of these critics, than Kit's not happening to take that particular five-pound note did to his honesty.
“Just wait a while,” they say, “and you will see some woman fail in something, never fear.”
One critic goes so far as to say that all “high creative work” still remains out of the reach of woman.
“Romola” does not seem to such a critic to be high creative work, probably; that phrase should be reserved for men — for little Twiggs
, perhaps, with his fine realistic study, “The Trippings
of Tom Popinjay.”
What a flood of light all this throws on the reasons why such very able women write under masculine names!
George Sand, Currer Bell
, George Eliot
, are but the type of many others.
They wrote in that way not because they wished to be men, but because they wished for an unbiassed judgment as artists; and in each case they got it. When it came, and in the form of triumphant success, all women were benefited by it, and were so much nearer to a time when no such experiment of disguise would be needed.
The mere fact that women take men's names in writing, while no man takes a woman's, shows that an advantage is gained by the process.
Meantime, each particular success is called exceptional, and instead of rejoicing in it in a manly way, the critic of the other sex is very apt to exult in what it does not prove rather than in what