia in “charms and chastity,” -in a country where satire was merciless and scandal many-tongued. In -her tragical youth she was possibly more sinned against than sinning. -With a father who was the embodiment of all the vices, and brothers as -powerful as they were infamous, one can readily imagine that she had -little choice in her manner of life. It was quite in the interest of -this terrible trio that her three husbands were disposed of in one way -or another, and it was equally in their interest that the widowed Duke -Alfonso was virtually forced to marry her, though evidently against -his inclination. The wishes of a Holy Father<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</span> with unlimited power -were compelling. And so it happened that this beautiful, clever, and -much-talked-of woman went to Ferrara with a flourish of trumpets, as -became a pope’s daughter. She was only twenty-five, though she had seen -tragedies enough to color a lifetime. On her way she visited Urbino -with her two thousand attendants,—princesses were costly guests in -those days,—and the good Duchess Elisabetta, by command of this wicked -and grasping Holy Father, who had designs on her own domains that might -be furthered by her absence, went with the much heralded bride to take -part in the magnificent wedding festivities. There was little in the -entry of this brilliant but very much clouded Lucrezia on her white -jennet, resplendent in satin and gold and flashing jewels, to suggest -the beauty and desirableness of “plain living and high thinking.” -To be sure, she had university dons to support her canopy, and all -the learning of Ferrara in her train; but it was a fashion of these -princesses to honor scholars. Then there were comedies of Plautus to -give the occasion a classic flavor, besides music, dancing, medieval -combats, Moorish interludes, and more barbaric amusements for the -multitude. The splendors of dress, the wealth of velvets, brocades, -gold, and gems, were all duly chronicled by the society reporter of the -time, and the descriptions of modern court balls seem modest and tame -in comparison.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</span> The good Duchess Leonora had been sleeping in her tomb -with the other princesses many a year, duly labeled by Ariosto. But -the pure-souled Isabella d’Este was there with a new and regal costume -for every scene, and no doubt various misgivings about her imposing -sister-in-law which she thought best to say nothing about.</p> - -<p>This dangerous Lucrezia, however, had her serious moments. After the -pageants were over, she took out of her traveling-case the Dante and -Petrarch she had brought for her daily reading, also some histories, -with her manual of devotion. She had, too, her literary circle of -poets, savants, men of letters, prelates, cardinals, and clever women -who spoke in Latin and wrote Greek quite naturally and as a matter of -course. They talked of manners, art, and philosophy, as at Urbino, but -perhaps not quite so seriously; they talked also of love, spiritual and -otherwise. The inevitable Bembo was there for a time, and afterward -wrote Platonic letters about literature to the friend of his soul, -which she answered with insight and discrimination as well as matronly -discretion. These letters were preserved, with a lock of her golden -hair.</p> - -<p>There is little trace of the early Lucrezia in her later years. No more -worldly vanities. She prayed a great deal, and spent her evenings in -working beautiful designs in embroidery with the ladies of her court. -“Her husband and his subjects all loved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</span> her for her gracious manners -and her piety,” we are told. She was not old when she died,—two or -three years past forty,—leaving an inconsolable husband and several -children. In a letter of condolence the Doge of Venice gives great -praise to her devotion and her fine qualities of character. The most -distinguished prelates of the day pay a tribute to her many virtues. -The experiences of her life, which were dark enough at its beginning -and too surely not blameless, are wrapped in a mystery so deep that we -cannot fairly judge them to-day.</p> - -<p>If the court of Ferrara was gay, literary, artistic, with more or less -of a dilettante tone under Lucrezia, it took quite another color in -the reign of her daughter-in-law, the serious and thoughtful Renée. -This princess had more solid qualities of intellect, but less beauty -and less charm. “She was good and clever, with a mind the best and -most acute possible,” says Brantôme. Her father was Louis XII, and -her mother Anne of Bretagne, whose talent and independent spirit she -inherited. She had Protestant tendencies, and brought strange guests -to these stately halls and haunts of poets. Calvin was among them. He -was young then, and came under the name of Charles d’Espeville—which -was much safer for an arch-heretic. With him came Clément Marot, a -poet and a heretic of milder type, who shone brilliantly at the court -of the clever Marguerite of Navarre. The stern moralist and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</span> ascetic -reformer was no friend to women, except as convenient appendages, and -these were apt to be troublesome unless kept in their lowly place. He -looked upon their government as “a deviation from the original and -proper order of nature, to be ranked no less than slavery among the -punishments consequent upon the fall of man.” In this case he evidently -found the punishment rather pleasant, as he stayed many months in -a court where the power of women was very much <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">en évidence</i>, -though it fell under an eclipse because of him. Perhaps he modified -his opinions for the moment in so stimulating an atmosphere. While he -never fails to denounce the “inferior sex” in plain terms, he is kind -enough to make discreet exceptions as to women in high places, who were -not made of common clay. It was certainly inconvenient for the duke to -have a wife with convictions, who persisted in compromising him with -the higher powers; but what would have become of the superior Calvin, -with the door closed upon him and the Inquisition on his track, if -this incapable being had been superintending the cook and the maids -or working patterns in embroidery, as she plainly ought to have been, -instead of courageously and with clear foresight despatching some -trustworthy friends to liberate the reverend suspect from his dangerous -and uncomfortable surveillance, and send him on his way to a freer air?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</span></p> - -<p>There was much talk on free will and election, as well as of sinners -in power, and the need of grace and reformation, when Vittoria Colonna -came, a little later, to enjoy the liberty of thought and literary -discussion for which this court was famous, also to forward the -interest of her friend, the eloquent Fra Bernardino, who wished to -found here a Capuchin convent. It was quite safe to sit on the grass or -in the gardens during the long summer evenings, listening to a Greek -play, and talking about the respective merits of Homer and Petrarch, -who had been dead a long time, or the genius of Ariosto, who had just -closed his eyes after charming his age and saying so many agreeable -things about its women. But it was not so safe to reflect on wicked -popes, or call in question whatever dogma they might choose to present -to a credulous world. The Duchess Renée was made sadly conscious of -this fact, as was her gifted protégée, Olympia Morata. Her mind had a -mystical quality, and the germs of a more spiritual faith had taken -root there. But her amiable husband applied the screw as he was told. -To have one’s children taken away and to be confined in a remote -corner of one’s castle was too much to bear, and a suspiciously sudden -conversion under good orthodox ministrations was the result, with -convenient mental reservations to serve until the duke died and the -lady was safely back in France with her royal kin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</span> and the protecting -sympathy of her heretical friend, the gifted and powerful Marguerite of -many-sided fame.</p> - -<p>But in the meantime the literary talks went on, led by her brilliant -daughters, who contented themselves with topics that were less -explosive. Tasso said that Lucrezia and Leonora d’Este were “so well -versed in affairs of State and literature that no one could listen to -their conversation without amazement.” Here, as elsewhere, they talked -a great deal about matters of sentiment. Tasso held a controversy at -the academy on “Fifty Points of Love.” One of them was a question -whether men or women love the more constantly and intensely. Orsini -Cavaletti, a lady of distinction in literature and philosophy, claimed -the palm for her own sex, and came off with equal if not superior -honors before a learned and brilliant audience. What the other points -were I do not know. The amount of energy expended on such trivial -themes was curiously illustrated a few years before by Isotta Nogarola, -a lady of Verona, who discussed with learned men the question as -to whether Adam or Eve was the more guilty, and wrote a defense of -Eve which must have created more than a ripple of interest, as it -was printed a century afterward. This champion of justice was not a -reformer nor an <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">emancipée</i>, but a woman of rank and a friend of -popes, who had the courage to come to the rescue<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</span> of her sex from the -denunciations of ages. Doubtless the discussion was largely a play of -wit and an exercise in analysis that applied itself to small things, -since it was not safe to attack great ones.</p> - -<p>But our unfortunate poet did not confine himself to theory, and love -proved a more disastrous subject for him than did religion for some of -his friends. It was to this same brilliant Leonora, whom he lauded to -the skies, that Tasso dared lift his eyes in too familiar or ambitious -a fashion before he was shut out of the world seven years as a madman. -Whatever the facts of this tragical romance may have been, we know that -the lady died at forty-five, in the odor of sanctity and unmarried, -while her gayer but equally clever sister became the wife of the last -Duke of Urbino, whom she found so dull and tiresome that she returned -after three years to her brother’s court, where the livelier tastes -were more to her liking. But its glories had already paled and its -stars had mostly set. Tasso was the last.</p> - -<p>The traveler of to-day looks with curious eye on the faded splendors of -the grim old castle, and speculates idly upon the tragedies that have -been acted within its silent walls. But he goes away to the poor little -cell at the hospital of <abbr title="Saint">St.</abbr> Anna and drops a tear over the fate of the -poet who ate his heart out there. Time brings strange reparations, but -they are always too late.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</span></p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>In the days when they were talking of men, women, and manners at -Urbino, and the brilliant Bembo was writing high-flown letters about -literature and celestial love to Lucrezia Borgia, or discoursing upon -the same themes, in the intervals of many graver ones, at Ferrara, and -Alexander VI was making the society of Rome as wicked as he knew how, -which was very wicked indeed, Isabella d’Este, wife of the Marquis -of Mantua, was the central figure of one of the most charming and -intellectual courts in Italy. This “noble-minded Isabel,” of whom -Ariosto says,</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -I know not well if she more fair<br /> -May be entitled, or more chaste and sage,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p0">carried with her to the banks of the Mincio, already made classic as -the birthplace of Vergil, the literary tastes which had been nurtured -in the scholarly air of Ferrara. We have seen her developing as a child -under the care of the wise Leonora. At six she astonished the envoy -sent to arrange her betrothal, by her precocious intelligence, engaging -conversation, and graceful manners. It was a kindly fate that led her -to the court of the Gonzagas, which was famous for the learning and -culture of its women.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</span></p> - -<p>Of all the princesses who shed such luster on this period she had, -perhaps, the most personal distinction. To the wisdom and force of -her mother she added more esprit and a warmer temperament. In tact, -dignity, learning, and the virtues of a well-poised character, she did -not surpass her husband’s sister, the much-loved Duchess Elisabetta of -Urbino, but she seems to have had more native brilliancy of intellect. -Living from 1474 to 1525, she was brought into familiar contact with -the most famous men and women of the golden age of the Renaissance, -and played an important part in many of its stormy crises, but, under -all conditions, one is impressed with her strong individuality, her -versatility, her intrepid spirit, and her unfailing charm. She combined -the tenderness of a woman with the mental vigor of a man. Fair, witty, -gracious, and a noted beauty, she was equally at home discussing art -and literature with the masters, and grave political problems with -popes and kings, arranging fêtes, ordering a picture, selecting a -brocade, or playing with a child.