I remember, many years ago, to have occupied the corner of a
window-seat, in a small but very elegant house in Montague-square,
during a morning visit--more interesting than such visits usually are,
because there was something to talk about. The ladies who met, had each
a child, I believe an only girl, just of the age when mothers begin to
ask every body, and tell every body, how their children are to be
educated. The daughter of the house, the little Jemima, was sitting by
my side; a delicate little creature, with something very remarkable in
her expression. The broad projecting brow seemed too heavy for its
underwork; and by its depression, gave a look of sadness to the
countenance, till excited animation raised the eye, beaming vivacity and
strength. The sallow paleness of the complexion was so entirely in
unison with the features, and the stiff dark locks which surrounded
them, it was difficult to say whether it was, or was not, improved by
the color that came and went every time she was looked at or spoken of.
I was, on this occasion, a very attentive listener: for, being not yet a
woman, it was very essential to me to learn what sort of a one I had
better be; and many, indeed, were my counter-resolutions, as the
following debate proceeded:
"You are going to send your daughter to school I hear?" said Mrs. A.,
after some discourse of other matters.
Mrs. W. replied, "Really, I have not quite determined; I scarcely know
what to do for the best. I am only anxious that she should grow up like
other girls; for of all things in the world, I have the greatest horror
of a woman of talent. I had never thought to part from her, and am still
averse to sending her from home; but she is so excessively fond of
books, I can get her to do nothing else but learn; she is as grave and
sensible as a little woman. I think, if she were among other girls, she
would perhaps get fond of play, and be more like a child. I wish her to
grow up a quiet, domestic girl, and not too fond of learning. I mean her
to be accomplished; but, at present, I cannot make her distinguish one
tune from another."
Mrs. A. answered, "Indeed! we differ much in this respect. I am
determined to make Fanny a superior woman, whatever it may cost me. Her
father is of the same mind; he has a perfect horror of silly,
empty-headed women; all our family are literary; Fanny will have little
fortune, but we can afford to give her every advantage in her education,
the best portion we can leave her. I would rather see her distinguished
for talents, than for birth or riches. We have acted upon this intention
from her birth. She already reads well, but I am sorry to say she hates
it, and never will open a book unless she is obliged; she shows no taste
for any thing but making doll's clothes and spinning a top."
At this moment a hearty laugh from little Fanny, who had set herself to
play behind the curtain, drew my attention towards her. She was twice as
big as my companion on the window-seat, though but a few months older;
her broad, flat face, showed like the moon in its zenith, set in thin,
silky hair: and with eyes as pretty as they could be, expressing neither
thought nor feeling, but abundance of mirth and good-humor. The coloring
of her cheek was beautiful; but one wished it gone sometimes, were it
only for the pleasure of seeing it come again. The increasing
seriousness of the conversation recalled my attention.
"I am surprised," Mrs. W. was saying, "at your wishes on the subject. I
am persuaded a woman of great talent is neither so happy, so useful, nor
so much beloved, as one or more ordinary powers."
"I should like to know why you think this," rejoined her friend; "it
appears to me she should be much more so."
"My view of it is this," Mrs. W. replied: "a woman's sphere of
usefulness, of happiness, and of affection, is a domestic circle; and
even beyond it, all her task of life is to please and to be useful."
"In this we are quite agreed," said Mrs. A.; "but, since we are well set
for an argument, let us have a little method in it. You would have your
child useful, happy, and beloved, and so would I; but you think the
means to this end, is to leave her mind uncultivated, narrow, and empty,
and consequently weak."
"This, is not my meaning," replied Mrs. W.; "there are many steps
between stupidity and talent, ignorance and learning. I will suppose my
child what I wish her to be, about as much taught as women in general,
who are esteemed clever, well-mannered, and well-accomplished. I think
it is all that can contribute to her happiness. If her mind is occupied,
as you will say, with little things, those little things are sufficient
to its enjoyment, and much more likely to be within her reach than the
greater matters that fill greater minds. My less accomplished character
will enjoy herself where your superior woman would go to sleep, or
hopelessly wish she might. In short, she will find fellowship and
reciprocation in every little mind she meets with, while yours is left
to pine in the solitude of her own greatness."
At the close of this speech, I felt quite determined that I would not be
such a woman.
Mrs. A. rejoined, "You have left my genius in a doleful condition,
though I question whether you will persuade her to come down. I will
admit, however, for I am afraid I must, that the woman of talent is less
likely to find reciprocation, or to receive enjoyment from ordinary
people and ordinary circumstances; but then she is like the camel that
traverses the desert safely where others perish, because it carries its
sustenance in its own bosom. I never remember to have heard a really
sensible and cultivated woman complain of _ennui_, under any
circumstances--no small balance on the side of enjoyment positive, is
misery escaped. But, to leave jesting, admitting that the woman of more
elevated mind derives less pleasure from the adventitious circumstances
that surround her, from what money can purchase, and a tranquil mind
enjoy, and activity gather, of the passing flowers of life--she has
enjoyments, independent of them, in the treasures of her own intellect.
