We were reckoned no addition to the society of C - -. Authors and
literary people they held in supreme detestation; and I was told by
a lady, the very first time I appeared in company, that "she heard
that I wrote books, but she could tell me that they did not want a
Mrs. Trollope in Canada."
I had not then read Mrs. Trollope's work on America, or I should
have comprehended at once the cause of her indignation; for she was
just such a person as would have drawn forth the keen satire of that
far-seeing observer of the absurdities of our nature, whose witty
exposure of American affectation has done more towards producing a
reform in that respect, than would have resulted from a thousand
grave animadversions soberly written.
Another of my self-constituted advisers informed me, with great
asperity in her look and tone, that "it would be better for me to
lay by the pen, and betake myself to some more useful employment;
that she thanked her God that she could make a shirt, and see to
the cleaning of her house!"
These remarks were perfectly gratuitous, and called forth by no
observation of mine; for I tried to conceal my blue stockings
beneath the long conventional robes of the tamest common-place,
hoping to cover the faintest tinge of the objectionable colour. I
had spoken to neither of these women in my life, and was much amused
by their remarks; particularly as I could both make a shirt, and
attend to the domestic arrangement of my family, as well as either
of them.
I verily believe that they expected to find an author one of a
distinct species from themselves; that they imagined the aforesaid
biped should neither eat, drink, sleep, nor talk like other
folks; - a proud, useless, self-conceited, affected animal, that
deserved nothing but kicks and buffets from the rest of mankind.
Anxious not to offend them, I tried to avoid all literary subjects.
I confined my conversation to topics of common interest; but this
gave greater offence than the most ostentatious show of learning,
for they concluded that I would not talk on such subjects, because I
thought them incapable of understanding me. This was more wounding
to their self-love than the most arrogant assumption on my part; and
they regarded me with a jealous, envious stand-a-loofishness, that
was so intolerable that I gave up all ideas of visiting them. I was
so accustomed to hear the whispered remark, or to have it retailed
to me by others, "Oh, yes; she can write, but she can do nothing
else," that I was made more diligent in cultivating every branch of
domestic usefulness; so that these ill-natured sarcasms ultimately
led to my acquiring a great mass of most useful practical knowledge.
Yet - such is the contradiction inherent in our poor fallen
nature - these people were more annoyed by my proficiency in the
common labours of the household, than they would have been by any
displays of my unfortunate authorship.
