IX

There is one element in the relations between man and wife to which, as

yet, I have hardly referred. I mean that element which is known as the

exercise of protection by the stronger over the weaker—by the man over

the woman. In considering the rewards of wifehood, great or small, it

cannot, of course, be passed over without examination, since it seems

to be assumed that a man pays his wife for services unpaid in other

ways by defending her against perils, physical or otherwise.

Now there can be no doubt that in former ages and all over the

world—as in certain regions of the world to-day—this physical

protection of the weaker by the stronger, of the woman by the man, was

a thing that really counted in marriage. The women of a savage tribe

which was constantly at war with surrounding savage tribes, would have

to rely on the strength and skill in warfare of their men to deliver

them from capture or death. In such a primitive state of affairs every

man might be called upon at any moment to exercise in his own person

duties of defence and protection which the average man now delegates

to the paid soldier and the paid policeman. In the beginning of things

the head of every family possessed the right of private war and private

justice, and it was on his success in both these fields of activity

that the lives and the welfare of his womenfolk and children would very

largely depend. It was only by virtue of his strength that he could

maintain possession of his property in goods or in human flesh. It was

by virtue of his superior strength that he reduced woman to subjection,

and in return, and as a form of payment for her toil, defended her

from the attacks of others. So arose and originated the idea of the

physical protection necessarily meted out by husband to wife; an idea

real enough in the beginning. Circumstances alter cases; but they often

take a long time to alter ideas, and this particular one continues to

flourish luxuriantly in places where the order of things that gave it

birth has passed into the forgotten. One still hears people talk as if

a clerk or a greengrocer’s assistant, married in a suburban chapel and

going to Cliftonville for his honeymoon, undertook thereby to shelter

his better half from heaven knows what of vague and mysterious peril.

From other times and other manners, beginning with the days when a

stone axe formed a necessary part of a bridegroom’s wedding garment,

into places where moral force has fought the worst of its bitter battle

with physical force, into days when private war is called murder and

the streets are policed, there has come down the superstition that the

ordinary civilized man performs doughty feats of protection for the

benefit of the ordinary civilized wife. And it seems to be accepted

that that element of protection is a natural and unavoidable element in

the relations of married man and woman—even of married man and woman

living in a suburban flat.

Once upon a time it was a natural and unavoidable element in

the relations of every married couple; just as it was natural

and unavoidable, once upon a time, that the unwarlike and

commercially-minded burghers of a mediæval city should bargain

with a neighbouring and predatory baron to keep at bay—for a

consideration—other barons no less predatory but a little less

neighbouring. That sort of arrangement, I believe, was fairly common

in the Middle Ages when predatory barons were in a position which

enabled them to bend the law to their own liking, and when the obvious

thing for honest and peaceable men to do was to set a thief to catch

a thief. A recognized institution in its day, this particular form of

protection passed with the growth of a central authority, with the

suppression of private warfare and the substitution of a national for

a tribal ideal. Instead of paying blackmail to a brigand, the city, in

its later days, organized a police force of its own and contributed

its share towards the upkeep of a national army. And the overlord

vanished because, his duties having been taken away from him, there was

nothing left for him to do. Much the same sort of thing has happened in

other directions; increasing civilization has left other than barons

without the duties that formerly appertained to their position. Like

the protective functions of the overlord, the protective functions of

the husband have been centralized and nationalized, regulated by the

community and delegated to the soldier and the policeman. Where stable

government exists the number of men who offer up their lives each

year in actual defence of their own hearths and their own wives is, I

imagine, small; so small that I do not suppose the insurance companies

take much account of it in estimating their risks. I have not the least

intention of casting any reflection upon the courage of the average

civilized husband or inferring that he is not willing to offer up his

life in defence of his better half if called upon to do so; I merely

state the obvious fact that he is not very often called upon to make

the sacrifice. Even in those countries where universal military service

is established, the duty of defending the national (not the individual)

hearth and home falls last upon men who are married and have a family

to support; it is the young, unmarried men who are called upon to form

the first line of defence and defiance. And in ordinary every-day

life it is the strong arm of the law and not the strong arm of the

individual husband which secures a woman from hurt and molestation.

If it were not so the unprotected spinster would be in a truly piteous

plight. As a matter of fact, she usually finds that the ordinary

constable is quite adequate for all her requirements in the protective

line.

Closely allied to this idea of individual masculine protection is

that other, and still more vaguely nebulous, idea of chivalry or

preferential treatment of women in general by men in general. Which

necessitates an inquiry into what the average modern man really means

when he talks of chivalry in this connection.

