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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-13 14:21:03 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-13 14:21:03 -0800 |
| commit | 7ee4c205af4919feab824421214d2cc11f57c58e (patch) | |
| tree | 456238694d74d686b77e54a93f8f250d1577562a /75366-h | |
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diff --git a/75366-h/75366-h.htm b/75366-h/75366-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2513fec --- /dev/null +++ b/75366-h/75366-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14555 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Woman’s Voice: An Anthology | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +a { + text-decoration: none; +} + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +hr.chap { + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + clear: both; + width: 65%; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +img.w100 { + width: 100%; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; +} + +p { + margin-top: 0.5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +table { + margin: 1em auto 1em auto; + max-width: 40em; + border-collapse: collapse; +} + +tr.letter td { + padding-top: 0.75em; +} + +td { + padding-left: 2.25em; + padding-right: 0.25em; + vertical-align: top; + text-indent: -2em; +} + +.tdc { + text-align: center; + padding: 0.75em 0.25em 0.5em 0.25em; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.tdpg { + vertical-align: bottom; + text-align: right; + white-space: nowrap; +} + +.author { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + font-size: 90%; +} + +.center { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.footnotes { + margin-top: 1em; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.footnote { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.footnote .label { + position: absolute; + right: 84%; + text-align: right; +} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.front-matter { + margin: auto; + max-width: 25em; +} + +.gothic { + font-family: 'Old English Text MT', 'Old English', serif; +} + +.intro-c { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + font-size: 90%; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +.intro { + font-size: 90%; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +.larger { + font-size: 150%; +} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + right: 4%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; +} + +.poetry-container { + text-align: center; +} + +.poetry { + display: inline-block; + text-align: left; +} + +.poetry .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poetry .verse { + padding-left: 3em; +} + +.poetry .indent0 { + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poetry .indent2 { + text-indent: -2em; +} + +.poetry .indent4 { + text-indent: -1em; +} + +.poetry .indent6 { + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.poetry .indent8 { + text-indent: 1em; +} + +.right { + text-align: right; +} + +.section { + margin: auto; + max-width: 30em; +} + +.smaller { + font-size: 80%; +} + +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; +} + +.allsmcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; + text-transform: lowercase; +} + +.titlepage { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 3em; + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker img { + max-width: 100%; + width: auto; + height: auto; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry { + display: block; + margin-left: 1.5em; +} + +.illowp75 {width: 75%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp75 {width: 100%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75366 ***</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_i"></a>[i]</span></p> + +<h1>Woman’s Voice</h1> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ii"></a>[ii]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iii"></a>[iii]</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage larger"><span class="smcap">Woman’s Voice</span><br> +<span class="smaller">AN ANTHOLOGY</span></p> + +<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller"><i>By</i></span><br> +JOSEPHINE CONGER-KANEKO</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp75" id="stratford" style="max-width: 9.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/stratford.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="titlepage">BOSTON<br> +<span class="smcap">The Stratford Company</span><br> +1918</p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller">Copyright 1918<br> +The STRATFORD CO., Publishers<br> +Boston, Mass.</p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller">The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iv"></a>[iv]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_v"></a>[v]</span></p> + +<div class="chapter front-matter"> + +<p class="center larger gothic">Dedicated to</p> + +<p class="center allsmcap">THE SPLENDID WOMEN OF ALL NATIONS AND ALL +AGES WHO HAVE VALIANTLY STRIVEN TOWARD +THE BROADER FIELDS OF THOUGHT AND +ACTIVITY FOR THEIR SISTERS AND +FOR MANKIND AS A WHOLE</p> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a>[vi]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vii"></a>[vii]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="EDITORS_PREFACE">EDITOR’S PREFACE</h2> + +</div> + +<p>Just now, when the world is going through the +most significant period of human history, it is +well that woman’s voice be heard above the tumult. +For upon woman’s activity may rest the salvation of +the race.</p> + +<p>This Anthology is not an attempt at literary effects +so much as it is an attempt to present seriously +woman’s viewpoint of life to a nation standing on +the verge of—it knows not what!</p> + +<p>So new is the voice of woman in the affairs of +life, that in time of stress or panic it must become +insistent to be heard or heeded. One book, by one +woman, regardless of its strength or purpose, could +not have the effect that one book by “crowds” of +women could have. That is why this volume has come +into existence. It literally is the voice of “crowds of +women.”</p> + +<p>Those whose words are quoted here are representative +women, leaders in their various organizations, +representing hundreds of thousands of individuals. +Many of them are among our foremost writers, +artists, teachers, actors, orators and organizers—some +of them combining several of these qualities.</p> + +<p>“Woman’s Voice” might easily have been two +or three times its present size, but that would have +meant a publication too expensive to reach the thousands +of readers of moderate means to whom this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii"></a>[viii]</span> +work is an immediate, special appeal. Future editions +of this Anthology will be revised and enlarged +until we finally shall have a perfect volume which +will take its place in every home as a standard household +classic, along with those other books of strong +human appeal which every home possesses.</p> + +<p>Much of the material in “Woman’s Voice” is +covered by copyright, and special permission has been +granted the editor to reproduce it here. Many very +good things were taken from exchanges (more or +less obscure publications), and in such cases the +original source of their appearance was difficult to +trace. However, in each instance attempt has been +made to give credit where it is due, and the editor +hopes she has made no serious failures in this respect.</p> + +<p>The many publishers and publications, as well +as authors and artists represented here, have been +very kind in their co-operation to make “Woman’s +Voice” a success, by granting permission to use these +selections from their output. Special mention is +given them elsewhere.</p> + +<p>It is the editor’s hope that this volume will circulate +very largely in the small towns and country +districts of our nation. I want the millions of women +who are feeling, and thinking, but who are as yet +inarticulate upon the larger affairs of life, to find +their need and their voice in this volume. I want +that great isolated sisterhood, many of whom have +never read a book by a woman on social questions, to +have this volume in their homes—and always near +at hand; on the sewing table, or in the kitchen cabinet, +where it may be referred to between cake-baking and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix"></a>[ix]</span> +bread-making times. I hope the children in these +homes will memorize the verses in this book, and recite +them at the Friday afternoon “Literaries,” in +their schools.</p> + +<p>I hope the club women will make constant use +of this volume in their club work—in the preparation +of programs, and in roll calls. For the things +quoted here deal with the most vital issues of the +times, as well as with the most intimate personal +emotions and needs of the individual, and are presented +by responsible and capable women. Also, they +show the growth of race progress through woman’s +efforts—how she has struggled and won educational +rights; how she has struggled and won political +rights; how she has struggled and won matrimonial +rights, and rights for her children, and for the world’s +workers. How she is struggling still to bring about +an ever higher and fuller life for today and for the +future.</p> + +<p>And in all this she needs your help, you in your +isolated corners; for not until every nook and cranny +is active and comes to the front, can our nation attain +to those heights for which our womankind is so +valiantly working.</p> + +<p>When woman’s voice is heard the world around, +mankind will hearken to her cries and heed them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x"></a>[x]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xi"></a>[xi]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX_OF_AUTHORS">INDEX OF AUTHORS</h2> + +</div> + +<table> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Adams, Abigail,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Addams, Jane,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_28">28</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Alexander, Mrs. R. P.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Allen, Carrie W.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Allen, Elizabeth Akers,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Anthony, Katherine,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Anthony, Susan B.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Archer, Ruby,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Atherton, Gertrude,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Austin, Mary,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Bachi, Mme,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Barker, Elsa,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Barnard, Anne Morton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Barnes, Florence Elberta,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Barnhart, Nora Elizabeth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Barnum, Gertrude,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Barr, Amelia E.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Bartlett, Lucy Re,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Barton, C. Josephine,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Bass, Mrs. George,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Beacon, Virginia Cleaver,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Beals, May,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Beard, Mary Ritter,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Belmont, Mrs. O. H. P.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Birney, Elizabeth Cherrill,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Blackwell, Elizabeth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_199">199</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xii"></a>[xii]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Bloomer, Amelia,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Bocage, Mme. du,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Booth, Eva Gore,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Brandreth, Paulina,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Breshkovskaya, Catherine,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Brewer, Grace D.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Brower, Pauline Florence,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Brown, Rev. Antoinette,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Brown, Marion,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Browning, Elizabeth Barrett,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_241">241</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Burr, Amelia Josephine,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Butler, Josephine,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Cairo, Mona,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Campbell, Helen,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cannon, Ida M.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Carbutt, Mary E.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Carr, Edna Elliott,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cipriani, Charlotte,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cleyre, Voltairine de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Clifford, Mrs. W. K.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cobb, Frances Power,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cockran, Mrs. Burke,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Colet, Louise,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Colquhoun, Ethel Maude,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Comer, Cornelia A. P.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Conger, M. Josephine,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cook, Coralie Franklin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cook, Elizabeth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cooper, Elizabeth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cotton, Mrs. R. R.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiii"></a>[xiii]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Daggett, Mable Potter,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Dargan, Olive Tilford,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Davies, Mary Carolyn,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Deardorf, Neva R.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>De Ford, Miriam Allen,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Deland, Margaret,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Dick, Mrs. Fred,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Dix, Beulah Marie,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Dix, Dorothy,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Dorr, Rheta Childe,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Doty, Madeline Z.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Douglas, Winona,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Downing, Agnes,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Downy, June E.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Edgar, Mary S.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Eliot, George,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Eulalia, Infanta,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Fawcett, Millicent Garrett,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Fee, Mme,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Field, Mary,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Flahaut, Mme. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Flexner, Hortense,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Fuller, Gertrude Breslau,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Gaffny, Fannie Humphrey,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Gage, Matilda Jocelyn,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Gale, Zona,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Garrison, Theodosia,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Gilman, Charlotte Perkins,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiv"></a>[xiv]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Girardin, Mme. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Grove, Lady,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Gruenberg, Sidonie Matzner,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Guerin, Eugenie de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Haile, Margaret,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Haines, Marion Gertrude,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hale, Beatrice Forbes-Robertson,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hallam, Julia Clark,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hamilton, Cicily,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Harland, Marion,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Harper, Ida Husted,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Harrison, Elizabeth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hartley, C. Gasquoine,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Henry, Alice,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Higgs, Mary,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hillis, Mrs. Newell Dwight,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hoblitt, Margaret,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hollins, Dorothea,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Holly, Marietta,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>H. R. H.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Houdetot, Comtesse d’,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Houston, Margaret Belle,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hoyt, Helen,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hultin, Ida C.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hutchins, Emily J.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Irwin, Inez Haynes,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Israels, Belle Lindner,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Jameson, Anna,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xv"></a>[xv]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Kassimer, Ada M.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Keller, Helen,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Kelly, Florence,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Kenton, Edna,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_71">71</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Key, Ellen,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Kiper, Florence,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Knowles, Josephine Pitcairn,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>La Follette, Mrs. Belle Case,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_22">22</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lagerlof, Selma,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Laidlaw, Mrs. James Lees,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lambert, Mme. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>LaMotte, Ellen N.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lathrop, Julia,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Laughlin, Clara E.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lawrence, Mrs. Pethick,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lazarovick-Hrebelianovich,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lebedeff-Kropotkin, Sarah,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>L’Enclos, Le,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lespinasse, Mlle. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lewis, Lena Morrow,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lloyd, Caro,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lowe, Caroline A.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lowell, Josephine Shaw,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lyttleton, Hon. Mrs. Arthur,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>MacLean, Annie Marion,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Macy, Mrs,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>May, Florence,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Maintenon, de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Maley, Anna A.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_227">227</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xvi"></a>[xvi]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Malkiel, Theresa,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Marsden, Dora,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Martin, Mrs. John,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Marwedel, Emma,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>McCracken, Elizabeth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>McCulloch, Catherine Waugh,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>McDowell, Mary,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>McKeehan, Irene P.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Meynell, Alice,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Millay, Edna St. Vincent,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Miller, Emily Huntington,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Monroe, Harriet,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_94">94</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Montefiore, Dora B.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Montessori, Maria,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Morgan, Angela,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Morgan, Lady,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Morton, Honnor,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mott, Lucretia,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Motteville, Mme. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Natahlie, Countess,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Necker, Mme,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Newman, Pauline M.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Nichols, Clarina Howard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Nordica, Mme,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Norton, Grace Fallow,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>O’Hare, Kate Richards,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>O’Reilly, Mary,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Ouida”,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_202">202</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xvii"></a>[xvii]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Pankhurst, Sylvia,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Parce, Lida,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Parker, Adella M.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Parsons, Elsie Clews,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Pease, Leonora,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Peck, Mary Gray,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Pethick-Lawrence,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Peyser, Ethel R.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Philip, Elizabeth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Pompadour, Mme. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Porter, Mrs. C. E.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Potter, Frances Squire,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Powers, Rose Mills,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Putnam, Alice H.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Putnam, Emily James,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Putnam, Helen G.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Repplier, Agnes,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Reyband, Mme,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Richards, Ellen H.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Richardson, Bertha June,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Ridge, Lola,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Rieux, Mme. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Robins, Elizabeth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Robins, Margaret Dreier,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Robinson, Ethel Blackwell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Royle, Emily Taplin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Ruth”,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Sage, Mrs. Russell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sand, George,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_163">163</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xviii"></a>[xviii]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Schoff, Mrs. Frederick,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Schreiner, Olive,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sellers, Sarah,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Shaw, Anna Howard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Simmons, Laura,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Snow, Mary,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sonza, Mme. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sorringe, Katherine Parrott,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Stael, Mme. de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Stanton, Elizabeth Cady,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Stern, Meta L.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_250">250</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Stewart, Anna Bigoney,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Stewart, Ella S.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Stobart, Mrs. St. Clair,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Stone, Lucy,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Stoner, Winifred Sackville,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Swanwick, Mrs. H. W.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Tarbell, Ida,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Teichner, Miriam,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Thomas, M. Carey,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Thomas, Mrs. Leonard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Turczynowicz, Laura de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Tweedie, Mrs. Alec,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Twining, Luella,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Valois, Margaret de,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Van de Water, Virginia Terhune,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Van Vorst, Mrs. John,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Varnhagen, Rachel,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_138">138</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xix"></a>[xix]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Wald, Lillian D.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Warwick, Countess of,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wedgewood, Julia,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wentworth, Eleanor,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wentworth, Marion Craig,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wharton, Edith,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_294">294</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Widdemer, Margaret,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_144">144</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_242">242</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wilcox, Louise Collier,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wilde, Lady,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wilkinson, Margaret O. B.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Willard, Emma,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Willard, Frances E.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wilson, Marjorie,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wollstonecraft, Mary,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Young, Laura P.,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> + </tr> + <tr class="letter"> + <td>Zetkin, Clara,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xx"></a>[xx]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxi"></a>[xxi]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX_OF_SUBJECTS">INDEX OF SUBJECTS</h2> + +</div> + +<table> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK I<br><span class="smcap">The Woman Movement</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Generation Ago, Deardorf,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Great Life, Harper,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Lady Rebel, Adams,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Pageant of Great Women, Hamilton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Prisoner in Bow, Pankhurst,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Spade’s a Spade, Peyser,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Woman’s Question, Thomas,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Allegory on Wimmin’s Rights, Holly,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>All Methods Employed, Belmont,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Because They Cannot Vote, Stern,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Call to Social Service, Bass,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Clearing Up the Muss, Fuller,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Coming Into Her Own, Gaffny,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Feminism a Tree, Forbes-Robertson Hale,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>For Woman Suffrage, Addams,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Freedom of the Women, Wilcox,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>From “The Convert”, Robins,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Gibraltar of Our Cause, Anthony,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Glory in Power, Cockran,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>He Shall See the New Woman, Daggett,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Legislative Responsibility, Hutchins,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Man Cannot Represent Woman, Brown,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mankind Our Neighbor, Cotton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Most Brilliant Period, Shaw,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>New Woman, Montefiore,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_20">20</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxii"></a>[xxii]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Our Common Interests, Lewis,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Out of the Dark, Gage,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Plea of the Women, Sorringe,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Prayer of the Modern Woman, Conger,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Price of Liberty, Peck,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Revolt of Women, “Ouida”,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Rights, Privileges and Capacities, McCulloch,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sisterhood of Women, Cook,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Submission, Teichner,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Story of Katie Malloy, Lowe,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Suffrage a Means to an End, Stewart,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>To Raise the Standards of Life, Barnum,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Unanimity of Needs, Anthony,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Universality, Israels,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>What Is This Government? La Follette,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wisdom Comes with Freedom, Wollstonecraft,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Awakening, Beard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman Has Helped, Twining,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman Has Justified Herself, Morgan,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman on the Scaffold, Meynell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Right, Schreiner,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Weak Dependency, Atherton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women, Gale,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women to Men, De Ford,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women’s Qualifications for Suffrage, Sage,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Working Woman’s Awakening, Malkiel,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK II<br><span class="smcap">The Home</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cannot Replace the Home, Wald,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Child at Home, The, McCracken,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_69">69</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxiii"></a>[xxiii]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Domestic Home Destroyed, Parce,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Domestic Strife, La Follette,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Home, The, Young,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Home Influence, Tarbell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Home of the Workingman, Henry,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Honest Partnership in the Home, Dick,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Hotel “Home”, The, Wharton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Immorality and the Home, Laughlin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Inefficient Home, The, Young,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lovers of Home, Shaw,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Man, Woman and the Home, Kenton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Market Value of Home Labor, Putnam,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mother and Child-Character, Stoner,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Perpetuate the Ideal, Porter,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Poor and Good Housing, Cook,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Spirit of the Home, Bartlett,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Then—Back to the Home, Lloyd,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>War and the Home, Addams,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Where She Lived, Van Vorst,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman and the Primitive Home, Stobart,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s High Achievement, Lagerlof,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Place, Lyttleton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Sphere the Home, Keller,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women’s Lodging Houses, Higgs,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK III<br><span class="smcap">The Child</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Announce Her Maturity, Barnard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Blot on Civilization, Lathrop,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Call of the Unborn, The, Robinson,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Child, The, Repplier,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_79">79</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxiv"></a>[xxiv]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Child and Parental Youth, McCracken,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Child Labor, Archer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Children Innumerable, Kiper,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Child Slavery, Fuller,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Children’s Ward, Flexner,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Consideration for Others, Alexander,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cotton Mill Child, The, Van Vorst,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Crusade of the Children, Houston,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cry of the Children, Browning,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Equality in Fitness, Putnam,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Factory Child, Monroe,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Fettered Little Children, Carbutt,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Fewer and Better Children, Campbell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>For Father’s Amusement, Harrison,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Government and Child Life, Schoff,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Ideals of the Child, Gruenberg,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Little Beloved, Pease,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>More Woman’s Work, Thomas,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>My Little Son, Brower,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Need the Vote for Children, Thomas,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Nursery A University, Barton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Parental Duty, Key,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Quantity Versus Quality, Grove,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Reason and the Child, Wollstonecraft,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Rising Value of a Baby, The, Daggett,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Teaching the Child Citizenship, Van de Water,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Where Women Have Voted, Kelly,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK IV<br><span class="smcap">The Mother</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Adolescent Child, Hallam,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Good Mother, Wollstonecraft,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_121">121</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxv"></a>[xxv]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Ancient and Modern Mother, Tweedie,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Collective Motherhood, Dorr,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Companion Mother, Tarbell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Factory Worker and Motherhood, O’Hare,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Fatherhood Cannot Be Motherhood, Kassimer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Functions Identical, Putnam,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>I am the Mother-Heart, Brewer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mother, Simmons,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mother, a Creator, Barton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mother’s Influence, “Ouida”,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mother, The, Pethick-Lawrence,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mother, The, Harland,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mothers, Gilman,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Parental Respect for Rights of Child, Key,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Passionate Instinct, Miller,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Rock Me to Sleep, Allen,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Price, The, Douglas,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wise Mothers, Cairo,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman and Mother, Hartley,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK V<br><span class="smcap">Love and Marriage</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Man Never Gets Over It, Comer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A New Stimulus to Marriage, Stobart,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Possible Utopia, Knowles,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Art of Loving, Key,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Ashes of Life, Millay,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Confidante, The, Barnhart,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cry of Man to Woman, Hartley,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Flirt, The, Burr,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Greatest Love, Varnhagen,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_138">138</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxvi"></a>[xxvi]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>I Can Go to Love Again, Widdemer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Love that Pales, Wollstonecraft,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Love Songs, Davies,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Marriage a Partnership, Hillis,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Marriage and the Labor Market, Thomas,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Marriage Laws of 1850, Nichols,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Marriage Not an Assurance of Support, Henry,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Marriage of the Friends, Mott,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Marriage the Sole Means of Maintenance, Butler,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_157">157</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mirandy on the Monotony of Domesticity, Dix,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Old Suffragist, Widdemer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>One of the Best Things, Gilman,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Overheard in the Marriage Congress, Parker,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Postponing Marriage, Colquhoun,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Preventive of Divorce, A, Wilkinson,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Price of Love, Austin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>To Love on Feeling Its Approach, Hoyt,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>What Is Love? Philip,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>When Love Went By, Garrison,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>When Marriage Meant Bondage, Stone,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK VI<br><span class="smcap">Woman and Labor</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Bondwomen, Marsden,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Changed Condition of Tomorrow, Wilkinson,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Development Through the Choice of Work, Kiper,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Economics and the Home, Colquhoun,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Exploitation of Workingwomen, O’Hare,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Housewife, Morgan,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>How Is She Housed? Higgs,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lady, Putnam,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxvii"></a>[xxvii]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Left-Over Women, Colquhoun,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Morality and Woman in Industry, Laughlin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>One-Fifth of the Woman Population at Work, Thomas,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Orchards, Garrison,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sex-Parasitism, Schreiner,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Simple Right to Live, Robins,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sisterhood in Labor, Hultin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Song of the Working Girls, Monroe,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Success Through Work, Nordica,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Unequal Distribution of Labor, Morton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wasted Energy and Talent, Sage,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman and Social Betterment, Richards,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman and the Dinner Pail, Gore-Booth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman in the Home, Allen,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Awakening, Conger,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Demand for Work, Butler,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Place, Fuller,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Wages, Pethick-Lawrence,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Work in Woman’s Way, Parce,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women Are Going to Work, Parsons,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women Who Sit at Ease, Norton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women Workers in New England, MacLean,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Working Woman Speaks, Royle,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK VII<br><span class="smcap">Education</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Aim and End of Education, Ridge,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Moral Crusade, Blackwell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>A Plan for Improving Female Education, Willard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_196">196</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxviii"></a>[xxviii]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Democratization of Learning, Cipriani,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Educating Children, Montessori,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Educating the Daughter, Knowles,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Education and Votes For Women, Cooper,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Essentials in Education, Snow,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Equal Advantages of Education, Stanton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Greatness of Froebel, Haines,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>History of Woman’s Education, Beard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Intellect Wins, Tweedie,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Intellectual Women of Rome, Morgan,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mothers’ Library, Birney,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mother’s Task, The, Tarbell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Old and New Schools, Barns,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Plan for Improving Female Education, Willard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Power of Education, “Ouida”,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Professions Educational, Lyttleton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Social Education Important, Keller,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Soul Murder in the Schools, Key,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Standards Raised by Women Teachers, Stewart,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>To Reach the Divine, Marwedel,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Traditions Upset, Hutchins,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Vision Realized, The, Richardson,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Vocational Training for Girls, Henry,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Struggle for Educational Rights, Swanwick,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>World of Scholarship a Man’s World, Thomas,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK VIII<br><span class="smcap">War and Peace</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Babies Bred for War, Field,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Breeding Machines, Wentworth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_215">215</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxix"></a>[xxix]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Deserter, The, LaMotte,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Devonshire Mother, Wilson,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Early Morning Funeral, Carr,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Last Racial War, Zetkin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Prayer of the Toilers, Powers,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Prussians in Poland, Turczynowicz,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Red Easter, Brown,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Righteous Wars, Dix,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Rising Value of a Baby, Daggett,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Russian Women in Time of War, Kropotkin-Lebedeff,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>These Latter Days, Dargan,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>War Cripples, Doty,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Wars Will Cease, Maley,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK IX<br><span class="smcap">Classes</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Abolish “Dependent Classes”, Lowell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>After the Fight, O’Reilly,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Breadth of Woman Suffrage, Fawcett,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Break Down the Wall, Key,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Breaking Up in Violence, Laughlin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Breshkovskaya, Barker,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Class Intolerance Passing, Parsons,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Class Legislation, Thomas,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Despair, Lady Wilde,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Enslaved, The, Warwick,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Factories Instead of Homes, McDowell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Fool’s Christmas, The, May,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Glad Day of Universal Brotherhood, The, Willard,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_250">250</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxx"></a>[xxx]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>God and the Strong Ones, Widdemer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Happy Warrior, Hollins,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Inequality for Women, Lyttleton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Lore of the Woods, Archer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_254">254</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Moses, the Strike Leader, Potter,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>My Sister’s Heritage, Edgar,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>New Sense of Justice, Stanton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Of What Use Is It? Cannon,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Old Comrade, Beals,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Organized Woman Labor, Bass,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Our New Aristocracy, Atherton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Outcasts, Wentworth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Out of the Darkness, de Cleyre,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Poet’s Task, Hoblitt,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Poor Sex, Swanwick,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Revolutionist, Breshkovskaya,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Servant Class, Kenton,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Servitude, Montessori,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Socialist Prayer, Haile,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Two Sides of the Shield, Lazarovick-Hrebelianovich,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Voice of Labor, The, Irwin,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Voteless Sex, Stern,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Woman’s Labor Organizations, Tarbell,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women and the Oppressed, Browning,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Worker’s Right, Keller,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Working Girls Must Cooperate, Newman,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td colspan="2" class="tdc">BOOK X<br><span class="smcap">Miscellaneous</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Contrast, A, Simmons,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_277">277</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxxi"></a>[xxxi]</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Custom, Sellers,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Dare We Judge? Brandreth,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Difference, The, Schreiner,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Doomed Men’s Message, Davies,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Dress Reform, Bloomer,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Giving Up Her Name, Tweedie,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>I Heard the Spirit Singing, Downy,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>In Passing, “Ruth”,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Mary and Magdalene, Beacon,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_278">278</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Purse and the Soul, Stern,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Road Song, McKeehan,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Sheaf of Quotations,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Thanksgiving, Garrison,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>The Unfair Status, Gage,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Two Storks, Gilman,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Women Run in Molds, Cobb,</td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxxii"></a>[xxxii]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxxiii"></a>[xxxiii]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="INTRODUCTORY_NOTE">INTRODUCTORY NOTE</h2> + +</div> + +<p>The American people today may be likened to +the onlookers of a great drama. A drama so +tremendous, so spectacular, so tragic, that it surpasses +anything the mind of man has hitherto conceived. +The onlookers of this drama naturally are absorbed +with its immediate movements. With its broad meanings +they are intensely concerned, but beyond these +they have no interest. Their vision for detail is +clouded by the flare and vastness of the apparent. +What lies beneath, above, about, are only incidentals +and of no immediate consequence to them.</p> + +<p>But the “incidentals” of the present war are, for +the careful observer, to say nothing of the professional +drama critic, the chips which show what is +taking place as the result of the flare and the noise, +and the tragedy. One of these incidents is the coming +of woman into realms of activity which not for +a million years—that is to say, never before—have +been opened to her.</p> + +<p>Under the stress involved in winning a world +peace, this fact is scarcely noted, and is not understood +in its full meaning. But the moment peace is +declared it will become a question of vital importance, +involving as it does all lines of human endeavor—labor, +commerce, philosophy, literature, agriculture, +law, education, and the crafts as well as the arts.</p> + +<p>The conservative mind, freed from the absorption<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxxiv"></a>[xxxiv]</span> +of war, will turn with startled gasp to discover +that one half of the race has been shaken out of the +rut of ages, and is spilling itself helter-skelter, into +every department of social achievement. And the +conservative mind will ask with child-like frankness +if the women are equal to the responsibility and the +opportunity which has been thrust upon them.</p> + +<p>“Woman’s Voice” has been compiled in anticipation +of this awakening on the part of the multitude, +as an answer to its wondering inquiry.</p> + +<p>That women have themselves long yearned toward +the broader paths of effort and usefulness is +manifest in the utterances of those who have learned +the art of self-expression. That they fully comprehend +the meaning, hardships and blessings of the +broader life, is plainly shown in their wide-spread +printed word. “Woman’s Voice” is an effort to collect, +in what may be called at once a brief and an +exposition of woman’s entrance into the world of +general endeavor, the wisdom of the women who have +studied conditions with an earnestness and efficiency +which renders them peculiarly fitted to speak for +themselves upon the questions most closely touching +themselves and their children.</p> + +<p>For ages untold only the voice of man has dictated +the conditions under which the rest of the world +should live, including women and children. All the +poetry, all the philosophy, all the wisdom of the ages +was presented in man’s words, and from man’s standpoint. +Woman, dumb, untutored, and handicapped +by an adverse public opinion, another creation of the +solely masculine mind, held to her chimney corner<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxxv"></a>[xxxv]</span> +as helpless in the face of petty and colossal injustices +as the children she bore.</p> + +<p>“Woman’s Voice” portrays the effort of women +to get away from this now apparent social mistake. +Women have spoken and will continue to speak, for, +if we are to proceed speedily and with the least possible +resistance into the new order of things, education +is still essential. There are millions to whom +the apparent is not apparent, and whose eyes must +be opened before the democracy for which the world +is paying in blood and agony can become a reality.</p> + +<p>I believe “Woman’s Voice” should be in every +home in the nation, and in all nations where society +is affected by the conditions which have brought +women away from the hearth-stone into the market-place. +As a digest of the best thought of representative +women the world over, it will be read when the +multiplicity of volumes from which it is quoted are +passed by. It will be read not only for its seriousness, +but for its poetic sentiment, and its sprightly +comment on the every-day things of life. Its usefulness +to club members and to workers in the equal suffrage +campaigns will be invaluable, but it is to the +average housewife and mother that I trust it will +make its strongest appeal. To the women who have +more or less dimly felt, but who have not as yet +found a voice or an avenue through which to develop +or express this feeling about things which so much +concern them and their children. I am hoping, also, +that it will fall into the hands of thousands of theorists +who are opposing, for no reason except their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xxxvi"></a>[xxxvi]</span> +own ignorance about it, the advance of women in the +coming world-democracy.</p> + +<p>Briefly, but earnestly, I wish to thank the publishers, +editors and writers who have made this Anthology +possible through their permission to reprint +from books, magazines and articles the matter contained +herein. I have endeavored in all instances to +give full credit to all of these, and if errors happen +to occur in this regard they are unintentional, and +only the result of the initial publishing of a work +as new and comprehensive as this one. Also, if any +name has been omitted whose observations should +have appeared in this book, it is only because it was +impossible for a very busy editor to fail to miss some +very worthy writers. In future editions these can +be gathered up, until we have a volume or many +volumes which may be perfectly representative of +the woman’s voice of the world.</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 2em;"><span class="smcap">Josephine Conger</span></span><br> +Compiler “Woman’s Voice”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_I">BOOK I<br> +<span class="smaller">The Woman Movement</span></h2> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_WOMAN_MOVEMENT">THE WOMAN MOVEMENT</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Most Brilliant Period</h3> + +<p class="author">By Anna Howard Shaw</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Former president of the National +American Suffrage Association. From a series of articles in “The +Metropolitan.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The winning of the suffrage states, the work in +the states not yet won, the conventions, gatherings +and international councils in which women of every +nation have come together, have all combined to +make this quarter of a century the most brilliant +period for women in the history of the world.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Awakening</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Ritter Beard</p> + +</div> + +<p>The awakening of women to the low social +status of their sex is the most encouraging fact of +the century.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Unanimity of Needs</h3> + +<p class="author">By Katherine Anthony</p> + +<p class="intro">(Author of “Mothers Who Must Earn,” and “Feminism in +Germany and Scandinavia,” from which the following is taken.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The woman movement of the civilized world +wants much the same thing in whatever language +its demands are expressed. In more or less unconscious +cooperation, the women of the civilized nations +have from the first worked for similar ends +and common interests. Beyond all superficial differences +and incidental forms, the vision of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span> +emancipated woman wears the same features whether +she be hailed as <i>frau</i>, <i>fru</i>, or <i>woman</i>. The disfranchisement +of a whole sex, a condition which +has existed throughout the civilized world until a +comparatively recent date, has bred in half the population +an unconscious internationalism. The man +without a country was a tragic exception; the woman +without a country was the accepted rule. The +enfranchisement of the women now under way has +come too late to inculcate in them the narrow views +of citizenship which were once supposed to accompany +the gift of the vote. Its effect will rather be +to make the unconscious internationalism of the +past the conscious internationalism of the future.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Coming Into Her Own</h3> + +<p class="author">By Fanny Humphrey Gaffny</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. President National Council of Women. +From a speech delivered at the celebration of Miss Anthony’s +80th birthday.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The Christian world reckoned by centuries is +just coming of age. Therefore women are beginning +to put away childish things and to realize the +greatness of womanhood.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Sisterhood of Women</h3> + +<p class="author">By Coralie Franklin Cook</p> + +<p class="intro">(From a speech delivered at the 80th birthday celebration of +Susan B. Anthony.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Not until the suffrage movement had awakened +woman to her responsibility and power, did she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> +come to appreciate the true significance of Christ’s +pity for Magdalene as well as of his love for Mary; +not till then was the work of Pundita Ramabai in +far away India as sacred as that of Frances Willard +at home in America; not till she had suffered under +the burden of her own wrongs and abuses did she +realize the all-important truth that no woman and +no class of women can be degraded and all womankind +not suffer thereby.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Revolt of Women</h3> + +<p class="author">“Ouida” in Lippincott’s</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_113">See page 113</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The whole human race is involved in the results +of the present revolt and reaction amongst +women; if turned back upon itself by mockery it +will burn and bite on unseen, and find its issue in +mad sins, wild frivolity, and all the anarchy of +voluptuous abandonment; if rightly met, if rightly +guided, it may become the noblest and highest +revolution that has ever broken the chains of effete +prejudices, and let out human souls from the darkness +of ignorance into the light and glory of a day +of liberty.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women’s Qualifications for Suffrage</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Russell Sage</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_170">See page 170</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Twenty years ago I did not think that women +were qualified for suffrage, but the strides they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> +have made since then in the acquirement of business +methods, in the management of their affairs, in the +effective interest they have evinced in civic matters, +and the way in which they have mastered parliamentary +methods, have convinced me that they are +eminently fitted to do men’s work in all purely +intellectual fields.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Generation Ago</h3> + +<p class="author">By Neva R. Deardorf, Ph. D.</p> + +<p class="intro">(Department Public Health and Charities, Philadelphia. From +“Annals of the American Academy.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Woman’s place in the crowd of a generation +ago was immediately back of her masculine kinsfolk. +Here she enjoyed protection from the rough +elbowing of the crowd, though in return for this +shelter she forfeited her liberty and was expected +to devote all of her physical strength and mental +energy to pushing some particular masculine protector +to the front. Some times her efforts were +appreciated, frequently they were taken for granted, +since etiquette favored a covert manner of pushing. +But the rules of the game have changed. +Partners and co-laborers are taking the place of +lords and masters. Farmers, professors, clergymen, +politicians, in fact, husbands of every calling are +coming to see the advantage of having a wife beside, +instead of behind, them. They now take pride +in a wife who enjoys an outlook on the world which +enables her to help far more intelligently and effectively +than did the wife of a generation ago.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>To Raise the Standards of Life</h3> + +<p class="author">By Gertrude Barnum</p> + +<p class="intro">(American newspaper woman. Speaker and writer in the +cause of organized labor.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The attitude of men toward women, economic, +social, political, reacts upon man and society. In +recognizing this, the man with the scythe is a +length ahead of the man with the cap and gown, +the cassock or the check book. The awakening to +a sense of the economic interdependence and fellowship +of men and women, has made the trade unionist +the first to recognize the justice and wisdom of +“universal suffrage,” and annually in convention +the American Federation of Labor declares:</p> + +<p>“That the best interests of labor require the +admission of women to full citizenship—not only +as a matter of justice to them, but also as a necessary +step toward insuring and raising the American +standards of life for all.”