“Male and female represent the two sides of the great radical dualism. But in fact they are perpetually passing into one another. Fluid hardens to solid, solid rushes to fluid. There is no wholly masculine man, no purely feminine woman.”
She excels not so easily
in classification, or recreation, as in an instinctive seizure of
causes, and a simple breathing out of what she receives, that has the
singleness of life, rather than the selecting and energizing of art.
More native is it to her to be the living model of the artist than to
set apart from herself any one form in objective reality; more native
to inspire and receive the poem, than to create it. In so far as soul
is in her completely developed, all soul is the same, but in so far as
it is modified in her as Woman, it flows, it breathes, it sings,
rather than deposits soil, or finishes work; and that which is
especially feminine flushes, in blossom, the face of earth, and
pervades, like air and water, all this seeming solid globe, daily
renewing and purifying its life. Such may be the especially feminine
element spoken of as Femality. But it is no more the order of nature
that it should be incarnated pure in any form, than that the masculine
energy should exist unmingled with it in any form.
Male and female represent the two sides of the great radical dualism.
But, in fact, they are perpetually passing into one another. Fluid
hardens to solid, solid rushes to fluid. There is no wholly masculine
man, no purely feminine woman.
History jeers at the attempts of physiologists to bind great original
laws by the forms which flow from them. They make a rule; they say
from observation what can and cannot be. In vain! Nature provides
exceptions to every rule. She sends women to battle, and sets Hercules
spinning; she enables women to bear immense burdens, cold, and frost;
she enables the man, who feels maternal love, to nourish his infant
like a mother. Of late she plays still gayer pranks. Not only she
deprives organizations, but organs, of a necessary end. She enables
people to read with the top of the head, and see with the pit of the
stomach. Presently she will make a female Newton, and a male Syren.
Man partakes of the feminine in the Apollo, Woman of the masculine as
Minerva.
What I mean by the Muse is that unimpeded clearness of the intuitive
powers, which a perfectly truthful adherence to every admonition of
the higher instincts would bring to a finely organized human being. It
may appear as prophecy or as poesy.
“Would that the simple maxim, that honesty is the best policy, might be laid to heart; that a sense of the true aim of life might elevate the tone of politics and trade till public and private honor become identical.”
A man who hives from the
past, yet knows that its honey can but moderately avail him; whose
comprehensive eye scans the present, neither infatuated by its golden
lures, nor chilled by its many ventures; who possesses prescience, as
the wise man must, but not so far as to be driven mad to-day by the gift
which discerns to-morrow. When there is such a man for America, the
thought which urges her on will be expressed.
Now that I am about to leave Illinois, feelings of regret and admiration
come over me, as in parting with a friend whom we have not had the good
sense to prize and study, while hours of association, never perhaps to
return, were granted. I have fixed my attention almost exclusively on
the picturesque beauty of this region; it was so new, so inspiring. But
I ought to have been more interested in the housekeeping of this
magnificent state, in the education she is giving her children, in their
prospects.
Illinois is, at present, a by-word of reproach among the nations, for
the careless, prodigal course, by which, in early youth, she has
endangered her honor. But you cannot look about you there, without
seeing that there are resources abundant to retrieve, and soon to
retrieve, far greater errors, if they are only directed with wisdom.
[Illustration: ROLLING PRAIRIE OF ILLINOIS]
Might the simple maxim, that honesty is the best policy be laid to
heart! Might a sense of the true aims of life elevate the tone of
politics and trade, till public and private honor become identical!
Might the western man in that crowded and exciting life which develops
his faculties so fully for to-day, not forget that better part which
could not be taken from him! Might the western woman take that interest
and acquire that light for the education of the children, for which she
alone has leisure!
This is indeed the great problem of the place and time. If the next
generation be well prepared for their work, ambitious of good and
skilful to achieve it, the children of the present settlers may be
leaven enough for the mass constantly increasing by emigration. And how
much is this needed where those rude foreigners can so little understand
the best interests of the land they seek for bread and shelter. It would
be a happiness to aid in this good work, and interweave the white and
golden threads into the fate of Illinois. It would be a work worthy the
devotion of any mind.
