As a matter of fact, the cause of woman’s rights will suffer no harm by a frank admission that women are not, in general, the peers of men in brute force.  The very nature of the female sex, subjected, as it is, to functional strains from which the male is free, is sufficient to invalidate such a claim.  A refutation of the physiological objection to equal suffrage is, however, not hard to find.  Even in war, as it is practised to-day, physical force is of little significance compared with strategy which is a product of the intellect.  In a naval battle for instance, ships no longer engage at close range, where it is possible for the crew of one to board the opposing ship and engage in hand to hand conflict with the enemy; machinery turns the guns and even loads them; the whole fight is simply a contest between trained gunners, who must depend for success on cool mathematical computation.

Nevertheless, it is true that under stress or the need of making a livelihood women in many instances do show physical endurance equal to that of men.  Women who are expert ballet dancers and those who are skilled acrobats can hardly be termed physiological weaklings.  In Berlin, you may see women staggering along with huge loads on their backs; in Munich, women are street-cleaners and hod-carriers; on the island of Capri, the trunk of the tourist is lifted by two men onto the shoulder of a woman, who carries it up the steep road to the village.  In this country many women are forced to do hard bodily labour ten hours a day in sweat-shops.  In all countries and in all ages there have been examples of women who, disguised as men, have fought side by side with the male and with equal efficiency.  The case of Joan of Arc will at once occur to the reader; and those who are curious about this subject may, by consulting the records of our Civil War, find exciting material in the story of “Belle Boyd,” “Frank Miller,” and “Major Cushman."[415]

Doubtless women are stronger physically than they were a half-century ago, when it was considered unladylike to exercise.  If you will read the novels of that time, you will find that the heroine faints on the slightest provocation or weeps copiously, like Amelia in Vanity Fair, whenever the situation demands a grain of will-power or of common-sense.  But to-day women seldom faint or weep in literature; they play tennis or row.  When, in 1844, Pauline Wright Davis lectured on physiology before women in America and displayed the manikin, some of her auditors dropped their veils, some ran from the room, and some actually became unconscious, because their sense of delicacy was put to so sharp a test.