Whatever the answer to the crudely-stated question, "Should Wives have Wages?" it is certain that mothers should and must have wages or their equivalent.

To many of the well-wishers of women it is disappointing that the Women's Charter is not more keenly supported by women themselves. Unfortunately the suffrage has become a fetish, the mere means has become an end, preferred even to the offer of the real ends, such as would be attained in very large measure by this Charter. We see here, it is to be feared, the same spirit which protests against the wisest and most humane legislation in the interests of women and children because "men have no business to lay down the law for women."

In general terms, one would argue that the principle of insurance must be applied to this case, as it is now voluntarily applied by thousands of provident fathers. Here the State may guarantee and help, even by the expenditure of money. It should help those who help themselves. This is a principle which may apply to many forms of insurance or provision, whether for old age or against invalidity; just as non-contributory old-age provisions are fundamentally wrong in principle, and have never been defended on any but party-political grounds of expedience, even by their advocates, so the "endowment of motherhood" which meant the complete liberation of fatherhood from its responsibilities would be wrong in principle. But in both of these cases the State might rightly undertake to help those who help themselves.

Fatherhood of the new order will not be so wholly irksome and unrewarded as might at first appear to the critic who does not reckon children as rewards themselves. It may involve some momentary sacrifices, but it needs very little critical study of the ordinary man's expenditure to discover that, on the whole, these sacrifices will be more apparent than real. It is, for instance, a very great sacrifice indeed for the smoker to give up tobacco; but once he has done so, he is as happy as he was, and suffers nothing at all for the gain of his pocket. Both as regards alcohol and tobacco, the common expenditure which would so amply provide milk and the rest for children, is necessitated by an acquired habit which, like all acquired habits, can be discarded. The non-smoker and non-drinker does not suffer the discomfort of the smoker and drinker who is deprived of his need. These things cease to be needs at all, soon after they are dispensed with, or if the habit of taking them is never begun. They are luxuries only to those who use them. To those who do not they are nothing, and the lack of them is nothing. The sheer waste they entail is gigantic, and the expenditure on them in such a country as England would endow all its motherhood and provide good conditions for all its children. The father who, in the future, is compelled to yield the rights of mothers and children, may sometimes be compelled to practise what at first looks like great self-restraint in these respects. The point I wish to make is that the sacrifice and the need for restraint are transient, and that thereafter there is simply more liberty and the promise of longer life for the wise.

The working-out will be that the legislation of the future will benefit the right kind of husband and father, but will restrain and irk the wrong kind. But that is precisely what good legislation should do. Thus the right kind of father, who in any case will do his best to care for his wife and children, will be helped in the future by the State. It will insist that he does the duty which in any case he means to do, but it will make the doing easier. We see admirably working parallels to this in the German insurance laws and their provision for death, disease and old age. They benefit those whom they appear to harass. Insurance against fatherhood will work in the same way. The State will not be antagonistic to the father, but will be his best friend, knowing that its best friends are good fathers and mothers. There will be far less worry and anxiety for well-meaning parents, especially for mothers, but also for fathers. Nor do I, for one, much mind how substantial may be the State's contribution to the father's efforts, provided only that those efforts are demanded and obtained.

Nothing is more certain than that we are about to free ourselves from the crass blindness of the nineteenth century in its great delusion that the wealth of a nation consists in the number of things it makes and possesses. Parenthood and childhood will shortly come to be recognized as the first concern of the State that is to continue, and whilst the birth-rate continues to fall, the honour paid to fathers and mothers will continue to rise. We shall become as wise in time as the Jews have been ever since we have record of them. We shall estimate the relative value of these things as well as if we were the kinds of people we call "Savages." Fatherhood will not be such an uncompensated sacrifice in those days, even apart from its inherent rewards.

The point I am trying to make is that the legislation and the social changes here advocated as necessary in the interests of women, and indeed asserted to be their rights, do not involve any injury to men. This common delusion is a mere instance of the poisonous principle of politicians, notably fiscal politicians, and of many business men. Their belief is that what benefits Germany must hurt England, that what hurts Germany must benefit England, that all trade is a question of somebody scoring off another or being scored off. The idea that there are great games in which both sides stand to win, if they "play the game," is meaningless to them. That German prosperity can favour English prosperity, that true commerce is a mutual exchange for mutual benefit—these are notions obviously absurd to people who think on this horrible assumption which reigns unchallenged in a thousand columns of fiscal controversy every morning. And when these people turn to the question of legislation as between the sexes, they naturally assume that anything which promises to benefit women will injure men. The vote is thus regarded as a means of injuring men—necessarily, because it advantages women—and assuredly such people will suppose that any measures in the direction of granting what I here prefer to call the "rights of mothers" (leaving to one side the "rights of women"), necessarily involve a proportionate disadvantage to men. I deny it utterly:

The woman's cause is man's: they rise or sink
Together, dwarfed or God-like, bond or free.

