# The Higher Education of Women/Chapter 5

CHAPTER V.
PROFESSIONAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE.
N obvious rejoinder to the foregoing suggestions will at once present itself. It will be said that professions and business may be all very well—may indeed be best—for single women, but that sooner or later the great majority marry, and any plan of life which fails to recognise this contingency is unpractical and absurd. This is most ​true. We have to deal with facts; and it is a most important, though not the sole question, How would a higher education and professional training act upon family life? Home duties fall to the lot of almost every woman, and nothing which tends to incapacitate for the performance of them ought to be encouraged. Let us ask, then, what are the home duties of women as such, and what are the qualifications required for their discharge? And here we must remember that the claims involved in the conjugal and parental and filial relations are not special to women. They are not, indeed, to be disregarded in considering the bearing of a scheme of education; but in the discussion of the home duties of women ​as such, it is convenient to treat separately those which are not shared by men.
If we bring before our mind's eye the picture of an English home, we see that the household work is divided between the mistress and the servants. Where there are grown-up daughters, they sometimes help the mistress in her work, or the servants in theirs, but they have no distinct functions of their own. It appears, then, that in an inquiry relating to the upper and middle classes, the only home duties special to women which can come under review, are those of the mistress of the household. What are her functions? Those of government and administration. All housekeepers will agree that this is the work they have to ​do, though they may not be accustomed to call it by these names. The inexperienced mistress complains, not that she does not know how to cook, or to sew, or to keep the furniture in order—these arts, if she wants them, can be quickly acquired; her perplexity is how to manage the servants. To draw the line between necessary subordination and vexatious interference—to apportion to each a fair share of work, and to see that the work is done—to be liberal and considerate without over-indulgence,—these are duties requiring judgment, moderation, method, decision, often no small share of moral courage; in other words, precisely the same qualities which are wanted in governing bodies of workpeople. In ​administration also, it is obvious that, though on a different scale, the same sagacity, prudence, and foresight which would make a woman successful in business, would conduce to the economical management of domestic concerns.
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 extradomestic 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. 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.
It may here perhaps be argued on the other hand, that to give wives professions would tend to separate them from their husbands by throwing them into a society of their own, and leading them to set up a distinct set of independent interests,—that whereas a wife now throws herself into her husband's concerns, losing sight of herself in her sympathy with him, she would, if she had a pursuit of her own, be ​led astray by ambition, occupied with her own aims, absorbed in a current of life apart from his. Here again it may be admitted that the danger might, in very rare cases, possibly exist. But, on the whole, the risk seems to be much more than counterbalanced by a very strong tendency in an exactly opposite direction. In many cases, the profession of both would be the same, judging by present experience. Artists marry artists, clergymen's daughters marry clergymen, literary women often, though not always, marry literary men, medical women would probably marry medical men, and so on. It is likely that a man who chose to marry a professional woman at all would marry in his own profession. But supposing it ​were otherwise, a woman who had work similar, though not in all respects identical with that of her husband, would be more able than one whose occupation was of an entirely alien character, to sympathise with him in his difficulties and in his successes. She would understand them and enter into them with a first-hand kind of interest, fuller and more intelligent, if not more genuine, than a merely reflected interest could be. On the other hand, it would be at least as easy for a husband to enter into interests somewhat akin to his own, as into the small domestic worries which fill so large a space in the thoughts and imaginations of women who have nothing else to occupy them. There are many wives who really have very little to ​talk to their husbands about, except the virtues or the crimes of servants, and the little gossip of the neighbourhood. If their husbands will not listen to what they have to say on these subjects, they are obliged to take refuge in silence.
The enormous loss to general culture entailed by the solitude of the male intellect is very little thought of. Yet it would seem obvious enough that children brought up in a home where the everyday conversation is of a somewhat thoughtful and literary cast, have an immense start as compared with those who learn nothing unconsciously, and are obliged to gather all their knowledge laboriously from books. Social and domestic intercourse is an educational instrument largely used in ​cultivated circles. In the great mass of English society it is scarcely used at all, for this obvious reason, that education is in great part onesided, and the easy interchange of thought is therefore impossible. A slight infusion of an intellectual element would go far to expel the gossip and the microscopic criticism of one's neighbours, which forms so large and so degrading a part in the domestic talk of the middle classes. The mental effort need not be a severe one. Talk may be very small, and yet have a certain dignity, if it touches even but lightly on elevating subjects. It is the effort to draw up conversation from empty wells that wearies the spirit, and drives even goodnatured people into scandal and slander. Contrast the forced ​and insipid small talk of ordinary society, resorted to by way of recreation, but in the last degree unrefreshing in its nature, with the spontaneous overflowings of a cultivated mind.
