Our story of the evolution of woman's position recalls this old
ceremony. For nearly three thousand years, at least, the torch has
passed from rider to rider, and the altar is in sight. The struggle
of the later Egyptian women re-appears in Greece, crosses the sea to
Italy, is raised again in the revival of ancient culture, passes on
to France, when the Italian States decay, and reaches at length the
vigorous hands of England, Germany, and the United States. In one
respect, however, the parallel fails. It is true that the cause has
moved onward through the ages, but there have been years, even
centuries, when the torch was almost, if not quite, extinct. There
have been times when the distant altar seemed to be forgotten, and
women sank back into uncomplaining subjection. Such a period was the
appalling stretch between the fifth and the twelfth centuries,
between the murder of Hypatia and the living death of Heloise. The
eighteenth century, compared with the promise of its predecessors,
is another such period, in most countries. The first quarter of the
nineteenth century is another, and the last. Then the torch flames
out again, and, for reasons I will give presently, can never more be
extinguished until it is laid on the altar.
After the fall of Napoleon in 1815 Europe closed the mouth of the
pit, as it thought, and dreamed soft dreams of continued despotism.
The Holy Alliance had a sharp ear for murmurs of rebellion against
any received ideal, and enforced submission everywhere at the point
of the bayonet. It would be futile for women to chafe at their bonds
in that world. Happily, the world was wider than the sphere of the
Bourbons, the Hapsburgs, and the Pope. England contemplated their
"white terror" with instinctive resentment; though England had
shuddered at Jacobinism, and in the main was more disposed than
before for coercion and subjection. But the United States maintained
its theoretic scorn of despotism, and little British colonies which
dotted the blue southern ocean promised the same spirit of
independence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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