CHAPTER I
GARDENING AS A PROFESSION FOR WOMEN
Daughters of many professional men are obliged to earn a living. It often happens that the head of the family, after years of hard work, has to retire owing either to illness or age. His pension is a small one, and it becomes necessary for his daughters, as well as his sons, to make a career for themselves. They have been accustomed, perhaps, to a comfortable home, with a considerable number of luxuries, and the question as to the best method of earning a living must necessarily be a difficult one. In this connection it is, I hope, pardonable to quote a passage from Mrs. Creighton’s recent article upon women’s education, which created great interest among those concerned with the welfare of young women. She wrote:—“It is tolerably well agreed what men should be; but social conditions which produce a preponderance of the female population and make it impossible for some women, however much they may desire it, to be married, are inconvenient and disturbing to the views of most men.
“The existence of women who, whether they like it or not, are bound to work for their livelihood, is, as a rule, only unwillingly recognised as an exception; the existence of women who claim to have a life of their own is still more upsetting to all ideas of a well-constituted universe.”
A somewhat mistaken idea is sometimes held that women who are obliged to follow a definite career are less likely to marry than their sisters who remain at home in quiet surroundings. It is often found, however, that of the daughters, say, of a country clergyman living in some remote corner of England, it is those out in the world as secretaries, companions, or gardeners who do marry. Not only has a wider sphere of life brought them friends, but their knowledge of the world has taught them how to keep them. They have larger interests, broader views, and are therefore happier than their sisters, who remain at home in village surroundings. They should, too, be better helpmates to men leading active lives. If they are sensible, wise, good women, they should not lose by contact with people of different types any of that gentleness and softness which are the chief attractions of a woman.
The choice of a career depends largely upon the character and bringing up of a girl. Unless she is fond of out-of-door life, however, she must not think of becoming a gardener, and she will probably find that her parents look somewhat critically upon this profession. They have an uncomfortable feeling that the head of a private garden is only a kind of servant, and in market, jobbing, or landscape gardening they see a life of constant digging and delving; a struggle to compete with the strength of a working man. The disadvantages—many days of rain and wind, early rising, disagreeable menial jobs—all assume larger proportions to them than the benefits that are to be derived. Parents are perfectly right to point out all these drawbacks to their daughter. They should be fully realised and weighed before she embarks upon such a career. Professional gardening is no child’s play. It means at least three years of diligent study and hard work before any considerable remuneration can be sought.
Let the girl who is leaving college carefully view all sides of the question, and, above all, let her wait until she is twenty before she takes any decisive step. Having reached years of discretion, and being full grown and strong in health, the advantages of a gardener’s life will probably attract her. If, during her childhood, she has had the care of a plot of ground in the home garden, or has had bees or poultry under her charge, it will be pain and grief to her to leave these pursuits and live in the confinement of a town. The thought of a stuffy London typewriting office, and the long, dark evenings in cheap lodgings, will be repulsive to her. She will miss the wide, open stretches of sky, the coming and going of the seasons. How she will long for a sight of cowslips in the meadows and the fresh, sweet scent of gorse. Perhaps, if she is a governess or companion, she may live in the country and have all these pleasures, but will she fully relish them if she has no freedom? Her evenings may possibly not be her own, and during the day, too, she will have to accommodate her wishes to those of others. The well-known lines of Richard Jefferies will constantly recur to her, and she will see the wisdom of them. “Let us be always out of doors among trees and grass and rain and wind and sun. Let us get out of these indoor, narrow, modern days, whose twelve hours somehow have become shortened, into the sunlight and the pure wind. A something that the ancients called divine can be found and felt there still.”
THE “WALLED GARDEN” AT THE HOUSE OF F.M. VISCOUNT WOLSELEY, K.P.
THE ROSES WERE PLANTED AND PRUNED BY THE LADY GARDENERS.
Photograph by Pictorial Agency.