Many would say, if they spoke the truth, that it had cost them a life-long effort to unlearn what they had been taught.

For as the eye becomes blinded by fashion to positive deformity, so through social conventionalism the conscience becomes blinded to positive immorality.

It is fatal in any mind to make the moral standard for men high and the moral standard for women low, or vice versâ. This has appeared to me the very commonest of all mistakes in men and women who have lived much in the world, but fatal nevertheless, and in three ways; first, as distorting the moral ideal, so far as it exists in the conscience; secondly, as perplexing the bounds, practically, of right and wrong; thirdly, as being at variance with the spirit and principles of Christianity. Admit these premises, and it follows inevitably that such a mistake is fatal in the last degree, as disturbing the consistency and the elevation of the character, morally, practically, religiously.

Akin to this mistake, or identical with it, is the belief that there are essential masculine and feminine virtues and vices. It is not, in fact, the quality itself, but the modification of the quality, which is masculine or feminine: and on the manner or degree in which these are balanced and combined in the individual, depends the perfection of that individual character—its approximation to that of Christ. I firmly believe that as the influences of religion are extended, and as civilisation advances, those qualities which are now admired as essentially feminine will be considered as essentially human, such as gentleness, purity, the more unselfish and spiritual sense of duty, and the dominance of the affections over the passions. This is, perhaps, what Buffon, speaking as a naturalist, meant, when he said that with the progress of humanity, “Les races se féminisent;” at least I understand the phrase in this sense.

A man who requires from his own sex manly direct truth, and laughs at the cowardly subterfuges and small arts of women as being feminine;—a woman who requires from her own sex tenderness and purity, and thinks ruffianism and sensuality pardonable in a man as being masculine,—these have repudiated the Christian standard of morals which Christ, in his own person, bequeathed to us—that standard which we have accepted as Christians—theoretically at least—and which makes no distinction between “the highest, holiest manhood,” and the highest, holiest womanhood.

I might illustrate this position not only scripturally but philosophically, by quoting the axiom of the Greek philosopher Antisthenes, the disciple of Socrates,—“The virtue of the man and the woman is the same;” which shows a perception of the moral truth, a sort of anticipation of the Christian doctrine, even in the pagan times. But I prefer an illustration which is at once practical and poetical, and plain to the most prejudiced among men or women.

Every reader of Wordsworth will recollect, if he does not know by heart, the poem entitled “The Happy Warrior.” It has been quoted often as an epitome of every manly, soldierly, and elevated quality. I have heard it applied to the Duke of Wellington. Those who make the experiment of merely substituting the word woman for the word warrior, and changing the feminine for the masculine pronoun, will find that it reads equally well; that almost from beginning to end it is literally as applicable to the one sex as to the other. As thus:—

CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WOMAN. Who is the happy woman? Who is she That every woman born should wish to be? It is the generous spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, had wrought Upon the plan that pleased her childish thought; Whose high endeavours are an inward light, That make the path before her always bright: Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn; Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, But makes her moral being her prime care; Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, And Fear, and Sorrow, miserable train! Turns that necessity to glorious gain; In face of these doth exercise a power Which is our human nature’s highest dower: Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives; By objects, which might force the soul to abate Her feeling, rendered more compassionate; Is placable—because occasions rise So often that demand such sacrifice; More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure As tempted more; more able to endure, As more exposed to suffering and distress; Thence, also, more alive to tenderness. ’Tis she whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence in a state where men are tempted still To evil for a guard against worse ill, And what in quality or act is best, Doth seldom on a right foundation rest, She fixes good on good alone, and owes To virtue every triumph that she knows. Who, if she rise to station of command, Rises by open means; and there will stand On honourable terms, or else retire. ***** Who comprehends her trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state; Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall Like showers of manna, if they come at all: Whose powers shed round her in the common strife Or mild concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace; But who, if she be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issue, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a lover; and attired With sudden brightness, like to one inspired; And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what she foresaw; Or if an unexpected call succeed, Come when it will, is equal to the need!

In all these fifty-six lines there is only one line which cannot be feminised in its significance,—that which I have filled up with asterisks, and which is totally at variance with our ideal of A Happy Woman. It is the line—