How a writer achieves the goal through writing

writing question and need guidance to help me learn.

ASSIGNMENT FOR WRITING (5-7 full pages, double spaced, plus Works Cited)
Citing the work of four or more academic sources from this class or the databases of the Moorpark College, discuss how a writer might use writing as a means to a goal (or goals). State the specific goal(s) and explain how a writer achieves the goal(s) through writing. You will find that the answer to this question can be open to your interpretation, but you must use facts to support your ideas. Use evidence interestingly, originally, creatively, and appropriately, from the texts assigned. Feel free to use the other sources from our class (Freire, Morrison, Woolf and/or Okakura) in your list of four total sources.
Use this video to reorient yourself to researching articles through our online library: Finding Articles.
Use these documents for help with quoting sources
and citing sources
Requirements: Detailed
ARoomofOne’sOwnWoolf,VirginiaMLACITATIONWoolf,Virginia.ARoomofOne’sOwn.1929.http://www.feedbooks.com.Published:1929Categorie(s):Non-Fiction,Literaryessay,Socialscience,Feminism&FeministTheorySource:http://gutenberg.org1
AboutWoolf:VirginiaWoolf(January25,1882–March28,1941)wasanEnglishnovelistandessayistregardedasoneoftheforemostmodernistliteraryfiguresofthetwentiethcentury.Duringtheinterwarperiod,WoolfwasasignificantfigureinLondonliter-arysocietyandamemberoftheBloomsburyGroup.HermostfamousworksincludethenovelsMrsDalloway(1925),TotheLighthouse(1927),andOrlando(1928),andthebook-lengthessayARoomofOne’sOwn(1929)withitsfamousdictum,”awomanmusthavemoneyandaroomofherownifsheistowritefiction”.AlsoavailableonFeedbooksforWoolf:•TotheLighthouse(1927)•Mrs.Dalloway(1925)•AHauntedHouse(1921)•TheWaves(1931)•Orlando(1928)•MrsDallowayinBondStreet(1923)•BetweentheActs(1941)•TheDuchessandtheJeweller(1938)•TheNewDress(1927)•TheMarkontheWall(1917)Copyright:Thisworkisavailableforcountrieswherecopy-rightisLife+70.Note:ThisbookisbroughttoyoubyFeedbookshttp://www.feedbooks.comStrictlyforpersonaluse,donotusethisfileforcommercialpurposes.2
[*ThisessayisbasedupontwopapersreadtotheArtsSocietyatNewnharnandtheOdtaaatGirtoninOctober1928.Thepapersweretoolongtobereadinfull,andhavesincebeenalteredandexpanded.]3
OneBut,youmaysay,weaskedyoutospeakaboutwomenandfic-tion—what,hasthatgottodowitharoomofone’sown?Iwilltrytoexplain.WhenyouaskedmetospeakaboutwomenandfictionIsatdownonthebanksofariverandbegantowonderwhatthewordsmeant.TheymightmeansimplyafewremarksaboutFannyBurney;afewmoreaboutJaneAusten;atributetotheBrontësandasketchofHaworthParsonageundersnow;somewitticismsifpossibleaboutMissMitford;arespectfulallusiontoGeorgeEliot;areferencetoMrsGaskellandonewouldhavedone.Butatsecondsightthewordsseemednotsosimple.Thetitlewomenandfictionmightmean,andyoumayhavemeantittomean,womenandwhattheyarelike,oritmightmeanwomenandthefictionthattheywrite;oritmightmeanwomenandthefictionthatiswrittenaboutthem,oritmightmeanthatsomehowallthreeareinextricablymixedto-getherandyouwantmetoconsidertheminthatlight.ButwhenIbegantoconsiderthesubjectinthislastway,whichseemedthemostinteresting,Isoonsawthatithadonefataldrawback.Ishouldneverbeabletocometoaconclusion.Ishouldneverbeabletofulfilwhatis,Iunderstand,thefirstdutyofalecturertohandyouafteranhour’sdiscourseanug-getofpuretruthtowrapupbetweenthepagesofyournote-booksandkeeponthemantelpieceforever.AllIcoulddowastoofferyouanopinionupononeminorpoint—awomanmusthavemoneyandaroomofherownifsheistowritefiction;andthat,asyouwillsee,leavesthegreatproblemofthetruenatureofwomanandthetruenatureoffictionunsolved.Ihaveshirkedthedutyofcomingtoaconclusionuponthesetwoquestions—womenandfictionremain,sofarasIamconcerned,unsolvedproblems.ButinordertomakesomeamendsIamgoingtodowhatIcantoshowyouhowIarrivedatthisopinionabouttheroomandthemoney.IamgoingtodevelopinyourpresenceasfullyandfreelyasIcanthetrainofthoughtwhichledmetothinkthis.PerhapsifIlaybaretheideas,theprejudices,thatliebehindthisstatementyouwillfindthattheyhavesomebearinguponwomenandsomeuponfiction.Atanyrate,whenasubjectishighlycontroversial—andanyquestionaboutsexisthat—onecannothopetotellthe4
truth.Onecanonlyshowhowonecametoholdwhateveropin-iononedoeshold.Onecanonlygiveone’saudiencethechanceofdrawingtheirownconclusionsastheyobservethelimitations,theprejudices,theidiosyncrasiesofthespeaker.Fictionhereislikelytocontainmoretruththanfact.ThereforeIpro-pose,makinguseofallthelibertiesandlicencesofanovelist,totellyouthestoryofthetwodaysthatprecededmycominghere—how,boweddownbytheweightofthesubjectwhichyouhavelaiduponmyshoulders,Iponderedit,andmadeitworkinandoutofmydailylife.IneednotsaythatwhatIamabouttodescribehasnoexistence;Oxbridgeisaninvention;soisFernham;’I’isonlyaconvenienttermforsomebodywhohasnorealbeing.Lieswillflowfrommylips,buttheremayper-hapsbesometruthmixedupwiththem;itisforyoutoseekoutthistruthandtodecidewhetheranypartofitisworthkeeping.Ifnot,youwillofcoursethrowthewholeofitintothewaste-paperbasketandforgetallaboutit.HerethenwasI(callmeMaryBeton,MarySeton,MaryCarmichaelorbyanynameyouplease—itisnotamatterofanyimportance)sittingonthebanksofariveraweekortwoagoinfineOctoberweather,lostinthought.ThatcollarIhavespokenof,womenandfiction,theneedofcomingtosomeconclusiononasubjectthatraisesallsortsofprejudicesandpas-sions,bowedmyheadtotheground.Totherightandleftbushesofsomesort,goldenandcrimson,glowedwiththecolour,evenitseemedburntwiththeheat,offire.Onthefurtherbankthewillowsweptinperpetuallamentation,theirhairabouttheirshoulders.Theriverreflectedwhateveritchoseofskyandbridgeandburningtree,andwhentheundergraduatehadoaredhisboatthroughthereflectionstheyclosedagain,completely,asifhehadneverbeen.Thereonemighthavesattheclockroundlostinthought.Thought—tocallitbyaproudernamethanitdeserved—hadletitslinedownintothestream.Itswayed,minuteafterminute,hitherandthitheramongthereflectionsandtheweeds,lettingthewaterliftitandsinkituntil—youknowthelittletug—thesuddenconglom-erationofanideaattheendofone’sline:andthenthecautioushaulingofitin,andthecarefullayingofitout?Alas,laidonthegrasshowsmall,howinsignificantthisthoughtofminelooked;thesortoffishthatagoodfishermanputsbackinto5
thewatersothatitmaygrowfatterandbeonedayworthcookingandeating.Iwillnottroubleyouwiththatthoughtnow,thoughifyoulookcarefullyyoumayfinditforyourselvesinthecourseofwhatIamgoingtosay.Buthoweversmallitwas,ithad,nevertheless,themysteri-ouspropertyofitskind—putbackintothemind,itbecameatonceveryexciting,andimportant;andasitdartedandsank,andflashedhitherandthither,setupsuchawashandtumultofideasthatitwasimpossibletositstill.ItwasthusthatIfoundmyselfwalkingwithextremerapidityacrossagrassplot.Instantlyaman’sfigurerosetointerceptme.NordidIatfirstunderstandthatthegesticulationsofacurious-lookingobject,inacut-awaycoatandeveningshirt,wereaimedatme.Hisfaceexpressedhorrorandindignation.Instinctratherthanreasoncametomyhelp,hewasaBeadle;Iwasawoman.Thiswastheturf;therewasthepath.OnlytheFellowsandSchol-arsareallowedhere;thegravelistheplaceforme.Suchthoughtsweretheworkofamoment.AsIregainedthepaththearmsoftheBeadlesank,hisfaceassumeditsusualrepose,andthoughturfisbetterwalkingthangravel,noverygreatharmwasdone.TheonlychargeIcouldbringagainsttheFel-lowsandScholarsofwhateverthecollegemighthappentobewasthatinprotectionoftheirturf,whichhasbeenrolledfor300yearsinsuccessiontheyhadsentmylittlefishintohiding.WhatideaithadbeenthathadsentmesoaudaciouslytrespassingIcouldnotnowremember.Thespiritofpeacedescen-dedlikeacloudfromheaven,forifthespiritofpeacedwellsanywhere,itisinthecourtsandquadranglesofOxbridgeonafineOctobermorning.Strollingthroughthosecollegespastthoseancienthallstheroughnessofthepresentseemedsmoothedaway;thebodyseemedcontainedinamiraculousglasscabinetthroughwhichnosoundcouldpenetrate,andthemind,freedfromanycontactwithfacts(unlessonetrespassedontheturfagain),wasatlibertytosettledownuponwhatevermeditationwasinharmonywiththemoment.Aschancewouldhaveit,somestraymemoryofsomeoldessayaboutrevisitingOxbridgeinthelongvacationbroughtCharlesLambtomind—SaintCharles,saidThackeray,puttingaletterofLamb’stohisforehead.Indeed,amongallthedead(Igiveyoumythoughtsastheycametome),Lambisoneofthemost6
congenial;onetowhomonewouldhavelikedtosay,Tellmethenhowyouwroteyouressays?ForhisessaysaresuperioreventoMaxBeerbohm’s,Ithought,withalltheirperfection,becauseofthatwildflashofimagination,thatlightningcrackofgeniusinthemiddleofthemwhichleavesthemflawedandimperfect,butstarredwithpoetry.LambthencametoOxbridgeperhapsahundredyearsago.Certainlyhewroteanessay—thenameescapesme—aboutthemanuscriptofoneofMilton’spoemswhichhesawhere.ItwasLYCIDASperhaps,andLambwrotehowitshockedhimtothinkitpossiblethatanywordinLYCIDAScouldhavebeendifferentfromwhatitis.TothinkofMiltonchangingthewordsinthatpoemseemedtohimasortofsacrilege.ThisledmetorememberwhatIcouldofLYCIDASandtoamusemyselfwithguessingwhichworditcouldhavebeenthatMiltonhadaltered,andwhy.Itthenoc-curredtomethattheverymanuscriptitselfwhichLambhadlookedatwasonlyafewhundredyardsaway,sothatonecouldfollowLamb’sfootstepsacrossthequadrangletothatfamouslibrarywherethetreasureiskept.Moreover,Irecollected,asIputthisplanintoexecution,itisinthisfamouslibrarythatthemanuscriptofThackeray’sESMONDisalsopre-served.ThecriticsoftensaythatESMONDisThackeray’smostperfectnovel.Buttheaffectationofthestyle,withitsimitationoftheeighteenthcentury,hampersone,sofarasIcanremem-ber;unlessindeedtheeighteenth-centurystylewasnaturaltoThackeray—afactthatonemightprovebylookingatthemanuscriptandseeingwhetherthealterationswereforthebenefitofthestyleorofthesense.Butthenonewouldhavetodecidewhatisstyleandwhatismeaning,aquestionwhich—buthereIwasactuallyatthedoorwhichleadsintothelibraryitself.Imusthaveopenedit,forinstantlythereissued,likeaguardianangelbarringthewaywithaflutterofblackgowninsteadofwhitewings,adeprecating,silvery,kindlygentleman,whoregrettedinalowvoiceashewavedmebackthatladiesareonlyadmittedtothelibraryifaccompaniedbyaFel-lowoftheCollegeorfurnishedwithaletterofintroduction.Thatafamouslibraryhasbeencursedbyawomanisamatterofcompleteindifferencetoafamouslibrary.Venerableandcalm,withallitstreasuressafelockedwithinitsbreast,itsleepscomplacentlyandwill,sofarasIamconcerned,so7
sleepforever.NeverwillIwakethoseechoes,neverwillIaskforthathospitalityagain,IvowedasIdescendedthestepsinanger.Stillanhourremainedbeforeluncheon,andwhatwasonetodo?Strollonthemeadows?sitbytheriver?Certainlyitwasalovelyautumnmorning;theleaveswereflutteringredtotheground;therewasnogreathardshipindoingeither.Butthesoundofmusicreachedmyear.Someserviceorcelebra-tionwasgoingforward.TheorgancomplainedmagnificentlyasIpassedthechapeldoor.EventhesorrowofChristianitysoundedinthatsereneairmoreliketherecollectionofsorrowthansorrowitself;eventhegroaningsoftheancientorganseemedlappedinpeace.IhadnowishtoenterhadItheright,andthistimethevergermighthavestoppedme,demandingperhapsmybaptismalcertificate,oraletterofintroductionfromtheDean.Buttheoutsideofthesemagnificentbuildingsisoftenasbeautifulastheinside.Moreover,itwasamusingenoughtowatchthecongregationassembling,cominginandgoingoutagain,busyingthemselvesatthedoorofthechapellikebeesatthemouthofahive.Manywereincapandgown;somehadtuftsoffurontheirshoulders;otherswerewheeledinbath-chairs;others,thoughnotpastmiddleage,seemedcreasedandcrushedintoshapessosingularthatonewasre-mindedofthosegiantcrabsandcrayfishwhoheavewithdiffi-cultyacrossthesandofanaquarium.AsIleantagainstthewalltheUniversityindeedseemedasanctuaryinwhicharepreservedraretypeswhichwouldsoonbeobsoleteiflefttofightforexistenceonthepavementoftheStrand.Oldstoriesofolddeansandolddonscamebacktomind,butbeforeIhadsummonedupcouragetowhistle—itusedtobesaidthatatthesoundofawhistleoldProfessor——instantlybrokeintoagal-lop—thevenerablecongregationhadgoneinside.Theoutsideofthechapelremained.Asyouknow,itshighdomesandpinnaclescanbeseen,likeasailing-shipalwaysvoyaging,neverarriving,litupatnightandvisibleformiles,farawayacrossthehills.Once,presumably,thisquadranglewithitssmoothlawns,itsmassivebuildingsandthechapelitselfwasmarshtoo,wherethegrasseswavedandtheswinerootled.Teamsofhorsesandoxen,Ithought,musthavehauledthestoneinwag-onsfromfarcountries,andthenwithinfinitelabourthegreyblocksinwhoseshadeIwasnowstandingwerepoisedinorder8
oneontopofanother.andthenthepaintersbroughttheirglassforthewindows,andthemasonswerebusyforcenturiesuponthatroofwithputtyandcement,spadeandtrowel.EverySaturdaysomebodymusthavepouredgoldandsilveroutofaleathernpurseintotheirancientfists,fortheyhadtheirbeerandskittlespresumablyofanevening.Anunendingstreamofgoldandsilver,Ithought,musthaveflowedintothiscourtperpetuallytokeepthestonescomingandthemasonsworking;tolevel,toditch,todigandtodrain.Butitwasthentheageoffaith,andmoneywaspouredliberallytosetthesestonesonadeepfoundation,andwhenthestoneswereraised,stillmoremoneywaspouredinfromthecoffersofkingsandqueensandgreatnoblestoensurethathymnsshouldbesunghereandscholarstaught.Landsweregranted;titheswerepaid.Andwhentheageoffaithwasoverandtheageofreasonhadcome,stillthesameflowofgoldandsilverwenton;fellow-shipswerefounded;lectureshipsendowed;onlythegoldandsilverflowednow,notfromthecoffersoftheking.butfromthechestsofmerchantsandmanufacturers,fromthepursesofmenwhohadmade,say,afortunefromindustry,andreturned,intheirwills,abounteousshareofittoendowmorechairs,morelectureships,morefellowshipsintheuniversitywheretheyhadlearnttheircraft.Hencethelibrariesandlaborator-ies;theobservatories;thesplendidequipmentofcostlyanddelicateinstrumentswhichnowstandsonglassshelves,wherecenturiesagothegrasseswavedandtheswinerootled.Certainly,asIstrolledroundthecourt,thefoundationofgoldandsilverseemeddeepenough;thepavementlaidsolidlyoverthewildgrasses.Menwithtraysontheirheadswentbusilyfromstaircasetostaircase.Gaudyblossomsfloweredinwindow-boxes.Thestrainsofthegramophoneblaredoutfromtheroomswithin.Itwasimpossiblenottoreflect—thereflection,whateveritmayhavebeen,wascutshort.Theclockstruck.Itwastimetofindone’swaytoluncheon.Itisacuriousfactthatnovelistshaveawayofmakingusbelievethatluncheonpartiesareinvariablymemorableforsomethingverywittythatwassaid,orforsomethingverywisethatwasdone.Buttheyseldomspareawordforwhatwaseaten.Itispartofthenovelist’sconventionnottomentionsoupandsalmonandducklings,asifsoupandsalmonand9
ducklingswereofnoimportancewhatsoever,asifnobodyeversmokedacigarordrankaglassofwine.Here,however,Ishalltakethelibertytodefythatconventionandtotellyouthatthelunchonthisoccasionbeganwithsoles,sunkinadeepdish,overwhichthecollegecookhadspreadacounterpaneofthewhitestcream,savethatitwasbrandedhereandtherewithbrownspotslikethespotsontheflanksofadoe.Afterthatcamethepartridges,butifthissuggestsacoupleofbald,brownbirdsonaplateyouaremistaken.Thepartridges,manyandvarious,camewithalltheirretinueofsaucesandsalads,thesharpandthesweet,eachinitsorder;theirpotatoes,thinascoinsbutnotsohard;theirsprouts,foliatedasrosebudsbutmoresucculent.Andnosoonerhadtheroastanditsretinuebeendonewiththanthesilentservingman,theBeadlehimselfperhapsinamildermanifestation,setbeforeus,wreathedinnapkins,aconfectionwhichroseallsugarfromthewaves.Tocallitpuddingandsorelateittoriceandtapiocawouldbeaninsult.Meanwhilethewineglasseshadflushedyellowandflushedcrimson;hadbeenemptied;hadbeenfilled.Andthusbydegreeswaslit,half-waydownthespine,whichistheseatofthesoul,notthathardlittleelectriclightwhichwecallbrilliance,asitpopsinandoutuponourlips,butthemorepro-found,subtleandsubterraneanglowwhichistherichyellowflameofrationalintercourse.Noneedtohurry.Noneedtosparkle.Noneedtobeanybodybutoneself.WeareallgoingtoheavenandVandyckisofthecompany—inotherwords,howgoodlifeseemed,howsweetitsrewards,howtrivialthisgrudgeorthatgrievance,howadmirablefriendshipandtheso-cietyofone’skind,as,lightingagoodcigarette,onesunkamongthecushionsinthewindow-seat.Ifbygoodlucktherehadbeenanash-trayhandy,ifonehadnotknockedtheashoutofthewindowindefault,ifthingshadbeenalittledifferentfromwhattheywere,onewouldnothaveseen,presumably,acatwithoutatail.Thesightofthatabruptandtruncatedanimalpaddingsoftlyacrossthequadranglechangedbysomeflukeofthesubconsciousintelligencetheemotionallightforme.Itwasasifsomeonehadletfallashade.Perhapstheexcellenthockwasrelinquishingitshold.Certainly,asIwatchedtheManxcatpauseinthemiddleofthelawnasifittooquestionedtheuniverse,somethingseemed10
lacking,somethingseemeddifferent.Butwhatwaslacking,whatwasdifferent,Iaskedmyself,listeningtothetalk?AndtoanswerthatquestionIhadtothinkmyselfoutoftheroom,backintothepast,beforethewarindeed,andtosetbeforemyeyesthemodelofanotherluncheonpartyheldinroomsnotveryfardistantfromthese;butdifferent.Everythingwasdifferent.Meanwhilethetalkwentonamongtheguests,whoweremanyandyoung,someofthissex,someofthat;itwentonswimmingly,itwentonagreeably,freely,amusingly.AndasitwentonIsetitagainstthebackgroundofthatothertalk,andasImatchedthetwotogetherIhadnodoubtthatonewasthedescendant,thelegitimateheiroftheother.Nothingwaschanged;nothingwasdifferentsaveonlyhereIlistenedwithallmyearsnotentirelytowhatwasbeingsaid,buttothemurmurorcurrentbehindit.Yes,thatwasit—thechangewasthere.Beforethewarataluncheonpartylikethispeoplewouldhavesaidpreciselythesamethingsbuttheywouldhavesoundeddifferent,becauseinthosedaystheywereaccompan-iedbyasortofhummingnoise,notarticulate,butmusical,exciting,whichchangedthevalueofthewordsthemselves.Couldonesetthathummingnoisetowords?Perhapswiththehelpofthepoetsonecould..Abooklaybesidemeand,openingit,IturnedcasuallyenoughtoTennyson.AndhereIfoundTennysonwassinging:TherehasfallenasplendidtearFromthepassion-floweratthegate.Sheiscoming,mydove,mydear;Sheiscoming,mylife,myfate;Theredrosecries,’Sheisnear,sheisnear’;Andthewhiteroseweeps,’Sheislate’;Thelarkspurlistens,’Ihear,Ihear’;Andthelilywhispers,’Iwait.’Wasthatwhatmenhummedatluncheonpartiesbeforethewar?Andthewomen?MyheartislikeasingingbirdWhosenestisinawater’dshoot;MyheartislikeanappletreeWhoseboughsarebentwiththick-setfruit,11
MyheartislikearainbowshellThatpaddlesinahalcyonsea;MyheartisgladderthanalltheseBecausemyloveiscometome.Wasthatwhatwomenhummedatluncheonpartiesbeforethewar?Therewassomethingsoludicrousinthinkingofpeoplehum-mingsuchthingsevenundertheirbreathatluncheonpartiesbeforethewarthatIburstoutlaughing.andhadtoexplainmylaughterbypointingattheManxcat,whodidlookalittleab-surd,poorbeast,withoutatail,inthemiddleofthelawn.Washereallybornso,orhadhelosthistailinanaccident?Thetaillesscat,thoughsomearesaidtoexistintheIsleofMan,israrerthanonethinks.Itisaqueeranimal,quaintratherthanbeautiful.Itisstrangewhatadifferenceatailmakes—youknowthesortofthingsonesaysasalunchpartybreaksupandpeoplearefindingtheircoatsandhats.Thisone,thankstothehospitalityofthehost,hadlastedfarintotheafternoon.ThebeautifulOctoberdaywasfadingandtheleaveswerefallingfromthetreesintheavenueasIwalkedthroughit.Gateaftergateseemedtoclosewithgentlefinalitybehindme.Innumerablebeadleswerefittinginnumerablekeysintowell-oiledlocks;thetreasure-housewasbeingmadese-cureforanothernight.Aftertheavenueonecomesoutuponaroad—Iforgetitsname—whichleadsyou,ifyoutaketherightturning,alongtoFernham.Buttherewasplentyoftime.Din-nerwasnottillhalf-pastseven.Onecouldalmostdowithoutdinneraftersuchaluncheon.Itisstrangehowascrapofpoetryworksinthemindandmakesthelegsmoveintimetoitalongtheroad.Thosewords——TherehasfallenasplendidtearFromthepassion-floweratthegate.Sheiscoming,mydove,mydear——sanginmybloodasIsteppedquicklyalongtowardsHeadingley.Andthen,switchingoffintotheothermeasure,Isang,wherethewatersarechurnedupbytheweir:12
MyheartislikeasingingbirdWhosenestisinawater’dshoot;Myheartislikeanappletree…Whatpoets,Icriedaloud,asonedoesinthedusk,whatpo-etstheywere!Inasortofjealousy,Isuppose,forourownage,sillyandab-surdthoughthesecomparisonsare,IwentontowonderifhonestlyonecouldnametwolivingpoetsnowasgreatasTennysonandChristinaRossettiwerethen.Obviouslyitisim-possible,Ithought,lookingintothosefoamingwaters,tocom-parethem.Theveryreasonwhythatpoetryexcitesonetosuchabandonment,suchrapture,isthatitcelebratessomefeelingthatoneusedtohave(atluncheonpartiesbeforethewarper-haps),sothatonerespondseasily,familiarly,withouttroublingtocheckthefeeling,ortocompareitwithanythatonehasnow.Butthelivingpoetsexpressafeelingthatisactuallybe-ingmadeandtornoutofusatthemoment.Onedoesnotre-cognizeitinthefirstplace;oftenforsomereasononefearsit;onewatchesitwithkeennessandcomparesitjealouslyandsuspiciouslywiththeoldfeelingthatoneknew.Hencethediffi-cultyofmodernpoetry;anditisbecauseofthisdifficultythatonecannotremembermorethantwoconsecutivelinesofanygoodmodernpoet.Forthisreason—thatmymemoryfailedme—theargumentflaggedforwantofmaterial.Butwhy,Icontinued,movingontowardsHeadingley,havewestoppedhum-mingunderourbreathatluncheonparties?WhyhasAlfredceasedtosingSheiscoming,mydove,mydear.WhyhasChristinaceasedtorespondMyheartisgladderthanalltheseBecausemyloveiscometome?Shallwelaytheblameonthewar?WhenthegunsfiredinAugust1914,didthefacesofmenandwomenshowsoplainineachother’seyesthatromancewaskilled?Certainlyitwasashock(towomeninparticularwiththeirillusionsabouteduca-tion,andsoon)toseethefacesofourrulersinthelightofthe13
shell-fire.Souglytheylooked—German,English,French—sostupid.Butlaytheblamewhereonewill,onwhomonewill,theillusionwhichinspiredTennysonandChristinaRossettitosingsopassionatelyaboutthecomingoftheirlovesisfarrarernowthanthen.Onehasonlytoread,tolook,tolisten,toremem-ber.Butwhysay’blame’?Why,ifitwasanillusion,notpraisethecatastrophe,whateveritwas,thatdestroyedillusionandputtruthinitsplace?Fortruth…thosedotsmarkthespotwhere,insearchoftruth,ImissedtheturninguptoFernham.Yesindeed,whichwastruthandwhichwasillusion?Iaskedmyself.Whatwasthetruthaboutthesehouses,forexample,dimandfestivenowwiththeirredwindowsinthedusk,butrawandredandsqualid,withtheirsweetsandtheirbootlaces,atnineo’clockinthemorning?Andthewillowsandtheriverandthegardensthatrundowntotheriver,vaguenowwiththemiststealingoverthem,butgoldandredinthesun-light—whichwasthetruth,whichwastheillusionaboutthem?Ispareyouthetwistsandturnsofmycogitations,fornoconclusionwasfoundontheroadtoHeadingley,andIaskYoutosupposethatIsoonfoundoutmymistakeabouttheturningandretracedmystepstoFernham.AsIhavesaidalreadythatitwasanOctoberday,Idarenotforfeityourrespectandimperilthefairnameoffictionbychangingtheseasonanddescribinglilacshangingovergardenwalls,crocuses,tulipsandotherflowersofspring.Fictionmuststicktofacts,andthetruerthefactsthebetterthefiction—sowearetold.Thereforeitwasstillautumnandtheleaveswerestillyellowandfalling,ifanything,alittlefasterthanbefore,becauseitwasnowevening(seventwenty-threetobeprecise)andabreeze(fromthesouth-westtobeexact)hadrisen.Butforallthattherewassomethingoddatwork:MyheartislikeasingingbirdWhosenestisinawater’dshoot;MyheartislikeanappletreeWhoseboughsarebentwiththick-setfruit—perhapsthewordsofChristinaRossettiwerepartlyresponsibleforthefollyofthefancy—itwasnothingofcoursebutafancy—thatthelilacwasshakingitsflowersoverthegarden14
walls,andthebrimstonebutterflieswerescuddinghitherandthither,andthedustofthepollenwasintheair.Awindblew,fromwhatquarterIknownot,butitliftedthehalf-grownleavessothattherewasaflashofsilvergreyintheair.Itwasthetimebetweenthelightswhencoloursundergotheirintensificationandpurplesandgoldsburninwindow-paneslikethebeatofanexcitableheart;whenforsomereasonthebeautyoftheworldrevealedandyetsoontoperish(hereIpushedintothegarden,for,unwisely,thedoorwasleftopenandnobeadlesseemedabout),thebeautyoftheworldwhichissosoontoperish,hastwoedges,oneoflaughter,oneofanguish,cuttingtheheartasunder.ThegardensofFernhamlaybeforemeinthespringtwilight,wildandopen,andinthelonggrass,sprinkledandcarelesslyflung,weredaffodilsandbluebells,notorderlyperhapsatthebestoftimes,andnowwind-blownandwavingastheytuggedattheirroots.Thewindowsofthebuilding,curvedlikeships’windowsamonggenerouswavesofredbrick,changedfromlemontosilverundertheflightofthequickspringclouds.Somebodywasinahammock,somebody,butinthislighttheywerephantomsonly,halfguessed,halfseen,racedacrossthegrass—wouldnoonestopher?—andthenontheterrace,asifpoppingouttobreathetheair,toglanceatthegarden,cameabentfigure,formidableyethumble,withhergreatforeheadandhershabbydress—coulditbethefamousscholar,coulditbeJ——H——herself?Allwasdim,yetintensetoo,asifthescarfwhichtheduskhadflungoverthegardenweretornasunderbystarorsword—thegashofsometerriblerealityleaping,asitswayis,outoftheheartofthespring.Foryouth——Herewasmysoup.Dinnerwasbeingservedinthegreatdining-hall.FarfrombeingspringitwasinfactaneveninginOctober.Everybodywasassembledinthebigdining-room.Dinnerwasready.Herewasthesoup.Itwasaplaingravysoup.Therewasnothingtostirthefancyinthat.Onecouldhaveseenthroughthetransparentliquidanypatternthattheremighthavebeenontheplateitself.Buttherewasnopat-tern.Theplatewasplain.Nextcamebeefwithitsattendantgreensandpotatoes—ahomelytrinity,suggestingtherumpsofcattleinamuddymarket,andsproutscurledandyellowedattheedge,andbargainingandcheapeningandwomenwith15