The rights of mothers, we have seen, are fundamental for any society, and to satisfy them is to meet the most clearly primary of social needs. But there will be some readers of this book, perhaps, who miss any discussion of the "rights of women." I do not care for the phrase, because I do not think that we often see it usefully employed. For me the propositions are self-evident that men and women, being human beings, have the rights of human beings. Each of us has the right to the conditions of the most complete self-development and expression that is compatible with the granting of the same right to others. It is true that women have been largely debarred from these conditions as a sex, and in so far there is some meaning in the phrase "Women's rights." But otherwise we all agree that men and women alike have the right which has just been stated in terms that are a paraphrase of Herbert Spencer's definition of liberty. Men's rights and women's rights are the rights to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." If any one disputes the application of this principle to women as unreservedly as to men, I will not argue with him. I write for decent people.

At this stage in the development of civilization, our business is to see, first, that our social proceedings and reconstructions of enterprises are compatible with the nature of the human individual, male and female. It is always necessary for us to be reminded of the facts of the individual, for in the last resort they will determine the failure or the success of all our schemes. And then we must see where our existing social structure fails to satisfy the needs of individual development and of individual duty. In seeking to rectify what may here be wrong, of course we must take first things first—we must set the case right for the most important people before we go on to the others.

Now it is the simple, obvious truth,—so obvious and unchallengeable that somehow it has never been stated—that in any human society the parents are the most important people. The division is not between education and the lack of it, or wealth and the lack of it, or breeding and the lack of it. It is not the aristocracy that matters supremely; nor the "great middle-class"; nor the masses; nor the teachers; nor the doctors; nor the servants of modern industrialism. The classification is a biological one—into parents and non-parents. The non-parents may be invaluable in their way, if only they beget something that is valuable. Heaven forbid that I should undervalue the children of the mind. But if we are to classify any nation, the first and last classification of any moment is none of those in which we always indulge and which all our customs and traditions and prejudices are ever seeking to perpetuate; but the classification into those who will die childless and those who create the future race. That is why, for me at any rate, the subject of women's rights is jejune and sterile compared with the subject of this chapter. First let us ascertain the rights of mothers and grant them, to the very uttermost; then let us do the same for the fathers. Let us exact of each the corresponding duties; and the next generation, brought into being under such conditions, will solve all our problems. But whilst we neglect the first things we shall permanently solve no problem at all. We may seem to do so, but if we dishonour parenthood, if we leave the inferior women to mother the future, the degenerate race that must ensue will find itself in difficulties compared with which ours are trivial, and our solutions of them impotent.

That is why I seek to draw attention to the rights not of women as women,—for neither men nor women have any peculiar rights as men or women—nor yet to the rights of wives as wives, but to the rights of mothers as mothers, whether married or unmarried, whether husbanded or widowed. The rights of women are the rights of human beings, and no special concern of a writer on woman and womanhood, paradoxical as the assertion may be. The rights of wives are often discussed, but I question whether the discussion ever helped a wife yet, except solely in the matter of her monetary claims upon her husband. Discussion and public opinion and consequent legislation can effect, and have effected, something for wives as wives in this matter. In other matters, much more vital to their happiness, each case is unique because all individuals are unique; and the discussion of the questions can amount to no more than futile and obvious platitude.

But when motherhood is concerned the monetary question becomes worthy of the adjective economic, so often prostituted, for the making of future life depends upon the provision of adequate means. The whole essence of motherhood is that it is a dedication of the present to the future. Every mother is in the position of the inventor or the poet or the musician for whose work the present makes no demand and no payment. The future is being served, but the future is not there to pay. The rights of mothers are the rights of the future, and its claims upon the present.

