PN 6084 W6 P6 Copy 1 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS Jill V 021 100 731 A « PN 6084 .W6 P6 Copy 1 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. about Women : WHAT MEN HAVE SAID " For thy most sweet understanding a Woman." Shakespeare Cbosen ana Brrangeo TCose porter NEW YORK & LONDON *& G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS <&■ *& <$$• v^ Til 6<>*¥- Copyright, 1894 BY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by Zbe Iknicfcerbocfecr press, IRew l^ork G. P. Putnam's Sons CONTENTS JANUARY - - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - - 1 FEBRUARY- - JOHN MILTON ----- 15 MARCH LORD BYRON - 27 APRIL SIR WALTER SCOTT - - - 45 MAY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - 63 JUNE THOMAS CARLYLE - - - 81 JULY COVENTRY PATMORE - - 95 AUGUST VICTOR HUGO 109 SEPTEMBER - ROBERT BROWNING - - - 125 OCTOBER WM. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY 143 NOVEMBER - ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 165 DECEMBER - JOHN RUSKIN - 187 3anuar$ William Sbafeespeare Jfair laMes, $ou crop manna in the was of starveo people. flDercbant of IDenice, B. 5, £. I. Z btrfc £>a\? 3anuar^ jfirst Bag* Where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? Love's Labour *s Lost, A. ^, S. j. Second Bag* The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination ; And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparel' d in more precious habit, More moving-delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul. Much Ado About Nothing, A. 4, S. i. Zbixb Ba£, Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love. Taming of the Shrew, A. 4, S. 2, 3 Shakespeare 3anuar\> JFourtb S>a£. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words ; Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. j, 5. /. jpiftb Bag. You, that have so fair parts of woman on you j Have too a woman's heart : which ever yet Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty. Henry VIII. , A. 2, S. 3. Siitb Ba# 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud ; 'T is virtue that doth make them most admired. Henry VI, Pi. j, A. z, S. 4. 4 Zcntb £)a£ 3anuan> Seventh 5>aE. From woman's eyes this doctrine I derive ; They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world. Love's Labour f s Lost, A. 4, S. 3. JBiQbtb 5>a£. Her voice was ever soft. Gentle, and low : an excellent thing in woman. King Lear, A. 5, S. 3. IRtntb Bag, Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught ? The Passionate Pilgrim, Line 14.. Gentb 5>a£. Thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, And make it halt behind her. The Tempest, A. 4, S. 1. 5 febafcespeare 3anuar\> ^Eleventh Bag. Good name in man and woman, Is the immediate jewel of their souls. Othello, A. j, S. 3. XLvoclftb 2>a£, Women are soft, pitiful, and flexible. Henry VI, PL 3, A. 1, S. 4. ftbirteentb S>a£. Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband ; And, when she 's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will, What is she, but a contending rebel, And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? Taming of the Shrew, A. 5, S. 2, 6 Sirteentb 2>ax> January ffourtecntb Bag. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety : other women cloy The appetites they feed : but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. Antony and Cleopatra, A. 2, S. 2. 3f ifteentb Bag, She 's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed ; She is a woman, therefore to be won. Henry VL y PL /, A. 5, S. 3. Si£teentb Bag, Say, that she rail ; why, then I '11 tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale ; Say, that she frown ; I '11 say, she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew ; Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word ; Then I '11 commend her volubility, And say she uttereth piercing eloquence. Taming of the Shrew, A. 2, S. /, 7 Sbafeespeare 3anuar$ Seventeentb 2>a£» Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces ; . . . Say they have angels' faces. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. Two Gentlemen of Verona, A . j, S. i. Bigbteentb 2>a£, Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount, And natural graces that extinguish art ; And, which is more, she is not so divine, So full-replete with choice of all delights, But, with as humble lowliness of mind, She is content to be at your command. Henry VI, PL f, A. 5, S. j. 8 cwcr.t\>first 2)a$ January fltneteentb 5>av>. Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unflrm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. Twelfth Night, A.2,S. 4. Cwentietb Dag, 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Twelfth Night, A, /, 5. 5. Cwentg^ffrst Bag, Fresh tears Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew Upon a gather' d lily almost wither' d. Titus AndronicuSy A. 3, S. 1. 9 Sbakespeare 3anuan> Zwentyzeeconb 2>a£. Patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears Were like a better day : those happy smilets, That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know W 7 hat guests were in her eyes ; which parted thence, As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. King Lear y A. 4, S. 3. Cwent^tbtrfc S>a£, She is mine own ; And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 2, S. 4. 10 Uwent^ssirtb 2>a$ 3anuar$ Cvventg^fourtb S>ag. A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man In time of action. Troilus and Cressida, A. j, S. j. Zwcnt^tiftb Dag. A woman's face, with Nature's own hand painted, Hast thou . . . A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false woman's fashion : An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth. Sonnet XX. £went£*st£tb Dag, No other but a woman's reason ; I think him so, because I think him so. Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. i, S. 2. n Sbafeespeare 3anuar$ G\venty*seventb 2)a^» The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good : the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness ; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body of it ever fair. Measure for Measure > A. j, S. i. If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it. As You Like It, A. 2, S. 7. £wentE=mintb Ba^ If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you : If she do chide, 't is not to have you gone ; Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; For "Get you gone" she doth not mean "Away/" Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 3, S. f. 12 Ufoirtssfivst 5>as 3anuarp Cbfrtietb 5>ag. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought, And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat, like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Twelfth Night, A. 2, S. 4.. Gbirt£*first Da^. She shall be A pattern to all . . . living with her. . . . Holy and heavenly thoughts shall still counsel her ; She shall be lov'd, and fear'd. Her own shall bless her. . . . . . . Those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour. . . . . . . Yet a virgin, A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all shall mourn her. Henry VIII., A. 5, S. 4. 13 3februan> Jobn flDilton Creator bounteous and benign, Oiver of all things fair ! tut fairest tbis Of all Zh\: gifts ! . . . THtoman is bcr name. paraotse %ost, JiSoofc S, 15 flMIton februarp first Ba£. Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love. Paradise Lost, Book 8. Second Bag. When I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best. Paradise Lost, Book 8. GbirD Bag. Nothing lovelier can be found In woman than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote. Paradise Lost, Book g. 16 Sirtb E>a^ ! jfebruan? jfourtb 5>a£. For coutemplation he and valour form'd ; For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; He for God only, she for God in him. Paradise Lost, Book , jftttb H>a£, Among daughters of men . . . Man}' are in each region passing fair As the noon sky ; more like to goddesses Than mortal creatures ; graceful and discreet ; . . . Persuasive . . . Such objects have the power to soften and tame Severest temper. Paradise Regained, Book 2. 5t£tb 5>a£, Ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence. D Allegro. 17 /IDtlton tfebruarp Seventb Bag, Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined. Sonnet. JBxgbth 2>a£, O fairest of Creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excel? d Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet ! Paradise Lost, Book o. mtntb Bag, Curiosity, inquisitive, importune Of secrets, then with like infirmity To publish them, both common female faults. Samson Agonistes. Gentb 2>a£* In argument with men, a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause. Samson Agonistes, "Cwclftb £>as tfebruar^ jEleventb 5)a£. Thus it will befall Him who to worth in woman overturning Lets her will rule ; restraint she will not brook, And left to herself, if evil thence ensue, She first his weak indulgence will accuse. Paradise Lost, Book g. Cwclftb Ba£, Daughter of God . . . I, from the influence of thy looks, receive Access in every virtue : and in thy sight More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were Of outward strength ; while shame, thou look- ing on, Shame to be overcome or overreach'd, Would utmost vigour raise, and raised unite. Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel When I am present, and thy trial choose With me, best witness of thy virtue tried ? Paradise Lost, Book g. 19 flIMlton 3februar£ Gbtrteentb S>a^ By his countenance he seem'd Entering on studious thoughts abstruse ; which Kve Perceiving, where she sat retired in sight, With lowliness majestic from her seat, And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers, To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom, Her nursery ; they at her coming sprung, And, touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew. Paradise Lost. Book 8. jfoutteentb 2>a£* So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely so A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt ; And in clear dream and solemn vision 20 Sirtccntb tag jfcbruan? fOUrteClltb E>aY> {continued). Tell her of things that uo gross ear can hear ; Till oft converse with heavenly habitants Begin to east a beam on the outward shape. Comus. fifteenth Bav\ A smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue, Paradise Lost, Book 8, Sixteenth E>a\\ She has a hidden strength . . . . . . The strength of Heaven, It may be termed her own. 'T is chastity . . . chastity. . . . She that has that, is clad in complete steel ; And, like a quiver' d Nymph with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbourd heaths, . . . and sandy perilous wilds , . . She may pass on with unblench'd majesty Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. Comus, 21 /UMlton jfebruarp Seventeenth S>a^ O Woman, in thy native innocence, rely On what thou hast of virtue : summon all, For God toward thee hath done His part, do thine. Paradise Lost, Book 8. Eighteenth Ba£. What higher in her society thou find'st Attractive, human, rational, love still ; In loving thou dost well, in passion not Wherein true love consists not. Paradise Lost, Book 8. IRmeteentb Bag, The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks. Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures. Paradise Lost, Book p. 22 tTwentssseconb 2>a£ februarp twentieth S>a£, Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat Build in her loveliest, and create an awe About her, as a guard angelic placed. Paradise Lost, Book 8. Gwent^ffrst Bag* Those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies that daily flow From all her words and actions mix'd with love And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd Union of mind, or in us both one soul ; Harmony to behold in wedded pair More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. Paradise Lost, Book 8. Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, Sober, steadfast, and demure. With even step and musing gait ; And looks commercing with the skies, Thy wrapt soul sitting in thine eyes. // Penseroso, Hilton februan? Gwentg^tbird Bag* Innocence and virgin modesty Her virtue, and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won, Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired The more desirable. Paradise Lost, Book 8. Gwent£=fourtb 2>a£* Lady, thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Sonnet. twenty =ffftb 2>a£, A creature . . . ... So lovely fair, That what seem'd fair in all the world seem'd now Mean, or in hersumm'd up, in her contain'd. Paradise Lost, Book 8. 24 Jfebruan? Cvvent^sirtb 5>a£. All tilings from her air inspired The spirit of love and amorous delight. Paradise Lost, Book 8. Gwent^seventb Da^ It is for homely features to keep home — They had their name thence : coarse complex- ions And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply The sampler and to tease the housewife's wool. Comus. Zwentv*eiQbtb Bap, With dispatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent. What choice to choose for delicacy best, What order, so contrived, as not to mix Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change. Paradise Lost, Book 5. 25 /ftilton tfebruarp Gwent^nintb Bag. I do not think my sister . . . ... So unprincipled in Virtue's book And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, As that the single want of light and noise Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, And put them into misbecoming plight. Virtue could see to do what Virtue would By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude : Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. Comus, 26 fIDarcb Xorfc 36\?ron XCloman— 'Cbe star tbat guides tbe wanderer, tbou ! Ub: ?evc of peace ant) promise to mine ark I 3Be tbou tbe rainbow to tbe storms of life ! Zhc evening beam tbat smiles tbe clouos awav, Bno tints to=morrow witb propbetic ra?. Ufce ftrioe of Bbsoos, Ganto 2. 27 36vron fIDarcb ffirst 2>a& Around her shone The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone : The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonized the whole — And, oh ! that eye was in itself a soul ! The Bride of A 5yd os, Canto i. Second Bag, Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto i. Cbtrfc Bag. She was a form of life and light, That, seen, became a part of sight ; And rose where'er I turned mine eye, The morning-star of memory ! The Giaour. 