</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Legislative Responsibility</h3> + +<p class="author">By Emily J. Hutchins</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_204">See page 204</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The most obvious effect of the vote is that it +puts women upon a plane of political equality with +other normal adults.... Universal suffrage stands +for a certain recognition of the stake that all human +beings, irrespective of sex, have in the general welfare, +and destroys a false sense of sex limitations. +By virtue of their new standing in the community +women assume an equal responsibility with men, +for both good and bad legislation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>He Shall See the New Woman</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mabel Potter Daggett</p> + +<p class="intro">(From “What the War Means to Woman,” in “Pictorial Review.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>You see, when her country called her, it was destiny +that spoke. Though no nation knew. Governments +have only thought they were making women +munition workers and women conductors and +women bank-tellers and women doctors and women +lawyers and women citizens and all the rest. I +doubt if there is a statesman anywhere who has +learned to unlock a door of opportunity to let the +woman movement by, who has realized that he was +but the instrument in the hands of a higher power +that is re-shaping the world for mighty ends, rough-hewn +though they be today from the awful chaos +of war.</p> + +<p>But there is one who will know. When the man +at the front gets back and stands again before the +cottage rose-bowered on the English downs, red-roofed +in France and Italy, blue-trimmed in Germany, +or ikon-blessed in Russia, or white-porched off +Main Street in America, he will clasp her to his heart +once more. Then he will hold her off, so, at arm’s +length and look long into her eyes and deep into her +soul. And lo, he shall see there the New Woman. +This is not the woman whom he left behind when he +marched away to the Great World War. Something +profound has happened to her since. It is woman’s +coming of age.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Freedom of the Women</h3> + +<p class="author">By Louise Collier Wilcox</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When woman knew that on her strength devolved the care of race,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She crept into her cave to sleep and told her man to face</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The prowling outer dangers, and the dark and fearful odds,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The thunder, beasts, and lightning, and the wrath of all the gods;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For at her heart she carried the future and its cares,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the freedom that she needed was more precious far then theirs.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">So she watched her babe’s eyes open, and the little limbs grow straight,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she taught him all the lore she’d learned, and what to love and hate;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she trained the little body, and she led the little soul,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till another woman took him to lead further toward the goal;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then the mother smiled in anguish, though she laughed at age and cares,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the freedom that she wanted was a longer one than theirs.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When the work of life grew harder and men bowed beneath the yoke,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of needs too great to master, and lusts too deep to choke,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">She worked and slaved and tended, she wrestled with the dearth;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She harnessed up herself to beasts, to till the barren earth;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she planted in her garden and she weeded out the tares,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the freedom that she wanted was more beautiful than theirs.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But when she saw man bestial and content with earthly things,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She scourged herself in cloisters, and she wept and prayed for wings.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then she nurtured heavenly visions and she held aloft the cross,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To show eternal values amid life’s gain and loss.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she pointed to the radiance round the crown the god-man wears,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the freedom that she wanted was a holier one than theirs.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Then she smiled from out her shelter while her men coped with the world;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Her strength she made of weakness, and about her heart she curled</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The tendrils of dependence and his little children’s love;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she showed him what a home was in her gathered treasure trove.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All the time her eyes were smiling with the smile the seer wears,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the freedom that she wanted was the freedom of his heirs.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Still her heart grew great and greater, and her eyes she would not blind</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the suffering of the victims, to the needs of all mankind.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she knew her safety futile and her children’s stronghold weak,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till the least, last one is sheltered, and there’s none astray to seek.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So she looked far down the ages to the good that all man shares,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the freedom that she wanted was a broader one than theirs.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And she knew her man short-sighted, since he had not borne the pain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The slavery, drudgery, darkness, the glory and the stain</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of womanhood and motherhood. How could he love the race?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As she who bore and nurtured, God’s instrument of grace?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So she ceased to coax and wheedle, and commanded as one dares</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whose only love of freedom is a higher one than theirs.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="center">...</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She stands, now, hand upon the helm, to help him govern life,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she steers her world, his equal, in love, in peace, in strife;</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">She owns her strength and wisdom; and he may read who runs,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That she must demand her freedom from his daughters and his sons.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Neither beneath nor over, but equal in her place,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The freedom that she’ll die for, is the freedom of the race.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Woman’s Question</h3> + +<p class="author">By M. Carey Thomas</p> + +<p class="intro">(A contemporary. President of Bryn Mawr College. From an +address at the College Evening of the National American Suffrage +Association.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Woman suffrage is first of all a woman’s question. +We cannot remain indifferent. The issues involved +are so overwhelmingly important, first of +all, to us as women caring as we must for all other +women’s welfare, and second, to us as citizens of +the modern industrial state. I am sure as the result +of repeated experiment that it is only necessary +for generous and unprejudiced women to realize the +present economic independence of millions of women +workers, and the swiftly coming economic independence +of millions upon millions more women +workers for woman suffrage to seem to them inevitable +from that moment.</p> + +<p>No one can maintain by serious arguments—that +is, by arguments that are not pure and simple +distortion of fact—that the ballot will not aid +women workers, as it has aided men workers, to +obtain fairer conditions and fairer wages. All working +men and all men of every class regard the ballot<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> +as their greatest protection against the oppression +and injustice of other men. It is only necessary to +ask ourselves what would be the fate of any political +party whose platform contained a plank depriving +laboring men of the right to vote.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Because They Cannot Vote</h3> + +<p class="author">By Meta L. Stern</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_250">See page 250</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Industrial organization and political activity +constitute the two powerful arms of the labor movement. +Men are free to use both their arms. Women +are struggling with one arm tied.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Plea of the Women</h3> + +<p class="author">By Katherine Parrott Sorringe</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Standing before you with suppliant hands,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Mothers and wives and daughters, we</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sue for the justice long denied;—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Give us the vote that makes us free!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She who went down to the gates of death,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Joyful, to fling the life-doors wide,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mother of statesman, soldier, saint—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Set this crown on her patient pride!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She, your comrade, who steadfast stood</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Shoulder to shoulder, through storm and night,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Held up your hands till victory pealed—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Grant her this prize of well-fought fight.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Who trips laughing across your life,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Light of your love, your soul made fair?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Give her this pledge of a father’s faith,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Flower o’ freedom to deck her hair!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Mothers and wives and daughters, we,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Shall we ask in vain, with suppliant hand?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We, who are children of the free!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We, who are builders in the land!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Prisoner in Bow</h3> + +<p class="author">By Sylvia Pankhurst</p> + +<p class="intro">(A leader of the Suffragette movement of England. The following, +quoted from “The Woman’s Journal,” is an account of +one of her imprisonments in the London jails.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>My eight days’ license had expired. The police +were massed outside the Bromley Public Hall where +I was speaking, waiting to arrest me. Numbers of +detectives in plain clothes within were amongst the +audience; the people hissed and howled at them and +they threatened them with sticks. At the close of +the meeting, the people, declaring that I should not +be arrested, crowded down the stairs and out in a +thick mass with men in the center of them all. The +police rushed at us, striving to break our ranks and +to force a way through to me.... Policemen were +on every side of me. Two of them gripped and +bruised my arms, dragging me along. The crowd +followed, calling to me.... The policemen dug +their fingers into my flesh. One of them took out +his truncheon and grasped it tight against my hand +and arm. The back of my left hand was bruised<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> +from it all next day. Several women rushed up to +me and were arrested, and one girl who did not +know any of us, or what the trouble was about, +called out: “Oh, you should not hurt her,” and was +taken into custody. They dragged me into a Cannon +Row police station....</p> + +<p>So, hatless, and without so much as a brush or +comb, I was taken back to gaol to begin my hunger, +thirst and sleep strike. When I reached my cell, +the same cell in the hospital in which during February +and March I had been forcibly fed for five +weeks, I began to pace up and down.</p> + +<p>A woman officer came to me and said I must not +make a noise.... I took a blanket from the bed and +spread it on the floor to deaden the sound of my +footsteps, lest any of the other women prisoners +should hear them and be kept awake.</p> + +<p>Then I walked on and on, five short steps across +the cell and five short steps back, on and on, and +on.... As the hours dragged their slow way I +stumbled often over the blanket that wrinkled up +and caught in my feet. Often I stooped with dizzy +brain to straighten it. The walking, the ceaseless +walking, when I was so tired, made me grow sick +and faint. I was stumbling, falling to my knees, +clutching, as one drowning, at the bed or chair. +Sometimes I think I slept an instant or two as I lay, +for sleep seemed to be dogging as I walked.</p> + +<p>It was cold, cold and colder, as the morning +came, as the sombre yellow faded and the gray +sky turned to violet—such a strange brilliant violet,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> +almost startling it seemed through those heavy +bars. Then the violet died into the bleak white chill +of early day.</p> + +<p>In the day time I still walked, but sometimes I +had to rest in the hard, wooden chair, and then I +would be startled to feel my head nod heavily to one +side. My legs ached, the soles of my feet were +swollen. They burned, and I thought of the women +of the past who were made to walk on red hot +plough shares for their faith. After the first few +days I remembered that tramps rubbed soap on +their feet to prevent their getting sore. I rubbed +soap on mine and found that it eased them a good +deal. Each time I took my stocking off to do this I +noticed that my feet had grown more purple. My +hands, too, were purple as they hung at my sides. +My throat was parched and dry. My lips were +cracked. On Wednesday I fainted twice, and afterwards +there came and stayed till I was released, a +strange pressure in the head, especially in the ears. +There was a sharp pain across my chest. That +evening I asked to see a doctor from the home office. +On Thursday afternoon he came. On Friday there +was no more likelihood of my sleeping. I lay on +the bed most of the day burning hot, with cold +shivers that seemed to pass over me as though a +cold wind was blowing on my face. In the afternoon +I was released and came back to the little red-roofed +house under St. Stephen’s church and the +kind hearts of Bow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Out of the Dark</h3> + +<p class="author">By Matilda Jocelyn Gage</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Woman, Church and State.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Although England was Christianized in the +fourth century, it was not until the tenth that the +Christian wife of a Christian husband acquired the +right of eating at table with him.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>All Methods Employed</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Oliver H. P. Belmont</p> + +<p class="intro">(In “Harper’s Bazar.” President of the Political Equality +Association of New York, a leading spirit in the Congressional Union, +an organization whose tactics have caused it to be called the militant +wing of the suffrage movement.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Woman suffrage is a war on ignorance, prejudice +and vice. To attack certain gigantic forces, a +people must take any and every line open to them. +If the Germans had attacked Warsaw from but one +side, that great city would still be under Russian +rule. I believe, therefore, that women in fighting +for their suffrage should use all lines approaching +the enemy. I personally am working along all roads +of attack, for I feel that where one method may fail, +another may succeed.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Glory in Power</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Burke Cockran</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Harper’s Bazar.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Suffragists are born, not made. There are +many women whose brains will never respond to +suffrage argument.... And yet I am convinced<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> +that these women, when they do receive the vote, +will not only use their power judiciously and conscientiously, +but will eventually glory in it.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Feminism a Tree</h3> + +<p class="author">By Beatrice Forbes-Robertson Hale</p> + +<p class="intro">(Well-known English actress. Author of “What Women +Want,”<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> from which the following is taken.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>... Feminism is a tree, and woman suffrage merely +one of its many branches. Some of these branches +are essential to the life of the tree, others are not. +Some grow strong and put forth shoots in their turn, +others blossom prematurely, wither young, and drop +from the trunk. Meanwhile the tree towers up into +the sun with its crown of sturdy growths, and its +abortive shoots lie forgotten in the shadow below, +leaving hardly a scar upon the great stem to mark +their death. Only few people see this tree as a unit. +All who do know that woman suffrage is one of its +essential growths. But the majority still concentrate +their gaze upon one branch or another, whichever +seems to them most fair, and the parent tree is lost +to sight amid the multiplicity of its offspring’s leaves. +Suffrage has rallied to its march thousands of conservative +women who are indifferent, or even opposed, +to some newer branches of the tree, while those who +are absorbed in certain later and eccentric growths +are sometimes amusingly contemptuous of the older +limbs. They forget that the topmost crown could +not flourish if the wide boughs below did not help +the tree to breathe. They are sometimes, too, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> +danger of forgetting that if the great roots of the +trees were not anchored deep in the soil of woman’s +nature itself, in her motherhood, her strong tenderness, +and her service, the whole growth would perish.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Frederick A. Stokes Co.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman Has Justified Herself</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lady Morgan</p> + +<p class="intro">(English. From “Woman and Her Master,” published in +Paris, in a “Collection of Ancient and Modern British Authors,” +1840.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Notwithstanding her false position, woman has +struggled through all disabilities and degradations, +has justified the intentions of Nature in her behalf, +and demonstrated her claim to share in the moral +agency of the world. In all outbursts of mind, in +every forward rush of the great march of improvement +she has borne a part; permitting herself to be +used as an instrument, without hope of reward, and +faithfully fulfilling her mission, without expectation +of acknowledgment. She has, in various ages, given +her secret service to the task-master, without partaking +in his triumph, or sharing in his success. Her +subtlety has insinuated views which man has shrunk +from exposing, and her adroitness found favor for +doctrines which he had the genius to conceive, but not +the art to divulge. Priestess, prophetess, the oracle +of the tripod, the sibyl of the cave, the veiled idol of +the temple, the shrouded teacher of the academy, the +martyr or missionary of a spiritual truth, the armed +champion of a political cause, she has been covertly +used for every purpose, by which man, when he has +failed to reason his species into truth, has endeavored<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> +to fanaticize it into good; whenever mind +has triumphed by indirect means over the hearts of +the masses.</p> + +<p>In all moral impulsions, woman has aided and been +adopted; but, her efficient utility accomplished, the +temporary part assigned her for temporary purposes +performed, she has ever been hurled back into her +natural obscurity, and conventional insignificance.... +Alluded to, rather as an incident, rather than +a principle in the chronicles of nations, her influence, +which cannot be denied, has been turned into a reproach; +her genius, which could not be concealed, has +been treated as a phenomenon, when not considered +as a monstrosity!</p> + +<p>But where exist the evidences of these merits unacknowledged, +of these penalties unrepealed? They +are to be found carelessly scattered through all that +is known in the written history of mankind, from the +first to the last of its indited pages. They may be +detected in the habits of the untamed savage, in the +traditions of the semi-civilized barbarian! And in +those fragments of the antiquity of our antiquity, +scattered through undated epochs,—monuments of +some great moral debris, which, like the fossil remains +of long-imbedded, and unknown species, serve to +found a theory or to establish a fact.</p> + +<p>Wherever woman has been, there has she left the +track of her humanity, to mark her passage—incidentally +impressing the seal of her sensibility and +wrongs upon every phase of society, and in every +region, “from Indus to the Pole.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Story of Katie Malloy</h3> + +<p class="author">By Caroline A. Lowe</p> + +<p class="intro">(Well-known as a speaker on the Socialist and labor platforms. +From a speech before the Committee on the Judiciary, House of +Representatives, Sixty-Second Congress.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The need of the ballot for the wage-earning +woman is a vital one. No plea can be made that we +have the protection of the home or are represented +by our fathers or brothers....</p> + +<p>What of the working girls, who through unemployment +are no longer permitted to sell the labor +of their hands and are forced to sell their virtue?</p> + +<p>I met Katie Malloy under peculiar circumstances. +It was because of this that she told me of her terrible +struggles during the great garment workers strike in +Chicago. She had worked at H——’s for five years +and had saved $30. It was soon gone. She hunted +for work, applied at the Young Women’s Christian +Association and was told that so many hundreds of +girls were out of work that they could not possibly +do anything for her. She walked the streets day after +day without success. For three days she had almost +nothing to eat. “Oh,” she said, with the tears streaming +down her cheeks, “there is always some place +where a man can crowd in and keep decent, but for +us girls there is no place, no place but one, and it is +thrown open to us day and night. Hundreds of +girls—girls that worked by me in the shop—have +gone into houses of impurity.”</p> + +<p>Has Katie Malloy and the five thousand working +girls who are forced into lives of shame each +month no need of a voice in a Government that +should protect them from this worse than death!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The New Woman</h3> + +<p class="author">By Dora B. Montefiore</p> + +<p class="intro">(In “The Progressive Woman.” English Contemporary. +Writer and speaker on woman and labor problems.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Pausing on the century’s threshold,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With her face toward the dawn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Stands a tall and radiant presence;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In her eyes the light of morn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">On her brow the flush of knowledge</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Won in spite of curse and ban,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In her heart the mystic watchword</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of the Brotherhood of Man.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She is listening to the heartbeats</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of the People in its pain;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She is pondering social problems</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Which appeal to heart and brain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She is daring for the first time</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Both to think—and then to act;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She is flouting social fictions,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Changing social lie—for Fact.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Centuries she followed blindfold</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where her lord and master led;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lived his faith, embraced his morals;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Trod but where he bade her tread.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till one day the light broke round her,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And she saw with horror’s gaze,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All the filth and mire of passion</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Choking up the world’s highways.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Saw the infants doomed to suffering,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Saw the maidens slaves to lust,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">Saw the starving mothers barter</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Souls and bodies for a crust.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Saw the workers crushed by sweaters,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Heard the cry go up, “How long?”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Saw the weak and feeble sink ’neath</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Competition’s cursed wrong.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">For a moment paused she shuddering;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Hers in part the guilt, the blame—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Untrue to herself and others,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Careless to her sister’s shame.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then, she rose—with inward vision</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nerving all her powers for good;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Feeling one with suffering sisters</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In a perfect womanhood.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Rising ever ’bove the struggle</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For this mortal fleeting life;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Listening to the God within her</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Urging Love—forbidding Strife.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love and care for life of others</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Who with her must fall or rise.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This the lesson through the ages</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Taught to her by Nature Wise.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She had pondered o’er the teaching,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She had made its truths her own;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grasped them in their fullest meaning,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As “New Woman” she is known.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">’Tis her enemies have baptized her</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But she gladly claims the name;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hers it is to make a glory</div> + <div class="verse indent2">What was meant to be a shame.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Thinking high thoughts, living simply,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Dignified by labor done;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Changing the old years of thraldom</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For new freedom—hardly won.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Clear-eyed, selfless, saved through knowledge,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With her ideals fixed above,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We may greet in the “New Woman”</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The old perfect Law of Love.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>What Is This Government?</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Belle Case La Follette</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Wife of the United States Senator, +Robert La Follette. The following is from a speech on suffrage, +given in Boston.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>What is this government that we women have +been taught to think of as something so remote from +our interests, so unrelated to the immediate personal +preoccupations of our daily lives? There are three +great matters in which we are all concerned: religion, +education and government. In religion men and +women share equally (indeed, men sometimes are +content that women should do more than their share). +In education it has come to pass that both men and +women participate equally, though that was not always +so. It is less than two generations that our +universities and even our high schools have been open +to women upon the same terms as to men.</p> + +<p>But government is considered as man’s exclusive +province—a limitation that has narrowed the lives +of the women, that has robbed the children, and that +has reacted most injuriously upon the State. For +with what matters does government concern itself? +Why, with matters that touch intimately home happiness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> +and home prosperity, with laws and regulations +that guard and further human lives.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman Has Helped</h3> + +<p class="author">By Luella Twining</p> + +</div> + +<p>Woman always has figured prominently in every +movement and transformation that has changed the +conditions of human life.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Our Common Interests</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lena Morrow Lewis</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Writer. Speaker. Former member +of the National Executive Committee of the Socialist Party. Editor +“The Seattle Call.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Every argument in behalf of man suffrage +applies with equal force to woman suffrage. Men +and women have more in common as members of the +same species, belonging to the same human family, +than they have differences, because of the incident +of sex. To deny woman the ballot because of her sex +is virtually to repudiate her right and claim as a +human being. That a difference does exist between +men and women is on the other hand a strong argument +in behalf of woman suffrage. The giving of the +ballot to woman will not rob man of his just rights. +The admission of woman into the political arena will +do away with male supremacy, which is injurious to +man, breeds tyranny and results in injustice to +woman. Justice to woman does not mean injustice +to man. Our common interests as human beings, +and our differences as men and women both demand +political power and social rights for women the same +as for men.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women</h3> + +<p class="author">By Zona Gale</p> + +<p class="intro">(Contemporary American writer and suffragist. In “The +American Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They looked from farm house window;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Their joyless faces showed</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Between the curtain and the sill—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You saw them from the road.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They looked up while they churned and cooked</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And washed and swept and sewed.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some could die and some just lived, and many a one went mad,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But it’s “Mother be up at four o’clock,” the menfolk bade.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They looked from town-house windows,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A shadow on the shade</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rose-touched by colorful depths of room</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where harmonies were made.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Within, the women went and came,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And delicately played.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some could grow, and some could work, but many of them were dead.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“We must be gowned and gay tonight when the men come home,” they said.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They looked from factory windows</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where many an iron gin</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Drew in their days and ground their days</div> + <div class="verse indent2">On the black wheels within,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Drew in their days and wove their days</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To a web exceeding thin.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And they suffered what women have suffered over and over again.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And it’s “Double your speed for a living wage, ye mothers and wives of men!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They looked from brothel windows,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And caught the curtain down.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A piteous, beckoning hand thrust out,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To summon or clod, or clown.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They named them true, they named them true,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The Women of the Town.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Some could live and some just died, and most of them none could know,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And it’s “What if the fallen women vote?” from the men who keep them so.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Allegory on Wimmin’s Rights</h3> + +<p class="author">By Josiah Allen’s Wife +(Marietta Holly)</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. A philosopher who uses the humorous +story to carry her message to the reading public.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>“Wimmin haint no business with the laws of the +country,” said Josiah.</p> + +<p>“If they haint no business with the law, the law +haint no business with them,” said I warmly. “Of +the three classes that haint no business with the law—lunatics, +idiots and wimmin—the lunatics and idiots +have the best time of it,” says I with a great rush +of ideas into my brain that almost lifted up the +border of my head-dress. “Let a idiot kill a man; +‘What of it?’ says the law. Let a luny steal a sheep; +again the law murmurs in a calm and gentle tone,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> +‘What of it? They haint no business with the law, +and the law haint no business with them!’</p> + +<p>“But let one of a third class, let a woman steal +a sheep, does the law soothe her in those comfortin’ +tones? No; it thunders to her in awful accents: ‘You +haint no business with the law, but the law has a good +deal of business with you, vile female; start for state’s +prison! You haint nothin’ at all to do with the law, +only to pay all the taxes it tells you to, embrace a +license bill that is ruinin’ to your husband, give up +your innocent little children to a wicked father if it +tells you to, and a few other little things, such as +bein’ dragged off to prison by it, chained up for life, +and hung, and et cetery.”</p> + +<p>“‘Methought I once heard the words,’ sithes the +female, ‘True government consists in the consent of +the governed. Did I dream them, or did the voice +of a luny pour them into my ear?’</p> + +<p>“‘Haint I told you,’ frowns the law on her, ‘that +that don’t mean wimmin? Have I got to explain +again to your weakened female comprehension, the +great fundymental truth that wimmin haint included +and mingled in the law books and statutes of the +country, only in a condemnin’ and punishin’ sense +as it were?’</p> + +<p>“‘Alas!’ sithes the woman to herself, ‘would +that I had the sweet rights of my wild and foolish +companions, the idiots and lunys!’</p> + +<p>“‘But,’ says she, ‘are the laws always just, that +I should obey them thus implicitely?’</p> + +<p>“‘Idiots, lunatics! and wimmin! Are they goin’ +to speak?’ thunders the law. ‘Can I believe my noble<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> +right ear? Can I, bein’ blindfolded, trust my seventeen +senses? I’ll have you understand that it haint +no woman’s business whether the laws are just or +unjust; all you have to do is just to obey ’em. So +start off for prison, my young woman.’</p> + +<p>“‘But my housework,’ pleads the woman. +‘Woman’s place is the home. It is her duty to remain, +at all hazards, within its holy and protectin’ +precincts. How can I leave its sacred retirement to +moulder in state’s prison?’</p> + +<p>“‘Housework!’ and the law fairly yells the +words, he is so filled with contempt at the idea. +‘Housework! Jest as if housework is goin’ to stand +in the way of the noble administration of the law! +I admit the recklessness and immorality of her leavin’ +that holy haven long enough to vote; but I guess she +can leave her housework long enough to be condemned, +and hung, and so forth.’</p> + +<p>“‘But I have got a infant,’ says the woman, ‘of +tender days. How can I go?’</p> + +<p>“‘That is nothin’ to the case,’ says the law in +stern tones. ‘The peculiar conditions of motherhood +only unfits a female woman from ridin’ to town in a +covered carriage once a year, and layin’ her vote on +a pole. I’ll have you understand it’s no hinderence +to her at all in a cold and naked cell, or in a public +court room crowded with men.’</p> + +<p>“As the young woman totters along to prison +is it any wonder that she sithes to herself—</p> + +<p>“‘Would that I were an idiot! Alas is it not +possible that I may become even now, a luny? Then +I should be respected!’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>For Woman Suffrage</h3> + +<p class="author">By Jane Addams</p> + +<p class="intro">(From speech favoring a suffrage amendment to the Constitution, +before the Committee on the Judiciary, House of Representatives, +Sixty-Second Congress. Prior to the enfranchisement of the +Illinois women.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>As I have been engaged for a number of years +in various philanthropic undertakings, perhaps you +will permit me, for only a few moments, to speak +from experience. A good many women with whom +I have been associated have initiated and carried forward +philanthropic enterprises, which were later +taken over by the city, and thereupon the women have +been shut out from the opportunity to do the self-same +work which they have done up to that time. In +Chicago the women for many years supported school +nurses who took care of the children, both made them +comfortable and kept them from truancy. When the +nurses were taken over by the health department of +the city the same women who had given them their +support and management were shut out from doing +anything more in that direction. And I think Chicago +will bear me out when I say that the nurses are +not now doing as good work as they did before.</p> + +<p>I could also use the illustration of the probation +officers in Chicago who are attached to the juvenile +court. For a number of years women selected and +supported these probation officers. Later, when the +same officers, paid the same salary, were taken over +by the county and paid from the county funds, the +women who had had to do with the initiation and +beginning of the probation system, and with the +primary and early management of the officers, had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> +no more to do with them. At the present moment +the juvenile court in Chicago has fallen behind its +former position in the juvenile courts of the world. +I think the fair-minded men of Chicago will admit +that it was a disaster for the juvenile court when the +women were disqualified, by their lack of the franchise, +to care for it.</p> + +<p>The juvenile court has to do largely with delinquent +and dependent children, and I think there is +no doubt that on the whole women can deal with +such cases better than men, because their natural interests +lie in that direction....</p> + +<p>The establishment of a sanitarium for the care +of tubercular patients in Chicago was begun by some +philanthropic women, and later on, when these also +were put under the care of the city, these women were +shut out, save as they were permitted to do some work +through the courtesy of the officials. Sometimes the +officials are very courteous to them and glad to have +their assistance; sometimes they quite resent the suggestions +from them, claiming it is “up to” them to +take care of the city affairs, and that women are only +interfering when they try to help.</p> + +<p>So, it seems fair to say, if women are to keep on +with the work which they have done since the +beginning of the world—to continue with their +humanitarian efforts which are so rapidly being taken +over by the Government, and often not properly administered, +that the women themselves will have to +have the franchise.</p> + +<p>The franchise is only a little bit of mechanism +which enables the voter to say how much money shall<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> +be appropriated from the taxes, of which women pay +so large a part. When a woman votes, she votes in +an Australian ballot box, very carefully guarded from +roughness, and it seems to us only fair to the State +activities which are so largely humanitarian that +women should have this opportunity.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Spade’s A Spade</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ethel R. Peyser</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Judge.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She’s treated by him like a queen,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She’s helped across the streets,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She’s given every courtesy</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That every woman greets;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And yet he thinks the vote for her</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Would signal grave defeats.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She trained and reared his able sons,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She helped him make his cash,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She advised him in his business,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She made him act less rash;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And yet he thinks the vote for her</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Would be “just so much trash.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She answers all his business notes</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In a manner quite “parfait,”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She does all his stenography</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And seems to have great sway;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And yet he thinks the vote for her</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Would bring “naught but dismay.”</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She knows the whys of stocks and bonds,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She knows statistics dull,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She keeps him up on markets</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And knows the price to cull;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And yet he thinks the vote for her</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“Would be an awful mull.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She’s placed on rate commissions,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She takes part in great debates,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She is asked for her opinion,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She knows causes, bills, and dates;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And yet he thinks the vote for her</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Would cause the fall of States.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She’s the brains of large conventions,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She knows well the social trend,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She has written books of civics,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">She has made great forces blend;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And yet the vote for such as she</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He cannot comprehend!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman on the Scaffold</h3> + +<p class="author">By Alice Meynell</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(English contemporary. Poet and essayist. From “The +Bookman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>See the curious history of the political rights of +woman under the Revolution. On the scaffold she +enjoyed an ungrudged share in the fortunes of a +party. Political life might be denied her, but that +seems a trifle when you consider how generously +she was permitted political death. She was to spin<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> +and cook for her citizen in the obscurity of her +living hours; but to the hour of her death was +granted no part in the largest interests, social, +national, international. The blood with which she +should, according to Robespierre, have blushed to +be seen or heard in the tribune was exposed in the +public sight unsheltered by her veins.... Women +might be, and were, duly silenced when, by the +mouth of Olympe de Gougas, they claimed a +“right to concur in the choice of representatives for +the formation of the laws,” but in her person, too, +they were liberally allowed to bear responsibility +to the Republic. Olympe de Gougas was guillotined. +Robespierre then made her public and complete +amends.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Lady Rebel</h3> + +<p class="author">By Abigail Adams</p> + +<p class="intro">(Wife of one president of the United States, and mother of +another. A brilliant correspondent, her letters showing her to be a +woman unusual in breadth of interest, and general culture. The following +extract is from a letter written to her husband in 1774, during +the session of the First Continental Congress.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>I long to hear that you have declared an independency. +And in the new code of laws which I +suppose it will be necessary for you to make, I desire +you would remember the ladies, and be more generous +and favorable to them than your ancestors.... +If particular care and attention is not paid to the +ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and +will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which +we have no voice or representation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>“The Gibraltar of Our Cause”</h3> + +<p class="author">By Susan B. Anthony</p> + +<p class="intro">(From a speech delivered at the Suffrage Convention held at +Syracuse, N. Y. September 8, 1852. Quoted from “Life and Work +of Susan B. Anthony.”<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The claims we make at these conventions are +self-evident truths. The second resolution affirms +the right of human beings to their persons and earnings. +Is that not self evident? Yet the common +law, which regulates the relations of husband and +wife, and is modified only in a few instances, gives +the “custody” of the wife’s person to the husband, +so that he has a right to her, even against herself. +It gives him her earnings, no matter with what +weariness they have been acquired, or how greatly +she may need them for herself or her children. It +gives him a right to her personal property, which +he may will entirely away from her, also the use of +her real estate, and in some of the states married +women, insane persons and idiots are ranked +together as not fit to make a will, so that she is left +with only one right, which she enjoys in common +with the pauper, the right of maintenance. Indeed, +when she has taken the sacred marriage vows, her +legal existence ceases. And what is our position +politically? The foreigner, the negro, the drunkard, +all are entrusted with the ballot, all are placed +by men higher than their own mothers, wives, sisters +and daughters!</p> + +<p>The woman, who, seeing this, dares not maintain +her rights is the one to hang her head and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> +blush. We ask only for justice and equal rights—the +right to vote, the right to our own earnings, +equality before the law: these are “the Gibraltar +of our Cause.”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> The Bowen Merrill Co.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Great Life</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ida Husted Harper</p> + +<p class="intro">(Biographer of Susan B. Anthony. From Introduction to the +“Life and Works of Susan B. Anthony.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Those who follow the story of this life will confirm +the assertion that every girl who enjoys a +college education; every woman who has the chance +of earning an honest living in whatever sphere she +chooses; every wife who is protected by law in the +possession of her person and property; every mother +who is blessed with the custody and control of her +own children—owes these sacred privileges to Susan +B. Anthony beyond all others.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Suffrage a Means to an End</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ella S. Stewart</p> + +<p class="intro">(Contemporary. Ex-President the Illinois Equal Suffrage Association—Former +Secretary “National American Suffrage Association.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Suffrage is not an end in itself, but a means to +an end....</p> + +<p>The opposition of the liquor forces is not +gauged by the number of women actively engaged +in temperance work. That number is still comparatively +small. It takes no comfort from the fact that +suffrage associations are non-partisan on all questions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> +except suffrage. It would fear and fight off +the enfranchisement of women if every temperance +organization were to disband today. Therein it +unconsciously pays its high tribute to woman and +confesses its own lack of moral defense.... The +forces of evil fear for woman’s vote.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Man Cannot Represent Woman</h3> + +<p class="author">By Rev. Antoinette Brown</p> + +<p class="intro">(The first woman ordained to preach in the United States. +The following extract is from a speech delivered at the Suffrage +Convention at Syracuse, N. Y., Sept. 8, 1852.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Man cannot represent woman. They differ in +their nature and relations. The law is wholly masculine; +it is created and executed by man. The +framers of all legal compacts are restricted to the +masculine standpoint of observation, to the +thoughts, feelings and biases of man. The law then +can give us no representation as women, and therefore +no impartial justice, even if the law makers +were intent upon this, for we can be represented only +by our peers.... When woman is tried for crime, +her jury, her judges, her advocates, are all men; +and yet there may have been temptations and various +palliating circumstances connected with her peculiar +nature as woman, such as man cannot appreciate. +Common justice demands that a part of the +law-makers and law-executors should be of her own +sex. In questions of marriage and divorce, affecting +interests dearer than life, both parties in the contract +are entitled to an equal voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Universality</h3> + +<p class="author">By Belle Lindner Israels</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From the Introduction to “The Upholstered Cage.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>There can be no problem of women anywhere +without aspects of universality.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Mankind Our Neighbor</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. R. R. Cotton</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Social Service Review.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The day is past when we deluded ourselves with +the thought that our responsibilities ceased with the +performance of our individual duties. We are +jointly responsible for the existing conditions, and +only by a joint effort can they be improved. Our +neighbor’s welfare is our business, and our neighbor +is mankind.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Clearing Up the Muss</h3> + +<p class="author">By Gertrude Breslau Fuller</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Prominent as a Lyceum speaker on +social questions.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>You say politics are too corrupt for women to +mix up in? Well, they are pretty bad, there is no +doubt about that. You have laid almost everything +under heaven onto the women, but this one thing +that has been under your own exclusive, masculine +domain.</p> + +<p>Don’t you know that the principal business of +women, all down the ages, has been to go along +after the men and clear up the everlasting muss +they made? Well, we are still at the same task. +Our politics are no more corrupt than our housekeeping +would be if we let you run it alone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Wisdom Comes with Freedom</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Wollstonecraft</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_121">See page 121</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>In France or Italy have the women confined +themselves to domestic life? Though they have not +hitherto had a political existence, yet have they not +illicitly had great sway, corrupting themselves and +the men with whose passions they played? In +short, in whatever light I view the subject, reason +and experience convince me that the only method of +leading women to fulfill their peculiar duties is to +free them from all restraint by allowing them to +participate in the inherent rights of mankind.</p> + +<p>Make them free, and they will quickly become +wise and virtuous, as men become more so, for the +improvement must be mutual, or the injustice which +one-half of the race are obliged to submit to retorting +on their oppressors, the virtue of men will +become worm-eaten by the insect whom he keeps +under his feet.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women to Men</h3> + +<p class="author">By Miriam Allen De Ford</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman Voter.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We are they that wept at Babylon,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And still are they that weep;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We have watched the cradles of the world,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And hushed its sick to sleep;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We have served your folly and desire,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And drunk your cruel will;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You have smiled on us with far content:—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Are you smiling still?</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We were slaves most fit for Solomon,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That now can call you kin;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It was strength of soul and many years</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That changed us so within;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The strength of those you killed with scorn,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The years you could not kill;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Steep were the stairs to climb and hard:—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Are you smiling still?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We have shared your salt of loyalty,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And eaten of its bread;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We have died with you for Freedom’s sake,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And gained it, being dead:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You have drawn from out our breasts your life,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The life you use so ill:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We are they that bore you in the night:—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Are you smiling still?</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Call to Social Service</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth (Mrs. George) Bass</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Former president of the Woman’s +City Club, Chicago. Chairman Chicago-Biennial Board, General Federation +of Women’s Clubs. From editorial in “Life and Labor.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The call to social service and action has brought +the modern club woman along an ever broadening +path to the high, wind-swept levels, where she +sights limitless opportunity for expression and +action; and two things she has come to see clearly, +first, that she needs the ballot to do this, her natural +work, more effectively; and second, that the Commonwealth +needs her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Submission</h3> + +<p class="author">By Miriam Teichner</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Submission? They have preached at that so long,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As though the head bowed down would right the wrong;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As though the folded hands, the coward heart,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Were saintly signs of souls sublimely strong;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As though the man who acts the waiting part</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And but submits, had little wings a-start.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But may I never reach that anguished plight,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where I at last grow weary of the fight!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Submission? “Wrong of course, must ever be</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Because it ever was. ’Tis not for me</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To seek a change; to strike the maiden blow.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">’Tis best to bow the head and not to see;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">’Tis best to dream, that we need never know</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The truth—to turn our eyes away from woe.”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Perhaps. But, ah! I pray for keener sight.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And—may I not grow weary of the fight!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Price of Liberty</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Gray Peck</p> + +<p class="intro">(In “Life and Labor.” Chairman Committee on Drama, General +Federation of Women’s Clubs.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>“I know not what course others may take, but +as for me, give me liberty or give me death.”</p> + +<p>Patrick Henry, when he said that, was not +asking that liberty come as a free gift. No race or +class ever has attained it so cheaply. Fifty years<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> +after the battle of Gettysburg, the negro is still +fighting for the liberty which the bloodiest war in +history could not confer on him. He must get it for +himself.</p> + +<p>Women have been fighting longer than that for +freedom.</p> + +<p>It is the glory of the women’s labor movement +that working women struck the first blow for +women’s liberty in this country.</p> + +<p>For a hundred years, working women have +made straight the way for all women to follow. +It was the women in the mills and the shops and +factories who made it possible sixty years ago for +women to enter the schools and the professions.</p> + +<p>Today, in the ultimate analysis, it is the women +in the mills of commerce who gave women the ballot +in the suffrage states. It is they who are paying +the price. <i>Their strikes are all hunger strikes; not +a hunger for bread alone, but a hunger for life and +the liberty of soul.</i></p> + +<p>Not till these strikes end in victory, not till the +last burning-factory martyr has rendered up her +life as a sacrifice necessary to the destruction of +the system which thrives on factory fires, can we +count the price which working women have paid to +make all women free.</p> + +<p>“No people can long endure half slave and +half free.”</p> + +<p>If the working women had consented to be +slaves, there would have been no woman movement. +More than that—without the woman’s trade unions +there could be no organized labor movement.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> +Theirs is the strategic point in the conflict in which +the whole world is lining up. Around them will +rage the fiercest fight; but the stars in their courses +fight for them.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Right</h3> + +<p class="author">By Olive Schreiner</p> + +<p class="intro">(South African novelist. Contemporary. Author of “An +African Farm,” “Three Dreams in a Desert,” “Woman and Labor,” +etc. The following is from “Woman and Labor.”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Thrown into strict logical form, our demand is +this: We do not ask that the wheels of time should +reverse themselves, or the stream of life flow backward. +We do not ask that our ancient spinning +wheels be again resuscitated and placed in our +hands; we do not demand that our old grindstones +and hoes be returned to us, or that man should again +betake himself entirely to his province of war and +the chase, leaving to us all domestic and civil labor. +We do not even demand that society shall immediately +so reconstruct itself that every woman may +again be a child bearer (deep and overmastering as +lies the hunger for motherhood in every virile +woman’s heart!); neither do we demand that the +children we bear shall again be put exclusively +into our hands to train. This, we know, cannot be. +The past material conditions of life have gone +forever; no will of man can recall them. But <i>this</i> +is our demand: We demand that, in that strange +new world that is arising alike upon the man and +the woman, where nothing is as it was, and all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> +things are assuming new shapes and relations, that +in this new world we also shall have our share of +honored and socially useful human toil, our full +half of the labor of the Children of Woman. We +demand nothing more than this, and will take +nothing less. <i>This is our WOMAN’S RIGHT!</i></p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Frederick A. Stokes Co.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>From “The Convert”</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Robins</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Actress, playwright, novelist. Author +of “Way Stations,” “The Convert,” etc. The following is from a +suffrage speech by one of her characters, Miss Claxton, in “The +Convert.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>What, women don’t want it? Are you worrying +about a handful who think because they have been +trained to like subservience everybody else ought +to like subservience, too?... The women who are +made to work over hours—they want the vote. To +compel them to work over hours is illegal. But who +troubles to see that laws are fairly interpreted for +the unrepresented.... I know a factory where a +notice went up yesterday to say that the women employed +there will be required to work 12 hours a +day for the next few weeks.... Much of woman’s +employment is absolutely unrestricted except that +they may not be worked on Sunday. And while all +this is going on, comfortable gentility sit in arm +chairs and write alarmist articles on the falling +birth-rate and the horrible amount of infant mortality. +Here and there we find a man who realizes that +the main concern of the State should be its children, +and that you can’t get worthy citizens when the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> +mothers are sickly and enslaved. The question of +statecraft rightly considered always reaches back to +the mother. That State is most prosperous that most +considers her. No State that forgets her can survive. +The future is rooted in the real being of women. If +you rob the women, your children and your child’s +children pay. Men haven’t realized it—your boasted +logic has never yet reached so far. Of all the community +the women who give the next generation birth, +and who form its character, during the most impressionable +years of its life—of all the community, these +mothers now, or mothers to be, ought to be set free +from the monstrous burden that lies upon the shoulders +of millions of women.