THE EVOLUTION OF THE WOMAN COMRADE.
Certainly the Golden Age does not lie behind us. if proof of this were wanting none more convincing need be cited than the ideal of perfect comradeship between men and women which has evolved in this century. This comradeship has received its seal and glorification in the testimony of Robert and Elizabeth Browning, in whom the verity of spiritual osmosis between the male and female mind is reached. Compared with theirs even the love of Ida's Prince Mas an imperfect thing when he sang from the Tennysonian Pisgah: So fold thyseii', my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me.
In frying to fix 'the high- water mark of woman's status in the ancient world, one would naturally luin to the noblest writings of the most advanced people. But tho secular ideal of the Grecian Golden Age, so attractive to wairior and poet, marks a sadly low point in the eyes of enlightened women. The germ, indeed, of a union of mind existed in Greece, as was seen by the histories ot Aspasia and tho noble Spartan Queen Agiatis ; 'and in the same way certain of the Roman laws contained the germ of female citizenship ; but how far the honour paid to womanhood fell below that now rendered freely in home, academy, and market place may be seen when the wisdom of the Hellenes could conceive no higher praise of the wedded wife than that '" she was never heard of abroad.'' The account of the death of Sociates comes to us through the medium of tlie pure and elevated mind of Plato, and whether we are to take it as a literal or embellished narrative, we should expect to find the"re the full tenderness possible at that stage of national development. Tenderness there is ; a tenderness that lifts the veil of 2000 years, and draws us closely and humanly to the keen unworldly old man, who at threescore and ten had the foim of a fatvr, the tongue of an oracle, and the simplicity of a child. But tho pathos of those 30 days of doom is all connected with the faithful disciples who sat constantly with .Socrates. When the last day comes we do indeed hear of Xantippe for a moment, and that brief gleam seems to light up the long tragedy of HelJenic womanhood. When the door is
opened she is seen sitting beside Socratei with his child in her arms — not "her child, not "their- child even in that sin' preme hour ; still only " his " child — and .sages are not always the most tender oi fathers. No notion of the sa'credness ol conjugal farewell delays the entering friends^ The old narrative goes on to say that when she saw them " she wailed aloud and cried in her woman's way, ' This is the last time', Socrates, that you will talk with youi? friends or they with you.' " Sadly signiA ficant plaint ! In Xantippe's eyes all the human sympathies of Socrates's life had been bound up in these young men, tho | torch-bearers of philosophy. She had no mild memories of the hearth to comfort I herself with in the grey dawn of berea-ve- | ment. The old story goes on simply :1 j "And Socrates glanced at Crito and said:i ' Crito, let her be taken home.' - So some of Crito's servants led her away, weeping bitterly and beating her breast." And so we see the jast of Xantippe, conductedfrom, thrtfc "tragic scejeJ>E--Hr-ssi tvarrt7^iier- : self a type of the wedded servitude of heathendom. But the cry rises at once: "Xantippe was the very scold of scolds; what better did she deserve?" That may have been ; and yet when that older sinI ner^the-witV of Job, has found a thegI logian to defend ,her, ,it is . time- tha"t poor ! Xantippe has some of the rust of age-long t contumely rubbed off her name. It is quite possible that she. .had- once a soft" heart under that harsh exterior^ and- that the- apple- --of- life only gnarled when "she-* found that philosophy was the only love of Socrates. It is also possible, though less, probable, that Xantippe in marrying the satyr-faced sage had some blind ' longings ! after wisdom herself. ;;nd grew souv when J she found the iron limits- of the housei wife's part. Scold or none, however, there is no sign in the narrative that the coldness of her dismissal is any sign of repro- ! bation ; it only shows that wise men | thought little of woman's joys^ and sorrows j then. The mere dregs of companionship were tho woman's due ; honour, loyalty, romance were saved for friendship.
Fifteen hundred years later the curtain rises on a wonderful transformation. The Dark Ages are over. Christianity Jias planted its forms throughout Europe ; civi» lisecl nations have thrilled with the fervour of the Crusades, the poetry of Mariolatry has uplifted womanhood far abov6 the level of humanity. -Everywhere woman worship is preached. "For God and my lady" is the common war cry. The troubadours chant the magic of the beloved lady's smile ; the monks exalt the miracles of St. Cecilifi and St. Agnes., Dante beholds the Divine mysteries through! the intercession of tho glorified soul of Beatrice. Walter Map is rewriting the grand old epic of Arthur with a white pea to match the dreams of an age that still looks for a visible Holy Grail. .Surely this is' the Golden Age of womanhood, when woman is no , mere earthly comrade but a' goddess." And yet when we look close there are ugly' shadoAys in the background. Women . toil in the fields like beasts of burden. Women criminals are tortured and burnt alive. The Scottish Countess who crowned Roberfe Bruce is suspended for years in an iron cage on the walls of Beiwick. The same ago that produces Dv Gueselin, the flower ol chivalry, sees Joan of Arc betrayed by her friends and martyred by her enemies. Clearly this woman worship is of the elastic order that permits the summary unshrinfng and sound whipping of the idol when rain tarries and crops fail. A sort o£ an Indian summer of chivalry lingers round Elizabeth and Mary Queen of Scots ; but on the Continent the ascetic abstractions and fine punctilios of monk and minstre? have been swallowed up in a returninj flood of- cynical license ; and Cervantef with a laughter that hides tears is writing chivalry's everlasting requiem in "Don Quixote." It has been left for the nineteenth cen
fcury to ad.just.the true position of Ayoman i--a' position which had oscillated between the unnatural subjection of heathendom and the ideality of medieval fantasy. The idea of a true, easy, unselfisn comradeship between men and women is spreading fas,t. To the Cowden Clarke . the FaAvcetts, the Brownings, the Schumanns, and others we owe an example shoAving what heights of glorified achievement result from that comradeship in its closest form. The conclusion of the whole matter is after all the old refrain : John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; An' mony a canty day, John, We had wi* ane anither. An' we'll sle«p thegether at the foot, John Anderson, my jo.
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Otago Witness, Issue 2390, 21 December 1899, Page 55
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1,195THE EVOLUTION OF THE WOMAN COMRADE. Otago Witness, Issue 2390, 21 December 1899, Page 55
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