It can be abundantly shown that increasing prevision or provision marks the ascent of organic Nature; that as life ascends the present is more and more dedicated to the future. The completeness of this dedication is the most exemplary fact of the many which the bee-hive provides for our instruction and following. Consider the dedication of the hive to the queen. Realize that she is not in any way the ruler of the hive, but she is the only mother in it. She is the parent, and, on our principles, she is therefore the most important person in the hive. No one else has any rights but to serve her, for the future absolutely depends upon her. So does the future of our society depend upon its mothers. In our species there are many and not one, as in the bee-hive. If there were just one individual who was to be the mother of the next generation, even our politicians would perceive that she was the most important person in the community, and that her rights were supreme. But the principle stands, though, as it happens, human mothers are not one in each generation, but many. They are in our society what the queen bee is in the hive, and the future will transcend the present and the past just in so far as they are well-chosen, and well cared for.

To the best of my belief this principle has not yet been recognized by any one. The rights of women and the rights of wives are often discussed, but the rights of mothers is a term expressing a principle which is not to be called new, only because in the bee-hive, for instance, we see it expressed and inerrably served.

Perhaps it may be permitted to close with a personal reminiscence which, at any rate, bears on the genesis of this chapter. Some nine years ago when I was resident-surgeon to the Edinburgh Maternity Hospital, I proposed to get up a concert for the patients on Boxing Day, and on asking permission of the distinguished obstetrician who was in supreme charge, was met with the question, "Do they deserve it?" After several seconds there slowly dawned the fact which I knew but had long forgotten, that the mothers in the large ward where the music was proposed, were all unmarried, and finally I answered, "I don't know." Nor do I know to this day, and though the answer was given in weakness and in a disconcerted voice, I doubt whether any wiser one could be framed. We all know what desert means, and merit and credit, until we begin to think and study: and we end by discovering that we do not know what, in the last analysis, these terms mean. But, at any rate, these women,—one of them, I remember, was a child of fourteen—were mothers, and whatever favoured their convalescence unquestionably made for the survival of their babies. It might have been argued that if the patients did not deserve music, they did not deserve the air and light and food and skill and kindness with which they were being restored to health. But it is not a question of deserts. These women were mothers. If they should not have been, they should not have been, and if the blame was theirs, they were blameworthy. But mothers they were, with the duties of mothers to perform, and therefore with the rights of mothers. They got their concert and were all the better for the remarkably indifferent music of which it consisted, as such concerts commonly do; and I am only very sorry if any of them argued therefrom that she had nothing in the past to regret.

But the spiritual attitude revealed in the question, "Do they deserve it?" is one which must speedily go to its own place. Let us strive to dignify marriage, to educate the young of both sexes for parenthood, to reduce illegitimacy, to reward virtue. But where there is motherhood in being, whether expectant or achieved, we have a duty which is the highest and most sacred of all because it is the Future that we are called upon to serve, and upon us it wholly depends.

As Mr. John Burns said to our first Infant Mortality Conference in Great Britain in 1907, "Let us dignify, purify and glorify motherhood by every means in our power." Evidently this can only be done through marriage, which is in its very essence an institution for the dignifying of motherhood. But a biological writer cannot distinguish as a theologian can between legal and extra-legal motherhood. He may declare that motherhood is hideously illegitimate when it is forced upon a wife married to an inebriate degenerate. He may accept marriage with all his heart as an institution which for him has natural sanctions millions of years older than any Church or State or mankind itself. But for him as a student of life all motherhood must be guarded as such—even if it be guarded in such a fashion that it can never recur, which is our duty to the feeble-minded mother.

If there be any reader who is unacquainted with M. Maeterlinck's "Life of the Bee," let him or her study that instructive book. Let him ask why the queen is the End of the hive, why all is for her. Let him ask whether the natural law upon which this depends—the law that all individuals are mortal—does not apply to all races, even our own, and perhaps he will come to agree that the rights of mothers are the oldest and deepest and most necessary of any rights that can be named.

And the recognition and granting of them—as they must necessarily be recognized and granted in every living race that depends upon motherhood—is even more imperative in our case than in any other, since human motherhood makes more demands upon the individual than any other. By our constitution we human beings must devote more of our energies to the Future than any other race. But it is a Future better worth working for than any of theirs.

It will be evident that the writer of the foregoing chapter must have something to say on the question of women and economics, but though what must be said seems to me to be very important, it can be stated at no great length.

If we turn to the most widely-read and applauded of the feminist books on this subject, Women and Economics, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, we are by no means encouraged to find it stated in the first chapter that woman's present economic inferiority to man is not due to "any inherent disability of sex." Wherever Mrs. Gilman may be right, here the biologist knows that she is wrong. The argument has been fully stated in earlier pages, and need not here be restated. But we shall not be surprised if a premise which denies any natural economic disadvantage of women leads to more than dubious conclusions.