stringbagsonMondaymorning.Therewasnoreasontocom-plainofhumannature’sdailyfood,seeingthatthesupplywassufficientandcoal-minersdoubtlessweresittingdowntoless.Prunesandcustardfollowed.Andifanyonecomplainsthatprunes,evenwhenmitigatedbycustard,areanuncharitablevegetable(fruittheyarenot),stringyasamiser’sheartandexudingafluidsuchasmightruninmisers’veinswhohavedeniedthemselveswineandwarmthforeightyyearsandyetnotgiventothepoor,heshouldreflectthattherearepeoplewhosecharityembraceseventheprune.Biscuitsandcheesecamenext,andherethewater-jugwasliberallypassedround,foritisthenatureofbiscuitstobedry,andthesewerebiscuitstothecore.Thatwasall.Themealwasover.Everybodyscrapedtheirchairsback;theswing-doorsswungviolentlytoandfro;soonthehallwasemptiedofeverysignoffoodandmadereadynodoubtforbreakfastnextmorning.DowncorridorsandupstaircasestheyouthofEnglandwentbangingandsinging.Andwasitforaguest,astranger(forIhadnomorerighthereinFernhamthaninTrinityorSomervilleorGirtonorNewnhamorChristchurch),tosay,’Thedinnerwasnotgood,’ortosay(wewerenow,MarySetonandI,inhersitting-room),’Couldwenothavedinedupherealone?’forifIhadsaidanythingofthekindIshouldhavebeenpryingandsearchingintothesecreteconomiesofahousewhichtothestrangerwearssofineafrontofgaietyandcourage.No,onecouldsaynothingofthesort.Indeed,conversationforamo-mentflagged.Thehumanframebeingwhatitis,heart,bodyandbrainallmixedtogether,andnotcontainedinseparatecompartmentsastheywillbenodoubtinanothermillionyears,agooddinnerisofgreatimportancetogoodtalk.Onecannotthinkwell,lovewell,sleepwell,ifonehasnotdinedwell.Thelampinthespinedoesnotlightonbeefandprunes.WeareallPROBABLYgoingtoheaven,andVandyckis,weHOPE,tomeetusroundthenextcorner—thatisthedubiousandqualifyingstateofmindthatbeefandprunesattheendoftheday’sworkbreedbetweenthem.Happilymyfriend,whotaughtscience,hadacupboardwheretherewasasquatbottleandlittleglasses—(butthereshouldhavebeensoleandpartridgetobeginwith)—sothatwewereabletodrawuptothefireandrepairsomeofthedamagesoftheday’sliving.Ina16
minuteorsowewereslippingfreelyinandoutamongallthoseobjectsofcuriosityandinterestwhichforminthemindintheabsenceofaparticularperson,andarenaturallytobedis-cussedoncomingtogetheragain—howsomebodyhasmarried,anotherhasnot;onethinksthis,anotherthat;onehasimprovedoutofallknowledge,theothermostamazinglygonetothebad—withallthosespeculationsuponhumannatureandthecharacteroftheamazingworldweliveinwhichspringnaturallyfromsuchbeginnings.Whilethesethingswerebeingsaid,however,Ibecameshamefacedlyawareofacurrentset-tinginofitsownaccordandcarryingeverythingforwardtoanendofitsown.OnemightbetalkingofSpainorPortugal,ofbookorracehorse,buttherealinterestofwhateverwassaidwasnoneofthosethings,butasceneofmasonsonahighroofsomefivecenturiesago.Kingsandnoblesbroughttreasureinhugesacksandpoureditundertheearth.Thisscenewasforevercomingaliveinmymindandplacingitselfbyanotherofleancowsandamuddymarketandwitheredgreensandthestringyheartsofoldmen—thesetwopictures,disjointedanddisconnectedandnonsensicalastheywere,wereforevercomingtogetherandcombatingeachotherandhadmeentirelyattheirmercy.Thebestcourse,unlessthewholetalkwastobedistorted,wastoexposewhatwasinmymindtotheair,whenwithgoodluckitwouldfadeandcrumbleliketheheadofthedeadkingwhentheyopenedthecoffinatWindsor.Briefly,then,ItoldMissSetonaboutthemasonswhohadbeenallthoseyearsontheroofofthechapel,andaboutthekingsandqueensandnoblesbearingsacksofgoldandsilverontheirshoulders,whichtheyshovelledintotheearth;andthenhowthegreatfinancialmagnatesofourowntimecameandlaidchequesandbonds,Isuppose,wheretheothershadlaidingotsandroughlumpsofgold.Allthatliesbeneaththecollegesdownthere,Isaid;butthiscollege,wherewearenowsitting,whatliesbeneathitsgallantredbrickandthewildunkemptgrassesofthegarden?Whatforceisbehindthatplainchinaoffwhichwedined,and(hereitpoppedoutofmymouthbeforeIcouldstopit)thebeef,thecustardandtheprunes?Well,saidMarySeton,abouttheyear1860—Oh,butyouknowthestory,shesaid,bored,Isuppose,bytherecital.Andshetoldme—roomswerehired.Committeesmet.Envelopes17
wereaddressed.Circularsweredrawnup.Meetingswereheld;letterswerereadout;so-and-sohaspromisedsomuch;onthecontrary,Mr——won’tgiveapenny.TheSATURDAYREVIEWhasbeenveryrude.Howcanweraiseafundtopayforoffices?Shallweholdabazaar?Can’twefindaprettygirltositinthefrontrow?LetuslookupwhatJohnStuartMillsaidonthesubject.Cananyonepersuadetheeditorofthe——toprintaletter?CanwegetLady——tosignit?Lady——isoutoftown.Thatwasthewayitwasdone,presumably,sixtyyearsago,anditwasaprodigiouseffort,andagreatdealoftimewasspentonit.Anditwasonlyafteralongstruggleandwiththeutmostdifficultythattheygotthirtythousandpoundstogether1.Atthethoughtofallthosewomenworkingyearafteryearandfindingithardtogettwothousandpoundstogether,andasmuchastheycoulddotogetthirtythousandpounds,weburstoutinscornatthereprehensiblepovertyofoursex.Whathadourmothersbeendoingthenthattheyhadnowealthtoleaveus?Powderingtheirnoses?Lookinginatshopwin-dows?FlauntinginthesunatMonteCarlo?Thereweresomephotographsonthemantelpiece.Mary’smother—ifthatwasherpicture—mayhavebeenawastrelinhersparetime(shehadthirteenchildrenbyaministerofthechurch),butifsohergayanddissipatedlifehadlefttoofewtracesofitspleasuresonherface.Shewasahomelybody;anoldladyinaplaidshawlwhichwasfastenedbyalargecameo;andshesatinabasket-chair,encouragingaspanieltolookatthecamera,withtheamused,yetstrainedexpressionofonewhoissurethatthedogwillmovedirectlythebulbispressed.Nowifshehadgoneintobusiness;hadbecomeamanufacturerofartificialsilkora1.Wearetoldthatweoughttoaskfor£30,000atleast…Itisnotalargesum,consideringthatthereistobebutonecollegeofthissortforGreatBritain,IrelandandtheColonies,andconsideringhoweasyitistoraiseimmensesumsforboys’schools.Butconsideringhowfewpeoplereallywishwomentobeeducated,itisagooddeal.’—LADYSTEPHEN,EMILYDAVIESANDGIRTONCOLLEGE.]Soobviouslywecannothavewineandpartridgesandservantscarryingtindishesontheirheads,shesaid.Wecannothavesofasandseparaterooms.’Theamenities,’shesaid,quotingfromsomebookorother,’willhavetowait.'[*Everypennywhichcouldbescrapedtogetherwassetasideforbuilding,andtheamenitieshadtobepostponed.—R.STRACHEY,THECAUSE.18
magnateontheStockExchange;ifshehadlefttwoorthreehundredthousandpoundstoFernham,wecouldhavebeensit-tingatoureaseto-nightandthesubjectofourtalkmighthavebeenarchaeology,botany,anthropology,physics,thenatureoftheatom,mathematics,astronomy,relativity,geography.IfonlyMrsSetonandhermotherandhermotherbeforeherhadlearntthegreatartofmakingmoneyandhadlefttheirmoney,liketheirfathersandtheirgrandfathersbeforethem,tofoundfellowshipsandlectureshipsandprizesandscholarshipsappropriatedtotheuseoftheirownsex,wemighthavedinedverytolerablyupherealoneoffabirdandabottleofwine;wemighthavelookedforwardwithoutundueconfidencetoapleasantandhonourablelifetimespentintheshelterofoneoftheliberallyendowedprofessions.Wemighthavebeenexplor-ingorwriting;mooningaboutthevenerableplacesoftheearth;sittingcontemplativeonthestepsoftheParthenon,orgoingattentoanofficeandcominghomecomfortablyathalf-pastfourtowritealittlepoetry.Only,ifMrsSetonandherlikehadgoneintobusinessattheageoffifteen,therewouldhavebeen—thatwasthesnagintheargument—noMary.What,Iasked,didMarythinkofthat?TherebetweenthecurtainswastheOctobernight,calmandlovely,withastarortwocaughtintheyellowingtrees.Wasshereadytoresignhershareofitandhermemories(fortheyhadbeenahappyfamily,thoughalargeone)ofgamesandquarrelsupinScotland,whichsheisnevertiredofpraisingforthefinenessofitsairandthequalityofitscakes,inorderthatFernhammighthavebeenendowedwithfiftythousandpoundsorsobyastrokeofthepen?For,toendowacollegewouldnecessitatethesuppressionoffamiliesaltogether.Makingafortuneandbearingthirteenchildren—nohumanbeingcouldstandit.Considerthefacts,wesaid.Firstthereareninemonthsbeforethebabyisborn.Thenthebabyisborn.Thentherearethreeorfourmonthsspentinfeedingthebaby.Afterthebabyisfedtherearecertainlyfiveyearsspentinplayingwiththebaby.Youcannot,itseems,letchildrenrunaboutthestreets.Peoplewhohaveseenthemrun-ningwildinRussiasaythatthesightisnotapleasantone.Peoplesay,too,thathumannaturetakesitsshapeintheyearsbetweenoneandfive.IfMrsSeton,Isaid,hadbeenmakingmoney,whatsortofmemorieswouldyouhavehadofgames19
andquarrels?WhatwouldyouhaveknownofScotland,anditsfineairandcakesandalltherestofit?Butitisuselesstoaskthesequestions,becauseyouwouldneverhavecomeintoexistenceatall.Moreover,itisequallyuselesstoaskwhatmighthavehappenedifMrsSetonandhermotherandhermotherbeforeherhadamassedgreatwealthandlaiditunderthefoundationsofcollegeandlibrary,because,inthefirstplace,toearnmoneywasimpossibleforthem,andinthesecond,haditbeenpossible,thelawdeniedthemtherighttopossesswhatmoneytheyearned.Itisonlyforthelastforty-eightyearsthatMrsSetonhashadapennyofherown.Forallthecenturiesbeforethatitwouldhavebeenherhusband’sproperty—athoughtwhich,perhaps,mayhavehaditsshareinkeepingMrsSetonandhermothersofftheStockExchange.EverypennyIearn,theymayhavesaid,willbetakenfrommeanddisposedofaccordingtomyhusband’swisdom—perhapstofoundascholarshiportoendowafellowshipinBalliolorKings,sothattoearnmoney,evenifIcouldearnmoney,isnotamatterthatinterestsmeverygreatly.Ihadbetterleaveittomyhusband.Atanyrate,whetherornottheblamerestedontheoldladywhowaslookingatthespaniel,therecouldbenodoubtthatforsomereasonorotherourmothershadmismanagedtheiraffairsverygravely.Notapennycouldbesparedfor’amenities’;forpartridgesandwine,beadlesandturf,booksandcigars,librariesandleisure.Toraisebarewallsoutofbareearthwastheutmosttheycoulddo.Sowetalkedstandingatthewindowandlooking,assomanythousandslookeverynight,downonthedomesandtowersofthefamouscitybeneathus.Itwasverybeautiful,verymysteri-ousintheautumnmoonlight.Theoldstonelookedverywhiteandvenerable.Onethoughtofallthebooksthatwereas-sembleddownthere;ofthepicturesofoldprelatesandwor-thieshanginginthepanelledrooms;ofthepaintedwindowsthatwouldbethrowingstrangeglobesandcrescentsonthepavement;ofthetabletsandmemorialsandinscriptions;ofthefountainsandthegrass;ofthequietroomslookingacrossthequietquadrangles.And(pardonmethethought)Ithought,too,oftheadmirablesmokeanddrinkandthedeeparmchairsandthepleasantcarpets:oftheurbanity,thegeniality,thedignitywhicharetheoffspringofluxuryandprivacyandspace.20
Certainlyourmothershadnotprovideduswithanythingcom-parabletoallthis—ourmotherswhofounditdifficulttoscrapetogetherthirtythousandpounds,ourmotherswhoborethir-teenchildrentoministersofreligionatStAndrews.SoIwentbacktomyinn,andasIwalkedthroughthedarkstreetsIponderedthisandthat,asonedoesattheendoftheday’swork.IponderedwhyitwasthatMrsSetonhadnomoneytoleaveus;andwhateffectpovertyhasonthemind;andwhateffectwealthhasonthemind;andIthoughtofthequeeroldgentlemenIhadseenthatmorningwithtuftsoffurupontheirshoulders;andIrememberedhowifonewhistledoneofthemran;andIthoughtoftheorganboominginthechapelandoftheshutdoorsofthelibrary;andIthoughthowunpleasantitistobelockedout;andIthoughthowitisworseperhapstobelockedin;and,thinkingofthesafetyandprosperityoftheonesexandofthepovertyandinsecurityoftheotherandoftheeffectoftraditionandofthelackoftradi-tionuponthemindofawriter,Ithoughtatlastthatitwastimetorollupthecrumpledskinoftheday,withitsargumentsanditsimpressionsanditsangeranditslaughter,andcastitintothehedge.Athousandstarswereflashingacrossthebluewastesofthesky.Oneseemedalonewithaninscrutablesoci-ety.Allhumanbeingswerelaidasleep—prone,horizontal,dumb.NobodyseemedstirringinthestreetsofOxbridge.Eventhedoorofthehotelsprangopenatthetouchofaninvisiblehand—notabootswassittinguptolightmetobed,itwassolate.21
TwoThescene,ifImayaskyoutofollowme,wasnowchanged.Theleaveswerestillfalling,butinLondonnow,notOxbridge;andImustaskyoutoimaginearoom,likemanythousands,withawindowlookingacrosspeople’shatsandvansandmotor-carstootherwindows,andonthetableinsidetheroomablanksheetofpaperonwhichwaswritteninlargelettersWOMENANDFICTION,butnomore.TheinevitablesequeltolunchinganddiningatOxbridgeseemed,unfortunately,tobeavisittotheBritishMuseum.Onemuststrainoffwhatwaspersonalandaccidentalinalltheseimpressionsandsoreachthepurefluid,theessentialoiloftruth.ForthatvisittoOxbridgeandtheluncheonandthedinnerhadstartedaswarmofquestions.Whydidmendrinkwineandwomenwater?Whywasonesexsoprosperousandtheothersopoor?Whateffecthaspovertyonfiction?Whatconditionsarenecessaryforthecreationofworksofart?—athousandquestionsatoncesuggestedthemselves.Butoneneededanswers,notquestions;andananswerwasonlytobehadbyconsultingthelearnedandtheun-prejudiced,whohaveremovedthemselvesabovethestrifeoftongueandtheconfusionofbodyandissuedtheresultoftheirreasoningandresearchinbookswhicharetobefoundintheBritishMuseum.IftruthisnottobefoundontheshelvesoftheBritishMuseum,where,Iaskedmyself,pickingupanote-bookandapencil,istruth?Thusprovided,thusconfidentandenquiring,Isetoutinthepursuitoftruth.Theday,thoughnotactuallywet,wasdismal,andthestreetsintheneighbourhoodoftheMuseumwerefullofopencoal-holes,downwhichsackswereshowering;four-wheeledcabsweredrawingupanddepositingonthepave-mentcordedboxescontaining,presumably,theentireward-robeofsomeSwissorItalianfamilyseekingfortuneorrefugeorsomeotherdesirablecommoditywhichistobefoundintheboarding-housesofBloomsburyinthewinter.Theusualhoarse-voicedmenparadedthestreetswithplantsonbarrows.Someshouted;otherssang.Londonwaslikeaworkshop.Lon-donwaslikeamachine.Wewereallbeingshotbackwardsandforwardsonthisplainfoundationtomakesomepattern.TheBritishMuseumwasanotherdepartmentofthefactory.The22
swing-doorsswungopen;andthereonestoodunderthevastdome,asifonewereathoughtinthehugebaldforeheadwhichissosplendidlyencircledbyabandoffamousnames.Onewenttothecounter;onetookaslipofpaper;oneopenedavolumeofthecatalogue,andthefivedotshereindicatefiveseparateminutesofstupefaction,wonderandbewilderment.Haveyouanynotionofhowmanybooksarewrittenaboutwo-meninthecourseofoneyear?Haveyouanynotionhowmanyarewrittenbymen?Areyouawarethatyouare,perhaps,themostdiscussedanimalintheuniverse?HerehadIcomewithanotebookandapencilproposingtospendamorningreading,supposingthatattheendofthemorningIshouldhavetransferredthetruthtomynotebook.ButIshouldneedtobeaherdofelephants,Ithought,andawildernessofspiders,desperatelyreferringtotheanimalsthatarereputedlongestlivedandmostmultitudinouslyeyed,tocopewithallthis.Ishouldneedclawsofsteelandbeakofbrasseventopenetratethehusk.HowshallIeverfindthegrainsoftruthembeddedinallthismassofpaper?Iaskedmyself,andindespairbeganrun-ningmyeyeupanddownthelonglistoftitles.Eventhenamesofthebooksgavemefoodforthought.Sexanditsnaturemightwellattractdoctorsandbiologists;butwhatwassurpris-inganddifficultofexplanationwasthefactthatsex—woman,thatistosay—alsoattractsagreeableessayists,light-fingerednovelists,youngmenwhohavetakentheM.A.degree;menwhohavetakennodegree;menwhohavenoapparentqualificationsavethattheyarenotwomen.Someofthesebookswere,onthefaceofit,frivolousandfacetious;butmany,ontheoth-erhand,wereseriousandprophetic,moralandhortatory.Merelytoreadthetitlessuggestedinnumerableschoolmas-ters,innumerableclergymenmountingtheirplatformsandpul-pitsandholdingforthwithloquacitywhichfarexceededthehourusuallyallotedtosuchdiscourseonthisonesubject.Itwasamoststrangephenomenon;andapparently—hereIconsultedtheletterM—oneconfinedtothemalesex.Womendonotwritebooksaboutmen—afactthatIcouldnothelpwel-comingwithrelief,forifIhadfirsttoreadallthatmenhavewrittenaboutwomen,thenallthatwomenhavewrittenaboutmen,thealoethatflowersonceinahundredyearswouldflowertwicebeforeIcouldsetpentopaper.So,makinga23
perfectlyarbitrarychoiceofadozenvolumesorso,Isentmyslipsofpapertolieinthewiretray,andwaitedinmystall,amongtheotherseekersfortheessentialoiloftruth.Whatcouldbethereason,then,ofthiscuriousdisparity,Iwondered,drawingcart-wheelsontheslipsofpaperprovidedbytheBritishtaxpayerforotherpurposes.Whyarewomen,judgingfromthiscatalogue,somuchmoreinterestingtomenthanmenaretowomen?Averycuriousfactitseemed,andmymindwanderedtopicturethelivesofmenwhospendtheirtimeinwritingbooksaboutwomen;whethertheywereoldoryoung,marriedorunmarried,red-nosedorhump-backed—any-how,itwasflattering,vaguely,tofeeloneselftheobjectofsuchattentionprovidedthatitwasnotentirelybestowedbythecrippledandtheinfirm—soIpondereduntilallsuchfrivol-ousthoughtswereendedbyanavalancheofbooksslidingdownontothedeskinfrontofme.Nowthetroublebegan.ThestudentwhohasbeentrainedinresearchatOxbridgehasnodoubtsomemethodofshepherdinghisquestionpastalldis-tractionstillitrunsintohisanswerasasheeprunsintoitspen.Thestudentbymyside,forinstance,whowascopyingassiduouslyfromascientificmanual,was,Ifeltsure,extractingpurenuggetsoftheessentialoreeverytenminutesorso.Hislittlegruntsofsatisfactionindicatedsomuch.Butif,unfortunately,onehashadnotraininginauniversity,thequestionfarfrombeingshepherdedtoitspenflieslikeafrightenedflockhitherandthither,helter-skelter,pursuedbyawholepackofhounds.Professors,schoolmasters,sociologists,clergymen,novelists,essayists,journalists,menwhohadnoqualificationsavethattheywerenotwomen,chasedmysimpleandsinglequestion—Whyaresomewomenpoor?—untilitbecamefiftyquestions;untilthefiftyquestionsleaptfranticallyintomidstreamandwerecarriedaway.Everypageinmynotebookwasscribbledoverwithnotes.ToshowthestateofmindIwasin,Iwillreadyouafewofthem,explainingthatthepagewasheadedquitesimply,WOMENANDPOVERTY,inblockletters;butwhatfollowedwassomethinglikethis:ConditioninMiddleAgesof,HabitsintheFijiIslandsof,Worshippedasgoddessesby,24
Weakerinmoralsensethan,Idealismof,Greaterconscientiousnessof,SouthSeaIslanders,ageofpubertyamong,Attractivenessof,Offeredassacrificeto,Smallsizeofbrainof,Profoundersub-consciousnessof,Lesshaironthebodyof,Mental,moralandphysicalinferiorityof,Loveofchildrenof,Greaterlengthoflifeof,Weakermusclesof,Strengthofaffectionsof,Vanityof,Highereducationof,Shakespeare’sopinionof,LordBirkenhead’sopinionof,DeanInge’sopinionof,LaBruyere’sopinionof,DrJohnson’sopinionof,MrOscarBrowning’sopinionof,…HereIdrewbreathandadded,indeed,inthemargin,WhydoesSamuelButlersay,’Wisemenneversaywhattheythinkofwomen’?Wisemenneversayanythingelseapparently.But,Icontinued,leaningbackinmychairandlookingatthevastdomeinwhichIwasasinglebutbynowsomewhatharassedthought,whatissounfortunateisthatwisemenneverthinkthesamethingaboutwomen.HereisPope:Mostwomenhavenocharacteratall.AndhereisLaBruyère:Lesfemmessontextrêmes,ellessontmeilleuresoupiresqueleshommes——adirectcontradictionbykeenobserverswhowerecontemporary.Aretheycapableofeducationorincapable?Napoleonthoughtthemincapable.DrJohnsonthoughttheopposite2.25
Havetheysoulsorhavetheynotsouls?Somesavagessaytheyhavenone.Others,onthecontrary,maintainthatwomenarehalfdivineandworshipthemonthataccount3.Somesagesholdthattheyareshallowerinthebrain;othersthattheyaredeeperintheconsciousness.Goethehonouredthem;Mussolinidespisesthem.Whereveronelookedmenthoughtaboutwo-menandthoughtdifferently.Itwasimpossibletomakeheadortailofitall,Idecided,glancingwithenvyatthereadernextdoorwhowasmakingtheneatestabstracts,headedoftenwithanAoraBoraC,whilemyownnotebookriotedwiththewild-estscribbleofcontradictoryjottings.Itwasdistressing,itwasbewildering,itwashumiliating.Truthhadrunthroughmyfin-gers.Everydrophadescaped.Icouldnotpossiblygohome,Ireflected,andaddasaseriouscontributiontothestudyofwomenandfictionthatwomenhavelesshairontheirbodiesthanmen,orthattheageofpubertyamongtheSouthSeaIslandersisnine—orisitninety?—eventhehandwritinghadbecomeinitsdistractionin-decipherable.Itwasdisgracefultohavenothingmoreweightyorrespectabletoshowafterawholemorning’swork.AndifIcouldnotgraspthetruthaboutW.(asforbrevity’ssakeIhadcometocallher)inthepast,whybotheraboutW.inthefu-ture?Itseemedpurewasteoftimetoconsultallthosegentle-menwhospecializeinwomanandhereffectonwhateveritmaybe—politics,children,wages,morality—numerousandlearnedastheyare.Onemightaswellleavetheirbooksunopened.ButwhileIponderedIhadunconsciously,inmylistlessness,inmydesperation,beendrawingapicturewhereIshould,likemyneighbour,havebeenwritingaconclusion.Ihadbeendrawingaface,afigure.ItwasthefaceandthefigureofProfessorvonXengagedinwritinghismonumentalworkentitled2.'”Menknowthatwomenareanovermatchforthem,andthereforetheychoosetheweakestorthemostignorant.Iftheydidnotthinkso,theynevercouldbeafraidofwomenknowingasmuchasthemselves.”…Injusticetothesex,Ithinkitbutcandidtoacknowledgethat,inasub-sequentconversation,hetoldmethathewasseriousinwhathesaid.’—BOSWELL,THEJOURNALOFATOURTOTHEHEBRIDES.3.TheancientGermansbelievedthattherewassomethingholyinwo-men,andaccordinglyconsultedthemasoracles.’—FRAZER,GOLDENBOUGH.26
THEMENTAL,MORAL,ANDPHYSICALINFERIORITYOFTHEFEMALESEX.Hewasnotinmypictureamanattractivetowomen.Hewasheavilybuilt;hehadagreatjowl;tobalancethathehadverysmalleyes;hewasveryredintheface.Hisexpressionsuggestedthathewaslabouringundersomeemo-tionthatmadehimjabhispenonthepaperasifhewerekillingsomenoxiousinsectashewrote,butevenwhenhehadkilleditthatdidnotsatisfyhim;hemustgoonkillingit;andevenso,somecauseforangerandirritationremained.Coulditbehiswife,Iasked,lookingatmypicture?Wassheinlovewithacavalryofficer?Wasthecavalryofficerslimandelegantanddressedinastrakhan?Hadhebeenlaughedat,toadopttheFreudiantheory,inhiscradlebyaprettygirl?Foreveninhiscradletheprofessor,Ithought,couldnothavebeenanat-tractivechild.Whateverthereason,theprofessorwasmadetolookveryangryandveryuglyinmysketch,ashewrotehisgreatbookuponthemental,moralandphysicalinferiorityofwomen.Drawingpictureswasanidlewayoffinishinganun-profitablemorning’swork.Yetitisinouridleness,inourdreams,thatthesubmergedtruthsometimescomestothetop.Averyelementaryexerciseinpsychology,nottobedignifiedbythenameofpsychoanalysis,showedme,onlookingatmynotebook,thatthesketchoftheangryprofessorhadbeenmadeinanger.AngerhadsnatchedmypencilwhileIdreamt.Butwhatwasangerdoingthere?Interest,confusion,amuse-ment,boredom—alltheseemotionsIcouldtraceandnameastheysucceededeachotherthroughoutthemorning.Hadan-ger,theblacksnake,beenlurkingamongthem?Yes,saidthesketch,angerhad.Itreferredmeunmistakablytotheonebook,totheonephrase,whichhadrousedthedemon;itwastheprofessor’sstatementaboutthemental,moralandphysicalinferiorityofwomen.Myhearthadleapt.Mycheekshadburnt.Ihadflushedwithanger.Therewasnothingspeciallyremarkable,howeverfoolish,inthat.Onedoesnotliketobetoldthatoneisnaturallytheinferiorofalittleman—Ilookedatthestu-dentnextme—whobreatheshard,wearsaready-madetie,andhasnotshavedthisfortnight.Onehascertainfoolishvanities.Itisonlyhumannature,Ireflected,andbegandrawingcartwheelsandcirclesovertheangryprofessor’sfacetillhelookedlikeaburningbushoraflamingcomet—anyhow,an27
apparitionwithouthumansemblanceorsignificance.TheprofessorwasnothingnowbutafaggotburningonthetopofHampsteadHeath.Soonmyownangerwasexplainedanddonewith;butcuriosityremained.Howexplaintheangeroftheprofessors?Whyweretheyangry?Forwhenitcametoanalysingtheimpressionleftbythesebookstherewasalwaysanelementofheat.Thisheattookmanyforms;itshoweditselfinsatire,insentiment,incuriosity,inreprobation.Buttherewasanotherelementwhichwasoftenpresentandcouldnotimmediatelybeidentified.Anger,Icalledit.Butitwasangerthathadgoneundergroundandmixeditselfwithallkindsofotheremotions.Tojudgefromitsoddeffects,itwasangerdis-guisedandcomplex,notangersimpleandopen.Whateverthereason,allthesebooks,Ithought,surveyingthepileonthedesk,areworthlessformypurposes.Theywereworthlessscientifically,thatistosay,thoughhumanlytheywerefullofinstruction,interest,boredom,andveryqueerfactsaboutthehabitsoftheFijiIslanders.Theyhadbeenwrit-tenintheredlightofemotionandnotinthewhitelightoftruth.Thereforetheymustbereturnedtothecentraldeskandrestoredeachtohisowncellintheenormoushoneycomb.AllthatIhadretrievedfromthatmorning’sworkhadbeentheonefactofanger.Theprofessors—Ilumpedthemtogetherthus—wereangry.Butwhy,Iaskedmyself,havingreturnedthebooks,why,Irepeated,standingunderthecolonnadeamongthepigeonsandtheprehistoriccanoes,whyaretheyangry?And,askingmyselfthisquestion,Istrolledofftofindaplaceforluncheon.WhatistherealnatureofwhatIcallforthemomenttheiranger?Iasked.HerewasapuzzlethatwouldlastallthetimethatittakestobeservedwithfoodinasmallrestaurantsomewhereneartheBritishMuseum.Somepreviousluncherhadlefttheluncheditionoftheeveningpaperonachair,and,waitingtobeserved,Ibeganidlyreadingthehead-lines.Aribbonofverylargelettersranacrossthepage.Some-bodyhadmadeabigscoreinSouthAfrica.LesserribbonsannouncedthatSirAustenChamberlainwasatGeneva.Ameataxewithhumanhaironithadbeenfoundinacellar.Mrjustice——commentedintheDivorceCourtsupontheShame-lessnessofWomen.Sprinkledaboutthepaperwereotherpiecesofnews.Afilmactresshadbeenloweredfromapeakin28