23 fIDarcb jFourtb 2>a£. You know, or ought to know, enough of women, Since you have studied them so steadily, That what they ask in aught that touches on The heart, is dearer to their feelings or Their fancy than the whole external world. Sardanapalus, A. 4.. aftttb S>a£. Oh ! too convincing — dangerously dear — In woman's eye the unanswerable tear ! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, 'subdue — at once her spear and shield. Corsair, Canto 2. Stjtb Bag, Who hath not proved how feebly words essay To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray ? Who doth not feel, until his failing sight 29 3Bvron fIDarcb 5t£tb H>a£ (continued). Faints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess The might — the majesty of loveliness ? Bride ofAbydos, Canto i. Seventb 2>a£. So bright the tear in beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry ; So sweet the blush of bashfulness, Kven pity scarce can wish it less ! The Bride of Abydos, Canto i, Bigbtb Da£. Her glossy hair was cluster' d o'er a brow Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth ; Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow, Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth, Mounting, at times to a transparent glow, As if her veins ran lightning. Don fuan y Canto /. 30 Zcntb H>a$ Hintb 5>a£. fIDarcb Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 'T is woman's whole existence. Don Juan, Canto i. Centb 5>a£. Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet ; Her very nod was not an inclination ; There was a self-will even in her small feet, As though they were quite conscious of her station ; — But nature teaches more than power can spoil, And when a strong although a strange sen- sation Moves — female hearts are such a genial soil For kinder feelings, whatsoe'er their nation, They naturally pour the " wine and oil," Samaritans in every situation. Don Juan, Canto 5. 3i as^ron flDardb JEleventb 2>a^ The earth has nothing like a she epistle, And hardly heaven — because it never ends. I love the mystery of a female missal, Which, like a creed ne'er says all it intends. Don Juan, Canto 13. Gwelftb Dag, Her chief resource was in her own high spirit, Which judged mankind at their due estima- tion ; And for coquetry, she disdain' d to wear it : Secure of admiration, its impression Was faint, as of an e very-day possession. Don Juan, Canto 13. 32 jFouitccntb E>av> HDarcb Cbtrteentb 2>a£. An eye 's an eye, and whether black or blue, Is no great matter, so 't is in request. 'T is nonsense to dispute about a hue, The kindest may be taken as a test. The fair sex should be always fair ; and no man Till thirty, should perceive there 's a plain woman. Beppo. jfourteentb 5>a£, She was not violently lively, but Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking ; Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half shut, They put beholders in a tender taking. Don Juan ) Canto 6. 33 1B\:von fIDarcb fftfteentb Dag. The very first Of human life must spring from woman's breast, Your first small words are taught you from her lips, Your first tears quench 'd by her, and your last sighs Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing, When men have shrunk from the ignoble care Of watching the last hour of him who led them. Sardanapalus, A. i. Sfjteentb £a£. Soft, as the memory of buried love ; Pure, as the prayer which childhood wafts above Was she. Bride of A by do s, Canto i. 34 ^Eighteenth £>as flftarcb Seventeenth 2>a£, She was a soft landscape of mild earth, Where all was harmony, and calm and quiet, Luxuriant, budding ; cheerful without mirth, Which, if not happiness, is more nigh it Than are your mighty passions and so forth, Which some call "the sublime": I wish they 'd try it ; I 've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen. Don Juan , Canto 6. Eigbteentb Bag, The tender blue of that large loving eye. The Corsair, Canto i. 35 fH>arcb IRineteentb Da£. Now Laura moves along the joyous crowd, Smiles in her eyes, and simpers on her lips ; To some she whispers, others speaks aloud ; To some she curtsies, and to some she dips ; Complains of warmth, and this complaint avow'd, Her lover brings the lemonade, — she sips : She then surveys, condemns, but pities still Her dearest friends for being drest so ill. One had false curls, another too much paint, A third — where did she buy that frightful turban ? A fourth 's so pale she fears she 's going to faint, A fifth's look 's vulgar, dowdyish, and sub- urban, A sixth's white silk has got a yellow tint, A seventh's thin muslin surely will be her bane, And lo ! an eighth appears, —I '11 see no more ! For fear, like Banquo's kings, they reach a score. Beppo. 36 fIDarcb Cwenttetb 5>a£, She was blooming still, had made the best Of time, aud time return'd the compliment, And treated her genteelly, so that, drest, She look'd extremely well where'er she went ; A pretty woman is a welcome guest, And her brow a frown had rarely bent ; Indeed she shone all smiles, and seem'd to flatter Mankind with her black eyes for looking at her. Beppo. Cvvent£=first 5>a^ I think, with all due deference To the fair single part of the creation, That married ladies should preserve the prefer- ence In tete-a-tete or general conversation — Because they know the world, and are at ease, And being natural, naturally please. Beppo. 37 fIDarcb She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that 's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes ; Thus mellow 'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face ; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! Hebrew Melodies. fIDarcb GwentB^tbirD Da^ I saw thee weep — the big bright tear Came o'er that eye of blue : And then methought it did appear A violet dropping dew ; I saw thee smile — the sapphire's blaze Beside thee ceased to shine, It could not match the living rays That fill'd that glance of thine. As clouds from yonder sun receive A deep and mellow die, Which scarce the shade of coming eve Can banish from the sky, Those smiles unto the moodiest mind Their own pure joy impart ; Their suushine leaves a glow behind That lightens o'er the heart. Hebrew Melodies. 3B$ron fIDarcb Gwent^fourtb 2)a£, I have observed your sex, once roused to wrath, Are timidly vindictive to a pitch Of perseverance, which I would not copy. Sardanapalus, A. 2. GwentE*fiftb Das* She was pensive more than melancholy, And serious more than pensive, and serene, It may be, more than either . . . The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen, That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall ; She never thought about herself at all. Don Juan , Canto 6. 40 TTweittgsgeventb £)a^ fIDarcb Z\ventv*6\ith Dag. A learned lady, famed For every branch of every science known — In every Christian language ever named, With virtues equall'd by her wit alone, She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, And even the good with inward envy groan, Finding themselves so very much exceeded In their own way by all the things that she did. Don Juan, Canto i. £vventE=seventb Dag. 'Tis pity learned virgins ever wed With persons of no sort of education, Or gentlemen who, though well-born and bred, Grow tired of scientific conversation : Oh ! ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck' d you all? Don J u a yi, Canto /. 4i figron flDarcb Cwentg*eigbtb S>a£. What a strange thing is man ! and what a stranger Is woman ? what a whirlwind is her head, And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger Is all the rest about her ! whether wed, Or widow, maid, or mother, she can change her Mind like the wind ; whatever she has said Or done, is light to what she '11 say or do ; — The oldest thing on record, and yet new ! Don Juan, Canto g. C\ventg*nintb Dap, Round her she made an atmosphere of life, The very air seem'd lighter from her eyes, They were so soft and beautiful, and rife With all we can imagine of the skies ; — Her overpowering presence made you feel, It would not be idolatry to kneel. Don Juan, Canto j. Ubut^first £)as flDarcb Gbirtietb 5>a£, Through her eye the Immortal shone ; Her eyes' dark charm 't were vain to tell, But gaze on that of the gazelle, It will assist thy fancy well ; As large, as languishingly dark, But soul beamed forth in every spark That darted from beneath the lid, Bright as the jewel of Giamschid, Yea, soul ! The Giaour. So — this feminine farewell Ends as such partings end, in no departure. Sardanapalus, A. 4. 43 Hprtl Sir matter Scott 0, XUoman ! in our bours of ease, Uncertain, cov;, ano baro to please, Bno variable as tbe sbaoe S$ tbe ligbt quivering aspen maoe,— XUben pain and anguish wring tbe brow, B ministering angel tbou ! flDarmion, Canto 6. 45 Scott aptii first S>a£, Even the most simple and unsuspicious of the female sex have (God bless them !) an instinctive sharpness of perception in love matters, which sometimes goes the length of observing partiali- ties that never existed, but rarely misses to detect such as pass actually under their obser- vation. Waver ley. Second Ba£* Her accents stole On the dark visions of their soul, And bade their mournful musings fly, Ivike mist before the zephyr's sigh. Rokeby> Canto 4. ftbfrt 2>at> Hpril CbirD 5>a£. She sung with great taste and feeling, and with a respect to the sense of what she uttered, that might be proposed in example to ladies of much superior musical talent. Her natural good sense taught her, that if, as we are assured, "music must be married to immortal verse," they are very often divorced by the performer in a most shameful manner. It was perhaps owing to this sensibility to poetry, and com- bining its expression with those of the musical notes, that her singing gave more pleasure to all the unlearned in music, and even to many of the learned, than could have been communi- cated by a much finer voice and more brilliant execution, unguided by the same delicacy of feeling Waver ley. 47 Scott april ffourtb 2)a^ Ivike every beautiful woman, she was con- scious of her own power, and pleased with its effects. . . . But as she possessed excellent sense, she gave accidental circumstances full weight in appreciating the feeling she aroused. Waver ley. ffiftb H>a£, There was a soft and pensive grace, A cast of thought upon her face, That suited well the forehead high, The eye-lash dark, and downcast eye ; The mild expression spoke a mind In duty firm, composed, resign' d. Rokeby^ Canto 4. 48 Seventb 2Dav> Hprii 5i£tb 2>a£* The rose, with faint and feeble streak So slightly tinged the maiden's cheek, That you had said her hue was pale ; But if she faced the summer-gale, Or spoke, or sung, or quicker moved, Or heard the praise of those she loved, Or when of interest was express 'd Aught that waked feeling in her breast, That mantling blood in ready play Rivall' d the blush of rising day. Rokeby, Canto 4. Seventh Da$. What woman knows not her own road to victory? The Talisman. 49 Scott Spril JEightb Dag, She had been beautiful, and was stately and majestic in her appearance. Endowed by na- ture with strong powers and violent passions, experience had taught her to employ the one, and to conceal, if not to moderate, the other. She was a severe and strict observer of the external forms, at least, of devotion ; her hospi- tality was splendid, even to ostentation ; her address and manners were grave, dignified, and severely regulated by the rules of etiquette. . . . And yet, with all these qualities to excite re- spect, she was seldom mentioned in the terms of love or affection. Interest, — the interest of her family, if not her own — seemed too ob- viously the motive of her actions : and when this is the case, the sharp-judging and malig- nant public are not easily imposed upon by outward show. The Bride of Lammermoor. 50 Eleventh S>aj> Hpril ffltntb £>av> Reasoning — like a woman, to whom external appearance is scarcely in any circumstance a matter of unimportance, and like a beauty who has confidence in her own charms. Kenilworth. Centb 2>a£« Her affection and sympathy dictated at once the kindest course. Without attempting to control the torrent of grief in its full current, she gently sat her down beside the mourner. . . . She waited a more composed moment to offer her little stock of consolation in deep silence and stillness. The Betrothed, Eleventb 2>a& Her kindness and her worth to spy You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; Not Katrine in her mirror blue, Gives back the shaggy banks more true 51 Scott Bpril JElCVCWth 2>a£ [continued). Than every free-born glance confess 'd The guileless movements of her breast ; Whether joy danced in her dark eye, Or woe or pity claim' d a sigh, Or filial love was glowing there, Or meek devotion pour'd a prayer, Or hate of injury call'd forth The indignant spirit of the North. One only passion unreveal'd, With maiden pride, the maid conceal'd, Yet no less purely felt the flame — O need I tell that passion's name ? The Lady of the Lake ) Canto i. Cwelftb S>a£, She is fairer in feature than becometh a man of my order to speak of; and she has withal a breathing of her father's lofty spirit. The look and the word of such a lady will give a man double strength in the hour of need. The Betrothed. 52 ffourteentb £>av Hpril Cbtrteentb 5>a£. Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, Wiled the old harper's mood away. With such a look as hermits throw When angels stoop to soothe their woe, He gazed, till fond regret and pride Thrill' d to a tear. The Lady of the Lake, Canto 2. fourteenth Bav. All her soul is in her eye, Yet doubts she still to tender free The wonted words of courtesy. Go to her now — be bold of cheer, While her soul floats 'twixt hope and fear : It is the very change of tide, When best the female heart is tried — Pride, prejudice . . . Are in the current swept to sea. Rokeby, Canto 2. 53 Scott april jFifteentb Ba£. She was highly acconiplished ; yet she had not learned to substitute the gloss of politeness for the reality of feeling. Waverley. Sixteenth 2>a£, A deep-thinking and impassioned woman, ready to make exertions alike, and sacrifices, with all that vain devotion to a favorite object of affection, which is often so basely rewarded. The Fortunes of Nigel. Seventeenth 2Da£. The spotless virgin fears not the raging lion. The Talisman. 