Only a few pages later, Mrs. Gilman refers to the argument that the economic dependence of women upon their husbands is defensible on the ground that they perform the duties of motherhood, and the following is her comment thereon:

Surely this is special pleading and not very plausible at that. It may be replied, "Is not the labourer worthy of his hire?"—however noble the labour. If we choose to call society's or a husband's support of motherhood "a form of commercial exchange," it is indeed "revolting" so to see it; let us then look at the case as it is. We applaud the "cares and duties of the mother, her travail and her love"; but the more assiduous her maternity, and the more admirable, the more certainly will she require to be fed. If she cannot simultaneously feed her child and forage for herself, somebody must forage for her; and to say that therefore the cares and duties of the mother, her travail and her love, become commodities to be exchanged for bread, is simply to cloud a clear case with question-begging epithets. Always, everywhere, if motherhood is to be performed at its highest, the mother must be supported. It is not a question of commercial exchange, but of obvious natural necessity. The foregoing chapter with its argument for the rights of mothers as a great and neglected social principle, may be unsound throughout, but it will certainly not be refuted by sentences such as these.

Briefly, Mrs. Gilman proposes to "do away with the family kitchen and dining-room, to transform all domestic service from the incapable, hand-to-mouth standard of untrained amateurs to that of professional experts, to raise the work of child nursing and rearing to a scientific and skilled basis, to secure the self-support of the wife and mother through skilled labour, so that she may be economically independent of her husband."

But if her child nursing and rearing are to be scientific and skilled, and she is simultaneously to support herself through skilled labour, she clearly requires to be two women or one woman in two places at the same time. This, in effect, is what Mrs. Gilman expects. We have seen that Mr. H. G. Wells's proposed help for motherhood consists in discharging fatherhood from its duties: Mrs. Gilman's idea is to double the mother's work. Both come to much the same thing.

All women, mothers or other, are to become economically independent, instead of being "parasitic on the male," our author's unpleasing way of recognizing that fatherhood has reached high and responsible estate amongst mankind. Now if Mrs. Gilman's solution be feasible, we must return to our fundamentals and see whether they are compatible with it. She has no doubt of it. Thus:—

We may not be so sure that there is not some evidence for "growing beards," "developing bass voices," and "manifesting the destructive energy, the brutal combative instinct, or the intense sex-vanity of the male"; and in our brief attempt to make a first study of womanhood in the light of Mendelism, we have seen good reason to understand why masculine characters may come to the surface in the female whose femininity has worn thin. Several of the lower animals definitely show us the possibilities.

But we need not accept the issue on the grounds of such superficial manifestations as these, for there are others, more subtle and vastly more important, on which must be fought the question whether women in industry are women still, and whether the "new woman" is more feminine than the old. Let us dismiss the extremes in both directions. We need not adduce the members of the Pioneer Club, who show their increasing femininity by donning male attire; nor need we question that large numbers of women in industry continue to remain feminine still. The practical question which we must determine, if possible, is the average effect of industrial conditions and the assumption of the functions commonly supposed to be more suitably masculine, upon women in general. Here we definitely join issue with Mrs. Gilman.

It is impossible to discuss, as we might well do, the available evidence as to the effect of external activities upon that wonderful function of womanhood which, in its correspondence with the rhythm of the tides, hints, like many other of our attributes, at our distant origin in the Sea—the mother of all living. Reference was made in an earlier chapter to this function, and its use as, in most cases at any rate, a criterion of womanhood and a gauge of the effect of physical exercise or mental exercise thereupon. The writer of "Women and Economics" has nothing to say on this subject—less, if possible, than on the subject of lactation. The menstrual function would admirably and fundamentally illustrate the present contention, but it will be better to take the great maternal and mammalian function of nursing as a criterion of womanhood, and as a test of the contention that the more freely the mother works as do the savage woman and the peasant woman, the more rightly she fulfils the "primal physical functions of maternity."