Californiaandhungsuspendedinmid-air.Theweatherwasgo-ingtobefoggy.Themosttransientvisitortothisplanet,Ithought,whopickedupthispapercouldnotfailtobeaware,evenfromthisscatteredtestimony,thatEnglandisundertheruleofapatriarchy.Nobodyintheirsensescouldfailtodetectthedominanceoftheprofessor.Hiswasthepowerandthemoneyandtheinfluence.Hewastheproprietorofthepaperanditseditorandsub-editor.HewastheForeignSecretaryandthejudge.Hewasthecricketer;heownedtheracehorsesandtheyachts.Hewasthedirectorofthecompanythatpaystwohundredpercenttoitsshareholders.Heleftmillionstocharitiesandcollegesthatwereruledbyhimself.Hesuspen-dedthefilmactressinmid-air.Hewilldecideifthehaironthemeataxeishuman;heitiswhowillacquitorconvictthemur-derer,andhanghim,orlethimgofree.Withtheexceptionofthefogheseemedtocontroleverything.Yethewasangry.Iknewthathewasangrybythistoken.WhenIreadwhathewroteaboutwomen—Ithought,notofwhathewassaying,butofhimself.Whenanarguerarguesdispassionatelyhethinksonlyoftheargument;andthereadercannothelpthinkingoftheargumenttoo.Ifhehadwrittendispassionatelyaboutwo-men,hadusedindisputableproofstoestablishhisargumentandhadshownnotraceofwishingthattheresultshouldbeonethingratherthananother,onewouldnothavebeenangryeither.Onewouldhaveacceptedthefact,asoneacceptsthefactthatapeaisgreenoracanaryyellow.Sobeit,Ishouldhavesaid.ButIhadbeenangrybecausehewasangry.Yetitseemedabsurd,Ithought,turningovertheeveningpaper,thatamanwithallthispowershouldbeangry.Orisanger,Iwondered,somehow,thefamiliar,theattendantspriteonpower?Richpeople,forexample,areoftenangrybecausetheysuspectthatthepoorwanttoseizetheirwealth.Theprofess-ors,orpatriarchs,asitmightbemoreaccuratetocallthem,mightbeangryforthatreasonpartly,butpartlyforonethatliesalittlelessobviouslyonthesurface.Possiblytheywerenot’angry’atall;often,indeed,theywereadmiring,devoted,ex-emplaryintherelationsofprivatelife.Possiblywhentheprofessorinsistedalittletooemphaticallyupontheinferiorityofwomen,hewasconcernednotwiththeirinferiority,butwithhisownsuperiority.Thatwaswhathewasprotectingrather29
hot-headedlyandwithtoomuchemphasis,becauseitwasajeweltohimoftherarestprice.Lifeforbothsexes—andIlookedatthem,shoulderingtheirwayalongthepavement—isarduous,difficult,aperpetualstruggle.Itcallsforgiganticcourageandstrength.Morethananything,perhaps,creaturesofillusionasweare,itcallsforconfidenceinoneself.Withoutself-confidenceweareasbabesinthecradle.Andhowcanwegeneratethisimponderablequality,whichisyetsoinvaluable,mostquickly?Bythinkingthatotherpeopleareinferiortooneself.Byfeelingthatonehassomeinnatesuperiority—itmaybewealth,orrank,astraightnose,ortheportraitofagrandfath-erbyRomney—forthereisnoendtothepatheticdevicesofthehumanimagination—overotherpeople.Hencetheenorm-ousimportancetoapatriarchwhohastoconquer,whohastorule,offeelingthatgreatnumbersofpeople,halfthehumanraceindeed,arebynatureinferiortohimself.Itmustindeedbeoneofthechiefsourcesofhispower.Butletmeturnthelightofthisobservationontoreallife,Ithought.Doesithelptoexplainsomeofthosepsychologicalpuzzlesthatonenotesinthemarginofdailylife?DoesitexplainmyastonishmentoftheotherdaywhenZ,mosthumane,mostmodestofmen,tak-ingupsomebookbyRebeccaWestandreadingapassageinit,exclaimed,’Thearrantfeminist!Shesaysthatmenaresnobs!’Theexclamation,tomesosurprising—forwhywasMissWestanarrantfeministformakingapossiblytrueifuncompliment-arystatementabouttheothersex?—wasnotmerelythecryofwoundedvanity;itwasaprotestagainstsomeinfringementofhispowertobelieveinhimself.Womenhaveservedallthesecenturiesaslooking-glassespossessingthemagicanddeliciouspowerofreflectingthefigureofmanattwiceitsnaturalsize.Withoutthatpowerprobablytheearthwouldstillbeswampandjungle.Thegloriesofallourwarswouldbeunknown.Weshouldstillbescratchingtheoutlinesofdeerontheremainsofmuttonbonesandbarteringflintsforsheepskinsorwhateversimpleornamenttookourunsophisticatedtaste.SupermenandFingersofDestinywouldneverhaveexis-ted.TheCzarandtheKaiserwouldneverhaveworncrownsorlostthem.Whatevermaybetheiruseincivilizedsocieties,mir-rorsareessentialtoallviolentandheroicaction.ThatiswhyNapoleonandMussolinibothinsistsoemphaticallyuponthe30
inferiorityofwomen,foriftheywerenotinferior,theywouldceasetoenlarge.Thatservestoexplaininpartthenecessitythatwomensooftenaretomen.Anditservestoexplainhowrestlesstheyareunderhercriticism;howimpossibleitisforhertosaytothemthisbookisbad,thispictureisfeeble,orwhateveritmaybe,withoutgivingfarmorepainandrousingfarmoreangerthanamanwoulddowhogavethesamecriticism.Forifshebeginstotellthetruth,thefigureinthelooking-glassshrinks;hisfitnessforlifeisdiminished.Howishetogoongivingjudgement,civilizingnatives,makinglaws,writingbooks,dressingupandspeechifyingatbanquets,un-lesshecanseehimselfatbreakfastandatdinneratleasttwicethesizehereallyis?SoIreflected,crumblingmybreadandstirringmycoffeeandnowandagainlookingatthepeopleinthestreet.Thelooking-glassvisionisofsupremeimportancebecauseitchargesthevitality;itstimulatesthenervoussys-tem.Takeitawayandmanmaydie,likethedrugfiendde-privedofhiscocaine.Underthespellofthatillusion,Ithought,lookingoutofthewindow,halfthepeopleonthepavementarestridingtowork.Theyputontheirhatsandcoatsinthemorn-ingunderitsagreeablerays.Theystartthedayconfident,braced,believingthemselvesdesiredatMissSmith’steaparty;theysaytothemselvesastheygointotheroom,Iamthesuperiorofhalfthepeoplehere,anditisthusthattheyspeakwiththatself-confidence,thatself-assurance,whichhavehadsuchprofoundconsequencesinpubliclifeandleadtosuchcuriousnotesinthemarginoftheprivatemind.Butthesecontributionstothedangerousandfascinatingsubjectofthepsychologyoftheothersex—itisone,Ihope,thatyouwillinvestigatewhenyouhavefivehundredayearofyourown—wereinterruptedbythenecessityofpayingthebill.Itcametofiveshillingsandninepence.Igavethewaiteraten-shillingnoteandhewenttobringmechange.Therewasanotherten-shillingnoteinmypurse;Inoticedit,becauseitisafactthatstilltakesmybreathaway,thepowerofmypursetobreedten-shillingnotesautomatically.Iopenitandtheretheyare.Societygivesmechickenandcoffee,bedandlodging,inreturnforacertainnumberofpiecesofpaperwhichwereleftmebyanaunt,fornootherreasonthanthatIsharehername.31
Myaunt,MaryBeton,Imusttellyou,diedbyafallfromherhorsewhenshewasridingouttotaketheairinBombay.Thenewsofmylegacyreachedmeonenightaboutthesametimethattheactwaspassedthatgavevotestowomen.Asolicitor’sletterfellintothepost-boxandwhenIopeneditIfoundthatshehadleftmefivehundredpoundsayearforever.Ofthetwo—thevoteandthemoney—themoney,Iown,seemedinfinitelythemoreimportant.BeforethatIhadmademylivingbycadgingoddjobsfromnewspapers,byreportingadonkeyshowhereoraweddingthere;Ihadearnedafewpoundsbyaddressingenvelopes,readingtooldladies,makingartificialflowers,teachingthealphabettosmallchildreninakinder-garten.Suchwerethechiefoccupationsthatwereopentowo-menbefore1918.Ineednot,Iamafraid,describeinanydetailthehardnessofthework,foryouknowperhapswomenwhohavedoneit;northedifficultyoflivingonthemoneywhenitwasearned,foryoumayhavetried.Butwhatstillremainswithmeasaworseinflictionthaneitherwasthepoisonoffearandbitternesswhichthosedaysbredinme.Tobeginwith,alwaystobedoingworkthatonedidnotwishtodo,andtodoitlikeaslave,flatteringandfawning,notalwaysnecessarilyperhaps,butitseemednecessaryandthestakesweretoogreattorunrisks;andthenthethoughtofthatonegiftwhichitwasdeathtohide—asmallonebutdeartothepossessor—perishingandwithitmyself,mysoul,—allthisbecamelikearusteatingawaythebloomofthespring,destroyingthetreeatitsheart.However,asIsay,myauntdied;andwheneverIchangeaten-shillingnotealittleofthatrustandcorrosionisrubbedoff,fearandbitternessgo.Indeed,Ithought,slippingthesilverin-tomypurse,itisremarkable,rememberingthebitternessofthosedays,whatachangeoftemperafixedincomewillbringabout.Noforceintheworldcantakefrommemyfivehundredpounds.Food,houseandclothingaremineforever.Thereforenotmerelydoeffortandlabourcease,butalsohatredandbitterness.Ineednothateanyman;hecannothurtme.Ineednotflatteranyman;hehasnothingtogiveme.SoimperceptiblyIfoundmyselfadoptinganewattitudetowardstheotherhalfofthehumanrace.Itwasabsurdtoblameanyclassoranysex,asawhole.Greatbodiesofpeopleareneverresponsibleforwhattheydo.Theyaredrivenbyinstinctswhicharenot32
withintheircontrol.Theytoo,thepatriarchs,theprofessors,hadendlessdifficulties,terribledrawbackstocontendwith.Theireducationhadbeeninsomewaysasfaultyasmyown.Ithadbredinthemdefectsasgreat.True,theyhadmoneyandpower,butonlyatthecostofharbouringintheirbreastsaneagle,avulture,forevertearingtheliveroutandpluckingatthelungs—theinstinctforpossession,therageforacquisitionwhichdrivesthemtodesireotherpeople’sfieldsandgoodsperpetually;tomakefrontiersandflags;battleshipsandpoisongas;toofferuptheirownlivesandtheirchildren’slives.WalkthroughtheAdmiraltyArch(Ihadreachedthatmonument),oranyotheravenuegivenuptotrophiesandcannon,andreflectuponthekindofglorycelebratedthere.Orwatchinthespringsunshinethestockbrokerandthegreatbarristergoingindoorstomakemoneyandmoremoneyandmoremoneywhenitisafactthatfivehundredpoundsayearwillkeeponealiveinthesunshine.Theseareunpleasantinstinctstoharbour,Ireflec-ted.Theyarebredoftheconditionsoflife;ofthelackofcivilization,Ithought,lookingatthestatueoftheDukeofCambridge,andinparticularatthefeathersinhiscockedhat,withafixitythattheyhavescarcelyeverreceivedbefore.And,asIrealizedthesedrawbacks,bydegreesfearandbitternessmodifiedthemselvesintopityandtoleration;andtheninayearortwo,pityandtolerationwent,andthegreatestreleaseofallcame,whichisfreedomtothinkofthingsinthemselves.Thatbuilding,forexample,doIlikeitornot?Isthatpicturebeauti-fulornot?Isthatinmyopinionagoodbookorabad?Indeedmyaunt’slegacyunveiledtheskytome,andsubstitutedforthelargeandimposingfigureofagentleman,whichMiltonre-commendedformyperpetualadoration,aviewoftheopensky.Sothinking,sospeculatingIfoundmywaybacktomyhousebytheriver.LampswerebeinglitandanindescribablechangehadcomeoverLondonsincethemorninghour.Itwasasifthegreatmachineafterlabouringalldayhadmadewithourhelpafewyardsofsomethingveryexcitingandbeautiful—afieryfab-ricflashingwithredeyes,atawnymonsterroaringwithhotbreath.Eventhewindseemedflunglikeaflagasitlashedthehousesandrattledthehoardings.33
Inmylittlestreet,however,domesticityprevailed.Thehousepainterwasdescendinghisladder;thenursemaidwaswheelingtheperambulatorcarefullyinandoutbacktonurserytea;thecoal-heaverwasfoldinghisemptysacksontopofeachoth-er;thewomanwhokeepsthegreengrocer’sshopwasaddinguptheday’stakingswithherhandsinredmittens.ButsoengrossedwasIwiththeproblemyouhavelaiduponmyshouldersthatIcouldnotseeeventheseusualsightswithoutreferringthemtoonecentre.Ithoughthowmuchharderitisnowthanitmusthavebeenevenacenturyagotosaywhichoftheseemploymentsisthehigher,themorenecessary.Isitbet-tertobeacoal-heaveroranursemaid;isthecharwomanwhohasbroughtupeightchildrenoflessvaluetotheworldthan,thebarristerwhohasmadeahundredthousandpounds?itisuselesstoasksuchquestions;fornobodycananswerthem.Notonlydothecomparativevaluesofcharwomenandlawyersriseandfallfromdecadetodecade,butwehavenorodswithwhichtomeasurethemevenastheyareatthemoment.Ihadbeenfoolishtoaskmyprofessortofurnishmewith’indisput-ableproofs’ofthisorthatinhisargumentaboutwomen.Evenifonecouldstatethevalueofanyonegiftatthemoment,thosevalueswillchange;inacentury’stimeverypossiblytheywillhavechangedcompletely.Moreover,inahundredyears,Ithought,reachingmyowndoorstep,womenwillhaveceasedtobetheprotectedsex.Logicallytheywilltakepartinalltheactivitiesandexertionsthatwereoncedeniedthem.Thenursemaidwillheavecoal.Theshopwomanwilldriveanengine.Allassumptionsfoundedonthefactsobservedwhenwo-menweretheprotectedsexwillhavedisappeared—as,forex-ample(hereasquadofsoldiersmarcheddownthestreet),thatwomenandclergymenandgardenerslivelongerthanotherpeople.Removethatprotection,exposethemtothesameexertionsandactivities,makethemsoldiersandsailorsandengine-driversanddocklabourers,andwillnotwomendieoffsomuchyounger,somuchquicker,thanmenthatonewillsay,’Isawawomanto-day’,asoneusedtosay,’Isawanaeroplane’.Anythingmayhappenwhenwomanhoodhasceasedtobeaprotectedoccupation,Ithought,openingthedoor.Butwhatbearinghasallthisuponthesubjectofmypaper,WomenandFiction?Iasked,goingindoors.34
ThreeItwasdisappointingnottohavebroughtbackintheeveningsomeimportantstatement,someauthenticfact.Womenarepoorerthanmenbecause—thisorthat.Perhapsnowitwouldbebettertogiveupseekingforthetruth,andreceivingonone’sheadanavalancheofopinionhotaslava,discolouredasdish-water.Itwouldbebettertodrawthecurtains;toshutoutdistractions;tolightthelamp;tonarrowtheenquiryandtoaskthehistorian,whorecordsnotopinionsbutfacts,tode-scribeunderwhatconditionswomenlived,notthroughouttheages,butinEngland,say,inthetimeofElizabeth.Foritisaperennialpuzzlewhynowomanwroteawordofthatextraordinaryliteraturewheneveryotherman,itseemed,wascapableofsongorsonnet.Whatweretheconditionsinwhichwomenlived?Iaskedmyself;forfiction,imaginativeworkthatis,isnotdroppedlikeapebbleupontheground,assciencemaybe;fictionislikeaspider’sweb,attachedeversolightlyperhaps,butstillattachedtolifeatallfourcorners.Oftentheattachmentisscarcelyperceptible;Shakespeare’splays,forinstance,seemtohangtherecompletebythemselves.Butwhenthewebispulledaskew,hookedupattheedge,torninthemiddle,oneremembersthatthesewebsarenotspuninmid-airbyincorporealcreatures,butaretheworkofsufferinghumanbeings,andareattachedtogrosslymateri-althings,likehealthandmoneyandthehouseswelivein.Iwent,therefore,totheshelfwherethehistoriesstandandtookdownoneofthelatest,ProfessorTrevelyan’sHISTORYOFENGLAND.OncemoreIlookedupWomen,found’positionof’andturnedtothepagesindicated.’Wife-beating’,Iread,’wasarecognizedrightofman,andwaspractisedwithoutshamebyhighaswellaslow…Similarly,’thehistoriangoeson,’thedaughterwhorefusedtomarrythegentlemanofherparents’choicewasliabletobelockedup,beatenandflungabouttheroom,withoutanyshockbeinginflictedonpublicopinion.Marriagewasnotanaffairofpersonalaffection,butoffamilyavarice,particularlyinthe”chivalrous”upperclasses…Betrothaloftentookplacewhileoneorbothofthepartieswasinthecradle,andmarriagewhentheywerescarcelyoutofthenurses’charge.’Thatwasabout1470,soonafterChaucer’s35
time.Thenextreferencetothepositionofwomenissometwohundredyearslater,inthetimeoftheStuarts.’Itwasstilltheexceptionforwomenoftheupperandmiddleclasstochoosetheirownhusbands,andwhenthehusbandhadbeenassigned,hewaslordandmaster,sofaratleastaslawandcustomcouldmakehim.Yetevenso,’ProfessorTrevelyanconcludes,’neitherShakespeare’swomennorthoseofauthenticseventeenth-centurymemoirs,liketheVerneysandtheHutchinsons,seemwantinginpersonalityandcharacter.’Certainly,ifweconsiderit,Cleopatramusthavehadawaywithher;LadyMacbeth,onewouldsuppose,hadawillofherown;Rosalind,onemightconclude,wasanattractivegirl.ProfessorTrevelyanisspeakingnomorethanthetruthwhenheremarksthatShakespeare’swomendonotseemwantinginpersonalityandcharacter.Notbeingahistorian,onemightgoevenfurtherandsaythatwomenhaveburntlikebeaconsinalltheworksofallthepoetsfromthebeginningoftime—Clytemnes-tra,Antigone,Cleopatra,LadyMacbeth,Phedre,Cressida,Rosalind,Desdemona,theDuchessofMalfi,amongthedramatists;thenamongtheprosewriters:Millamant,Clarissa,BeckySharp,AnnaKarenina,EmmaBovary,MadamedeGuer-mantes—thenamesflocktomind,nordotheyrecallwomen’lackinginpersonalityandcharacter.’Indeed,ifwomanhadnoexistencesaveinthefictionwrittenbymen,onewouldimagineherapersonoftheutmostimportance;veryvarious;hero-icandmean;splendidandsordid;infinitelybeautifulandhideousintheextreme;asgreatasaman,somethinkevengreater4.Butthisiswomaninfiction.Infact,asProfessorTrevelyanpointsout,shewaslockedup,beatenandflungabouttheroom.Averyqueer,compositebeingthusemerges.Imaginativelysheisofthehighestimportance;practicallysheiscompletelyinsignificant.Shepervadespoetryfromcovertocover;sheisallbutabsentfromhistory.Shedominatesthelivesofkingsandconquerorsinfiction;infactshewastheslaveofanyboywhoseparentsforcedaringuponherfinger.Someofthemostinspiredwords,someofthemostprofoundthoughtsinliterat-urefallfromherlips;inreallifeshecouldhardlyread,couldscarcelyspell,andwasthepropertyofherhusband.36
Itwascertainlyanoddmonsterthatonemadeupbyreadingthehistoriansfirstandthepoetsafterwards—awormwingedlikeaneagle;thespiritoflifeandbeautyinakitchenchoppingupsuet.Butthesemonsters,howeveramusingtotheimagina-tion,havenoexistenceinfact.Whatonemustdotobringhertolifewastothinkpoeticallyandprosaicallyatoneandthesamemoment,thuskeepingintouchwithfact—thatsheisMrsMartin,agedthirty-six,dressedinblue,wearingablackhatandbrownshoes;butnotlosingsightoffictioneither—thatsheisavesselinwhichallsortsofspiritsandforcesarecoursingandflashingperpetually.Themoment,however,thatonetriesthismethodwiththeElizabethanwoman,onebranchofillu-minationfails;oneisheldupbythescarcityoffacts.Oneknowsnothingdetailed,nothingperfectlytrueandsubstantialabouther.Historyscarcelymentionsher.AndIturnedtoPro-fessorTrevelyanagaintoseewhathistorymeanttohim.Ifoundbylookingathischapterheadingsthatitmeant—’TheManorCourtandtheMethodsofOpen-fieldAgriculture…TheCisterciansandSheep-farming…TheCrusades…TheUniversity…TheHouseofCommons…TheHundredYears’War…TheWarsoftheRoses…TheRenaissanceSchol-ars…TheDissolutionoftheMonasteries…AgrarianandReli-giousStrife…TheOriginofEnglishSea-power…TheArmada…’andsoon.Occasionallyanindividualwomanismentioned,anElizabeth,oraMary;aqueenoragreatlady.Butbyno4.’ItremainsastrangeandalmostinexplicablefactthatinAthena’scity,wherewomenwerekeptinalmostOrientalsuppressionasodalisquesordrudges,thestageshouldyethaveproducedfigureslikeClytemnestraandCassandraAtossaandAntigone,PhedreandMedea,andalltheotherheroineswhodominateplayafterplayofthe”misogynist”Euripides.Buttheparadoxofthisworldwhereinreallifearespectablewomancouldhardlyshowherfacealoneinthestreet,andyetonthestagewomanequalsorsurpassesman,hasneverbeensatisfactorilyexplained.Inmod-erntragedythesamepredominanceexists.Atallevents,averycursorysurveyofShakespeare’swork(similarlywithWebster,thoughnotwithMarloweorJonson)sufficestorevealhowthisdominance,thisinitiativeofwomen,persistsfromRosalindtoLadyMacbeth.SotooinRacine;sixofhistragediesbeartheirheroines’names;andwhatmalecharactersofhisshallwesetagainstHermioneandAndromaque,BereniceandRox-ane,PhedreandAthalie?SoagainwithIbsen;whatmenshallwematchwithSolveigandNora,HedaandHildaWangelandRebeccaWest?’—F.L.LUCAS,TRAGEDY,pp.114-15.37
possiblemeanscouldmiddle-classwomenwithnothingbutbrainsandcharacterattheircommandhavetakenpartinanyoneofthegreatmovementswhich,broughttogether,consti-tutethehistorian’sviewofthepast.Norshallwefindherincollectionofanecdotes.Aubreyhardlymentionsher.Sheneverwritesherownlifeandscarcelykeepsadiary;thereareonlyahandfulofherlettersinexistence.Sheleftnoplaysorpoemsbywhichwecanjudgeher.Whatonewants,Ithought—andwhydoesnotsomebrilliantstudentatNewnhamorGirtonsup-plyit?—isamassofinformation;atwhatagedidshemarry;howmanychildrenhadsheasarule;whatwasherhouselike,hadshearoomtoherself;didshedothecooking;wouldshebelikelytohaveaservant?Allthesefactsliesomewhere,pre-sumably,inparishregistersandaccountbooks;thelifeoftheaverageElizabethanwomanmustbescatteredaboutsome-where,couldonecollectitandmakeabookofit.Itwouldbeambitiousbeyondmydaring,Ithought,lookingabouttheshelvesforbooksthatwerenotthere,tosuggesttothestu-dentsofthosefamouscollegesthattheyshouldrewritehistory,thoughIownthatitoftenseemsalittlequeerasitis,unreal,lop-sided;butwhyshouldtheynotaddasupplementtohistory,callingit,ofcourse,bysomeinconspicuousnamesothatwo-menmightfiguretherewithoutimpropriety?Foroneoftencatchesaglimpseoftheminthelivesofthegreat,whiskingawayintothebackground,concealing,Isometimesthink,awink,alaugh,perhapsatear.And,afterall,wehavelivesenoughofJaneAusten;itscarcelyseemsnecessarytoconsideragaintheinfluenceofthetragediesofJoannaBaillieuponthepoetryofEdgarAllanPoe;asformyself,IshouldnotmindifthehomesandhauntsofMaryRussellMitfordwereclosedtothepublicforacenturyatleast.ButwhatIfinddeplorable,Icontinued,lookingaboutthebookshelvesagain,isthatnothingisknownaboutwomenbeforetheeighteenthcentury.Ihavenomodelinmymindtoturnaboutthiswayandthat.HereamIaskingwhywomendidnotwritepoetryintheElizabethanage,andIamnotsurehowtheywereeducated;whethertheyweretaughttowrite;whethertheyhadsitting-roomstothem-selves;howmanywomenhadchildrenbeforetheyweretwenty-one;what,inshort,theydidfromeightinthemorningtilleightatnight.Theyhadnomoneyevidently;accordingto38
ProfessorTrevelyantheyweremarriedwhethertheylikeditornotbeforetheywereoutofthenursery,atfifteenorsixteenverylikely.Itwouldhavebeenextremelyodd,evenuponthisshowing,hadoneofthemsuddenlywrittentheplaysofShakespeare,Iconcluded,andIthoughtofthatoldgentleman,whoisdeadnow,butwasabishop,Ithink,whodeclaredthatitwasimpossibleforanywoman,past,present,ortocome,tohavethegeniusofShakespeare.Hewrotetothepapersaboutit.Healsotoldaladywhoappliedtohimforinformationthatcatsdonotasamatteroffactgotoheaven,thoughtheyhave,headded,soulsofasort.Howmuchthinkingthoseoldgentle-menusedtosaveone!Howthebordersofignoranceshrankbackattheirapproach!Catsdonotgotoheaven.Womencan-notwritetheplaysofShakespeare.Bethatasitmay,Icouldnothelpthinking,asIlookedattheworksofShakespeareontheshelf,thatthebishopwasrightatleastinthis;itwouldhavebeenimpossible,completelyandentirely,foranywomantohavewrittentheplaysofShakespeareintheageofShakespeare.Letmeimagine,sincefactsaresohardtocomeby,whatwouldhavehappenedhadShakespearehadawonderfullygiftedsister,calledJudith,letussay.Shakespearehimselfwent,veryprobably,—hismotherwasanheiress—tothegrammarschool,wherehemayhavelearntLatin—Ovid,VirgilandHorace—andtheelementsofgrammarandlogic.Hewas,itiswellknown,awildboywhopoachedrab-bits,perhapsshotadeer,andhad,rathersoonerthanheshouldhavedone,tomarryawomanintheneighbourhood,whoborehimachildratherquickerthanwasright.Thates-capadesenthimtoseekhisfortuneinLondon.Hehad,itseemed,atasteforthetheatre;hebeganbyholdinghorsesatthestagedoor.Verysoonhegotworkinthetheatre,becameasuccessfulactor,andlivedatthehuboftheuniverse,meetingeverybody,knowingeverybody,practisinghisartontheboards,exercisinghiswitsinthestreets,andevengettingac-cesstothepalaceofthequeen.Meanwhilehisextraordinarilygiftedsister,letussuppose,remainedathome.Shewasasad-venturous,asimaginative,asagogtoseetheworldashewas.Butshewasnotsenttoschool.Shehadnochanceoflearninggrammarandlogic,letaloneofreadingHoraceandVirgil.Shepickedupabooknowandthen,oneofherbrother’sperhaps,39
andreadafewpages.Butthenherparentscameinandtoldhertomendthestockingsormindthestewandnotmoonaboutwithbooksandpapers.Theywouldhavespokensharplybutkindly,fortheyweresubstantialpeoplewhoknewthecon-ditionsoflifeforawomanandlovedtheirdaughter—indeed,morelikelythannotshewastheappleofherfather’seye.Per-hapsshescribbledsomepagesupinanappleloftontheslybutwascarefultohidethemorsetfiretothem.Soon,however,beforeshewasoutofherteens,shewastobebe-trothedtothesonofaneighbouringwool-stapler.Shecriedoutthatmarriagewashatefultoher,andforthatshewasseverelybeatenbyherfather.Thenheceasedtoscoldher.Hebeggedherinsteadnottohurthim,nottoshamehiminthismatterofhermarriage.Hewouldgiveherachainofbeadsorafinepetticoat,hesaid;andthereweretearsinhiseyes.Howcouldshedisobeyhim?Howcouldshebreakhisheart?Theforceofherowngiftalonedrovehertoit.Shemadeupasmallparcelofherbelongings,letherselfdownbyaropeonesummer’snightandtooktheroadtoLondon.Shewasnotseventeen.Thebirdsthatsanginthehedgewerenotmoremusic-althanshewas.Shehadthequickestfancy,agiftlikeherbrother’s,forthetuneofwords.Likehim,shehadatasteforthetheatre.Shestoodatthestagedoor;shewantedtoact,shesaid.Menlaughedinherface.Themanager—afat,looselippedman—guffawed.Hebellowedsomethingaboutpoodlesdancingandwomenacting—nowoman,hesaid,couldpossiblybeanactress.Hehinted—youcanimaginewhat.Shecouldgetnotraininginhercraft.Couldsheevenseekherdinnerinatav-ernorroamthestreetsatmidnight?Yethergeniuswasforfic-tionandlustedtofeedabundantlyuponthelivesofmenandwomenandthestudyoftheirways.Atlast—forshewasveryyoung,oddlylikeShakespearethepoetinherface,withthesamegreyeyesandroundedbrows—atlastNickGreenetheactor-managertookpityonher;shefoundherselfwithchildbythatgentlemanandso—whoshallmeasuretheheatandviolenceofthepoet’sheartwhencaughtandtangledinawoman’sbody?—killedherselfonewinter’snightandliesburiedatsomecross-roadswheretheomnibusesnowstopoutsidetheElephantandCastle.40