54 Ifttneteentb £>av Hprtl Eighteenth 5>a£. Sweet was her blue eye's modest smile . . . And down her shoulders graceful roll'd Her locks profuse of paly gold. . . . She charm'd at once, and tamed the heart. Marmion, Canto 5. flfneteentb 2>a£. At length, an effort sent apart The blood that curdled to her heart, And light came to her eye, And color dawn'd upon her cheek, A hectic and a flutter' d streak. And when her silence broke at length, Still as she spoke she gather' d strength, And arm'd herself to bear ; — It was a fearful sight to see Such high resolve and constancy, In form so soft and fair. Marmioriy Canto 2. 55 Scott Hpril ttwentietb 2>ag. She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. Marmion^ Canto 5. £wentE*ffrst 2>ag, Her very soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which home is the centre. Her husband will be to her the object of all her care, solicitude, and affection. She will see nothing, but by him, and through him. If he is a man of sense and virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his fatigue, and share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his unkindness. Waverley. 56 tlwentsstbirfc 2)a^ Hpril GwentB^seconfc Bap. When there can be uo confidence betwixt a man and his plighted wife, it is a sign she has no longer the regard for him that made their engagement safe and suitable. The Heart of Mid-Lothian. Cvvent^tbirD Bag. She was by nature perfectly good-humoured, and if her due share of admiration and homage was duly resigned to her, no one could possess better temper, or a more friendly disposition ; but then, like all despots, the more power that was voluntarily yielded to her, the more she desired to extend her sway. Sometimes, even when all her ambition was gratified, she chose to be a little out of health, and a little out of spirits. The Talisman. 57 Scott Hptil Cwent£*fourtb 2)a^ Her look composed, aud steady eye, Bespoke a matchless constancy. Marmio7i y Canto 2. GwentE=ftftb 2>a£, The noble dame, amid the broil, Shared the gray seneschal's high toil, And spoke of danger with a smile ; Cheer' d the young knights, and council sage Held with the chiefs of riper age. The Lay of the Last Minsfrel, Canto 3. XLwcnt^eiictb Bag, Woman's faith and woman's trust, Write the characters in dust. The Betrothed. 58 Uwent^ssevcntb S)as Hpril G\ventg*seventb 5>ag. Ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, or Naiad, or a Grace, Of finer form, or lovelier face ! What though the sun, with ardent frown, Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, The sportive toil, which, short and light, Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, Served too in hastier swell to show Short glimpses of a breast of snow ; What though no rule of courtly grace To measured mood had train'd her pace, — A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flower dash' d the dew ; E'en the slight hare-bell raised its head, Elastic from her airy tread ; What though upon her speech there hung The accent of the mountain tongue, Those silver sounds, so soft, so clear, The list'ner held his breath to hear. Lady of the Lake, Canto i. 59 Scott Hpril Gwentg^eigbtb Bag. Spoilt she was on all hands. . . . But though, from these circumstances, the city-beauty had become as wilful, as capricious, and as affected, as unlimited indulgence seldom fails to render those to whom it is extended ; and although she exhibited upon many occasions that affectation of extreme shyness, silence, and reserve, which misses are apt to take for an amiable modesty ; and upon others, a considerable portion of that flippancy which youth sometimes confounds with wit, she had much real shrewdness and judgment, which wanted only opportunities of observation to refin e it— a lively , good-humoured, playful disposition, and an excellent heart. The Fortunes of Nigel. GwentE=nintb Bag. The buoyant vivacity with which she had resisted every touch of adversity, had now as- sumed the air of composed and submissive, but dauntless, resolution and constancy. Rob Roy. 60 XTbirtietb 2>a\> Hpril Cbirtietb Dag. Her complexion was exquisitely fair, but the noble cast of her head and features prevented the insipidity which sometimes attaches to fair beauties. Her clear blue eye, which sat en- shrined beneath a graceful eyebrow of brown, sufficiently marked to give expression to the forehead, seemed capable to kindle as well as to melt, to command as well as to beseech. Ivanhoe. 61 nDav XUilUam TOlor&swortb Sbcw us bow oivtne a tbiny B ICloman max? be maoe. lines to a gonna la?\\ 63 XUortswortb flDa^ fftrst Ba£. She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight ; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament ; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair ; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn ; A dancing Shape, and Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. A Phantom of Delight. Second S>a£, A gentle maid, whose heart is lowly bred, With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer. A Farewell. 64 jfeurt!: £\iv HDap CbtrD 5>a£. A Spirit, yet a Woman too ! Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty ; A countenance in which did meet 'Sweet records, promises as sweet ; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food ; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. A Phantom of Delight. jfourtb 5>a£. Sister . . . Thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies. Tin tern Abbey. 65 TKHorbswottb fl>a£ tfiftb 2>a£. She gave me eyes, she gave me ears ; And humble cares, and delicate fears ; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears ; And love and thought and joy. The Sparrow's Nest. 5i£tb 2>ag. 'T is her's to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and 'round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind. Weak is the Will of Man. Seventb Bag, I praise thee, Matron ! and thy due Is praise. . . . With admiration I behold Thy gladness unsubdued and bold ; Thy looks, thy gestures, all present The picture of a life well spent. The Matron of Jedborough. 66 •ttintb 2>as fl>ap Eigbtb ®a^ A blooming girl, whose hair was wet With points of morning dew. . . . Her brow was smooth and white. . . . No fountain from its rocky cave E'er tripped with foot so free, She seemed as happy as a wave, That dances on the sea. The Two April Mornings. mtntb 5>a£, The floating clouds their state shall lend To her ; for her the willow bend ; Nor shall she fail to see, Kven in the motions of the storm, Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy. The stars of midnight shall be dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place, Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound 67 XUoi^swoitb flDa^ IRtntb 2>a£ (continued). Shall pass into her face. And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Her virgin bosom swell. ' Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower. Gentb 2>a£. How blest the Maid whose heart — yet free From Move's uneasy sovereignty — Beats with a fancy running high, Her simple cares to magnify ; Whom Labour, never urged to toil, Hath cherished on a healthful soil ; Who knows not pomp, who heeds not pelf ; Whose heaviest sin it is to look Askance upon her pretty self Reflected in some crystal brook ; Whom grief hath spared, — who sheds no tear But in sweet pity ; and can hear Another's praise from envy clear. The Three Cottage Girls* 68 cwelftb H>av JEIeventb Bag. flDa\> A Being breathing thoughtful breath, A Traveller between life and death ; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command ; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light. A Phantom of Delight. ftwelftb 5>a£. She was happy, Like a spirit of air she moved, Wayward, yet by all who knew her For her tender heart beloved. The Westmoreland GirL 69 tlUorfcswortb flDa^ Gbfrteentb S>a£. This light-hearted Maiden. . . . High is her aim as Heaven above, And wide as either her good-will ; And, like the lowly reed, her love Can drink its nurture from the scantiest rill ; Insight as keen as frosty star Is to her charity no bar, Nor interrupts her frolic graces. The Triad. JFourteentb 2>a£. O Lady bright, Whose mortal lineaments seem all refined By favouring Nature, and a saintly mind, To something purer and more exquisite Than flesh and blood ! Sonnet. 70 Scrcntccntb !T a r fifteenth Stag. A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love ; A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eve ! Fair as a star when only one Is shining in the sky. . r -: ms of the Affectio n s . & 5i£teetitfi H>ag. Whether in the semblance drest 0: Dawn, or Eve. fair vision of the west, Come with each anxious hope subdued. By woraa::'? gentle fortitude, Za : h grief, through weakness, settling into rest. The Triad. Scvcntccntb E>a\?. H : w rich that forehead's calm expanse ! How bright that heaven-directed glance ! Poems of the Affections, i;. 71 tftor&swortb flDa^ Btgbteentb ©a£. Softly she treads, as if her foot were loth To crush the mountain dew-drops, — soon to melt On the flower's breast ; as if she felt That flowers themselves, w 7 hate'er their hue, With all their fragrance, all their glistening, Call to the heart for inward listening. The Triad. Ifttneteentb 2>a£. Let other bards of angels sing, Bright suns without a spot ; But thou art no such perfect thing ; Rejoice that thou art not ! Heed not though none should call thee fair ; So, Mar}-, let it be If naught in loveliness compare With what thou art to me. 72 Twentieth Das ffl>a£ IRineteentb Dag {continued). True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart to heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved. Poems of the Affections, 15. Gwenttetb S)a£. What heavenly smiles ! O L,ady mine, Through my very heart they shine ; And, if my brow gives back their light, Do thou look gladly on the sight ; As the clear moon with modest pride Beholds her own bright beams Reflected from the mountain's side And from the headlong streams. Poems of the Affections, 18. 73 ■fldorfcswortb flDa^ XL\venty*ftxst Bag. How beautiful when up a lofty height Honour ascends. A Widow . . . She wasted no complaint, but strove to make A just repayment, both for conscience' sake And that herself and hers should stand upright In the world's eye. The Widow. £\ventE=seconD Bag. The Maiden grew Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave, Though young, so wise, though meek, so reso- lute. Grace Darling. Gvvent^tbirD Ba£, In her face and mien The soul's pure brightness he beheld, Without a veil between. The Russian Fugitive, 74 c\vcnt\>fiftb E>a\: Swentg^fourtb Bag. We her discretion have observed, Her just opinions, delicate reserve, Her patience, and humility of mind, Unspoiled by commendation. . . . The Borderers. C\vent\>fiftb E)at>. O Lady, worthy of earth's proudest throne ! Nor less, by excellence of nature, fit Beside an unambitious hearth to sit Domestic queen, where grandeur is unknown ; What living man could fear The worst of Fortune's malice, wert thou near, Humbling that lily-stem, thy sceptre meek, That its fair flowers may from his cheek Brush the too happy tear ! The Triad. 75 XClci^swcrtb m>a$ Cwent^sirtb 2>a£. Queen, and handmaid lowly ! Whose skill can speed the day with lively cares, And banish melancholy By all that mind invents or hand prepares ; Who that hath seen thy beauty could content His soul wnth but a glimpse ? The Triad. C\ventE*seventb 2>a£. Dear girl . . . If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine ; Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year ; And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not. Sonnet, 76 Cwcntvsci.ibtb 8>a^ HDav C\vent\>ctabtb Dag. I knew a maid, A young enthusiast . . . Her eye was not the mistress of her heart ; Far less did rules prescribed by passive taste Or barren, intermeddling subtleties, Perplex her mind ; but wise as women are When genial circumstance hath favoured them, She welcomed what was given, and craved no more. Whate'er the scene presented to her view, That was the best, to that she was attuned By her benign simplicity of life, . . . God delights In such a being ; for her common thoughts Are piety, her life is gratitude. The Prelude, ;; X&orbswortfo fIDap Gwent^nintb 2>a£* Sweet girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower ! . . . Never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and homebred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. A face with gladness overspread ! Soft smiles, by human kindness bred ! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays. To A Highland Girl. Gbirtietb 2)a^ A maiden . . . Lovely as spring's first note . . . Pure As beautiful, and gentle and benign. A Flower. . . . Fairest of all flowers was she. . . . She hath an eye that smiles into all hearts, Soon would her gentle words make peace. The Borderers. 78 Tlbutvsfirst Das flDap Yes ! thou art fair, yet be not moved To scorn the declaration, That sometimes I in thee have loved My fancy's own creation. Imagination needs must stir ; Dear Maid, this truth believe, Minds that have nothing to confer, Find little to perceive. Be pleased that Nature made thee fit To feed my heart's devotion, By laws to which all forms submit In sky, air, earth, and ocean. Poems of the Affections, 16. 79 3une Ubomas Garble Tl&oman was given to man as a benefit, ano for mutual support ; a precious ornament ano staff wbereupon to lean in mans trying situations. JSssas on tfoltaire. Si Carole 3une afirst 2>a£. Clearly a superior woman. — That is the way with female intellects when they are good ; nothing equals their acuteness, and their rapidity is almost excessive. Frederick the Great. Second Bas* Meek and retiring by the softness of her nature, yet glowing with an ethereal ardour for all that is illustrious and lovely. Life of Schiller, CbirD 5>a£. Perfection of housekeeping was her clear and speedy attainment in that new scene. Strange how she made the desert blossom for herself and 82 jfourtb H)a\: 3une ZblVS 2>a\? (continued). me there ; what a fairy palace she had made of that wild moorland home of the poor man ! From the baking of a loaf, or the darning of a stocking, up to comporting herself in the high- est scenes or most intricate emergencies, all was insight, veracity, graceful success (if you could judge it), fidelity to insight of the fact given. Reminiscences. ffourtb 5>a£. She was of a compassionate nature, and had a loving, patient, and noble heart ; prudent she was ; the skilfulest and thriftiest of financiers ; could well keep silence, too, and with a gentle stoicism endure much small unreason. L ife ofSch iller, S3 Carl^le 3une ffiftb 2>a£. Her life was busy and earnest ; she was help- mate, not in name only, to an ever-busy man. Frederick the Great. Sijtb 2>a^ Peculiar among all dames and damosels, glanced Blumine, there in her modesty, like a star among earthly lights. Noblest maiden ! whom he bent to, in body and in soul ; yet scarcely dared look at, for the presence filled him with painful yet sweetest embarrassment. Sartor Resartus. Seventh Bag* A bright airy lady ; very graceful, very witty and ingenious ; skilled to speak, skilled to hold her tongue. Frederick the Great. 