In the little that I saw, was a large proportion of intelligence,
activity, and kind feeling; but, if there was much serious laying to
heart of the true purposes of life, it did not appear in the tone of
conversation.
“Only the dreamer shall understand realities, though in truth his dreaming must be not out of proportion to his waking.”
Our capacities, our instincts for
this our present sphere are but half developed. Let us confine ourselves
to that till the lesson be learned; let us be completely natural, before
we trouble ourselves with the supernatural. I never see any of these
things but I long to get away and lie under a green tree and let the
wind blow on me. There is marvel and charm enough in that for me.
_Free Hope_. And for me also. Nothing is truer than the Wordsworthian
creed, on which Carlyle lays such stress, that we need only look on the
miracle of every day, to sate ourselves with thought and admiration
every day. But how are our faculties sharpened to do it? Precisely by
apprehending the infinite results of every day.
Who sees the meaning of the flower uprooted in the ploughed field? The
ploughman who does not look beyond its boundaries and does not raise his
eyes from the ground? No--but the poet who sees that field in its
relations with the universe, and looks oftener to the sky than on the
ground. Only the dreamer shall understand realities, though, in truth,
his dreaming must not be out of proportion to his waking!
The mind, roused powerfully by this existence, stretches of itself into
what the French sage calls the "aromal state." From the hope thus
gleaned it forms the hypothesis, under whose banner it collects its
facts.
Long before these slight attempts were made to establish as a science
what is at present called animal magnetism, always, in fact men were
occupied more or less with this vital principle, principle of flux and
influx, dynamic of our mental mechanics, human phase of electricity.
Poetic observation was pure, there was no quackery in its free course,
as there is so often in this wilful tampering with the hidden springs of
life, for it is tampering unless done in a patient spirit and with
severe truth; yet it may be, by the rude or greedy miners, some good ore
is unearthed. And some there are who work in the true temper, patient
and accurate in trial, not rushing to conclusions, feeling there is a
mystery, not eager to call it by name, till they can know it as a
reality: such may learn, such may teach.
“It is a vulgar error that love, a love, to woman is her whole existence; she is born for Truth and Love in their universal energy”
Now there is no woman, only an overgrown child.
That her hand may be given with dignity, she must be able to stand
alone. I wish to see men and women capable of such relations as are
depicted by Landor in his Pericles and Aspasia, where grace is the
natural garb of strength, and the affections are calm, because deep.
The softness is that of a firm tissue, as when
"The gods approve
The depth, but not the tumult of the soul,
A fervent, not ungovernable love."
A profound thinker has said, "No married woman can represent the
female world, for she belongs to her husband. The idea of Woman must
be represented by a virgin."
But that is the very fault of marriage, and of the present relation
between the sexes, that the woman does belong to the man, instead of
forming a whole with him. Were it otherwise, there would be no such
limitation to the thought.
Woman, self-centred, would never be absorbed by any relation; it would
be only an experience to her as to man. It is a vulgar error that
love, _a_ love, to Woman is her whole existence; she also is born
for Truth and Love in their universal energy. Would she but assume her
inheritance, Mary would not be the only virgin mother. Not Manzoni
alone would celebrate in his wife the virgin mind with the maternal
wisdom and conjugal affections. The soul is ever young, ever virgin.
And will not she soon appear?--the woman who shall vindicate their
birthright for all women; who shall teach them what to claim, and how
to use what they obtain? Shall not her name be for her era Victoria,
for her country and life Virginia? Yet predictions are rash; she
herself must teach us to give her the fitting name.
An idea not unknown to ancient times has of late been revived, that,
in the metamorphoses of life, the soul assumes the form, first of Man,
then of Woman, and takes the chances, and reaps the benefits of either
lot. Why then, say some, lay such emphasis on the rights or needs of
Woman? What she wins not as Woman will come to her as Man.
That makes no difference. It is not Woman, but the law of right, the
law of growth, that speaks in us, and demands the perfection of each
being in its kind--apple as apple, Woman as Woman.
