The head of a household wants an ideal to work up to, and the governing and administrative power which will enable her to carry out her idea. Here, as elsewhere, motive is the primary requisite. A woman to whom huggermugger is intolerable will find means of escaping from it—if necessary, by the labour of her own hands—more often, perhaps, by the skilful direction of the labour of others. But one who has no inner sense of the beauty of order, to whom the rhythmic flow of a well-governed household is an unmeaning conception, or who lacks the gift of mastery over details, may be cooking and sewing and looking after things from morning till night; she may be anxiously obedient to conventional regulations, rigid in the observance of ceremonies unmeaning in themselves or unsuited to her position; with all her striving, she will never realise the vision of an ideal English home.
It appears, then, that first, imagination, combined with a certain sensitiveness of refinement, and secondly, the faculty of government and administration, are the qualifications chiefly necessary for the performance of home duties. No education can be relied upon as infallibly securing these rare gifts; but it may be assumed that extensive reading of the best books tends to cultivate imagination and refinement, and that a life of active exertion tends to bring out the qualities which go to make up the governing and administrative faculty; and if so, a liberal education and the pursuit of a profession are perhaps, on the whole, the best training that the conditions of modern society can supply for the special functions of the mistress of a household.
It will, however, be pointed out by practical people, that even supposing the training to be good as regards domestic life, parents will not throw away their money on a costly preparation for a profession which is most likely to be abandoned in a few years; and again, that the contingency of marriage is likely to act as a discouragement to girls, making them so languid in endeavour, that they would have small chance of success in a professional career.
To the last objection experience would not lead us to attach much weight. But supposing that, either through want of energy or perseverance, or from any other deficiency, women should take a low place in the professional ranks, what then? The object of their education would have been, not to set them on a pinnacle of distinction, but to make them useful labourers; and if this end were attained, society, at any rate, would have no reason to complain.
It is true, however, that fathers are likely to hesitate in spending money on what may seem a doubtful speculation as regards pecuniary returns. And if marriage necessarily involves the complete abandonment of a profession, the chances are somewhat against professional education as an investment of capital, though perhaps less so than would at first sight appear. Of course much depends on the amount of money which it is necessary to expend. To take the medical profession, as being, among those which women are likely to enter, the one in which the cost of training is probably the highest—it is a liberal computation to allow £500 as covering the cost of instruction over and above the personal expenses, which would be going on all the same whether a girl were being educated or not. Such a sum would, in three or four years of successful practice, be recovered, and any further earnings would be clear gain. No doubt, in cases of very early marriage, a part or even the whole of the sum expended would be sunk; and the result of giving women professions would probably be, on the whole, to encourage comparatively early marriage, partly by bringing persons of congenial tastes into mutual intercourse, and partly by rendering marriages possible which would otherwise be flagrantly imprudent. But supposing that a woman married a rich man before she had begun to practise, the loss of the sum mentioned could easily be spared. If she married a poor man, or a man dependent on an uncertain income, the sacrifice might be regarded in the light of a sum paid for insurance—the provision of a resource in case of widowhood or other misfortune, which it is well to have in reserve, though it may be still better never to want it.
In the meantime, however, does marriage necessarily involve giving up a profession? On the face of it, judging by existing facts, one would incline to the contrary view. Some of the highest names in literature and art are those of married women; many schoolmistresses are married; clergymen’s wives notoriously undertake a large share of extra-domestic work; and there is no evidence that in any of these cases the husbands are neglected, or the children worse brought up than other people’s. It seems to be forgotten that women have always been married. Marriage is not a modern discovery, offering a hitherto untrodden field of action for feminine energy. The novelty is, that, as has been said already, the old field has been invaded and taken possession of by machinery. The married ladies of former days, instead of sitting in drawing-rooms, eating the bread of idleness, got through a vast amount of household business, which their successors cannot possibly do, simply because it is not there to be done. An educated woman, of active, methodical habits, blessed with good servants, as good mistresses generally are, finds an hour a day amply sufficient for her housekeeping. Nothing is gained by spreading it out over a longer time.[5] Allowing a fair margin for what are technically called ‘social’ claims, there remains a surplus, of course varying very considerably in extent, according to circumstances. The question then arises, whether a married woman, having time and energy to spare, may or may not legitimately spend it, if she likes, either in definitely professional work, or in the unpaid public services, which, when seriously undertaken, constitute something nearly equivalent to a profession. Inasmuch as the adoption of such a course would most probably effect some change in the aspect of family life, it is reasonable to ask whether such change is likely to be for good or for evil; and any objections which may suggest themselves ought to be respectfully considered.