Before we consider the actual evidence (and Mrs. Gilman does not deal at all in evidence on these fundamentals to her argument) let us meet the argument about the "savage woman," who works as hard as men do,—though much less hard than early observers of savage life supposed—and who is nevertheless a successful mother. It is completely forgotten that, just as parenthood, both fatherhood and motherhood, demands more of the individual as we rise in the scale of animal evolution, so, within our own species, the same holds good. In general, the mothers of civilized races are the mothers of babies whose heads are larger at birth (as they will be in adult life), than those of savage babies. It is true that the civilized woman has, on the average, a considerably larger pelvis than that of, for instance, the negress. There must be a feasible, practicable ratio between the two sets of measurements if babies are to enter the world at all. But the increasing size of the human head is a great practical problem for women. No one can say how many millions have perished in the past because their pelves were too narrow for the increasing demands thus made upon them, and doubtless the greater capacity of the female pelvis in higher races is mainly due to this terrible but racially beneficent process of selection, by which women with pelves nearer (e. g.) to negro type, have been rejected, and women with wider pelves have survived, to transmit their breadth of pelvis to their daughters and carry on the larger-headed races. But even now obstetricians are well aware that the practical mechanical problem for the civilized woman is much more serious than for her savage sister; and the argument that civilized women would discharge maternal functions as well as savage women if they worked as hard is therefore worthless.

Let us return now to the question of nursing capacity. "Bass voices" and "beards" are doubtless unlovely in woman, but their extensive appearance would be of no consequence at all compared with the disappearance or weakening of the mammalian function which, as everyone knows or should know, is the dominating factor in the survival or death of infancy. Now it may be briefly asserted that civilized woman, and more especially industrial woman, threatens to cease to be a mammal. If this assertion can be substantiated, and if the "economic independence of women" necessarily involves it, no biologist, no medical man, no first-hand student of life, will hesitate to condemn finally the ideal toward which Mrs. Gilman and those who think with her would have us go. Things may be bad, things are very bad: the lot of woman must be raised immensely, because the race must be raised, and cannot be raised otherwise; but progress is going forward and not backward, Mr. Chesterton notwithstanding. Woman will not become more than a mammal by becoming less, and going back on that great achievement of ascending life. Individuals may do so, and are doing so, lamentably misdirected as many of them now are; but that is the end of them and their kind. It is quite easy to stamp out motherhood and its inevitable economic dependence, but with it you stamp out the future.

It is generally admitted that our women nurse their babies less than they used to do. It is as generally admitted that this is often deliberate choice, and we all know that it is often economic necessity: the human mother "mingles in the natural industries of a human creature," such as the factory affords, and cannot simultaneously stay at home to nurse her baby, making men—for which, as a "natural industry" of women, even as against making, say, lead-glaze for china, there may be something to be said.

But whilst popular preachers and castigators of the sins of society fulminate against the fine lady who asks for belladonna and refuses to do her duty, we must enquire to what extent, if any, women no longer nurse their babies because they cannot, try they never so patiently and strenuously. It is the general belief amongst those whose daily work qualifies them for an opinion, that women are tending to lose the power of nursing. Professor von Bunge, whose name is honoured by all students of the action of drugs, has satisfied himself that alcoholism in the father is a great cause of incapacity to nurse in daughters. However that interpretation may be, the fact seems clear; and the change in this direction is evidently much more rapid than might be accounted for by the improvement in artificial feeding of infants leading to the survival of daughters of mothers unable to nurse, and transmitting their inability to their children. Mrs. Gilman—having ignored menstruation altogether—makes only one allusion to this vastly important subject, and we shall see to what extent her sanguine assumption is justified. According to her, "A healthy, happy, rightly occupied motherhood should be able to keep up this function (of nursing) longer than is now customary—to the child's great gain." There can be no question about the child's great gain; but what is the evidence for supposing that a mother earning her own living in free competition with men—which is what a "healthy, happy, rightly occupied motherhood" means in this connection—can thus spend her energies twice over, unlike any other source of energy known?

According to official statistics, maternal lactation is steadily decreasing in several German cities, notably in Berlin, where only 56.2 per cent. of infants under one month were suckled by their mothers in 1905, as against 65.6 per cent. in 1895, and 74.3 per cent. in 1885. At nine months of age 22.4 per cent. were suckled in 1905, 34.6 per cent. in 1895, 49 per cent. in 1885. Other towns show more favourable results; a general decrease, however, is marked. These facts cannot be ascribed, according to the author,[21] to a growing disinclination to breast-feeding, nor to the employment of mothers (in Prussia only 5 per cent. of the married women are employed in manufacture). The question whether the decrease in breast-feeding is due to the industrial employment of women before marriage, or to (inherited) degeneration, remains to be determined.

According to a recent statement by Professor von Bunge, the conditions are very similar now in Switzerland, where only about one mother in five can nurse her children.

Similar evidence could be cited from other sources, and the fact being admitted must evidently be reckoned with.

