The Case for Women's Suffrage/One and One are Two
APPENDIX
ONE AND ONE ARE TWO[1]
THE proposition that we are here to maintain is so simple, so clear, that when one is called upon to justify it, one scarcely knows what to say. The fact is, it is not our business to justify it; the onus of proof lies on the other side. How do they justify their monstrous proposition that one half of the human race shall have no political rights?
When Wilberforce started his campaign against slavery, it was scarcely Wilberforce's business to defend the proposition that no man has the right to make a chattel of another. The burden of proof lay on the slave-holder. How dared he violate elemental human rights? We, too, appear here not as defendants but as plaintiffs; not to beg and protest, but to demand and denounce. We accuse! We accuse the opposition of barbarism and injustice. We call upon Parliament to redress this historic wrong.
Our case, I say, is so simple, that it is like having to prove that one and one are two. Indeed, this is precisely what the opposition denies. It says that one and one are not two; that in politics one man and one woman are only one, and man is that one. Savages are notoriously bad at arithmetic, but in the Colenso of civilisation it is written that one man and one woman are two persons. Like most simple truths, this axiom of spiritual arithmetic has taken the human race a long time to arrive at; but, thank Heaven, we are there at last! Woman is a separate and individual personality; a human soul, and, what is more to the point, a tax-payer. Even marriage cannot extinguish her. She is no longer a mere appendage to her lord, united and fused, like Campbell with Bannerman. The Married Woman's Property Act gives her the right to her separate property; with property goes taxation, and with taxation must and shall go representation.
What are the reasons for refusing this representation, for depriving half the qualified population of political power? Is this half, then, exactly the same as the other half, so that the other half sufficiently represents it? Quite the contrary. Woman has a peculiar relation to a number of problems; her standpoint, her interests, differ vastly from man's. How dare we then leave her out of the reckoning? Take only the last great political measure with which the male half of the population has been grappling, and which they have discussed with such masculine balance, such freedom from hysteria—I need hardly say I mean the Education Bill. If ever there was a subject on which woman had a right to a voice, it was surely this. You all know what happened to that Bill—what was the result of all those months of sane masculinity, all those torrents of temperate talk in both Houses of Parliament. Nothing; absolutely nothing. If anything could show the utter unfitness of men for public life, it was surely this mammoth fiasco, this monumental example of male mismanagement.
Yet I have nowhere seen the suggestion that the sex should be disfranchised. On the contrary, it is felt that the masculine method of how not to do it is so marvellous, and the world we see around us so satisfactory, that the feminine touch might jar all this exquisite machinery, upset all this wonderfully happy world. And yet an unprejudiced observer might well conclude that our Constitution would work not only better but with a fairer balance of powers, if the House of Lords were replaced by a House of Ladies. The Commons, having settled affairs from the man's point of view, might more justly have their ideas revised by an elective Chamber of the other sex than by a mere irresponsible body with the same masculine prejudices in an even crustier form.
The Prime Minister has hinted darkly that a way will be found of dealing with the Lords. I do not know if this is what he is hinting at. It would enable him to right two wrongs at one stroke. But alas! I am afraid he will do justice neither to the Lords nor to the Ladies.
What is it that prevents his bringing in a bill for Female Suffrage at once, in this very Parliament that is opening? He is in favour of it himself, and so is the majority of the House. The bulk of the representatives of the people are pledged to it. Here, then, is a measure which both parties deem necessary. A sensible woman would think that the first thing a Parliament would do would be to pass those measures about which both parties agree. Simple female! That is not man's way. That is not politics. What is wanted in Parliament is measures about which both parties disagree, and which, in consequence, can never be passed at all. I declare I know nothing outside Swift or W. S. Gilbert to equal the present situation of Women's Suffrage.
In "Gulliver's Travels,” in the school of political projectors in the island of Laputa, there is a most ingenious doctor who directs that every senator in the great council of a nation, after he has delivered his opinion and argued in favour of it, shall be obliged to give his vote directly contrary. Really there is something of this spirit in the present House of Commons as regards Female Suffrage. Perhaps a little analysis will enable us to understand this paradoxical situation. The majority have promised to vote for Women's Suffrage. But whom have they promised? Women. And women have no votes. Therefore the M.P.'s do not take them seriously. You see the vicious circle. In order for women to get votes they must have votes already. And so the men will bemock and befool them from session to session. Who can wonder if, tired of these gay deceivers, they begin to take the law into their own hands? And public opinion—I warn the Government—public opinion is with the women.