That,moreorless,ishowthestorywouldrun,Ithink,ifawomaninShakespeare’sdayhadhadShakespeare’sgenius.Butformypart,Iagreewiththedeceasedbishop,ifsuchhewas—itisunthinkablethatanywomaninShakespeare’sdayshouldhavehadShakespeare’sgenius.ForgeniuslikeShakespeare’sisnotbornamonglabouring,uneducated,servilepeople.ItwasnotborninEnglandamongtheSaxonsandtheBritons.Itisnotbornto-dayamongtheworkingclasses.How,then,couldithavebeenbornamongwomenwhoseworkbegan,accordingtoProfessorTrevelyan,almostbeforetheywereoutofthenursery,whowereforcedtoitbytheirparentsandheldtoitbyallthepoweroflawandcustom?Yetgeniusofasortmusthaveexistedamongwomenasitmusthaveexistedamongtheworkingclasses.NowandagainanEmilyBrontëoraRobertBurnsblazesoutandprovesitspresence.Butcertainlyitnevergotitselfontopaper.When,however,onereadsofawitchbeingducked,ofawomanpos-sessedbydevils,ofawisewomansellingherbs,orevenofaveryremarkablemanwhohadamother,thenIthinkweareonthetrackofalostnovelist,asuppressedpoet,ofsomemuteandingloriousJaneAusten,someEmilyBrontëwhodashedherbrainsoutonthemoorormoppedandmowedaboutthehigh-wayscrazedwiththetorturethathergifthadputherto.Indeed,IwouldventuretoguessthatAnon,whowrotesomanypoemswithoutsingingthem,wasoftenawoman.ItwasawomanEdwardFitzgerald,Ithink,suggestedwhomadetheballadsandthefolk-songs,crooningthemtoherchildren,beguilingherspinningwiththem,orthelengthofthewinter’snight.Thismaybetrueoritmaybefalse—whocansay?—butwhatistrueinit,soitseemedtome,reviewingthestoryofShakespeare’ssisterasIhadmadeit,isthatanywomanbornwithagreatgiftinthesixteenthcenturywouldcertainlyhavegonecrazed,shotherself,orendedherdaysinsomelonelycottageoutsidethevillage,halfwitch,halfwizard,fearedandmockedat.Foritneedslittleskillinpsychologytobesurethatahighlygiftedgirlwhohadtriedtousehergiftforpoetrywouldhavebeensothwartedandhinderedbyotherpeople,sotorturedandpulledasunderbyherowncontraryinstincts,thatshemusthavelostherhealthandsanitytoacertainty.Nogirl41
couldhavewalkedtoLondonandstoodatastagedoorandforcedherwayintothepresenceofactor-managerswithoutdoingherselfaviolenceandsufferingananguishwhichmayhavebeenirrational—forchastitymaybeafetishinventedbycertainsocietiesforunknownreasons—butwerenonethelessinevitable.Chastityhadthen,ithasevennow,areligiousim-portanceinawoman’slife,andhassowrappeditselfroundwithnervesandinstinctsthattocutitfreeandbringittothelightofdaydemandscourageoftherarest.TohavelivedafreelifeinLondoninthesixteenthcenturywouldhavemeantforawomanwhowaspoetandplaywrightanervousstressanddi-lemmawhichmightwellhavekilledher.Hadshesurvived,whatevershehadwrittenwouldhavebeentwistedandde-formed,issuingfromastrainedandmorbidimagination.Andundoubtedly,Ithought,lookingattheshelfwheretherearenoplaysbywomen,herworkwouldhavegoneunsigned.Thatrefugeshewouldhavesoughtcertainly.Itwastherelicofthesenseofchastitythatdictatedanonymitytowomenevensolateasthenineteenthcentury.CurrerBell,GeorgeEliot,GeorgeSand,allthevictimsofinnerstrifeastheirwritingsprove,soughtineffectivelytoveilthemselvesbyusingthenameofaman.Thustheydidhomagetotheconvention,whichifnotimplantedbytheothersexwasliberallyencouragedbythem(thechiefgloryofawomanisnottobetalkedof,saidPericles,himselfamuch-talked-ofman)thatpublicityinwo-menisdetestable.Anonymityrunsintheirblood.Thedesiretobeveiledstillpossessesthem.Theyarenotevennowasconcernedaboutthehealthoftheirfameasmenare,and,speak-inggenerally,willpassatombstoneorasignpostwithoutfeel-inganirresistibledesiretocuttheirnamesonit,asAlf,BertorChas.mustdoinobediencetotheirinstinct,whichmurmursifitseesafinewomangoby,orevenadog,Cechienestamoi.And,ofcourse,itmaynotbeadog,Ithought,rememberingParliamentSquare,theSiegesAlleeandotheravenues;itmaybeapieceoflandoramanwithcurlyblackhair.ItisoneofthegreatadvantagesofbeingawomanthatonecanpassevenaveryfinenegresswithoutwishingtomakeanEnglishwomanofher.Thatwoman,then,whowasbornwithagiftofpoetryinthesixteenthcentury,wasanunhappywoman,awomanatstrife42
againstherself.Alltheconditionsofherlife,allherowninstincts,werehostiletothestateofmindwhichisneededtosetfreewhateverisinthebrain.Butwhatisthestateofmindthatismostpropitioustotheactofcreation?Iasked.Canonecomebyanynotionofthestatethatfurthersandmakespossiblethatstrangeactivity?HereIopenedthevolumecontainingtheTragediesofShakespeare.WhatwasShakespeare’sstateofmind,forinstance,whenhewroteLEARandANTONYANDCLEOPATRA?Itwascertainlythestateofmindmostfavourabletopoetrythattherehaseverexisted.ButShakespearehimselfsaidnothingaboutit.Weonlyknowcasuallyandbychancethathe’neverblottedaline’.Nothingindeedwaseversaidbytheartisthimselfabouthisstateofminduntiltheeighteenthcenturyperhaps.Rousseauperhapsbeganit.Atanyrate,bythenineteenthcenturyself-consciousnesshaddevelopedsofarthatitwasthehabitformenofletterstode-scribetheirmindsinconfessionsandautobiographies.Theirlivesalsowerewritten,andtheirletterswereprintedaftertheirdeaths.Thus,thoughwedonotknowwhatShakespearewentthroughwhenhewroteLEAR,wedoknowwhatCarlylewentthroughwhenhewrotetheFRENCHREVOLUTION;whatFlaubertwentthroughwhenhewroteMADAMEBOVARY;whatKeatswasgoingthroughwhenhetriedtowritepoetryagainstthecomingdeathandtheindifferenceoftheworld.Andonegathersfromthisenormousmodernliteratureofconfessionandself-analysisthattowriteaworkofgeniusisal-mostalwaysafeatofprodigiousdifficulty.Everythingisagainstthelikelihoodthatitwillcomefromthewriter’smindwholeandentire.Generallymaterialcircumstancesareagainstit.Dogswillbark;peoplewillinterrupt;moneymustbemade;healthwillbreakdown.Further,accentuatingallthesedifficultiesandmakingthemhardertobearistheworld’snotori-ousindifference.Itdoesnotaskpeopletowritepoemsandnovelsandhistories;itdoesnotneedthem.ItdoesnotcarewhetherFlaubertfindstherightwordorwhetherCarlylescru-pulouslyverifiesthisorthatfact.Naturally,itwillnotpayforwhatitdoesnotwant.Andsothewriter,Keats,Flaubert,Carlyle,suffers,especiallyinthecreativeyearsofyouth,everyformofdistractionanddiscouragement.Acurse,acryof43
agony,risesfromthosebooksofanalysisandconfession.’Mightypoetsintheirmiserydead’—thatistheburdenoftheirsong.Ifanythingcomesthroughinspiteofallthis,itisamir-acle,andprobablynobookisbornentireanduncrippledasitwasconceived.Butforwomen,Ithought,lookingattheemptyshelves,thesedifficultieswereinfinitelymoreformidable.Inthefirstplace,tohavearoomofherown,letaloneaquietroomorasound-proofroom,wasoutofthequestion,unlessherparentswereexceptionallyrichorverynoble,evenuptothebeginningofthenineteenthcentury.Sinceherpinmoney,whichdependedonthegoodwillofherfather,wasonlyenoughtokeepherclothed,shewasdebarredfromsuchalleviationsascameeventoKeatsorTennysonorCarlyle,allpoormen,fromawalkingtour,alittlejourneytoFrance,fromtheseparatelodgingwhich,evenifitweremiserableenough,shelteredthemfromtheclaimsandtyranniesoftheirfamilies.Suchmaterialdifficultieswereformidable;butmuchworseweretheimmaterial.TheindifferenceoftheworldwhichKeatsandFlaubertandothermenofgeniushavefoundsohardtobearwasinhercasenotindifferencebuthostility.Theworlddidnotsaytoherasitsaidtothem,Writeifyouchoose;itmakesnodifferencetome.Theworldsaidwithaguffaw,Write?What’sthegoodofyourwriting?HerethepsychologistsofNewnhamandGirtonmightcometoourhelp,Ithought,lookingagainattheblankspacesontheshelves.Forsurelyitistimethattheeffectofdiscour-agementuponthemindoftheartistshouldbemeasured,asIhaveseenadairycompanymeasuretheeffectofordinarymilkandGradeAmilkuponthebodyoftherat.Theysettworatsincagessidebyside,andofthetwoonewasfurtive,timidandsmall,andtheotherwasglossy,boldandbig.Nowwhatfooddowefeedwomenasartistsupon?Iasked,remembering,Isuppose,thatdinnerofprunesandcustard.ToanswerthatquestionIhadonlytoopentheeveningpaperandtoreadthatLordBirkenheadisofopinion—butreallyIamnotgoingtotroubletocopyoutLordBirkenhead’sopinionuponthewritingofwomen.WhatDeanIngesaysIwillleaveinpeace.TheHar-leyStreetspecialistmaybeallowedtorousetheechoesofHarleyStreetwithhisvociferationswithoutraisingahaironmyhead.Iwillquote,however,MrOscarBrowning,because44
MrOscarBrowningwasagreatfigureinCambridgeatonetime,andusedtoexaminethestudentsatGirtonandNewnham.MrOscarBrowningwaswonttodeclare’thattheimpres-sionleftonhismind,afterlookingoveranysetofexaminationpapers,wasthat,irrespectiveofthemarkshemightgive,thebestwomanwasintellectuallytheinferioroftheworstman’.AftersayingthatMrBrowningwentbacktohisrooms—anditisthissequelthatendearshimandmakeshimahumanfigureofsomebulkandmajesty—hewentbacktohisroomsandfoundastable-boylyingonthesofa—’amereskeleton,hischeekswerecavernousandsallow,histeethwereblack,andhedidnotappeartohavethefulluseofhislimbs…”That’sAr-thur”[saidMrBrowning].”He’sadearboyreallyandmosthigh-minded.”‘Thetwopicturesalwaysseemtometocompleteeachother.Andhappilyinthisageofbiographythetwopicturesoftendocompleteeachother,sothatweareabletointerprettheopinionsofgreatmennotonlybywhattheysay,butbywhattheydo.Butthoughthisispossiblenow,suchopinionscomingfromthelipsofimportantpeoplemusthavebeenformidableenoughevenfiftyyearsago.Letussupposethatafatherfromthehighestmotivesdidnotwishhisdaughtertoleavehomeandbecomewriter,painterorscholar.’SeewhatMrOscarBrown-ingsays,’hewouldsay;andtheresowasnotonlyMrOscarBrowning;therewastheSATURDAYREVIEW;therewasMrGreg—the’essentialsofawoman’sbeing’,saidMrGregem-phatically,’arethatTHEYARESUPPORTEDBY,ANDTHEYMINISTERTO,MEN’—therewasanenormousbodyofmascu-lineopiniontotheeffectthatnothingcouldbeexpectedofwo-menintellectually.Evenifherfatherdidnotreadoutloudtheseopinions,anygirlcouldreadthemforherself;andthereading,eveninthenineteenthcentury,musthaveloweredhervitality,andtoldprofoundlyuponherwork.Therewouldalwayshavebeenthatassertion—youcannotdothis,youareincapableofdoingthat—toprotestagainst,toovercome.Probablyforanovelistthisgermisnolongerofmucheffect;fortherehavebeenwomennovelistsofmerit.Butforpaintersitmuststillhavesomestinginit;andformusicians,Iimagine,isevennowactiveandpoisonousintheextreme.Thewomancomposerstandswheretheactressstoodinthetimeof45
Shakespeare.NickGreene,Ithought,rememberingthestoryIhadmadeaboutShakespeare’ssister,saidthatawomanactingputhiminmindofadogdancing.Johnsonrepeatedthephrasetwohundredyearslaterofwomenpreaching.Andhere,Isaid,openingabookaboutmusic,wehavetheverywordsusedagaininthisyearofgrace,1928,ofwomenwhotrytowritemusic.’OfMlle.GermaineTailleferreonecanonlyrepeatDrJohnson’sdictumconcerning,awomanpreacher,transposedintotermsofmusic.”Sir,awoman’scomposingislikeadog’swalkingonhishindlegs.Itisnotdonewell,butyouaresur-prisedtofinditdoneatall.”‘5Soaccuratelydoeshistoryrepeatitself.Thus,Iconcluded,shuttingMrOscarBrowning’slifeandpushingawaytherest,itisfairlyevidentthateveninthenine-teenthcenturyawomanwasnotencouragedtobeanartist.Onthecontrary,shewassnubbed,slapped,lecturedandexhorted.Hermindmusthavebeenstrainedandhervitalityloweredbytheneedofopposingthis,ofdisprovingthat.Forhereagainwecomewithinrangeofthatveryinterestingandobscuremasculinecomplexwhichhashadsomuchinfluenceuponthewoman’smovement;thatdeep-seateddesire,notsomuchthatSHEshallbeinferiorasthatHEshallbesuperior,whichplantshimwhereveronelooks,notonlyinfrontofthearts,butbarringthewaytopoliticstoo,evenwhentherisktohimselfseemsinfinitesimalandthesupplianthumbleandde-voted.EvenLadyBessborough,Iremembered,withallherpas-sionforpolitics,musthumblybowherselfandwritetoLordGranvilleLeveson-Gower:’…notwithstandingallmyviolenceinpoliticksandtalkingsomuchonthatsubject,Iperfectlyagreewithyouthatnowomanhasanybusinesstomeddlewiththatoranyotherseriousbusiness,fartherthangivingheropinion(ifsheisask’d).’Andsoshegoesontospendherenthusiasmwhereitmeetswithnoobstaclewhatsoever,uponthatimmenselyimportantsubject,LordGranville’smaidenspeechintheHouseofCommons.Thespectacleiscertainlyastrangeone,Ithought.Thehistoryofmen’soppositiontowomen’semancipationismoreinterestingperhapsthanthestoryofthatemancipationitself.AnamusingbookmightbemadeofitifsomeyoungstudentatGirtonorNewnhamwould5.ASURVEYOFCONTEMPORARYMUSIC,CecilGray,P.246.46
collectexamplesanddeduceatheory,—butshewouldneedthickglovesonherhands,andbarstoprotectherofsolidgold.Butwhatisamusingnow,Irecollected,shuttingLadyBess-borough,hadtobetakenindesperateearnestonce.Opinionsthatonenowpastesinabooklabelledcock-a-doodledumandkeepsforreadingtoselectaudiencesonsummernightsoncedrewtears,Icanassureyou.Amongyourgrandmothersandgreat-grandmothersthereweremanythatwepttheireyesout.FlorenceNightingaleshriekedaloudinheragony6.Moreover,itisallverywellforyou,whohavegotyourselvestocollegeandenjoysitting-rooms—orisitonlybed-sitting-rooms?—ofyourowntosaythatgeniusshoulddisregardsuchopinions;thatgeniusshouldbeabovecaringwhatissaidofit.Unfortunately,itispreciselythemenorwomenofgeniuswhomindmostwhatissaidofthem.RememberKeats.Rememberthewordshehadcutonhistombstone.ThinkofTennyson;thinkbutIneedhardlymultiplyinstancesoftheundeniable,ifveryfortunate,factthatitisthenatureoftheartisttomindexcessivelywhatissaidabouthim.Literatureisstrewnwiththewreckageofmenwhohavemindedbeyondreasontheopinionsofothers.Andthissusceptibilityoftheirsisdoublyunfortunate,Ithought,returningagaintomyoriginalenquiryintowhatstateofmindismostpropitiousforcreativework,becausethemindofanartist,inordertoachievetheprodigiouseffortoffreeingwholeandentiretheworkthatisinhim,mustbeincandes-cent,likeShakespeare’smind,Iconjectured,lookingatthebookwhichlayopenatANTONYANDCLEOPATRA.Theremustbenoobstacleinit,noforeignmatterunconsumed.ForthoughwesaythatweknownothingaboutShakespeare’sstateofmind,evenaswesaythat,wearesay-ingsomethingaboutShakespeare’sstateofmind.ThereasonperhapswhyweknowsolittleofShakespeare—comparedwithDonneorBenJonsonorMilton—isthathisgrudgesandspitesandantipathiesarehiddenfromus.Wearenotheldupbysome’revelation’whichremindsusofthewriter.Alldesiretoprotest,topreach,toproclaimaninjury,topayoffascore,tomaketheworldthewitnessofsomehardshiporgrievancewas6.SeeCASSANDRA,byFlorenceNightingale,printedinTHECAUSE,byR.Strachey.47
firedoutofhimandconsumed.Thereforehispoetryflowsfromhimfreeandunimpeded.Ifeverahumanbeinggothisworkexpressedcompletely,itwasShakespeare.Ifeveramindwasincandescent,unimpeded,Ithought,turningagaintothebook-case,itwasShakespeare’smind.48
FourThatonewouldfindanywomaninthatstateofmindinthesix-teenthcenturywasobviouslyimpossible.OnehasonlytothinkoftheElizabethantombstoneswithallthosechildrenkneelingwithclaspedhands;andtheirearlydeaths;andtoseetheirhouseswiththeirdark,crampedrooms,torealizethatnowo-mancouldhavewrittenpoetrythen.Whatonewouldexpecttofindwouldbethatratherlaterperhapssomegreatladywouldtakeadvantageofhercomparativefreedomandcomforttopublishsomethingwithhernametoitandriskbeingthoughtamonster.Men,ofcourse,arenotsnobs,Icontinued,carefullyeschewing’thearrantfeminism’ofMissRebeccaWest;buttheyappreciatewithsympathyforthemostparttheeffortsofacountesstowriteverse.OnewouldexpecttofindaladyoftitlemeetingwithfargreaterencouragementthananunknownMissAustenoraMissBrontëatthattimewouldhavemetwith.Butonewouldalsoexpecttofindthathermindwasdisturbedbyalienemotionslikefearandhatredandthatherpoemsshowedtracesofthatdisturbance.HereisLadyWinchilsea,forexample,Ithought,takingdownherpoems.Shewasbornintheyear1661;shewasnoblebothbybirthandbymarriage;shewaschildless;shewrotepoetry,andonehasonlytoopenherpoetrytofindherburstingoutinindigna-tionagainstthepositionofwomen:Howwearefallen!fallenbymistakenrules,AndEducation’smorethanNature’sfools;Debarredfromallimprovementsofthemind,Andtobedull,expectedanddesigned;Andifsomeonewouldsoarabovetherest,Withwarmerfancy,andambitionpressed,Sostrongtheopposingfactionstillappears,Thehopestothrivecanne’eroutweighthefears.Clearlyhermindhasbynomeans’consumedallimpedimentsandbecomeincandescent’.Onthecontrary,itishar-assedanddistractedwithhatesandgrievances.Thehumanraceissplitupforherintotwoparties.Menarethe’opposingfaction’;menarehatedandfeared,becausetheyhavethe49
powertobarherwaytowhatshewantstodo—whichistowrite.Alas!awomanthatattemptsthepen,Suchapresumptuouscreatureisesteemed,Thefaultcanbynovirtueberedeemed.Theytelluswemistakeoursexandway;Goodbreeding,fashion,dancing,dressing,play,Aretheaccomplishmentsweshoulddesire;Towrite,orread,orthink,ortoenquire,Wouldcloudourbeauty,andexhaustourtime,Andinterrupttheconquestsofourprime.WhilstthedullmanageofaservilehouseIsheldbysomeourutmostartanduse.Indeedshehastoencourageherselftowritebysupposingthatwhatshewriteswillneverbepublished;tosootheherselfwiththesadchant:Tosomefewfriends,andtothysorrowssing,Forgrovesoflaurelthouwertnevermeant;Bedarkenoughthyshades,andbethoutherecontent.Yetitisclearthatcouldshehavefreedhermindfromhateandfearandnotheapeditwithbitternessandresentment,thefirewashotwithinher.Nowandagainwordsissueofpurepoetry:Norwillinfadingsilkscompose,Faintlytheinimitablerose.—theyarerightlypraisedbyMrMurry,andPope,itisthought,rememberedandappropriatedthoseothers:Nowthejonquilleo’ercomesthefeeblebrain;Wefaintbeneaththearomaticpain.Itwasathousandpitiesthatthewomanwhocouldwritelikethat,whosemindwastunedtonatureandreflection,shouldhavebeenforcedtoangerandbitterness.Buthowcouldshehavehelpedherself?Iasked,imaginingthesneersandthe50
laughter,theadulationofthetoadies,thescepticismoftheprofessionalpoet.Shemusthaveshutherselfupinaroominthecountrytowrite,andbeentornasunderbybitternessandscruplesperhaps,thoughherhusbandwasofthekindest,andtheirmarriedlifeperfection.She’musthave’,Isay,becausewhenonecomestoseekoutthefactsaboutLadyWinchilsea,onefinds,asusual,thatalmostnothingisknownabouther.Shesufferedterriblyfrommelancholy,whichwecanexplainatleasttosomeextentwhenwefindhertellingushowinthegripofitshewouldimagine:Mylinesdecried,andmyemploymentthoughtAnuselessfollyorpresumptuousfault:Theemployment,whichwasthuscensured,was,asfarasonecansee,theharmlessoneoframblingaboutthefieldsanddreaming:Myhanddelightstotraceunusualthings,Anddeviatesfromtheknownandcommonway,Norwillinfadingsilkscompose,Faintlytheinimitablerose.Naturally,ifthatwasherhabitandthatwasherdelight,shecouldonlyexpecttobelaughedat;and,accordingly,PopeorGayissaidtohavesatirizedher’asablue-stockingwithanitchforscribbling’.AlsoitisthoughtthatsheoffendedGaybylaughingathim.ShesaidthathisTRIVIAshowedthat’hewasmorepropertowalkbeforeachairthantorideinone’.Butthisisall’dubiousgossip’and,saysMrMurry,’uninteresting’.ButthereIdonotagreewithhim,forIshouldhavelikedtohavehadmoreevenofdubiousgossipsothatImighthavefoundoutormadeupsomeimageofthismelancholylady,wholovedwanderinginthefieldsandthinkingaboutunusualthingsandscorned,sorashly,sounwisely,’thedullmanageofaservilehouse’.Butshebecamediffuse,MrMurrysays.Hergiftisallgrownaboutwithweedsandboundwithbriars.Ithadnochanceofshowingitselfforthefinedistinguishedgiftitwas.Andso,putting,herbackontheshelf,Iturnedtotheoth-ergreatlady,theDuchesswhomLambloved,hare-brained,fantasticalMargaretofNewcastle,herelder,buther51
contemporary.Theywereverydifferent,butalikeinthisthatbothwerenobleandbothchildless,andbothweremarriedtothebestofhusbands.Inbothburntthesamepassionforpoetryandbotharedisfiguredanddeformedbythesamecauses.OpentheDuchessandonefindsthesameoutburstofrage.’WomenlivelikeBatsorOwls,labourlikeBeasts,anddielikeWorms…’Margarettoomighthavebeenapoet;inourdayallthatactivitywouldhaveturnedawheelofsomesort.Asitwas,whatcouldbind,tameorcivilizeforhumanusethatwild,generous,untutoredintelligence?Itpoureditselfout,higgledy-piggledy,intorrentsofrhymeandprose,poetryandphilo-sophywhichstandcongealedinquartosandfoliosthatnobodyeverreads.Sheshouldhavehadamicroscopeputinherhand.Sheshouldhavebeentaughttolookatthestarsandreasonscientifically.Herwitswereturnedwithsolitudeandfreedom.Noonecheckedher.Noonetaughther.Theprofessorsfawnedonher.AtCourttheyjeeredather.SirEgertonBrydgescom-plainedofhercoarseness—’asflowingfromafemaleofhighrankbroughtupintheCourts’.SheshutherselfupatWelbeckalone.WhatavisionoflonelinessandriotthethoughtofMargaretCavendishbringstomind!asifsomegiantcucumberhadspreaditselfoveralltherosesandcarnationsinthegardenandchokedthemtodeath.Whatawastethatthewomanwhowrote’thebestbredwomenarethosewhosemindsarecivilest’shouldhavefritteredhertimeawayscribblingnonsenseandplungingeverdeeperintoobscurityandfollytillthepeoplecrowdedroundhercoachwhensheissuedout.EvidentlythecrazyDuchessbecameabogeytofrightenclevergirlswith.Here,Iremembered,puttingawaytheDuchessandopeningDorothyOsborne’sletters,isDorothywritingtoTempleabouttheDuchess’snewbook.’Surethepoorewomanisalittledis-tracted,sheecouldneverbeesoerediculouselseastoventureatwriteingbook’sandinversetoo,ifIshouldnotsleepthisfortnightIshouldnotcometothat.’Andso,sincenowomanofsenseandmodestycouldwritebooks,Dorothy,whowassensitiveandmelancholy,theveryoppositeoftheDuchessintemper,wrotenothing.Lettersdidnotcount.Awomanmightwriteletterswhileshewassittingbyherfather’ssick-bed.Shecouldwritethembythefirewhilst52
thementalkedwithoutdisturbingthem.Thestrangethingis,Ithought,turningoverthepagesofDorothy’sletters,whatagiftthatuntaughtandsolitarygirlhadfortheframingofasen-tence,forthefashioningofascene.Listentoherrunningon:’AfterdinnerweesittandtalktillMrB.com’sinquestionandthenIamgon.theheatofthedayisspentinreadingorworkingandaboutsixeorsevenaClock,IwalkeoutintoaCommonthatlyeshardbythehousewhereagreatmanyyoungwencheskeepSheepandCow’sandsittintheshadessingingofBallads;IgoetothemandcomparetheirvoycesandBeauty’stosomeAncientShepherdessesthatIhavereadofandfindeavastedifferencethere,buttrustmeeIthinktheseareasinnocentasthosecouldbee.Italketothem,andfindetheywantnothingtomakethemthehappiestPeopleintheworld,buttheknoledgethattheyaresoe.mostcommonlywhenweareinthemiddestofourdiscourseonelooksabouteherandspyesherCow’sgoeingintotheCorneandthenawaytheyallrun,asiftheyhadwing’sattheireheels.Ithatamnotsoenimblestaybehinde,andwhenIseethemdriveinghometheireCattleIthinktistimeformeetoretyretoo.whenIhavesuppedIgoeintotheGardenandsoetothesydeofasmallRiverthatrunsbyitwhereIsittdowneandwishyouwithmee…’Onecouldhaveswornthatshehadthemakingsofawriterinher.But’ifIshouldnotsleepthisfortnightIshouldnotcometothat’—onecanmeasuretheoppositionthatwasintheairtoawomanwritingwhenonefindsthatevenawomanwithagreatturnforwritinghasbroughtherselftobelievethattowriteabookwastoberidiculous,eventoshowoneselfdistrac-ted.Andsowecome,Icontinued,replacingthesingleshortvolumeofDorothyOsborne’slettersupontheshelf,toMrsBehn.AndwithMrsBehnweturnaveryimportantcornerontheroad.Weleavebehind,shutupintheirparksamongtheirfoli-os,thosesolitarygreatladieswhowrotewithoutaudienceorcriticism,fortheirowndelightalone.Wecometotownandrubshoulderswithordinarypeopleinthestreets.MrsBehnwasamiddle-classwomanwithalltheplebeianvirtuesofhumour,vi-talityandcourage;awomanforcedbythedeathofherhus-bandandsomeunfortunateadventuresofherowntomakeher53
livingbyherwits.Shehadtoworkonequaltermswithmen.Shemade,byworkingveryhard,enoughtoliveon.Theim-portanceofthatfactoutweighsanythingthatsheactuallywrote,eventhesplendid’AThousandMartyrsIhavemade’,or’LoveinFantasticTriumphsat’,forherebeginsthefreedomofthemind,orratherthepossibilitythatinthecourseoftimethemindwillbefreetowritewhatitlikes.FornowthatAphraBehnhaddoneit,girlscouldgototheirparentsandsay,Youneednotgivemeanallowance;Icanmakemoneybymypen.Ofcoursetheanswerformanyyearstocomewas,Yes,bylivingthelifeofAphraBehn!Deathwouldbebetter!andthedoorwasslammedfasterthanever.Thatprofoundlyinterest-ingsubject,thevaluethatmensetuponwomen’schastityanditseffectupontheireducation,heresuggestsitselffordiscus-sion,andmightprovideaninterestingbookifanystudentatGirtonorNewnhamcaredtogointothematter.LadyDudley,sittingindiamondsamongthemidgesofaScottishmoor,mightserveforfrontispiece.LordDudley,THETIMESsaidwhenLadyDudleydiedtheotherday,’amanofcultivatedtasteandmanyaccomplishments,wasbenevolentandbounti-ful,butwhimsicallydespotic.Heinsisteduponhiswife’swear-ingfulldress,evenattheremotestshooting-lodgeintheHigh-lands;heloadedherwithgorgeousjewels’,andsoon,’hegavehereverything—alwaysexceptinganymeasureofresponsibil-ity’.ThenLordDudleyhadastrokeandshenursedhimandruledhisestateswithsupremecompetenceforeverafter.Thatwhimsicaldespotismwasinthenineteenthcenturytoo.Buttoreturn.AphraBehnprovedthatmoneycouldbemadebywritingatthesacrifice,perhaps,ofcertainagreeablequalit-ies;andsobydegreeswritingbecamenotmerelyasignoffollyandadistractedmind,butwasofpracticalimportance.Ahusbandmightdie,orsomedisasterovertakethefamily.Hundredsofwomenbeganastheeighteenthcenturydrewontoaddtotheirpinmoney,ortocometotherescueoftheirfamil-iesbymakingtranslationsorwritingtheinnumerablebadnov-elswhichhaveceasedtoberecordedevenintext-books,butaretobepickedupinthefourpennyboxesintheCharingCrossRoad.Theextremeactivityofmindwhichshoweditselfinthelatereighteenthcenturyamongwomen—thetalking,andthemeeting,thewritingofessaysonShakespeare,the54
