CHAPTER V.
LITERARY WORK.
1788-1791.
As has been stated, Mary Wollstonecraft began her literary career by writing a small pamphlet on the subject of education. Its t.i.tle, in full, is "Thoughts on the Education of Daughters: with Reflections on Female Conduct in the more Important Duties of Life." It is interesting as her first work. Otherwise it is of no great value. Though Mr. Johnson saw in it the marks of genius, there is really little originality in its contents or striking merit in the method of treating them. The ideas it sets forth, while eminently commendable, are remarkable only because it was unusual in the eighteenth century for women, especially the young and unmarried, to have any ideas to which to give expression.
The pamphlet consists of a number of short treatises, indicating certain laws and principles which Mary thought needed to be more generally understood and more firmly established. That a woman should not shirk the functions, either physical or moral, of maternity; that artificial manners and exterior accomplishments should not be cultivated in lieu of practical knowledge and simplicity of conduct; that matrimony is to be considered seriously and not entered into capriciously; that the individual owes certain duties to humanity as well as to his or her own family,--all these are truths which it is well to repeat frequently. But if their repet.i.tion be not accompanied by arguments which throw new light on ethical science, or else if it be not made with the vigor and power born of a thorough knowledge of humanity and its wants and shortcomings, it will not be remembered by posterity. The "Education of Daughters"
certainly bears no relation to such works as the "Imitation" on the one hand, or the "Data of Ethics" on the other. It is not a book for all time.
However, much in it is significant to readers interested in the study of Mary Wollstonecraft"s life and character. Every sentence reveals the earnestness of her nature. Many pa.s.sages show that as early as 1787 she had seriously considered the problems which, in 1791, she attempted to solve. She was even then perplexed by the unfortunate situation of women of the upper cla.s.ses who, having received but the pretence of an education, eventually become dependent on their own exertions. Her sad experience probably led her to these thoughts. Reflection upon them made her the champion of her s.e.x. Already in this little pamphlet she declares her belief that, by a rational training of their intellectual powers, women can be prepared at one and the same time to meet any emergencies of fortune and to fulfil the duties of wife and mother. She demonstrates that good mental discipline, instead of interfering with feminine occupations, increases a woman"s fitness for them. Thus she writes:--
"No employment of the mind is a sufficient excuse for neglecting domestic duties; and I cannot conceive that they are incompatible.
A woman may fit herself to be the companion and friend of a man of sense, and yet know how to take care of his family."
The intense love of sincerity in conduct and belief which is a leading characteristic in the "Rights of Women" is also manifested in these early essays. Mary exclaims in one place,--
"How many people are like whitened sepulchres, and careful only about appearances! Yet if we are too anxious to gain the approbation of the world, we must often forfeit our own."
And again she says, as if in warning:--
"... Let the manners arise from the mind, and let there be no disguise for the genuine emotions of the heart.
"Things merely ornamental are soon disregarded, and disregard can scarcely be borne when there is no internal support."
Another marked feature of the pamphlet is the extremely puritanical tendency of its sentiments. It was written at the period when Mary was sending sermon-like letters to George Blood, and breathes the same spirit of stern adherence to religious principles, though not to special dogma.
But perhaps the most noteworthy pa.s.sage which occurs in the treatise is one on love, and in which, strangely enough, she establishes a belief which she was destined some years later to confirm by her actions. When the circ.u.mstances of her union with G.o.dwin are remembered, her words seem prophetic.
"It is too universal a maxim with novelists," she says, "that love is felt but once; though it appears to me that the heart which is capable of receiving an impression at all, and can distinguish, will turn to a new object when the first is found unworthy. I am convinced it is practicable, when a respect for goodness has the first place in the mind, and notions of perfection are not affixed to constancy."
Though not very wonderful in itself, the "Education of Daughters" is, in its choice of subject and the standards it upholds, a worthy prelude to the riper work by which it was before very long followed.
The next work Mary published was a volume called "Original Stories from Real Life; with Conversations calculated to regulate the Affections and form the Mind to Truth and Goodness." This was written while her experience as school-mistress and governess was still fresh in her memory. As she explains in her Preface, her object was to make up in some measure for the defective education or moral training which, as a rule, children in those days received from their parents.
