Albert-Ludwigs-Universität Freiburg

Philological Faculty
English Department
Winter term 2023/2024

HS / MS: Victorian Women

Writers
“The Woman Question”
Reader
Prof. Dr. Stefanie Lethbridge
 Table of Contents (in order of appearance)

John Stuart Mill. From The Subjection of Women,

Chapter 1.

George Eliot. From “Silly Novels by Lady

Novelists”.

Sarah Stickney Ellis. From The Women of England:

Social Duties and Domestic Habits.

Harriet Martineau. From Autobiography.

Dinah Maria Mulock. From A Woman’s Thoughts about

Women.

Florence Nightingale. From Cassandra.

Mona Caird. From “Marriage”.

*Texts have been taken from the Norton Anthology, 10th ed.,
vol. E, and the Norton Anthology, 6th ed., vol. 2.
 tio
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JOHN STUART MILL wo

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1806-1873 na
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er
he
n many American colleges the writings of J.S.Mill are studied in courses in govern­ of
have a
ment or in philosophy, and it may therefore be asked why they should also op
Victo­
place in the study of literature.It may seem that Mill is less literary than other eq
with abstract ions rather than with wh
rian prose writers.His analytic mind is preoccu pied
his self-effa cing
the concret e details that are the concern of the more typical writer; in
value
manner and his relatively transpar ent style are the marks of an author whose ag
ce rather than in the renderin g of par­ fo
lies in general izations from persona l experien
Mill's writings is essentia l m
ticular experien ces for their own sake.Yet a knowled ge of
in the
to our underst anding of Victoria n literatur e. He is one of the leading figures wh
the politi­
intellect ual history of his century, a thinker whose honest grapplin g with di
cal and religiou s problem s of his age was to have a profoun d influenc e on writers as th
Thoma s Hardy.
dive rse as Matthe w Arnold, Algerno n Charles Swinbu rne, and Li
Mill,
Mill was educate d at home in London under the directio n of his father, James wh
believed that ordinary schoolin g fails to
a leader of the Utilitari ans. James Mill
demons trated his point by (18
develop our intellect ual capaciti es early enough, and he
Mill
the extraord inary results he achieved in training his son.As a child John Stuart
of prob­
read Greek and Latin; and as a boy he could carry on intellige nt discussi ons
By the time he was fourteen , as he
lems in mathem atics, philosophy, and econom ics.
him to start his
reports in his Autobiography ( 1 873) his intensive educatio n enabled
career "with an advantage of a quarter of a century " over his contemp oraries.
served
Mill worked in the office of the East India Company for many years and also
were devoted to his writ­
a term in Parliam ent in the 1 8 60s; but his principa l energies
ings on such subjects as logic and philosophy, politica l principl es, and eco ?
omics. H is
.
her m
System of Logic ( 1 8 43) earned him the position of the most respecte d philosop
his father
mid-Victorian England .He began as a disciple of the Utilitari an theories of
the narrown ess of
and of Jeremy Bentham but became gradual ly dissatisfi ed with
ans
their concept ion of human motives .Workin g in the empiric ist tradition , Utilitari
gy were
attempt ed to show that most tradition al views of politics, ethics, and psycholo
habit, and that supersti -
based on nothing more than long-sta nding supersti tion and
 JO H N S T U A RT M ill 73

tion and habit generally stood i n the way o f progress.Most famously, they challenged
the idea that human beings functioned according to God-given intuitions and drives,
arguing that the mind worked on the physical process of the association of feelings.
According to the Utilitarians, then, individuals were ultimately motivated not by an
in nate sense of right and wrong but by the simple desire to find pleasure and avoid
pain. Politically, the Utilitarians thus lobbied for whatever would bring the greatest
pleasure (or happiness) to the greatest number. Though Mill was raised in this no­
nonsense, reforming tradition, his honesty and open-mindedness enabled him to
appr eciate the values of such anti-Utilitarians as Samuel Taylor Coleridge and
Thomas Carlyle and, whenever possible, to incorporate some of these values into the
Utilitarian system.In part this sympathy was gained by the lesson he learned through
exp eriencing a nervous breakdown during his early twenties. This painful event,
c1esc ribed in a chapter of his Autobiog raphy, taught him that the lack of concern for
people's affections and emotions characteristic of the Utilitarian system of thought
(and typified by his own education) was a fatal flaw in that system.His tribute to the
therapeutic value of art (because of its effect on human emotions), both in his Auto­
biography and in his early essay "What Is Poetry?" ( 1 833) would have astonished
Mill's master, Bentham, who had equated poetry with pushpin, an idle pastime.
Mill's emotional life was also broadened by his love for Harriet Taylor, a married
woman who shared his intellectual interests and eventually became his wife, in 1 8 5 1 ,
after the death o f her husband.Little that Taylor wrote was published under her own
name during her life, but her contribution to Mill's work should not be underestimated;
Mill later described her as "the inspirer, and in part the author, of all that is best in my
writings." They shared a commitment to the cause of female emancipation, one of sev­
eral unpopular movements to which Mill was dedicated.Throughout human history, as
he saw it, the role of a husband has always been legally that of a tyrant, and the object
of his farseeing essay The Subjection of Women ( 1 8 69) was to change law and public
opinion so that half the human race might be liberated from slavery and regarded as
equals.The subjection of women was, however, only one aspect of the tyranny against
which he fought.His fundamental concern was to prevent the subjection of individuals
in a democracy.His classic treatise On Liberty ( 1 85 9) is not a traditional liberal attack
against tyrannical kings or dictators; it is an attack against tyrannical majorities. Mill
foresaw that in democracies such as the United States the pressure toward conformity
might crush all individualists (intellectual individualists in particular) to the level of
what he called a "collective mediocrity." Throughout all of his writings , even in his
discussions of the advantages of socialism, Mill is concerned with demonstrating that
the individual is more important than institutions such as church or state. In On
Liberty we find a characteristic example of the process of his reasoning; but here,
where the theme of individualism is central, his logic is charged with eloquence.
A similar eloquence is evident in a pdssage from his Principles of Political Economy
y ( 1 848), a prophetic comment on the fate of the individual in an overpopulated world:
l
­ There is room in the world, no doubt, and even in old countries, for a great
e increase of population, supposing the arts of life go on improving, and capital
s to increase.But even if innocuous , I confess I see very little reason for desiring
it .... It is not good for a man to be kept perforce at all times in the presence
d of his species.A world from which solitude is extirpated, is a very poor ideal.
­ Solitude, in the sense of being often alone, is essential to any depth of medita­
s tion or of character: and solitude in the presence of natural beauty and gran­
m deur, is the cradle of thoughts and aspirations which are not only good for the
r individual, but which society could ill do without. Nor is there much satisfac­
f tion in contemplating the world with nothing left to the spontaneous activity
s of nature ; with every rood of land brought into cultivation, which is capable of
e growing food for human beings; every flowery waste or natural pasture
- ploughed up, all quadrupeds or birds which are not domesticated for man's use
74 JO H N S T U A RT M I LL

exterminated as his rivals for food, every hedgerow or superfluous tree rooted
out, and scarcely a place left where a wild shrub or flower could grow without
being eradicated as a weed in the name of improved agriculture. If the earth
must l ose that great portion of its pleasantness which it owes to things that the
unlimited increase of wealth and population would extirpate from it, for the
mere purpose of enabling it to support a larger, but not a better or happier popu­
lation, I sincerely hope, for the sake of posterity, that they will be content to be
stationary, long before necessity compels them to it.

*****************************************************************************

90

The Subjection of Women After its 1 8 69 publication in England and

America, Mill's The Subjection of Women was quickly adopted by the leaders of the
suffrage movement as the definitive analysis of the position of women in society.
American suffragists sold copies of the book at their conventions; at the age of seventy­
nine, American reformer Sarah Grimke went door to door in her hometown to sell one
hundred copies.
The book had its roots in a tradition of libertarian thought and writing dating from
the late eighteenth century.Out of this context came the first major work of feminist
theory, Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Woman ( 1 792). (Woll­
stonecraft's reputation was so scandalous that Mill avoided referring to her work.) In
 THE S U B J E CT I O N OF WOM E N 91

the early decades of the nineteenth century, there was much discussion of women's
rights in the Unitarian and radical circles inhabited by Mill and his wife, Harriet
Taylor, who wrote her own essay on women's suffrage.By the middle of the century,
the "Woman Question," as the Victorians called it, had become a frequent subject
of writing and debate; and an organized feminist movement had begun to develop.
Early reform efforts focused on the conditions of women's work, particularly in
mines and factories; access to better jobs and to higher education; and married
women's property rights. Women's suffrage started attracting support in the 1 8 60s.
Mill himself introduced the first parliamentary motion extending the franchise to
women in 1 8 66.

From The Subjection of Women

From Chap ter 1

The object of this Essay is to explain as clearly as I am able, the grounds of

an opinion which I have held from the very earliest period when I had
formed any opinions at all on social or political matters, and which, instead
of being weakened or modified, has been constantly growing stronger by the
progress of reflection and the experience of life: That the principle which
regulates the existing social relations between the two sexes-the legal sub­
ordination of one sex to the other-is wrong in itself, and now one of the
chief hindrances to human improvement; and that it ought to be replaced
by a principle of perfect equality, admitting no power or privilege on the one
side, nor disability on the other.
* * *

Some will object , that a compa rison canno t fairly be made betwe en the
govern ment of the male sex and the forms of unjust power1 which I have
adduc ed in illustration of it, since these are arbitr ary, and the effect of mere
usurpa tion, while it on the contra ry is natural. But was there ever any domi­
nation which did not appea r natura l to those who posses sed it? There was
a
time when the division of mank ind into two classe s, a small one of maste
rs
and a nume rous one of slaves , appea red, even to the most cultivated minds
,
to be a natur al, and the only natur al, condition of the huma n race. No
less
an intelle ct, and one which contri buted no less to the progre ss of huma
n
though t, than Aristo tle, h � ld this opinio n witho ut doubt or misgiv ing;
and
rested 1t. on the same premi ses on which the same assert ion in regard to the
domin ion of men over women is usuall y based , name ly that there are differ­
ent nature s among manki nd, free nature s, and slave nature s; that the Greek
s
were of a free nature , the barba rian races of Thrac ians and Asiati cs of a
slave
nature. But why need I go back to Aristo tle? Did not the slaveowners
of the
South ern Unite d States maint ain the same doctri ne, with all the fanati
cism
with which men cling to the theori es that justify their passio ns and leoitim
ate
their person al intere sts? Did they not call heaven and earth to witn�
ss that
the domin ion of the white man over the black is natural, that the black
race

I. As examples of unjust power Mill had cited the forcefu l control of slaves by slave owners or of n ations
by military despots.
92 JO H N S T U A RT M I LL

is by nature incapable of freedom, and marked out for slavery? some even so
going so far as to say that the freedom of manual laborers is an unnatural te
order of things anywhere. Again, the theorists of absolute monarchy have th
always affirmed it to be the only natural form of government; issuing from ti
the patriarchal, which was the primitive and spontaneous form of society, cl
framed on the model of the paternal, which is anterior to society itself, and, kn
as they contend, the most natural authority of all. Nay, for that matter, the pe
law of force itself, to those who could not plead any other, has always oc
seemed the most natural of all grounds for the exercise of authority. Con­ T
quering races hold it to be Nature's own dictate that the conquered should pe
obey the conquerors, or, as they euphoniously paraphrase it, that the feebler W
and more unwarlike races should submit to the braver and manlier. The small­ w
est acquaintance with human life in the middle ages, shows how supremely is
natural the dominion of the feudal nobility over men of low condition pr
appeared to the nobility themselves, and how unnatural the conception Ia
seemed, of a person of the inferior class claiming equality with them, or of
exercising authority over them. It hardly seemed less so to the class held in si
subjection. The emancipated serfs and burgesses, even in their most vigor­ ho
ous struggles, never made any pretension to a share of authority; they only th
demanded more or less of limitation to the power of tyrannizing over them. th
So true is it that unnatural generally means only uncustomary, and that de
everything which is usual appears natural. The subjection of women to Pa
men being a universal custom, any departure from it quite naturally appears by
unnatural. But how entirely, even in this case, the feeling is dependent on th
custom, appears by ample experience. Nothing so much astonishes the peo­ of
ple of distant parts of the world, when they first learn anything about th
England, as to be told that it is under a queen: the thing seems to them so an
unnatural as to be almost incredible. To Englishmen this does not seem in law
the least degree unnatural, because they are used to it; but they do feel it be
unnatural that women should be soldiers or members of Parliament. In the Th
feudal ages, on the contrary, war and politics were not thought unnatural to ba
women, because not unusual; it seemed natural that women of the privi­ al
leged classes should be of manly character, inferior in nothing but bodily fr
strength to their husbands and fathers. The independence of women seemed its
rather less unnatural to the Greeks than to other ancients, on account of the pr
fabulous Amazons2 (whom they believed to be historical), and the partial of
example afforded by the Spartan women; who, though no less subordinate an
by law than in other Greek states, were more free in fact, and being trained th
to bodily exercises in the same manner with men, gave ample proof that they na
were not naturally disqualified for them. There can be little doubt that Spar­ wh
tan experience suggested to Plato, among many other of his doctrines, that ty
of the social and political equality of the two sexes.3
But, it will be said, the rule of men over women differs from all these oth­ sh
ers in not being a rule of force: it is accepted voluntarily; women make no po
complaint, and are consenting parties to it. In the first place, a great number
of women do not accept it. Ever since there have been women able to make
4.
their sentiments known by their writings (the only mode of publicity which had
186
5.
2. A mythic al race of woman warriors. at
3. Plato's Republic, book 5. Plato was Athenian . wh
 THE S U B J E CT I O N OF WO M E N 93

society permits to them), an increasing number of them have recorded pro­

tests against their present social condition: and recently many thousands of
them, headed by the most eminent women known to the public, have peti­
tioned Parliament for their admission to the Parliamentary Suffrage.4 The
claim of women to be educated as solidly, and in the same branches of
knowledge, as men, is urged with growing intensity, and with a great pros­
pect of success; while the demand for their admission into professions and
occupations hitherto closed against them, becomes every year more urgent.
Though there are not in this country, as there are in the United States,
periodical Conventions5 and an organized party to agitate for the Rights of
r Women, there is a numerous and active Society organized and managed by
women, for the more limited object of obtaining the political franchise. Nor
y is it only in our own country and in America that women are beginning to
protest, more or less collectively, against the disabilities under which they
Iabor. France, and Italy, and Switzerland, and Russia now afford examples
r of the same thing. How many more women there are who silently cherish
similar aspirations, no one can possibly know; but there are abundant tokens
how many would cherish them, were they not so strenuously taught to repress
y them as contrary to the proprieties of their sex. It must be remembered, also,
that no enslaved class ever asked for complete liberty at once. When Simon
t de Montfort6 called the deputies of the commons to sit for the first time in
Parliament, did any of them dream of demanding that an assembly, elected
by their constituents, should make and destroy ministries, and dictate to
the king in affairs of state? No such thought entered into the imagination
of the most ambitious of them. The nobility had already these pretensions;
t the commons pretended to nothing but to be exempt from arbitrary taxation,
and from the gross individual oppression of the king's officers. It is a political
law of nature that those who are under any power of ancient origin, never
begin by complaining of the power itself, but only of its oppressive exercise.
There is never any want of women who complain of ill usage by their hus­
bands. There would be infinitely more, if complaint were not the greatest of
all provocatives to a repetition and increase of the ill usage. It is this which
y frustrates all attempts to maintain the power but protect the woman against
its abuses. In no other case (except that of a child) is the person who has been
proved judicially to have suffered an injury, replaced under the physical power
of the culprit who inflicted it. Accordingly wives, even in the most extreme
and protracted cases of bodily ill usage, hardly ever dare avail themselves of
the laws made for their protection: and if, in a moment of irrepressible indig­
y nation, or by the interference of neighbors, they are induced to do so, their
whole effort afterward is to disclose as little as they can, and to beg off their
tyrant from his merited chastisement.
All causes, social and natural, combine to make it unlikely that women
should be collectively rebellious to the power of men. They are so far in a
position different from all other subject classes, that their masters require
r
4. As a member of the House of Commons, Mill titled "Enfranchisement of Women" (1851).
had introduced a petition for women's suffrage in 6. English nobleman and statesman (e a. 1208-
1866. 1265), who assembled a p arli ament in 1265 that
5. Such as the Women's Rights Convention held h as been c alled the b asis of the modern House of
at Worcester, M assachusetts, in October 1850, Commons.
which had occasioned an essay by Mill's wife
94 JO H N S T U A RT M ILL