One of the most obvious is the fear that a profession might prove a snare, leading to the neglect of humbler and more irksome duties. And it is right to admit frankly that the apprehension may not be altogether groundless. M. Simon, indeed, asserts, with the happy confidence we are all so apt to display on matters of which we have had no experience, that household drudgery, ‘though very laborious, is agreeable to women;’ and Sydney Smith has made merry over the notion that a mother would desert an infant for a quadratic equation. And of course, put in that extreme way, the idea is ridiculous. But looking at the case broadly—putting on one side the little fretting cares and worries of domestic life, and on the other the larger and more genial interests of professional work, it may be confessed that a temptation might very possibly arise to shirk the less engaging task. But it does not follow that because a temptation exists, it must be irresistible. To construct a plan of life absolutely free from temptation is a simple impossibility, even supposing it to be desirable. Every career has its snares, and a life of narrow interests and responsibilities is no exception to the rule. The true safeguard seems to consist, not in restraints and limitations, but in a vivid sense of all that is involved in the closer relationships, and in a steadfast habit of submission to duty. In the present case it may be noted that, however fascinating the temptation may be, it is at any rate open and well understood. It is not a pitfall, which any one could walk into unawares through ignorance of its existence. The paramount importance of home duties is enforced by all the sanctions of an overwhelming public opinion. Any neglect is liable to be punished, not only by the immediate discomfort arising from it, but by universal disapproval. An offence against which the warnings are so trumpet-tongued, and of which the consequences are so thoroughly disagreeable, can scarcely be very dangerously attractive.
If it is admitted that professional women are likely, or at least as likely as others, to be both able and diligent in the discharge of family obligations, another objection may be raised, founded on the apprehension that a similarity of pursuits would produce an unpleasant similarity between men and women. One of the most plausible arguments in behalf of dissimilar education is that which rests on the general desirableness of variety. We do not want to be all alike. The course of civilisation tends, it is said, already too strongly towards uniformity.
‘For “ground in yonder social mill,
We rub each other’s angles down,
And lose,” he said, “in form and gloss
The picturesque of man and man.”’
And if it could be shown that the isolation of the sexes produces variety of the best kind, and to the greatest possible extent, it would no doubt be a strong argument in its favour. But it is questionable whether this is the best means of obtaining variety. As there can be no unanimity on matters of which one party is ignorant, so also, in the same sense, there can be no diversity. We do not obtain two views of a subject by incapacitating one of the parties from taking any view at all. If the differences between men and women are such that they are predisposed to treat whatever comes before them in a somewhat different manner, we shall get greater variety by presenting to both the most important subjects of thought, than by sorting out subjects into classes and submitting each to a kind of class treatment. And so also as to methods of training. It seems likely that a more healthily diversified type of character will be obtained by cultivating the common human element, and leaving individual differences free to develop themselves, than by dividing mankind into two great sections and forcing each into a mould. You may indeed obtain diversity by mutilation or distortion. You may make a girl unlike a boy by shutting her up, giving her insufficient air and exercise, and teaching her that grace and refinement are synonymous with affectation and feebleness. You may make a boy unlike a girl by teaching him to care for nothing but out-of-door sports, and by making him believe that he is showing spirit when he is rude and selfish. But this is not the kind of variety that any one seriously wishes to cultivate.