Frankly, it does not seem to me that he means very much. My own

experience leads me to define chivalry—not the real thing, but the

term as it is commonly used, say, in the public press—to define

chivalry as a form, not of respect for an equal, but of condescension

to an inferior; a condescension which expresses itself in certain rules

of behaviour where non-essentials are involved. In very few really

essential matters between man and woman is the chivalric principle

allowed to get so much as a hearing; in practically all such matters

it is, as I have already pointed out, an understood thing that woman

gets the worst of the bargain, does the unpleasant work in the common

division of labour, and, when blame is in question, sits down under the

lion’s share of it. In return for this attitude on her part—which,

if voluntary, would be really chivalrous, but being involuntary is

merely servile—man undertakes to regulate his conduct towards her by

certain particular forms of outward deference. His attitude, so far

as one can gather is something like this: as long as you refrain from

coming into competition with us, as long as you will allow us to look

down upon you, as long as you are content to regard yourselves not only

as our dependents, but as persons sent into the world to minister to

our comforts and our pleasures, so long shall our outward behaviour

towards you be framed in a particular code of manners which secures

you preferential treatment in unimportant matters. But, in order to

secure this preferential treatment in unimportant matters, you must put

no strain upon our courtesy, and you must defer to our wishes in more

important things; you must not trespass upon the domain that we have

reserved for our own use, you must not infringe the rules which have

been laid down for your guidance and whose aim is to secure our own

comfort.

In other words what is commonly known as “chivalry” is not a

spontaneous virtue or impulse on the part of modern man, but the form

in which he pays his debt for value received from woman. Directly she

fails to fulfil her own important share of the bargain, he considers

himself at liberty to refuse payment; at least, one must conclude so

from the frequency with which the “independent” woman of to-day is

threatened with the extinction of chivalry if she continued to assert

herself in a manner which may be consistent with her own desires, but

which is not consistent with the desires of average male humanity.

Looked at in that light, the preferential code of manners, which is all

that is usually understood by chivalry, bears distinct resemblance to

the sugar that attempts to veil the flavour of a pill or the jam that

does its best to conceal the noxiousness of a lurking powder. By a

simple process of exchange and barter outward deference on the one side

is given in payment for real deference and subjection on the other;

and, that being the case, it is quite open to woman to look into the

terms of her bargain, reconsider them, and ask herself whether she is

not paying too high a price for value received. For, with every respect

for courtesy, the opening of a door and the lifting of a hat, however

reverential, are among the small things of life.

It will no doubt be objected that chivalry is something infinitely

greater than what I have called outward forms of deference. I agree

that that is not the true meaning of the word; but I maintain that, in

general practice, the virtue of chivalry, in so far as it enters into

the daily lives of most women, amounts to outward forms of deference

and little more. As soon as we come to essentials, we realize that

the counteracting principle will inevitably be brought into play—the

principle that the woman must always be sacrificed to the interests of

the man.

There are, of course, exceptions to that rule—and noble ones. It is

written that in common danger of death the stronger must think first,

not of his own life, but of the lives of those weaker and dependent

upon him; and whatever other laws a man might break with impudence and

impunity, he would very certainly be ashamed to confess to a breach of

this particular commandment. One respects such habitual obedience as

fine and finely disciplined; but it is not decrying it to point out

that not every man is called upon to exercise it and that the form of

chivalry cultivated by most is necessarily of a less strenuous type.

And into chivalry of the less strenuous type the idea of self-sacrifice

in essentials does not as a rule enter, since it is, as I have already

shown, in the nature of a reward or payment for self-sacrifice in

others.

I am quite aware that there are a great many women of the upper and

middle classes—women, for the most part, who lead a leisured and

comfortable existence—who attach an inordinately high value to outward

forms of deference from the men with whom they come in contact.

Considering their training and education, and the trend of their whole

lives, it is perhaps only natural that they should. The aim of that

training and education has been, as I have shown, not to develop their

individuality and capacities, but to make themselves and their actions

pleasing to the men with whom they may happen to come in contact; and,

that being so, approval from the men with whom they may happen to come

in contact is naturally a thing of the utmost importance to them. To

lack it is to lack the whole reward of a well-spent life. By women with

this narrow outlook on the world superficial courtesies and superficial

deference are interpreted to mean approval and, therefore, success in

pleasing—almost the only form of success open to them. Further, the

lives of such women are usually sheltered, and thus they do not have

very much opportunity of realizing that the meed of ceremony to which

they are accustomed is largely a tribute paid, not to themselves or to

their womanhood, but to the particular leisured class to which they

happen to belong.