“It is astonishing what force, purity, and wisdom it requires for a human being to keep clear of falsehoods.”
* * * * *
'_Cambridge, July_, 1842.--A letter at Providence would have
been like manna in the wilderness. I came into the very midst
of the fuss,[C] and, tedious as it was at the time, I am glad
to have seen it. I shall in future be able to believe real,
what I have read with a dim disbelief of such times and
tendencies. There is, indeed, little good, little cheer, in
what I have seen: a city full of grown-up people as wild, as
mischief-seeking, as full of prejudice, careless slander,
and exaggeration, as a herd of boys in the play-ground of the
worst boarding-school. Women whom I have seen, as the
domestic cat, gentle, graceful, cajoling, suddenly showing
the disposition, if not the force, of the tigress. I thought I
appreciated the monstrous growths of rumor before, but I
never did. The Latin poet, though used to a court, has faintly
described what I saw and heard often, in going the length of
a street. It is astonishing what force, purity and wisdom it
requires for a human being to keep clear of falsehoods. These
absurdities, of course, are linked with good qualities,
with energy of feeling, and with a love of morality, though
narrowed and vulgarized by the absence of the intelligence
which should enlighten. I had the good discipline of trying
to make allowance for those making none, to be charitable
to their want of charity, and cool without being cold. But
I don't know when I have felt such an aversion to my
environment, and prayed so earnestly day by day,--"O, Eternal!
purge from my inmost heart this hot haste about ephemeral
trifles," and "keep back thy servant from presumptuous sins;
let them not have dominion over me."
'What a change from the almost vestal quiet of "Aunt Mary's"
life, to all this open-windowed, open-eyed screaming of
"poltroon," "nefarious plan," "entire depravity," &c. &c.'
* * * * *
_'July, 1842. Boston_.--I have been entertaining the girls
here with my old experiences at Groton.
“Nature provides exceptions to every rule.”
In so far as soul
is in her completely developed, all soul is the same, but in so far as
it is modified in her as Woman, it flows, it breathes, it sings,
rather than deposits soil, or finishes work; and that which is
especially feminine flushes, in blossom, the face of earth, and
pervades, like air and water, all this seeming solid globe, daily
renewing and purifying its life. Such may be the especially feminine
element spoken of as Femality. But it is no more the order of nature
that it should be incarnated pure in any form, than that the masculine
energy should exist unmingled with it in any form.
Male and female represent the two sides of the great radical dualism.
But, in fact, they are perpetually passing into one another. Fluid
hardens to solid, solid rushes to fluid. There is no wholly masculine
man, no purely feminine woman.
History jeers at the attempts of physiologists to bind great original
laws by the forms which flow from them. They make a rule; they say
from observation what can and cannot be. In vain! Nature provides
exceptions to every rule. She sends women to battle, and sets Hercules
spinning; she enables women to bear immense burdens, cold, and frost;
she enables the man, who feels maternal love, to nourish his infant
like a mother. Of late she plays still gayer pranks. Not only she
deprives organizations, but organs, of a necessary end. She enables
people to read with the top of the head, and see with the pit of the
stomach. Presently she will make a female Newton, and a male Syren.
Man partakes of the feminine in the Apollo, Woman of the masculine as
Minerva.
What I mean by the Muse is that unimpeded clearness of the intuitive
powers, which a perfectly truthful adherence to every admonition of
the higher instincts would bring to a finely organized human being. It
may appear as prophecy or as poesy. It enabled Cassandra to foresee
the results of actions passing round her; the Seeress to behold the
true character of the person through the mask of his customary life.
(Sometimes she saw a feminine form behind the man, sometimes the
reverse.
