that they do not come off. Moreover, it is all very well for you, who have got yourselves to college and enjoy sitting-rooms-or is it only bed-sitting-rooms?-of your own to say that genius should disregard such opinions; that genius should be above caring what is said. It must have roused in men an extraordinary desire for self-assertion; it must have made them lay an emphasis upon their own sex and its characteristics which they would not have troubled to think about had they not been challenged. Jane Austen wrote like that to the end of her days. The mind is certainly a very mysterious organ, I reflected, drawing my head in from the window, about which nothing whatever is known, though we depend upon it so completely. One knows nothing detailed, nothing perfectly true and substantial about her. But Mary Carmichael will have out her scissors and fit them close to every hollow and angle.
But it was anger that had gone underground and mixed itself with all kinds of other emotions. Lamb, Browne, Thackeray, Newman, Sterne, Dickens, De Quincey-whoever it may be-never helped a woman yet, though she may have learnt a few tricks of them and adapted them to her use. The gardens of Fernham lay before me in the spring twilight, wild and open, and in the long grass, sprinkled and carelessly flung, were daffodils and bluebells, not orderly perhaps at the best of times, and now wind-blown and waving as they tugged at their. One must strain off what was personal and accidental in all these impressions and so reach the pure fluid, the essential oil of truth. Currer Bell, George Eliot, George Sand, all the victims of inner strife as their writings prove, sought ineffectively to veil themselves by using the name of a man.