</p> - -<p>The old and imposing palace of Mantua to this day shows traces of the -taste and generosity of its most distinguished mistress. She filled it -with rare books, exquisite tapestries, and curios of all sorts, chosen -with the discrimination of a connoisseur. Its walls were decorated with -the masterpieces of Correggio, Mantegna, Perugino, and other great -artists whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</span> she was proud to call her friends. Chief among those in -whose conversation she delighted were Titian and Leonardo da Vinci, who -immortalized her. A living portrait by the latter is still one of the -treasures of the Louvre. Her keen critical taste was quick to divine -intrinsic values, and she was always on the alert for fresh talent to -add to the glories of her little court. It was not rich, and we find -her troubled at the prospect of entertaining her sister’s magnificent -husband, Lodovico Sforza, who proposed to visit her with a retinue of a -thousand or so. But her money went freely for everything pertaining to -matters of intellect and taste. She sent her agents in all directions, -even to the far East, and a new-found statue, a rare bit of tapestry, -or a precious mosaic was an event of joy. Her own teeming imagination -was full of pictures, and she liked to suggest themes to artists, which -were not always easy to put into living form. But her sympathetic and -intelligent enthusiasm was in itself an inspiration.</p> - -<p>This critical, art-loving Isabella, however, was more than a -dilettante. Her heart went out to every form of suffering. Running over -with kindness, and always ready to help the needy and deserving, her -sympathies sometimes got the better of her judgment, and more than once -she had to regret enlisting her friends in the cause of the unworthy. -This generous quality was a part of her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</span> rich temperament. With her -intellectual tastes, and the many cares and responsibilities of her -position, she was no grave and cold Minerva. We find her everywhere -entering into the sports and gaieties of her age with the zest of a -woman abounding in spirit, vitality, and the joy of life. When she went -to see her sister at Milan, she rode, danced, hunted, made impromptu -verses, dazzled her friends with flashes of wit, and fascinated -old and young alike with her winning, lively ways. Her powerful -brother-in-law was always glad to consult her on serious questions of -State, as well as on his vast plans for making a beautiful and artistic -city. The things that were shaping themselves in the minds of great -artists appealed to her ardent imagination. “This is the school of -the <em>master</em> and of those who <em>know</em>, the home of art and -understanding,” she wrote from there.</p> - -<p>Her letters to her family are always full of vivacity, clear and to -the point, but glowing with affection. The friendships she inspired -were devoted, even passionate. “It seems as if I had lost not only -a tenderly loved sister, but a part of myself,” wrote the Duchess -Elisabetta, after one of her visits. “I long to write to you every -hour.... If I could clearly express to you my grief, I am sure it would -have so much force that compassion would bring you back.” In such a -spirit these women wrote to one another. The Latin race is effusive, -and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</span> art of expression, which is its supreme gift, no doubt often -ran ahead of the feeling or the thought; but these familiar letters -bear the stamp of sincerity and help us to know the manner of woman -that wrote them.</p> - -<p>This noble lady of so many gifts and graces was born to lead and not -to follow. She could take the affairs of government on occasion, and -was amply fitted to rule firmly and wisely. Her first aim was to -win the love of her people, which, she says, is of “more value to a -State than all its fortresses, treasures, and men-at-arms.” When her -husband had matters to settle that required delicate diplomacy, he -sent her on a special embassy to the Vatican, where the Pope loaded -her with honors and had Bibbiena’s new comedy, “Calandra,” played for -her entertainment. A helpful wife was this queen of the Renaissance, -and no one knew it better than her husband, whose profession was war, -which often led him far from the court she had made so famous. Perhaps -she had a trace of pardonable vanity. She deferred a visit to Venice -because she did not care to have her modest train brought into so close -a contrast with the imposing splendors of the “little sister” whom she -loved but did not attempt to rival on her own ground. The glories she -most sought were of the intellect and not to be bought with money.</p> - -<p>The distinctive quality she impressed upon her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</span> court was an artistic -one. Its art treasures were of the choicest, and the best plays, -classical or modern, were brought out there. Music was her passion. She -sang well herself, also played the lute and viol. In the days before -Palestrina had opened a new world of harmony, she maintained one of the -finest orchestras in Italy. No gifted musician ever appealed to her -in vain. But there was no field of thought in her time which she did -not explore. If her knowledge was not profound, it was wide, and she -looked at things largely from a human point of view, not superficially, -but sympathetically. She applied her intelligence and her talents not -only to the advancement of the fine arts, to the cultivation of the -best in literature, to the interests of her people, but to the art of -living with due regard for one’s duties and responsibilities to the -future as well as to the present. If Vittoria Colonna represents the -highest thought of her age as applied to things spiritual and literary, -Isabella d’Este is a living example of its finest mundane side. No one -better illustrates the power and the penetrating fragrance of a strong -and vivid personality. It is a type that has many imitators, but such a -gift, which is an assemblage of many gifts, cannot be copied.</p> - -<p>A court dominated by so rare a spirit, and attracting all the -refinement, talent, and intelligence of a brilliant age, could not be -otherwise than luminous.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</span> We have no record of its conversations, but -we know that its standards were high, and that the best passports of -admission there were achievements of the intellect. Rank no doubt had -its place, and manners were indispensable, but to genius and learning -much was forgiven. Purely material splendors had small weight. Some -of its princes had left traditions of culture, but it was a woman of -intellect, force, independence, and charm who gathered these into a -society that proved a center of light which shone brightly on after -generations.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>Of scarcely less interest than Isabella d’Este is her sister Beatrice, -the fresh, dark-eyed, dark-haired, gay, and laughing girl who went -to Milan at fifteen as the bride of Lodovico Sforza, and died before -she was twenty-two, after condensing the experiences of a lifetime -in a few short years. This court has left the record of much sin and -many tragedies, and it furnished some great princesses to the smaller -and less imposing ones, but its literary glory was not so conspicuous -as its splendor and its crimes. A court that numbered Bramante and -Leonardo da Vinci among its stars, however, is not to be passed -lightly. These colossal men were not easy to command, and prince as -well as princess often appealed to them in vain. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</span> is not likely that -they gave much precious time to courtly pleasures, as the first order -of genius thrives better in solitude or the sympathetic companionship -of the few, though Leonardo was much sought after for his personal -accomplishments. But the inspiration of an intelligent woman has more -to do with the results of genius than an unthinking and altogether -material world is apt to imagine. The Duchess Beatrice was the moving -spirit at Milan when its greatest artists were creating the monuments -that were to be its lasting glory. Under her critical eye, too, the -architects, painters, sculptors, and decorators made the church and -cloisters of Certosa things of imperishable beauty, happily unconscious -that they were building and carving the tomb of the little lady who was -so gracious and so appreciative.</p> - -<p>These artistic tastes, which she shared with her sister, were inherited -from her mother, and they were fostered in the court of her grandfather -at Naples, where she spent her childhood. At Ferrara she was a trifle -overshadowed by the more gifted and beautiful Isabella, but she still -lived in a stimulating atmosphere. From a worldly point of view it -was a brilliant prospect that opened before the young girl when she -went away from classical Ferrara as the child-wife of a man she had -never seen. On the personal side the clouds were dark, but that inner -realm in which lies happiness or misery was never considered. The -formidable Lodovico<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</span> was certainly not good, but he had the cultivated -tastes of his time, and magnificent projects, into which the small -but clever duchess entered with enthusiasm. With grace, generosity, -a fine intellect, and a singularly brave and vigorous character, she -captivated at once the heart of the blasé prince, who had been none -too well pleased with the policy of her coming. No one loved better -the pageants, tournaments, and amusements of her age. No one rode more -fearlessly, hunted with more zest, or danced with more pleasure. She -pursued everything with the ardor of youth and a happy temperament. But -her careful training had not been in vain. This fifteen-year-old wife -reserved her leisure hours for serious things. She had a fine literary -as well as artistic taste, and filled her cabinet with rare and costly -books. It is common enough to collect costly books which are never -read, but not so common for pleasure-loving girls to take delight in -the masters of literature. Even in our enlightened day they are apt -to prefer novels, and usually very poor ones. Doubtless the Duchess -Beatrice had learned advisers, but she knew how to select them, which -is in itself a talent. There were many men of letters about the court, -and some of them read to her while she was busy with her needle, just -as others used to do in the old days at Ferrara. They did not read the -last romance, but great poems, sometimes the “Divine Comedy,” sometimes -Petrarch,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</span> sometimes later verses, or histories. The grand Lodovico -often stole in to listen, and gave thoughtful attention, especially to -the greater master. Perhaps he recalled those happy moments in his sad -captivity when the only thing he asked was a copy of Dante to while -away the long and lonely hours in a French prison.</p> - -<p>In the quiet summer days, among the groves and fountains of Vigevano or -Pavia, when the dripping of the water and the rustling of the leaves -made a sweet accompaniment for the strains of the orchestra that -floated away past the tree-tops and lost themselves in the upper air, -we find her listening to an animated discussion between Bramante and -Gaspari Visconti on the relative merits of Dante and Petrarch, with her -own sympathies on the side of the more spiritual poet. It was this same -Visconti who said that the talents and virtues of the discriminating -duchess surpassed those of the greatest women of antiquity. Giuliano -de’ Medici also speaks of her as a woman of “wonderful parts.” Poets, -artists, and singers flocked to her for patronage and recognition from -many countries, sure of a generous sympathy.</p> - -<p>Nor were her tastes and abilities limited to things gay, artistic, and -literary. She had a clear head and a facile talent. When scarcely more -than eighteen her husband sent her on a diplomatic mission to Venice, -where she spoke with grace<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</span> and dignity before the doge and seigniory -on a matter of politics. No one questioned her modesty in doing so, and -every one praised her wise and tactful eloquence. She confesses to a -little tremulous apprehension, but writes in a naïve and artless way of -her cordial reception by the councilors, also of the magnificent fêtes -given in her honor.</p> - -<p>In the troubled days of Milan, when the aspiring Lodovico proved weak -and faint-hearted, it was his brave little wife who went with him to -the camp, reconciled the differences among the officers, and inspired -the soldiers with her own courage and enthusiasm. In the final crisis, -at this time, it was still the young and fearless woman who took prompt -measures to defend the city after her husband had fled and left her to -bear all the burdens alone. It is not a question here whether he was -right or wrong. The morals of politics were worse then, if possible, -than they are now, and he had at least a powerful following. On a -matter of public policy it is clear enough that she could not lead a -party in opposition to him. What she thought we do not know, though her -courage and her swift resources showed the quality of the woman.</p> - -<p>Many were the sad hours this inconstant husband gave her, but when she -was gone in the freshness of her innocent youth, he put himself and -everything about him in sable, refused to be comforted,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</span> and mourned -her the rest of his life. In spite of his wandering fancies, which -she had the spirit to curb, he said that he loved her better than -himself,—which, if true, was saying a great deal,—and that she had -been his adored companion no less in the cares of State than in his -hours of ease. That she shared his cruelties is not supposable from -anything we know of her character, but it is certain that he owed to -her taste and counsel much of his reputation as an enlightened ruler -who crowned his city with the glories of art.