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Rights, Privileges and Capacities</h3> + +<p class="author">By Catherine Waugh McCulloch</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Former President Illinois Woman +Suffrage Association, and practicing attorney. The following is +from a pamphlet, “Illinois Laws Concerning Women,” issued by +the I. W. S. A.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We read that no person shall be denied any +political rights, privileges, or powers on account of +religion. The word sex should have been added. +People may change their religion, but never their +sex. Rights, privileges and capacities ought never +to depend on color of eyes or hair, cast of features, +sex or any other accident for which a person is not +to be blamed and which a person can never overcome. +Any other qualification demanded of a voter +may be acquired by one’s own exertion, or the lapse +of time. Property may be earned, minority out-grown,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> +education secured, sanity regained, alienage +removed, imprisonment outlived. But no industry, +no age, no brilliancy, no morality, can change sex. +Sex should be made less a disgrace instead of more +of a disgrace than poverty, minority, alienage, insanity +and criminality.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Working Woman’s Awakening</h3> + +<p class="author">By Theresa Malkiel</p> + +<p class="intro">(In “The Progressive Woman.” American contemporary. Socialist. +Speaker and writer on woman, child and labor problems.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Unconsciously, with closed eyes, driven, perhaps, +by the herd instinct that makes her follow +the others, the working woman is rising at last from +her long slumber....</p> + +<p>The solution of the problem of existence is +pressing upon her more and more. Even the +mantle of marriage does no longer save her from it. +The patient sufferer cannot and will not see her +children destitute and hungry. She wants some of +the celestial promises to be realized here on earth. +Hence this general unrest of womanhood the world +over.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Weak Dependency</h3> + +<p class="author">By Gertrude Atherton</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Said by the London critics to be +the most brilliant of American women novelists. The following is +from “Julia France and Her Times.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>No wonder so few women had left an impression +on history. How could any brain, even if endowed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> +with true genius, reach the highest order of development +while the character remained placid in its +willing dependence upon the reigning sex? And +man had despised woman through the ages, even +when most enslaved by her, knowing that on him +depended her very existence. He had the physical +strength to wring her neck, and the legal backing +to treat her as partner or servant, whichever he +found convenient.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Pageant of Great Women</h3> + +<p class="author">By Cicily Hamilton</p> + +<p class="intro">A dramatic poem of power and beauty. Woman contends with +prejudice in an argument before the throne of Justice, calling a +pageant of the world’s great women to justify her claims. She wins +her freedom and speaks to man as follows:</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I have no quarrel with you, but I stand</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the clear right to hold my life my own:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The clear, clean right. To mould it as I will,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Not as you will, with or apart from you</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To make of it a thing of brain and blood,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of tangible substance and of turbulent thought—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No thin, gray shadow of the life of man!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your love, perchance, may set a crown on it;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But I may crown myself in other ways—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">(As you have done, who are in one flesh with me).</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I have no quarrel with you; but, henceforth</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This you must know: The world is mine as yours—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The pulsing strength and passion and hurt of it:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The work I set my hand to, woman’s work,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Because I set my hand to it.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Prayer of the Modern Woman</h3> + +<p class="author">By Josephine Conger</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Published in various Suffrage Journals.)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_177">See page 177</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Unbind our hands. We do not ask for favor in this fight</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of human souls for human needs. We ask for naught but right,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That we may throw the burden from our backs, and from our brains</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The thrall of servitude. We are so weary of the pains</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That crush our hearts and cramp our wills, reducing all desires</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To childish whims, while great hopes lie like smould’ring fires</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Within our brains, or burst distorted from some weak, unguarded point,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Leaving ruin and anguish in their track. With woman bound, the whole world’s out of joint,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For women are the mothers of the race. We cannot boast</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of natural rights, of liberty, while mothers of the host</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Must know they’re classed in common law with idiots and slaves,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Must stand aside with criminals, with imbeciles and knaves.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The sturdy sons nursed at their breast cannot be wholly free,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For what the mother is, the child will in a measure be.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">You are not granting Favor when you give us equal power;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The shame is, you’ve withheld from us so long our dower</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of earth’s inheritance. We do not beg for alms, for charity.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We do not want our rights doled out; we want full liberty</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To grow, to be, to do our part, as Nature meant we should.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We want a perfect sister-, as well as brother-hood.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3 class="x-ebookmaker-important">By Mrs. James Lees Laidlaw</h3> + +<p class="intro">(Chairman of the New York City Suffrage Party. In “Harper’s +Bazar.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The getting of votes has been to us like the +saving of souls.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3 class="x-ebookmaker-important">By Julia Wedgewood</h3> + +<p class="intro">(English writer. From an essay, “Female Suffrage, Considered +Chiefly with Regard to Its Indirect Results.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Of course, if women are either exactly like men, +or simply men minus something or other, they could +add no light to that already possessed by a male constituency, +but I know of no one who seriously believes +either of these things.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_II">BOOK II<br> +<span class="smaller">The Home</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_HOME">THE HOME</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>“The Woman’s Place”</h3> + +<p class="author">By The Hon. Mrs. Arthur Lyttleton</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. The following is taken from “Women +and Their Work.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>“The woman’s place is the home.”</p> + +<p>Such is a very common reply to those who propound +any new schemes for educating or helping +women. No one would deny the statement. It is +true that those who make it sometimes forget that +now-a-days a considerable number of women have +no homes, and that therefore the remark by no +means meets the whole case.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Spirit of the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lucy Re Bartlett</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Author of “Toward Liberty,” from +which the following is taken.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>By all means let most women choose the home +for their sphere, if they will, and even severely avoid +politics for the moment, if they be so minded. But +whether in the home, or outside it, let all women +consider well what be the spirit they are bringing +into life—whether it be one which liberates and +uplifts, or one which makes, instead, for bondage.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Lovers of Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Dr. Anna Howard Shaw</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Metropolitan Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Every suffragist I have ever met has been a lover +of home; and only the conviction that she is fighting +for her home, her children, for other women, for all +of these, has sustained her in her public work.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s High Achievement</h3> + +<p class="author">By Selma Lagerlof</p> + +<p class="intro">(Swedish contemporary. Prominent in literary and progressive +circles. From an address delivered before the Sixth Congress of the +International Suffrage Alliance in Stockholm, entitled “Woman the +Savior of the State.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Have women done nothing which entitles us to +equal rights with man? Our time on earth has been +long—as long as his. Have we created nothing of +incontestable worth to life and civilization? Besides +this, that we have brought human beings into the +world, have we contributed nothing of use to mankind?... +I look at paintings and engravings, pictures +of old women, of olden times. Their faces are +haggard and stern; their hands rough and bony. +They had their struggles and their interests. What +have they done?</p> + +<p>I place myself before Rembrandt’s old peasant +woman, she of the thousand wrinkles in her intelligent +face, and I ask myself why she lived? Certainly +not to be worshipped by many men, not to rule a +state, not to win a scholar’s degree! And yet the +work to which she devoted herself could not have +been of a trivial nature. She did not go through life +stupid and shallow! The glances of men and women +rest rather upon her aged countenance than upon that +of the fairest young beauty. Her life must have had +a meaning.</p> + +<p>We all know what the old woman will reply to +my question. We read the answer in her calm and +kindly smile: “All that I did was to make a good +home.”</p> + +<p>And look you! That is what the women would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> +answer if they could rise from their graves generation +after generation, thousands upon thousands, +millions upon millions: “All that we strove for was +to make a good home.”</p> + +<p>We know that if we were to ask the men, could +we line them up, generation after generation, thousands +and millions in succession, it would not occur +to one of them to say that he had lived for the purpose +of making a good home....</p> + +<p>We know that it is needless to seek further. We +should find nothing. Our gift to humanity is the +home—that, and nothing else....</p> + +<p>For the home we have been great; for the home +we have been petty. Not many of us have stood with +Christina Gyllenstierna on the walls of Stockholm and +defended a city; still fewer of us have gone forth with +Jeanne D’Arc to battle for the Fatherland. But if +the enemy approached our own gate, we stood there +with broom and dish rag, with the sharp tongue and +clawing hand, ready to fight to the last in defense of +our creation, the home. And this little structure +which has cost us so much effort, is it a success or a +failure? Is this woman’s contribution to civilization +inconsiderable or valuable? Is it appreciated or +despised?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Sphere the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Helen Keller</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Out of the Dark.”<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_209">See page 209</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Woman’s sphere <i>is</i> the home, and the home, too, +is the sphere of man. The home embraces everything<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> +we strive for in this world. To get and maintain a +decent home is the object of all our best endeavors. +But what is the home? What are its boundaries? +What does it contain? What must we do to secure +and protect it?</p> + +<p>In olden times the home was a private factory.... +Home and industrial life were one.... Once +the housewife made her own butter and baked her +own bread; she even sowed, reaped, threshed, and +ground the wheat. Now her churn has been removed +to great cheese and butter factories. The village mill, +where she used to take her corn, is today in Minneapolis; +her sickle is in Dakota. Every morning the +express company delivers her loaves to the local +grocer from a bakery that employs a thousand hands. +The men who inspect her winter preserves are +chemists in Washington. Her ice box is in Chicago. +The men in control of her pantry are bankers in +New York. The leavening of bread is somehow dependent +upon the culinary science of congressmen, +and the washing of milk cans is a complicated art +which legislative bodies, composed of lawyers, are trying +to teach the voting population on the farms.</p> + +<p>It would take a modern woman a lifetime to walk +across her kitchen floor; and to keep it clean is an +Augean labor. No wonder that she sometimes shrinks +from the task and joins the company of timid, lazy +women who do not want to vote. But she <i>must</i> manage +her home; for, no matter how grievously incompetent +she may be, there is no one else authorized or +able to manage it for her. She <i>must</i> secure for her +children clean food at honest prices. Through all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> +the changes of industry and government she remains +the baker of bread, the minister of the universal +sacrament of life.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> Doubleday Page & Co.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman and the Primitive Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. St. Clair Stobart</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_144">See page 144</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “War and Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>In the days when such proverbs as “The woman, +the cat and the chimney should never leave the +house”, “<i>Bonne femme est oiseau de cage</i>”, “A wife +and a broken leg are best left at home”, were current +in every household, there was some reason why +women should remain at home. For <i>within the home</i> +were conducted—by women—all the industries of +life. In those days women not only made jams and +pickles, cured the hams and bacon, concocted wines +and medicines, they also designed and embroidered +all the curtains, tapestries and carpets; the making +of beautiful laces, the spinning, the weaving, the +sewing and the knitting of all the garments was committed +to the charge of women. In those days when +the control of all that made life worth living was +with woman, she did not need, nor did she seek, outside +occupations, which indeed consisted chiefly of +the less intellectual pursuits of hunting and fishing. +There was plenty of scope <i>within</i> doors for the intellectual, +industrial, and artistic faculties of every +active-minded woman. If it is true that woman was +more honored at that time when she remained indoors +than she is now, this was <i>not because</i> she remained<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> +at home, but because all the arts and crafts +of life were in her hands—<i>within the home</i>. But now +all this is changed, through no fault of the woman +herself, and, except for the young wife and mother +who has plenty of occupation in the rearing of her +family, there is not enough work <i>within the home</i> for +additional active-minded and able-bodied women, the +numerous daughters, sisters, cousins, aunts, who +need occupation, but who have no family of their +own because there are not enough men to go round.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Poor and Good Housing</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Cook</p> + +<p class="intro">(From Speech on “Housing and Morals in Richmond.” +Quoted from “Woman’s Work in Municipalities.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Can children raised in Jail Bottom, whose only +outlook is a mountain-like dump of rotting and rusty +tin cans on the one side, and on the other a stream +which is an open sewer, smelling to heaven from the +filth which it carries along, or leaves here and there +in slime upon its banks, have any but debasing ideas? +Can parents inculcate high moral standards when +across the street or down the block are houses of the +“red light” district? Is the world so small that +there is no room left for the amenities of life? Are +ground space and floor space of more value than +cleanliness and health and morality?... It is certainly +a fallacy that the poor do not want good housing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Where She Lived</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. John Van Vorst</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary writer on Child Labor Problems. +The following is taken from her book, “The Cry of the Children.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The cotton-mill “folks” wear unwittingly a +badge which distinguishes them far and wide. As +I came along down over the hillside I met a child +holding in her arms another smaller child; both were +covered, their hair, their clothes, their very eyelids, +with fine flakes of lint, wisps of cotton, fibres of the +great web in which the factories imprison their +victims.</p> + +<p>“Hello,” I said, “do you work in the mill?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, meaum.” The voice was gentle and the +manner friendly. And giving a sidewise hitch to the +baby, who had a tendency to slip from her tiny +mother’s arms, this little worker showed me one of +her fingers done up in a loose, dirty bandage.</p> + +<p>“I cut my finger right smart,” she drawled, +“so I’m takin’ a day off.”</p> + +<p>“How old are you?”</p> + +<p>“Tweaulve.”</p> + +<p>“Got any brothers or sisters?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got him.... And I’ve got one brother in +the mill.”</p> + +<p>“How old is he?”</p> + +<p>“Tweaulve.”</p> + +<p>“Twins?” I asked.</p> + +<p>She smiled and shook her head. “He’s +tweaulve in the mill, and he’s teayun outside.”</p> + +<p>This little bit of humanity, taking a day off as +mother of a still tinier being, seemed a promising<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> +sponsor, and I suggested that we walk along together. +She could not go to the mill with me, she explained, +without first consulting her mother, so we proceeded +to the settlement in which she lodged, along with +eighty or a hundred families, who man the mill in +which she was a hand.</p> + +<p>“That’s where we live.”</p> + +<p>Her fleet little bare feet picked a way deftly +over the stony path, and she kept a hand free—when +it was not laid on the baby’s back—to point out the +turns in the road that led to “where she lived.” Her +home was one of a group of frame one-story houses, +perched on a slant of ground. Each house was encircled +by a wooden veranda, and the order of the +housekeeping described itself before the eyes, as a +whisk of the broom which carried all the dirt from +the kitchen onto the porch, and another whisk which +landed it on the slant of ground, bedecked, in consequence, +with old tin cans, decayed vegetables, pieces +of dirty paper, rags and chicken feathers.</p> + +<p>It was to the more intimate quarters, however, +that I penetrated with my guide. The inside court, +or square upon which these “homes” opened their +back doors, was a large mud puddle overhung with +the collective wash of the neighborhood. In and out +of the mud puddle wallowed the younger members +of the mill families, receiving from time to time admonition +and reprimand from a gently irate parent, +who swished her long cotton wrapper over the court, +drawling to her offspring: “I sure will whip you if +you-all don’t quit.”</p> + +<p>“That-a-ways where we live,” said my little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> +companion, stepping onto the porch and depositing +her load, as she opened the door to announce a visitor +to her mother. The woman turned listlessly +from her sewing machine over which she was bent.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you come in?” she called to me, dragging +out a chair by the fire, without getting up. +“Lookin’ for work?” she asked.</p> + +<p>I took a seat, glancing at the interior which my +little friend called “home.” The outer room was +a kitchen—though it might, except for the stove, have +been mistaken for a hen coop. The chickens pecked +their way about the dirty floor, venturing as far, +even, as the table upon which stood the meagre remains +of a noonday meal. The second and the inner +room had each a bed;—an unmade bed, I was going +to say, but how, indeed, could a bed be made without +either sheets or pillows? Two grimy counterpanes +were flung in disorder across the mattresses; a few +chairs, a bureau and the sewing machine completed +the house furnishings.</p> + +<p>As the listless woman talked with me in a kindly +manner about work, the baby, who had crawled in +from the porch, and arrived as far as his mother’s +skirts, now tugged at these, to be taken up. His tiny +hands had served as propellers across the filthy floor. +The piece of lemon candy had added to the general +stickiness of the dirt, with which both hands and +face were smeared. As a soldier shoulders a gun—the +burden to which he is most accustomed—this mother +swung her baby into her arms, and, while she talked +on, giving items about the cost of living, and factory +wages, she loosened her cotton jacket—evidently the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> +only garment she had on—and folding the baby to +her breast, she lulled its whimperings.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, “we pay $1.50 a week for three +rooms. That’s a little over six a month. I call it +high. We don’t get no runnin’ water. Every drop +we use’s got to be drawed in the yard; an’ we don’t +get no light, either, nuthin’ but lamps.”</p> + +<p>The baby, comfortable and contented, let his +hand stray over the mother’s throat, with little spasmodic +caresses which left in their trail smears of dirt, +flecked with tiny scarlet streaks where the sharp nails +had caught in the pale, withered flesh.</p> + +<p>“I reckon you-all might be cold,” she said, +directing the older child to put more wood on the +open grate fire, thinking apparently nothing of herself. +“We don’t like it here first-rate. Maybe we’ll +move on. I sure do crave traveling. Well, honey,” +this was addressed to the baby, who had sat up with +a jerk and began to whine. The candy picked up +from the floor where it had fallen and restored to its +owner’s mouth, did not seem the desired thing. The +mother looked at me with a knowing smile.</p> + +<p>“I reckon I can guess what ails him. He wants +his babies.” And at this, always without getting +out of her chair before the machine, she reached behind +her and drew from a shelf over her head two +white rats. These were apparently what the baby +wanted. In the game that ensued between him and +his pets, his chief delight seemed to be in seeing the +rats disappear through the open throated gown of +his mother, and making the tour of her bodice, wriggling, +burrowing, crawling, to emerge finally from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> +her collar at the nape of her neck. Sometimes they +diversified their gyrations, proceeding upward into +her hair and down again by way of her ears onto +easier climbing ground. Impassable, unmoved, she +talked on in her gentle voice, giving no sign whatever +that she noticed the animals. It was only when +the baby plunged his short nails into the white rat’s +side that she ejaculated mercifully:</p> + +<p>“Quit that! You-all ’ll hurt them babies.”</p> + +<p>I was somewhat dazed as I proceeded presently +with my little girl guide from this interior to the +mill. The squalor and disorder of what I had +seen, the ignorance and the insensibility, contrasted +strangely with the courtesy that had been shown me, +the friendly concern about any intention I might have +to get work, the desire to help me on my way, the +strange lethargic tenderness which took the form of +pity for even rats.</p> + +<p>“Like animals,” my friend had told me. That +we must wait to see.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The War and the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Jane Addams</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_28">See page 28</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>This war is destroying the home unit in the most +highly civilized countries in the world to an extent +which is not less than appalling.... At the present +moment women in Europe are being told: bring children +into the world for the benefit of the nation; for +the strengthening of future battle lines; forgetting +everything that you are taught to hold dear; forgetting +your struggles to establish the responsibilities<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> +of fatherhood; forgetting all but the appetite of war +for human flesh. It must be satisfied and you must +be the ones to feed it, cost what it may; this is war’s +message to the world of women.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Laura P. Young</p> + +</div> + +<p>It is the home, and specifically the mother, who, +with taste and tact, experience and wisdom, and above +all, with love and faith, must guide and steady and +inspire these lives. If we want our boys and girls to +be free from discontent, free from hard commercialism, +free from vulgarity and false ideals, we must +enter their lives and quietly guide them into a youthful +brotherhood and sisterhood of service.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Honest Partnership in the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Fred Dick</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From speech before Congress on Welfare of the Child.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The homemaking of the future ... must be +founded in this day and generation on financial independence. +The girl of the past used to go from financial +dependence in the girlhood home, to financial dependence +as wife. She now goes from the independence +of a wage earner to financial dependence +as a wife, which relationship creates friction, and +leads to incompatibility and divorce. There should +be an adjustment of the responsibilities of home life +before marriage on the basis of honest partnership. +The children coming into the home should be taken<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> +into partnership financially and occupationally. They +should be paid for their work on the basis that “If +you don’t work you can’t eat,” and held responsible +for their share in the home-making.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Home Influence</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ida Tarbell</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Business of Being a Woman.”<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_266">See page 266</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Every home is perforce a good or bad educational +center. It does its work in spite of every effort +to shirk or supplement it. No teacher can entirely +undo what it does, be that good or bad. The natural, +joyous opening of a child’s mind depends on its first +intimate relations. These are, as a rule, with the +mother. It is the mother who “takes an interest,” +who oftenest decides whether the new mind shall +open frankly and fearlessly. How she does her work +depends less upon her ability to answer questions, +than her effort not to discourage them; less upon her +ability to lead authoritatively into great fields than +her efforts to push the child into those which attract +him. To be responsive to his interests is the woman’s +greatest contribution to the child’s development.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> McMillan Publishers.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Then—Back to the Home!</h3> + +<p class="author">By Caro Lloyd</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary writer. Sister of Henry Demarest +Lloyd, and author of his Biography. The following was taken from +an article in “The Progressive Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Search any woman’s heart, no matter how +“emancipated”, how “modern”, she may be, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> +you will find there the love of home, of a lover, of a +child, either realized or hoped for. How far this love +is being denied to women today needs no showing. +Women are being forced from the home into industry +at a faster rate than the birth rate. Those still in the +home are beginning to realize the interdependence of +the modern social order and to see that only by extending +their home-making out into the larger life of +the community are their own circles safe.</p> + +<p>As they go out into this wider service and +struggle, women will take the spirit of the home with +them. There are already signs that the faith, honesty, +cleanliness, kindness of the home are to become the +qualities of future society. We are to forsake our +present régime with its cruel hostilities, and to build +an order which shall meet the needs of all its children +with the tenderness of father and mother, which shall +institutionalize sisterhood and brotherhood. In this +reconstruction women, the home-makers, will do a +valiant share.</p> + +<p>Then, having battled for their emancipation and +won, and having used their new powers to join in +the crusade for a higher civilization and won, women +will go back into the home. Back to the home! But +it will be as free women to a free home, under whose +roof justice, equality and security will be sheltered. +At last there will be an era of peace, and the morning +rays of the golden age will tint the hilltops.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women’s Lodging Houses</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Higgs</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Author of “The Master,” “How to +Deal With the Unemployed,” “Glimpses Into the Abyss,” etc. The +following extract is taken from the last named book.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We sat watching until we were weary, between +11 and 12, and then went to our bedroom. The same +beds were reserved, and one woman who was said +to work for her living, and had a very bad cough, +was already in bed. We were speedily in bed also, +and for awhile were quiet. The room was very +stuffy, in spite of two ventilators; the sheets were +not very clean, but still fairly so. The beds were +filled by degrees all but one, that previously occupied +by the Scotch woman. One girl who came in +late said she was not on the streets; that she had +begged money for her lodging, as she was out too +late to return to her place. It was holiday time, +being Whit week. One girl came in late and had had +drink, which made her talkative, said she was a servant, +and had just left a place where she had been +ten months.... She meant to “enjoy herself” over +the holiday and go to service again.</p> + +<p>One girl who had been in before grumbled that +her bed had been slept in and was dirty; but her +own underlinen was far from clean. No one seemed +to possess a nightgown; all slept in their underlinen.</p> + +<p>We had the door a little ajar, and far into the +night the doorbell kept ringing, and girls were admitted, +and laughter and conversation drifted up +the stairs. Our room settled down sometime past<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> +midnight, but the girl who was drunk several times +tried to begin a conversation. At last we all slept. +Two, however, had bad coughs. I woke at intervals +through the night, and finally at 6.30. I was longing +for fresh air, so put on a skirt and went down +to enquire the time, and decided to go out for a +quiet stroll. The bath room was empty, the bath +had old papers in it, and did not look as if it was +often used. There was a table with a looking glass, +and a good deal of rouge about. The wash basin +was very small, and no soap was provided. There +was a roller towel for everybody. We had learned +by experience to take our own soap and towel, and +we lent the soap several times....</p> + +<p>I slipped out to the brightness of a May morning, +and walked in the direction of the park. The +park was not open, as it was not yet seven, but just +outside I found a resting place. What a contrast +to the fresh budding life of the trees was that perversion +and decay of budding womanhood I had +left behind me! A tree cut down in its prime to +make way for building furnished me with a parallel. +What <i>artificial</i> conditions of man’s making, are +pressing on those young lives, sapping them off +from true use to rottenness and decay?...</p> + +<p>Is there even at the back an <i>organized</i> system, +seeking victims and preying on them? This much is +certain: that there is room for an allowance of greed +and wickedness against defenseless womanhood. +For if a woman cannot get work, where is she to go? +What is she to do? Can all our homes and shelters +together prevent many from drifting “on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> +streets”? Do we not need a national provision for +migration, and temporary destitution among +women?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Inefficient Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Laura P. Young</p> + +<p class="intro">(From a paper read at the Third International Congress on +“Welfare of the Child.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>At present the chief reason I see for the fostering +of a recreative social relationship among high school +students is the inefficiency of the average home....</p> + +<p>For instance, there is the home where the father +may assume the attitude that after working all day +at his own necessary pursuits, he cannot be annoyed +by a riotous lot of youngsters all over the place in the +evening. This is the short-sighted home....</p> + +<p>There is the home in which the mother values her +housekeeping above her home-making, the mother +who cannot have her cherished lares and penates +marred or displaced by visiting young people or indeed +even by her own. This is the home of things, +not of children....</p> + +<p>And an especially pitiful type of inefficient home +is that materially prosperous one in which the parents +are too absorbed in their own affairs, social and business, +to encourage home social life in their children. +This type flourishes in many so-called exclusive suburban +districts.</p> + +<p>From whatever type of home a child goes to +school, it is in that home that his standards of conduct +and ideals of life are formed, and it is these that +he carries to his association with his fellow-pupils.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Immorality and the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Clara E. Laughlin</p> + +<p class="intro">(Contemporary—Author of “The Evolution of a Girl’s +Ideal,” “Everybody’s Lonesome,” “The Work-a-Day Girl.” The +following extract is from “The Work-a-Day Girl.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>What is the relation between domestic service +and criminality and immorality? Between erring +girls and their own homes as nurseries of weakness +and wilfulness? It is this: housework as a sad +majority of women perform it, is the most unsystematized, +unstandardized, undisciplinary, unsocial +and uninteresting work in the world. And family +relations, as a sad majority of our citizens comprehend +them, are the most unregulated relations in +the world; there are a few standards below which +the social conscience of the community will not allow +a parent to fall in the treatment of a child, or a mistress +to fall in the treatment of a maid; but they are +standards so low that almost any other human relationship +is better regulated by law and by public sentiment. +The home is the most haphazard institution +of our day.... Of the twelve or fifteen million homes +in the country, probably not one million would pass +an efficiency test based on the way they are run and +the quality of their output.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Perpetuate the Ideal</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. C. E. Porter</p> + +</div> + +<p>If every man and woman held in their hearts +a definite home ideal,—a lofty conception of their +united lives, the highest function of parenthood would +then, too, be perfect. There is little credit in simply +perpetuating either a condition or a race.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Market Value of Home Labor</h3> + +<p class="author">By Helen G. Putnam, M. D., LL. D.</p> + +</div> + +<p>If the labors which the great majority of women +are putting in homes were estimated at market rates +like those of men—and domestic arts are coming to +have high values—husband’s incomes in a great +majority of cases could not secure either the quality +or the quantity. This, the largest single field of industries, +is not enumerated by the census. Accurate +valuation would put an end to the shibboleth, “The +husband supports the wife”; would give self-respect +to millions of women, and so inspire them; would remove +the unsound impression of women’s comparative +irresponsibility and men’s comparative dependability, +whose psychologic effect is disastrous.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Domestic Strife</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Belle Case La Follette</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_22">See page 22</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Where do we find strife amid civilization? In +the homes where husband and wife have not had +mutual interests, where they have grown apart, and +one has outstripped the other in development.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Child at Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth McCracken</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_90">See page 90</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>In one of the letters of Alice, Grand Duchess +of Hesse, to her mother, Queen Victoria, she writes: +“I try to give my children in their home what I had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> +in my childhood’s home. As well as I am able, I +copy what you did.”</p> + +<p>There is something essentially British in this +point of view. The English mother, whatever her +rank, tried to give her children in their home what +she had in her childhood’s home; as well as she is +able, she copies what her mother did. The conditions +in her life may be entirely different from +those of her mother, her children may be unlike herself +in disposition; yet she holds to tradition in regard +to their upbringing; she tries to make their +home a reproduction of her mother’s home.</p> + +<p>The American mother, whatever her station, +does the exact opposite—she attempts to bestow upon +her children what she did not possess; and she +makes an effort to imitate as little as possible what +her mother did.... Her ambition is to train her +children, not after the mother’s way, but in accordance +with “the most approved method”. This is +apt, on analysis, to turn out to be merely the reverse +of her mother’s procedure.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Cannot Replace the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lillian D. Wald</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Of Henry Street Settlement, New York.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We acknowledge the inability and the inefficiency +of the parents and the home to control the +fortunes of the child when we substitute for them +the parental function of government; nevertheless, +the strongest of education remains in the home, and +the school and the settlement and other agencies +that hover over it cannot replace that home.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Man, Woman, and the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Edna Kenton</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary writer. The following quotation is +from “The Militant Women—and Women,” in “The Century +Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>There is a rising revolt among women against +the unspeakable dullness of unvaried home life. It +has been a long, deadly routine, a life of servitude +imposed on her for ages in a man-made world. No +honest woman will deny—man’s opinion is valueless +here—that there is nothing in the home alone to satisfy +woman’s human longing for variety, adventure, +romance. But any man will tell you strongly that +home is not enough to fill a human being’s life—<i>if +that human being is to be himself</i>.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Mother and Child-Character</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Winifred Sackville Stoner</p> + +<p class="intro">(Of the University of Pittsburgh, and noted specialist in +Child Culture.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>As you know, the ancients believed that a +mother had a great deal to do with the character of +her children, and this is true, for no mother has +the right to bring children into this world and not +give them the best of care and attention. I believe +that every child born into this world has the trinity +of mental, physical and moral elements, and it is up +to the mother to develop this trinity....</p> + +<p>I believe more good can be accomplished by +proper training right from the cradle than all the +corporal punishment in the world. I have ten rules, +and they are:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span></p> + +<p>1. Never say “don’t.” The very atmosphere of +some homes is fairly reeking with “don’t”.</p> + +<p>2. Never scold. A scolding mother is worse +than a spanking mother.</p> + +<p>3. Never give corporal punishment.</p> + +<p>4. Never say “must”.</p> + +<p>5. Never allow a child to lose its self-respect or +respect for its parents.</p> + +<p>6. Never frighten a child.</p> + +<p>7. Never refuse to answer questions.</p> + +<p>8. Never ridicule a child or tease him.</p> + +<p>9. Don’t banish the fairies.</p> + +<p>10. Don’t let a child ever think there is any more +attractive place than its own home.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Home of the Workingman</h3> + +<p class="author">By Alice Henry</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_203">See page 203</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>I look forward to a time I believe to be rapidly +approaching, when the home of the workingman, like +everyone else’s home, will be truly a home, the happy +resting-place, the sheltering nest of father, mother +and children, and when, through the rearrangement +of labor, the workingman’s wife will be relieved from +her monotonous existence of unrelieved domestic +drudgery and overwork, disguised under the name of +wifely and maternal duties, when the cooking and +the washing, for instance, will be no more part of the +home life in the humblest home than in the wealthiest. +The workingman’s wife will then share in the general +freedom to occupy part of her time in whatever occupation<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> +she is best fitted for, and, along with every +other member of the community, she will share in the +benefits arising from the better organization of domestic +work.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Hotel “Home”</h3> + +<p class="author">By Edith Wharton</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Contemporary American Novelist. From “The House of +Mirth.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The environment in which Lily found herself +was as strange to her as its inhabitants. She was unacquainted +with the world of the fashionable New +York hotel—a world over-heated, over-upholstered, +and over-fitted with mechanical appliances for the +gratification of fantastic requirements, while the comforts +of a civilized life were as unattainable as in a +desert. Through this atmosphere of torrid splendor +moved wan beings as richly upholstered as the furniture, +beings without definite pursuits or permanent +relations, who drifted on a languid tide of curiosity +from restaurant to concert hall, from palm-garden to +music-room, from “art-exhibit” to dressmaker’s opening. +High-stepping horses or elaborately equipped +motors waited to carry these ladies into vague metropolitan +distances, whence they returned, still more +wan from the weight of their sables, to be sucked +back into the stifling inertia of the hotel routine. +Somewhere behind them in the background of their +lives, there was doubtless a real past, peopled by real +human activities; they themselves were probably the +product of strong ambitions, persistent energies, +diversified contacts with the wholesome roughness of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> +life; yet they had no more real existence than the +poet’s shades in limbo.</p> + +<p>Lily had not been long in this pallid world without +discovering that Mrs. Hatch was its most substantial +figure.... The details of her existence were +as strange to Lily as its general tenor. The lady’s +habits were marked by an Oriental indolence and +disorder peculiarly trying to her companion. Mrs. +Hatch and her friends seemed to float together outside +the bonds of time and space. No definite hours +were kept; no fixed obligations existed: night and +day floated into one another in a blur of confused +and retarded engagement so that one had the impression +of lunching at the tea-hour, while dinner was +often merged in the noisy after-theater supper +which prolonged Mrs. Hatch’s vigil until daylight. +Through this jumble of futile activities came and +went a strange throng of hangers-on—manicures, +beauty-doctors, hairdressers, teachers of bridge, of +French, of “physical development”.... Mrs. Hatch +swam in a haze of interminate enthusiasms, of aspirations +culled from the stage, the newspapers, the +fashion-journals, and a gaudy world of sport still +more completely beyond her companion’s ken.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Domestic Home Destroyed</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lida Parce</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Economic Determinism.”<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_174">See page 174</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We have seen how the ties of mutual interest and +common experience are disrupted by the transference +of industry from the home to the factory. We have +seen members of the family forsake the roof-tree in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> +pursuit of work. We have seen the wife and child +receiving their pay from the corporation, in definite, +fixed wages.... The home shifts from time to time. +Light, food, air, space, all are inadequate or polluted. +The parents are irritable from the constant friction +and anxiety of the predicament in which they live. +Naturally, none of them can love “the home” very +deeply. The children feel little reverence for the +parents whose helplessness exposes the family to such +a life. There are few common activities and interests +between the members of the family, hence, there are +few strong ties. The companions of the alleyways +and streets form the social circle of the young, and +the cheap theatres which offer their attractions at +short intervals along the city streets fill up that +vacuum in their experience which the nature of man +abhors. Children living in these conditions do not +have a reasonable chance to grow up with strong +minds in sound bodies. Nor can this kind of youthful +life develop those ideas of fair and right conduct, +that honorable and dignified attitude of mind which +are essential to good citizenship. Born into such a +world, growing up in such an environment, why +should they respect anything or any body? They do +not. And the family disintegrates as soon as the +children are old enough to declare their independence. +Society has deprived the family of the means of +securing normal living conditions for its future citizens. +It is now confronted by the immediate and +urgent problem of providing those conditions outside +the family. The domestic home having been +destroyed, a social one must be provided.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> Kerr Publishing Company.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_III">BOOK III<br> +<span class="smaller">The Child</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CHILD">THE CHILD</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Child</h3> + +<p class="author">By Agnes Repplier</p> + +</div> + +<p>This is so emphatically the children’s age that a +good many of us are thankful that we were not born +in it. The little girl who said she wished she had +lived in the time of Charles II because then “education +was much neglected” wins our sympathy. It +is a doubtful privilege to have the attention of the +civilized world focussed upon us both before and +after birth.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Little Beloved</h3> + +<p class="author">By Leonora Pease</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Progressive Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I hold by man’s hand for thy sake,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of the large human life, in thy being I partake,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My heart’s to the lowly, the weary and frail,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Who shall fail,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For they step up and enter thy place;</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Lift thy face,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My soul fellowships in thy name,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Man’s overcoming is mine, his wrong is my shame,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">Thy image for me stamps the low and the high,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">As a die,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And thou, of thy kind, one with all,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Mount or fall,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When sounds the alarm of disaster,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the swift prayer of my heart runneth faster,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thou, too, imperiled, fashioned as they,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Of the clay;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thou, too, who shalt walk in the way,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Or astray,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I would disentangle in vain,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thy one shining, delicate thread from the skein,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For Fate’s fast-running loom all the strands doth enmesh,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Of the flesh,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And her intricate pattern unroll,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">As a whole,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Little Beloved.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>More Woman’s Work</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Leonard Thomas</p> + +</div> + +<p>The child from its birth is more woman’s work +than man’s.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Call of the Unborn</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ethel Blackwell Robinson</p> + +<p class="intro">(Author of “The Religion of Joy,” and “A Child’s Glimpse +of God, for Grown-Up Children”—from which the following +is taken.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, smile up your heart for me, mother,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Be happy, be buoyant, be mild;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, smile up your heart, for I’m coming!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You’ll make me a lovelier child.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’ll bud as a gay little lassie,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or bloom as a cheery young lad;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So, smile up your heart, mother darling,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You’ll always be grateful and glad.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Nursery a University</h3> + +<p class="author">By C. Josephine Barton</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_121">See page 121</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>If your child is rightly born, with no prenatal +drapery to untangle from, you need concern yourself +about his proper guidance, only past the infant +age. He will educate, without your insistence. He +will be showing you new points wherein your old +rhetoric is at fault, or your mental philosophy behind +the times. If you are wise, you will get vast lessons +from him.</p> + +<p>Froebel said: “The nursery was my university.” +The child receives there indelible lessons, +nor does he judge as to whether a thing is literal or +figurative. It is all fact to him. Plato says it is +most important that tales which the young first +hear should be models of virtuous thought. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> +highest and grandest that could be said of that +strange phase of human experience, the Flesh-birth +phase, was said by Friedrich Froebel, substantially +as follows: “With the beginning of every new +family there is issued to mankind and to each individual +human being, the call to represent humanity +in <i>pure development</i>; to represent man in his <i>ideal +perfection</i>.” Froebel was broad in saying also, +“The destiny of nations lies far more in the hands +of women, the mothers, than in the possessors of +power, or of those innovators who, for the most +part, do not understand themselves! We <i>must +cultivate women</i>, who are the educators of the race, +else the new generation cannot accomplish its task.”</p> + +<p>Now Froebel was not contending for woman’s +rights, but for the <i>race</i>. He speaks of woman, because +he saw that <i>her element</i> in the cause of civilization +was in need of accentuation. He was seeking +in the race that <i>balance</i> which is imperative in the +promotion of perfect conditions.... Froebel spoke +of women because men have held the reins of education +in the past. Even in the matter of bringing +children into the world....</p> + +<p>Above all things do not encourage the child to +occupy his time with trivialities, to the neglect of +the grand phenomena of nature—the beauty and +poetry everywhere, along the dewy borders of the +country road, the hedges and fields, the rocks and +imbedded fossils, insects and plants. To study +botany, geology, physiology and even psychology in +youth, is excellent occupation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Parental Duty</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ellen Key</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Swedish contemporary. From “Love and Marriage.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Children begotten under a sense of duty would ... be +deprived of a number of essential conditions +of life; among others that of finding in their parents +beings full of life and radiating happiness which +constitutes the chief spiritual nourishment of children—and +it may be added that parents who live entirely +for their children are seldom good company +for them.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>My Little Son</h3> + +<p class="author">By Pauline Florence Brower</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(American contemporary poet. From “Century Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We were so very intimate, we two,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Even before I knew</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The outline of the little face I love,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or bent above</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The small, sweet body made so strong and fair;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For we had learned to share</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The silences that are more than speech,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Before your cry could reach</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My listening heart, or I could see</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The miracle made manifest to me.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My little son,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Most glad, most radiant one,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Too soon, too soon, the hour must be cried</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That draws you from my side!</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">In life’s exultant hands is lifted up</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This newly molded cup.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The tangled vineyard of the world demands</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your toiling hands.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Look deep, and in all women that you meet</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your searching gaze will greet</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This mother of the child that used to be;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Beholding women, oh, remember me!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Children Innumerable</h3> + +<p class="author">By Florence Kiper</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Forum.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Our age, it is true, is not a very reverential age, +a sceptical age, one questioning the traditions. It +is doubting the dignity in the lot of a soldier driven +to martial courage by conscription. It is finding +attenuated beauty in unwilling motherhood, though +submission be in the name of God or Social Duty. +It has asked itself this question and the answers are +perturbing—For what and for whom are we breeding +humanity if it be not for humanity itself?... +Indeed, it is unbelievable that there should be a cry +for breeding, when children innumerable crowd the +city slums, deprived of air and spiritual breathing +place, or in small towns and little farm houses grow +dull and vicious through lack of appeal to the imagination +and the intellect. Society as a whole cannot +be too thankful for those women, who, celibate +in body, have given themselves to the rearing of +this “child material below par”, in the belief that +the world is not for its superman but for the many.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Quantity vs. Quality in Children</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lady Grove</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(English contemporary. From “Fortnightly Review.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Is not the quality, rather than the quantity, of +children the thing to be aimed at? If, then, by improving +woman’s status the breed improves, as improve +it must, is not this preferable to the “plenty” +in their present very mixed condition? Has no one +sufficient imagination to see in the mind’s eye a +race that would be incapable of breeding this mass +of “undesirable aliens”, who are tossed about from +shore to shore, welcome nowhere, and a curse to +themselves?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Fewer and Better Children</h3> + +<p class="author">By Helen Campbell</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Arena.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Slowly, how slowly, has dawned the thought +that something more than mere numbers is the need +of the family. Man found out long ago what laws +must be studied and carried out in breeding for the +high results in animal life; the brood mare or other +animal rested and skillfully fed. For the woman, +such thought never entered the mind of either +husband or wife. The formula “God wills it”, lifted +the burden of responsibility for defectives, or diseased, +deformed or crippled children.... “Fewer +and better”, has its own mission, till the day comes +when a trained motherhood and fatherhood will +ensure to the state an order of citizens for whom +that war cry is no longer needed. The old phrase<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> +“God’s will”, is to fill with new meaning. God’s +will and man’s, more and more with every step forward +in the knowledge of what life was meant to +bring to every child of man.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Equality in Fitness</h3> + +<p class="author">By Helen G. Putnam, M. D. LL. D.</p> + +</div> + +<p>It makes no difference to the child’s inheritance +which parent is unfit. Neither should be. It makes +no difference to the child whether, after birth, the +ignorance, evil instruction, contagious blighting of +him come from a man or from a woman; from domestic +conditions (said to be women’s work), or +from municipal conditions (said to be man’s work). +The responsibility cannot be divided. Before this +ideal—the child’s well being—these sexes are on an +equal footing, nor is one sex justified in wronging +the child because the other says or does so. Nature +forgives no spurious reasoning. The child and the +race suffer the consequences.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Where Women Have Long Voted</h3> + +<p class="author">By Florence Kelly</p> + +</div> + +<p>Never before in human history has the right of +the young to pure living, the claim of the adolescent +to guidance and restraint, the need of the child for +nurture at the hands of father, mother, school and +the community been recognized as in Colorado +today.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Reason and the Child</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Wollstonecraft</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_121">See page 121</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Few parents think of addressing their children +in the following manner, though it is in this reasonable +way that Heaven seems to command the whole +human race:—It is your interest to obey me till you +can judge for yourself; and the Almighty Father of +all has implanted an affection in me to serve as a +guard to you whilst your reason is unfolding; but +when your mind arrives at maturity, you must only +obey me, or respect my opinions, so far as they coincide +with the light that is breaking in on your mind.</p> + +<p>A slavish bondage to parents cramps every faculty +of the mind; and Mr. Locke very judiciously observes, +that “if the mind be curbed and humbled too +much in children; if their spirits be abased and broken +much by too strict a hand over them, they lose +all their vigor and industry.” ...</p> + +<p>On the contrary, the parent who sets a good example, +patiently lets that example work, and it seldom +fails to produce its natural effect—filial reverence.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Government and Child Life</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Frederick Schoff</p> + +<p class="intro">(National President Congress of Mothers and Parent-Teachers +Association. From speech delivered at Third International Congress +of the Association.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The Government’s interest in children shown to +all the world has stimulated every nation to deeper +study of its own conditions as they relate to child life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> +and the effect has been more far-reaching than can +be estimated.</p> + +<p>America, which is the Mecca for every nation, +which has within its borders over 100,000 children +of foreign birth and one-quarter of whose children +are of foreign parentage, can claim a wider interest +in the children of every nation than can any other nation +on the globe, for within the boundaries of the +United States may be found children of every race +and every clime.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Rising Value of a Baby</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mabel Potter Daggett</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Pictorial Review.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Only a mother counted her jewels yesterday, you +see. Today, States count them, too. Even Jimmie +Smith in, we will say, England, who before the war +might have been regarded as among the least of these +little ones, has become the object of his country’s +concern. Jimmie came screaming into this troublous +world in a borough of London’s East End, where +there were already so many people that you didn’t +seem to miss Jimmie’s father and some of the others +who had gone to the war. Jimmie belongs to one +of those three hundred thousand London families who +are obliged to live in one- and two-room tenements. +Five or six, perhaps it was five, little previous brothers +and sisters, waited on the stair landing outside the +door until the midwife in attendance ushered them +in to welcome the new arrival. Now Jimmie is the +stuff from which soldiers are made, either soldiers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> +of war or soldiers of industry. And however you look +at the future, his country’s going to need Jimmie. +He is entered in the great new ledger which has been +opened by his government. The Notification of Births +Act, completed by Parliament in 1915, definitely put +the British baby on a business basis. Every child +must now, within thirty-six hours of its advent, be +listed by the local health authorities. Jimmie was.</p> + +<p>And he was thereby automatically linked up with +the great national child-saving campaign. Since +then, so much as a fly in his milk is a matter of +solicitude to the borough council. If he sneezes, it’s +heard in Westminster. And it’s at least worried +about there.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Ideals of the Child</h3> + +<p class="author">By Sidonie Matzner Gruenberg</p> + +<p class="intro">(American Contemporary. From “Your Child To-day and +To-morrow.