something more from them than actual service. Men do not want solely the im
obedience of women, they want their sentiments. All men, except the most ra
brutish, desire to have, in the woman most nearly connected with them, not da
a forced slave but a willing one, not a slave merely, but a favorite. They have
therefore put everything in practice to enslave their minds . The masters of wh
all other slaves rely, for maintaining obedience, on fear; either fear of them­ lif
selves, or religious fears . The masters of women wanted more than simple bo
obedience, and they turned the whole force of education to effect their th
purpose. All women are brought up from the very earliest years in the belief ch
that their ideal of character is the very opposite to that of men; not self-will,
and government by self-control, but submission, and yielding to the control
of others. All the moralities tell them that it is the duty of women, and all Th
the current-sentimentalities that it is their nature, to live for others; to make _fil'
complete abnegation of themselves, and to have no life but in their affec­ me
tions. And by their affections are meant the only ones they are allowed to in
have-those to the men with whom they are connected, or to the children as
who constitute an additional and indefeasible tie between them and a man. sit
When we put together three things-first, the natural attraction between ch
opposite sexes; secondly, the wife's entire dependence on the husband, every be
privilege or pleasure she has being either his gift, or depending entirely on his op
will; and lastly, that the principal object of human pursuit, consideration, and bo
all objects of social ambition, can in general be sought or obtained by her els
only through him, it would be a miracle if the object of being attractive to hu
men had not become the polar star of feminine education and formation of su
character. And, this great means of influence over the minds of women hav­ us
ing been acquired, an instinct of selfishness made men avail themselves of lea
it to the utmost as a means of holding women in subjection, by representing ab
to them meekness, submissiveness, and resignation of all individual will into
the hands of a man, as an essential part of sexual attractiveness. Can it be sid
doubted that any of the other yokes which mankind have succeeded in break­ cu
ing, would have subsisted till now if the same means had existed, and had on
been as sedulously used, to bow down their minds to it? If it had been made on
the object of the life of every young plebeian to find personal favor in the eyes to
of some patrician, of every young serf with some seigneur; if domestication An
with him, and a share of his personal affections, had been held out as the no
prize which they all should look out for, the most gifted and aspiring being in
able to reckon on the most desirable prizes; and if, when this prize had been no
obtained, they had been shut out by a wall of brass from all interests not cen­ de
tering in him, all feelings and desires but those which he shared or incul­ on
cated; would not serfs and seigneurs, plebeians and patricians, have been as th
broadly distinguished at this day as men and women are? and would not all or
but a thinker here and there, have believed the distinction to be a fundamen­ ma
tal and unalterable fact in human nature? me
The preceding considerations are amply sufficient to show that custom, at
however universal it may be, affords in this case no presumption, and ought ot
not to create any prejudice, in favor of the arrangements which place women do
in social and political subjection to men. But I may go farther, and maintain ni
that the course of history, and the tendencies of progressive human society,
afford not only no presumption in favor of this system of inequality of rights, 7.
but a strong one against it; and that, so far as the whole course of human wit
 THE S U BJECTIO N O F WO M E N 95

improvement up to this time, the whole stream of modern tendencies, war­

rants any inference on the subject, it is, that this relic of the past is discor­
dant with the future, and must necessarily disappear.
For, what is the peculiar character of the modern world-the difference
f which chiefly distinguishes modern institutions, modern social ideas, modern
life itself, from those of times long past? It is, that human beings are no longer
born to their place in life, and chained down by an inexorable bond to the place
they are born to, but are free to employ their faculties, and such favourable
f chances as offer, to achieve the lot which may appear to them most desirable.

The social subordination of women thus stands out an isolated fact in mod­
_fil'n social institutions; a solitary breach of what has become their funda­
mental law; a single relic of an old world of thought and practice exploded
in everything else, but retained in the one thing of most universal interest;
as if a gigantic dolmen,7 or a vast temple of Jupiter Olympius, occupied the
site of St. Paul's8 and received daily worship, while the surrounding Christian
churches were only resorted to on fasts and festivals. This entire discrepancy
between one social fact and all those which accompany it, and the radical
opposition between its nature and the progressive movement which is the
boast of the modern world, and which has successively swept away everything
else of an analogous character, surely affords, to a conscientious observer of
human tendencies, serious matter for reflection. It raises a p rima facie pre­
f sumption on the unfavorable side, far outweighing any which custom and
usage could in such circumstances create on the favorable; and should at
least suffice to make this, like the choice between republicanism and royalty,
a balanced question.
The least that can be demanded is, that the question should not be con­
sidered as prejudged by existing fact and existing opinion, but open to dis­
cussion on its merits, as a question of justice and expediency: the decision
on this, as on any of the other social arrangements of mankind, depending
on what an enlightened estimate of tendencies and consequences may show
to be most advantageous to humanity in general, without distinction of sex.
And the discussion must be a real discussion, descending to foundations, and
not resting satisfied with vague and general assertions. It will not do, for
instance, to assert in general terms, that the experience of mankind has pro­
nounced in favor of the existing system. Experience cannot possibly have
decided between two courses, so long as there has only been experience of
one. If it be said that the doctrine of the equality of the sexes rests only on
theory, it must be remembered that the contrary doctrine also has only the­
ory to rest upon. All that is proved in its favor by direct experience, is that
mankind have been able to exist under it, and to attain the degree of improve­
ment and prosperity which we now see; but whether that prosperity has been
attained sooner, or is now greater, than it would have been under the
other system, experience does not say. On the other hand, experience
does say, that every step in improvement has been so invariably accompa­
nied by a step made in raising the social position of women, that historians

7. Prehistoric stone monument, here associated 8. The c athedral i n the city of London.
with pagan religious rites.
96 JO H N S T U A RT M I L L

and philosophers have been led to adopt their elevation or debasement as s on

on the whole the surest test and most correct measure of the civilization of wom
a people or an age. Through all the progressive period of human history, the ti e s
condition of women has been approaching nearer to equality with men. w om
This does not of itself prove that the assimilation must go on to complete form
equality; but it assuredly affords some presumption that such is the case. c ep
Neither does it avail anything to say that the nature of the two sexes adap ts ne s
them to their present functions and position, and renders these appropriate an d
to them. Standing on the ground of common sense and the constitution of alre
the human mind, I deny that any one knows, or can know, the nature of the brin
two sexes, as long as they have only been seen in their present relation to one H
another. If men had ever been found in society without women, or women fe re
without men, or if there had been a society of men and women in which the - pre
women were not under the control of the men, something might have been al m
positively known about the mental and moral differences which may be the
inherent in the nature of each. What is now called the nature of women is an
an eminently artificial thing-the result of forced repression in some direc­ of
tions, unnatural stimulation in others. It may be asserted without scruple, app
that no other class of dependents have had their character so entirely dis­ an d
torted from its natural proportions by their relation with their masters; for, onl
if conquered and slave races have been, in some respects, more forcibly not
repressed, whatever in them has not been crushed down by an iron heel has tic
generally been let alone, and if left with any liberty of development, it has nal
developed itself according to its own laws; but in the case of women, a hot­ of c
house9 and stove cultivation has always been carried on of some of the capa­ any
bilities of their nature, for the benefit and pleasure of their masters. Then, con
because certain products of the general vital force sprout luxuriantly and kno
reach a great development in this heated atmosphere and under this active tan
nurture and watering, while other shoots from the same root, which are left opi
outside in the wintry air, with ice purposely heaped all round them, have a con
stunted growth, and some are burnt off with fire and disappear; men, with suc
that inability to recognize their own work which distinguishes the unana­ for
lytic mind, indolently believe that the tree grows of itself in the way they have E
made it grow, and that it would die if one half of it were not kept in a vapour now
bath and the other half in the snow. stil
Of all difficulties which impede the progress of thought, and the forma­ phy
tion of well-grounded opinions on life and social arrangements, the greatest stit
is now the unspeakable ignorance and inattention of mankind in respect to any
the influences which form human character. Whatever any portion of the isti
human species now are, or seem to be, such, it is supposed, they have a mo
natural tendency to be: even when the most elementary knowledge of the tho
circumstances in which they have been placed, clearly points out the causes tes
that made them what they are. Because a cottier1 deeply in arrears to his Stu
landlord is not industrious, there are people who think that the Irish are fee
naturally idle. Because constitutions can be overthrown when the authorities by
appointed to execute them turn their arms against them, there are people fee
who think the French incapable of free government. Because the Greeks ma
cheated the Turks, and the Turks only plundered the Greeks, there are per- of

9. A h e ated greenhouse. I. Ten ant cottager on a s m al l Irish farm. 2. R

 T H E S U B J E CT I O N OF WO M E N 97

because
s s on s wh o think that the Turks are naturally more sincere: and
f wom en , as is often said, care nothing about politics except their personali­
to
e ti e s , it is supposed that the general good is naturally less interesting
. wome n th an to men. History, which is now so much better understood than
e formerly, teaches another lesson: if only by showing the extraordinary sus­
c ep tibilit y of human nature to external influences, and the extreme variable­
s ne ss of those of its manifestations which are supposed to be most universal
e an d un ifo rm. But in history, as in traveling, men usually see only what they
f alre ady h ad in their own minds; and few learn much from history, who do not
e bring much with them to its study.
e Hen ce , in regard to that most difficult question, what are the natural dif­
n feren ces between the two sexes-a subject on which it is impossible in the
e- pres ent state of society to obtain complete and correct knowledge-while
n al most everybody dogmatizes upon it, almost all neglect and make light of
e the only means by which any partial insight can be obtained into it. This is,
s an an aly tic study of the most important department of psychology, the laws
­ of th e influen ce of circumstances on character. For, however great and
, appa re ntly ineradicable the moral and intellectual differences between men
­ an d women might be, the evidence of their being natural differences could
, only be negative. Those only could be inferred to be natural which could
y not p ossibly be artificial-the residuum, after deducting every characteris­
s tic of either sex which can admit of being explained from education or exter­
s nal circ umstances. The profoundest knowledge of the laws of the formation
­ of cha racter is indispensable to entitle any one to affirm even that there is
­ any difference, much more what the difference is, between the two sexes
, con sidered as moral and rational beings; and since no one, as yet, has that
d knowledge (for there is hardly any subject which, in proportion to its impor­
e tance, has been so little studied), no one is thus far entitled to any positive
t opinio n on the subject. Conjectures are all that can at present be made;
a conject ures more or less probable, according as more or less authorized by
h such knowledge as we yet have of the laws of psychology, as applied to the
­ formation of character.
e Even the preliminary knowledge, what the differences between the sexes
r now are, apart from all question as to how they are made what they are, is
still in the crudest2 and most incomplete state. Medical practitioners and
­ physiologists have ascertained, to some extent, the differences in bodily con­
t stitution; and this is an important element to the psychologist: but hardly
o any medical practitioner is a psychologist. Respecting the mental character­
e istics of women; their observations are of no more worth than those of com­
a mon men. It is a subject on which nothing final can be known, so long as
e those who alone can really know it, women themselves, have given but little
s testimony, and that little, mostly suborned. It is easy to know stupid women.
s Stupidity is much the same all the world over. A stupid person's notions and
e feelings may confidently be inferred from those which prevail in the circle
by which the person is surrounded. Not so with those whose opinions and
e feelings are an emanation from their own nature and faculties. It is only a
man here and there who has any tolerable knowledge of the character even
- of the women of his own family. I do not mean, of their capabilities ; these

2. Roughest, least refined.

98 JO H N S T U A RT M I L L

nobody knows, not even themselves, because most of them have never been wi
called out. I mean their actually existing thoughts and feelings. Many a man su
thinks he perfectly understands women, because he has had amatory rela­ th
tions with several, perhaps with many of them. If he is a good observer, and
his experience extends to quality as well as quantity, he may have learnt is
something of one narrow department of their nature-an important depart­ pl
ment, no doubt. But of all the rest of it, few persons are generally more As
ignorant, because there are few from whom it is so carefully hidden. The ar
most favorable case which a man can generally have for studying the char­ up
acter of a woman, is that of his own wife: for the opportunities are greater, ar
and the cases of complete sympathy not so unspeakably rare. And in fact, so
this is the source from which any knowledge worth having on the subject wh
has, I believe, generally come. But most men have not had the opportunity _
-i o
of studying in this way more than a single case: accordingly one can, to an th
almost laughable degree, infer what a man's wife is like, from his opinions be
about women in general. To make even this one case yield any result, the try
woman must be worth knowing, and the man not only a competent judge, pe
but of a character so sympathetic in itself, and so well adapted to hers, that wh
he can either read her mind by sympathetic intuition, or has nothing in un
himself which makes her shy of disclosing it. Hardly anything, I believe, of
can be more rare than this conjunction. It often happens that there is the in
most complete unity of feeling and community of interests as to all external th
things, yet the one has as little admission into the internal life of the other pe
as if they were common acquaintance. Even with true affection, authority m
on the one side and subordination on the other prevent perfect confidence. es
Though nothing may be intentionally withheld, much is not shown. In the ar
analogous relation of parent and child, the corresponding phenomenon ne
must have been in the observation of every one. As between father and son, th
how many are the cases in which the father, in spite of real affection on do
both sides, obviously to all the world does not know, nor suspect, parts of po
the son's character familiar to his companions and equals. The truth is, m
that the position of looking up to another is extremely unpropitious to com­ th
plete sincerity and openness with him. The fear of losing ground in his
opinion or in his feelings is so strong, that even in an upright character,
there is an unconscious tendency to show only the best side, or the side O
which, though not the best, is that which he most likes to see: and it may be to
confidently said that thorough knowledge of one another hardly ever exists, T
but between persons who, besides being intimates, are equals. How much sh
more true, then, must all this be, when the one is not only under the author­ so
ity of the other, but has it inculcated on her as a duty to reckon everything bi
else subordinate to his comfort and pleasure, and to let him neither see nor th
feel anything coming from her, except what is agreeable to him. All these as
difficulties stand in the way of a man's obtaining any thorough knowledge th
even of the one woman whom alone, in general, he has sufficient opportu­ re
nity of studying. When we further consider that to understand one woman is fo
not necessarily to understand any other woman; that even if he could study of
many women of one rank, or of one country, he would not thereby understand ar
women of other ranks or countries; and even if he did, they are still only the
women of a single period of history; we may safely assert that the knowl­ 3.
edge which men can acquire of women, even as they have been and are, (1
 T H E S U B J E CT I O N O F WO M E N 99

en w ith out reference to what they might be, is wretchedly imperfect and
an sup e rfi cial, and always will be so, until women themselves have told all that
a­ th ey h ave to tell.
nd A n d this time has not come; nor will it come otherwise than gradually. It
nt i s but of yesterday that women have either been qualified by literary accom­
rt­ pli sh ments, or permitted by society, to tell an_Y thing to the general � u�lic.
re As yet very few of them dare tell anythmg, . which men, on whom their liter­
he ary s uc cess depends, are unwilling to hear. Let us remember in what manner,
ar­ up to a very recent time, the expression, even by a male author, of uncustom­
er, ary opinions, or what are deemed eccentric feelings, usually was, and in
ct, so me degree still is, received; and we may form some faint conception under
ct wh at impedim ents a woman, who is brought up to think custom and opin-
ty _
-i on her sovereign rule, attempts to express in books anything drawn from
an the depths of her own nature. The greatest woman who has left writings
ns b eh ind her sufficient to give her an eminent rank in the literature of her coun­
he try, thought it necessary to prefix as a motto to her boldest work, "Un homme
e, pe ut braver !'opinion; une femme doit s'y soumettre."3 The greater part of
at wh at women write about women is mere sycophancy to men. In the case of
in unm arried women, much of it seems only intended to increase their chance
e, of a husband. Many, both married and unmarried, overstep the mark, and
he inculcate a servility beyond what is desired or relished by any man, except
al th e very vulgarest. But this is not so often the case as, even at a quite late
er peri od, it still was . Literary women are becoming more freespoken, and
ty more willing to express their real sentiments. Unfortunately, in this country
e. esp ecially, they are themselves such artificial products, that their sentiments
he are compounded of a small element of individual observation and conscious­
on ness, and a very large one of acquired associations. This will be less and less
n, the case, but it will remain true to a great extent, as long as social institutions
on do not admit the same free development of originality in women which is
of possible to men. When that time comes, and not before, we shall see, and not
is, merely hear, as much as it is necessary to know of the nature of women, and
m­ the adaptation of other things to it.
is * * *
er,
de One thing we may be certain of-that what is contrary to women's nature
be to do, they never will be made to do by simply giving their nature free play.
ts, The anxiety of mankind to interfere in behalf of nature, for fear lest nature
ch should not succeed in effecting its purpose, is an altogether unnecessary
or­ solicitude. What women by nature cannot do, it is quite superfluous to for­
ng bid them from doing. What they can do, but not so well as the men who are
or their competitors, competition suffices to exclude them from; since nobody
se asks for protective duties and bounties in favor of women; it is only asked
ge that the present bounties and protective duties in favor of men should be
u­ recalled. If women have a greater natural inclination for some things than
is for others, there is no need of laws or social inculcation to make the majority
dy of them do the former in preference to the latter. Whatever women's services
nd are most wanted for, the free play of competition will hold out the strongest
he
wl­ 3 . A man c an defy what is thought ; a woman m u s t submit to it ( French ) ; t h e epigraph to Delphine
e, ( 1 802) by Mme de S t ael ( 1 76 6 - 1 8 1 7 ) .
100 JO H N S T U A RT M I LL

inducements to them to undertake. And, as the words imply, they are most
wanted for the things for which they are most fit; by the apportionment of
which to them, the collective faculties. of the two sexes can be applied on
the whole with the greatest sum of valuable result.
The general opinion of men is supposed to be, that the natural vocation
of a woman is that of a wife and mother. I say, is supposed to be, because,
judging from acts-from the whole of the present constitution of society­
one might infer that their opinion was the direct contrary. They might be
supposed to think that the alleged natural vocation of women was of all
things the most repugnant to their nature; insomuch that if they are free to
do anything else-if any other means of living, or occupation of their time
and faculties, is open, which has any chance of appearing desirable to
them-there. will not be enough of them who will be willing to accept the
condition said to be natural to them. If this is the real opinion of men in
general, it would be well that it should be spoken out. I should like to hear
somebody openly enunciating the doctrine (it is already implied in much
that is written on the subject)-"It is necessary to society that women should
marry and produce children. They will not do so unless they are compelled.
Therefore it is necessary to compel them." The merits of the case would
then be clearly defined. It would be exactly that of the slaveholders of South
Carolina and Louisiana. "It is necessary that cotton and sugar should be
grown. White men cannot produce them. Negroes will not, for any wages
which we choose to give. Ergo they must be compelled." An illustration still
closer to the point is that of impressment.4 Sailors must absolutely be had to
defend the country. It often happens that they will not voluntarily enlist.
Therefore there must be the power of forcing them. How often has this logic
been used! and, but for one flaw in it, without doubt it would have been suc­
cessful up to this day. But it is open to the retort-First pay the sailors the
honest value of their labor. When you have made it as well worth their while
to serve you, as to work for other employers, you will have no more difficulty
than others have in obtaining their services. To this there is no logical answer
except "I will not:" and as people are now not only ashamed, but are not
desirous, to rob the laborer of his hire, impressment is no longer advocated.
Those who attempt to force women into marriage by closing all other doors
against them, lay themselves open to a similar retort. If they mean what they
say, their opinion must evidently be, that men do not render the married
condition so desirable to women, as to induce them to accept it for its own
recommendations. It is not a sign of one's thinking the boon one offers very
attractive, when one allows only Hobson's choice,5 "that or none." And here,
I believe, is the clue to the feelings of those men, who have a real antipathy
to the equal freedom of women. I believe they are afraid, not lest women
should be unwilling to marry, for I do not think that any one in reality has
that apprehension; but lest they should insist that marriage should be on
equal conditions; lest all women of spirit and capacity should prefer doing
almost anything else, not in their own eyes degrading, rather than marry,
when marrying is giving themselves a master, and a master too of all their