</p> - -<p>With her loss his star began to wane. “When the Duchess Beatrice died, -everything fell into ruin. The court, which had been a paradise of joy, -became a dark and gloomy inferno; poets and artists were forced to seek -another place.” So writes a man of letters, in the last days of the -fifteenth century, of a woman of twenty-one who had tried to make the -richest and worst court in Italy a home for literature, art, and all -that makes for the intellectual good of the race.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>If I have lingered a little over personal details in these brief -sketches, it is the better to show the versatile character of the -women who shed so much luster on the golden age of the Renaissance. -Of the relative moral value of these representative<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</span> women of their -time I think there is little question, in spite of the fact that the -age is so persistently quoted to prove that women degenerate in virtue -as they advance in intelligence. That the tone of morality was very -low, that vice was scarcely frowned upon, that men in power and out -of it broke every commandment in the decalogue without compunction or -even taking the trouble to put on a veil of respectability, and that -a large class of women were swept into the vortex of corruption, is -true enough. But it is also true that the strongest protest against -this state of affairs was made by women, and that the few prelates who -dared lift their voices against the scandals in high places numbered -their most zealous assistants among them. To say nothing of the -multitudes who cast their jewels and ornaments into the flames at the -bidding of Savonarola, and consecrated themselves to a pure and simple -if not ascetic life,—all of which may be set down to the account -of emotionalism rather than intelligence,—it was the women most -noted for talent and learning, whether princess, poet, or university -professor, who were most honored for their virtues. The pure-minded -Contarini found in Vittoria Colonna his strongest support in a hopeless -struggle against the sins and corruptions of the church. Olympia -Morata was a conspicuous example of great intellect and great learning -put to the service of a bettered humanity at serious, indeed fatal,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</span> -personal sacrifice. And she was not alone. There were numbers of these -women—poets, scholars, and thinkers—who lived spotless lives and -worked for the good of their sex and race.</p> - -<p>Of the noble ladies who presided over the literary courts, the few we -have recalled were among the greatest, and, with one exception, it -is generally conceded that their lives were without reproach. Others -were victims of a power over which they had no control. It must be -remembered that these women, however capable or high in place, were in -the last resort subject to the will of men. Their new intelligence had -made them helpers to be respected, and tempered a little the possible -tyranny of their self-constituted masters, but men themselves, the -nobler and wiser, saw the dangers in the abuse of their own power. -“If women corrupt, they have first been corrupted by their age,” said -Giuliano de’ Medici, the best and purest of his family, in one of the -conversations at Urbino, which, thanks to its women, had not only the -most intelligent but the most virtuous court in Italy.</p> - -<p>When a Borgia or some other pope equally devoid of moral sense, who -sits at the head of Christendom and directs its conscience, orders -at pleasure the marriage and divorce of his own daughter, or of any -other woman who can serve his political or mercenary ends, giving her -no choice and no recourse; when Imperias and Tullias preside<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</span> over -the salons of Rome because etiquette forbids a pure and high-minded -woman to live in this lax society of prelates and cardinals, which -she would be likely to find neither safe nor agreeable, there is -little to be said about the connection between woman’s intelligence -and moral decadence. Imperias and Tullias have lived in all ages, and -they have flourished best where good women were the most ignorant and -colorless. Some of them have had talent and esprit. They have sung, -acted, danced, written sonnets, affected learning, patronized the arts, -even put on the garb of virtue and piety; but they can be no more cited -as representatives of the women of centuries ago than the same class -to-day can be taken as a measure of our own moral standards, which is -clearly impossible. Intelligence was never a guaranty of morals, as the -mind can be sharpened for bad ends as well as good ones. It is even -possible that the woman of education and strong mental fiber may be -more easily led into the sins of ambition, but she is far less likely -to drift into the follies of vanity, passion, and a weak will than -the ignorant one who has no rational outlet for her energies and her -untempered sensibilities. The faults, too, of a luminous age are seen -in a glare of light that is wholly wanting in periods of darkness when -vice shelters itself behind closed doors upon which it too often hangs -the drapery of virtue.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</span></p> - -<p>It is difficult to measure the intellectual value of the women of the -Renaissance, as their influence went out in a thousand rills, seen and -unseen, to fertilize after-ages, and not least our own. There were many -good writers, but no great ones, unless we except Vittoria Colonna, -whose poems, though unequal, were of a high and intrinsic literary as -well as moral quality. As an <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">in memoriam</i> her sonnets to her -husband are not likely to die, and as the first collection of sacred -poems her later work has a distinct and honorable place on the world’s -records. Why there were no artists of note is a problem not easy to -solve, as the field is one in which women seem especially fitted to -excel. Elisabetta Sirani might have won a high place on the roll of -fame, as great critics were struck with her vigor, her grasp of large -subjects, her facile style, and her careful finish; but she lived in -the decline of art, and died at twenty-six. Women were more famous as -scholars, and many of them stood on a level with distinguished men. -Educated with them in the best schools, their tastes were formed on the -best models. A lady who converses or lectures before learned dons in -Latin, and writes the purest Greek, is not a shallow pretender, though -she may be neither original nor profound. Nor do they seem to have been -pedants, though much of the phraseology of both men and women strikes -us now as stilted and inflated; it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</span> was the style of the day. No doubt -there was more or less dilettantism, which was a weakness of the time -that ended in the destruction of literary values; it is quite possible, -too, that many liked what it was the fashion to like, as they have done -in all ages, without any clear tastes or convictions of their own, -though this foible is by no means confined to women. That period, like -our own, had its army of pale imitators who follow in the wake of every -movement that is likely to reflect on them a small degree of honor, and -in the end sink its finest standards in hopeless mediocrity.</p> - -<p>But the influence of a multitude of highly educated and intelligent -women is too subtle and far-reaching to put into definite terms. To -trace it in its large results, even if this were possible, would take -us far beyond our present limits. It is felt at every moment, in the -home, in society, in amusements, in the church. It directs the currents -of men’s lives from the starting-point, it infolds them like light, it -is a stimulant and an inspiration. But no one knows precisely where it -begins or ends. This is why it has been so ignored, why men, except in -individual cases, have so persistently depreciated the qualities that -opened for them the way to the finest issues.</p> - -<p>The direct power of the learned princesses of the literary courts -is more readily seen. By virtue of their position, as well as their -talents, they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</span> created a society, spread a taste for things of the -intellect, and did a great deal to curb the vice and cruelty which -pressed with special severity on their own sex. If they could not -change the drift of the age, and were subject to conditions which -good men were unable to control, they tempered and modified them. -The whole Platonic movement, which they did so much to foster, was a -protest against the sensualism that has always been their worst enemy. -To sustain a spiritual cult in a race that worshiped, before all -things, material beauty was not easy. It had a tendency always to lose -itself in phrases and mystical subtleties, but it put woman on a new -pedestal, and social life on a higher plane. We have only to note the -bacchanalian revels of the poets, wits, and philosophers of Florence, -the orgies of folly, vulgarity, and sin which the great Lorenzo led and -the very wise Platonic Academy smiled upon, to learn the difference -between a lettered society of men without the tempering influence of -high-minded women, and the brilliant circles we have seen gathered -about princesses of learning, refinement, and grace, who guided its -amusements and restrained its license. No woman of conspicuous virtue -and ability has left a permanent stamp on the social life of Florence. -Clarice, the wife of the versatile Lorenzo, had many virtues, but she -was evidently in no sense a leader. Poliziano has no prejudice against -learned women, as he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</span> falls in love with the gifted and beautiful -Alessandra Scala and is inconsolable because she will not marry him. He -also pays court to Cassandra Fidelis, and corresponds with Lucrezia, -the mother of his patron, who is finely educated and writes poetry; but -he is angry when Clarice interferes with his manner of training her -children, “because she is a woman and unlettered”; indeed, he quarrels -with her about it and goes away. She, in her turn, finds fault with his -pagan morals, and is glad to be rid of his presence, no doubt with good -reason. But whatever she may have been as a mother, she seems to have -lacked the talent or the desire to gather about her a lettered society, -and the result is seen in the disgraceful orgies of her husband and his -clever satellites, with no advantage to the “unhampered intellects” -of these poets and savants, but with a decided disadvantage to their -manners and morals.</p> - -<p>It was during the reign of pure, highly educated, and able women that -the Italian courts reached their highest point of power and brilliancy. -When, by the accident of succession, those of smaller caliber and more -frivolous tastes took the scepter, they invariably declined and lost -their prestige.</p> - -<p>It is quite superfluous to cast a mantle of charity, or any mantle -whatever, over the crimes of the Renaissance, but I have tried in a -small way to recall another side of its abounding life, which had its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</span> -roots largely in the character of its forceful and intelligent women. -The age that gave us a Bianca Capello gave us also a Vittoria Colonna. -The one has long since been consigned to the fitful oblivion of -infamy; the other holds her imperishable place among the stars, still -lighting the sorrowful and world-weary with her messages of love and -hope. The centuries of beauty and sin when men like to say that woman -lost her birthright of virtue—a birthright which they never ceased -to invade from their own stronghold of power—saw her transfigured -by the imagination of Michelangelo into the immortal sibyls who sit -side by side with the prophets in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, -pure and passionless, with the brooding eyes that long ago fathomed -all the secrets of a suffering world, read in the mystic leaves the -records of nations still unborn, and saw from afar the light of the -ages—unchanging types of the wisdom and divination that lie in the -feminine soul. It saw, too, the Virgins of Fra Angelico, unfading -symbols of purity as of angelic sweetness; and the Madonnas of Raphael, -looking wistfully out of their repose with a ray of celestial love in -their eyes and a smile of eternal beauty on their lips.