"Good habits," she writes, "are infinitely preferable to the precepts of reason; but as this task requires more judgment than generally falls to the lot of parents, subst.i.tutes must be sought for, and medicines given, when regimen would have answered the purpose much better.
"... To wish that parents would, themselves, mould the ductile pa.s.sions is a chimerical wish, as the present generation have their own pa.s.sions to combat with, and fastidious pleasures to pursue, neglecting those nature points out. We must then pour premature knowledge into the succeeding one; and, teaching virtue, explain the nature of vice."
In addressing a youthful audience, Mary was as deeply inspired by her love of goodness _per se_, and her detestation of conventional conceptions of virtue, as she was afterwards in appealing to older readers. She represents, in her book, two little girls, aged respectively twelve and fourteen, who have been sadly neglected during their early years, but who, fortunately, have at this period fallen under the care of a Mrs. Mason, who at once undertakes to form their character and train their intellect. This good lady, in whose name Mary sermonizes, seizes upon every event of the day to teach her charges a moral lesson. The defects she attacks are those most common to childhood. Cruelty to animals, peevishness, lying, greediness, indolence, procrastination, are in turn censured, and their opposite virtues praised. Some of the definitions of the qualities commended are excellent. For example, Mrs.
Mason says to the two children:--
"Do you know the meaning of the word goodness? I see you are unwilling to answer. I will tell you. It is, first, to avoid hurting anything; and then to contrive to give as much pleasure as you can."
Again, she warns them thus:--
"Remember that idleness must always be intolerable, as it is the most irksome consciousness of existence."
This latter definition is a little above the comprehension of children of twelve and fourteen. But then Mary is careful to explain in the Preface that she writes to a.s.sist teachers. She wishes to give them hints which they must apply to the children under their care as they think best. The religious tone of the "Stories" is even more p.r.o.nounced than that of the "Education of Daughters." The following is but one of many proofs of Mary"s honest endeavors to make children understand the importance of religious devotion. In one of her conversational sermons Mrs. Mason says:
"Recollect that from religion your chief comfort must spring, and never neglect the duty of prayer. Learn from experience the comfort that arises from making known your wants and sorrows to the wisest and best of Beings, in whose hands are the issues, not only of this life, but of that which is to come."
To strengthen the effect of Mrs. Mason"s words, an example or story is in every chapter added to her remarks. They are all appropriate, and many of the tales are beautiful. As the book is so little known, one of these may with advantage be given here. The story selected is that of Crazy Robin.
Mrs. Mason tells it to Mary and Caroline, the two little girls, to explain to them how much wretchedness can be produced by unkindness to men and beasts. It is interesting because it shows the quality of the mental food which Mary thought best fitted for the capacity of children.
She was evidently an advocate for strong nourishment. Besides, the story, despite some unpleasant defects of style, is very powerful. It is full of dramatic force, and is related with great simplicity and pathos:--
"In yonder cave lived a poor man, who generally went by the name of Crazy Robin. In his youth he was very industrious, and married my father"s dairy-maid, a girl deserving of such a good husband. For some time they continued to live very comfortably; their daily labor procured their daily bread; but Robin, finding it was likely he should have a large family, borrowed a trifle to add to the small pittance they had saved in service, and took a little farm in a neighboring county. I was then a child.
"Ten or twelve years after, I heard that a crazy man, who appeared very harmless, had by the side of the brook piled a great number of stones; he would wade into the river for them, followed by a cur dog, whom he would frequently call his Jacky, and even his Nancy; and then mumble to himself, "Thou wilt not leave me. We will dwell with the owl in the ivy." A number of owls had taken shelter in it.
The stones he waded for he carried to the mouth of the hole, and only left just room enough to go in. Some of the neighbors at last recollected him; and I sent to inquire what misfortune had reduced him to such a deplorable state.
"The information I received from different persons I will communicate to you in as few words as I can.