Whatever the reason, it is certain that many women of the “comfortable”

class do cling desperately and rather pathetically to the idea of

their little privileges in this respect; I have over and over again

heard such women oppose efforts to better their own position and that

of others simply on the ground that “men would not treat us in the

same way—there would be no chivalry, they would not be polite to

us any longer.” Apparently the good souls are under the impression

that no man is ever polite to a person he does not despise; and this

sort of argument shows how completely those who use it have learned

to substitute the shadow for the reality and dissociate what is

commonly called chivalry from respect. To them masculine courtesy is

an expression not of reverence for women, but of more or less kindly

contempt for them—and they are quite content that it should be so.

Personally, this attitude—an attitude of voluntary abasement assumed

in order that man may know the pleasure of condescension—is the only

thing that ever makes me ashamed of being a woman; since it is the

outward and visible expression of an inward servility that has eaten

and destroyed a soul.

X

Modern chivalry, then, has been narrowed down, if not in theory, at

any rate in practice, to a code of deferential behaviour affecting

such matters and contingencies as the opening of doors, the lifting of

hats, and the handing of teacups; but not touching or affecting the

pre-eminence and predominance of man in the more important interests of

life. At its best, such a code of behaviour is a meritorious attempt to

atone for advantage in essentials by self-abnegation in non-essentials;

at its worst, it is simply an expression of condescension.

That there is a chivalry which means something other and more than

this—which is based upon the idea, not of condescension, but of real

respect for women—I shall not deny; but it is comparatively rare—for

the simple reason that the qualities encouraged and fostered in the

ordinary woman are not the sort of qualities which command respect.

They may have other merits, but that one they lack. For, be it noted,

respect is a tribute to be commanded; not a reward to be won by

supplication, by abasement, or compliance with the wishes of others. We

do not necessarily like what we respect—for instance, the strength,

the skill, and the resources of an enemy; and we do not necessarily

respect in other people qualities which, in our own interests, we

should like them to possess—qualities of subservience, submission,

and timidity, which we are quite willing to make use of even while we

despise them.

This latter attitude, it seems to me, is the attitude of man to woman.

For generations the training of woman has been directed towards the

encouragement in her of certain qualities and characteristics—such

as subservience, narrowness of mind, stupidity—all of them designed

to promote the comfort and well-being of her owner, but none of them

calculated to arouse in him a sensation of esteem. One may be kind to a

person who is subservient, narrow-minded, and stupid; but one does not

respect that person. It is no reproach whatever to a man to say that

he does not respect women so long as he believes (and is encouraged

to believe) that their only interests in life are the interests

represented in a newspaper by the page entitled, _Woman’s World_,

or the _Sphere of Woman_—a page dealing with face-powder, frilled

nightgowns, and anchovy toast. No sane and intelligent man could feel

any real respect for a woman whose world was summed up in these things.

If the face-powder were applied with discretion and the directions on

the subject of anchovy toast carried out with caution, he might find

her an ornament as well as a convenience in his home; but it would be

impossible for him to respect her, because she would not be, in the

proper sense of the word, respectable. If he encourages the type, it is

not because he respects it.

It may, of course, be urged that woman’s claim to reverence and respect

is based on far higher and surer ground than mere intelligence, or

even character—on the fulfilment of her duties as wife and mother.

Personally, I fail to see that any very great measure of respect or

reverence is dealt out to her on this or any other ground—except,

perhaps, now and again on paper; and even if it were, I should not,

under present conditions, consider it justified. As long as the

fulfilment of those duties is not a purely voluntary action on the

part of woman, it gives her no claim upon any one’s respect. Heroism

under pressure is not heroism at all; and there is, to my mind, nothing

the least exalted or noble in bringing up children, cooking chops,

and cleaning doorsteps merely because very few other ways of earning

a decent living happen to be open to you. And so long as marriage and

motherhood are not matters of perfectly free choice on the part of the

majority of women, so long will the performance of the duties incurred

by marriage and motherhood, however onerous and however important,

constitute no particular title to respect.

In so far as men do respect women, and not despise them, it seems

to me that they respect them for exactly those qualities which they

esteem in each other—and which, paradoxically enough, are for the

most part exactly those qualities which they have done their best to

erase and eradicate from the feminine character. The characteristics

which make a man or a woman “respectable” are not the characteristics

of subserviency and servility; on the contrary, those particular

characteristics, even when encouraged for interested reasons, are

rightly and naturally regarded with contempt. They may be more

comfortable to live with—man evidently thinks so—but, comfortable

or not, they are despised instinctively. They have their reward, no

doubt; but that reward is not reverence and respect—since reverence

and respect must be commanded, not coaxed or cringed for. A woman

who insists on flinging aside the traditions of her early training,

standing on her own feet, fighting her own battle, and doing that which

is right in her own eyes, may not get from man anything more than

respect, but, in the long run, she will certainly get that. It may be

given grudgingly, but it will be given, all the same; since courage and

independence of thought are qualities respectable in themselves. And,

on the other hand, and however much he may desire to do so, it is, I

should say, quite impossible for any thinking man to entertain a real

reverence and esteem for a section of humanity which he believes to

exist solely in order to perform certain animal functions connected

with, and necessary to, the reproduction of the race. After all, it is

not upon the performance of a purely animal function that a human being

should found his or her title to respect; if woman is reverenced only

because she reproduces her kind, a still higher meed of reverence is

due to the rabbit.

