# The Case for Women's Suffrage/A Pioneer of the Movement

* related authors: Mary Wollstonecraft.
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A PIONEER OF THE MOVEMENT
BY MILLICENT GARRETT FAWCETT
THERE is no truer or more consolatory observation concerning the great movements of thought which change the social history of the world than that no individual is indispensable to their growth. The Reformation in England and Germany would have come and would have changed men's thoughts concerning the relations of man to God, and of the Church to society, if Wiclif and Erasmus and Luther had never lived, and if Henry VIII. had never wished to put away his first wife. The democratic movement, changing men's thoughts concerning the relations of the State to society, would have come even if the roll of famous and infamous names associated with the revolution in England and France had been a blank. And the change which nearly the whole of civilised society throughout the world is conscious of in its estimation of the duties, rights, occupations, and sphere of women in a like manner is not due to any individual or set of individuals. The vastness of the change, its appearance, almost simultaneously, in various ways in different parts of the world, indicate that it proceeds from causes too ​powerful and too universal to be attributed to any particular individual. Individuals, indeed, have expressed in the most remote periods of history what we should now consider modern ideas concerning the duties and rights of women. Plato's "Republic," Solomon's description of the virtuous woman, Sir Thomas More's "Utopia," contain arguments and theories that satisfy the most modern advocate of women's rights. But these and other indications that many master minds did not placidly accept as satisfactory the relation of man and woman as master and slave, were for long ages powerless to affect the realities of life. The hour had to come as well as the man: and till the hour was favourable the most conclusive arguments, the most patent facts, fell on deaf ears and on blind eyes, and had no practical result in modifying the conduct of men and women, or in ameliorating the laws and customs concerning their relation to one another.
It was Mary Wollstonecraft's good fortune that when she spoke the ears of men had been prepared to hear and their minds to assimilate what she had to say. In one sense she was as much the product of the women's rights movement as its earliest confessor. The fermentation in men's minds which had already produced new thoughts about the rights of man, which was destined presently to overthrow the authority of unrestrained despotism wherever it existed in Western Europe, did not pass by without producing its effect on the greatest despotism of all, that of men over women. The idea that women are created simply to be ministers to the amusement, ​enjoyment, and gratification of men, was closely allied to the idea that peasants and workmen exist solely for the satisfaction of the wants and pleasures of the aristocratic classes. Ideas of this kind die hard, and it is Mary Wollstonecraft's chief claim to the regard of posterity that while she proved to demonstration the falsity of the notion that makes the place of women in creation entirely dependent on their usefulness and agreeableness to men, she had a keen appreciation of the sanctity of women's domestic duties, and she never undervalued for a moment the high importance of these duties, either to the individual, the family, or the State. On the contrary, one of her chief arguments against the subjection of women was that it prevented them from performing these duties as efficiently and as conscientiously as would otherwise be the case. She wanted, as she says in her preface, to see women placed in a station where they would advance instead of retarding the progress of the human race. Her argument, she adds, is built upon the simple principle that if women be not prepared by education to become the companions of men, they will stop the progress of knowledge, and that, so far from knowledge and freedom inducing women to neglect their duties to their families, "the more understanding women acquire, the more they will be attached to their duty—comprehending it—for unless they comprehend it . . . no authority can make them discharge it in a virtuous manner." She argues with force and justice against the habit of regarding women and their duties simply from the sexual ​point of view, and draws a vivid picture of the domestic miseries and the moral degradation to both men and women arising from women being trained in the idea that the one object in an unmarried woman's life is to catch a husband. In the scathing and cruel light of common sense she places in close juxtaposition two leading facts which ate like acids into the moral fibre of the whole of society in her time. The one aim and object of women was to get married; an unmarried woman was a social failure. Women who had passed the marrying and child-bearing age were treated with scant courtesy. A writer quoted by Mary Wollstonecraft had expressed this sentiment in plain language by exclaiming, "What business have women turned of forty to do in the world?" Yet while in a variety of ways it was dinned into the minds and consciences of women that husband-catching was the end of their existence, they were at the same time enjoined that this object must never be avowed. The aim must be pursued with unceasing vigilance, the whole of women's education, dress, manners, and thoughts must be subordinated to this one object, but they must never openly avow it. In Mary Wollstonecraft's time those who undertook to lead the female mind in the principles of virtue advised women never to avow their love for the man they were about to marry; it was argued that it was "indelicate in a female" to let it appear that she married from inclination; she must always strive to make it appear that her physical and mental weakness had caused her to yield to force. On the first of these two nonsensical ​theories, that marriage is the one aim and object of women's existence, Mary Wollstonecraft, with her habitual reference to the religious sanction, pertinently asks how women are to exist in that state where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage. "Man," she adds, "is always being told to prepare for a future state, but women are enjoined to prepare only for this." She also shows how wretchedly the sacredness of marriage and the charities of domestic life are violated by making marriage the only honourable career for women. As long as this is the case, and so far as it is the case, women are apt to marry "to better themselves," as the housemaids say, or "for a support, as men accept of places under Government," and not because they are heartily and honestly in love, or because they have any real vocation for married life. Mary Wollstonecraft had had abundant experience, in her own circle, of domestic wretchedness, brought about partly by this cause, and partly by the bestial vices of domestic tyrants invested with the irresponsible power associated with "the divine right of husbands."