4 . The practice of seizing men and forcing them reference to the practice of Thomas Hobson
into service as s ailors. ( 1 5 44-1630), who rented out horses and required
5 . A choice without an alternative, so c alled in every customer to take the horse nearest the door.
 1 01

most
earthly possessions. And truly, if this consequence were necessarily incident
ent of
to marriage, I think that the apprehension would be very well founded. I
ed on
agree in thinking it probable that few women, capable of anything else, would,
unless under an irresistible entrainement, 6 rendering them for the time insen­
ation
sible to anything but itself, choose such a lot, when any other means were
ause,
open to them of filling a conventionally honorable place in life: and if men are
ety­
determined that the law of marriage shall be a law of despotism, they are quite
ht be
right, in point of mere policy, in leaving to women only Hobson's choice. But,
of all
in that case, all that has been done in the modern world to relax the chain
ree to
on the minds of women, has been a mistake. They never should have been
time
allowed to receive a literary education. Women who read, much more women
ble to
who write, are, in the existing constitution of things, a contradiction and a
pt the
en in di sturbing element: and it was wrong to bring women up with any acquire­
ments but those of an odalisque, or of a domestic servant.
hear
much 1860 1869
hould
elled.
would
South
ld be
wages
n still
ad to
nlist.
logic
n suc­
rs the
while
ficulty
nswer
e not
ated.
doors
t they
arried
own
s very
here,
pathy
omen
y has
be on
doing
marry,
their

Hobson
equired
he door.
 GEORGE ELIOT 4 07

From Silly Novels by Lady Novelists1

Silly N o;els by Lady Novelists are a genus with many species, determined by
the particular quality of silliness that predominates in them-the frothy th
pro sy, the pious, or the pedantic. But it is a mixture of all these-a comp � sit :
order of feminine fatuity, that produces the largest class of such novels
which we shall distinguish as the mind-and-millinery species. The heroine i �
usually an helfe. s, probably a peeress in her own right, with perhaps a vicious
�
bar on � t, an amiable duke, and an irresistible younger son of a marquis as
lovers m the foreground, a clergyman and a poet sighing for her in the middle
di stan ce, � nd a crowd of � ndefined adorers dimly indicated beyond. Her eyes
and her wit � re-both � azzlmg; her nose and her morals are alike-free-frnm-any
tenden cy to !fregulanty; she has a superb contralto and a superb intellect·' she
is p erfectly wel�-dressed a nd perfectly religious; she dances like a sylph, and
. m the ongmal
re ads the Bible . . tongues. Or it may be that the heroine is not an
heire ss-that rank and wealth are the only things in which she is deficient·
but she infallibly g� ts into high society, she has the triumph of refusing man ;
m atches and securmg the best, and she wears some family jewels or other as
a sor t of crown of righteousness at the end. Rakish men either bite their lips
in im potent � onfusion at her repartees, or are touched to penitence by her
�ep roo fs, wh1c.h, on appropriate occasions, rise to a lofty strain of rhetoric;
md� ed, there is a general propensity in her to make speeches, and to rhap­
so d1ze at some length when she retires to her bedroom. In her recorded
conversations she is amazingly eloquent, and in her unrecorded conversa­
tions, amazingly witty. She is understood to have a depth of insight that looks
�hr�ugh and through the shallow theories of philosophers, and her superior
mstmcts are a sort of dial by which men have only to set their clocks and
�atches, and all will go well. The men play a very subordinate part by her
side. You a �e co� soled now and then by a hint that they have affairs, which
keeps you m mmd that the working-day business of the world is somehow
b eing carried on, but ostensibly the final cause of their existence is that they
may accompany the heroine on her "starring" expedition through life. They
see h�r at a ball, and are dazzled; at a flower-show, and they are fascinated; on
.
a ndmg .
excursion, and they are witched2 by her noble horsemanship; at
chu�ch, and they are awed by the sweet solemnity of her demeanour. She is
the ideal w�man in feelings, faculties, and flounces. For all this, she as often
as not marne � th� wrong person to begin with, and she suffers terribly from
�he �lots and mtngues of the vicious baronet; but even death has a soft place
10 h1
� heart for such a � a_ragon, and remedies all mistakes for her just at
the nght moment. The v1c10us baronet is sure to be killed in a duel and the
.
t� d1ous husband dies in his bed requesting his wife, as a particular favour to
hnn , to marry the man she loves best, and having already dispatched a note
to �he lover informing him of the comfortable arrangement. Before matters
arnve at this desirable issue our feelings are tried by seeino the noble lovely
and gifted heroine pass through many mauvais3 moment but we h �ve th � :,
!. Publi shed anonymously in the Westminster beginning her first story, "The Sad Fortunes of

r
Review, this re view essay, satirizing a number of the Rev. Amos Barton."
c nt� m o ary novels, provides a good indication
0 Ehot s ideas about fiction at the time she was
f � 2 . Bewitched.
3. Bad ( French).
 G E O RG E ELI OT
40 8

are wep t into emb roid ered poc ket­ to

s atis fa ctio n o f kno win g that her sorrows
ines on the very bes t uph olst ery, h
han dker chiefs , that her fain ting form recl
und ergo , from bein g dash ed out a
and that wha teve r vici ssitu des she may
ed in a feve r, she com es out o f a
of her carr iage to hav ing her hea d shav fo
g and lock s mor e redu ndant4
them all with a complex ion mor e bloo min m
tha n ever .
�elieved fr� m a seri ous ev
We may rem ark, by the way, that we hav e been
novelist s rare l� mtr? duc e us d
scrup le by disc overing that silly novels by lady
society. We had ima gme d that a
into any othe r than very lofty and fash ionable
ed gove rne sses , bec ause they si
destitut e wom en turn ed novelist s, as they turn
r brea d. On this sup posi tion, d
had no othe r "lady-like" mea ns of gett ing thei
a cert ain path os for us, like is
vac illat ing syn tax and improbable inci den t had
ill- aevised nigh tcap s that are­ po
the extr emely supererogatory pinc ush ions and
mod ity to be a nuis anc e, but th
offe red for sale by a blin d man . We felt the com
relieve the � eces sitou s, an � we h
we were glad to thin k that the money went to
for a mam tena nce , or wives ti
pict ured to ours elves lonely women stru ggli ng
ucti on of "copy" out o� pure in
and dau ghters devo ting them selves to the prod
ts, or to pur c� � s � �uxu nes f�r ev
hero ism ,-p erha ps to pay thei r hus ban d's deb
shra nk from cnti clSln g a lady s in
a sick fath er. Und er thes e impress ions we
d to o� rselves, her mo�ives a�e th
novel: her Eng lish mig ht be faulty, but , we sai.
ventive , but her pati enc e is th
irre proa chable; her ima gina tion may be umn
ty ston_i ach , and twaddle was of
unt irin g. Emp ty writ ing was excu sed by an emp
our s, like many othe r pret ty m
con secr ated by tear s. But no! Thi s theory of G
tion . Women 's silly novels, we
theo ries ' has had to give way before obs erva
different circ ums tanc es. The by
are now convinc ed, are writ ten und er totally th
trad esm an exce pt from a car­
fair writ ers have evidently never talk ed to a
king-cla sses exce pt as " dep en­ an
riage win dow · they have no noti on of the wor
le pitt anc e; � elgravia6 �nd an
den ts ;" they t hink five hun dred a-ye ar5 a mis erab
"baroni al hall s" are thei r prim ary trut hs; and
they have no idea of feel ing �o
t land ed pro� rieto �, if � ot a ite
inte rest in any man who is not at leas t a grea
ele �ant ? o� dmr s, with vi�let­ th
prim e min ister . It is clea r that they writ e in co
enti rely mdifferent to pub lish ­
colo red ink and a ruby pen ; that they mus t be m
of poverty exce pt poverty of
ers' acco unts and inex peri ence d in ever y form
ck with the wan t of veri simili­
brains. It is ;rue that we are con stantly stru th
in which they seem t� live;
tude in their repr esen tatio ns of the high soci ety ph
with any other form of life. If
but then they betr ay no clos er acq uain tanc e
r liter ary men , tradespe op�e, wo
thei r peers and pee ress es are improbable, thei ar
t seem s to hav e the pec uliar
and cott ager s are imp ossi ble; and thei r inte llec se
seen and hea rd, and what
imp arti ality of reprodu cing both wha t they have ar
ithfulne ss.
they have not seen and heard, with equ al unfa of
* * * es
arkably una nim ous in their su
Writers of the min d-and-millinery scho ol are rem sm
ally a lady or gentleman who is
choice of dict ion. In thei r novels, there is usu of
ly brea st; min ds are redolent
more or less of a upa s tree :7 the lover has a man up
utili zed; frien ds are con sign ed
of vari ous thin gs; hea rts are holl ow; even ts are
8.
6 . A we althy distr ict of Lond on. res
4. Abun d ant. poiso n is
7. A J avane se tree from which an arrow
5 . At this d ate an annu al incom e of £
5 0 0 would
e mean ing "a poi­ 9.
I.
deriv ed; here a fi 9,urati ve clich
midd le-class house hold with
suppo rt a mode st .
sono us influ ence .
one or two ser vant s.
 S I LLY N O V E LS BY LA D Y N O V ELI S T S 40 9

ket­ to the tomb; infancy is an engaging period; the sun is a luminary that goes to
ery, h is wes tern couch, or gathers the rain-drops into his refulgent bosom; life is
out a m ela ncholy boon; Albion and Scotia8 are conversational epithets. There is
t of a striking resemblance, too, in the character of their moral comments such
an t4 for in stance, a � that "It is a fact, no less true than melancholy, that all eople � '.
more or less, ncher or poorer, are swayed by bad example;" that "Books how­
iou s ever t rivial, contain some subjects from which useful information � ay be
e us drawn ; " � h. at " yice
· can too often borrow the language of virtue;" that "Merit
that and n obility of nature must exist, to be accepted, for clamour and preten­
they sion � an �� t impose
.
�pon those too �ell read in human nature to be easily
tion, dec ei ved, and that, In order to forgive, we must have been injured." There
like is, . doubtless, a class of readers to whom these remarks appear peculiarly
t are­ powted and pungent; for we often find them doubly ana trebly scored-with
, but the pencil, and delicate hands giving in their determined adhesion to these
� we hardy novelties by a distinct tres vrai, 9 emphasized by many notes of exclama­
wives tion. The colloquial style of these novels is often marked by much ingenious
pure inversion, and a careful avoidance of such cheap phraseology as can be heard
es f�r every day. Angry young gentlemen exclaim-" 'Tis ever thus, methinks;" and
ady s in the half-hour before dinner a young lady informs her next neighbour that
es a�e the first day she read Shakspeare she "stole away into the park, and beneath
ce is the shadow of the greenwood tree, devoured with rapture the inspired page
e was of the great magician." But the most remarkable efforts of the mind-and­
pret ty millinery writers lie in their philosophic reflections. The authoress of "Laura
s, we Gay,"1 for example, having married her hero and heroine, improves the event
. The by observing that "if those sceptics, whose eyes have so long gazed on matter
a car­ that they can no longer see aught else in man, could once enter with heart
epen­ and soul into such bliss as this, they would come to say that the soul of man
6 �nd and t�e P ?lypus2 are not of common origin, or of the same texture." Lady
feel ing �ovehsts, it appears, can see something else besides matter; they are not lim­
� ot a ited to phenomena, but can relieve their eyesight by occasional glimpses of
vi�let­ the noumenon, 3 and are, therefore, naturally better able than any one else to
blish ­ confound sceptics, even of that remarkable, but to us unknown school ' which
erty of maintains tha� � he soul of man is of the same texture as the polypus.
simili­ The most pitiable of all silly novels by lady novelists are what we may call
� live; th� oracu �ar species-novels intended to expound the writer's religious,
life. If philosophical, or moral theories. There seems to be a notion abroad amona
eop�e, women, rather akin to the superstition that the speech and actions of idiot�
ecu liar are in � pired, and that the human being most entirely exhausted of common
d what sense is � he fit�est vehicl� of revelation. To judge from their writings, there
are certam ladies who thmk that an amazing ignorance both of science and
of life, is the best possible qualification for forming an o inion on the knotti­ �
est mo:al an� s �eculative questions. Apparently, their recipe for solving all
n their such difficulties is something like this:-Take a woman's head stuff it with a
who is s matt�ring of philosophy and literature chopped small, and wi;h false notions
edolent of soc1e ty baked hard, let it hang over a desk a few hours every day, and serve
up hot m .
nsig ned feeble English, when not required. You will rarely meet with a lady

8. Poetic cliches for England and Scotland, preceding section.

poiso n is resp ectively. 2 . Polyp.
ng "a poi­ 9. Very true ( French). 3. An object of purely rational, as opposed to sen­
I. The 1 8 5 6 novel Eliot h as just s atirized in the sual, perception (the l atter being a phenomenon) .
4 10 G E O RG E ELI OT

novelist o f the oracular class who i s diffident o f her ability t o decide o n the o­ th
logical questions,-who has any suspicion that she is not cap �b�e of dis crimi­ e
nating with the nicest accuracy between the good and evil m all church ey
partie s,-who does not see precisely how it is that men have gone wrong h
hitherto,-and pity philosophers in general that they have not had the oppor­ sh
tunity of consulting her. Great writers, who have modestly content� d t�em­ a

selves with putting their experience into fiction, and have thought rt qu rte a Lo
sufficient task to exhibit men and things as they are, she sighs over as deplor­ ag
ably deficient in the application of their powers. "They have solved no gre at on
.
questions"-and she is ready to remedy their omission by settmg before you a
complete theory of life and manual of divinity, in a !o�e story, where ladies an
.
and gentlemen of good family go through genteel v1c1ss1tudes, to the utter ha
confusion of Deists, Puseyites,4 and ultra-Protestants� and to the perfect -un
establishment of that particular view of Christianity which either condens es as
itself into a sentence of small caps, or explodes into a cluster of stars on the eve
three hundred and thirtieth page. It is true, the ladies and gentlemen will cul
probably seem to you remarkably little like any you � �ve had the fortu�e or by
misfortune to meet with, for, as a general rule, the ability of a lady novelist to and
describe actual life and her fellow-men, is in inverse proportion to her confi­ opi
dent eloquence about God and the other world, and the means by which she from
usually chooses to conduct you to true ideas of the invisible is a totally false an�
picture of the visible. esti
* * *
pro
preJ
The epithet "silly" may seem impertinent, applied to a novel which indicates La �1
so much reading and intellectual activity as "The Enigma;"5 but we use this wnt
epithet advisedly. If, as the world has long agreed, a very gre �t amount of b ook
instruction will not make a wise man, still less will a very med10cre amount wom
of instruction make a wise woman. And the most mischievous form of femi­ that
nine silliness is the literary form, because it tends to confirm the popular the r
prejudice against the more solid education of women. When men se � gi:ls esse
wasting their time in consultations about bonnets and ball dresses '. and m �Ig­ A
o-lino- or sentimental love-confidences, or middle-aged women mrsmanagmg �lly m
�hei ; children, and solacing themselves with acrid gossip, they can hardly help is wh
saying, "For Heaven's sake, let girls be better educated; let them have some of th
better objects of thought-some more solid occupations ." But af� er a �ew teel t
hours' conversation with an oracular literary woman, or a few hours readmg C h ur
of her books, they are likely enough to say, "After all, when a w�man get� ��me as th
knowledge, see what use she makes of it! Her �nowledge re� ams acqurs1t1on, ? ne w
instead of passing into culture; instead of bemg subdued mto modesty and It mu
.
simplicity by a larger acquaintance with thought and fact, she has a fev� nsh �orl �
consciousness of her attainments; she keeps a sort of mental pocket-mirror, im � g m
and is continually looking in it at her own 'intellectuality;' she spoils the taste w� 1ch
of one's muffin by questions of metaphysics; 'puts down' men at a dinner table wit h l
with her superior information; and seizes the opportunity of a soiree to cate­ love s
chise us on the vital question of the relation between mind and matter. And by sav