</p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p>It is no part of the plan here to trace the causes of the decadence -in which men lost their liberty of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</span> thought and women their position. -Greed of money, greed of power, love of pleasure, the growth of -luxury, and the low ideals that surely follow in their train, brought -their logical results. The flower of estheticism that expands in -the rich splendors of its ripe perfection verges already toward its -dissolution. Then the Roman Catholic reaction, which forbade men to -think, sent women back to prayers and seclusion, as a business instead -of a resource; it was becoming, and quite safe. But the Italian -princesses had set a fashion of knowledge, and of putting society on -an intellectual plane, with what trimming of beauty and adornment of -manners they could add. The irrepressible and many-gifted Marguerite -of Navarre took it up with various changes and originalities of her -own. The clever Frenchwomen saw their opportunity, and when the courts -were sunk in vice and inanities, they drew out of the past its secret -of social power, and created the literary salon, which was one of -the glories of the golden age of France. The wave of knowledge which -had raised the Italian women so high, and then so strangely receded, -culminated again in the intellectual brilliancy and unparalleled -influence of the Frenchwomen of the eighteenth century. The rise and -fall of this movement and its central figures I have treated quite -fully elsewhere. Again the wave receded, with the coming of the -republic, to revive under other forms in our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</span> own country and our own -day. Will another decadence follow? The future alone can tell, and no -prophetic sibyl has read the secret of that future. Possibly it will -depend largely upon the poise and sanity of women themselves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</span></p> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Salon">SALON AND WOMAN’S CLUB</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img022"> - <img src="images/022.jpg" class="w5" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><big> -· New Mania for Knowledge ·<br /> -· Women’s Clubs as Central Points ·<br /> -· Parallel between the Literary Salon and the<br /> -Woman’s Club ·<br /> -· French and American Women ·<br /> -· Attitude of Anglo-Saxon Men toward Women ·<br /> -· Puritan Gospel of Feminine Liberty ·<br /> -· The Woman’s Club not a School of Manners ·<br /> -· Its Moral Value ·<br /> -· Its Social and Intellectual Value ·<br /> -· Imitation Culture ·<br /> -· Special Distinction of American Women ·<br /> -· Their Foibles ·<br /> -· Multiplication of Clubs ·<br /> -· Warning in the Excesses of the Later Salons ·<br /> -· Tendency to Separate Men and Women ·<br /> -· The Charm of Social Life ·<br /> -· Wisdom of Consulting the Past ·</big><br /> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"><span class="figcenter" id="img023"> - <img src="images/023.jpg" class="w75" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>It is not too much to say that the entire present generation of women -is going to school. Infancy cultivates its mind in the kindergarten, -while the woman of threescore seeks consolation and diversion in clubs -or a university course, instead of resigning herself to seclusion -and prayers, or the chimney-corner and knitting, after the manner of -her ancestors. Even our amusements carry instruction in solution. -Childhood takes in knowledge through its toys and games; the débutante -discusses Plato or Coquelin in the intervals of the waltz; youth and -maturity alike find their pleasure in papers, talks, plays, music, -and recitations. In these social menus everything is included, from a -Greek drama or an Oriental faith to Wagner and the latest theory of -economics. We have Kipling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</span> at breakfast, Rostand or Maeterlinck at -luncheon, and the new Utopia at dinner. After a brilliant day of being -adored and talked about, Browning has been duly labeled and put away, -but Homer classes and Dante classes still alternate with lectures -on the Impressionists or the Decadents. In this rage for knowledge, -science and philosophy are not forgotten. Fashion ranges the field -from occultism to agnosticism, from the qualities of a microbe to the -origin of man. To-day it searches the problems of this world, to-morrow -the mysteries of the next. There is nothing too large or too abstruse -for the eager, questioning spirit that seeks to know all things, or at -least to skim the surface of all things.</p> - -<p>Nor is this energetic pursuit of intelligence confined to towns or -cities. Go into the remote village or hamlet, and you will find the -inevitable club, where the merits of the last novel, the labor problem, -the political situation, the silver question, the Boer war, and the -state of the universe generally, are canvassed by a circle of women as -freely, and with as keen a zest, as the virtues and shortcomings of -their neighbors were talked over by their grandmothers—possibly may be -still by a few of their benighted contemporaries.</p> - -<p>In its extent, this mania for things of the intellect is phenomenal. -One might imagine that we were rapidly becoming a generation of -pedants. Perhaps we are saved from it by the perpetual change that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</span> -gives nothing time to crystallize. The central points of all this -movement are the women’s clubs, of which the social element is a -conspicuous feature, and we take our learning so comfortably diluted -and pleasantly varied that it ceases to be formidable, though on the -side of learning it may leave much to be desired.</p> - -<p>But it is notably in this mingling of literature and life that women -have always found their greatest intellectual influence, and the club -is not likely to prove an exception. The rapidity of its growth is -equaled only by the extent of its range. Of women’s clubs there is -literally no end, and they are yet in their vigorous youth. We have -literary clubs, and art clubs, and musical clubs; clubs for science, -and clubs for philanthropy; parliamentary clubs, and suffrage clubs, -and anti-suffrage clubs—clubs of every variety and every grade, from -the luncheon club, with its dilettante menu, and the more pretentious -chartered club, that aims at mastering a scheme of the world, to the -simple working-girls’ club, which is content with something less: -and all in the sacred name of culture. They multiply, federate, hold -conventions, organize congresses, and really form a vast educational -system that is fast changing old ideals and opening possibilities of -which no prophetic eye can see the end. That they have marvelously -raised the average standard of intelligence cannot be questioned, nor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</span> -that they have brought out a large number of able and interesting women -who have generously taken upon themselves not only their own share of -the work of the world, but a great deal more.</p> - -<p>One can hardly overrate the value of an institution which has given -light and an upward impulse to so many lives, and changed the -complexion of society so distinctly for the better. But it may be worth -while to ask if the women of to-day, with their splendid initiative -and boundless aspirations, are not going a little too fast, getting -entangled in too much machinery, losing their individuality in masses, -assuming more responsibility than they can well carry. Why is it that -lines too deep for harmonious thought are so early writing themselves -on the strong, tense, mobile, and delicate faces of American women? Why -is it that the pure joy of life seems to be lost in the restless and -insatiable passion for multitudes, so often thinly disguised as love -for knowledge, which is not seldom little more than the shell and husk -of things? Is the pursuit of culture degenerating into a pursuit of -clubs, and are we taking for ourselves new taskmasters more pitiless -than the old? “The emancipation of woman is fast becoming her slavery,” -said one who was caught in the whirl of the social machinery and could -find no point of repose. We pride ourselves on our liberty; but the -true value of liberty is to leave people free from a pressure that -prevents<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</span> their fullest growth. What do we gain if we simply exchange -one tyranny for another? Apart from the fact that the finest flowers of -culture do not spring from a soil that is constantly turned, any more -than they do from a soil that is not turned at all, it is a question -of human limitations, of living so as to continue to live, of growing -so as to continue to grow. Nor is it simply a matter of individuals. -Societies, too, exhaust themselves; and those which reach an -exaggerated growth in a day are apt to perish in a day. It is not the -first time in the history of the world that there has been a brilliant -reign of intelligence among women, though perhaps there was never one -so widely spread as now. Why have they ended in more or less violent -reactions? We may not be able to answer the question satisfactorily, -but it gives us food for reflection.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>The most remarkable, though by no means the only, precedent we have for -a social organization planned by women on a basis of the intellect, was -the French literary salon of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. -These women had relatively as much intelligence as we have, and -possibly more power. It must be taken into consideration that they were -remote from us by race, religion, and political régime, as well as by -several generations of time, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</span> that their spirit, aims, and methods -were as unlike ours as their points of view. But that which they did -on traditional lines and a small scale we are doing on new lines and -a very large scale. Their intellectual life found its outlet in the -salon, as ours does in the club. These equally represent the active -influence of women in their respective ages. Both have resulted in a -mania for knowledge, a change of ideals, a radical revolution in social -life, and an unprecedented increase in the authority of women. As they -have certain tendencies and dangers in common, it may be of interest to -trace a few points of resemblance and contrast between them; also to -glance at the elements which have gone into the club and are making it -so considerable a factor in American life.</p> - -<p>The salon, like the club, was founded and led by clever women in -the interests of culture, both literary and social; but, unlike the -club, it was devoted to bringing into relief the talents of men. The -difference, so far as manners are concerned, is a fundamental one. It -would never have occurred to the women of that age to band together -for self-improvement. If they had given the matter a thought, it would -not have seemed to them likely to come in that way; still less would -it have occurred to them that this mode of doing things could be of -any service in bettering the world or their own position. Rousseau, -who wrote so many fine phrases<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</span> about liberty, and left women none at -all, not even the small privilege of protesting against injustice, -said that they were “made to please men”; and it is safe to say that -the Frenchwomen had no scheme of life apart from men, until they were -ready to go into seclusion for prayer and penance and preparation for -the next world. They accepted the fact that men had the ordering of -affairs, and that they could make their own influence felt only by -acting through them. “What is the difference whether women rule, or -the rulers are guided by women?” said Aristotle. “If the power is in -their hands, the result is the same.” It was simply a question of the -best way of ruling the rulers. In this case the rulers were of a race -that has not only a great liking for women in the concrete, but a -great admiration for woman in the abstract. So long as her gifts are -consecrated to his interest and pleasure, the Frenchman never objects -to them—indeed, he is disposed to pay much homage to them. In the -interest of some one else, or even in her own, it is another matter. -They might be inconvenient. But in this new kingdom of the salon he was -quite willing to accord her the supremacy, since she gave him the place -of honor and furnished an effective background for his talents without -too much parading her own. He had only to shine and be applauded. What -more could he desire?</p> - -<p>Naturally, under such conditions, among the first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</span> of her arts was -that of making things agreeable. If she had any fine moral lessons -to inculcate, she gave them in the form of sugared pills that were -pleasant to take. In her category of virtues the social ones were -uppermost; but they were the means to an end, and this end must not -be lost sight of. Her special mission was to correct coarse manners -and bad morals, as well as to secure due recognition for talent; but -she went about it in her own way. It may be said that, as a rule, the -Frenchwoman is much less interested in <em>what</em> is done than in -<em>how</em> it is done. In the early days of the salons she concerned -herself little, if at all, with theories and grave social problems; -but she did concern herself very much with questions of taste and -manners, the refinements of language and literature, the subtleties -of sentiment, the dignity of converse between men and women. Nor did -she bring to these questions an untrained mind. If she did not make -so much of a business of improving it as we do, she did not neglect -private study and the reading of the best books, which, though few, -were undiluted. “It gives dull colors to the mind to have no taste -for solid reading,” said <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> de Sévigné, who delighted in Montaigne -and Pascal, Tacitus and Vergil, with various other classics which are -not exactly the food for frivolity. These women did not always spell -correctly, and would have declined altogether to write a paper on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</span> -“Science of Government” or the “Philosophy of Confucius,”—subjects -which the school-girls of to-day feel quite competent to treat,—but -they showed surprising clearness and penetration in their criticisms -of literature and manners. The coteries which formed an audience for -Corneille, sympathized with the exalted thought of Pascal and Arnauld, -helped to modify and polish the maxims of La Rochefoucauld,—as those -which, a century or so later, discussed the tragedies of Voltaire -or the philosophy of Rousseau with men of genius who would have had -small patience with platitudes,—needed no lowering of levels to suit -their taste or comprehension. They were held firmly to fine literary -ideals. All they asked was simplicity of statement, and this was made a -fashion, to the lasting benefit of French literature.