Where she finds reciprocation, it is a delight of which the measure
compensates the rareness; and where she finds nothing else to enjoy, she
can herself. And when the peopled walks of life become a wilderness; and
the assiduities of friendship rest unclaimed; and sensible
gratifications are withered before the blight of poverty; and the foot
is too weary, and the eye is too dim, to go after what no one remembers
to bring; still are her resources untouched. Poverty cannot diminish her
revenue, or friendlessness leave her unaccompanied, or privation of
every external incitement consign her to the void of unoccupied powers.
She will traverse the desert, for her store is with her; and if, as you
have suggested, she be doomed to supply others what no one pays her
back, there is One who has said, 'It is more blessed to give than to
receive.'"
At this point of the discussion, I made up my mind to be a very sensible
woman.
Mrs. W. resumed: "You will allow, of course, that selfish enjoyment is
not the object of existence; and I think, on the score of usefulness, I
shall carry my poor, dependent house-wife, far above yours. And for this
very reason: The duties which Providence has assigned to woman, do not
require extraordinary intellect. She can manage her husband's household,
and economize his substance; and if she cannot entertain his friends
with her talents, she can at least give them a welcome; and be his nurse
in sickness, and his watchful companion in health, if not capable of
sharing his more intellectual occupations. She can be the support and
comfort of her parents in the decline of life, or of her children in
their helplessness, according as her situation may be. And out of her
house she may be the benefactress and example of a whole neighborhood;
she may comfort the afflicted, and clothe and feed the poor, and visit
the sick, and advise the ignorant; while, by the domestic industry, and
peaceful, unaspiring habits, with which she plods, as you may please to
call it, through the duties of her station, whether higher or lower, she
is a perpetual example to those beneath her, to like sober assiduity in
their own, and to her children's children to follow in the path in which
she leads them. She may be superintending the household occupations, or
actually performing them; giving employment by her wealth to others'
ingenuity, or supplying the want of it by her own, according as her
station is, but still she will make many happy.
"I am not so prejudiced as to say that your woman of talent will refuse
these duties; of course, if she have principle, she will not. But
literary pursuits must at least divide her attention, if not unfit her
altogether for the tasks the order of Providence has assigned her; she
will distaste such duties, if she does not refuse them; while the
distance at which her attainments place her from ordinary minds, forbid
all attempts to imitate or follow her."
"You have drawn a picture," answered Mrs. A., "which would convert half
the world, if they were not of your mind already, as I believe they are.
It is a picture so beautiful, I would not blot it with the shadow of my
finger. I concede that talent is not necessary to usefulness, and a
woman may fulfill every duty of her station without it. But our question
is of comparative usefulness; and there I have something to say. It is
an axiom that knowledge is power; and, if it is, the greater the
knowledge, the greater should be the power of doing good. To men,
superior intelligence gives power to dispose, control, and govern the
fortunes of others. To women, it gives influence over their minds. The
greater knowledge which she has acquired of the human heart, gives her
access to it in all its subtleties; while her acknowledged superiority
secures that deference to her counsels, which weakness ever pays to
strength.
"If the circumstances of her condition require it, I believe the greater
will suffice the less, and she will fulfill equally well the duties you
have enumerated; shedding as bright a light upon her household, as if
it bounded her horizon. Nay, more, there may be minds in her household
that need the reciprocation of an equal mind, or the support of a
superior one; there may be spirits in her family that will receive from
the influence of intellect, what they would not from simple and good
intention. There may be other wants in her neighborhood than hunger and
nakedness, and other defaulters than the ignorant and the poor. Whether
she writes, speaks, or acts, the effect is not bounded by time, nor
limited by space. That is worth telling of her, and is repeated from
mouth to mouth, which, in an ordinary person, none would notice. Her
acknowledged superiority gives her a title, as well as a capacity to
speak, where others must be silent, and carry counsel and consolation
where commoner characters might not intrude.
"The mass of human misery, and human need, and human corruption, is not
confined to the poor, the simple minded, and the child. The husband's
and the parent's cares are not confined to their external commodities,
nor the children's to the well-being of their physical estate. The mind
that could illumine its own solitude, can cheer another's destitution;
the strength that can support itself, can stay another's falling; the
wealth may be unlocked, and supply another's poverty. Those who in
prosperity seek amusement from superior talent, will seek it in
difficulty or advice, and in adversity for support."
