La Femme (Michelet)  

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La Femme (1860) is a book by Jules Michelet on the plight of women in French society.

La Femme was rapidly translated into English and published as Woman in New York in 1860.

Full text of French translation

W O M A N (QC fiemme. ) Fr om the Fi e n c h o f M . J . M I C H E L E T , OF TIIE FACU L TY O F L ETTE RS, CH IEF IN TIIE H ISTO RIC AL SECTIO N O F TH E NATIONAL ARC H I V E S, A UT H O R O F “ A H XST O RY O F FR ANC E, ” H ISTO R Y OF TH E R OMAN R E P UB L IC, ” M EMO I RS O F L UTH ER, ” “ INTRO D U CTIO N To UNIV ERSAL H i s TO RY, ” ETC . , ETC. , ETC. Tra nsla ted from th e last Paris Edition, by J. W . P A L M E R , M . D . g a ther of Effie Nth) anh the “ mp a n!) Damn tbs Itruinu ' abt, m. N E W Y O R K I R U D D C A R L E T O N , 1 3 0 G R A N D S T R E ET , P ARIS : L . H AC HETT E ET C ” . M DC C C LX . Entered, according to Act of Congr es s, in th e year 1 860, by RUDD CARLETON, in th e Clerk ’ s Office of the Distri ct C ou rt of th e United States for th e Sou th ern District of New York . E. C EAIC IIEAD, Stere o typer a nd Elec tr o typ er, (Earto n B tu lb mg, 81. 83 , and 85 C entr e Str eet. TRANSLAT O R ’ S P REFACE. IN THE AUTHOR ‘S OWN WORDS. “ TH IS book omits two subjects , th e i ntroduction of wh ich in L ’Amou r h as been so much cen sured— adultery an d p ros titu tion . I con cl u ded to leave th eir discussion to th e litera ture of th e day—wh ich is inexh austibl e o n both th ose th emes . I h ave demon strated my p roblems by straig h t lines , a nd left to other writers th e complicated illustration by curves . In th eir books th ey elaborately pursue th e by p ath s of love, but n ever o nce strike out on its grand an d ferti le h igh way—th at imp reg nation which i n more elevated p assions end u res even u nto death . O u r clever n ovelists a re i n th e identical fog th at i n former times en veloped th e cas uists , wh o were, m oreover, great analysers . Escobar an d Bu se nbau m, wh o met with th e same s uccess as Balz ac fifty edition s each , of th eir works— forgot only o ne th ing Prefac e . Th is book differs n o less from th e serio u s romances O f o u r g reat Utop ian s— Saint - Simon , F ourier , an d th e rest. They i n voke n ature , but a very low order of it, In sympa thy with th e deg ’ radation o f th e times ; a n d at once th ey p u t their trust i n p assional attraction , i n o ur very i nclina tion towards th at debased nature . In th is age o f stu pen do u s effort , of h eroic creation , th ey h ave tried to suppress effort

but with such a being as man , an energetic creator, an artist , effort is p art of h imself, a n d h e is all th e better for it . Th e p op ular moral in stin ct percei ves th is , a n d th at is why th ose g reat th inkers h ave n ot succeeded i n fo unding a sch ool. Ar t, labor , a n d effort r ule u s all , an d wh at we call n ature i n , ourselves is, most frequently, of o u r own making, for we create oursel ves d ay by day. I felt th e truth of th is wh ile p u rsuing my anatomical stu dies last year, especially on th e brain . Th e brai n is manifestly th e o rgan of work, the in carnation of our daily l ife . H ence its i nten se e xp ression , and, if I may so say, its eloquence , in sup erio r individuals ; I do n ot h esitate to call it th e mo st p erfect flower, th e most touching beauty i n n atu re— affecti n g in th e ch ild, an d often sublime i n th e man . Let th em cal l this Realism ; I am quite i ndifferen t. There are two so rts of r ealism : th e one vulgar and vacant— th e o th er , th rou gh th e Real, attaining th e Idea, which is its essence an d its h ig h est truth , con sequently its inh eren t n obility . If p r u dery is “ sh ocked ” at my poetry of truth , th e only p u re poetry, it is of no con sequence to me; wh e n in L ’Amou r I broke down th e stupid barrier wh ich separates literatu re from th e enlig h tenmen t of science, I did n ot a sk th e advice Preface . of th o se sh ame - faces , wh o wo u ld b e ch aster th an Nature, an d p u rer th an God . Woman n eeds a faith , an d exp ects it from man , in o r der to bring u p h er ch ild ; for th ere can be n o ed u cation with ou t faith . Th e day h as come wh en faith may be laid down i n a formula . Rou sseau could n ot do it

his age was n o t rip e for it . Cons cien ce is th e test o f tru th ; but it must h ave two controlling i nfluences— his tory, wh ich is th e co n science of the h uman race , and n a tu r a l history, wh ich is th e instinctive conscien ce of n ature . Now formerly n either of th ese two existed ; th ey h ave been born with in th e last cen tu ry ( 1 760 “ Wh en Conscience, History, an d Natu ral History acc ord -Believe l

C O N T E N T S . Tm nsLATOE ’ s P REFACE, garnhntficn. La—Why P eople do not Marry, II. —Th e F emale Operative, IIL—Th e Woman of Letters, IV. —No Life for Woman with ou t Man, $3 11 fi rst. i X Co nten ts . V. —Love at Five Yea rs —Th e Doll, VL—Woman 3. Religion, VII. - Love a t Ten Years —Flowers, VIE —Th e Little Hou s eh old —Th e Little Garden, IX —Th e Ma ternities of F ou rteen —Th e Metamorph osis, X —His tory as a Bas is of Faith, X I. —Pallas . —Rea son, X II. —Au drea del Sarto ’ s “ Ch arity, YH I. —Th e Revela tion of H eroism, finch 5 3min! . WOMAN IN THE FAMILY. I.—Th e Woman wh o will Love mosh—Of a Dif erent Race, II. - Th e Woman who will Love most —Of th e Same Rac e, III.—Th e Man wh o will Love b est, IV. —Th e Proof, V. —How Sh e gives h er Heart away, VL—Th ou sh alt leave thy Fath er a n d thy Moth er, VIL—Th e You ng Wife —H er Solitary Th ou ghts, VIII. —Sh e wou ld b e h is Pa rtner and h is Client, IX . —Arts an d Reading —Th e Common F aith , X .—Th e grea t Legend of Africa —Woman th e Goddess of Good ness . X L—How Woman Excels Man, X II. —Th e Hu milia tion s of Love —Con fession, XIII—Th e Commu nion of Love, X IV. —Th e Of ices of Natu re, Co ntents . finch dhirh. WOMAN IN SOCIETY. I. —Woman an Angel of Peace and Civilization, II. —Last Love —Women ’ s Friendsh ips, III. —Woman Protecting Woman —Caroline Chish olm, IV. —Consolation for Impris oned Women, TIP —Th e Healing Art inWoman, VI—Th e Simples, VIL—Children—Ligh t—th e F utu re, NOTES,

IN T R O D U C T I O N . W H Y PEO PLE DO NO T MAR RY. 0 WE all perceive the capital fact of our time . From a sin gular combination of circumstances— social , religious , and economical— Man lives apart from W oman . And this is b e coming more and more common . They are n o t merely in dif fer ent and parallel path s ; they are as two travellers, starting from the same point, on e at full speed , the other at a sluggish pace, but following divergent routes , Man , however weak he may be morally, is nevertheless on a train of ideas , inventions, and discoveries, so rapid that sparks dart from th e burning rail . W oman , hopelessly left behind, remains in the rut of a past of which she herself knows but little . She is distanced, to our sorrow, but either will not or cannot go faster . The worst of it is that they do not seem to desire to come together . They seem to have nothing to say to each other a cold hearth , a silent table, a frozen couch . “ One is n ot bound, ” they say, to put himself ou t in his 1 4 W hy Pe o p le do n o t M a rry ness commands it . Every one knows how a parlor divides itself in the evening into two parlors , o n e o f men , and on e o f women . It has n o t been much noticed , ‘ but it may be tested, that in a friendly reunion of a dozen persons, if the hostess insists with a sort of gentle violence that the two circles mingle together and the men converse with the women , silence succeeds ; there is no more conversation . W e must state the thing precisely as it is : they h ave no longer any ideas in common , any language in common , and even as to what might interest both parties they do not know how to speak, they have too completely lost sight of each other. Soon , if we do not take care , in spite o f casual meet ings, th ere will no longer be two sexes but two peoples . It is not surprising th at ’ th e book which combated these tendencies—1a little book of the heart , without literary preten sion , has been on all sides sharply criticised . “ threw itself naively into the breach , invoked good- nature, an d said Love again . ” At these words sharp cries were uttered ; for the diseased core was touched . “ No , we will n ot love, we will not be happy . There is something under all this . Under that reli gion s form which deifies woman , he attempts to strengthen, to emancipate her mind . H e seeks for a servile idol , to bin d on his altar . ” Thus, at the word Union , broke forth all the evils of the tM e— divisi on , dissolution , the sad solitary tastes , th e desire for savage li fe , which brood in the depths of men ’ s minds . The women read and wept . Their directors ( priests o r philosophers, no matter which) dictated language to them . Scarcely did they dare feebly t o defend their defender . But they did better, they read over again , they devoured , the fo r h idd en book , they kept it for their leisure hours , and hid it un der their pillows . W hy Pe ople do n o t M a rry. 5 It is well consoled by that , this much - abused book , both fo r the insults o f enemies and the censures of friends . Neither the men of the Middle Ages nor those of Free Love found their account in it . L ’Amou r sought to lead woman back to the fireside ; they preferred the pavement or th e convent fo r h er . A book about marriage , for the family ? Scandalous ! Rather write thirty romances about adultery— something imaginative , something amusing . Yo u will be much better received . ” W hy fortify the family ? ” says a religious j ournal . Isn ’ t it perfect already Formerly there was something th ey called adultery, but that is no longer to be seen . ” “ Excuse us , ” replies a great political thunderer, in a brilliant and extremely effective feuilleton , “ we beg your pardon , — it is still to be seen , and everywhere ; but there is so little passion in it that it disturbs no one ’ s comfort ; it is a thing inherent in French marriages, and almost an institution . Every nation has its own morals, and we are n ot English . ” Comfort ! yes, that is the evil . Neither the husband nor the lover is troubled by it— n or the wife either ; she wishes to get rid of ennui , that is all . But in this lukewarm, blood less life , in which we i nvest so little heart, expend so little art , In which not one of the three deigns to make an effort of any sort , everybody languishes, yawns, palls with nauseating comf or ta blen es s . W e all understand that well , and n o one is in a hurry to be married . If ou r laws of succession did n ot make w omen rich , there w ould be no more marrying, at least not in the large towns . In the country I heard a married man, father o f a l b W hy Pe o p le d o n o t M a rry. family, a man ‘ well posted, ’ indoctrinating a young neigh bor of his : “ If yo u are to stay here, ” he said, “ you will have to marry ; but if you live in P aris, it is n o t worth th e trouble , you can dispense with it easily . ” W e all know the saying which marked the fall of the world ’ s most intellectual people, the Athenians : “ Ah , if we could have children without women . ” It was much worse u n der the Empire . All the legal penalties, those Julian laws which made a man marry d coup d e baton , were un successful in bringing man and woman together, and it seemed that even the physical passion—that fine necessity which spurs the world along and centuples its energies—s was extin guished here belo w. So that, never ag ain to see a woman , men fled even into the Thebais . The motives which now - a - days not only cause marriage to be feared, but estrange women from society, are various and complicated . The first , indisputably, is the increasing misery o f poor girls, putting them at the mercy of the world— the easy appropriation of those victims of hunger . H ence satiety and enervation , forgetfulness of any higher love , and mortal ennui at having to solicit tediously what may be had so easily every evenmg . Even he who has other needs, and a taste for fidelity, who would like to love with a single intensity, infinitely prefers a dependent, gentle , obedient person , wh o thinks of no rights of her own , and who , if left to - morrow, will not move a st ep— only wishing to please . The strong and brilliant personality of our girls , which too often asserts itself the very day after th e wedding , frighten s the celibate . There is no j oke in that —the Fren ch woman is a character . It affords a chance for immense h appiness bu t sometimes fo r unhappiness also . Our excellent civil laws (which are of the future , an d to . W hy Pe o ple do n o t M arry. 1 7 ward which the world is gravitating) have none the less added to the inherent difficulties of the national character . The French woman is an heir, and she knows it , — has a dowry, and she knows it . It is not as in some other countries, where a daughter, if she has any dowry, has it only in money ( a fluid which easily runs out in the business of the husband) . H ere she h as real estate , and even if, h er own brother should desire to purchase it, the law Opposes h im, and keeps her rich in fixtures , secured by the dotal code or by certain stipulations . Such fortunes are almost always enduring . Land does - n ot take wings, houses do not crumble ; they remain to afford her a voice in the matter, a personality scarcely ever possessed by the English o r the German woman . The latter, so to speak, are absorbed in the husband ; they sink into him body and property ( if they have any proper ty) so that they are, I believe, more completely than ou r women uprooted from their native family , which would n ot receive them again . The wife is reckoned as dead by her own people, who rej oice in establishing a ' d a u g h t er so as never again to have expenses on her account . Whatever may happen , and wherever her husband may choose to take her, she will go and remain . On such conditions marriage is less formidable to the men . A curious thing in France, contradictory in appearance but not in reality , is that marriage is very weak, and the esp r it de f a mille very strong . It happens ( especially in the provinces, among the ru ral bourgeoisie ), that the wife who has been some time married , as soon as she has children divides her soul in t wo parts , on e fo r her children , the other for her rela tives, for her reawakened first affections . Wh at protection , in that case , fo r the husband ? None , th e esp r it do f a m illc a n nuls the marriage . One can hardly imagine how wearisome is such a wife , bury ing hersel f in a retrograde past, letting herself down to the 1 8 W hy Pe o p le do n o t M arry. level of a s u pe1 an n u a te d but lively mother, all imbued with old things . The husband lives o n quietly, but soon sickens or it discouraged, weary, good for nothing . H e loses the ideas and hopes o f progress he had acquired ln his studies and in youthful society . H e is soon killed o ff by the p r O p riet O 1 , by the dull stifling Of that old family hearth . Thus under a dowry of a hundred thousand francs is buried a man who might perhaps have earned as much every year . SO says the young man to himself in his time o f aspiration an d , of confidence . Bu t whether he have more o r less , n o mat ter ; if he would take his chance , know what he is capable of, he will send the dowry to the d evil . For the sake of th e little thing that beats under his left breast, he will not, for five hun dred francs, become husband to the queen . Bachelors have often told me this . They have also told me another thing ; on e evening when I h a d five o r six at my house , men of mark, as I was bantering them about their pretended celibacy, o n e of them, a distinguished savant, uttered these very w01 ds to me, and quite seriously Never believe that, whatever diversions a man may find without it, he is n ot unfortunate in having n o fir esid e— I mean a wife who is truly his own . W e all know that, we feel it . There is no other repose fo r the heart and n o t to have a wife , sir , be sure is a sombre, cruel , bitter life . ” B itter ! on that word all the others also laid stress , and spoke as he did . “ Bu t , said he, one consider ation deters us . All wh o work in France a r e poor . W e live by o u r engagements , by o u r patronage . W e live honestly, I ea1 n six thousan d francs

but the w ife o I should choose would spen d that much o n her toilet . Their mothers educate them so . Suppose o n e o f these beautiful creatures were besto wed o n me , what would become o f me the next day, as she left her rich abode to find mine so

2 0 W hy Pe op le do n o t Ma rry. once described them to me thus : W hat renders your France hateful to us, ’ he said, ‘ is that beneath its apparent muta tions it never changes . ’ It is like a lighthouse in eclipse, with revolving lights . It shows o r conceals the flame , but the focus is always the same . What focus The wit of Voltaire ( long previous to Voltaire ) ; in th e se c o n d place the grand laws of the Revolution ; and in the third place , the canons of your scientific pO pe, the Academy of Sciences . ’ “ I disputed it . H e insisted ; and I now see that he was right . Yes, whatever n ew questions may arise , ’ 8 9 is the faith even of those who postpone ’ 8 9, and re fer it to the fu ture . It is the faith of all France , and that is why foreigners condemn us altogether, and without distinction o f parties . W ell , the daughters of France are carefully educated to hate and con t enin what all France loves and believes in . Thrice they have embraced, weakened, killed the Revolution ; first , in the sixteenth century , in the matter of liberty of Con science ; then , at the end o f the eighteenth , in the question of political liberty . They have devoted themselves to the past, not knowing what indeed that is . They like to listen to those who say with Pascal : Nothing is sure therefore , believe in the absurd . ’ W omen ar e rich in France ; they have much wit, and every means o f instruction . But th ey will not learn anything, nor create a faith for themselves . Let them meet a man o f se rious faith , a man o f heart, who beli eves an d loves established truths, and they say with a smile : ‘ That man doesn ’ t believe in anything . ’ There was a momentary pause . This rather violent sally had nevertheless, I perceived , won the assent o f all present . I said to them : “ If what you have j ust advanced be admit ted , I believe we must say it has been often j ust th e same in other ages, an d people have married , nevertheless . W omen loved dress and luxury, and were conserva tive , but the men W hy Peo p le do n o t Ma rry. 2 1 of those times were doubtless more daring ; they faced those perils, h opin g that their influence , their energy, above all their love , the master and conqueror of conquerors , would effect happy changes in their favor . Intrepid Curtii , they threw themselves boldly into the gulf of uncertainties, and very happily for us . F or , gentlemen , but for the audacity of o u r fathers, we had never been born . No w, will you permit a frien d older than you to Speak with frankness ? Then I shall venture t o tell yo u that if you were truly alone , if yo u endured without con solation the life you find so bitter, yo u would make haste to change it, yo u would say : Love is strong and can do whatever it will . The greater will be the gl ory of converting these absurd and charming beauties t o reason . W ith a great, resolute, and persevering purpose , well - chosen means, and skilfully calculated circum stances, one may do much . But it is necessary to love , to love intensely, and love a sin gle object . NO coldness . The cultivated and coveted woman infallibly belongs to the man . If the man o f this age complains that he does n ot reach her soul , it is because he has not what subdues the soul , viz . con centr ated strength of desire . Now, t o speak only of the obstacle first alleged , of the u nrestrained pride of women , their madness for the toilet, etc . it seems to me that this applies especially t o the u pper classes, to rich ladies, or to those wh o min gle with wealthy people . The r e are two or three hundred thousand Of these . Bu t do yo u know how many women there are in France ? Eighteen millions , and eighteen hundred thousand marriageable . “ It would be great inj ustice to accuse them all of the wrongs and follies of o u r best society . ’ If they imitate it at a dis tance, it is not always from choice . Ladies, by their e xample, often by their contempt or their ridicule, cause great misfortunes in this way . They impose an impossible luxury 2 2 W hy Pe o p le do n o t M a rry. o n poor creatures who sometimes would n o t care for it, but who by their position , involving serious int erests, are forced 130 be brilliant ; and t o be so, they plunge into great extravagance . W omen who have their own peculiar world and so many secrets in common , ought certainly to love each other a little, and sustain each other, instead of warring among themselves . They inflict mutual inj ury, in a thousand cases, indirectly . The wealthy dame whose luxury changes the costume o f the poor girl , does the latter a great wrong— she prevents her marriage ; fo r n o workman cares to marry a doll , so expen sive to dress . If she remains a maiden , she is, perhaps, a n office or a shop girl , but even in that capacity the lady still harms her ; she prefers to deal with a clerk, in a black coat, a fla tt er er , and finds h im more womanly than the woman . The shopkeepers have thus been led to substitute , at great ex pense , the clerk for the girl , who cost much less . “ W hat will become of her ? If she is pretty, twenty years o f age, she will be ‘ protected, ’ and will pass from hand to hand . Soon fading, before thirty, she will become a seam stress, and work for her t en sous a day . She has no mean s of living save by earning her bread every night in shame . ' Thus the woman of wealth , depreciating her ow n sex , goes o n mak ing celibacy more and more economical , and marriage u np r o fitable, until, by a terrible retribution , her own daughter will never be able to marry . “ Do you wish me , gentlemen , to briefly portray the lot o f woman in France ? NO on e has yet done it with sim p licity. This picture, if I do not deceive myself , will touch your hearts, and perhaps enlighten you , and will prevent yo u from confoun ding very different classes in the same ana thema . ” Th e Fema le Ope rat i v e . 2 3 T H E FEMALE O PERAT IV E. WH EN the English manufacturers, en ormous ly enrich e d by new machinery, complained to Pitt, saying “Te cann ot go o n , we do not ma ke money enough , ” he gave them a terrible answer, a stain on his memory : Take the children . ” H ow much more guilty are those who took women , who opened t o the wretchedness o f the city girl , to th e blindness of the pea san t h th e fatal resource o f an exterminating labor , an d the promiscuity of factories ! He wh o takes the woman , takes also the ch ild ; for m ev ery on e t th at perishes, a family is destroyed, many children , and “ the hope Of generations to come . Barbarism of our W est ! ' W oman is no longer esteemed fo r the love and happiness of man , still less fo r maternity an d the power of reprod u ction— but as an operative . Operative ! an im pious, sordid word, which no language ever had, which no period could have ever understood before this iron age , and which alone would counterbalance all o u r pretended progress . H ere comes the close band of economists; doctors of the net proceeds . “ But, sir, ” they say, the high economi c and social necessities ! Industry would be Obstructed, stopped . In the name of these same poor classes, ” etc . , etc . The first necessity is to live, and palpably, we are perishing . The population no longer increases, and its quality is deg en e rating . The peasant girl dies o f labor, the female Operative o f hunger . W hat children can we expect from them Abo l tion s, more and more . Bu t a people does not perish ! ” Many peoples, even o f those which still figure on the map , n o longer exist . The Scottish H ighlanders h ave disappeared . Ireland no longer presents a race . W ealthy, absorbing England , that prodi 2 4 Th e Fema le Op e ra t i v e . gions blood- sucker of the world, does not succeed in ren ew ing itself by the most enormous alimentation . The race is changing and growing weak there , h as recourse to stimu lants, to alcohol , and is more and more enfeebled . Those who saw it in 1 8 1 5 didr n ot recognise it in 1 8 3 0, and h ow much less to - day W hat can the State do fo r this ? Very little in England , where th e industrial life swallows up everything, the whole country being now but on e factory . But an infinite good in France , where we as yet have so fe w laborers , comparatively . H ow many thing s that were impossible , have nevertheless been done ! It was impossible to abolish lotteries ; they are abolished . W e would have sworn it was impossible to demolish Paris in order to r e - build it : but that was easily done by a brief clause in the code (Appropriation for Public Improvements) . I see two peoples in our cities The one dressed in woollen— that is man , —the other in wr etched cotton , a n d that too , even in winter . By the former I mean the lowest Operative , the least paid bungler— a servant o f operatives . This man , however, eats meat in the morning ( a Bologna sausage, o r something else ) . In the evening he enters a cookshop , and has a dish of meat , and even drinks some bad wine . The woman of the same condition takes a sou ’ s worth o f milk in the mornin g, some bread at n oon , and some bread at night, and very rarely a bit of cheese . D O yo u deny that It is certain I will prove it presently . H er day ’ s income is ten s o n s, and ca nn ot be eleven , for a reason which I will explain . Wh y is it so ? The man no longer wishes to marry, no longer wishes to protect the woman . He lives greedily alone . Can it be said that he leads an abstin ent life No . He Th e Female Op e ra ti ve . 2 5 deprives himself O f nothing . Besotted on Sunday night , he will find without seeking some hungry shadow of a wo ma n , and will outrage the dead creature . One blushes at being a man . I make too little money, says he ; four or five times more than the woman , in most trades . He earns forty o r fifty s ons , and she ten , as we shall see . The poverty of the male Operative would be wealth , abu n dance, luxury, to the female . The former complains much the more ; and , as soon as he is in want at all , he wants many more th ings . W e may say o f them what has been said of the Englishman and the Irishman “ The Ir ish man ' is hungry for potatoes, t h e Englishman is hungry for meats , sugar, tea, beer, liquors, etc . ” In the budget o f the workman ’ s necessities I have over looked two things in which he indulges at any price, and of which the workwoman never thinks : tobacco and beer . In most cases these two articles absorb more money than a family . The pay of the men has, I know, sustained a rude shock, chiefly from the effect of the precious metal crisis, which changed the value of silver . Their wages will rise again , but slowly ; time is needed to restore the equilibrium . But, allow ing for this, the difference still exists ; the woman is much the more affected : It is meats and wine that he must give up with her, it is bread itself. She cannot economize ; on e step lower , and she dies . “ It is their own fault, ” says the economist . “ Why are they so mad as to leave their fields, and come to die of hun ger in town s ? If it is n o t the wo rkwoman herself, it was ' her 2 2 6 Th e Female Op era t i ve . mother who came, and instead of a peasant became a domes tic . Sh e did not fail , though unmarried, to have a child , which child is th e p per ative . ” My dear Sir , do yon know what country life is in France How terrible , excessive , severe the labo r is Women do n o t till in England ; they are very miserable , but yet they h ave sheds to protect them from the wind and rain . Germany; with its forests and its prairies, with its very slow labor, and national gentleness , does not crush out woman as we do . The du r u s o r a tor of the poet has his reality scarcely anywhere but here . W hy ? H e is a proprietor— proprietor o f little or nothing, and in debt . By a furious, blind labor, and unskilful agriculture , he struggles with the vulture ; th e land threatens to escape from him . Rather than that shoul d happen, he will bury himself in it, if need be but, first, cer tainly, his wife . It is fo r this that he marries, in or der to have a workman in the Antilles, they buy a negro ; in France, we marry a wife . Sh e is preferred wh o h as a small appetite, a lithe and slen der fig u r e— from an idea that she will eat less ( a historic fact) . Sh e h a s a great heart, this poor French woman , and does as much or more than is required . Sh e drives th e ass ( in light soils), and the man holds the plough . In any ca se, sh e has the hardest part . H e prunes the vine at his ease— sh e scrapes and digs . H e has respites— she none . He h a s festive occa sions and friends . H e goes alone to the tavern - she goes for a moment to church , and there falls asleep . If he returns at night intoxicated, she is beaten , and often , which is worst , wh en she is en cein te. Then she endures for a year her double suffering, in heat and cold, chilled by the wind , drenched by the rain , daily. Most o f them die o f consumption , especially in th e “ ( nt h ( see the statistics) . No constitution can withstand thei r mod e