4. Protestants who believed in the importance of who was completely beyond human experience. 6. Inflat
liturgical s acraments (following Edward Pusey, can not d
ern dial e
5. The 1 8 5 6 n o vel Eliot h as just s atirized in the
1 80 0 - 1 8 8 2) . "Deists": Protestants who believed preceding section.
in a personal God who created the universe but 7. Ro ma
 S I LLY N O V ELS B Y LA D Y N O V EL I S T S
4 1 1

he o­ then , look at her writings! She mis takes vag uen ess for dep th,
mi­ bombas t for
eloquen ce, and aff� ctation for ori gin alit y; she struts on one
rch pag e, rolls her
eyes on ano the r, g�1 '.11aces in a thir d, and is hys teri cal in a fo
ong urth. She may
have read ma ny wntmgs of great me n, and a few writings of
gre
she is as .un able �o dis c �rn the differe nce between her own
por­ at women· but
em­ a Yorkshire ma n is
style and thei �s as
to dis cern the difference between his
ow
te a Londoner's : rhodomontade 6 is the native acc ent of her inte n En o-lis h and a
llec t. No�the aver­
lor­ age nat ure of women is too shallow and feeble a soi l to bea
re at r much till age ; it is
only fit for the very lightest crop s."
ou a It � s tru e tha t the me � who com e to suc h a dec isio
dies n on suc h very sup erfi cia l
and imperfect obs ervatwn may not be am ong the wis
have no � now to con tes t the ir opinio n-we are onl
tter est in the world; but we
fect y poi nti ng out how it is
-uncons c10 usly enc ouraged by ma ny women wh o have
ns es vol unt eered· them·selves
as represen tatives of the fem ini ne int elle ct. We do
the not bel ieve that a man was
ever streng the ned in suc h an opi nio n by ass oci atin
g with a wo ma n of tru e
will cul� u re, wh ose min d had abs orb ed her knowle dge
e or ins tea d of bei ng abs orb ed
by 1t. A rea lly cul t � red woma n, lik e a rea lly
t to cultur ed ma n, is all the sim ple r
and the less obt rus ive for her knowle dge ; it has
nfi­ ma de her see her self and her
opinions in som eth ing like jus t pro por tio ns; she
she doe s not ma ke it a ped est al
from �hic h she flatters her sel f tha t she com ma
nds a complete vie w of me n
false an� thmg s, but ma kes it a poi nt of obs ervatio
n fro m wh ich to form a right
esti mate of her sel f. She neither spo uts poe try
. nor quotes Cic ero7 on slig ht
provoc at10 n; not bec aus e she thi nk s tha t
. d' a sac rifi ce mu st be ma d e to th e
preJ U ices o f me n, b ut b cau se tha t mo
. . � de of exh ibit ing her me mo ry and
ates La �1 mty doe s not pre sen t itse lf to her as edi
fyin g or gra ceful. She doe s not
this wnte boo ks to con fou nd phi los oph ers , per
t of hap s bec aus e she is abl e to wr ite
b ooks tha t del igh t the m. In con ver
sat ion she is the lea st for mid abl e
unt women , bec � use she und ers tan ds you , of
wit hou t wa nti ng to ma ke you aw are
mi­ that you can t :i nde rsta nd her . She doe
s not giv e you info rm atio n, wh ich is
ular the raw ma te nal of cul tur e,- she gives
you sym pat hy, wh ich is its sub tles t
gi:ls essen ce.
�Ig­ A mo r num ero us cla ss of
. � sill y novels tha n the ora cul ar, (which
mg lly
� ms pir ed by som e form �f High Ch urc h, or tra nsc end ent are gener­
help is what we may cal l the white nec k-c al Ch rist ian ity, )
lot h spe cie s, wh ich rep res ent the
me of thought and fee ling in the Eva nge ton e
lica l par ty. Th is spe cie s is a kin d of
�ew teel tra ct on a large sca le, int end ed
as a sor t of me dic ina l sw eet me at for
gen ­
mg C h urc h you ng lad ies ; an Eva nge lica Lo w
l sub stit ute for the fas hio nab le nov
�me as the May � eet ing s8 are a sub stit el
on,
ute for the Op era . Even Qu aker chi
? ne wo uld thm k, can har dly have bee n den ied the ind ldr en
ulg enc e of a dol l; but
:
and It mu st be a dol l dre sse d in a dra
. b gow n and a coa l-sc utt le bon net-n
nsh �orl � ly dol l, in ga uze and spa ngl es . An d the re are ot a
ror, im � g me ,- un les s the y bel ong no you ng lad ies , we
to the Ch urc h of the Un ite d Bre thr
aste w� 1ch peo ple are ma rri ed wit hou en in
t an y love-m aki ng9-who can dis
able wit h love sto nes. .
Th us, for Eva nge lica l you ng lad ies pe � se
ate­ love s � ori e , in wh ich the vic the re are Eva nge lica l
� issi tud es of the ten der pas sio n are
And by savmg views of Regenerat san cti fied
ion and the Atonem ent . Th ese novels
differ from
ce. 6. Inflated dict ion.
It is assu med a Yorksh irem
can not disc ern the diff an and a s t aple of L atin inst ruct
ern dial ect and
n the eren ce betw een his nor th­ ion for cent urie s.
8 . The Chu rch of Eng land 's
7. Ro man stat esm
the spe ech of a Lon don er. Mis sion ary Soci ety's
. C . E .) ,
an and orat or ( ! 06- 43 B
annu al sprin g mee tings .
9. Cour tship .
 G E O RG E E L I OT
412

Church- frag
ac ula r on es , as a Low Ch urc hwom an oft en differs from a High and
the or . · s, and a gre at dea l mo re ign ora nt, a
sup erc 1· 1 10u mus
woma n.. they are a htt l e. 1 ess t de al mo re vu lga r.
1

�� � ������ :/��:��:�: � ; �:�:

i a d and
lit les is the yo un � curat e, looke at
e l
·
i l te a
· of the mi ddl e cla ss, wh ere cam bn c ban d s are un er-
� in g
ma s
fro m th e po mt of view . . g an effect on the hea rts of you ng lad ies as epau­
to ha ve as thn llm mou
sto od ina ry typ e of these
let tes 3 have in the cla sse s ab ove an d b e1 ow I't . In the ord d on er-
toric
novels, the he ro is al mo st s
b
ure
ut
to b � ��;��: � ::�::; �f �J
a yo u
car rym g c ap
t
e th r d gh- "Be
ap s, b y wo rldl y ma mm as,
h
"ne ver forg et ser mo n, ·" ten der gla nce s are sei zed. from th e bein
ter s, wh o ea n t h at
te'te - a' te'tes are sea son ed wi th .
qu o ta-
. sta us · ·
m s t e a d o f t h e ope ra- b ox; pare
1
pu pit
-

est10n s as
quo tat ion s from the po ets ; an d qu
tio ns from S cn ptu r , 10.ste � d f
. . fere n
to the sta te of the � ero me� s a f ec t'ion s are mi ngled wi th an xie tie s as to the
ll-d res s ed
�ec
te o f h er sou 1 Th e you ng cur ate alwa ys h as a bac ka"' rou nd of we mon
sta . ty ;-fo r Ev g l' c 1 sill ine ss is as snob-
:: � :i
·

y, if not fas hio n b

� . l e socie duct
a nd wealth � lady novelist, while
. h as any o the r k ind of s1llme ss·' an d th e Ev ge i . 10u
. s on is po
b is ge , is am b1t
���� �:� : :�� ;:: y f he p e t on on e pa that
she explai ns to you ers ati on of ari sto cratic pe ople.
�: �:�: �� ::�=� ��
e e n rs c fasci
t
�� ��� ��: �� ::�
c s
t s f ion abl e soc �ety .are oft � n a
e cur iou s plain
e
0n ; bu : mo rt l
effort s of the
t he Wh ' Ne
Ev
ck-
an
clo
gel
th
ica
Sc
l
h
im
oo
a
l
gm
are
at1
��
men't on ou sly e listic ' -t hei r fav
our ite
son age .
and
work
��
h ero, th van gel ica l you ng cur
ate is always rat her an ins ipi d per she
mod
* * *
men
, t he lea st rea dab le of sill y wo me n's novels , are the modern­ boili
Bu t ' perhap � bre s,
. ue sp ec ies , wh ich unfold to us the dom est ic life of Ja nn es and Ja � mer
ult im ate
. h er ib ' or the me nta l str ug gle s and
antiq
free
the pri. vate love affaus of S en n�c . 4 Fro m mo st silly novels we can at
e · f D etr ius t h e s1 lver sm 1th treat
�:::� ;���: � :� � �� � ; �;�:: �����:� :e ::::�
a 0
·

na t c
c a la h ; b ut th? se of e m e high
e� w ic w prin
ou s , a lea den kin d of fatmty, un ir own
on str ative of the ina bil ity of lite rar y wo me n . to me asu re the of lit
dem c o 1 be 'ustifie d
powers, th an their fre quent a ssum� o
o f acq mr
ti n o
em en
k
g
: :,�;� :�:�� ;� �� �
? e est ffort to
exte
hard
b the rar est con cur ren ce . .
nat 1ve-1s always mo re or less
:
r ani mate
. .
the pas t is of cou rse only approx i i:
int o the anc ien t for m,-
qual
the r
an in fus1 on of the mo der n spirit
ness
Wa s ihr den Ge ist der Zei ten hei sst, .
ist, of fa
nd der He rre n eig ner Ge
Da s ist im Gru ity i
In dem die Zei ten sich bes pie geln .5 wou
. . g t at ge n ius wh ich ha s fam ilia riz ed itse lf wit h all the rel ics of
� ear p
Ad m1 ttm ination,
. by the force of its sym pat het ic div
an ancient pen od can som� t1mes, .
sic o f hu manit y'" and rec on str uct the
wou
mi ssi ng no tes m t h e " mu prin
res tore the
tual
e Egy ptia n mag ida ns
by th
J ann es and J amb res wer
l . Com mon . . w h o opp Osed Mos es at Pha raoh 's cou rt (2 T1m o- in a
allu s10n to the h ero o f A ssyn· an k'mg who
2 The rom ant ic her o (in ib was an
E .
her
. c .
nac
s
thy 3 . 8 ) . Sen
S h ake spe are 's As You Lik .
of the age / 1s at the
e It): 6 8 1
rule d from 7 0 5 to
6 . Wo
�
of m1h. tary men , as cam ·
spir it, I in �
3 Atti re char acte risti c 5 Wh at they call the spir it
hs) are of the clergy. h th
b � ic ban d s (whi te neck -clot
h1c
b � se the gen tlem en's own
in the
er of stat ues of the s 7. Eli
1 9 . 2 4-2 7 the mak rma n; Goe the Fau st
4. In Acts l for age s are refle cted (Ge
Rom an god dess Dia na who d �nou nces Pau , cht , line s 5 7 7-7 9) . wo me
him and his . fello w [ 1 8 0 8] Na
y from
�: hJl
k' bus ines s awa
le to Chr istia nity.
a m en by convert ing peop
 S I L LY NOVELS BY L A DY N OV E L I STS 413

fragm ents into a whole which will really bring the remote past nearer to us,
and interpret it to our duller apprehension,-this form of imaginative power
must always be among the very rarest, because it demands as much accurate
and minute knowledge as creative vigour. Yet we find ladies constantly choos­
ing to make their mental mediocrity more conspicuous, by clothing it in a
ma squerade of ancient names; by putting their feeble sentimentality into the
mouths of Roman vestals or Egyptian princesses, and attributing their rhe­
torical arguments to Jewish high-priests and Greek philosophers. * * *

"Be not a baker if your head be made of butter," says a homely proverb, which,
being interpreted, may mean, let no woman rush into print who is not pre­
pared for the consequences. We are aware that our remarks are in a very dif­
fere nt tone from that of the reviewers who, with a perennial recurrence of
�ecisely similar emotions, only paralleled, we imagine, in the experience of
monthly nurses,6 tell one lady novelist after another that they "hail" her pro­
ductions "with delight." We are aware that the ladies at whom our criticism
e
is pointed are accustomed to be told, in the choicest phraseology of puffery,
n
that their pictures of life are brilliant, their characters well drawn, their style
.
� fascinating, and their sentiments lofty. But if they are inclined to resent our
plainness of speech, we ask them to reflect for a moment on the chary praise,
and often captious blame, which their panegyrists give to writers whose
e
works are on the way to become classics. No sooner does a woman show that
she has genius or effective talent, than she receives the tribute of being
moderately praised and severely criticised. By a peculiar thermometric adjust­
rn­
ment, when a woman's talent is at zero, journalistic approbation is at the
boiling pitch; when she attains mediocrity, it is already at no more than sum­
s,
te mer heat; and if ever she reaches excellence, critical enthusiasm drops to the
at freezing point. Harriet Martineau, Currer Bell, and Mrs. GaskelF have been
treated as cavalierly as if they had been men. And every critic who forms a
:� high estimate of the share women may ultimately take in literature, will, on
principle, abstain from any exceptional indulgence towards the productions
wn
ed of literary women. For it must be plain to every one who looks impartially and
to extensively into feminine literature, that its greatest deficiencies are due
ss hardly more to the want of intellectual power than to the want of those moral
qualities that contribute to literary excellence-patient diligence, a sense of
the responsibility involved in publication, and an appreciation of the sacred­
ness of the writer's art. In the majority of women's books you see that kind
of facility which springs from the absence of any high standard; that fertil­
ity in imbecile combination or feeble imitation which a little self-criticism
of would check and reduce to barrenness; just as with a total want of musical
on, ear people will sing out of tune, while a degree more melodic sensibility
the would suffice to render them silent. The foolish vanity of wishing to appear in
print, instead of being counterbalanced by any consciousness of the intellec­
tual or moral derogation implied in futile authorship, seems to be encouraged
dan s by the extremely false impression that to write at all is a proof of superiority
1mo -
who
in a woman. On this ground, we believe that the average intellect of women

6 . Women hired to look after mothers and babies

�
t the ( 1 802-1 876), a prolific author in a range of nonfic­
h th in the first month after childbirth. tion genres. Charlotte Bronte ( 1 8 1 6- 1 8 5 5 ) , novel­
7. Eliot names three of the foremost British
ust ist (first published under the pseudonym Bell).
wo men writers of the l 9th century. Martineau Elizabeth Gaskell ( 1 8 1 0-1865), novelist.
414 G E O RG E E L I OT

is unfairly represented by the mass of feminine literature, and that while the
few women who write well are very far above the ordinary intellectual level of
their sex, the many women who write ill are very far below it. So that , a fter
all, the severer critics are fulfilling a chivalrous duty in depriving the mere
fact of feminine authorship of any false prestige which may give it a delu sive
attraction, and in recommending women of mediocre faculties-as at le as t a
negative service they can render their sex-to abstain from writing.
The standing apology for women who become writers without any sp ecia l
qualification is, that society shuts them out from other spheres of oc cupa­
tion. Society is a very culpable entity, and has to answer for the ma nu fac­
ture of many unwholesome commodities, from bad pickles to bad p oetry.
But society, like "matter," and Her Majesty's Government, and other l ofty
abstractions, has its share of excessive blame as well as excessive prais e.
Where there is one woman who writes from necessity, we believe there are
three women who write from vanity; and, besides, there is somethi ng so
in
antiseptic in the mere healthy fact of working for one's bread, that the m ost
trashy and rotten kind of feminine literature is not likely to have been pro­
duced under such circumstances . "In all labour there is profit;"8 but ladies'
silly novels, we imagine, are less the result of labour than of busy idleness.
Happily, we are not dependent on argument to prove that Fiction is a
department of literature in which women can, after their kind, fully equal
men. A cluster of great names, both living and dead, rush to our memories in
evidence that women can produce novels not only fine, but among the very
finest;-novels, too, that have a precious speciality, lying quite apart from
at�
masculine aptitudes and experience. No educational restrictions can shut
women out from the materials of fiction, and there is no species of art which
is so free from rigid requirements. Like crystalline masses, it may take any
form, and yet be beautiful; we have only to pour in the right elements­ alt
genuine observation, humour, and passion. But it is precisely this absence of
rigid requirement which constitutes the fatal seduction of novel-writing to
incompetent women. Ladies are not wont to be very grossly deceived as to
their power of playing on the piano; here certain positive difficulties of execu­
tion have to be conquered, and incompetence inevitably breaks down. Every
art which has its absolute techni que is, to a certain extent, guarded from
the intrusions of mere left-handed imbecility. But in novel-writing there are
no barriers for incapacity to stumble against, no external criteria to prevent
a writer from mistaking foolish facility for mastery. And so we have again and
again the old story of La Fontaine's ass, who puts his nose to the flute, and, Se.:!
finding that he elicits some sound, exclaims, "Moi, aussi, je joue de la
flute;"9-a fable which we commend, at parting, to the consideration of
any feminine reader who is in danger of adding to the number of "silly novels
by lady novelists."
1856 1856