“It seems that it is madder never to abandon ones self than often to be infatuated; better to be wounded, a captive and a slave, than always to walk in armor”
The better part of wisdom is a
sublime prudence, a pure and patient truth that will receive nothing it
is not sure it can permanently lay to heart. Of our study there should
be in proportion two-thirds of rejection to one of acceptance. And, amid
the manifold infatuations and illusions of this world of emotion, a
being capable of clear intelligence can do no better service than to
hold himself upright, avoid nonsense, and do what chores lie in his way,
acknowledging every moment that primal truth, which no fact exhibits,
nor, if pressed by too warm a hope, will even indicate. I think, indeed,
it is part of our lesson to give a formal consent to what is farcical,
and to pick up our living and our virtue amid what is so ridiculous,
hardly deigning a smile, and certainly not vexed. The work is done
through all, if not by every one.
_Free Hope._ Thou art greatly wise, my friend, and ever respected by me,
yet I find not in your theory or your scope, room enough for the lyric
inspirations, or the mysterious whispers of life. To me it seems that it
is madder never to abandon oneself, than often to be infatuated; better
to be wounded, a captive, and a slave, than always to walk in armor. As
to magnetism, that is only a matter of fancy. You sometimes need just
such a field in which to wander vagrant, and if it bear a higher name,
yet it may be that, in last result, the trance of Pythagoras might be
classed with the more infantine transports of the Seeress of Prevorst.
What is done interests me more than what is thought and supposed. Every
fact is impure, but every fact contains in it the juices of life. Every
fact is a clod, from which may grow an amaranth or a palm.
Do you climb the snowy peaks from whence come the streams, where the
atmosphere is rare, where you can see the sky nearer, from which you can
get a commanding view of the landscape. I see great disadvantages as
well as advantages in this dignified position. I had rather walk myself
through all kinds of places, even at the risk of being robbed in the
forest, half drowned at the ford, and covered with dust in the street.
I would beat with the living heart of the world, and understand all the
moods, even the fancies or fantasies, of nature.
“I am suffocated and lost when I have not the bright feeling of progression.”
An epic, a drama,
must have a fixed form in the mind of the poet from the first;
and copious draughts of ambrosia quaffed in the heaven of
thought, soft fanning gales and bright light from the outward
world, give muscle and bloom,--that is, give life,--to this
skeleton. But all occasional poems must be moods, and can a
mood have a form fixed and perfect, more than a wave of the
sea?'
* * * * *
'Three or four afternoons I have passed very happily at my
beloved haunt in the wood, reading Goethe's "Second Residence
in Rome." Your pencil-marks show that you have been before me.
I shut the book each time with an earnest desire to live as
he did,--always to have some engrossing object of pursuit.
I sympathize deeply with a mind in that state. While mine is
being used up by ounces, I wish pailfuls might be poured into
it. I am dejected and uneasy when I see no results from my
daily existence, but I am suffocated and lost when I have not
the bright feeling of progression.' * *
* * * * *
'I think I am less happy, in many respects, than you, but
particularly in this. You can speak freely to me of all your
circumstances and feelings, can you not? It is not possible
for me to be so profoundly frank with any earthly friend. Thus
my heart has no proper home; it only can prefer some of its
visiting-places to others; and with deep regret I realize that
I have, at length, entered on the concentrating stage of
life. It was not time. I had been too sadly cramped. I had not
learned enough, and must always remain imperfect. Enough! I am
glad I have been able to say so much.'
* * * * *
'I have read nothing,--to signify,--except Goethe's "Campagne
in Frankreich." Have you looked through it, and do you
remember his intercourse with the Wertherian Plessing? That
tale pained me exceedingly. We cry, "help, help," and there is
no help--in man at least.
“Drudgery is as necessary to call out the treasures of the mind, as harrowing and planting those of the earth”
I doubt not you will teach grammar well, as I saw you aimed at
principles in your practice.
In geography, try to make pictures of the scenes, that they may be
present to their imaginations, and the nobler faculties be brought
into action, as well as memory.
In history, try to study and paint the characters of _great men_;
they best interpret the leadings of events amid the nations.
I am pleased with your way of speaking of both people and pupils; your
view seems from the right point. Yet beware of over great pleasure in
being popular, or even beloved. As far as an amiable disposition and
powers of entertainment make you so, it is a happiness; but if there
is one grain of plausibility, it is poison.