28 Th e Fema le Op e ra t i v e . D ieu , in an unhealthy street , lower than the wharf. She has a sickly child , wh o is always trying to go to school , always falling ill , and cannot get on . Her rent is raised , less than m any others, from o n e hun dred and twenty to one hundred and sixty francs . Sh e said t O ' t wo excellent ladies , W hen I can go o u t by the day, they will give m e twenty sous, even twenty five ; but that happens scarcely more than two or three times a week . If you had n ot had the goodness t o aid me with my rent, by giving me five francs a month , I must have d on e like th e o th er s , and , to support my child, have walked the streets in the evening . The poor woman who thus walks the streets trembling, alas ! to offer herself up, is immeasurably above the coarse man , whom she must address . Our work- women who have so much wit, taste , and tact , are usually physically favored , graceful , and delicate . W hat is the difference between them and the ladies of the higher classes ? The foot No . The figure ? NO . The hand alone constitu tes the difference , b e cause the poor operative, forced to wash often , passing the winter in her little room with a simple foot - stove , has her hands, her only means of labor and of life , swollen grievously, bursting with chilblains . W ith almost only that exception the same woman , if a little dressed, is Madame la Comtesse , a s much as any in the grand Faubourg . She has n o t the jargon of the world ; she is much more romantic , more lively Let but a gleam of happiness fall o n h er , and she will eclipse them all . W e d o n ot sufficiently remark what an aristocracy women form ; there is no p op u la ce among them. As I was driving down the street, a young woman with a gentle , feminine countenance, worn , but delicate , pretty , an d distinguished, followed the carriage addressing mo in vain , for I did n ot understand Engh sh . H er beautiful supplicating blue eyes seemed pr ofoundly sorrowful under h er little straw h at , Th e F ema le Operat i v e . 2 9 Sir, ” said I to my n eighbor, who understood French , ca n you tell me what that charming person is saying to me, she who has the air o f a duchess, and who fo r some reason persists in following the carriage . ” Sir, ” said he , politely, I a m inclined to believe that she is an Operative without work, who is begging in violation of the law . ” Two important events have chan ged the lot of woman in Europe, in these latter years . Sh e has only two great trades, spinning and sewing . The others ( embroidery, flowers, etc . ) scarcely deserve to be counted . W oman is a spin ner, woman is a seamstress . It has been her business in all times : it is her universal history . W ell , it is no longer so ; it has j ust been changed . The loom has suppressed the spinner . It is n ot only her earnings, but a whole world of habits that she has lost . The peasant used to spin as she wat ched her children and fire ; she spun in the watches of the night ; she spun as she walked, driving her cow or her sheep . The seamstress was the Operative of towns; she wrought at home , either continuously, the livelong day, or divided the labor with her household cares . F or all important purposes, this no longer exists . First, convents and prisons presented a terrible competition to the isolated seamstress ; now the sewing- machine comes to annihilate her . The achievements of the two machines, cheapness and good work, will make their products prevail everywhere . There nothing to be said against them, nothing to be done . Indeed , these g reat inventions will , in the end , be advantage o u s to the human race ; but their effects are cruel in the period of transition . How many women in Europe , and elsewhere, will be de v ou r e d by these two terrible ogres, the brazen spinner an d the iron sewer ? Millions—but it can never be calculated . 3 0 Th e Female Op e rat i v e . The needle - women w ere so suddenly famished in England , t hat many societies a re occupied in promoting their em1g ra tion to Australia . The sum advanced is seven hundred and twenty francs , but the emigrant can , after the first year, return half o f it (B los s eville) . In that country, where the males are infinitely the more numerous, she marries without difficulty, fortifying with n ew families that powerful colony, more stable than the Indian empire . What becomes of ours ? They do n o t make much noise . They do not, like the conspiring and sturdy laborers, masons, carpenters, make a formidable strike, and dictate terms . They die o f hunger, and that is all. The fearful mortality of 1 8 5 4 fell especially on them . Since that time , their condition has been sorely aggravated . Ladies ’ gaiters are sewed by machinery . Flower - makers are paid much less . To inform myself on this sad subject, I spoke O f it to many persons, especially to my venerable friend and associate , Dr . Villermi and M. de Guerry, whose excellent works are so highly esteemed , and t o a young statistician whose ‘ vigorous method I had much admired, Dr . Bertillon . H e h a d the extreme kindness to make a serious task ‘ of it, combining with the data furnished by the laboring classes, others communi cat e d by public ofli cer s . I wish he would complete an d pub lish it . I will give but one line of his statement : “ In the great trade which o ccupies all women ( except a very few), needlew o rk , they can earn but ten sous a day . ” W h y ? “ Because machin ery, which is still dear en ough , does the labor for ten sous . If the woman demanded eleven, the machine would be preferred . ” And how does she make up the loss ? “ She walks the street at night . ” That is why the number of filles p u bliqu es , registered an d numbered, does not increase in Paris, and, I believe , dimin ishes a little . Th e W oman of Letters . 3 1 Man does n ot content himself with in ven tifig machines which suppress the two great trades of woman , h e takes po s session directly O f the secondary industries by which she lived , and descends to all th e avocations of weakness . Can the woman , at her will , rise to the trades that demand strength , and assume those o f men ? By no means . The Nonchalant and lazy ladies, buried in divans, may say as much as they like : “ W oman is not an invalid . ” That which is nothing, when on e m ay be nursed two o r three days, becomes overwhelming to her who has no repose, and she becomes ill at once . In fact, woman cannot labor long, either standing or sit ting . If she is al ways sitting, the blood rises , the breast is irri tated, the stomach embarrassed, the h ead clogged . If she stands , like the laundress, o r the compositor, she has other sanguineous accidents . Sh e can labor long only by vary ing her position , as she does in her household , going and coming . A househ old she ought to have, she ought to be married . TH E W O MAN O F LETT ERS. TH E well- educated g irl , as she is called who ca n teach , b e comes governess in a family, o r professor ” of certain arts does she fare any better in her business ? I wish I could s a y yes . Those gentle offices do not the less cause her an in fini ‘ tude of risks, altogether a troubled life, an abortive and s ome times tragical destiny . Everything is difficult fo r the solitary woman , everything a barrier or a precipice . Fifteen years ago Ir e ceive d a visit from a young and amiable girl , sent by her parents from a provincial place t o P aris . Sh e was directed to a friend of her family, who might aid her t o 3 2 Th e W oma n o f Le tte rs . gain a livelihood by procuring pupils for her . I expressed my astonishment at their imprudence . Then she told me all . They had sent her into this peril to avoid another ; she had at home a lover , entirely worthy, who wished to marry her . H e was a most excellent man , a man of talent ; but , alas ! he w a s poor . “ My parents esteem love him, ” said she , “ but they fear we would die of hunger . I told her without hesitation “ It is better to die o f hun ger than to run the gauntlet of P aris pavements . I bid yo u , miss, return— not to - morrow, but to - day— to your parents . Every hour that you remain here you will lose a fortune . Alone, inexperienced, what will become o f yo u Sh e followed my advice . ' H er parents consented , and she was married . H er life was a hard o n e, full o f trials, but ex emp la ry and honorable , sharing her time between the care O f h er children and the intelligent aid she af orded h er husband in his labors—d can still see her running in the winter to the libraries, where she took notes for him . W ith all th ese mise ries, and the grief I felt at n ot being able to help their proud poverty, I never regretted the counsel I gave her . She en j oyed much in her heart, suffered only in her fortune ; there was never a happier household . She died, beloved, pure, and respected . The worst destiny for woman is to live alone . Alone th every word is sad to utter . And how can th ere be on earth a Lone W oman ? W hat ! Are there no more men ? Are we in the last days o f the world ? Does the consummation o f all things , the approach of th e final judgment, render us so selfish that we shut ourselves u p in fear of the future , and in th e shame of solitary pleasures W e recognise the Lone W oman at the first glance . Take her in her own neighborhood, o r anywhere where she is kn own , Th e W oman o f Le tte rs . 3 3 and she has the disengaged, free , elegantly lightsome air pe cu lia r t o the women of France . Bu t in a place where she thinks herself less observed , and lets herself o u t , what sadness, what visible dejection ! I met some o f these last winter, still young, but in the decay of their bloom, fallen from the hat to the bonnet, grown a little thi n and pale— “ with ennui and anxiety— with bad and innutritious food , perhaps . To make them again beautiful and charming, a very little would have sufficed : hope , and three months o f happiness . W hat obstacles present themselves to the solitary woman She can scarcely go o u t in the evening ; she would be taken fo r a “ girl . ” There are a thousand places where only men are seen , and if anything should bring her there , they are surprised, and laugh sillily . F o r example , suppose she is belated on the skirts of P aris, and hungry, she dare n o t enter a restaurant . She would cause a sensation , make her self a sight

every eye would be fixed u pon her, and she would hear reckless and unpleasant conjectures . Sh e has a whole league to return , and , having arrived late, kindles her fire , prepares her slight repast . Sh e avoids making ~ a noise , because a curious neighbor— some stupid student, o r young clerk, perhaps— might apply his eye to the keyhole , o r ab r u ptly enter to offer his services . The vexatious in dis crimi n aten ess, o r rather the slavishness of our vas t and abominable barracks , which we call houses, make her tremble at a thou ! sand things , and hesitate at every step . All is embarrassing for her , and free to a man . H ow cautiously , for example , does she shut herself in , when on Sunday her youn g and n oisy neighbors have what they call a r ep a s de ga ryon s . L et u s examine this house . Sh e lives in the fourth story, and makes so little noise th at th e occupant of th e third believed for some time that th ere was no o n e . ab o ve him . H e is scarcely less unfortunate than she — a ma n w hom delicate health and a mod est income have induced to be idle . IVith o u t being old, h e has 3 4 Th e W oman o f Le tte rs . already the prudent habi ts of a ma n who is for ever occupied in taking care o f himself. A piano which wakes him a little sooner than he would like , h a s revealed the solit ary woman ; then , once, he detected o n the stairway a charming woman , rather pale , but o f fragile elegance, and h is curiosity is aroused . Nothing is easier than to gratify it ; the porters are not dumb, a n d her life is so transparent . Except when she is giving her lessons, she is always at home , and always studying ; she is preparing for examination , preferring to be a governess, in order to have the protection o f a family . In fact, they speak so well of her, that he begins to reflect . Ah ! if I were not poor ! ” says b e . “ It is very pleasant to have the society of a pretty woman who understands every thing ; saves you from passing your evenings at the theatre o r the café . But when , like me, a man has only ten thousand livres income, he cannot marry H e then calculates and adds up, but, as usual in such cases, makes the account double , combining the probable expenses o f a married man , and those o f the bachelor who keeps up the cafe and th e theatre . It was thus that o n e of my friends, o n e of the most brilliant j ournalists of Paris, discovered that to su pport two, without a domestic, in a tiny house in the suburbs, an income of thirty thousand livres would be necessary . This lamentable life of h on or a ble s oli tu de and desperate ennui , is that which is led by those wandering shades , called in England members o f clubs . The system‘ is beginning also in France . Very well catered to, very well warmed , in Splen did establishments, having at hand all the j ournals , and choice libraries, living together like well- educated and polished dead men , they progress in spleen , and pr epare themselves for suicide . Every thing is s o well organized that speech useless ; there is no need even of signs . On certain days o f the year, a tailor presents himself and takes measures, without speaking . There is not a woman in the house , n o r would th ey go to the houses of women . But once a week a gir l will

3 6 Th e W o man o f Le tte rs . they should be compelled to submit to such a trial be fo r e a curious audience , with a sprinkling of jesting young men . To each , also , should be left the choice o f the day fo r h er examination . To many, the trial is terrible, and without thi s precaution might endanger their lives . Eugene Su e, in a feebly executed romance, but marked by a d mirable Observation (L a Go u ver n a n te), presents a true picture o f the life o f a girl suddenly installed in the house o f a stranger, whose children she is to educate . Equal , o r superior, by h e r e d u catioii , modest in her position and in her character, sh e is only too interesting . The father is much touched by her ; the son declares himself in love ; the servants ’ are jealous of the attentions o f which she is the object, and scandalize her . But how many things are to be added ? Ho w incomplete has Sue left th e sad Iliad o f what she has to suf er, even the dangers she has to fear ? W e might cite astonishing, incre dible facts : here , the passion o f the father, rising even t o crime, attempting to frighten a virtuous gi rl , cutting her linen and her dresses, even burning her curtains ! There , a corrupt mother, wishing to gain time, and to marry her son as late as possible , finds it convenient to amuse and detain h im with the ruin of a poor young woman o f n o consequence, wh o h a s neither parents nor protector . Sh e flatter s, caresses th e credulous girl , and , without appearing to do so, arranges Opportunities and contrives accidents . On the other hand, I have sometimes seen the mistress o f a house so violent an d so jealous, making the life of the unhappy creature s o bitter , that from the excess of her suf erings, she j ustly sought relief under the protection of the husband . To a young soul , proud and pure , and coura geous against fate , the t emptatlo n is natural to escape from individual dependence by addressing herself to the community, to make the public her protector, and to believe that she can live b y Th e W oman o f Letters . 3 7 the fruits o f her own thought . W ould that women might here make their revelations ; o n e only, I believe, has ven t u r e d to

do s o, —in a very powerful romance , the defect of which is, that it is so short that the situations do n o t attai n thei r full effect . This book ( Un e f a u s s e P os ition ) appeared fifteen years ago , and disappeared at once . It is the exact itinerary, the guide- book o f a p oor literary woman, the sche dule Of the tolls, town - dues, turnpike rates, admission charges, etc . , which are demanded of her for the privilege of going a nywhere ; a record of the churlishness and vexation her resistance causes all about her, so that she is surrounded with Obstacles, I might almost say with murderous obstacles . Did you ever see the children in Provence conspire against a n insect which they consider dangerous ? They arrange straws or dry twigs around it , and then light them, so that to whatever side the poor creature turns , it encounters the fla e, is cruelly burned, and falls back it repeats this several tim s, and persists in its efforts with an obstinate courage, but al ways in vain . It cannot pass that circle o f fire . You see the same thing in the theatre . An energetic and beautifu l woman , very strong of heart, says to herself : “ In literature I must submit to the critics, who create public opinion . Bu t on the stage , I am in person before my j udge , the public, and I plead my o wn cause . I do n ot need that any on e should say : ‘ Sh e has talent ! ’ Bu t I say : ‘ Se o for yourself! ’ What a terrible mistake ! The crowd decides much less by what it sees, than by what somebody affirms to be the j udgment of the crowd . The audience may be touched by an actress, but the individual hesitates to say so . Each will wait, fearing the ridicule that attach es to extravagant enth u s ia sm. The au th orized censors, those professional jesters, must give the signal for admiration . Then the public breaks out, and dares to admire , overstepping indeed all that the emotion of the individual would have allowed . But merely to reach this day of j udgment for which sh e 3 8 Th e W o ma n of Le tte rs . has everything to fear, h o w disg raceful the p reliminaries ! W hat interested, suspicious , indelicate men , have the sove r eig nty o f her fate By what wire - pulling and what trials have deb u ts been made successfu l Ho w has she con ' ciliated those who intro duce and recommend her— first , the manager, t o whom she is presented ; then the popular author, who is t o create a rGle fo r her

and finally , the critics . And I do n o t allude h e r e t o the great organs of th e press, w hich a r e supposed to have some respect for themselves, but to the most obscure and ins ig nifi cant . It is enough that some green ‘ employé , who passes his life in a n office, making pens, has scribbled a fe w satirical lines, —that a contemptible j ournal prints them, and d is tr i butes them between the acts . Animated and encouraged by th e first applause, the artiste reappears on the stage , full o f hope, but she d o es n o t recognise the house . The charm is broken , the audience chilled ; they look at each other and smile . I was young when I w itne sp ed a very impressive scene , at the remembrance o f which I am still indignant . I a m glad to think that now- a - days things are changed . At the house of o ne o f these terrible critics, with whom I was acquainted, I saw a slight girl enter, very simply clad , with a sweet and winning countenance, but already wearied and a little faded . Sh e said, to the point, that she had come to ask a favor, to b eg him at least to tell her why h e did not let a day pass without attacking, crushing her . H e replied boldly, — not that she performed poorly, but that she was dis c o u rteo u s,7 th at to his first somewhat favorable article , she should have responded by a token o f gratitude , a s u bs ta n tia l souvenir. Alas ! Sir, I am s o poor I earn almost nothing, and I mu st support my 1n 0th er . ” —“ W hat o f that ! take a lover . ” But I am not pretty and , besides , I am so wretched . Only lively women are loved . ” No , yo u ca nnot make me believe that . Yo u are pretty, Miss , but yo u r temper is bad . You ar e proud, but that will avail yo u n o Th e W oman of Letters . 3 9 thing . You must do like the Others, and take a lover. ” He stuck to that . I have never been able t o understand how a man could have the courage to hiss a woman . The individual man is per haps good enough , but they are cruel as a public . This is what sometimes occurs in a provincial town to force the manager to expend more than he is able, and impo 1 t the best talent, they every night kill O ff some unfortunate actress, who , whatever her talent may be, loses her wits before such impla cable animosity, such a shameful punishment . Sh e wavers, stammers, and knows n ot what she is saying then she weeps and stands mute, with imploring eyes . Bu t still they laugh , and they hiss . So she becomes indignant, and revolts against such barbarism . But then the tempest grows s o horrible and ferocious, that she prostrates herself before them, and prays for pardon . Accursed be the man who breaks down a woman , w h o takes from her her pride , her coura ge, and her soul ! In Un e f a u s se ‘ P os ition this moment is indicated so tragically and truly, tha t we feel it is nature itself, and taken from the life . Camille, the literary woman , ingeniously surrounded by the cir cle of fir e, having n o escape, wished but to die . Sh e is prevented only by an unforeseen chance, an inevitable, imperious chance , still to do something good . Softened by charity, she loses the strength that pride had lent to her despair . A s a vior comes to her, and she yields . Sh e is humbled, disarmed by the great dilemma that so bothers the mystics : If vice is ’ a sin , pride is a g reater sin . ” Suddenly she , wh o had carried h e r head so high , becomes good, docile , an d obedient . She make s the woman ’ s confession : “ I n eed a ma s ter— comman d, direct me—I will do whatever you will . ” Ah ! as soon as she is a woman a gain , as soon as she is gen tle , and no longer proud, all is kindly, all is smooth . The 4 0 Th e W oma n o f Le tte rs . saints are pleased that she is humbled , and the worldly have good hopes of her . The doors o f literature and the theatre are opened to her, all strive a n d combine fo r her . The m o re dead her heart is, the better is she establis hed in life . Every thing looks well again ; those who made war upon the artist, upon the laborious and independent woman , n ow side with th e submissive woman— and henceforth she has a support . The author of this romance tortures, but saves th e heroine in the end . In her heart is the burning fire of true love . Sh e yields and subdues her spirit before she is degraded . Few have that happiness ; most have suffered t o o much , fallen t o o low, to feel so vividly ; they submit to their fate, and are slaves— fat and flourishing slaves . Slaves to whom ? yo u ask . Slaves to that uncertain and u nknown being, a s ’ frivolo u s as h e is irresponsible , without consideration or pity . His name ? It is JVemo— the n ame under which Ulysses escaped from the Cyclop . H ere , it is th e Cyclop himself, th e devouring Minotaur . It is n obody, every body . I said she was a slave— more miserably a slave than the planter ’ s negro, or the registered prostitute in the gutter. H ow so ? Because these Wretched sufferers have at least no anxieties, they fear n o loss of work, they are fed by thei r masters . The poor ca mellia , on the contrary, is sure o f n othing . Sh e may be turned adrift any day, and left to die of hunger . ' Sh e seems gay and careless ; it is her trade to smile so she smiles, and says : Star ved to - morrow , perhaps , and for a home a milestone ! Even in her secret thought, she tries to . be gay— afraid o f being ill , an d growing thin . It is atrocious t o be unable to be sad ; but she well knows that notwithstandin g the some what ironical regard her friends express fo r h er , th ey would never forgive her a day o f languo r, o r the least alteration Th e W o ma n o f L e tte rs . 4 1 A certain h u e of suffering, a slight sickly paleness, which would embellish the fine lady and make her lover mad for her, is the ruin of the da me a u ca mellia . Sh e is bou nd to be brilliantly fresh , or glowing rather . There is no let - u p for her . A very excellent physician , whom on e of these had called in , as he was passing through her street, a week afterwards , with no other motive than pity, went in to ask h ow she was . You see I am always alone , ” said she . “ He scarcely comes once a week . If I happen to be suffering on that day, he says : ‘ Good night, I am going to the ball ’ ( that is, to find a woman), dryly leaving me to understand that I am good fo r n othing, that I do n o t earn my bread . ” The manner in which the relation is annulled is the worst Of it . M. Bou ilh et, in his fine drama o f H elen e P eyr on , ~ h a s put on the stage what m ay be seen daily . Her gentleman does not like to fling the bargain in her face exactly ; but it is so ar r zinged that the abandoned girl , without a resource for the morrow perhaps, too credulously accepts the suit of a perfidiou s friend, wh o o f course tells, and so the lover is free t o accuse her of betraying him . In an immortal poem, of inexpressible tenderness, Virgil has described the bitterness, the fathomless sea of sorrows, into which the lover O f Lycoris was plunged . Those servile courtesans, whom an avaricious master hired and sold, have drawn heart - rending verses from the unfortunate muse - o i Propertius, Tibullus, and their successors . They w ere instructed , graceful , and true ladies, more like o u r d a me o u ca mellia than the Manon L e sca u ts o f the old regime—s o naively corrupt , a simple source of pleasure, who felt nothin g and knew nothing . There is very great danger here ; the surest way is to keep far away from it . One day, o n e of my friends, a distin 4 2 No Life fo r W oman w i th o u t M a n. g u ish ed thinker , charitable enough , but with the manners of the time, told me that by such light relations, o f no cou se qu ence , by avoiding any serious engagement, h e had been able to reserve himself fo r study, and solitary intellectual exe rcise . I ' s a id to him : “ W hat ! you think that of no c o n s equence ? Is it not rather a great peril ? By what philosophic ef ort o f forgetfulness an d abstraction can you se e a n unfortunate girl thus crushed by misery , by treachery perhaps, without having your heart torn by her horrible lo t ? And if this poor creature , a plaything o f fate , should happen to win your heart, yo u would be lost I ! ” said he, smiling ( but with so sad a smile), “ that cannot be . My parents pro vid ed against that ; they fastened the door that leads to th e great folly . Before I knew I had a heart, they rid me o f it . They killed all love in me . ” This fu nereal remark made me shudder . I thought of the saying of the sophistical emperor, on the last day of “ the Roman empire : “ Love is a convulsion . ” Next day every thing crumbled, not by the invasion of barbarians, but by that o f celibacy and premature death . NO LIF E FO R W O MAN W ITH O UT MAN. AN ever laborious life enriches us, as we advance, with new ideas, before unknown to us . V ery lately , only last winter ( 1 85 8 I found in my heart the meaning o f little children . I have always loved them, but I did n o t understand them . I will hereafter " relate the charming revelation I had from a German lady ; t o h er , certainly, belon gs the best o f what is contained in my first chapters on education , to which you will come presently . In entering upon this branch of study, I believe it necessary

44 No Life fo r W oma n w ith o u t Ma n : If I could doubt the moral influence o f anatomy , it would be enough for me to remembe r that the best men I have known were great physicians . At the very time when I , was studying at Clamart, I saw there a celebrated English surgeon , who , at the advanced age of eighty - four years , crosses the sea every year t o visit this scientific capital , and inform himself of the happy novelties which its inventive genius co n s tan tly discovers for the solace of humanity . I w a s especially interested in the anatomy of the brain . I studied a great number o f them, o f both sexes, of every age , an d wa s sur prised to see h o w naively the lower side of th e brain answers, in its physi ognomy, to the expression o f the countenan ce . I speak of the lower and n ot the upper part, which is covered with veins, a circumstance to which Gall evidently attached t o o much importance . It is far from the bony box , but at the large bases o f the brain , full o f arteries, rising into more o r less rich volutes, a ccording to the development o f intel ligen ce, tha t the character re veals itself even as in the face . The latter, a coarse surface , exposed to the air, and a thousand shocks, deformed by grimaces, would speak, if there were no eye s, _ mu ch less clearly than this interior face, so well - guarded, so delicate, so marvellously shaded . In common women wh o were known t o have had coarse o ccu patie ns, the brain was very simple in form, as though in a rudi mentary state . These would have exposed me t o the grave error of concluding that women in general , in this essential centre of the organization , are inferior to men . H appily other feminine brains disabused me— especially that of a woman who , presenting a sing u lar case in a pathological respect , obliged M. Beraud t o inform himself o f h e r malady and her antecedents . H ere , then , I had what was wanting in the other cases— the history of a life and a destiny . This remarkably rare singularity was a stone o f considera ble size found in the womb . This organ , n o w so ordinarily afl ' ected, .b u t in no other case perhaps t o such a d eg r ee , revealed a. very extraordinary state That in the sanctuary o f g en e rat -No Life fo r W oman w ith o u t Man . 45 ing life and fruitfulness— should be found this cr u l el destroyer , this desperate atrophy, an Arabia Deserta I may say , a flint that the unfortunate one should have been , as it were , changed into stone— immersed me in an ocean of sombre thoughts . Nevertheless the other organs were n ot ch anged as much as on e might have supposed . The head was very expressive . If the brain was not as large , stron g, puissant, as those o f some men I had studied, it was as varied , as rich in convolution s little wavy volutes, marked b y ' an infinite detail , lately occupied , I felt, by a crowd of ideas and delicate shades, a world o f w o man ’ s dreams . All had a story t o tell , and as I had had under my eyes a moment before brains ' o f little expression dumb , I was going to say— this at the first glance m ade me understand its language . As I approached it I s ee in ed still to hear through my eyes the echo o f its sighs . The hands , soft and rather delicate , were however n ot ele gantly elongated like those of the idle lady . They were moderately short, made for use . Sh e had doubtless held little objects , which do not deform the hand but curb its growth . Sh e must have been a working girl—in linen m aterials, per haps , or flowers . That wa s the natural conjecture . Sh e may have been twenty- eight years of age . H e r eyes o f a blueish grey, surmounted by rather heavy black eyebrows, and the peculiar quality of her complexion, revealed a woman of the W est , neither Norman n o r Breton , but of an int erme diate region , and yet not of the South . The countenance was severe, if n ot proud . The highly arched but not elliptical eyebrows indicated a worthy and undegraded person , who had preserved her purity, and strug gled o n even to the death . The body, already Opened at the hospital, showed that ' a n inflammation of the brea st had carried her o f . Sh e had died o n the 2 1 s t of March , within twelve days of Shrove - Tu esd av. W e were tempted to believe she was on e of the numerous victims o f the balls o f that season— a cruel season , which sud d enly crowds the hospitals, and presently the cemeteries . It 4 6 No Life fo r W o ma n w i th o u t Ma n . might j ustly be called the feast of the Minotau r . F o r h ow many women d o e s it n o t devour alive W he n we, think o f the mortal ennui , the profound mono tony, the disinherited , dry, and empty life the operative leads , especially the seamstress, with h e r eternal dry bread, alone in her cold attic, we are but little astonished if she yields to the youn g fe e l at her side, o r to some older and more calculating fiend . Bu t what always gives me a painful twinge is , that he wh o seduces her has so little heart, that he a ffords so little protection to the poor giddy girl , nor cares to know ( he s o warmly robed with cloaks) whether she returns clothed, whether she has fire and other n ecessaries, even anything to eat to - morrow. Alas ! to cast forth into the frozen night the unfortunate , whose last caresses you have j ust enj oyed . Savages you pretend there is only levity in all this . Not so . It is deliberate ; you are cruel and avaricious ; you fear to know too much about it ; you prefer to be ignorant o f the consequences, whether life o r death . To return ; in spite of the season , I doubted , from the countenance o f this woman , that she was an élaclia n le, a habituée o f those balls . That world is easily known . Sh e would never have succeeded in it . He r severely cut nose, her firm chin , her delicate and p r ecis e lips, her certain air of reserve, would have made her too much respected there . The final inquest proved that I had j udged rightly . She was a provincial girl , o f a trading bou rgeois family, who , in a city peopled fo r the most part by bachelors and clerks , had been unable , in spite of her natural goodness , to defend h e r self against infinite assaults, a pursuit every hour . Under promise o f marriage she had loved , and h a d a child . De eeive d, with no other reso urce than h e r fingers and needle , she h a d left her n ative city, in which , o f all France , women are the least embarrassed , fo r they there earn wh atever they are equal to . Sh e preferred to come and hide herself in Paris, and die o f hunger . Sh e brought her child with her , a grave obstac le ; she could be neithe r chambe rmaid n o r shop No Life fo r W oman with o u t Man . 47 girl , and sewing yielded her nothing . Sh e tried to iron , but in sickly condition , aggravated by grief, charcoal fumes pro d u ced cruel headaches, and she could not stand all d a y with o u t the greatest pain . H e r sister- workers knew nothing o f that , and thought her lazy ; the P arisian women are full o f ridicule , and they did n o t spare the poor provincial

nevertheless, o u t o f their good hearts they lent her money in her trouble . IIe r sad robes o f faded calico , which I have seen , showed that in her extreme misery she did not have recourse to what remained of her beauty . Such a garment makes on e old, it left no chance o f guessing how young and perfect her person still was . Sorrow and misery make on e gaunt , but they do not wither, like excesses and enj oyments, and she, very plainly, had had little to do with the j oys of life . The mistress who employed her to iron had charitably allowed her to slee p ' in a great loft, which served as a work sh O p — a place strongly impregnated by vapors of charcoal , and which , moreover, had to be cleared in the morning for work . However she might suffer, she could not remain in bed, not fo r o n e day . The other women arrived early, and ridiculed her as an idler, and a good- for- nothing . On the first of March she was worse ; had some fever, and a slight cough . That would have been nothing if she had only had a home , but not having o n e, she _ was obliged to leave her little girl to the kindness of the mistress to go to the hospital . Sh e was received into on e of our large old hospitals, where at that time there were many cases of t y phoid fever . The skilful physician at once perceived that her fever would assume that character . Sh e was asked if her general health was good . Sh e said , modestly, Yes concealing her short internal pangs, and dreading a painful examination . In those great halls wherein so much of suffering is gathered, where agony and death surround each patient , the gloom often increases the malady . R elatives are admitted on certain days, 48 No Life fo r W o ma n w i th o u t M a n. but h o w many have n o rel a tives ; h o w many d i e alone ! Sh e wa s visited once by her kind mistress but th e good wo man wa s frightened by the typhoid fever, and d1d n o t return . The necessary ventilation is s ti ’ u , as formerly, procured by means of huge windows, and great cur rents o f a i r . The need o f a better plan is n o w seriously agitated . These currents chill the patients, who are b u t slightly protected by their curtains ; and s o her slight cough became, first, a violent bronchitis, and then an inflammation of the lungs . Exhausted by weak nourishment long continued , she had not the strength to react . Sh e was well taken care of, but she died in three weeks . He r little daughter ( a charming child , already full of intel lig en c e) was sent to the E nf a n ts tr ou vés . Her body, unclaimed, was removed t o Clamart, and, I ven ture to say, very usefully, since it has instructed science o n a point from which fruitful inferences may be drawn . This simple recital will also have been useful if it strongly c om mands the attention of benevolent minds . Woma n dies if s h e h a s n o h ea r th a n d n o p r otection . ' If this person had only had a shelter, a bed for o n e weeki her illness w ould h ave passed away, in all probability, and sh e would still be alive . Sh e should have enj oyed fo r a time the hospitality o f a woman . H o w easy it would often be for an intelligent lady, at certain critical times, to save a creature whom misfortun e has thus engulfed . Suppose such a lady, traversing a public garden , near the hospital , had seen her seated on a bank, with her little parcel , resting for a moment , before en te rin g, aafter her long j ourney . The lady, seeing her so pale , and stru ck with her excellent co ii nt en an ce, which has an almost distin g u ish ed expre s sion , in spite of the extreme pove1 ty of h e 1 dress , takes a seat by her side, and draws her into conversation . “ W h a t is the ma tter with yo u , young lady ? ” I have a No Life fo r W oman wi th o u t Man . 49 fever, madam—I am quite ill. Let me see . I understand fevers . Oh , it is a trifle yet . At present, the prevailing epidemic abounds in the hospitals . Yo u would be very likely to catch it . A little quinine would probably set you on your feet again in a couple o f days . I shall have plenty of ironing to d o . F or these two days, at least, come to my house ; when you ' are well again , you shall have my work . ” That would have saved her life . Two days would not have done it but in a week she would have been restored . The lady appreciating the good charac ter, so plain in h er countenance , would doubtless have kept her longer . Partly servant, partly young lady, better clad, b ea u tifie d again by a few months of happier life, she would have touched many hearts with h er pensive grace . The mis fortune of having been deceived, and of possessing that pretty child, redeemed by her prudent conduct, her economical and industrious habits, would scarcely have checked the love of those around her. I have several times had occasion to ob serve the tender and generous magnanimity of worthy work men in this kind of adoption . I have known o n e such admi rable household . The woman loved , I dare say adored, her husband ; and the child, by a mysterious instinct, attached itself to h im even more than to a fathe r : h e | always left it weeping, and, if h e swa s late , it wept for his return . We too easily imagine that a person is irremediably ruined . In ou r good old France they did n o t , u se to think so . F o r example , every woman wh o emigrated to Canada, was r e garded as purified of every fault and misfortune by the bap t ism o f the sea . This was no vain notion ; for they clearly proved the j ustice of it, and became admir able wives and excellent mothers . Bu t the best o f all emigrations for those , who , while yet scarcely more than children, have been cast by chance upon a frivolous life, is to rise courageously by labor an d privations . So on e of our first thin ‘ kers insisted, in a severe letter he wrote to one of ou r poor Amazons, brilliant and wretched, who asked 3 w, “ men “8 3 4 fir 5 0 No Life fo r W o man w i th o u t Ma n . him how she might escape from the gulf before her . The letter, very harsh in expression , but in spirit very kind and wise , told her that she could expiate her guilt by misery, refine herself by labor and accepted suffering, and become worthy and pure . again . H e was quite right ; the soul o f a woman , much more mobile , more flu id - like, than that of a man , is never profoundly corrupted . W hen once she has seriously resolved to return to virtue , when she once has fairly begun to live by struggles, sacrifices, and reflection , she is already regenerate . Sh e is like the stream, which was turbid yesterday, but fresh waters have come in , and it is clear to day . If the woman , thus changed , forgetting the bad dream o f her involuntary sins, in which her heart was never involved, succeeds in finding that heart again, if once she loves—all is well . The best man in the world may find happiness in her, and be honored by her still . I intended to add nothing to this mournful story . My friends were affected, and rose . Bu t with a word I recalled them to what had preceded it : My dear sirs, the reason for which you will marry, the strongest motive fo r your hearts, is, as I told you , that Woma n ca n n ot live with ou t ma n . N0 more than the child without woman . All foundlings die ; and does man live w ithout woman ? Yo u yourselves have j ust said : Your life is sombre and bitter . In the midst o f amusements and vain feminine shadows , you possess n either wife, n or happiness, nor repose . You have not the sure foundation , the harmonious equilibrium, so favorable to productiveness . Nature has bound up life within a triple and absolute tie man , woman , and child . Separately, they are sure to peri sh , and are only saved together . All the disputes about the two sexes , and their opposin g