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We should make a special effort to discover our +children’s ideals, for several reasons. First of all, +by knowing what the girl or boy has nearest the heart +we shall be able to enter into closer sympathy with +the child, we shall be able to understand much of the +conduct that would otherwise baffle as well as annoy +us....</p> + +<p>It is very easy to ridicule the ideals and ambitions +of children when they seem to us too high flown +or futile. But a person’s ideals stand too close to the +center of his character to be treated so rudely. It +is better to ignore the many trifling flights of fancy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> +that are not likely to have any permanent effect, and +to throw the child into circumstances that will force +the emergence of more deep-seated or far-reaching +ambitions.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Child and Parental Youth</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth McCracken</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(American contemporary. From “The American Child.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>A Frenchwoman to whom I once said that American +parents treat their children in many ways as +though they were their contemporaries remarked, +“But does that not make the children old before their +time?”</p> + +<p>So far from this, it seems, on the contrary, to +keep the parents young after their time. It has been +truly said that we have in America fewer and fewer +grandmothers who are “sweet old ladies,” and more +and more who are “charming elderly women.” We +hear less and less about the “older” and the +“younger” generations; increasingly we merge two, +and even three, generations into one.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Consideration for Others</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. R. P. Alexander</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Official Delegate to National Mothers’ Council from Tokio, +Japan.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>A Japanese child is rarely punished and never +whipped, but the strong influence of the home training +makes the average child obedient and self-controlled +at a comparatively early age. He is taught to +conceal his grief with the thought that if he does not, +he will give pain to others.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Blot on Civilization</h3> + +<p class="author">By Julia Lathrop</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Head of The National Children’s Bureau)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Infant mortality is a blot on civilization. If it is +worth while to spend millions to safeguard farm products +which are, after all, only raised to serve the +needs of each generation of children in turn, is it +not worth while to spend the necessary sums to popularize +the methods by which the lives of children themselves +may be safe-guarded?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Teaching the Child Citizenship</h3> + +<p class="author">By Virginia Terhune Van de Water</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Little Talks with Mothers of Little People.”<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>One cannot begin too early to teach boys the +duties of citizenship. There are many men who are +educated, intelligent gentlemen who do not “take +the trouble to vote,” and are not ashamed of the +fact. When such things are true, is it any wonder +that we have cause to complain of corruption or misgovernment? +How can it be otherwise when some +of our citizens neglect their duty to their country?</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> D. Estes & Company, Publishers.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>For Father’s Amusement</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Harrison</p> + +<p class="intro">(Author of “A Study in Child-Nature,” “Two Children of +the Foot-Hills,” “Some Silent Teachers,” “In Storyland,” etc. +From “Misunderstood Children.”<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>I was strolling through a neighboring park one +breezy September day when it occurred. It took less<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> +than ten minutes from beginning to end—but did it +<i>end</i> then?</p> + +<p>There had been a shower the night before, and +the city’s dust had been washed from the leaves on +trees and shrubbery. All nature seemed in fine mood +and had filled me, along with the rest of the town-imprisoned +mortals, with some of her exuberance and +life.</p> + +<p>This keen enjoyment of mere existence, which nature +alone can give, was particularly noticeable in the +buoyant movements of a little three-year-old child, +who was dancing in and out of the shadows of the +tall trees, now running, now skipping, now jumping +in the joyous exhilaration of mere animal life. Ever +and anon he looked back at his father and his father’s +friend, who were strolling along in a more sedate enjoyment +of the fresh air and glittering sunshine. The +fact that each of them carried a tennis racket showed +that they, too, were out for a holiday.</p> + +<p>The child’s delight in all the freshness and freedom +about him quickened his senses, as it always will +quicken a healthy child. In a few moments his attention +was attracted by the bending, swaying +branches of a nearby clump of willow trees. The fascination +of the lithe, graceful movement of the boughs +was so strong that he stooped and stood with upturned +face, gazing at them until the two men approached +him. Then catching hold of his father’s hand he exclaimed, +“See! See!” pointing to the nodding tree +branches. His face was full of happiness, and his +eyes were looking into his father’s eyes expecting +sympathy in this new-found wonder of nature. But<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> +the father gave no heed to what was interesting the +boy. Instead, he began playfully slapping him on his +skirts with the tennis racket, at the same time saying, +“Will you be good?” “No,” answered the child +in high glee. It was evidently a familiar pastime between +them. “Will you be good?” repeated the +father, in mock threat lifting the tennis racket as if +to strike the child over the head. “No, I won’t! No, +I won’t!” shouted the boy as he scampered off over +the grass. This created a chase in which the father +playfully spanked the captured boy as with make-believe +wrath he dragged him back to the side-walk. +Having returned to the starting point of the chase he +released the boy with the words, “There now, I’ll +spank you hard if you are not a good boy!” He had +scarcely let go his hold on the youngster’s arm before +the latter again ran off, shouting in high glee, +“No, I won’t! No, I won’t be good!” Again came +the chase and again the playful spanking and dragging +back and the release with an admonition that +he would get a beating this time if he was not a good +boy. The tone in which the words were said were an +invitation to the child to renew the game.</p> + +<p>The third time he started off, however, the other +man decided that he, too, would take part in the sport. +So he quickly put his tennis racket in front of the +boy, thus obstructing his path. The child manfully +struggled to push it aside, but could not. Soon his +“No, I won’t,” in answer to his father’s “Will you be +good?” had in it a note of fretfulness or, rather, resentment. +He was contending now with two grown +men and his strength was not equal to the strain. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> +pushed angrily against the racket in front while trying +at the same time to avoid the light blows from the +one in the rear. With cat-like agility the man in +front would withdraw his obstructing tennis racket +until the boy started forward and then check—would +come the racket just in front of him. The very +movement of his arm was like that of a cat regaining +his hold on an escaping mouse. A peal of laughter +from him each time he caught the exasperated child +showed how much he was enjoying the sport. The +father seemed equally amused and joined heartily in +thwarting the efforts of the boy to escape. The little +fellow’s face grew red, and he was soon short of +breath from his struggles, and there was the angry +sob of defeat in his voice. The scene ended by the +child’s getting into a towering rage.</p> + +<p>When they passed out of sight the father had +seized him by the arm and was forcing him along, the +boy kicking and struggling, but powerless to help himself. +The two men were laughing heartily.</p> + +<p>The child’s blood had been poisoned by the heat +of anger, he had exhausted his physical vitality and +his nervous system had been disarranged, not to +speak of his moral standards—but then, the father +and his friend had been amused.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> Central Publishing Company.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Factory Child</h3> + +<p class="author">By Harriet Monroe</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Century.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Why do the wheels go whirling round,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Mother, mother?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, mother, are they giants bound,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> + <div class="verse indent4">And will they growl forever?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yes, fiery giants underground,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Daughter, little daughter.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Forever turn the wheels around,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">And rumble, grumble ever.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Why do I pick the threads all day?</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Mother, mother?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While sunshine children are at play,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">And must I work forever?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yes, factory-child; the live-long day,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Daughter, little daughter,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your hands must pick the threads away,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">And feel the sunshine never.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Why do the birds sing in the sun,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Mother, mother,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If all day long I run and run—</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Run with the wheels forever?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The birds may sing till day is done,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Daughter, little daughter,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But with the wheels your feet must run—</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Run with the wheels forever.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Why do I feel so tired each night,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Mother, Mother?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The wheels are always buzzing bright;</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Do they grow sleepy never?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, baby thing, so soft and white,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Daughter, little daughter,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The big wheels grind us in their might,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">And they will grind forever.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And is the white thread never spun,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Mother, mother?</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And is the white cloth never done—</div> + <div class="verse indent4">For you and me done never?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, yes, our thread will all be spun,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Daughter, little daughter,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When we lie down out in the sun,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">And work no more forever.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And when will come that happy day,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Mother, mother?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, shall we laugh and sing and play</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Out in the sun forever?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nay, factory child, we’ll rest all day,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Daughter, little daughter,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where green peas grow and roses gay,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">There in the sun forever.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Cotton-Mill Child</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. John Van Vorst</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Cry of the Children.”<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_57">See page 57</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The first child to whom I spoke stood waiting, +without work, for the machinery to start up. He had +on a cloth cap, overalls, and a blue cotton shirt open +at the throat. His face was wan, his eyes blue, +with an intense blue streak beneath them. His mouth +was full of tobacco, which had collected in a +dingy crust about his lips. As he leaned back, one +foot crossed over the other, expectant for the +spindles to begin their whirling, he presented in his +attitude and gestures, the appearance, not of a child, +but of a gaunt man shrunk to diminutive size. Going<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> +over to where he sat, I started conversation with +him about his work.</p> + +<p>“How many sides do you run a day?” I asked.</p> + +<p>“Three to four,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“How much do you make?”</p> + +<p>“About $2.40 a week.”</p> + +<p>Then hastily I put the question: “How old are +you!”</p> + +<p>“Goin’ on tweayulve,” he responded. “I’ve +been workin’ about four years. I come in here when +I was seayvun.”</p> + +<p>“Ever been to school?”</p> + +<p>He shook his head. “No, meayum. I don’t +know if I would like it. I reckon I’d as soon work +here as be in school.”</p> + +<p>“How many hours do you work here a day!”</p> + +<p>“From six until six.”</p> + +<p>The noise of the machine was distracting, and as +I bent over him to catch his answer piped in a shrill, +nasal voice, I could not but notice how fine and delicate +his features were; the deep eyes, the high arched +nose, the slender lips were placed in the oval face as +features only can be placed by the unerring mold that +breeding casts. Observing, also, the miniature +shoulders that seemed to have been oppressed by +some iron hand, I said:</p> + +<p>“Don’t you get very tired?”</p> + +<p>There was a pause which made more marked the +honesty of his response.</p> + +<p>“Why, I don’t never pay much attention +whether I get tired or not.”</p> + +<p>“You have an hour at noon?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span></p> + +<p>Here he brushed the cloth cap onto the back of +his head, and sent a long, wet, black line from his +mouth to the floor.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said (it was the man who spoke, his +arms akimbo, his body warped in the long tussle for +existence), “they aim to give us an hour, but we don’t +never get more’n twenty-five minutes. We all live +right up there.” He nodded toward the square of +houses clustered around the mud-puddle on the brink +of the slovenly hillside. Then the bobbins began to +revolve slowly, and the boy started back to his work.</p> + +<p>“You can’t loaf much,” he explained, “when the +machine’s a runnin’.”</p> + +<p>Up and down he plied on his monotonous beat—lone +little figure....</p> + +<p>Evidently waiting to join in the conversation, a +small boy, I noticed, was standing beside me. His +dark eyes sparkled merrily in his colorless face; he +was dirty and covered with lint.</p> + +<p>“What’s your job?”</p> + +<p>“Sweepin’,” he grinned.</p> + +<p>“How much do you make a day!”</p> + +<p>“Twenty cents.”</p> + +<p>“How old are you!”</p> + +<p>“Seayvun.”</p> + +<p>The boy at the machine, making bands for the +spindles, was “goin’ on tayun.” He earned twenty +cents a day. Others, I learned, were eight, nine and +ten, and occasionally there was one as old as twelve.</p> + +<p>As I walked on now through the mills talking +with a twelve-year-old red-headed girl who had been +four years at work, my eyes suddenly fell upon a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> +strange couple. I could not take my attention from +the tinier of the tiny pair; the boy’s hands appeared +to be made without bones, his thumb flew back almost +double as he pressed the cotton to loosen it from the +revolving roller in the spinning frame; they no longer +moved, these yellow, anemic hands, as though directed +in their different acts by a thinking intelligence; they +performed mechanically the gestures which had given +them their definite form.</p> + +<p>The red-headed girl laughed and nodded in the +direction of the dwarfs.</p> + +<p>“He’s most six,” she said. “He’s been here two +years. He come in when he was most four. His little +brother most four’s workin’ here now.”</p> + +<p>“Yes? Where?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he works on the night shift. He comes in +’beaout half-a-past five and stays till six in the +mornin’.”</p> + +<p>I went over to the other dwarf of the couple, +older, evidently, than the boy “most six.” Below +her red cotton frock hung a long apron which reached +to the ground. Her hair was short and shaggy, her +face bloated, her eyes like a depression in the flesh, +and about her mouth trailed streaks of tobacco. It +seemed absurd to question her. Oblivion was the +only thing that could have been mercifully tendered—even +the peace of death could hardly have relaxed +those tense features, cast in the dogged mould +of suffering.</p> + +<p>“How old are you?” I asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. “I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“What do you earn?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span></p> + +<p>She shook her head again.</p> + +<p>Her fingers did not for a moment stop in their +swift manipulation of the broken thread. Then, as +if she had suddenly remembered something, she +said:</p> + +<p>“I’ve only been workin’ here a day.”</p> + +<p>“Only one day?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been on the night shift till neow.”</p> + +<p>Dwarfs? Ah, yes; dwarfs indeed. But would +that those who affirm it might catch sight of the expression +that lowered under the brows of those two +miniature victims. Like a menace, threatening, terrible, +it seemed to presage the storm that shall one day +be unchained by the spirits too long pent up in service +to the greed of man.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Moffett, Yard & Company.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Crusade of the Children</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret Belle Houston</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">O’er the grind of the wheels of traffic,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Through the strident scream of the mart,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Soundeth a muffled tramping,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Like the faltering beat of a heart.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But only the ear hath heard it</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That low on the earth is laid—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The stumbling tread of the children,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As they go on their long crusade!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, some that are rosy as blossoms</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing with the singing rills,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wade through the sun-lit shadows</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And clamber the violet hills.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But these are the paler children</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That move with the sad footfalls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And dark is the road they follow,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tunneled through iron walls.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They hear the song of the others</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ring sweet in the outer air,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But they may not run in the sunlight</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With the load their shoulders bear.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They may not weave bright blossoms</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Though nimble their fingers be;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the Master hath not forgotten—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Let the little ones come to me!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Well have ye planned and shaped it,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The road that the children plod,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet it leads, for all your delving,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Straight to the throne of God.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And there shall they lay their burdens,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And there will they loose their bands;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They will lift up their twisted fingers,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To Him of the nail-marked hands.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They will cry, “Like Thee, O Father,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We come with the marks of men!”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor all the gold of their toiling</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Will spare you His answer then!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Better the nether millstone</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the depths of the darkest seas!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ye have wounded Christ the Avenger,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who wounded the least of these!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Child Labor</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ruby Archer</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_254">See page 254</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Poor little children that work all day—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Far from the meadows, far from the birds,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Far from the beautiful, silent words</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The hills know how to say!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Laughter is gone from your old-young eyes—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gone from the lips with the dimples sweet,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gone with the song of the little feet—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As light in winter dies.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Evening—with only the years at ten?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where was the morning, where was the noon?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Did the day turn back to the night so soon,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Children—women—and—men?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Parts of the monster things that turn;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Less than a lever, less than a wheel!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Pity you were not wrought of steel,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To save the pence you earn!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Add the columns, aye, foot the gain—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ye that barter in children’s lives!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">How will the reckoning end, that strives</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To balance gold and pain?</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Need the Vote for the Children</h3> + +<p class="author">By M. Carey Thomas</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_149">See page 149</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Women need a vote for the sake of children. No +state, modern or ancient, has ever cared properly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> +for its children. Children are at the present time +horribly neglected in every country, even when they +are not, as in many states of the United States, +horribly abused. All women whatever their nationality +care more than all men for the welfare of all +children. This is true even of female animals in the +animal world. It is supremely true in our human +world. Children are, and always will be, the special +interest of women. Wherever women already vote, +their influence is felt immediately and persistently in +ameliorative measures for the protection, reformation, +and education of little children. No one with +any knowledge of the facts can deny that the +political power of women is exercised on behalf of +children. We are now learning that children should +be the chief concern of our present civilization because +in them lies the hope of the future. For the +sake of children, women must vote.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Fettered Little Children</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary E. Carbutt</p> + +<p class="intro">(In “The Progressive Woman.” Contemporary. Prominent +California Club Woman.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh blind and cruel nation,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In your selfish race for wealth,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You have fettered your young children</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With chains that drag to death.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">To the wheel of toil you’ve bound them,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In their young and tender years;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And when they cry in anguish,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You do not heed their tears.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They drag out their days in sorrow;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">They grow old before their time;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All the joy of their young childhood</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You have stifled by your crime.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The children, wan and pallid,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With wasted frames and weary hands,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Turn in their defenseless sorrow</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To the mothers of the land.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">You, fond and tender mothers,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Happy children at your knee,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Will you hear their silent pleading—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Will you rise and set them free?</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Announce Her Maturity</h3> + +<p class="author">By Anne Morton Barnard</p> + +</div> + +<p>As woman has always mothered the race she +should now refuse to be its child.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Cry of the Children</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br> +1806-1861</p> + +<p class="intro">(English. Foremost among the world’s poets. Lived with +her husband, Robert Browning, for many years in Italy, championing +the cause of the Italian people toward liberty.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Do you hear the children weeping, O my brothers,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ere the sorrow comes with years?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They are leaning their young heads against their mothers—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And <i>that</i> cannot stop their tears.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The young lambs are bleating in the meadows;</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> + <div class="verse indent2">The young birds are chirping in the nest:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The young fawns are playing in the shadows;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The young flowers are blowing toward the west—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the young, young children, O my brothers,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">They are weeping bitterly!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They are weeping in the playtime of the others,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the country of the free.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Do you question the young children in the sorrow</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Why their tears are falling so?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The old man may weep for his to-morrow</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Which is lost in Long Ago;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The old tree is leafless in the forest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The old year is ending in the frost,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The old hope is hardest to be lost:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the young, young children, O my brothers,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Do you ask them why they stand</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In our happy Fatherland?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They look up with their pale and sunken faces,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And their looks are sad to see,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the man’s hoary anguish draws and presses</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Down the cheeks of infancy;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Your old earth,” they say, “is very dreary,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Our young feet,” they say, “are very weak;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Few paces we have to ken, yet are weary—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Our grave-rest is very far to seek.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ask the old why they weep, and not the children,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For the outside earth is cold,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the graves are for the old”....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“For oh,” say the children, “we are weary,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And we cannot run or leap;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If we cared for any meadows, it were merely</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To drop down in them and sleep.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We fall upon our faces, trying to go;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And, underneath our eyelids heavy drooping,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The reddest flower would look as pale as snow.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For all day long we drag our burden tiring</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Through the coal-dark, underground,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or, all day we drive the wheels of iron</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the factories, round and round.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“For, all day the wheels are droning, turning;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Their wind comes in our faces,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till our hearts turn, our head, with pulses burning,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the walls turn in their places:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Turns the light that drops adown the wall,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">All are turning, all the day, and we with all.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And all day, the iron wheels are droning,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And sometimes we could pray,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">‘O ye wheels,’ (breaking out in a mad moaning)</div> + <div class="verse indent2">‘Stop! be silent for today!’”....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They look up, with their pale and sunken faces,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And their look is dread to see,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">For they mind you of the angels in their places,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With eyes turned on Deity.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“How long,” they say, “how long, O cruel nation,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Will you stand, to move the world, on a child’s heart,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And tread onward to your throne amid the mart?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And your purple shows your path!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the child’s sob in the silence curses deeper</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Than the strong man in his wrath.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Children’s Ward</h3> + +<p class="author">By Hortense Flexner</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Survey.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She had been sent for—visiting hours were past—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Lithuanian woman with the blue,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Still eyes. The child’s bed was the last</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the row. She stood beside it, white—she knew,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And watched! Her broad, young shoulders drooped</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Beneath the hooded gown that visitors wear;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The nurse had left her—suddenly she stooped,</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The hood slipped back and showed her braided hair.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There was no cry. The Russians weep and pray,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Italians beat their breasts. This mother turned,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Asked for his clothes—tearless and calm and gray—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The doctor told her they had all been burned.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So she was gone—only her great eyes said</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What thing is lost, when a small child is dead!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Child Slavery</h3> + +<p class="author">By Gertrude Breslau Fuller</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_36">See page 36</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro">(There are 1,700,000 children working in the mills, mines +and factories of the United States.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Generations of the past have been responsible +for certain iniquitous practises, but it remained for +the present century to shut the little ones up in factories, +stunting physical and mental growth. Because +of child labor today the future generation of men +and women will suffer. Their career will bear the +stamp of human brutality.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_IV">BOOK IV<br> +<span class="smaller">Mother</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MOTHER">MOTHER</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Rock Me to Sleep</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Akers Allen</p> + +<p class="intro">(An old familiar poem. My mother often sang it to me +when she rocked me to sleep as a child. Taken from her scrap +book.—“Editor”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Backward, turn backward, O time in your flight,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Make me a child again just for tonight!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mother, come back from the echoless shore,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Take me again to your heart as of yore;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I am so weary of toil and of tears—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Toil without recompense—tears all in vain—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Take them and give me my childhood again!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I have grown weary of dust and decay—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Weary of sowing for others to reap;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Many a summer the grass has grown green,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Blossomed and faded, our faces between;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Long I tonight for your presence again.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Come from the silence so long and so deep;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep!</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Over my heart in the days that are flown,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No love like mother-love ever has shown;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No other worship abides and endures,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">None like a mother can charm away pain</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From the sick soul or the world-weary brain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fall on your shoulders again as of old;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Let it drop over my forehead tonight,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shading my faint eyes away from the light;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For with its sunny-edged shadows once more</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Mother, dear mother, the years have been long</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Since I last listened your lullaby song;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Womanhood’s years have been only a dream.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With your light lashes just sweeping my face,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Never hereafter to wake or to weep;—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Mother</h3> + +<p class="author">By Marion Harland</p> + +<p class="intro">(Well-known magazine writer. The following is from “The +Independent.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>She has never ceased out of the land. That +she seems to be more in evidence now than she was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> +sixty years ago may be but one more expression +of Feminism....</p> + +<p>In every well-appointed household the mother +is the controlling influence. In a large percentage +of homes her acknowledged sovereignty is a dictatorship. +If she be a woman of intelligence and refinement, +she virtually supervises her girl’s education +and molds her views of life, morals and manners. +The father is, at most, Prince Consort, playing +an insignificant part in the selection of associates +and instructors, and no part at all in the regulation +of deportment, speech and dress. “My +mother thinks,” and “My mother says,” are cast-iron +formulas that make an end of all controversy +while the girl is in short skirts and wears her unshorn +locks between her shoulders. With the +lengthened skirts, and trussed hair, comes entrance +upon the school or college world, and the beginning +of individual life.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Mother’s Influence</h3> + +<p class="author">By “Ouida”</p> + +<p class="intro">(Mlle. Louise de la Ramee, Author of “Under Two Flags,” +“A Dog of Flanders,” etc. Died Jan. 28, 1908. The following is +from one of a series of articles written and sold to Lippincott’s 28 +years ago with the request that they be not published until after +her death. The articles appeared in the May, June, and July, 1909, +issues.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>When we reflect on the enormous weight which +the woman’s influence has on the growing child; +when we consider the incurable superstitions, the +unreasonable fables, the illogical deductions, the +warped and stifled judgments, which millions of +young boys learn in education and religion at their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> +mothers’ knees in infancy,—it is impossible to over-rate +the invaluable consequences of any introduction +of <i>geist</i> into the minds of women. But for the +backward pressure of woman—woman ever conservative, +ever <i>reculante</i>, ever wedded to form and precedent, +and to tradition—the world of men would +have forsaken many a <i>cultus</i> built on fable, many +a dominion of priestcraft, many a limbo of worn-out +and oppressive credulity. The evil mental influence +of women is fully as great as can be the good +moral influence of the best of their sex. Wars +hounded on; fetters freshly riveted; the withes of +dead beliefs binding down the free action of living +limbs; the pressure of narrow ties, and of egotisms +deified to virtue, forcing men aside from paths of +greatness or justice—all those, and much more, are +due to the baleful intellectual influence of women.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Fatherhood Cannot Be Motherhood</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ada M. Kassimer</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From Introduction to “Representative Women.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Womanhood now as always recognizes motherhood +as its highest duty, its greatest obligation; and +the present awakened womanhood sees its mission +of motherhood—not only in the narrowed home immediately +about it, but in the large human family, +in the world of activity, it sees how the affairs of +men, women and children need the true mother instinct, +which in every phase of nature is one of unselfish +devotion, of unlimited service, of freedom +from combat for financial, social and personal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> +supremacy. The inherent attributes of motherhood +must combine with those of fatherhood to square the +balance of justice for childhood.</p> + +<p>The world needs woman, her ideas, her way of +reasoning, her insight, her sense of justice, her tender +hands and her loving heart. The children of the +world need her; for a long time they have been +governed by the masculine mind which has made +laws for them, established educational plans for +them, opened juvenile courts for them, founded factories, +mills, mines, in which little hands have +hardened, little bodies have dwarfed, young minds +and hearts grown prematurely old—and this, not because +the masculine mind and the masculine heart +would intentionally be drastic, but because men are +not women, and fatherhood cannot be motherhood.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Price</h3> + +<p class="author">By Winona Douglas</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sleep, little dream child, in mother’s arms;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Cuddle yet closer and take your rest,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Eyelids now hiding the blue eyes since laughing,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Laughing in glee here on mother’s breast.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Dear are the moments with you I am spending;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Toil is forgotten in comfort and calm.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Together we are, wee one, in the gloaming,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Evening blessed,—my babe’s coo is a psalm.—</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">You were my dream child, and I must awaken,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">My arms are empty, sweet babe unborn,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">For me the lone quiet, while night is fast darkening;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Darkening now, and there’s toil on the morn.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The days come and go, toil is ever supreme;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Motherhood smother, the thought is vain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Forget it, indeed, for wheels must be turning,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Turning incessantly—more wealth to gain!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Passionate Instinct</h3> + +<p class="author">By Emily Huntington Miller</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Parents and Their Problems.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>What could atone to a multitude of children for +the misfortune of having been born, but the passionate +instinct that takes no account of lack of +beauty, grace or intellectual gift, but clings to its +own with deathless devotion?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Functions Identical</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Alice H. Putnam</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Parents and Their Problems.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>In one respect, at least, the functions of mother +and teacher should be identical.... The teacher +and parent must take their charge “for better, for +worse.”</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Adolescent Child</h3> + +<p class="author">By Julia Clark Hallam</p> + +<p class="intro">(From “Studies in Child Development.” American contemporary. +Instructor in the University of Chicago.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It goes without saying that every mother has +an imperative duty toward her son as he approaches<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> +this important period in his development. Nature +has done her part in preparing the boy’s body, the +mother must be doing her part in preparing his mind +for all of these new experiences. There are many +things which a mother can do because she is the +mother, and because her mind is mature while the +mind of the boy is yet immature. The mother, +through her study, comes to see that the adolescent +boy is about to acquire new powers. Before, he was +simply an individual. Now he is becoming a part +of the race, because he is acquiring the power of +conserving it. To the mother who has duly prepared +herself for her child’s adolescence, its appearance +will bring the same mysterious thrill which she felt +when she first saw the child as a new-born babe. It +has been said in this connection, “When a baby is +to be born, preparations for its advent are carefully +made. But when, in future years, the most critical +time comes when the child is to be re-born, a man +or a woman, it is rare that intelligent suggestions +or wise words of counsel tell him or her of the importance +of the period.”</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Mother</h3> + +<p class="author">By Laura Simmons</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In the “Boston Herald.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, Mother—hands of balm and gracious healing,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And cool, soft fingers that could heal and bless!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So sure to charm the aching and the fever</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With magic spell and soothing tenderness.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, Mother—feet that grew so very tired</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Treading Life’s pavements and its burning sands!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Have they found rest at last, and cooling waters</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where they may stop to loose their earthly bands?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, Mother—eyes so keen to probe the sorrows!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">So quick to see the hurt and understand!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Do they not shine tonight from highest Heaven</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Bright with the old-time courage, high and grand?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, Mother—heart so wise and tender—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That has not died, nor failed, but lived and wrought</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In deeds and words—in daily work and action—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In lovely memory and blessed thought!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, Mother—love that lives past death and parting!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That reaches still to bless and guard and guide,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To hold me from the snare undreamed and waiting—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To point the refuge where I yet may hide!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And, oh—the things my heart hath yearned to utter!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The joys that thrilled—the pain that seared and scarred!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But I must wait—I, too—till sunset’s splendor</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Shall hold for me its shining gates unbarred.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Past joy, past sorrow, past the driving torrent</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of tears, I see her stand and watch for me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And clear the sweet old Mother-question cometh:</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“Oh, child—dear child! And is all well with thee?”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Wise Mothers</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mona Cairo</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Morality of Marriage.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We shall never have really good mothers until +women cease to make motherhood the central idea of +their existence. The woman who has no interest +larger than the affairs of her children is not a fit person +to train them.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Factory Worker and Motherhood</h3> + +<p class="author">By Kate Richards O’Hare</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Well-known Socialist speaker and +writer. From “The Sorrows of Cupid.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>I spent six months one winter in the various +factories of New York in order to get information +by actual experience. I can truthfully and conservatively +say that not more than one out of two +girls employed in the factory trades for a year or +more are physically fitted to be wives and mothers, +not considering their fitness mentally, morally or +spiritually. There are six million women workers +in the United States. If fifty per cent., not ninety, +are made physically, mentally and morally unfit for +wife and motherhood by doing work unsuited to +their strength, then the wage-system must be weighed +and “found wanting” indeed. Economic conditions +which force women to work in unsuitable industrial +occupations are not only a fruitful cause for divorce, +but an outrage against humanity as well.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Mothers</h3> + +<p class="author">By Charlotte Perkins Gilman</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_280">See page 280</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Forerunner.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We are mothers. Through us in our bondage,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Through us with a brand in the face,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Be we fettered with gold or with iron,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Through us comes the race.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">See the people who suffer, all people!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">All humanity wasting its powers</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the hand-to-hand struggle—death-dealing—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">All children of ours!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Shall we bear it? we mothers who love them?</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Can we bear it? we mothers who feel</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Every pang of our babes and forgive them</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Every sin when they kneel?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Dare ye sleep while your children are calling?</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Dare ye wait while they clamor unfed?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dare ye pray in the proud-pillared churches</div> + <div class="verse indent2">While they suffer for bread?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Rise now in the power of the woman!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Rise now in the power of our need!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The world cries in hunger and darkness!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We shall light! We shall feed!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">In the name of our ages of anguish!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the name of the curse and the slain!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By the strength of our sorrow we conquer!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the power of our pain!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Good Mother</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Wollstonecraft<br> +1759-1797</p> + +<p class="intro">(English. The mother of Mary, wife of the poet Shelley. One +of the earliest advocates of the right of woman to education, and +political rights.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>To be a good mother, a woman must have sense, +and that independence of mind which few women +possess who are taught to depend entirely on their +husbands. Meek wives are, in general, foolish +mothers; wanting their children to love them best, +and take their part, in secret against the father, who +is held up as a scarecrow. When chastisement is +necessary, though they have offended the mother, the +father must inflict the punishment; he must be the +judge in all disputes; ... I ... mean to insist that +unless the understanding of woman is enlarged, and +her character rendered firm, but being allowed to +govern her own conduct, she will never have sufficient +sense or command of temper to manage her children +properly.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Mother a Creator</h3> + +<p class="author">By C. Josephine Barton</p> + +<p class="intro">(Contemporary. Formerly associate editor and publisher “The +Life,” author of “An Interlude,” “Evangel Ahvallah,” “The +Mother of the Living,” etc.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Thoughts are the blocks out of which children +are made.... Your child’s thoughts will flow in the +trenches you open for it. During the impressible +first few months it will cultivate that which you +cultivate. If you love, it will love; if you hate, it +will hate. If you have the measles, it will have it; +the child will rejoice at your rejoicing, and will weep<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> +when you weep. (This is one instance wherein if +you “weep you will <i>not</i> weep alone”! Anger indulged +in by you will make the foetus helpless in +Anger’s toils! Love humanity, find and faithfully +perform your work, and your unborn child will one +day be a philanthropist....</p> + +<p>Two brothers manifested the same criminality +their father had been guilty of when begetting them, +and they became even worse men, because their weak, +unresisting mother took no control over them during +the months most important, and their passions developed. +Thus the design and form of temple unwittingly +carved out in the brain of their two sons, +developed the phrenological bumps, criminal protuberances +to match the design marked out for them +by their father in his unenlightened Temple of +Thought. This condition could not have been altered +by any process known except that of the mother’s +thought-action during the period of pliability in the +atom. But being incompetent, unable to systematize +her thoughts and purify her heart, or cultivate the +philosophical and rational, the begotten shape developed +with all the qualities about it that had so +blighted the begetter....</p> + +<p>It is with pleasure I turn from the above picture +and point out to you the laws leading up to the beautiful +character of Elizabeth Cady Stanton—one of +the bravest of leaders in the cause of woman’s +emancipation. Daniel Cady was a distinguished +lawyer, a New York judge, later elected to Congress. +Though a man of fine qualities, unimpeachable integrity, +he was sensitive and modest to a marked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> +degree; while her mother, Margaret Livingston, had +the military idea of government, was tall and queenly, +self-reliant and at her ease under all circumstances. +She was the daughter of Colonel Livingston, who, +at West Point, when Arnold made the attempt to +betray that stronghold into the enemy’s hands, in +the absence of his superior officer, took the responsibility +of firing into the Vulture, a suspicious looking +British vessel that lay at anchor on the opposite side +of the river, leaving Andre, the British spy, with his +papers to be captured.</p> + +<p>The foregoing shows the result of the influence +of two united energies in the production of a powerful +woman. To modify the effect of her begetter’s +modesty, the mother’s military ideas stood in good +place; and to supplement his embarrassment, she was +full of courage; so that even if her father had implanted +the foundation for the cultivation of an over-modest +child, the mother made up the happy balance +during her supervision, and it resulted in the freedom +of individuality in the beautiful woman who has +blessed the race with light, in the dispelling of many +clouds. The loving and faithful mother of seven +children, she found time to fill a noble sphere in public, +one in which they could rise up to call her blessed.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Collective Motherhood</h3> + +<p class="author">By Rheta Childe Dorr</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Author of “What Eight Million +Women Want.” From an article in “Good Housekeeping.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We have the ideal of collective motherhood expressing +itself through the women’s clubs, through<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> +consumer’s leagues, through mothers’ congresses, +through a dozen like agencies. We have the ideal +for a collective fatherhood also, but this is waiting +to express itself through organizations, which can +be formed only by men. Of the details of children’s +lives the average man knows infinitely less than do +women. Of the interrelationship of children and the +whole structure of society most men know nothing at +all.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman and Mother</h3> + +<p class="author">By C. Gasquoine Hartley<br> +(Mrs. Walter M. Gallichan)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_154">See page 154</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Any stigma attached to women is really a stigma +attached to their potentiality as mothers, and we +can only remove it by beginning with the emancipation +of the actual mother.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Companion Mother</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ida Tarbell</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Business of Being a Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>A woman never lived who did all she might have +done to open the mind of her child for its great adventure. +It is an exhaustless task. The woman who +sees it knows she has need of all the education the +college can give, all the experience and culture she +can gather. She knows that the fuller her individual +life, the broader her interests, the better for the child. +She should be a better person in their eyes. The real +service of the “higher education,”—the freedom to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> +take part in whatever interests or stimulates her—lies +in the fact that it fits her intellectually to be a companion +worthy of a child.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Parental Respect for Right of Children</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ellen Key</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Century of the Child.”)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_143">See page 143</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>A mother happy in the friendship of her own +daughter, said not long ago that she desired to erect +an asylum for tormented daughters. Such an asylum +would be as necessary as a protection against pampering +parents as against those who are overbearing. +Both alike torture their children though in different +ways, by not understanding the child’s right to have +his own point of view, his own ideal of happiness, his +own proper tastes and occupations. They do not +see that children exist as little for their parents’ sake +as parents do for their children’s sake.... Family +life would have an intelligent character if each one +lived fully and entirely his own life and allowed the +others to do the same. None should tyrannize over, +none should suffer tyranny from, the other. Parents +who give their homes this character can justly demand +that children shall accommodate themselves to +the habits of the household as long as they live in it. +Children on their part can ask that their own life +of thought and feeling shall be left in peace at home, +or that they shall be treated with the same consideration +that would be accorded to a stranger. When the +parents do not meet these conditions they themselves +are the greater sufferers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Ancient and Modern Mother</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Alec Tweedie</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Author of “America As I Saw It,” +“Mexico As I Saw It,” “Sunny Sicily,” etc. From “Women the +World Over.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The ancient mother and the modern mother are +two very different beings. The very ancient mother +fought for her child like the tigress for her young +cubs. The mother of past generations gave her entire +life to her children to the absolute neglect of her +husband. The modern mother, although she sometimes +neglects her children for her fads and frivolities +is really a much more sane person, for she lives three +lives; one part she gives to her husband, one part to +her children, and a third part to herself. Instead of +entirely obliterating herself, as the ancient mother +did, she believes in self-culture, self-advancement, +and is a thinking, human being; she is therefore more +of a companion to her husband, and more capable of +educating her offspring.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Mother</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Emmaline Pethick-Lawrence</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Votes for Women.”)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_180">See page 180</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>In a small room, dimly lighted, sat a woman +making collars. Above the humming of her sewing +machine the clock of a neighboring church struck +ten. The woman lifted her head, and, gathering up +her work, folded it together. She crossed the room +and looked down upon the faces of two boys sleeping. +“Christmas Eve!” she sighed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span></p> + +<p>She went back to cover up the machine. Sitting +wearily, she leant her weight upon it and her head +sank upon her arms. Last year it had all been so +different! She had to be both father and mother +now, since the bread-winner had been cut down by +the hand of death falling with an awful suddenness. +And within her body there slept, soon to waken to +life, a child. “Pray God it be a boy,” she moaned. +“If not, pray God it may die! It is too terrible to +be a woman.”</p> + +<p>She thought of the girl on the second floor who +had been taken that day to the workhouse infirmary; +she knew her story. The girl had been a waitress in +a tea shop. She earned her food and five shillings +a week. She could not live alone in the world on +that wage. She had accepted the “protection” of a +man more than twice her age. When her trouble +came he had tired of her. He had left her. She did +not know where he was now. Would that child who +was to be born in the workhouse be a girl, too? She +hoped not. She prayed that it might be a boy.</p> + +<p>She remembered the old woman who had tried +to drown herself last week. The old woman’s husband +had died; that was a year ago. The widow had +taken in work for an army clothing establishment. +But the money she earned had hardly paid the rent. +The case had made something of a sensation in the +police court. The papers had taken it up for a day +or two. The employer said it was the Government +that was to blame. The Government would not allow +its contracts to be carried out by the sweated labor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> +of men, but the sweating of women did not matter. +Women did not seem to matter to anybody. When +her husband was alive she had not realized it. She +realized it now. She remembered, though, that even +in these days—</p> + +<p>Suddenly her room seemed full of light. Afar +off she heard a burst of song. It came nearer. Never +had she listened to such music. The woman lifted +her head. The window was gone, the whole of the +outside wall had fallen noiselessly away, and the +sky was filled with a glory that was not of the sun +nor of the moon. The light seemed to come from a +cloud, and the singing, too. No, it was not a cloud, +it was a host of radiant forms, for, as she looked, +those shining ones came nearer to her, and she could +hear their voices: “Good tidings of great joy!”