Only a Girl: or, A Physician for the Soul.

by Wilhelmine von Hillern

"And whose fault is this?" Ernestine interrupted him eagerly. "Yours,--you masters of the world. If we are intellectually your inferiors, why not educate us more thoroughly? Why not elevate us to a higher degree of intelligence? It is for your strong hands to form us as you will. And nowhere in Christian lands is the position of woman more depressing than in this country. Look at Russia, the land that so long retained serfdom and the knout,--even there the number of learned women is perceptibly increasing, and the Russian high schools do not reject female pupils. Look at France, at England,--women are everywhere employed and the sphere of their capabilities enlarged, and the sex is held in higher estimation. Unfortunately, I cannot deny that the mass of German women are either mere household drudges, with never a thought beyond the material interests of the kitchen and nursery, or glittering dolls, with no idea of anything but the adornment of their persons. They understand little or nothing of politics, of the interests of their native land, of science, or of poetry; they go to art for amusement, not for instruction and refreshment. Such mothers can never implant the seeds of patriotism in the breasts of their sons, or educate the minds of their daughters; such wives can never share the thoughts and aims of their husbands. Who is to blame? Those men alone who would exclude woman from their world, and, denying her all claim to intellectual ability, banish her to the kitchen, or force her to indemnify herself for exclusion from their spiritual life by rendering herself necessary to their material existence!"

Johannes made no reply. It was enjoyment enough for him to look at her and hear her. He wished her, before attempting to reply to her, to finish all that she had to say.

Ernestine continued: "All this constitutes the ignominy of my sex,--an ignominy that must be overcome, or its revenge will be terrible; for luxury and self-indulgence have been the ruin of those nations who rendered no homage to the spiritual nature of woman. We must force this reverence from you, at any risk, before it is too late. Smile, if you will, at my presumption in arrogating the place of a feminine Arnold von Winkelried, breaking a path for our spiritual freedom through the lances of contempt and prejudice. I know what lies before me. No commonplace woman feels any pride in her sex; when one of her sisters achieves distinction, she is only all the more galled by the consciousness of her own inferiority, and takes her revenge, if she knows no better, with the wretched weapons of conventional prejudices,--casting the odium of indelicacy upon the woman who dares to be free; and men contemptuously close their doors upon her. My lot must be to struggle and suffer. Still, I do not hesitate. If I can effect nothing here, I will seek other lands, where woman striving after better things is treated with humanity and true chivalry."

"Where humanity and chivalry assist woman to lay aside the very crown of her being,--her womanhood!" Johannes now interrupted her; "for how can you preserve it, if in anatomical studies you harden yourself to everything that shocks a compassionate woman, if you are forced into contact with things at which all maidenly delicacy must revolt? I have not interrupted you hitherto, because I wished thoroughly to understand you, and because your sacred zeal touched and delighted me. With much that is crude and exaggerated, there is truth, and beauty, in what you have just said. But, believe me, the physical frame of a woman is as little suited as her intellect to certain scientific pursuits. I directed you to the broad domain of the beautiful,--of art,--but you would not listen to me--there you would have to share your fame among too many. Your ambition craves something entirely new and unheard-of. But, Fräulein Hartwich, this ambition will be your ruin! If you long to create, create forms for your ideas that will speak for themselves, clothe them in poetic language, or give them local habitation and a name in art--you can complete such work, and your soul can find rest in it from its labours. A poetical idea can be fully embodied in a work of art; but a scientific hypothesis is inexhaustible, because, however clearly proved and demonstrated, it brings new problems in its train. Only a man's rude strength can endure such a restless pursuit that knows no pause; the woman's delicate nature must succumb even because her mind is so alive that she labours with all the ardent desire, the breathless interest, of the devotee of science. And if she succeeds, at the sacrifice of her life, in contributing some addition to the universal stock of knowledge, she has done only what would have cost a man far less pains. The result of her work is wrung from her death-agony, and the world, with a shrug of its shoulders, says, 'It is about all that a woman could do!' Is praise thus qualified not purchased too dearly at the cost of health and life?"

Ernestine had listened with intense eagerness. Her dark eyes were riveted upon the speaker. As he ceased, she folded her hands in her lap and said, "What injustice you do me if you think that desire for the world's applause is the moving spring of my actions! Yes, I do long for recognition; that I have confessed to you. But I might have obtained it more easily if I had chosen other branches of science, and my uncle allowed me to choose. I selected, from inclination, natural philosophy, and, in especial, physiology. I cared little for history, because I care little for mankind. Moral philosophy seems to me too dogmatical, so does religion. Nature alone is always filled with new, genuine life. 'There I know,' as Johannes Müller says, 'whom I serve and what I have.' Physiology has opened a new world for me,--or, better still, has re-created the old world, for I truly see only when I understand what I am looking at;--every sunbeam glancing in a dewdrop, every wave of sound borne to my ear from afar, awakens new and vivid images in my mind. What enjoyment is comparable to that which science offers us! She makes the real a miracle,--and shows us the miraculous as reality. And shall I resign this ennobling possession because I am a woman? And can this inspiring search for life bring me death? Oh, no! I cannot, I will not believe it!"

Johannes held out his hand to her. "You are a rarely-gifted woman, and comprehend the nature of science. But, supposing that you possessed the rare power--both of body and mind--to accomplish the task which you propose to yourself, you must do it at the cost of your vocation as a woman. For no woman can fulfil both these offices. As a scholar, you must live exclusively for your studies; the duties of wife and mother would distract you too much to admit of your accomplishing your purposes, for they require an entire lifetime. Now you have the courage to endure the want of love and happiness growing out of your determination, but will your courage last? When age and illness assail you,--when you become weak and helpless and need faithful, devoted hands about you and true loving hearts upon which you can rest from weariness and pain, and there is no one belonging to you,--because you have chosen to belong to no one,--how will it be then? Have you no presentiment of such misery? Is there no desire for consolation, no longing for love, in your inmost soul?"

Ernestine's gaze was fixed darkly on the ground. "I know nothing of love. How can I long for what I know nothing of?"

"Good heavens! how can that be? Have you had no parents, relatives,--friends who were dear to you?"

"No! my mother died at my birth, and my father--who treated me very harshly, and did not care for me--died when I was twelve years old. My guardian became my teacher and guide, and initiated me into the pursuit of science. At no time of my life have I had any intercourse with my equals. I did not wish for it. My uncle sent his own little daughter to a boarding-school and lived for me alone, but the tie that bound me to him was only my interest in science and his readiness to gratify it. He is cold by nature,--as I am also. I have never felt anything for him but gratitude. I have always lived alone, and have never loved a human being."

Johannes was deeply moved. "Poor girl!" he said. "Had you cast yourself on the ground at my feet, bathed in tears, bewailing the death of father, mother, or husband, you could not have inspired me with such pity as those words, 'I have never loved,' awaken within me. You look amazed! The time will come when you will understand me,--when by the depth of your anguish you will learn the heights of bliss from which you have been banished; then he, whom you now regard as your enemy, will be beside you,--to soothe your grief for your lost life,--perhaps to lead you to one nobler and better!"