5 2 No Life fo r W oman with o u t Man . The - true woman for a wife is she whose portrait I have painted in my Book o f L ove— she who , simple and loving, hav ing as yet 1 eeeived no definite impress, shall least 1 epel the modern thought, shall n o t beforehand be an enemy to science and to truth . I prefer that she should be poor, and isolated, with few family connexions— her position and education are secondary matters . Every French woman is born a queen or is o n the point of becoming so . As a wife, the simple woman ' , who can be somewhat instructed, and as a daughter, the con fiding woman , who can at once be taught by her father : these will break that vicious circle in which we revolve, in which woman prevents us from creating women : W ith so excellent a wife, sharing, in heart at least, the faith of her husband, the latter, following the very easy path of nature, will maintain over the child an incredible ascendency of authority and tenderness . The daughter does so trust in her father ! H e may make of h er what he will . The strength o f this second love , s o lofty and so pure, will create in her th e woma n , the adorable ideal of grace and wisdom, by which alone family and society are to be restored in the fu ture . P A R T I . E D U C A T I O N . SUN, AIR, AND LIGH T. AN eminent observer affirms that numerous micr oscOp ic beings, which in the shade remain vegetables, assume a higher character in the su n , and become veritable animals . The fact is certain , indisputable , and accepted by everybody, that, deprived o f light, every animal merely vegetates ; that a plant can scarcely blossom, and that its flower is pale, lan g u ish ing, abortive , and short - lived . The human flower, more than all others, craves for the sun ; the sun ‘ is its first and supreme initiator into life . Compare the child a day old , that has known only darkness, with the child a year old the difference is enormous between the s on of shadow and the s on of light . The brain of the latter, as compared with that of the former, presents the palpable miracle of a complete tr ansfig u r ation . W e are n ot “ su rprised to perceive that in it the apparatus of vision occupies more space than the organs of all the other senses combined . Light in undates the head, traverses it thr ough and thro u gh , even to the deep, recondite n erves, whence proceed the spinal marrow, and ? the whole nervous system, the complete mecha nism of sensation an d motion . Even above the optical con 54 Su n, Air, an d Lig ht . duits in which the light circulates, the central mass of the brain ( th e r a dia n t cr own ) seems also to be penetrated by it, and doubtless receives its rays . So the first duty o f love is to bestow o n the child, and the youn g mother also, who was only yesterday a child , shattered by the a ccou ch em en t, wearied with nursing, plenty o f light and salubrious air . Grant her the blessing of a good ex posure , ” that the sun may cheer h er with his first rays, loving and regarding her long, revolving around her at mid- day, even at t wo o ’ clock, still warming and illumin ating her, and leaving her only with regret . Leave to those who live the art ificial life of the bea u mon de the splendors o f apartments turned toward the Evening . Kings, the great and the idle, have sought for sunsets in their Versailles, to glorify their fé t e s . But whoever san ctifies life by labor, whoever loves and has his fetes in his beloved wife and child, lives most o f all in the Morning . ‘To himself he secures the ffesh n ess of the early hours, when all life is energetic and productive . To them he gives th e j oy, the first flower of gaiety, which enchants a ll n ature in the happiness of its awakening . W hat is comparable to the innocent and deligh tful grace of these morning scenes ! Th e good laborer watching for the sun sees it peep through the curtains to admire the young mother, and the child in the cradle . Sh e is surprised, and stretches her arms ; “ What ! so late ! ” And smiling, says : “ Ah ! h o w indolent I am ! ” “ Bu t , my dear, it is only five o ’ clock . The child has kept you awake a great deal . Sleep , I beg you , an hour lon ger . ” Sh e does not need to be urged , and they go to sleep again . Let us close the curtains doubly, and shut fdst the window blind . But the Day, in its triumphant and rapid march , will not be excluded . A charming combat is waging between light and darkness ; and it would indeed be bad if the n ight g e t the better o f it . W hat a picture would be lost ! As she , inclining toward the child, encircles its head in the curve Su n, Air, and Lig ht. 55 o f her loving arm . A gentle ray insinuates itself. So be it , leave them with that sacred aureole o f the blessing of God ! I have spoken in on e of my books of a strong and stur 1y tree (a chestnut , I believe), which I saw thriving out of the earth , on air alone . W e suspend in vases certain elegant plants, that likewise vegetate with no element but the atmo sphere . Our poor peasants resemble these only t o o nearly . “That compensates them for their imperfect sustenance W hat enables them, so poorly nurtured, to endure such pro tracted and severe labors Th e perfection of the air in which they live , an d the power it af ords them of deriving from their food all the nutritionit contains . Thou , whose happiness it is to rear and nurture those t wo trees of Paradise , the young wife who lives in thee, a nd her child which is thine own—consider well , that if thou wouldst have h er live , and bloom, an d give good milk to that dear little on e, thou must first provide h er with the aliment of all aliments, vital air . W hat a misfortune , how sad a con tr a dic tion , to expose thy pure , chaste , charming wife to a dangerous atmosphere enough to poison her body and soul ! No, n ot with impunity will a delicate , impressionable, and penetrable woman receive the horrible mélange, of a hundred vitiated, vicious efllu via, that rises from the street to her— the breath of unclean spirits, the pell - mell of smokes, vile emanations, and unhealthy dreams which hover over our sombre cities . You must make a sacrifice , my friend , and at any price take them where they can live . If possible, go o u t o f town— y011 will see less of your f1 iends , but they will come a little further to see you , if they are true f1 iends . Yo u will go to the thea t1 e but little . Its pleasures ( agitatin g and enervating) are less to be desired by him wh o has, o n his o w n loving hearth , his o wn rej uven ating j oys, his own “ Divine Comedy .” You will lose less time at night, gossiping in saloons ; and for your recompense , you will have in the morning all your strength , 5 6 Su n, Air, an d Lig ht . not wasted in vain words , but fresh and tranquil , to put into labor, solid works , those durable resu lts which shall n o t fly away . I want a garden , n ot a park : a little garden . Man does n ot easily flourish away from its vegetal harmonies . All the legends of the East place the commencement of Life in a gar den . A pure and capable people , the Persians, believed that the world began in a garden o f light . If yo u cannot leave town , dwell in the upper stories o f a house ; more desirable than the first floor, th e fifth or sixth may have a garden -on the roof; at all events, light abounds there . I would choose for your young pregnant wife a vast an d splendid prospect, to beguile her waiting reveries , during your long hours o f absence . I would prefer that the eyes of the child, when it is first carried out on the balcony, should fall on monuments , o n the majestic effects of th e Su n , in its course , lending to them at different hours aspects so diverse . Wh ere a view o f mountains, tall st bb ery, beautiful f01 ests, is wanting, we receive fr om grand edifices ( in which is the n a t ion al life , the history of the country in ston e) early emotions whose traces are for ever in ef aceable . Little children know not h ow to express their feelings, but their souls vibrate to the effects of architecture so tr an sfig u r ed . Su ch a ray, such a flash of light, falling at s u ch a n hour on a temple, will remain for ever present with them . For myself, I may afli rm that nothing in my early child hood made a deeper impression on me than the Pantheon as I once beheld it against the Su n . It was in the morning . The interior, revealed through the windows, shone like a myster i ous glory . Between the light columns of th e exquisite Ionic temple, so grandly springing from its austere and sombre walls, the azure air circulated, roseate with an inexpressible gleaming . I was enraptured, fascinated, impressed, far more than I have since been even by very great events . They have passed away, but that vision remains luminous for me s till. Th e First Exc h ang e o f Glances . 57 TH E FIR ST EXC H ANGE O F GLANC ES, AND TH E BEGINNINGS O F FAITH . TH E divine rapture of the first maternal glance, the ecstasy o f the young mother, her innocent surprise at having given birth to a god, her religious e motion in her marvellous dream, which is so real nevertheless, — all this may be seen every d a y. but it has seemed impossible to paint it . Correggio has been able to grasp it, inspired by nature , free from the tradition , by which , in his day, art was restrained and chilled . There are spectators around the cradle , and still the scene is solitary, fo r it is divided between h er and h im, wh o are the same person . She gazes on him, m oved ; from her to him, from him to her, flashes an electric light, which dazzles and confounds them together . Mother and child are o n e in that living ray, which restores their primitive and natural unity . If she n o longer has th e happiness of containing her child palpitating within her bosom, she is compensated by the fairy like enchantment of having him before her, under her eager eyes . Reclining over him, she trembles . Young and inno cent, she reveals, by the naivest signs, her j oy at assimilating to herself by love, this divine frui t of her o wn being . Lately he was nourished by her, now she is nourished by him, absorbs him, ea ts a n d dr in ks him . A delightful interchange of life : the child giving and receiving it, absorbing the mother 1n her turn , like milk, and heat, and light . A great , a truly g1 eat revelation ; no idle creation of art and sensibility ; a mere g 1 at ification for the heart and the eyes . No ; it is an a ct of faith , a mystery, but not absurd ; the serious and solid foundation o f religion and education , on which is to be raised the whole structure of human life and th e mystery is this 58 Th e Fi rst Exch ang e o f Gla n c es . If th e ch ild wer e n ot God, if th e r ela tion of th e mo th er to it wer e n ot a wor s h ip , i t wou ld n ot live. It is so fragile a b eing, that it could never be reared but fo r the marvellous idolatry of the mother, which d eifies it, and makes it full o f bliss to her to sacrifice herself for its sake . In her eyes it is good , beautiful , ‘ perfect ; and it is needless to add , she beholds in it her ideal , the absol u te o f beauty and goodness, th e acme of perfection . W hat painful dismay would beset h er if some gloomy thinker, some awkward sophist, should dare tell her that the child is born bad , that man is depraved before his birth , ” and other such fine philosophical and legendary inventions . But women are mild and patient ; they only turn a deaf ca r . If they had believed that, if fo r a moment they had seriously accepted such ideas, all would soon have been ended . U n cer tain and discouraged , they would not have put their whole life into a cradle , and the n eglected child must have died . There would have been n o humanity ; history wou ld have come to a n end at its very commencement . As soon as the child sees the light, and sees itself in the maternal eye, it reflects, instinctively returns th e look of love ; and from that moment the most profound and sweetest mystery of life has been accomplished between those two . W ill time add to it ? Can the beatitude of so perfect a marriage be increased ? On o n e condition only, perhaps

namely, that both have u nderstood it, so that th e child will disengage itselffrom the divine immobility will a ct , and seek to correspond with its mother ; will go to her with all its little heart, and impulsively give itself u p to her . This second season o f mutual love and faith forms th e sub jcet of a rare crea tion , which France possesses in th e Louvre . The painter, Solari (of Milan), survives only in this o n e paint ing — all the rest have perished . He had lived many years

6 0 Th e Fi rst Exch ang e o f Gla nc es . poorly n o u r1sh e d, nurses her child a long time ; the more intelligent he grows, the sweeter he finds this indulgen ce, and the less desire he has to renounce it . Sh e h as n ot the strength fo r the great rupture ; she exhausts herself, is aware o f it, but will go o n all the same, as long as she h a s a d rop . Sh e exhausts herself even unto death , rather than grieve h e1 ch fld . This picture of Solari says three things W eak a s xsh e is, not giving o fher abundance but rather what is necessary to her own sustenance , she nev ertheless smiles, and says passionately : “ Drink , my child ! drink , it i s my life . ” But either the charming child, with an innocent avidity, has slightly wounded that beautiful bosom, o r the powerful suction reaches within the breast and rends its inner fibres, for she has suffered , and suffers yet . No matter, she still says : Enj oy, drink, it is my pain . ” And the milk which rises, swelling and expanding the breast, flows forth ; the pain , departing, gives place to a sweet languor which is n ot without its charm, like that of the wounded man who 1 s pleased to see his own life ebbing away . But here there Is real happiness : if she feels h e1 self growing weaker, she grows strong in him . Sh e experiences a strange an d profound shock to the very sources of her being, but says, nevertheless, “ Drink, it is my delight . ” Such is his in vincible power over her that , whatever may h appen , she cannot separate herself from him, and the result to him is that, understanding her, loving her, he is , both in his physical life and in his young heart, bound u p in her , wholly absorbed in her . His love is calm m the innocence of his age—not , like that of his mother, sharpened by all the arrows of deligh t and P 1ay. —Th e Child ' Teach ing its M o th er. 6 1 grief, but strong in its great unity . If he could speak, he would say : “ Thou alone art my infinite, my absolute and complete world ; there is nothing in me, which is n ot from thee , which does n ot wish to return t o thee . I know not whether I live or not , but I am sure I love ! ” India symbolizes the circle of perfect and divine life by the attitude of a god holding his foot in his hand, concentrating himself, and forming himself into a sphere . Little children often do this ; and thus does this little one , invited to his mother ’ s bosom . She aids him to come to her, but he desires it as much as ' she, and does what he can toward it . By a graceful and charming movement, and a ' natural instinct , the first dawn of the deliberate impulse of tenderness , he makes a powerful effort , and contracts his whole body into an ar e as complete as possible, in order to of er himself at once, and entire . P LAY. — TH E C H ILD T EAC H ING IT S MO TH ER. TH E RE is nothing more beautiful , n othing more touching, than the embarrassment of a young mother, a n ovice in mater nity, puzzled how to handle her child , to amuse it, teach it to play, and enter into communication with it . Sh e hardly knows how to take up her jewel , the adored mysterious being, the living enigma, that lies there , and seems to wait to be moved, and have its desires and its wants divined . Sh e a d mires it, moves round it, trembles at the thought o f touching it rou ghly, and makes her mother hold it . He r pretty awk w a rd n es s makes the old nurse smile ; she observes it in silence, but says to herself that the young mistress is none the less a miss for having had a child . Virg ins are maladroit : grace 6 2 Pla y. — Th e Ch ild Teac h i ng its M o th er. and skill rarely belong t o her who is n ot a complete woman, a lready made pliant by l ove . W ell , madam, since indeed yo u are n o w a madam— is it so many years since yo u were a little girl ? At fifteen , if I rece l lect , under the pretext o f trying the fashion s, yo u were still playing with dolls . W hen yo u were alone , yo u were even w e n t ( confess it now) to kiss and rock th em . Now you see the living doll , which asks only t o be played with . Play on then , my little lady ; nobody will look at you . Bu t I do n o t dare . W ith this o ne I am afraid . It is so delicate ; if I touch it, it cries ; if I leave it, it cries—I tremble lest I break it There are mothers so idolatrous, so lost in the ecstasy of this contemplation , that they would pass the whole day o n their knees before the child . In nurs ing it , gazing at it, sing ing to it some little nursery song, they feel themselves united to it, and desir e nothing better . Bu t this is not enough ; union consists much more in active will , in concurrent action . If your child did n ot act with you , would yo u ever know if it loved you ? It is play which will create between you a union more intimate even than nursing, and have all the effects of a mental nursin g . Form its young soul , its thought, its will , by play . In it slumbers an individual

call him forth . And your happi

ness will be that this soul and this individual , this desire and this will , shall at first have no other object b u t yourself. The first impulse of the liberty you have gained fo r h im will be to return to you . Ah how wise he is in this ! How gladly do we all, after pursuing the false pleasures o f the world , r et u m to the m aternal paradise . Proceeding from the bosom of woman , o u r only heaven here below is the r e . “ I should certainly be very happy to become my child’ s friend and companion ; but what shall I do Play. -Th e Ch i ld Teach ing its Mo th er. 63 Little o r nothin g, my dear, but follow his example . Let us observe him . Lay h im gently on the sunny grass , on this flowery carpet . Yo u have only to look at him ; his first move ments will guide you he is going to teach you . His movements , his cries, his at first powerless attempts to act, the little playfulness which follows , are n o t ' a t all arbitrary . It is not your nurseling only that you see here

it is the child H umanity, as it was in the beginning . “ This first activity, ” says Froebel , “ informs us of, and reproduces for ou r contemplation , the propensities, ideas, and needs , which first belonged to th e human race . Some uncongenial element may be mingled with it, perhaps, in our modern races , altered by a factitious society; but, on the whole, it is none the less a very grave revelation o f the remote past o f h u manity, and of its instincts for the future . P lay is a magic mirror, in which you have only to look, to learn what ma n was, what he shall be, and what must be done to lead him to his destiny . ” Let us at once derive from this the first principle of edu cation , which contains all the rest : Th e moth er tea ch es the ch ild on ly wh a t s h e s h a llfir s t h a ve been ta u gh t by th e ch ild . This means, that from h im she derives the first germs o f whatever she develops in him— that in the child she first detect s a glimmer, which , in the end , with her assistance, shall become light . “ Then these germs are good, ” she says ; “ th ese gleams are sacred . Thanks ! Oh , I th ought so . I was cruelly told that the child is not born good . I never could believe a word of that— I felt Go d in h im so clearly ! Beautiful , charm in g counsel ! Ma y it sink into my heart —To keep my eyes fixed upon him— to make him my rule in everything— to wish nothing but what h e wishes Softly, dear little on e , softly . Let us first see if h e is sure that he does wish , knows what he wishes . Let us see , rather , if , overwhelmed by a chaos o f confused things which flow in upon him all at once , he does not await your 64 ' Play. — Th e Ch ild Te ach i ng its M o th e r. aid to choose for him, to enlighten him as to objects o f interest . Here is a stroke of genius by the good Froebel ; and here truly, by force of simplicity, he has discovered what the wise h ad vainly sought, the mystery of education . Such the man , and s u ch the doctrine . This German pea sant is in a fair way to become an accomplished expert, for he possesses a singular gift o f childlikeness, and the unique faculty of recalling the impressions o f his earliest childhood . I was, ” says he , e11ve10ped in an obscure and impenetrable mist . To see nothing, to understand nothing, is at first a sort of liberty ; but when o u r senses transmit to us so many images, so many sounds, the reality Oppresses us . A world o f things without meaning, without order o r succession , come to us all at once, and without allowance for o u r feebleness we are asto n ish ed and disturbed , possessed and unduly excited . From so many ephemeral impressions weariness alone remains to us . It is a relief, a happiness, if a kind providence selects from the crowd of objects, and brings frequently before u s, such or such that are easy and agreeable, which may occupy us only to refresh us and deliver us from that Babel . Thus this first education , far from imposing restraint on the child, is an aid , a deliverance, from the chaos of diverse impressions with which it is overwhelmed . By bringing things t o it in order, o n e by o n e, that it may consider them at its ease, that it may observe and handle any little object that pleases it, the mother creates for it the true liberty that its age demands . To form in this way a good and reliable method , you must perfectly understand the tendencies of th e child : a n easy thing for her who, bending over it night and day, regards it anxiously, studying only, what it is, what it wants , and th e g ood she can do it . Play. - Th e Ch ild T eaching its M o th er. 65 First, it wishes to be loved, it wishes ' you to occupy your self with it, and prove your love for it . — Ah ! h ow easy that is Secondly, it wishes to live, to live much , to be always progressing, to extend the circle of its little actions, to move , to vary its life, to pass hither and thith er, to be free — Be no t alarmed ; I mean free around you, the beloved ; as near as possible to you , always able to touch your robe, — free, above all , to embrace you . Thirdly, already launched upon voyages of discovery, it is in no small degree preoccupied with a world of n ew things . It p refers to un derstand , through yo u— and it always goes to you —n ot by an instinct of weakness and ignorance merely, but by I know n ot what sense which tells it that everything sweet, lovely, and good comes through you , that you are the milk of life and the honey of nature . And fourthly ; so young, scarcely speakin g, scarcely walking, it is alreadylike us ; its heart and its eyes j udge like ours, an d it finds yo u very beautiful . Everything is beautiful to it, in proportion as it resembles you . Of everything which nearly or remotely recalls the pleasant forms of its mother, it says flatly : “ It is pretty . ” W hen they are inert things, it feels less distinctly their connexion with your living beauty . But even as to these things, you powerfully influence its j udg ment . The symmetry o f: double organs and forms, of your hands and eyes, suppli es its idea of harmony . Besides , its glorious and truly divine characteristic is that it so aboun ds in life, that it dispenses it liberally to all objects . The simplest are the best for it . Organized, living bein gs may amuse it , but their independent action will perplex it ; it would maltreat them, but without malice, — merely to understand them, and from simple curiosity . Give it rather things of elementary forms ( for it is still an element ) and of I eg u lar outline, which it can group together in its pastime . Nature, in hei first attempt at association, 66 Play — Th e Ch ild Te ach i n g its M o th e r. creates crystals . Imitate nature—give the child forms like crystals . You may be sure it will use them, as it does so many other thi ngs , placing them side by side , or on e on t op o f another . Such is its instinct ; if you do not give it some thing, it tries sand, which will n ot be fixed , and always disappoints it . Above all , never set a model before it, to fetter its action . Do n ot make it an imitator . Be sure , that in its mind, o r at least in its memory, it will find pretty types for its tiny architecture . Some morning you will be astonished to recognise your house . “ Marvellous ! ” you will cry . He h as done that himself. My s o n is a creator An d that is the proper name for man . Moreover, in cre ating anything, he goes on creating himself. H e is his own Prometheus . And that is why, young mother, from the very first, ou t of the pure instin ct of your heart, without daring t o express it, you felt that he was Go d . Bu t see ! she is at once alarmed ; “ If that be s o, ” she s ays, he is already independent, and presently he will escape from me ! ” No, no fear of that : for a very lon g time he will remain quite dependent on love ; he belongs to you, a n d that is his happiness . If he creates, it is always for you . “ Look, mamma, look (Nothing would be beautiful to him without the favor o f your n otice, the benediction o f your eyes . ) “ See what I have made for you . —If it is not pretty, I will do it another way . ”— So he piles stone o n stone , block on block See h ere , my little chair, on which mamma may sit . Two posts and on e beam make on e roof, — this is the house in which mamma shall live with her little b oy . ” Yo u are , then , his complete circle ; he proceeds f1 om you , and - returns to yo u . The essay, the first ef ort o f his inven tion , is to honor yo u in his work, to en te1 tain yo u in his house .

68 Th e Fra i l a nd Sac red Ch ild . deformed . W e blame nature fo r this ; we call it the u ngr a te f u l age ; but that which is ungrateful , sterile , and witherin g, is only the stupidity with which we force the child from a life full of action into one o f barbarous routin e —and turn its little head, full o f sensibility and imagination , to things so abstract as ph ilo s 0p l1y or mathematics . To do this without inj ury to the child, many years o f well - managed transitions are n eces sary—very short and very easy little tasks, diversified with action , but n ot automatic . Our asylums are still far from fulfilling these conditions . This problem of education , which is n ot only a question of future development, but most frequently o f life and death , has often disturbed my mind . The world is divided between two opposite educational systems, and I have seen both fail. Education by simple teaching, traditional an d authoritative, as it prevails in schools and colleges ( or small seminaries—for they all follow the same method), has lost prestige throughout Europe, and to its well - established insufficiency, the recent attempts at amelioration have added confusion . On the other hand, the free schools, which aimed rather at forming the character o f the child than instructing him, which , inspired by R ousseau and Pestalozzi , were remarkable for their originality, flourished only for a season in Switzerland and Germany, and were abandoned . These schools appealed to the hearts o f mothers

for, what ever came of them, the child, in the meantime , was happy. Bu t the fathers foun d that, with their very slow methods , they taught too little, and gave too few less o n s so , in spite o f their mothers ’ tears, the children were sent off to colleges ( lay or ecclesiastical) . In these institutions, many wither an d die a few, very few, learn , but only by superhuman ef orts . A course o f in struction so various, in which each study is carried on separately, with Th e Fra i l a nd Sac red Ch ild. 69 no demonstration o f its relation to the others , exhausts and cripples the mind . Girls, of whom I shall presently speak more particularly, are no better educated n o w than in the time when Fenelon wrote his pleasant book, or when the author of E mile sketched his Sophie . Nothing is done to prepare them fo r life ; they are sometimes taught accomplishments that dazzle, sometimes (among the less wealthy classes) pursue a few serious studies which put them on the road to learning ; but no culture pe cu liar to woman , to the wife and mother, no special education for their sex . I had read so much on these subjects, so many mediocre and useless things, that I was tired of books

on the other

hand, my connexion with schools, my own experience in teaching, left many things obscure to me ; so I resolved, this year, to go to the very source, to study the physical orga nization of man , face to face with facts—to strengthen my mind by actual observation . The body tells us a great deal about the soul

it is much to see and touch the sacred instr u ment on which the young soul tries to play, an instrument which may reveal its character and indicate to us the measure of its forces . It was spring . The anatomical course was over in Clamart , and solitude reigned where all is so gay and populous in winter. The trees were full of birds, the parterre that embellishes those fun ereal galleries was all in blossom . But there was nothing comparable to the hieroglyphic flower I came to study . The term is by no means a fantastic compa rise n— it expresses my feeling . I experienced no disgust, but o n the contrary, a sentiment of admiration , tenderness, and pity . The brain o f a child, on e year old, seen for the first time , from its base ( the lower side as it appears on being r eversed ), has all the effect of a large and splendid camellia, 7 0 Th e Fra il an d Sac re d Ch ild . with its ivory nerves , its delicate rosy veins, and its pale azure tint . I say ivory, fo r want Of a better word . It Is an immaculate white , and yet Of an exquisite and tender soft ness , Of which nothing else can give an idea , and which , t o my mind , leaves every other earthly thing far behind . I am n o t deceived about this ; my first emotions, doubt less strong, nevertheless did n ot cause the illusion . Dr . Beraud, and a very skilful artist who paints anatomical plates daily, accustomed as they are to see these things, were O f the same Opinion . It is really the flower o f flowers, on e Of the most delicate , innocent , charming Objects in the world, - the most touching beauty that nature h as ever produced . The vast establishment in which I studied enabled me t o pursue a cautious method , to repeat and verify my Observations, to make comparisons between children Of different ages and sexes , and , moreover, to compare children and adults , even to ex treme Old age . In a few days, I had brains of all ages under my eyes, so that I could trace from year to year the progress Of time . The youngest were those of a girl who had lived only a few days, and some boys, a year Old at most . Sh e had never seen the light ; but they had had time to be impregnated by it . H ers was a floating brain, in its rudimentary state theirs, on the contrary, were already as stron g, fixed, and almost as well developed , a s those O f O lde r children , o r even ofgrown persons . This great revolution o f the first year passed, the develop ment Of ' the mind ( visible also in the face ) modifies , more than the age, the physiognomy Of the brain . In a little gir l O f four o r five years, Of intelligent countenance, it was traversed by convolutions and folds, more neatly arranged, more finely traced, than in those Of many common women of twenty- fiv e o r even thirty- five years . The mysterious figures which the cerebellum presents in its thickest part , and which are called the tr ee of life, were m uch better outlin ed in this young child , prettier, and more clearly defined . This was n ot, however, an exceptional case

