CHAPTER THE TENTH
THE SUFFRAGETTES
Part 1
"There is only one way out of all this," said Ann Veronica,
sitting up in her little bed in the darkness and biting at her
nails.
"I thought I was just up against Morningside Park and father, but
it's the whole order of things--the whole blessed order of
things. . . ."
She shivered. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees
very tightly. Her mind developed into savage wrath at the
present conditions of a woman's life.
"I suppose all life is an affair of chances. But a woman's life
is all chance. It's artificially chance. Find your man, that's
the rule. All the rest is humbug and delicacy. He's the handle
of life for you. He will let you live if it pleases him. . . .
"Can't it be altered?
"I suppose an actress is free? . . ."
She tried to think of some altered state of affairs in which
these monstrous limitations would be alleviated, in which women
would stand on their own feet in equal citizenship with men. For
a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the
Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of
Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual
dependence for women which is woven into the existing social
order. At the back of her mind there seemed always one
irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to
disregard. She would not look at him, would not think of him;
when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the
darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations.
"It is true. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true.
Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected,
there must be a generation of martyrs. . . . Why shouldn't we be
martyrs? There's nothing else for most of us, anyhow. It's a
sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one's own. . . ."
She repeated, as if she answered an objector: "A sort of
blacklegging.
"A sex of blacklegging clients."
Her mind diverged to other aspects, and another type of
womanhood.
"Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is? . . .
Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps
of nonsense, it doesn't alter the fact that she is right."
That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense
she remembered from Capes. At the recollection that it was his,
she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall
through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. She wallowed
for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his
image and the idea of his presence in her life.
She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an
altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and
reforming people believed. Across that world was written in
letters of light, "Endowment of Motherhood." Suppose in some
complex yet conceivable way women were endowed, were no longer
economically and socially dependent on men. "If one was free,"
she said, "one could go to him. . . . This vile hovering to
catch a man's eye! . . . One could go to him and tell him one
loved him. I want to love him. A little love from him would be
enough. It would hurt no one. It would not burden him with any
obligation."
She groaned aloud and bowed her forehead to her knees. She
floundered deep. She wanted to kiss his feet. His feet would
have the firm texture of his hands.
Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. "I will not have this
slavery," she said. "I will not have this slavery."
She shook her fist ceilingward. "Do you hear!" she said
"whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the
thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. Confound
this slavery of sex! I am a man! I will get this under if I am
killed in doing it!"
She scowled into the cold blacknesses about her.
"Manning," she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive
persistence. "No!" Her thoughts had turned in a new direction.
"It doesn't matter," she said, after a long interval, "if they
are absurd. They mean something. They mean everything that
women can mean--except submission. The vote is only the
beginning, the necessary beginning. If we do not begin--"
She had come to a resolution. Abruptly she got out of bed,
smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and
fell almost instantly asleep.