translatingoftheclassics—wasfoundedonthesolidfactthatwomencouldmakemoneybywriting.Moneydignifieswhatisfrivolousifunpaidfor.Itmightstillbewelltosneerat’bluestockingswithanitchforscribbling’,butitcouldnotbedeniedthattheycouldputmoneyintheirpurses.Thus,towardstheendoftheeighteenthcenturyachangecameaboutwhich,ifIwererewritinghistory,IshoulddescribemorefullyandthinkofgreaterimportancethantheCrusadesortheWarsoftheRoses.Themiddle-classwomanbegantowrite.ForifPRIDEANDPREJUDICEmatters,andMIDDLEMARCHandVILLETTEandWUTHERINGHEIGHTSmatter,thenitmattersfarmorethanIcanproveinanhour’sdiscoursethatwomengenerally,andnotmerelythelonelyaristocratshutupinhercountryhouseamongherfoliosandherflatterers,tooktowriting.Withoutthoseforerunners,JaneAustenandtheBrontësandGeorgeEliotcouldnomorehavewrittenthanShakespearecouldhavewrittenwithoutMarlowe,orMarlowewithoutChaucer,orChaucerwithoutthoseforgottenpoetswhopavedthewaysandtamedthenaturalsavageryofthetongue.Formaster-piecesarenotsingleandsolitarybirths;theyaretheoutcomeofmanyyearsofthinkingincommon,ofthinkingbythebodyofthepeople,sothattheexperienceofthemassisbehindthesinglevoice.JaneAustenshouldhavelaidawreathuponthegraveofFannyBurney,andGeorgeEliotdonehomagetotherobustshadeofElizaCarter—thevaliantoldwomanwhotiedabelltoherbedsteadinorderthatshemightwakeearlyandlearnGreek.AllwomentogetheroughttoletflowersfalluponthetombofAphraBehn,whichis,mostscandalouslybutratherappropriately,inWestminsterAbbey,foritwasshewhoearnedthemtherighttospeaktheirminds.Itisshe—shadyandamorousasshewas—whomakesitnotquitefantasticformetosaytoyouto-night:Earnfivehundredayearbyyourwits.Here,then,onehadreachedtheearlynineteenthcentury.Andhere,forthefirsttime,Ifoundseveralshelvesgivenupentirelytotheworksofwomen.Butwhy,Icouldnothelpask-ing,asIranmyeyesoverthem,werethey,withveryfewexceptions,allnovels?Theoriginalimpulsewastopoetry.The’supremeheadofsong’wasapoetess.BothinFranceandin55
Englandthewomenpoetsprecedethewomennovelists.Moreover,Ithought,lookingatthefourfamousnames,whathadGeorgeEliotincommonwithEmilyBrontë?DidnotChar-lotteBrontëfailentirelytounderstandJaneAusten?Saveforthepossiblyrelevantfactthatnotoneofthemhadachild,fourmoreincongruouscharacterscouldnothavemettogetherinaroom—somuchsothatitistemptingtoinventameetingandadialoguebetweenthem.Yetbysomestrangeforcetheywereallcompelledwhentheywrote,towritenovels.Haditsomethingtodowithbeingbornofthemiddleclass,Iasked;andwiththefact,whichMissEmilyDaviesalittlelaterwassostrikinglytodemonstrate,thatthemiddle-classfamilyintheearlynineteenthcenturywaspossessedonlyofasinglesitting-roombetweenthem?Ifawomanwrote,shewouldhavetowriteinthecommonsitting-room.And,asMissNightingalewassovehementlytocomplain,—”womenneverhaveanhalfhour…thattheycancalltheirown”—shewasalwaysinterrup-ted.Stillitwouldbeeasiertowriteproseandfictiontherethantowritepoetryoraplay.Lessconcentrationisrequired.JaneAustenwrotelikethattotheendofherdays.’Howshewasabletoeffectallthis’,hernephewwritesinhisMemoir,’issurprising,forshehadnoseparatestudytorepairto,andmostoftheworkmusthavebeendoneinthegeneralsitting-room,subjecttoallkindsofcasualinterruptions.Shewascarefulthatheroccupationshouldnotbesuspectedbyservantsorvisitorsoranypersonsbeyondherownfamilyparty7.JaneAustenhidhermanuscriptsorcoveredthemwithapieceofblotting-paper.Then,again,alltheliterarytrainingthatawomanhadintheearlynineteenthcenturywastrainingintheobservationofcharacter,intheanalysisofemotion.Hersensibilityhadbeeneducatedforcenturiesbytheinfluencesofthecommonsitting-room.People’sfeelingswereimpressedonher;personalrelationswerealwaysbeforehereyes.Therefore,whenthemiddle-classwomantooktowriting,shenaturallywrotenov-els,eventhough,asseemsevidentenough,twoofthefourfamouswomenherenamedwerenotbynaturenovelists.EmilyBrontëshouldhavewrittenpoeticplays;theoverflowofGe-orgeEliot’scapaciousmindshouldhavespreaditselfwhenthe7.MEMOIROFJANEAUSTEN,byhernephew,JamesEdwardAusten-Leigh.56
creativeimpulsewasspentuponhistoryorbiography.Theywrotenovels,however;onemayevengofurther,Isaid,takingPRIDEANDPREJUDICEfromtheshelf,andsaythattheywrotegoodnovels.Withoutboastingorgivingpaintotheoppositesex,onemaysaythatPRIDEANDPREJUDICEisagoodbook.Atanyrate,onewouldnothavebeenashamedtohavebeencaughtintheactofwritingPRIDEANDPREJUDICE.YetJaneAustenwasgladthatahingecreaked,sothatshemighthidehermanuscriptbeforeanyonecamein.ToJaneAustentherewassomethingdiscreditableinwritingPRIDEANDPREJUDICE.And,Iwondered,wouldPRIDEANDPREJUDICEhavebeenabetternovelifJaneAustenhadnotthoughtitne-cessarytohidehermanuscriptfromvisitors?Ireadapageortwotosee;butIcouldnotfindanysignsthathercircum-stanceshadharmedherworkintheslightest.That,perhaps,wasthechiefmiracleaboutit.Herewasawomanabouttheyear1800writingwithouthate,withoutbitterness,withoutfear,withoutprotest,withoutpreaching.ThatwashowShakespearewrote,Ithought,lookingatANTONYANDCLEOPATRA;andwhenpeoplecompareShakespeareandJaneAusten,theymaymeanthatthemindsofbothhadconsumedallimpediments;andforthatreasonwedonotknowJaneAustenandwedonotknowShakespeare,andforthatreasonJaneAustenpervadeseverywordthatshewrote,andsodoesShakespeare.IfJaneAustensufferedinanywayfromhercir-cumstancesitwasinthenarrownessoflifethatwasimposeduponher.Itwasimpossibleforawomantogoaboutalone.Shenevertravelled;sheneverdrovethroughLondoninanomni-busorhadluncheoninashopbyherself.ButperhapsitwasthenatureofJaneAustennottowantwhatshehadnot.Hergiftandhercircumstancesmatchedeachothercompletely.ButIdoubtwhetherthatwastrueofCharlotteBrontë,Isaid,open-ingJANEEYREandlayingitbesidePRIDEANDPREJUDICE.Iopeneditatchaptertwelveandmyeyewascaughtbythephrase’Anybodymayblamemewholikes’.WhatweretheyblamingCharlotteBrontëfor?Iwondered.AndIreadhowJaneEyreusedtogoupontotheroofwhenMrsFairfaxwasmak-ingjelliesandlookedoverthefieldsatthedistantview.Andthenshelonged—anditwasforthisthattheyblamedher—that’thenIlongedforapowerofvisionwhichmightoverpassthat57
limit;whichmightreachthebusyworld,towns,regionsfulloflifeIhadheardofbutneverseen:thatthenIdesiredmoreofpracticalexperiencethanIpossessed;moreofintercoursewithmykind,ofacquaintancewithvarietyofcharacterthanwasherewithinmyreach.IvaluedwhatwasgoodinMrsFairfax,andwhatwasgoodinAdele;butIbelievedintheexistenceofotherandmorevividkindsofgoodness,andwhatIbelievedinIwishedtobehold.’Whoblamesme?Many,nodoubt,andIshallhecalleddis-contented.Icouldnothelpit:therestlessnesswasinmynature;itagitatedmetopainsometimes…’Itisvaintosayhumanbeingsoughttobesatisfiedwithtranquillity:theymusthaveaction;andtheywillmakeitiftheycannotfindit.Millionsarecondemnedtoastillerdoomthanmine,andmillionsareinsilentrevoltagainsttheirlot.Nobodyknowshowmanyrebellionsfermentinthemassesoflifewhichpeopleearth.Womenaresupposedtobeverycalmgenerally:butwomenfeeljustasmenfeel;theyneedexercisefortheirfacultiesandafieldfortheireffortsasmuchastheirbrothersdo;theysufferfromtoorigidarestraint,tooabsoluteastagna-tion,preciselyasmenwouldsuffer;anditisnarrow-mindedintheirmoreprivilegedfellow-creaturestosaythattheyoughttoconfinethemselvestomakingpuddingsandknittingstockings,toplayingonthepianoandembroideringbags.Itisthought-lesstocondemnthem,orlaughatthem,iftheyseektodomoreorlearnmorethancustomhaspronouncednecessaryfortheirsex.’WhenthusaloneInotunfrequentlyheardGracePoole’slaugh…’Thatisanawkwardbreak,Ithought.ItisupsettingtocomeuponGracePooleallofasudden.Thecontinuityisdisturbed.Onemightsay,Icontinued,layingthebookdownbesidePRIDEANDPREJUDICE,thatthewomanwhowrotethosepageshadmoregeniusinherthanJaneAusten;butifonereadsthemoverandmarksthatjerkinthem,thatindignation,oneseesthatshewillnevergethergeniusexpressedwholeandentire.Herbookswillbedeformedandtwisted.Shewillwriteinaragewheresheshouldwritecalmly.Shewillwritefoolishlywheresheshouldwritewisely.Shewillwriteofher-selfwheresheshouldwriteofhercharacters.Sheisatwar58
withherlot.Howcouldshehelpbutdieyoung,crampedandthwarted?OnecouldnotbutplayforamomentwiththethoughtofwhatmighthavehappenedifCharlotteBrontëhadpossessedsaythreehundredayear—butthefoolishwomansoldthecopyrightofhernovelsoutrightforfifteenhundredpounds;hadsomehowpossessedmoreknowledgeofthebusyworld,andtownsandregionsfulloflife;morepracticalexperience,andintercoursewithherkindandacquaintancewithavarietyofcharacter.Inthosewordssheputsherfingerexactlynotonlyuponherowndefectsasanovelistbutuponthoseofhersexatthattime.Sheknew,noonebetter,howenormouslyhergeniuswouldhaveprofitedifithadnotspentitselfinsolitaryvisionsoverdistantfields;ifexperienceandintercourseandtravelhadbeengrantedher.Buttheywerenotgranted;theywerewithheld;andwemustacceptthefactthatallthosegoodnovels,VILLETTE,EMMA,WUTHERINGHEIGHTS,MIDDLEMARCH,werewrittenbywomenwithoutmoreexperienceoflifethancouldenterthehouseofarespectableclergy-man;writtentoointhecommonsitting-roomofthatrespect-ablehouseandbywomensopoorthattheycouldnotaffordtobuymorethanafewquiresofpaperatatimeuponwhichtowriteWUTHERINGHEIGHTSorJANEEYRE.Oneofthem,itistrue,GeorgeEliot,escapedaftermuchtribulation,butonlytoasecludedvillainStJohn’sWood.Andthereshesettleddownintheshadowoftheworld’sdisapproval.’Iwishittobeunder-stood’,shewrote,’thatIshouldneverinviteanyonetocomeandseemewhodidnotaskfortheinvitation’;forwasshenotlivinginsinwithamarriedmanandmightnotthesightofherdamagethechastityofMrsSmithorwhoeveritmightbethatchancedtocall?Onemustsubmittothesocialconvention,andbe’cutofffromwhatiscalledtheworld’.Atthesametime,ontheothersideofEurope,therewasayoungmanlivingfreelywiththisgypsyorwiththatgreatlady;goingtothewars;pick-ingupunhinderedanduncensoredallthatvariedexperienceofhumanlifewhichservedhimsosplendidlylaterwhenhecametowritehisbooks.HadTolstoilivedatthePrioryinseclusionwithamarriedlady’cutofffromwhatiscalledtheworld’,howeveredifyingthemorallesson,hecouldscarcely,Ithought,havewrittenWARANDPEACE.59
Butonecouldperhapsgoalittledeeperintothequestionofnovel-writingandtheeffectofsexuponthenovelist.Ifoneshutsone’seyesandthinksofthenovelasawhole,itwouldseemtobeacreationowningacertainlooking-glasslikenesstolife,thoughofcoursewithsimplificationsanddistortionsin-numerable.Atanyrate,itisastructureleavingashapeonthemind’seye,builtnowinsquares,nowpagodashaped,nowthrowingoutwingsandarcades,nowsolidlycompactanddomedliketheCathedralofSaintSofiaatConstantinople.Thisshape,Ithought,thinkingbackovercertainfamousnovels,startsinonethekindofemotionthatisappropriatetoit.Butthatemotionatonceblendsitselfwithothers,forthe’shape’isnotmadebytherelationofstonetostone,butbytherelationofhumanbeingtohumanbeing.Thusanovelstartsinusallsortsofantagonisticandopposedemotions.Lifeconflictswithsomethingthatisnotlife.Hencethedifficultyofcomingtoanyagreementaboutnovels,andtheimmenseswaythatourprivateprejudiceshaveuponus.OntheonehandwefeelYou—Johnthehero—mustlive,orIshallbeinthedepthsofdespair.Ontheother,wefeel,Alas,John,youmustdie,becausetheshapeofthebookrequiresit.Lifeconflictswithsomethingthatisnotlife.Thensincelifeitisinpart,wejudgeitaslife.JamesisthesortofmanImostdetest,onesays.Or,Thisisafarragoofabsurdity.Icouldneverfeelanythingofthesortmyself.Thewholestructure,itisobvious,thinkingbackonanyfamousnovel,isoneofinfinitecomplexity,becauseitisthusmadeupofsomanydifferentjudgements,ofsomanydifferentkindsofemotion.Thewonderisthatanybooksocomposedholdstogetherformorethanayearortwo,orcanpossiblymeantotheEnglishreaderwhatitmeansfortheRussianortheChinese.Buttheydoholdtogetheroccasionallyveryre-markably.Andwhatholdsthemtogetherintheserarein-stancesofsurvival(IwasthinkingofWARANDPEACE)issomethingthatonecallsintegrity,thoughithasnothingtodowithpayingone’sbillsorbehavinghonourablyinanemergency.Whatonemeansbyintegrity,inthecaseofthenovelist,istheconvictionthathegivesonethatthisisthetruth.Yes,onefeels,Ishouldneverhavethoughtthatthiscouldbeso;Ihaveneverknownpeoplebehavinglikethat.Butyouhaveconvincedmethatsoitis,soithappens.Oneholdseveryphrase,60
everyscenetothelightasonereads—forNatureseems,veryoddly,tohaveprovideduswithaninnerlightbywhichtojudgeofthenovelist’sintegrityordisintegrity.OrperhapsitisratherthatNature,inhermostirrationalmood,hastracedininvisibleinkonthewallsofthemindapremonitionwhichthesegreatartistsconfirm;asketchwhichonlyneedstobeheldtothefireofgeniustobecomevisible.Whenonesoexposesitandseesitcometolifeoneexclaimsinrapture,ButthisiswhatIhavealwaysfeltandknownanddesired!Andoneboilsoverwithexcitement,and,shuttingthebookevenwithakindofreverenceasifitweresomethingveryprecious,astand-bytoreturntoaslongasonelives,oneputsitbackontheshelf,Isaid,takingWARANDPEACEandputtingitbackinitsplace.If,ontheotherhand,thesepoorsentencesthatonetakesandtestsrousefirstaquickandeagerresponsewiththeirbrightcolouringandtheirdashinggesturesbuttheretheystop:somethingseemstocheckthemintheirdevelop-ment:oriftheybringtolightonlyafaintscribbleinthatcornerandablotoverthere,andnothingappearswholeandentire,thenoneheavesasighofdisappointmentandsays.Anotherfailure.Thisnovelhascometogriefsomewhere.Andforthemostpart,ofcourse,novelsdocometogriefsomewhere.Theimaginationfaltersundertheenormousstrain.Theinsightisconfused;itcannolongerdistinguishbetweenthetrueandthefalse,ithasnolongerthestrengthtogoonwiththevastlabourthatcallsateverymomentfortheuseofsomanydifferentfaculties.Buthowwouldallthisbeaffectedbythesexofthenovelist,Iwondered,lookingatJANEEYREandtheothers.Wouldthefactofhersexinanywayin-terferewiththeintegrityofawomannovelist—thatintegritywhichItaketobethebackboneofthewriter?Now,inthepas-sagesIhavequotedfromJANEEYRE,itisclearthatangerwastamperingwiththeintegrityofCharlotteBrontëthenovelist.Sheleftherstory,towhichherentiredevotionwasdue,toat-tendtosomepersonalgrievance.Sherememberedthatshehadbeenstarvedofherproperdueofexperience—shehadbeenmadetostagnateinaparsonagemendingstockingswhenshewantedtowanderfreeovertheworld.Herimaginationswervedfromindignationandwefeelitswerve.Butthereweremanymoreinfluencesthanangertuggingather61
imaginationanddeflectingitfromitspath.Ignorance,forin-stance.TheportraitofRochesterisdrawninthedark.Wefeeltheinfluenceoffearinit;justasweconstantlyfeelanaciditywhichistheresultofoppression,aburiedsufferingsmoulderingbeneathherpassion,arancourwhichcontractsthosebooks,splendidastheyare,withaspasmofpain.Andsinceanovelhasthiscorrespondencetoreallife,itsval-uesaretosomeextentthoseofreallife.Butitisobviousthatthevaluesofwomendifferveryoftenfromthevalueswhichhavebeenmadebytheothersex;naturally,thisisso.Yetitisthemasculinevaluesthatprevail.Speakingcrudely,footballandsportare’important’;theworshipoffashion,thebuyingofclothes’trivial’.Andthesevaluesareinevitablytransferredfromlifetofiction.Thisisanimportantbook,thecriticassumes,becauseitdealswithwar.Thisisaninsignificantbookbecauseitdealswiththefeelingsofwomeninadrawing-room.Asceneinabattle-fieldismoreimportantthanasceneinashop—everywhereandmuchmoresubtlythedifferenceofvaluepersists.Thewholestructure,therefore,oftheearlynineteenth-centurynovelwasraised,ifonewasawoman,byamindwhichwasslightlypulledfromthestraight,andmadetoalteritsclearvisionindeferencetoexternalauthority.Onehasonlytoskimthoseoldforgottennovelsandlistentothetoneofvoiceinwhichtheyarewrittentodivinethatthewriterwasmeetingcriticism;shewassayingthisbywayofaggression,orthatbywayofconciliation.Shewasadmittingthatshewas’onlyawoman’,orprotestingthatshewas’asgoodasaman’.Shemetthatcriticismashertemperamentdictated,withdocil-ityanddiffidence,orwithangerandemphasis.Itdoesnotmatterwhichitwas;shewasthinkingofsomethingotherthanthethingitself.Downcomesherbookuponourheads.Therewasaflawinthecentreofit.AndIthoughtofallthewomen’snovelsthatliescattered,likesmallpock-markedapplesinanorchard,aboutthesecond-handbookshopsofLondon.Itwastheflawinthecentrethathadrottedthem.Shehadalteredhervaluesindeferencetotheopinionofothers.Buthowimpossibleitmusthavebeenforthemnottobudgeeithertotherightortotheleft.Whatgenius,whatintegrityitmusthaverequiredinfaceofallthatcriticism,inthemidstofthatpurelypatriarchalsociety,toholdfasttothethingasthey62
sawitwithoutshrinking.OnlyJaneAustendiditandEmilyBrontë.Itisanotherfeather,perhapsthefinest,intheircaps.Theywroteaswomenwrite,notasmenwrite.Ofallthethou-sandwomenwhowrotenovelsthen,theyaloneentirelyignoredtheperpetualadmonitionsoftheeternalped-agogue—writethis,thinkthat.Theyaloneweredeaftothatpersistentvoice,nowgrumbling,nowpatronizing,nowdomineering,nowgrieved,nowshocked,nowangry,nowavuncular,thatvoicewhichcannotletwomenalone,butmustbeatthem,likesometoo-conscientiousgoverness,adjuringthem,likeSirEgertonBrydges,toberefined;draggingevenintothecriticismofpoetrycriticismofsex;8admonishingthem,iftheywouldbegoodandwin,asIsuppose,someshinyprize,tokeepwithincertainlimitswhichthegentlemaninquestionthinkssuitable—’…femalenovelistsshouldonlyaspiretoexcellencebycourageouslyacknowledgingthelimitationsoftheirsex’.9Thatputsthematterinanutshell,andwhenItellyou,rathertoyoursurprise,thatthissentencewaswrittennotinAugust1828butinAugust1928,youwillagree,Ithink,thathoweverdelightfulitistousnow,itrepresentsavastbodyofopinion—Iamnotgoingtostirthoseoldpools;Itakeonlywhatchancehasfloatedtomyfeet—thatwasfarmorevigorousandfarmorevocalacenturyago.Itwouldhaveneededaverystalwartyoungwomanin1828todisregardallthosesnubsandchidingsandpromisesofprizes.Onemusthavebeensomethingofafirebrandtosaytooneself,Oh,buttheycan’tbuyliteraturetoo.Literatureisopentoeverybody.Irefusetoallowyou,Beadlethoughyouare,toturnmeoffthegrass.Lockupyourlibrariesifyoulike;butthereisnogate,nolock,nobolt,thatyoucansetuponthefreedomofmymind.Butwhatevereffectdiscouragementandcriticismhadupontheirwriting—andIbelievethattheyhadaverygreatef-fect—thatwasunimportantcomparedwiththeotherdifficulty8.[She]hasametaphysicalpurpose,andthatisadangerousobsession,especiallywithawoman,forwomenrarelypossessmen’shealthyloveofrhetoric.Itisastrangelackinthesexwhichisinotherthingsmoreprim-itiveandmorematerialistic.’—NEWCRITERION,June1928.9.’If,likethereporter,youbelievethatfemalenovelistsshouldonlyas-piretoexcellencebycourageouslyacknowledgingthelimitationsoftheirsex(JaneAusten[has]demonstratedhowgracefullythisgesturecanbeaccomplished…).’—LIFEANDLETTERS,August1928.63
whichfacedthem(Iwasstillconsideringthoseearlynineteenth-centurynovelists)whentheycametosettheirthoughtsonpaper—thatisthattheyhadnotraditionbehindthem,oronesoshortandpartialthatitwasoflittlehelp.Forwethinkbackthroughourmothersifwearewomen.Itisuse-lesstogotothegreatmenwritersforhelp,howevermuchonemaygotothemforpleasure.Lamb,Browne,Thackeray,New-man,Sterne,Dickens,DeQuincey—whoeveritmaybe—neverhelpedawomanyet,thoughshemayhavelearntafewtricksofthemandadaptedthemtoheruse.Theweight,thepace,thestrideofaman’smindaretoounlikeherownforhertoliftanythingsubstantialfromhimsuccessfully.Theapeistoodis-tanttobesedulous.Perhapsthefirstthingshewouldfind,set-tingpentopaper,wasthattherewasnocommonsentencereadyforheruse.AllthegreatnovelistslikeThackerayandDickensandBalzachavewrittenanaturalprose,swiftbutnotslovenly,expressivebutnotprecious,takingtheirowntintwithoutceasingtobecommonproperty.Theyhavebaseditonthesentencethatwascurrentatthetime.Thesentencethatwascurrentatthebeginningofthenineteenthcenturyransomethinglikethisperhaps:’Thegrandeuroftheirworkswasanargumentwiththem,nottostopshort,buttoproceed.Theycouldhavenohigherexcitementorsatisfactionthanintheexerciseoftheirartandendlessgenerationsoftruthandbeauty.Successpromptstoexertion;andhabitfacilitatessuccess.’Thatisaman’ssentence;behinditonecanseeJohnson,Gib-bonandtherest.Itwasasentencethatwasunsuitedforawoman’suse.CharlotteBrontë,withallhersplendidgiftforprose,stumbledandfellwiththatclumsyweaponinherhands.GeorgeEliotcommittedatrocitieswithitthatbeggardescrip-tion.JaneAustenlookedatitandlaughedatitanddevisedaperfectlynatural,shapelysentenceproperforherownuseandneverdepartedfromit.Thus,withlessgeniusforwritingthanCharlotteBrontë,shegotinfinitelymoresaid.Indeed,sincefreedomandfullnessofexpressionareoftheessenceoftheart,suchalackoftradition,suchascarcityandinadequacyoftools,musthavetoldenormouslyuponthewritingofwomen.Moreover,abookisnotmadeofsentenceslaidendtoend,butofsentencesbuilt,ifanimagehelps,intoarcadesordomes.Andthisshapetoohasbeenmadebymenoutoftheirown64
needsfortheirownuses.Thereisnoreasontothinkthattheformoftheepicorofthepoeticplaysuitawomananymorethanthesentencesuitsher.Butalltheolderformsofliteraturewerehardenedandsetbythetimeshebecameawriter.Thenovelalonewasyoungenoughtobesoftinherhandsanotherreason,perhaps,whyshewrotenovels.Yetwhoshallsaythatevennow’thenovel'(Igiveitinvertedcommastomarkmysenseofthewords’inadequacy),whoshallsaythateventhismostpliableofallformsisrightlyshapedforheruse?Nodoubtweshallfindherknockingthatintoshapeforherselfwhenshehasthefreeuseofherlimbs;andprovidingsomenewvehicle,notnecessarilyinverse,forthepoetryinher.Foritisthepoetrythatisstilldeniedoutlet.AndIwentontopon-derhowawomannowadayswouldwriteapoetictragedyinfiveacts.Wouldsheuseverse?—wouldshenotuseproserather?Butthesearedifficultquestionswhichlieinthetwilightofthefuture.Imustleavethem,ifonlybecausetheystimulatemetowanderfrommysubjectintotracklessforestswhereIshallbelostand,verylikely,devouredbywildbeasts.Idonotwant,andIamsurethatyoudonotwantme,tobroachthatverydismalsubject,thefutureoffiction.sothatIwillonlypausehereonemomenttodrawyourattentiontothegreatpartwhichmustbeplayedinthatfuturesofaraswomenareconcernedbyphysicalconditions.Thebookhassomehowtobeadaptedtothebody,andataventureonewouldsaythatwomen’sbooksshouldbeshorter,moreconcentrated,thanthoseofmen,andframedsothattheydonotneedlonghoursofsteadyanduninterruptedwork.Forinterruptionstherewillalwaysbe.Again,thenervesthatfeedthebrainwouldseemtodifferinmenandwomen,andifyouaregoingtomakethemworktheirbestandhardest,youmustfindoutwhattreatmentsuitsthem—whetherthesehoursoflectures,forinstance,whichthemonksdevised,presumably,hundredsofyearsago,suitthem—whatalternationsofworkandresttheyneed,inter-pretingrestnotasdoingnothingbutasdoingsomethingbutsomethingthatisdifferent;andwhatshouldthatdifferencebe?Allthisshouldbediscussedanddiscovered;allthisispartofthequestionofwomenandfiction.Andyet,Icontinued,aproachingthebookcaseagain,whereshallIfindthatelaborate65
studyofthepsychologyofwomenbyawoman?Ifthroughtheirincapacitytoplayfootballwomenarenotgoingtobeallowedtopractisemedicine—Happilymythoughtswerenowgivenanotherturn.66
FiveIhadcomeatlast,inthecourseofthisrambling,totheshelveswhichholdbooksbytheliving;bywomenandbymen;fortherearealmostasmanybookswrittenbywomennowasbymen.Orifthatisnotyetquitetrue,ifthemaleisstillthevolublesex,itiscertainlytruethatwomennolongerwritenovelssolely.ThereareJaneHarrison’sbooksonGreekarchaeology;VernonLee’sbooksonaesthetics;GertrudeBell’sbooksonPersia.Therearebooksonallsortsofsubjectswhichagenera-tionagonowomancouldhavetouched.Therearepoemsandplaysandcriticism;therearehistoriesandbiographies,booksoftravelandbooksofscholarshipandresearch;thereareevenafewphilosophiesandbooksaboutscienceandeconomics.Andthoughnovelspredominate,novelsthemselvesmayverywellhavechangedfromassociationwithbooksofadifferentfeather.Thenaturalsimplicity,theepicageofwomen’swrit-ing,mayhavegone.Readingandcriticismmayhavegivenherawiderrange,agreatersubtlety.Theimpulsetowardsautobiographymaybespent.Shemaybebeginningtousewritingasanart,notasamethodofselfexpression.Amongthesenewnovelsonemightfindananswertoseveralsuchquestions.Itookdownoneofthematrandom.Itstoodattheveryendoftheshelf,wascalledLIFE’SADVENTURE,orsomesuchtitle,byMaryCarmichael,andwaspublishedinthisverymonthofOctober.Itseemstobeherfirstbook,Isaidtomy-self,butonemustreaditasifitwerethelastvolumeinafairlylongseries,continuingallthoseotherbooksthatIhavebeenglancingat—LadyWinchilsea’spoemsandAphraBehn’splaysandthenovelsofthefourgreatnovelists.Forbookscontinueeachother,inspiteofourhabitofjudgingthemseparately.AndImustalsoconsiderher—thisunknownwoman—asthedescendantofallthoseotherwomenwhosecircumstancesIhavebeenglancingatandseewhatsheinheritsoftheirchar-acteristicsandrestrictions.So,withasigh,becausenovelssooftenprovideananodyneandnotanantidote,glideoneintotorpidslumbersinsteadofrousingonewithaburningbrand,IsettleddownwithanotebookandapenciltomakewhatIcouldofMaryCarmichael’sfirstnovel,LIFE’SADVENTURE.67