</p> - -<p>It is true that the movement of the salon was in the direction of a -brilliant social as well as a brilliant intellectual life; but to fuse -such varied materials, to unite men of action and men of letters, -nobles and philosophers, statesmen and poets, people within the pale -and people outside of it, in a harmonious society, presided over by -women who set up new standards and new codes of manners, meant more -than intelligence, more than social charm. It involved diplomacy of a -high order, which implies flexibility, penetration, and the subtler -qualities of the intellect, as well as tact, sympathy, and knowledge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</span> -of men. This was notably an outgrowth of the salon, where women owed -much of their influence to a quick perception of the fine shades of -temperament, genius, interest, and passion through which the world is -swayed. The result of such training was a mind singularly lucid, great -administrative ability, and a character full of the intangible quality -that we call charm. If it was a trifle weak as to moral fiber, this -may be largely laid to the standards of the time, which were not ours. -<abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> du Deffand put the philosophy of her age and race into an epigram -when she said that “the virtues are superior to the sentiments, but not -so agreeable.” Both temperament and education led these women toward -Hellenic ideals. The latter-day woman is inclined to look upon their -methods as trivial and their attitude as humiliating; but, whatever we -may think of their point of view, we must admit their masterly ability -in making vital changes for the better, and attaining a position of -influence which we have hardly yet secured for ourselves. They did much -more than form society, create a code of manners, and set the fashions, -which we are apt to look upon as their special province. They refined -the language, stimulated talent, gave fresh life to literature, exacted -a new respect for women, and held political as well as social and -academic honors in their hands.</p> - -<p>If they sometimes dipped into affairs of state in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</span> support of their -friends, and with a too incidental reference to the interests of the -State, I am not sure that even the men of our own time are absolutely -free from a personal tinge of the same sort, without the saving grace -of altruism. At all events, in the pursuit of a better order of things, -they took the pleasant path around the mountain rather than the -doubtful and untrodden path over it, which, since they could not go -over it if they tried, was, to my thinking, the wiser way.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>But other times, other conditions and other methods. It was a long step -from these fine ladies in rouge and ruffles to the earnest American -women of high aims and simpler lives who, not far from thirty years -ago, began seriously to group themselves in clubs for social fellowship -and mental culture. The difference is equally marked, now that these -gatherings are numbered by thousands. It is more vital than a variation -in manners, as it lies in the character of the two races.</p> - -<p>The club had no prestige of a class behind it, and concerned itself -little with traditions. It was a far more radical departure from the -old order than the salon, which, though it established a new social -basis, did it through delicate compromises that left the aristocratic -spirit intact. It was only in its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</span> later days that the iconoclasts -invaded it, to some extent, and made it a sort of hotbed for the -propagation of democratic theories which seemed quite harmless until, -one day, a spark set them ablaze, and the generation that had played -with them was swept to destruction. The club was democratic from the -foundation. It did not revolve round men of letters, or men of any -class. There was no man, or influence of man, behind it—no man in the -vista. It does not aim to bring into relief the talents of men, but -the talents of women who had come, perhaps, to wish a little glory on -their own account. There was no longer an outlet for their activities -in the salon, which belonged neither to the genius of the age nor the -genius of the race. The Anglo-Saxon man is not preëminently a social -being, and though he has not been entirely neglected in the matter of -vanity or personal susceptibility, he has rather less of either than -his Gallic compeers. Nor is he so amenable, either by temperament or -training, to the delicate arts that make social life agreeable. Half a -century or so ago, the American, in whose chivalrous regard for women -we take so much pride, was in the habit of saying many fine things -about them in what he was pleased to call the sphere God had assigned -them; indeed, he went so far as to offer a great deal of theoretical -incense to them as household divinities, with special and very human -limitations as to privileges. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</span> he frowned distinctly upon any -intellectual tastes or aspirations. His attitude was tersely and -modestly expressed in Tennyson’s couplet:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -She knows but matters of the house,<br /> -And he, he knows a thousand things.<br /> -</p> - -<p>This master of diverse knowledge would have smiled at the notion of -finding either profit or amusement in meeting women for the purpose of -conversation on the plane of the intellect. The few rare exceptions -only emphasize this fact. “A woman, if she have the misfortune of -knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can,” said Jane -Austen. We are far from that time; but men of affairs even now find -literary talks in the drawing-room tiresome, and persistently stay -away. Thoughts, too, had become a commodity with a market value, and -men of letters no longer found their pleasure or interest in wasting -them on limited coteries. They preferred sending them out to a larger -audience, at so much a page, while they smoked and chatted more at -their ease among themselves at their clubs. Whether they did not find -women inspiring,—which, under such conditions, is quite possible,—or -did not care to be inspired in that way, the rôle of inspirer was -clearly ended. The few efforts to take up the fallen scepter of the -salon proved futile in intellectual prestige, though they may have -served to while away some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</span> pleasant hours. A society based upon wealth -without the traditions of culture is apt to smother in accessories the -delicacy of insight and the esprit which were the life of the salons. -On the other hand, those who pose as apostles of plain living and high -thinking make the mistake of ignoring the imagination altogether, and -too often serve their feasts of reason without any sauces at all, which -fact should probably be laid to the account of the race that takes its -diversion as seriously as its work. After all, one cannot say “Let us -have esprit,” and have it, any more than one can say, “Let us have -charm,” and put it on like a garment.</p> - -<p>But the women of forty or fifty years ago lacked much more than a -social outlet for their talents and aspirations. They had no outlet of -any sort beyond charity and the fireside. The Frenchwomen had little, -if any, more real freedom, possibly not so much in some directions: -but rank brought them deference and consideration; the age of chivalry -had put them on a pedestal. It may have been a bit theoretical, but -an illusory power is better than none at all, as it has a certain -prestige. If they were queens without a very substantial kingdom, they -had, at least, the privileges, as well as the responsibilities, of high -positions, and shone with something more than reflected glory. Then -their talents were too valuable to be ignored, as they were the best of -purveyors to Gallic ambitions. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</span> Roman Church, too, was far-seeing -when it provided an outlet for their surplus energies and emotions. If -they had no fireside of their own, or the world pressed heavily upon -them, they could retire from it, and hope for places of influence, even -of power, in some of the various religious orders. In any case, there -were peace and a dignified refuge. But it is a noteworthy fact that the -Reformation left to women all the sacrifices of their religion, and -none of its outward honors or consolations. If the philosophers had no -message of freedom for them, still less was it found on Puritan soil. -“Women are frail, impatient, feeble, and foolish,” said John Knox, who -was far from being a model of patience himself, and seems to have been -singularly swayed by these weak, inconsequent creatures above whom he -asserts that man is placed “as God is above the angels.” Milton has -left us in no doubt as to his position regarding them:</p> - -<p class="poetry p0"> -My author and dispenser, what thou bidst<br /> -Unargued I obey: so God ordains;<br /> -God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more<br /> -Is woman’s happiest knowledge and her praise.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Such was the Puritan gospel of liberty as applied to women. John Knox -and Milton joined in the chorus that glorified their vassalage, while -Calvin added a cordial refrain, with a prudent reservation as to queens -and princesses.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</span></p> - -<p>It is needless to dwell upon this phase of a past the ideals of -which are as dead to us as the goddesses of Greece and the heroines -of the Nibelungenlied. It has been sufficiently emphasized already, -and concerns us here only as it shows us the spirit under which our -grandmothers were born and bred. It cannot be denied that they were a -wise, strong race, rearing thinkers and statesmen who have left few -worthy successors, though they did not spend much time in discussing -the best methods of training children, were better versed in domestic -than social economics, and doubtless had misty ideas about Buddhism -and the ultimate destiny of Woman. It may be superfluous, also, to say -that many of them had occasion to think little of their restrictions, -and would have resented the suggestion that they had any which were -not good for them, if not positively desirable. Limitations, even -hardships, do not necessarily imply misery. People are curiously -flexible, and get a sort of happiness from trying to fit themselves to -conditions which, though unpleasant, are inevitable. Then, conditions -are not always hard because they have unlimited possibilities in that -direction. One may even wear a chain and ball quite comfortably so long -as one stands still, or if the chain be a silken one and the ball cast -in pleasant places. The difficulty is that one does not always wish to -stand still; nor is it always possible, whatever the inclination<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</span> may -be. The march of events is irresistible, and one is often forced to a -change of position to escape being trampled upon. Besides, in a society -that is based upon the right of people to do as they choose within -certain very flexible limits, one half is not likely to continue to do, -without a protest, what the other half says it ought to do, when it is -compelled to take its full share of burdens and rather more than its -full share of sacrifices, without any choice as to cakes and ale. These -daughters of liberty held no longer the places of honor accorded to -rank, and were not only without visible dignities of any kind, except -as the palest of satellites, but were largely, if not altogether, -excluded from the intellectual life of their husbands. They were told -to be content with the dignity of maternity, while they were virtually -shut out from the things that consecrate maternity. It was under such -conditions that the woman’s club was born. Men had already set up clubs -of their own, and women had no choice but to do the same thing, or -drift into the hopeless position of their respectable Athenian sisters -of the classic age, who lived in fashionable but ignorant seclusion, -while their brilliant husbands sought more congenial companionship -elsewhere.</p> - -<p>But women did not plan a club for amusement, as men have usually -done: they planned it for mental improvement. It was not without a -prophecy of the coming time that the characters of our grandmothers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</span> -were trained in so severe a school. They were the reverse of -pleasure-loving, and took even their diversions seriously. The central -point of their lives was an inexorable sense of duty. Its twin trait -was energy. With a radical change of ideals their daughters did not -lose these traits. A religious devotion to one set of aims was simply -transferred to another. The road to their new Utopia was knowledge. -All things would come in its train—culture, independence, happiness, -the power to help a suffering world. It was this leaven of Puritan -traditions which gave the club an element that was not found in the -salon. The American woman may lack a little of that elusive quality, -half sensibility, half wit, which makes so much of the Frenchwoman’s -charm; she may lack, too, her perfection of tact, her inborn -genius for form and measure: but she has what the Frenchwoman has -not—something that belongs to a race in which the ethical overshadows -the artistic. It is devotion to principles rather than to persons, to -essentials rather than to forms. Her pursuit of knowledge may often be -superficial, from the immensity of the field she lays out for herself; -but her aims are serious, and lead her toward moral and sociological -questions, rather than matters of sentiment and taste.