mysterious paradox which adduces dignity from submission, strength from weakness, and exalted happiness from conscious dependence. The pedant would do well to leave such things untouched, for they are beyond his philosophy, and to speak of them is only to involve him in a maze of riddles. The middle-class women of England never occupied a more honourable or a more judiciously selected position than they hold at present. In all stages of civilization, from the politeness of the Greeks to the chivalric devotion of the Middle Ages, the Utopian theories of the modern Germans, and the astounding innovations of the Americans, there has always been one or more type upheld, as the natural and most perfect position for the sex. When has this ideal of ease and happiness been more nearly realized than at present amongst us? The Englishwoman is nurtured like a garden plant in the genial atmosphere of home. She is no longer superficially taught, nor required to concentrate all her energies on the acquirement of superficial accomplishments. She is not levelled to the rank of a clothes-horse, nor obliged to be mentally gyved and fettered by the opinions of others; but she is allowed to use her own faculties like a reasonable creature. Comparatively free, on the one hand, from that flattery which would nourish her vanity and egotism, and not subjected to a long course of that selfish excitement which is the sure pioneer of ennui and hysteria; on the other, she is allowed that domestic seclusion which is most favourable to her moral vigour, and entitled to that respect and esteem which defend her from suffering and pain. She is not impelled, like the Italian recluse, to find her only rest and happiness in luxurious self-renunciation. She has no reason to envy the Frenchwoman in her promiscuous association with the beau monde, nor the American in her vehement struggle for power; but is able to feel that happiness which is the constant reflex of unimpeded energy,' having influence enough to make her responsible, though it be without noise, and having agencies not the less mighty because they are silent and latent. So far, so well. As long as our women are in their normal state, and surrounded by all the blessings of life, they are treated with a wisdom and gentleness which might call forth the admiration of a Howard, or meet with the approbation of Solomon. Arguing from analogy, a stranger visiting this country might feel confident that the same benevolence would be extended tenfold to those who were deprived of their natural protectors, and dependent on their own efforts for the necessaries of existence. By no means. It is as if the decree were inevitable that from her that hath not, 'must be taken away even that which she seemeth Employments which are most overstocked. 307 seemeth to have.' The chivalry of England lends every assistance to those women who are lapped in luxury, and have no more than their natural work to perform; whilst it scarcely recognizes those who stand alone in their weakness, and, with all the secret and keen sensitiveness of their natures, have to endure a lifelong struggle with poverty. The fine gentlemen who can pay soft compliments in fashionable drawing-rooms are not troubled by the thought of the 'strange, dark spots of inextinguishable red' on the very clothes they are wearing; and whilst they delight in the superficial graces of some ball-room belle, they do not see other faces as young and delicate rising before them, pale with the dews of death, and their beauty prematurely filched away by night watches, close atmosphere, and cruel oppression. The mother whose benevolent heart is set on the well-being of her daughter, though the pauses in her nightdreams are filled with prayers for her children, has forgotten the orphan beneath her roof, who longs in vain for some word of sympathy to make her office of governess more endurable. * Many benevolent people are anxiously looking for some opportunity of ameliorating the sad condition of these suffering women. But in order to discover a specific for their improvement, we must first investigate the nature of their misfortunes. In doing this, our thoughts will naturally divide themselves under three headsThe present condition of the countless women in England who, either from choice or necessity, are their own bread-winners;' the causes of the difficulties with which they have to contend; and the remedies which may be provided for those difficulties. The present condition of women who work for their maintenance. Statistics are stubborn facts, which the sentimentalist cannot gainsay or the utilitarian deny. Theoretically, the proper condition of woman is in domestic life. Her natural sphere is home. But, practically, this country contains two millions of unmarried females who are compelled to work for their subsistence. In a paper written by Mr. Hastings on the industrial employment of women, we read: Few people have any adequate sense of the extent to which the female sex has been already admitted to industry. Three-fourths of the adult unmarried women of Great Britain, two-thirds of the widowed, and about one-seventh of the married are returned by our census as earning their bread by independent labour; and besides these, there is a large multitude that, as wives and daughters, share in the ordinary industrial avocations of their relations.' In a mother undefiled, Prayer goeth on in sleep, as true And pauseless as the pulses do.' Mrs. Browning's 'Lay of the Browne Rocarie.' Of Of these occupations, those which are most overstocked are teaching, working with the needle, washing, and domestic service. To these, therefore, we will give our first consideration. There are 150,000 women in London whose wages are no higher than a shilling a day; often they are thankful to earn sixpence. last census acquainted us with the fact that there are 267,791 milliners and dressmakers, 73,068 seamstresses and shirtmakers in England alone. The One-third of the adult female population maintain themselves by independent work; but this work is usually inadequately remunerated. The means of livelihood open to the middle classes are remarkably few. Those who engage in literature, painting, designing, or singing in public, form the exceptional cases; whilst book-keeping, and superintendence of workhouses or hospitals, are too seldom undertaken as a means of earning money. Where there is a large family with an insufficient income, the daughters of clergymen and of professional men are almost invariably compelled to be governesses.' This is an evil which reacts on the children of the rich. 6 Teaching should not be a pis aller, undertaken without a decided vocation. Young girls are forced into an employment for which they have a distaste, and which they sometimes regard contemptuously as a degradation. Nurslings of tender