Tobeginwith,Iranmyeyeupanddownthepage.Iamgo-ingtogetthehangofhersentencesfirst,Isaid,beforeIloadmymemorywithblueeyesandbrownandtherelationshipthattheremaybebetweenChloeandRoger.TherewillbetimeforthatwhenIhavedecidedwhethershehasapeninherhandorapickaxe.SoItriedasentenceortwoonmytongue.Soonitwasobviousthatsomethingwasnotquiteinorder.Thesmoothglidingofsentenceaftersentencewasinterrupted.Somethingtore,somethingscratched;asinglewordhereandthereflasheditstorchinmyeyes.Shewas’unhanding’herselfastheysayintheoldplays.Sheislikeapersonstrikingamatchthatwillnotlight,Ithought.Butwhy,Iaskedherasifshewerepresent,areJaneAusten’ssentencesnotoftherightshapeforyou?MusttheyallbescrappedbecauseEmmaandMrWoodhousearedead?Alas,Isighed,thatitshouldbeso.ForwhileJaneAustenbreaksfrommelodytomelodyasMozartfromsongtosong,toreadthiswritingwaslikebeingoutatseainanopenboat.Uponewent,downonesank.Thisterse-ness,thisshort-windedness,mightmeanthatshewasafraidofsomething;afraidofbeingcalled’sentimental’perhaps;orsheremembersthatwomen’swritinghasbeencalledfloweryandsoprovidesasuperfluityofthorns;butuntilIhavereadascenewithsomecare,Icannotbesurewhethersheisbeingherselforsomeoneelse.Atanyrate,shedoesnotlowerone’svitality,Ithought,readingmorecarefully.Butsheisheapinguptoomanyfacts.Shewillnotbeabletousehalfoftheminabookofthissize.(ItwasabouthalfthelengthofJANEEYRE.)However,bysomemeansorothershesucceededingettingusall—Roger,Chloe,Olivia,TonyandMrBigham—inacanoeuptheriver.Waitamoment,Isaid,leaningbackinmychair,ImustconsiderthewholethingmorecarefullybeforeIgoanyfurther.Iamalmostsure,Isaidtomyself,thatMaryCarmichaelisplayingatrickonus.ForIfeelasonefeelsonaswitchbackrailwaywhenthecar,insteadofsinking,asonehasbeenledtoexpect,swervesupagain.Maryistamperingwiththeexpectedsequence.Firstshebrokethesentence;nowshehasbrokenthesequence.Verywell,shehaseveryrighttodoboththesethingsifshedoesthemnotforthesakeofbreaking,butforthesakeofcreating.WhichofthetwoitisIcannotbesureuntil68
shehasfacedherselfwithasituation.Iwillgivehereveryliberty,Isaid,tochoosewhatthatsituationshallbe;sheshallmakeitoftincansandoldkettlesifshelikes;butshemustconvincemethatshebelievesittobeasituation;andthenwhenshehasmadeitshemustfaceit.Shemustjump.And,determinedtodomydutybyherasreaderifshewoulddoherdutybymeaswriter,Iturnedthepageandread…Iamsorrytobreakoffsoabruptly.Aretherenomenpresent?DoyoupromisemethatbehindthatredcurtainovertherethefigureofSirCharlesBironisnotconcealed?Weareallwomenyouassureme?ThenImaytellyouthattheverynextwordsIreadwerethese—’ChloelikedOlivia…’Donotstart.Donotblush.Letusadmitintheprivacyofourownsocietythatthesethingssometimeshappen.Sometimeswomendolikewomen.’ChloelikedOlivia,’Iread.Andthenitstruckmehowimmenseachangewasthere.ChloelikedOliviaperhapsforthefirsttimeinliterature.CleopatradidnotlikeOctavia.AndhowcompletelyANTONYANDCLEOPATRAwouldhavebeenalteredhadshedoneso!Asitis,Ithought,lettingmymind,Iamafraid,wanderalittlefromLIFE’SADVENTURE,thewholethingissimplified,conventionalized,ifonedaredsayit,absurdly.Cleopatra’sonlyfeelingaboutOctaviaisoneofjealousy.IsshetallerthanIam?Howdoesshedoherhair?Theplay,perhaps,requirednomore.Buthowinterestingitwouldhavebeeniftherelationshipbetweenthetwowomenhadbeenmorecomplicated.Alltheserelationshipsbetweenwomen,Ithought,rapidlyrecallingthesplendidgalleryoffictitiouswo-men,aretoosimple.Somuchhasbeenleftout,unattempted.AndItriedtorememberanycaseinthecourseofmyreadingwheretwowomenarerepresentedasfriends.Thereisanat-temptatitinDIANAOFTHECROSSWAYS.Theyareconfid-antes,ofcourse,inRacineandtheGreektragedies.Theyarenowandthenmothersanddaughters.Butalmostwithoutexceptiontheyareshownintheirrelationtomen.Itwasstrangetothinkthatallthegreatwomenoffictionwere,untilJaneAusten’sday,notonlyseenbytheothersex,butseenonlyinrelationtotheothersex.Andhowsmallapartofawoman’slifeisthat;andhowlittlecanamanknowevenofthatwhenheobservesitthroughtheblackorrosyspectacleswhichsexputsuponhisnose.Hence,perhaps,thepeculiarnatureofwoman69
infiction;theastonishingextremesofherbeautyandhorror;heralternationsbetweenheavenlygoodnessandhellishde-pravity—forsoaloverwouldseeherashisloveroseorsank,wasprosperousorunhappy.Thisisnotsotrueofthenineteenth-centurynovelists,ofcourse.Womanbecomesmuchmorevariousandcomplicatedthere.Indeeditwasthedesiretowriteaboutwomenperhapsthatledmenbydegreestoabandonthepoeticdramawhich,withitsviolence,couldmakesolittleuseofthem,andtodevisethenovelasamorefittingreceptacle.Evensoitremainsobvious,eveninthewritingofProust,thatamanisterriblyhamperedandpartialinhisknowledgeofwomen,asawomaninherknowledgeofmen.Also,Icontinued,lookingdownatthepageagain,itisbe-comingevidentthatwomen,likemen,haveotherinterestsbe-sidestheperennialinterestsofdomesticity.’ChloelikedOlivia.Theysharedalaboratorytogether…’Ireadonanddiscoveredthatthesetwoyoungwomenwereengagedinmincingliver,whichis,itseems,acureforperniciousanaemia;althoughoneofthemwasmarriedandhad—IthinkIamrightinstat-ing—twosmallchildren.Nowallthat,ofcourse,hashadtobeleftout,andthusthesplendidportraitofthefictitiouswomanismuchtoosimpleandmuchtoomonotonous.Suppose,forin-stance,thatmenwereonlyrepresentedinliteratureasthelov-ersofwomen,andwereneverthefriendsofmen,soldiers,thinkers,dreamers;howfewpartsintheplaysofShakespearecouldbeallottedtothem;howliteraturewouldsuffer!WemightperhapshavemostofOthello;andagooddealofAn-tony;butnoCaesar,noBrutus,noHamlet,noLear,noJaques—literaturewouldbeincrediblyimpoverished,asindeedliteratureisimpoverishedbeyondourcountingbythedoorsthathavebeenshutuponwomen.Marriedagainsttheirwill,keptinoneroom,andtooneoccupation,howcouldadramat-istgiveafullorinterestingortruthfulaccountofthem?Lovewastheonlypossibleinterpreter.Thepoetwasforcedtobepassionateorbitter,unlessindeedhechoseto’hatewomen’,whichmeantmoreoftenthannotthathewasunattractivetothem.NowifChloelikesOliviaandtheysharealaboratory,whichofitselfwillmaketheirfriendshipmorevariedandlastingbe-causeitwillbelesspersonal;ifMaryCarmichaelknowshowto70
write,andIwasbeginningtoenjoysomequalityinherstyle;ifshehasaroomtoherself,ofwhichIamnotquitesure;ifshehasfivehundredayearofherown—butthatremainstobeproved—thenIthinkthatsomethingofgreatimportancehashappened.ForifChloelikesOliviaandMaryCarmichaelknowshowtoexpressitshewilllightatorchinthatvastchamberwherenobodyhasyetbeen.Itisallhalflightsandprofoundshadowslikethoseserpentinecaveswhereonegoeswithacandlepeer-ingupanddown,notknowingwhereoneisstepping.AndIbegantoreadthebookagain,andreadhowChloewatchedOliviaputajaronashelfandsayhowitwastimetogohometoherchildren.Thatisasightthathasneverbeenseensincetheworldbegan,Iexclaimed.AndIwatchedtoo,verycuriously.ForIwantedtoseehowMaryCarmichaelsettoworktocatchthoseunrecordedgestures,thoseunsaidorhalf-saidwords,whichformthemselves,nomorepalpablythantheshadowsofmothsontheceiling,whenwomenarealone,unlitbythecapriciousandcolouredlightoftheothersex.Shewillneedtoholdherbreath,Isaid,readingon,ifsheistodoit;forwomenaresosuspiciousofanyinterestthathasnotsomeobviousmotivebehindit,soterriblyaccustomedtoconcealmentandsuppression,thattheyareoffattheflickerofaneyeturnedobservinglyintheirdirection.Theonlywayforyoutodoit,Ithought,addressingMaryCarmichaelasifshewerethere,wouldbetotalkofsomethingelse,lookingsteadilyoutofthewindow,andthusnote,notwithapencilinanotebook,butintheshortestofshorthand,inwordsthatarehardlysyllabledyet,whathappenswhenOlivia—thisorganismthathasbeenundertheshadowoftherockthesemillionyears—feelsthelightfallonit,andseescomingherwayapieceofstrangefood—knowledge,adventure,art.Andshereachesoutforit,Ithought,againraisingmyeyesfromthepage,andhastode-visesomeentirelynewcombinationofherresources,sohighlydevelopedforotherpurposes,soastoabsorbthenewintotheoldwithoutdisturbingtheinfinitelyintricateandelaboratebal-anceofthewhole.But,alas,IhaddonewhatIhaddeterminednottodo;Ihadslippedunthinkinglyintopraiseofmyownsex.’Highlyde-veloped’—’infinitelyintricate’—suchareundeniablytermsof71
praise,andtopraiseone’sownsexisalwayssuspect,oftensilly;moreover,inthiscase,howcouldonejustifyit?OnecouldnotgotothemapandsayColumbusdiscoveredAmericaandColumbuswasawoman;ortakeanappleandremark,NewtondiscoveredthelawsofgravitationandNewtonwasawoman;orlookintotheskyandsayaeroplanesareflyingoverheadandaeroplaneswereinventedbywomen.Thereisnomarkonthewalltomeasurethepreciseheightofwomen.Therearenoyardmeasures,neatlydividedintothefractionsofaninch,thatonecanlayagainstthequalitiesofagoodmotherorthedevo-tionofadaughter,orthefidelityofasister,orthecapacityofahousekeeper.Fewwomenevennowhavebeengradedattheuniversities;thegreattrialsoftheprofessions,armyandnavy,trade,politicsanddiplomacyhavehardlytestedthem.Theyre-mainevenatthismomentalmostunclassified.ButifIwanttoknowallthatahumanbeingcantellmeaboutSirHawleyButts,forinstance,IhaveonlytoopenBurkeorDebrettandIshallfindthathetooksuchandsuchadegree;ownsahall;hasanheir;wasSecretarytoaBoard;representedGreatBritaininCanada;andhasreceivedacertainnumberofdegrees,offices,medalsandotherdistinctionsbywhichhismeritsarestampeduponhimindelibly.OnlyProvidencecanknowmoreaboutSirHawleyButtsthanthat.When,therefore,Isay’highlydeveloped’,’infinitelyintricate’ofwomen,IamunabletoverifymywordseitherinWhitaker,DebrettortheUniversityCalendar.InthispredicamentwhatcanIdo?AndIlookedatthebookcaseagain.Therewerethebiographies:JohnsonandGoetheandCarlyleandSterneandCowperandShelleyandVoltaireandBrowningandmanyoth-ers.AndIbeganthinkingofallthosegreatmenwhohaveforonereasonoranotheradmired,soughtout,livedwith,con-fidedin,madeloveto,writtenof,trustedin,andshownwhatcanonlybedescribedassomeneedofanddependenceuponcertainpersonsoftheoppositesex.ThatalltheserelationshipswereabsolutelyPlatonicIwouldnotaffirm,andSirWilliamJoynsonHickswouldprobablydeny.Butweshouldwrongtheseillustriousmenverygreatlyifweinsistedthattheygotnothingfromthesealliancesbutcomfort,flatteryandthepleasuresofthebody.Whattheygot,itisobvious,wassomethingthattheirownsexwasunabletosupply;andit72
wouldnotberash,perhaps,todefineitfurther,withoutquot-ingthedoubtlessrhapsodicalwordsofthepoets,assomestim-ulus;somerenewalofcreativepowerwhichisinthegiftonlyoftheoppositesextobestow.Hewouldopenthedoorofdrawing-roomornursery,Ithought,andfindheramongherchildrenperhaps,orwithapieceofembroideryonherknee—atanyrate,thecentreofsomedifferentorderandsys-temoflife,andthecontrastbetweenthisworldandhisown,whichmightbethelawcourtsortheHouseofCommons,wouldatoncerefreshandinvigorate;andtherewouldfollow,eveninthesimplesttalk,suchanaturaldifferenceofopinionthatthedriedideasinhimwouldbefertilizedanew;andthesightofhercreatinginadifferentmediumfromhisownwouldsoquickenhiscreativepowerthatinsensiblyhissterilemindwouldbegintoplotagain,andhewouldfindthephraseorthescenewhichwaslackingwhenheputonhishattovisither.EveryJohnsonhashisThrale,andholdsfasttoherforsomesuchreasonsasthese,andwhentheThralemarriesherItalianmusicmasterJohnsongoeshalfmadwithrageanddisgust,notmerelythathewillmisshispleasanteveningsatStreatham,butthatthelightofhislifewillbe’asifgoneout’.AndwithoutbeingDrJohnsonorGoetheorCarlyleorVoltaire,onemayfeel,thoughverydifferentlyfromthesegreatmen,thenatureofthisintricacyandthepowerofthishighlydevelopedcreativefacultyamongwomen.Onegoesintotheroom—buttheresourcesoftheEnglishlanguagewouldhemuchputtothestretch,andwholeflightsofwordswouldneedtowingtheirwayillegitimatelyintoexistencebeforeawomancouldsaywhathappenswhenshegoesintoaroom.Theroomsdiffersocompletely;theyarecalmorthunderous;openontothesea,or,onthecontrary,giveontoaprisonyard;arehungwithwashing;oralivewithopalsandsilks;arehardashorse-hairorsoftasfeathers—onehasonlytogointoanyroominanystreetforthewholeofthatextremelycomplexforceoffemininitytoflyinone’sface.Howshoulditbeotherwise?Forwomenhavesatindoorsallthesemillionsofyears,sothatbythistimetheverywallsarepermeatedbytheircreativeforce,whichhas,indeed,sooverchargedthecapacityofbricksandmortarthatitmustneedsharnessitselftopensandbrushesandbusinessandpolitics.Butthiscreativepowerdiffers73
greatlyfromthecreativepowerofmen.Andonemustconcludethatitwouldbeathousandpitiesifitwerehinderedorwasted,foritwaswonbycenturiesofthemostdrasticdiscip-line,andthereisnothingtotakeitsplace.Itwouldbeathou-sandpitiesifwomenwrotelikemen,orlivedlikemen,orlookedlikemen,foriftwosexesarequiteinadequate,consideringthevastnessandvarietyoftheworld,howshouldwemanagewithoneonly?Oughtnoteducationtobringoutandfortifythedifferencesratherthanthesimilarities?Forwehavetoomuchlikenessasitis,andifanexplorershouldcomebackandbringwordofothersexeslookingthroughthebranchesofothertreesatotherskies,nothingwouldheofgreaterservicetohumanity;andweshouldhavetheimmensepleasureintothebargainofwatchingProfessorXrushforhismeasuring-rodstoprovehimself’superior’.MaryCarmichael,Ithought,stillhoveringatalittledistanceabovethepage,willhaveherworkcutoutforhermerelyasanobserver.Iamafraidindeedthatshewillbetemptedtobe-come,whatIthinkthelessinterestingbranchofthespe-cies—thenaturalist-novelist,andnotthecontemplative.Therearesomanynewfactsforhertoobserve.Shewillnotneedtolimitherselfanylongertotherespectablehousesoftheuppermiddleclasses.Shewillgowithoutkindnessorcondescension,butinthespiritoffellowship,intothosesmall,scentedroomswheresitthecourtesan,theharlotandtheladywiththepugdog.Theretheystillsitintheroughandready-madeclothesthatthemalewriterhashadperforcetoclapupontheirshoulders.ButMaryCarmichaelwillhaveoutherscissorsandfitthemclosetoeveryhollowandangle.Itwillbeacurioussight,whenitcomes,toseethesewomenastheyare,butwemustwaitalittle,forMaryCarmichaelwillstillbeencumberedwiththatself-consciousnessinthepresenceof’sin’whichisthelegacyofoursexualbarbarity.Shewillstillweartheshoddyoldfettersofclassonherfeet.However,themajorityofwomenareneitherharlotsnorcourtesans;nordotheysitclaspingpugdogstodustyvelvetallthroughthesummerafternoon.Butwhatdotheydothen?andtherecametomymind’seyeoneofthoselongstreetssome-wheresouthoftheriverwhoseinfiniterowsareinnumerablypopulated.WiththeeyeoftheimaginationIsawaveryancient74
ladycrossingthestreetonthearmofamiddle-agedwoman,herdaughter,perhaps,bothsorespectablybootedandfurredthattheirdressingintheafternoonmustbearitual,andtheclothesthemselvesputawayincupboardswithcamphor,yearafteryear,throughoutthesummermonths.Theycrosstheroadwhenthelampsarebeinglit(fortheduskistheirfavouritehour),astheymusthavedoneyearafteryear.Theelderiscloseoneighty;butifoneaskedherwhatherlifehasmeanttoher,shewouldsaythatsherememberedthestreetslitforthebattleofBalaclava,orhadheardthegunsfireinHydeParkforthebirthofKingEdwardtheSeventh.Andifoneaskedher,longingtopindownthemomentwithdateandseason,butwhatwereyoudoingonthefifthofApril1868,orthesecondofNovember1875,shewouldlookvagueandsaythatshecouldremembernothing.Forallthedinnersarecooked;theplatesandcupswashed;thechildrensenttoschoolandgoneoutintotheworld.Nothingremainsofitall.Allhasvanished.Nobio-graphyorhistoryhasawordtosayaboutit.Andthenovels,withoutmeaningto,inevitablylie.Alltheseinfinitelyobscurelivesremaintoberecorded,Isaid,addressingMaryCarmichaelasifshewerepresent;andwentoninthoughtthroughthestreetsofLondonfeelinginimaginationthepressureofdumbness,theaccumulationofun-recordedlife,whetherfromthewomenatthestreetcornerswiththeirarmsakimbo,andtheringsembeddedintheirfatswollenfingers,talkingwithagesticulationliketheswingofShakespeare’swords;orfromtheviolet-sellersandmatch-sellersandoldcronesstationedunderdoorways;orfromdrift-inggirlswhosefaces,likewavesinsunandcloud,signalthecomingofmenandwomenandtheflickeringlightsofshopwindows.Allthatyouwillhavetoexplore,IsaidtoMaryCarmichael,holdingyourtorchfirminyourhand.Aboveall,youmustillumineyourownsoulwithitsprofunditiesanditsshallows,anditsvanitiesanditsgenerosities,andsaywhatyourbeautymeanstoyouoryourplainness,andwhatisyourrelationtotheeverchangingandturningworldofglovesandshoesandstuffsswayingupanddownamongthefaintscentsthatcomethroughchemists’bottlesdownarcadesofdressmaterialoverafloorofpseudo-marble.ForinimaginationIhadgoneintoashop;itwaslaidwithblackandwhitepaving;it75
washung,astonishinglybeautifully,withcolouredribbons.MaryCarmichaelmightwellhavealookatthatinpassing,Ithought,foritisasightthatwouldlenditselftothepenasfit-tinglyasanysnowypeakorrockygorgeintheAndes.Andthereisthegirlbehindthecountertoo—IwouldassoonhavehertruehistoryasthehundredandfiftiethlifeofNapoleonorseventiethstudyofKeatsandhisuseofMiltonicinversionwhicholdProfessorZandhislikearenowinditing.AndthenIwentonverywarily,ontheverytipsofmytoes(socowardlyamI,soafraidofthelashthatwasoncealmostlaidonmyownshoulders),tomurmurthatsheshouldalsolearntolaugh,withoutbitterness,atthevanities—sayratheratthepeculiarit-ies,foritisalessoffensiveword—oftheothersex.Forthereisaspotthesizeofashillingatthebackoftheheadwhichonecanneverseeforoneself.Itisoneofthegoodofficesthatsexcandischargeforsex—todescribethatspotthesizeofashil-lingatthebackofthehead.ThinkhowmuchwomenhaveprofitedbythecommentsofJuvenal;bythecriticismofStrind-berg.Thinkwithwhathumanityandbrilliancymen,fromtheearliestages,havepointedouttowomenthatdarkplaceatthebackofthehead!AndifMarywereverybraveandveryhon-est,shewouldgobehindtheothersexandtelluswhatshefoundthere.Atruepictureofmanasawholecanneverbepainteduntilawomanhasdescribedthatspotthesizeofashilling.MrWoodhouseandMrCasuabonarespotsofthatsizeandnature.Notofcoursethatanyoneintheirsenseswouldcounselhertoholduptoscornandridiculeofsetpurpose—literatureshowsthefutilityofwhatiswritteninthatspirit.Betruthful,onewouldsay,andtheresultisboundtobeamazinglyinteresting.Comedyisboundtobeenriched.Newfactsareboundtobediscovered.However,itwashightimetolowermyeyestothepageagain.Itwouldbebetter,insteadofspeculatingwhatMaryCarmichaelmightwriteandshouldwrite,toseewhatinfactMaryCarmichaeldidwrite.SoIbegantoreadagain.Ire-memberedthatIhadcertaingrievancesagainsther.ShehadbrokenupJaneAusten’ssentence,andthusgivenmenochanceofplumingmyselfuponmyimpeccabletaste,myfastidiousear.Foritwasuselesstosay,’Yes,yes,thisisverynice;butJaneAustenwrotemuchbetterthanyoudo’,whenIhadto76
admitthattherewasnopointoflikenessbetweenthem.Thenshehadgonefurtherandbrokenthesequence—theexpectedorder.Perhapsshehaddonethisunconsciously,merelygivingthingstheirnaturalorder,asawomanwould,ifshewrotelikeawoman.Buttheeffectwassomehowbaffling;onecouldnotseeawaveheapingitself,acrisiscomingroundthenextcorner.ThereforeIcouldnotplumemyselfeitheruponthedepthsofmyfeelingsandmyprofoundknowledgeofthehu-manheart.ForwheneverIwasabouttofeeltheusualthingsintheusualplaces,aboutlove,aboutdeath,theannoyingcreaturetwitchedmeaway,asiftheimportantpointwerejustalittlefurtheron.Andthusshemadeitimpossibleformetorolloutmysonorousphrasesabout’elementalfeelings’,the’commonstuffofhumanity’,’thedepthsofthehumanheart’,andailthoseotherphraseswhichsupportusinourbeliefthat,howevercleverwemaybeontop,weareveryserious,veryprofoundandveryhumaneunderneath.Shemademefeel,onthecontrary,thatinsteadofbeingseriousandprofoundandhumane,onemightbe—andthethoughtwasfarlessseduct-ive—merelylazymindedandconventionalintothebargain.ButIreadon,andnotedcertainotherfacts.Shewasno’genius’thatwasevident.ShehadnothingliketheloveofNature,thefieryimagination,thewildpoetry,thebrilliantwit,thebroodingwisdomofhergreatpredecessors,LadyWinchilsea,CharlotteBrontë,EmilyBrontë,JaneAustenandGeorgeEliot;shecouldnotwritewiththemelodyandthedignityofDorothyOsborne—indeedshewasnomorethanaclev-ergirlwhosebookswillnodoubtbepulpedbythepublishersintenyears’time.But,nevertheless,shehadcertainadvant-ageswhichwomenoffargreatergiftlackedevenhalfacenturyago.Menwerenolongertoher’theopposingfaction’;sheneednotwastehertimerailingagainstthem;sheneednotclimbontotheroofandruinherpeaceofmindlongingfortravel,experienceandaknowledgeoftheworldandcharacterthatweredeniedher.Fearandhatredwerealmostgone,ortracesofthemshowedonlyinaslightexaggerationofthejoyoffreedom,atendencytothecausticandsatirical,ratherthantotheromantic,inhertreatmentoftheothersex.Thentherecouldbenodoubtthatasanovelistsheenjoyedsomenaturaladvantagesofahighorder.Shehadasensibilitythatwasvery77
wide,eagerandfree.Itrespondedtoanalmostimperceptibletouchonit.Itfeastedlikeaplantnewlystoodintheaironeverysightandsoundthatcameitsway.Itranged,too,verysubtlyandcuriously,amongalmostunknownorunrecordedthings;itlightedonsmallthingsandshowedthatperhapstheywerenotsmallafterall.Itbroughtburiedthingstolightandmadeonewonderwhatneedtherehadbeentoburythem.AwkwardthoughshewasandwithouttheunconsciousbearingoflongdescentwhichmakestheleastturnofthepenofaThackerayoraLambdelightfultotheear,shehad—Ibegantothink—masteredthefirstgreatlesson;shewroteasawoman,butasawomanwhohasforgottenthatsheisawoman,sothatherpageswerefullofthatcurioussexualqualitywhichcomesonlywhensexisunconsciousofitself.Allthiswastothegood.Butnoabundanceofsensationorfinenessofperceptionwouldavailunlessshecouldbuildupoutofthefleetingandthepersonalthelastingedificewhichremainsunthrown.IhadsaidthatIwouldwaituntilshefacedherselfwith’asituation’.AndImeantbythatuntilsheprovedbysummoning,beckoningandgettingtogetherthatshewasnotaskimmerofsurfacesmerely,buthadlookedbeneathintothedepths.Nowisthetime,shewouldsaytoherselfatacer-tainmoment,whenwithoutdoinganythingviolentIcanshowthemeaningofallthis.Andshewouldbegin—howunmistak-ablethatquickeningis!—beckoningandsummoning,andtherewouldriseupinmemory,halfforgotten,perhapsquitetrivialthingsinotherchaptersdroppedbytheway.Andshewouldmaketheirpresencefeltwhilesomeonesewedorsmokedapipeasnaturallyaspossible,andonewouldfeel,asshewentonwriting,asifonehadgonetothetopoftheworldandseenitlaidout,verymajestically,beneath.Atanyrate,shewasmakingtheattempt.AndasIwatchedherlengtheningoutforthetest,Isaw,buthopedthatshedidnotsee,thebishopsandthedeans,thedoctorsandthepro-fessors,thepatriarchsandthepedagoguesallathershoutingwarningandadvice.Youcan’tdothisandyoushan’tdothat!Fellowsandscholarsonlyallowedonthegrass!Ladiesnotad-mittedwithoutaletterofintroduction!Aspiringandgracefulfemalenoveliststhisway!Sotheykeptatherlikethecrowdatafenceontheracecourse,anditwashertrialtotakeherfence78
withoutlookingtorightortoleft.Ifyoustoptocurseyouarelost,Isaidtoher;equally,ifyoustoptolaugh.Hesitateorfumbleandyouaredonefor.Thinkonlyofthejump,Iimploredher,asifIhadputthewholeofmymoneyonherback;andshewentoveritlikeabird.Buttherewasafencebeyondthatandafencebeyondthat.WhethershehadthestayingpowerIwasdoubtful,fortheclappingandthecryingwerefrayingtothenerves.Butshedidherbest.ConsideringthatMaryCarmi-chaelwasnogenius,butanunknowngirlwritingherfirstnov-elinabed-sitting-room,withoutenoughofthosedesirablethings,time,moneyandidleness,shedidnotdosobadly,Ithought.Giveheranotherhundredyears,Iconcluded,readingthelastchapter—people’snosesandbareshouldersshowednakedagainstastarrysky,forsomeonehadtwitchedthecurtaininthedrawing-room—giveheraroomofherownandfivehun-dredayear,letherspeakhermindandleaveouthalfthatshenowputsin,andshewillwriteabetterbookoneofthesedays.Shewillbeapoet,Isaid,puttingLIFE’SADVENTURE,byMaryCarmichael,attheendoftheshelf,inanotherhundredyears’time.79