On the second of these false theories, i.e., that women must never openly acknowledge that they wish to marry, while secretly making marriage the one object of their existence, she has no difficulty in showing how antagonism between the real and avowed objects of life breeds dissimulation and cuts at the root of all openness and spontaneity of character. The authors she quotes as maintaining this absurd view of female delicacy seem to leave the ​moral atmosphere laden with impurities and utterly destitute of the ozone necessary to healthy lungs. Dr. Gregory, for instance, whose book, "A Legacy to his Daughters," seems to have been regarded as a standard work on female propriety at the end of the eighteenth century, recommends constant dissimulation to girls to whom nature has given a robust physical constitution. A sickly delicacy was supposed to be an essential part of feminine charm. This will perhaps be believed with difficulty at the present time; one more quotation may therefore be given in support of the assertion. The Rev. Dr. James Fordyce, in his sermons addressed to women, says: "Let it be observed that in your sex manly exercises are never graceful; that in them a tone and figure, as well as an air and deportment, of the masculine kind, are always forbidding; that men of sensibility desire in every woman soft features and a flowing voice, a form not robust, and demeanour delicate and gentle." The lordly protector, man, was supposed to have his vanity tickled by a constant exhibition of female feebleness. A healthy girl was therefore counselled by sage Dr. Gregory "not to dance with spirit when gaiety of heart would make her feet eloquent," lest the men who beheld her might either suppose that she was not entirely dependent on their protection for her safety, or else might entertain dark suspicions as to her modesty. Well might Mary Wollstonecraft protest against such "indecent cautions," and in respect of ninetenths of the advice proffered to girls by Dr. Gregory and other writers of the same stamp, one is inclined ​to cry, "Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination."
The essence of the absurdity now under consideration was dissimulation, and dissimulation was, we find, exalted by these writers as the pole-star to the wandering bark of women's lives. As indicated by these sages, womanly prudence and virtue consist in one long series of pretences. Behaviour, appearance, decorum, the applause of Mrs. Grundy, “constant attention to keep the varnish fresh," are set before women as ends to be sedulously sought for on account of their bearing on the grand aim of women's existence, the admiration of the other sex. To this end everything else was subordinated. Even piety is recommended in one of Dr. Fordyce's sermons, not because it bends the whole power of the nature more intently on its duty to God and man, but because piety is becoming to the face and figure. He recommends holiness as a cosmetic. “Never," exclaims the preacher, “perhaps, does a fine woman strike more deeply than when composed into pious recollection; . . . she assumes, without knowing it, superior dignity, and new graces; so that the beauties of holiness seem to radiate about her." On this passage Mary Wollstonecraft exclaims that the intrusion of the idea of conquest and admiration as influencing a woman at her devotions, gives her a "sickly qualm." Profanation could hardly go lower than this; but there was much more modelled on the same pattern. Cowardice, as well as physical weakness, was regarded as part of what every woman ought to aim at. Ignorance was likewise extolled. ​Female modesty was held to be outraged by the confession of strong and enduring love from a woman to a man, even when that man was her husband. Dr. Gregory advises a wife "never to let her husband know the extent of her sensibility or affection." He likewise cautions all women carefully to hide their good sense and knowledge if they happen to possess any. "Be cautious," he says, "even in displaying your good sense. It will be thought you assume a superiority over the rest of the company. But if you happen to have any learning, keep it a profound secret, especially from the men, who generally look with a jealous and malignant eye on a woman of great parts, and a cultivated understanding." Pretence, seeming, outward show were the standards by which a woman's character was measured. A man is taught to dread the eye of God; but women were taught to dread nothing but the eye of man. Rousseau embodies the then current doctrine, that reputation in the case of women takes the place of virtue, in a passage which Mary Wollstonecraft quotes. "To women," he says, "reputation is no less indispensable than chastity: . . . what is thought of her is as important to her as what she really is. It follows hence that the system of a woman's education should in this respect be directly contrary to that of ours. Opinion is the grave of