8. Proverbs 1 4 . 2 3 .
9. I a l s o play t h e flute (French). J e a n de La Fontaine ( 1 6 2 1 - 1 6 9 5 ) , French author of beast fables.
 THE " WO M A N Q U E ST I O N " 653

THE " WOMAN QUESTION " :

THE VICTORIAN D EBATE ABOUT GENDER

"The greatest social difficulty in England today is the relationship between men
and women . The principal difference between ourselves and our ancestors is that
they took society as they found it while we are self-conscious and perplexed. The
institution of marriage might almost seem just now to be upon trial." This assertion
by Justin M'Carthy, appearing in an essay on novels in the Westminster Review (July
1864), could be further extended, for on trial throughout the Victorian period was not
only the institution of marriage but the family itself and, most particularly, the tradi­
tional roles of women as wives, mothers, and daughters . The "Woman Question," as
it was called, engaged many Victorians, both male and female.
As indicated in our introduction to the Victorian age, the Woman Question encom­
passed not one question but many. The mixed opinions of Queen Victoria illustrate
some of its different aspects. Believing in education for her sex, she gave support and
 " WO M A N Q U E ST I O N "
6 54 T H E

So c
n in 1 8 47. On the other hand ,
encouragem ent to the
cep
�
fou dm g of a coII ege for wo me
t o
.
vot �: �
es f wome which she des
crib ed in a letter as "thi s hou
she opp ose d the con n and ma rriage . ch i
qua lly tho ugh t-pr o vo mg are er c om me nts on wo me wo r
mad folly." E . was nev-
e d eat h o f p rmc e Alb ert in 1 8 6 1 ' Vic tor ia . .
men. Wn. tmg m
. y ma rn e . d h ers e If unt il t h ch i
H ap pil ma rria ge imp ose d on wo
f t he sacn·fi ces . .
ert h eIess awar·e of som e o d· "Th ere is gre at h appmess . . .
m mid
1 8 5 8 to her rec en tIY ma rn
· e d dau g h ter ' s h e rem ar k e
are very selfish st at
·

If to an o ther w h o
.
1s wor t h y of one 's affe ctio l1'' stil l ' men
dev oti ng on ese nov
is aIways one of sub m1s . si·on wh ich ma kes our poo r sex so
and the wo ma n, s d e�o t'ion tho ugh it can not be otherwise . fou
env iab le. Th is you w1 11 feeI h erea fter-I kno w·' eve
very un .

as Go d has wi lle d it so. " . pti ons tha t wo ma n's role dem
ale su bJect s sh are d her ass um
Many of t h e qu een' s fem . sel ect ion s from Sar.ah tim
be acc ep ted as div . mely wil led -a s illu str ate d in the ch a
to ins pira tion al advice
om n of E ngl a�d , a ma nua l of
wa s
op ular w ork of 1839, The W � end
Ell is's p k
l b oo s l 1ke Mrs B e eto
n's Book of Household
now usu a11y c I ass '
i fi e d w ith mor e pra ct1c a . .
"subm 1ss1 0n, , of from
·

. l '
1 t era t u re " Th e req uir ed
Manageme nt ( 1 861 ) as "d 1:1 r
0 est1 c con d uct
the sup posed res
·

. ed m . ma n quar ter s on the gro und s of

rzv P �P� �� ;��!
qu een wr ote wa s JUS t1fi Fre
wh ich the
of wo me As Jy e ted Jore expres sed it: "Average
inf eri ori ty soc
lbs ; o ':1 � n s
int elle ctu al . " In the min ds of many, then,
s,
Weight of Man's Bra in 3 1/2 ras e from the spe aker of Ten-
B ro
a !lower bram , (to b orrow a ph
the po sse sso rs of t h e " sh her
ny son , s "L oc k s I .
ey H a II ' " 1 842
.
) ' nat urally deserve d a dep end
.
e t een th- cen tur y con
ent rol e. In rem inding
duc t book availa . bie m
. tud
wear her wed-
. ran ge 0f duties ' ano t h er mn
wi ves of th elf
. om me n d e d tha t a wife always .
many e d 1t1o · ns , Th e Female Instructor, rec upo n 1t, an d
\
s
ff1 mi ght "ca st [her] eye
I
din g rin g s o th at when � ver s h
[he
e
r]
fe\ �i ;
.
,,
" r
n t is .
e d ,, s he
i· ate it wo uld follow that
a wom an who
call to mi nd wh o gav it to vio lati ng
trie d to cul tiv ate her
�
mt elle �ct � yon d d r � .
i g_ro om acc omplis hm ent s was
to be valued , ins tea d, for
rel 1g10 us tra d 1t1o n . Wo ma n was
the ord er o.f .N.at ure a nd of . of her sex ·· ten der nes s of un d er-
tie s con s!' d ere d e spe cial ly c h ara cten. s t 1c
oth er qu ali , in var iou s deg ree s,
unw orld line ss and . oce nce , d om es t'JC affect ion ' and
inn
sta ndi ng,
sub mi ssiven ess . an obJ·e ct to be wo rsh ipe d-
an "angel
I ies , wom an b eca me
By vir tue of t h ese quaJ't' . ula r poem Geo
" c ove n t r y Pat mor e desc nb .e d her i· n the title
of his pop
as
·

use , . . s1s t e d · n his hio hl infl uen tial and much-

�
ho
:
in the test
5
(1 8 4 62) .- In a sim ilar v einJ o hn � R us m 1n
� d om en "are in nothing the
. G ardens ( 8 6 5 ) tha men al
repr mte d es say "Of. Que ens and rece1v ·
· mg wom
ess an d per fect 1on . f b th dep end s on eac h ask ing
� ,� �
alik e, and the hap pm e," he felt , ma de the
er wh at the oth er can onl y g1Ve : t e pow ers of "a tru e wif
from the oth thin kers
P
bet
re d l ace . " A num b er o f f em 1n1s t s a s wel l as more trad itio nal
the ho me " a sac Elio t arg ues in her ess ay on I
n's cha rac ter, but , as Geor ge
hel d thi s ide
llst
al
one
vie
cra
w
ft
of wo
(see P·
ma
401 �
P�.
), the e al� ed de � ta! on wh
ich wo me n were pla ced
t
ope

� :��
Ma ry Wo g anv alte rati on in stat us . Tha life
wa s o ne of th e pr� ncip a
.
l obs tacl � s to t :If a
t en a� a natural, and thus in evi­ hom
and m ma rna ge a
wo ma n's pos itio n m soe tety
� � of c an . E ch o . the arguments of Wollstonecraft A
table, sta te als o sto od in the
� ': a �
��� C con ten ded in 1 8 8 8 that the ins ti­ ext
;��
Stu art Mi ll, the f m ms t wn ter
and Joh n � m bei ng var
y con str� cte d had a spe cifi c his tor y: far fro
tut ion of ma rriage was soc ial ht to
; � ��� t cou ld and oug arr
marr ge w � a s oci atio n tha
a relation ship ord ained by God, pa rtn ers as s
edo m an e �ua t ty o oth
be reinvented to pro mo te fre
nizes that th e type of mar i
iage sh e env isio ns is a d stan t
ide al: to move ass
Caird rec og : . . which will reb uild [establishe d tion
al alteration o f opm10n
toward it, sh e eaII s for a "o.,radu est abl ish ed instl- . Mr
s] fro m the ver y fou nd atw . n. " E ar lier in the cen tur y tho se
ins titu tion . d and unm arr ied alik e, diss atis fied of l
e wo me n, ma rne
tut ion s app ear to hav e left som
and unf ulfi lled . It is com mo� ly
� :��:�:� �
said tha t b r a arti cula r pro blem for Vic to­
f ma les in this era nee d to b e
ria'
ac
: � � (;
ab ut u
rian wo me n, .but generahzat10n: � En gla nd' s fem ale pop ­ ogr
. -V1c ton an p ri d on -qu art er of
seve re ly qua lifie d. In the m1d
cl :: an I 1 g At the sam e tim e oth er wh
ula tion had job s, mo st of the m on e :
�� � �
ous .

work mg as pro s I u h exi sten ce of this "Gr eat hac

wom en earn ed the ir livi ngs by
 THE " WO M A N Q U E ST I O N " 655

d, So cial Evil," as the Victorians regarded it, being one indication that the "angel in the
hi s h o use" was not always able to exert her moralizing influence on her mate or her male
ge . ch ildren) . While the millions of women employed as domestics, seamstresses, factory
ev- wo rkers , farm laborers, or prostitutes had many problems, excessive leisure was not
.
m ch ief among them. To be bored was the privilege of wives and daughters in upper- and
.
m middle-class homes, establishments in which feminine idleness was treasured as a
fish st at us symbol. Among this small and influential segment of the population, as the
so novelist Dinah Maria Mu lock emphasizes, comfortably well-off wives and daughters
.
ise fou nd that there was "nothing to do," because in such households the servants ran
everything, even taking over the principal role in rearing children. Freed from
ole dem anding domestic duties, such women cou ld not then devote their unoccupied
r ah tim e to other labors, for there were few sanctioned opportunities for interesting and
.
vice ch a llenging work, and little support or encouragement for serious study or artistic
hold endeavor. If family finances failed and they were called on "to do" something, women
, of from these classes faced considerable difficulties : their severely limited choice of
osed respectable paid occupations meant that many sought employment as governesses.
rage Frequently taken up as a topic in novels of the period, the complex and compromised
hen, social position of the governess is, for instance, a notable feature of Charlotte
Ten- B ronte 's ]ane Eyre ( 1 847). Bronte's character, however, does not limit her criticism to
ding her own impoverished plight when she expresses her frustration with the social atti­
.
ie m tudes that governed the behavior of women of her class more broadly:
wed-
Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men
an d
feel; they need exercise for their faculties and a field for their efforts as much
who
as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagna­
ating
tion, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privi­
d, for
leged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making
n d er-
puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags .
ree s,
It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or
learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.
angel
poem George Meredith, in his Essay on Comedy ( 1 873), develops the same argument; the
much- test of a civilization, he writes, is whether men "consent to talk on equal terms with
thing their women, and to listen to them." Yet at least two reviewers of Jane Eyre, both
e1v ·
· mg women, regarded such proposals as tantamount to sedition. Margaret Oliphant called
ma de the novel "A wild declaration of the ' R ights of Women' in a new aspect," and Eliza­
nkers beth Rigby attacked its "pervading tone of ungodly discontent."
say on In some households such discontent, whether godly or ungodly, led to a daughter's
pla ced open rebellion. One remarkable rebel was Florence Nightingale, who found family
. That life in the 1 8 5 0s intolerably pointless and, despite parental opposition, cut loose from
in evi­ home to carve out a career for herself in nursing and in hospital administration.
necraft As chronicled by Sir Walter Besant, similar drives for independence produced
e ins ti­ extraordinary changes for women during the late Victorian period, making a wide
m bei ng variety of professional opportunities available to them. The era also witnessed the
ught to arrival of the much-debated phenomenon of the "New Woman": frequently satirized
as simply a bicycle-riding, cigarette-smoking, mannish creature, this confident and
o move assertive figure burst onto the scene in the 1 890s, often becoming the focus of atten­
blishe d tion in articles , stories, and plays (the character of Vivie in George Bernard Shaw's
d instl-. Mrs. Warren's Profession [1 898] is a good example of the type), and, indeed, the author
atis fied of literary works herself. Women of course had begun to be published before Victo­
r Vic to­ ria's reign, and many women became successful novelists. And yet embarking on such
d to b e a career was never an easy choice . The selections from Harriet Martineau's autobi­
ale pop ­ ography included here suggest some of the obstacles, internal and external, against
e oth er which the aspiring woman writer struggled. Inevitably, some female writers were
"Gr eat hacks , and they provide George Eliot with easy targets for ridicule in her essay " Silly
65 6 THE " WO M A N Q U E ST I O N "

Novels by Lady Novelists" ( 1 8 5 6) . Nonetheless, women emerge as major novelists dur­

ing the period, as illustrated in the careers of the Bronte sisters and Eliot herself.
It is instructive to compare the texts collected below with Eliot's judicious e ss ay
on the Woman Question, inspired by her rereading of Mary Wollstonecraft-and
with her fiction. For these issues engaged Eliot's attention in. her novels as well, as
is demonstrated in her highly complex portrait of Maggie Tulliver, the bookish early­
Victorian heroine of The Mill on the Floss ( 1 8 60). To be sure, not all her fem ale
characters are frustrated and discontented; as a realist Eliot recognized that many
upper- and middle-class women apparently found their leisurely lives fully enjoyable.
In Middlemarch ( 1 8 7 1 -72), for example, Celia Brooke Chetham rejoices in her com­
fortable life as wife and mother on a country estate. Yet to her sister Dorothea (whom
Celia regards with affectionate indulgence as an eccentric misfit), the tradition al
womanly lot in life is as painfully frustrating as Florence Nightingale had found it.
It was on behalf of such women as Dorothea that John Stuart Mill developed his
argument in The Subjection of Women ( 1 869), a classic essay that should be read in
conjunction with the selections in this section. Also revealing in this context are
some of the extracts above from Tennyson's 1 847 poem The Princess ("The woman's
cause is man's") and from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Aurora Leigh ( 1 8 57), a novel
in verse that portrays the life of a woman poet (book 1 describes how the typical girl's
education constricts a woman's mind, and book 2 features Aurora's defense of her
vocation as a poet). Frances Power Cobbe's 1 8 6 2 paper "The Education of Women,
and How It Would Be Affected by University Examinations," excerpted in "Beacons
of the Future?", provides a further useful perspective.
For additional texts on Victorian debates about gender, see the NAEL Archive.
Hom
as fo

SA RAH ST I C KN EY E L L I S rity
nec e
befo
n 1 837 the essayist Sarah Stickney ( 1 8 1 2?-1 8 72) married William Ellis, a mission­ det e
ary, and began to work with him for the temperance movement and other evangeli­ po te
cal causes. Ellis's 1 839 book on women's education and domestic roles became a best abou
seller, going through sixteen editions in two years. In the 1 840s she founded a girls' spiri
school that put into practice her belief that feminine education should cultivate arou
what she called "the heart" rather than the intellectual faculties of her pupils. witn
alone
brane
befor
From The Women of En g land: a bet
Their Social Duties and Domestic Habits Th
(DISINTERESTED KINDNESS] ins tru
for t, h
To men belongs the potent-(I had almost said the omnipotent) consider­ un ob t
ation of worldly aggrandizement; and it is constantly misleading their steps, their c
closing their ears against the voice of conscience, and beguiling them with an d p
the promise of peace, where peace was never found. :ate d
* * *
mflue
as wid
How often has man returned to his home with a mind confused by the many
voices, which in the mart, the exchange, or the public assembly, have addressed
themselves to his inborn selfishness, or his worldly pride; and while his integ- I. Fem a
 ELLIS, THE WO M E N O F E N G LA N D 65 7

dur­
· I

s ay
and
, as
rly­ -

'1 -

)
m ale
·· ' t
r • , .