</p> - -<p>The woman’s club is not a school of manners, and concerns itself little -with the fine art of living. It claims to instruct, not to amuse—or, -rather, it seeks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</span> amusement in that way; and it is more interested in -doing things than in the modes of doing them. It does not rely upon -diplomacy to gain its ends, but upon the wisdom and justice of the -ends, appealing to the reason instead of the imagination. It also -deals more with masses than with individuals. No doubt, the necessity -of going outside the realm of personal feeling in managing public or -semi-public affairs helps to give the poise and self-command which go -far toward offsetting the intensity of temperament that has always made -the discussion of vital questions so perilous in gatherings of women, -though we have occasion enough to know that wisdom and sanity do not -invariably preside at gatherings of men, even supposably wise ones. The -qualities fostered by the club are energy, earnestness, independence, -versatility, and—not exactly intellectual conscience, which implies -traditional standards, but a sense of intellectual duty that is not -quite the same thing. All this is remote from the spirit of the salon, -with its social codes and conventions, its graceful amenities, its -sparkling wit, its play of sentiment, its diplomatic reserves, and its -clear intelligence working through endless private channels toward a -new order of things. It points to the club, not as a conservator of -social traditions, or a creator of social standards, or a tribunal of -criticism, but as a literary and political training-school, a maker -of citizens with a broader outlook into the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</span> world of affairs, a -powerful engine of moral force. Perhaps its greatest direct value at -present lies in this moral force, which is the outgrowth of centuries -of sternly moral heritage, and runs not only through philanthropic -channels, but through all the avenues of life.</p> - -<p>Of scarcely less importance are the impulse and direction the club has -given to the administrative talents of women—talents which mark their -special strength, and are far too valuable to be ignored at a time when -all the wisdom of the world is needed, in private as well as in public -affairs, to guide it safely through its threatening storms.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>But it is of the intellectual and social value of the club that I -wish more especially to speak here. It is often asked by thoughtful -foreigners why American women, who are free to pursue any career they -like, with ample privileges of education and the universal reign of the -literary club, have produced no writers of the first order, measured -even by the standards of their own sex. One finds many clever ones, and -a few able ones, but no Jane Austen, no George Eliot, no <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> de Staël, -no Mrs. Browning. This may be partly due to the fact that we have not -yet passed the period of going to school. It is possible that another -generation, reared in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</span> stimulating atmosphere of this, may give -us some rare flower of genius, if its mental force be not weakened by -the general pouring-in process, or dissipated in the modern tendency -toward limitless expansion and dilution. But club life in itself is not -directly favorable to creative genius. The qualities of the imagination -never flourish in crowds, though a certain order of talent does -flourish there—a talent that brings quicker returns and more immediate -consideration, at far less cost. The salon made brilliant and versatile -women who were noted for conversation and diplomacy; it made charming -women who ruled men and affairs through rare gifts of administration, -tempered with intelligent sympathy and tact; it made executive women, -and finely critical women, and masterful women, who left a strong and -lasting impression upon the national life: but, though they lived in -the main intellectual current of their time, stimulated and inspired -its leaders, and had much to do with its direction, they seldom made a -serious effort in literature themselves. The few who have left a name -in letters only illustrate the fact that individual genius is a flower -of another growth. <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> de Staël would have been a great woman under -any conditions; but we owe all of her best work in literature to her -exile from the social life of Paris, where her thoughts had no time -to crystallize. The gift of <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> de Sévigné was nearly allied to a -conversational<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</span> one, but her mind was matured and deepened during years -of seclusion under the lonely skies of Brittany. <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> de la Fayette -left the world of the salons early, to find her literary inspiration -in the solitude of ill health and the stimulating friendship of La -Rochefoucauld. <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> du Châtelet, whose talent was of another color, -wrote on philosophy and translated Newton, not in the breezy air of -the salons, but in the tranquil shades of Cirey and the less tranquil -society of Voltaire. There were other women who wrote, though they -usually chose to hide a light which was not a very brilliant one, and -to shine in other ways. It may be that it was the salon which made -these women possible, as it created an intellectual atmosphere in which -thought blossomed into intense and vivid life; but its direct tendency -was to foster in women talents of a quite different sort from creative -ones. It developed to a high degree, however, the fine discrimination -and critical sense which led Rousseau to say that “a point of morals -would not be better discussed in a society of philosophers than in that -of a pretty woman of Paris.”</p> - -<p>The clubs have hardly lived long enough to justify a final judgment as -to their outcome; but the best writers of our own time have not been, -as a rule, actively identified with them, though a few, whose minds -were already formed in another school, have had much to do in founding -and leading them.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</span> The many able women who have given their time and -talents to the clubs have oftener merged their literary gifts, if they -had them, into work of another sort, not less valuable in its way, but -less tangible and less individual. It is the work of the general, who -plans, organizes, sifts values, adapts means to definite ends, but who -lives too much in the swift current of affairs to give heed to the -voice of the imagination, or to master the art of literary form which -alone makes for thought a permanent abiding-place.</p> - -<p>But if the clubs do not produce great creative writers,—who, after -all, are born, not made,—they furnish a multitude of ready ones, and -an army of readers who are likely to have a dominant voice in the -taste of the next generation. The result is certain to be—indeed, is -already—a voluminous literature. The quantity of a thing, however, -does not insure its fine quality; oftener the reverse. Naturally, -the question of standards becomes one of grave importance, unless we -are ready to accept the rule of the average, which more than offsets -the rise of the lowest by the fall of the highest, with an ultimate -tendency downward. We grow in the direction of our ideals, and these -are measured by the height of our standards. That many of the clubs -have exalted ideals, and are doing a great deal of valuable work, is -not a matter of doubt. It is equally certain that some of them work -with a zeal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</span> that is not according to knowledge, through lack of -capable leaders, and through a fallacy, nowhere so fatal as in art and -letters, that the wish to do a thing is equivalent to a talent for -doing it.</p> - -<p>There is no doubt that American women read and discuss books enough. It -may be that we read too many. One may devour books as one does bonbons, -and with little more profit. Nor is there any doubt that we write -papers enough and hear talks enough on every imaginable subject, from -the antediluvians to Imperialism and the Chinese question. To whatever -all this mental activity may lead, it does not always lead to culture, -even of the mind, and I take the word, unqualified, to include much -more. It does lead to a broad diffusion of intelligence, but there is -an essential difference between intelligence and culture. Paradoxical -as it may seem, it is quite possible, in running after the one, to run -away from the other. The woman who belongs to ten or twelve clubs in -order to be of the new age, and to learn enough of all sorts of things -to be able to talk about them, may find her social compensation and a -harmless way of amusing herself, if she likes that sort of amusement; -but if she aims at mental culture, that is another affair. It is not -a matter of facts and phrases and formulas that one goes in search -of, but an inward growth, the result of long and loving companionship -with the best thought of the world, which is not at all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</span> same -thing as a flitting acquaintance with a multitude of subjects, or -the ability to talk glib platitudes about the latest fads in art or -science or literature. Such companionship is found to only a limited -extent in gatherings of any sort; but stimulus and inspiration may be -found there, and here lies the true intellectual value of the club. To -thoughtful and sincere women, who have a certain amount of training and -natural gifts of assimilation, with small facilities for contact with -the thinking world, it is a priceless boon. But to narrow and untrained -intellects that like to flit from one thing to another, content with -a flying glimpse and a telling point or two which will go far toward -making them seem wise to the uninitiated, there are large possibilities -in the way of what we may call imitation culture. It is simply another -outlet for the ambition of the parvenu who puts on costly clothes and -rare jewels in the comfortable assurance that “fine feathers make fine -birds.”</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>It will, I think, be conceded that the special distinction of the -American woman does not lie in her intellect or her learning. Brilliant -gifts and attainments, to a certain point, may indeed be exceptionally -frequent; but they have often been equaled, if not exceeded, in the -past. It lies, rather, in her facility for utilizing knowledge and -adapting it to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</span> visible ends. To a combination of many talents has -been added one to make them all available. It is essentially a talent -for “arriving,” in other words, a talent for success, either with or -without intellectual ability of a high order, and consists largely in -a keen insight as to serviceable values, with a marked aptness for -catching salient points and using them to the best advantage. It is -a variation of the same talent that has made our country the wonder -of the century. In men we call it business sagacity, but it may find -an outlet in many other channels besides the amassing of fortunes. In -women we call it cleverness, and its shades are endless. It makes the -success of the philanthropist, the leader, and the administrator of the -household, as well as the fortune of the social aspirant, and sometimes -of the charlatan. In itself it has no ethical quality. It is simply -an instrument, and its value depends upon the end for which it is -used. But the result of it is that no women in the world have so much -versatility, or make a little knowledge go so far.</p> - -<p>On the social side this talent is invaluable, and it is one of the -most piquant charms of the American woman, when the sharp corners of -provincialism are rubbed off. On the intellectual side, however, though -it gives an adaptable quality to genuine scholarship, it drifts easily -into superficiality and affectation. I do not mean to say that the club -is responsible for the fact that a hundred charlatans<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</span> follow in the -wake of every real talent, as a hundred Tartufes in the wake of every -saint—when saints are in fashion; but it <em>is</em> responsible when -it takes a bit of colored glass for a gem. It is sure, also, to suffer -from the pretension of those who illy represent it. The salon, which -made things of the intellect a fashion, received its worst blow in the -house of its friends. Madelon, in “Les Précieuses Ridicules,” looked -upon life as a failure if she chanced to miss the last romance, or -portrait, or madrigal, or sonnet; and Cathos declared that she should -die of shame if any one asked her about something new which she had -not seen. The pen of Molière sketched the crude copy of a fine thing -in colors too vivid to be mistaken, and henceforth the copy stood for -the thing. The world had its undiscriminating laugh at the salons; -good taste blushed at the company in which it found itself; and the -interests of intelligent women were put back for a generation. It was -not the first time that a good cause has suffered from its too zealous -followers, nor is it likely to be the last. The world moves in circles, -even if there be a spiral tendency upward, as the optimists amiably -assure us.