virtue among the men, but its throne among women." Right through this tangle of pretences and affectations Mary Wollstonecraft cuts with the double-edged knife of a sound heart and clear head. It is against the system of dissimulation that she ​protests; instead of telling women how they are most likely to avoid censure and win praise, to gain a reputation for decorum and propriety of behaviour, she tells them to leave appearances out of consideration: "Make the heart clean, give the head employment," and behaviour will take care of itself. Dr. Gregory's remarks relative to reputation and the applause of the world, she complains, begin at the wrong end, because he treats them as ends in themselves, and not in their proper relative position as advantages usually, but by no means universally, attendant on nobility of character and purpose. How much sounder than Dr. Gregory's petty maxims, she reminds her readers, is the scriptural injunction, "Get wisdom, get understanding; forget it not; . . . forsake her not, and she shall preserve thee; love her, and she shall keep thee. Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom, and with all thy getting get understanding." With a touch of humour, more common in her private letters than in her more studied works, Mary Wollstonecraft expresses her conviction that there is really no cause to counsel women to pretend to be sillier and more ignorant than they are. "When a woman has sufficient sense not to pretend to anything which she does not understand in some degree, there is no need of determining to hide her talents under a bushel. Let things take their natural course, and all will be well."
In combating false views concerning what women ought to be, and to what ends their lives should be directed, Mary Wollstonecraft did not con​concentrate herself only on the orthodox immoralities propounded by Dr. Gregory and Dr. Fordyce. She challenges the whole field, and deals with Pope, Lord Chesterfield, and Rousseau as fearlessly as with teachers more in harmony with the ordinarily received opinions of her day. In contrast with Dr. Fordyce's recommendation of the consolations of religion to women on the ground that "a fine woman never strikes more deeply" than when she is communing in spirit with her Creator, she reminds us of the opposite pole of male and female depravity expressed by Pope in the lines where, speaking on behalf of the whole male sex, he says:—
"Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create As when she touch'd the brink of all we hate."
The appearance of wantonness, just short of its reality, if indeed it was desirable to stop short of it, is recommended to women by Pope exactly in the same spirit as that in which Dr. Fordyce recommended piety. The centre of both systems is the assumption that women have nothing better to do or think of in this world than "to make conquests," as the old phrase was. The falsity, the immorality of this assumption, and the miserable consequences of acting upon it, it was the aim of "The Vindication of the Rights of Women" to demonstrate. In combating Rousseau's views on education, especially his antagonism to teaching boys and girls together or according to the same methods, she refers to his argument that if women are educated like men, the ​more they will resemble men, and the less power will they have over the other sex. "This is the very point," Mary Wollstonecraft says, "I aim at. I do not wish them to have power over men, but over themselves."
Rousseau in many respects gave a compendium of all Mary Wollstonecraft most objected to in his views relating to the position of women. Profoundly influenced by his writings as she had at one time been, she was intensely antagonistic to his professions and his practice in regard to all that touched upon the position of women and upon domestic life. There is nothing in her book to show that she was aware of the indelible stain on Rousseau as a man which has been left by his disposing of his five children immediately after their birth by placing them in the turnstile of the Foundling Hospital. The knowledge of this fact has perhaps relieved posterity from the necessity of paying any very strenuous attention to his arguments on the cultivation of the domestic virtues. Mary Wollstonecraft speaks contemptuously of Rousseau's wife as "the fool Theresa," and she probably knew what we know also, that Theresa was a kitchen wench whose state of mind closely approached absolute imbecility. "She could never," says Mr. John Morley, "be taught to read with any approach to success. She could never follow the order of the twelve months of the year, nor master a single arithmetical figure, nor count a sum of money, nor reckon the price of a thing. A month's instruction was not enough to give knowledge of the hours of the day upon a dial​plate. The words she used were often the direct opposites of the words she meant to use" ("Life of Rousseau," p. 72).