</p> + +<p>So that was what they were singing! Where had +she heard it before? The words seemed so familiar +to her that, though she wondered, she was not overwhelmed +with surprise. Then came a rapturous outburst: +“They that dwell in the land of the shadow +of death—upon them hath the light shined.” The +light! How wonderful it was! How amazing! It +seemed to the woman like a glorious sea upon which +her spirit floated—a flood which drowned her senses, +so that for a moment or two she lost consciousness of +all else. Then once again her attention was arrested +by the singing, because she heard these words: “For +unto us a child is born.” “Pray God it is a boy,” +she murmured.</p> + +<p>She wanted to hear more, and listened breathlessly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> +now. Nearer and nearer to her came the voices, +and she heard a new refrain that seemed to fill both +heaven and earth with ringing joy: “To set at +liberty—them that are bruised.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly that triumphant chanting became a +lament. “No room! No room!” wailed that multitude +of voices. “The door of the mother’s heart is +shut. She prays that the child may die!” Then the +woman knew that it was the child who stirred within +her, whose coming the angels had heralded. The +woman child! Yes, for she had prayed that it might +die, and her heart stood still with fear.</p> + +<p>And it seemed to the woman that the wall had +been built up and the room was dark again, save for +the light of one small lamp. But in her heart she +heard still the echo of the song: “They that dwell +in the land of the shadow of death”—that was the +girl in the workhouse infirmary; that was the old +woman in the police court charged with attempted +suicide; that was herself—upon them “hath the light +shined.” “For unto us a child is born, a Saviour, +which”—Then she understood. It was her own child. +The child that moved under her heart. What was it +came next? Ah! It came back to her now; she +seemed to hear again that burst of joy that filled the +sky with song: “To set at liberty them that are +bruised.”</p> + +<p>Who were the bruised? Some one had told her +a story a few hours ago. It was about the poor creature +at the corner of the street; her husband had come +back last Saturday and demanded money; had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> +knocked her down and kicked her; the magistrate +had made a joke about it in court, and everybody +had laughed except the woman. She had wept bitterly. +But nobody seemed to care. “To set at liberty +them that are bruised.” The poor thing was +horribly bruised, they said. But was she not “at +liberty?” No, she was in bondage—cruel bondage. +Were all women in bondage? If so, some of the fetters +were made of gold. Were fetters of gold light? +Some one was going to break the fetters. And that +some one was—her own child. “No! No!” she +cried, in agony. “It is she—my child—who will +be broken! Rather let her die now, before she has +become acquainted with grief.”</p> + +<p>Then the woman felt herself folded in a purple +mantle, so that she could not see, but she was not +afraid, rather comforted, as if with a sense of deep +security. “I am destiny,” she heard; “your child +will be safe with me. I will cover her with my arm. I +will hide her in the secret place of the Most High. +She shall break in pieces the fetters of those who are +in bondage.”</p> + +<p>“Then she shall not herself be broken?” faltered +the mother.</p> + +<p>“She shall be broken,” answered Destiny, “yet +not her spirit. That shall return victorious to God, +who sends it forth.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me one thing,” pleaded the mother, “Shall +the joy of my child outweigh her sorrow?”</p> + +<p>“The angels sang at the birth of One who was +destined to be crucified for the world. Did the joy +of the crucified outweigh the sorrow?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span></p> + +<p>“I do not know,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“According to her strength her joy shall be like +unto His joy, and her sorrow like unto His sorrow.”</p> + +<p>And the mother said, “God’s will be done.”</p> + +<p>And when the veil was removed it seemed as +though the little room was full of those shining +presences who had drawn near to her from the singing +hosts of heaven.</p> + +<p>“I am Wisdom,” said one, and laid a hand upon +the woman’s head. “I give to your child what is +mine.” “I am Vision,” cried another, kissing her +eyes, saying, “For the child’s sake.” And Love was +revealed, as Love reverently touched the child where +she lay beneath the mother’s heart, saying: “It is +I who give to women the courage that amazes strong +men.” “Take from me for the child that shall be +born, my double-edged sword, the spirit and the +word,” said one: “My name is Inspiration.”</p> + +<p>Then once more there was wafted upon the air +the singing of the heavenly host—and the outside wall +had disappeared again, and the garret was open to +the sky. And the heart of the woman sang with the +joy of the angels: “For unto us a child is born.” ...</p> + +<p>A peal of bells rang out from the church. One +of the boys stirred, sat up, and cried out, “Mother!” +She lifted her head. “Hush!” she said, “Hush, +the angels are singing.” She rose and walked to the +window, drawing aside the curtain. A star shone +brilliantly; it seemed to shoot a shaft of light into +the room. The Christmas chimes clamored their tidings.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> +She went back and knelt by the startled child. +“Kiss mother,” she said, as she put her arms about +him. “It is Christmas morning.”</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>I Am the Mother-Heart</h3> + +<p class="author">By Grace D. Brewer</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Progressive Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>I am the Mother-heart of this nation.</p> + +<p>I have loved and nourished its little ones in age-long +mother fashion; have swelled with pride when +the nation has protected them from disease; come +nearly to bursting with unuttered gratitude when +happiness has come to the youth of the land.</p> + +<p>I have spent many long, sleepless nights weeping +over the fate of millions of my babies, forced +from home, school and mother, to the factories and +shops of the cities, and all night have wondered +“why” and “how long?”</p> + +<p>I am haunted by the childish protestations, desirous +glances from faded, childish eyes, and bleed +anew when I see my children marching from the +factory door, their bent and bony figures clad in +rags.</p> + +<p>I, the Mother-heart of the nation have been deceived, +tricked and defrauded.</p> + +<p>I believed that modern industry, with all the +improvements, could provide for my infants; believed +the mighty labor-saving machines would not +require the help of my babies to feed the world; believed +the children would be given plenty of time in +which to grow healthy bodies.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span></p> + +<p>I have, however, awakened to existing conditions. +No longer will I be submissive.</p> + +<p>I have ever been a power for good, but seldom +rebellious.</p> + +<p>I am now pulsing red blood. I will temper my +mother-love with human justice and stand only for +right.</p> + +<p>I will help restore to my babies the privileges of +their years.</p> + +<p>I can labor for justice and hover my young flock.</p> + +<p>I no longer send out purely love throbs, but send +warnings to those who have been blinded by gold.</p> + +<p>I beat in harmony with the masses struggling for +freedom, feeling confident of results. I beat with will +and determination, a glorious future before me.</p> + +<p>I know the day will come when the Mother-heart +of all nations will be content because of the reign of +justice.</p> + +<p>I realize my responsibility and beat the faster.</p> + +<p>I am the Mother-heart of this nation.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3 class="x-ebookmaker-important">By Mrs. C. E. Porter</h3> + +<p class="intro-c">(Vice President National Congress of Mothers.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Let no one fear the loss of womanliness so long +as woman is a willing slave to her mother instinct.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_V">BOOK V<br> +<span class="smaller">Love and Marriage</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="LOVE_AND_MARRIAGE">LOVE AND MARRIAGE</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>To Love on Feeling Its Approach</h3> + +<p class="author">By Helen Hoyt</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Masses.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Love is a burden, a chain,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Love is a trammel and tie;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love is disquiet and pain</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That slowly go by.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">O why should I bind my heart</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And bind my sight?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love is only a part</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of all delight.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Let me have room for the rest,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To find and explore!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love is greatest and best?</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But love closes the door.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And closes us off so long from the ways</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And concernments of men;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And owns us, and hinders our days.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">O love, come not again!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I have walked with you all my mile,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Now let me be free, be free!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">O now a little while</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Love, come not back to me!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Ashes of Life</h3> + +<p class="author">By Edna St. Vincent Millay</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Forum.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Love has gone and left me, and the days are all alike;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Eat I must and sleep I will,—and would that night were here!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But ah!—to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Would that it were day again!—with twilight near!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Love has gone and left me and I don’t know what to do;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">This or that or what you will is all the same to me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But all the things that I begin I leave before I’m through—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">There’s little use in anything as far as I can see.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Love has gone and left me, and the neighbors knock and borrow,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow</div> + <div class="verse indent2">There’s this little street and this little house.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Greatest Love</h3> + +<p class="author">By Rahel Varnhagen</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Life and Letters of Rahel Varnhagen.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Only one in the whole world recognizes my claim +to the personality, and does not wish merely to use +and swallow up some part or other of me; loves me +as nature created me, and fate distorted me; understands<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> +this fate; is willing to leave me the remainder +of my life, and to gladden it and draw it nearer to +heaven; and, for the happiness of being my friend, +will be, do, and leave all for me. This is the man +who is called my bridegroom.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Love-Songs</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Carolyn Davies</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">What is love?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love is when you touch me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love is a noise of stars singing as they march;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Love is a voice of worlds glad to be together;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What is love?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">There is a strong wall about me to protect me:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It is built of the words you have said to me.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">There are swords about me to keep me safe:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They are the kisses of your lips.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">All the wishes of my mind know your name,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the white desires of my heart</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They are acquainted with you.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The cry of my body for completeness,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That is a cry to you.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My blood beats out your name to me, unceasing, pitiless—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your name, your name.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My body talks about you in the night,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My hand says soft, “His hand is like a shield.”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My cheek grows warm, remembering your lips.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My arms reach blindly out into the dark;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My pulses say, “We cannot beat without him;”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And my eyes do not speak at all, for what they know is beyond being said.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My body talks about you all night long.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I cannot sleep, my body talks so loud.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">See, I lead you to my heart,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It is a winding way, the way to my heart;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It is thorn-beset and very long;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It is walled and buttressed; it is sentineled,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And none could ever find the way alone.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So take my hand,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I will lead you to my heart.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Our hearts lie so close</div> + <div class="verse indent4">That when your heart trembles,</div> + <div class="verse indent8">Mine will be afraid.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Our hearts beat so near</div> + <div class="verse indent4">That when your heart stirs,</div> + <div class="verse indent8">Mine will hear it.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Our hearts speak so loud</div> + <div class="verse indent4">That all the world must know.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I have lost track of what world I am living in</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or what day I am seeing;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I only know that there is blue about—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The blue of your eyes;</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I only know that there is music somewhere—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Words quick and broken that you have said.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Your parted lips hard on mine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your sudden arms crushing heaven into my heart,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your broken words that tell me nothing and everything—</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When God is thundering the last world into oblivion,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And quenching the farthest star,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And putting blackness around,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We two will cling to each other.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Man Never Gets Over It</h3> + +<p class="author">By Cornelia A. P. Comer</p> + +<p class="intro">(From “The Wealth of Timmy Zimmerman,” in the “Atlantic +Monthly.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>“I mean to have a swell home, if I am a +bachelor,” boasted Timmy. “I feel like I wanted it. +It’s just another game, I guess. But I’ll play a lone +hand—I don’t reckon a man can be ready for matrimony +when it sends cold shivers down his spine just +to think of it, do you?”</p> + +<p>Kid lowered his voice.</p> + +<p>“Timmy, listen a minute. I’ll tell you something—<i>a +man never gets over feelin’ that way about +it</i>. He just has to kind of chloroform them feelings +and hurry along with it. Because there ain’t no +doubt it’s the thing to do.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Marriage, a Partnership</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Newell Dwight Hillis</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. From “The American Woman and +Her Home.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>There is a sense in which marriage is a contract, +at the same time business, moral and social....</p> + +<p>Marriage is looked upon often as the consummation +of the romance of life, whereas, it is simply its +beginning. It is called a matter of the heart, which +it should be, but it should also be an affair of the +intellect. It is fortunate that the day of early marriage +has passed, since the early marriage implied a +choice guided almost wholly by the emotions, as the +intellect is slower in its development than the heart. +But marriage should involve both heart and brain +and fulfill the chief desire of both.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>One of the Best Things</h3> + +<p class="author">By Charlotte Perkins Gilman</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Duty of Surplus Women,” in “The Independent.”)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_280">See page 280</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>If marriage laws are wrong, mend them. If marriage +customs offend, change them. If other people’s +marriages do not please, improve on them. But marriage +itself remains a good thing—one of the best +things in the world.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>What Is Love?</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Philip</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(English contemporary. Quoted from “Women the World +Over.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">What is Love, that all the world</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Should talk so much about it?</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">What is Love, that neither you</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nor I can do without it?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">What is Love that it should be</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As changeful as the weather?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Is it joy or is it pain</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or is it both together?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Love’s a tyrant and a slave,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A torment and a treasure.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Having it, you know no peace,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Lacking it, no pleasure.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Would I shun it if I could?</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Faith, I almost doubt it.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No, I’d rather bear its sting,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Than live my life without it.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Art of Loving</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ellen Key</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Contemporary Norwegian writer. From “Love and Marriage.”<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Every developed modern woman wishes to be +loved not <i>enmale</i>, but <i>en artiste</i>. Only a man whom +she feels to possess an artist’s joy in her, and who +shows this joy in discreet and delicate contact with +her soul as with her body, can retain the love of the +modern woman.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> J. G. Stokes Co., Pub.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A New Stimulus to Marriage</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. St. Clair Stobart</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_55">See page 55</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>As concerns marriage, if it should indeed be true +that women, who can find practical work in life outside +marriage, would no longer be so eager to marry, +this would not necessarily be an evil, for it would +probably act as an additional incentive to man to +desire marriage. Marriage has been regarded for +women as a profession in which failure involves, as +in other professions, humiliation. Women are +trained, therefore, under the present régime, to employ +all the arts at their disposal to ensure success in +their profession.... If women were absorbed in +professions and occupations, such as farming, architecture, +territorial service, and the like, and only desired +marriage when and because they loved, we +would have the loss in the woman of the wiles and +artificialities which formerly stimulated the man, and +marriage would be counterbalanced by a more healthy +emulation on the part of the man, who would be desirous +to obtain something of value which was difficult +to get.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Old Suffragist</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret Widdemer</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_156">See page 156</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She could have loved—her woman passions beat</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Deeper than theirs, or else she had not known</div> + <div class="verse indent0">How to have dropped her heart beneath their feet</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A living stepping-stone.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The little hands—did they not clutch her heart?</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The guarding arms—was she not very tired?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Was it an easy thing to walk apart,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Unresting, undesired?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She gave away her crown of woman-praise,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Her gentleness and silent girlhood grace</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To be a merriment for idle days,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Scorn for the market-place:</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She strove for an unvisioned, far-off good,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For one far hope she knew she would not see:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">These—not <i>her</i> daughters—crowned with motherhood,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And love and beauty—free.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Postponing Marriage</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ethel Maud Colquhoun</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_172">See page 172</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>A very important question in this connection is +whether, in promising fidelity to one woman, a lover +is really undertaking more than he can perform. +When he postpones marriage to the latest possible +moment man is certainly not offering to his bride +that gift of a life-long devotion which is part of the +ideal of true love.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Marriage of the “Friends”</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lucretia Mott</p> + +<p class="intro">(One of the early leaders in the Woman Suffrage, Anti-Slavery, +and other progressive movements of her time. A member of the +Society of Friends—a Quaker. The following is from a letter +written in 1869 to Josephine Butler, of England.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>In the Marriage union, no ministerial or other +official aid is required to consecrate or legalize the +bond. After due care in making known their intentions, +the parties, in presence of their friends, announce +their covenant, with pledge of fidelity and +affection, invoking Divine aid for its faithful fulfilment. +There is no assumed authority or admitted +inferiority, no <i>promise</i> of obedience. Their independence +is equal, their dependence mutual, and their +obligations reciprocal. This of course has had its influence +on married life and the welfare of families. +The permanence and happiness of the conjugal relation +among us have ever borne a favorable comparison +with those of other denominations.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Love That Pales</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Wollstonecraft<br> +1759-1797</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_121">See page 121</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Youth is the season for love in both sexes; but +in those days of thoughtless enjoyment provision +should be made for the more important years of life, +when reflection takes place of sensation. But Rousseau, +and most of the male writers who have followed +his steps, have warmly inculcated that the whole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> +tendency of female education ought to be directed to +one point—to render them pleasing.</p> + +<p>Let me reason with the supporters of this opinion +who have any knowledge of human nature. Do +they imagine that marriage can eradicate the habitude +of life? The woman who has only been taught to +please will soon find that her charms are oblique sunbeams, +and that they cannot have much effect on her +husband’s heart when they are seen every day, when +the summer is past and gone. Will she then have +sufficient native energy to look into herself for comfort, +and cultivate her dormant faculties? Or is it +not more rational to expect that she will try to please +other men, and, in the emotions raised by the expectations +of new conquests, endeavor to forget the mortification +her love or pride has received? When the husband +ceases to be a lover, and the time will inevitably +come, her desire of pleasing will then grow languid, +or become a spring of bitterness; and love, perhaps +the most evanescent of all passions, gives place to +jealousy or vanity.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>When Marriage Meant Bondage</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lucy Stone</p> + +<p class="intro">(Probably the most brilliant and effective of the early woman +suffrage orators. Is said to have possessed a beautiful speaking +voice, and great personal charm. The founder, with her husband, +Henry Blackwell, of “The Woman’s Journal.” From “Susan B. +Anthony, Her Life and Work.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The common law, which regulates the relation of +husband and wife, and is modified only in a few instances +by the statutes, gives the “custody” of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> +wife’s person to the husband, so that he has a right +to her even against herself. It gives him her earnings, +no matter with what weariness they have been acquired, +or how greatly she may need them for herself +or her children. It gives him a right to her personal +property which he may will away from her, also the +use of her real estate, and in some of the states, married +women, insane persons and idiots are ranked together +as not fit to make a will; so that she is left with +only one right, which she enjoys in common with the +pauper, the right of maintenance. Indeed, when she +has taken the sacred marriage vows, her legal existence +ceases.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Possible Utopia</h3> + +<p class="author">By Josephine Pitcairn Knowles</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Upholstered Cage.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Nothing is permanent, there is going on always a +continual shuffling of the cards of public opinion; +trends of thought, standards of conduct come and go; +and so when the day comes that women are more +economically independent, then they will go on strike +and sweep away all the unworthy suitors and declare +that they will only mate with the physically and +mentally sound, and then all considerations but love +and respect will go by the board. This will appear +but a distant and unrealizable Utopia to many who +read this; nevertheless it will happen; all changes +seem incredible from the distance, but when they +crystallize themselves in fact nothing appears more +natural or suitable. Every prophecy since the commencement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> +of history has been scouted in its first inception, +but when in time it has fulfilled itself it is +seen to be the very thing awaited, natural and obvious, +and a direct result of the past sequence of +events.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Marriage and the Labor Market</h3> + +<p class="author">By M. Carey Thomas</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_10">See page 10</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Recent investigations of the after lives of college +women and of their sisters who have not been to +college have shown us that only about one-half of +the daughters of men of the professional business +classes who do not inherit independent fortunes can +look forward to marriage. Statistics seem to prove +that only fifty per cent. of the women of these classes +marry. What are the other fifty per cent. to do except +work or starve? Most women of independent +means marry because their inherited fortunes enable +them to contribute to the support of the family. +Women of the working classes marry because they +too, can help by their labor to support the family. It +is only the dowerless women who are prevented by social +usage from engaging in paid work outside the +home, or in manual labor inside the home, after marriage, +who remain unmarried. All other women are +married and at work.</p> + +<p>Is it well for the great middle classes of our civilized +nations that is, for the classes that are not very +poor or very rich, to contain these ever increasing +number of celibate men and women? To such a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> +question there can be only one reply. If it is ill, as +we all admit, why do we not encourage the women of +these middle classes to work and marry like the +women of the poorer classes who are practically all +married? Why in England and Germany and the +United States are there these thousands upon thousands +of unmarried women teachers, a celibate class +like the monks and nuns of the Middle Ages, and +like them an ever present menace to the welfare of the +state? Why in Italy, on the other hand, are so many +of the women public school teachers married? Because +in Germany and England and the United States +women teachers lose their positions when they marry, +and marry and starve they cannot. Because in Italy +women teachers are allowed to marry and teach. Is it +inconceivable that the state of the future in which +women as well as men will vote will deprive women of +bread because they wish to marry?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Marriage Laws in 1850</h3> + +<p class="author">By Clarina Howard Nichols</p> + +<p class="intro">(From speech at Woman’s Suffrage Convention in 1852. +Quoted from “Life of Susan B. Anthony.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>If a wife is compelled to get a divorce on account +of the infidelity of the husband, she forfeits all right +to the property which they have earned together, +while the husband, who is the offender still remains +the sole possession and control of the estate. She, the +innocent party, goes out childless and portionless by +decree of law, and he, the criminal, retains the home +and children by favor of the same law. A drunkard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> +takes his wife’s clothing to pay his rum bills, and the +court declares that the action is legal because the +wife belongs to the husband.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Preventive of Divorce</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret O. B. Wilkinson</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Parents and Their Problems.”)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_173">See page 173</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>And here we come to the most potent of all +causes of divorce—the conventionally enforced idleness +of many married women—parasitism, Mrs. +Schreiner calls it—and the overwork of many of our +men.... The rush of our present life comes to bear +most heavily on our most chivalrous. It wears them +out physically and mentally and discourages them +spiritually before they are fifty years of age. It gives +them only time enough to nourish a vague doubt of +the womanhood that is content to fatten their toil, +instead of laboring staunchly with them as healthy +women should do. They find their usefulness limited, +their powers exhausted, and wonder why. And then, +sometimes in utter weariness they throw off the yoke +and try to begin again. But the women are not always +wholly to blame for this condition. Sometimes +with a perfectly unreasoning “I can support a wife” +pride, a man will insist that a woman give up once +and forever the only work in which she takes an interest, +and leaves her a choice between idleness and +housework in his home (which always, with or without +fitness, a man will permit a woman to do)! But +if a woman should say to her husband before, or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> +soon after marriage, “John, it does not please me that +you should be a lawyer—you must become a stock +broker,” or “James, when you marry me you must +give up the art you love and become a carpenter,” +would we not be quick to decry her injustice? Yet +there are men who still say to their wives, “The work +you love you must give up. You may do the work I +provide or none at all.”</p> + +<p>Of course, motherhood brings to women certain +limitations, but the thing we do not recognize is that +these limitations are temporary. And, if, in the ages +past, women were able to combine with motherhood +the most arduous physical labors, it seems probable, +that, in the present and future when the demands of +maternity are less rigorous, women should be able, +with gain to the race, to enter new fields of labor and +accomplish laudable results.</p> + +<p>Surely there is no greater safeguard for man and +woman than the work in which mind and body can delight.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Overheard in the Marriage Congress</h3> + +<p class="author">By Adella M. Parker</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From the Suffrage Edition of the “Daily News,” Tacoma, +Wash.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Once upon a time all the men in the world gathered +together to make the laws of marriage. And the +women, learning of this, gathered also, protesting and +saying:</p> + +<p>“A woman is one of the parties to every contract +of marriage. Why do we also not make the laws of +marriage?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span></p> + +<p>“Woman’s place is at home,” said the men.</p> + +<p>“But,” said the women, “the marriage agreement +is the very basis of the home.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the men, “but woman’s place is at +home. It is not her place to create the conditions that +make the home.”</p> + +<p>“For how long is the marriage contract?” asked +the women.</p> + +<p>“Forever,” said the men. Then the women said:</p> + +<p>“Suppose we should insist upon helping to make +the contracts we enter into?”</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t be lawful,” said the men.</p> + +<p>“Who makes the laws?” said the women.</p> + +<p>“We do,” said the men.</p> + +<p>“And do the men make the laws concerning the +rights of children?” asked a woman with a babe in +her arms, and another at her heels.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes,” said the men.</p> + +<p>“And the laws concerning a woman’s rights with +respect to her own child?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the men, “the women bear the +children, but the men determine their legal control.”</p> + +<p>“Can the marriage contract ever be broken?” +asked the bravest one of the women.</p> + +<p>“No,” said the men, “it can’t be broken except +upon facts that can’t be proved.”</p> + +<p>“Do the men keep the marriage vows?” softly +asked a woman ’way at the rear.</p> + +<p>“Hush,” said a portly landlord who owned a +“restricted district;” “no respectable woman would +ask such a question.” Then a thoughtful woman +earnestly asked:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span></p> + +<p>“Will there not be more murders, and more suicides +and more insanity if the women have not part +in settling the terms of marriage?”</p> + +<p>But the Lombrosos and the Allen McLane Hamiltons +and all the other criminologists and insanity experts +paid no heed to this question. Finally the women +said:</p> + +<p>“But suppose we don’t enter into these contracts +that you make?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but you will,” said the men.</p> + +<p>And they did. But some of the women got even.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Cry of Man to Woman</h3> + +<p class="author">By C. Gasquoine Hartley</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Truth About Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The cry of man to woman under the patriarchal +system has been, and still for the most part is, “Your +value in our eyes is your sexuality; for your work we +care not.” But mark this! The penalty of this false +adjustment has fallen upon men. For women, in +their turn, have come to value men first in their capacity +as providers for them, caring as little for man’s +sex value as men for women’s work-value. From +the moment when women had to place the economic +considerations in love first, her faculties of discrimination +were no more of service for the selection of the +fittest man. Here we may find the explanation of the +kind of men girls have been willing to marry—old +men, the unfit fathers, the diseased.... And it is the +race that has suffered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>When Love Went By</h3> + +<p class="author">By Theodosia Garrison</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Home Companion.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When Love went by I scarcely bent</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My eyes to see the way he went.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Life had so many joys to show,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">What time I had to watch him go,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or bid him in, whom folly sent.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But when the day was well nigh spent,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From out the casement long I leant,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ah, would I had been watching so</div> + <div class="verse indent4">When Love went by!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Gray day with dismal nights are blent,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lonely and sad and discontent;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I would his feet had been more slow.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Oh, heart of mine, how could we know</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or realize what passing meant</div> + <div class="verse indent2">When Love went by?</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Flirt</h3> + +<p class="author">By Amelia Josephine Burr</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Century Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Beautiful Boy, lend me your youth to play with;</div> + <div class="verse indent6">My heart is old.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lend me your fire to make my twilight gay with,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">To warm my cold;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Prove that the power my look has not forsaken,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">That at my will</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My touch can quicken pulses and awaken</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Man’s passion still.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The moment that I ask do not begrudge me.</div> + <div class="verse indent6">I shall not stay.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I shall have gone, e’er you have time to judge me,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">My empty way.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I am not worth remembrance, little brother,</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Even to damn.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">One kiss—O God! if I were only other</div> + <div class="verse indent6">Than what I am!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>I Can Go to Love Again</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret Widdemer</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Century Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Now that you are gone, loving hands, loving lips,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Now I can go back to love,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I can free my soul, that was kissed to eclipse,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I can fling my thoughts above.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I can run and stand in the wind, on the hill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Now that I am lone and free,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whistle through the dusk and the cleansing chill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All my red-winged dreams to me.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I had dreamed of love like a wind, like a flame,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I had watched for love, a star;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That was never love that you brought when you came....</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Silver cord and golden bar!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I was swathed with love like a veil, like a cloak;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I was bound with love a shroud,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All my red-winged dreams flew afar when you spoke....</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dreams I dared not call aloud.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They are waiting still in the hush, in the light,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Morning wind and leaves and dew,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whisper of the grass, of the waves, of the night,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Things I gave away for you.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I can speed my soul to its old wonderlands,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Free my wild heart’s wings from chain,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Now that you are gone, loving lips, loving hands,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I can go to love again.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Marriage the Sole Means of Maintenance</h3> + +<p class="author">By Josephine Butler</p> + +<p class="intro">(English. Editor of “Woman’s Work and Woman’s Culture,” +published in 1869. From the Introduction.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>What dignity can there be in the attitude of +women in general, and toward men, in particular, +when marriage is held (and often necessarily so, being +the sole means of maintenance) to be the one end +of a woman’s life, when it is degraded to the level of +a feminine profession, when those who are soliciting +a place in this profession resemble those flaccid Brazilian +creepers which cannot exist without support, +and which sprawl out their limp tendrils in every direction +to find something—no matter what—to hang +upon; when the insipidity or the material necessities +of so many women’s lives make them ready to accept +almost any man who may offer himself? There has +been a pretense of admiring this pretty helplessness of +women. But let me explain that I am not deprecating +the condition of dependence in which God has placed +every human being, man or woman,—the sweet interchange +of services, the give and take of true affection,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> +the mutual support and aid of friends or lovers, who +have each something to give and to receive. That is +a wholly different thing from the abject dependence +of one entire class of persons on another and a +stronger class. In the present case such a dependence +is liable to peculiar dangers by its complication with +sexual emotions and motives, and with relations which +ought, in an advanced and Christian community, to +rest upon a free and deliberate choice,—a decision +of the judgment and of the heart, and into which the +admission of a necessity, moral or material, introduces +a degrading element.... Cordelia ... declared, “Love +is not love when it is mingled with respects that +stand aloof from the entire point.” Truly, the present +condition of society ... leaves little room for the +heart’s choice.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Confidante</h3> + +<p class="author">By Nora Elizabeth Barnhart</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Independent.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I let him in and shut the door,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And when the key was turned,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There leapt a look into his face—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A look I had not learned!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Within the four walls of my heart</div> + <div class="verse indent2">He sudden stalked a lord,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Possessed of all he did survey,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To hold by might of sword!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Ah! Then how gray and small the room</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That I had deemed so fair!</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">How paltry were its furnishings,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Its wealth of book and chair!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The wide-flung windows seemed to shrink,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That long my stars had framed!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The stretch of daisy fields and hills</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Lay startled and ashamed!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And all my little world was his,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Which once had stretched so wide!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He holds the key upon his palm,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And jingles it with pride!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Mirandy on the Monotony of Domesticity</h3> + +<p class="author">By Dorothy Dix</p> + +<p class="intro">(Foremost among American humorous writers. In “Good +Housekeeping.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Dere ain’t nothin’ dull in bein’ married, and dere +ain’t no sameness ’bout havin’, a husband which I reckon +is de main reason dat most of us wants one. Hits +de ole maids an’ de ole bachelors what ain’t got nobody +to boss ’em an’ dispute ’em, an’ rile ’em, an’ fight wid +’em, dat gets dull an’ lonesome lak. Not married +folks.... Life in one of dese ole bachelor clubs, or +spinsters’ retreats makes me think of my batter puddin’s. +Hit sets well on a weak stomach, but hit aint +got no flavor to hit. Matrimony, hits lak one of de +fruit cakes what I bakes at Christmas. Hits full of +ginger an’ spice, an’ plums, an’ raisins, an’ hits +mighty apt to give dem a night mare what partakes +of hit, but hit sho has got taste to hit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Marriage Not an Assurance of Support</h3> + +<p class="author">By Alice Henry</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Trade Union Woman.”<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It often happens that marriage in course of time +proves to be anything but an assurance of support. +Early widowed, the young mother herself may have +to earn her children’s bread. Or the husband may become +crippled, or an invalid, or he may turn out a +drunkard or spendthrift. In any of these circumstances, +the responsibility and burden of supporting +the family usually falls upon the wife. Is it strange +that the group so often drifts into undeserved pauperism, +sickness and misery, perhaps later on even into +those depths of social maladjustment that bring about +crime?</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Henry Holt Publishing Co.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Price of Love</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Austin</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Love and the Soul Maker.”<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>“But love,” Valda insisted, ... “should be free.”</p> + +<p>“If it is, Nature didn’t make it so. Automatically +the end of loving ties up with it those who love +and the unborn.</p> + +<p>“No sooner do we begin upon it than we enter +upon certainties of effecting the happiness of the one +who loves with us, and the potential third. It is so little +free, that we can neither go out of it nor into it on the +mere invitation, nor abate by saying so one of the +widening circles of its disaster. Whether for better +or worse, love is irrevocably tied to its consequences.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span></p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. de Girardin</p> + +<p>It is not easy to be a widow; one must resume +all the modesty of girlhood without being allowed +even to feign ignorance.</p> + +<p class="author">By Comtesse d’ Houdetot</p> + +<p>I have seen more than one woman drown her +honor in the clear water of diamonds.</p> + +<p class="author">By De Maintenon</p> + +<p>Before marriage woman is a queen; after marriage, +a subject.</p> + +<p class="author">By de l’Enclos</p> + +<p>The resistance of a woman is not always a proof +of her virtue, but more frequently of her experience.</p> + +<p class="author">By Anne Morton Barnard</p> + +<p>A prison, plus “love”, is tyranny with its crown +carefully hidden.</p> + +<p class="author">Mrs. W. K. Clifford</p> + +<p>Why should man, who is strong, always get the +best of it, and be forgiven so much; and woman who is +weak, get the worst, and be forgiven so little?</p> + +<p class="author">By George Eliot</p> + +<p>The vainest woman is never thoroughly conscious +of her own beauty till she is loved by the man who +sets her own passion vibrating in return.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span></p> + +<p class="author">By Marguerite de Valois</p> + +<p>There are few husbands whom the wife cannot +win in the long run by patience and love, unless they +are harder than the rocks which the soft water penetrates +in time.</p> + +<p class="author">By Countess Natahlie</p> + +<p>Love is the association of two beings for the benefit +of one.</p> + +<p class="author">George Eliot</p> + +<p>We look at one little woman’s face we love, as +we look at the face of our mother earth, and see all +sorts of answers to our yearnings.</p> + +<p class="author">By “Ouida”</p> + +<p>What is it that love does to woman? Without it, +she only sleeps; with it alone, she lives.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. de Lambert</p> + +<p>It is only the coward who reproaches as a dishonor +the love a woman has cherished for him.</p> + +<p class="author">By Amelia E. Barr</p> + +<p>The truth is, women are lost because they do not +deliberate.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Alec Tweedie</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_126">See page 126</a>)</p> + +<p>There will be more marriages, and happier marriages, +when women are on an equal footing with men +in education and income.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span></p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. du Bocage</p> + +<p>The coquette comprises her reputation, and sometimes +even her virtue; the prude, on the contrary, +often sacrifices her honor in private, and preserves it +in public.</p> + +<p class="author">By George Sand</p> + +<p>A woman cannot guarantee her heart, even +though her husband be the greatest and most perfect +of men.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. de Rieux</p> + +<p>In all ill-mated marriages, the fault is less the +woman’s than the man’s, as the choice depended on +her the least.</p> + +<p class="author">By Marguerite de Valois</p> + +<p>There are women so hard to please that it seems +as if nothing less than an angel will suit them; hence +it comes that they often meet with devils.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. Bachi</p> + +<p>Men bestow compliments only on women who deserve +none.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. de Rieux</p> + +<p>Marriage is a lottery in which men stake their +liberty, and women their happiness.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. de Flahaut</p> + +<p>Manners, morals, customs change; the passions +are always the same.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span></p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. Necker</p> + +<p>The quarrels of lovers are like summer showers +that leave the country more verdant and beautiful.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. Reyband</p> + +<p>To continue love in marriage is a science.</p> + +<p class="author">By Anna Jameson</p> + +<p>How many women since the days of Echo and +Narcissus have pined themselves into air for the love +of men who were in love only with themselves.</p> + +<p class="author">By Amelia E. Barr</p> + +<p>Cruelly tempted, perplexed and bewildered, +when passion is stronger than reason, women do not +think of consequences, but go blindfolded, headlong +to their ruin.</p> + +<p class="author">By Louise Colet</p> + +<p>Better to have never loved, than to have loved +unhappily, or to have <i>half</i> loved.</p> + +<p class="author">By De Pompadour</p> + +<p>Love is the passion of great souls; it makes them +merit glory, when it does not turn their heads.</p> + +<p class="author">Mme. de Stael</p> + +<p>I am glad I am not a man, as I should be obliged +to marry a woman.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. de Motteville</p> + +<p>A woman can be held by no stronger tie than the +knowledge that she is loved.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> Doubleday, Page and Co.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_VI">BOOK VI<br> +<span class="smaller">Woman and Labor</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="WOMAN_AND_LABOR">WOMAN AND LABOR</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Housewife</h3> + +<p class="author">By Angela Morgan</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">It is she who makes ready the army when day is at hand,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When the bugle of labor is blowing its mighty command,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, fierce are the feet of the workers who answer the call,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But swifter and fiercer the toil that hath weaponed them all.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Do we boast of their brawn? Do we trumpet the cause of the fighter</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who marches at rise of sun?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lo! Look at the woman! The heat of her labor is whiter;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ere the work of the world has begun</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She is up, and her banners are flying from yard and from alley,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The roofs are a-flutter with eloquent streamers of snow.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, not for a moment her passionate fingers may dally,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till the soldier is shod and is fed and made ready to go.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, weary the heart of the host when the battle is done,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the woman is laboring still with the set of the sun!</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">Does the worker return? She is able and eager with bread.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Does he faint? There is cheer for his soul and delight for his head.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Do we trumpet our gain? Do we sing of our land and its thunder</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of factory, query and mill?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lo! look to the woman! Her love, her love, it hath compassed the wonder,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the army swings on at her will.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For hers is the whip, and her spur is the fighter’s salvation—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the strength of Jehovah she comes.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Her faith is the sword and her thrift is the shield of the nation,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And her courage is greater than drums.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">March, march, march, to your victories, O man!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fight, fight, fight, as you’ve fought since time began.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For she who hath wed you, and fed you and sped you,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fulfilling Eternity’s laws,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Is she who hath soldiered the Cause!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman in the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Carrie W. Allen</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Progressive Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It is generally conceded that woman lives in a +state of subordination to man, and nowhere is this +more apparent than in that sphere which is said to +be distinctly her own, the home.</p> + +<p>The woman in the home renders service which +the male wage-earner could not buy. She is the family<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> +economist. She mends and makes the garments, +buys the food and clothing, and by her intelligence +and thrift maintains the head of the house in a state +of physical efficiency which enables him to go out +and sell his labor power. The service she renders is +priceless. But, because she brings in no actual +money, she is considered an economic dependent, and +treated as a subordinate because of this dependence.</p> + +<p>The lot of this woman is desolately pitiable, +much worse in many cases than that of the woman +who has gone out into industry.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Morality and Woman in Industry</h3> + +<p class="author">By Clara E. Laughlin</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_68">See page 68</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>There seemed to be a widely prevailing idea that +modern industrial conditions, which take women and +girls out of the home are responsible for a great increase +in criminality and immorality. The Government +investigation shows that exactly the reverse is +true. The traditional pursuits of women—housework, +sewing, laundry work, nursing, and the keeping of +boarders furnish more than four-fifths of all the +feminine criminals, compared with only about one-tenth +furnished by all the newer pursuits, including +mills, factories, shops, offices, and the professions; and +the number of criminals who have never been wage-earners +in any pursuit, but who come directly from +their own homes into the courts and penal institutions, +is more than twice as large as that coming from all the +newer industrial pursuits together.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Wasted Energy and Talent</h3> + +<p class="author">By M. Olivia (Mrs. Russell) Sage</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Millionaire philanthropist. From +“The North American Review.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>There is an immense amount of feminine talent and energy +wasted in the world every day. This is not due +to the indifference or the laziness of woman, for she +is eager to do, to accomplish, to go out into the field +of life and achieve for herself and her kind. But she +simply does not know how. One of the most important +movements of the day, therefore, is the reawakening +of woman, the building her up on a new basis +of self-help and work for others. That movement will +set loose an amount of talent that will revolutionize +our social life.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Sisterhood in Labor</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ida C. Hultin</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. From speech delivered at the 80th +anniversary of Susan B. Anthony.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Women have failed to see that the work of every +woman touched that of every other woman. The woman +who works with the hand helps her who works with +the brain. Today we know there could be no choice of +work until there was freedom of choice to work.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women Are Going to Work</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elsie Clews Parsons</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Penalizing Marriage.” In “The Independent.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Women are going to work, and they are not going +to limit their work to house service. Let us cease<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> +to attempt to make marriage and childbearing a check +upon their work, thereby strengthening their tendencies +toward celibacy and race suicide.... Let us rather +adjust work and marriage and childbearing to a +minimum of incompatibility by lifting inherited taboos +on education in sex facts.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Development Through Choice of Work</h3> + +<p class="author">By Florence Kiper</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Forum.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>More and more must we demand that woman be +freed from unmeaning drudgery—and from the enervating +influences of support in return for sex, in +marriage or out of it. Only by self-assertion and by +self-development through the work which she may +elect, will woman come into her own.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Place</h3> + +<p class="author">By Gertrude Breslau Fuller</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_36">See page 36</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>A woman’s place is like a man’s place. It is +where her work is, wherever she can do the most good; +wherever she serves herself best without invading any +one else.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Demand for Work</h3> + +<p class="author">By Josephine Butler</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Woman’s Work and Woman’s Culture.”)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_157">See page 157</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The demand of the women of the humbler classes +for bread may be more pressing, but it is not more sincere<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> +than that of the women of the leisure classes for +work. And these two demands coming together, it +seems to me, point to an end so plainly to be discerned, +that I marvel that any should remain blind +to it. The latter demand is the attestation of the +collective human conscience that God does not permit +any to live as cumberers of the earth, and that the +very conditions of their moral existence is, that efforts +and pains taken by them should answer to some part +of the needs of the community.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Left-Over Women</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ethel Maud Colquhoun</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Author “The Vocation of Women,” +“Two on Their Travels,” etc. From “The Vocation of Women.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It is practically certain that every discussion on +the vocation of woman, whether among feminists or +their opponents, will ultimately lead to the following +problem: woman was obviously intended by nature to +become a mother; modern social requirements make it +obligatory that she should be legally married before +doing so; there are not enough husbands to go round. +What do you propose to do with the women who are +left over?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Sex-Parasitism</h3> + +<p class="author">By Olive Schreiner</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Woman and Labor.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The position of the unemployed modern female +is one wholly different. The choice before her, as her +ancient fields of domestic labor slip from her, is not +generally or often at the present day the choice between<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> +finding new fields of labor, or death; but one +far more serious in its ultimate reaction on humanity +as a whole—it is the choice between finding new +forms of labor or sinking slowly into a condition of +more or less complete and passive <i>sex parasitism</i>!</p> + +<p>Again and again in the history of the past, when +among human creatures a certain stage of material +civilization has been reached, a curious tendency has +manifested itself for the human female to become +more or less parasitic; social conditions tend to rob +her of all forms of active conscious social labor, and +to reduce her, like the field-bug, to the passive exercise +of her sex functions alone. And the result of this +parasitism has invariably been the decay in vitality +and intelligence of the female, followed by a longer +or shorter period by that of her male descendants and +her entire society.