Violets and Other Tales
The literary manager of the club arose, cleared his throat, adjusted his cravat, fixed his eyes
sternly upon the young man, and in a sonorous voice, a little marred by his habitual lisp, asked:
"Mr.--will you please tell us your opinion upon the question, whether woman's chances
for matrimony are increased or decreased when she becomes man's equal as a wage earner?"
The secretary adjusted her eye-glass, and held her pencil alertly poised above her book, ready
to note which side Mr.--took. Mr.--fidgeted, pulled himself together with a violent
jerk, and finally spoke his mind. Someone else, then the women interposed, and jumped on the
men, the men retaliated, a wordy war ensued, and the whole matter ended by nothing being
decided, pro or con--generally the case in wordy discussions.
Well, I sawed
wood and said nothing, but all the while there was forming
22in my mind, no, I won't say forming, it was there already. It was this,
well-salaried women marry?
Take the average working-women of to-day. She works from
five to ten hours a day, doing extra night work, sometimes, of course. Her work over, she goes
home or to her boarding-house, as the case may be. Her meals are prepared for her, she has no
household cares upon her shoulders, no troublesome dinners to prepare for a fault-finding
husband, no fretful children to try her patience, no petty bread and meat economies to adjust. She
hasher cares, her money-troubles, her debts, and her scrimpings, it is true, but they only make her
independent, instead of reducing her to a dead level of despair. Her day's work ends at the office,
school, factory or store; the rest of the time is hers, undisturbed by the restless going to and for of
housewifely cares, and she can employ it in mental or social diversions. She does not incessantly
rely upon the
23whims of a cross man to take her to such amusements as she desires. In this nineteenth century
she is free to go where she pleases--provided it be in a moral atmosphere--
without comment. Theatres, concerts, lectures, and the lighter amusements of social affairs
among her associates, are open to her, and there she can go, see, and be seen, admire and be
admired, enjoy and be enjoyed, without a single harrowing thought of the baby's milk or the
Her earnings are her own, indisputably, unreservedly, undividedly. She knows to a certainty
just how much she can spend, how well she can dress, how far her earnings will go. If there is a
dress, a book, a bit of music, a bunch of flowers, or a bit of furniture that she wants, she can get
it, and there is no need of asking anyone's advice, or gently hinting to John that Mrs. So and So
has a lovely new hat, and there is one ever so much prettier and cheaper down at Thus &
24Co.'s. To an independent spirit there is a certain sense of humiliation and wounded pride in
asking for money, be it five cents or five hundred dollars. The working woman knows no such
pang; she has but to question her account and all is over. In the summer she takes her savings of
the winter, packs her trunk and takes a trip more or less extensive, and there is none to say her
nay,--nothing to bother her save the accumulation of her own baggage. There is an
independent, happy, free-and-easy swing about the motion of her life. Her mind is constantly
being broadened by contact with the world in its working clothes; in her leisure moments by the
better thoughts of dead and living men which she meets in her applications to books and
periodicals; in her vacations, by her studies of nature, or it may be other communities than her
own. The freedom which she enjoys she does not trespass upon, for if she did not learn at school
she has acquired since habits of
25strong self-reliance, self-support, earnest thinking, deep discriminations, and firmly believes that
the most perfect liberty is that state in which humanity conforms itself to and obeys strictly,
without deviation, those laws which are best fitted for their mutual self-advancement.
And so your independent working woman of to day comes as near being ideal in her equable
self poise as can be imagined. So why should she hasten to give this liberty up in exchange for a
serfdom, sweet sometimes, it is true, but which too often becomes galling and unendurable.
It is not marriage that I decry, for I don't think any really same person would do this, but it is
this wholesale marrying of girls in their teens, this rushing into an unknown plane of life to avoid
work. Avoid work! What housewife dares call a moment her own?
Marriages might be made in Heaven, but too often they are consummated right here on earth,
based on a desire to
26possess the physical attractions of the woman by the man, pretty much as a child desires a toy,
and an inate love of man, a wild desire not to be ridiculed by the foolish as an "old maid," and a
certain delicate shrinking from the work of the world-- laziness is a good name for
it--by the woman. The attraction of mind to mind, the ability of one to compliment the
lights and shadows in the other, the capacity of either to fulfil the duties of wife or
husband--these do not enter into the contract. That is why we have divorce courts.
And so our independent woman in every year of her full, rich, well-rounded life, gaining
fresh knowledge and experience, learning humanity, and particularly that portion of it which is
the other gender, so well as to avoid clay-footed idols, and finally when she does consent to bear
the yoke upon her shoulders, does so with perhaps less romance and glamor than her younger
scoffing sisters, but with an assurance of solid and more lasting
27happiness. Why should she have hastened this; was aught lost by the delay?
"They say" that men don't admire this type of woman, that they prefer the soft, dainty,
winning, mindless creature who cuddles into men's arms, agrees to everything they say, and
looks upon them as a race of gods turned loose upon this earth for the edification of womankind.
Well, may be so, but there is one thing positive, they certainly respect the independent one, and
admire her, too, even if it is at a distance, and that in itself is something. As to the other part, no
matter how sensible a woman is on other questions, when she falls in love she is fool enough to
believe her adored one a veritable Solomon. Cuddling? Well, she may preside over conventions,
brandish her umbrella at board meetings, tramp the streets soliciting subscriptions, wield the blue
pencil in an editorial sanctum, hammer a type-writer, smear her nose with ink from a galley full
28pied type, lead infant ideas through the tortuous mazes of c-a-t and r-a-t, plead at the bar, or
wield the scalpel in a dissecting room, yet when the right moment comes, she will sink as
gracefully into his manly embrace, throw her arms as lovingly around his neck, and cuddle as
warmly and sweetly to his bosom as her little sister who has done nothing else but think, dream,
and practice for that hour. It comes natural, you see.