But nearly imbecile as she was, she loved her children, and deeply resented the cruel wrong her husband did her in snatching them from her. “The fool Theresa," with almost nothing to commend her but the primitive maternal instinct, may seem to many of us a more touching and instructive spectacle than a score of philosophers maundering over the thesis that woman has been formed for the sole purpose of being pleasing to man and subject to his rule. Mary Wollstonecraft seems to have known of Theresa's mental limitations and nothing more, and this was enough to show her that what Rousseau looked for in a wife was not a companion who could share his aims and stimulate his thoughts and imagination by her sympathy, but just a creature who had the physical capacity of bearing children, and who was present without necessarily being spoken to—he sometimes passed weeks without addressing to her a single word—when complete solitude would have been distasteful to him.
There is a peculiar satisfaction on the part of those who are trying to produce a change in general feeling in regard to any subject, when one of their opponents will state boldly, in so many words, what is the real foundation of the sentiment which inspires them. The majority of their spokesmen feel that the real reason of their opposition is too little respectable for open avowal; they count upon its secret influence, but never refer to it in public, It is therefore with a ​cry of delight that those on the other side seize upon an indiscreet avowal of the real principles on which their enemies rely. It was a service of this kind which Rousseau rendered to those who wished to promote the independence of women, when in a passage in "Emilius " he avowed his reason for belittling women from the cradle to the grave to be that otherwise they would be less subservient to men. The battle in which Mary Wollstonecraft took a leading part is still being waged, and it may be useful to those who are now carrying on this contest to be able to quote Rousseau's reason for keeping women in a perpetual state of tutelage and childhood. These are his words:—
"For this reason, the education of women should always be relative to that of men. To please, to be useful to US, to make US love and esteem them, to educate US when young, and take care of US when grown up, to advise, to console US, to render OUR lives easy and agreeable: these are the duties of women at all times, and what they should be taught in their infancy."
Take this and contrast it, as containing a worthy and dignified theory of human life, with the well-known first question and answer of the Scottish Shorter Catechism, of which Carlyle said, "The older I grow—and I now stand on the brink of eternity—the more comes back to me the first sentence in the catechism which I learned when a child, and the fuller and deeper its meaning becomes: 'What is the chief end of man? To glorify God, and to enjoy Him for ever." Rousseau and his disciples would ​disinherit women from this birthright, and to the question, "What is the chief end of woman?" would reply, “To glorify man, and to help him to enjoy himself for a little time." But Rousseau and those who follow in his footsteps do not even succeed in this poor aim. Happiness is one of those things of which it may with truth be said, “I was found of them that sought me not; I was made manifest unto them that asked not after me." Poor Theresa nursing in her dull brain undying resentment against the man who had robbed her of her children, the squalor and degradation of the pair, and the miserable end of Rousseau's life, are all a terrible commentary on the rottenness of the principles on which he founded their joint existence. All the beauty of personal devotion and self-abnegation, which count for so much in the happiness of family life, disappear and wither when they are selfishly claimed by one member of the family as due to him from the others, and are entirely unreciprocated on his part. The affectionate mutual consideration and happy companionship of human beings with equal rights, but different capacities and different occupations, are exchanged by those who adopt Rousseau's doctrines for a state of things which develops the vices of tyranny on the one side and the vices of slavery on the other; the husband becomes a harsh, exacting master, the wife and other members of the household too often become obsequious and deceitful serfs. Mary Wollstonecraft's husband wrote of her shortly after her death, “She was a worshipper of domestic life," and the truth of the expression is felt ​in every line of the numerous passages in "The Vindication," where she contends that the subjection of women is inimical to domestic happiness, and appeals to men to "be content with rational fellowship instead of slavish obedience." If this were so, "they would find us," she adds, more observant daughters, more affectionate sisters, more faithful wives, more reasonable mothers—in a word, better citizens." The relation of Milton to his daughters may be mentioned as an object lesson in the truth of Mary Wollstonecraft's contention. He tyrannised over them, they deceived and cheated him, and the domestic life of one of the greatest of Englishmen, instead of being full of beauty and a source of strength to those who come after him, is a thing that we try not to think of, and can never remember without a sense of pain and loss.
