Take again the special and peculiar opposition which women had to face when they began to agitate against certain laws which particularly affected the lives of women and did cruel wrong to them even in their home relations. Read the life of Caroline Norton, for instance—a woman whose husband brought against her a public charge of infidelity, though privately admitting that she was innocent; and when, after that charge was proved to be baseless, she separated from her husband, refusing to live with him any more, then he, in consequence of that refusal cut her off absolutely from her children, though they were all under seven years of age. That wrong, which our laws had immemorially sanctioned, roused her to action, and it was through her efforts, so long ago as 1838, that the law was altered so as to allow a mother of unblemished character right of access to her own children during the years of early infancy!
And that is how the law still stands to-day—a woman’s contribution—the most that could be done at the time for justice to women. But there is no statue to Caroline Norton in Parliament Square—or anywhere else, so far as I know.
But what I specially want to draw attention to is this—that when she wrote the pamphlet with which she started her agitation all her relatives entreated her not to publish it, because it would be an exposure to the world of her own private affairs. By that time, however, Caroline Norton had learned her lesson in “womanliness,” and she no longer said “Happy is the woman who has no history.” Her answer was: “There is too much fear of publicity among women: with women it is reckoned a crime to be accused, and such a disgrace that they wish nothing better than to hide themselves and say no more about it.” Does not that set forth in all its weakness the conventional womanly attitude of the period?
The Bill which, through her efforts, was brought three times before Parliament, was at first defeated. How? By the votes of the Judges, to whom the House of Lords left the matter to be decided. And Lord Brougham, in speaking against that Bill used this line of argument: There were, he said, several legal hardships which were of necessity inflicted on women; therefore we should not relieve them from those which are not necessary—the necessary hardships being the greater; and it being bad policy to raise in women a false expectation that the legal hardships relating to their sex were of a removable kind! Was ever a more perverted and devilish interpretation given to the Scripture, “To him that hath shall be given, and from her that hath not shall be taken even that which she hath.”
Let us remember that we are the direct descendants and inheritors of the age and of the men who pronounced these unjust judgments, and that no miracle has happened between then and now to remove the guilt of the fathers from the third and the fourth generation. Heredity is too strong a thing for us to have any good ground for believing that our eyes, even now, are entirely opened. There are many of us who cannot drink port at all, because our grandfathers drank it by the bottle every night of their lives.
We inherit constitutions, personal and political—we also inherit proverbs, which express so vividly and in so few words, the full-bodied and highly-crusted wisdom of former generations. Those proverbs expressed once—else they had not become proverbs—an almost universal contemporary opinion. Some of them are now beginning to wear thin, have of recent years been dying the death, and will presently be heard no more. But their source and incentive are still quite recognisable; and their dwindled spirit still lives in our midst.
There was one, for instance, on which genteel families were brought up in the days of my youth—a rhymed proverb which laid it down that—
A whistling woman and a crowing hen
Are hateful alike to God and men.
Now let us look into the bit of real natural history which lies at the root of that proverb. A crowing hen is a disturbance, but so is a crowing cock. But the hen is not to crow because she only lays eggs, and because the bulk of hens manage to lay eggs without crowing. They make, it is true, a peculiar clutter of their own which is just as disturbing; but that is a thoroughly feminine noise and a dispensation of Providence; and they don’t do it at all times of the night, and without a reason for it, as cocks do. But as a matter of fact it is far more easy to prevent a cock from crowing than a hen from cluttering; you have only to put a cock in a pen the roof of which knocks his head whenever he rears himself up to crow and he will remain as silent as the grave, though he will continue to do that spasmodic duty by his offspring which is all that nature requires of him. But no such simple method will stop the cluttering of a hen when her egg is once well and truly laid; the social disturbance caused by the pomp of masculine vain-glory is far less inevitable than the disturbance caused by the circumstances of maternity. Yet the normal masculine claim to pomp of sound is more readily allowed in our proverbial philosophy than the occasional feminine claim.