</p> - -<p>Doubtless we fancy ourselves much wiser than those seventeenth-century -précieuses whose imitators did them so much harm. Certainly we put more -seriousness into our pretensions. But we have our own little faults and -affectations, though<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</span> they are not precisely the same. We do not devote -ourselves to portraits, or sonnets, or madrigals. We do not moralize in -maxims, good or bad, nor do we pretend to be sentimental; indeed, we -pretend not to be, if we are. Sentiment is out of fashion. The modern -Philaminte may look with chilling pity upon her belated sister who -has the courage to like Tennyson and Mrs. Browning, when she ought to -prefer Ibsen and the symbolists; but she is not likely to faint at a -common word, or dismiss her cook for a solecism. Our foibles are of -quite another sort. Instead of painting little pictures on a small -canvas, we take a very large canvas and pad our pictures to fit it. We -do not map out the passions on a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">carte du tendre</i>, or give our -valuable time to the discussion of a high-flown Platonism which cradles -a woman in rose-leaves, while her lover waits for her a dozen years -or so because it is vulgar to marry; but we map out the fields of the -intellect, extending from protoplasm to the fixed stars, and undertake -to traverse the whole as confidently as we start for a morning walk. -If we cannot get over the ground fast enough, we can take an electric -train and catch flying glimpses sufficient to give us a pleasant -consciousness of being intelligent and quite modern.</p> - -<p>Such vast aims are, no doubt, praiseworthy, and reflect great credit -on the clubs which have demonstrated so clearly the expansive quality -of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</span> feminine mind; but they are also fatiguing, and suggest the -possibility that these same clubs are pushing us a little too fast -and too far. One is often forced to the conclusion that we should do -more if we did not try to do quite so much. It is very well to follow -Emerson’s advice to “hitch your wagon to a star”; but he never proposed -hitching it to all the constellations at once. When I hear the Greek -poets, the Italian painters, the English novelists, and the German -masters disposed of at a symposium in a single afternoon, as I did not -long ago, I wonder if the rare quality of mental distinction which made -the glory of the Immortals will exist at all in the future; whether we -shall not build tents for our thoughts instead of temples; whether, -indeed, the finest flavor of thought will not be as hopelessly lost as -the perfume of the flowers that are scattered in indiscriminate heaps -along the highways to show their quantity.</p> - -<p>Nor is there less danger in attempting too large things than too -many things. It is certainly courageous for a woman who knows little -of history, less of philosophy, and nothing at all about the art of -writing, to undertake the Herculean task of preparing a paper on “The -Pagan Philosophers and their Schools.” With the best efforts, she will -have only a few outlines of facts and second-hand opinions, which might -have a certain value if either she or her audience proposed to fill -them out. But<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</span> this is precisely what the modern woman who wishes to -know a little of everything has no time to do, even if she have the -inclination. There is to be a similar outline of Greek literature the -next week, one of the middle ages the week after, and so on to the end -of the season, when she has a fine collection of skeletons, with no -flesh and blood on any of them, if, indeed, the skeletons themselves -have not vanished into thin air. The Forty Immortals would shrink with -dismay from the magnitude of such a scheme. The worst of it is that one -comes to have a false sense of perspective, and to judge works of the -intellect by their size instead of their quality—like the pretentious -but ignorant woman who gravely remarked, after hearing a brilliant -talk from a brilliant man on Irish wit, that she “did not find it very -improving.” There is, too, the natural result of calling things by the -wrong names, and mistaking the thinnest of veneering for culture.</p> - -<p>It is by no means necessary, or even desirable, that every woman -belonging to a club should be a savante; indeed, considering the -number of the clubs, I am not sure that this would not bring about a -more deplorable state of affairs than if there were none at all. It -may even be better for the average woman to know a little about many -things than all about one thing, if she has a certain discrimination -as to values, and the fine sense of proportion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</span> which is the result of -more or less mental training. But it <em>is</em> desirable that each one -should have at least a little knowledge of what she undertakes to write -or talk about. Why a woman who might have something to say concerning -certain phases of our colonial life should be asked to write a paper -on Greek art, of which she has not even read, much less thought, or -one who is more or less familiar with various pleasant corners of -English literature should be called upon to entertain her hearers -on the Italian Renaissance, of which she knows nothing whatever, is -one of the mysteries of the new era. “I am so glad to see you,” said -one woman to a friend whom she met on the street. “I have a paper to -write on the symbolists. You know all about such things. What are the -symbolists, anyway?” We are told that when the blind lead the blind, -both are likely to come to grief. It is needless to say that these -faults are not universal, as there is a great deal of careful study and -fine thought in the clubs, but they are sufficiently common to be noted -among things to be avoided.</p> - -<p>A still more serious danger lies in the endless multiplication of -clubs, which offers an irresistible temptation to those who like to -cull a little here, and a little there, without too exacting effort -in any direction. They may all be valuable in themselves, but because -it is good to belong to one or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</span> two active clubs of different aims, -it does not follow that it is good to belong to a dozen; and I know -of a woman who claims with pride that she belongs to twenty-two! -“Moderation is the charm of life,” said Jean Paul, and one sees with -regret how little of that sort of charm there is left; indeed, I am -not sure that it has not ceased to be considered a charm. We may find -a note of warning in the later days of the great salons. The social -life of the eighteenth century reads like a page of our own, with its -whirl of <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">conversazioni</i>, its talks on science, its experiments -in chemistry, physiology, psychology, its mania for discussing -literature, art, and philosophy. The literary salons had blossomed -into great centers of intellectual brilliancy, of which all this life -was the natural pendant. It was the fashion then, as now, for women to -concern themselves with affairs of state; to talk of the rights of man, -though they had less to say than we have about the rights of woman; to -dream of a social millennium, which they were doomed to wade through -rivers of blood without reaching. They too invaded the secrets of the -laboratory, and even the surgeon’s domain. We hear of a young countess -who carried a skeleton in her trunk when she went on a journey, “as -one might carry a book to read,” in order to study anatomy. These -women, like ourselves, aimed to know a little of everything. They too -were fired with the passion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</span> for intelligence and the passion for -multitudes. With the craving for novelties came the ever-growing need -of a stronger spice to make them palatable. In this carnival of the -mind they lost their faith and simplicity, loved with their brains -instead of their hearts, forgot their natural duties, and found natural -ties irksome. Longing for rest without the power to rest, they suffered -from maladies of the nerves, and were devoured with the ennui of -exhaustion. Life lost its equilibrium, and the result was inevitable. -The reaction from the restlessness of an intellect that is not fed from -inner sources, but finds its stimulus and theater alike in the world, -was toward an exaggeration of the sensibilities. “If I could become -calm, I should believe myself on a wheel,” said one whose brilliancy -had dazzled a generation. This fatal “too much” was not the least of -the causes that lost to women the empire they had won. All movements -are measured, in the end, by a standard of common sense, and reactions -are in proportion to the deviation from a just mean. The revolution -which brought liberty to men, or at least shifted the burdens to -some one else, deprived women of what they had. They were forbidden -to organize, and sent back to the fireside and cradles. The republic -swept away from them the last vestige of political power, and gave them -nothing in the place of their lost social kingdom. They were forced to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</span> -speak with hushed voices in hidden coteries. Of these there were always -a few, but their prestige was gone. “There is one thing which is not -French,” said Napoleon; “it is that a woman can do as she pleases.” And -he proceeded straightway to give point to his theory by exiling the -ablest woman in France and silencing all the rest.</p> - -<p>We are apt to take high moral ground on the frivolity of these women, -and to pride ourselves on our superiority because we have such a -serious way of amusing ourselves—so serious, indeed, that we forget -there can be anything so questionable as frivolity about it. To be -sure, the clubs are free from many of the faults of the salons. They do -not put social conventions in the place of principles, nor substitute -an esthetic conscience for an ethical one; nor do they drift at all in -the direction of moral laxity. A movement of the intellect, too, which -has its roots in the character is more likely to last than one that -hangs on the suffrage of those it was meant to please and glorify. But -we have the same mental unrest, the same thirst for excitement, the -same feverish activity, the same indisposition to stay at home with -our thoughts. A fever of the intellect may be preferable to a fever -of the senses, and less harmful as an epidemic, but it tends equally -toward exhaustion and disintegration. It is not so much a question of -morals as a question of balance. The modern fashion, however, of doing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</span> -everything, even to thinking, in masses, is not altogether due to a -fever of the intellect, any more than it was a hundred years ago. Much -of it is doubtless due to a genuine love of knowledge, much of it to -a haunting desire to be doing something in the outside world, though -the thing done be possibly not at all worth the doing; but a great -deal of it is due to a sort of hyperæsthesia of the social sentiment, -or the mental restlessness that betrays a lack of poise and depth in -the character. We call it the spirit of the age—the innocent phantom -which has to bear the burden of most of our sins, and is gathering -so resistless a force that the strongest and wisest are swept along, -despite themselves, in its accelerating course. But the spirit of the -age is only the sum of individual forces. It needs only a sufficient -number of wise counter-forces to temper and modify it.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>A word as to another phase of the club. We have seen that the salons -broke through the exclusive lines of rank, and created a society -based largely upon standards of the intellect, with a meeting-point -of good manners. The woman’s club has done a similar work toward -preventing the crystallization of American society on the basis of -wealth. Its standards are professedly of the mind, though they are -flexible enough to include a wide range of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</span> ability, aspiration, -and small distinctions of various sorts. It would be too much to -say that these elements are fused into anything like a homogeneous -society; but they have a recognized point of contact that suffices for -literary or charitable aims, though not altogether for social ones, -which demand the larger contact of personal sympathies, and a certain -community of language that comes within the province of manners. The -salons, however, were wise enough to establish and maintain the social -equilibrium between men and women, while the clubs seem to be rapidly -destroying it. Outside of a limited dinner-giving, amusement-loving -circle, it is undeniable that our social life is centering largely -in clubs composed exclusively of women, whose tastes are diverging -more and more from those of men, and in the functions growing out of -them. To these we may add a few receptions with a sprinkling of men, -and an endless procession of teas and luncheons with no men at all. -Private entertaining of a general character, with its varying flavor of -individuality, seems likely, with many other pleasant things, to become -a memory. If these clubs grew out of a state of affairs in which women -were virtually excluded from the intellectual life of men, we are fast -drifting toward the reverse condition, in which men will have no part -in the intellectual and very little in the social life of women.