A murmur of admiration went through the hall as Franka went forward and took her place at the front of the stage. They were not prepared to see such a maidenly poetic apparition. She wore a very simple white frock with long, open sleeves. Her arms and hands were bare, without gloves, without bracelets, without rings; they were white and perfectly sculpturesque in form. Her luxuriant hair was artlessly arranged around the small head. A bouquet of violets adorned her bodice. She had no manuscript in her hand; nothing but a small ivory fan. Thus she stood there for a moment. Her friends had applauded as she entered, and now the others were clapping their hands so as to inspire the pale girl with confidence. She extended her arms toward the hall as if commanding silence and advanced one more step. The tumult ceased. Then she began in a clear, firm, distinct voice:—
“Dear sisters ... for, although I see many men in the hall, my message is to women only, particularly to young girls....”
The sound of her own voice reassured her. Under the tuition of an eminent professor her melodious alto, capable of rich modulations, had been happily trained and strengthened so that her clearly articulated words were borne to the farthest corners of the hall.
She spoke for nearly two hours; at first very slowly and calmly, but gradually, as she grew more animated, her pale cheeks took on color, her eyes shone, and her voice intensified to a passionate power. It was soon evident that she was in touch with her audience, and repeatedly there was a murmur of approbation; occasionally, outbursts of applause showed the effect of her words. This made her feel as if she were borne aloft, and it happened that many times, as if under inspiration, she used sentences and turns of speech which she had not thought of during the preparation of her lecture, and these very improvisations still further strengthened the magnetic relationship between speaker and audience.
The gist of her address had been expressed in her introduction: “You all know the beautiful expression of Goethe’s Antigone: ‘Not here for mutual hate, but mutual love are we.’ But, my sisters, the modern time enforces upon us a second commandment: ‘For mutual thinking are we here.’”
And then she went on to show what are the duties of this latest age,—the age of flying,—and she further showed how in the accomplishment of these duties both halves of the human race must coöperate; how it behooved a woman not only to win for herself the mastery of various professions, of various offices which have hitherto been exclusively preempted by men, but also to realize that she must no longer remain voluntarily aloof whenever the highest interests of the community are in question. Place and voice in the direction of public affairs? That certainly is already on the programme of the Woman Movement, but the most important thing is a knowledge and understanding of the universal laws that govern nature and the world; then only can she judge and coöperate where social arrangements are to be decided. To take a hand in the transformation of these arrangements, to become themselves lawgivers: that is a goal the attainment of which may stand for the future; but even before having attained this positive power, women, and maidens too, may work through their influence. But how shall they bring their views and their feelings to effectiveness if they stay in voluntary ignorance of all those things that regulate the conduct of social, political, and economic life? If in the most important questions on which depend welfare or misery, war or peace, they are to have no voice because they always allow themselves to be told: “You don’t understand anything about that!” They must acquire for themselves a conception of the universe. First, they must understand; then they must share in councils; then at last they can coöperate.... Indeed, they must understand as well as the men; then they will perhaps do better work than men, because they will not forget that they are there to share in love, that it is their task to make goodness—this highest of feminine virtues—prevail in all situations and all actions.
“There is no reason why the flame on the home altar should die down because we succeed in casting its reflection on political life. Are really mildness and gentleness, capacity for sympathy in sorrow and joy purely feminine characteristics? No, they belong to men as well. Are power and tenacity of purpose and resoluteness and courage purely masculine virtues? No; they belong to women as well. And the perfect human race of both sexes, when once they are to direct social life side by side, must apply thereto the collective treasure of all their qualities.”
Franka did not confine herself to such abstract discussions throughout her lecture. She elucidated in clear, simple words the conditions actually prevailing; she described the promising as well as the threatening prospects of the future as conditioned by the new discoveries, and she pointed out the practical ways which young women of the present day had to enter upon if they were to share in the humanization—nay, rather, the deification of the humanity of the morrow.
The most concrete and practical announcement which she made was that she had established out of her own means a private free course of instruction for mature young women. The lectures were not to be given by her, but by university professors,—and she named certain distinguished persons,—who twice a week during the next four months would give lectures in a large hall engaged by her for this purpose. The following subjects were on the programme: Social science, philosophy, the doctrine of evolution, the history and prospects of contemporaneous movements, and, finally, ethics and æsthetics. These two last were included, because the realm of scientific truth should always be penetrated by the light of morality and beauty. All these courses of study would be given without pedantic insistence upon details, but would be presented in synthetic method; and all of them, if they were absorbed into the mind of the students, would furthermore produce that broader synthesis which deserves the name of “world-conception,” that is, the vision of the world, according to what we actually know it is at present and as it presumably will be in the future, in the line of ceaseless evolution. When she had spoken the peroration in a tone of ardent enthusiasm and with an expression of prophetic inspiration on her youthful features, there was at first a moment of breathless silence and then a burst of thunderous applause. She bowed modestly and left the stage.
In the artists’ room she sank exhausted on a sofa. Her three friends surrounded her:—“It was marvelously beautiful!”—“Bravo, Franka!”—Helmer kissed her hand: “Heroine,” he said in a whisper.