"Several of his children died in their infancy; and, two years before he came to his native place, he had been overwhelmed by a torrent of misery. Through unavoidable misfortunes he was long in arrears to his landlord; who, seeing that he was an honest man, and endeavored to bring up his family, did not distress him; but when his wife was lying-in of her last child, the landlord died, and his heir sent and seized the stock for the rent; and the person he had borrowed some money of, exasperated to see all gone, arrested him, and he was hurried to jail. The poor woman, endeavoring to a.s.sist her family before she had gained sufficient strength, found herself very ill; and the illness, through neglect and the want of proper nourishment, turned to a putrid fever, which two of the children caught from her, and died with her. The two who were left, Jacky and Nancy, went to their father, and took with them a cur dog that had long shared their frugal meals.
"The children begged in the day, and at night slept with their wretched father. Poverty and dirt soon robbed their cheeks of the roses which the country air made bloom with a peculiar freshness.
Their blood had been tainted by the putrid complaint that destroyed their mother; in short, they caught the small-pox, and died. The poor father, who was now bereft of all his children, hung over their bed in speechless anguish; not a groan or a tear escaped from him while he stood, two or three hours, in the same att.i.tude, looking at the dead bodies of his little darlings. The dog licked his hands, and strove to attract his attention; but for a while he seemed not to observe his caresses; when he did, he said mournfully, "Thou wilt not leave me;" and then he began to laugh.
The bodies were removed; and he remained in an unsettled state, often frantic; at length the frenzy subsided, and he grew melancholy and harmless. He was not then so closely watched; and one day he contrived to make his escape, the dog followed him, and came directly to his native village.
"After I received this account, I determined he should live in the place he had chosen, undisturbed. I sent some conveniences, all of which he rejected except a mat, on which he sometimes slept; the dog always did. I tried to induce him to eat, but he constantly gave the dog whatever I sent him, and lived on haws and blackberries and every kind of trash. I used to call frequently on him; and he sometimes followed me to the house I now live in, and in winter he would come of his own accord, and take a crust of bread. He gathered water-cresses out of the pool, and would bring them to me, with nosegays of wild thyme, which he plucked from the sides of the mountain. I mentioned before, that the dog was a cur; it had the tricks of curs, and would run after horses" heels and bark. One day, when his master was gathering water-cresses, the dog ran after a young gentleman"s horse, and made it start, and almost throw the rider. Though he knew it was the poor madman"s dog, he levelled his gun at it, shot it, and instantly rode off. Robin came to him; he looked at his wounds, and, not sensible that he was dead, called him to follow him; but when he found that he could not, he took him to the pool, and washed off the blood before it began to clot, and then brought him home and laid him on the mat.
"I observed that I had not seen him pacing up the hills, and sent to inquire about him. He was found sitting by the dog, and no entreaties could prevail on him to quit it, or receive any refreshment. I went to him myself, hoping, as I had always been a favorite, that I should be able to persuade him. When I came to him, I found the hand of death was upon him. He was still melancholy; but there was not such a mixture of wildness in it. I pressed him to take some food; but, instead of answering me, or turning away, he burst into tears, a thing I had never seen him do before, and, in inarticulate accents, he said, "Will any one be kind to me? You will kill me! I saw not my wife die--no!--they dragged me from her, but I saw Jacky and Nancy die; and who pitied me, but my dog?" He turned his eyes to the body. I wept with him.
He would then have taken some nourishment, but nature was exhausted, and he expired."
The book is, on the whole, well written, and was popular enough in its day. The first edition, published in 1788, was followed by a second in 1791, and a third in 1796. To make it still more attractive, Mr. Johnson engaged Blake, whom he was then befriending, to ill.u.s.trate it. But children of the present day object to the tales with a moral which were the delight of the nursery in Mary"s time. They have lost all faith in the bad boy who invariably meets with the evil fate which is his due; and they are sceptical as to the good little girl who always receives the cakes and ale--metaphorically speaking--her virtues deserve. And so it has come to pa.s.s that the "Original Stories" are remembered chiefly on account of their ill.u.s.trations.
The drawings contributed by Blake were more in number than were required, and only six were printed. A copy of one of those rejected is given in Gilchrist"s Life of the artist. None of them rank with his best work.
"The designs," his biographer says, "can hardly be p.r.o.nounced a successful compet.i.tion with Stothard, though traces of a higher feeling are visible in the graceful female forms,--benevolent heroine, or despairing, famishing peasant group. The artist evidently moves in constraint, and the accessories of these domestic scenes are simply generalized as if by a child: the result of an in.o.bservant eye for such things." But of those published there are two at least which, as Mr.