</p> - -<p>Whether this marked separation of interests beyond<span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</span> a reasonable point -be for the good of either men or women, is a matter of grave doubt. -It is certain that women who are brought into frequent contact with -the minds of men think more clearly and definitely, look at things -in a larger way, and do a finer quality of intellectual work, than -those who have been limited mainly to the companionship of their own -sex. Societies of women are apt to fail in breadth through too much -attention to technicalities out of season, to sacrifice the greater -good to personal prejudices, to emphasize a little brief authority, to -grow hard rather than strong, to become carping and critical without -the clearness of vision that gives a rational basis for criticism. -Nor does the fact that a great many women are superior to these -limitations, and that men are not invariably free from them, affect the -general drift of things. On the other side, it is equally true that men -have done the greatest work under the influence of able women, from the -days of Pericles and the great Greeks who found a fresh inspiration -in the salon of Aspasia, to the brilliant men of modern times, too -numerous to cite here, who have not failed to acknowledge their debt to -feminine judgment and criticism. Men, too, are naturally averse to the -trammels of form, and, left to themselves, rapidly lose the refinement -and courtesy that came in with the social reign of women. While the -best of each is drawn out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</span> through social contact on the plane of the -intellect, the worst is accented by separation.</p> - -<p>Then, aside from the fact that a large part of the happiness of the -world depends upon a certain degree of harmony in the tastes of men -and women, which is not likely to exist if they have utterly divergent -points of social interest, men are an incontestable factor in all -our plans for bettering matters, themselves included. We cannot -fairly claim to constitute more than half of the human family, and, -if we do not make some social compromise, we may share the fate of -the Princess Ida, and see all of our fine schemes melt away like -the fabric of a dream. We are not yet ready to establish an order -of intellectual vestals, though drifting in that direction; and, -since the women’s clubs do really constitute a distinct social life, -why not make them more effective on that side? Why leave all these -possibilities of power in the hands of those who make a business of -amusing themselves? It is a fashion to rail at society as frivolous; -but it is precisely what we make it, and it is ruled by women. If it -tends to grow vapid, and luxurious, and commercial, and artificial, we -have only to plan something as attractive on a finer and more natural -basis. And where do we find a better starting-point than in connection -with the women’s clubs? To be sure, men do not, as a rule, find them -interesting; indeed, they vote them a trifle dull, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</span> that may be -because they have no vital part in them. Then, the fault may lie a -little in the women themselves. There is clearly a flaw somewhere -in our methods or our ideals. In trying to avoid the frivolities of -society, we may fall into the equally fatal error of failing to make -better things attractive, and so permit the busy men of to-day to slip -away altogether from the influence of what many are pleased to call -our finer moral and esthetic sense—to say nothing of what we lose -ourselves. It may be deplorable, but it is still a fact, that truth is -doubly captivating when served with the piquant sauces that make even -error dangerously fascinating. We have to deal with people as they are, -not as we think they ought to be.</p> - -<p>I am not disposed to quote the Frenchwomen of a century or so ago as -models. But there are many points we might take from them in the art -of making a social life on intellectual lines agreeable, as well as a -vital force. When women who are neither young nor beautiful dominate -an age of brilliant men through intellect and tact, it does no harm -to study their methods a little in an age when women of equal talent, -superior education, and finer moral aims succeed to only a limited -extent in doing more than stimulate one another—a good thing to do, -but not final. Those women, too, had old distinctions to reconcile, -and a powerful court for a rival. They had one advantage, as they made -a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</span> cult of esprit, which is a gift of their race, while we make a cult -of knowledge, which may be more substantial, but is less luminous, and -not so available socially. Besides, knowledge is a thing to be acquired -and not caviar to mediocrity, which is apt to use it crudely, and with -pretension. “Let your studies flow into your manners, and your readings -show themselves in your virtues,” said <abbr title="Madame">Mme.</abbr> de Lambert. I am sorry to -say that the typical Frenchwoman of a hundred years ago did not always -take so exalted a view of her duties; but even as a matter of taste -she had too delicate a sense of proportion to merge the woman in the -intellect. She scattered about her the flavor of knowledge rather than -the knowledge itself; which is not so easy, as one does not have the -real flavor of knowledge without the essence of it, and something more. -Rare natural gifts have a distinction of their own, but in ordinary -life what one <em>is</em> counts for more than what one <em>knows</em>, and -the secret of attraction lies rather in the sum of the qualities which -we call character than in the acquirements. A woman may be familiar -with Sanskrit, and calculate the distance of the fixed stars, without -being interesting, or even admirable, as a woman. The main point is to -preserve one’s symmetry, and one’s center of gravity; then, the more -knowledge the better. It may be that the flaw in our ideals lies just -here, and that in the too exclusive pursuit of certain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</span> things fine in -themselves, we neglect other things equally if not more vital.</p> - -<p>No doubt the Frenchwoman did much that she ought not to have done, and -left undone much that she ought to have done, just as we do, though the -things were not precisely the same; we know, too, that the time came -when she did lose her poise, and with it her power. But, with all her -faults, in the days of her glory she never forgot her point of view. -She was rarely aggressive, and, without being too conscious of herself -or her aims, it was a part of her esthetic creed to call out the best -in others. With consummate tact, she crowned her serious gifts with -the gracious ways and gentle amenities that disarmed antagonism and -diffused everywhere a breath of sweetness. She carried with her, too, -the sunshine that springs from an inexhaustible gaiety of heart, and -this was one source of her unfailing charm. Perhaps it was partly why -the literary salon retained its prestige for nearly two hundred years, -and, in spite of its errors, was brilliant and amusing, as well as an -intellectual force, to the end.</p> - -<p>It is far from my intention to repeat the old cry that other days were -better days, and other ways better ways, than ours. We have a life of -our own, and do not wish to copy one that is dead, or to put on manners -that do not fit us. But the essentials of human nature are eternally -the same, and in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</span> bringing new forces to bear upon it we may do well -sometimes to consult the wisdom of the past, to ponder the secret of -its failures as of its successes. It is not a matter of depreciating -our aims or our ways, but of getting the most out of them, perhaps -through some subtle touch that we have missed; also of preserving our -sanity and equilibrium in this new order of things, which tends always -to grow more complex and more bewildering.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker" /> - -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>In a few cases, inconsistent hyphenization was standardized to use the -one more common throughout the text.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_262">Page 262</a>: “set up their household gods” changed to “set up their -household goods”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_346">Page 346</a>: “died at twenty-six” changed to “died at twenty-six.”</p> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOMAN IN THE GOLDEN AGES ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/001.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4c00cf8..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/001.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/002.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/002.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2df3dad..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/002.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/003.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/003.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6c02b65..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/003.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/004.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/004.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b9fe9ca..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/004.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/005.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/005.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8409aff..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/005.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/006.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/006.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 70d4e91..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/006.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/007.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/007.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 307188b..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/007.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/008.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/008.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0147cf1..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/008.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/009.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/009.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index bb3027e..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/009.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/011.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/011.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9e16efb..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/011.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/012.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/012.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8577a85..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/012.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/013.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/013.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7bd3bee..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/013.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/014.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/014.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e71c444..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/014.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/015.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/015.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 44c30d4..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/015.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/016.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/016.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 011e672..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/016.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/017.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/017.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1bc0dad..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/017.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/018.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/018.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 47bd747..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/018.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/019.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/019.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cd2517b..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/019.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/020.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/020.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ee61f4e..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/020.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/021.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/021.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2bc74b2..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/021.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/022.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/022.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5dd1873..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/022.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/023.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/023.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 3bce69c..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/023.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67405-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/67405-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2b181b2..0000000 --- a/old/67405-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null |