. ·-

,�! f\ _ :. ' :
any
ble.
! .-
. ,
' . .

om­
.

hom
n al
d it.
his
d in
are
an's
ovel
irl's
her
men,
ons

Home Co mfo rts . Th e orig

ina l eap rwn t o t h i. s fro
as foll ow s : "It is the hom e
ntis piece to The Wome n of England run s
com for t s an d fi res1. d e .
virt ues ."

rity wa s sha ke n, an d his resolutio

nec ess ity, or the ins idi ou s pret � �
n g ave way b eath the pre ssu re of
app are nt
en s � s of expe iency, he has sto
on­
before the cle ar e e of
det ect ed the lurki g evi � 7��h :�; � i
n, as I � loo ked ire ctl y to the na
c1 � s act e was abo ut to com mi
ke
od correc ted
d tru th, an d
geli­ po ten t may have be com e thi ; mflue ce, tha t he
t. Nay, so
best about with him like a kind of
sec d :� ;�� � � ma y hav e bo rne it
sc en ceh for me nta l refere nc e, an
irls' spiritu al co un sel , in mo me nts of
tri al '· w en t e sna res of the world we
d
I
vate aroun d him , an d temptations f
� �
ro w1. th . n and wi tho ut have bri
bed over the
re
witne ss in his own bos om h h
alone, gu arding the fire sid e om� �
a h oug t f t e humble monitr
? � essl who sat I
ciort s o f h 1s d 1sta
nt
branee of her ch ara cte r' clo th .
d �� � �
h om e·' an d
ora l bea ty, ha s scattered the clo -
th e remem
I
before his me nta l vision ' and se
a bet ter ma n.
:
t im ack to t at b eloved ho me ud s
, a wi ser an d
The women of En gla nd , po sse
ssi ng th e .,ra o n d p n. v1l. eg e of be ing be tte r
I
ins tru cte d tha n tho se of a o th �: r cou ntr y, i � the i_n inu tia e of do me stic com­
for t, have ob tai ned a de r ;: i � �
�
im or a � ce n soc iet y far beyond
der­
ps,
un ob tru sive vir tue s wou d ap f �\� �: � I � ? e long -esta blish
wh at the ir

with
their cou ntry have pl ace d in
an d p�ote cti ng the mi no r mo ral
the �
n t h ig an d holy duty of ch er�
s of life from w ence spn. gs
ed cus t ms of
� shi ng
: ate d m purp ose, and glor io us in a ctio � � �11 th at Is ele­
mflue nc e is cen tra l an d co s The sp h ere of the ir dir ect pe rso na l
: ;�
·

e qu tl y sm ll; ut its extre me ope

as wid ely extende d � s the ra � �
ge o um an iee l mg. They may be
rati ons are
any les s str iki ng
sed
eg- I. Fem ale adv iser or men tor.
65 8 T H E " WOMAN Q U E ST I O N "

in society than some of the women of other countries, and may feel them­
selves, on brilliant and stirring occasions, as simple, rude, and unsophisti­
cated in the popular science of excitement; but as far as the noble daring of
Britain has sent forth her adventurous sons, and that is to every point of dan­
ger on the habitable globe, they have borne along with them a generosity, a
disinterestedness, and a moral courage, derived in no small measure from the
female influence of their native country.
It is a fact well worthy of our serious attention, and one which bears imme­
diately upon the subject under consideration, that the present state of our
national affairs is such as to indicate that the influence of woman in counter­
acting the growing evils of society is about to be more needed than ever.
* * *

In order to ascertain what kind of education is most effective in making

woman what she ought to be, the best method is to inquire into the charac­
ter, station, and peculiar duties of woman throughout the largest portion of
her earthly career; and then ask, for what she is most valued, admired, and
beloved?
In answer to this, I have little hesitation in saying-for her disinterested2
kindness. Look at all the heroines, whether of romance or reality-at all
the female characters that are held up to universal admiration-at all who
have gone down to honored graves, amongst the tears and lamentations of
their survivors. Have these been the learned, the accomplished women; the
women who could solve problems, and elucidate systems of philosophy? No:
or if they have, they have also been women who were dignified with the maj­
esty of moral greatness.
* * *

Let us single out from any particular seminary3 a child who has been there
from the years of ten to fifteen, and reckon, if it can be reckoned, the pains
that have been spent in making that child proficient in Latin. Have the same
pains been spent in making her disinterestedly kind? And yet what man is
there in existence who would not rather his wife should be free from selfish­
ness, than be able to read Virgil without the use of a dictionary?
* >:O: *

I still cling fondly to the hope that some system of female instruction will be
discovered, by which the young women of England may be sent from school
to the homes of their parents, habituated to be on the watch for every oppor­
tunity of doing good to others; making it the first and the last inquiry of
every day, "What can I do to make my parents, my brothers, or my sisters,
more happy? I am but a feeble instrument in the hands of Providence, but as
He will give me strength, I hope to pursue the plan to which I have been
accustomed, of seeking my own happiness only in the happiness of others.''
1839

2. I . e . , independent, impartial.
3. S chool (in the early 1 9th century, often specifically a private school for girls).
662 THE " WO M A N Q U E STI O N "

one can use sue h terms of a human creature- be incapable of error? So far f
. She must be endurmg
as she rules, all must be right, or � ot h'i � g is. . or-
. ly, mc l
ruptibly good; inst � nc tively, infall1bl 1s � 1'se not for self-development,
[: � : / c
.
but for self-renunci ation: . ' not h s
wise a set herself above her hus­ w
. IS SI
band, but that s h e may never fail from h' 'd e .. w i' se , not with the narrownes s w
of insolent and loveless �ride ' b ut w1'th the passionate gentleness of an m . fi - b
nitely variable, because mfimtely . appl'ica bl e, mo desty of service-the true so
chanoefulne
0
ss o f woman. I that great sense-"La donna e mobile," not
n a
"Qual pium' a l vento "; 3 no, nor yet " 'vana
r . er-
. ble as the shade ' by the light qmv h
ing aspen ma de ".4' but variable as the 1·ight, man ifold in fair and serene d'1v1-. ci
.
sion, that it may take t h e co lour of a 11 that it falls upon, and exal t it. ne
* * J.,'r;
in
-- in
1864 1865 my
Pr
. .
. Giuseppe Verdi's Rigoletto ( 1 8 5 1) . els
.
3 . "Women are as fi c kle as feathers in the wind/' amzmg D u ke m
the fi rst two l'mes of the famous aria by t h e wom - 4. S i r Walter Scott, Marmion ( 1 80 8) 6 . 3 0 wa
me
enc
tha
way
HA RRI ET M A RT I N EAU oth
suc
clud
artineau ( 1 8 02 - 1 8 76), who grew up m . t h e town of Norwich, suffered a pain­ Aik
fully unhappy childhood and ad�lesce nce b o th because of recurring illnesses own
an d because of the stnct an d narrow hfestyl e o f h er mi' ddle-class Unitarian family. pain
·

A rolific author, she pro d uce d ma �y kmds . . .

of b oo k s -history' poht1cal an d eco-
� nmrnt;w, , . She was best known for h er
judg
��''�"· i::�'!J';'.',�iNonl
trn•el
�
oo ic thwy, how
collection of instructive stone � , us ra i Economy ( 1 8 32-34 ) ; bn
. was
she also dealt wit h a w1'd e van ety of ot h er issues, such as slavery in the Unite
had
States (she was an early supporter of the abolitionists) . Her Autobiograp hy, wntten .
in 1 8 5 5 , was published in 1 8 7 7.In t h e fi rs t se lection she is eighteen years old. Aiki n
pla ce
in ci d
help e
From Autobio g rap hy rewar
in g p
When I was young, it wa s not th � u gh t p rop er for young ladies to study very Norw
conspicuou s l y; an d especially wit h pen m. h a nd . Young ladies (at least in We m
provincial towns) were expecte d to s1't d o n in the parlour to sew,- durmg . autho
.
which reading aloud was perm1tted,-or practice their music; but so as � to ok,
to be fit to receive callers, without any s1gn� ;
of bluestockingism1 which
could be reporte d ab roa d . Jane Austen h erse l ' the Queen of novelists, the
f I
3. Mart
.
immortal creator of Ann : Elhot Mr. K . htley 2 and a score or two more adol esc e

�f
of unrivalled intimate fnends o t h e w o e public ' was compelled by the
4. Praele
(Lectures
Low th

�
1. Fem 1e m
s ch ol ar.
. tellectualism or literary activity habitually wore un : onventional blue worsted

���� f��%'.
1 90 0), H

_"._��f�:
(from t lied bluestocking clubs of the 1 8th rather than silk sto , beca me
century mal gatherings of women with lit­ 2. Maior c .hara c respectively, the nov- mor al p h
erary interes t s. an d select men of letters; as the els Persuasion ( l 7 ) a n d Emma ( 1 8 1 5) by Austen 5. Rom an
derisive name imp] ie · s ' some of the men attending ( 1 7 7 5 - 1 8 l 7). ings offer
 M A RT I N E A U , A U TO B I O G R
APHY
663
far feelings of her fam ily to cover up
or- her m an us crip ts with a la rg
lin work, kept on the ta ble for ep
nt, the pu rp os e, when ever any ie ce of mu s­
came in. So it was wit h oth er y ge
us­ oun g la die s, for so me tim e aft nte el p eop le
was in her grave; an d thu s my er Ja ne Au sten
es s first stu dies in p hilos ophy
with great care an d res erve. were ca rrie d on
I
fi - breakfast ,-m aki ng my own c lot was at the work table reg ula rly a fter
ue hes, or th e s hir ts of the ho us
some fan cy work : I went out walk eh ol d, or ab ou t
not ing with th e rest, - be fore
and aft er tea in su m m er: and if din ner in win te r,
er- ever I sh ut myself into my
hour of solitu de, I kn ew it was a own room for an
v1-. t th e risk of bei ng se nt for to joi
circle, or to rea d alo u d, -I bei n the sewing­
ng the rea der, o n ac cou nt of
ness. 3 But I won tim e for wh at my g rowi ng de af­
my he ar t was set up on, nev
in the early m orn ing, or la te at ert heles s, - eith er
night. I ha d a stran ge pa ssio
-- in those days; and a goo d p rep n for tran sl ati ng,
ara
my life . Now, it was m eeting Ja tion it p rove d for the su bse qu ent work of
65 mes at seven in the morni ng
Prelec tio ns4 in the L at in, after to re ad L ow th 's
h avi ng be en busy sin ce five
5 1) . else, in my ow n room. Now it abo ut so me th ing
was tra nsl ating Ta citu s, 5 in
was the utm ost compre ss ion order to try wh at
of style th at I co uld atta in.
mention an in ci dent wh ile it o -Ab ou t this I m ay
cc urs. We ha d a ll grown up
ence for M rs. Barbauld6 (whic with
h s he fu lly des erved from mu a gre at rever­
than ourselves) an d, refle ctiv ch wis er pe ople
ely, for D r. Aiki n,7 her bro th
way, and far more in du striou s, er,-als o able in his
bu t with out her geniu s. Am
other lab ou rs, Dr. Aikin h ad ong a mu ltitu de of
tra nslated the Agricola8 of
such an en th usia sm over the orig Tacit us. I went i nto
cluding p ass age, th at I th ou ina l, an d e sp eci ally over the
ght I wou ld tra nslate it, and c ele brate d con-
in­ Aikin's, whic h I c ould pro cur corre ct it by D r.
e from our pu blic library. I
ses own tran slati on un question ab did it, an d found my
ly th e b est of the two. I h ad
ily. pains over it, -word by wor sp en t a n i n fin ity of
co- d; an d I am con fide nt I was
judgme nt. I sto od p ain ed an no t wro ng in my
h er d m orti fie d be fore my desk,
bn � how strange an d s mall a ma
was to be taken as a te stim
tter was hu m an ach ievem ent,
I re me mber, th in king
if D r. Aiki n's fam e
e ony of literary de ser t. I had
had ta ken for my master. I b eat en hi m whom I
en ne ed not p oint out tha t, in
Aiki n's fam e did no t ha ng th e fi rst pla ce, D r.
on th is par ticu lar work; nor
pla ce, I had exaggerated his that, in th e sec on d
fam e by our se ctarian esti m
in ci dent as a curio us litt le ate of hi m.9 I give the
pie
help ed to m ake me like lit era ce of pe rson al exp erie nc e, and one whic h
ry la bo ur m ore for its own
rewards, th an I might oth sa ke, an d less for its
erwise have don e.-Well: to
in g p rop ens itie s. O ur cou retu rn to my tran slat­
sin J. M . L . , th en stu dyin
ery Norwic h, us ed to re ad Ita g for his p rofess ion in
lia n with Ra chell and me, -
in We m ade so me c on si derab also be fore break fast.
le progr ess, th ro ug h the usu
authors an d p o ets ; an d o
mg ut of th is grew a fit which Ra al co urs e of pro se
as to ok, in conc ert with o ur chel an d I at on e ti me
comp an ions and n eighbo urs,
ch the C.'s, to tran sla te
he 3. Marti ne au's heari
ng proble ms wo rsene
ore adol esc en ce, an d sh e b
4. Praelectiones de
eca me alm ost entirely
d in
deaf.
6 . An na Lae titi a Bar
and wri ter of pro se for
bau ld ( 1 74 3 - 1 8 2 5 ) , poe
t
he (Lectures on Hebrew
Sacra Po esi Herh rae
Poetry, 1 7 5 3 -7 0), by
orum 7. John Aikin ( ! 747- 1 8
chi ldr en.
22), E n glish physician
Low th ( 1 7 1 0 - 1 78 7), Rob ert auth or, an d bio grap her; ,
an Eng lish bish op he col labo rate d with
s ch ol ar. Jam es was and sist er in som e pub lica tion his
Jam es Mart ine au ( 1 8 s.
sted 0 5-
. E .) ,
1 90 0), Harriet's you 8 . A bio gra phy of Jul
nger brot her, who ius Ag rico la (40 -93 c
beca me a renowned later Tacit us's fat he r-in -law
nov- Unit arian p rea ch er an d a Ro ma n sen ator a
mor al p hil osop her. and gen era l. Aik in's tra nsl atio nd
ten 5. Rom an historian n, wh ich we nt int o sev
eral edi tion s, was firs t pub ­
(ea. 5 5 -ca. 1 2 0), whos lish ed in 1 774.
ings offer a model of e writ­ 9. Aik in, like Ma rtin eau
con cise pro se. , wa s a Un itar ian .
1. Ma rtin eau 's you nge r
sist er.
 " WO M A N Q U E ST I O N "
664 T H E

in compo siti on tha� tran s- "C

2
Pe tra rc h. No t m �
• g co uld be better as an exerci se
. E ngl'I �h of the sam e lim its . It
was pu ttm g our­ he
t
la i ng P etra rch s so nn e ts mto ad set mys elf "T
h
. do w1 th the It alia n w at I h
se 1 ves un d er com pu l s1on to . or. 1 be li·eve we really suc cee
de d p retty "A
the L atm au th .
volun tan · 1Y to d 0 w ith
well; and I am sur e th t a ll th � �e exe . : we re a�::�
sin gul arl y apt pre paration wh
"M
1 t on stu dy ing Bla ir's Rh eto ric3 (for
for my after work. At t e sa�e � � ' g mig . ht1. ly to every kin d of bo ok or pr o- wa
o f a b ett er gm ·de ) an d me 1 mm s ty
wa nt . rary sk I. ll ,-rea lly as if I ha d forese en how
1 ite
ce ss wh ich co uld improve my (a
1 was to sp en d my life. a
* * * en
earance no
. .
tim e,- (1 th m. k it mu st hav e be en in 182 1 ,) wa s my fir st app -m
At th is en my idoliz ed com pa nio n, dis.
covered
. prm
m . t. * * * My bro the r J am es, th cat 10n ; and rie
he d I wa s wh en he lef t me for his co lle ge , aft er the va th
how wr etc . yself to be so mi ser ab le. He advis me
ed
tol d me th at I mu st no t pe r � 1t � ticular Th
he t par
on, i n a n ew Purs uit · an d on tha
to take refuge, on eac h occ asi . l sa1. d ' as u � ua l ' tha t I wo uld if he sp
. n, ·
in an a ttem pt at aut h ors h ip. m
oc ca sio . wou ld never do for him ' a you ng stu dent,
wo uld : to wh 1C . h h e an swered th at it . de
nt bef ore the eye s o f h . tu tor s·' but he des ire d me to wnte
is
to ru sh int o pri . the "M onthly de
ing th at wa s m. n:1Y h e a d and try my ch an ce w1th it in of
som eth
poo r htt 1 e U mt
'. . an per 10
an . dic al in wh ich I have mentioned
Re po sit . ory, - " the di. d , as au
lfo urd 4 tn . ed his. yo un g po we rs. W h at James de sir ed , I always
tha t Ta er six o'clock,
ft me to my wi·dowh oo d soo n aft
of co ur se ; and a fter h e had l e de sk before seven , be gin ning a
one bri ght Se pt � � � � �� �: :?t
mbe
r o t
0
e
\? o�t g a t
p ory,"- th at editor b eing the for­
W
to th e Ed ito on
let ter
r o f h .
is sec t,- R e - Ro be rt As pla nd .s I sup po se I must
mi dab le prim
tel l wh at tha
e
t
mi
fir
ni
st
ste
pa pe r wa s, ; th � ug h h a d mu ch rat he r no t; for I
am so
at the article
be
m
b usm ess as never to have looked
he ar t1. 1y as h ame d 0 f the whole . 1 t wa s on Fem ale Writers on Pra cti ca
. l m
fi rst u tt er o f •t
i we nt o ff m
sin ce th e f1
. bl e s crawl of tho se days, on foo lsc
ap
. vm . .
1ty . 1 ro t e aw ay ' . my ab om ma
m ne. d my th
D1 � e, an d car
paper,6 fee lm g m1. gh t1·1y l'k i e a fool all the tim e. I told no on k the let­ pl
siv e pa cke t to the po st-o ffi ce mys elf' to pay the po stage. I too I,
exp en
· na tu re, - I can no t at a l l rem ember why Th e tim e was very
ter V for my sig ever pu
·

en d of the mo nt h : I h a d no d e fin ite exp ect ati on that I sho uld lik
ne ar th e . 1Y d i. d not sup po se it co ul d b e m · th e
t h .
mg 0 f my P ape r- ' an d cer tam en
hear any
. m b er. Th at nu m b er wa s sen t i· n before ser vic e-t im on a
e
for th co mm g nu on it;. lo
mo rni ng . My he art ma y h ave b een be ati ng wh en I lai d ha nd s an
Su nd ay the No tic es
en i saw my artid e the re an d in
bu t it thu mp ed pro dig iou sly wh mo re from V o f No;wic h. Th ere
is bl
s, a re qu est to h ear
to Co rre sp on d en
�) �� . the sen sat ion of see ing on eself in
br
·