That the modern development of infant feeding will serve to replace natural lactation, must be denied, and this without prejudice to the magnificent work of the late Professor Budin of Paris and Professor Morgan Rotch of Harvard. These pioneers and their followers have devised some admirable second bests—admirable, that is, relatively to some of the pitiable methods which they have superseded, but relatively to the mother's breast not admirable at all. At the beginning of the campaign against infant mortality, the crèche and the sterilized milk dépôt and the fractional analysis of cow's milk and its recomposition in suitable proportions of proteid, fat, etc., as devised by Rotch, were rightly acclaimed and admitted to save vast numbers of infant lives. All this is mere stop-gap, wonderfully effective, no doubt, but only stop-gap nevertheless. In France they are going ahead, and public opinion in London is being slowly persuaded to follow along the more recent French lines. The modern principle upon which we should act is Nature's principle—saving the children through their mothers. Expectant motherhood must be taken care of; we must feed, not the child, but the nursing mother, and the child through her. If we rightly take care of her, she will construct a perfect food for the child. There is no other path of racial safety. It is not our present concern to deal with the problems of infancy and childhood as they require, and surely we need not wait to prove that nursing motherhood cannot safely be superseded, but must be retained and safeguarded.

If this postulate be granted, we have to determine how it comes about that the German figures, for instance, are showing this extraordinarily rapid decline in maternal lactation. As has already been noted in passing, we must reject the suggestion that the natural type of women is changing. Such a change of natural type in any living race can occur only through selection for parenthood, and such selection in the case in question can scarcely be imagined to occur in the direction of choosing women who are naturally less capable of nursing. On the contrary, the tendency of the selective principle must always be toward the greater survival of infants whose mothers can nurse them, and who in their turn, if they are to be women, will be more likely to be able to nurse their children. Further, the action of selection cannot demonstrate itself more quickly than is permitted by the length of human generations. It must therefore be rejected as any interpretation of this case. If women are ceasing to be able to nurse their babies, and if this change is occurring with such extraordinary rapidity as the German figures indicate, plainly the explanation must be found in the action of some recent and novel condition or conditions upon womanhood.

Perhaps it need scarcely be insisted that the distinction here sought to be made is of the utmost importance. If the natural type of womanhood were actually changing, we could scarcely do more than observe and despair, but if it be merely that the capacities of this generation of women are being modified by the particular conditions to which they are subjected, plainly we who have made those conditions can modify them—"What man has made, man can destroy."

If we come to ask ourselves what these recent and novel conditions are, the answer is only too ready at hand. The principles which will guide us toward discovering it have been set forth at length in the earlier chapters of this book. Let us recur to our Geddes and Thomson, and at once we have the key. The production of milk is an act of anabolism or building-up, such as we have seen to be characteristic of the female sex, involving the accumulation and storage of quantities of energy so large that if they were stated in the units of the physicist they would astonish us. If we consider what the child achieves in the way of movement and development and growth, and if we realize that at the most rapid period of development and growth, all the energy therefor has been gathered, prepared, and is dispensed by the nursing mother, we shall begin to realize what an astonishing feat that is which she performs. It is in reality, of course, the same feat which is performed by the expectant mother, only that it is slightly less arduous, since after birth the child can breathe and digest for itself.

Perhaps the reader will begin to realize what Mrs. Gilman and those who think with her are asking us to believe when they say that the primal physical functions of maternity will be best fulfilled by the mother who "mingles in the natural industries of a human creature." This statement is either ridiculously false or can be rendered true by rendering it as a truism. The primal physical functions of maternity are the natural industries of the particular human creature we call a mother; and the better she fulfils them, the better she fulfils them, certainly. But the so-called natural industries in which the modern mother is desired to be engaged whilst she is bearing or nursing her children are as unnatural as anything can be. As at present practised, they are morbid products of civilization which it will require to cast off if it is to survive.

It is the student of life and its laws who must have the last word in these matters. If he utters it wrongly or is unheeded, Nature is not mocked, but will be avenged. The writer who can lay down a new principle on which our life is to be based, without paying any more attention to lactation than is to be found in the argument we have been considering, has left out the beginning, has omitted the foundations. No measure of earnestness or literary skill can save her case.

Of course the reply will be that the biological criticism is simply the ancient and oriental idea of woman as a helpless dependent, reasserted for male advantage in our own day. One cannot believe that it is necessary to rebut that accusation. It is necessary, however, to examine somewhat the words "economic dependence" and "economic independence" which are employed with such naïve antithesis in this controversy.

