The Odd Women (Feminist Classic). George Gissing

such views.’

      ‘I don’t, altogether. “The education of women in self-respect.” Very well. Here is a poor woman whose self-respect has given way under grievous temptation. Circumstances have taught her that she made a wild mistake. The man gives her up, and bids her live as she can; she is induced to beggary. Now, in that position a girl is tempted to sink still further. The letter of two lines and an enclosed cheque would as likely as not plunge her into depths from which she could never be rescued. It would assure her that there was no hope. On the other hand, we have it in our power to attempt that very education of which you speak. She has brains, and doesn’t belong to the vulgar. It seems to me that you are moved by illogical impulses — and certainly anything but kind ones.’

      Rhoda only grew more stubborn.

      ‘You say she yielded to a grievous temptation. What temptation? Will it bear putting into words?’

      ‘Oh yes, I think it will,’ answered Miss Barfoot, with her gentlest smile. ‘She fell in love with the man.

      ‘Fell in love!’ Concentration of scorn was in this echo. ‘Oh, for what isn’t that phrase responsible!’

      ‘Rhoda, let me ask you a question on which I have never ventured. Do you know what it is to be in love?’

      Miss Nunn’s strong features were moved as if by a suppressed laugh; the colour of her cheeks grew very slightly warm.

      ‘I am a normal human being,’ she answered, with an impatient gesture. ‘I understand perfectly well what the phrase signifies.’

      ‘That is no answer, my dear. Have you ever been in love with any man?’

      ‘Yes. When I was fifteen.’

      ‘And not since,’ rejoined the other, shaking her head and smiling. ‘No, not since?’

      ‘Thank Heaven, no!’

      ‘Then you are not very well able to judge this case. I, on the other hand, can judge it with the very largest understanding. Don’t smile so witheringly, Rhoda. I shall neglect your advice for once.’

      ‘You will bring this girl back, and continue teaching her as before?’

      ‘We have no one here that knows her, and with prudence she need never be talked about by those of our friends who did.’

      ‘Oh, weak — weak — weak!’

      ‘For once I must act independently.’

      ‘Yes, and at a stroke change the whole character of your work. You never proposed keeping a reformatory. Your aim is to help chosen girls, who promise to be of some use in the world. This Miss Royston represents the profitless average — no, she is below the average. Are you so blind as to imagine that any good will ever come of such a person? If you wish to save her from the streets, do so by all means. But to put her among your chosen pupils is to threaten your whole undertaking. Let it once become known — and it would become known — that a girl of that character came here, and your usefulness is at an end. In a year’s time you will have to choose between giving up the school altogether and making it a refuge for outcasts.’

      Miss Barfoot was silent. She tapped with her fingers on the table.

      ‘Personal feeling is misleading you,’ Rhoda pursued. ‘Miss Royston had a certain cleverness, I grant; but do you think I didn’t know that she would never become what you hoped? All her spare time was given to novel-reading. If every novelist could be strangled and thrown into the sea we should have some chance of reforming women. The girl’s nature was corrupted with sentimentality, like that of all but every woman who is intelligent enough to read what is called the best fiction, but not intelligent enough to understand its vice. Love — love — love; a sickening sameness of vulgarity. What is more vulgar than the ideal of novelists? They won’t represent the actual world; it would be too dull for their readers. In real life, how many men and women fall in love? Not one in every ten thousand, I am convinced. Not one married pair in ten thousand have felt for each other as two or three couples do in every novel. There is the sexual instinct, of course, but that is quite a different thing; the novelists daren’t talk about that. The paltry creatures daren’t tell the one truth that would be profitable. The result is that women imagine themselves noble and glorious when they are most near the animals. This Miss Royston — when she rushed off to perdition, ten to one she had in mind some idiot heroine of a book. Oh, I tell you that you are losing sight of your first duty. There are people enough to act the good Samaritan; you have quite another task in life. It is your work to train and encourage girls in a path as far as possible from that of the husband-hunter. Let them marry later, if they must; but at all events you will have cleared their views on the subject of marriage, and put them in a position to judge the man who offers himself. You will have taught them that marriage is an alliance of intellects — not a means of support, or something more ignoble still. But to do this with effect you must show yourself relentless to female imbecility. If a girl gets to know that you have received back such a person as Miss Royston she will be corrupted by your spirit of charity — corrupted, at all events, for our purposes. The endeavour to give women a new soul is so difficult that we can’t be cumbered by side-tasks, such as fishing foolish people out of the mud they have walked into. Charity for human weakness is all very well in its place, but it is precisely one of the virtues that you must not teach. You have to set an example of the sterner qualities — to discourage anything that resembles sentimentalism. And think if you illustrate in your own behaviour a sympathy for the very vice of character we are trying our hardest to extirpate!’

      ‘This is a terrible harangue,’ said Miss Barfoot, when the passionate voice had been silent for a few ticks of the clock. ‘I quite enter into your point of view, but I think you go beyond practical zeal. However, I will help the girl in some other way, if possible.’

      ‘I have offended you.’

      ‘Impossible to take offence at such obvious sincerity.’

      ‘But surely you grant the force of what I say?’

      ‘We differ a good deal, Rhoda, on certain points which as a rule would never come up to interfere with our working in harmony. You have come to dislike the very thought of marriage — and everything of that kind. I think it’s a danger you ought to have avoided. True, we wish to prevent girls from marrying just for the sake of being supported, and from degrading themselves as poor Bella Royston has done; but surely between ourselves we can admit that the vast majority of women would lead a wasted life if they did not marry.’

      ‘I maintain that the vast majority of women lead a vain and miserable life because they do marry.’

      ‘Don’t you blame the institution of marriage with what is chargeable to human fate? A vain and miserable life is the lot of nearly all mortals. Most women, whether they marry or not, will suffer and commit endless follies.’

      ‘Most women — as life is at present arranged for them. Things are changing, and we try to have our part in hastening a new order.’

      ‘Ah, we use words in a different sense. I speak of human nature, not of the effect of institutions.’

      ‘Now it is you who are unpractical. Those views lead only to pessimism and paralysis of effort.’

      Miss Barfoot rose.

      ‘I give in to your objection against bringing the girl back to work here. I will help her in other ways. It’s quite true that she isn’t to be relied upon.’

      ‘Impossible to trust her in any detail of life. The pity is that her degradation can’t be used as an object lesson for our other girls.’

      ‘There again we differ. You are quite mistaken in your ideas of how the mind is influenced. The misery of Bella Royston would not in the least affect any other girl’s way of thinking about the destiny of her sex. We must avoid exaggeration. If our friends get to think of us as fanatics, all our usefulness is over. The ideal we set up must be human. Do you think now that we know one single girl who in her heart believes it is better never