�
rta inl y som eth m en tu. e � cu l'i r m in a in
ce
fir st ti
�
e: t e me u � n the ms elves in up on the bra in ha
pri nt for the i:i -:-
1 any oth er mo de . So I felt tha
t day,
i k is .
mc ap a l e,
way of wh ich bla ck �
�l h- � sec r · 1 aid wh at my eld est bro the r wa s or
� �= �
wh en I we nt ab ou t wi th my m
rev ere nc e w e he i . as jus t ma rri ed, and he an d his
to us ,- in wh at he sai d, wa
de ask ed me to ret urn f rom c h ap e wi•th the m to tea . After tea fri
bri
an
Talfourd ( 1 7 9 5 - 1 85 4),
4. Sir Tho ma s Noo n
o Pet rarc a, 1 304 - 1 3 74) .
Bel les Lettres 0 784 ),
2 . Ital ian poe t (Fr anc esc Eng lish law yer and aut hor . 18
3 . Lectures on Rhe tori c and Un itar ian div ine (!7_ 82- 1 8 4 5 ) .
5. A .
), a Sco ttish d1vm e and
bY Hu gh Bla ir ( 1 7 1 8- 1 800 6. A thir teen -by- sixt een -inc
h she et of pap er.
rhet oric ' whi ch expresse d 1 8th-
pro fess or of
styl e .
cen tur y ide als of pro se
 M A RT I N E A U , A U TO B I O G RA P H Y 66 5

s- "Come now, we have had plenty of talk; I will read you someth ing;" and he
ur­ held out his hand for the new "Repository." After glancing at it, he exclaimed,
elf "They have got a new hand here. Listen." After a paragraph, he repeated,
tty "Ah ! this is a new hand; they have had nothing so good as this for a long
on whi le ." (It would be impossible to convey to any who do not know the
for " M onthly Repository" of that day, how very small a compliment this was.) I
r o- was silent, of course. At the end of the first column, he exclaimed about the
ow s tyle , looking at me in some wonder at my being as still as a mouse . Next
(a n d well I remember his tone, and thrill to it still) his words were-"What
a fine sentence that is! Why, do you not think so?" I mumbled out, sillily
enough, that it did not seem any thing particular. "Then," said he, "you were
nce not listening. I will read it again. There now!" As he still got nothing out of
red - me, he turned round upon me, as we sat side by side on the sofa, with "Har­
and riet, what is the matter with you? I never knew you so slow to praise any
me thing before." I replied, in utter confusion,-"I never could baffle any body.
ular The truth is, that paper is mine." He made no reply; read on in silence, and
f he s poke no more till I was on my feet to come away. He then laid his hand on
ent, my shoulder, and said gravely (calling me 'dear' for the first time) "Now,
wnte. dea r, leave it to other women to make shirts and darn stockings; and do you
nthly devote yourself to this." I went home in a sort of dream, so that the squares
oned of the pavement seemed to float before my eyes. That evening made me an
d , as authore ss.
lock,
* * *
ing a
e for­ While I was at Newcastle [1829] , a change, which turned out a very happy
must one, was made in our domestic arrangements. * * * I call it a misfortune,
m so because in common parlance it would be so treated; but I believe that my
rticle mother and all her other daughters would have joined heartily, if asked, in
cti. cal my conviction that it was one of the best things that ever happened to us. My
lsc ap mother and her daughters lost, at a stroke, nearly all they had in the world by
ed my the failure of the house,-the old manufactory,-in which their money was
he let­ placed. We never recovered more than the merest pittance; and at the time,
s very I, for one, was left destitute;-that is to say, with precisely one shilling in my
d ever purse . The effect upon me of this new "calamity," as people called it, was
· th e
m like that of a blister upon a dull, weary pain, or series of pains. I rather
on a enjoyed it, even at the time; for there was scope for action; whereas, in the
.
on it; long, dreary series of preceding trials, there was nothing possible hut endur­
oti ces ance. In a very short time, my two sisters at home and I began to feel the
her e is blessing of a wholly new freedom. I, who had been obliged to write before
sel f in breakfast, or in some private way, had henceforth liberty to do my own work
n in a in my own way; for we had lost our gentility. Many and many a time since
at day, have we said that, but for that loss of money, we might have lived on in the
he r wa s ordinary provincial method of ladies with small means, sewing, and econo­
an d his mizing, and growing narrower every year; whereas, by being thrown, while it
e sai d, was yet time, on our own resources, we have worked hard and usefully, won
friends, reputation and independence, seen the world abundantly, abroad
and at home, and, in short, have truly lived instead of vegetated.
9 5 - 1 85 4),
1855 187 7
. er.
pap
670 T H E " WOMAN Q U E ST I O N "

w
le
0f
re
in
n
u
w
an

B
D I NAH M A RIA M U LOC K be
an
qu
n 1 8 5 7 Mulock ( 1 82 6-1 8 8 7 ) published her best-known novel, the Victorian best
seller John Halifax, Gentleman. This work was followed the year after by A Woman's
A
Thoughts on Women and subsequently by other, sometimes more overtly femin ist,
novels. In 1 8 6 4 she married George Craik, a partner in the publishing firm M acmil­
is
lan; her works often appear under the name Dinah Maria Craik. so
qu
be
in
From A Woman's Thou g hts about Women of
th
[SOMETHING TO oo]
Man and woman were made for, and not like one another. Only one "right"
we have to assert in common with mankind-and that is as much in our T
hands as theirs-the right of having something to do. m
m
* * * th
But how few parents ever consider this! Tom, Dick, and Harry, aforesaid, w
leave school and plunge into life; "the girls" likewise finish their education, su
come home, and stay at home. That is enough. Nobody thinks it needful to ca
waste a care upon them. Bless them, pretty dears, how sweet they are! papa's he
nosegay' of beauty to adorn his drawing-room. He delights to give them all la
they can desire-clothes, amusements, society; he and mamma together take sp
every domestic care off their hands; they have abundance of time and noth­ w
ing to occupy it; plenty of money, and little use for it; pleasure without end, w
but not one definite object of interest or employment; flattery and flummery2 th
enough, but no solid food whatever to satisfy mind or heart-if they happen tio
to possess either-at the very emptiest and most craving season3 of both.
They have literally nothing whatever to do. un
m
* * * m
And so their whole energies are devoted to the massacre of old Time. They ho
prick him to death with crochet and embroidery needles; strum him deaf th
pl
I . Posy, small bouquet of flowers. dessert). co
2. Nonsense (literally, a sweet and insubstantial 3 . Seasoning, salt and pepper. "t
 M U LO C K , A WO M A N ' S THOUGHTS ABOUT WO M E N 67 1

with pia no and harp playing-not music; cut him up with morning visitors, or
le ave his carcass in ten-minute parcels at every "friend's" house they can think
0f. Fin ally, they dance him defunct at all sort of unnatural hours; and then,
rejoicing in the excellent excuse, smother him in sleep for a third of the follow­
ing day. Thus he dies, a slow, inoffensive, perfectly natural death; and they will
never recognize his murder till, on the confines of this world, or from the
un known shores of the next, the question meets them: "What have you done
with Time?"-Time, the only mortal gift bestowed equally on every living soul,
an d excepting the soul, the only mortal loss which is totally irretrievable.
* :;-c *

B ut "what am I to do with my life?" as once asked me one girl out of the num­
bers who begin to feel aware that, whether marrying or not, each possesses
an -i ndividual life, to spend, to use, or to lose. And herein lies the momentous
ques tion.
* * *
n best
oman's
A definite answer to this question is simply impossible, Generally-and this
min ist,
M acmil­ is th e best and safest guide-she will find her work lying very near at hand:
some desultory tastes to condense into regular studies, some faulty household
quietly to remodel, some child to teach, or parent to watch over. All these
b eing needless or unattainable, she may extend her service out of the home
into the world, which perhaps never at any time so much needed the help
of us women. And hardly one of its charities and duties can be done so
thoroughly as by a wise and tender woman's hand.
* * *

"right"
in our These are they who are little spoken of in the world at large. * * * They have
made for themselves a place in the world: the harsh, practical, yet not ill­
meaning world, where all find
their level soon or late, and
resaid, where a frivolous young maid
cation, sunk into a helpless old one,
dful to can no more expect to keep
papa's her pristine position than a
em all last year's leaf to flutter upon a
er take spring bough. But an old maid
noth­ who deserves well of this same
t end, world, by her ceaseless work
mery2 therein, having won her posi­
appen tion, keeps it to the end.
both. Not an ill position either, or
unkindly; often higher and
more honourable than that of
many a mother of ten sons. In
They households, where "Auntie" is
m deaf the universal referee, nurse,
p laymate, comforter, and
counselor: in society, where
"that nice Miss So-and-so," Tea. A middle-class British Victorian family takes tea.
 672 T H E " WO M A N Q U E ST I O N "

though neither clever, handsome, nor young, is yet such a person as c an

neither be omitted nor overlooked: in charitable works, where she is "such a
practical body-always knows exactly what to do, and how to do it": or p er­
haps, in her own house, solitary indeed, as every single woman's ho me must
be, yet neither dull nor unhappy in itself, and the nucleus of cheerfu l nes s
and happiness to many another home besides.
* * *

Published or unpublished, this woman's life is a goodly chronicle, the title

page of which you may read in her quiet countenance; her manner, set tl ed,
cheerful, and at ease; her unfailing interest in all things and all people. You
will rarely find she thinks much about herself; she has never had time for it .
And this her life-chronicle, which, out of its very fullness, has taught her that
the more one does, the more one finds to do-she will never flourish in your g�
face, or the face of Heaven, as something uncommonly virtuous and extraor­
dinary. She knows that, after all, she has simply done what it was her duty
to do.
But-and when her place is vacant on earth, this will be said of her assu r­
edly, both here and Otherwhere-"She hath done what she could."
185 8

o
wounde cf 5 la1ers'auririg the d�
pa_s�·i.i:Jiicl te (\esl �!i£bi:�g� -t�e_i:o_:Joofhosj)Ttal
productive life
�l

E
writing a�sandra0which
before she

[
.
�I
: . ;� '�"' .., ( ' - · �- � t"J ..:··· /\�<;
�� me_n activity-thes�-
where' �xercfied? Me'n-say"that
1606 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE

cient pow
Why is sh
has a knife
pencil or
sacrament
will excus
pen and i
penny po
life. Peop
FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE: From Cassandra I ers, nor th
very desir
[Nothing to Do] such a la
W�y have women passion, intellect, moral activity-these three-and a they befo
plac� m society whe�e �o one of the three can be exercised? Men say that God rejected a
pumshes for complammg. No, but men are angry with misery. They are irri­ that such
tated when women for not bemg happy. They take it as a personal offense. To through h
God alone may women complain without insulting Him! Wome
mathema
* * * is imposs
Is discontent a privilege? some ma
Yes, it is a privilege for you to suffer for your race-a privilege not reserved opportun
to the Redeemer, and the martyrs alone, but one enjoyed by numbers in every In tho
age. last as lo
The com� onplace life of �housands; and in that is its only interest-its only the hum
ment as a history; viz. , that 1t zs th� type of common sufferings-the story of embracin
to the un
�ne who h�s not the courage to resist nor to submit to the civilization of her life with
hme-1s this.
least, are
Poetry an� imagina�ion begin life. A child will fall on its knees on the gravel
opportun
walk at .the sight of a pmk hawthorn in full flower, when it is by itself, to praise
and the d
God for 1t.
1:hen comes intellect. It wishes to satisfy the wants which intellect creates we ough
for it. � ut there is a physical, not moral, impossibility of supplying the wants Are m
of the mtellect m the state of civilization at which we have arrived. The stim­ If one
ulus, the tr�ining, the time, are all three wanting to us; or, in other words, the it strikes
means and mducements are not there. room in
Look at the poor lives we lead. It is a wonder that we are so good as we are no end o
not t�at we are so bad. In looking round we are struck with the power of th� "ladies'
orgamzat10ns we see, not with their want of power. Now and then it is true sitting ro
we are conscious that there is an in_ferior organization, but, in gener� I, just th� work, an
contrary. Mrs A. has the 1magmahon, the poetry of a Murillo, 2 and has suffi- of Comm
"His on
in the ca
I. Florence Nightingale (1820-1910) was in 1854 to kept pressure on her to remain at home. In 1852, so his moth
become world famous for organizing a contingent of bored with family and social life that she had thoughts come. "
nurses to take care of sick and wounded soldiers in the .
of sutc1de, she began writing Cassandra, which she
Crimean War, an event that provided an outlet for her called her "family manuscript"; it is a record of her Now,
passionate desire to change the world of hospital treat­ frustrations before she escaped into a professional world work an
ments. At the time she was writing Cassandra, how­ where there was "something to do." In 1859 she revised
ever, she had not Yet been able to realize her aims; at the manuscript and a few copies were privately printed to see a
thirty-two she was still living at home, unmarried (hav­ that year, but it was not published until 1928. The title think it
mg declined several proposals), with her well-to-do refers to the Trojan princess whose true prophecies went
family. Some members of her family, in particular her unheeded by those around her. Is ma
mother, strongly opposed her nursing ambitions and 2. Bartolome Murillo (1618-1682), Spanish painter. man an
 CASSANDRA 1607

deal more.
cient power of execution to show that she might have had a great
a menta l one. If she
Why is she not a Murjjjo? From a material difficulty, not
she cannot have a
has a knife and fork in her hands for three hours of the cl<i!Y,
pencil or brush. Dinner is the great sacred ceremony of this day, the great
ill. Nothing else
sacrament. To .be absent from dinner is equivalent to being
y valid. If she has a
will excuse us from it. Bodily incapacity is the only apolog
rs for the
pen and ink in her hands during other three hours, writing answe
um through
penny post, again, she cannot have her pencil, and so ad infinit
r fathers nor moth­
life. People have no type before them in their lives, neithe
say, "It is
ers, nor the children themselves. They look at things in detail. They
know
very desirable that A. , my daughter, should go to such a party, should
what standa rd have
such a lady, should sit by such a person. " It is true. But
words are
they before them of the nature and destination of man? The very
a in their minds
rejected as pedantic. But might they not, at least, have a type
od such another
that such an one might be a discoverer through her intellect,
i­
through her art, a third through her moral power?
To , e. g.,
Women often try one branch of intellect after another in their youth
life of "socie ty. " It
mathematics. But that, least of all, is compatible with the
long to enter
is impossible to follow up anything systematically. Women often
etition (or rather
some man's profession where they would find direction, comp
time.
opportunity of measuring the intellect with others) and, above all,
d , which will
In those wise institutions, mixed as they are with many follies
y the wants of
last as long as the human race lasts, because they are adapted to
, and which,
the human race; those institutions which we call monasteries
y adapted
embracing much that is contrary to the laws of nature, are yet better
of other mode of
to the union of the life of action and that of thought than any
er half hours, at
life with which we are acquainted; in many such, four and a
training and
least, are daily set aside for thought, rules are given for thought,
el this purpose,
opportunity afforded. Among us there is no time appointed for
e ful whether
and the difficulty is that, in our social life, we must be always doubt
we ought not to be with somebody else or be doing something else.
es
Are men better off than women in this?
ts g room,
If one calls upon a friend in London and sees her son in the drawin
m­ r ' s drawing
it strikes one as odd to find a young man sitting idle in his mothe
he s, there is
room in the morning. For men, who are seen much in those haunt
om heroes,"
no end of the epithets we have: "knights of the carpet," "drawing-ro
e the morning
"ladies' men. " But suppose we were to see a number of men in
� sitting round a table in the drawing-room, looking a.t prints,
doing worsted
e of the House
work, and reading little books, how we should laugh! A member
� of Commons was once known to do worsted. work. Of another
man was said,
fi- r every day
"His only fault is that he is too good; he drives out with his mothe
dine with
in the carriage, and if he is asked anywhere he answers that he must
he does not
so his mother, but, if she can spare him, he will come in to tea, and
hts come. "
n to do worsted
Now, why is it more ridiculous for a man than for a woma
he
er
if we were
ld work and drive out every day in the carriage? Why should we laugh
morning, and
to see a parcel of men sitting round a drawing room table in the
ed
ed
le think it all right if they were women?
nce between
Is man's time more valuable than woman's? or is the differe
nt
to do?
. man and woman this, that woman has confessedly nothing
1608 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE

