European History Argumentative Essay

Introduction by MYRA STARK Epilogue by CYNTHIA MACDONALD

Cassandra AN ESSAY BY

Florence Nightingale

THE FEMINIST PRESS fP lTTHE CiTY UNIVERSITY Of NEW ¥ORK

NEW YORK CITY

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With grateful acknowledgment to Carolyn G Heilbrun for her kifrd assistance.

Copyright©1979 by Myra Stark. All rights reserved under International and Pan- American Copyright Conven- tions. Published in the United States by The Feminist Press.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Nightingale, Florence, 1820-1910. Cassandra: an essay. Includes bibliographical references. 1. Women-England-Social con-

ditions-19th century. 2. Women- England-History-19th century. 3. Women-Psychology. 4. Upper classes-England-History. 1. Title. HQ1599.E5N54 1979 301.41' 2' 0942 79-15175 ISBN 0-912670-55-X

Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to reprint the following copyrighted material: Cynthia Mac- donald, "Florence Nightingale's Parts." Copyrighr © 1979by Cynthia Macdonald. Reprinted by permission of the author. From the forthcoming book W(HOLES), to be published by Alfred A. Knopf

The Feminist Press gratefully acknowl- edges the assistance of the Yale Medical Library in New Haven, Connecticut.

Cover and text desigtJ by Susan Trowbridge

II "Yet I would spare no pang, Would wish no torture less, The more that anguish racks, The earlier it will bless."

GIVE US BACK our suffering, we cry to Heaven in our hearts -suffering rather than indifferentism; for out of nothing comes nothing. But out of suffering may come the cure. Better have pain than paralysis! A hundred struggle and drown in the breakers. One discovers the new world. But rather, ten times rather, die in the surf, heralding the way to that new world, than stand idly on the shore!

Passion, intellect, moral activity-these three have never been satisfied in woman. In this cold and oppressive conven- tional atmosphere, they cannot be satisfied. To say more on this subject would be to enter into the whole history of society, of the present state of civilization.

Look at that lizard-"It is not hot," he says, "I like it. The atmosphere which enervates you is life to me." The state of society which some complain of makes others happy. Why should these complain to those? They do not suffer. They would not understand it, any more than that lizard would comprehend the sufferings of a Shetland sheep.

The progressive world is necessarily divided into two classes-those who take the best of what there is and enjoy it-those who wish for something better and try to create it. Without these two classes, the world would be badly off. They are the very conditions of progress, both the one and the other. Were there none who were discontented with what they have, the world would never reach anything bet- ter. And, through the other class, which is constantly taking the best of what the first is creating for them, a balance is secured, and that which is conquered is held fast. But with neither class must we quarrel for not possessing the privi-

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leges of the other. The laws of the nature of each make it impossible.

Is discontent a privilege?

Yes, it is a privilege to suffer for your race-a privilege not reserved to the Redeemer and the martyrs alone, but one enjoyed by numbers in every age.

The common-place lives of thousands; and in that is its only interest-its only merit as a history: vis., that it is the type of common sufferings-the story of one who has not the courage to resist nor to submit to the civilization of her time-is this.

Poetry and imagination begin life. A child will fall on its knees on the gravel walk at the sight of a pink hawthorn in full flower, when it is by itself, to praise God for it.

Then comes intellect. It wishes to satisfy the wants which intellect creates for it. But there is a physical, not moral, im- possibility of supplying the wants of the intellect in the state of civilization at which we have arrived. The stimulus, the training, the time, are all three wanting to us; or, in other words, the means and inducements are not there.

