Ladies' Column. The Undesired Monopoly.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1982, 21 March 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

Ladies' Column. The Undesired Monopoly.

Housekeeping was "woman's sphere," although I had never then heard the words, for no woman has gotten .out of it, to be houndo-i back ; hut I knew my place aud s-orned to leave it. I tritd to think I could paint without neglect of duty. It did uot occur to iae that painting was a duty for a niariied woman 1 Had the passion seized me before marriage, no other love could have come between me and art ; but I felt that it was too late, as my life was already devoted te another objrct — housekeeping. It was a hard struggle. I tried to compromise, but experience soon deprived me of that hope, for to paint was to be oblivious to all other thing;". In my doubt, I met one of those newspaper paragraphs with which men are wont to pelt women into subjection : "A man does not marry an artist, but a housekeeper." This fitted my case, and my doom was sealed. I put away my brushes ; resolutely crucified my divine gift, and while it hung writhing on the cross, spent my best years and powers cooking cabbage. " A servant of servants shall she ba," must have been spoken of women, not negroes. Friends have tried to comfort me by the assurance that my life-work has been better done by the pen than it could have been with the pencil, but this cannot be. I have never cared for literary fame ; have avoided, rather than sought it ; have enjoyed the abuse of the press more than its praise; have held my pen with n feeling of contempt for its feebleness, and never could be so occupied with it as to forget a domestic duty, while I have never visited a picture gallery, but I have bowed in deep repentance for the betrayal of a trust. Where are the pictures I nhould have given to the world? Where ray record of the wrongs and outrages of my age ; of the sorrows and joys; thB trials and triumphs that should have been written amid autumn and sunset glories in the eloquent faces and speaking forms which have everywhere presented themselves, bepging to be interpreted ? Why have I never put on canvas one pair of those pleading eyes, in which are garnered the woes of centuries? Who but will be touched by this wail from the tomb of buried genius ? As one star differs from another star in glory, so must one woman differ from another in gifts, and" the coming man " will recognise this in conceding to each one her fit and preferred place. The unformulated woman's rights are her right to choose her occupation, and to decline housework, without the stigma of " getting out of her sphere." This may all come about, and still housekeeping and home-making remain women's highest and most congenial business. Their own instincts impel this natural selection with most women ; but if they do not, it will be fighting against nature to impose the work as a duty and housekeeping be more and more a failure.

(Sn.ccTr.D,) Ir is really a wonder that there are po many good housekeepers and no many consequent happy homes. First, because housekeeping is one of the most difficult of all trades, and home making is a fine art besides. Second, because it is a monotonous occupation. Tnird, and perhaps chiefly, because it is a compulsory calling upon the sex. It is assumed that all women are alike fitted for tbi-i one trade by nature ; or if not, that they must fit themselves for it by apprenticeship. And ao from birth they are sentenced to the " ore dem'd grind," as Mantelini feelingly remarked when turning the mangle. It is human nature to revolt against compulsion ; it is not nature that all women should be qualified for one occupation ; it is neither in nature or reason that many women ehould succeed in so difficult a trade as housekeeping. For centuries there has been silent protest against the arbitrary assignment of duty, and for half a century there has been an audible one. This lust protest is acted in the wonderful reluctance of mothers to teach their daughters thin compulsory trade — as if washing their hands of their daughters' sentence to a lot they had not thpmaelves been able to escape. The whole " servant gal problem " is an organised protest against the appointment of duty. While all civilisation is sweating over this problem, it docs not stop to think that it is the result of a revolt against centuries of enforced duty. Silent continuance in a life allotcd to her by others was possible only so long as and in centuries where women were kept ignorant — not allowed to have any individuality or aspirations. The spelling book and press have created a very audible protest against the assumption that no woman could or should have any aims outside of cooking, cleaning, aud nursing. When the one sex began to differentiate, as the other always had, the trouble began. It has increased until one woman hns been able to fill two hemispheres with her complainings of uncongenial household duties. Mrs Carlyle's letters are not so much " a telltale woman railing on tho Lord's annointed," her husband, as they are the voice of a woman out of place ; and her c'amour continues on and after her death, because it finds so many echoes in thousands of homes, and not because of its relation to that literal y Ishmaelile, Thomas Carlyle. In truth, we are trying to do an inconsistent and incongruous thing, while educating our girls in contact with all the world's activities, in confining their own activity to a single work. The frequent laudatory items in tho " women's columns " of newspapers accounting it for righteousness in literary and other celebrated women that they are good housekeepers — vide " C eorge Eliott," Lucratia Mott. Miss Nilason, etc — in itself a confession that the world thinks it a remarkable thing that a woman can be anything else and be a housekeeper. Those reckless commentators, the parajjrapbista, see the now-wme in-old-bottles aspect of tiiis case, and puncture the absurdity of it. Such items as thH one, from the New Orleans Picayune, are instructive. The widow of Prof. Henry Draper is in a bad way. Instead of spending her days hunting earthly but masculine sports as she ought to.'sho has gone to studying stars. It is pleasing to know that she is bsing properly rebuked for her audacity. One says : "It is Btrange that a woman of Mrs. Draper's distinguished ability did not confine herself to the legitimate occupation of making a crazy quilt. With her eminent powers of observation she might have created a work of lunacy in silk that would outshine the stars in the opinion of every Bon of man. So the traditional consignment of all women to household duties having reached the ridiculous stage we may not wonder at the progress of the revolt. The fervid utterance from tho auto-biography of Jane Grey Swisshelm will find an ocho in the hearts of more " good housekeepers " than their husband and friends will ever suspect. She says : During all my girlhood I saw no pictures, no art gallery, no studio, but had learned to feel great contempt for my own efforts at picture-making. A travelling artist stopped in Wilkinsburg and painted some portiaits ; we visited his studio and a new world opened to me. Up to that time portrait painting had seemed as inaccessible a3 the moon — a sublimity I no more thought of reaching than a star ; but when I saw a portrait on the easel, a palette of paints and some brushes, I was at home in a new world, at the head of a long vista of faces which I must paint ; but the new aspiration was another secret to keep. What did I care for preachers and theological arguments ? What mattor who sent me my bread, or whether I had any ? Wbat matter for anything, so long as I had a canvass and some paints, with that long perspective of faces and figures crowding up and begging to be painted. Tho face of everyone I knew was there, with every lino and varying expression, and in each I seemed to read the inner life in the outer form. Oh, how they plead with me 1 What graceful linen and gorgeous colors floated around me 1 I forgot God, and did not know it ; forgot philosophy, and did not oare to remember it ; but alas I I forgot to get Bard's dinner, and although I forgot to be hungry, I had no reason to suppose he did. Ha would willingly have gone hungry, rather than have given any one trouble I but I had neglected a duty. Not only once did I do thin, but again the fire went out, or the bread ran ever in the pans, while I painted and dreamed. \ My conscience began to trouble me.