in many chil' Th e Fra i l a nd Sac re d Ch ild . 7 1 d re n Of the same age I found nearly the same development

and I came to the conclusion , that at the age Of four , n ot only the brain , but the spinal marrow and the whole nervous sys tem, have their greatest development . SO , long before the muscles attain their strength , while the child is still so feeble , the brain is quite mature as to its nerves of sensation and motion it is already, in its most charming harmony, a human being . Bu t , though thus developed, at this ag e it is still exceed ingly dependent, and wholly at ou r mercy . The brain Of that child Of four years, pure and blank as an ivory tablet, full Of sensibility, seemed to wait for somethin g to be written upon it— to say : W rite here whatever yo u please—I will believe, I will Obey, I am here to Obey ; I am so dependent u pon you , and belong to yo u so entirely . ” An utter incapacity to avoid any suffering, o r to provide what is necessary fo r itself, characterizes the child at this time . This O n e, especially, advanced as she was, capable of loving and understanding, seemed to implore assistance . You might have almost read her prayer— for, though dead, she still prayed . I was greatly moved , but at the same time enlightened . The nerves o f this poor little girl af orded m e a very precise revelation and insight into the absolute contradictions which constitute the child ’ s state O f being . On the one hand , it is a m obile cr ea tu r e— more than all others moving by necessity . The nerves Of motion are developed and active before the counterpoising forces which maintain the equilibrium . Thus its incessant restlessness annoys and Often vexes us : we do n o t reflect that at this age the child is life itself: On the other hand , the nerves Of sensation are mature ; con sequently the child ’ s capacity to suffer, and even to love, is greater than is commonly believed . W e have proof O f this in the E ifa n ts - Tr ou vés a great m any O f the children brought there at four or five years Of age w e inconsolable , and die . A more astonishin g fact, in connexion with this tender age, is 7 2 Lo ve at Fi v e Ye a rs — Th e Do ll . - that amorous sensibility is expressed in the nerves more strongly than in the adult . I was alarmed at this ; love , slum. bering as yet in the sexual organs, seemed already fully aw w ken e d in those parts O f the Spinal marrow which act on those organs . NO doubt that at the first call they afford premoni tions O f it ; we need not then be astonished at their innocent coquetries , their sudden timidities, their furtive movements Of bashfulness without cause . H ere is a pitiful phenomenon , which should make us trem ble . This infinitely mobile being, remember, is at the same time infinitely sensitive . Be kind, patient, I pray you ! W e destroy them by harshness, Often too by tenderness . Passionate and fitfu l mothers force and enervate the child by their violent transports . I would desire for such as these the painful but salutary impression that the sight Of so t en der an organism would bestow . It needs t o be surrounded by a mild and gentle and serious love , by a World of pure harmonies . The little creature herself, already amorous in organization, is in almost as much danger from furious ca r es s es as from undue severity . Spareher, and let her live ! LO VE AT FIV E Y EAR S — TH E DO LL. IT is strange that the excellent Madame Necker de Saus sure should have thought that, till ten years Of age , a girl and a b oy are almost the same thing, and that what is said about the one will apply to the other . W hoever Observes them, well knows that this a lmos t is an incalculable, an infinite difference . Little girls, in the full levity Of their age, are already much the more staid . They are also more tender

yo u will rarely

see them hurt a little d og, or choke or pluck a bird

they have charming impulses Of goodness and pity . Lo v e a t Fi ve Yea rs — Th e Do ll . 73 Once , indisposed, I was lying on a sofa, half covered with a cloak . A lovely little girl , whom her mother had brought O 11 a visit to us, ran to me and tried to cover me better, to tuck me in in my bed . H o w can we help loving the delight ful little creatures ; nevertheless we must be ca utious n ot to sho w it t o o much , n o t to fondle them too much . The little boy is wholly different ; he will n o t long play in peace with a girl

if they begin at first to make a house , the boy will soon want it to be a carriage ; he must have a woo d en horse , to whip and manage . Then she will play by herself. IIe vainly makes believe to be her brother, o r indeed her little husband even if he be the younger, she despairs Of him, and resigns herself to solitude , — and this is what happens : It is chiefly in the winter, by the fireside, that yo u will Observe it, when people are shut up in the house , an d do n ot run about, and there is little doing o u t Of doors . Some day, whe n she has been scolded a little , yo u will see her in a corner softly wrapping some Object, a bit Of stick perhaps, with linen, and a piece o f one Of her mother ’ s new gowns ; she will tie it with a thread in the middle, and with another higher up , to mark the waist and the head—an d then will she embrace it tenderly, and rock it to and fro : Thou , thou lovest me, ” she says in a low voice ; thou wilt never scold me . ” This is play, but serious play, much more serious than we think . W hat is this n ew person , this child Of your child ? let us examine all the characters the mysterious creature enacts . You think that it is simply an imitation Of maternity, that to imagine herself grown up , as tall as her mother, she wishes to have also a little daughter Of her o wn , which she may rule and govern , embrace o r scold . SO it is —but some thing more also : to this instinct o f imitation must be added another , which the precocious organism imparts to all, even to those who may never have had a mother for a model . Let us name it aright : It is F ir s t L ove. Its ideal is not a brother ( h e is too rude , t o o noisy), but a young sister, 4 74 Lo v e a t Fiv e Ye a rs . - Th e Do ll . gentle , lovely, like herself, who may caress an d console her. In another aspect, not less true, it is th e fir s t a ttemp t a t in dep en den ce, a timid essay Ofindividuality . Under this pretty manifestation , there is, with out her knowing it , a feeble desire to withdraw herself, something O f feminin e Opposition and contradiction . Sh e is beginning her r Gle as woman : al ways subject to authority, she murmurs a little at her mother, as sh e will hereafter at her husband . Sh e m ust have an ever so tiny confidant, with whom she may sigh . F o r what ? Nothing t o - day perhaps , but some thing o r other which will come in the future . Ah ! yo u are right , my little daughter . IIow, alas ! will your small pleasures be mingled with sorrows ! WVe who adore you , how much w e make you weep ! W e must not jest at this— it is a serious passion . The mother should j oin in it, and receive with kindness the child Of her daughter . Far from despising the doll , she should insist that the cap ricious girl be al ways a good mother to it, and keep it properly dressed , that it be neither spoiled n o r beaten, but treated reasonably, as she is herself. Yo u big children , who may read this— father, broth er, cou sins—I pray yo u , do n ot laugh at the child . Examine your selves— do yo u n ot resemble her ? HO W Often , in affairs which yo u deem the gravest, a memory returns to you , and you smile— halfavowing to yourselves that yo u have been playing w ith a doll . Observe , that the more th e little girl ’ s doll is her own , the more that it is of her simple , elementary, but also personal , manufacture , the more h a s she set h er heart upon it , and the more danger there is Of distressing her . In the country, in the north Of France , a poor an d h ard working region , I once saw a very discreet little girl , wise

7 6 W o man a Re ligi o n . danced her to death : her arms w ere torn out, and she fell so ill tha t she was put to be d and nursed . Th e little girl sank l under these n e w blows Of grief. Fo rt unately a young lady, touched with pity at seeing her so very sad , found among her trumpery a splendid doll , w hich had been her o wn . Although defaced by time , it was much more real than the modern on e ; its form was perfect— even when naked , it seemed alive . H e r friends Often caressed it ; and a lr e a dy it had preferences in its friendships, and showed gleams , and first signs, Of a precocious passionate character . Du ring a short illness by which the little girl was confined , some o n e, perhaps from jealousy, cruelly broke the doll

its mistress, o n her recovery, found it decapitated . This third tragedy was too much ; she fell into such melancholy that she was never seen to smile o r play afterwards . Always de ce ive d in her fancies, she grew weary of life , which she had scarcely tasted, and nothing could save her . SO she died, sincerely mourned for by all who had seen the sweet , gentle, innocent creature , who had scarcely known happiness , and who yet was so affectionate, with a heart so full Of love . W O MAN A R ELIGIO N. IN education , the father is far too much concern ed fo r the future , that is, fo r the Uncertain . The mother is devoted chiefly to the present , and wishes her child to be happy, and t o live . I take my stand with the mother . To live ! which is really a most difli cu lt thing . Men do not think O f that ; though they may have under their very eyes the spectacle Of the trials, the watchings , the anxious cares , by which from day to day the life O f a frail being is pro longed, they coolly reason on what it ' will do ten years hence . W o man a Re lig i o n. 77 Let them, then , at least understand the indisputable, official statis tics Of the frightful mortality Of children . To the n ew born babe , death is for a long time the probable fate— with o u t a mother, almost certain . The cradle is for the most part a brief moment o f light between night and night again . W omen , who write and print , have made eloquent books on the misfortunes O f their sex ; but if children could write, what things they would have to tell They would say Take care of u s , spare us for the few days or months gene rally allotted u s by unsparing nature . We are so dependent o n you ! Yo u so hold us by superior strength , reason , and experience ‘ ! F or the little Of skill and good management that yo u expend in o u r cause , we will be very obedient , we will do what you will . But do not shorten the only hour we have beneath the warm li g ht Of the sun and o n o u r mothers ’ knee . —TO - morrow we shall be under the s o d ; and o f all earthly goods , we shall take away; with us only their tear s . ” Impatient minds will conclude from this that I desire for children that unlimited liberty which would be our servitude , that I trust only in the child ’ s instinctive tendencies, that I would have him obeyed . On the contrary, I set o u t, as you remember, with the pr o found and original idea which Frmb el first broached : “ The child, left to the chaos Of first impressions, would be very unhappy . He is relieved if the mother substitute for that wearisome confusion a small number Of coherent Objects , if she understand these , and present them to him in order . For order is a necessity O f the mind, and consequently hap p ines s for the child . ” Orderless habits , unbridled agitations, are no more n e ces sary to the happiness Of the growing child , than a chaos of confused sensations to the nurseling . I have very Often noticed the little unfortunates who were left entir ely to their 78 W o ma n a Re lig 1o n . own fancy, and have been astonished to s e e h o w soon they are wearied by thei r empty boisterousness and boldness . F o r w ant of personal restraint they encounter every moment the restraint o f things, the mute but fixed Obstacle Of realities ; they fret against this to no purpose On the contrary , the chi ld , directed by a friendly providence and in n a tural Ways , but rarely subjected to the tyrannies O f the impossible , lives in true liberty . The habitual exercise Of fr eedom in the paths Of order, has this admirable result— that sooner o r later it will inspire nature with the noble purpose O f subduing itself, O f con quering liberty through a higher liberty , Of seeking effort and sacrifice . Efi or t i ts elf belon gs to n a tu r e, a n d is its best elemen t

I mean free and deliberate effort . I have made this explanation in advance , for th e benefit of those who criticise - before they read . I am still very far from imposing effort upon the little creature I have in hand . Sh e is intelligent, loving ; but she is, nevertheless, only a n element . Go d preserve me , poor little o n e, from telling you all this ! Your duty to - day is to live, t o grow, t o eat well , to sleep better, to run in the wheat, and among the flowers . Bu t o n e can ’ t always be running, and yo u will be very happy if your mother or elder sister will play with you , and make you skilful in those labors which are games . Du ty is the inner soul , the life Of education . The child feels it very early ; almost at birth , we have inscribed o n our hearts the idea Of j ustice . I might appeal t o that, but I will not yet . Life should be completely and firmly established, before its barrier is set up , and its action limited . Those who make a g reat commotion about morals and Obligations with the child that is n o t yet sure O f living at all , who labor to confine and circumscribe its needed buoyancy o f action , are W oma n a Re lig io n . 79 only too stupid . Ah ! wretched bunglers, lay aside your shears ; at least wait till the material is there , before yo u dock, and c u t , and trim it . The foundation Of education , its soul and constant life, is what appears early in the conscience—the g ood, the ju s t. Th e g reat art is, by love, gentleness, order, and harmon y, to teach the infant soul , as it attains its true, healthy, and complete life to perceive more and more clearly the j ustice tha t already e xists within it, inscribed in the depths O f lo ve . Let the child have examples only , n o precepts— a t least n ot in the begin ning ; he will Of himself easily pass from One to the other . W ithout seeking, he will discover this : “ I ou gh t to love my mother dearly, because sh e loves me so much . ” That is d u ty, an d yet nothing is more natural . I am n o t now writing a b O Ok on education , and should not stop to discuss general views, but proceed to my special sub je ct , th e edu ca tion of th e da u gh ter . Let u s have done then with what is common between the girl and boy, and dwell on the difference It Is profound and this it is The e d u cat iori o f the b oy, in the modern sense , aims to orga n ize a f or ce, a n effective and pr oductive force, to create a creator ; which is the modern man . The education Of the girl is to produce harmony, to h a r mon ize a r eligion . W oman is a religion . H er destiny is such , that the higher she stands as religious poetry , the more effective will she be in common and practical life . The utility Ofman , being in creative , productive power, may exist apart from the ideal

an art w hich yields noble pro

ducts may sometimes have the effect O f vulgarizing the artist, 110 may himself retain very little Of the beauty he infuses into h is w orks . There is never anything like this in woman . The woman of prosaic heart, she wh o is not a living power, 80 W oma n a Re ligi o n . a harmony to exalt a husband , to educate a child , to con stantly sanctify and ennoble a family, has failed in h er mis sion , and will exert no influence even in what is v u lgar. A mother, seated by the cradle O f her daughter, should say to herself : “ I have here the war or the peace Of the world , what will trouble the hearts of ment or give them the tranquillity and high harmony Of Go d . Sh e it is who , if I die, will at twelve years Of age, on my tomb, raise her father on her little wings, and carry him back to heaven . ( See the Life Of Manin . ) Sh e it is who, at sixteen , may with a word of proud enth u sia sm, exalt a man far above himself, and make him cry, ‘ I will be great ! ’ Sh e it is wh o, at twenty, and at thirty, and all her life long, will renew her husband, every night, as he returns deadened by his labor, an d make his wilderness Of interests and cares blossom like the ro ’ se . She again , wh o, in the wretched days, when the heavens are d ark , and everyth ing is disenchanted , will bring God back to him, making him find and feel Him 011 her bosom . ” TO educate a daughter is to educate societ y itself. Society proceeds from the family, Of which the wife is the living bond . TO educate a daughter is a sublime and disinterested task ; for you create her, O mother, only that she may leave yo u , and make your heart bleed . Sh e is destined for another . Sh e will live fo r others, n o t for you , not fo r herself; it is this relative character wh ich places her higher than man , and makes h er a religion . She is the flame O f love, and the flame O f the hearth ; she is the cradle Of the future, and she is the school , another cradle—in a word : Sh e is th e a lta r . Go d be thanked , all the debated systems for the education of the boy en d here , all disputes cease here . The great conflict O f methods and theories expires in the peaceful nurture Of this W o ma n a Re lig io n . 8 1 blessed flower; discords are disarmed , and embrace each other in Beauty . She is n ot condemned to strong and violent action she will know, but not enter into , the frightful world of details , e ver increasing, beyond all the powers of man . W ill she ever rise to the summits Of high speculation ? Very likely, but not by following in our footsteps . W e will prepare ways for her to reach the idea, without subjecting her charming soul to the preliminary tortures in which the spirit Oflife is lost . W hat shall she be ? Beauty . After what model , 0 mother, shall she form herself ? Every morning and every n ight, Of er up this prayer : “ My Go d, make me very beautifu l ! that my daughter, t o be so, n eed only look on me ! ” Th e end Of woman on this earth , her evident vocation , is love . One must be very unfortunately constituted, very hos tile to nature , very blind and crooked - souled, to pronounce , against G o d himself, that this delica te organism and this ten derness O f heart are destined only to isolation . Let u s edu cate her , ” they say, to be self- su ffi cin g ; that is the safest plan . Love is the exception , and indif erence the rule . Let her know h ow to live within herself —to labor, pray, die, and work o u t her salvation , in a corner . ” TO this I reply, that love will never be wanting to her . I maintain that, as a woman , she earns h e r salvation only by constituting the happiness Of man . She ought to love and bear children ’

it is her sacred duty . But let this remark be under stood— if she is n o t a wife and mother, she may be an in s t r u c tress

in which case she will be no less a mother, and will bear the fruit O f the mind . Yes , if it has been her misfortune to be born in an accursed epoch , when th e most lovely are n o longer beloved , so much the more will she Open her arms and her heart to the universal 82 W oman a Religio n. love . For o ne child that she might have borne , she will have a thousand and clasping them t o her bosom she will say : “ I have lost nothing . ” Let the inen u nderstand on e thing, a noble and exquisite mystery that nature h as concealed in the bosom O f woman ; and that is the divine doubt wherein , in her organization , love dwells . In men , it is always desire ; but in her, even without her kn owledge , in her blindest impulses, the Instinct O f ma t ern ity overpowers all the rest . And when egotistical pride convinces th e lover that he has conquered, we may see, most frequently, that she has yielded only t o her own dream - the hope and love o f a child, which almost from her birth she had c onceived in her heart . High poetry Of purity ! In every season Of love , when the senses assert themselves , the instinct O f maternity eludes them, and bears love into sublimer regions . TO educate woman , is to promote her transformation - it is, at every step of her life, by giving her love according to . the necessities Of her heart, to aid her thus to exalt love , and elevate it to a form at once s o pure and so intense . TO express in a word this sublime and delightful poesy from the cradle woman is a mother, and lon gs fo r maternity . TO her everything in nature , animate o r inanimate , is trans formed into little children . W e shall perceive more and more clearly h o w felicitous this is woman alone can educate man , especially in the decisive years when it is necessary with prudent ten derness to discipline his young liberty by bringing it into order . TO brutally break and crush the human plant, as hitherto has been done , there is no need ’ O f women . Bu t th ey will be recognised as the only possible educators, in proportion as we shall desire to cultivate in each chil d hi s peculiar and natural genius, which is O f infinite diversity . None but a woman is s u fli ciently deli cate , tender, and patient , to perceive so many shades, and take advantage o f them.

84 W oman a Re lig i o n . Purity O f air and temper ; purity and uniformity o f influ s nees . Let there be no nurse to spoil below stairs what is done above , by flatterin g the child , a nd making her think her mamma cross . Purity above all in her regimen and her food . And what is to be understood by that ? I mean that the little on e should hav e a child ’ s diet, that she should continue her milk regimen , sweet, mild , and n ot exciting ; that, ifshe eat at your table , she should be taught n ot to touch your dish es, which are poisons to her . A revolution has been at work here : we have abandoned the frugal French regimen , and adopted, more and more, the heavy, bloody cu is in e Of o u r neighbors , much more appropriate to their cli mate than to ours, and the worst Of it is that we inflict this diet on o u r children . A strange spectacle truly, to see a mother give t o the daughter she was nursin g but yesterday, a coarse supply of h alf- raw mea ts, and dangerous stimulants, wine, an d ( exaltation itself) coffee ! Sh e is astonished to find the child violent, whimsical , passionate , when sh e has only herself to blame fo r it . W hat she does n o t yet know, but which is nevertheless of grave importance , is, tha t in ou r precocious French race ( I have seen n urslings in love in the cradle), the excitement O f the senses is directly provoked by such a regimen . Far from strengthening, it agitates, weakens, enervates . The mother finds it pleasant and pretty to have so lively a child , with repartees already, and so sensitive that it weeps at the least word . It i s all owing to her being over- excited herself; she wishes her child to be so , and without knowing it, is a cor r u p t er o f her own daughter . All this is worth n othing t o her , madam, and scarcely more to you . You have n ot the courage, yo u say , to eat anything, unless she has h er share . W ell , abstain th en , o r at least be moderate in the use Of such a diet— good fo r a jaded man , perhaps, but fatal to an idle woman - vulgarizing her , per tu rbing her, making her violent , somnolen t, or stupid . Lo ve a t Te n Ye a rs — Flowe rs . 85 In both woman and child it is a kindness , a loving kindness , to be chiefly frugivorous, to avoid the fetid viand s , and live rather o n the inn ocent aliments which cost no creature its l ife— the fragrant fruits which delight the smell quite as much as the taste . A very natural reason why the dear creatures never inspire repugnance , but seem etherial in com parison with men— is chiefly to be found in their preference fo r vegetables and fruits, a purity of diet which contributes not a little to that Of the soul , and truly assimilates it to the innocence Of flowers . L O VE AT TEN YE ARS . — F LOWE RS . WH EN the good F rmb el placed in the pretty but rather awkward hand Of my dear little one the elementary forms w ith which nature begins , he invited her also to the love Of vegetable life . TO build a house is beaut ifu l

but h ow

much more beautiful to make a plant, to create a new life , a flower w hich will expand , and reward you fo r your pains ! A splendid red kidney - bean , the admiration O f childhood , has been planted, not without some solemnity . Bu t , to wait is a thing impossible at five years ; h o w can she wait, inactive , for what n ature does by herself ? Next day, of course, the kidney - bean is visited . Taken up and put back carefully, it is n o t at a ll improved . The tender anxiety Of its young nurse leaves it n o repose ; she removes at least the surface Of th e s o il. W ith an indefatigable wateringpo t , she importunes the idleness Of the nonchalant vegetable ; the earth drinks won derfully, and seems to be al ways thirsty . SO , in Spite Of the care and the waterin g, the bean dies . Gardening is a labor o f virtue and patience ; it is excellent discipline “ for the ch aracter Of a child . But at what age 86 Lo v e a t Te n Yea rs — Flo we rs . may it be really begun The little Germans Of Froebel were to commence at four years

ours a little later, doubtless . I b e lieve that o u r little girls (much better than the boys) may, by their kindness and tenderness fo r the baby plant , u nd er take t o wait for it, to spare it, and train it . As soon as on e attempt has succeeded , as soon as they h ave seen , admired, touched, kissed the little being, everything is accomplished . They are so eager to repeat th e miracle that they become patient . The child ’ s true life is in the fields ; but even in town she should , as much as possible , be, familiarized with vegetable life . And fo r this, neither a grand garden nor a park is necessary . Sh e who has little , loves it the more— though it be only a wall - flo wer o n her balcony, and that an extension ‘ Of the roof; and she will profit more by her single plant than the spoiled child Of the rich , let loose in great parterres which she has only learned to destroy . Th e c a r e and assiduous contemplation Of this flower, the relations which shall be p ointed ou t to her, between her plant and such o r such an influence Of the atmo sphere O r season— with these alone her entire education may be carried o n . Observation , experience , reflection , reasoning, will all come Of it . W h o does n ot know the admirable les sons Bernardin de Saint Pierre derived from the strawberry plant that grew by chance in a pot on his window In it he saw the infinite , and made it the beginning Of his vegetable harmonies, simple , popular, childlike, but not the less scientific . ( See Alex . v o n H umboldt . ) A flower is a whole world , pure , innocent, peace - making ; th e little human flower harmonizes with it so much the better fo r n ot being like it in its essential point . W oman , especially the female child, is all nervous life; and so ” the plant, which has n o nerves, is a sweet companion to it, calming and r e freshing it, in a relative innocence . It is true that this plant, when in blossom, excited beyond its strength , seems to be animalized . And in certain microscopic species, it assumes in the organ Of love a surprising ide ntity with the higher order of being but the child knows nothing Lo v e a t Te n Yea rs — Flowe rs . 87 Of this beautifu l delirium O f plants, except from their intoxica ting Odor, and her constant motion prevents her from imbibing that t o o long . The little girl , who at an early age is SO complete a being, much more delicate than the b oy, more susceptible to nice impressions, has on e s ense the more— that Of perfumes , Of aromas . She could be penetrated by them and ‘ sometime enj oy a sensual expansion ; but this flower is not for her an Object Of idle love , O f indolent enj oyment

it is a necessity fo r labor and activity, an Object O f anxiety, success, and joy, an occupation fo r her heart and mind . In fin e, and in a word ; m a ter n ity cu r es love the flower is not her lover , because it is her daughter . It is a bad and dangerous intoxication fo r the sedentary little lady, deprived Of fresh air and exercise , to inhale in a parlor the concentrated emanations from an amorous bou quet Of flowers . And it is not only her head that grows dizzy ; o n e Of o u r novelists has undertaken to Sho w the doubtful virtue of a young w oman wh o yields to s u ch in flu en ces . They would no less powerfully trouble the little girl , by hastening the sensual crisis, and forcing the blossom that should rather be delayed . Shall I confess ( but what a paradox ! how Shocking to the ladies ! ) There are three things that I rather dislike : those babels Of paintings, called museums, where the pictures kill O ff each other —those babels Of warbling, called aviaries, where the nightin gale , associated with vulgar singers, is in a fair way to fall into a pat o is ; — and those babels Of flowers, called bouquets, m ade up Of all perfumes and colors , which on flict with and annihilate each other . W hoever has a vivid and delicate sense of life does not with impunity Submit to such confusions, such a chaos ofthings, h owever brilliant they may be . Every odor has its own fra granee , its own mystery, and speaks its own langua ge . All 88 Lo v e a t Ten Ye a rs — Fl o we rs . together , they either Shock the brain or trouble the senses from which the nerves suffer, as by certain vibrations O f the ha rmonica . It is voluptuous and cloying ; we smile , but ou r hearts turn from it . The discrete Odors perish barbarously, a s by asphyxia . “ Alas ! ” says the sweet ma rjor arn , stifled by the powerful rose , yo u will then never know the divinely bitter fragrance which is mingled with the perfume of love ? ” A certain woman , I knew well , never plucked a flower without regret, and in spite Of herself— asking pardon Of it . Each has its o wn peculiar pretty way, if it is peculiar . It has its special harmony, a charm it derives from its mother earth , and which Shall never be taken from it . In a bouquet what would become of its ways, its graceful curves, the sweet and jaunty air with which it carried its head ? The simple flowers, which are the flowers O f love, with their lithe and modest graces, grow pale o r disappear amid the grand corollas Of those luxurious virgins, that o u r gardeners develop by their Skill . Let us then restore to ou r ch ild the vegetable world, in all its naive and sacred truth . W hile it is yet young, let it feel , love , and comprehend , the plant in its proper and complete life . Let it know the flower, n ot as a lu xu r v and a coquetry, but as o n e stage Of the plant ’ s existence, as the plant itself in blossom . It is a great injustice to court it with the fleeting pleasures Of a vain adornment , such as an artificial flower, and forget the marvellous reality, the progressive miracle hidden in a tiny sanctuary, the sublime elaboration Of a future and an immortality, by which life every year escapes , and laughs at death . Takin g a winter walk, In February, the little on e, looking at the red buds on the trees, sighs and says : “ H ow soon will it be spring ? ” Suddenly she cries ou t , for she has it at her very feet— a little silver bell with a green border , the snow drop , announces the reawakening Of the year . Soon the sun resumes his strength . To his first changeful an d capricious rays , in March , a whole little world awakes Lo v e a t Te n Yea rs — Flo w ers . 89 th e jeunettes, v iolets, primroses, and daisies , —the flo wer children which , from their little golden disks, are called the children O f the sun . They have not strong perfumes— except , I believe , the violet only . The earth is t o o moist as yet the hyacinth , jacinth , and lily O f the valley, seem almost wet in the humid Shade Of the woods . H ow delightful , how surprising This innocent vegetation seems created expresslyfor o u r little girl , and every day she makes conquests from it, collecting, arranging, and binding to gether th e bundles Oflittle flowers that Sh e must throw away to - morrow . One by on e she salutes each n ew- comer, and gives it a sister ’ s kiss . W e will not disturb her in her festival of spring . But when , after a mon th o r t w o , she is satisfied, I will tell her

W hile yo u have been playing at nature, my child,

the proud and splendid transformation of the Earth has been accomplished . Sh e has n ow pu t on her green robe, with the immense flo u n ces that we call hills and mountains . Think you it is only to give you daisies, that she has poured from her bosom an ocean Of herbs and flowers NO , my pet : the good nurse , the universal mamma, has first served up a banquet t o ou r humbler brothers and sisters, who are o u r support . The good c ow, an d the gentle sheep , the sober goat that lives o n SO little and helps th e poorest to live , — for them were these meadows spread . W ith the virginal milk Of the earth they will le a d their udders, to give you cream and butter . Take , and be thankfu l . 1 TO these fresh and sweet supplies are to be added the deli cacy Of the first potherbs, and the earliest fruits . With the increasing heat appear in due season the currant and the mild s trawberry , which o u r little gourmand detects by their exqu isite fragrance . The tartness Of the former, the melting lusciousness of the latter, and the delicate sweetness Of the cherry, are the refreshments sen t to us in the burnin g days, when the rising heats O f s u mmer enervate us, or when beneath an overpowering sun the labors Of harvesting begin . This intoxication first appears in the rich but too pen etr at 9 0 Lo ve at Te n Years — Flowers . 111g perfume O f the rose , which gets in the head . The coquet tish queen Of flowers triumphantly leads in the legions Of her more serious sisters— the medicinal flowers and pharmaceutic plants, usefu l and saving poisons . But in the sovereign labors Of the great Maternity, come next those which are to nourish entire populations— the venerable tribes Of the legu m in os os and the grasses also, the poor o f the vegetable kingdom, who , as Linnaeus says, are its irresistible valor and heroic force ; though they be maltreated and trampled down , yet will they multiply the more ! Their t wo nutritious leaves ( cotyledons) are as a mother ’ s breasts . Five o r six poor grasses, with the abundant fulness of these breasts, support the human race . ” (E . Noel . ) My daughter , d o n ot imitate the thoughtless, giddy child wh o , where a sea Of gold rolls in the wind, Of corn - p e ppies and blue - bonnets in their sterile Splendor, goes in t o pluck them . Let not your little foot stray from the strict and narrow line O f the path . Respect o u r nutritive father, the reve rend Corn , whose feeble stalk scarcely supports his head heavy with bread for t o morrow . Every ear yo u destroy is so much taken from the life Of the poor and worthy laborer, who the whole year round h a s suf ered, that it might thrive . Even the lot ofthe corn itself deserves your tenderest respect . All the winter long, shut up in the earth , it patiently waited under the snow ; then , in th e cold sprin g rains , its little green sh oot struggled upward , - wounded, now by a nip from the frost, now by a bite from the sheep ; and it has thriven only by enduring the smarting rays Of the sun . TO - morro w, cut down by the sickle, beaten and again beaten by flails , broken and crushed by mill - stones , the hapless martyr, reduced to an impalpable po wder, will be cooked into bread, and eaten , or brewed into beer, and drunk . Which ever way, its death is life to m an . All nations, in j oyous hymns, have sung its martyrdom, an d the martyrdom o f the vine , its sister . Even in the corn

9 2 Lo ve a t Te n Yea rs — Flowe rs . It disappears consoled, and (wh o knows ?) perhaps to r es t— its duty done, a n d the la w Of Go d fu lfilled . Thus, dear, if you h ave understood me , yo u have seen that beneath this brilliant circle Of annual evolution s , in which each for a moment takes her place in the sun , there is another circle, sombre and mute, constituted in the depths o f being by sweet sisterly interchanges, each unenviously retiring to transfer her life to the others . A world Of peace, innocence , and resignation ! Bu t the supe rior beings, subject to the same law, rarely yield themselves t o it SO completely Nevertheless, ” says nature, what is t o be done ? it is n ot my fault . I have only s o mu ch sub stance , and no more, to share among yo u all I cannot increase it at will . It is but j ust that each in turn Should have a little . ” Therefore, Sh e says to the animals , You , th e favorites Of life , s o privileged by a superior organization , are n o t by that exempt from nourishing your sisters the plants, which , grate ful and graceful , daily nourish yo u in advance . It is yours to pay trib u te, but only Of that which is worthless to your selves— your sloughs at certain seasons— your remains in death . That may be as late as possible ; I have shown you h ow to retard it . But it must certain ly come One day ; for I could do n o better . ” This is but reasonable ; is it n ot , my d aughter ? And the Father Of nature , Go d, who made and endowed you , who has given you skilful han ds ( or fitted to become so), wh o has given yo u a head, as yet light, but gradually recipient Of thoughts, grants yo u the distinguished honor Of sharing in his labors . Yo u shall germinate vegetable nurselings, and little daughter- flow ers ; you shall build up life , by partici pating in the grand Operations Of Go d ; and afterwards, a woman , and perhaps a mother, when your time shall come, yo u shall cheerfully transfer your life to others, and with a g r a tefu l ' g r a ce vivify your good nurse , nature , and nourish her in your turn . Th e Littl e H o u s eh o ld — Th e Li ttle Ga rden . 93 V I I I . T H E LITT LE H O USEH O LDL— TH E LITT LE GAR DEN. IF a choice O f playthings be offered to a little girl , sh e will cert ainly select miniature utensils Of cooking and housekeep ing. That is her natural instinct, a presentiment Of the duties the woman will have to fulfil

for Sh e must nourish the man .