But I will not play Mentor too much, lest I make you averse to write
to your very affectionate sister,
M.
* * * * *
TO HER BROTHER, R.
I entirely agree in what you say of _tuition_ and
_intuition;_ the two must act and react upon one another, to make
a man, to form a mind. Drudgery is as necessary, to call out the
treasures of the mind, as harrowing and planting those of the earth.
And besides, the growths of literature and art are as much nature as
the trees in Concord woods; but nature idealized and perfected.
* * * * *
TO THE SAME.
1841.
I take great pleasure in that feeling of the living presence of beauty
in nature which your letters show. But you, who have now lived long
enough to see some of my prophecies fulfilled, will not deny, though
you may not yet believe the truth of my words when I say you go to an
extreme in your denunciations of cities and the social institutions.
_These_ are a growth also, and, as well as the diseases which
come upon them, under the control of the one spirit as much as the
great tree on which the insects prey, and in whose bark the busy bird
has made many a wound.
When we get the proper perspective of these things we shall find man,
however artificial, still a part of nature. Meanwhile, let us trust;
and while it is the soul's duty ever to bear witness to the best it
knows, let us not be hasty to conclude that in what suits us not there
can be no good.
“Very early, I knew that the only object in life was to grow.”
Had she any clear view
of the demands and opportunities of life, any definite plan, any high,
pure purpose? This is, after all, the test question, which detects the
low-born and low-minded wearer of the robe of gold,--
"Touch them inwardly, they smell of copper."
Margaret's life _had an aim_, and she was, therefore, essentially a
moral person, and not merely an overflowing genius, in whom "impulse
gives birth to impulse, deed to deed." This aim was distinctly
apprehended and steadily pursued by her from first to last. It was a
high, noble one, wholly religious, almost Christian. It gave dignity
to her whole career, and made it heroic.
This aim, from first to last, was SELF-CULTURE. If she ever was
ambitious of knowledge and talent, as a means of excelling others, and
gaining fame, position, admiration,--this vanity had passed before
I knew her, and was replaced by the profound desire for a full
development of her whole nature, by means of a full experience of
life.
In her description of her own youth, she says, 'VERY EARLY I KNEW THAT
THE ONLY OBJECT IN LIFE WAS TO GROW.' This is the passage:--
'I was now in the hands of teachers, who had not, since they
came on the earth, put to themselves one intelligent question
as to their business here. Good dispositions and employment
for the heart gave a tone to all they said, which was
pleasing, and not perverting. They, no doubt, injured those
who accepted the husks they proffered for bread, and believed
that exercise of memory was study, and to know what others
knew, was the object of study. But to me this was all
penetrable. I had known great living minds.--I had seen how
they took their food and did their exercise, and what their
objects were. _Very early I knew that the only object in
life was to grow_. I was often false to this knowledge, in
idolatries of particular objects, or impatient longings for
happiness, but I have never lost sight of it, have always been
controlled by it, and this first gift of thought has never
been superseded by a later love.
“Two persons love in one another the future good which they aid one another to unfold.”
Poets--the elder brothers of
their race--have usually seen further; but what can you expect of
every-day men, if Schiller was not more prophetic as to what women
must be? Even with Richter, one foremost thought about a wife was that
she would "cook him something good." But as this is a delicate
subject, and we are in constant danger of being accused of slighting
what are called "the functions," let me say, in behalf of Miranda and
myself, that we have high respect for those who "cook something good,"
who create and preserve fair order in houses, and prepare therein the
shining raiment for worthy inmates, worthy guests. Only these
"functions" must not be a drudgery, or enforced necessity, but a part
of life. Let Ulysses drive the beeves home, while Penelope there piles
up the fragrant loaves; they are both well employed if these be done
in thought and love, willingly. But Penelope is no more meant for a
baker or weaver solely, than Ulysses for a cattle-herd.
The sexes should not only correspond to and appreciate, but prophesy
to one another. In individual instances this happens. Two persons love
in one another the future good which they aid one another to unfold.