SixNextdaythelightoftheOctobermorningwasfallingindustyshaftsthroughtheuncurtainedwindows,andthehumoftrafficrosefromthestreet.Londonthenwaswindingitselfupagain;thefactorywasastir;themachineswerebeginning.Itwastempting,afterallthisreading,tolookoutofthewindowandseewhatLondonwasdoingonthemorningofthe26thofOctober1928.AndwhatwasLondondoing?Nobody,itseemed,wasreadingANTONYANDCLEOPATRA.Londonwaswhollyindifferent,itappeared,toShakespeare’splays.Nobodycaredastraw—andIdonotblamethem—forthefutureoffic-tion,thedeathofpoetryorthedevelopmentbytheaveragewomanofaprosestylecompletelyexpressiveofhermind.Ifopinionsuponanyofthesemattershadbeenchalkedonthepavement,nobodywouldhavestoopedtoreadthem.Thenon-chalanceofthehurryingfeetwouldhaverubbedthemoutinhalfanhour.Herecameanerrand-boy;hereawomanwithadogonalead.ThefascinationoftheLondonstreetisthatnotwopeopleareeveralike;eachseemsboundonsomeprivateaffairofhisown.Therewerethebusiness-like,withtheirlittlebags;therewerethedriftersrattlingsticksuponarearailings;therewereaffablecharacterstowhomthestreetsserveforclubroom,hailingmenincartsandgivinginformationwithoutbeingaskedforit.Alsotherewerefuneralstowhichmen,thussuddenlyremindedofthepassingoftheirownbodies,liftedtheirhats.Andthenaverydistinguishedgentlemancameslowlydownadoorstepandpausedtoavoidcollisionwithabustlingladywhohad,bysomemeansorother,acquiredasplendidfurcoatandabunchofParmaviolets.Theyallseemedseparate,self-absorbed,onbusinessoftheirown.Atthismoment,assooftenhappensinLondon,therewasacompletelullandsuspensionoftraffic.Nothingcamedownthestreet;nobodypassed.Asingleleafdetacheditselffromtheplanetreeattheendofthestreet,andinthatpauseandsus-pensionfell.Somehowitwaslikeasignalfalling,asignalpointingtoaforceinthingswhichonehadoverlooked.Itseemedtopointtoariver,whichflowedpast,invisibly,roundthecorner,downthestreet,andtookpeopleandeddiedthemalong,asthestreamatOxbridgehadtakentheundergraduate80
inhisboatandthedeadleaves.Nowitwasbringingfromonesideofthestreettotheotherdiagonallyagirlinpatentleatherboots,andthenayoungmaninamaroonovercoat;itwasalsobringingataxi-cab;anditbroughtallthreetogetheratapointdirectlybeneathmywindow;wherethetaxistopped;andthegirlandtheyoungmanstopped;andtheygotintothetaxi;andthenthecabglidedoffasifitweresweptonbythecurrentelsewhere.Thesightwasordinaryenough;whatwasstrangewastherhythmicalorderwithwhichmyimaginationhadinvestedit;andthefactthattheordinarysightoftwopeoplegettingintoacabhadthepowertocommunicatesomethingoftheirownseemingsatisfaction.Thesightoftwopeoplecomingdownthestreetandmeetingatthecornerseemstoeasethemindofsomestrain,Ithought,watchingthetaxiturnandmakeoff.Perhapstothink,asIhadbeenthinkingthesetwodays,ofonesexasdistinctfromtheotherisaneffort.Itinterfereswiththeunityofthemind.Nowthatefforthadceasedandthatunityhadbeenrestoredbyseeingtwopeoplecometogetherandgetintoataxicab.Themindiscertainlyaverymysteriousorgan,Ireflected,drawingmyheadinfromthewindow,aboutwhichnothingwhateverisknown,thoughwedependuponitsocompletely.WhydoIfeelthatthereareseverancesandoppositionsinthemind,astherearestrainsfromobviouscausesonthebody?Whatdoesonemeanby’theunityofthemind’?Ipondered,forclearlythemindhassogreatapowerofconcen-tratingatanypointatanymomentthatitseemstohavenosinglestateofbeing.Itcanseparateitselffromthepeopleinthestreet,forexample,andthinkofitselfasapartfromthem,atanupperwindowlookingdownonthem.Oritcanthinkwithotherpeoplespontaneously,as,forinstance,inacrowdwait-ingtohearsomepieceofnewsreadout.itcanthinkbackthroughitsfathersorthroughitsmothers,asIhavesaidthatawomanwritingthinksbackthroughhermothers.Againifoneisawomanoneisoftensurprisedbyasuddensplittingoffofconsciousness,sayinwalkingdownWhitehall,whenfrombe-ingthenaturalinheritorofthatcivilization,shebecomes,onthecontrary,outsideofit,alienandcritical.Clearlythemindisalwaysalteringitsfocus,andbringingtheworldintodifferentperspectives.Butsomeofthesestatesofmindseem,evenif81
adoptedspontaneously,tobelesscomfortablethanothers.Inordertokeeponeselfcontinuinginthemoneisunconsciouslyholdingsomethingback,andgraduallytherepressionbecomesaneffort.Buttheremaybesomestateofmindinwhichonecouldcontinuewithouteffortbecausenothingisrequiredtobeheldback.Andthisperhaps,Ithought,cominginfromthewin-dow,isoneofthem.ForcertainlywhenIsawthecouplegetin-tothetaxicabthemindfeltasif,afterbeingdivided,ithadcometogetheragaininanaturalfusion.Theobviousreasonwouldbethatitisnaturalforthesexestocooperate.Onehasaprofound,ifirrational,instinctinfavourofthetheorythattheunionofmanandwomanmakesforthegreatestsatisfaction,themostcompletehappiness.Butthesightofthetwopeoplegettingintothetaxiandthesatisfactionitgavememademealsoaskwhethertherearetwosexesinthemindcorrespond-ingtothetwosexesinthebody,andwhethertheyalsorequiretobeunitedinordertogetcompletesatisfactionandhappi-ness?AndIwentonamateurishlytosketchaplanofthesoulsothatineachofustwopowerspreside,onemale,onefemale;andintheman’sbrainthemanpredominatesoverthewoman,andinthewoman’sbrainthewomanpredominatesovertheman.Thenormalandcomfortablestateofbeingisthatwhenthetwoliveinharmonytogether,spirituallyco-operating.Ifoneisaman,stillthewomanpartofhisbrainmusthaveeffect;andawomanalsomusthaveintercoursewiththemaninher.Coleridgeperhapsmeantthiswhenhesaidthatagreatmindisandrogynous.Itiswhenthisfusiontakesplacethatthemindisfullyfertilizedandusesallitsfaculties.Perhapsamindthatispurelymasculinecannotcreate,anymorethanamindthatispurelyfeminine,Ithought.Butitwouldbewelltotestwhatonemeantbyman-womanly,andconverselybywoman-manly,bypausingandlookingatabookortwo.Coleridgecertainlydidnotmean,whenhesaidthatagreatmindisandrogynous,thatitisamindthathasanyspecialsym-pathywithwomen;amindthattakesuptheircauseordevotesitselftotheirinterpretation.Perhapstheandrogynousmindislessapttomakethesedistinctionsthanthesingle-sexedmind.Hemeant,perhaps,thattheandrogynousmindisresonantandporous;thatittransmitsemotionwithoutimpediment;thatitisnaturallycreative,incandescentandundivided.Infactone82
goesbacktoShakespeare’smindasthetypeoftheandrogyn-ous,oftheman-womanlymind,thoughitwouldbeimpossibletosaywhatShakespearethoughtofwomen.Andifitbetruethatitisoneofthetokensofthefullydevelopedmindthatitdoesnotthinkspeciallyorseparatelyofsex,howmuchharderitistoattainthatconditionnowthaneverbefore.HereIcametothebooksbylivingwriters,andtherepausedandwonderedifthisfactwerenotattherootofsomethingthathadlongpuzzledme.Noagecaneverhavebeenasstridentlysex-con-sciousasourown;thoseinnumerablebooksbymenaboutwo-menintheBritishMuseumareaproofofit.TheSuffragecampaignwasnodoubttoblame.Itmusthaverousedinmenanextraordinarydesireforself-assertion;itmusthavemadethemlayanemphasisupontheirownsexanditscharacteristicswhichtheywouldnothavetroubledtothinkabouthadtheynotbeenchallenged.Andwhenoneischallenged,evenbyafewwomeninblackbonnets,oneretaliates,ifonehasneverbeenchallengedbefore,ratherexcessively.ThatperhapsaccountsforsomeofthecharacteristicsthatIremembertohavefoundhere,Ithought,takingdownanewnovelbyMrA,whoisintheprimeoflifeandverywellthoughtof,apparently,bythereviewers.Iopenedit.Indeed,itwasdelightfultoreadaman’swritingagain.Itwassodirect,sostraightforwardafterthewritingofwomen.Itindicatedsuchfreedomofmind,suchlibertyofperson,suchconfidenceinhimself.Onehadasenseofphysicalwell-beinginthepresenceofthiswell-nourished,well-educated,freemind,whichhadneverbeenthwartedoropposed,buthadhadfulllibertyfrombirthtostretchitselfinwhateverwayitliked.Allthiswasadmirable.Butafterreadingachapterortwoashadowseemedtolieacrossthepage.itwasastraightdarkbar,ashadowshapedsomethingliketheletter’I’.Onebegandodgingthiswayandthattocatchaglimpseofthelandscapebehindit.WhetherthatwasindeedatreeorawomanwalkingIwasnotquitesure.Backonewasal-wayshailedtotheletter’I’.Onebegantobetiredof’I’.Notbutwhatthis’I’wasamostrespectable’I’;honestandlogical;ashardasanut,andpolishedforcenturiesbygoodteachingandgoodfeeding.Irespectandadmirethat’I’fromthebottomofmyheart.But—hereIturnedapageortwo,lookingforsomethingorother—theworstofitisthatintheshadowofthe83
letter’I’allisshapelessasmist.Isthatatree?No,itisawo-man.But…shehasnotaboneinherbody,Ithought,watchingPhoebe,forthatwashername,comingacrossthebeach.ThenAlangotupandtheshadowofAlanatonceobliteratedPhoebe.ForAlanhadviewsandPhoebewasquenchedinthefloodofhisviews.AndthenAlan,Ithought,haspassions;andhereIturnedpageafterpageveryfast,feelingthatthecrisiswasap-proaching,andsoitwas.Ittookplaceonthebeachunderthesun.Itwasdoneveryopenly.Itwasdoneveryvigorously.Nothingcouldhavebeenmoreindecent.But…Ihadsaid’but’toooften.Onecannotgoonsaying’but’.Onemustfinishthesentencesomehow,Irebukedmyself.ShallIfinishit,’But—Iambored!’ButwhywasIbored?Partlybecauseofthedomin-anceoftheletter’I’andthearidity,which,likethegiantbeechtree,itcastswithinitsshade.Nothingwillgrowthere.Andpartlyforsomemoreobscurereason.Thereseemedtobesomeobstacle,someimpedimentinMrA’smindwhichblockedthefountainofcreativeenergyandshoreditwithinnarrowlimits.AndrememberingthelunchpartyatOxbridge,andthecigaretteashandtheManxcatandTennysonandChristinaRossettiallinabunch,itseemedpossiblethattheimpedimentlaythere.Ashenolongerhumsunderhisbreath,’Therehasfallenasplendidtearfromthepassion-floweratthegate’,whenPhoebecrossesthebeach,andshenolongerreplies,’Myheartislikeasingingbirdwhosenestisinawater’dshoot’,whenAlanapproacheswhatcanhedo?Beinghonestasthedayandlogicalasthesun,thereisonlyonethinghecando.Andthathedoes,todohimjustice,overandover(Isaidturn-ingthepages)andoveragain.Andthat,Iadded,awareoftheawfulnatureoftheconfession,seemssomehowdull.Shakespeare’sindecencyuprootsathousandotherthingsinone’smind,andisfarfrombeingdull.ButShakespearedoesitforpleasure;MrA,asthenursessay,doesitonpurpose.Hedoesitinprotest.Heisprotestingagainsttheequalityoftheothersexbyassertinghisownsuperiority.Heisthereforeimpededandinhibitedandself-consciousasShakespearemighthavebeenifhetoohadknownMissCloughandMissDavies.DoubtlessElizabethanliteraturewouldhavebeenverydiffer-entfromwhatitisifthewomen’smovementhadbeguninthesixteenthcenturyandnotinthenineteenth.84
What,then,itamountsto,ifthistheoryofthetwosidesofthemindholdsgood,isthatvirilityhasnowbecomeself-con-scious—men,thatistosay,arenowwritingonlywiththemalesideoftheirbrains.Itisamistakeforawomantoreadthem,forshewillinevitablylookforsomethingthatshewillnotfind.Itisthepowerofsuggestionthatonemostmisses,Ithought,takingMrBthecriticinmyhandandreading,verycarefullyandverydutifully,hisremarksupontheartofpoetry.Veryabletheywere,acuteandfulloflearning;butthetroublewasthathisfeelingsnolongercommunicated;hismindseemedseparatedintodifferentchambers;notasoundcarriedfromonetotheother.Thus,whenonetakesasentenceofMrBintotheminditfallsplumptotheground—dead;butwhenonetakesasentenceofColeridgeintothemind,itexplodesandgivesbirthtoallkindsofotherideas,andthatistheonlysortofwritingofwhichonecansaythatithasthesecretofperpetuallife.Butwhateverthereasonmaybe,itisafactthatonemustdeplore.Foritmeans—hereIhadcometorowsofbooksbyMrGalsworthyandMrKipling—thatsomeofthefinestworksofourgreatestlivingwritersfallupondeafears.Dowhatshewillawomancannotfindinthemthatfountainofperpetuallifewhichthecriticsassureheristhere.Itisnotonlythattheycelebratemalevirtues,enforcemalevaluesanddescribetheworldofmen;itisthattheemotionwithwhichthesebooksarepermeatedistoawomanincomprehensible.Itiscoming,itisgathering,itisabouttoburstonone’shead,onebeginssayinglongbeforetheend.ThatpicturewillfallonoldJolyon’shead;hewilldieoftheshock;theoldclerkwillspeakoverhimtwoorthreeobituarywords;andalltheswansontheThameswillsimultaneouslyburstoutsinging.Butonewillrushawaybe-forethathappensandhideinthegooseberrybushes,fortheemotionwhichissodeep,sosubtle,sosymbolicaltoamanmovesawomantowonder.SowithMrKipling’sofficerswhoturntheirBacks;andhisSowerswhosowtheSeed;andhisMenwhoarealonewiththeirWork;andtheFlag—oneblushesatallthesecapitallettersasifonehadbeencaughteavesdrop-pingatsomepurelymasculineorgy.ThefactisthatneitherMrGalsworthynorMrKiplinghasasparkofthewomaninhim.Thusalltheirqualitiesseemtoawoman,ifonemay85
generalize,crudeandimmature.Theylacksuggestivepower.Andwhenabooklackssuggestivepower,howeverhardithitsthesurfaceoftheminditcannotpenetratewithin.AndinthatrestlessmoodinwhichonetakesbooksoutandputsthembackagainwithoutlookingatthemIbegantoenvis-ageanagetocomeofpure,ofself-assertivevirility,suchasthelettersofprofessors(takeSirWalterRaleigh’sletters,forinstance)seemtoforebode,andtherulersofItalyhavealreadybroughtintobeing.ForonecanhardlyfailtobeimpressedinRomebythesenseofunmitigatedmasculinity;andwhateverthevalueofunmitigatedmasculinityuponthestate,onemayquestiontheeffectofitupontheartofpoetry.Atanyrate,ac-cordingtothenewspapers,thereisacertainanxietyaboutfic-tioninItaly.Therehasbeenameetingofacademicianswhoseobjectitis’todeveloptheItaliannovel’.’Menfamousbybirth,orinfinance,industryortheFascistcorporations’cameto-gethertheotherdayanddiscussedthematter,andatelegramwassenttotheDuceexpressingthehope’thattheFascisterawouldsoongivebirthtoapoetworthyofit’.Wemayalljoininthatpioushope,butitisdoubtfulwhetherpoetrycancomeofanincubator.Poetryoughttohaveamotheraswellasafath-er.TheFascistpoem,onemayfear,willbeahorridlittleabor-tionsuchasoneseesinaglassjarinthemuseumofsomecountytown.Suchmonstersneverlivelong,itissaid;onehasneverseenaprodigyofthatsortcroppinggrassinafield.Twoheadsononebodydonotmakeforlengthoflife.However,theblameforallthis,ifoneisanxioustolayblame,restsnomoreupononesexthanupontheother.Allseducersandreformersareresponsible:LadyBessboroughwhensheliedtoLordGranville;MissDavieswhenshetoldthetruthtoMrGreg.Allwhohavebroughtaboutastateofsex-con-sciousnessaretoblame,anditistheywhodriveme,whenIwanttostretchmyfacultiesonabook,toseekitinthathappyage,beforeMissDaviesandMissCloughwereborn,whenthewriterusedbothsidesofhismindequally.OnemustturnbacktoShakespearethen,forShakespearewasandrogynous;andsowereKeatsandSterneandCowperandLambandColeridge.Shelleyperhapswassexless.MiltonandBenJonsonhadadashtoomuchofthemaleinthem.SohadWordsworthandTolstoi.InourtimeProustwaswhollyandrogynous,ifnot86
perhapsalittletoomuchofawoman.Butthatfailingistoorareforonetocomplainofit,sincewithoutsomemixtureofthekindtheintellectseemstopredominateandtheotherfacultiesofthemindhardenandbecomebarren.However,Icon-soledmyselfwiththereflectionthatthisisperhapsapassingphase;muchofwhatIhavesaidinobediencetomypromisetogiveyouthecourseofmythoughtswillseemoutofdate;muchofwhatflamesinmyeyeswillseemdubioustoyouwhohavenotyetcomeofage.Evenso,theveryfirstsentencethatIwouldwritehere,Isaid,crossingovertothewriting-tableandtakingupthepageheadedWomenandFiction,isthatitisfatalforanyonewhowritestothinkoftheirsex.Itisfataltobeamanorwomanpureandsimple;onemustbewoman-manlyorman-womanly.Itisfatalforawomantolaytheleaststressonanygrievance;topleadevenwithjusticeanycause;inanywaytospeakconsciouslyasawoman.Andfatalisnofigureofspeech;forany-thingwrittenwiththatconsciousbiasisdoomedtodeath.Itceasestobefertilized.Brilliantandeffective,powerfulandmasterly,asitmayappearforadayortwo,itmustwitheratnightfall;itcannotgrowinthemindsofothers.Somecollaborationhastotakeplaceinthemindbetweenthewomanandthemanbeforetheartofcreationcanbeaccomplished.Somemarriageofoppositeshastobeconsummated.Thewholeofthemindmustliewideopenifwearetogetthesensethatthewriteriscommunicatinghisexperiencewithperfectfullness.Theremustbefreedomandtheremustbepeace.Notawheelmustgrate,notalightglimmer.Thecurtainsmustbeclosedrawn.Thewriter,Ithought,oncehisexperienceisover,mustliebackandlethismindcelebrateitsnuptialsindarkness.Hemustnotlookorquestionwhatisbeingdone.Rather,hemustpluckthepetalsfromaroseorwatchtheswansfloatcalmlydowntheriver.AndIsawagainthecurrentwhichtooktheboatandtheunder-graduateandthedeadleaves;andthetaxitookthemanandthewoman,Ithought,seeingthemcometo-getheracrossthestreet,andthecurrentsweptthemaway,Ithought,hearingfarofftheroarofLondon’straffic,intothattremendousstream.Here,then,MaryBetonceasestospeak.Shehastoldyouhowshereachedtheconclusion—theprosaicconclusion—that87
itisnecessarytohavefivehundredayearandaroomwithalockonthedoorifyouaretowritefictionorpoetry.Shehastriedtolaybarethethoughtsandimpressionsthatledhertothinkthis.ShehasaskedyoutofollowherflyingintothearmsofaBeadle,lunchinghere,diningthere,drawingpicturesintheBritishMuseum,takingbooksfromtheshelf,lookingoutofthewindow.Whileshehasbeendoingallthesethings,younodoubthavebeenobservingherfailingsandfoiblesanddecid-ingwhateffecttheyhavehadonheropinions.Youhavebeencontradictingherandmakingwhateveradditionsanddeductionsseemgoodtoyou.Thatisallasitshouldbe,forinaquestionlikethistruthisonlytobehadbylayingtogethermanyvarietiesoferror.AndIwillendnowinmyownpersonbyanticipatingtwocriticisms,soobviousthatyoucanhardlyfailtomakethem.Noopinionhasbeenexpressed,youmaysay,uponthecomparativemeritsofthesexesevenaswriters.Thatwasdonepurposely,because,evenifthetimehadcomeforsuchavalu-ation—anditisfarmoreimportantatthemomenttoknowhowmuchmoneywomenhadandhowmanyroomsthantotheorizeabouttheircapacities—evenifthetimehadcomeIdonotbe-lievethatgifts,whetherofmindorcharacter,canbeweighedlikesugarandbutter,noteveninCambridge,wheretheyaresoadeptatputtingpeopleintoclassesandfixingcapsontheirheadsandlettersaftertheirnames.IdonotbelievethateventheTableofPrecedencywhichyouwillfindinWhitaker’sALMANACrepresentsafinalorderofvalues,orthatthereisanysoundreasontosupposethataCommanderoftheBathwillultimatelywalkintodinnerbehindaMasterinLunacy.Allthispittingofsexagainstsex,ofqualityagainstquality;allthisclaimingofsuperiorityandimputingofinferiority,belongtotheprivate-schoolstageofhumanexistencewherethereare’sides’,anditisnecessaryforonesidetobeatanotherside,andoftheutmostimportancetowalkuptoaplatformandreceivefromthehandsoftheHeadmasterhimselfahighlyorna-mentalpot.AspeoplematuretheyceasetobelieveinsidesorinHeadmastersorinhighlyornamentalpots.Atanyrate,wherebooksareconcerned,itisnotoriouslydifficulttofixla-belsofmeritinsuchawaythattheydonotcomeoff.Arenotreviewsofcurrentliteratureaperpetualillustrationofthe88
difficultyofjudgement?’Thisgreatbook’,’thisworthlessbook’,thesamebookiscalledbybothnames.Praiseandblamealikemeannothing.No,delightfulasthepastimeofmeasuringmaybe,itisthemostfutileofalloccupations,andtosubmittothedecreesofthemeasurersthemostservileofattitudes.Solongasyouwritewhatyouwishtowrite,thatisallthatmatters;andwhetheritmattersforagesoronlyforhours,nobodycansay.Buttosacrificeahairoftheheadofyourvision,ashadeofitscolour,indeferencetosomeHeadmasterwithasilverpotinhishandortosomeprofessorwithameasuring-roduphissleeve,isthemostabjecttreachery,andthesacrificeofwealthandchastitywhichusedtobesaidtobethegreatestofhumandisasters,amereflea-biteincomparison.NextIthinkthatyoumayobjectthatinallthisIhavemadetoomuchoftheimportanceofmaterialthings.Evenallowingagenerousmarginforsymbolism,thatfivehundredayearstandsforthepowertocontemplate,thatalockonthedoormeansthepowertothinkforoneself,stillyoumaysaythatthemindshouldriseabovesuchthings;andthatgreatpoetshaveoftenbeenpoormen.LetmethenquotetoyouthewordsofyourownProfessorofLiterature,whoknowsbetterthanIdowhatgoestothemakingofapoet.SirArthurQuiller-Couchwrites:’10’Whatarethegreatpoeticalnamesofthelasthundredyearsorso?Coleridge,Wordsworth,Byron,Shelley,Landor,Keats,Tennyson,Browning,Arnold,Morris,Rossetti,Swinburne—wemaystopthere.Ofthese,allbutKeats,Browning,RossettiwereUniversitymen,andofthesethree,Keats,whodiedyoung,cutoffinhisprime,wastheonlyonenotfairlywelltodo.Itmayseemabrutalthingtosay,anditisasadthingtosay:but,asamatterofhardfact,thetheorythatpoeticalgeniusblowethwhereitlisteth,andequallyinpoorandrich,holdslittletruth.Asamatterofhardfact,nineoutofthosetwelvewereUniversitymen:whichmeansthatsomehoworothertheyprocuredthemeanstogetthebesteducationEnglandcangive.Asamatterofhardfact,oftheremainingthreeyouknowthatBrowningwaswelltodo,andIchallengeyouthat,ifhehadnotbeenwelltodo,hewouldnomorehaveattainedtowriteSAULorTHERINGANDTHEBOOKthanRuskinwould10.THEARTOFWRITING,bySirArthurQuiller-Couch.89
haveattainedtowritingMODERNPAINTERSifhisfatherhadnotdealtprosperouslyinbusiness.Rossettihadasmallprivateincome;and,moreover,hepainted.ThereremainsbutKeats;whomAtroposslewyoung,assheslewJohnClareinamad-house,andJamesThomsonbythelaudanumhetooktodrugdisappointment.Thesearedreadfulfacts,butletusfacethem.Itis—howeverdishonouringtousasanation—certainthat,bysomefaultinourcommonwealth,thepoorpoethasnotinthesedays,norhashadfortwohundredyears,adog’schance.Believeme—andIhavespentagreatpartoftenyearsinwatchingsomethreehundredandtwentyelementaryschools,wemayprateofdemocracy,butactually,apoorchildinEng-landhaslittlemorehopethanhadthesonofanAthenianslavetobeemancipatedintothatintellectualfreedomofwhichgreatwritingsareborn.’Nobodycouldputthepointmoreplainly.’Thepoorpoethasnotinthesedays,norhashadfortwohundredyears,adog’schance…apoorchildinEnglandhaslittlemorehopethanhadthesonofanAthenianslavetobeemancipatedintothatintel-lectualfreedomofwhichgreatwritingsareborn.’Thatisit.In-tellectualfreedomdependsuponmaterialthings.Poetryde-pendsuponintellectualfreedom.Andwomenhavealwaysbeenpoor,notfortwohundredyearsmerely,butfromthebegin-ningoftime.WomenhavehadlessintellectualfreedomthanthesonsofAthenianslaves.Women,then,havenothadadog’schanceofwritingpoetry.ThatiswhyIhavelaidsomuchstressonmoneyandaroomofone’sown.However,thankstothetoilsofthoseobscurewomeninthepast,ofwhomIwishweknewmore,thanks,curiouslyenoughtotwowars,theCrimeanwhichletFlorenceNightingaleoutofherdrawing-room,andtheEuropeanWarwhichopenedthedoorstotheaveragewomansomesixtyyearslater,theseevilsareinthewaytobebettered.Otherwiseyouwouldnotbeheretonight,andyourchanceofearningfivehundredpoundsayear,precariousasIamafraidthatitstillis,wouldbeminuteintheextreme.Still,youmayobject,whydoyouattachsomuchimportancetothiswritingofbooksbywomenwhen,accordingtoyou,itrequiressomucheffort,leadsperhapstothemurderofone’saunts,willmakeonealmostcertainlylateforluncheon,andmaybringoneintoverygravedisputeswithcertainverygood90
fellows?Mymotives,letmeadmit,arepartlyselfish.LikemostuneducatedEnglishwomen,Ilikereading—Ilikereadingbooksinthebulk.Latelymydiethasbecomeatriflemonotonous;his-toryistoomuchaboutwars;biographytoomuchaboutgreatmen;poetryhasshown,Ithink,atendencytosterility,andfic-tionbutIhavesufficientlyexposedmydisabilitiesasacriticofmodernfictionandwillsaynomoreaboutit.ThereforeIwouldaskyoutowriteallkindsofbooks,hesitatingatnosubjecthowevertrivialorhowevervast.Byhookorbycrook,Ihopethatyouwillpossessyourselvesofmoneyenoughtotravelandtoidle,tocontemplatethefutureorthepastoftheworld,todreamoverbooksandloiteratstreetcornersandletthelineofthoughtdipdeepintothestream.ForIambynomeansconfin-ingyoutofiction.Ifyouwouldpleaseme—andtherearethou-sandslikeme—youwouldwritebooksoftravelandadventure,andresearchandscholarship,andhistoryandbiography,andcriticismandphilosophyandscience.Bysodoingyouwillcertainlyprofittheartoffiction.Forbookshaveawayofinfluencingeachother.Fictionwillbemuchthebetterforstandingcheekbyjowlwithpoetryandphilosophy.Moreover,ifyouconsideranygreatfigureofthepast,likeSappho,liketheLadyMurasaki,likeEmilyBrontë,youwillfindthatsheisaninherit-oraswellasanoriginator,andhascomeintoexistencebecausewomenhavecometohavethehabitofwritingnaturally;sothatevenasapreludetopoetrysuchactivityonyourpartwouldbeinvaluable.ButwhenIlookbackthroughthesenotesandcriticizemyowntrainofthoughtasImadethem,Ifindthatmymotiveswerenotaltogetherselfish.Thererunsthroughthesecommentsanddiscursionstheconviction—orisittheinstinct?—thatgoodbooksaredesirableandthatgoodwriters,eveniftheyshoweveryvarietyofhumandepravity,arestillgoodhumanbeings.ThuswhenIaskyoutowritemorebooksIamurgingyoutodowhatwillbeforyourgoodandforthegoodoftheworldatlarge.HowtojustifythisinstinctorbeliefIdonotknow,forphilosophicwords,ifonehasnotbeeneducatedatauniversity,areapttoplayonefalse.Whatismeantby’reality’?Itwouldseemtobesomethingveryerratic,veryundependable—nowtobefoundinadustyroad,nowinascrapofnewspaperinthestreet,nowadaffodilinthesun.Itlights91
upagroupinaroomandstampssomecasualsaying.Itoverwhelmsonewalkinghomebeneaththestarsandmakesthesi-lentworldmorerealthantheworldofspeech—andthenthereitisagaininanomnibusintheuproarofPiccadilly.Some-times,too,itseemstodwellinshapestoofarawayforustodiscernwhattheirnatureis.Butwhateverittouches,itfixesandmakespermanent.Thatiswhatremainsoverwhentheskinofthedayhasbeencastintothehedge;thatiswhatisleftofpasttimeandofourlovesandhates.Nowthewriter,asIthink,hasthechancetolivemorethanotherpeopleinthepresenceofthisreality.Itishisbusinesstofinditandcollectitandcommunicateittotherestofus.SoatleastIinferfromreadingLEARorEMMAorLARECHERCHEDUTEMPSPERDU.Forthereadingofthesebooksseemstoperformacuriouscouchingoperationonthesenses;oneseesmorein-tenselyafterwards;theworldseemsbaredofitscoveringandgivenanintenserlife.Thosearetheenviablepeoplewholiveatenmitywithunreality;andthosearethepitiablewhoareknockedontheheadbythethingdonewithoutknowingorcaring.SothatwhenIaskyoutoearnmoneyandhavearoomofyourown,Iamaskingyoutoliveinthepresenceofreality,aninvigoratinglife,itwouldappear,whetheronecanimpartitornot.HereIwouldstop,butthepressureofconventiondecreesthateveryspeechmustendwithaperoration.Andaperorationaddressedtowomenshouldhavesomething,youwillagree,particularlyexaltingandennoblingaboutit.Ishouldimploreyoutorememberyourresponsibilities,tobehigher,morespiritual;Ishouldremindyouhowmuchdependsuponyou,andwhataninfluenceyoucanexertuponthefuture.Butthoseex-hortationscansafely,Ithink,belefttotheothersex,whowillputthem,andindeedhaveputthem,withfargreatereloquencethanIcancompass.WhenIrummageinmyownmindIfindnonoblesentimentsaboutbeingcompanionsandequalsandinfluencingtheworldtohigherends.Ifindmyselfsayingbrieflyandprosaicallythatitismuchmoreimportanttobeoneselfthananythingelse.Donotdreamofinfluencingotherpeople,Iwouldsay,ifIknewhowtomakeitsoundexalted.Thinkofthingsinthemselves.92