84 TiAintb Dag 3unc Eigbtb Par. Far and wide was the fair one heard of, for her gifts, her graces, her caprices ; from all which vague colourings of Rumour, from the censures no less than from the praises, had our friend painted for himself a certain imperious Queen of Hearts, and blooming warm Earth- angel, much more enchanting than your mere white Heaven-angels of women, in whose placid veins circulates too little naphtha-fire. Sartor Resartus, ■Rinrb E>a\\ A tall, rather thin figure ; a i^cz pale, intelli- gent, and penetrating; nose fine, rather large, and decisively Roman ; pair of bright, not soft, but sharp and small black eyes, with a cold smile as of enquiry in them; fine brow; fine chin; thin lips— lips always gently shut, as if till the enquiry were completed, and the time came for something of royal speech upon 55 Carl^lc 3une Wnlh S>a£ {continued). it. She had a slight accent, but spoke — Dr. Hugh Blair could not have picked a hole in it — and you might have printed every word, so queenlike, gentle, soothing, measured, prettily royal toward subjects whom she wished to love her. The voice was modulated, low, not in- harmonious ; yet there was something of metal- lic in it, akin to that smile in the eyes. One durst not quite love this high personage as she wished to be loved ! Her very dress was nota- ble ; always the same, and in a fashion of its own ; — and must have required daily the fasten- ing of sixty or eighty pins. Reminiscences. Gentb Ba£, She had a pleasant, attractive physiognomy ; which may be considered better than strict beauty. Frederick the Great. 86 Ubtrteentb 2>a£ 3une Eleventh 2>ag. That light, yet so stately form ; those dark tresses, shading a face where smiles and sun- light played over earnest deeps. . . . He ven- tured to address her, she answered with atten- tion : nay, what if there were a slight tremour in that silver voice ; what if the red glow of evening were hiding a transient blush ! Sartor Resartus. twelfth 2>a£* The whims of women must be humoured. French Revolution. Gbirteentb 2)a^ A woman of many household virtues ; to a warm affection for her children and husband she joined a degree of taste and intelligence which is of much rarer occurrence. Life of Schiller. 87 Carlsle 3une jfourteentb Ba£, She is meek and soft and maiden-like. . . . A young woman fair to look upon. Life of Schiller. jfffteentb Bag* My dear mother, with the trustfulness of a mother's heart, ministered to all my woes, out- ward and inward, and even against hope kept prophesying good. Remin iscences. Sixteenth Bag, Women are born worshippers ; in their good little hearts lies the most craving relish for great- ness ; it is even said, each chooses her husband on the hypothesis of his being a great man — in his way. The good creatures, yet the foolish ! Essay on Go ethers Works. 88 Seventeenth Bay. 3une Seventeenth E>a£. She is of that light unreflecting class, of that light unreflecting sex : variant semper et mutabile. And then her Fine-lady ism, though a purseless one : capricious, coquettish, and with all the finer sensibilities of the heart ; now in the rackets, now in the sullens ; vivid in contradictory resolves ; laughing, weeping, without reason, — though these acts are said to be signs of season. Consider, too, how she has had to work her way, all along, by flattery and cajolery ; wheedling, eaves-dropping, namby- pambying ; how she needs w T ages, and knows no other productive trades. The Diamond Necklace. 8 9 Carole 3une ^Et^bteentb 2>a£. Thought can hardly be said to exist in her ; only Perception and Device. With an under- standing lynx-eyed for the surface of things, but which pierces beyond the surface of nothing, every individual thing (for she has never seized the heart of it) turns up a new face to her every new day, and seems a thing changed, a different thing. The Diamond Necklace. flineteentb Bag. Reader ! thou for thy sins must have met with such fair Irrationals ; fascinating, with their lively eyes, with their quick snappish fancies ; distinguished in the higher circles, in Fashion, even in Literature ; they hum and buzz there, on graceful film-wings : — searching, neverthe- less, with the wonderfullest skill for honey ; untamable as flies ! The Diamond Necklace. 90 Cwentvssecona 5>ax> June Gwentfetb 5>a£. Nature is very kind to all children, and to all mothers that are true to her. Frederick the Great. ftvventE=ffrst Da£. She is of stately figure ; — of beautiful still countenance. — A completeness, a decision is in this fair female figure ; by energy she means the spirit that will prompt one to sacrifice him- self for his country. French Revolution, CwentB*0econ& Da£. A clever, high-mannered, massive-minded old lady ; admirable as a finished piece of social art, but hardly otherwise much. Reminiscences, 9i GTarlvie June ft\ventE=tbirfc Ba£. Who can account for the taste of females ? The Diamond Xecklace. GwentB^fourtb 5>a£. A Beauty, but over light-headed : a Booby who had fine legs. How these first courted, billed, and cooed, according to nature ; then pouted, fretted, grew utterly enraged and blew one another up. Bos we IPs Life of Johnson. Z\venty*fiitb JDafi. With delicate female tact, with fine female stoicism too, keeping all things within limits. Frederick the Great. ttwentfi*slitb E>an>. A true-hearted, sharp-witted sister. Essay of Diderot, 92 "Cwcnt\;=mntl: 8>af 3une Zwcnt^ecvcntb 8>ai>. A graceful, brave, and amiable woman ; — her choicest gift an open eye and heart. Oliver Cromwell. C\ventt?*eigbtb Ba£» Every graceful and generous quality of womanhood harmoniously blended in her nature. L ife of Sen iller. Cwcnrvj-nintb E>a\\ She is a fair vision, the beau ideal of a poet's first mistress. Life of Seh iller. 93 Caddie 3une Cbirtietb Dag, Heaven, though severe, is not unkind ; Heaven is kind, as a noble mother ; as that Spartan mother, saying while she gave her son his shield, " With it, my son, or upon it ! " Complain not ; the very Spartans did not com- plain. Past and Present. 94 3uto Coventry patmore f tbfnfe witb utterance free te raise, ~bat bvmn, for which tee wbole V90tlb tongs,— B vcertbr bv;mn, in lOoman's praise. cbeBruet in tbe Douse. 95 jpatmore 3ul£ jfirst 5>a£. "Woman," "Lady," "She," and "Her" Are names for perfect Good and Fair. The Betrothal — Honoria. SeconD H>a£. No skill' d complexity of speech, Xo heart-felt phrase of tenderest fall, No liken'd excellence can reach Her, the most excellent of all, The best half of creation's best, Its heart to feel, its eye to see, The crown and complex of the rest, Its aim and its epitome. The Paragon. 96 jfourtb £>as 3ul£ Zbivb S)a^ She 's so simply, subtly sweet, My deepest rapture does her wrong ; My thoughts, that, singing, lark-like soar, Soaring perceive they 've still misprized, And still forebode her beauty more Than can perceived be, or surmised. The Paragon. jfourtb Ba$, By her gentleness made great, I 'd teach how noble man should be To match with such a lovely mate ; And then in her would move the more The woman's wish to be desired. The Par ag 071. 97 IPatmevc 3m ffittb 5)a^ In all she said, I heard a peaceful seraph talk. She seem'd expressly sent below To teach our erring minds to see The rhythmic change of time's swift flow As part of calm eternity. The Cathedral Close. Sijtb 5>a£. Her smile seem'd to confer At once high flattery and reproof, And self-regard, inspired by her, Grew courtly in its own behoof. The Cathedral Close. Seventh 5>a£, In shape no mo~e a Grace, But Venus ; milder than the dove : Her large sweet eyes, clear lakes of love. The Cathedral Close. Gentfa Eav 3ul& jEtgbtb Bag. She confers Bright honor when she breathes my name ; Birth's blazon'd patents, shown with her's, Are falsified and put to shame ; The fount of honor is her smile. The Pa rag o)i. fltntb 5>a£. Her very faults my fancy fired ; My loving will, so thwarted, grew ; And, bent on worship, I admired All that she was, with partial view. Mary and Mildred, Centb S>as. I wonder'd where those daisy eyes Had found their touching curve and droop. The Cathedral Close. 99 l>atmove 3ul£ JSleventb 2)a^ She is so perfect, true, and pure, Her virtue all virtue so endears. Ho no via, Gwelttb £>a£. Some hidden hand Unveils to him that loveliness Which others cannot understand. His merits in her presence grow, To match the promise in her eyes, And round her happy footsteps blow The authentic airs of Paradise. The Lover, Cbirteentb 2>a£» She 's far too lovely to be wrong ; Black, if she pleases, shall be white ; Being a Queen her wrong is right. The Lover. ioo Sirtccntb Sa\? 3m fourteenth £>a\\ She was all mildness ; yet 't was writ Upon her beauty legibly, (i He that's for heaven itself unfit, Let him not hope to merit me." Hon on' a. jFlfteentb 5>a£. Her disposition is devout, Her countenance angelical. The Morning Call. Sirtecntb 2>a& Wrong dares not in her presence speak, Nor spotted thought its taint disclose. The Morning Call. IOI |>atmore 3ul£ Seventeenth Ba£. In mind and manners how discreet ! How artless in her very art ; How candid in discourse ; how sweet The concord of her lips and heart ; How amiable and innocent Her pleasure in her power to charm ; How humbly careful to attract. . . . The Morning Call. )£i3bteentb 2>a£* She seems the life of nature's powers ; Her beauty is the genial thought Which makes the sunshine bright ; the flowers, But for their hint of her, were nought. The Morning Call. 102 Uwcnt^sfirst £>a\? 3ul& nineteenth £>a£. Her face The mirror of the morning seem'd. The Morning Call. Gwentfetb E>a£, Her spirit, compact of gentleness, If Heaven postpones or grants her pray'r, Conceives no pride in its success, And in its failure no despair. The Parallel. ttwentB^first Bag, Girls love to see the men in whom They invest their vanities admired. The Dean. 103 Ipatmore 3m ftwentg^seconft Da^. Ah. wasteful woman, she that may On her sweet self set her own price, Knowing he cannot choose but pay, How has she cheapen'd paradise ; How given for nought her priceless gift — How spoil" d the bread and spill' d the wine, Which, spent with due, respective thrift, Had made brutes men and men divine. The Queen. Cwent^tbirS a>a& Her step 's an honor to the earth, Her form 's the native-land of grace. The Espousals — Prologue. Cwent^fourtb Da£. Let Love be true ! 'T is that which all right women are. The Love Letters. 104 rwcnt\>scvetitb 2>a^ 3ulv tt\ventB*ffftb Bag. vSbe enter' d like a morning-rose Ruffled with rain. Beulah. CwentE=sirtb Bag. Ah, how she laugh'd \ Diviner sense Did Nature, forming her, inspire To omit the grosser elements And make her all of air and fire ! The Regatta. Zwenty^seventb 2>as. L,et my gentle Mistress be, In every look, word, deed, and thought, Nothing but sweet and womanly ! Her virtues please my virtuous mood, But what at all times I admire Is, not that she is wise or good, 105 Ipatmor; Gwent^seventb Bag {continued). But just the thing which I desire. With versatility to bring Her mental tone to any strain, If oft'nest she is anything. Be it thoughtless, talkative, and vain. Womanhood. tXwent£*etebtb Bag. What For sweetness like the ten year's wife ? The Epilogue. Cwentg^nintb Bag, Her wealth is your esteem ; beware Of finding fault ; her will 's unnerv'd By blame ; . . . But praise that 's only half deserv'd Will all her noble nature stir To make your utmost wishes true. The Departure. 1 06 Cbirtvsfirst 8>a$ 3m Gbirtfetb H>a£. Her face Is the summ'd sweetness of the earth, Her soul the glass of heaven's grace, To which she leads me by the hand ; Or, briefly all the truth to say She is both heaven and the way. The Friends. cbirt£=ftrst Bap. Her lovely life's conditions close, Like God's commandments, with content, And make an aspect calm and gay, Where sweet affections come and go, Till all who see her, smile, and say, How fair and happy that she 's so ! She 's perfect, and if joy was much To think her Nature's paragon, 'T is more that there 's another such ! The Friends. 10; i: HUQUSt Uictor ftmgo Son gaje at a star for two motives, because it is lumis nous ano because it is impenetrable, l^ou bare bv. vour sice a sweeter raoiance ano greater masters— XUoman. Xes fllMserables, 109 Huguet tfitet Bag. All her face, all her person, breathed an inef- fable love and kindness. She had always been predestined to gentleness, but Faith, Hope, and Charity, those three virtues that softly warm the soul, had gradually elevated that gentleness to sanctity. Nature had only made her a lamb, and religion had made her an angel. Les Miserable s. She was the very embodiment of joy as she went to and fro in the house ; she brought with her a perpetual spring. Toilers of the Sea. no ffiftfo H>a$ HUQlWt CbtrD 2>a£. Her entire person was simplicity, ingenuous- ness, whiteness, candor, and radiance, and it might have been said of her that she was trans- parent. She produced a sensation of April and daybreak, and she had dew in her eyes. She was the condensation of the light of dawn in a woman's form. Les Miser able s. jfourtb Bag, The woman was weak, but the mother found strength. Ninety- Three. fffftb 2>as, Woman feels and speaks with the infallibility which is the tender instinct of the heart. Les Mise" rabies. Ibugo Hugust Sijtb £>a£. What is a husband but the pilot in the voyage of matrimony ? Wife, let your fine weather be your husband's smiles. Toilers of the Sea. Seventh Bag. No one knows like a woman how to say things which are at once gentle and deep. Gentleness and depth, — in these things the whole of woman is contained, and it is heaven. Les Miserables. ^Eighth 5>a£, Beauty heightened by simplicity is ineffable, and nothing is so adorable as a beauteous, inno- cent maiden, who walks along unconsciously, holding in her hand the key of Paradise. Les Misirables. 