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Changed Conditions of Tomorrow</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret O. B. Wilkinson</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Parents and Their Problems.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We must accustom ourselves to another new idea +that as marriage is no longer a duty, for all +women, so it is no longer a trade or profession, +requiring all the time and labor of all married women. +Some confusion has arisen on this point because certain +labors have been associated with marriage in the +popular mind. But these labors may, in the near future, +come to be considered as trades in themselves, +not inseparably connected with marriage, and the +wives of the days to come may be found performing +diverse tasks. For we know that in our own times<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> +women may be the best of wives and good mothers, +but with small knowledge of spinning, weaving, basket-making, +pottery-making, agriculture or even baking, +although all of these trades used to be inseparably +connected with the lives of married women. And tomorrow, +owing to changed conditions, the woman doctor +or lawyer may seem to be as desirable of a mate as +the cook or seamstress today. So much is possible!</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Work in Woman’s Way</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lida Parce</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Educator. Author of “Economic +Determinism,” etc. From “The Progressive Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>If the economic interest is the important one, +then woman’s work has always been the important +work. The loom and the hand mill were strictly feminine +implements, so long as their product was used +only to supply the wants of the people. Only when +the products of the loom and the mill became useful +in competition did man take them up; and then for +purposes of exploitation. For thousands of years +man has devastated the earth and drenched it in blood +to further that exploitation. Now he is beginning to +find out that, after all, the only safe and proper use +that can be made of goods is in supplying the needs of +the people. Man has not yet begun to learn humility, +but he will learn it.</p> + +<p>Isn’t it time for women to begin to defend their +work, and their way of doing it? And to make a +sober and critical estimate of the part that man has +played in history? I think that women may well take +pride in doing their work in a woman’s way.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women Workers in New England</h3> + +<p class="author">By Annie Marion MacLean, Ph. D.</p> + +<p class="intro">(Professor of Sociology in Adelphi College. From “Wage-Earning +Women.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It was in New England that women and girls +first went out in large numbers to work with their +husbands and fathers and brothers in the mill. They +followed the industries from the fireside to the factory. +It was a natural movement stimulated in many +cases by necessity. At that time public opinion +frowned on the idle girl, and work was considered a +crowning virtue; so the factory girl was not commiserated +but commended. Things have changed in the +last century, and now we find most people of humanitarian +instincts looking with regret at the spectacle +of young girls marching to the mills. The procession +is a long one in the old New England towns, and it is +growing longer with the years....</p> + +<p>When Charles Dickens came to America, it was +to Lowell he went to see the cotton-mills in operation, +and it was of those mills he wrote his glowing picture +of factory life for women. “They look like human +beings,” he said, “not like beasts of burden.” If he +were to come to us to-day to see the cotton workers, +he would, in all probability, be taken to Fall River +first and asked to behold the product of the evolution +of two generations. He would see no beautiful window +boxes, no smiling girls making poetry as they +worked, or moving about with songs on their lips. +Life is grim in the Fall River mills, and the women +come perilously near having the mien of “beasts of +burden.” The semi-idyllic conditions of the early<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> +New England cotton-mill have given way to a system +brutalized by greed and the exigencies of modern industry.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women Who Sit at Ease</h3> + +<p class="author">By Grace Fallow Norton</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I know a lady in this land</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who carries a Chinese fan in her hand;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But in her heart does she carry a thought</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of her Chinese sister who carefully wrought</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The dainty, delicate, silken toy</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For her to admire and enjoy?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">To shield my lady from chilling draught</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Is a Japanese screen of curious craft.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She takes the comfort its presence gives,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But in her heart not one thought lives,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Not even one little thought—ahem!—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For her Japanese sister from over the sea!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>One-Fifth of the Women Population at Work</h3> + +<p class="author">By M. Carey Thomas</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_10">See page 10</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Unheralded, with no blare of trumpets, reluctantly +emerging into the light, are millions of women +wage-earners thronging every trade and profession, +multiplying themselves beyond all calculation from +census to census in every country of the civilized +world. Even in the United States where fewer women +are at work than in any other country about five millions +of women, or about one-fifth of all women of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> +working age, are supporting themselves outside the +home. It is because this industrial revolution has +taken place in our own lifetime that we do not as yet +realize it. Women of my own age, however, need +only refer to their own experience. I can remember +when no women at all were employed in business +offices, when the business streets of New York and +Philadelphia and Baltimore were practically deserted +by women. Now all the great office buildings are like +rabbit hutches swarming with women typewriters, +women bookkeepers, women secretaries, and business +women of every sort, kind and description. Already +everyone who studies the subject is compelled to recognize +that whether we wish it or not the economic independence +of women is taking place before our eyes. +Men of the poorer classes have long been unable to +care for their families without the assistance of women, +and men of the classes which formerly supported +their wives and daughters in comfort are now unable +to do so and are becoming increasingly unwilling to +marry and assume responsibility which they cannot +meet....</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Awakening</h3> + +<p class="author">By Josephine Conger</p> + +<p class="intro">(Editor “Home Life Magazine.” Formerly editor and publisher +“The Progressive Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">She wrought, and the world wore on its back the cloth her nimble fingers wove.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And as she wrought her mind lay blank beneath the thick-coiled tresses of her hair,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">For man had relegated to her that one task of weaving.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And while her mind lay blank, the rulers of the earth reached forth, and (clad in cloth she wove)</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Built for them cities, kingdoms, empires, laws,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And ruled within them to their hearts’ content.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And Woman dreamed and wove, and dreamed and wove,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Monotonously for ages dreamed and wove, apparently content.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Then took the rulers of the earth from out her hands her weaving;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Left the Woman empty-handed in her home;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gave her universal task to vast machines, to mills, to factories;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Took the dignity of social service from her hearth;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No longer in her handiwork was clad the world.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Then Woman sat in brooding silence, or she served,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Growing dark-browed in rebellion, the wheels that spun the cloth she erstwhile wove.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Served machines in mills and factories.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then saw her children serve; the girl-child, tender, soft;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the small boy who should have played in freedom with his kind.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And when she saw herself who once had clothed the world in dignity</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Turned slave to whirring wheels, to harsh, unsympathetic steel and iron,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">When the soft children of her mortal agony were murdered inch by inch and year by year</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Before her eyes—when the Woman, bereft, defeated,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or brooding at her task saw this,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No longer lay her mind asleep. No longer dreamed she</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As when she sat beside her ancient tasks at home,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Her children playing near her in the sun.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Awaked the Woman then in every land where slavery to the harsh machine had come.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Awaked and brushed the cobwebs of tradition from her brain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Spoke of the unfairness of the rulers in the busy marts.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Asked for place beside them in the making of the laws;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In their execution. Asked for justice for the race,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Including women and the children which they bear.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Awaked the Woman when the pressure of the system</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grew too heavy on her heart, and cried: “We must</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Abolish this, O Brother Man;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Together you and I must build a better day, a universal humanhood, a superworld.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Awaked the Woman, and the passion of her cry envelopes all the world today,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As once enveloped human kind the cloth she wove.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Simple Right to Live</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret Dreier Robins</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Writer and speaker on labor problems, +especially those concerning the woman and child. President +of the National Women’s Trade Union League. In “Life and +Labor.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Why must young girls pay the price of their +youth and forfeit their right of motherhood at the +machine—why must thousands of men and women +endure hardships and sufferings to secure the primitive +demands of a living wage and the right to +self-government, to which we as a people stand +pledged? What power makes necessary these terrible +struggles for the simple right to live?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Wages</h3> + +<p class="author">By Emmaline Pethick-Lawrence</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Editor of “Votes for Women,” London. In “Life and +Labor.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Woman’s industrial life is inseparable from her +civic and social status. The only way to earn equal +pay for equal work is to win equal political rights, +equal influence with the legislature.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Song of the Working Girls</h3> + +<p class="author">By Harriet Monroe</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(American contemporary. Editor “Poetry.” In “Life and +Labor.”<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sisters of the whirling wheel</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Are we all day;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Builders of a house of steel</div> + <div class="verse indent2">On Time’s highway,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">Giving bravely, hour by hour,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All we have of youth and power.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, lords of the house we rear,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Hear us, hear!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Green are the fields in May-time,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grant us our love-time, play-time.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Short is the day and dear.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Fingers fly and engines boom</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The livelong day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Through far fields when roses bloom</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The soft winds play.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Vast the work is—sound and true</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Be the tower we build for you!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, lords of the house we rear,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Hear us, hear!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Green are the fields in May-time,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grant us our love-time, play-time.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Short is the day and dear.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Ours the future is—we face</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The whole world’s needs.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In our hearts the coming race</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For life’s joy pleads.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As you make us—slaves or free—</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, lords of the house we rear,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Hear us, hear!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Green are the fields in May-time,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Grant us our love-time, play-time.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Short is the day and dear.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Copyright by the “Poetry Publishing Co.”</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Economics and the Home</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ethel Maud Colquhoun</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_172">See page 172</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>If woman is to be normally the economic partner +of man in the home, it is a question of first importance +that she should be his economic equal.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>How Is She Housed?</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Higgs</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From her book, “Practical Housekeeping.”)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_65">See page 65</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Upon how the woman worker of today is housed, +depends, very largely, the efficiency and productiveness +of her work. But, more impelling still, upon how +she is housed depends the efficiency and productiveness +of the future generation. For we must not forget +that we have many married and widowed industrial +women, and that large numbers of our working +girls will rear the children of the coming race.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Orchards</h3> + +<p class="author">By Theodosia Garrison</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Everybody’s Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Orchards in the Spring-time! Oh, I think and think of them—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Filmy mists of pink and white above the fresh, young green,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lifting and drifting—how my eyes could drink of them!</div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>I’m staring at a dirty wall behind a big machine.</i></div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Orchards in the Spring-time! Deep in soft, cool shadows,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Moving all together when the west wind blows</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fragrance upon fragrance over road and meadows—</div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>I’m smelling heat and oil and sweat, and thick, black clothes.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Orchards in the Spring-time! The clean white and pink of them</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lifting and drifting with all the winds that blow.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Orchards in the Spring-time! Thank God I can think of them!</div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>You’re not docked for thinking—if the foreman doesn’t know.</i></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Exploitation of Workingwomen</h3> + +<p class="author">By Kate Richards O’Hare</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_119">See page 119</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Woman labor in itself is not bad; it is good. It +is woman wage-labor which is the curse. It is not +labor, but exploited labor that is a menace to the +womankind of the race.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Success Through Work</h3> + +<p class="author">By Madame Nordica<br> +(Lillian Norton)</p> + +</div> + +<p>If you work five minutes, you succeed five minutes’ +worth; if you work five hours, you succeed five +hours’ worth. Plenty have natural voices equal to +mine, <i>but I have worked</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman and Social Betterment</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ellen H. Richards, A. M.</p> + +<p class="intro">(Author of “The Cost of Living.” From Introduction to +“The Woman Who Spends.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Social economics is preeminently a woman’s problem, +especially if Münsterberg’s assertion is widely +true that in America it is the women who have the +leisure and the cultivation to direct the development +of social conditions. With this opportunity comes +corresponding responsibilities.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman and the Dinner Pail</h3> + +<p class="author">By Eva Gore-Booth</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Case for Woman Suffrage.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The rich may say that women should stay at +home and cook the dinner; the poor know that if women +did stay at home there would often be no dinner +to cook.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Lady</h3> + +<p class="author">By Emily James Putnam</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. The following is from her book, +whose title is self-explanatory—“The Lady.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The typical lady everywhere tends to the feudal +habit of mind.... She can renounce the world more +easily than she can identify herself with it. A lady +may become a nun in the strictest and poorest order +without the moral convulsion, the destruction of false +ideas, the birth of character that would be the preliminary +steps toward becoming an effective stenographer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Unequal Distribution of Labor</h3> + +<p class="author">By Honnor Morton</p> + +</div> + +<p>Obviously, if all women did their share of the +world’s work, there would be no need for the seamstress +to slave sixteen hours at a stretch; there would +be no starvation among the poor, and no hysteria +among the rich.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Working Woman Speaks</h3> + +<p class="author">By Emily Taplin Royle</p> + +<p class="intro">(In “The Woman’s Journal.” Mrs. John Martin, speaking at +an anti-suffrage meeting in New York, says that women normally need +a great deal of solitude, quiet and sleep and they suffer physically, +mentally and morally, if they do not get it.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Solitude, quiet and sleep!”</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I stand by the roaring loom</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And watch the growth of the silken threads,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That glow in the bare, gray room.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I hurry through darkling streets</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the chill of the wintry day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That women who talk from their cloistered ease</div> + <div class="verse indent2">May rustle in colors gay.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Solitude, quiet and sleep!”</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In the dripping, humid air</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I whiten the flimsy laces</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That women may be fair;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I clothe my orphan children</div> + <div class="verse indent2">With the price my bare hands yield,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That the idle women may walk as fair</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As the lilies of the field.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Solitude, quiet and sleep!”</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Is it given to me today,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">When I march in the ranks with those who fight</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To keep the wolf at bay?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Do my daughters rest in peace</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where a myriad needles yield</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their bitter bread or a sheet of flame,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the rest of the Potter’s Field?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Solitude, quiet and sleep!”</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To factory, shop and mill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The feet of the working women go,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">While their leisure sisters still</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Boast of the home they have never earned,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of the ease we can never share,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And bid us go back to the depths again,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Like Lazarus to his lair.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Bondwomen</h3> + +<p class="author">By Dora Marsden</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Editor “The Freewoman,” a brilliant, +radical feminist journal. In “The Freewoman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Feminists would hold that it is neither desirable +nor necessary for women, when they become mothers, +to leave their chosen, money-earning work for any +length of time. The fact that they do so, largely rests +on tradition which has to be worn down. In wearing +it down vast changes must take place in social conditions +in housing, nursing, kindergarten—in the industrial +world and in the professional.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3 class="x-ebookmaker-important">By Belle Lindner Israels</h3> + +<p class="intro-c">(From Introduction to “The Upholstered Cage.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We know now that the girl without occupation +is the girl without mental growth.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_VII">BOOK VII<br> +<span class="smaller">Education</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="EDUCATION">EDUCATION</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Soul Murder in the Schools</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ellen Key</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Century of the Child.”<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_143">See page 143</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Any one who would attempt the task of felling +a virgin forest with a penknife would probably feel the +same paralysis of despair that the reformer feels when +confronted with existing school systems. The latter +finds an impassable thicket of folly, prejudice, and +mistakes, where each point is open to attack, but +where each attack fails because of the inadequate +means at the reformer’s command.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> J. G. Stokes Co., Pub.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Old and New Schools</h3> + +<p class="author">By Florence Elberta Barns</p> + +<p class="intro">(From “Social Aspects of Industrial Education” in “Education”—a +monthly school magazine.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The master of the old school looked askance at +the master of the new school, and the following conversation +is recorded:</p> + +<p>“Young man, in my day, in your day, in the +present day, and in the future day, the three R’s +were, are, and will be, the necessary and most efficient +training for our school children. Can you deny the +evidence of generations trained in this way?”</p> + +<p>“Nay, my master, I do not dispute that the three +R’s are a necessity to the mental development of the +race, but my contention is that besides this literary +culture, and theoretical knowledge, a training for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> +hands, and practical ability should be fostered, and +included within the curriculum of our schools. Can +you deny the evidence of the present day, testifying +to the need of efficient training in all branches of +industry and business, as well as in the professions +and arts? How, dear sir, are we to meet this pressing +need, and prepare our people for a life of useful labor, +if we do not begin to train them from the primary +class?”</p> + +<p>“And so, sir, you would join the ranks of those +who are commercializing all the fine arts, who are forgetting +all else but money in capital letters?”</p> + +<p>“You do not understand, my master. Under the +great economic pressure of the times, waste-labor must +be avoided, and training is the only means of +avoidance. Think of the mass of immigrants that +flock to our cities, to be amalgamated with our race. +It is a laboring class, and self-preservation demands +that we provide suitable living and working centers +for it and its posterity. And our own people demand +the same consideration in view of the fact that the +great majority, poor, middle-class, and rich, are employed +in some art, industrial or fine. All fine arts, +they, if we provide efficient training for skill and +fine workmanship.”</p> + +<p>“I am grieved that one of my former pupils +should so forget the ideals of education. If you must, +build schools for those who wish industrial training, +but keep our cultural schools undisturbed.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, that would not be democratic, my master, +and neither would it be effective. Our idea is to +develop both the brain and the hand—in this way<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> +opening the door to the life work which appeals most +to each individual.”</p> + +<p>And the master of the old school answered, +“Well.”</p> + +<p>In the above we find the prevailing controversy +between the old and the new, a controversy which +must cease with the progression of thought, and +understanding of the times.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Essentials in Education</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Snow</p> + +<p class="intro">(Supervisor, Household Arts and Science, Board of Education, +Chicago. From “The Child in the City.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Certainly some essential is missing. Children are +not dull about significant truths. They wish to know +how to read and to write and to manipulate number +processes. They have wholesome and often keen interest +in the movements and experiences of people +and the great figures in history; they work hard and +cheerfully to know somewhat of the countries of the +earth. Musical expression satisfies and delights them. +Art entices them up to the point where they find that +it misses practical application, and then interest dies +and with it expression. Then they begin to reach +after further reality with passionate earnestness. +They long to express themselves in tangible ways. +They have a right consciously to experience the sensations +of knowing that they know and knowing that +they can do. If opportunity for “doing” has been +opened to them, they will have gained in strength of +character through their authoritative wills commanding +their powers, and the purposive and co-ordinate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> +work of the motor phases of education will have furnished +a kind of test of progress, a mental verification +of accomplishment that can never come through +any academic work. They have many measuring rods +in the evaluation of the finished task—the eye, the +muscular tension, judgment, comparison, trial. There +is necessary integrity since no amount of vanity will +make the tangible result reveal anything but truth. +William James, with ever brilliant insight, said that +manual training did more for the moral strength of +youth than any other subject in the curriculum.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Greatness of Froebel</h3> + +<p class="author">By Marion Gertrude Haines</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Home Government.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>No one before him so ably demonstrated the civic +and spiritual wisdom of Christ’s teachings as did +Froebel, in discovering—not devising—the ways and +means of developing man into a self-governed being, +obeying the inner voice of conscience in the face of +every temptation to which flesh is heir, and becoming +a voluntary, law-abiding citizen of both the individual +and the national home.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Mothers’ Library</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Cherrill Birney</p> + +<p class="intro">(First chairman of literature in the National Congress of +Mothers. From “Parents and their Problems.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It seems a rather hard condition that though the +years when a mother feels most deeply her need for +more knowledge of children she should usually have +least time for reading and study. This would not be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> +so disastrous if school and college curricula were not +framed to embrace even the slightest preparation for +home life. That profession which demands a knowledge +of sanitation, dietetics, and chemistry of cooking, +careful and economic purchasing, artistic and +hygienic furnishing, to say nothing of the care of +children, is surely of sufficient dignity to deserve some +preparation.... We can learn no science or art entirely +from books, but when good trails have been +blazed by those who have gone before us, it is foolish +to attempt our own untried paths. Every mother can +hang a little book-shelf in her busiest corner, and put +on it from time to time a few books, which will be to +her what his Blackstone is to a lawyer, his Baedeker +to a traveler.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Aim and End of Education</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lola Ridge</p> + +<p class="intro">(Former organiser of the Modern School in New York. In +“Everyman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>What do we imagine to be the end and aim of +education? Most people will say, the acquisition of +knowledge. Knowledge of what? Of oneself, of +humanity, of life? If this was the ideal, as conceived +by the builders of the present system, it has not been +attained; or perhaps the system, like a Frankenstein +creation, has grown beyond all intent of its sponsors, +exhibiting a diabolic and independent will....</p> + +<p>Let us examine the effect of public school education +upon the psychology of the child; then we shall +see if we are “wasting our energies.”</p> + +<p>In the first place, no gardener would think of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> +giving each plant the same amount of air and sun, +and the same quality of soil. Yet this is exactly what +you are doing to your children, and there are as many +different kinds of children as there are different kinds +of flowers. Why pay more attention to the cultivation +of a vegetable than to the development of a +human being? Each child requires individual attention, +individual understanding, and individual mental +food.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Standards Raised by Women Teachers</h3> + +<p class="author">By Anne Bigoney Stewart</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Educational Review.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It is due to the perseverance of the women in +their poorly paid duty that teaching is gradually +emerging into a regular profession with a proper +stipend and respectable standing, and now when such +is the result, we have men crowding back into the profession +grumblingly, complaining of the poor pay, +and throwing up their hands in “holy horror” at the +“woman peril.”</p> + +<p>And after all, of what does “the woman peril” +consist? That boys are being feminized; that is, that +boys are being trained to decenter standards of living? +That they do not so much drink, or smoke, or, +we hope, “sow wild oats,” that they do not so much +regard these acts as manly, or a necessary part of +their upbringing? That war is not a regular occupation; +that peace is desirable and to be sought after?</p> + +<p>“That abnormal families in which the mother’s +influence is too long continued and not sufficiently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> +counteracted by masculine control are notoriously productive +of decadence and degeneracy.”</p> + +<p>That is certainly a grave charge! “A mother’s +influence”! that which has been the theme of poets, +artists, scholars, essayists, the clergy, for centuries, +“productive of decadence and degeneracy.”</p> + +<p>It would appear that logically as the masculine +mind may think, its logic is not unassailable.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Educating Children</h3> + +<p class="author">By Maria Montessori</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From speech delivered in California.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>What shall we say, then, when the question before +us is that of educating children?</p> + +<p>We know only too well the sorry spectacle of the +teacher, who, in the ordinary school room, must pour +certain cut and dried facts into the heads of the +scholars. In order to succeed in this barren path she +finds it necessary to discipline her pupils into immobility +and to force their attention. Prizes and punishments +are ever ready and efficient aids to the master +who must force into a given attitude of mind and +body those who are condemned to be his listeners.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Mother’s Task</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ida Tarbell</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_266">See page 266</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Business of Being a Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>A woman never lived who did all she might have +done to open the mind of her child for its great adventure. +It is an exhaustless task. The woman who +sees it knows she has need of all the education the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> +college can give, all the experience and culture she can +gather. She knows that the fuller her individual life, +the broader her interests, the better for the child. +She should be a person in their eyes. The real service +of the “higher education,” the freedom to take part +in whatever interests or stimulates her—lies in the +fact that it fits her intellectually to be a companion +worthy of a child.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Plan for Improving Female Education</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Emma Willard</p> + +<p class="intro">(From a paper read by Mrs. Willard before the members of +the New York Legislature, in behalf of a girl’s seminary, in 1819. +Reproduced in “Woman and the Higher Education,” Distaff Series.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The object of this address is to convince the +public that a reform with respect to female education +is necessary; that it cannot be effected by individual +exertion, but that it requires the aid of the Legislature; +and, further, by showing the justice, the policy +and the magnanimity of such an undertaking, to persuade +that body to endow a seminary for females as +the commencement of such reformation.</p> + +<p>The idea of a college for males will naturally be +associated with that of a seminary, instituted and +endowed by the public; and the absurdity of sending +ladies to college may, at first thought, strike every +one to whom this subject shall be proposed. I therefore +hasten to observe that the seminary here recommended +will be as different from those appropriated +to the other sex as the female character and duties are +from the male. The business of the husbandman is +not to waste his endeavors in seeking to make his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> +orchard attain the strength and majesty of his forest, +but to rear each to the perfection of its nature....</p> + +<p>1. Females, by having their understandings +cultivated, their reasoning powers developed and +strengthened, may be expected to act more from the +dictates of reason, and less from those of fashion and +caprice.</p> + +<p>2. With minds thus strengthened, they would be +taught systems of morality enforced by the sanctions +of religion; and they might be expected to acquire +juster and more enlightened views of their duty, and +stronger and higher motives in its performance.</p> + +<p>3. This plan of education offers all that can be +done to preserve female youth from a contempt of +useful labor. The pupils would become accustomed +to it, in conjunction with the high objects of literature +and the elegant pursuits of the fine arts; and it +is to be hoped that both from habit and association +they might in future life regard it as respectable.</p> + +<p>To this it may be added that if housekeeping +could be raised to a regular art, and taught from +philosophical principles, it would become a higher +and more interesting occupation; and ladies of fortune, +like wealthy agriculturists, might find that to +regulate their business was an agreeable employment.</p> + +<p>4. The pupils might be expected to acquire a +taste for moral and intellectual pleasures which would +buoy them above a passion for show and parade, and +which would make them seek to gratify the natural +love of superiority by endeavoring to excel others in +intrinsic merit rather than in the extrinsic frivolities +of dress, furniture, and equipage.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span></p> + +<p>By being enlightened in moral philosophy, and in +that which teaches the operation of the mind, females +would be enabled to perceive the nature and extent +of that influence which they possess over their children, +and the obligation which this lays them under +to watch the formation of their characters with unceasing +vigilance, to become their instructors, to devise +plans for their improvement, to weed out the +vices of their minds, and to implant and foster the +virtues. And surely there is that in the maternal +bosom which, when its pleadings shall be aided by +education, will overcome the seductions of wealth and +fashion, and will lead the mother to seek her happiness +in communing with her children, and promoting +their welfare, rather than in a heartless intercourse +with the votaries of fashion, especially when with +an expanded mind she extends her views to futurity, +and sees her care to her offspring rewarded by peace +of conscience, the blessing of her family, the prosperity +of her country, and, finally, with everlasting +pleasure to herself and them....</p> + +<p>In calling on my patriotic countrymen to effect +so noble an object, the consideration of national glory +should not be overlooked. Ages have rolled away; +barbarians have trodden the weaker sex beneath their +feet; tyrants have robbed us of the present light of +heaven, and fain would take its future. Nations calling +themselves polite have made us the fancied idols +of a ridiculous worship, and we have repaid them with +ruin for their folly. But where is that wise and heroic +country which has considered that our rights are +sacred, though we cannot defend them? that, though<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> +a weaker, we are an essential part of the body politic, +whose corruption or improvement must affect the +whole? and which, having thus considered, has sought +to give us by education that rank in the scale of being +to which our importance entitles us? History shows +not that country. It shows many whose legislatures +have sought to improve their various vegetable productions +and their breeds of useful brutes, but none +whose public councils have made it an object of their +deliberations to improve the character of their women.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Moral Crusade</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Blackwell</p> + +<p class="intro">(One of the brilliant Blackwell family, to which progress in +our country owes so much. Henry Blackwell married Lucy Stone, +and with her became a pioneer advocate of woman suffrage. Elizabeth +took up the study of medicine, forcing the medical colleges to +open their doors to women. From her letters.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>In the summer of 1847, with my carefully +hoarded earnings, I resolved to seek an entrance into +a medical school. Philadelphia was then considered +the chief seat of medical learning in America, so to +Philadelphia I went; taking passage in a sailing vessel +from Charleston for the sake of economy....</p> + +<p>Applications were cautiously but persistently +made to the four medical colleges of Philadelphia for +admission as a regular student. The interviews with +their various professors were by turns hopeful and +disappointing....</p> + +<p>The fear of successful rivalry which at that time +often existed in the medical mind was expressed by +the dean of one of the smaller schools, who frankly +replied to the application, “You cannot expect us to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> +furnish you with a stick to break our heads with;” +so revolutionary seemed the attempt of a woman to +leave a subordinate position and seek to obtain a complete +medical education. A similarly mistaken notion +of the rapid practical success which would attend +a lady doctor was shown later by one of the +professors of my medical college, who was desirous of +entering into partnership with me on condition of +sharing profits over $5,000 on my first year’s practice.</p> + +<p>During those fruitless efforts my kindly Quaker +adviser, whose private lectures I attended, said to me: +“Elizabeth, it is no use trying. Thee cannot gain +admission to these schools. Thee must go to Paris and +don masculine attire to gain the necessary knowledge.” +Curiously enough, this suggestion of disguise made +by good Dr. Warrington was also given me by Dr. +Pankhurst, the Professor of Surgery, in the largest +college in Philadelphia. He thoroughly approved of +a woman’s gaining complete medical knowledge; told +me that although my public entrance into the classes +was out of question, yet if I would assume masculine +attire and enter the college he could entirely rely on +two or three of his students to whom he should communicate +my disguise, who would watch the class and +give me timely notice to withdraw should my disguise +be suspected.</p> + +<p>But neither the advice to go to Paris nor the suggestion +of disguise tempted me for the moment. It +was to my mind a moral crusade on which I had entered, +a course of justice and common sense, and it +might be pursued in the light of day, and with public +sanction, in order to accomplish its end.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Intellectual Women of Rome</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lady Morgan</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_17">See page 17</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Female amanuenses, or secretaries, or “writers +out of books,” were by no means unusual in Rome. +Vespasian had a female amanuesis, Antonio, whom he +greatly esteemed and confided in. Even the Christian +fathers adopted this fashion; and Eusebius asserts +that Origen had not only young men, but young +women to transcribe his books, which “they did with +peculiar neatness.” Among the accusations brought +against the Roman women of his own time by Juvenal, +is that of their learning; he bitterly attacks their presumption +in studying Greek, their interlarding even +their most familiar conversations with its elegant +idioms and phrases; and, among their other crimes +of acquirement, he further accuses them of encroaching +on the exclusive male prerogative of mind, by +discussing philosophical subjects, quoting favorite +authors and scholiasts, their <i>purism</i> in affected exactness +of grammar, and by their antiquarian researches +in language. On the word antiquarian, an ancient +commentator observes:—“Antiquaria, one that does +refine or preserve ancient books from corruption, one +studious of the old poets and historians, one that +studies ancient coins, statues, and inscribed stones: +lastly, such as use obsolete and antiquated words. +All which, though they might be counted an overplus +and curiosity in a woman, yet only the last is absolutely +a fault.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Power of Education</h3> + +<p class="author">By “Ouida”</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_113">See page 113</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>That women should, however tardily, awaken to +a desire for greater intellectual light is of the utmost +promise. Education cannot confer genius, but it can +do an infinite work in the refinement, the strengthening, +and the enlightening of the mind; in the banishment +of prejudice, and in the correction of illogical +judgment. In view of the manifold superstitions, intolerances +and ignorances that prevail in the feminine +intelligence, and of the fearful influence which these +in turn bring to bear upon the children committed +in such numbers to their charge, no crusade that can +find favor with them, towards a New Jerusalem of +Culture, can be too early encouraged.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Vision Realized</h3> + +<p class="author">By Bertha June Richardson, A. B.</p> + +<p class="intro">(Holder of the Mary Lowell Stone Fellowship 1903. From +“The Woman Who Spends.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>When the sweet faced New England woman, +living her quiet life in the old town of Halfield, +stretched out her strong, helpful hands to all the +generations of girls to come, by making a woman’s +college a possibility, she was called a dreamer, a +visionary woman, who had better be looked after by +some strong-minded man who could put her money to +some practical use. That vision realized has given +to hundreds of women ideals and standards which +have made life full and rich.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Vocational Training for Girls</h3> + +<p class="author">By Alice Henry</p> + +<p class="intro">(Of Australian birth. For a number of years editor of “Life +and Labor,” the official organ of the “Woman’s Trade Union +League.” Well-known speaker on suffrage and labor problems. +Author of “The Trade Union Woman,”<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> from which the following +is taken.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Harvard was opened in 1636. Two hundred +years elapsed before there was any institution offering +corresponding advantages to girls....</p> + +<p>If these women have always lagged in the rear +as increasing educational advantages of a literary or +professional character have been provided or procured +for boys, it is not strange, when, in reading +over the records of work on the few lines of industrial, +educational trade training and apprenticeship +we detect the same influences at work, sigh before the +same difficulties, and recognize the old, weary, +threadbare arguments too, which one would surely +think had been sufficiently disproved before to be at +least in this connection....</p> + +<p>In such an age of transition as ours, any plan +of vocational training intended to include girls must +be a compromise with warring facts, and will therefore +have to face objections from both sides, from +those forward looking ones who feel that the domestic +side of woman’s activities is over emphasized, +and from those who still look back, who will fain refuse +to believe that the majority of women have to be +wage-earners for at least a part of their lives. These +latter argue that by affording to girls all the advantages +of industrial training, granted, or which may<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> +be granted to boys, we are “taking them out of the +home.” As if they were not out of the home already!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> Copyright by Henry Holt Publishing Co.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Traditions Upset</h3> + +<p class="author">By Emily J. Hutchins</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Instructor in Economics, Barnard +College, New York. From “The Annals of the American Academy.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The reaction that women show today to their +educational freedom upsets a lot of the notions we +have inherited about the atmosphere of seclusion in +which womanly natures have been supposed to +thrive.... Whatever fault may be found with our +educational system, it has at least provided a belated +opportunity for women to share in the social stimulus +that men have found and prized in academic institutions.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The History of Women’s Education</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Ritter Beard</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Quoted from “Woman’s Work in Municipalities.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The history of the education of women from the +early days, when to educate “shes” was viewed with +horror as an immoral proposition, to the present time +when more “shes” graduate from the high schools +than “hes”, is an interesting record in itself. Even +more significant, however, is the fact that both +“hes” and “shes” are educated largely by women in +the secondary schools which are the schools of “the +people.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Professions Educational</h3> + +<p class="author">By The Hon. Mrs. Arthur Lyttleton</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Women and Their Work.”)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_51">See page 51</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The habits of application, of concentration and +of regularity which professional training requires +will never be out of place in any kind of life, and +women will be the more capable of doing, not only +their own particular kind of work, but all work, better +for the experience they have passed through. It +is simply a continuation of their education, which +now very unreasonably ends at eighteen.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Woman’s Struggle for Educational Rights</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. H. M. Swanwick</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Author of “The Future of the +Woman’s Movement,” from which the following is taken.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>All the world knows of the foundation of the +great modern career of sick-nursing; of the more bitter +and prolonged struggle of women to study medicine +and surgery and qualify as practitioners therein.... +All these changes had, to a greater or less degree, +to be fought for by those who desired them.... +People resisted them with more or less tenacity, and +used against the reformers the sort of arguments they +are still using against further emancipation.... +There are, of course, some Orientalists, even in England, +who think in their hearts that it was a great +mistake to teach women to read. But most people +now accept the principle that women should have the +best education available, and only differ as to what +that education should be.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Equal Advantages of Education</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Cady Stanton</p> + +<p class="intro">(Famous leader, with Susan B. Anthony, of the early woman +suffrage movement. From a letter quoted in “Life and Work of +Susan B. Anthony.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Should not all women, living in states where they +have the right to hold property, refuse to pay taxes +so long as they are unrepresented in the governments?...</p> + +<p>Man has pre-empted the most profitable branches +of industry, and we demand a place at his side; to +this end we need the same advantages of education, +and we therefore claim that the best colleges of the +country be opened to us.... In her present ignorance, +woman’s religion, instead of making her noble and +free, by the wrong application of great principles of +right and justice, has made her bondage but more +certain and lasting; her degradation more helpless +and complete.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Intellect Wins</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Alec Tweedie</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_126">See page 126</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>A pretty woman has the first innings, but an +intelligent woman gets the most runs. A clever +woman catches out her opponents.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Education and Votes for Women</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Cooper</p> + +<p class="intro">(Author of “My Lady of the Chinese Court Yard,” “Women +of Egypt,” “Market for Souls,” “The Harem and the Purdah,” +“Living Up to Billy,” etc. From “Woman and Education” in +“Educational Foundations.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>That this enlargement of the educational horizon +of women in Britain means necessarily “Votes for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> +Women” may or may not be inferred. Certain it +is that the advancing social and economic arrangements +of modern society will add continually to the +allotment to women of tasks and responsibilities unknown +to them in the past. Women will accept such +responsibilities in accordance with their ability and +training in competition with men, and their trained +intelligence will become year by year a more widely +recognized fact in the minds of University authorities +and in the adjustment and enlargement of curriculum +and University life.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Democratization of Learning</h3> + +<p class="author">By Charlotte J. Cipriani</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Teacher, writer on educational +problems. From “Elimination of Waste in Elementary Education,” +in “Education”—a monthly magazine.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Two processes of “democratization” are conceivable +in the educational system of a nation; one +consists in lowering educational standards and aims +to the level that makes them readily acceptable and +accessible to the masses; the other consists in gradually +raising the intellectual level of the masses to +the level of high and efficient educational standards. +The admission of too early specialized “vocational +training” in a public school system has a dangerous +leaning towards the first process of democratization, +which is apt ultimately to defeat its own end. That +the second is of necessity a far lower and more +laborious one, does not invalidate its superiority.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Educating the Daughter</h3> + +<p class="author">By Josephine Pitcairn Knowles</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Upholstered Cage.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The day has now arrived when nature and fairness +are proclaiming that the same expenditure of +time and money must be bestowed on the girl as on +the boy, and she should be regarded as an investment +in the same way as the boy now is. It has always +been realized that unless he is given a good education +and then started properly in life, that is, given a +“shove off,” as it were, he won’t do much, and so all +efforts in a family of small means are concentrated +toward helping launch the boy in life. The idea, +of course, being that he must support himself, and +very likely keep a wife and children, therefore it is +more important for him to get on well than for the +girl, who has her parents to keep her until she marries. +There would be nothing against this theory if it were +sound; but where the theory breaks down is that girls +and women now <i>do</i> have to earn their own living, +and this necessity is on the increase, and the point +is that the women have often to do it on inadequate +material; the girl earns <i>her</i> living <i>without</i> the previous +training, <i>without</i> the school or college training, +<i>without</i> any capital having been spent on her as a +premium, <i>without</i> all the advantages the boy started +with.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The World of Scholarship a Man’s World</h3> + +<p class="author">By M. Carey Thomas</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_10">See page 10</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Fifty years ago the world of scholarship was a +man’s world in which women had no share. Now<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> +although only one woman in one thousand goes to +college, even in the United States, where there are +more college women than in any other country, the +position of every individual woman in every part of +the civilized world has been changed because this one-tenth +of one percent. has proved beyond possibility +of question that in intellect there is no sex. Unwillingly +at first but inevitably and irresistably men have +admitted women into intellectual comradeship. The +opinions of educated women can no longer be ignored +by educated men.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Social Education Important</h3> + +<p class="author">By Helen Keller</p> + +<p class="intro">(Helen Keller, having been born blind, deaf and dumb, is not +only remarkable in that she has mastered many things, including +articulate speech, but also that out of her reading and observations of +life, she is able to construct a philosophy obviously superior to that +of the average human being with normal faculties. The following +is from “The Modern Woman” in “The Metropolitan Magazine,” +October, 1912.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Social ignorance is at the bottom of our miseries, +and if the function of education is to correct +ignorance, social education is at this hour the most +important kind of education.</p> + +<p>The educated woman, then, is she who knows +the social basis of her life, and of the lives of those +whom she would help, her children, her employers, +her employees, the beggar at her door, and her congressman +at Washington....</p> + +<p>It is for the American woman to know why +millions are shut out from the full benefits of such +education, art, and science as the race has thus far<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> +achieved. We women have to face questions that men +alone have evidently not been able to solve....</p> + +<p>We must educate ourselves and that without +delay. We cannot wait longer for political economists +to solve such vital problems as clean streets, decent +houses, warm clothes, wholesome food, living wages, +safeguarded mines and factories, honest public +schools. These are our questions. Already women are +speaking and speaking nobly, and men are speaking +with us. To be sure, some men and some women are +speaking against us; but their contest is with the +spirit of life. Lot’s wife turned back; but she is an exception. +It is proverbial that women get what they +are bent on getting, and circumstances are driving +them toward education.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>To Reach the Divine</h3> + +<p class="author">By Emma Marwedel</p> + +</div> + +<p>Froebel learned to recognize in each child a new +educational problem, to be solved according to its +nature.... He therefore demands a methodical +unification in education, in order to reach the divine +through a unification of action.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Macy</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(The teacher of Helen Keller.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>There is no education except self-education, no +government but self-government.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<p class="author">By C. Gasquoine Hartley<br> +(Mrs. Walter M. Gallichan)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The Truth About Women.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>To assume, as Schopenhauer and so many others +have done ... that woman, on account of her womanhood +is incapable of intellectual and social development, +paying her sole debt of Nature in bearing and +caring for children, is really to state a belief in decay +for mankind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_VIII">BOOK VIII<br> +<span class="smaller">War and Peace</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="WAR_AND_PEACE">WAR AND PEACE</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>These Latter Days</h3> + +<p class="author">By Olive Tilford Dargan</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Path Flower.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Take down thy stars, O God! We look not up.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In vain thou hangest there thy changeless sign.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We lift our eyes to power’s glowing cup,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor care if blood make strong that wizard wine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So we but drink and feel the sorcery</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of conquest in our veins, of wits grown keen</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In strain and strife for flesh-sweet sovereignty,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The fatal thrill of kingship over men.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What though the soul be from the body shrunk,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And we array the temple, but no god?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What though the cup of golden greed once drunk,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Our dust be laid in a dishonored sod,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While thy loud hosts proclaim the end of wars?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We read no sign. O, God, take down thy stars!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Breeding Machines</h3> + +<p class="author">By Marion Craig Wentworth</p> + +<p class="intro">(From “War Brides,” a drama of protest, popularized by the +Russian actress, Nazimova.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>HOFFMAN: When we are gone—the best of +us,—what will the country do if it has no children?</p> + +<p>HEDWIG: Why didn’t you think of that before?—before +you started this wicked war?</p> + +<p>HOFFMAN—I tell you it is a glory to be a war +bride. There!</p> + +<p>HEDWIG (with a shrug): A breeding machine!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> +(They all draw back). Why not call it what it is? +Speak the naked truth for once?</p> + +<p class="center">...</p> + +<p>HOFFMAN: That isn’t the question now. We +are going away—the best of us—to be shot, most +likely. Don’t you suppose we want to send some +part of ourselves into the future, since we can’t live +ourselves? There, that’s straight; and right, too.</p> + +<p>HEDWIG: What I said—to breed a soldier for +the empire; to restock the land. (Fiercely). And +for what? For food for the next generation’s cannon. +Oh, it is an insult to our womanhood! You violate +all that makes marriage sacred! (Agitated, she walks +about the room). Are we women never to get up out +of the dust? You never asked us if we wanted this +war, yet you ask us to gather in the crops, cut the +wood, keep the world going, drudge and slave, and +wait, and agonize, lose our all, and go on bearing more +men—and more—to be shot down! If we breed the +men for you, why don’t you let us say what is to become +of them? Do we want them shot—the very +breath of our life?</p> + +<p>HOFFMAN: It is for the fatherland.</p> + +<p>HEDWIG: You use us, and use us,—dolls, +beasts of burden, and you expect us to bear it forever +dumbly; but I won’t! I shall cry out till I die. +And now you say it almost out loud, “Go and breed +for the empire.” War brides! Pah!