We English are sentimental.
Perhaps it is worth while to wait a moment to ask the cause of this
deeply-acting English sentimentality. It rests on two qualities, our
moderation and our exclusiveness. But the precise causes of these
qualities are not so certain; the English are romantic, but our
moderation prevents us being too impulsively romantic; on the other
hand, our homely _feeling for reality_ does not lead us to investigate
reality too deeply. We dislike the sordid and the "not nice." We are
imaginative and passionate, but our imaginations and passions are
carefully balanced by reasons and calm reflections. We are kindly, but
not to the extent of saintlike self-sacrifice; also we are selfish, but
again not to the extent of brutal egoism. Our exclusiveness makes "Birds
of a feather flock together" and at the same time fosters our ignorance
of, and indifference to, the existence of any other species of bird.
Thus the good know nothing of the bad; the people who drink, play
bridge, dance and have a fashionably good time, for instance, have
hardly heard of the meeting-frequenting, soul-worrying reformers who
live in Garden Suburbs. Thus in England there is very little to disturb
a comfortable feeling; protected by our moderation and exclusiveness,
there is no force inside from ourselves, or outside from observers, to
make us revise our position, consider the right or the wrong of our
moral attitude, to give up our illusions of comfort. That is one reason
why we so often stand aside from the ugly reality of things as they are,
"hold high the banner of the ideal," which is the untruthful way in
which we allude to things as we want them to be.
X
Now, all this leads up very directly to the special aspect of the
problem we are considering. We have to realize just what are the results
likely to follow from the close relationship of mother and child in the
case of the illegitimately born. Personally, I am certain that in most
cases the situation is one of quite appalling dangers.
I cannot feel sure that even the most helpful supervision of the mother,
if she and her child enter a hostel, or other institution, can, in the
majority of cases, save some hurt, if her character is unsteady, being
given by her to the child. We are only just now coming at all to
understand how immensely fateful to the whole later development are the
first few years of infant life, and further, how everything is
colored--it would be truer to say "decided"--by the character and
actions of the mother; how any hurt done, or mistake made then, can
never be undone. Even an unwise expression of too fond and emotional
affection may act to cause ruin in the after years. All who have even a
slight acquaintance with the enlightening work of Freud, will know the
folly of "trying to save the illegitimate mother through the agency of
the child."
Let me state the case quite plainly: _There are different types among
these unmarried mothers, just as there are among married mothers, some
would be wise mothers did we give them the necessary help and
opportunity, but many would not be wise mothers under any circumstances
or with any amount of help, because they are weak in character and are
incapable of child-training. Now, the problem of saving the child is
quite a different one in these opposite cases: in the one instance
everything ought to be done to keep the child with its mother, in the
other the one safeguard is to keep the child wholly out of the mother's
power._
I state sadly, but without hesitation, and from my own experience, that
in innumerable cases the salvation of the child depends more than
anything else on its complete separation from the mother. I cannot
countenance sentiment that blinds our intelligence. How can it be wise
to recommend in cases where the character of the mother "seems to
warrant a separation," that "periodic visiting by the mother needs to be
fostered."[175:1] Again, what must happen if the baby is in the care of
the trained nurse by day, but at night is given up to the untrained and
often untrainable mother, who goes out to work but returns to the hostel
to sleep?[175:2]
You will tell me the mother wants to have the child. That is right and
good from one point of view--that of the mother; but from the other--the
point of view of the child--it cannot work out well. The child switches
hither and thither between various treatments and quite opposite
influences. And with the child's terrible candor it shows the hurt it is
suffering and says always, in effect, though not in words, "I wish you
would all agree as to how you want me to grow up."
I may state the question in this way: _Do we want the child to grow up
like its mother or do we want to save it from being like her?_
To answer this simple question will help us more than at first we may
see. Frankly, our confusion here in fixing what we want is the cause
which, in my opinion, more than anything else must bring failure to what
is being done, and being proposed to be done, to help the illegitimately
born child. Our sentiment causes us to confuse what is good for the
mother with what is good for the child, and, because of this, we are
failing to grapple with the most warring element in the whole difficult
problem of saving the child; we shall have to face and deal successfully
with this certain fact of the very common unfitness of the unmarried
mother, before we can do the one simple and right thing and prevent the
child from having to pay the penalty of its parents' illegitimate act.
We are brought back always to this: the saving of the child as the one
plain duty before us.