112 3£lcrcntb E>a\? Huflust flintb Dav. She had the prettiest little hands in the world, and little feet to match them. Sweetness and goodness reigned throughout her person ; . . . her occupation was only to live her daily life ; her accomplishments were the knowledge of a few songs ; her intellectual gifts were summed up in her simple innocence. To He ) s of th e Sea. Centb Da& The coquette is blind : she does not see her wrinkles. By Order of the King. Eleventb Ba^. A mother's arms are made of tenderness, and children sleep soundly in them. Lcs Miserable s. 113 Ibugo Huguet Cwelftb 5>a£. There are moments when a woman accepts, like a sombre and resigned duty, the worship of love. Les Miserables. Cbirteentb Bas. She was pale with that paleness which is like the transparency of a divine life in an earthly face. . . . A soul standing in the dawn. By Order of the King, ffourteentb 2>a£. He looked at her, and saw nothing but her. This is love ; one may be carried away for a moment by the importunity of some other idea, but the beloved one enters, and all that does not appertain to her presence immediately fades away, without her dreaming that perhaps she is effacing in us a world. By Order of the King. 114 Sirtccntb 5>a\: BtlQUSt jfitteentb 5>a£, She walked on with a light and free step, so little suggestive of the burden of life that it might easily be seen that she was young. Her movements possessed that subtle grace which indicates the most delicate of all transitions — the soft intermingling, as it were, of two twi- lights, — the passage from the condition of a child to that of womanhood. Toilers of the Sea. Stjteentb H>a& She had never been pretty, but her whole life, which had been but a succession of pious works, had eventually cast over her a species of whiteness and brightness, and in growing older she had acquired what may be called the beauty of goodness. What had been thinness in her youth had became in her maturity transparency, X and through this transparency the angel could J be seen. Les Miserables, Huoust Seventeentb 2)a£. A ray of happiness was visible upon her face. Never had she appeared more beautiful. Her features were remarkable for prettiness rather than what is called beauty. Their fault, if fault it be, lay in a certain excess of grace. . . . The ideal virgin is the transfiguration of a face like this. Deruchette, touched by her sorrow and love, seemed to have caught that higher and more holy expression. It was the difference between the field daisy and the lily. Toilers of the Sea, JEigbteentb 5>a^ The glance of a woman resembles certain wheels which are apparently gentle but are formidable. . . . You come, you go, you dream, you speak, you laugh, and all in a minute you feel yourself caught, and it is all over with you. The wheel holds you, the glance has caught you. Les Miserables, 116 tTwentgsffrst E)a>? HUQUSt Wneteentb 2>a£, She had listened to nothing, but mothers hear certain things without listening. Ninety- Three. ^twentieth 2>a£, She was really a respectable, firm, equitable, and just person, full of that charity which con- sists in giving, but not possessing to the same extent the charity which comprehends and pardons. Les Miserable s. Uwent^first 2)a£. She seemed a vision scarcely embodied ; . . . in her fairness, which amounted almost to trans- parency ; in the august and reserved serenity of her look ; ... in the sacred innocence of her smile, she was almost an angel, and yet just a woman. By Order of the King. 117 HUQUSt The girl becomes a maiden, fresh and joyous as the lark. Noting her movements, we feel as if it were good of her not to fly away. The dear familiar companion moves at her own sweet will about the house ; flits from branch to branch, or rather from room to room ; goes to and fro ; approaches and retires. . . . She asks a question and is answered ; is asked something in return, and chirps a reply. It is delightful to chat with her when tired of serious talk ; for this creature carries with her something of her skyey element. She is, as it were, a thread of gold interwoven w T ith your sombre thoughts ; you feel almost grateful to her for her kindness in not making herself invisible, when it would be so easy for her to be even impalpable ; for the beautiful is a necessity of life. \ There is in the world no function more important than that of being charming.\ . . To shed joy around, to radiate happiness, to cast light upon dark days, to be the golden thread of our destiny, and 118 tTwentvsfourtfo £>a\} HUQUSt Gwent^seconfc Bag (continued). the very spirit of grace and harmony, is not this to render a service ? Toilers of the Sea. ftwentE=tbir& Ba£, She scarcely knew, perhaps, the meaning of the word love, and yet not unwillingly ensnared those about her in the toils. Toilers of the Sea. £went£=tourtb Bag* She stopped. She walked back a few paces, stopped again ; she inclined her head, with those thoughtful eyes which look attentive yet see nothing. . . . Her lowered eyelids had that vague contraction which suggests a tear checked in its course, or a thought suppressed. . . . Her face, which might inspire adoration, seemed meditative, like portraits of the Virgin. Toilers of the Sea. 119 fbuao HUQUSt Zvoentyefittb 2>a£, She broke the bread into two fragments, and gave them to the children, who ate with avidity. "She has kept none for herself," grumbled the sergeant. "Because she is not hungry," said a soldier. " Because she is a mother," said the sergeant. 9 Ninety-Three, ftwent£=sf£tb Bag. Extreme simplicity touches on extreme coquetry. . . . They did not speak, they did not bow, they did not know each other, but they met ; and like the stars in the heavens, they lived by looking at each other. It was thus that she gradually became a woman, and was developed into a beautiful and loving woman, conscious of her beauty and ignorant of her love. She was a coquette into the bargain, through her innocence. Les Miserables. 120 HllQUSt TL\venty*scventb Bag. Does not beauty confer a benefit upon us, even by the simple fact of being beautiful ? — Here and there we meet with one who possesses that fairy-like power of enchanting all about her ; sometimes she is ignorant herself of this magical influence, which is, however, for that reason only the more perfect. Her presence lights up the home ; her approach is like cheer- ful warmth ; she passes by, and we are content ; she stays awhile, and we are happy. Toilers of the Sea. Cvvent^etgbtb £>a£. To behold her is to live ; she is the Aurora with a human face. She has no need to do more than simply to be ; she makes an Eden of the house ; Paradise breathes from her : and she communi- cates this delight to all, without taking any greater trouble than that of existing beside 121 1bugo Hugust Gwent£=etgbtb 5>a£ {continued). them. Is it not a thing divine to have a smile which, none know how, has the power to lighten the weight of that enormous chain which all the living, in common, drag behind them? Toilers of the Sea, XLxventy*nintb 2>a£. On the day when a woman who passes before you emits light as she walks you are lost, for you love. You have from that moment but one thing to do : think of her so intently that she will be compelled to think of you. Les Misirables. OTrirtietb 2>a£, The soul only needs to see a smile in a white crepe bonnet in order to enter the palace of dreams. Les Miskrables. 122 tCbirtgsftrst S)av aufiust Cblrt^first 5>a£, She had upon her lips almost the light of a smile, with the fulness of tears in her eyes. . . . The reflection of an angel was in her look. Toilers of the Sea. 123 September IRobert Browning TIGlomen, mooels of tbeir ser, Society's true ornament, H)ramattc Xsrics. 125 drowning September There is a vision in the heart of each Of justice, mercy, wisdom, tenderness To wrong and pain, and knowledge of its cure : And these embodied in a woman's form That best transmits them, pure as first received, From God above her, to mankind below. Colombo s Birthday, Second 2>a£. This woman . . . . . . Being true, devoted, constant— she Found constancy, devotion, truth, the plain And easy commonplace of character. The Inn Album. 126 tfourtb £>a$ September Gbirft Bag. . . . The good and tender heart, Its girl's trust and its woman's constancy, How pure yet passionate, how calm yet kind, How grave yet joyous, how reserved yet free As light where friends are — how imbued with lore The world most prizes, yet the simplest. Herself creates The want she means to satisfy. A Blot on the 'Scutcheon. Jfourtb 2>a£, Truly, the woman's way High to lift heart up. Agamemnon. 127 Browning September fifth Bar?. And MichaTs face Still wears that quiet and peculiar light Like the dim circlet floating 'round a pearl. And yet her calm sweet countenance, Though saintly, was not sad ; for she would sing Alone . , . bird-like, Not dreaming you were near. — Her carols clropt In flakes through that old leafy bower. Paracelsus. Sirtb 5>a£. „ . . Such a lady, cheeks so round and lips so red.— On her neck the small face buoyant like a bell- flower on its bed. Lyric. 120 £:;'::': r.v: September Scvcntb E>ar. There 's a woman like a dew-drop, she 's so purer than the pure-: ; And her noble heart 's the noblest, yes, and her sure faith 's the sure 5; : And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster, Gush In golden-tinted plenty down her neck's rose-m:s:e.i marble ; Then her ve ice's music . . . call it the well's bubbling, the bird's warble ! A Blot on the 'Scutcheon. Etybtb Sat;. How twinks thine eye, my Love. Bine as yon star-beam. F-;rishtah's Fancies. 129 drowning September Ifttntb H>a£. That flower-like love of hers ; She was true — she only of them all ! True to her eyes, . . . those glorious eyes. With truth and purity go other gifts, All gifts come clustering to that. The Return of the Druses. ftentb 2>a£* Good as beautiful is she, With gifts that match her goodness, no faint flaw I' the white ; — she were the pearl you think you saw. Daniel Bartoli. 130 Uvvelftb 2>a$ September ^Eleventh 2>aE* Since beneath my roof Housed she who made home heaven, in heaven's behoof I went forth every day, and all day long Worked for the world. Look, how the laborer's song Cheers him ! Thus sang my soul, at each sharp throe Of laboring flesh and blood — "She loves me so!" A Forgiveness. Cvvelftb 5>as* It is conspicuous in a woman's nature Before its view to take a grace for granted : Too trustful, — on her boundary, usurpature Is swiftly made ; But swiftly, too, decayed, The glory perishes by woman vaunted. Agamemnon. 131 JBvowntna September Sbirteentb Bag, That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers ; And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers ! Eyes and mouth too, All the face composed of flowers. . . . . . . The sweet face . . . Be its beauty Its sole duty ! A Pretty Woman, jfourteentb Dap Women hate a debt as Men a gift. In a Balcony. 132 £fnbteentb 2>a$ September ffifteentb 5>a£. A pretty woman 's worth some pains to see, Xor is she spoiled, I take it, if a crown Complete the forehead pale and tresses pure. Colombo s Bij'thday. Stjteentb 5>ay. Sure, 't is no woman's part to long for battle ; Who conquers mildly God from afar benignantly regardeth. Agame7)ino?i. Seventeentb £>a£. Man's best and woman's worse Amount so nearly to the same thing. Daniel Bartoli* JEiQbtccrxtb 5>a£. Nature's law . . . Given the peerless woman, certainly Somewhere shall be the peerless man to match. The Inn Album, 133 36rownma£. Girl with sparkling eyes . . . What an angelic mystery you are — You have a full fresh joyous sense cf life That finds you out life's fit food everywhere ; By joyance you inspire joy. The Inn Album. 134 September Cvvcntv^ffrst E>av>. Now makes twice That I have seen her, walked and talked With the poor pretty thoughtful thing, Whose worth I weigh ; she tries to sing : Draws, hopes in time the eye grows nice; Reads verse and thinks she understands ; Loves all, at any rate, that 's great, Good, beautiful . . . Dis A liter Visum. Wave my lady dear a last farewell, Lamenting who to one and all of us Domestics was a mother, myriad harms She used to ward away from every one, And mollify her husband's ireful mood. Balaustiorts Adventure. 135 SBrownhtg September Men ? say you have the power To make them yours, rule men, throughout life's little hour, According to the phrase : what follows ? Men, you make, By ruling them, your own ; each man for his own sake Accepts you as his guide, avails him of what worth He apprehends in you to sublimate his earth With fire ; content, if so you convey him through night, That you shall play the sun, and he, the satel- lite, Pilfer your light and heat and virtue, starry pelf, While, caught up by your course, he turns upon himself. Fifine at the Fair. 136 'Cwentvsfiftb Bav September vTwent^fourtb Ba£. Any sort of woman may bestow Her atom on the star, or clod she counts for such, — Bach little making less bigger by just that much. Women grow you, while men depend on you at best. Fifine at the Fair. £went£=fiftb 5>a£. Woman, and will you cast For a word, quite off at last Me your own, your You, — Love, if you knew the light That your soul casts in my sight, How I look to you For the pure and true, And the beauteous and the right, — Bear with a moment's spite When a mere mote threats the white ! A Lovers Quarrel. 137 Srowniiu] September Z\ventv*6\xtb 5)a^ Love, you did give all I asked, I think — More than I merit, yes, by many times. But had you — oh, with the same perfect brow, And perfect eyes, and more than perfect mouth, And the low voice my soul hears, as a bird The fowler's pipe, and follows to the snare — Had you, with these the same, but brought a mind ! Some women do so. Had the mouth there urged, " God and the glory ! never care for gain ; The present by the future, what is that ? Live for fame, side by side with Agnolo ! Rafael is waiting : up to God, all three ! " I might have done it for you. So it seems ; Perhaps not. All is as God overrules. Andrea Del Sarto. r 3 8 cwentvseigbtb 2>a\: September Zwenty^seventh Bay. All women love great men If young or old ; it is in all the tales ; Young beauties love old poets who can love — Who was a queen and loved a poet once Humpbacked, a dwarf? ah, women can do that! In a Balcony. ftwentg^elgbtb S>a£. For women There is no good of life but love — but love ! What else looks good, is some shade flung from love ; Love gilds it, gives it worth. Be warned by me. Never you cheat yourself one instant ! Love, Give love, ask only love, and leave the rest ! In a Balcony, 139 drowning September GwentE=mntb 2>ag. Oh, the beautiful girl . . . . . . Her flesh was the soft seraphic screen Of a soul that is meant . . . To just see earth, and hardly be seen, And blossom in heaven instead. Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair ? One grace that grew to its full . . . . . . She had her great gold hair. Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss, Freshness and fragrance — floods of it, too ! Gold, did I say ? Nay, gold 's mere dross ! Gold Hair. 140 Ubfrtfetb S>a\? September Zbixtieth 3E>a& She had A heart — how shall I say ? — too soon made glad, Too easily impressed : she liked whate'er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. 'T was all one ! My favour at her breast, The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, — all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, Or blush at least . . . . . . Who 'd stoop to blame This sort of trifling ? My Last Duchess. 141 ©ctober XHlxUiant flDafcepeace TTbacfcerap JSlesseo be— blesses tbougb mavjbe undeserving— wbo bas tbe love of a gooo woman. Cbe ltewcomes. 143 Zbacbevay ©ctober To be doing good for some one else, is the life of most good women. They are exuberant of kindness, as it were, and must impart it to some one. Henry Esmond. Second E>a£* Who ever accused women of being just ? They are always sacrificing themselves or somebody for somebody else's sake. Pendennis. 144 October CbirS Sat). I think it is not national prejudice which makes me believe that a high-bred English lady is the most complete of all Heaven's sub- jects in this worlf.. In whom else do you see faith, and so mu:h tenalerness ; with such a perfect refinement and chastity?' And by high-'::re:i la vies I don't mean duchesses and countesses. Be they ever so hicm in station, they can be but la hies, and no mere. But almost every man who lives in the world has the hayniness, let us hepe. of counting a few such persons amongst his circle of acquaint- ance. — women, in whose angelical natures ueraest of us must fall down and humble our- selves, in admiration of that adorable purity which ue~er seems to do or to think wrong. P-sndennis. ?- : October ffourtb Ba£, What kind-hearted woman, young or old, does not love match-making ? The Newcomes, ffittb Bag. Who does not know how ruthlessly women will tyrannize when they are let to domineer? And who does not know how useless advice is ? ... A man gets his own experience about women, and will take nobody's hearsay ; nor, indeed, is the young fellow worth a fig that would. Henry Esmond. 5i£tb 2>a£« Stupid ! Why not ? Some women ought to be stupid. What you call dulness I call repose. Give me a calm woman, a slow woman,— a lazy, majestic woman. Show me a gracious 146 Sirtb £>a\: ©ctober Slltb 5>a£ (continued). virgin bearing a lily ; not a leering giggler frisking a rattle. A lively woman would be the death of me. . . . Why shouldn't the Sherriek be stupid, I say ? About great beauty there should always reign a silence. As you look at the great stars, the great ocean, any great scene of nature, you hush, sir. You laugh at a pantomime, but you are still in a temple. When I saw the great Venus of the Louvre, I thought, — Wert thou alive, O goddess, thou shouldst never open those lovely lips but to speak lowly, slowly ; thou shouldst never de- scend from that pedestal but to walk stately to some near couch, and assume another attitude of beautiful calm. To be beautiful is enough. If a woman can do that well ; who shall de- mand more from her ? You don't want a rose to sing. And I think wit is as out of place where there's great beauty; as I wouldn't have a queen to cut jokes on her throne. The Newcomes, M7 Cbacfceravj ©ctober Seventh ©a& And so it is, — a pair of bright eyes with a dozen glances suffice to subdue a man ; to enslave him, and inflame him ; to make him even forget ; they dazzle him so that the past becomes straightway dim to him ; and he would give all his life to possess 'em. Henry Esmond. JEigbtb Da£. She is as good a little creature as can be. She is never out of temper ; I don't think she is very wise ; but she is uncommonly pretty, and her beauty grows on you. ... I look at her like a little wild-flower in a field, — like a little child at play, sir. Pretty little tender nursling. If I see her passing in the street I feel as if I would like some fellow to be rude to her, that I might have the pleasure of knocking him down. She is like a little song-bird, sir, — 14S tteittf) E\n; October jBigbtt ©aB [continued). a tremulous, fluttering little linnet that you would take into your hand, and smooth its little plumes, and let it perch on your finger and sing. The Xewcomes. ffUntb Sax?. That fine blush which is her pretty symbol of youth, modesty, and beauty. ... I never saw such a beautiful violet as that of her eyes. Her complexion is of the pink of the blush-rose. The Xezc copies . Centb 9a\\ He thought and wondered a: the way in which women play with men, and coax them and win them and drop them. PendenniSy *49 Ubackera^ ©ctober JEleventh Dag* It was this lady's disposition to think kind- nesses, and devise silent bounties and to scheme benevolence, for those about her. We take such goodness, for the most part, as if it were our due ; the Marys who bring ointment for our feet get but little thanks. Some of us never feel this devotion at all, or are moved by it to gratitude or acknowledgment ; others only recall it years after, when the days are past in which those sweet kindnesses were spent on us, and we offer back our return for the debt by a poor tardy payment of tears. The for- gotten tones of love recur to us, and kind glances shine out of the past — O so bright and clear ! — O so longed after ! because they are out of reach ; as holiday music from withinside a prison wall — or sunshine seen through the bars ; more prized because unattainable, more bright because of the contrast of present darkness and solitude, whence there is no escape. Henry Esmond. 150 tEbirteentb 2>a$ ©ctober Gwelftb Dag. Brighter eyes there might be, and faces more beautiful, but none so dear, — no voice so sweet as that of his beloved, who had been sister, mother, goddess to him during his youth, — goddess now no more, for he knew of her weaknesses ; . . . but more fondly cherished as woman perhaps than ever she had been adored as divinity. What is it ? Where lies it ! the secret which makes one little hand the dearest of all ? Whoever can unriddle that mystery ? Henry Esmond. Cbirteentb 5>a£, In houses where, in place of that sacred, inmost flame of love, there is discord at the centre, the whole household becomes hypo- critical, and each lies to his neighbor. . . . Alas that youthful love and truth should end in bitterness and bankruptcy. ... 'T is a hard task for women in life, that mask which the 151 'Cbacfceravs October Sbitteentb E>a£ {continued). world bids them wear. But there is no greater crime than for a woman who is ill used and unhappy to show that she is so. The world is quite relentless about bidding her to keep a cheerful face. Henry Esmond. ffourteentb 3Da£. 0> what a mercy it is that these women do not exercise their powers oftener. We can't resist them if they do. Let them show ever so little inclination and men go down on their knees at once ; old or ugly it is all the same, and this I set down as a positive truth. A woman with fair opportunities, and without an absolute hump, may marry whom she likes. Only let us be thankful that the darlings are like the beasts of the field and don't know their own powers. They would overcome us entirely if they did. The Newcomes. 152 Sirtecntb S)a^ October jfttteentb Bag. As for women — O my dear friends and breth- ren in this vale of tears — did you ever see any- thing so curious and monstrous and annoying as the way in which women court Princekin when he is marriageable ! The Neii' comes. Sixteenth S>a£, She was as gentle and amenable to reason 5 as good-natured a girl as could be ; a little vacant and silly, but some men like dolls for wives. The Newcomes. October Seventeenth 2>a£. She bad been bred to measure ber actions by a standard which the world may nominally admit, but which it leaves for the most part unheeded. Worship, love, duty, as taught her by the devout study of the sacred law which interprets and defines it — if these formed the outward practice of her life, they were also its constant and secret endeavor and occupation. She spoke but very seldom of her religion, though it filled her heart and influenced all her behavior. What must the world appear to such a person ? The New comes. There are ladies, who may be called men's women, being welcomed entirely by all the gentlemen, and cut or slighted by all their wives. . . . But while simple folks who are out of the world, or country people with a taste for the genteel, behold these ladies in their seem- 154 TEigbtccntb Ba^ ©ctober JBigbteentb Da£ [continued). ing glory in public places, or envy them from afar off, persons who are better instructed could inform them that these envied ladies have no more, chance of establishing themselves in "Society," than the benighted squire's wife in Somersetshire, who reads of their doings in the Morning Post. Men living about town are aware of these awful truths. You hear how pitilessly many ladies of seeming rank and wealth are excluded from this "Society." The frantic efforts which they make to enter this circle, the meannesses to which they submit, the insults which they undergo, are matters of wonder to those who take human or woman kind for a study ; and the pursuit of fashion under difficulties would be a fine theme for any very great person who had the wit, the leisure, and the knowledge of the English language necessary for the compiling of such a history. Vanity Fair. 'Cbacfceras Qctobcv IRineteentb Bag. I can fancy nothing more cruel than to have to sit day after day with a dull handsome woman opposite ; to answer her speeches about the weather, housekeeping, and what not. . . . Women go through this simpering and smiling life and bear it quite easily. Theirs is a life of hypocrisy. What good woman does not laugh at her husband's or father's jokes and stories time after time and would not laugh at breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he told them ? Flattery is their nature, — to coax, flatter, and sweetly befool some one is every woman's business. She is none, if she declines this office. The Newcomes. {Twentieth Ba^. He had placed himself at her feet so long that the poor little woman had been accustomed to trample upon him. She did n't wish to marry i 5 6 ©ctober CwentlCtb 5>a£ {continued). him, but she wished to keep him. She wished to give him nothing, but that he should give her all. It is a bargain not unfrequently levied in love. Vanity Fair. Cvvent^ffrst Ba^» Every woman would rather be beautiful, than be anything else in the world, — ever so rich, or ever so good, or have all the gifts of the fairies. The Virginians. G\ventE=seconD Ba^, Is not a young mother one of the sweetest sights which life shows us ? If she has been beautiful before, does not her present pure joy give a character of refinement and sacredness almost to her beauty, touch her sweet cheeks with fairer blushes, and impart I know not what serene brightness to her eyes ? The New comes. 157 ©ctober Cvvent^=tbtrD Ba£, If a man is in grief, who cheers him ; in trouble, who consoles him ; in wrath, who soothes him ; in joy, who makes him doubly happy ; in prosperity, who rejoices ; in dis- grace, who backs him against the world, and dresses with gentle unguents and warm poul- tices the rankling wounds made by the stings and arrows of outrageous Fortune? Who but woman, if you please ? You who are ill and sore from the buffets of Fate, have you one or two of these sweet physicians ? Return thanks to the gods that they have left you so much of consolation. What gentleman is not more or less a Prometheus ? Who has not his rock, his chain? But the sea-nymphs come, — the gentle, the sympathizing ; . . . they do their blessed best to console us Titans ; they don't turn their backs upon us after our overthrow. The Virginians. 158 October awent^tourtb 2>a^ She 's very kind, you know, and all that, but I don't think she *s what you call comme ilfaut. ... I can't tell you what it is, or how it is, only one can't help seeing the difference. It isn't rank and that; only somehow there are some men gentlemen and some not, and some women ladies acd some not. . . . And so about Aunt Maria, she's very finely dressed, only somehow she 's not — she 's not the ticket, you see. . . . What I mean is, — but never mind, I can't tell what I mean. . . . but Aunt Ann is different, and it seems as if what she says is more natural ; and though she has funny ways of her own, too, yet somehow T she looks grander, — And do you know, I often think that as good a lady as Aunt Ann herself is old Aunt Honeyman — that is, in all essentials, you know. And she is not a bit ashamed of letting lodgings or being poor herself. The Newcomes. 159 Ubacfeera$ ©ctober Gweitts*ffftb S>a£. This lady moved through the world quite regardless of all the comments that were made in her praise or disfavor. She did not seem to know that she was admired or hated for being so perfect, but went on calmly through life, saying her prayers, loving her family, helping her neighbors, and doing good. Pendennis. £wentE=si£tb 2>a£» She had a fault of character which flawed her perfections. With the other sex perfectly tolerant and kindly, of her own she was in- variably jealous ; and a proof that she had this vice is, that though she would acknowledge a thousand faults that she had not, to this which she had she could never be got to own. Henry Esmond. 1 60 UvpentvseiabtfD 2Das October Cwent^seventb Bag* She was a critic, not by reason, but by feeling. Feeling was her reason. Henry Esmond. She was silent for a while. I could see that she was engaged where pious women ever will betake themselves in moments of doubt, of grief, of pain, of separation, of joy even, or whatsoever other trial. They have but to will, as it were an invisible temple rises round them ; their hearts can kneel down there ; and they have an audience of the great, the merciful, untiring Counsellor and Consoler. The Ne7vcomes. 