The stranger in New York will not find that its population affect Evening Lectures as much as in smaller cities, and in rural districts, owing to the surfeit of all kinds of amusements there; but it is very curious to study an expectant audience in New York. Some sit resignedly upon their seats, comfortable or the reverse, as the case may be; thinking of nothing, or thinking of something, just as it happens, in a sort of amiable-chew-the-cud-stupor, oblivious of the slow-dragging moments. Others pull out watches for frequent consultation, shuffle feet, and take an affectionate and mournful and fond look at a furtive cigar, which can be of no possible present use. Others, with an enviable forethought, draw from the depths of coat-pockets the daily papers, and studiously apply themselves to the contents, to the manifest envy of that improvident class who are obliged to fall back upon the unsatisfactory employment of twiddling their fidgety thumbs. As for the ladies, bless 'em! they are never at a loss. Are there not gloves to pull off, to show a diamond ring to advantage, and glistening bracelets to settle, and the last finishing polish to put upon hair, already groomed to the satin smoothness of a respectable hair-sofa? This duty done, the first bonnet within range passes under the inspection of an inexorable martinet, viz: "Did she make it herself?" or, "Is it the approved work of a milliner?" "Does her hair curl naturally?" or, "Does she curl it?" "Is her collar real lace?" or, "Only imitation?" These professional detective-queries, so amusing to the general female mind, while away the time edifyingly, especially when there is a variety of heads within eye-range for minute inspection.
"What can she have to tell us that we did not know before?" I heard some one say, as we took our seats in the Lecture-room to hear a Female Lecturess. Have you always, thought I, heard new and original remarks from the male speakers, whose audiences yawned through fifty-cents-worth of bombast, and platitudes, and repetition, in this very place? And is it not worth while, sometimes, to look at a subject from an intelligent woman's stand-point? And granting she were wanting in every requisite that you consider essential in a public speaker, if she can draw an audience, why shouldn't she fill her pocket? Is it less commendable than marrying somebody—anybody—for the sake of being supported, and finding out too late, as many women do, that it is the toughest possible way of getting a living? As I view it, her life is not unpleasant. She takes long journeys alone, it is true—and very likely so she would have to do, if she took any, were she married. At least, she circulates about in the fresh air, among fresh people, makes many acquaintances, and, let us hope, some friends; instead of gnawing the bone of monotony all her colorless life. And what if a hiss should meet her sensitive ear from some adder in her audience? Does it sting more than would a brutal word at her own fireside, whither she was lured by promises of love until death?
If conservatism is shocked to hear a woman speak in public, let conservatism stay away; but let it be consistent, and not forget to frown on its own women, who elbow and push their way in a crowded assembly, and with sharp tongue and hurrying feet "grab"—yes, that's the word—the most eligible seat, or who push into public conveyances already filled to over-flowing, and, with brazen impudence, wonder aloud "if these are gentlemen," as they try to look them out of their seats. There be many ways a woman can "unsex" herself, beside lecturing in public.
Not that I see, either, how they can get up and do it. Somebody would have to put me on my defence; or somebody I loved dearly must be starving, and need the fee I should get, before I could muster the requisite courage? but none the less do I honor those who can do it. So many have acquitted themselves honorably in this field of labor, that this subject needs neither defender nor apologist; but still, much of the old spirit of opposition occasionally manifests itself, even now, in spiteful comments from lip and pen, particularly with regard to the more fortunate.
They can stand it!—with a good house over their independent heads, secured and paid for by their own honest industry. They can stand it!—with greenbacks and Treasury notes stowed away against a rainy day. They can stand it!—with any quantity of "admirers" who, not having pluck or skill enough to earn their own living, would gladly share what these enterprising women have accumulated. May a good Providence multiply female lecturers, female sculptors, female artists of every sort, female authors, female astronomers, female book-keepers, female—anything that is honest, save female sempstresses, with their pale faces, hollow eyes and empty pockets, and a City Hospital or Almshouse in prospective.
Certainly these earnest women lecturers are in pleasant contrast to many of the young men of the present day, to whom nothing is sacred, to whom everything in life is levelled to the same plane of indifference. Nothing is worth a struggle; nothing worth a sacrifice to them. Evils, they say, must come; and, folding their hands idly, they say—let them come. In their moral garden, weeds have equal chance with the flowers; and it is very easy to see which are in the ascendant. To be in the blighting proximity of such a person is to breathe the air of the bottomless pit. Every noble aspiration, every humane and philanthropic feeling, shrivels in such an atmosphere. What is it to them that the poor bondman points to his chains? What is it to them that the world groans with wrong that they can and should at least begin to redress. The mountain is steep, the top is hidden in clouds, and they have no eye to discern that they are even now parting that a glory may gild its summit. It is bad enough—humiliating enough—to hear the aged express such chilling sentiments. One can have a pitying patience with them; but when masculine youth and vigor, born to the glorious inheritance of 1864, tricks itself out in these old moth-eaten, time-worn garments, instead of buckling on sword and helmet for God and the right, it is the saddest, most disheartening sight that earth can show.