Mary Wollstonecraft, as Mr. Kegan Paul says in his sketch of her life and work prefixed to her Letters to Imlay, makes, in her "Vindication of the Rights of Women," a reiterated claim that women should be treated as the friends and equals of men, and not as their toys and slaves; but she does not claim for women intellectual or physical or moral equality with men. Her argument is that being weaker than men, physically and mentally, and not superior morally, the way in which women are brought up, and their subordination throughout life, first to their fathers, then to their husbands, prevents the due natural development of their physical, mental, and moral capacities. How can the powers of the body be developed without ​physical exercise? And in her day the ordinary rule for women in the upper ranks of society seems to have been to take none whatever. Their clothes and shoes rendered outdoor exercise entirely out of the question. A white muslin gown damped to cling more closely to the figure, and satin slippers, are not an equipment even for a walk on the London pavements; they would make a country ramble still more completely out of the question. Miss Edgeworth makes great fun of one of her sentimental heroines who insists on admiring the beauties of nature otherwise than from the windows of a coach. She takes a country walk, the lanes are muddy, and she leaves the satin slipper of her right foot in one of them. Mary Wollstonecraft pleaded that the lower degree of physical strength of women, and the strain upon that strength caused by maternity, ought to secure for them such conditions as regards exercise, clothing, and food as would make the most of that strength, and not reduce it to a vanishing point.
In the same spirit she argues about the mental capacity of women. Perpetual obedience, she contends, weakens the understanding; responsibility, and the necessity of thinking and deciding, strengthen it. She draws a picture of the obvious practical disadvantage of women being guided in everything by their husbands, and supposes a case in which the husband is a perfectly benevolent and perfectly intelligent despot. He manages everything, decides from the depths of his wisdom all ​difficulties; his wife, to quote Mrs. Poyser, does not know which end she stands uppermost till her husband tells her. But even intelligent and benevolent despots do not live for ever. Her husband dies, and leaves his wife with a large family of young children. Her previous life has not prepared her by experience to fulfil the arduous task of being both father and mother to them. She is ignorant of the management of their property and of their education. She is utterly unfit for the weight that suddenly falls on her shoulders. What is left for her to do except transfer to some other husband the direction of her family, or in some other way shift to other shoulders the responsibility that she ought to discharge?
In Mary Wollstonecraft's remarks respecting what she considers the moral inferiority of women to men, I think we see more than anywhere else evidence of the salutary change that has already been brought about in the social position and education of women. Very few modern writers or observers consider women less sensible to the claims of duty than men. The late Rev. F. D. Maurice, writing in support of women's suffrage, and speaking of English women as he knew them, said, "In any sphere wherein women feel their responsibility, they are, as a rule, far more conscientious than men;" and I think there is a general concensus of opinion, that where large and important duties have been confided to women, they have been on the whole faithful in the discharge of them. The moral trustworthiness of the run of women is ​accepted by most of us, in our every-day life, as part of the natural order of things on which we can rely as implicitly as on the continuity of the forces of nature. Mary Wollstonecraft, however, finds great fault with women in her time, and roundly accuses them of cunning, superstition, want of generosity, low sense of justice, gross mismanagement of their children and of their households, and of a domestic selfishness which, in some respects, is worse than neglect. This last subject is worth referring to, because some of those who wish to maintain the subjection of women are to be found even now who argue that if a woman is happy in her own children she has no occasion to occupy herself at all with the circumstances that make or mar the lives of other children. On this point Mary Wollstonecraft says:—
"In short, speaking of the majority of mothers, they leave their children entirely to the care of servants; or, because they are their children, treat them as if they were little demi-gods, though I have always observed that the women who thus idolise their children seldom show common humanity to servants, or feel the least tenderness for any children but their own."
If this were true a hundred years ago the majority of candid observers certainly would not maintain that it is true now. From the time of Mrs. Fry downwards there has been a constantly growing army of women who both idolise their own children and spend themselves with unstinting devotion to render the lives of other children happy and ​healthy. Women have used the greater freedom and the better education they have received since Mary Wollstonecraft's time just as she predicted they would. They care for their own children as much, and they care for other children more. They are not content with securing favourable conditions of life for their own children, but in almost innumerable ways are making efforts to check the waste in children's lives that went on unheeded in Mary Wollstonecraft's time.