Kegan Paul has already pointed out, make a deep impression on all who see them. One is the frontispiece, which ill.u.s.trates this sentence of the text: "Look what a fine morning it is. Insects, birds, and animals are all enjoying existence." The posing of the three female figures standing in reverential att.i.tudes, and the creeping vine by the doorway, are conceived and executed in Blake"s true decorative spirit. The other represents Crazy Robin by the bedside of his two dead children, the faithful dog by his side. The grief, horror, and despair expressed in the man"s face cannot be surpa.s.sed, while the pathos and strength of the scene are heightened by the simplicity of the drawing.
Of the several translations Mary made at this period, but the briefest mention is necessary. It often happens that the book translated is in a great degree indicative of the mental calibre of its translator. Thus it is characteristic of Carlyle that he translated Goethe, of Swinburne that he selected the verses of Villon or Theophile Gautier for the same purpose. But Mary"s case was entirely different. The choice of foreign works rendered into English was not hers, but Mr. Johnson"s. By adhering to it she was simply fulfilling the contract she had entered into with him. There were times when she had but a poor opinion of the books he put into her hands. Thus of one of the princ.i.p.al of these, Necker on the "Importance of Religion," she says in her "French Revolution:"--
"Not content with the fame he [Necker] acquired by writing on a subject which his turn of mind and profession enabled him to comprehend, he wished to obtain a higher degree of celebrity by forming into a large book various metaphysical shreds of arguments, which he had collected from the conversation of men fond of ingenious subtilties; and the style, excepting some declamatory pa.s.sages, was as inflated and confused as the thoughts were far fetched and unconnected."
But though she was so far from approving of the original, her translation, published in London in 1788, was declared by the "European Magazine" to be just and spirited, though apparently too hastily executed; and it was sufficiently appreciated by the English-speaking public to be republished in Philadelphia in 1791. There was at least one book, the translation of which must have been a pleasure to her. This was the Rev. C. G. Salzmann"s "Elements of Morality, for the Use of Children." Its object, like that of the "Original Stories," was to teach the young, by practical ill.u.s.tration, why virtue is good, why vice is evil. It was written much in the same style, and was for many years highly popular. Johnson brought out the first edition in 1790 and a second in 1793. It was published in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1811, and in Edinburgh in 1821, and a still newer edition was prepared for the present generation by Miss Yonge. The "a.n.a.lytical Review" thought it upon its first appearance worthy of two notices.
Mary never pretended to produce perfectly literal translations. Her version of Lavater"s "Physiognomy," now unknown, was but an abridgment.
She purposely "naturalized" the "Elements of Morality," she explains, in order not to "puzzle children by pointing out modifications of manners, when the grand principles of morality were to be fixed on a broad basis."
She made free with the originals that they might better suit English readers, and this she frankly confesses in her Prefaces. Her translations are, in consequence, proofs of her industry and varied talents and not demonstrations of her own mental character.
The novel "Mary," like G.o.dwin"s earlier stories, has disappeared. There are a few men and women of the present generation who remember having seen it, but it is now not to be found either in public libraries or in bookstores. It was the record of a happy friendship, and to write it had been a labor of love. As Mary always wrote most eloquently on subjects which were of heartfelt interest, its disappearance is to be regretted.
However, after she had been in London about two years, constant writing and translating having by that time made her readier with her pen, she undertook another task, in which her feelings were as strongly interested. This was her answer to Burke"s "Reflections on the French Revolution." Love of humanity was an emotion which moved her quite as deeply as affection for individual friends. Burke, by his disregard for the sufferings of that portion of the human race which especially appealed to her, excited her wrath. Carried away by the intensity of her indignation, she at once set about proving to him and the world that the reasoning which led to such insensibility was, plausible as it might seem, wholly unsound. She never paused for reflection, but her chief arguments, the result of previous thought, being already prepared, she wrote before her excitement had time to cool. As she explains in the Advertis.e.m.e.nt to her "Letter" to Burke, the "Reflections" had first engaged her attention as the transient topic of the day. Commenting upon it as she read, her remarks increased to such an extent that she decided to publish them as a short "Vindication of the Rights of Man."