An elevated and sacred duty— especially in our climate, where the sun , less powerful than at the equator, does not complete the maturity of many vegetables, does not ripen them sufficiently to make them digestible by man . SO woman completes the work O f the sun ; she knows how the food, cooked and softened, will be assimilated by him, will pass into his circulation , to restore his blood and his strength . It is like another n ursing ; if she could gratify her heart , sh e w ould feed her husband and her children on the milk Of her breasts . Unable t o do that, she borrows alrment f r om nature , but brings it to them greatly changed, mingled with h erself, and made delicious with her tenderness . From pure wheat, solid and strong, she prepares the sacred cake , by which the family partake Of her love . Milk takes a hundred forms from her ; she puts into it her delicate sweetness and h er fragrance , and it becomes a light and / eth er ial cream, 3 . most luxurious dish . The ephemeral fruits that Autumn lavishes , as thou gh to get rid Of them, shefixes as by enchant ment . Next year her astonished children will see , brought forth from the treasury of h er foresight, th e fugitive delights which they supposed had perished before the first snows . There they are , made after her ow n image— faithful and unal t er able, pure and limpid as her life , transparent as her heart . O th e sweet and beautiful faculty ! The child- bearing ! The sl ow, partial , but continu ous creation , day by d ay — Sh e makes an d remakes them, body and soul , temper and energy . She increases o r diminishes their activity, stretches o r 94 Th e Li ttle H o u se h o ld — Th e Li ttle Ga rde n . slackens their nerves . The ch a nges are insensible , but th e results certain . W hat can she n o t d o ? The giddy child, playful and rebellious, becomes pliable , disciplinabl e, and soft . The ma n, down - borne by labor and excess Of effort, is gradually rej uvenated by her . In the morning, o u t Of a heart full O f love, he says : I live ag ainfwh o lly in t hee . ” Besides, when this , her great power, is wisely exercised, sh e has no occasion to restore , to cure . Sh e is the perfect physician , creating, day by day, health and harmonious equi librium, and barrin g the door against disease . Thinking Of that, what woman ’ s, what mother ’ s heart, could haggle and find fault with nature . Love is an idealist, and in all that is essential to th e life of its beloved it sees only spirit . The noble and high results, which these humble cares procure, elevate and ennoble them, and make them sweet and dear . A young lady Of distinction , delicate and sickly, wou ld never allow any on e else to feed her nightingale . That winged artist is like man- to refresh its burning throat , it would like the marrow Of lions ; it must have m eats and blood . This lady ’ s servant found the task repu gnant

but

she , n ot at all

she saw in it only the song, the soul Of love, to which sh e imparted strength . It received from her hand the banquet O f inspiration ( love, hemp , and poppy seeds ), life , intoxication , and forgetfulness . Fourier has well remarked that children have a taste for cooking, and like to take part in it . Is it mimicry or gluttony ? Bu t I do n ot mean to encourage mimicry, a s he advises. No r, since it is to become so grave a matter, would I have th e child make sport Of it , and waste her time in foolish little preparations for her doll ’ s repast . I would prefer that , after a time , when her attempts at gardening shall have made her skilful , her mother initiate her in some duty in whi ch ‘ the Th e Li ttle H o u seh o ld — Th e Little Ga rden. 95 life o f her father is interested , by which he who supports them m a y be nourish ed by them, by which the ‘ child may for the first time serve him, a n d be m ade happy by his “ Thank yo u , m y daughter, ” at the table . Every art developes new qualities in us . H ousekeeping and cooking demand, in a high degree, the most exquisite neatness, and a certain dexterity . An even ~temper and a g entle character contribute much more t o them than we sup p ose . N 0 on e who is rough and fickle can manage such things well . A j ust sense o f precision is essential

and also , in the highest degree , an appropriate decision O f character— to control one ’ s Self, and kn ow where t o stop . Observe the more important endowments which the culture Of the garden demands . At first it was only an amusement ; but as soon as it is understood and studied, in its relation to the life and health O f loved ones, as soon as the garden has become auxiliary to the cuisine , it assumes an important aspect, and is much better cultivated . TO notice , and take account Of, a thousand variable circumstances ; to respect the weather, and control her childish impatience ; to subject her w ill to great laws ; to be a ctive , but to kn ow that her o wn activity is not everything ; to recognise the concurrent agen cies O f n ature ; and , finally , to fail often and n ot be dis co u r ag ed— such is gardening to her— a labor made up o f all labors ; human life complete . The kitchen and the garden are but two departments Of the same laboratory, working to the same en d . The first com pletes by fire th e maturing process which the other began in the sun . They interchange kind Offices ; the garden supplies the kitchen , and the kitchen supplies the garden . The slops that are thrown o u t almost with disgust, are accepted ( if I may believe an eminent horticulturist) as choice aliment, by pure and noble flowers . Therefore, despise nothing . Th e” meanest refuse , even the dregs o f coffee, are eagerly absorbed by vegetables , as a flame , a spirit Of life ; three whole years may pass , and still they will feel its warmth . 9 6 Th e Li ttle H o u seh o ld — Th e Little Ga rde n . Let me instruct your child in these necessary laws o f life . It would be a foolis h reserve to leave her ignorant Of the transformation Of substances, and their natural circulation . Our disdainful young ladies, who know plants only to pluck them, are not aware that the v eg eteble consumes as much a s the animal . H o w do they live , themselves They never think o f that ; they have a good appetite , and they absorb , but without gra titude , without a thought fo r the duty Of restitu tion . Nevertheless, they must make restitution , by death especially ; a nd they must make it continually by the pro cesses Of perspiration , sloughs, and dimirru tio n s Of themselves —the losses and the little daily deaths which nature imposes o n us, to the profit Of the lower orders Of life . This fatal cir cu lu s is certainly n ot without its grandeur . It h a s o n e very g rave aspect, by which the child ’ s heart will be touched w ith a sal u tary emotion : namely , that o u r weakness daily condemns us to seek strength where it is accumulated, in o u r brethren th e animals, and to live on their life A double lesson this, by no means useless to the young girl , in that first impulse of pride , proper to her youth , her beauty, and intensity Of life , which sometimes make her thi nk, I am ; the rest is nothing . The flower and the charm O f the world is myself, and all else is but refuse . ” Flower, beauty, youth ? Agreed . But do n ot forget the cost O f them . Be mod est ; remember the humble and severe conditions o n which nature parts with life : to die a little daily, before dying utterly ; and every day, at this happy, loaded table, t o be born again— alas ! by the deaths Of inno cent creatures . At least let these animals be happy as long as they live . Teach the child of their right to exist, and the regret an d pity we owe them, even when the needs Of o u r or ganization compel us to destroy them . Carefully teach her the uses they a ll have , or had— even those that t o day may harm us . The child is very poetical , but not much o f a poet . Nevertheless O u r little one will feel , by the instinct O f her charming heart , Th e Little H o u se h o ld — Th e Li ttle Garden . 97 much that would hardly impress her mind . The heroic maternity Of the bird , constructing its nest with so much pains, submitting, fo r its children ’ s sake, to so many sore trials , will certainly strike her. And in the ant and bee she w ill see , not without respect, and a sort Of religion , a very dif erent artistic genius from that which maternity inspires . The colossal labors O f the ant, raising o r lowerin g its e g g s , by the well - calculated scale Of its thirty or forty s t o ries, according to th e air and sun , and all the variations Of tempe rature , w ill fill her with admiration . In these infinitely little things, she will catch the first gleam, the first delightfu l ray, Of the great mystery, which is postponed for her, — the great, the universal Love . Knowing that there is but one happiness here below, that Of creatin g, always creating, I have endeavored at all times to make her happy, by inducing her to create . W hen sh e was four years Old, I put materials into her pretty hands , regular forms ( analogous to those first attempts at asso elation that nature makes in crystals), and with these wooden crystals , j oined in her own way, she erected little houses and other baby structures . Afterward, she was shown how nature , bringin g Opposites together in sympathy, makes veritable crystals, brillia ‘ nt , colored , and SO beautiful ! She has made some herself. From that time , with her own hand, Sh e has sowed seeds and made plants , and by her care in tending and watering them, has brought them to live and blossom . F o r silk- worms, she innocently collects the little grains, the seedlings of the butterfly ; these Sh e tends, and keeps alw a ys about her , nurturing them with her warmth, and protecting them n ight and d ay in her unformed bosom . Some mornin g she h a s the happiness to see a n ew world, disclosed to h er by her own young love . 98 Th e Mate rn i ti e s o f Fo u rteen . Thus she goes on , creating and happy . Continue to have children , my daughter . Associate yourself, dear little one , with the great Maternity . It costs your tender heart nothing . You create in profound peace . TO morr ow, it will cost you more , and your heart will bleed . — Mine also ; ah ! believe that well . Bu t for to day, let us enj oy . Nothing Is more plea sant to me than to Observe, in such complete repose, in such touching innocence, your little fecundities . They 1 cassur e me for your lo t ; whatever may happen , yo u will have had your part in this world, participating in the divine work, and creating . TH E MATERNIT IES O F FO URTEEN. —TH E METAMO RPHO SIS. I H AVE feared but o n e thing for this child : and that is, s écresy ; I know some wh o are pensive at four years of age . But happily sh e has been preserved from‘ that first, by her active life ; and then, because from her birth sh e has - had a confidante in her mother, so that she could think aloud . W oman , all h e r life lon g, must overflo w and di scharge her self. While yet she was very little, her mother took her in her lap every night,and , heart to heart, made her speak . Ah ! what a happiness to confess, to excuse , o r even accuse one ’ s self. SO talk my child , talk o n ! If it is good I will embrace yo u . And, if it is n o t good, why, to morrow we ' will bot h try to d O better . ” SO she tells everything ; what does she risk ? Much for mamma will suffer, if I ha ve been bad . ” NO , my dear—tell me all the same ; and even if ‘ it ' makes me cry, your heart shall flow with min e . ” Her filial confession is the whole mystery Of childho od . By

1 00 Th e Ma te rn i ti es o f Fo u rteen. to draw her ou t Of her troubled state , by placing in her arms not a thing but a person . Sh e will forthwith take her to the village school , and show her the little children . At first the youn g dreamer, the great girl , finds the poor creatures somewhat insipid ; but she is sh own that they have not everything they need : this o n e is very scantily clad ; that O n e needs a new dress ; this o n e has come t o school without her breakfast, because her mother h as no bread ; that o n e has no mother, and her father, too, is dead ; at four years Of age she is alone, and is provided for j ust as it may happen . Our darling ’ s young heart awakes at this . W ith o u t a word , she takes the child, and begins to arrange her dress . Sh e is not unskilful

one would think she had handled children

all her life . Sh e washes her, kisses her, and brings her bread, butter, fruit, and everything she has . W erther fell in love with Charlotte at seeing her give a slice O f bread to the chil dren . So should I . The little orphan interests her in the others . One is pretty, another so knowing ; one h as been Sick, another beaten , and must be consoled . They all please her, all amuse her . What a pleasure to play with such delightful dolls, that speak , and laugh , and eat, have wills Of their own , and are almost people! What a pleasure to make them play ! And, with this idea, she goes to playing herself— the great innocent baby Even at home she thinks Of them ; and the more she thinks , the livelier she becomes . At once gay and serious— as is always the case when o n e has suddenly a great interest in life—she no longer walks in solitude ; but seeks her mother, talks with her , requires her cO - Operation, begs for this favor, bargains for that . Every day she spends all her spare time with the children ; a n d lives wholly within her own little world, so full Of variety for those who see it near at hand and mingle with it . Therein she has her friendships, her semi - adoptions , her preferences her tendernesses enhanced by charity, sometimes little cares, t hen j oys, extreme delights , and perchance even tears . But Th e M a te rn i t i es o f Fo u rteen . 1 0 1 Sh e knows why she weeps ; and the worst thing for young girls is to weep w ithout knowing why ! She was j ust fourt een in May—those were her first roses . After a r a in , , th e season , thenceforth serene a nd beautiful , bloomed o u t in all its glory . She , too, had experienced a short interval of storms— with fever and some suffering ; it had left her, fo r the first time a little weak, a little pale, while an almost imperceptible shade o f delicate blue, or faint lilac, en circled her eyes . She was not very tall ; but her figure had changed, had gracefully developed ; lying down a child , in a few days she had arisen a young woman . Lighter, and yet less active, she no longer merited the names her mother had given her : “ My bird ! my butterfly ! ” H er first impulse o n revisiting her garden , changed and grown beautiful like herself, was to gather some flowers for her father and mother, who had Of late petted her even more than usual . Sh e rej oined them smiling, with her pretty Offer ing ; and found them much moved, saying nothing to each other, but mute with the same thought . F o r the first time , perhaps, fo r a l ong while, they placed her between them . W hen Sh e was a little thing, j ust learning to walk alone, she needed to see them thus within reach of her, on her right and left . But n ow, almost as tall as her mother, she felt, very tenderly, that it was they who needed to have her between them . They gathered her into their hearts with a love so profound, that her mother could scarce restrain her tears . “ Dear mamma ! what is the matter —and she threw h er self on that dear bosom . H er mother loaded her with caresses, but did not answer, fearing to give vent to her o wn emo tions . At last, a little composed, althou gh tears still dimmed h er eyes, Mamma said , smiling : “ I was telling your father What I dreamed last night . You were alone in the garden, 1 02 Th e M a te rn it ie s o f Fo u rte en. and torn by the cruel thorns of . a rose - bush ; I wished to bind up your wounds, but could n ot ; so you were ruined for life . I was dead, yet I sa w it all . ” Oh ! mamma, then never die ! ” And Sh e fell , blushin g, into her mother ’ s arms . These three persons , at that moment, were wholly united in heart . Bu t I should not say three —they were one . Through love , they existed in their daughter, she in them . There was no need to Speak a Single word ; they understood each other s o well . They no longer saw each ' other distinctly, for it was already dusk and they went o u t , dim and shadowy— the father supporting her o n his arm, the mother embracing the little one, and supported by her . N0 longer could be heard the songs O f birds, but only their fain t twitterings, their last confidential chat, as they crowded into the nest . These murmurs are very charming and very various ; some noisy and eager, overjoyed at meeting again ; others ver y melancholy, troubled by the shadows O f night, seemed to say to each Other, “ Wh o is sure o f waking to - mor row ? ” The trustful nightingale returning to its nest, almost on the ground, crossed the court at their very feet ; and the mother, tenderly moved, bade it good - night : God keep thee, poor little thing ! ” Nothing is easier than the revelation Of sex to a child thus prepared . For her wh o is kept in ignorance Of its general laws,who learns the whole mystery at once , it is a serious an d a dange rous thing . What are we to think Of the imprudence Of those parents who leave this revelation to chan ce ? F o r what is chance It is Often some companion , n either innocent nor Of pure Imagrnation ; Oftener than would be believed, it is a flippa n t sensual speech from a b o y, some near relative . Many mothers will indignantly deny this ; their children a re all perfect — they are SO infatuated with their sons as to dis believe truth itself.

1 04 H i sto ry a s a Ba s i s o f Fa ith . Of learnin g everythin g . I am n o t criticizing his work ; I sim ply remark that he says not a single word about the second problem Of e ducation : Wh a t sh a ll be th e p r in cip a l o bject of s tu dy W hat shall this pupil be taught Suppose Rousseau has succeeded in forming an energetic, active mind, inde pendent O f ordinary routines— to what shall it apply itself ? Is there not some science in which it may find its develop ment , its natural g ymnastics ? It is not enough to create the s u bject

we must determine the object on which it may be

exercised with the most advantage . I will call this Object, the s u bs ta n ce Of education . In my Opinion , this should be altogether dif erent, as it is to be applied to the boy o r the girl . If we desire better results in education than we have achieved heretofore, we must gravely consider the incalculable differences which not only separate but even Oppose the two sexes—which constitute them h a rmon iou s opponents . Their voca tions and n atu ral tendencies differ ; so should their education dif er— differ in method—harmonizing for the girl , strengthening fo r the b oy, — differ in its Object, as to the principal study on which the mind should be exercised . F or man , wh o is called to labor, to battle with the world, the great study is History, the story Of this combat— history aided by languages, in each Of which is th e genius O f a people —history prompted by Right, writing under and for it, con stan tly inspired, revised, and corrected by eternal Justice . For woman , the gentle mediator between nature and man , between father ar i d child, the study, thoroughly practical , rej u ven ating, and embellishing, is Nature . The man passes from drama to drama, n o t on e of which r e sembles another, from experience t o experience , from battle to battle . History goes forth , ever far- reaching, and continually crying to him : Forward The woman , on the contrary, follows the noble an d serene pic that Nature chants in her harmonious cycles , repeating herself with a touching grace Of constancy and fidelity . These H isto ry as 9. Bas is o f Fa ith . refrains in her lofty song bestow peace, and, if I may say so, a relative changelessness . This is why the study o f Nature never wearies, never jades ; and woman can trustingly give h erself up to it, for Nature is a woman . History, which we very foolishly put in the feminine ' gen d er , is a rude, savage male, a sun - burnt, dusty traveller . Go d forbid that I should lead the tender feet of this child through so rough a pilgrimage she would soon droop , her breath would fail her, and, fainting, she would sink o n the hig hway . H istory ! my daughter, history ! I must indeed give you some of it ; and I will give it to you, fresh and strong, sim ple , honest, bitter as it is ; fear n ot that, in tenderness, I will sweeten it with poisonous honey . But I am not required to make y ou swallow the whole, poor child, to pour down your throat in torrents that terrible tonic in which poison pre dominates , to make you empty even to the dregs the cup of Mithridates . What I owe you of history is, first , your own story ; what I should tell you is of your own cradle, and of that which sup ports the ve ry prop of your moral life . I should tell you first h ow yo u were born— the pain , the infinite cares of your mo ther , and all her watchings ; how many times she has suffered, wept , almost died for you . Let that history, my child , be your cherished legend, your pious souvenir, your first religion here below . Then I should tell you briefly what is and what was your second mother— that noble mother, your Country . God has g ranted yo u the distinction to be born in this land o f France, with w hich the whole world , my child , is either enraged o r enamored no on e is indifferent to her— all ‘ s peak either good or evil of her— right o r wrong, wh o knows ? As for us, we say of h er only thus— that, Men suffer gaily n owhere but in France . Hers are the on ly people who know how to die . ” 5

1 06 H isto ry as a Basis o f Fa i th . Of the long lives of your fathers yo u will know the great events if yo u learn that at the sacred period when your country w a s laid upon the altar, Paris proclaimed to France the wish , the resolve of all, To lose themselves in the great whole . ” From this united ef ort France became as one person ; she felt her heart beating, and questioned it ; and she discerned in that first throb, th e holy brotherho od of earth , the wish to free the world . This is your pedigree, oh m aiden ! exalt it, and may you love only heroes ! F rom F r ance ' you shall go forth into the world . We Will prepare together, j ust as in a garden , plots of ground suitable to plan t nations in . Pleasant and animating is the study of soils, o f clima tes, o f the forms of th e globe, which 1n so many ways have determined th e actions o f men , and often made their history ln advance . H ere the earth has commanded, man obeyed , and sometimes, such o r such a vegetable, such or such a regimen , has made such or such a civilization . Some times the internal force of man has uprisen to react, to s trug gle against this ; ‘ in these combats the good friend of ’ you r child hood, Nature , and the natural sciences unite, and harmoniz e with the moral sciences, in which life will in itia te yo u . Is the teaching of history the same for boys and girls Yes, doubtless, as a basis of faith . To both it imparts its rich moral fruit, stren gth to the heart, and nourishment to life to wit, the grand consent of the human so ul on the question of j ustice, the histo ric agreement o f th e creeds of the human race as to duty an d God . But let it be better understood that, man being destined for business, to a combat with th e world , history is peculiarly adapted to prepare him for it . To him it is the treasure - h ouse o f experience , an arsenal of the w eapons of all kinds that h e shall wield to - morrow . For the girl , histor y 1s principally a moral and religious basis .

1 08 H isto ry as a Bas is o f Fa ith . Her ed otu s, the Retreat of the Ten Thousand , the Life o f Alexander the Great, some of the beautiful Bible stories ; to which may be added the Odyssey, and those modern Odysseys, o u r own fine travels ; all these to be read very slowly , and always in the same spirit, so as to show he r, under such external differences o f manners, habits, religions, how little man himself has changed . F o r the most part the discord s are but seeming discords , or sometimes demanded by pe cu lia r ities o f race or climate . Common sense will explain all that . As to the family, for instance , we see clearly that it cannot be the same under the physical fatalities o f that h o t - bed o f India, where the wife is a child , married at eight o r ten . But as soon as we come into a free and natural world, th e ideals of family are absolutely identical . It is the same in ! oroaster, in H omer, the same in Socrates ( see the admirable passage from the Economics of X enophon) , the same , finally, in Rome, and among us . W e learn from Aristophanes that the Gr eek women , not at all dependent, ruled at h ome , and often exer cise d a powerfu l influence in the state . W e see this in Thu cydides , where the men had voted fo r the massacre o f Lesbos

but returning home at night, and confronting their wives , they retracted and reversed their decree . Laws deceive us greatly . It is supposed , for example, that wherever the son - in - law pays the father, he purch a ses his wife , an d she is h is slave . Bu t that is a mistake . This form o f marriage exists indeed in Africa, and yet it is among those very tri bes that the wife , free and a queen , rules— and not the man (Livingston) . The payment does n o t constitute the purchase o f the wife, but an indemnity to her father fo r the prospective children which shall n ot profit his family, but the o n e into which the wife is about t o enter . It is curious to note h ow sceptics seize upon this , to create discords and exceptions to the rule , and to prove that there is no rule . The enemies of moral sense and human reason have no choice but to seek in th e most suspicious sources for facts not eas ily understood . H isto ry a s a Bas i s o f Fa i th . 1 09 Bu t, ” says the father, “ whence shall I derive penetra tion e n ough to find my own way , and to guide my child through so many obscurities Strong and genuine criticism is \ b o r n of the heart, rather than the intellect it springs from from the impartial sympathy we owe to ou r brothers past and o f the present . W ith this you will have n o difficulty in tracing through history the great unchang ing current of human morality . W ill you believe one who has made the great voyage more than once ? His experience is precisely that of the voyager as he sails out of the Caribbean Sea ; at the first glance, he sees only the wide expanse of water ; in the second, on the green field he discerns a broad band of blue ; that is the immense torrent of warm floods which , crossing the Atlantic, reaches Ireland, still warm, and is not entirely cooled even at Brest . H e sees it perfectly, and moreover, can feel its warmth on the passage . Just so will the great current of moral tra dition appear, if you scan the ocean ofhistory with carefu l eyes . But lon g before we reach this elevated simplification , in which history becomes identical with morality itself, I should desire my young maiden to be pleasantly nourished with pure and wholesome reading, borrowed especially from anti qu ity, from the primitive East . H ow happens it that we put into the hands of children the history of grown up nations only, while we leave them ignorant of the infancy and youth o f the world If some on e would collect a few of the truly spiritual hymns of the Vedas, some of the prayers and laws o f P ersia, s o pure and so heroic , and add a few of those touch ing past orals from the Bible, such as the stories of Jacob, Ruth , a n d Tobias , he would present the young girl with an in compar a ble bouquet, whose perfume , early and slowly inhaled, would impregnate her innocent soul , and remain with her forever . No intricate subjects in the remote past for her ; banish 1 1 0 H isto ry a s 3 Ba s i s o f Fa ith . from her presence the Dantes and the Shakespeares, the sophists and magicians o f the old age o f the world . P u t ' away, still more inexorably, historical romances, that per n icio u s lite rature which o n e can never unlearn , and which makes us insensible to genuine histo ry fo r ever after . Sh e should have the world ’ s nursery song, the Iliad and Odyssey ; the best book o f a ll fo r a young mind— itself young too, but so wise ! Furthermore , in order to know which books are suited to her, you must classify them according t o the quality of light that ill u mines and colors them . The literature o f every age seems to correspond to some hour of the day ; H erodotus and Homer everywhere reflect the morning, and it prevails in all the memorials o f Greece ; the Aurora seems always to smile upon its monuments, everywhere is dif used a t ra n spa reney , a strange serenity, a classic j oyfulness, which wins and delights the heart . The Indian dramas and poems, modern in comparison with the Vedas, possess a thousand beauties to charm the imagina tion o f the child and entrance her young girl ’ s heart . Bu t I am in n o haste for those they ar e all teeming with the ener vating heats ofmid- day —a world of ravishing illusions dreamed in the shades of enchanted forests . To her happy lover, I will leave the voluptuous pleasure of reading Sako u ntala to her in some bower o f flowers . It is at evening o r a t night that the greater part o f the Bible seems to have been written all those terrible questions which torture human reason are therein laid down harshly and with savage crudeness; The alienation of man from Go d, o f the s o n ' from the father, the fearful problem of th e Origin o f Evil , and all those perplexities o f the latest- born people of Asia, —+I would forbear from too early agitating a young heart with these . Of what possible use, forsooth , could it be , to read to her the lamentations o f David in the dark ness, beating his breast, torn with anguish for the murder of Uriah

1 1 2 H isto ry a s a Ba s is o f Fa i th . comrades go fort h , — a man and his d og . W e are speaking o f the primitive d og, that colossal mastiff w ithout which the land would then have been uninhabitable , a creature at once friendly and formidable , which alone could overcome monsters . One that was exhibited before Alexander strangled a lion in his presence . Ma n had then no weapon but the short, heavy sword , such as is depicted on monuments, with which , face to face , breast to breast, he stabbed the lion . Every day, protected by his faithful dog, he breaks the land ; he sows it with good seed, waters it, and tills it with the plough he refreshes it with fountains, and his own heart is refreshed with the b en eficent work of Law : so he returns from it sanctified . The companion of this noble life of toil and danger, woman , his efficient wife , the mistress of his house , receives h im at the threshold , and restores him with food from her own hand he eats what she gives him, and allows her to nourish him like a child, for she knows everything, —the virtues of all plants, those which give health , and those which cheer the heart . H ere woman is a magician , a queen she subdues even the conqueror of lions . That world of ancient Persia wa s a vrrgrnal world, fresh as the d ew before dawn . I can almost feel the circulation through it, of those forty thousand subterranean canals o f which Herodotus speaks—hidden veins, which r e - animated the earth , and snatched living water from the thirst of the burn ing sun , to refresh the longing lips of innumerable roots , and gladden the heavy hearts of trees ! Pa llas . —Reaso n . 1 1 3 PAL LAS. — R EASO N. MY dear child, you have as yet hardly been in the gal eries of sculpture ; your mother thinks them too cold, and we have always preferred to ascend to the upper story of the Louvre, to the warm, breathing world of pictures . And yet, espe cially in the summer, it is a place o f sublime repose, of silence , where on e may meditate and study better than in the museum above . Tod ay, while her duties detain your mother a t home , let us, together, make a pilgrimage to that solemn country of the dead . Nations and Schools are not classified here as in the picture gallery . The pure and lofty antiques are too often found side by side with the works of the Decadence . There is no con fusion , however . So proud , so sublime, so simple are the true children of Greece , that even in the midst of Romans emperors and senators—it is they who are glorious, who triumph , —the Greeks, who seem masters of the world . The low passions which characterize the busts o f the Empire ( the Agrippas , th e Vitelliu s es, etc . ) had no part in their noble pre d ecess o r s . A sublime serenity is the attribute o f these sons of the ideal

o n their brows is the same reflection with which

Aurora gilds th e dome of the Acropolis ofAthens, while their deep eyes denote not soft revery, but subtile intuition , and masculine reason . You have read Plutarch ’ s Lives, and you seek here for the great dead , the objects of your preference ; but those interest ing and romantic biographies of the Decadence afford an idea quite Oppo sed to that of the genius of antiquity . They pro claim the H ero to enthrone and deify him ; on the other hand , the glory of the Greek world consisted in being a heroic peo ple, where there were , nevertheless, no heroes— where no on e man was a h ero , a nd yet all were . By physical and mental 1 14 Pa lla s . — Reaso n . discipline every citizen reached the perfection of his beauty, and attained the heroic climax , “ so as closely to resemble the gods . By an incessant activity, by contests, by discussions in the forum and the schools, by the theatre , by festivals with games and combats, the Greek evolved everything stron g and beautiful in his nature , and moulded himself unwearyingly to the likeness o f Apollo and H ercules, borrowing the strength o f the on e, the graceful elegance and lofty melody of the other , o r the med itative faculty o f the Minerva o f Athens . W ere all the Greeks bo rn beautiful ? It would be absurd to suppose so ; but the y knew h ow to make th emselves beau tiful . “ Socrates was born a very satyr . ' But within and without he so transformed himself by this sculpture of r ew son , o f virtue and devotion , he so improved h is fa ce, that at last a go d looked through it, by whom the P h a edon is illu rn ined . ” Let us enter this large hall , at the farther end of which stands the colossal statue o f Melpomene , and, without gomg so far, let us stop a moment before this figure o f Pallas . It is a sculpture of R oman times, but copied from a Greek P al las, perhaps from that of P hidias . The face wears precisely the same expression as the well - known faces of Pericles and The misto cles ; that expression— to name it aright— is thou ght , wisdom, or rather reflection . To reflect is to turn one ’ s thought back upon itself, to take it for its own object, to look at it as in a mirror . Thus it w ill apparently be doubled , so that the thought gazing fixedly upon itself will expand and develop itself, by the analysis of language , o r by the inner speech o f dumb reason . The lofty genius of Greece did n ot consist in th e ability o f a Ulysses o r a Themistocles , who made h er mistr ess o f Asia, bu t in this invention o f the process o f reasoning, which made the Greeks the great teachers fo r all time to come .