'She spake such good thoughts natural, as if she always thought them— She had sympathies so rapid, open, free as bird on branch, Just as ready to fly east as west, whichever way besought them, In the birchen wood a chirrup, or a cock-crow in the grange. In her utmost lightness there is truth—and often she speaks lightly, Has a grace in being gay, which even mournful souls approve; For the root of some grave earnest thought is understruck so rightly, As to justify the foliage and the waving flowers above.'
It is in fact as a means of bringing men and women together, and bridging over ​the intellectual gulf between them, that a more liberal education and a larger scope for women are chiefly to be desired. It has been pointed out by a well-known essayist, that 'the purpose of education is not always to foster natural gifts, but sometimes to bring out faculties that might otherwise remain dormant; and especially so far as to make the persons educated cognisant of excellence in those faculties in others.' And even supposing it could be proved that the separate systems are eminently successful in developing certain peculiarly masculine or feminine gifts, the result would be dearly purchased by the sacrifice of mutual understanding and appreciation.
Oddly enough, it is often assumed that ​the only way of getting husbands and wives to agree is to keep them well apart. Common ground, it is taken for granted, must of course be a battle ground. If the theory of the peculiarly receptive character of the female intellect has any truth in it, it might be expected to be rather the other way, and that wives would, as a rule, be only too ready to adopt their husbands' opinions. In any case, contact has an undoubted tendency to produce unanimity, and the chances are therefore in favour of agreement. And that there should be intelligent agreement, a community of thought and feeling, on all matters of importance, is surely the first necessity for the healthy and harmonious development of family life. M. Simon has ​drawn a vivid picture of the influence on children of discordance between fathers and mothers, even when there is nothing like an open rupture.
'Cette femme qu'une religieuse a formée et cet homme nourri des doctrines de tolérance, peut-être d'indifférence, mariés ensemble, sont un vivant anachronisme. La femme est du dix-septième siècle et l'homme de la fin du dix-huitième. Admettons qu'ils vivent en bonne intelligence, elle le croyant damné, lui la jugeant fanatique. Qu'arrivera-t-il, quand à leur tour, ils enseigneront? Et ils enseigneront; être père, être mère, c'est enseigner. La mère répétera sa doctrine, puisée au couvent; le père, par prudence, se taira. Se taira-t-il? Si même il prend cela sur lui, ​son silence sera commenté par ses actes. Et que pensera l'enfant de cette contradiction, aussitôt qu'il pensera? Il condamnera l'un ou l'autre, peut-être l'un et l'autre. Plus il aura l'esprit puissant, plus vite il perdra respect. . . . Il semble à des esprits sans portée que l'indifférence et la foi vivront bien ensemble, parce que l'une exige et l'autre céde; mais céder à une croyance sans l'accepter, c'est ne pas être. La paix entre deux âmes est possible quand elle est fondée sur l'identité de foi; elle est encore possible quand elle est fondée sur le respect réciproque d'une foi diverse et sincère; mais appeler paix cette absence de lutte qui naît de l'indifférence, c'est confondre la paix avec la défaite et la vie avec le néant.'
​The author of 'Vincenzo' has given in that remarkable story a view too painfully lifelike to be disbelieved, of the conjugal misery resulting from a profound dissonance between a husband and wife on religious and political questions, and asserts that the wreck of domestic happiness so graphically pictured represents a reality far from uncommon. 'Would to God,' he exclaims, 'that the case were an isolated one! But no; there is scarcely any corner in Italy, scarcely any corner in Europe, that does not exhibit plenty of such and worse.' Such a state of things could scarcely exist in England. The counteracting influences are too many and too strong. But it cannot be said that we are exempt from danger. In how many ​English families wives and sisters are clinging blindly to traditional beliefs and observances, from which husbands and brothers are turning away with indifference or dislike. How natural the transition from the theory which assigns 'to the one the supremacy of the head, to the other that of the heart'—to that further division which attributes to the one Reason, to the other Faith. Heartless Rationalism and imbecile credulity! Is it in the union of these feeble and jarring tones that we shall find the full chord of family harmony? Ought we not rather to turn with suspicion from these artificial attempts to apportion attributes and duties? May we not welcome, as at least a step in the right direction, a change in our ​conventional habits, which may extend, though in ever so small a degree, the region of common thoughts and aims, common hopes and disappointments, common joys and common sorrows?