Only a Girl: or, A Physician for the Soul.

by Wilhelmine von Hillern

"Cease, I pray you, Countess Worronska!" cried Ernestine, blushing deeply. "I cannot listen to such words."

"If you fear my words, it proves the effect that they have upon you, and I have half conquered already," cried the temptress exultingly.

"If you think so," said Ernestine haughtily, "continue, I pray you. When you have finished, I will tell you what I would rather not have been compelled to say."

"You will think more kindly of me when you have heard me to the end," said the countess. "You think my views immoral; but what is immorality? What corresponds closely with the laws of nature? What morality do the brutes possess? None! and they are, therefore, irresponsible. They obey those laws which you, as a student of nature, esteem the first and highest. Ascetics say morality is necessary to preserve that order without which chaos would come again. But I ask you, Does chaos reign in the brute creation? Does not the strictest order in the preservation of species prevail there? Does not each possess and preserve its individual peculiarities? Does the lion mate with the hyena? Are there not inviolable laws prevailing there? And it would be just so with mankind. Noble natures would attract only noble natures, and the common and vile herd with the vile. Love would direct the whole, and the indecorum of conventionality, of force, of falsehood and hypocrisy, would vanish. Would not the world be fairer, and, believe me, better? Conscious that no legal claim could exist between husband and wife, each would endeavour to retain the heart of the other by redoubled tenderness and self-sacrifice. Mankind would grow more amiable, more self-denying, and the mind would be fed on the freedom of the body. As long as we have no freedom of choice, our spirits must be enslaved. Have not men arrogated to themselves the right of free choice? Are they bound by laws? Where is the man who does not transgress them in public or private? But for us there is no appeal,--we are property possessed,--we have no right of ownership. We must be far above the necessity for change, inherent in every human being,--far above the demands of taste, of passion,--above everything except man. We must achieve the victory over nature, so impossible for him, but be utterly subject to his will. Is this a just order of the world? No! Even those who have never felt the pressure of its injustice cannot defend it! Has not advancing culture abolished serfdom in Russia? And is the saddest of all serfdom--the serfdom of woman--to continue? No! If you do not choose to contend for its own sake for that right of free choice, of personal freedom for which such women as Louisa A---- are doing battle, do it for the thousands of poor weak creatures languishing beneath such a perversion of morality!"

Ernestine cast upon her an annihilating glance. After a short pause she said, "And if I were to do so, I should be striving for the ruin of humanity. I will not argue with you in justification of a morality which you do not understand, but I will attempt to remind you of its necessity, which has not, it seems, occurred to you. It can be done in a few words. Morality is moderation. Where it is wanting, all force exhausts itself in immensity; for moderation is the conservative force in nature, as in life. You look amazed. You do not understand me. I cannot lead you in a single hour along the dark, thorny path by which I have attained this conviction, and I know, besides, that I speak to deaf ears. But you have challenged my opinion. You shall have it, then." Ernestine's cheeks began to flush with noble indignation. "All partisans labour for their cause, which may excuse you for attempting to disturb the peace of a quiet mind, to instil poison into an innocent heart. May you never be more successful than with me! I will believe that you have been impelled by the fanaticism of your error, not by the demoniac desire to drag me, who have done nothing to harm you, down to your abyss. But, Countess Worronska, what wretched error is this upon which you are squandering your power, your glorious gifts? I know it. Do not think that what you say is new to me. It is the old threadbare philosophy of the voluptuary. It is the proclamation of all that mankind should conceal, if not for the sake of morality, then for the sake of immortal beauty, because it is monstrous if you will not call it immoral. It is what has branded the words 'emancipation of woman' with eternal disgrace. Enough! Spare me a nearer approach to so disgusting a theme. I know sufficient of it to condemn it; for it was my right and my duty, as a champion of our rights, to examine and prove all that had been done by any of my sex for the amelioration of its condition. And I have found with the deepest sorrow how widely different these women's paths are from mine, how little they understand their own dignity. What they call emancipation is degradation,--what should make them free makes them bold. Their frankness becomes shamelessness. What they call casting off ignoble fetters is licentiousness. What do they do? What do they achieve to show themselves worthy of the rights that they demand? Are such feats as smoking cigars and shooting pistols the evidences of our greatness? And what about these very rights that they demand? What does this Louisa A---- want? What do all these women want, who strut like stage-heroines about the world, filling it with shrill clamour about their misunderstood hearts? Fie upon them! They train themselves to be slaves by their struggles for emancipation,--slaves to their desires and to men; for all their bombastic phrases about freedom signify freedom of intercourse with the other sex."

The countess sprang up.

"Hear me to the end," said Ernestine, more and more animated by a noble ardour. "My words cannot do you the harm that yours might have done me. I deeply regret that my efforts could have been for one moment confounded with yours, and therefore I will clear myself to your better self, without an instant's delay, from the suspicion of abetting you in any way. Let me tell you that my purpose is solely to vindicate the intellectual honour of my sex,--to enlarge the bounds of our ability, not of our will. Emancipation of the spirit is the goal for which I strive. Or, to speak more plainly, you work for the emancipation of the flesh,--I for emancipation from the flesh. You see our efforts are as wide asunder as the poles; and, I tell you frankly, I fear the shadow that intercourse with you would cast upon my pure cause."

The countess drew around her her mantle of black lace, that had slipped from her shoulders, and shrouded herself in it as in a cloud, then stepped up to Ernestine, who had also risen from her seat, raised her hand, and said in a tone of menace, "You will repent this."

Ernestine calmly returned her gaze. "I scarcely think so, Countess Worronska. Thanks to my occupations, I stand entirely outside of the sphere where you could harm me."

"I could kill you!" hissed the countess, gasping for breath, while the blood rushed to her head and the room grew dark before her eyes.