1 1 6 Pa lla s . — Rea son . for instance, like a celebrated woman Of the last century ; I do n ot ask you to teach the higher mathematics to a circle O f attentive men and respectful pupils , as I saw a lady do at Granville , in 1 8 5 9 ; but I should be very happy if, in the misfortunes which may cloud your life , you could find distrae tion in those pure and exalted regions . The love o f the beautiful is so indigenous to the heart o f woman , that to feel herself growing more beautiful will console her fo r anything . Purity, nobleness, the elevation Of a life turned wholly toward the true, is a recompense fo r the loss Of all earthly happi ness . It may be that even that would no longer be remem bered . We have had an example o f this in an admirable child, the young Emilia, daughter of Manin . Sh e had early suf ered the heaviest sorrows, — the loss Of her mother, the ruin Of her father, and the fearful tragedy Of Venice , the results O f which fell upon her ; exile and poverty, and the gloomy life of northern town s, completed her desolation . But the most terrible result was, that this suffering image Of the martyr dom Of Italy, wh o en dured all its horr ors, was subject to the agonizing paroxysms o f a cruel nervous malady . Ah ! through all this that young daughter O f grief kept her mind serene and elevated , loving abstract purity— algebra and geo metry ! Sh e s o sustained her father by this sublime serenity, that he consulted her in everything, and even after he h ad lost her acted as she would have advised . I think , ” said h e to me, speaking o f a certain patriotic scheme, that my daughter would have approved it . ” Is there any difference between Go d and Reason It would be impious to believe it . And Of all th e forms O f Eter nal Love (beauty, fascination , power ), n o doubt R eason is the first, the most exalted . It is through Reason that Divine love possesses harmony and the order which blesses—b en efi An drea del Sarto ’ s “ Cha ri ty. ” 1 1 7 cent, benevolent order ; and though she appears cold , she is , nevertheless, loving . We shall not always live to love and protect you ; perhaps like other women , you will be alon e in the world . W ell , let your father ’ s heart appoint you a protectress, a grave and faithful guardian wh o will never fail you—I vow and dedicate my darling to the Virgin o f Athens- to Reason ! ANDR EA D EL SART O ’ S “ C H ARITY. TH E attentive reader, I doubt not, has been able to seize upon the double thread of the methods I have pursued in the three last chapters, methods equally rigid, although one seemed to respect and caress Nature, an d th e other to contradict her . From the day when my little girl , on the delicate ground between two seasons O f life, was in her turn attacked by that delicious malady which is only love , I have successively em ployed two medicines , not to eradicate , but to change it . I would not cheat love , for which I have that tender respect that we owe to all the good things O f Go d, but extend it , satisfy it better than it could satisfy itself, ennoble it, a n d elevate it to worthier Objects . The reader h a s seen th at at the moment O f the chan ge towards fourteen, o r rather a little before , when I saw it approaching—I made use Of what might be term ed h om os e pathic remedies , balancing and opposing like with like . I 1 8 Andrea de l Sa rto ’ s “ Ch a ri ty. ” 0 gave as a counterpoise to the sexual emotion , the maternal passion , and the care o f little children . But in the years w hich have followed, with allopathic art I have filled her mind with new studies, with pure and quiet readin g . In the pleasing variety Of travels and histories I have taught her t o find for herself the solid moral basis on which her life is to rest—the oneness Of man ’ s faith , in duty and in Go d . Sh e has seen Go d in nature, she sees him in history ; she perceive s in eternal love the link between those two worlds which she has studied apart - with what deep and tender feel ing ! Bu t have I n o t created danger here , and will n ot this young loving heart grow bewildered , and under the guise of purity, in a higher sphere , pursue a whirlwind Of disorders no less dangerous As to this, everything depends upon the mother . At the first shock Of nature, the tender, troubled child , wa s wholly in her mother ’ s arms ; and found therein n ot only warm caresses but dreams t o o . A woman is so moved w hen her child b e comes a woman , that she herself becomes a child ; she fears for her adored treasure, n ow tottering and frail

she prays and weeps, and easily falls back upon the weakness of a mys t icism by which both may be enervated . And then what will become of me ? Of what use that I have given this flower healthful and strengthen ing waters, if a weak mother is , to keep it sickly with milk and with tears, and what is worse, dosed with quackeries ? Of all corrupting romances the worst are the mystical books wherein soul talks with soul in the dangerous hours of ' an artificial twilight . Sh e believes sh e is growing in grace, a n d she goes o n languishing, softening, preparing herself for all human we a knesses . The rough , harsh , and violent agitation Of the Jewish writings, is sickly and feverish in those o f the middle ages ; h ow much ! more s o in 'th eir modern imitations , so disastrously equivocal ! My young daughter , who from year to year, by an entirely Opposite path , h a s ascended to

1 2 0 Andrea de l Sa rto ’ s C h a ri ty. ” O my dear child , I cannot, I will not, leave you thus ! Yo u would be consumed even as a taper . With that danger o u s fever which would destroy yo u , we must blend another to dissipate it . A devouring power possesses you , but I will give it food ; anything is better, my darling, than to see yo u pine alone . R eceive from me the cordial , o n e flame to quench another ; take ( it is your father who administers) bitterness and sorrow . Sheltered by o u r love , shut in with your own thoughts and your studies, yo u know but little O f the world ’ s labors, O f the immensity o f its wretchedness . Save a glance at a crying child , s o quickly comforted, yo u have never yet suspected the numberless griefs here below . You were weak and delicate ; and your mother and I did not dare to excite you with so many heart - rending emotions ; but to - day we should be culpa ble not to tell yo u all . ” SO I take her with me, and lead her boldly through that sea O f tears which flows by o u r very side without attracting o u r notice . I tear away the curtain , r cg a r dless of the physical disgust, the false delicacy : Look, look, my child ! behold the reality ! In the presence of such things a woman must be endo wed with marvellous powers Of egotistic abstraction , to pursue her dreams and her personal idyl— her idle sail over the stream of Love , whose banks are gay with flowers . Sh e blushes for her ignorance, is troubled, and weeps . And then , recovering herself, blushes fo r weeping instead Of acting . The flame of Go d burns brightly within her , an d henceforth she gives us no peace . All the powers O f love , the warmth of her young blood, enlisted in charity , rouse her to activity, to enthusiasm ; she is impatient, unhappy that she can do so little . H ow shall we calm her now ? it is her mother ’ s task to direct her, watch her, restrain her

fo r with

this blind enthusiasm, she may precipitate herself into u n known dangers . The intoxication O f charity and its heroic fire, that ravish ing passion o f maidens overflowing with love , h as n ever been An drea del Sarto ’ s “ Ch arity. ” 1 2 1 described ; but it has been painted once . An Italia n exile , touched with gratitude fo r the charity Of Fra nce , bestowed upon us this inestimable gift, the most fervid picture , I think, in the Museum Of the Louvre . Alas ! wh y is it there among so many common works Of art, that ins pi ration Of exalted sanctity ! And h o w altered too ! Barbarians ! hea thens ! thanks to you , this divine wonder has almost perished o n the canvas . But in my glowing memory it is always blazing ; and to my last moment, more than any other saintly image , shall it have my devotion . The following, without alteration , is the hasty info rnral note I wrote on th e 2 1 st Of May last, when I saw it for the last time “ A work Of infinite boldness , without conventionality o r deference to rule . In it we see that terrible period, Of the catastrophe o f Italy . O ne must have died many times t o be able to d escribe o r paint like this . “ The fair, full breast is that O f a virgin , n ot a wife—wives too are more timid . The one before us has not been subdued she has nothing dodging about her, she wavers neither to the right hand nor the left— has no fear, no doubt . Sh e only lo oks o n those poor starving wretches, and that is enough she feeds them . (Here we must explain , that at this period a man cross ing the Alps encountered an immense troop of thousands of child ren wh o had lost their parents ; they were browsing on all fours, guided by an o ld woman . ) Before this horrible spectacle of misery and filth , another would have w e pt/ b u t would have fled . Sh e, young, heroic, knowing neither fear nor disgust, Opens wide her arms, and t a k ' é s them to her bosom . One is at her feet, all haggard , his ribs distinctly visible he is tired, exhausted , and can go no further with weariness and sleepiness he has fallen on a stone . As she has but two arms 6 1 2 2 Andrea del Sa rro ’ s “ Ch arity. ” she holds but two of the children o n e she has placed at her bosom, her luxurious bosom, turgid with milk . He is in per feet happiness, and his greedy, gluttonous mouth ( fo r he has been famished so long ! ) presses the beautifu l fountain , red with life and love , with pure and generous blood . “ W ith how proud a heart, with what noble bounty, she pours o u t her milk A naive circumstance betrays the charm ing precipitation with which she took up the starving child . Sh e is n o t a nurse s o she has placed him to her breast j ust as he came , holding h im 011 her left arm, which she has passed under h im with tender strength , without ever thinking - O f the right way . Bu t h o w could o n e laugh at that ? NO more than h e could smile at the bold negligence with which the young saint, wholly absorbed in her passionate employment, has put o n her cap awry . The other child, which she holds on her right arm t o h e r covered bosom, is larger, stronger, more decent—I was about to say more corrupt . H e has a girdle about his waist, and is n ot dressed like a b oy, but already has the cringing, fawning air o f a youn g beggar ; his sharp trem bling lips seem to utter a harsh , piercing prayer through his clenched teeth . H e holds in his hands, I think, some bad, sour grapes ; b u t is in haste to forget in the pleasure o f the rich sweet milk O f t h e woman , that bitter food . H e will n ot be kept waiting long ; his comrade has imbibed so much that he is swollen like a leech . Near by, o n the ground , is a ch afing - dish with a fire of red h o t coals and embers —but so cold in comparison with the fire that glows in her heart ! H er form t o o glows , and she has the grand calmness Of strength, a firm heroic attitude , a throne in the grace of Go d . ”

1 2 4 Th e Re ve lati o n o f H e ro i sm. A thoughtful girl , who has thus , at the same time , both the ideal Of study a n d the reality of life , w ill be strengthened by both , and derive from them a correct j udgment . W hen she is Older, she w ill not know a gentleman by his yellow gloves, o r his horses a n d ca rria ges, but by his actions, by his heart and his goodness . Sh e will love only seriously, paying little attention to externals, but penetrating to the depths of her lover ’ s chara cter, fo r what he does, and o f wh a t he is capable . Suppose that by ch a nce a young man enters and discovers her with her mother, engaged in her holy duties . The chil d ren , a little frightened at the advent o f so fine a gentleman , cling close and cluster around her, behind her chair, o n her knees, even u nder the folds o f her dress,where , feeling safe , they peep out and show their pretty heads . Sh e, though surprised and smiling, blushes a little ; d o yo u fancy she will take refuge behind her mother ? No, she is herself a mother to them, busied in comfo rting them, more concerned for them than fo r h e r visitor . It is he wh o is embarrassed ; he feels like kneel ing before them to kiss their h a nds . H e does not a ddress the daughter, but approaches the mother : “ Ah ! madam, what a pleasant sight, what a charming scene ! I cannot tell yo u h o w my heart thanks yo u fo r it . ” Then to the young lady He would be happy, mademoiselle, wh o could aid yo u ! But , mon Dieu ! what could I d o ? ” Sh e, quite at her ease , in no wise disconcerted , replies That is easy, sir . Most O f these children are orphans

find some good people without children , who would be willing to adopt this little on e . H e is five years O ld . I cannot comfort him ; he wants a mother, a r ea l mother ; I have tried my best , but I am too young, too far from the age of his own mother whom he has lost . ” There are many men O f the world , who feel these things for a moment, who admire as artists the gra ce Of expression Th e Re ve la tion o f H ero ism. 1 2 5 or attitude the young girl may have displayed ; but there are not many who take them into their hearts and preserve their permanent and lasting impression . Life is variable and restless

it drifts them far away . At most, they only say in the even ing : I saw a charming thing this morning, mademoiselle—a veritable tableau , after Andrea del Sarto— the prettiest sight ! ” Sh e very well knows what su ch admirers are worth , and the slight value to be placed o n their fickle emotions . The more sh e retires into the sanctum sa n ctissimu m of the family, the happier she is in it , the less she cares t o leave it . Every time she catches a glimpse Of the world, she feels more cheerfully the pleasantness of her own little nest . Little, ve ry little ! yet human life is complete within it, in that graceful equilibrium Of a mother ennobling by her heart the humblest cares, and Of an earnest father, whose hidden tenderness is Often betrayed in spite of himself. At such passionate demonstrations the young girl quivers , and is even more deeply touched by his care to transmit to her every day whatever he has in himself of good and great . As a woman , she is happy in thus discovering the inner life of a man . Sh e did not know her father, at least never so well as n o w ; she saw him every day, a nd listened t o h is teachin gs, and his emphatic words ; but she did not know the secret and best part Of his nature . Every man becomes what circum stances , the force Of precedents, an d education , the necessities o f business, may chance to make him . Much must be sacri ficcd t o position , to the needs Of Family ; a n d thus the inner man , Often very different and far nobler, lies stifled under all . Amid the monotony Of every - day life, wherein it sleeps , a ' vag u e sadness betrays the mute complaint Of the other, the better self. W hat a pleasant aw aking is it, then , and h o w charming, when a young soul , knowing nothing o f our miseries, appeals to these hidden power s, t o this captive poetry, and asks their assistance ; when all absorbed in her family, and afr aid Of the wo rld, she turns alone to her father, 1 2 6 Th e Re ve latio n o f H e ro ism. and seems to say to listen to thee , I have faith only in thee ! ” Doubtless this sublime moment is the noblest, the sweetest experience Of paternity . A child in docility, she is a woman in ardor, and in the eager tenderness with which she receives instruction . H o w aptly she c omprehends everything good and noble ! H e himself hardly recognises her : t a t says he , “ is this my little on e who but lately scarcely reached my knee , and who used to say, ‘ carry His heart is truly moved . Let him but speak at this moment, let him but speak, and , Oh ! he will be eloquent ! I am quite sure Of that, I have n ot the slightest doubt Of that . Let u s take advantage o f these beautiful hours, these pre cions tete - a- tetes . I see the two walking n ow under the majestic elms that inclose their little garden . They step with a quick firm tread, faster than o n e would expect in this h o t month O f July ; but they keep time with the beating Of their hearts and the rapidity Of their thoughts . She, knowing her father ’ s taste, has placed in her black hair some blades Of grain and blue blossoms . W e will listen to their talk, fo r the subject is a grave on e, the question Of right and j ustice . For a long time the young girl has been prepared to understand him ; in his tory she soon recognised the unanimity of nations in the idea Of j ustice ; in mighty R ome, her father showed h er a world o f right . Bu t here it is no longer a question of study, of his tory, Of science, b u t a question Of life itself. He hopes that in her impending crisis, in the love which will come of it ( violent perhaps, and blind), she may preserve the light Of j ustice, o f wisdom, and Of reason . At heart, woman is o u r judg e ; her influence , her fascination , if it is unj ust a n d § capri cions, is only our despair . TO - morrow she will j udge , this b ea u t ‘ ifli l g irl . In the most modest form, in a few low words to her mother, she will draw tears from o n e who may never weep again , who perchance will die fo r that . Sh e is so well prepared both by the example o f her moth er, an d the lessons of her father, by the atmosphere O f reason in

1 2 8 Th e Revelat io n O f H e ro i sm. her ! How radiant this virgin , and who would not accept her n ow fo r a symbol Of the future Bu t n o, she is a woman , and she turns pale ; her self- control cannot restrain a tear on e orient pearl drops from her beau tiful eyes . Ye are rewarded, O ye heroes, who dying and bequeathing to your country all your dreams, said, In the fu t u re , virgins shall weep for us . ” But enough , enough for on e day . A g entle woman advances slowly, smiling and interrupting them . The mother is happy to see the father and dau ghter so closely united ; she looks on them, and blesses them, and says : Ah ! my poor little on e ! this will be thy happiest love . ” Bu t will she love elsewhere H e h as captured a glorious pri ‘ ze, this father, master, pontiff, who makes r evelations O f heroism to a youn g, heroic heart, and fathoms its lowest depths . One cannot talk much of heroes without being him self a hero for the momen t . Such indeed does he appear to th e child who hangs upon his words ; he would paint his ideal , but she sees but him . W e know the enthusiastic love, of Mme . de Stael for her fath er ; and I have n o doubt that t hat young girl , then all nature, all passion , , powerful , eloquent , divine , exalted him above himself. H e was great in her eyes, and that made him s o— or at least contributed to it . Commonplace before and after, but in that solemn hour, young, bold , t ra n sfig u r ed, he arose to the ' n O ble idea Of ’ 8 9— the infinite hope of equality . He might change, he might fall , and she t O O , under his influ ence . NO matter— the child ’ s dream, on e moment realized, took the measure Of the whole world . This is a stron g tie then , so strong that all others seem weak and insufficient . I have seen other daug hters, less Th e Re v e lat io n o f H ero i sm. 1 2 9 known , but not less admirable, m whom this first affection s eemed to have closed the heart against all others . The sweetness and delicacy O f the close intimacy they enj oyed in the filial relation seemed attainable in no other . One had a father nearly blind, and she was his eyes ; he saw through her, she loved through him . For another, the rest Of the world had been destroyed, her father existed alone ; she declared that with him she would welcome the profoundest solitude at either pole Talk not to me , ” said she, of the divorce that men call marriage ! ” F o r o u r own daughter there remains to us the serious duty of warning her O f the common fate . Alas ! o u r pure and tender union can be but transient . Natur ' e urges us o n , and does n ot allow love to fall back u pon itself. It is a painful task to tear heart from heart, to calm, to regulate the naive impuls es Ofthe child, and lead it on to wis dOm : “ My dear child , in your b ea u tifii l season O f eager and radiant life, which vivifies all things, o n e thing escapes you which you must sometimes recall— death ! “ Our undying love can avail you nothing ; your mother and I must soon leave you . W hat, if loving me t o o well , you should wed, in me, grief? “ Of late , the intimacy O f this normal initiation , the deep joy I have felt in revealing to you the elements of man ’ s greatness, have too fondly enraptured your heart, my child, and identified it with mine . Yo u ha ve seen me in your filia / l illusion , youn g with the eternal youth Of the heroes I have described, and at the same time mature, calm, wise , wi th the gift yo u call the sweetness of autumn . All this, my daughter, is not what Go d designs fo r yo u . For yo u is th e beginning, not the end . Yo u require the brave , fierce strength Of those who have much to do , in whom time may do its work, to soften and ameliorate . Their present defects are Often excellences in the future . Your gent leness is only t o o inclined to cherish the gentleness Of a father . I wish for yo u— and may God grant you— the energy Of a husband . (J ae 1 3 0 Th e Re v e lati o n o f H e ro i sm. “ At this very time you are already the beginning Of a wife ; another initiation awaits you , and other duties . Wife an d ' m o th e r , wise friend , and universal comforter, you are created to be the happiness and the salvation Of many . Take heart, then , my daughter, and the cheerful courage " one feels in marching to duty . Though my heart may suffer in teach ing you these sterner laws of life, it yet bears itself proudly. Does the lover exist whom we would d esire fo r yo u ? I k now not ; b u t whatever happens , love will not fail you . The maternal is the purest love, and you will be a mother t o all . All shall recognise in you the most benign reflection of Provi dence . ”

1 3 2 Th e W oman wh o will Lo ve Mo st. gazeat the beautiful girl , as she clapped the linen with a h and Of iron and wrung it with an arm o f steel . H e s a w that there would be born Of her a race Of men as strong as bears ; so he hastened at once to his enemy ’ s palace, a nd implored him for his friendship and his daughter, because he despaired of ever finding another woman so vigorously framed . The most energetic races o n earth have sprung from a union o f opp os ite, o r seemingly , opposite elements : for in stance, the blending O f the white man with the black woman, which produces the mulatto, a race of extraordinary vigor ; o r on the contrary, Of iden tica l elements ; fo r example , the Persians and the Greeks, who married their near relatives . Which is precisely th e way in which race - horses are improved they are permitted to breed only with their own stock, so as to refine their blood . In the first case, the principle consists in the fact that there is so much more attraction between opp os ite; the neg ress adores the white man . In the second case, it proceeds from the perfect harmon y Of likes , which cO - Operate . The native speciality accumulates and increases from mar r iag e ‘ to marriage . The races deemed inferior, only appear so from their need Of a culture contrary to ours, and especially from t heir need of love . H ow touching are they in this aspect, and how well they merit a return fr om the favored races, who find in them an infinite source of physical regenera tion and youth The river thirsts fo r the clouds, the desert for the river, the black woman for the white man . She Of all others is the most loving, the most generating ; and this not only because of h er yo u thful blood, but, we must also admit, from therich ness Of her heart . Sh e is lovin g among the l oving, good among the good ( ask the travellers whom she has so often saved) . Goodness is creation , it is fruitfulness, it is the very benediction O fa holy act . The fact that this woman is so fruit fu l, I attribute to her treasures Of tenderness, to that ocean of goodness which permeates her h eart . Th e W oman wh o will ' lo ve M ost . 1 3 3 Africa is a woman ; her r aces are feminine, ” says, very truly, Gustavus d ’Eichth all. The revelation Of Africa in the red race of Egypt was in the reign Of t h e great Isis (Osiris was secondary) . In many o f the black tribes o f Central Africa, the women rule ; and they are as intelligent as they are amia ble and kind . W e see this in H ayti, where they not only im provisc charming little songs fo r their festivals, inspired by their affections, but in business Operations solve very compli cated mental problems . It was a pleasure to me to learn that in Hayti , through liberty, comfort , and intelligent culture, the n egr es s is disa p pearing, and that without amalgamation . Sh e is becoming the true black woman , with straight n ose and thin lips

even her hair is changing . The coarse and bloated features Of the negro on the coasts Of Africa are ’ ( like the swollen h ippo po tamus) an ef ect o f his burning climate, which at certain seasons is drenched with warm floods . These floods fill the valleys with refuse, which decays there ; and the fermentation swells and puffs up everything, j ust as dough ris es ’ in an oven . But there is ' n othing Of all this in th e dryer climates O f Cen tral Africa . The frightful anarchy o f petty wars, and the slave - trade, which desolate the coasts, contribute not a little to this ugliness ; and it is the same in the American States under the influence of slavery . Even there , wh ere she remains a negress, with no refinement, the black woman is still very beautifu l . Sh e possesses the charm O f supple youth , which the Greek beauty, formed by gymnastics and always a lit tle m a s cu lin ized, n ever had . She may scorn n ot only the odious H ermaphrodite , but the muscular beauty Of the crouch ing V enus ( in the Jardin des Tuileries) . The black is a very difl ' er ent woman from the proud ladies Of Greece ; she is essentially young in blood , in heart, and in body— O f gentle , child - like humility , n ever sure of pleasing, ready to do any thing in order to displease less . NO tyranny wearies her obedience ; annoyed by her face , she is in no wise comforted by her perfect form, so full Of touching languor, and elastic 1 3 4 Th e W oman wh o will lo v e M o ist . freshness . Sh e throws at your feet what y o u were about to adore; she trembles and begs your pardon—she is so grateful fo r the pleasure she bestows ! Sh e loves , and her whole heart flows into her warm embrace . Only let her be loved, and sh e w ill do anything, learn any thing. In the black race , the woman must first be elevated, and through love she will elevate the man and - the child . But for her the re must be a system Of education entirely contrary to ours . C u ltivate in her first, what she already has so richly, the sense of rhythm ( dancing, music, and through the art Of design lead her o n to reading, to the sciences, and th e agricultural arts . Sh e will be in raptures with nature as soon a s she learns Of it . W hen the earth is made known to her s o beautiful , so good, so womanly— she will fall in love with it, and with more energy than o n e would expect from her cli mate , she will bring about a marriage between the earth and man . Africa had only the red Isis ; America shall have the black Isis, a glowing female genius, toimpregnate nature and ‘ reanimate exhausted races . Such is the virtue Of the black blood, that wherever a drop of it falls, everything revives ; no more old age—a young and puissant energy, it is the very fountain of y outh . In South America and elsewhere, we b eh eld more than on e noble ra ' ce languishing, drooping, dying ; why is that so when they have life at their very doors ? The Spanish Republicans, true nobles and perfect gentlemen , were better masters than the other colo n is ts they were generously the first to abolish slavery . Ah ! in return , b en efic en t Africa can restore them to strength and life . Observe this African race— s o gay, so kind , so loving . From the day O f its resurrection, at its first contact, by love , with the white race, it furnished the latter with an extraordinary combination Of faculties which give force , in a m an Of in ex n a u stible powers— a m an, did — I say ? rather an element, like an inextinguishable volcano o r a great American river . HOW long was it without the rapturous gift O f imp r o viza tion, which for the last fifty years it h a s possessed ? NO matter, fo r all