AndagainIamremindedbydippingintonewspapersandnovelsandbiographiesthatwhenawomanspeakstowomensheshouldhavesomethingveryunpleasantuphersleeve.Wo-menarehardonwomen.Womendislikewomen.Women—butareyounotsicktodeathoftheword?IcanassureyouthatIam.Letusagree,then,thatapaperreadbyawomantowomenshouldendwithsomethingparticularlydisagreeable.Buthowdoesitgo?WhatcanIthinkof?Thetruthis,Ioftenlikewomen.Iliketheirunconventionality.Iliketheircomplete-ness.Iliketheiranonymity.Ilike—butImustnotrunoninthisway.Thatcupboardthere,—yousayitholdscleantable-nap-kinsonly;butwhatifSirArchibaldBodkinwereconcealedamongthem?Letmethenadoptasternertone.HaveI,intheprecedingwords,conveyedtoyousufficientlythewarningsandreprobationofmankind?IhavetoldyoutheverylowopinioninwhichyouwereheldbyMrOscarBrowning.IhaveindicatedwhatNapoleononcethoughtofyouandwhatMus-solinithinksnow.Then,incaseanyofyouaspiretofiction,Ihavecopiedoutforyourbenefittheadviceofthecriticaboutcourageouslyacknowledgingthelimitationsofyoursex.IhavereferredtoProfessorXandgivenprominencetohisstatementthatwomenareintellectually,morallyandphysicallyinferiortomen.Ihavehandedonallthathascomemywaywithoutgoinginsearchofit,andhereisafinalwarning—fromMrJohnLang-donDavies11.MrJohnLangdonDavieswarnswomen’thatwhenchildrenceasetobealtogetherdesirable,womenceasetobealtogethernecessary’.Ihopeyouwillmakeanoteofit.HowcanIfurtherencourageyoutogoaboutthebusinessoflife?Youngwomen,Iwouldsay,andpleaseattend,fortheper-orationisbeginning,youare,inmyopinion,disgracefullyignorant.Youhavenevermadeadiscoveryofanysortofimport-ance.Youhavenevershakenanempireorledanarmyintobattle.TheplaysofShakespearearenotbyyou,andyouhaveneverintroducedabarbarousracetotheblessingsofciviliza-tion.Whatisyourexcuse?Itisallverywellforyoutosay,pointingtothestreetsandsquaresandforestsoftheglobeswarmingwithblackandwhiteandcoffee-colouredinhabitants,allbusilyengagedintrafficandenterpriseandlove-making,wehavehadotherworkonourhands.Withoutourdoing,11.ASHORTHISTORYOFWOMEN,byJohnLangdonDavies.93
thoseseaswouldbeunsailedandthosefertilelandsadesert.Wehaveborneandbredandwashedandtaught,perhapstotheageofsixorsevenyears,theonethousandsixhundredandtwenty-threemillionhumanbeingswhoare,accordingtostatistics,atpresentinexistence,andthat,allowingthatsomehadhelp,takestime.Thereistruthinwhatyousay—Iwillnotdenyit.ButatthesametimemayIremindyouthattherehavebeenatleasttwocollegesforwomeninexistenceinEnglandsincetheyear1866;thataftertheyear1880amarriedwomanwasallowedbylawtopossessherownproperty;andthatin1919—whichisawholenineyearsagoshewasgivenavote?MayIalsore-mindyouthatmostoftheprofessionshavebeenopentoyouforcloseontenyearsnow?Whenyoureflectupontheseim-menseprivilegesandthelengthoftimeduringwhichtheyhavebeenenjoyed,andthefactthattheremustbeatthismo-mentsometwothousandwomencapableofearningoverfivehundredayearinonewayoranother,youwillagreethattheexcuseoflackofopportunity,training,encouragement,leisureandmoneynolongerholdsgood.Moreover,theeconomistsaretellingusthatMrsSetonhashadtoomanychildren.Youmust,ofcourse,goonbearingchildren,but,sotheysay,intwosandthrees,notintensandtwelves.Thus,withsometimeonyourhandsandwithsomebooklearninginyourbrains—youhavehadenoughoftheotherkind,andaresenttocollegepartly,Isuspect,tobeun-educated—surelyyoushouldembarkuponanotherstageofyourverylong,verylaboriousandhighlyobscurecareer.Athousandpensarereadytosuggestwhatyoushoulddoandwhateffectyouwillhave.Myownsuggestionisalittlefantast-ic,Iadmit;Iprefer,therefore,toputitintheformoffiction.ItoldyouinthecourseofthispaperthatShakespearehadasister;butdonotlookforherinSirSidneyLee’slifeofthepoet.Shediedyoung—alas,sheneverwroteaword.Sheliesburiedwheretheomnibusesnowstop,oppositetheElephantandCastle.Nowmybeliefisthatthispoetwhoneverwroteawordandwasburiedatthecross-roadsstilllives.Shelivesinyouandinme,andinmanyotherwomenwhoarenothereto-night,fortheyarewashingupthedishesandputtingthechildrentobed.Butshelives;forgreatpoetsdonotdie;theyare94
continuingpresences;theyneedonlytheopportunitytowalkamongusintheflesh.Thisopportunity,asIthink,itisnowcomingwithinyourpowertogiveher.Formybeliefisthatifweliveanothercenturyorso—Iamtalkingofthecommonlifewhichisthereallifeandnotofthelittleseparateliveswhichweliveasindividuals—andhavefivehundredayeareachofusandroomsofourown;ifwehavethehabitoffreedomandthecouragetowriteexactlywhatwethink;ifweescapealittlefromthecommonsitting-roomandseehumanbeingsnotal-waysintheirrelationtoeachotherbutinrelationtoreality;andthesky,too,andthetreesorwhateveritmaybeinthem-selves;ifwelookpastMilton’sbogey,fornohumanbeingshouldshutouttheview;ifwefacethefact,foritisafact,thatthereisnoarmtoclingto,butthatwegoaloneandthatourrelationistotheworldofrealityandnotonlytotheworldofmenandwomen,thentheopportunitywillcomeandthedeadpoetwhowasShakespeare’ssisterwillputonthebodywhichshehassooftenlaiddown.Drawingherlifefromthelivesoftheunknownwhowereherforerunners,asherbrotherdidbeforeher,shewillbeborn.Asforhercomingwithoutthatpre-paration,withoutthateffortonourpart,withoutthatdeterm-inationthatwhensheisbornagainsheshallfinditpossibletoliveandwriteherpoetry,thatwecannotexpect,forthatwouldbeimpossible.ButImaintainthatshewouldcomeifweworkedforher,andthatsotowork,eveninpovertyandobscurity,isworthwhile.95
www.feedbooks.comFoodforthemind96
PlayingintheDark:WhitenessandtheLiteraryImagination1992ToniMoRRisonFORSOmEtImEnowIhavebeenthinkingaboutthevalidityorvulnerabilityofacertainsetofassumptionsconventionallyacceptedamongliteraryhistoriansandcriticsandcirculatedas“knowledge.”Thisknowledgeholdsthattraditional,canonicalAmericanliteratureisfreeof,uninformed,4
andunshapedbythefour-hundred-year-oldpresenceof,first,AfricansandthenAfrican-AmericansintheUnitedStates.Itassumesthatthispresence—whichshapedthebodypolitic,theConstitution,andtheentirehistoryoftheculture—hashadnosignificantplaceorconsequenceintheoriginanddevelopmentofthatculture’sliterature.Moreover,suchknowledgeassumesthatthecharacteristicsofournationalliteratureemanatefromaparticular“Americanness”thatisseparatefromandunaccountabletothispresence.Thereseemstobeamoreorlesstacitagreementamongliteraryscholarsthat,becauseAmericanliteraturehasbeenclearlythepreserveofwhitemaleviews,genius,andpower,thoseviews,genius,andpowerarewithoutrelationshiptoandremovedfromtheoverwhelmingpresenceofblackpeopleintheUnitedStates.ThisagreementismadeaboutapopulationthatprecededeveryAmericanwriterofrenownandwas,Ihavecometobelieve,oneofthemostfurtivelyradicalimpingingforcesonthecountry’sliterature.Thecontemplationofthisblackpresenceiscentraltoanyunderstandingofournationalliteratureandshouldnotbepermittedtohoveratthemarginsoftheliteraryimagination.Thesespeculationshaveledmetowonderwhetherthemajorandchampionedcharacteristicsofournationalliterature—individualism,masculinity,socialengagementversushistoricalisolation;acuteandambiguousmoralproblematics;thethematicsofinnocencecoupledwithanobsessionwithfigurationsofdeathandhell—arenotinfactresponsestoadark,abiding,signingAfricanistpresence.Ithasoccurredto5
methattheverymannerbywhichAmericanliteraturedistinguishesitselfasacoherententityexistsbecauseofthisunsettledandunsettlingpopulation.Justastheformationofthenationnecessitatedcodedlanguageandpurposefulrestrictiontodealwiththeracialdisingenuousnessandmoralfrailtyatitsheart,sotoodidtheliterature,whosefoundingcharacteristicsextendintothetwentiethcentury,reproducethenecessityforcodesandrestriction.Throughsignificantandunderscoredomissions,startlingcontradictions,heavilynuancedconflicts,throughthewaywriterspeopledtheirworkwiththesignsandbodiesofthispresence—onecanseethatarealorfabricatedAfricanistpresencewascrucialtotheirsenseofAmericanness.Anditshows.Mycuriosityabouttheoriginsandliteraryusesofthiscarefullyobserved,andcarefullyinvented,AfricanistpresencehasbecomeaninformalstudyofwhatIcallAmericanAfricanism.Itisaninvestigationintothewaysinwhichanonwhite,Africanlike(orAfricanist)presenceorpersonawasconstructedintheUnitedStates,andtheimaginativeusesthisfabricatedpresenceserved.Iamusingtheterm“Africanism”nottosuggestthelargerbodyofknowledgeonAfricathatthephilosopherValentineMudimbemeansbytheterm“Africanism,”nortosuggestthevarietiesandcomplexitiesofAfricanpeopleandtheirdescendantswhohaveinhabitedthiscountry.RatherIuseitasatermforthedenotativeandconnotativeblacknessthatAfricanpeopleshavecometosignify,6
aswellastheentirerangeofviews,assumptions,readings,andmisreadingsthataccompanyEurocentriclearningaboutthesepeople.Asatrope,littlerestrainthasbeenattachedtoitsuses.Asadisablingviruswithinliterarydiscourse,Africanismhasbecome,intheEurocentrictraditionthatAmericaneducationfavors,bothawayoftalkingaboutandawayofpolicingmattersofclass,sexuallicense,andrepression,formationsandexercisesofpower,andmeditationsonethicsandaccountability.Throughthesimpleexpedientofdemonizingandreifyingtherangeofcoloronapalette,AmericanAfricanismmakesitpossibletosayandnotsay,toinscribeanderase,toescapeandengage,toactoutandacton,tohistoricizeandrendertimeless.Itprovidesawayofcontemplatingchaosandcivilization,desireandfear,andamechanismfortestingtheproblemsandblessingsoffreedom.TheUnitedStates,ofcourse,isnotuniqueintheconstructionofAfricanism.SouthAmerica,England,France,Germany,Spain—theculturesofallthesecountrieshaveparticipatedinandcontributedtosomeaspectofan“inventedAfrica.”Nonehasbeenabletopersuadeitselfforlongthatcriteriaandknowledgecouldemergeoutsidethecategoriesofdomination.AmongEuropeansandtheEuropeanized,thissharedprocessofexclusion—ofassigningdesignationandvalue—hasledtothepopularandacademicnotionthatracismisa“natural,”ifirritating,phenomenon.Theliteratureofalmostallthesecountries,however,isnowsubjecttosustainedcritiquesofitsracializeddiscourse.TheUnitedStatesisacuriousexception,eventhoughitstandsoutasbeingthe7
oldestdemocracyinwhichablackpopulationaccompanied(ifonecanusethatword)andinmanycasesprecededthewhitesettlers.Hereinthatnexus,withitsparticularformulations,andintheabsenceofrealknowledgeoropen-mindedinquiryaboutAfricansandAfrican-Americans,underthepressuresofideologicalandimperialisticrationalesforsubjugation,anAmericanbrandofAfricanismemerged:stronglyurged,thoroughlyserviceable,companionablyego-reinforcing,andpervasive.Forexcellentreasonsofstate—becauseEuropeansourcesofculturalhegemonyweredispersedbutnotyetvalorizedinthenewcountry—theprocessoforganizingAmericancoherencethroughadistancingAfricanismbecametheoperativemodeofanewculturalhegemony.TheseremarksshouldnotbeinterpretedassimplyanefforttomovethegazeofAfrican-Americanstudiestoadifferentsite.Idonotwanttoalteronehierarchyinordertoinstituteanother.ItistruethatIdonotwanttoencouragethosetotalizingapproachestoAfrican-Americanscholarshipwhichhavenodriveotherthantheexchangeofdominations—dominantEurocentricscholarshipreplacedbydominantAfrocentricscholarship.Moreinterestingiswhatmakesintellectualdominationpossible;howknowledgeistransformedfrominvasionandconquesttorevelationandchoice;whatignitesandinformstheliteraryimagination,andwhatforceshelpestablishtheparametersofcriticism.AboveallIaminterestedinhowagendasincriticismhavedisguisedthemselvesand,insodoing,impoverishedthelit-8
eratureitstudies.Criticismasaformofknowledgeiscapableofrobbingliteraturenotonlyofitsownimplicitandexplicitideologybutofitsideasaswell;itcandismissthedifficult,arduousworkwritersdotomakeanartthatbecomesandremainspartofandsignificantwithinahumanlandscape.ItisimportanttoseehowinextricableAfricanismisoroughttobefromthedeliberationsofliterarycriticismandthewanton,elaboratestrategiesundertakentoeraseitspresencefromview.WhatAfricanismbecamefor,andhowitfunctionedin,theliteraryimaginationisofparamountinterestbecauseitmaybepossibletodiscover,throughacloselookatliterary“blackness,”thenature—eventhecause—ofliterary“whiteness.”Whatisitfor?Whatpartsdotheinventionanddevelopmentofwhitenessplayintheconstructionofwhatislooselydescribedas“American”?Ifsuchaninquiryevercomestomaturity,itmayprovideaccesstoadeeperreadingofAmericanliterature—areadingnotcompletelyavailablenow,notleast,Isuspect,becauseofthestudiedindifferenceofmostliterarycriticismtothesematters.Onelikelyreasonforthepaucityofcriticalmaterialonthislargeandcompellingsubjectisthat,inmattersofrace,silenceandevasionhavehistoricallyruledliterarydiscourse.Evasionhasfosteredanother,substitutelanguageinwhichtheissuesareencoded,foreclosingopendebate.Thesituationisaggravatedbythetremorthatbreaksintodiscourseonrace.Itisfurthercomplicatedbythefactthatthehabitofignoringraceisunderstoodtobeagraceful,evengenerous,9
liberalgesture.Tonoticeistorecognizeanalreadydiscrediteddifference.Toenforceitsinvisibilitythroughsilenceistoallowtheblackbodyashadowlessparticipationinthedominantculturalbody.Accordingtothislogic,everywell-bredinstinctarguesagainstnoticingandforeclosesadultdiscourse.Itisjustthisconceptofliteraryandscholarlymoeurs(whichfunctionssmoothlyinliterarycriticism,butneithermakesnorreceivescredibleclaimsinotherdisciplines)thathasterminatedtheshelflifeofsomeonceextremelywell-regardedAmericanauthorsandblockedaccesstoremarkableinsightsintheirworks.Thesemoeursaredelicatethings,however,whichmustbegivensomethoughtbeforetheyareabandoned.Notobservingsuchnicetiescanleadtostartlingdisplaysofscholarlylapsesinobjectivity.In1936anAmericanscholarinvestigatingtheuseofNegroso-calleddialectintheworksofEdgarAllanPoe(ashortarticleclearlyproudofitsracialequanimity)opensthisway:“DespitethefactthathegrewuplargelyinthesouthandspentsomeofhismostfruitfulyearsinRichmondandBaltimore,Poehaslittletosayaboutthedarky.”1AlthoughIknowthissentencerepresentsthepoliteparlanceoftheday,that“darky”wasunderstoodtobeatermmoreacceptablethan“nigger,”thegrimaceImadeuponreadingitwasfollowedbyanalarmeddistrustofthescholar’s1KillisCampbell,“Poe’sTreatmentoftheNegroandoftheNegroDialect,”StudiesinEnglish,16(1936),p.106.10
abilities.Ifitseemsunfairtoreachbacktothethirtiesforsamplesofthekindoflapsethatcanoccurwhencertainmannersofpoliterepressionarewaived,letmeassureyouequallyegregiousrepresentationsofthephenomenonarestillcommon.AnotherreasonforthisquiteornamentalvacuuminliterarydiscourseonthepresenceandinfluenceofAfricanistpeoplesinAmericancriticismisthepatternofthinkingaboutracialismintermsofitsconsequencesonthevictim—ofalwaysdefiningitasymmetricallyfromtheperspectiveofitsimpactontheobjectofracistpolicyandattitudes.Agooddealoftimeandintelligencehasbeeninvestedintheexposureofracismandthehorrificresultsonitsobjects.Thereareconstant,iferratic,liberalizingeffortstolegislatethesematters.Therearealsopowerfulandpersuasiveattemptstoanalyzetheoriginandfabricationofracismitself,contestingtheassumptionthatitisaninevitable,permanent,andeternalpartofallsociallandscapes.Idonotwishtodisparagetheseinquiries.Itispreciselybecauseofthemthatanyprogressatallhasbeenaccomplishedinmattersofracialdiscourse.Butthatwell-establishedstudyshouldbejoinedwithanother,equallyimportantone:theimpactofracismonthosewhoperpetuateit.Itseemsbothpoignantandstrikinghowavoidedandunanalyzedistheeffectofracistinfectiononthesubject.WhatIproposehereistoexaminetheimpactofnotionsofracialhierarchy,racialexclusion,andracialvulnerabilityandavailabilityonnon-blackswhoheld,resisted,explored,oralteredthosenotions.Thescholarshipthatlooks11
intothemind,imagination,andbehaviorofslavesisvaluable.Butequallyvaluableisaseriousintellectualefforttoseewhatracialideologydoestothemind,imagination,andbehaviorofmasters.Historianshaveapproachedtheseareas,ashavesocialscientists,anthropologists,psychiatrists,andsomestudentsofcomparativeliterature.Literaryscholarshavebeguntoposethesequestionsofvariousnationalliteratures.UrgentlyneededisthesamekindofattentionpaidtotheliteratureofthewesterncountrythathasoneofthemostresilientAfricanistpopulationsintheworld—apopulationthathasalwayshadacuriouslyintimateandunhinginglyseparateexistencewithinthedominantone.WhenmattersofracearelocatedandcalledattentiontoinAmericanliterature,criticalresponsehastendedtobeontheorderofahumanisticnostrum—oradismissalmandatedbythelabel“political.”Excisingthepoliticalfromthelifeofthemindisasacrificethathasprovencostly.Ithinkofthiserasureasakindoftremblinghypochondriaalwayscuringitselfwithunnecessarysurgery.Acriticismthatneedstoinsistthatliteratureisnotonly“universal”butalso“race-free”riskslobotomizingthatliterature,anddiminishesboththeartandtheartist.Iamvulnerabletotheinferenceherethatmyinquiryhasvestedinterests;thatbecauseIamanAfrican-AmericanandawriterIstandtobenefitinwaysnotlimitedtointellectualfulfillmentfromthislineofquestioning.Iwillhavetorisktheaccusationbecausethepointistooimportant:forbothblackandwhiteAmericanwriters,inawhollyracialized12
society,thereisnoescapefromraciallyinflectedlanguage,andtheworkwritersdotounhobbletheimaginationfromthedemandsofthatlanguageiscomplicated,interesting,anddefinitive.Likethousandsofavidbutnonacademicreaders,somepowerfulliterarycriticsintheUnitedStateshaveneverread,andareproudtosayso,anyAfrican-Americantext.Itseemstohavedonethemnoharm,presentedthemwithnodiscerniblelimitationsinthescopeoftheirworkorinfluence.Isuspect,withmuchevidencetosupportthesuspicion,thattheywillcontinuetoflourishwithoutanyknowledgewhatsoeverofAfrican-Americanliterature.Whatisfascinating,however,istoobservehowtheirlavishexplorationofliteraturemanagesnottoseemeaninginthethunderous,theatricalpresenceofblacksurrogacy—aninforming,stabilizing,anddisturbingelement—intheliteraturetheydostudy.Itisinteresting,notsurprising,thatthearbitersofcriticalpowerinAmericanliteratureseemtotakepleasurein,indeedrelish,theirignoranceofAfrican-Americantexts.Whatissurprisingisthattheirrefusaltoreadblacktexts—arefusalthatmakesnodisturbanceintheirintellectuallife—repeatsitselfwhentheyrereadthetraditional,establishedworksofliteratureworthyoftheirattention.Itispossible,forexample,toreadHenryJamesscholarshipexhaustivelyandneverarriveatanoddingmention,muchlessasatisfactorytreatment,oftheblackwomanwholubricatestheturnoftheplotandbecomestheagencyofmoralchoiceandmeaninginWhatMaisieKnew.Neverare13
weinvitedtoareadingof“TheBeastintheJungle”inwhichthatfigurationisfollowedtowhatseemstomeitslogicalconclusion.ItishardtothinkofanyaspectofGertrudeStein’sThreeLivesthathasnotbeencovered,excepttheexploratoryandexplanatoryusestowhichsheputstheblackwomanwhoholdscenterstageinthatwork.TheurgencyandanxietyinWillaCather’srenderingofblackcharactersareliabletobemissedentirely;nomentionismadeoftheproblemthatracecausesinthetechniqueandthecredibilityofherlastnovel,SapphiraandtheSlaveGirl.Thesecriticsseenoexcitementormeaninginthetropesofdarkness,sexuality,anddesireinErnestHemingwayorinhiscastofblackmen.TheyseenoconnectionbetweenGod’sgraceandAfricanist“othering”inFlanneryO’Connor.Withfewexceptions,Faulknercriticismcollapsesthemajorthemesofthatwriterintodiscursive“mythologies”andtreatsthelaterworks—whosefocusisraceandclass—asminor,superficial,markedbydecline.Aninstructiveparalleltothiswilledscholarlyindifferenceisthecenturies-long,hystericalblindnesstofeministdiscourseandthewayinwhichwomenandwomen’sissueswereread(orunread).Blatantsexistreadingsareonthedecline,andwheretheystillexisttheyhavelittleeffectbecauseofthesuccessfulappropriationbywomenoftheirowndiscourse.Nationalliteratures,likewriters,getalongthebestwaytheycan,andwithwhattheycan.Yettheydoseemtoendupdescribingandinscribingwhatisreallyonthenationalmind.Forthemostpart,theliteratureoftheUnitedStates14
hastakenasitsconcernthearchitectureofanewwhiteman.IfIamdisenchantedbytheindifferenceofliterarycriticismtowardexaminingtherangeofthatconcern,Idohavealastingresort:thewritersthemselves.Writersareamongthemostsensitive,themostintellectuallyanarchic,mostrepresentative,mostprobingofartists.Theabilityofwriterstoimaginewhatisnottheself,tofamiliarizethestrangeandmystifythefamiliar,isthetestoftheirpower.Thelanguagestheyuseandthesocialandhistoricalcontextinwhichtheselanguagessignifyareindirectanddirectrevelationsofthatpoweranditslimitations.Soitistothem,thecreatorsofAmericanliterature,thatIlookforclarificationabouttheinventionandeffectofAfricanismintheUnitedStates.MyearlyassumptionsasareaderwerethatblackpeoplesignifiedlittleornothingintheimaginationofwhiteAmericanwriters.Otherthanastheobjectsofanoccasionalboutofjunglefever,otherthantoprovidelocalcolorortolendsometouchofverisimilitudeortosupplyaneededmoralgesture,humor,orbitofpathos,blacksmadenoappearanceatall.Thiswasareflection,Ithought,ofthemarginalimpactthatblackshadonthelivesofthecharactersintheworkaswellasthecreativeimaginationoftheauthor.Toimagineorwriteotherwise,tosituateblackpeoplethroughoutthepagesandscenesofabooklikesomegovernmentquota,wouldbeludicrousanddishonest.ButthenIstoppedreadingasareaderandbegantoreadasawriter.Livinginaraciallyarticulatedandpredicated15
world,IcouldnotbealoneinreactingtothisaspectoftheAmericanculturalandhistoricalcondition.IbegantoseehowtheliteratureIrevered,theliteratureIloathed,behavedinitsencounterwithracialideology.Americanliteraturecouldnothelpbeingshapedbythatencounter.Yes,IwantedtoidentifythosemomentswhenAmericanliteraturewascomplicitinthefabricationofracism,butequallyimportant,Iwantedtoseewhenliteratureexplodedandunderminedit.Still,thosewereminorconcerns.MuchmoreimportantwastocontemplatehowAfricanistpersonae,narrative,andidiommovedandenrichedthetextinself-consciousways,toconsiderwhattheengagementmeantfortheworkofthewriter’simagination.HowdoesliteraryutterancearrangeitselfwhenittriestoimagineanAfricanistother?Whatarethesigns,thecodes,theliterarystrategiesdesignedtoaccommodatethisencounter?WhatdoestheinclusionofAfricansorAfrican-Americansdotoandforthework?Asareadermyassumptionhadalwaysbeenthatnothing“happens”:Africansandtheirdescendantswerenot,inanysensethatmatters,there;andwhentheywerethere,theyweredecorative—displaysoftheagilewriter’stechnicalexpertise.Iassumedthatsincetheauthorwasnotblack,theappearanceofAfricanistcharactersornarrativeoridiominaworkcouldneverbeaboutanythingotherthanthe“normal,”unracialized,illusorywhiteworldthatprovidedthefictionalbackdrop.CertainlynoAmericantextofthesortIamdiscussingwaseverwrittenforblackpeople—nomorethanUncleTom’sCabinwaswrittenfor16
UncleTomtoreadorbepersuadedby.Asawriterreading,Icametorealizetheobvious:thesubjectofthedreamisthedreamer.ThefabricationofanAfricanistpersonaisreflexive;anextraordinarymeditationontheself;apowerfulexplorationofthefearsanddesiresthatresideinthewriterlyconscious.Itisanastonishingrevelationoflonging,ofterror,ofperplexity,ofshame,ofmagnanimity.Itrequireshardworknottoseethis.ItisasifIhadbeenlookingatafishbowl—theglideandflickofthegoldenscales,thegreentip,theboltofwhitecareeningbackfromthegills;thecastlesatthebottom,surroundedbypebblesandtiny,intricatefrondsofgreen;thebarelydisturbedwater,thefecksofwasteandfood,thetranquilbubblestravelingtothesurface—andsuddenlyIsawthebowl,thestructurethattransparently(andinvisibly)permitstheorderedlifeitcontainstoexistinthelargerworld.Inotherwords,Ibegantorelyonmyknowledgeofhowbooksgetwritten,howlanguagearrives;mysenseofhowandwhywritersabandonortakeoncertainaspectsoftheirproject.Ibegantorelyonmyunderstandingofwhatthelinguisticstrugglerequiresofwritersandwhattheymakeofthesurprisethatistheinevitableconcomitantoftheactofcreation.Whatbecametransparentweretheself-evidentwaysthatAmericanschoosetotalkaboutthemselvesthroughandwithinasometimesallegorical,sometimesmetaphorical,butalwayschokedrepresentationofanAfricanistpresence.17
MLACITATIONMorrison,Toni.PlayingintheDark:WhitenessandtheLiteraryImagination.NewYork:RandomHouse,1992.(pp.4-17)18

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