</p> + +<p>HOFFMAN: I never would dream of speaking +to Amelia like that. She is the sweetest girl I have +seen for many a day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span></p> + +<p>HEDWIG: What will happen to Amelia? Have +you thought of that? No; I warrant you haven’t. +Well, look. A few kisses and sweet words, the excitement +of the ceremony, the cheers of the crowd, some +days of living together,—I won’t call it marriage, +for Franz and I are the ones who know what real +marriage is, and how sacred it is,—then what? Before +you know it, an order to march. No husband to +wait with her, to watch over her. Think of her +anxiety if she learns to love you. What kind of a +child will it be? Look at me. What kind of a child +would I have, do you think? I can hardly breathe +for thinking of my Franz, waiting, never knowing +from minute to minute. From the way I feel, I +should think my child would be born mad, I’m that +wild with worrying. And then for Amelia to go +through the agony alone! No husband to help her +through the terrible hour. What solace can the state +give then? And after that, if you don’t come back, +who is going to earn the bread for her child? Struggle +and struggle to feed herself and her child; and +the fine-sounding name you trick us with—war-bride! +Humph! That will all be forgotten then. Only one +thing can make it worth while, and do you know what +that is? Love! Well struggle through fire and +water for that, but without it....</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Babies Bred for War</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Field</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Everyman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Said Prince Bismarck with a shrug of his shoulder +to a comment on the great number of men killed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span> +in one of the Franco-Prussian battles, “Oh, well, we +will have another crop in twenty years!”</p> + +<p>It is crops of men that governments depend upon. +At the outbreak of the war the military nations of +Europe took immediate steps to provide for the next +crop of soldiers. Before the ranks mobilized the seed +of warriors was sown. In Germany all soldiers were +urged to marry before leaving for the front. In many +churches hundreds of couples were married simultaneously +that no time might be lost. One of the +Emperor’s own sons set the example which thousands +of marriageable men immediately followed. In some +villages “holy matrimony” was recognized as the +equivalent of an engagement. Everywhere throughout +the fatherland distinctions between legitimate and +illegitimate have become indistinct. An illegitimate +son receives the support of the government. To bear +children for the fatherland is of greater virtue than +that they shall be born of wedlock, for thrones are +greater than altars and exigencies greater than ceremonies.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>War Cripples</h3> + +<p class="author">By Madeline Z. Doty</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The New Republic.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>France says little and does much. She is proud; +she is heroic; she fights on. But the heart and life +of France is being crushed. It is impossible to see +this and do nothing. I offer my services as assistant +nurse at the American ambulance and am accepted....</p> + +<p>On the second morning as I hurry down a long<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span> +hospital corridor I see a familiar face. A short, dark-haired, +dark-eyed young man is coming toward me. +He is one of the wounded and his right arm is gone. +His eye catches mine. He stops bewildered. Then +comes recognition. It is Zeni Peshkoff—Maxim +Gorki’s adopted son. Eight years ago when this man +was a boy I had known him in America. I grasp the +left hand, and my eyes drop before the empty right +sleeve. But Zeni Peshkoff is still gay, laughing Zeni. +He makes light of his trouble. Not until later do I +understand the terrible suffering there is from the +missing arm or realize how he struggles to use what +is not. Peshkoff had been in the trenches for months. +He had been through battles and bayonet charges and +escaped unhurt, but at last his day had come. A +bursting shell destroyed the right arm. He knew the +danger, and struggling to his feet, walked from the +battlefield. With the left hand he supported the +bleeding, broken right arm. As he stumbled back +past trenches full of German prisoners his plight was +so pitiful, his pluck so great, that instinctively these +men saluted. At the Place de Secours eight hundred +wounded had been brought in. There were accommodations +for one hundred and fifty.</p> + +<p>All night young Peshkoff lay unattended, for +there were others worse hurt. Gangrene developed, +and he watched it spread from fingers to hand and +from hand to arm. In the morning a friendly lieutenant +noticed him. “There’s one chance,” he said, +“and that’s a hospital. If you can walk, come with +me.” Slowly young Peshkoff arose. Half fainting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> +he dressed and went with the lieutenant—first by taxi +to the train and then twelve torturing hours to Paris. +As the hours passed the gangrene crept higher and +higher. The sick man grew giddy with fever. At +each station his carriage companions, fearing death, +wished to leave him upon the platform. But the +lieutenant was firm. The one chance for life was the +hospital. Finally, Paris was reached; a waiting ambulance +rushed him to the hospital. Immediately he +was taken to the operating room and the arm amputated. +A half hour more and his arm could not +have been saved. But this dramatic incident is only +one of many. The pluck of the average soldier is +unbelievable. Operations are accepted without question. +There are no protests—only the murmured +“<i>C’est la guerre, que voulez-vous</i>.”</p> + +<p>I asked Zeni Peshkoff, Socialist, what his sensations +were when he went out to kill. “It didn’t seem +real, it doesn’t now. Before my last charge the lieutenant +and I were filled with the beauty of the night. +We sat gazing at the stars. Then the command came, +and we rushed forward. It did not seem possible I +was killing human beings.” It is this unreality that +sustains men. Germans are not human beings—only +the enemy. For the wounded French soldier will tell +you he loathes war and longs for peace. He fights for +one object—a permanent peace. He fights to save his +children from fighting.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Devonshire Mother</h3> + +<p class="author">By Marjorie Wilson</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Westminster Gazette.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The king have called the Devon lads and they be answering fine—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But shadows seem to hide this way, for all the sun do shine,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For there’s Squire’s son have gone for one, and Parson’s son—and mine.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I mind the day mine went from me—the skies were all aglow—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The cows deep in our little lanes was comin’ home so slow—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“And don’t ’ee never grieve yourself,” he said, “because I go.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">His arms were strong around me, then he turned and went away—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I heard the little childer dear a’ singin’ at their play;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The meanin’ of an achin’ heart is hid from such as they.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And scarce a day goes by now but I set my door ajar,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And watch the road that Jan went up, the time he went to war,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That when he’ll come again to me, I’ll see him from afar.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And in my chimney seat o’ nights, when quiet grows the farm,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I pray the Lord he be not cold, while I have fire to warm—</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">And give the mothers humble hearts whose boys are kept from harm.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And then I take the Book and read before I seek my rest,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of how that other Son went forth (them parts I like the best),</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And left his mother lone for him she’d cuddled on her breast.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I like to think when nights were dark, and Him at prayer, maybe,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Upon the gurt dark mountain side, or in His boat at sea,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He worried just a bit for her, who’d learnt Him at her knee.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And maybe when He minds her ways, He will not let Jan fall—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I’m thinkin’ He will know my boy, with his dear ways an’ all—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With his tanned face, his eyes of blue, and he so strappin’ tall.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Last Racial War</h3> + +<p class="author">By Clara Zetkin</p> + +<p class="intro">(Well-known Socialist leader of Germany. Many times imprisoned +for her denunciation of the present war. The following is +from “Die Gleichheit,” a woman’s paper, edited by herself.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Above the horror of this dark hour do we not see +the light of certainty that the longing of the poor and +weak for free humanity must again unite the peoples<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> +in one ideal and effort? We women hear the voices +which in this time of blood and iron speak low and +painfully, but nobly, of and for the future. Let us +interpret them for our children. Let us guard against +the hollow din which fills our streets today, when +cheap racial pride defeats humanity. In our children +we must have a pledge that this most fearful of all +wars is the last racial struggle. The blood of dead +and wounded must have become a stream to divide +what present need and future hope unite. It must be +a chain to bind eternally.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Early Morning Funeral</h3> + +<p class="author">By Edna Elliott-Carr</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Living Age.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>One of the sad sights is the early morning funeral +to be met almost daily in the streets of Paris—the +lonely journey of a dead hero from his bed of suffering +to the Garden of Sleep.</p> + +<p>One sunny morning as I turned from the wide +Champs Elysees into a side street, I found waiting +near the back entrance of a large hotel hospital a +small company of gendarmes with bowed heads, their +banner bearing the crêpe ribbons of mourning. Near +them a few passers-by were standing reverently looking +on. I waited. The hearse drove closer to the +door, and later bore away the coffin. No military +pomp or display! A splendid hero had given his life +for his country, and this was his simple funeral. +Above, on the window balconies, some maids stood +looking down, crying, and wiping their tears away<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span> +with their aprons. This “colonel” had lain only four +days in the house of suffering, but in so short a time +had been beloved enough to be missed. The gendarmes +followed slowly, and in the rear a motor car bore a +military official. That was all!</p> + +<p>The sun seemed to cease shining, and the world +looked cold and gray. A taxi cab hovered in sight. +I hailed it, and, entering, bade the driver accompany +the solemn cortage slowly. I had a sudden wish to +follow this soldier to his last resting place, and as I +did so, my thoughts were sad ones. How many thousands +of such deaths could this war already account +for, and how many thousands of hearts had it broken?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Russian Women in Time of War</h3> + +<p class="author">By Sarah Kropotkin-Lebedeff</p> + +<p class="intro">(In “The Outlook” for October 21, 1914. Madame Lebedeff +is the daughter of the Russian Prince, Peter Kropotkin, known the +world over for his brilliant books, and his revolutionary ideas.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It is not for nothing that the Russian peasant +woman is respected by her men and counted as their +equal in all labor. She plows and sows and reaps +with them, rising before the sun and ceasing work +only when the day fades. And the work she has to +undertake when her men have gone to war is no light +one. Each family has at least five or six acres to +cultivate. The pasture land the village holds is common. +It is usually the custom in time of stress for +the workers to do all the field work in common. At +three in the morning the women, and even the children, +turn out to work; at eleven they have a meal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> +of dry black bread and perhaps a small cucumber. +Then, while the sun is high, they sleep; and from +four o’clock they work again, till sunset.... There +is other work for the women to do—shoeing horses, +mending plows, scythes, wheels, and so on. The +blacksmith has gone to the war, the wheelwright also; +so the peasant woman wields the hammer and sends +the chips flying with the ax. In the summer she fells +the trees and shears the sheep. And all the winter +she spins and weaves, waiting for her men to come +back, hoping always, and teaching her children to +love their country and their father, who has gone to +defend them against a strange foe.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Red Easter</h3> + +<p class="author">By Marion Brown</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Femina.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">This is a spring that has no Easter Day.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Even the little children must be told</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That all the beauty of the world is sold;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And in the grim, gray ranks of war’s array</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Christ’s carols turn to knells of loud dismay.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor women’s tears nor kingly power nor gold</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Can resurrect the forms the trenches hold.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ah, children murmur softly at your play</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lest your sweet mirth like poisoned darts be sped</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Swift to the widowed mother hearts reviled</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Twice over as they clasp their still-born dead.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Pray, children, for the world’s unreconciled!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ye are our only lilies undefiled—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The others are incarnadined too red.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Rising Value of a Baby</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mabel Potter Daggett</p> + +<p class="intro">(From “What the War Really Means to Women” in “Pictorial +Review.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Thus is explained quite simply over the world +to-day the rising value of a baby. Civilization is running +short in the supply of men. We don’t know +exactly how short. There are Red Cross returns that +say in the first six months alone of the war there were +2,146,000 men killed in battle and 1,150,000 more +seriously wounded. Figures, however, of cold statistics, +as always, may be challenged. There is a living +figure that may not be. See the woman in black all +over Europe, and to-morrow we shall meet her in +Broadway. There are so many of her in every belligerent +land over there that her crêpe veil flutters +across her country’s flag like the smoke that dims the +landscape in a factory town. It is the mourning +emblem of her grief, unmistakably symbolizing the +dark catastrophe of civilization that has signaled Parliaments +to assemble in important session. Population +is being killed off at such an appalling rate at the +front that the means for replacing it behind the lines +must be speeded up without delay. To-day registrar-generals +in every land, in white-faced panic, are scanning +the figures of the birth-rates that continue to +show steadily diminishing returns. And in every +house of government in the world, above all the debates +on aeroplanes and submarines and shipping and +shells, there is the rising alarm of another demand. +Fill the cradles! In the defense of the State, men +bear arms. It is women who must bear the armies.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Wars Will Cease</h3> + +<p class="author">By Anna A. Maley</p> + +<p class="intro">(Prominent Socialist speaker and writer. Socialist nominee +for Governor of Washington in 1912.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Wars will cease when the conditions which cause +them are abolished. The present war is no more of +an “accident” than have been the wars of the past. +But it is terrible and far-reaching enough in its effects +to warrant a reconstruction of our political and +industrial systems.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Prussians in Poland</h3> + +<p class="author">By Laura de Turczynowicz<br> +(Nee Blackwell)</p> + +<p class="intro">(The story of an American woman, the wife of a Polish +nobleman, caught in her home by the floodtide of German invasion +of the ancient Kingdom of Poland. From “When the Prussians +Came to Poland.”<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>“Manya did not come when I rang—for Jacob.... +A long time afterward my cook came. She had +difficulty in controlling herself, but finally made me +understand. The doctor had taken Manya—not yet +seventeen! God help her!...</p> + +<p>“Four days after Manya’s disappearance, news +was brought that she was in the house of an old Jewess, +a cigarette maker. Leaving the cook with the +children, and hardly able to drag myself along, I +went with Jacob to find her.... After many difficulties +we finally found the place, and paying no attention +to the soldiers about, pushed our way into the +room where Manya was—what <i>had</i> been Manya. +When she, poor creature, saw us, she threw herself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> +on the floor sobbing. An officer came in to ask our +business with the girl.</p> + +<p>“She is my maid—stolen! This is her father. +I have come to take her home.</p> + +<p>“‘I am very sorry, but you are not allowed to +take her, she belongs to the soldiers.’</p> + +<p>“Don’t you see, Herr Officer, the girl is dying?</p> + +<p>“‘Ill she is, and shall have the best of care. We +have doctors to attend just such cases.’ And I had +to leave her! Jacob’s face was without expression, +he seemed to have lost the power to think or feel—his +little girl—!”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> Grosset & Dunlap.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Deserter</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ellen N. LaMotte</p> + +<p class="intro">(The story of the human wreckage of the battlefield, as witnessed +by an American hospital nurse a few miles behind the +French lines. From “The Backwash of War.”<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>When he could stand it no longer, he fired a +revolver up through the roof of his mouth, but he +made a mess of it. The ball tore out his left eye, and +then lodged somewhere under his skull, so they +bundled him into an ambulance and carried him, +cursing and screaming, to the nearest field hospital. +The journey was made in double quick time, over +rough Belgian roads. To save his life, he must reach +the hospital without delay, and if he was bounced to +death jolting along at break-neck speed, it did not +matter. That was understood. He was a deserter, +and discipline must be maintained. Since he had +failed on the job, his life must be saved, he must be +nursed back to health, until he was well enough to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> +be stood up against a wall and shot. This is War. +Things like this also happen in peace time, but not so +obviously.</p> + +<p>At the hospital he behaved abominably. The +ambulance men declared that he had tried to throw +himself out of the back of the ambulance, that he +had yelled and hurled himself about, and spat blood +all over the floor and blankets—in short, he was +very disagreeable. Upon the operating table he was +no more reasonable. He shouted and screamed and +threw himself from side to side, and it took a dozen +leather straps and four or five orderlies to hold him +in position, so that the surgeon could examine him. +During this commotion his left eye rolled about loosely +upon his cheek, and from his bleeding mouth he +shot great clots of stagnant blood, caring not where +they fell. One fell upon the immaculate white uniform +of the <i>Directrice</i>, and stained her from breast +to shoes. It was disgusting. They told him it was +<i>La Directrice</i>, and that he must be careful. For an +instant he stopped his raving, and regarded her +fixedly with his remaining eye, then took aim afresh, +and again covered her with his cowardly blood. +Truly it was disgusting.</p> + +<p>To the <i>Medecin Major</i> it was incomprehensible, +and he said so. To attempt to kill oneself, when, in +these days, it was so easy to die in honour upon +the battlefield, was something he could not understand. +So the <i>Medecin Major</i> stood patiently aside, +his arms crossed, his supple fingers pulling the long +black hairs on his bare arms, waiting. He had long +to wait, for it was difficult to get the man under the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> +anesthetic. Many cans of ether were used, which +went to prove that the patient was a drinking man. +Whether he had acquired the habit of hard drink before +or since the war could not be ascertained; the +war had lasted a year now, and in that time many +habits may be formed. As the <i>Medecin Major</i> stood +there, patiently fingering the hairs on his hairy arms, +he calculated the amount of ether that was expended—five +cans of ether, at so many francs a can—however, +the ether was a donation from America, so it +did not matter. Even so, it was wasteful.</p> + +<p>At last they said he was ready. He was quiet. +During his struggles he had broken out two big teeth +with the mouth gag, and that added a little more +blood to the blood already choking him. Then the +<i>Medecin Major</i> did a very skillful operation. He +trephined the skull, extracted the bullet that had +lodged beneath it, and bound back in place that erratic +eye. After which the man was sent back to the +ward, while the surgeon returned hungrily to his +dinner, long overdue. In the ward, he was a bad +patient. He insisted upon tearing off his bandages, +although they told him that this meant bleeding to +death. His mind seemed fixed on death. He seemed +to want to die, and was thoroughly unreasonable, although +quite conscious. All of which meant that he +required constant watching and was a perfect nuisance. +He was so different from the other patients, +who wanted to live. It was a joy to nurse them. By +expert surgery, by expert nursing, some of these were +to be returned to their homes again, <i>reformes</i>, mutilated +for life, a burden to themselves and to society;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> +others were to be nursed back to health, to a point at +which they could again shoulder eighty pounds of +marching kit, and be torn to pieces again on the firing +lines. It was a pleasure to nurse such as these. +It called forth all one’s skill, all one’s humanity. +But to nurse back to health a man who was to be +court-martialled and shot, truly that was a dead-end +occupation....</p> + +<p>Dawn filtered in through the little square windows +of the ward. Two of the patients rolled on +their sides, that they might talk to one another. In +the silence of early morning their voices rang clear.</p> + +<p>“Dost thou know, <i>mon ami</i>, that when we captured +that German battery a few days ago, we found +gunners chained to their guns?”</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Putnam Sons.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Prayer of the Toilers</h3> + +<p class="author">By Rose Mills Powers</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Survey.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the peaceful Toilers, hark to the toiler’s plea:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The kings of the earth assemble, pawns in their hands are we.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Now as the battle thickens, out of the blood and flame,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive us who play the game.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the cheerful reapers, the harvest was fair and good.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hard by our quiet hearth stones, the yellowing wheat fields stood,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">But the scythe has become a sabre in meadow and glebe and glen.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we cut down men!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the cunning craftsmen: The vision of Thee a lad,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Working with plane and measure, kept us content and glad;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Now, as we charge, red-handed, wielding the tools that kill,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us the blood we spill.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the visioning learners: out of our cloistered halls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Parchment and tomb abandoned, we march when the bugle calls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Death and destruction hurling, havoc to babes and wives,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the Toilers, hear us: Forgive us these broken lives.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the keen-eyed traders: our vessels went up and down,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Our shores were alive with traffic in village and mart and town,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But our harbors are red with slaughter, the markets in ruins lie,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the Toilers, hear us; forgive as we strike and die!</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the peaceful Toilers, husbandman, craftsman, clerk,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Student and sage and trader, torn from the world’s good work,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dead in the King’s arena, pawns who were not to blame,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lord of the Toilers, hear us: end now the awful game!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Righteous Wars</h3> + +<p class="author">By Beulah Marie Dix</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From the drama, “Across the Border.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Junior Lieutenant</span>: Children crying—hungry, +freezing, tortured. Hundreds of ’em. Poor +little devils! Old women—starving, stumbling, +driven, mumbling their prayers that nobody minds. +Mothers crying over the smashed-up things that were +their kids. Ah-h! That’s the horses screeching. +Don’t you hear them? When a shell rips them up +they look at you beseeching. But you can’t waste +shot on them.... That’s the chaps in the hospital +now—drying up with typhoid, rotting with dysentery—chaps +on the battlefield, torn and smashed and +mangled, two days of it, three days of it, and the +wheels of the big guns grinding them to pulp. Ah-h! +That’s some chaps caught in the granary. It’s burning. +The flames are at them. That’s a train load of +wounded, smashing through a bridge, stifling, drowning, +helpless, rats in a trap. Men and women and +children,—hundreds of ’em, thousands of ’em, millions<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> +of ’em—O my God! My God! Why don’t you +stop it? Why don’t you stop it?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Master of the House</span>: Did you do anything +to stop it? It’s drifted through here, that wail +of the world, for a long time now. Years. Centuries. +Ages. God hears it. It repented Him that He made +the world. Always the crying comes up to us. Always +misery and to spare. But it’s worse when you +are making your righteous wars. For they’re all +righteous. There’s never a man comes here but says, +as you said, that his cause is just and God is on his +side. It’s wonderful how many ages through, as you +reckon time, you men have fought your righteous +wars to advance civilization, and you’re advancing +it today just the same way you did when Attilia was +king.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3 class="x-ebookmaker-important">By Ellen Key</h3> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_143">See page 143</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>If war should stand as an eternal phantom +against the horizon of the world, then all social work +for the elevating and purifying of humanity might +as well be laid down forever.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_IX">BOOK IX<br> +<span class="smaller">Classes</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CLASSES">CLASSES</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Poet’s Task</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret Hoblitt</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Charities and Commons.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Wouldst thou be a poet of these latter days?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Turn then thine eye from joy, thine ear from praise!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Go where the city’s pallid millions throng,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And of their sorrows fashion thee a song.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing of unending toil,—of childhood’s blight—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of weary day that dawns on weary night.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing, if thou canst, of womanhood in shame,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of manhood bartered for a place and name.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing of a flower that never knew the sun;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing of a virtue dead ere ’twas begun!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Then, lest our hearts break and our faith grow cold,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing better things to be, ere time is old.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Sing ’midst the tears, and touch men’s souls with fire,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till God fulfill through thee His Great Desire.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Out of the Darkness</h3> + +<p class="author">By Voltairine de Cleyre</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Poet and essayist. Died 1912.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Who am I? Only one of the commonest common people,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">Only a worked-out body, a shriveled and withered soul;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What right have I to sing, then? None; and I do not, I cannot.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Why ruin the rhythm and rhyme of the great world’s songs with moaning?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I know not—nor why whistles must shriek, wheels ceaselessly mutter;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor why all I touch turns to clashing and clanging and discord;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I know not; I know only this,—I was born to this, live in it hourly,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Go ’round with it, hum with it, curse with it, would laugh with it, had it laughter;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It is my breath—and that breath goes outward from me in moaning.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">O you, up there, I have heard you; I am “God’s image defaced”,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“In heaven reward awaits me,” “hereafter I shall be perfect”;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ages you’ve sung that song, but what is it to me, think you?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If you heard down here in the smoke and the smut, in the smear and the offal,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the dust, in the mire, in the grime and in the slime, in the hideous darkness,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">How the wheels turn your song into sounds of horror and loathing and cursing,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The offer of lust, the sneer of contempt and acceptance, thieves’ whispers,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">The laugh of the gambler, the suicide’s gasp, the yell of the drunkard,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If you heard them down here you would cry, “The reward of such is damnation,”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If you heard them, I say, your song of “rewarded hereafter” would fail....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, is there no one to find or to speak a meaning to <i>me</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0">To me as I am,—the hard, the ignorant, withered-souled worker?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To me upon whom God and science alike have stamped “failure”,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To me who know nothing but labor, nothing but sweat, dirt and sorrows?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To me whom you scorn and despise, you up there who sing while I moan?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To me as I am—for me as I am—not dying but living;</div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Not</i> my future—my present! my body, my needs, my desires! Is there no one?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In the midst of this rushing of phantoms—of Gods, of Science, of Logic,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of Philosophy, Morals, Religion, Economy,—all this that helps not,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All these ghosts at whose altars you worship, these ponderous, marrowless Fictions,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Is there no one who thinks, is there nothing to help this dull moaning <i>Me</i>?</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Two Sides of the Shield</h3> + +<p class="author">By Princess Lazarovick-Hrebelianovich</p> + +<p class="intro">(Nee, Eleanor Calhoun—Actress of American birth. From +an article in “Century Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Nowhere more than in London does the blazing +shield show a dark reverse. For, along with the +splendors of life, that ancient city brought me, too, +the first overwhelming sense of the world’s misery. +For sometime my life took me daily through a large +stretch of London. It seemed to me that I was +wandering through vast tides of woe. Age-long +tyrannies of ignorance and vice and suffering have +welded a fixity of type in the flesh, binding enormous +segregations into more or less uniform kinds of +peoples. The misery-sodden “lower classes,” as I +heard them called, seemed narrowed and fixed and +starved and warped forever. The “lower middle +classes” gave the impression of being jammed in +between walls from above and below, as if all broad +or wholesome feeling, or generous enjoyment of +beauty were kept from penetrating to them or +issuing from them. The “upper middle classes” and +the “higher classes” appeared to look with horror +upon any real contact with the others, while intermarrying +with them was impossible.... It was the +vast crowds of the others, “the wholesale lot”, that +reflected their discouragement in my mind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women and the Oppressed</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Barrett Browning</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Aurora Leigh.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I call you hard</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To a general suffering. Here’s the world half blind</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With intellectual light, half brutalized</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With civilization, having caught the plague</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In silks from Tarsus, shrieking East and West</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Along a thousand railroads, mad with pain</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And sin too!.... does one woman of you all,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">(You who weep easily) grow pale to see</div> + <div class="verse indent0">This tiger shake his cage?—does one of you</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Stand still from dancing, stop from stringing pearls,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And pine and die because of the great sum</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of universal anguish?—Show me a tear</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wet as Cordelia’s, in eyes bright as yours,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Because the world is mad. You cannot count,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That you should weep for this account, not you!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You weep for what you know. A red-haired child</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sick in a fever, if you touch him once,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Though but so little as with a finger-tip,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Will set you weeping; but a million sick—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You could as soon weep for the rule of three</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or compound fractions. Therefore, this same world,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Uncomprehended by you.—Women as you are,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mere women, personal and passionate,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You give us doting mothers, and perfect wives,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sublime Madonnas, and enduring saints!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We get no Christ from you,—and verily</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We shall not get a poet, in my mind.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>God and the Strong Ones</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret Widdemer</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Contemporary American poet.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“We have made them fools and weak!” said the Strong Ones:</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“We have crushed them, they are dumb and deaf and blind;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We have crushed them in our hands like a heap of crumbling sands,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We have left them naught to seek or find:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They are quiet at our feet,” said the Strong Ones;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“We have made them one with wood and stone and clod;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Serf and laborer and woman, they are less than wise or human!—”</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>“I shall raise the weak!” saith God.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“They are stirring in the dark,” said the Strong Ones,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“They are struggling, who were moveless like the dead;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We can hear them cry and strain hand and foot against the chain,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We can hear their heavy upward tread....</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What if they are restless?” said the Strong Ones;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“What if they have stirred beneath the rod?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fools and weak and blinded men, we can tread them down again—”</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>“Shall ye conquer Me?” saith God.</i></div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“They will trample us and bind!” said the Strong Ones;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“We are crushed beneath the blackened feet and hands;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All the strong and fair and great they will crush from out the state;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">They will whelm it with the weight of pressing sands—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They are maddened and are blind,” said the Strong Ones;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">“Black decay has come where they have trod;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They will break the world in twain if their hands are on the rein—”</div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>“What is that to me?” saith God.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>“Ye have made them in their strength, who were Strong Ones,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Ye have only taught the blackness ye have known:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>These are evil men and blind—Ay, but molded to your Mind!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>How shall ye cry out against your own?</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Ye have held the light and beauty I have given</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>For above the muddied ways where they must plod:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Ye have builded this your lord with the lash and with the sword—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2"><i>Reap what ye have sown!” saith God.</i></div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>My Sister’s Heritage</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary S. Edgar</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Survey.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent4">Budding tree and singing bird,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Joy of springtime seen and heard;</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> + <div class="verse indent4">All the wealth of all the year,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Scattered by the wayside here.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But oh, little sister of mine in the shadowy places,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where the wheel turns and the small young fingers ply,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I cannot forget that this is yours, too, to inherit—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The open fields and the streams, and the clear blue sky.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent4">Stirring sap and quickening sod—</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Miracles revealing God:</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Prophets of the fatherhood,</div> + <div class="verse indent4">Speaking from the field and wood.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But oh, little sister of mine in the shadowy places,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where shoulders droop, eyes dim, and cheeks grow wan,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I yearn for your hand, and a road that leads to the open,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To the commonwealth of the fields, ere the light be gone.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Socialist Prayer</h3> + +<p class="author">By Margaret Haile</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Contemporary American poet. In “The Vanguard.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Give us this day our daily bread, O God!</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Not for <i>my</i> bread alone I selfish pray.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Such prayer would never reach Thy loving ear;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Such prayer my human lips refuse to say.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I pray for those whom Thou hast given me here—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">All men and women to be one with me,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To soothe, sustain, and comfort, love and cheer,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And draw in loving service nearer Thee.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">My sister suffers in a garret bare,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">My brothers labor and grow faint and pine;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My baby wails—for food! I cannot bear it God,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For all the babies in the world are mine!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Father, and they are Thine! I claim Thine aid;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Thou needs must help us in our righteous cause!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Make strong our hands to tear Oppression down,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And build a world according to Thy laws!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I cannot eat my daily bread alone,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Give none to me if these cannot be fed.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With them I stand or fall, for we are one.</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Father, give <i>all</i> of us our daily bread.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Outcasts</h3> + +<p class="author">By Eleanor Wentworth</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The International Socialist Review.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Outside the Rotunda of the Fine Arts Building +of the Panama-Pacific International Exposition is +hunched a gripping, sorrowful figure—a figure that +crouches back amidst the foliage as if humbly +seeking to escape the eye of the passer. Meekly it +bears the name of <i>Outcast</i>. About it, fountains +ripple; beyond, the sun joyfully sets agleam the +somber greens of olive; chuckling, sprightly Pans, +with uptilted pipes, laugh to scorn the chill atmosphere +of the sorrowful one, set so far into the +shadows that the sun never reaches it, leaving its +marble surface ghastly.</p> + +<p>The figure, with arms clenched and head bowed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> +in its shadow seclusion indomitably symbolizes the +disowned of the ages—the iron-collared slave, the +branded thief, the wandering disbeliever, the woman +scorned, the helpless debtor. It symbolizes those +passive sufferers, who, after tilling and sowing the +fields of life, so that they grow green and cool, +wander begrimed and thirsty in the waste desert +stretches. Pitifully it speaks of those who confidently +threw their heart’s sweetest flowers in the +world they loved, receiving no return, living forevermore +with barren hopes. It whispers of those +who flung their cries of joy to the winds, and heard +them wafted back as taunts. It speaks of builders, +of whose dream houses no cornerstone or cornice +has been realized. Voicelessly it proclaims the +<i>Slave of the Past</i>.</p> + +<p>And as I looked at it, so hopelessly resigned, I +hated it, for all its powerful symbolism.</p> + +<p>Did the world know no other Outcast than this +shrinking, unreproachful figure? Was this symbolism +the whole truth? Were there no Outcasts who +dared accuse?—who dared fight for their inheritance? +None to cry dauntlessly, “We will not be +cast aside, we who have builded and tilled and +dreamed!” Were there no outcasts with hope—with +fighting blood?</p> + +<p>In the far recesses of the Japanese Section, +where only a few errant footfalls echo solemnly +through the spacious silence, I found that for which +I searched. There I found the symbol of the Outcast +I dared hope to see. A truly courageous figure it is, +with Hope and the Spirit to be Free stamped large<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> +upon it. It is the very antithesis of that bowed +figure out among the green vines and laughing Pans, +which seem to beg forgiveness for its very existence. +This other figure is called “Strike”, and proudly it +bears its insignia of rebellion. The gaunt outlines +and the eyes overshadowed with a terrible fatigue +brand this figure of a man, as the other, with the +marks of the Outcast. A woman leans upon him, +and in turn, a brood of young cling to her skirts. +But this Outcast is no craven. He neither cringes +nor sorrows. He stands erect, and through the +shadows of fatigue, his eyes flash defiance out upon +the world of the Self-Satisfied. He seems to cry +aloud:</p> + +<p>“I suffer, my mate suffers, and our young; but +you shall pay—pay in full! You who stand between +us and our inheritance, your time is drawing near—prepare! +For we declare that we, too, shall live, we, +the sufferers!”</p> + +<p>This Outcast, springing from the depths, flings +a challenge where others have only wept; dares +where others have cowered in self-debasement. +This man of courage, standing erect under the +scourges of suffering and deprivation, gazing so +steadfastly into the Beyond through overshadowed +eyes—he dares aspire to walk in the green fields of +his making; already he treads them in his imagination. +He has sent a barely whispered hope of joy +out upon the winds and it is rushing back to him a +mighty symphony of realization. He dreams of a +beautiful world, and builds it as he dreams.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span></p> + +<p>He heralds the day when there will be no Outcasts, +but all will be Well-Beloved.</p> + +<p>He is the <i>Master of the Future</i>.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The New Sense of Justice</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elizabeth Cady Stanton</p> + +<p class="intro">(From a letter to Susan B. Anthony on “Woman and War,” +written just prior to our war with Spain.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The co-operative will remodel codes and constitutions, +creeds and catechisms, social customs and +conventionalism, the curriculum of schools and +colleges. It will give a new sense of justice, liberty +and equality in all the relations of life....</p> + +<p>The few have no right to the luxuries of life while +the many are denied its necessities.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Break Down the Wall</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ellen Key</p> + +</div> + +<p>Men and women, upper and lower classes, are +walking on different sides of a wall. They can +stretch their hands over it; the important thing to +be done is to break the wall down.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Class Intolerance Passing</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elsie Clews Parsons</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_170">See page 170</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Age-class, caste group, family, and race, each +has its own closed circle—but each of these vicious +circles the modern spirit has begun to invade and +break down. In the spirit of our time fear of the +unlike is waning and <i>pari passu</i> intolerance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Servitude</h3> + +<p class="author">By Maria Montessori</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Quoted from “The Larger Aspect of Socialism,” by Walling.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Any nation that accepts the idea of servitude +and believes that it is an advantage for man to be +served by man admits servility as an instinct, and +indeed we all too easily lend ourselves to obsequious +service, giving to it such complimentary names as +courtesy, politeness, charity.</p> + +<p>In reality, he who is served is limited in his +independence. This concept will be the foundation +of the dignity of the man of the future; “I do not +wish to be served because I am not impotent.” +And this idea must be gained before men can feel +themselves to be really free.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Factories Instead of Homes</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary E. McDowell</p> + +<p class="intro">(Head of University Settlement House, Chicago. Writer and +speaker for suffrage, organized labor, etc.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>However earnestly we may deplore the fact +that women are in factories instead of homes, we +must squarely face conditions as they exist. There +are hundreds of thousands of helpless, untrained, +unorganized women without the power of legislating +for themselves, who are forced by the stress of circumstances +to earn their livelihood, and it is of +vital importance that they be given the chance to be +decently self-supporting under conditions which will +unfit them for wifehood and motherhood and the +care of the homes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Voteless Sex</h3> + +<p class="author">By Meta L. Stern</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary journalist and speaker. From a leaflet +on Suffrage.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Thousands of women today are working under +conditions unfit for human beings. At unguarded +machinery they are risking their nimble fingers, the +only source of income they possess. In firetrap +buildings they are risking their lives. Badly ventilated +workrooms, filled with particles of flying dust, +weaken their lungs and make them susceptible to +tuberculosis. Long working hours sap their strength +and vitality. Dangerous occupations make them +physical wrecks in a few years and render them unfit +for wifehood and motherhood. In the case of +married women workers an appalling infant mortality +is a concomitant of women’s labor. But with all +these sacrifices even the woman who performs a +man’s work does not get a man’s wages. Everywhere +we find unequal pay for equal work. The +voteless sex is cheap.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Glad Day of Universal Brotherhood</h3> + +<p class="author">By Frances E. Willard</p> + +<p class="intro">(Great temperance worker; the only woman whose statue is in +the Hall of Fame. From an address at the National W. C. T. U. +Convention at Buffalo, in 1897.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Look about you; the products of labor are on +every hand; you could not maintain for a moment a +well-ordered life without them; every object in +your room has in it, for discerning eyes, the mark of +ingenious tools and the pressure of labor’s hands.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> +But is it not the cruelest injustice for the wealthy, +whose lives are surrounded and embellished by +labor’s work, to have a superabundance of the +money which represents the aggregate of labor in +any country, while the laborer himself is kept so +steadily at work that he has no time to acquire the +education and refinements of life that would make +him and his family agreeable companions to the +rich and cultured?...</p> + +<p>I believe that competition is doomed. The trust, +whose single object is to abolish competition, has +proved that we are better without it, than with it, and +the moment corporations control the supply of any +product, they combine. What the Socialist desires is +that the corporation of humanity should control all +production. Beloved comrades, this is the frictionless +way; it is the higher way; it eliminates the motives +for a selfish life; it enacts into our every-day living +the ethics of Christ’s gospel. Nothing else will do it; +nothing else can bring the glad day of universal +brotherhood.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Working Girls Must Cooperate</h3> + +<p class="author">By Pauline M. Newman</p> + +<p class="intro">(Organizer of working women. Former organizer for the International +Garment Workers’ Union. In “Life and Labor.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>All those who work are aware of the fact that +conditions today—insofar as the working girl is concerned—are +not what they should be....</p> + +<p>Now, what is wrong? To begin with, the work +day is too long, the wages are too low. Good sanitary +conditions are a rarity. Laws to protect the lives<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> +of women and children workers are scarce—in reality.... +There are enough laws on the statute books, but +very few are enforced. Labor laws intended to protect +women are constantly being violated. Why? +Simply because the women have, thus far, failed to +cooperate with one another in order to enforce them.</p> + +<p>Nearly eight million working women are subjected +to the conditions described above. According +to investigators—the writer of these lines having been +one of these—the average wage of these women does +not exceed seven dollars a week. A wage <i>proven</i> insufficient +to live on. Such wages shape the lives of +the women, and those dependent upon them. What +kind of a life, then, can they lead? A life which is +a mere existence, that is all. Because they are compelled +to do so, they substitute cheap amusement for +something more refined. They live on a five-cent +breakfast, ten-cent lunch, and a twenty-cent dinner; +live in a dingy room without air and without comfort; +wear clothes of cheap material, trying hard to imitate +those who are more fortunate than they. Their whole +life is cheap from beginning to end. Deprived of sunshine +and fresh air, no time for recreation, no time +for rest, they have only time for <i>work</i>.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Organized Woman Labor</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. George Bass</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_38">See page 38</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Almost every constructive statute of the past two +decades that touches the protection and prevents the +exploitation of women and children, owes its initiation +and passage largely to the organized women.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Enslaved</h3> + +<p class="author">By The Countess of Warwick</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Once said to be the most beautiful +woman in England. Socialist, writer and speaker on labor and +other modern problems. From “Why I Became a Socialist.” In +“Hearst’s Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>At present women are the most enslaved part of +the human race. They are paid lower wages even +than the average working man. When they are not +in the wage market as industrial workers, or clerks +or civil servants, then they are usually in the unsatisfactory +position of being a wife who is, economically +speaking, a dependent on the wishes and purse of her +father or husband. They may work all day at the +management of the children and the home—much +harder often, than the worker in the factory—but in +return these wives and mothers do not get, in the +ordinary case, a fixed salary or wage which they can +call their own. Neither are the working hours of the +wife and mother fixed, as even in the case of factory +workers. There is in the life of the housewife of the +manual laboring class scarcely an hour a day when +she is entirely free to go where she pleases or do what +she pleases. The woman who has not a private income +of her own is, in the general case, the economic dependent +of the man, and in that class is the large +majority of my sex.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Inequality for Women</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Arthur Lyttleton</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Women and Their Work.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Here and there throughout history occur +instances of women who have been received as equals<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> +by men, but for the mass of women equality could +only be procured by civilization.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Lore of the Woods</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ruby Archer</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Contemporary. Poet and journalist.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Go not into the woods for rioting.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But sit thee down alone; lean on a tree,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And read the greatest volume of the world,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Writ in the letters of the leaves and birds.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Mark how the branches draw their fluid life</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From the one stem deep nourished in the earth,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And on those boughs how individual leaves</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Find neighbor kindness, yielding each to each.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They share the common good, yet with no loss;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What grace there is, unique, in every one!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the glad birds! Only their nests have they,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the great heritage of light and love</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Which none has need of hoarding, yet not one</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But greets the morning with the song, “I live,”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And warbles low at twilight, “Life is sweet.”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Study the helpful ants; the social bees;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The hovering, unbound insects of the air,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Swaying in cities light as gossamer</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Along one sunbeam on one fragrant breeze;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And never dream that man may dare presume</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To name himself the king of things create,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till he shall learn the lessons of the leaves,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The birds, the ants, the bees, the winged dust:</div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>That life is born of brotherhood</i>.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Moses, the Strike Leader</h3> + +<p class="author">By Frances Squire Potter</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Professor of English in the University +of Minnesota. Writer and speaker on labor and political +problems. Corresponding Secretary of the National American +Woman’s Suffrage Association, author “The Ballingtons,” etc. Died +March, 1914. In “Life and Labor.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Out of the waters of the Nile, Pharaoh’s +daughter drew a Hebrew babe, condemned to die. +As her adopted son, he was taught at court all the +wisdom of the Egyptians. As an Egyptian prince he +might have lived and died in splendor, and his gold-cased +mummy might have been on some museum +shelf today, a dead curiosity. An aristocrat, a +lawyer, a capitalist—these are what he was brought +up to be.</p> + +<p>Egypt was in the full afternoon of her grandeur. +A Pharoah was on the throne whose soul was filled +with the ambition to build palaces and temples and +cities such as the world had never seen. His heavy +hand fell upon the free Hebrews in his kingdom, and +sent them to the quarries and the brick-yards to toil +with slaves under the lash of merciless foreman. And +as his cities and monuments grew, he became drunk +with his own glory, and the slaves were flogged to ever +more inhuman exertions in the quarries.</p> + +<p>“And it came to pass in those days, when Moses +was grown up, that he went out to his brethren, and +looked on their burdens; and he saw an Egyptian +smiting an Hebrew. And he looked this way, and +that way, and when he saw that there was no man, +he smote the Egyptian and hid him in the sand.”</p> + +<p>I do not believe this was the first time he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span> +walked abroad to view his brother slaves toiling. +His wrath had been long smouldering in him. You +notice he did not attack the Egyptian with blind +rage. “He looked this way and that”, and when he +saw he was unobserved he deliberately slew the +oppressor and buried the body in the desert sands.</p> + +<p>Thus the greatest law-giver in history began his +career by committing the greatest crime known to +the law. He was not young. He was forty years of +age. He became a law-breaker only because the laws +of Egypt no longer protected the man who worked +from the tyrant who confiscated his labor. His soul +was in rebellion against “the system”.</p> + +<p>How did the workers take this “direct action”? +Just as the workers of today would. When he went +back the next day, instead of being greeted as a deliverer, +he was repudiated by the Hebrews. They +were justly suspicious of a member of the system +who eased his conscience for a living in the royal +family by killing a brutal foreman. “Who made thee +a prince and a judge over us?” was a very pertinent +question. Who, indeed, but Pharoah himself?</p> + +<p>But Pharoah on his part was deeply incensed at +this rebel in his own family and Moses fled for his +life into the deserts of Arabia, carrying with him the +consciousness of having made his brethren’s lot +worse by his blundering attempt to mend it....</p> + +<p>At last, amid the frowning precipices and lonely +crags of Mount Sinai, the cry of his race became too +strong for him to resist.... And so Moses turns his +face once more toward the Nile country, and the +great moment of his life is upon him.... From now<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span> +on the magnificent story represents the struggle of +the enslaved Hebrews for freedom as a duel between +two men—Pharoah on the throne, and Moses, the +desert wanderer. The one stands for entrenched +tyranny, the other is a strike leader. Behind Pharoah +is all the power of Egypt, upheld by the armies of the +empire. Behind Moses is the mysterious pillar of +cloud and of fire—the destiny of the race. Between +these two colossi cower the race of slaves whose destiny +is at hand....</p> + +<p>Just as the Pharoahs of the Colorado coal fields +are doing today, Pharoah of Egypt hardened his +heart, until the climax of the struggle came in his +cry of rage, “Get thee from me, take heed to thyself, +see my face no more: for in the day thou seest +my face, thou shalt die!” And Moses said, “Thou +hast spoken well, I will see thy face no more.” ...</p> + +<p>So Moses leads his people out into the wilderness +of freedom....