Here I made up my mind to have a great deal of intellect.
"If I granted your position on the subject of utility," said Mrs. W., "I
am afraid I should prove the world very ungrateful by the remainder of
my argument; which goes, you know, to prove the woman of distinguished
talent less beloved than those who walk the ordinary paths of female
duty. I must take the risk, however; for, of all women in the world,
your women of genius are those I love the least; and I believe, just or
unjust, it is a very common feeling. We are not disposed to love our
superiors in any thing; but least of all, in intellect; one has always
the feeling of playing an equal game, without being sure that no
advantage will be taken of your simplicity. A woman who has the
reputation of talent, is, in this respect, the most unfortunate being on
earth. She stands in society, like a European before a horde of savages,
vainly endeavoring to signify his good intentions. If he approaches
them, they run away; if he recedes, they send their arrows after him.
Every one is afraid to address her, lest they expose to her penetration
their own deficiencies. If she talks, she is supposed to display her
powers; if she holds her tongue, it is attributed to contempt for the
company. I know that talent is often combined with every amiable
quality, and renders the character really the more lovely; but not
therefore the more beloved. It would, if known; but it seldom is known,
because seldom approached near enough to be examined.
"The simple-minded fear what they do not understand; the double-minded
envy what they cannot reach. For my good, simple housewife, every body
loves her who knows her; and nobody, who does not know her, troubles
themselves about her. But place a woman on an eminence, and every body
thinks they are obliged to like or dislike her; and, being too tenacious
to do the one without good reason, they do the other without any reason
at all. Before we can love each other, there must be sympathy,
assimilation, and, if not equality, at least such an approach to it as
may enable us to understand each other. When any one is much superior to
us, our humility shrinks from the proffers of her love, and our pride
revolts from offering her our own. Real talent is always modest, and
fears often to make advances towards affection, lest it should seem, in
doing so, to presume upon itself; but, having rarely the credit of
timidity, this caution is attributable to pride. Your superior woman,
therefore, will not be generally known or beloved by her own sex, among
whom she may have many admirers, but few equals.
"I say nothing of marriage, because I am not speculating upon it for my
child, as upon the chances of a well-played game; but it is certain that
the greater number of men are not highly intellectual, and therefore
could not wisely choose a highly intellectual wife, lest they place
themselves in the condition in which a husband should not be--of mental
inferiority."
"Mrs. W.," answered her friend, "I am aware this is your strongest post;
but I must not give ground without a battle. A great deal I shall yield
you. I shall give up quantity, and stand upon the value of the
remainder. Be it granted, then, that of any twenty people assembled in
society, every one of whom will pronounce your common-place woman to be
very amiable, very good, and very pleasing, ten shall pronounce my
friend too intellectual for their taste, eight shall find her not so
clever as they expected, and, of the other two, one at least shall not
be sure whether they like her or not. Be it granted that, of every five
ladies assembled to gossip freely, and tell out their small cares and
feelings to the sympathizing kindness of your friend, four shall become
silent as wax-work on the entrance of mine. And be it granted that, of
any ten gentlemen to whom yours would be a very proper wife, not more
than one could wisely propose himself to mine. But have I therefore lost
the field? Perhaps she would tell you no; the two in twenty, the one in
five or ten, are of more value, in her estimation, than all the number
else.
"Things are not apt to be valued by their abundance. On the jeweler's
stall, many a brilliant trinket will disappear, ere the high-priced gem
be asked for; but is it, therefore, the less valued, or the less cared
for? When beloved at all, she is loved permanently; for, in the lapse of
time, that withers the charm of beauty, and blights the simplicity of
youth, her ornaments grow but the brighter for wearing. In proportion
to the depth of the intellect, I believe, is the depth of every thing;
feelings, affections, pleasures, pains, or whatever else the enlarged
capacity conceives. It is difficult perhaps for an inferior mind to
estimate what a superior mind enjoys in the reciprocation of affection.
Attachment, with ordinary persons, is enjoyed to-day, and regretted
to-morrow, and the next day replaced and forgotten; but with these it
never can be forgotten, because it can never be replaced."
As the argument, thus terminated, converted neither party, it is
needless to say it left me in suspense. Mrs. W. was still determined her
child should not be a superior woman. Mrs. A. was still resolved her
child should be, at all ventures; and I was still undetermined whether I
would endeavor to be a learned woman or not. The little Fanny laughed
aloud, opened her large round eyes, and shouted, "So I will, mamma!" The
little Jemima colored to the ends of her fingers, and lowered still
farther the lashes that veiled her eyes.