This is imperfectly or rarely done in the general life. Man has gone
but little way; now he is waiting to see whether Woman can keep step
with him; but, instead of calling but, like a good brother, "You can
do it, if you only think so," or impersonally, "Any one can do what he
tries to do;" he often discourages with school-boy brag: "Girls can't
do that; girls can't play ball." But let any one defy their taunts,
break through and be brave and secure, they rend the air with shouts.
This fluctuation was obvious in a narrative I have lately seen, the
story of the life of Countess Emily Plater, the heroine of the last
revolution in Poland. The dignity, the purity, the concentrated
resolve, the calm, deep enthusiasm, which yet could, when occasion
called, sparkle up a holy, an indignant fire, make of this young
maiden the figure I want for my frontispiece. Her portrait is to be
seen in the book, a gentle shadow of her soul. Short was the career.
Like the Maid of Orleans, she only did enough to verify her
credentials, and then passed from a scene on which she was, probably,
a premature apparition.
Reverence the highest, have patience with the lowest. Let this days performance of the meanest duty be thy religion. Are the stars too distant, pick up the pebble that lies at thy feet, and from it learn the all.
Yet he had failed to reach his highest development; and how was it that
he was so content with this incompleteness, nay, the serenest of men?
His serenity alone, in such a time of scepticism and sorrowful seeking,
gives him a claim to all our study. See how he rides at anchor, lordly,
rich in freight, every white sail ready to be unfurled at a moment's
warning! And it must be a very slight survey which can confound this
calm self-trust with selfish indifference of temperament. Indeed, he, in
various ways, lets us see how little he was helped in this respect by
temperament. But we need not his declaration,--the case speaks for
itself. Of all that perpetual accomplishment, that unwearied
constructiveness, the basis must be sunk deeper than in temperament. He
never halts, never repines, never is puzzled, like other men; that
tranquillity, full of life, that ceaseless but graceful motion, "without
haste, without rest," for which we all are striving, he has attained.
And is not his love of the noblest kind? Reverence the highest, have
patience with the lowest. Let this day's performance of the meanest duty
be thy religion. Are the stars too distant, pick up that pebble that
lies at thy foot, and from it learn the all. Go out like Saul, the son
of Kish, look earnestly after the meanest of thy father's goods, and a
kingdom shall be brought thee. The least act of pure self-renunciation
hallows, for the moment, all within its sphere. The philosopher may
mislead, the devil tempt, yet innocence, though wounded and bleeding as
it goes, must reach at last the holy city. The power of sustaining
himself and guiding others rewards man sufficiently for the longest
apprenticeship. Is not this lore the noblest?
Yes, yes, but still I doubt. 'Tis true, he says all this in a thousand
beautiful forms, but he does not warm, he does not inspire me. In his
certainty is no bliss, in his hope no love, in his faith no glow. How is
this?
A friend, of a delicate penetration, observed, "His atmosphere was so
calm, so full of light, that I hoped he would teach me his secret of
cheerfulness. But I found, after long search, that he had no better way,
if he wished to check emotion or clear thought, than to go to work.
“Today a reader, tomorrow a leader.”
“I have urged on woman independence of man, not that I do not think the sexes mutually needed by one another, but because in woman this fact has led to an excessive devotion, which has cooled love, degraded marriage and prevented it her sex from being what it should be to itself or the other. I wish woman to live, first for Gods sake. Then she will not take what is not fit for her from a sense of weakness and poverty. Then if she finds what she needs in man embodied, she will know how to love and be worthy of being loved.”
“If you have knowledge, let others light their candles with it.”
“Be what you would seem to be - or, if youd like it put more simply - A house is no home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body”
“It is not because the touch of genius has roused genius to production, but because the admiration of genius has made talent ambitious, that the harvest is still so abundant.”
“Essays, entitled critical, are epistles addressed to the public, through which the mind of the recluse relieves itself of its impressions.”
“If you have knowledge, let others light their candles at it”
“When people keep telling you that you cant do a thing, you kind of like to try it.”