Look at the poor lives which we lead. It is a wonder that we are so good as we are, not that we are so bad. In looking round we are struck with the power of the organizations we see, not with their want of power. Now and then, it is true, we are conscious that there is an inferior organization, but, in general, just the contrary. Mrs. A. has the imagination, the poetry of a Murillo, and has sufficient power of execution to show that she might have had a great deal more. Why is she not a Murillo? From a material difficulty, not a mental one. If she has a knife and fork in her hands during three hours of the day, she cannot have a pencil or brush. Dinner is the great sacred ceremony of this day, the great sacrament. To be absent from dinner is equivalent to being ill. Nothing else will excuse us from it. Bodily incapacity is the only apology valid. If she has a pen and ink in her hands during other three

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hours, writing answers for the penny post; again, she cannot have her pencil, and so ad infinitum through life. People have no type before them in their lives, neither fathers and mothers, nor the children themselves. They look at things in detail. They say, "It is very desirable that A., my daughter, should go to such a party, should know such a lady, should sit by such a person." It is true. But what standard have they before them? of the nature and destination of man? The very words are rejected as pedantic. But might they not, at least, have a type in their minds that such an one might be a discoverer through her intellect, such another through her art, a third through her moral power? Women often try one branch of intellect after another in

their youth, e.g., mathematics. But that, least of all, is com- patible with the life of "society." It is impossible to follow up anything systematically. Women often long to enter some man's profession where they would find direction, competition (or rather opportunity of measuring the intellect with others), and, above all, time.

In those wise institutions, mixed as they are with many follies, which will last as long as the human race lasts, be- cause they are adapted to the wants of the human race; those institutions which we call monasteries, and which, embrac- ing much that is contrary to the laws of nature, are yet better adapted to the union of the life of action and that of thought than any other mode of life with which we are acquainted; in many such, four and a half hours, at least, are daily set aside for thought, rules are given for thought, training and opportunity afforded. Among us, there is no time appointed for this purpose, and the difficulty is that, in our social life, we must be always doubtful whether we ought not to be with somebody else or be doing something else.

Are men better off than women in this? If one calls upon a friend in London and sees her son in the

drawing-room, it strikes one as odd to find a young man

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sitting idling in his mother's drawing-room in the morning. For men, who are seen much in those haunts, there is no end of the epithets we have; "knights of the carpet," "drawing- room heroes," "ladies' men." But suppose we were to see a number of men in the morning sitting round a table in the drawing-room, looking at prints, doing worsted work, and reading little books, how we should laugh! A member of the House of Commons was once known to do worsted work. Of another man was said, "His only fault is that he is too good; he drives out with his mother every day in the carriage, and if he is asked anywhere he answers that he must dine with his mother, but, if she can spare him, he will come in to tea, and he does not come."

Now, why is it more ridiculous for a man than for a woman 'to do worsted work and drive out every day in the carriage? Why should we laugh if we were to see a parcel of men sitting round a drawing-room table in the morning, and think it all right if they were women?

Is man's time more valuable than woman's? or is the dif- ference between man and woman this, that woman has confessedly nothing to do?

Women are never supposed to have any occupation of sufficient importance not to be interrupted, except "suckling their fools;" and women themselves have accepted this, have written books to Support it, and have trained themselves so as to consider whatever they do as not of such value to the world or to others, but that they can throw it up at the first "claim of social life. " They have accustomed themselves to consider intellectual occupation as a merely selfish amusement, which it is their "duty" to give up for every trifler more selfish than themselves.

A young man (who was afterwards useful and known in his day and generation) when busy reading and sent for by his proud mother to shine in some morning visit, came; but, after it was over, he said, "Now, remember, this is not to

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happen again. I came that you might not think me sulky, but [ shall not come again." But for a young woman to send such a message to her mother and sisters, how impertinent it would be! A woman of great administrative powers said that she never undertook anything which she "could not throw by at once, if necessary. "

How do we explain then the many cases of women who have distinguished themselves in classics, mathematics, even in politics?

Widowhood, ill-health, or want of bread, these three explanations or excuses are supposed to justify a woman in taking up an occupation. In some cases, no doubt, an indom- itable force of character will suffice without any of these three, but such are rare.

But see how society fritters away the intellects of those committed to her charge! It is said that society is necessary to

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