1 3 6 Th e W oman wh o w ill Lo v e Mo st . H ow France has been loved HO W deeply do I still mourn fo r the love and friendship with which the tribes Of North America welcomed u s— s o proud and fierce a race ! It is really a glory to us that those men , with the piercing eyes and the second- sight o f the h unter, preferred us for their d a u gh ters , an d at once discerned the truth— that a Frenchman is a superior man . As a soldier he lives everywhere , and as a love r he c reates everywhere . The Englishman and the German , strong and well - formed as they appear, are both less robust and less generative they can do nothing with the foreigner . If the English or German woman is not always at hand, following them on their jour neys, their race dies o u t . Soon there will be nothing left Of the English in India— no more than the Franks bf Clovis among us, o r the Lombards in Lombardy . The black woman ’ s love fo r us is perfectly natural that Of the red woman , the American Indian , is more surprising . She is stern , haughty, and sombre . A Frenchman ’ s gaiety, some times rather volatile, might have shocked her . Her deep pro p hetic powers could hardly be expected to consort with ou r joy o u s dancers, who even in the wilderness, while an eight months ’ winter reigned, danced t o the songs Of Paris . But she knew them t o be brave, she saw that they were serious, kind, loving, helpful , fraternizing at once with h er tragic warriors ; and so they found favor in her eyes . If ‘ she checked the audacity O f o u r wild scape - graces wh o sometimes intruded on her privacy, it was in delicate, dignified word s , that did not wound . The reply Of the betrothed maiden is well known . The friend I have before my eyes prevents my seeing yo u . ” These red women treated us like boisterous children , who ar e sometimes a little troublesome to their mother or their sister, but she does not love them the less . From these amours a mixed race remains— the Franco Indians ; but they are scattered— few in n umber , and gra dually dying ou t ; the noble race is fast becoming extinct . Th e W o man wh o w ill Lo v e Mo st . 1 3 7 In a hundred years what will be left of them ? Perhaps P r éa u lt ’ s bust . A doleful image— ah ! so very sad— which the great sculptor of tombs seized upon instinctively, w ith unconscious genius , and which remains to perpetuate the poor but noble woman Of the race that Chateaubriand caricatured Some ten years ag o , an American speculator bethought h im of exhibiting in ' Eu r ope a large family O f Iowas . The men were magnificent, o f a proud and regal beauty— ou their necks the claws of bears, significant Of combats . Very strong - yet not with the great muscles Of the blacksmith or the boxer , but with beautiful arms, almost like a woman ’ s . A child too , ten years old, was like a pretty Egyptian statue Of red marble— perfect, but with a fearful gravit y . Yo u could not look o n him without thinking, “ That is the son of a hero . ” W hat consoled these kings fO1 being made a show Of on a stag e , like monkeys , was , I think, their latent scorn Of the ' crowd o f superfine gentlemen , who were there with their opera- glasses— volatile , restless, g esticu laters, the veritable monkeys o f Europe . The Only person in the party who seemed sad was a woman , the wife O f a renowned warrior named The W ol f, ” and mother O f th e child . Sh e had suffered much before , but h o w much more here ! She drooped ; she died . Alas ! what could F r ance Ofler to one O f the last Of those poor women who had loved France so well ? Nothing, but a tomb to preserve the fire Of a lost genius . Antiquity ( even the Jewish) has never had , nor known , nor dreamed O f anything so sad for here we behold a superior being who has n o t only endured every personal misfortune an d sorrow, but is a ccursed in no t having been left to the legitimate exp an sions O f his race . H idden , but mighty grief Of the Ame rican world ! W hat with his eternal war with the wilderness and his savage contests with bears and men , the Indian has not been permitted to reveal himself fully . And then the prosaic p ower Of O ld Europe laid before him, m guns and fir e- water, every instrument of treachery or cOnflict . 1 3 8 Th e W oman wh o will Lo v e Mo st . She looks all this in the face , this woman— like a Sphynx, stern and bitter— and yet under that bitterness, O h the heart of the ' mother and th e wife ! H ow gladly in the long famin e of w inter would she have cut bloody morsels from her own body to nourish h er little one ! W ith what j oy, to save it , would ' she have been burned at th e ' stake by a hostile tribe ! And what unfathomable depths Of love would not the hero of her choice have found in her O ne indeed felt, in gazing on her, the mysterious infinite Of pride an d silence she concealed . Her life was as mute as her death . All the tortu res in the world would no more have drawn from her a sigh than the sting Of love . Sh e had not lost the power of speech she spoke as she ever did, with the thrilling expressions of the strange world, enigmatical and gloomy, that sh e contained within her ; strang e ! but per haps nothing greater in all th e ' r ealm Of mind. W O MAN ' W H O W ILL LO V E Mo sh — TH E SAME R ACE. LOVE has its earthly ‘ plan . Its true aim is to unite, to blend all races in o n e . u niversal marriage ; so that from China to Ireland, from the north pole t o the south , “ all shall be brothers, brothers - in - law, nephews— like the Scotch clans, for instance , the six thousand Campbells all cousins . It should be the same with all humanity . We should form but a single clan . A beautiful dream ! but we must not yreld to it tO O soon . In such a union the blood o f all races being mingled together, suppose , wh iEh would be difficult, that it should blend—I imagine it would be very pale . A certain neutral , colorless, faded element would be the result . Very many special ch a r a cter istics , all charming, would be lost ; and the definitive

1 4 0 Th e W o man wh o w ill lo ve Mo st . One important point to consider, which may seem para d o xical, is that foreign women , O f the most distan t races, are easier t o become acquainted with than European— especially than French women . If I marry an Oriental I can very easily foretell what my marriage will be . “ One can foresee and determine the Asiatic w ife , through great classes— race , nation , tribe . Even in Europe , the ma n who marries a German woman , app r O p riat ing her, transplanting her, is almost sure to have a peaceful life . The ascendancyOf the French mind turns all the chances in his favor . Bu t races in which the personality is strong, are n ot so safe . They say the Circassian maidens like to be sold, feeling sure Of reigning wherever they go, and putting their masters under their feet . It is almost the same with the Polish , the Hunga rian , the French women— the superior energies Of Europe . They have Often a masculine intellect ; they marry their hus bands, rather than are married . SO it is necessary to be acquainted with them, to study them beforehand, to know if they are women at all . The French personality is the most active, m ost individual , in Europe— the most complex too , and most difficult to under stand . I speak especially O f the daughters . There is less dif ference among the men , moulded as they are by the army, by centralization , by the m ach inery Of a quasi - identical education . Between on e French woman and another the difference is immense , but between th e Fren ch maiden and the French woman , as till greater difference . SO , the difficulty in choosing is not slight, but the r o r et ellin g o f them is . In return , when they yield, and are constant, they permit a more thorough and closer in timacy, I think, than any other European women The English woman , an excellent wife, obeys by the letter Of the law, but always remain s a little obstinate, and changes but little . The German woman , so loving and gentle, wishes to belong to her husband , to assimi late herself with him ; but she is efl ' eminate, d reamy, and in Th e W oman wh o will lo ve M ost . 1 4 1 spite of h erself, fickle . The Frenchwoman brings yo u a prize

she reacts o n yo u ; and when she has received your thoughts most clearly, she gives you back the charm, the personal , in ti mate fragrance O f her free womanly heart . One day I met , after twenty years ’ absence , a Frenchman , living in a foreign country, and married there . I asked him jestingly, if he had n ot married some superb English rose , o r a beautiful German blonde . H e answered seriously, but not without vivacity, “ Yes, Monsieur, those are very beautiful , more brilliant than ours . I compare them to that splendid fruit, which gardeners cultivate to the highest development , the magnificent pine - apple strawberry . The flavor is not wanting— it fills the mouth ; on e only misses the fragrance . I prefer the French woman , and southern French too for she is the wild strawberry . ” W hatever we may think of this poetical comparison of a newly married man , it remains fixed and sure that the per s on ality o f the French wom an is extremely powerful for good o r evil . So marriages in France should be prudent, and pre pared with serious reflection ; yet it is the very country of all Europe in wh ich 'mar riages are most precipitate . This arises not merely from the quick calculations of interest which , once arranged , urge marriages to conclusion ; it results also from the great defect of o u r nation— impatience . W e hurry every thing . I think the eVil is in creasing . In proportion as we become more earnest in business, pre cipitation in matters of the heart seems to increase . Our language has lost a number of elegant , graceful words which once marked the degrees and shades of love . W hat is left is curt and hard . The heart is not changed at bottom ; but the people , jaded with wars, revol a tions , and deeds o f Violence, are tempted to look in every thing for an enterprise, a coup - de - main . The marriage of Romulus, by stratagem, would have pleased them only too well . They must have r a zzia s , ‘ I could almost call it viola tion by contract . Sometimes the victims weep— not always 14 2 Th e W oman wh o w ill lo v e M o st . they are but little astonished in these times o f lotteries—lot teries O f money, of war, of pleasure , o f charity— to be thus set up in a lottery . Frequently these fortuitous marriages suddenly unmask, the very next day, an unexpected battery of irreparable evils , Of ruin and ridicu le , which strike full in the face . P hysiologically such unions, Often impossible as unions, pro d u ce abor tions, monsters that die or kill the mother, o r render her ill for life—in short, which make a nation ugly . Morally they are still wor se , fo r the father, wh o thus marries his d au g h ter, is not ignorant of the consolation she will soon accept. Marriage under such conditions constitutes and regulates the universality of adultery, makes intimate divorces, Often thirty years of mutual distaste , and in the marriage couch a temper ature that would freeze mercury . Our peasants were formerly firm in marrying those with whom they were best acquainted a relative perhaps . Throughout the Middle Ages they struggled against th e church , which forbade the marriage of cousins . The restric tion , at first excessive ( even to the seventh degree, and later to the fourth), no longer exists in reality . On e can have dis pen sation if he likes, to marry his cousin , or his niece , or the sister of h is first wife . W hat is the result ? That now, when it is easy, very few profit by it . Th e casuists, those false geniuses, who in almost everything have cultivated the a rt o f finding the wrong side O f good s ense, say, pleasantly : If wedded love be added to the love o f kindred, there will be t o o much love . ” History teaches precisely the contrary . Among the H ebrews, who at first allowed marriage with sisters, we ’ see th e you n g people , far from caring for each other, going o u t Of the family, ou t of the nation— running after the daughters o f the Philistines . Among th e Greeks, who could marry their half- sisters , such m arriages were very cold , and but seldom productive . Solon felt ~h imself called upon to inscribe in the law that husbands sh ould be required to remember their wives but once in a de

1 44 Th e W oman wh o w ill lo ve M o st . The real danger in such unions is the moral o n e - real for all but the sailor, who is free, by his wandering life , fr om over wh elrn in g influences at home . It is n o t without good reason that in France we marry o u r relatives less an d less . (See the Official statistics . ) By the charm o f common memories, such marriages are liable to retain a man firmly in the grooves of the past . The French woman particularly, exerting an influence already, by her energy and the wealth she has brought ( for the law favors her more than any woman in Europe), if she is also sustained by relatives, may become at home a power ful instrument of reaction , and a serious Obstacle to progress. Imagine h ow great may be the double power of domestic and religious tradition , to trammel and impede : at every step opposition , dissension— o r at least sadness and inertia ; consequently, nothing done, and no advance made . A pretty Veronese at the Louvre expresses this idea perfectly . The daughter of L ot is so ‘ slow in quitting the Old city, ‘ wh ich is tumbli ng about her head, that the angel takes her by the arm, to drag her away ; but for all that, she manages not to a d vance a step , saying, “ Only wait till I have put on my shoe ! ” We have no time , my beauty . So remain, and be a pillar of salt with your mother — But n o, we will not go alone ; be carried, if you cannot walk . The vigor Of the modern man , which can draw worlds along, will n o t be greatly retarded by thy weight, poor, light - witted thing . If the r elative has not that special education which might ass ociate h e r with progress, the for eigner ( I do not say the stranger) should be preferred. Sh e should b e preferred, I a y, in t wo cases, wherein she is known even more perfectly than the relative . The first case I laid down in L ’Amou r ; where a man forms his own wife . This is th e ' su r est ; for he knows what he has made . I have two examples in my mind . Two Of my friends, one an eminent artist , the other a dis Th e _ W oman wh o will lo ve . Mo st . ting u ish e d and prolific writer, adopted and married two young persons, entirely f r esh , without relatives and without culture . Simple , lively, charming, wholly occupied with household affairs, “ but gradually partaking of the ideas o f their husbands , in ten o r twelve years they were completely transform ed . The same in extern al simplicity, they became mentally ladies Of lively intelligence , perfectly understanding the most difficult matters . W hat was done to accomplish this Nothing at all . These two men , busy, and extremely productive, have bestowed on their wives no express educa tion . Bu t their thoughts wer e elevated , and they commun i ca ted to them at all times their emotions , their projects, the aim of their ef orts . Love did the rest . But the success, I grant, is not always the same . A relative o f mine failed in a similar attempt . H e selected for a wife a Creole child of a vulgar, worldly class, with a coquettish step mother, who very soon spoiled everything . He had roved about the world considerably, and was then a functionary in the Department of Finance . H e returned home sad and weary, with out the animation , the fire, of those great creators who, always at work, have always a great deal to say, to vivify a young heart . I will return to this again . The other case is that , in which of two men united in heart, in faith , and in principles, one gives to the other his daug hter, reared and educated in th ose principles and that faith . This supposes such a father as we saw in our first book, on Education ; it supposes a mother too—two phenixes . If we found them in the second generation , we should realize some thing impossible as yet, but which will be less so h ereafter : the hypothesis of two children brou ght u p fo r each other— not together , but in a happy harmony— knowing each other early, b u t seeing each other - for a short time at lon g intervals, so as to become e ach other ’ s dream . All this , o f course, left free for the two young hearts . But w ith a little diplomacy on e may create and cultivate love . Nature is so amiable a conciliator ! A double education 7 1 4 6 Th e M an wh o w i ll lo v e Best . seems the only true logic fo r ma n and woman , each being only a half. The eastern idea, of the same being divided, and always longing to be united, is true . One should sympathize with , and help the poor half to find its “ other half, ” and restore the lost unity . TH E MAN W H O W ILL LO V E BEST. IF in the life of woman there is one period more fearful than another, it is the marriage of her daughter . To her, even the best, the happiest marriage is an overturning of her existence . Yesterday the house was full , n ow it is empty . W e did not at all perceive how large a pl ac e th is child filled we were too used to so natural a happiness ; we are n ot, indeed, conscious of living and breathing ; b u t if our breath fail but for a mo ment, we suffocate, we die . How dif erent the position Of the mother wh o can say, My s on is married, ” from that Of her who must say, I have mar ried my daughter . ” The o n e receives, the other gives . One enriches her family by a happy adoption ; the other, when the din o f the wedding is o y er, returns home— s o poor ! shall we call it severed from h er daughter ? ” widowed Of her child ? ” N O , th ose terms do n ot express it . W e must always regret that a w o r d is wanting to o u r language—a sad word, and full of lamentation— or ba . What she gives up is h er s elf. It is herself who goes to live in the house o f a stranger, to be kindly o r unkindly treated . Sh e dwells there in imagination . The man is loving t o - day but how will he be t oimor r ow ? In fact, the s on - in - law is the least of all she has t o worry about . H ow will his family beh ave—his mother, wh om he loves, wh o influences him, and

148 Th e M an wh o w ill lo v e Best . wit make him a good husband— amiable , even obedient . To trust h im now with her cherishe d idol, before she is sure of him, seems impossible ; she must subdue this son - in - law . And so behold her, still young as she is, recklessly plunging into dan , gerons coquetries . She thinks she can stop and retire, at will , And what is the consequence W h y that he loses his wits, often forms ma d schemes, an d ‘ often er withdraws altogether . But the marriage has already been announced, and the young lady is compromised . W ‘ hat remedy for that Am I writing fiction ? NO , it is what I myself have seen more than once, and the cases are frequent . The mother loves h er daughter so much , that to marry her well she submits to the strangest conditions— a deplorable arrang ement, which sometimes leaves all three overwhelmed with sadness and mor tifica tion . The wisest the most reasonable , almost always make this mistake : they choose a son - in - law to suit themselves, and n o t their daughters they consult their own fancy, according to a certain ideal , more or less romantic , which most h ave _ in their minds . A double ideal , but always false— I say that frankly. They admire masculine energy and streng th , and they are right . But it is less the produ cing and creating force than the destroying energy that they select . Strangers to grand achievements, completely ignorant o f what constitutes true strength o f mind, they understand by valor only that short lived daring which serves on th e battle - field, and think, like children , that it is fine t o break everything . The man of brave Speech has all the advantage with them . They pooh pooh the true warrior who holds his tongue and shrugs his shoulders . Their j udgment is no sounder as to the gentle than to the rude characteristics . They find a powerful charm in the man wh o resembles them, —a puppet O f no sex . They weave, very awkwardly, a sentimental little romance over some good for - nothing, girlish page— Cherubino , a shepherd in a comic opera— Nemorino, more a woma n than Stella . In thei r novels , Proud ’ hon very truly observes, they never succeed in creating Th e Ma n wh o w ill lo ve Best . 149 a man with ‘ a genuine masculine character ; their hero is al ways a woman ’ s man . No w, in real life , and in so serious a matter as a mother choosing for her daughter, they act j ust as they do in their n ovels . Their preference is Often , alm ost always, for the w oman ’ s man , the nice you n g fellow of correct principles . ” In the first place , they are flattered to perceive that they are more energetic, really m ore man - like than he “ They thin k they can govern him ; but they are often deceived . The amiable, insipid character is frequently but a mask , assumed for success ; the man , at heart, is selfish , and to - morrow will show what he is— harsh , unfeeling, false . Madam, in so important a matter, wh ere _ it is a question of life with you , and even more so with her fo r whom you would a hundred times sacrifice your life , will you allow me to lay a side reserve and idle su bterfuges, and tell you the plain truth . Do you indeed know what your charming daughter needs, s h e who says nothing, can say nothing ? But her age and nature speak for her respect those voices of Go d ! W ell she needs a man Don ’ t laugh . The article is not so common as you may think . A loving man is necessary I mean one who will alway continue to love . Sh e needs an arm and a h eart : a strong arm, to uphold her, and smoothe her way of life a rich heart, from which she may draw for ever, which she has only to touch to elicit the true spark . W oman is conservative, sh e requires solidity ; and that is natural . There should be firm, sure soil for the hearth and th e cradle . 150 Th e Man wh o will lo ve Be st . But everything is unstable . Where shall we find the firm ness we desire NO position , no property in these times can promise th at . Look— n ot at France, n ot at the Continent, that sea of sand, in which everything is fo r ever going and coming but look at that sacred island o f p r op er ty— old England . If yo u except five or six houses o f n o great date , every estate there has changed hands often with in two hundred years only on e thing is substantial— faith . Yo u need a man of faith . Bu t I mean active faith . That is, a man of action ! ” Yes, but productive action a producer, a creator . The only man who has any chance of stability in this world is he whose strong hand r enovates it, who cr eates it day by day, and if rt were destroyed cou ld r ecreate it . The men who possess this action , wh o 1 11 art, in science, in manufactur es, in business, work with ener gy, it matter s little h ow they define their cr edo— they always have one . A beautiful miracle ! yo u say . Yes, madam, beautiful , and very new it is faith in things that are proved , faith in observation , in reason . W ould yo u know the secret Of that increase Of modern activity which fo r the last th ree hundred years has made every century infinitely more active , more inventive, than the one that preceded it This— that - men are no longer in the mists of that fantastic age which doubted all realities, and founded its faith on dreams . They stoutly maintain that what is, is . Yo u will find it also in the stronger conviction Of certainty . The vigor of o u r actions increases by th e security that a firmer soil bestows . In the sixteenth century, Montaigne doubted . Excuse him ; the ignorant man had , uo idea o f the intellectual strength his great precursors had already displayed . Pas cal, ia the seventeenth century, doubted , because he chose to doubt . Galileo a nd many others, ‘ proved the earth solid . To- day thirty n ew sciences, erected on thousands of ob served and computed facts , have made this earth a rock . Step

5 2 The Pro o f. TH E PRO O F . In Go d had given me a daughter, I should have made my s elf beloved . H ow ? By exacting a great deal , by impos ing difficult tasks— but noble ones and j ust . Of what use is royalty, if one does n ot use it Doubtless there is a time when a woman may do much for a man - when , perceiving his value, she charms him, by imposing lofty condi t ior ' r ' s, and requiring him to give seriou s proof of his love . Wh y, sir, at such a time all nature makes a n effort, every thing rises on e degree ; th e flower displays the sensibility which is the charm of animal life ; the bird u tters a divine song, and insect - love bursts even into flame . An d do you think that man will not change then , and be a little more than man ? Proofs ! sir, proofs ! else I care little for your insipid asseverations . I do n ot ask you, like those princesses of chi valrie romances, to fetch me the head o f a giant, or the crown of Trebizond . These are t r ifles ; I exact much more . I demand that yo u transform me , a young girl of Obscure family and common education , into a noble , regal , heroic creature, such as I have always had ' in - m y mind— and that not transiently, but by a complete and radical transformation . W hatever your career, bring to it an imperial spirit and a noble will . Then I shall have confidence in you , I shall think yo u sincere ; and, in my turn , will see what I can do for yo u . H e who can do nothing for me , whom love itself cannot raise above prose , above the earth to earth o f this age , Go d save me from having him for a husband ! If you cannot change , it is because you do not love . “ Alas ! ” the mothers say, “ what would happen if on e presumed to use such severe language ? Love is not the fashion ; young people are so bla s é, so cold ; they find so Th e ‘ Pro of. 53 many Opportunities of pleasure everywhere, and are so little anxious to . e s tablish themselves ! The days Of chivalry are far O ff. ” Madam, in ‘ all times, man eagerly prefers the difficult . In those days of chivalry, do yo u suppose the young squire could not have had all the common girls Of the n eighbor hood ? In the strange pell- mell and confusion of the feudal house , wenches and ladies were at the pleasure of the page. An d yet he longed only for th e proudest, the “ impossible she, ” her who made his life a nuisance . For her, from whom he got nothing, he would be a knight ; for her he would die at Jerusalem, and bequeath to her his bleeding heart . And now there is another crusade , a crusade of labor and study, of the immense effort a young man must make to plough the furrow of a strong speciality , and s e w that speci ality with a ll human sciences . Everything depends o n this, and henceforth he who does n ot know everything, cannot know anything . I see frOm here , on th e rue Saint - Jacques, by the opportune chance of a half- Open window, a young man who , early in the morning, has had no rising to do, b ecause he has sat u p all night ; but he is not weary now . Is it the morning air that has so wonderfully refreshed him ? NO , I think it must be that letter which he reads and r e - reads, and wears o u t, and devours . Never did Ch ampollion ’ s zeal peruse the trilingual scroll with more of eagerness . A woman ’ s letter, you may be sure— short and elegant . I will content myself with tran scribing a line Mamma, whose hand is lame, bids me write to yea , and say that ' sh é expects you t o spend your holidays here , a n d that yo u must pass your final examination as soon as possible . Succeed and come . ” iVe must not forget what a young man is in the streets of P aris , lest we forget ‘ his sadness, his languor, and his ‘ homesickness . To be sure , science is beautiful to the mastery; to the inventor, lau nched u pon th e sea of discovery ; but h o w dry an d abstract to the student ! Verily, the idle, thought 1 54 Th e Pro o f. less friends, who never fail to come in his moments of luke war nm ess, find a fine prize n ow. Ah ! but there is the letter . In the midst of his w ild com panions ’ talk he catches a glimpse of her . She holds him fast, and fixes him ; she serves him as a fever or a headache— any thing to prevent h im from going O ff with them to - night . So they take themselves away, and my young friend betakes him self t o his letter- reading, over again . H e studies it seriously, in form and meaning, an d tries t o discover by the writing if she was moved— seizing on some dash omitted , o r some com ma forgotten , as a significant matter . But the same letter, read at different hours or moments, is full of changes ; yes t er da y it was passionate, to- day utterly cold ; stormy one day, the next almost indifferent . Some one, I know n ot wh o , regretted nothing of his youth, but a fine disappointment on a beautiful prairie . ” Add to that the sweet pain O f studying, deciphering, interpreting, in a hundred ways, the letter of your beloved . W hat ! a young lady write to a young man ? ” Yes, sir, her mother wishes it— a wise mother, who would at any price cheer and guard the yo u ng fellow . Bu t she by no means reli shes the English method, which proudly thinks it can bring fl ame to flame without danger . The Swiss would g o still farther in their grossness ; they deem it well that the lover should spend his nights with his betrothed, who, granting all things but one, never fails, they say, to rise a virgin . A V irgin —perhaps, but n ot pure . Every nation has its vices . The Germanic races, above all bib u la n t and gluttonous, are so much the less inflammable . Bu t when the lacteal regimen of English Pamelas is so thick e n ed with meats, and even spirituous liquors, those sanguine and over - fed Virgins ought themselves t o wish for better pr o te ction and defence from their own passions . I do n ot mean to say that it is n ot sometimes necessary to allow lovers the happiness of meetin g and talking together. But such communications, however pure we may suppose

1 5 6 Th e Pro o f. Beatrice Portinari wa s only twelve , and wore a purple dress ( that is, a violet red one) when Dante saw her fo r the first time . In his heart she ever retain ed that age and that dress ; and even unto death she was for him a queenly child clothed on with light . SO shall my collegian carry always with him the image of his little Beatrice . Sh e will save him from many evils, especially from vulgarity . Should pleasure present itself to the boy ( as is only too common) in the form o f some degrading indulgence , it would disgust him . His heart is already above that . Let two or three years pass by, and then let him see her again , gay and pretty . In the development of his rose, the charming vivacity of Shakespeare ’ s Perdita , wh o goes and comes, and helps her mother, is shepherdess and princess at once— behold the new ideal which shall guard my young friend . If ladies o f questionable deli cacy would attract his early fancy they will come t o o late . Comparing them with her he will say My cousin is entirely different . ” Petrarch , in a most beautiful sonnet, full of a n arve confes sion, tells his Laura that she is to him a sacred shrine towards whom, himself a pilgrim, he j ourneys all his life . And yet he confesses th at in the chapels that dot the road he halts, from time to time, to offer short prayers to Madonnas . I would have n o chapels, no Madonnas by the way . At every step I would have the traveller descry his Laura afar off, and swerve not from the path . Bu t I am wrong ; Laura herself is willing that he should have other mistresses ; she is n ot jealous , — she consents to share his heart . She knows, indeed, that man needs diversity “ Sh e knows that in the Jardin des Plantes ever waits that rav ish ing woman with the beautiful form— Nature , the great Isis, wh o intoxicates young hearts . Sh e knows that in the schools o f the Pantheon , and everywhere , her lover will pursue the V ir gin , Justice . Besides, she takes their part, and interposes fo r them . Sh e prays him, through his mother, to forget her, if he can , for her sublime rivals . A beautiful , a glorious time , when Th e Pro o f. 1 57 woman protects woman ! and this absent young girl imparts courage to him, in the midst o f study and privation Import ant , most important, is it t o prol ong th e fruitful labors of this season , to preserve its energy j ust when it is perfect , to keep the cu p full . The hard life , the isolation of studies which achieve greatness, is very differently sustained when this Robinson Crusoe of Paris can say, in a double alibi Of all base and v ulgar life : I have here my mistress and my mind . ” Marriage is confession : I have said that before, and I r e peat it , because it is very true and very suggestive . Oh ! how delightfu l , what a j oy and a safe - guard, to have for your confessor a girl of eighteen , to whom you are free to speak , but who herself is also free not to understand eu tir ely, and n ot to influence you too much . Sometimes her mother is anxious, and says, Is he not ill ? I should think s o—h e is sad . Add a line for him . ” It is indeed well that a young man should tell a maiden of his emotions, the heights and depth s, the hopes and j oys and sorrows of his mind . “ Yesterday I learned— what Opens up a n ew world to me . It seems to me that, in this direction , I too shall succeed . Aid me , encourage me ! I shall yet be a man , perhaps . ” Do you know what I think ? Th at this same young gentle man is a shrewd and adroit seducer . It is a living j oy to a woman ’ s heart to mould a man , — to recognise, day by day, some progress in him, wh ich she has made . In the quiet life of th e domestic h earth , with a mother infinitely lovin g, with an old, indulgent father, it is a delightfu l n ovelty to her, gra dually to j oin her life to the ardent life Of a young adv entu r ous man , who takes her in his bark . Sh e is much embarrassed ; she is afraid ; she flings herself, in tears , on her mother ’ s bosom . Some delightful day she stops astonished , as she is writing thus to him : It is always a pleasure to converse , to exchange ideas ; and all that proves your min d clearly enough — But your heart ? ” 1 58 H ow sh e g i ves h er Hea rt away. H O W SH E GIV ES H ER H EART AW AY. H ow many improbabilities are there in th e preceding pages ? A student in love ! A student taking his mistress fo r a confessor ! A student shutting himself u p to prepare for his examinations ! A student studying ! 0 that is too absurd ! The author is evidently ignorant of what sch ools are . H e forgets ‘ how long it takes to attain a profession , to set up an Office, to get practice , and all that . ” Yo u enlighten me . I forget that all youn g Frenchmen must be notaries, attorneys, fu n ctio na rie s , mot e- takers, and manuscript- me ngers— must plunge indiscriminately and fright fully encumbered into two o r three professions, in which their long noviciate will compel them to marry late— when most of them, indeed, are already worn o u t . W h o does this ? Those prudent mothers especially, who want a son - in - law in good position . To them “ fu nctionary” is synon ymous with stability, in this land of the unstable A notary how pleasan tly the word sounds to them . And yet , in most cases, the man plunges into debt to get his office . SO the blindness Of this spirit of reaction , the ignorance and th e fear of woman , make Of the most adventurous people in the world the most foolishly timid, th e most inert , — a mol lusk o n his rock . The Englishman , the American , the Russian have the whole world fo r the theatre o f their activities . The English - woman d eems it perfectly natural to marry a Calcutta or Canton merchant . She follows her husband, an officer, to the farthest isles of Oceanica . The Dutch woman will accept with equal cheerfulness a husband from Java o r Surinam . The Polish w oman , t o comfort an exile , does not shrink from living in Siber ia, and th e perseverance of such devotion has created be v o n d Tobolsk a n ' a dmirable Poland, with a better dialect