And in this connection it is interesting to note that the mediæval

institution of chivalry, with its exalted, if narrow, ideal of

reverence for, and service of, womanhood, took its rise and flourished

in times when the housekeeping and child-bearing trade was not the

only occupation open to women; when, on the contrary, they had, in the

religious life, an alternative career, equally honoured with, if not

more honoured than, marriage; and when it was not considered essential

to the happiness and well-being of every individual woman to pair off,

after the fashion of the animals going into the ark. Whatever the

defects and drawbacks of conventual life, it stood for the principle,

denied before and since, that woman had an existence of her own apart

from man, a soul to be saved apart from man. It was a flat defiance of

the theory that she came into the world only to marry and reproduce her

kind; it acknowledged and admitted the importance of her individual

life and conduct; in short, it recognized her as something besides

a wife and a mother, and gave her other claims to respect than that

capacity for reproduction which she shared with the lower animals.

Further, by making celibacy an honourable instead of a despised estate,

it must have achieved an important result from an economic point of

view; it must have lessened the congestion in the marriage market by

lessening the number of women who regarded spinsterhood as the last

word in failure. It enhanced the value of the wife and mother by making

it not only possible, but easy, for her to become something else. It

opened up a career to an ambitious woman; since, in the heyday of the

Church, the head of a great community of nuns was something more than

a recluse—a power in the land, an administrator of estates. None of

these things, of course, were in the minds of those who instituted the

celibate, conventual life as a refuge from the world; they were its

unforeseen results, but none the less real because unforeseen. They

followed on the institution of the conventual life for woman because it

represented the only organized attempt ever made to free her from the

necessity of compulsory marriage and child-bearing.

I have no bias, religious or otherwise, in favour of the conventual

life, which, as hitherto practised, is no doubt open to objection on

many grounds; but it seems to me that any institution or system which

admits or implies a reason for woman’s existence other than sexual

intercourse and the reproduction of her kind must tend inevitably to

raise the position not only of the celibate woman, but, indirectly, of

the wife and mother. In its palmy days, when it was a factor not only

in the spiritual life of a religious body, but in the temporal life of

the State, the convent, with all its defects, must have stood for the

advancement of women; and if it had never come into existence, I very

much doubt whether the injunctions laid upon knighthood would have

included respect for and service of womanhood.

The upheaval which we term the Reformation, whatever its other merits,

was distinctly anti-feminist in its tendencies. Where it did not sweep

the convent away altogether, it narrowed its scope and sapped its

influence; and, being anti-feminist, evolved no new system to take

the place of that which it had swept away. The necessity of replacing

the monk by the schoolmaster was recognized, but not the necessity

of replacing the nun by the schoolmistress; the purely physical and

reproductive idea of woman being once again uppermost, the need for

training her mind no longer existed. The masterful women of the

Renaissance had few successors; and John Knox, with his _Monstrous

Regiment of Women_, but the mouthpiece of an age which was setting

vigorously to work to discourage individuality and originality in the

weaker sex by condemning deviations from the common type to be burnt as

witches.

This favourite pastime of witch-burning has not, I think, been

sufficiently taken into account in estimating the reason for the

low standard of intelligence attained by women at a time when

men were making considerable progress in social and intellectual

fields. The general impression appears to be that only old, ugly,

and decrepit hags fell victims to popular superstition or the

ingenuity of the witch-finder; but, as a matter of fact, when the

craze for witch-finding was at its height, any sort of peculiarity,

even beauty of an unusual and arresting type, seems to have been

sufficient to expose a woman to the suspicion of secret dealings

with the Prince of Darkness. At first sight it seems curious (since

the religious element in a people is usually the feminine element)

that the Prince of Darkness should have confined his dealings almost

exclusively to women—it has been estimated that wizards were done

to death in the proportion of one to several thousand witches; but

on further consideration one inclines to the belief that the fury of

witch-burning by which our ancestors were possessed must have been

prompted by motives other than purely devotional. In all probability

those motives were largely unconscious; but the rage of persecution

against the witch has so much in common with the customary masculine

policy of repressing, at any cost, all deviations from the type of

wife-and-mother-and-nothing-else, that one cannot help the suspicion

that it was more or less unconsciously inspired by that policy.