</p> + +<p>Years passed, and the wilderness was whitened +with the bones of the slaves, whose free-born children +grew up to higher manhood under their aged +leader’s constant counsels and warnings. At last +the time came when they were fit to take a place +among the nations of the earth, and the pillar of fire +and of cloud turns and drifts toward Canaan.</p> + +<p>With what longing the old man’s heart looked +toward the land of promise, the first fixed abiding +place life seemed to offer, we can gather from his +own confession. But it was not to be. His course +was run. He was a strike leader, a nation-molder, +a law-giver, not a military conqueror. When the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> +tribes reach the desert and look down into the green +valley of the Jordan, they are called together to +hear his parting words. On the slopes of Mount +Nebo in the land of Moab, after the antiphonal +chanting of the blessings and curses, and the sounding +of the trumpets of the Levites, the dying leader +stands for the last time before his people, delivers +the matchless farewell address recorded in Deuteronomy, +blesses them, and passes from their sight +forever, up into the solitude of the mountain +peaks....</p> + +<p>“And the children of Israel wept for Moses in +the plains of Moab, but no man knoweth of his sepulchre +unto this day. And there hath not arisen a +prophet since in Israel like unto Moses....”</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Dear God! The desert wandering is done,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A fixed abode has come to all—but one!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Command the muses of the sacred well</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Say paeans for the sons of Israel!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But turn, oh, turn their silent lips away,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While he ascends the solitudes to pray!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Deep valley murmurings rise into peace,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">At that still height his mission wins surcease,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And God in mercy lets his eyes undim,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gaze long on glories that are not for him.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>After the Fight</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary O’Reilly</p> + +<p class="intro">(Chicago school teacher. Writer and speaker on labor questions. +The following poem was written for “Life and Labor.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A lull in the struggle,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A truce in the fight,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">The whirr of machines</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the dearly-bought right</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Just to labor for bread,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Just to work and be fed.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">For this we have marched</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Through the snow-covered street;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Have borne our dead comrades</div> + <div class="verse indent2">While muffled drums beat.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It is thus we have fought</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For this boon dearly bought.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We measure our gain</div> + <div class="verse indent2">By the price we have paid.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Call the victory great</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As the struggle we made.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For we struggled to grow,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And we won. And we know....</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Together we suffered</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The weary weeks past;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Together we won,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And together at last</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As we learn our own might,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We shall win the <i>great</i> fight.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A lull in the struggle,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A truce in the fight,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The whirr of machines</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And the dearly-bought right</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Just to labor for bread,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Just to work and be fed!</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Fool’s Christmas</h3> + +<p class="author">By Florence May</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">On Christmas eve, the king, disconsolate,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Weary with all the round of pomp and state,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Gave whisper to his Fool: “A merry way</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Have I bethought to spend our holiday.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Thou shalt be king, and I the fool will be—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And thou shalt rule the court in drollery</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For one short day!” With caper, nod, and grin,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Full saucy replied the harlequin;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“A merry play; and sire, amazing strange</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For one of us to suffer such a change!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But thou? Why all the kings of earth” said he,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Have played the fool and played it skillfully!”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then the king’s laugh stirred all the arras dim,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Till courtiers wondered at his humor grim.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And so it chanced when wintry sunbeams shone</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From Christmas skies, lo! perched upon the throne</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Sat Lionel the Fool, in purple drest,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The royal jewels blazing on his breast.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">On Christmas morning too, the king arose,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And donned with sense of ease, the silken hose</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of blue and scarlet; then the doublet red</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With azure slashed; upon his kingly head</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That wearied oft beneath a jeweled crown,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He drew the jingling hood, and tied it down.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All day he crouched among the chill and gloom</div> + <div class="verse indent0">None seeking him—within the turret room.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But when calm night with starry lamps came down</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Her purple stairs—he crept forth to the town</div> + <div class="verse indent0">His scanty cape about his shoulders blew,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Close to his face the screening hood he drew.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He knocked first at a cottage of the poor,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And lo! flew open wide the door—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“We have not much to give, dear fool,” they said,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“But thou art cold; come share our fire and bread!”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With willing hands they freed his cape from snow</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And warmed and cheered him ere they let him go.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And so’t was ever: By the firelight dim</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of many a hearth stone poor they welcomed him;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And children who would shun the king in awe,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Would scamper to the door way if they saw</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The scarlet peak of Lionel’s red hood.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Dear fool” they called him loudly, “thou wert good</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To bring the frosted cake! Come in and see</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Our little Lishelk—hark! she calls for thee!”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And so’t was ever. On his way the king</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With softened heart saw many a grievous thing:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But love he found and charity. And when</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He crept at dawn through palace gates again,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He knew that he who rules by fear alone</div> + <div class="verse indent0">May sit securely on his throne;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But he who rules by love shall find it true</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That love, the milder power, is mightier, too.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Dear fool”, he said, “thou art the king of hearts insooth;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The king of hearts! Today no farce but truth!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For I have seen that thou, beneath my rule,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Hast often played the king,—and I the fool!”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Class Legislation</h3> + +<p class="author">By M. Carey Thomas</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_10">See page 10</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>In the past we have no single instance of any +class of men with the ballot legislating fairly for any +other class of men without the ballot. How then can +the men of the world all working and all voting protect +the special interests of the voteless women of the +world who are emerging as workers millions strong +on the surface of our human bee-hive? They cannot. +If they have in the past done injustice to the disfranchised +classes of their fellow men, they will do far +more terrible injustice in the future to disfranchised +classes of working women. If the vote has been indispensable +as a protection in the past, it will be still +more indispensable in the future because modern socialistic +legislation will increasingly control employers +and employed. Thousands of English women are to-day +banded together in their suffrage unions demanding +with desperate courage from a reluctant parliament +a vote to protect their labor and their children +for whom they labor.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Despair</h3> + +<p class="author">By Lady Wilde</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Irish poet, mother of Oscar Wilde.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Before us dies our brother of starvation;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Around are cries of famine and despair!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where is hope for us, or comfort, or salvation—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Where—oh! where?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If the angels ever harken, downward bending,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> + <div class="verse indent2">They are weeping, we are sure,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">At the litanies of human groans ascending</div> + <div class="verse indent2">From the crushed hearts of the poor.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We never knew a childhood’s mirth and gladness,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Nor the proud heart of youth free and brave;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, a death-like dream of wretchedness and sadness</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Is life’s weary journey to the grave!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Day by day we lower sink, and lower,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Till the God-like soul within</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Falls crushed beneath the fearful demon power</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of poverty and sin.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">So we toil on, on with fever burning</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In heart and brain;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So we toil on, on through bitter scorning,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Want, woe, and pain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We dare not raise our eyes to the blue heavens</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Or the toil must cease—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We dare not breathe the fresh air God has given</div> + <div class="verse indent2">One hour in peace.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Breadth of Woman Suffrage</h3> + +<p class="author">By Millicent Garrett Fawcett</p> + +<p class="intro">(English contemporary. Introduction to “The Future of the +Woman’s Movement.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Other movements toward freedom have aimed at +raising the status of a comparatively small group or +class. But the woman’s movement aims at nothing +less than raising the status of an entire sex—half of +the human race—to lift it up to the freedom and +valor of womanhood.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Poor Sex</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. H. W. Swanwick</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_205">See page 205</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Women are notoriously the poor sex. Even a +woman who figures as a rich woman is often merely an +article de luxe for the man who provides for her, and +though he may band her neck with jewels, he does +not readily give her a check for her suffrage society.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Of What Use Is It</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ida M. Cannon</p> + +<p class="intro">(Headworker of the Social Service Department Massachusetts +General Hospital.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>If a patient for whom a surgeon orders a back +brace starves herself to pay the bill?</p> + +<p>If a workman, cured of rheumatism, goes back to +his job in the damp cellar which caused it?</p> + +<p>If a clerk fitted to glasses, returns to the dim +desk which crippled her sight?</p> + +<p>If an unmarried girl, delivered of her child, goes +from the maternity ward back to the neighborhood +that ruined?</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Breaking Up in Violence</h3> + +<p class="author">By Clara E. Laughlin</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_68">See page 68</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>There must be a check on the ever-widening inequality +between the richest and the poorest, or our +social structure will not endure; we shall have revolution, +not evolution; cataclysm, not growth.... In +some of the old world countries the inequality is of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> +such long growth that one can hardly imagine its +breaking up without violence. With us it is not yet +adamantine. Pray God it never may be.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Workers’ Right</h3> + +<p class="author">By Helen Keller</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_209">See page 209</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Out of the Dark.”<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Their cause is my cause. If they are denied a +living wage, I also am defrauded. While they are industrial +slaves, I cannot be free. My hunger is not +satisfied while they are unfed. I cannot enjoy the +good things of life which come to me, if they are hindered +and neglected. I want all the workers of the +world to have sufficient money to provide the elements +of a normal standard of living—a decent home, +healthful surroundings, opportunity for education +and recreation. I want them to have the same blessings +I have. I, deaf and blind, have been helped to +overcome many obstacles. I want them to be helped +as generously in a struggle which resembles my own +in many ways.</p> + +<p>Surely the things that the workers demand are +not unreasonable. It cannot be unreasonable to ask +of society a fair chance for all.... Until the spirit of +love for our fellow men, regardless of race, color or +creed, shall fill the world, making real in our lives and +our deeds the actuality of human brotherhood—until +the great mass of the people shall be filled with the +sense of responsibility for each other’s welfare, social +injustice can never be attained.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> Doubleday, Page & Co.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women’s Labor Organizations</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ida Tarbell</p> + +<p class="intro">(American contemporary. Author of “History of Standard +Oil,” “The Business of Being a Woman,” etc.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Already there are signs that the woman’s labor +organizations are willing to recognize the inherent +dignity of household service—and this is as it should +be. The woman who labors should be the one to recognize +that all labor is per se equally honorable—that +there is no stigma in honestly performed, useful service.</p> + +<p>If she is to bring to the labor world the regeneration +she dreams, she must begin not by saying that the +shop girl, the clerk, the teacher, are in a higher class +than the cook, the waitress, the maid, but that we are +all laborers alike, sisters by virtue of the service we +are rendering society. That is, labor should be the +last to recognize the canker in the caste.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Happy Warrior</h3> + +<p class="author">By Dorothea Hollins</p> + +<p class="intro">(In “The Labor Leader.” J. Keir Hardie, English Labor +leader, Anti-militarist and Member of Parliament. Died September +26, 1915. It is said the present war broke his heart.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">’Midst the world’s tumult, he lies very still</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Humanity’s knight-errant, who ’gainst wrong</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ne’er sheathed his sword, but climbed the perilous long</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And lengthening ascent to that far hill</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Throning the city of God! What shapes of ill</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He met, he recked not, so he might be strong</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the down-trodden at his side. His song</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of Brotherhood each failing heart did fill</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">With manly comfort, and from Womanhood</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He smote the bands of tyranny and ease;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No knight was e’er more dauntless. Devil’s strife</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Outbreaking, broke his heart, snapped the worn life,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet cannot dim the victory of good</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nor take from Righteousness the kiss of Peace.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Abolish “Dependent Classes”</h3> + +<p class="author">By Josephine Shaw Lowell</p> + +<p class="intro">(Quoted from “The Survey.” Mrs. Charles Russell Lowell. +Mrs. Lowell served 13 years as Charity Commissioner in New +York, and in many other ways was engaged in all good causes, +municipal as well as philanthropic.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>I object to the term “dependent classes,” unless +in speaking of the insane. That such a class, not included +among the insane, does exist among us is a fact; +in more than one county of this great, rich state, +there are families, as you know, who for five generations +have been more or less dependent on their fellow +citizens and such families constitute a class; but yet +I protest against the use of this phrase in a way to +suggest that the existence of such a class should be +recognized except to be abolished.</p> + +<p>There will always be <i>persons</i> who must be helped, +<i>individuals</i> who must depend upon public relief or +on private charity for maintenance, it is true, but it +is a disgrace to any community to have a dependent +<i>class</i>, and the fact of its existence is a proof that the +community has done its duty neither to those who +compose it, nor to those who maintain it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Servant Class</h3> + +<p class="author">By Edna Kenton</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_71">See page 71</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Women are thinking at last, not in men’s terms, +but in their own, and that in a slave class is always +dynamic.... Because it has vision where the other +has archaism, the “lower class” is become the higher +class, self-conscious and self-poised. Not only youth, +but childhood, is rebel. Art has become anarchic, and +as mysteriously as Nature works everywhere, so has +she worked with the servant half of the human race, +stirring it to self-consciousness and action; helping to +keep alive the tiny torch of revolt.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Breshkovskaya</h3> + +<p class="author">By Elsa Barker</p> + +<p class="intro">(Contemporary American poet and novelist. Author “The +Frozen Grail,” etc. The following is said to be the strongest of +her poems. It was written during Breshkovskaya’s last exile, before +the Russian revolution released her.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">How narrow seems the round of ladies’ lives</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And ladies’ duties in their smiling world,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The day this Titan woman, gray with years,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Goes out across the void to prove her soul!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Brief are the pains of motherhood that end</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In motherhood’s long joy; but she has borne</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The age-long travail of a cause that lies</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Still-born at last on History’s cold lap.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And yet she rests not; yet she will not drink</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The cup of peace held to her parching lips</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By smug Dishonor’s hand. Nay, forth she fares,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Old and alone, on exile’s rocky road—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That well-worn road with snows incarnadined</div> + <div class="verse indent0">By blood-drops from her feet long years agone.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Mother of power, my soul goes out to you</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As a strong swimmer goes to meet the sea</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Upon whose vastness he is like a leaf.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What are the ends and purposes of song,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Save as a bugle at the lips of Life</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To sound reveille to a drowsing world</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When some great deed is rising like the sun?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where are those others whom your deeds inspired</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To deeds and words that were themselves a deed?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Those who believe in death have gone with death</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the gray crags of immortality;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Those who believed in life have gone with life</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To the red halls of spiritual death.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And you? But what is death or life to you?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Only a weapon in the hand of faith</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To cleave a way for beings yet unborn</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To a far freedom you will never share!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Freedom of body is an empty shell</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wherein men crawl whose souls are held with gyves;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For Freedom is a spirit and she dwells</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As often in a jail as on the hills.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In all the world this day there is no soul</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Freer than you, Breshkovskaya, as you stand</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Facing the future in your narrow cell.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For you are free of self and free of fear,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Those twin-born shades that lie in wait for man</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When he steps out upon the wind-blown road</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That leads to human greatness and to pain.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Take in your hand once more the pilgrim’s staff—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your delicate hand misshapen from the nights</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">In Kara’s mines; bind on your unbent back</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That long has borne the burdens of the race,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The exile’s bundle, and upon your feet</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Strap the worn sandles of a tireless faith.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You are too great for pity. After you</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We send not sobs, but songs; and all our days</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We shall walk bravelier knowing where you are.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Revolutionist</h3> + +<p class="author">By Catherine Breshkovskaya</p> + +<p class="intro">(Born to luxury, but casting her lot, when only twenty-six, +with the group of revolutionists who dared hope that the Russian +peasantry might some day arise and rebel against the horrible oppression +of the government. Twice exiled to Siberia, escaping once +after serving a sentence of twenty-one years. Just before the overthrow +of the czar closely guarded in a Siberian prison cell, after a +second attempt to escape. Free once more, she has lived to see +part of the realization of her dreams, the overthrow of Imperialism.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>We put on peasant dress, to elude the police and +break down the peasant’s cringing distrust. I dressed +in enormous bark shoes, coarse shirt and drawers, and +heavy cloak. I used acid on my face and hands; I +worked and ate with the peasants; I learned their +speech; I travelled on foot, forging passports. I +lived ‘illegally!’</p> + +<p>By night I did my organizing. You desire a picture? +A low room with mud floors and walls. Rafters +just overhead, and still higher thatch. The room was +packed with men, women and children. Two big fellows +sat up on the high brick stove, with their dangling +feet knocking occasional applause. These people +had been gathered by my host, a brave peasant whom +I picked out, and he in turn had chosen only those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span> +whom Siberia could not terrify. I now recalled their +floggings; I pointed to those who were crippled for +life; to women, whose husbands died under the lash; +and when asked if men were to be forever flogged, +then they would cry out so fiercely that the three or +four cattle in the next room would bellow and have +to be quieted. Again I would ask what chances their +babies had of living, and in reply some peasant woman +would tell how her baby had died the winter before. +Why? I asked. Because they had only the +most wretched strips of land. To be free and live, +the people must own the land! From my cloak I +would bring a book of fables written to teach our +principles and stir the love of freedom. And then far +into the night, the firelight showed a circle of great, +broad faces and dilated eyes, staring with all the reverence +every peasant has for that mysterious thing—a +book.</p> + +<p>These books, twice as effective as oral work, were +printed in secrecy at heavy expense. But many of +us had libraries, jewels, costly gowns and furs to sell; +and new recruits kept adding to our fund. We had +no personal expenses....</p> + +<p>In that year of 1874, over two thousand educated +people traveled among the peasants. Weary work, +you say. Yes, when the peasants were slow and dull +and the spirit of freedom seemed an illusion. But +when that spirit grew real one felt far from weary....</p> + +<p>We may die in exile, and our children may die in +exile, and our children’s children may die in exile, +but something must come of it at last.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Old Comrade</h3> + +<p class="author">By May Beals</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Progressive Woman.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">You have sowed for the world and man</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The harvest you cannot reap.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You have won nor fame nor gold nor lands,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">But your faith in man you keep.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">You have stood for the right alone—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Faced odium, danger, death;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Poverty is your reward and pain,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That shall end with your dying breath.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I, beginning the path you trod,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Love you, so near the end;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Can I, too, conquer the trammeled clod,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Till the higher self ascend?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I know not: Many brave men fall</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Ere they reach your brave life’s span.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Old friend, it is due in part to you,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">That I keep my faith in man.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Voice of Labor</h3> + +<p class="author">By Inez Haynes Irwin</p> + +<p class="intro">(From “The American Federation of Labor Convention”: An +Impression. In “The Masses.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>The voice of labor is a roar, deep as though it +came from a throat of iron, penetrating as though it +came through lips of silver. One day that voice will +silence all the great guns of the world.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Our New Aristocracy</h3> + +<p class="author">By Gertrude Atherton</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “The New Aristocracy,” in “The Cosmopolitan.”)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_44">See page 44</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Instead of laying away their sense of social supremacy +in old rose and lavendar, our new aristocracy +of wealth is often haughty and frigid in manner, and +not only ostentatious in expenditure, but arrogantly +assertive of what it believes to be its superior rights +... frivolity, selfishness and pride and the constant +exercise of these qualities hardens what, for convenience, +we call the heart, and breeds indifference for the +feelings and rights of others. I have been interviewed +by women reporters in almost every country I have +visited, and it is only in America—in New York, to +be exact—that they have spoken of their dread of approaching +fashionable or merely rich, women.... +Those we have of ancient lineage,—who have framed +their family tree and proved their seven generations, +whose fortunes have kept pace with the times, and +who from the somewhat attenuated backbone of society, +in New York, for instance—are more objectionable +in some respects, than the new-rich. While they +ought to know better, they are so uneasily conscious of +their position as real aristocrats in a country too large +to give them a universal recognition, that anxious +pride has bleached their very blood, attenuated their +features, narrowed their lips, and practically deprived +them of any distinctive personalities, the best that +can be said of them is that they are not, with one +notorious exception, vulgar in the common use of +the word.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<p class="author">By H. R. H.</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(The Infanta Eulalia of Spain. In the “Century Magazine.”)<br> +1864-1912</p> + +</div> + +<p>The glitter and magnificence of society can +exist only against a background of misery and +starvation.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<p class="author">By Mary Wollstonecraft</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “Vindication of the Rights of Women.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>It is the pestiferous purple which renders the +progress of civilization a curse, and warps the +understanding, till men of sensibility doubt whether +the expansion of the intellect produces a greater +proportion of happiness or misery.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. John Martin</p> + +</div> + +<p>We have a civilization that is bloated at the top +and bleeding at the bottom, and there is decay in both.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_X">BOOK X<br> +<span class="smaller">Miscellaneous</span></h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="MISCELLANEOUS">MISCELLANEOUS</h2> + +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>In Passing</h3> + +<p class="author">By Ruth</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(Contemporary Poet.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Too long have I listened to the voices of men;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They said they would teach me wisdom—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I am not wise:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And now when I listen for the voice of God—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I cannot hear it.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Contrast</h3> + +<p class="author">By Laura Simmons</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Across the gloom a shadow flits; I glimpse a sodden face</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Wherein the years of sin and care, and toil have left their trace.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A wanton laugh;—I mark no more, for yonder in the glow</div> + <div class="verse indent0">One waiteth me—my love! my star! with welcoming, I know.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tender and fine is she, withal so stately sweet and fair</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My grateful heart thrills thanks to heaven to see her standing there.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If this be woman, pure, benign—man’s blessed beacon light—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then—Christ! What that poor outcast soul that passed me in the night?</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Mary and Magdalene</h3> + +<p class="author">By Virginia Cleaver Beacon</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Coming Nation.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Little sister of the street,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Do not hurry by!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">There’s a problem we must meet</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Together, you and I.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">While your head with shame is bowed,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">While you shun the day,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Right forbids that I be proud,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Who might have gone your way.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Did you find the road too hard,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Feet untaught must tread?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Was the honest pathway barred,—</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To this the other led?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">In a world where all is sold</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You have sold yourself;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Poor the price the world has doled,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">You win not even pelf.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Little sister of the street,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">This old wrong must cease!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You and I as women meet</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To give the world release.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Dare We Judge?</h3> + +<p class="author">By Paulina Brandreth</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Survey.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">What do we know of life,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We, who are housed and fed,</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span> + <div class="verse indent0">What do we know of strife</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Who are so gently led?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Have we dwelt in the slime</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of Poverty’s abode</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Have we walked with the crime</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Engendered by its load?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, have we ever known</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Days of eternal care?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When Hope is turned to stone</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And broken by Despair?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Or have we ever raced</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And won, and lost again?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And then with failure faced</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The cruelty of men?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We have not lived these things,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Our bread and wine is sweet;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We do not know what causes bring</div> + <div class="verse indent2">The woman to the street.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet, she who wounds her soul</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Is better far than we,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who do our lives control</div> + <div class="verse indent2">In self-complacency.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Aye, better far than we,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Who ignorantly dwell,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lulled with tranquility</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Above the wreck of hell.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">What do we know of life,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">We, who are housed and fed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who, sheltered from all strife,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">On thornless pathways tread?</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Two Storks</h3> + +<p class="author">By Charlotte Perkins Gilman</p> + +<p class="intro">(America’s foremost woman Sociologist. Author of numerous +books, and editor, owner and publisher of “The Forerunner,” a +magazine of advanced thought on the woman question. The following +is from “The Forerunner.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Two storks were nesting.</p> + +<p>He was a young stork—and narrow minded. Before +he married he had consorted mainly with striplings +of his own kind, and had given no thought to the +ladies, either maid or matron.</p> + +<p>After he married his attention was concentrated +on his all-satisfying wife, upon that triumph of art, +labor and love—their nest, and upon those special +creations—their children. Deeply was he moved by +the marvelous instincts and processes of motherhood. +Love, reverence, intense admiration, rose in his +heart for her of the well-built nest; her of the gleaming +treasure of smooth eggs; her of the patient brooding +breast, the warming wings, the downy, wide-mouthed +group of little ones.</p> + +<p>Assiduously he labored to help her build the nest, +to help her feed the young; proud of his impassioned +activity in her and their behalf; devoutly he performed +his share of the brooding, while she hunted in +her turn. When he was a-wing he thought continually +of her as one with the brood—his brood. When<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span> +he was on the nest he thought all the more of her, +who sat there so long, so lovingly, to such noble ends.</p> + +<p>The happy days flew by, fair spring—sweet summer—gentle +autumn. The young ones grew larger +and larger; it was more and more work to keep their +lengthening, widening beaks shut in contentment. +Both parents flew far afield to feed them.</p> + +<p>Then the days grew shorter, the sky grayer, the +wind colder; there was large hunting and small success. +In his dreams he began to see sunshine, broad, +burning sunshine, day after day; skies of limitless +blue; dark, deep, yet full of fire; stretches of bright +water, shallow, warm—fringed with tall reeds and +rushes, teeming with fat frogs.</p> + +<p>They were in her dreams, too, but he did not +know that.</p> + +<p>He stretched his wings and flew farther every +day; but his wings were not satisfied. In his dreams +came a sense of vast heights and boundless spaces of +the earth streaming away beneath him; black water +and white land; gray water and brown land, blue +water and green land, all flowing backward from day +to day, while the cold lessened and the warmth grew.</p> + +<p>He felt the empty sparkling nights, stars far +above, quivering, burning; stars far below quivering +more in the dark water; and felt his great wings wide, +strong, all-sufficient, carrying him on and on!</p> + +<p>This was in her dreams, too, but he did not know +that.</p> + +<p>“It is time to go,” he cried one day. “They are +coming! It is upon us! Yes,—I must go! Goodbye,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span> +my wife! Goodbye, my children!” For the passion +of wings was upon him.</p> + +<p>She, too, was stirred to the heart. “Yes, it is +time to go!” she cried. “I am ready! Come!”</p> + +<p>He was shocked, grieved, astonished. “Why, my +dear!” he said, “How preposterous! You cannot go +on the great flight! Your wings are for brooding +tender little ones! Your body is for the wonder of the +gleaming treasure.—Not for days’ and nights’ ceaseless +soaring! You cannot go!”</p> + +<p>She did not heed him. She spread her wide +wings and swept and circled far and high above,—as, +in truth, she had been doing for many days, though +he had not noticed it.</p> + +<p>She dropped to the ridge pole beside him, where +he was still muttering objections. “Is it not glorious?” +she cried. “Come! They are nearly ready!”</p> + +<p>“You unnatural mother!” he burst forth. “You +have forgotten the order of nature! You have forgotten +your children! Your lovely, precious, tender, +helpless little ones!” And he wept, for his highest +ideals were shattered.</p> + +<p>But the precious little ones stood there on the +ridge pole and flapped their strong young wings in +high derision. They were as big as he was, nearly; +for as a matter of fact, he was but a young stork +himself.</p> + +<p>Then the air was beaten white with a thousand +wings; it was like snow and silver and sea-foam; +there was a flash, a whirlwind, a hurricane of wild +joy and then the army of the sky spread wide in due +array and streamed southward.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span></p> + +<p>Full of remembered joy and more joyous hope, +finding the sunlight better than her dreams, she swept +away to the far summerland; and her children, mad +with the happiness of the first flight, swept beside her.</p> + +<p>“But you are a mother!” he panted, as he caught +up with them.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she cried, joyously, “but I was a stork +before I was a mother! and afterward!—and all the +time!”</p> + +<p>And the storks were flying.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Doomed Men’s Message</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mary Carolyn Davies</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Survey.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Three doomed men in the death house write</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A word like a torch from their night to my night.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Three doomed men in Sing Sing wait</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Through the fading black of the night, a fate</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That I made for them, I—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I said “You must die.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They will die at dawn. But before they go</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They write me a word, that I, too, may know.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They sit and write, the three doomed men,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">(They three never will write again—)</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Three doomed men in Sing Sing write</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A word like a torch from their night to my night.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And this is the word: “Are you justified?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">We would give our lives for the men who died—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who died—by our hand. But it would not aid.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And out of two wrongs can a right be made?”</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">It is thus they plead, the three doomed men—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They three never will plead again.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They must die at dawn. As a brave man faces</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The death he fears, they will take their places.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They will smile, perhaps, they will maybe jest.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They will be dust then. Perhaps that’s best;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But even so, what good am I</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To say to three other men, “You must die?”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Three doomed men in the death house pray</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Forgiveness. And I, do I ever pray?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Three doomed men confess their sin</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And die as they watch a day begin.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Jealousy—anger through drink—and they</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Go to their death at the break of day!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Jealousy, anger through drink—and I</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A free man, walk down the street. Why, why?</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Did I scorn them? Well, we are brothers now,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I and the three, or will be soon.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When day blots out this fading moon,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I shall have killed, no matter how,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then, murderers all, take heed of me!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They killed but one.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When my deed is done,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My hands will be stained with the blood of three!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">They sit and write, the three doomed men,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They three never will write again—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But I still shall hear, with fear and dread,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">What the three doomed men in Sing Sing said.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Road Song</h3> + +<p class="author">By Irene P. McKeehan</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Century Magazine.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I have lived in the garden with Adam,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And eaten the fruit of the tree;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I have hidden, ashamed, from the face of God,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">For I dreamed that He could not see.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The flaming sword of the Angel of Wrath</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Has driven me over the earth;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I am marked with the mark of the murderer Cain;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I have travailed at death and at birth.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With patriarch, priest and prophet, I seek for a promised land,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Lead me, brother; follow, me, brother; brother, oh, take my hand!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I am moving onward, and ever on, O brother, I may not stand!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I have made my children the slaves of trade,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And scarred their backs with the rod;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For a bag of gold, with a sword of steel</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I have broken the laws of God.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But whenever a cause demands my life,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I have laid it down with a will;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For honor and love and a heart-wrung cry</div> + <div class="verse indent2">I can play the hero still.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">My feet are firm on the steep, straight way, though I doubt if I understand;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Whether you lead or follow me brother, let us go hand in hand!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And stay not behind, dear brother of mine, on the road to the Promised Land.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Dress Reform</h3> + +<p class="author">By Amelia Bloomer</p> + +<p class="intro">(Editor of “The Lily.” An advocate in the ’50s, of dress +reform. Introduced the bifurcated skirt which popular acclaim at +once called “The Bloomer.” A woman personally modest, who suffered +because of the sneers and attacks at her efforts to have women +dress sensibly. From “Life and Work of Susan B. Anthony.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>I feel that if all of us were less slaves to fashion +we would be nobler women, for both our bodies and +minds are now rendered weak and useless from the +unhealthy and barbarous style of dress adopted, and +from the time and thought in making it attractive. A +change is demanded and if I have been the means of +calling the attention of the public to it and of leading +only a few to disregard old customs and for once to +think and act for themselves, I shall not trouble myself +about the false imputations that may be cast upon +me.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Giving Up Her Name</h3> + +<p class="author">By Mrs. Alec Tweedie</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_126">See page 126</a>)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Another handicap that falls to the lot of woman +is in her loss of individuality and family through giving +up her own name in marriage.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Purse and the Soul</h3> + +<p class="author">By Meta L. Stern</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(<a href="#Page_250">See page 250</a>)</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Comrade.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The soul doth sow and the purse doth reap</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The purse doth feed while the soul doth weep—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, such is the world’s strange way.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Power and honor the purse doth bring—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Worship of trader and priest and king</div> + <div class="verse indent0">While souls are as cheap as clay.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">O, such is the bitter way of life;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">A way of unending toil and strife—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Our heritage but a curse.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">So must it be till the knell we toll</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of senseless greed that gives to the soul</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Less honor than to the purse.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>I Heard the Spirit Singing</h3> + +<p class="author">By June E. Downy</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Independent.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I heard the spirits singing in the ancient caves of work;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“You are playing, man-child, playing, where the evil demons lurk.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Yet I would not have you falter, or count the awful cost,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Lest your heart grow old within you, and your zest for sport be lost.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“So toss the ball of empire, with its fatal coat of fire;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And dig for gilded nuggets, with the pangs of hot desire;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And blow your filmy bubbles in the bright face of the sun,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tho’ you know they will tarnish, vanish, ere your playing day is done.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Go, spin your humming-top of thought, or brood with sullen lip,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As you scrawl upon the canvas, or load the merchant ship;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Come, tell some old, old story, or rehearse some ancient creed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or with many a lisp of wonder, draw the music from the reed.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Let your playful hand in cunning devise a giant eye;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And in long hours of frolic, guess the secrets of the sky;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Or peer with curious longing in the busy under-bourne,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Where microscopic beings are playing in their turn.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“And raise Love’s swaying ladder to the dizzy heights of woe;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And walk o’er desert places where the thorns and thistles grow,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When the man-child gropes and stumbles and holds his quivering breath,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As he meets within the shadows his last playfellow, “Death.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I heard the Spirit singing: “Laughter is the strongest prayer,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the zest of faith is measured by the mirth that toys with care;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And he who plays the hardest and dares to sing aloud,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Beyond the shadows’ caverns may some day work with God.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Difference</h3> + +<p class="author">By Olive Schreiner</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Woman and Labor.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>To the male, the giving of life is a laugh; to the +female, blood, anguish and sometimes death. Here +we touch one of the few yet important differences between +man and woman as such.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>The Unfair Status</h3> + +<p class="author">By Matilda Jocelyn Gage</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(From “Woman, Church and State.”)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Under French law, woman is a perpetual minor +under the guardianship of her own, or that of her +husband’s family. Only in the case of the birth of +an illegitimate child is she treated as a responsible +being, and then only that discomfort and punishment +may fall upon her.</p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Custom</h3> + +<p class="author">By Sarah Sellers</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Woman’s Journal.”)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I was dreaming</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I saw the children,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The babies from heaven;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The mothers of the future</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who will nurse us and rear us.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Who will teach us, and guide us;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Straight from heaven, I saw them,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Beautiful to look on;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I heard a voice:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Bring the chains, the chains of custom.”</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The chains were golden,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And fine as a baby’s hair,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the beautiful children</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Were wound in them.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I was dreaming;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I saw the maidens,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Strong and straight,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With the beauty of youth in their faces,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With the promise of years before them;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And I heard a voice:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Bring the chains, the chains of custom.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And the new chains were brought,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Beautiful and golden;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the maidens did not know</div> + <div class="verse indent0">They were chains.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I was dreaming,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the mothers stood before me,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With their children around them;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And a voice said:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">“Bring the chains, the chains of custom.”</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">And the mothers were bound</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With chains not golden,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the links held them</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With the strength of years.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The mothers knew they were chained;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And they looked at their children.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Thanksgiving</h3> + +<p class="author">By Theodosia Garrison</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(One of America’s leading contemporary poets.)</p> + +</div> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">For the friendship of women, Lord, that hath been since the world had breath,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Since a woman stood at a woman’s side to comfort through birth and death,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">You have made as a bond of mirth and tears to last forever and aye,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the friendship of true woman, Lord, take you my thanks today.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Many the joys I have welcomed, many the joys that have passed,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But this is the good unfailing, and this is the peace that shall last;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">From love that dies and love that lies, and love that must cling and sting,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Back to the arms of our sisters we turn, for our comforting.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">For the friendship of true women, Lord, that has been and shall ever be,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Since a woman stood at a woman’s side at the cross of Calvary;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the tears we weep and the trust we keep, and the self-same prayers we pray—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">For the friendship of true women, Lord, take you my thanks today.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>Women Run in Molds</h3> + +<p class="author">By Frances Power Cobb</p> + +<p class="intro">(From “Woman’s Work and Woman’s Culture,” a compilation +of essays published in 1869, in London.)</p> + +</div> + +<p>Of all the theories current concerning women, +none is more curious than the theory that it is needful +to make a theory about them. That a woman is a +Domestic, a Social, or a Political creature; that she is +a Goddess, or a Doll; the “Angel in the House,” or a +Drudge, with a suckling of fools and a chronicaling of +small beer for her sole privileges that she has, at all +events, a “Mission,” or a “Sphere,” or a “Kingdom,” +of some sort or other, if we could but agree on +what it is,—all this is taken for granted. But, as nobody +ever yet sat down and constructed analogous +hypotheses about the other half of the human race, we +are driven to conclude, both that a woman is a more +mysterious creature than a man, and also that it is the +general impression that she is made of some more +plastic material, which can be advantageously manipulated +to fit our theory about her nature and office, +whenever we have come to a conclusion as to what that +nature and office may be. “Let us fix our own Ideal +in the first place,” seems to be the popular notion, +and then the real Woman in accordance thereto will +appear in due course of time. We have nothing to do +but to make round holes and women will grow round +to fill them; or square holes, and they will become +square. Men grow like trees, and the most we can +do is to lop or clip them, but women run in molds, +like candles, and we can make them long-threes, or +short-sixes, whichever we please.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span></p> + +<div class="section"> + +<h3>A Sheaf of Quotations</h3> + +</div> + +<p class="author">By Mme. Necker</p> + +<p>Woman’s tongue is her sword which she never +lets rust.</p> + +<p class="author">By Marguerite de Valois</p> + +<p>A woman of honor should never suspect another +of things she would not do herself.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mme. de Sonza</p> + +<p>It is vanity that renders the youth of women +culpable and their old age ridiculous.</p> + +<p class="author">By Mdlle. de Lespinasse</p> + +<p>A woman would be in despair if Nature had +formed her as fashion makes her appear.</p> + +<p class="author">Mme. Fee</p> + +<p>Do not take women from the bedside of those who +suffer; it is their post of honor.</p> + +<p class="author">By Eugenie de Guerin</p> + +<p>A mother’s tenderness and caresses are the milk +of the heart.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span></p> + +<p class="author">By Margaret Deland</p> + +<p>The best things of our nature fashion themselves +in silence.</p> + +<p class="author">By Edith Wharton</p> + +<p>Life’s just a perpetual piecing together.</p> + +<p class="author">By Agnes H. Downing</p> + +<p class="intro-c">(In “The Progressive Woman.”)</p> + +<p>The woman is censured with the idea of protecting +morality. And the man is let go; why? Nobody +knows why. Because he is a man and no one ever +thought of punishing a man for a little thing like +that.... Would you avoid tragedies? Then advocate +sex-equality. We will always have individual and +social tragedy so long as the woman is stoned and the +man goes free.</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75366 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75366-h/images/cover.jpg b/75366-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5015695 --- /dev/null +++ b/75366-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75366-h/images/stratford.jpg b/75366-h/images/stratford.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fffef70 --- /dev/null +++ b/75366-h/images/stratford.jpg |