The faults of "The Vindication" as a literary work are patent upon the face of it. There is a want of order and system in it which may, perhaps, be attributed to the desultory education of the writer. As she herself points out, the want of order in women's education is answerable to a large extent for the want of order in their after-work. A more important blemish to modern ears consists in the formal and frequently stilted language in which the writer conveys her meaning. The reaction against the formalities of the Johnsonian period had begun, but had not as yet conquered; the triumph of the naturalistic school in literature led by Cowper, Burns, Wordsworth, and Joanna Baillie was yet to come. There are other faults in the book deeper than those of order and style, which are probably to be traced to a reaction against the school of ethics, which proclaimed that appearances and decorum were ends in themselves to be diligently sought for. To this reaction may also, I believe, be attributed the errors of Mary Wollstonecraft's own life, and ​those of so many members of the circle in which she moved. In unravelling the curious tangle of relationships, intrigues, suicides, and attempted suicides, of the remarkable group of personalities to whom Mary Wollstonecraft belonged, one is sickened for ever, as Mr. Matthew Arnold has said, of the subject of irregular relations. Mary Wollstonecraft's great merit, however, lies in this, that with a detachment of mind from the prejudices and errors of her time, in regard to the position of women, that was quite extraordinary, she did not sanction any depreciation of the immense importance of the domestic duties of women. She constantly exalted what was truly feminine as the aim of woman's education and training; she recognised love and the attraction between the sexes a cardinal fact in human nature, and "marriage as the foundation of almost every social virtue." Hence very largely from her initiative the women's rights movement in England has kept free from the excesses and follies that in some other countries have marred its course. Mary Wollstonecraft, in her writings as well as in her life, with its sorrows and errors, is the essentially womanly woman, with the motherly and wifely instincts strong within her, and caring for all she claims and pleads for on behalf of her sex, because she is convinced that a concession of a large measure of women's rights is essential to the highest possible conception and fulfilment of women's duties. In words that recall Mazzini's memorable saying, "the sole origin of every right is in a duty fulfilled," ​she says, "a right always includes a duty," and again, "rights and duties are inseparable."
The remarkable degree in which she was ahead of her time is shown on almost every page of "The Vindication." She claims for women the right to share in the advantages of representation in Parliament, nearly seventy years before Women's Suffrage was heard of in the House of Commons. She knows that few, if any, at that time would be found to sympathise with her, but that does not prevent her from claiming for women what she felt was simple justice. She also perceives the enormous importance of the economic independence of women, and its bearing on social health and disease. The possibility of women earning a comfortable livelihood by honest labour tends in some degree to prevent them from marrying merely for a living, and on the other hand cuts at one fruitful source of prostitution. She pointed out fifty years before any English woman had become a qualified medical practitioner that the profession of medicine was particularly well suited to women, and entirely congenial to the womanly character; and she argued that there were a number of other businesses and professions in which women might suitably and honourably engage. These opinions have now become the commonplaces of ordinary conversation; but it must not be forgotten, in estimating the originality of her mind, that she was writing only a very few years after the time when the great lion of the literary and social world of London had condemned even the harmless ​ing of the paint-brush and mahl-stick by a woman. Boswell records that Dr. Johnson "thought portrait painting an improper employment for a woman. Public practice of any art, he observed, and staring in men's faces, is very indelicate in a female"; and in another place Boswell tells how the great doctor thought literature as little suited to a "delicate female" as painting. Of a literary lady of his time who was reported to have become attentive to her dress and appearance, Johnson remarked that "she was better employed at her toilet than using her pen."
It need hardly be said that Mary Wollstonecraft anticipated the change that has come about in the public mind as to what is needful in the education of women. How great that change has been is forcibly illustrated by a passage quoted in "The Vindication" from a writer who propounds the view that the study of botany is inconsistent with the preservation of "female delicacy." This might well provoke another sickly qualm" in its essential coarseness of feeling and degrading conception of the works of Nature. Mary Wollstonecraft brings this indelicate delicacy to the right touchstone when she says: "On reading similar passages, I have reverentially lifted up my eyes and heart to Him who liveth for ever and ever, and said, 'O my Father, hast Thou by the very constitution of her nature forbid Thy child to seek Thee in the fair forms of truth? And can her soul be sullied by the knowledge that awfully calls her to Thee?'"