When we examine Mrs. Gilman's proposal for the salvation of woman, we find it to mean that in future mothers are to do double work. The glorious consummation is to be that woman is no longer "parasitic on the male," which is Mrs. Gilman's way of expressing the great truth that the mother for whom the father works, represents the future supported by the present.

But the future is always supported by the present. Woman, we began by saying, is Nature's supreme organ of the future, and the present must live for her and die for her. When we say the future, we mean childhood. If childhood is to appear and to survive, womanhood must be dedicated to it, and manhood, which stands for the present, must supply its own link in the chain. The following paragraph from an unsigned article which appeared some years ago in the Morning Post states the case in a form which may convince the reader. It was headed "Repairs and Renewals of the People," and ran as follows:—

The reader must decide whether there is more light and leading in the interpretation that upon men falls the bulk of the work of providing for immediate needs, and so enabling women to provide for the continuance of the race, or, in Mrs. Gilman's version that woman is parasitic upon the male. The future, if she likes to state it in that way, is parasitic upon the present, always has been and always will be. The case which she imagines to be unique and morbid, peculiar to civilized mankind, is precisely the case of the hen bird who sits upon her eggs, incubating the future, whilst the male goes and forages for her. She is parasitic upon the male, as Mrs. Gilman would put it.

The truth is that, like many other women dominated by sex antagonism—which glares ferociously from such paragraphs as that which was quoted regarding "the brutal combative instinct or the intense sex-vanity of the male"—Mrs. Gilman, in seeking to further the interests of her sex, proposes to dispense with the help of its best friend, which is the other sex. It is not easy to speak with patience of those who thus seek to set the house of mankind against itself, to the injury of men, women and children alike.

No doubt it is true that Mrs. Gilman's attitude is engendered by sex antagonism as we see it everywhere in men—though for some obscure reason it is only so labelled when displayed by women. No doubt, also, a much better case can be made out for Mrs. Gilman's proposals, up to a point, than could be made out for corresponding proposals on the other side. No one who thinks for a moment can question that all proposals whatsoever to make either sex independent of the other are stark madness; yet there is a certain short-lived plausibility in the argument that women are to be independent of men, and this depends upon the fact which we have already attempted to demonstrate and interpret by means of Mendelism, that women are more than men, and that womanhood includes latent manhood. If, therefore, we are careful with the argument and boldly rush past the really crucial places, such as the conditions and needs of expectant and nursing motherhood, we can make out what looks like a case for the economic dependence of women. Each sex is to work for itself, and then there need be no more quarrelling.

But we could not go even so far with any theory for making men independent of women without seeing that we were no less wrong on that side than Mrs. Gilman is on the other. Man's apparent economic independence of women is as complete a myth as women's projected economic independence of men. In the last resort, when we come down to realities, and remember that both men and women are mortal, and that unless they are replaced, everything ends, we see that the introduction of the word economic into this question simply serves to confuse thought, just as the older political economy confused thought and laid itself open to the mercilessly magnificent attacks of Ruskin. Economy is literally the law of the house or the home—where life begins. Of all economies, life is the last judge, because there is no wealth but life. In the last resort the economic dependence of the sexes means nothing because the sexes cannot independently reproduce themselves.

If Mrs. Gilman is to be arraigned for her error let us see to it most carefully that we do not fail to arraign the men who, with not one-thousandth part of her excuse and with no iota of her ability, fall into the corresponding error on their side. When Women's Suffrage is being debated, there never fails a supply of men who write to the papers to say that men must vote and not women because men and not women "made the State." How much simpler our problems would be if there were some means of distinguishing children who will grow up into men of this type, and carefully refraining from teaching them to read or write! Make the State, indeed!—they can make nothing but fools of themselves, and without women's assistance could not even reproduce their folly. Of course the retort to all this nonsense is that neither sex ever yet created anything without the other. Every human act and achievement is the product of both sexes. When some friend of the past assures us that women should not vote because they cannot bear arms, he is of course reminded that women bear the soldiers. It is true and it is unanswerable. In just the same way, when Mrs. Gilman wishes women to be economically independent of men, whom she considers as animals distinguished by their destructive energy, brutality and intense sex vanity, she is simply ignoring half the truth. Let either sex try to run the earth alone till Halley's comet returns, and what would be left for it to see? Of all follies uttered on this subject, and they are many, the cry, each sex for itself, is the wickedest and worst.

The reader may well declare that such criticism is easy, but of little worth unless it be accompanied by some kind of constructive proposals for the amelioration of present conditions. Nothing is destroyed until it is replaced. If the present economic conditions of women involve the most hideous wickedness and cruelty and injure the entire progress of mankind, as they assuredly do, and if they therefore must be destroyed, we must have something to replace them with; and if Mrs. Gilman's proposals would simply make the difficulty a thousand times worse by depriving women of men's help, what proposals are there to offer instead?

