In “The Singing Lesson,” Miss Meadows and Basil seem to be marrying not out of love, but due to social pressure. Miss Meadows is ashamed of being single at thirty, and Basil—who is implied to be gay—seems eager to appear heterosexual. Due to this era’s pressures on women to be married and its pervasive stigma against homosexuality, this pair seems willing to accept a loveless, unhappy marriage simply to avoid the cruelty and judgment of others. Mansfield depicts this choice as tragic and ill-advised, and the story is an indictment of the misogynistic, heteronormative social pressures that keep people from being true to themselves and seeking fulfilling lives.
Throughout the story, it’s clear that Miss Meadows’ feelings for Basil are lukewarm; her real concern about their broken engagement is that others will judge her for being single. When Miss Meadows reflects on Basil, she recalls him as young and handsome, but doesn’t seem to think much of him beyond that. In fact, she clearly implies that he doesn’t matter to her when she argues with him in her mind, saying she doesn’t care if he doesn’t love her—implying that she only cares about being married. She describes their engagement as “a miracle, simply a miracle,” but only because of their ages, because he is only twenty-five (and would presumably have other prospects) while she is thirty. In that era, a woman of thirty would think she had little chance of marrying a desirable man, if she married at all. Being single through adulthood was much less respectable for a woman than a man, even if she had a good job. Miss Meadows is amazed and relieved that a handsome man who is younger than she is asked to marry her at her age. Her shame at being single again is such that Miss Meadows thinks, after the breakup, “she could never face the Science Mistress or the girls once it got known. She would have to disappear somewhere,” which suggests that losing Basil is less significant to her than losing the appearance of his love within the school community. The effect of her broken engagement on her relationship to her peers is so important to her that she feels that she would have to disappear entirely—and lose her livelihood—to avoid their judgment.
Basil doesn’t appear to love Miss Meadows either; Mansfield seems to suggest that he wants to marry Miss Meadows to hide the fact that he is gay. Mansfield uses many stereotypes about his vanity and his interest in furniture that readers of the time would take as implications that he is gay. Beyond that, he says in his break-up letter that he loves her as much as he could love any woman, suggesting that he could love someone who is not a woman more. His use of the word “disgust” to describe his feelings about marriage also suggests that he does not want to have a sexual relationship with a woman, and this seems borne out in his feeble proposal to Miss Meadows. In proposing, he told her “you know, somehow or other, I’ve got fond of you,” which suggests that he is surprised that he has become “fond” of a woman at all. He also touches her ostrich feather boa instead of touching Miss Meadows herself, suggesting a lack of sensual connection between the two characters.
Even though Basil and Miss Meadows clearly don’t care for one another, they consent to be married because they believe that their communities won’t tolerate them otherwise. The truth about Miss Meadows is that she is a woman of thirty who is not in love, who supports herself as a singing teacher. The fact that this is seen as shameful, even within a community of teachers (who are traditionally self-supporting unmarried women), suggests how powerful the norm of marriage was for women in that time. However, while Mansfield portrays this pressure to be married as somewhat tragic, she also suggests that it is absurd. This is clearest in her melodramatic depiction of Miss Meadows’ emotions: her over-the-top despair when her lackluster engagement ends, and her feverish joy when her engagement is feebly renewed. By depicting these emotions as comically intense and unbefitting of the situation, Mansfield seems to be poking fun at people who assume that following social norms is so high-stakes.
Mansfield herself openly lived with female lovers, so she lived the message of this story: that sacrificing happiness and fulfillment to follow social norms isn’t worth it. But while Mansfield bucked social norms and faced the consequences, her characters don’t at the end of the story: Miss Meadows and Basil decide to renew their engagement and obey the expectations of people they dislike, rather than living according to their true feelings. The decision to marry could be seen as tragic—and it is, to some extent—but Mansfield’s mocking tone suggests that she thinks these characters are too foolish and cowardly to imagine and pursue more authentic lives.
Gender, Sexuality, and Social Pressure ThemeTracker
Gender, Sexuality, and Social Pressure Quotes in The Singing Lesson
“I love you as much as it is possible for me to love any woman, but, truth to tell, I have come to the conclusion that I am not a marrying man, and the idea of settling down fills me with nothing but” and the word “disgust” was scratched out lightly and “regret” written over the top.
“The headmaster’s wife keeps on asking me to dinner. It’s a perfect nuisance. I never get an evening to myself in that place.”
“But can’t you refuse?”
“Oh, well, it doesn't do for a man in my position to be unpopular.”
But nobody had been as surprised as she. She was thirty. Basil was twenty-five. It had been a miracle, simply a miracle, to hear him say, as they walked home from church that very dark night, “You know, somehow or other, I’ve got fond of you.’” And he had taken hold of the end of her ostrich feather boa.
The head mistress sat at her desk. For a moment she did not look up. She was as usual disentangling her eye-glasses, which had got caught in her lace tie. “Sit down, Miss Meadows,” she said very kindly.
“Pay no attention to letter, must have been mad, bought hat-stand to-day—Basil”
“Oh, no, thank you, Miss Wyatt,” blushed Miss Meadows. “It’s nothing bad at all. It’s”—and she gave an apologetic little laugh—“it’s from my fiancé saying that . . . saying that—” There was a pause. “I see,” said Miss Wyatt. And another pause. Then—“You've fifteen minutes more of your class, Miss Meadows, haven’t you?”