Marriage and Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Tuesday’s Teacher: Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Wedded Bliss

“O come and be my mate!” said the Eagle to the Hen;
“I love to soar, but then
I want my mate to rest
Forever in the nest!”
Said the Hen, “I cannot fly,
I have no wish to try,
But I joy to see my mate careering through the sky!”
They wed, and cried, “Ah, this is Love, my own!”
And the Hen sat, and the Eagle soared, alone.

“O come and be my mate!” said the Lion to the Sheep;
“My love for you is deep!
I slay, – a Lion should, -
But you are mild and good!”
Said the Sheep, “I do no ill -
Could not, had I the will -
But I joy to see my mate pursue, devour and kill.”
They wed, and cried, “Ah, this is Love, my own!”
And the Sheep browsed, the Lion prowled, alone.

“O come and be my mate!” said the Salmon to the Clam;
“You are not wise, but I am.
I know the sea and stream as well;
You know nothing but your shell.”
Said the Clam, “I’m slow of motion,
But my love is all devotion,
And I joy to have my mate traverse lake and stream and ocean!”
They wed, and cried, “Ah, this is Love, my own!”
And the Clam sucked, the Salmon swam, alone.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman was a feminist writer who criticized the Victorian era notions of femininity, which derailed female independence and autonomy. Aside from short stories and poems on female agency, she also gave speeches as an activist for women’s rights and wrote essays on the economy and women’s role in it — or lack thereof. In this poem, she argues what contemporary feminists are still attempting to unravel — woman’s dependent and silent role in marriage — the blindly perpetuated gender stereotypes that claim men are strong and free, while their counterparts are frail, weak, and want nothing more than to devote their lives to those they love.

“Wedded Bliss” is a satirical attempt at marriage, which fosters the ideology that men belong in the public spaces of the world, while women belong in the private — or the home. Composed of three stanzas, each stanza represents a masculine and strong representation of the male (the Eagle, the Lion, and the Salmon), while the feminine versions of nature are represented by the hen, the sheep, and the clam. The Eagle gets to do what he loves, which is to “soar” (2). The Lion gets to do what is natural to all lions, which is to “kill” (12). The Salmon proclaims his wisdom. Thus, men have freedom, brawn, and wisdom.

Each male archetype in this poem chooses a “mate” who engenders the opposite of his masculine strengths. The soaring Eagle tells the hen that he loves her, but that she must “rest/ forever in the nest” (4-5). While he is doing what he loves, reveling in his freedom, she has to stay home. And she agrees with it. The hen claims that she “cannot fly,/I have no wish to try” (5-6). Content to stay home and lay her eggs, as all good hens do, she derives pleasure from watching him exploring the skies, the sense of freedom only belong to him. The powerful lion, who kills because it’s in his nature to be a killer, chooses a Sheep — because she is the opposite of him: she is “mild and good” (13). And like the hen, she enjoys sitting on the sidelines watching as he slaughters his prey. The wise Salmon also chooses a mate who he deems unwise — he knows the depths of the ocean because he’s been around, while she is inexperienced and unworldly and doesn’t know anything more than her “shell” (23). And she concedes to this, claiming herself ignorant and remaining quiet as a good clam should.

What’s interesting here is that the Eagle, the Lion, and the Salmon define their mates first, because that is what they assume about their mates — and their mates buy into it — defining themselves in the same manner, because that is what they assume about their own roles as feminine mates. They don’t deserve or need freedom and autonomy; they are not physically strong and cannot kill another; they are not wise, or smart, or worldly. And this is why they should stay inside their homes while their beloved men have adventures, live life to the fullest, experience worlds beyond their own, and learn. When everyone around you tells you these things from infancy — that you are female and are not smart, are not wise, and are only meant to be domesticated mothers, then that is all you will know — all you will believe.

Another interesting point that Gilman points out here is that these marriages, these bonds between these polar opposites, is that they are not blissful as the title implies. How can they be, when each member of each marriage is left alone without the mate they chose for themselves. Each of the three stanzas begins with “O come and be my mate!” (1,10,19), but they each also end with the same word: “alone” (8,19, 27). What is the point of getting married, if you live it alone, without the other one beside you? The strong males ask the females to marry them because there is love there — but the females are isolated indoors , their noses pressed against the windows, watching as the ones they married, vowed to spend a lifetime with, find pleasure, knowledge, and adventures away from them, without them. And the males suffer as well — they are exploring life and the wonders of nature alone — without the mates they chose for themselves. This kind of marriage is not blissful — it is not fulfilling. It is empty and lonely, and not what each of them had bargained for.

What about you? How do you define marriage? Has much changed since circa 1800 and early 1900s?