mothers, with characters enervated by luxury, they go out into the world to find themselves pariahs of society, excluded by prejudices of caste from many social amusements. Hysteria and ennui often gradually take the place of strong emotions and passionate hopes; for in delicate constitutions there is an intimate connexion between the mind and the body. Mental depression is sometimes increased by organic derangement, and the governess sinks into a querulous invalid. Often her salary is inadequate to provide for her declining years, so that in old age she becomes a helpless dependent upon charity, or dies unregarded in a hospital. Fortunately there are many exceptional cases, in which the mind is strong enough to endure an isolated life, or in which there is a relaxation of those conventionalities which separate the employer and the employed. But too often the whole existence of a governess might be described in Carlyle's words, 'To work sore, and gain nothing, to be heartworn, weary, isolated, girt round with a cold universal laissez faire-it is to die slowly all our life long.' Liberty and knowledge may satisfy the wants of self-sufficing manhood; but few women can live without an atmosphere of kindness. If we want an extreme instance of the misery endured in such situations by women of refined sensibilities and luxurious tastes, we may instance three sisters-the unfortunate Brontés. Amongst Amongst the philanthropic institutions for the benefit of this class, we may mention the asylum which provides a temporary home for those who are unable to find occupation, and the establishment or female colleges for the purpose of supplying teachers with an inexpensive and efficient education. But why should our young women be expected to be proficient in every conceivable branch of knowledge? It is a moral impossibility that any governess should be competent to teach all branches of English learning, plus foreign languages and every imaginable accomplishment. Such a system of dull cramming and endless drudgery is more likely to engender idiotcy than to develop the intellect of the teacher. The miseries of dressmakers and milliners (the 'white slaves. of English society) are too well known to need repeating. Yet they are nearly as widely and as deeply spread as they ever have been. This Juggernaut of labour which grinds the bodies of the poor is driven by delicate hands. Fashionable ladies do not loathe their finery though it be stained with the life-blood of poverty-stricken sempstresses. The price of work is beaten down by barbarous purchasers. The sedentary position of these operatives, their deprivation of fresh air and exercise, the close atmosphere in which they work, and the necessity of toiling long hours through Sundays or through the nights, because women in the higher classes thoughtlessly enforce a premature accomplishment of their orders, are all well-known facts. The constant recurrence of consumption and other fatal diseases is also well known. An act of sudden suicide is condemned by the laws of our land, but the gradual suicide which is caused by overtaxed strength and exposure to bad air is systematically encouraged. An act of violence on the part of the employer is also illegal, but not the murderous exaction of double labour which causes many lives to be sacrificed. The occasional loss of sight in those who are constantly engaged in making mourning is well known to oculists. The advance of civilization has renounced the cruelty of punishing the greatest crimes by destroying the sight of the delinquent, but this system of oppression remains untouched by any interference of legislation. The wages of women are depressed to a much lower minimum than those of men. The minimum (as Mr. Mill remarks), in the case of single women, is the pittance absolutely necessary to support existence. The ne plus ultra of the lowest wages to which men can be reduced allows some margin for the maintenance of others. But in the case of women there is no such surplus. In the ordinary state of things, a single woman is condemned to sickening drudgery for the whole of her existence. On the conclusion of her day's work, the sempstress is scarcely able to provide herself with a miserable lodging in the vitiated air of some unhealthy alley, Vol. 2.-No. 8. Y whilst whilst decent clothing is almost beyond her reach. No provision can be made for sickness. In old age there is the workhouse 'A parish shell at last, and the little bell Tolled hastily for the pauper's funeral.' But there are two classes of needlewomen who experience the consequences of this evil in its most aggravated form. We refer to those who have others dependent on them for support, and to those cases of utter and sudden destitution in which unskilled young women are reduced suddenly to this employment, and unable to support themselves by it. In the first case, women who have sick husbands, or children depending on them for subsistence, have been known to work themselves to death. A little extra pay will keep them toiling all night.' There are no labourers like these women, who are more uncomplaining than the Spartans. Is it not a disgrace to humanity that employers should be found to take advantage of this spirit of self-sacrifice, and with diabolical calculation to fill their money-bags, and compute their profits quietly under such circumstances as these? Well may Victor Hugo exclaim Dieu pourquoi l'orphelin, dans ses langes funèbres, The four-footed creatures in our stables have their wants satisfied, whilst the children of the poor are dying of inanition. There are few men in England so utterly hardened that they do not feel some reverence for the holy bond which exists between mother and child. Our artistic taste for Raphaels and Correggios shows that, in theory, we recognize the poetry of the sentiment; but, in reality, we solace our consciences for our indifference to the predominant wretchedness of children by the doctrine of the criminality of improvident marriages,' and by prudential considerations as to the necessity of proportioning population to the existing means of subsistence. Were this doctrine always to be carried out into its furthest consequences, it would condemn the greater proportion of our working men to hopeless celibacy for life.' On the death of many a poor woman's husband begins that wearing struggle, that life-long slavery, which she has entailed upon herself by a few years of happiness. We cannot describe it as we have seen it, or our heart would rise up in too strong indignation against the refined cruelty of this nineteenth century, which binds its heaviest burdens upon the weakest shoulders, and causes the tender children to pass through the fire to Moloch. The picture is dark enough without drawing aside the curtain which veils the blackest shadows. What shall we say of the tendency |