In another all-important respect Mary Wollstonecraft was ahead of her time, and may be regarded, ​though opinion has moved in the direction in which she pointed, as ahead of ours. In numerous passages she points out the inseparable connection between male and female chastity. One would have thought the fact so self-evident as to need no asseveration; but as a matter of experience we know that even now the mass of people mete out to the two partners the same action an entirely different degree of blame, and judge them by entirely different standards; the one who is condemned the most severely is not the one who has had the advantage, generally speaking, in wealth, education, experience, and knowledge of the world, and on whom therefore, if any difference be made, a greater responsibility ought to rest; "the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks" on him, and reserves all its terrors for her who stands at a disadvantage in all these respects. An action that is one and the same is regarded as in the last degree heinous in one of the actors and as quite excusable in the other. Against the essential immorality and injustice of this doctrine and practice Mary Wollstonecraft protested with her whole strength. She exposes the insincerity of those who profess zeal for virtue by pointing the finger of scorn at the woman who has transgressed, while her partner who may have tempted her by money, ease, and flattery to her doom, is received with every mark of consideration and respect. "To little respect has that woman a claim . . . who smiles on the libertine while she spurns the victims of his lawless appetites and their own folly." The injustice of this attitude of mind is as conspicuous as its hypocrisy; and in the different ​measure meted out by the world to the partners in each other's degradation Mary Wollstonecraft perceives a fruitful source of immorality. The two sexes must in this, as in nearly every other respect, rise or sink together. Unchastity in men means unchastity in women; and the cure for the ills which unchastity brings with it is not to be found in penitentiaries and in Magdalen institutions, but in a truer measure of justice as regards the responsibilities of both sexes, in opening to women a variety of honourable means of earning a living, and in developing in men and women self-government and a sense of their responsibility to each other, themselves, their children, and the nation.
In many respects Mary Wollstonecraft's book gives us a pleasing assurance that with all the faults of our time we have made way upon the whole, and are several steps higher up on the ladder of decency and self-control than our forerunners were a hundred years ago. She speaks of the almost universal habit in her time among the wealthier classes of drinking to excess, and of what is even less familiar to her readers of the present day, "of a degree of gluttony which is so beastly" as to destroy all sense of seemliness. She also states that so far from chastity being held in honour among men, it was positively despised by them.
In all these matters the beginning of the twentieth century compares favourably with the end of the eighteenth; and one great factor in the progress made is the far greater concession of women's rights at this time compared with that. The development ​ of the womanliness of women that comes with their greater freedom makes itself felt in helping to form a sounder public opinion upon all forms of physical excess, and with this a truer and nobler ideal of manly virtue.
In one other important respect Mary Wollstonecraft was ahead of her own time in regard to women, and in line with the foremost thinkers on this subject in ours. Henrik Ibsen took the lead among the moderns in teaching that women have a duty to themselves as well as to their parents, husbands, and children, and that truth and freedom are needed for the growth of true womanliness as well as of true manliness. But Mary Wollstonecraft anticipated him in teaching that self-government, self-knowledge, and self-respect, a worship of truth and not of mere outward observances, are what women's lives mainly need to make them noble. I have already quoted her saying: "I do not want them to have power over men, but over themselves," and other quotations of a similar drift may be given: "It is not empire, but equality and friendship which women want;" and again: "Speaking of women at large, their first duty is to themselves as rational creatures, and the next, in point of importance, as citizens, is that, which includes so many, of a mother." The words italicised foreshadow almost verbatim Nora's expression in the well-known scene in "A Doll's House," where she tells her astounded husband that she has discovered that she has duties to herself as well as to him and to their children.
The facts of Mary Wollstonecraft's life are now so ​well known through the biographies of Mr. Kegan Paul and Mrs. Pennell, and her memory has been so thoroughly vindicated from the contumely that was at one time heaped upon it, that I do not propose to dwell upon her personal history. I have here endeavoured to consider the character of the initiative which she gave to the women's rights movement England, and I find that she stamped upon it from the outset the word Duty, and has impressed it with a character that it has never since lost. Women need education, need economic independence, need political enfranchisement, need social equality and friendship, mainly because without them they are less able to do their duty to themselves and to their neighbours. What was false and unreal in the old system of treating women she showed up in its ugliness, the native ugliness of all shams. That woman must choose between being a slave and a queen, quickly scorn'd when not ador'd," is a theory of pinchbeck and tinsel; it is difficult to discover its relation to the realities of life. Upon this theory, and all that hangs upon it, Mary Wollstonecraft made the first systematic and concentrated attack; and the women's rights movement in England and America owes as much to her as modern Political Economy owes to her famous contemporary, Adam Smith.