The reply is that we must go back to first principles. We must drop all our phrases about economic independence or dependence. They have urgent and real meanings for each one of us at any given time, but when applied to the problems of the reconstruction of society as a whole, they mean nothing because they are based upon no vital truths whatever. A man may be economically secure when he is producing absinthe or whisky, or he may die of starvation because he is producing the songs of Schubert. Economic independence and dependence mean very much to the prosperous distiller whom men pay for poison, and to the immortal composer whom men do not pay at all, but who yet produces that which nourishes the life of all the future. The maker of death may live, and the maker of life may die; we see it every day and history is the continuous record of it. These economic dependences and independences consist only in the relations of one man or woman to the others. They have nothing to do with the real issue, which is the relation of mankind as a whole to Nature. These economic questions are simply concerned with money—the means whereby one man has more or less claim upon another: society may have to be reconstructed in such a fashion that economic independence and dependence, as at present understood, would have no meaning whatever. Yet all the real economic questions would remain, even though money or private property were abolished. The real economy is the making and preserving of life and the means of life. We live in a chaos where the elementary conditions of human existence are constantly forgotten. The real politics, the real economy, the real political economy, are the questions of the birth-rate and the wheat supply—the relations not between man and man, or class and class, or sex and sex, but mankind, living and dying and being born, and the world in which he has to live. The time is near at hand when the first conditions of national life will be recognized as they have never been since the dawn of modern industrialism. The products of men's labour and women's labour will be appraised and paid for in proportion to their real value, their strength or availableness for life.

In "Unto This Last" and "Munera Pulveris," Ruskin has laid down, on what are really unchallengeable biological grounds, the foundations of the political economy of the future. We are going to have done with the industries which eat up men. We cannot much longer afford to grow whisky where we might grow wheat, for there are ever more mouths to be fed, and wheat is running short. Cheap and dear mean nothing when we get down to realities. Is a thing vital or is it mortal?—that is the only question. It may be vital and costless, like air, or mortal and dear, like alcohol. The question is not how much money can you get from another man for your product, but how much life can mankind get from Nature for it. Thus we shall return to a sane appreciation of the primary importance of agriculture as against manufacture, of food as against anything else,—for unless one is fed, of what use is anything else? And as nations gradually begin to discover that the means of life are the really valuable things, they will go on to learn, what primitive races, hard-pressed races, races making their way in the world against heavy odds, have always known—that at all costs the insatiable destructiveness of Death must be compensated for by Birth. If the means of life are the real wealth, the life itself is more real still, and unless we abolish death, the makers and bearers and nourishers of life are at all times and everywhere the producers, the manufacturers, the workers of the community above and beyond all others. And these are the women in their great functions as mothers and foster-mothers, nurses, teachers.

The economics of the future will be based upon these elemental and perdurable truths. No writer in his senses will then be guilty of such immeasurable folly as to place the "natural industries of a human creature" in antithesis to "the primal physical functions of maternity." The sex which came first and remains first in the immediacy and indispensableness of its relations to the coming life will base its economic claims—in the vulgar and narrow sense of that term—upon the worth of those relations. The society which cannot afford to pay for—that is, to sustain—the characteristic functions of womanhood, cannot continue; and societies have continued and will continue in proportion as they hold hard by these first conditions of their lives. The case of Jewish womanhood is the supreme illustration of a thesis which requires no experimental demonstration, but is necessarily true.

Here, then, is the solution, as the future will prove, of the problem of the economic status of woman. At present, though Ellen Key is the only feminist writer who recognizes it, women can compete successfully with men only at the cost of complete womanhood,—and that is a price which society as a whole cannot afford to pay, if it wishes to continue. Therefore we must, in effect, pay women in advance for their work, the actual realization of the value of which is always necessarily deferred. The case is parallel to that of expenditure upon forestry. In the planting of trees or the nurture of babies the State will get value for its money in the long run, but it must be prepared to wait. States are slowly becoming more provident, and already we are coming to see this about trees. Soon we shall see it about babies, and the problem of the economic status of woman will then be solved in practice as it is assuredly soluble in principle.

Mankind must first learn to renounce Mammon and set up Life as its God; but to that also we shall come—or perish, for Life is a jealous God and visits the sins of the fathers upon the third and fourth generation.