161 ©ctober 3wentg«nintb Bag. Her eyes were gray ; her voice low and sweet : and her smile when it lighted up her face and eyes as beautiful as spring sunshine, also, they could brighten and flash often, and sometimes though rarely rain. Pendennis. Cbtrtietb £>a£. They were now in daily communication and " my-dearesting " each other with that female fervor which cold men of the world as we are — not only chary of warm expressions of friend- ships, but averse to entertaining warm feelings at all — we surely must admire in persons of the inferior sex, whose loves grow up and reach the skies in a night ; who kiss, embrace, con- sole, call each other by Christian names in that sweet kindly sisterhood of misfortune and com- passion, who are always entering into partner- ship here in life. The Newcomes, 162 ©ctober Sure, love vincit omnia ; is immeasurably above all ambition, more precious than wealth, more noble than name. He knows not life who knows not that : he hath not felt the highest faculty of the soul who hath not enjoyed it. In the name of my wife I write the completion of hope, and the summit of happiness. To have such a love is the one blessing, in comparison of which all earthly joy is of no value ; and to think of her is to praise God. Henry Esmond. 163 IRovember Hltrefc, Xorfc Gennyson Every, man, f;r tbe safce of tbe great blessefc flfcotber in beaven, ano for tbe love of bis own little motber on eartb, sbouR banMe all womanfeinfc gently, and bote tbem in all bononr. T&be foresters. ttcnirosoit Wovember first E>a£. Behold her eyes Beyond my knowing of them, beautiful, Beyond all knowing of them, wonderful. Beautiful in the light of holiness. The Ho?: Grail. All her thoughts as fair within her eyes, As bottom agates seem to wave and float In crystal currents of clear morning seas. The Princess, Her eyes are homes of silent prayer. /;/ Jlemoriam. Second E>a\\ The bearing and the training of a child Is woman's wisdom. The Princess. 1 66 ffourtb S>av 1Ro\>ember ^TbtrD S>a£. Byes not down-dropt uor over bright, but fed With the clear-pointed flame of chastity, Clear, without heat, undying, tended by Pure vestal thoughts in the translucent fane Of her still spirit ; locks not wide dispread, Madonna- wise on either side her head ; Sweet lips whereon perpetually did reign The summer calm of golden charity. The stately flower of female fortitude, Of perfect wifehood and pure lowlihead. Isabel. ffourtb £>aE* Everywhere L,ow voices with the ministering hand Hung 'round the sick ; the maidens came, they talked, They sang, they read ; till she not fair, began To gather light, and she that was, became Her former beauty treble ; and to and fro 167 tTennvson IRovember ffOUrtb S>a£ {continued). With books, with flowers, and angel offices, Like creatures native unto gracious act, And in their own clear element, they moved. The Princess. jfittb 2>afi. The woman's cause is man's ; they rise or sink Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free ; If she be small, slight-natured, miserable, How shall men grow ? The Princess. 5t£tb 2>a£. When the man wants weight, the woman takes it up, And topples down the scales ; but this is fixt As are the roots of earth and base of all. Man for the field, and woman for the hearth ; Man for the sword, and for the needle she ; Man with the head, and woman with the heart ; Man to command, and woman to obey. The Princess. 168 Seventh 3>a$ IRovember Seventh 2)a^ From earlier than I know, Immersed in rich foreshadowing of the world, I loved the woman. . . . Yet was there one through whom I loved her, one Not learned, save in gracious household ways, Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants, No Angel, but a dearer being, all dipt In Angel instincts, breathing Paradise, Interpreter between the Gods and men, Who looked all native to her place, and yet On tiptoe seemed to touch upon a sphere Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce Swayed to her from their orbits as they moved And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay. The Princess. 169 tTennvson 1Ro\>ember JEt^btb Bag* One arm aloft — Gown'd in pure white, that fitted to the shape — Holding the bush, to fix it back, she stood, A single stream of all her soft-brown hair Pour'd on one side ; the shadow of the flowers Stole all the golden gloss, and, wavering Lovingly lower, trembled on her waist — Ah, happy shade — and still went wavering down, But, ere it touch' d a foot, that might have danced The greensward into greener circles, dipt, And mix'd with shadows of the common ground ! But the full day dwelt on her brows, and sunn'd Her violet eyes, and all her Hebe bloom, And doubled his own warmth against her lips, And on the bounteous wave of such a breast As never pencil drew. Half light, half shade, She stood, a sight to make an old man young. The Gardener *s Daughter. 170 •Wintb 2>a\> IRovember Iftintb Bag. Woman is not undeveloped man, But diverse ; could he make her as the man, Sweet love were slain, whose dearest bond is this Not like to thee, but like in difference : Yet in the long years liker must they grow ; The man be more of woman, she of man ; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care ; More as the doubled-natured Poet each ; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto nobler words ; And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers, Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, Self-reverent each and reverencing each, Distinct in individualities, But like each other even as those who love. The Pr hi cess. 171 'Cennvjson IRovember Zcnth Dag. Mystery of mysteries, Faintly smiling Adeline, Scarce of earth nor all divine, Nor unhappy, nor at rest, But beyond expression fair, With thy floating flaxen hair ; Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes Take the heart from out my breast. Wherefore those dim looks of thine, Shadowy, dreaming Adeline ? Whence that aery bloom of thine, Like a lily which the sun Looks thro' in his sad decline, And a rose-bush leans upon, Some honey-converse feeds thy mind, Some spirit of a crimson rose In love with thee forgets to close His curtains. . . . 172 Cleventb Bav IRovember CCUtb DaP {continued). What aileth thee ? whom waitest thou With thy soften' d, shadow 'd brow, And those dew-lit eyes of thine, Thou faint smiler, Adeline ? Adeline. Eleventb 2>as* My mother was as mild as any saint, And nearly canonized by all she knew, So gracious was her tact and tenderness. The Princess. 173 TEenngson IRovember Cwelftb Bag. The intuitive decision of a bright And thorough-edged intellect to part Error from crime ; a prudence to withhold ; The laws of marriage character' d in gold Upon the blanched tablets of her heart ; A love still burning upward, giving light To read those laws ; an accent very low In blandishment, but a most silver flow Of subtle-paced counsel in distress, Right to the heart and brain, tho' undescried, Winning its way with extreme gentleness Through all the outworks of suspicious pride ; A courage to endure and to obey ; A hate of gossip parlance, and of sway, The queen of marriage, a most perfect wife. . . . The world hath not another Of such a fmish'd chasten'd purity. Isabel. 174 jfouvtccntb £a\? IHopember Cbirteentb 2)a^ A maiden of our century, yet most meek ; A daughter of our meadows, yet not coarse ; Straight, but as lissome as a hazel wand ; Her eyes a bashful azure, and her hair In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell Divides three-fold to show the fruit within. A little fTutter'd, with her eyelids down, Fresh apple-blossom, blushing for a boon. Darling Katie, ^Fourteenth Da£* She has neither savor nor salt, But a cold and clear-cut face. Perfectly beautiful ; let it be granted her ; Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, 175 ccnnvfcn Ittovember jfourteentb 5>a£ {continued). Dead perfection, no more : . . . Pale with the golden beam of an eyelash dead on the cheek, Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on a gloom profound. Womanlike, taking revenge too deep for a transient wrong Done but in thought to your beauty. Maud. ffifteentb H>as* Kind the woman's eyes and innocent, And all her bearing gracious. The Holy Grail. 176 Sixteenth 5>as IRovember Sijteentb S)a^» I see thy beauty gradually unfold, Daily and hourly, more and more. I muse, as in a trance, the while Slowly, as from a cloud of gold, Comes out thy deep ambrosial smile. I muse, as in a trance, whene'er The languors of thy love-deep eyes Float on to me. . . . Sometimes, with most intensity Gazing, I seem to see Thought folded over thought, smiling asleep, Slowly awaken' d, grow so full and deep In thy large eyes. . . . In thee, all passion becomes passionless, Touch'd by thy spirit's mellowness. . . . Eleanore. 177 IRovember Seventeentb Ba£* Faithful, gentle, good, Wearing the rose of womanhood. The Two Voices. ^Eighteenth Da£. She strove against her weakness, Though at times her spirit sank ; Shaped her heart with woman's meekness To all duties of her rank. The Lord of Burleigh. IRineteentb Da^ The woman is so hard Upon the woman ! The Princess. 178 cwcntvsfirst IDa^ IHovember {Twentieth Das. Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laughed ; A rose-bud set with little wilful thorns. The Princess. Yet I hold her, True woman : but you class them all in one, That have as many differences as we. The violet varies from the lily as far As oak from elm : one loves the soldier, one The silken priest of peace, one this, one that, And some unworthily ; their sinless faith, A maiden moon that sparkles on a sty, Glorifying clown and satyr ; whence they nee-; More breadth of culture : . . . They worth it ? truer to the law within ? Severer in the logic of a life ? Twice as magnetic to sweet influences Of Earth and Heaven ? The Princess. 179 Uennvjson IRovember Cwent£=seccm& 2>ag. Thou art not steep' d in golden languors, No tranced summer calm is thine, Ever varying Madeline. Thro' light and shadow thou dost range, Sudden glances, sweet and strange, Delicious spites, and darling angers, And airy forms of flitting change. Smiling, frowning, evermore, Thou art perfect in love-lore. Revealings deep and clear are thine Of wxalthy smiles ; but who may know Whether smile or frown be fleeter ? Whether smile or frown be sweeter, Who may know ? Frowns perfect-sweet along the brow Light-glooming over eyes divine, Like little clouds sun-fringed, are thine, Ever varying Madeline. Thy smile and frown are not aloof 180 'C\Yent\>tbirt> E>a$ IRovember Z\venty*$econb E>a£ [continued). From one another, Each to each is dearest brother ; Hues of the silken sheeny woof Momently shot into each other. All the mystery is thine ; Smiling, frowning, evermore, Thou art perfect in love-lore, Ever varying Madeline. Madeline. C\ventE=tbtr& Sag, Twin sister of the morning-star, — The loveliest life that ever drew the light From heaven to brood upon her, and enrich Earth with her shadow ! ^ ........ . A woman I could live and die for. The Cup, 181 tennvson IRovember Cwentg^tourtb Bag. She did not weep, But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mist, Like that which kept the heart of Eden green Before the useful trouble of the rain. Enid. twenty *fittb Ba£. Enid easily believed, Like simple, noble natures, credulous Of what they long for ; good in friend or foe, There most in those who most have done them ill. Enid. TLxventy*Bi%tb 2>a£, She cast aside A splendor dear to women, new to her, And therefore dearer. Enid. 182 TTwentvjsefgbtb S)a$ IRovember Gwenty^seventb S>ag, Where could be found face dainter? then her shape From forehead down to foot perfect — again From foot to forehead exquisitely turned. Elaine. Ewent^efgbtb 2>ag* She, as her carol sadder grew, From brow and bosom slowly down Thro' rosy taper fingers drew Her streaming curls of deepest brown To left and right, and made appear Still-lighted in a secret shrine, Her melancholy eyes divine, The home of woe without a tear. Mariana. 1S3 tlennsson IRovember tTwent^^ntntb 2>a£. O sweet pale Margaret, O rare pale Margaret, What lit your eyes with tearful power, Like moonlight on a falling shower ? Who lent you, love, your mortal dower Of pensive thought and aspect pale, Your melancholy sweet and frail As perfume of the cuckoo-flower ? From the westward-winding flood, From the evening-lighted wood, From all things outward you have won A tearful grace, as tho' you stood Between the rainbow and the sun. The very smile before you speak, That dimples your transparent cheek, En circles all the heart, and feedeth The senses with a still delight Of dainty sorrow without sound, Like the tender amber round, Which the moon about her spreadeth, Moving thro' a fleecy night. 184 t;\vcntv=ntntb E>a\} IRovember Cwent^ssmntb Bag {continued). You love, remaining peacefully, To hear the murmur of the strife, But enter not the toil of life. Your spirit is the calmed sea, Laid by the tumult of the fight, You are the evening-star, alway Remaining betwixt dark and bright ; Lull'd echoes of laborious day Come to you, gleams of mellow light Float by you on the verge of night. A fairy shield your Genius made And gave you on your natal day. Your sorrow, only sorrow's shade, Keeps real sorrow far away. Margaret 185 Uenn$<30tt November Cbfrtietb 2)a^ All beauty compassed in a female form, The Princess ; liker to the inhabitant Of some clear planet close upon the sun, Than our man's earth ; such eyes were in her head, And so much grace and power, breathing down From over her arch'd brows, with every turn Lived thro' her to the tips of her long hands And to her feet. The Princess, December Jobn iRusftin TUbat tbe woman is to be witbin ber gates, as tbe centre of oroer, tbe balm of Distress, ano tbe mirror of beauts ; tbat sbe is also to be vvitbout ber gates, wbere oroer is more Difficult, Distress more imminent, loveliness more rare. Sesame ano Xilies. 187 Iftusfefn December Jfiret 2>a£, The perfect loveliness of a woman's counte- nance can only consist in that majestic peace, which is founded in the memory of happy and useful years, — full of sweet records ; and from the joining of this with that yet more majestic childishness, which is still full of change and promise ; — opening always — modest at once, and bright, with hope of better things to be won, and to be bestowed. There is no old age when there is still that promise — it is eternal youth. Sesame and Lilies. 