It is true that there is still a certain opposition in the country to Female Suffrage, but how faint, how half-hearted, compared with that ancient opposition to woman's higher education or to her wider sphere of work. It is the last sullen struggle to keep her exclusively a domestic animal. But the gibes and sneers are a mere feeble echo from the past. The fact is that woman's battle is practically won. To-day, when woman has done so brilliantly in medicine, in mathematics, in science, when a woman has made the most interesting discovery of our day—radium—the stale old flouts and jeers go off like mouldy Christmas crackers. The battle is won, I say, and it is time the enemy accepted their defeat. The vote will be the legitimate reward of woman's proved capacity in almost every sphere of work.
The legitimate but, mark you, not the logical reward. Our domestic grandmothers had as much right to a vote as our scientific sisters.
To have an opinion upon politics is not incompatible with the strictest domesticity, knitting not excluded. Nay, knitting her husband's socks gives woman the very leisure for forming wise political opinions. There is nothing essentially womanly in being ignorant and careless of the affairs of one's country. Our late Queen, who had no little to do with the affairs of her country, was a peculiarly domestic woman; indeed, quite early-Victorian. We demand this vote for woman not because of her manly capacities, but because of her womanly capacities. To mix up this question, therefore, with the question of keeping woman domestic is really a vulgar confusion. The most domestic of women may surely be allowed to leave the hearth once every four years or so, to record her vote. Her husband can even be in attendance, since he has to record his vote too. It is really less dangerous than her visits to the dentist.
But it is said this will lead to domestic quarrels. As if a couple who wish to quarrel had any need of politics. Think of the centuries in which domestic discord has got along without Female Suffrage! As a matter of fact, husband and wife are generally of the same politics, and when they are not, the possession of a vote by the wife would rather promote harmony than discord. The husband would not be left with the last word—the battle would be drawn.
But the bitterest enemy of woman is not man—it is woman, alas. A number of ladies declare they do not want the vote. Poor things! There are ladies in China who are content to have their toes crippled. There are ladies in Turkey who are satisfied with a quarter of a husband, or even an nth share of a husband. But this would not justify these Chinese and Turkish ladies in keeping back their sisters who had evolved higher—who wanted a natural foot or a whole husband apiece. Besides, the vote is not compulsory. Those ladies who do not wish to exercise their right will have full liberty to stop at home, knitting, or reading The Lady. No band of janissaries will drag them to the polling booth; and even if they were dragged there, the ballot is secret. There is always one last resource—they can spoil their voting papers.
The paradox is that a good many of these ladies are members of the Primrose League, a League which, for about a quarter of a century, has been petted and pampered by Prime Ministers, and whose members have been addressed as saviours of their country by all the leading lights of Toryism. These dissenting Dames tread the primrose path of politics, yet reck not their own rede. These defenders of domesticity are found on political platforms, they pack the Albert Hall, they interfere in elections more or less illegitimately—yet they shrink from the legitimate influence of a vote. They remind me of those ladies who get their alcohol surreptitiously from grocers' shops, but would be horrified to deal with a wine merchant. But the logic of facts cannot be evaded. The first lady who wore a primrose was the first "Suffragette." The Conservative Party, which has fostered and profited by all this feminine activity, is logically bound to crown it with the suffrage.
But there is another class of ladies, who, while desiring the suffrage, object to the present methods as unwomanly. They are unwomanly—and therein consists the martyrdom of the pioneers. They have to lower themselves to the manners of men; they have to be unwomanly in order to promote the cause of womanhood. They have to do the dirty work. Let those lady Suffragists who sit by their cosy firesides at least give them admiration and encouragement. Qut veut la fin veut les moyens. And undoubtedly the best means are not the most ladylike. Ladylike means are all very well if you are dealing with gentlemen; but you are dealing with politicians. Hitherto I have kept away from political platforms; this is my maiden speech. But twenty years ago I used this very subject as the backbone of a political satire. Twenty years ago—twenty years of ladylike methods—and how much further have they brought us? Was there the faintest progress till the other day, when a married lady went to prison to prove that she was not the same person as her husband? In that old novel of mine, Female Suffrage was passed by the Conservative Party. The prophecy has not yet been fulfilled. But I warn Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman that, unless he hurries up, my words will come true. Possibly even the House of Lords will initiate the measure as a last act of spite against Sir Henry before he abolishes it.