Women are never supposed to have any occupation of sufficient importance who shall c
not to be interrupted, except "suckling their fools";3 and women themselves the improv
have accepted this, have written books to support it, and have trained them­ children, th
selves so as to consider whatever they do as not of such value to the world or the case is
to others, but that they can throw it up at the first "claim of social life. " The )ife; the wif
have accustomed themselves to consider intellectual occupation as a mere { But any
selfish amusement, which it is their "duty" to give up for every trifler mor � the depths
selfish than themselves. ing it--do
season of "
* * * go off, and
\_Von:ien have no means given then:i, _whereby they can resist the "claims of into the de
social life. ,, They a�e taught from then mfancy upwards that it is a wrong, ill­ nest, conc
tempered, and a misunderstanding of "woman's mission" (with a great M) if ions. "
they do not allow themselves willingly to be interrupted at all hours. If a woman
has once put in � claim to be treated as a man by some work of science or art
. * F
or hterature ' which she can show as the "fruit of her leisure," then she will be * *
. . a "To ry,"
considered Justified in having leisure (hardly, perhaps, even then). But if not '
not. If she has nothing to show, she must resign herself to her fate. Women
"I like riding abou� this ���utiful place, why don't you? I like walking about against wh
the garden, why don t you? 1s the common expostulation-as if we were chil­ and so in
dren, whose spirits rise during a fortnight's holiday, who think that they will Jived; tho
last forever-and look neither backwards nor forwards. they know
S oci�ty triu�phs over many. They wish to regenerate the world with their remembe
. . Later i
1�stitutions, with their mmal philosophy, with their love. Then they sink to
. . nor of int
hvmg from breakfast till dmner, from dinner till tea ' with a little worsted work'
and to looking forward to nothing but bed. ences wo
Whe� shall we see a life full of steady enthusiasm, walking straight to its an hour fr
. ever deep
aim, flymg home, as that bird is now, against the wind-with the calmness
and the confidence of one who knows the laws of God and can apply them? It seem
blessings
* agement
When shall we see a woman making a study of what she does? Married The m
w?men c�nnot'. for a man wo�ld think, if his wife undertook any great work at last th
. suffering
with the mtent10n of carrymg 1t out--0f making anything but a sham of it­
that she would "suckle his fools and chronicle his small beer" less well for it� i852-59
that he would not have so good a dinner-that she would destroy ' as it is
called, his domestic life.
The intercourse cif man and woman-how frivolous, how unworthy it is!
.
Can we call that the true vocation of woman-her high career? Look round
at the marriages which you know. The true marriage-that noble union, by
.
which a m�n and woman become together the one perfect being-probably
does not exist at present upon earth.
�t is not .s�rprising that husbands and wives seem so little part of one another.
It 1s surpnsmg that there is so much love as there is. For there is no food
for it. What does it live upon-what nourishes it? Husbands and wives never
seem to have anything to say to one another. What do they talk about? Not
about any great religious, social, political questions or feelings. They talk about

3. S �; lago's cynical comments on the role of women, Othello 2. 1. 160: "To suckle fools ' and chronicle small
b eer.
 '1
1609 i'
THE QUEEN'S REIGN I
I•
that, about
o sha ll com e to din ner, wh o is to live in this lodge and who in
nce wh . If there are
or when they shall g� to London
ves the improvement of the place, , even the�,
ildr en, the y form a com mo n subject of some nounshment. But
m­ ch are to get on m
husband is to think of how they
I

the case is oftenest thus-the I

or up at home.
)ife; the wife of bringing them . .
he ban d and wif e- any des cen dm g mto •I

{ But any real communion between

hus I

i
e nd c�mpar­
drawing out thence what they find �
or� the depths of their being, and
h a thing? Yes, we may dream of 1t durmg. the
ing it--do we ever dream of suc •I
seaso n of "pa ssio n," but
go off, and lay our account tha
we sha ll not find it aft:rwards. We even expect
t it will. If the husb�nd has, by cha
it to
nce, gone
�e­
I) 'i
the dep ths of his bei ng, and fou � d there. anyt�mg ��ortho�ox, he, o
of into . her opm-
his wife-he 1s afraid of unsettlmg
ill­ nest, conceals it carefully-from
if ions. "
an *
art has often been said-by education
be * * For a woman is "by birth a Tory"-
*

a "Tory," we mean. ams

ot ' ger the strength to dream; th�se dre
Women dream till they have no lon ,
wh ich the y so stru ggle, so hon estly, vigorously, and conscientiously
against
ir life, without which they coul�
out not have
and so in vain, yet which are the
,,
il­ d, and \i
their plans and visions seem vamshe
will Jived; those dreams go at last. All do not even Ii
y cannot recall them .. They
they know not where; gone, and the e.
without the food of reality or of hop
remember them. And they are left
eir dream, neither of ac.tivi� , no '. lov�,
of
to Later in life, they neither desire nor expen­
ives the longest. They wish, 1f then
rk' nor of intellect. The last often surv y nev er find
them to someone. But the
ences would benefit anybody, to give es
r free in whi ch to collect the ir tho ughts, and so discouragement becom
an hou hing.
its and less capable of undertaking �nyt
ever deeper and deeper, and they less over
ess
see ms as if the fem ale spirit of the world were mournmg everlastmgly
It discour-
has never had, and which, in her
blessings, not lost, but which she
have, they are so far off. . .
agement she feels that she never will mo re she wil
.
l feel it, till
' ani zati on, the
The more complete a woman s org the
ed will resume, in her own soul, all
ork at last there shall arise a woman, who rac e.
an will be the Saviour of her
­ sufferings of her race, and that wom i928
� i852-59
is

is!
nd
by
bly

er.
od
ver
Not
out

mall
 676 T H E " WO M A N QU ESTIO N "

.t · <.
,_,.� wh
'."'r ··r:» ;r . '· ; re
t
·: . !dreams an
di
)' l;l�d J.p
th gr_�?m�
i
pf
�I:1 embe � � r� lefJ_�ith ��� 0
L\11JU::k , .. . ... . . · -·" · "'� '- :. ..:QJ
'• H �&.\. o
Late�in_J �!--�h�y
:::) <..'.oN3·"'
d �ea� : o 10;�� � a
6finteIIect. die longest:'They sh
�o�Tcrl) enefit wi
an
_ca..11.i.QJe-:Q on
�_.-;{'.'".;"-' ne
m
���i:,� i!_l g ��rl astin gly de
ana wliidi, ill1is­ 1erci kin
sc
of
-§_�����r °-£ he��:�e.
wi
su f�t; �i�g� °.L h·e��_rac�', -and-
__ wiH �_e" so
nit
._: �,:f• · "- -:-.· v· ·• - lib
it,
ru
ide
co
ety
tra
MONA CA I RO
ma
the
n several novels and many es says , the feminist writer Mona C aird ( 1 8 5 4-1 932) Ou
explored the position of women in Victorian society. The Daughters of Danaus ( 1 894) str
features a heroine whose desire to pursue a musical career conflicts with her family he
ties and responsibilities. Caird's article "Marriage," which appeared in the Westminster the
Review in 1 8 8 8 , inspired a heated exchange in the journals of the 1 890s. Her essays tio
on the subject of marriage were later collected and published as The Morality of Mar­ wi
riage, and Other Essays on the Status and Destiny of Woman ( 1 897). era
ne
say
mu
From M arria ge en
im
We come then to the conclusion that the present form of marriage-exactly ind
in proportion to its conformity with orthodox ideas-is a vexatious failure. rel
If certain people have made it a success by ignoring those orthodox ideas, W
such instances afford no argument in favour of the institution as it stands. sph
We are also led to conclude that modern "Respectability" draws its life-blood ten
from the degradation of womanhood in marriage and in prostitution. But ch
 CA I RD , M A RR I AG E 677

wh at is to b e done to remedy these manifold evils? how i s marriage t o b e

· "
from a mercenary society, torn f rom t h e arms of "R espec t ab i'J ity,
re s c ue d
·

and e. st ablished on a footing which will make it no longer an insult to human

dignity.? . . .
fir st of all we must set up an ideal, undismayed by what will seem its Uto-
ian imp ossibility. Every good thing that we enjoy to-day was once the dream
pf a "cra zy enthusiast" mad enough to believe in the power of ideas and in the
0 ower of man to have things as he wills. The ideal marriage then, despi e all
�&.\. �
10;�� � an g er s and difficulties, should be free. So long as love and trust and fnend­
ship re main, no bonds are necessary to bind two people together; life apart
will be empty and colourless; but whenever these cease the tie becomes false
and iniquitous, and no one ought to have power to enforce it. The matter is
one in-which any interposition, whether of law or of society, is an imperti­
nence. Even the idea of "duty" ought to be excluded from the most perfect
m arriage, because the intense attraction of one being for another, the intense
in gly de sire for one another's happiness, would make interchanges of whatever
ill1is­
1erci kind the outcome of a feeling far more passionate than that of duty. It need
scarcely be said that there must be a full understanding and acknowledgment
of the obvious right of the woman to p ossess herself body and soul, to give or
withhold herself body and soul exactly as she wills. The moral right here is
. so p a lpable, and its denial implies ideas so low and offensive to human dig­
nity, that no fear of conse q uences ought to deter us from making this
liberty an element of our ideal, in fact its fundamental principle. Without
it, no ideal could hold up its head. Moreover, "consequences" in the long
run are never beneficent, where obvious moral rights are disregarded. The
idea of a perfectly free marriage would imply the possibility of any form of
contract being entered into between the two persons, the State and soci­
ety standing aside, and recognizing the entirely private character of the
transaction.
The economical independence of woman is the first condition of free
marriage. She ought not to be tempted to marry, or to remain married, for
the sake of bread and butter. But the condition is a very hard one to secure.
1 932) Our present competitive system, with the daily increasing ferocity of the
1 894) struggle for existence, is fast reducing itself to an absurdity, woman's labour
family helping to make the struggle only the fiercer. The problem now offered to
minster the mind and conscience of humanity is to readjust its industrial organiza­
essays tion in such a way as to gradually reduce this absurd and useless competition
f Mar­ within reasonable limits, and to bring about in its place some form of coop­
eration, in which no man's interest will depend on the misfortune of his
neighbour, but rather on his neighbour's happiness and welfare. It is idle to
say that this cannot be done; the state of society shows quite clearly that it
must be done sooner or later; otherwise some violent catastrophe will put an
end to a condition of things which is hurrying towards impossibility. Under
improved economical conditions the difficult problem of securing the real
xactly independence of women, and thence of the readjustment of their position in
ilure. relation to men and to society would find easy solution.
deas, When girls and boys are educated together, when the unwholesome atmo­
ands. sphere of social life becomes fresher and nobler, when the pressure of exis­
blood tence slackens (as it will and must do), and when the whole nature has thus a
. But chance to expand, such additions to the scope and interest of life will cease
67 8 T H E " WO M A N Q U E ST I O N "

to be thought marvellous or "unnatural." "Human nature" has more variety s oc

of powers and is more responsive to conditions than we imagine. It is hard to un d
believe in things for which we feel no capacity in ourselves, but fortu n ately wo
such things exist in spite of our placid unconsciousness. Give room for the is s
development of individuality, and individuality develops, to the amaz ement wil
of spectators! Give freedom in marriage, and each pair will enter upon their into
union after their own particular fashion, creating a refreshing diver sity in now
modes of life, and consequently of character. Infinitely preferable will this b e tion
to our own gloomy uniformity, the offspring of our passion to be in all things of t
exactly like our neighbours. is a
The proposed freedom in marriage would of course have to go hand-in­ th a
hand with the co-education of the sexes. It is our present absurd interference Co
with the natural civilizing influences of one sex upon the other, that creates W
half the dangers and difficulties of our social life, and gives colour to the dou
fears of those who would hedge round marriage with a thousand restraints or oth
so-called safeguards, ruinous to happiness, and certainly not productive of a we
satisfactory social condition. Already the good results of this method of co­ hum
education have been proved by experiment in America, but we ought to go By
farther in this direction than our go-ahead cousins have yet gone. Meeting car
freely in their working-hours as well as at times of recreation, men and women fro
would have opportunity for forming reasonable judgments of character, for ter
making friendships irrespective of sex, and for giving and receiving that ins
inspiring influence which apparently can only be given by one sex to the of o
other.1 There would also be a chance of forming genuine attachments founde d the
on friendship; marriage would cease to be the haphazard thing it is now; girls see
would no longer fancy themselves in love with a man because they had met gro
none other on terms equally intimate, and they would not be tempted to to b
marry for the sake of freedom and a place in life, for existence would be free hei
and full from the beginning. dri
The general rise in health, physical and moral, following the improvement ent
in birth, surroundings, and training, would rapidly tell upon the whole state hum
of society. Any one who has observed carefully knows how grateful a response adv
the human organism gives to improved conditions, if only these remain con­ rec
stant. We should have to deal with healthier, better equipped, more reason­ of t
able men and women, possessing well-developed minds, and hearts kindly to
disposed towards their fellow-creatures. Are such people more likely to enter but
into a union frivolously and ignorantly than are the average men and women and
of today? Surely not. If the number of divorces did not actually decrease the
there would be the certainty that no couple remained united against their wo
will, and that no lives were sacrificed to a mere convention. With the social rela
changes which would go hand in hand with changes in the status of mar­ thi
riage, would come inevitably many fresh forms of human power, and thus all us
sorts of new and stimulating influences would be brought to bear upon ste
rad
rich
I . M r. Henry Stanton, in his work on The Woman probably imperfectly recalling the name of Theo­
Question in Europe, speaks of the main idea con­ dore Stanton ( 1 8 5 1 - 1 9 2 5 ) , the editor of The
veyed in Legouve's Histoire des Femmes as Woman Question in Europe: A Series of Original 2. M
follows:-"Equality in difference is its key-note. Essays ( 1 884). Histoire Morale des Femmes (Moral in m
The question is not to make woman a man, but to History of Women), by Ernest Legouve ( 1 807- thei
complete man by woman" [Caird's note] . Caird is 1 903), was published in Paris in 1 849. wom
 CA I R O : MARRIAG E 67 9

ty s o ci ety. No man has a right to consider himself educated until he has been
to un de r the influence of cultivated women, and the same may be said of
ely wom en as regards men.2 Development involves an increase of complexity. It
he is so in all forms of existence, vegetable and animal; it is so in human life. It
nt will be found that men and women as they increase in complexity can enter
eir into a numberless variety of relationships, abandoning no good gift that they
in now possess, but adding to their powers indefinitely, and thence to their emo­
be tion s and experiences. The action of the man's nature upon the woman's and
gs of the woman's upon the man's, is now only known in a few instances; there
is a whole world yet to explore in this direction, and it is more than probable
n­ th at the future holds a discovery in the domain of spirit as great as that of
ce Co lu mbus in the domain of matter.
es With regard to the dangers attending these readjustments, there is no
he doubt much to be said. The evils that hedge around marriage are linked with
or other evils, so that movement is difficult and perilous indeed. Nevertheless,
fa we have to remember that we now live in the midst of dangers, and that
co­ human happiness is cruelly murdered by our systems of legalized injustice.
go By sitting still circumspectly and treating our social system as if it were a
ng card-house which would tumble down at a breath, we merely wait to see it fall
en from its own internal rottenness, and then we shall have dangers to encoun­
for ter indeed! The time has come, not for violent overturning of established
hat institutions before people admit that they are evil, but for a gradual alteration
he of opinion which will rebuild them from the very foundation. The method of
ed the most enlightened reformer is to crowd out old evil by new good, and to
rls seek to sow the seed of the nobler future where alone it can take root and
met grow to its full height: in the souls of men and women. Far-seeing we ought
to to be, but we know in our hearts right well that fear will never lead us to the
ee height of our ever-growing possibility. Evolution has ceased to be a power
driving us like dead leaves on a gale; thanks to science, we are no longer
ent entirely blind, and we aspire to direct that mighty force for the good of
ate humanity. \i\le see a limitless field of possibility opening out before us; the
nse adventurous spirit in us might leap up at the wonderful romance of life! We
n­ recognize that no power, however trivial, fails to count in the general sum
on­ of things which moves this way or that-towards heaven or hell, according
dly to the preponderating motives of individual units. We shall begin, slowly
ter but surely, to see the folly of permitting the forces of one sex to pull against
en and neutralize the workings of the other, to the confusion of our efforts and
ase the checking of our progress. We shall see, in the relations of men and
eir women to one another, the source of all good or of all evil, precisely as those
ial relations are true and noble and equal, or false and low and unjust. With
ar­ this belief we shall seek to move opinion in all the directions that may bring
all us to this "consummation devoutly to be wished,"3 and we look forward
on steadily, hoping and working for the day when men and women shall be com­
rades and fellow-workers as well as lovers and husbands and wives, when the
rich and many-sided happiness which they have the power to bestow one on
eo­
The
nal 2 . Mrs. Cady Stanton believes that there is a sex men [Caird's note] . Elizabeth Cady Stanton
oral in mind, and that men can only be inspired to ( 1 8 1 5-1 902), prominent American women's
07- their highest achievements by women, while suffragist.
women are stimulated to their utmost only by 3. Cf. Shakespeare's Hamlet 3 . l . 6 5 - 6 6 .
6 80 T H E " WO M A N Q U E ST I O N "

another shall no longer be enjoyed in tantalizing snatches, but shall gl adde n

and give new life to all humanity. That will be the day prophesied by Lewi s
Morris4 in The New Order-
"When man and woman in an equal union
Shall merge, and marriage be a true communion."
1 8 88

4. Welsh poet ( 1 8 3 3 - 1 9 0 7 ) .
Albert-Ludwigs-Universität Freiburg
English Department
Rempartstraße 15 – KG IV
D-79098 Freiburg i. Br.

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