188 Second S>as December Second H)aB. This is the true nature of home — it is the place of Peace ; the shelter, not only from all injury, but from all terror, doubt, and division. . . . And wherever a true wife comes, this home is always round her. The stars only may be over her head ; the glow-worm in the night- cold grass may be the only fire at her foot ; but home is yet wherever she is ; and for a noble woman it stretches far round her, better than ceiled with cedar, or painted with vermilion, shedding its quiet light far, for those who else were homeless. Sesame and Lilies. 189 IRuskiti December GbtrD H>ai>. If young ladies really do not want to be seen, they should take care not to let their eyes flash when they dislike what people say : and, more than that, it is all nonsense from beginning to end, about not wanting to be seen. I don't know any more tiresome flower in the borders than your especially ''modest" snowdrop; which one always has to stoop down and take all sorts of tiresome trouble with, and nearly break its poor little head off, before you can see it ; and then, half of it is not worth seeing. Girls should be like daisies : nice and white, with an edge of red, if you look close ; making the ground bright wherever they are ; knowing simply and quietly that they do it, and are meant to do, and that it would be very wrong if they didn't do it. Ethics of the Dust. 190 ffiftb £>as December JFourtb Ba£. You cannon think that the buckling on of the knight's armour by his lady's hand was a mere caprice of romantic fashion. It is the type of an eternal truth — that the soul's armour is never well set to the heart unless a woman's hand has braced it ; and it is only when she braces it loosely that the honour of manhood fails, Sesa m e and L Hies . jpiftb 2>afi. Be in your heart a Sister of Charity always, without either veiled or voluble declaration of it. Pre/a ce — Sesa me and L Hies . 191 tftusfein December Stjtb Bag, Lady means " bread-giver ' ' or " loaf-giver." . . . And a Lady has legal claim to her title, only so far as she communicates that help to the poor representatives of her Master, which women once, ministering to Him of their sub- stance, were permitted to extend to that Master Himself; and when she is known, as He Him- self once was, in breaking of bread. Sesame and Lilies. Seventb 2)a^ Your fancy is pleased with the thought of being noble ladies, with a train of vassals. Be it so ; you cannot be too noble, and your train cannot be too great ; but see to it that your train is of vassals whom you serve and feed, not merely of slaves who serve and feed you ; and that the multitude which obeys you is of those whom you have comforted, not oppressed, — whom you have redeemed, not led into cap- tivity. Sesame and Lilies. 192 flfntb Bavj December JBiQbth 2>a£. Generally we are under an impression that a man's duties are public, and a woman's private. But this is not altogether so, — a woman has a personal work and duty, relating to her own home, and a public work and duty, which is also the expansion of that. Sesame and Lilies. IRtntb Bas* The woman's work for her own home is, to secure its order, comfort, and loveliness. Sesa me and L Hies . 193 December Zcntb Bag. We hear of the mission and of the rights of woman, as if these could ever be separate from the mission and the rights of man ; — as if she and her lord were creatures of inde- pendent kind and of irreconcilable claim. This, at least, is wrong. And not less wrong- perhaps even more foolishly wrong — is the idea that woman is only the shadow and attendant image of her lord, owing him a thoughtless and servile obedience, and sup- ported altogether in her weakness by the pre- eminence of his fortitude. This, I say, is the most foolish of all errors respecting her who was made to be the helpmate of man. As if he could be helped effectively by a shadow, or worthily by a slave ! Sesame and Lilies. 194 "Cwclftb Fav December Eleventh £>a\\ Note, Shakespeare has no heroes ; — he has only heroines. . . . The catastrophe of every play is caused by the folly or fault of a man : the redemption, if there be any, is by the wis- dom and virtue of a woman. Sesame and Lilies. Cwelftb E>a£. Always dress yourselves beautifully — not finely, unless on occasion ; but then very finely and beautifully too. Also, you are to dress as many other people as you can ; and to teach them how to dress, if they don't know ; and to consider every ill-dressed woman or child whom you see anywhere, as a personal disgrace ; and to get at them, somehow, until everybody is as beautifully dressed as birds. Ethics of the Dust. 195 IRusfcm December Gbirteentb 2>as* Was any woman, do you suppose, ever the better for possessing diamonds ? but how many have been made base, frivolous, and miserable by desiring them ? Ethics of the Dust. ffourteentb 2>ag, Dwell on your own feelings and doings ; — and you will soon think yourselves Tenth Muses ; but forget your own feelings ; and try, instead, to understand a line or two of Chaucer or Dante ; and you will soon begin to feel your- selves very foolish girls, which is much like the fact. Ethics of the Dust. ffifteentb Bag* Remember, that nothing is ever done beauti- fully, which is done in rivalship ; nor nobly, which is done in pride. Ethics of the Dust 196 Seventeenth Stag Sirteentb H>a£. You must either be house-wives or house- moths ; remember that. Iu the deep seuse, you either weave men's fortunes, and em- broider them : or feed upon, and bring them to decay. Ethics of the Dust. Seventeenth 2>a|>. The woman's power is for rule, not for battle. — and her intellect is not for invention or crea- tion, but for sweet ordering, arrangement, and decision. She sees the qualities of things, their claims and their places. Her great func- tion is Praise : she enters into no contest, but infallibly judges the crown of the contest. By her office, and place, she is protected from all danger and temptation. Sesame and Lilies. 197 tftusfcin December JEigbteentb £>a£. We are foolish, aud without excuse foolish, in speaking of the "superiority " of one sex to the other, as if they could be compared in similar things. Each has what the other has not : each completes the other, and is com- pleted by the other : they are in nothing alike, and the happiness and perfection of both de- pends on each asking and receiving from the other what the other only can give. Sesame and Lilies. IRineteentb 5>as, The best women are indeed necessarily the most difficult to know ; they are recognized chiefly in the happiness of their husbands and the nobleness of their children ; they are only to be divined, not discerned by the stranger. Sesame and Lilies. 198 C:wcnt\>firet 2>av December Gwenttetb 2>a£, There is one dangerous science for women — one which let them indeed beware how they profanely touch — that of theology. Sesame and Lilies. A woman must — as far as one can use such terms of a human creature — be incapable of error. So far as she rules all must be right, or nothing is. She must be enduringly, incor- ruptibly good : instinctively, infallibly wise — wise, not for self-development, but for self- renunciation ; wise, not that she may set herself above her husband, but that she may never fail from his side ; wise not with the narrowness of insolent and loveless pride, but with the passionate gentleness of an infinitely variable, because infinitely applicable, modesty of service — the true changefulness of woman is variable as the light, manifold in fair and serene 199 Iftusfcin December ZwentyxfiVSt 2>a£ {continued). division, that it ma} T take the color of all that it falls upon, and exalt it. Sesame and Lilies. awent^seconO 2>ag, A woman's question — "What does cooking mean ? " It means the knowledge of all herbs, and fruits, and balms, and spices ; and of all that is healing and sweet in fields and groves and savory in meats ; it means carefulness, and inventiveness, and watchfulness, and willing- ness, and readiness of appliance ; it means the economy of your great-grandmothers, and the science of modern chemists ; it means much tasting and no wasting, it means English thor- oughness, and French art, and Arabian hospi- tality, and it means, in fine, that you are to be perfectly and always "ladies " — "loaf-givers " : and, as you are to see that everybody has some- thing pretty to put on — so you are to. see that everybody has something nice to eat. Ethics of the Dust. 200 Qwcntgsfourtb 2)av? December ftwentg^tbirt) Da£. You bring up your girls as if they were meaut for sideboard ornaments, and then complain of their frivolity. Let a girl's education be as serious as a boy's. — Give them the same ad- vantages that you give their brothers — appeal to the same grand instincts of virtue in them ; teach them also that courage and truth are the pillars of their being. Sesame and Lilies. Gwent^fourtb Ba^. Remember, you are to go the road which you see to be the straight one ; carrying whatever you find is given you to carry, as well and stoutly as you can : without making faces, or calling people to come and look at you — You are neither to load, nor unload yourself; nor to cut your cross to your own liking. . . . All you have really to do is to keep your back as straight as you can, and not think about what is upon it — above all, not to boast of what is upon it. Ethics of the Dust. 201 •ftusfcin December Gwent£=fittb 2>a£. What should be the place, and what the power of women ? . . . The first of our duties to her is to secure for her such physical train- ing and exercise as may confirm her health, and perfect her beauty, the highest refinement of that beauty being unattainable without splendor of activity and of delicate strength. To perfect her beauty, I say, and increase its power : it cannot be too powerful, nor shed its sacred light too far : only remember that all physical freedom is vain to produce beauty without a corresponding freedom of heart. Sesame and Lilies. Z\ventv*6\]ctb 2>a£* All such knowledge should be given woman as may enable her to understand, and even to aid, the work of men : and yet it should be given, not as knowledge, — not as if it were, or could be, for her an object to know ; but only 202 Uwentvsdnbtb S)av December ZWenty*8\£tb 5>a£ [continued). to feel, and to judge. It is of uo moment, as a matter of pride or perfectness in herself, whether she knows many languages or one ; but it is of the utmost, that she should be able to show kindness to a stranger, and to understand the sweetness of a stranger's tongue. Sesame and Lilies. C\vent£=seventb Bag. No man ever lived a right life who had not been chastened by woman's love, strengthened by her courage, and guided by her discretion. Sesame and Lilies. Cwentg^etgbtb Bag. Marriage — when it is marriage at all — is only the seal which marks the vowed transition of temporary into untiring service, and of fitful into eternal love. Sesame and Lilies. 203 Iftusfcin December Zwcnt^ninth Ba£. " jRijr/if-doers " ; they differ but from the Lady and Lord, in that their power is supreme over the mind as over the person — that they not only feed and clothe, but direct and teach. And whether consciously or not, you must be, in many a heart, enthroned ; there is no putting by that crown ; queens you must always be ; queens to your lovers ; queens to your husbands and your sons ; queens of higher mystery to the world beyond, which bows itself, and will for ever bow, before the myrtle crown, and the stainless sceptre of womanhood. Sesame and Lilies. ftbtrtietb 2>a£, It is not the object of education to turn a woman into a dictionary, but it is deeply necessary that she should be taught to enter with her whole personality into the history she 204 ftbirtietb Bav, December CblVtlCtb £>a£ (continued). reads ; to picture the passages of it vitally in her own bright imagination. . . . But, chiefly of all, she is to be taught to extend the limit of her sympathy with respect to that history which is being for her determined, as the mo- ments pass in which she draws her peaceful breath. . . . She is to be taught somewhat to understand the nothingness of the proportion which that little world in which she lives and loves, bears to the world in which God lives -*-*"' and loves : — and solemnly she is to be taught to strive that her thoughts of piety may not be feeble in proportion to the number they em- /" brace, nor her prayer more languid than it is for the momentary relief from pain of her hus- band or her child, when it is uttered for the multitudes of those who have none to love them. — and is, ,; for all who are desolate and oppressed." Sesame and Lilies, 205 Iftusfcfn December GbirtE^first Dag, The path of a good woman is indeed strewn with flowers ; but they rise behind her steps and not before them. " Her feet have touched the meadows, and left the daisies rosy." You think that only a lover's fancy : — false and vain ! How if it could be true ? ... It is little to say of a woman, that she only does not destroy where she passes. She should revive. . . . You have heard it said that flowers only flourish rightly in the garden of some one who loves them. I know you would like that to be true ; you would think it a pleasant magic if you could flush your flowers into brighter bloom by a kind look upon them : nay, more, if your look had the power, not only to cheer, but to guard them — if you could bid the black blight turn away, and the knotted caterpillar spare — if you could bid the dew fall upon them in the drought, and say to the south wind, in frost — "Come, thou south, and breathe upon my garden, that the spices of it may flow out." 206 ftbirtgsfirst IDa^ December ZbiVt^tivet 5)a^ (continued). This you would think would be a great thiug ? And do you think it not a greater thing, that all this (and how much more than this !) you can do, for fairer flowers than these— flowers that could bless you for having blessed them, and will love you for having loved them ; — flowers that have eyes like yours, and thoughts like yours, and lives like yours ; which, once saved, you save forever ? Is this only a little power? . . . Oh — you queens — you queens ! Sesame and Lilies. 207 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 021 100 731 A LIBRARY OF CO 021 II I II 100 ' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS llllllllllllllllilllilllllillliHi 021 100 731 A