It is true those unladylike methods are not the only new ones which might be brought into play. The fault of the old methods was not that they were ladylike but that they were unpolitical. They exercised no pressure upon the Government. In politics only force counts. But how is a discredited minority to exercise force? The late Mr. Parnell supplied the answer. The minority must stand between the two parties, throwing its weight into either scale as opportunity offers. But does our movement possess a Parnell? Apparently, yes. The tactics which I heard the late Miss Billington expound were those of a Parnell in petticoats. But, alas! the task is far harder than that of the great Irish leader. He, at least, was inside the House, he and his men. The ladies are outside—with policemen in between. What possible influence can they exert on the divisions? It would appear that we are face to face with the old dilemma. To get a vote woman must already have one. But there is a little loophole. Every now and then the party in power has to venture outside its citadel to contest a by-election. The ladies are waiting. The constituency becomes the arena of battle, and every Government candidate, whether he is for Female Suffrage or not, is opposed tooth and nail. For every Government—Liberal or Conservative—that refuses to grant Female Suffrage is ipso facto the enemy. The cause is to be greater than mere party. Damage the Government—that is the whole secret.
Are these tactics sound? In my opinion absolutely so. They are not only ladylike, they are constitutional. They are the only legitimate way in which woman can bring direct political pressure upon the Government. Serious as may be the questions which divide the parties, woman is justified in thinking that there is none so serious as her own exclusion from a voice in any of them. And so I would venture to advise those ladies who meditate martyrdom to choose a male victim instead. Far better than to put yourself in prison is to keep a man out of Parliament. It may be said women ought to oppose only those candidates who are against Female Suffrage. But they are so difficult to find. There never was a cause with so many champions. Why, there are elections in which both candidates swear devotion, and what is poor woman to do then? No, let her remorselessly pursue the Government; there will be at least this advantage, that the candidate, having nothing to gain by declaring himself in favour of Women's Suffrage, will be reduced to telling the truth. Then we shall know where we really are. Open foes are better than false friends.
But although these tactics are sound, I trust woman will not have to fight every inch of her way. I trust that man's chivalry and justice, which have awakened in New Zealand, Finland and other outlandish places, will not much longer lie dormant in the so-called centres of civilisation, and that, hand in hand, man and woman will try to work out the problems of the social order. There is no problem upon which an intelligent woman cannot throw some new light, and in neglecting woman's help, men are not merely blundering in what they do do, but blundering still more badly in what they do not do, in the terribly important provinces of life which they leave untouched by legislation. We men require this Reform as much for our own sakes as for women's sakes.
Ladies and gentlemen, strong as the Women's Suffrage Party is in brilliant women of our London world, its life-sap comes, I venture to think, from where so much of the energy, the wisdom and the earnestness of England reside—from the Provinces. Were it only a metropolitan exotic, a society luxury, it would soon pine away. But its roots go deep into our national soil, and draw their sustenance and vitality from all those myriads of obscure underground working women. These working women are not womanly, they are not domestic. True, they still weave and spin for man, but no longer by their own hearths. They must leave their homes and their babes to become machines in a world of machinery. And we men, we hypocrites, who prate so much of womanliness and domesticity, what care have we had for these? No vote can make them so unwomanly as not having a vote has made them. Perhaps, on the contrary, the vote may be the only means of bringing them back to womanliness. For only since the working men in these dismal towns have had a vote has their lot become at all human. What Christianity cannot do, what charity cannot do, what all the thunder of your Carlyles and your Ruskins cannot do, a simple vote does. And so to these myriads of tired women who rise in the raw dawn and troop to their cheerless factories, and who, when the twilight falls, return not to rest but to the labours of a squalid household, to these the thought of Women's Suffrage, which comes as a sneer to the man about town, comes as a hope and a prayer. Who dares leave that hope unillumined, that prayer unanswered? Surely not the most powerful Liberal Government of our generation, supported by the most powerful Labour Party of any generation. That would be too cruel an irony, too bitter a disillusionment.
For fifty years now woman has stood crying: "I stand for justice—answer, shall I have it?" And the answer has been a mocking "no," or a still more mocking "yes." To-day she calls upon Parliament to have done with this flabby friendliness, this policy of endless evasion. To-day she cries: "I fight for justice, and I answer that I shall have it."
- ↑ Being a verbatim report of the speech delivered at Exeter Hall, on February 9th, at the Demonstration of Women's Suffrage Societies.