Now the average man, in the world as it wags, is a farm-labourer, an
artisan, a mill-hand, a navvy. He has untrammelled freedom of contract
to follow the plough on another man's land, or to work twelve hours a
day in another man's factory, for that other man's benefit--provided
always he can only induce the other man to employ him. If he can't, he
is at perfect liberty to tramp the high road till he drops with fatigue,
or to starve, unhindered, on the Thames Embankment. He may live where he
likes, as far as his means permit; for example, in a convenient court
off Seven Dials. He may make his own free bargain with grasping landlord
or exacting sweater. He may walk over every inch of English soil, with
the trifling exception of the millions of acres where trespassers will
be prosecuted. Even travel is not denied him: Florence and Venice are
out of his beat, it is true; but if he saves up his loose cash for a
couple of months, he may revel in the Oriental luxury of a third-class
excursion train to Brighton and back for three shillings. Such
advantages does the _regime_ of landlord-made individualism afford to
the average run of British citizen. If he fails in the race, he may
retire at seventy to the ease and comfort of the Union workhouse, and be
buried inexpensively at the cost of his parish.

The average woman in turn is the wife of such a man, dependent upon him
for what fraction of his earnings she can save from the public-house. Or
she is a shop-girl, free to stand all day from eight in the morning till
ten at night behind a counter, and to throw up her situation if it
doesn't suit her. Or she is a domestic servant, enjoying the glorious
liberty of a Sunday out every second week, and a walk with her young man
every alternate Wednesday after eight in the evening. She has full leave
to do her love-making in the open street, and to get as wet as she
chooses in Regent's Park on rainy nights in November. Look the question
in the face, and you will see for yourself that the mass of mothers in
every community are dependent for support, not upon men in general, but
upon a single man, their husband, against whose caprices and despotism
they have no sort of protection. Even the few women who are, as we say,
"independent," how are they supported, save by the labour of many men
who work to keep them in comfort or luxury? They are landowners, let us
put it; and then they are supported by the labour of their farmers and
ploughmen.