We say then that the female holds up with two strong arms these two
pillars of civilization; we say also that she could do neither, but for
her position; her curious position of private omnipotence, universality
on a small scale. The first element is thrift; not the destructive
thrift of the miser, but the creative thrift of the peasant; the second
element is dignity, which is but the expression of sacred personality
and privacy. Now I know the question that will be abruptly and
automatically asked by all that know the dull tricks and turns of the
modern sexual quarrel. The advanced person will at once begin to argue
about whether these instincts are inherent and inevitable in woman
or whether they are merely prejudices produced by her history and
education. Now I do not propose to discuss whether woman could now be
educated out of her habits touching thrift and dignity; and that for two
excellent reasons. First it is a question which cannot conceivably ever
find any answer: that is why modern people are so fond of it. From the
nature of the case it is obviously impossible to decide whether any of
the peculiarities of civilized man have been strictly necessary to his
civilization. It is not self-evident (for instance), that even the habit
of standing upright was the only path of human progress. There might
have been a quadrupedal civilization, in which a city gentleman put on
four boots to go to the city every morning. Or there might have been
a reptilian civilization, in which he rolled up to the office on his
stomach; it is impossible to say that intelligence might not have
developed in such creatures. All we can say is that man as he is
walks upright; and that woman is something almost more upright than
uprightness.
And the second point is this: that upon the whole we rather prefer women
(nay, even men) to walk upright; so we do not waste much of our noble
lives in inventing any other way for them to walk. In short, my second
reason for not speculating upon whether woman might get rid of these
peculiarities, is that I do not want her to get rid of them; nor does
she. I will not exhaust my intelligence by inventing ways in which
mankind might unlearn the violin or forget how to ride horses; and the
art of domesticity seems to me as special and as valuable as all the
ancient arts of our race. Nor do I propose to enter at all into those
formless and floundering speculations about how woman was or is regarded
in the primitive times that we cannot remember, or in the savage
countries which we cannot understand. Even if these people segregated
their women for low or barbaric reasons it would not make our reasons
barbaric; and I am haunted with a tenacious suspicion that these
people’s feelings were really, under other forms, very much the same as
ours. Some impatient trader, some superficial missionary, walks across
an island and sees the squaw digging in the fields while the man is
playing a flute; and immediately says that the man is a mere lord of
creation and the woman a mere serf. He does not remember that he might
see the same thing in half the back gardens in Brixton, merely because
women are at once more conscientious and more impatient, while men are
at once more quiescent and more greedy for pleasure. It may often be
in Hawaii simply as it is in Hoxton. That is, the woman does not work
because the man tells her to work and she obeys. On the contrary, the
woman works because she has told the man to work and he hasn’t obeyed. I
do not affirm that this is the whole truth, but I do affirm that we have
too little comprehension of the souls of savages to know how far it
is untrue. It is the same with the relations of our hasty and surface
science, with the problem of sexual dignity and modesty. Professors find
all over the world fragmentary ceremonies in which the bride affects
some sort of reluctance, hides from her husband, or runs away from
him. The professor then pompously proclaims that this is a survival of
Marriage by Capture. I wonder he never says that the veil thrown over
the bride is really a net. I gravely doubt whether women ever were
married by capture I think they pretended to be; as they do still.
It is equally obvious that these two necessary sanctities of thrift
and dignity are bound to come into collision with the wordiness,
the wastefulness, and the perpetual pleasure-seeking of masculine
companionship. Wise women allow for the thing; foolish women try to
crush it; but all women try to counteract it, and they do well. In many
a home all round us at this moment, we know that the nursery rhyme is
reversed. The queen is in the counting-house, counting out the money.
The king is in the parlor, eating bread and honey. But it must be
strictly understood that the king has captured the honey in some heroic
wars. The quarrel can be found in moldering Gothic carvings and in
crabbed Greek manuscripts. In every age, in every land, in every tribe
and village, has been waged the great sexual war between the Private
House and the Public House. I have seen a collection of mediaeval
English poems, divided into sections such as “Religious Carols,”
“Drinking Songs,” and so on; and the section headed, “Poems of Domestic
Life” consisted entirely (literally, entirely) of the complaints
of husbands who were bullied by their wives. Though the English was
archaic, the words were in many cases precisely the same as those which
I have heard in the streets and public houses of Battersea, protests on
behalf of an extension of time and talk, protests against the nervous
impatience and the devouring utilitarianism of the female. Such, I say,
is the quarrel; it can never be anything but a quarrel; but the aim of
all morals and all society is to keep it a lovers’ quarrel.
*****