. 6 0 H ow Sh e g i ves h e r H eart away. humanity . Love, and love, too , a loving and dev oted woman , who will follow you with noble courage into the uncertain ties o f fate , and all the inventive boldness of your own brave thoughts . “ But, sir, ” says my young friend, “ would you know why we are so prudent, with a woman ’ s prudence . It is because women , mothers, impose such conditions u pon us . Those fine laws, which make them equal with man , make them rich and influential , even more influential than fathers : fo r the father can have only a hypothetical fortune , involved in business, while that of his wife is often secured by contract, and remains apart That is why sh e rules, and does as she chooses . “ Sh e takes her boys from school to put them, o ne knows n ot where . She gives her daughter to whoever pleases her . I, for in stance— who am I ? W hat shall I do ? or what shall I be ? I do n ot know yet . That depends on a woman . I am regarded with favor, at a distance ; but if with the least boldness I ap proach nearer , this mother will be alarm ed, will draw back, and reserve her daughter fo r a man o f position and rank . ” The young gentleman is right . A great responsibility at this moment rests on the mother . Sh e has immense power, to make and to unmake . One word from her can work a marvellous transformation ; o u r hero may take h is rank, may become a bon sujet. Moreover, if this word confirms his courage , his young loving heart, through on e bond alone, may become great . You are a woman , and still young, madam ; but you are already in that second youth when prudence is developed, whe n things have lost their glow, when on e grows suspicious of everything alive . Please do n o t impose so much wisdom on th enr already . DO not require this young man to begin with old ag e . You loved him, you took pleasure in his e11 th u siastic letters . Pray, take him as he is , young and glow ing . Your daughter will lose nothing by it . Act a little with her ; consult her . I warrant her less timid than you . An d in truth sh e is right to be bold . Such spirits , in their first H o w Sh e g i ves h e r H e a rt a way. 1 6 1 flight, ma y seem eccentric by their own excess

but there

must be t o o much ‘ at first, in order that there may be enough at last . So On balanced , they will attain their true power, and properly directed, will supply the man with his ideal of a wise energy . H ere are our young people, brought together ; and I should like to pause at this delightful point of perplexity and restless n ess . Besides, so little is known about it . W e are always too far above it . W e deal only with the surface , the pretty quarrels, the sweet seeming- contentions of love . It is some what allied to war, and, in most cases, we approach it trembling . Thus it is with these . The strong charm of power bewilders the maiden somewhat ; and, on the other hand , the young man, however truly he ‘ may love , has an extreme fear of ridicule . H e is wrong . Woman , the true woman , is to o tender to be sarcastic . Our heroine especially, reared as we have seen , is by no means the saucy, jesting Rosalind of Sh akspear e— nor the laughing, giddy, empty- headed girl we see t oo often here . Her playful badinage is delicate — a pretty kind of strife that would n ot . even be felt by our young men - O f- the - world . But he, less blasé, is disturbed, and rebels at the least thing . He can bear n othing from her— is vexed, an d answers crossly . He suffers ; and , at the same instant, she suf ers t o o . To be so sensitive towards each other, —is not that love Love ! what is it , and whence comes it ? How much has been written about it , and how idly ! Neither statement , nor analysis, n or comparison avails . Love is love , a thing like nothing else . A pretty metaphor is that Of de Stendhal , who likens it to a branch steeped in the salt- sp rin gs o f Salt zb u rg . Two months afterwards it is taken out, changed , adorned with a rich and fantastic crystallization— girandoles, diamonds, flowers Of h e ar- frost . Such is love , steeped in the deep springs o f the imagination ; and the comparison exactly applies to his pretty, ironical , sens u al book on Love . 1 6 2 H ow Sh e g i ves h er Hea rt away. To him the subject is very dry— a poor bran ch of wood, a stick— such the reality ; and all the rest is but the dream, the embroidery, the idle poetry that we weave upon it at pleasure . A capital theory that, to render utterly sterile the most fruitful o f all subjects ! A trite theory t o o, in spite o f the piquancy o f its form . ’Tis the same old Thesis, “ Love is but a fleeting show . ” Love ! I have found nothing more real in this world— as real as second - sight . It alone bestows the power of seeing a hun dred n ew truths otherwise invisible . As real as creation ; the true things that it sees, itself makes true . With woman , for instance , it is so pleasant to be loved, that , delighted and tr a n sfig u rc d, she becomes infinitely beautifu l : beautiful , n ot only as she looks, but as she is . Real like creation , double and reflected, so that the created create s in its turn . This radiance of beauty which our love imparts to woman reacts upon and r e - radiates from us, by wholl y new powers of aspiration , o f genius and invention . W hat name shall we ‘ give it ? No matter what ! It is Master, the power and the creator . If it abide with us, we are strong . Without it, we could achieve nothing great in this world . Surprise magnifies its power . H appy, most happy the young man if chance should develope some unforeseen beauty in him By j ust that much has he advanced . F o r example : it is discovered that in Paris our hero spent too much . He suffers himself to be censu red ; but presently they find o u t that, by reducing his expenses to the mi ’ nimum o f his absolute wants, he supported a poor family on his salary . His lady- love is af ected ; she has but little to say that day, and dares n o t look at him . From crime to crime they detect the culprit, till they dis over that while they were most earnestly urging him to secure a position in h is career, by the first successes o f the schools, which by and by should lead to the great success of life, he h a s acted like the great painter P r u dj h on , and ou r illus

164 Th o u sh a lt lea v e thy Fath er a nd M o th er. repose confidence in thee —in thee alone . They have seen me so moved, that they well know how weak I am . Love me for myself, my husband ; protect me, defend me , for I can no longer protect myself. ” TH O U SH ALT LEAV E TH Y FATH ER AND TH Y MO TH ER! O UR Sakontala ’ s farewell to her birth - place, to her ' sisters, her flowers, her favorite birds, and her pet animals, is no idle comedy ; it is human nature . Sh e has loved them, and she weeps for them ; she has counted the days, and n ow that the day approaches, it comes too soon . She now feels h ow much it all was to her, how pleasant and soft this nest that she must leave— the happy family table , the circle of young brothers and sisters wh o adored h er , the weakn ess of her father, stem to all others,but gentle to her . One person , indeed , is alone in her sorrow, the real victim of t his sacrifice, her poor mother, who controls herself so well , and scarcely ever weeps . Oh it is too much fo r the young girl ! No dream of happiness, no mirage of fancy, can c ompen sate for this . The night before the parting, at the table, with her eyes o n her plate , she hardly dares to look up, lest they should s wim with tears . The rest g o down to the garden , bu t not she on some pretext she remains, to roam from chamber to chamber through the home o f her youth , which she is about to leave fo r ever . She bids adieu to each article of fu r nit u r e , every beloved thing : her pia n o, her books, her father ’ s chair ; but to her mother ’ s bed m o st of all . There she bursts into tears . And why ? does she n ot love Never doubt it . Yes, she truly loves . Stran g e,b u t natural , th at at the moment of follow Th o u sh a l t lea v e thy Fath e r an d Mo th er. 1 65 ing her husband sh e misses h er lover . The room in which sh e dreamed of him, the table o n which sh e wrote to him, have their share of her regrets . The sto rmy alternations of her love for so many years , come back to her memory now . From h er n ew happiness, she throws a backward glance over that world of sighs, and dreams, and idle fears , in which passion takes delight ; she mourns for it all , even to the s weet bitter ness she often found in tears . Nothing moves her more than the sight of the friends of her childhood— the d u mb animals o u t o f doors, wh o have been told nothing— the dog, the cat of the house , who kn ow all about it all . The dog follows her with wistful eyes

an d th e cat, dull and motionless , refusing to eat , lies always on her bed— the little girl ’ s bed, that will be empty to - morrow . They seem to say to her, “ Yo u go , but we remain . Yo u leave u s fo r a stranger . Yo u quit th e ch ome o f gentleness and love, w here yo u had everything your ow n wa y. W hatever you did was right, whatever you s aid was beautiful . Your mother, father, everybody, h ung on your lips, eager to receive all that escaped them . Your sisters quoted your opinions as supreme reason , and decided by your word , Sh e has said it . ’ Your brothers were your knights, silently admiring you , ima gining nothing higher than yo u , loving in other ladies only what resembled yo u . Mistress , protectress, beloved nurse, who so often hast fe d u s from th y hand ! w hither art thou going, and what w ill b e come o f thee Thou art now to have a master, and thou must swear obedience . Thou departest to dwell W ith a stran ger with one wh o loves thee, true— but a proud young man , and stem . H ow much will his active energy, bent o n other mat ters, leave him for his wife and home From his daily work h e will come home at n ight, often s a d, often severe . His dis appointment s , his failures, will return to thee in the form of u nj ust caprices . This house of love whither thou goest , how often will it be more dreary to thee than thy dear paternal home ! All was 1 66 Th o u sh al t lea ve th y Fa th e r an d Mo th e r. so serene here ! when thou didst laugh, all laughed . Thy idle merriment, thy clear young voice , thy goodness that made u s all happy, created here a para dise , a house of blessedness . All wa s love and indulgence, and all were emboldened by thee . For thy father and mother had n ot the heart to scold the children or us . The d o g well knew that at certain times everyth in g w as permitted ; and the cat a s well . At such moments when the family were at dessert, we stole in to par take o f the fea st ; and thy birds came , clapping their wings, to receiv e a kiss from thy lips . ” W oman is born t o su ffer . Every great step of life is to her a wound . She grows u p for marriage ; that is her legitimate dream . But her vita nuova ” is a rending away of the past . To gra nt t o love its boundless plea sure, sh e mu st suffer in her flesh . How mu ch more s o, w hen soon the other husband, the other lover, the child from the depths of her being, shall tear her heart ! Nor is that all . Our fathers had a sombre p r o verb ; A mother ’ s sorrow endures long . ” H ere “ mother ” stood fo r matrix , ” and the meaning of the proverb was that, in addition to the physical pangs of maternity, weariness and anxiety, sorrow and pain follow h er, and shall follow her, all her days . On what day, at what moment, shall th e victim be produced ? W hat matter says the legislator . W hat matter ? echoes the priest . The astrologer of the middle ages said, “ It matters much . ” And he w a s right . But h ow is the d ay to be chosen ? He set up his glass, and looked at the sky, saw nothing, an d decided . , W hat we m u st look at , is woman herself, th e dea r creature “ ho gives u p all , w h o , suffers an d devotes herself. W e mu st love her, an d wish her to su ffer less byher sacrifice . If any d a y, an y week , be propitious and safe , let us choose that . Let me pau se here , a nd a sk h ow it h a ppens that the num e rous a uthors wh o h ave treat ed of love and marria ge, have never once touched on these question s . And yet they were

1 68 Th o u sh a lt lea g e thy Fa th er a n d M o th er. to eX ilt th e brain . W e have foun d ( in 1 8 4 8) that the brain digests ; at least, without it no sugar is made, which alone permits digestion . To return until 1 8 3 0, when the ovu m was demonstrated , the crisis of love, theory was but folly before 1 84 0, when the law was laid down and the fruitful seasons indicated , all practice was blind . The persevering observations of great anatomists , the authority of the Academy of Sciences— a perfect pontifl ‘ in these matters— and at last the sovereign dictum o f the College of France, from 1 8 4 0 to 1 85 0, gave to Europe those discoveries, henceforth to be accepted as articles of human faith . How ap r op os does science come in ? Medicine, before the scourge of the century ( the universality of diseases of the matrix), stammered, and t u rned aside , after having vain recourse to the brutalities o f surgery . Then Ovology comes to its aid . It is the careful study of the functions which must open the way to a knowledge o f their c hanges . And who knows The first, gently nursed by love, may perhaps antici pate the second . Forgive , my young friend, these serious words, at an hour when , of course, your heart is occupied with very different thoughts ; but love is anxious . For thy sake , for hers, I would draw thee back from thy poetic heaven to the real . Bu t the real is herself, so it is heaven still . The question is o f her, and of your future . When the health , the life ofyour darling is at stake, you will not accus e - u s of excess of wisdom, and tender precautions . Is it not a spectacle to make us reflect, to see around us young and charming women , smitten by love itself, con demmed to refusals, to involuntary evasions, or ( hateful con trast ) to tearful concessions A d es ola te ' c on ditio n indeed, which overclouds love , and will soon extinguish it— whicli makes generation a fearful thing . One shrinks appalled when , to th e trials of maternity, he knows that increased pains are added . To the most ten Th o u sh a l t lea ve thy Fath er and Mo th e r. 1 69 der o u tg u sh ings of hearts, which make th em on e, there comes a time fu ll of grief and terror of the future , and death between kisses . Formerly this scourge was less noticeable . In the first p lace, because they died sooner, and so did n ot take their full measure of suffering ; but also from another cause : woman , then not at all refined, living a less intellectual life, had stronger physical reactions against both pain and b a d treat ment . : I here allude especially to what is mildly called amorous passion , but which might be better terme d th e de mands of selfish pleasure, exacting too much , desiring wrongly, consulting neither the period n or the suffering . She, weak and delicate , feels all this, and feels it deeply . It is no jest ; but demands ou r serious attention , and the love of every moment . What I would say , to the mother, I would in sist upon to the lover . In truth , more fragile than a child, woman absolutely r e quires that we love her for herself alone, that we guard her carefully, that we be every moment sensible that in urging her t o o far we are sure of nothing . Our angel , though smil ing, and blooming with life, often touches the earth with but the tip of on e wing ; the other would already waft her else where . Ask not of th e ignorance of the past, what shall be d on e in this great matter ; it knows not, and cannot answer . Ask science alone to advise, and love alone to execute . Science replies first, very simply : That we should love in h er hour of love, without precipitation , letting things take their course , to succeed each other in their n atural order but one thin g at a time , avoiding con gestions and all perma n ent irritations . Therefore, we know the true moment, lawful and sacred, in which marriage should take place . \ In a treatise approved by the Academy of Sciences, and authorized by its h igh approval , it is stated that one ought only to marry a 8 1 7 0 Th o u sh alt lea v e thy Fa th e r a n d M o th e r. young girl ten days after the process of ovulation , that is to say— in the calm, serene, and sterile week she has between the two periods . (Ra cib or ski, 1 8 4 4 , p . This excellent observation , as humane as it is reasonable , is no quack theory, but profoundly scientific, and derived from established facts, and the known laws o f Ovology . The deduction is n atural , and so it will remain invariable , an impera tive an d necessary law of marriage . In fact , nothing could be wiser . The sterile period should be chosen , says Raci borski , because she would su f er t o o much if she were em ceinte in the first months . How cruel would it be to inflict u pon h er at the same time three pains— her periodical indis position , the initiation of marriage , and th e disturbances of a first pregnancy . 1 “ Bu t her mother would attend to that, ” say s some on e. Not she . She will allow the favorable period to pass, and marry h e r daughter three or four days later—j ust when the woman is most susceptible ; and she becomes pregnant imme diat ely. The ten full days allowed will be a blessing, for thus science interposes between impatient passion and the wife , shielding her a sin a mother ’ s arms, and better than she could . So every great discovery, every great truth , which at first is but a light, and spe aks onlyto the reason , is not slow in reach ing th ose practical results which touch the h eart. Su fli cien t unto th e day is the evil thereof; o n e labp r at a time . Spare the bride , I pray you , at such a time, those noisy repas s of provincial weddings with which fools would -stufl ' her . If she does n ot eat , they will s a y, “ Don ’ t you see ? sh e is sad ; they have t o force h er . She does not love her hus band— that ’ s plain . ” I perceive that the good sense o f our fathers desired, on th e contrary, that she should come to this trial of separation a n d tears, o f moral and physical sufferin g, only when prepared by her mother, well refreshed , light an d gay, and so much the less vulnerable .

1 7 2 Th o u sh a lt lea ve thy Fa th er a nd M o th e r. difli cu lty, there would still be a grave one in her depression of spirits . Man, s o selfish , thinking only o f himself, complains much of some sorcery w hich he says paralyses everything . But the more veritable terrors of woman are n ot counted . H er cheerfulness should be restored , that is the great point . He must be patient, magnanimous, and desire not as against himself, but fo r the sake o f both , that she , t o o , may be happy ; he must consult her, obey her, and make this his triumph that her pain do not displease her . H appy he who can prepare his own happiness ! Wh o would have it free , and desired, who trusts in tenderness and good n ature . A sincere adorer, with true devotion he honors the approaches of the temple , and guards its portal with a tender and patient persistence . Of themselves those holy doors will move for him . The living fire of the go d, th at " s eems so far of , is at the very threshold . \ In a higher, a more advanced state , to which hereafter we shall come, it will be truly understood that this pleasant invi t a tion is precious, especially by the new ways it opens to the heart ; that it is but on e step in the progression that love makes in the gradual conquest o f the beloved, in every serious union , and such progressions must have long preceded the fes tival which is love ’ s proclamation . The soul - marriage must have existed long before the legal nuptials, if it is to continue afterwards, and strengthen more and more . Let us efi ' ace from ou r language that immoral and fatal phrase the Consummation o f Marriage . A progressive state, it finds its consummation only in the consummation of life . The wed ding is but a publishing of this long initiation . Useful , indispensable, as a guarantee, it nevertheless h a s often , like the noisy, brilliant festival , a very bad effect u pon the mar riage . The uproar seems to signify that a great day is over, and love has given up its all ; and the succeeding days are dull Th e Yo u ng W ife — So litary Th o u g hts . 1 73 and cold . It is wrong to date by a festival what should be eternal . No , even at that divine moment, know that it is indeed di v ine only because it consummates nothing, ends nothing ; it is divine , because it begins . Thine idol has given thee all she could , has given ‘ herself in accepting thy love, has given her self in saying, “ I am thine, ” has given herself in opening for thy entertainment o n e of the great portals of her soul . But that soul is a whole realm of delights which thou must n ow survey . The world of discoveries within her, which awaits thy explorations, how couldst thou know it in advance ? She her self does not know it . She only desires, passionately, that thou shouldst be her lord and master. Once possessed, she instinctively feels that she can be even more than she is . She w ill do what she can , so that with the in finit u de of new sen sations that love will create in thee, thou shalt entirely tra verse her boundless sea of yet virgin emotions, of chaste and delicate desires . TH E Y O UNG W IFE —H ER SO LITARY TH O UGH T S. IN my Book of Love, I have touched u pon the great exter nal points . In this I attempt more I would obser ve W oman herself , especially the woman who has strong family ties, and. whom even the most desirable marriage quite u proots from the soil to which she was bound by a thousand fibres . A truly dramatic passage this ! From parents whom she regrets to a husband she adores , she passes, not hesitating, not strug g lin g, but with sacred sorrow. Does sh e love the less on 1 74 Th e Yo u ng W ife — So li tary Th o u g hts . that account ? Infinitely more , to the full extent of her sacri fice . She gives herself up with all her grief; with boundless love, and an unstin ted faith she puts into his hand her bleed ing heart . I know not whether the man , bewildered by his own hap pines s, can preserve enough coherency to perceive all this

but for myself, I know no sight more touching than " such a young girl ( shall I say maiden o r woman ?) as she suddenly finds herself transplanted away from her o ld habits , and all her familiar world, into a strange house . To be sure , it is, or it will be , her own ; but she has still to become acquainted with it . Until then , all is strange to her . Sh e does not know Where to find any thing . Each new article recalls to her the good old family things sh e left behind . True , her husband, with his strong persona lity, h is youthful enth usiasm, his charming infatuation, warms and illumines all

but h e is not always there ; and if he be

absent but for a moment , all, ' all is changed, looks vacant and solitary . The other house, in its great harmon y of multiple affections —father, mother, brothers, sisters , servants, pets— was a world ready made . But here is a world to make . Happily, the a rdent and powerful cr eator, the life - giver, Love, is here . Bu t Love 1 s jealous . “ If you wish , ” says he , “ to create, begin with me ; if you wish me to bear yo u into the future on my wings, d o not tie me down with that strong thread of the past . ” The first law o f the Drama, unity in action , is the first law of life . H ope n ot for the strong without the simple . “ Fool , to think the heart is ‘ in pieces, ’ to think that though it - b e sh ared, each part is still an entity W hat will become of thee , if thou hast forever there that complaining, I will n ot say jealous , mother with whom thy wife will live , whom she will confide in every day ? Let but a cloud come between yo u , and it is talked o f again and again . she is comf or ted by her mothe1 and so the O cloud takes fo1 m, and han gs on the \

1 7 6 Th e Yo u ng W ife — So li ta ry Th o u g hts . themselves surely in trenched for a charmin g téte- d - léte, the family physician, an intimate friend, passes the sentry, and would carry off the husband . Any idle pretext serves his purpose— some urgent an d important business, for instance, in which her husband alone can aid him . Of course the latter hates it, but goes . And as for her, she is so reasonable, that even at such a time she would not interfere with their friend ship . In reality, it is all done for her sake . An old and very wise custom it was to let the bride breathe a little . Would to heaven the three days ’ abstinence— save fu rtive snatches which once was imposed on them ‘ , were the rule now . Then love gathered strength , and grew with its desire ; and the bride had time to compose herself; for kind Nature quickly restores, soothes, and streng thens—but on , condition that there be a little rest . Love lost nothing by it, as we see in the Song of Songs . For the bereaved virgin , when she was no longer besieged and persecuted, languished as though she were already a widow, and wished him to return at any price . Truly a naive and significant outburst ! She was very well satisfied until then, this chaste maiden and why did you trouble her ? Do n o t laugh , incorrigible man , but love and adore her . See her ( as in that glowing poem of Syria) dis tracted, rising at ‘ night, and seeking h im through all . the gloomy streets, at the risk of shocking encounters . Protect her, and lead her home again ; or rather bring back her hus band to her . Ah ! how happy he is They will n ot complain again ; th e pain of absence will render every other trouble ‘ pleasant . To return to h er who does not roam the streets at night behold her for the first time in h er n ew house , alone with her own thoughts . She recollects herself n ow ; she broods over her wondrous dream, and reproduces its details . Sh e turn s to her husband , so tender, so generous, so good ; and her eyes water . She recalls his gentleness, his patience, his infinite delicacy under certain mysterious circumstances, and she Th e Yo u ng W ife — So litary Th o u g hts . 1 77 blushes . Sometimes she fancies this is all an ” illusion, a dream— and she fears to wake . But no—doubt IS impossible for a very palpable sign reassures her, aa sig n which will n ot pass away . “ So much the better ! it is all true, ” she says . Thus her deep happiness , armed with thorns, speaks to her from time to time—“ So much the better ! I am his, then, sealed with his love . It is done, and Go d could do no more . ” So haughty before, and so stately always, she was still a W oman , and she is loving sh e clings because she suf ers , sh e would belohg and d ep en d , she enj oys in solitude the h u mili ties of passion . If the thorns are sharp , she exalts herself the more by the d ifficulty and the duty . Sh e is as a wounded woman , who insists o n suckling her child . Then a strange struggle takes place, wh e rein , much desiring, he devotedly resists . If he is magnanimous and strong, if he abstain by mere force o f love, oh ! her very heart melts, and in her delight she repays him lavishly, in caresses, in kisses, in tears, and overwhelms and intoxicates him . She no longer reckon s with him, b u t gives herself up in a hundred charming ways, in short renders discretion impossible to him. H e grows dizzy his cruel exaction fills him with remorse . But having but the sublime side of love, she, to her sorrow, perceives only the divine uniting . It is n ot an unusual thin g for this fatal sensuality to be p r o longed t o o far, sometimes for weeks and months, to th e grave peril of the devoted victim . H e is sad, dejected , full of regret , and yet sins on the same . Sh e, proud, pure, and cou rageous , insists that they take n o one ’ s advice . The only remedy to be thought of, as I see , would be ( if the husband were a soldier or a sailor ) sailing orders, or close duty fo r a month . But w hat despair for her ! At th e first hint of going, she weeps , and cries, “ Let me die ! what is the dif ference To lose thee is to die She is very noble in all this acknowledge that, my friend . 8 96 1 78 Th e Yo u ng W ife . —So lita ry Th o u g hts . But o f thee I know not what to say . I pity thee , poor slave of the body, I pity o u r slavish n ature . H ow exalted:and how poetic Sh e is the poetry of heaven fallen around you . May yo u feel it, and weave with it a deli cate religion This frail but fascinating emanation from a better world is given you , — for what ? To change you , to make you a better man . And you need it ; for, frankly, you are a barbarian . Civilize yourself a little . W ith your gentle companion you may reform your manners by her pure love yo u may sanctify your heart . Even yesterday, yo u were in company with noisy friends, pursuing pleasure without restraint ; and now yo u are with this young saint, this virgin , this charming sybil , who knows, or comprehends, o r devises everything, who hears the very grass grow in the ground . Sh e has always lived in so harmonious, so pleasan t, so well regulated and quiet a h ome, that your young strength, your manly vitality, though they please her much , disturb her. Your bold step , your somewhat noisy way of closing doors and windows, startle her ear . H er mother walked so softly ; her father spoke but little, and in so low a ton e . Bu t your ring ing voice , with the true military quality, good to command sol diers with , made her start— I will n ot say tremble— the very

first day ; but she laughed in a moment . Soften yourself for your gentle companion, for she wishes to be your companion in everything . She would assist and serve you , and be your little friend , she says . And so she is, but a weak and frail one a n d you m ust take the more care of her because she does not like to be taken care of. “ I delicate Not at all . I sick ? Ii ever fi ’ Sh e says to her mother, Everything goes well . ” But some day, when you are in haste to go , and are detained by her, throu gh over - attention to her toilet, yo u are thoughtlessly harsh to her . Then, see h o w her heart overflows in tears . Just then , her mother arrives, and catches her in the act

but

1 80 Sh e wo u ld be H is Pa rtner a nd Client . The clock strikes seven . Oh ! h ow her tide , her torrent o f fancies, apprehensions, dreams, rushes in ! Even her natural sweetness is disturbed . A tear of impatience escapes h er, and ( could I have believed it ?) she stamps her foot . Ten o r twenty times already, the table, the fire have been retouched, improved, perfected ; but they bring not back the master . Her anxiety is at its height her pulse beats rapidly. But hark ! a sound on the steps— three steps at a time—h e rushes in . And she, too— another would have contr olled her self, would have maintained h er dignity—would have waited ! Bu t this poor little thing waits for nothing, but hastens to d rown herself in your kiss, and faint between your arms . SH E W O ULD BE H IS PARTNER AND H IS C LIENT. O NE day I heard a pretty saying of the peasants : “ See, they have been married only a week, and already they are so loving ! ” That a lr ea dy is charming . It expresses a very truly and deeply h u m an . id ea —that we love in proportion to o u r intimate knowledge of each other, in proportion to / the length o f time we live together and enj oy each other ’ s society . This may astonish the blasé, the sick, and the tired . The d eranged stomach thinks it necessary continually to change its food ; it finds everything insipid , and has no appetite . If it were healthier, it would see that the same is never the same ; when one ’ s taste has its natural and correct tone, it perceives the marvellously delicate shades with which the same food is incessantly diversified . If this is true of taste, the lowest of the senses , h ow much more so of love, the most delicate, the most complex ! Sh e wo u ld b e H is Pa rtne r a nd C lient. 1 8 1 In the higher orders o f animals, we all know that there is much more variety in the renewings and metamorphoses of a single female , than in the brutal tasting of many . W ith man , love is a voyage of discovery in a little world—infinite, always infinite , because always renewed— from mystery to mystery, by the eternal revealin gs of the beloved— ever new and e ver unsounded ; becau se we are always creating there . The honeymoon days of mar riage are those o f dizzy, blind passion—if I may say so, a season of physiology . In these first tastings of the tree of life we hardly distinguish its true flavor. The newly- wedded wife would be much humiliated, if she possessed sufficient sang- froid to perceive the truth , in spite of so many fine speeches— n amely, how much her sex has to do with her lover ’ s infatuation, h ow little she herself. It is only with time that a man learns to fully appreciate a distinct, loving, and beloved personality— the woman whose preference for h im makes her s uperior to every other . He loves her, then , for the pleasure she gives and has given ; he loves her as his own creation , sculptured and impregnated by himself. H e loves her for that high attribute of love , that in its most passionate climax it is no longer frenzy, nor annihilation , but Go d made manifest . People lo ve , ” they say, because they do not yet know each other ; as soon as they do, they will love n o longer . ” W h o, then , do know each other ? I meet in the world only people who are ignorant o f each other, who in the same chamber live stran gers to each other ; wh o, having failed awkwardly at the only point where they might have blended , remain discouraged, inert, in stupid j uxtaposition , like on e stone against another . W h o knows the stone struck, might have given forth electric s parks, o r perhaps gold o r diamonds . Another maxim is The marriage once consummated, adieu to love . ” Marriage, indeed ! and where will you find it ? I see it 1 82 Sh e wo u ld b e H is Pa rtne r a nd Clie n t . almost nowhere ; the married people I know can scarcely be called married . That term, marriage , is very elastic ; it admits o f immense thermometrical latitude . One is married at twenty degrees, anothe r at ten , another at zero . Let us alw _ ays distinguish and ask, In what degree are they man and wife Everything in married life depends on the beginning ; and we must confess that, in general , the fault lies not with the women . Young ladies, really young, whom confession , r o mance , and the world have not precociously matured and de v eloped, bring to marriage delightful luxuriance o f heart, an instinctive docility, and good intentions . They have great ex pectatio n s o f the life on which they are entering . Sh e, who, with her parents, was industrious, studied zealously, and seemed to know everything, w ishes now to learn everything anew from her husband . And she is very right, for it will all return to her invested with life and ardor . Sh e at first received it passively, as inert and cold matter; but n owsh e will grasp it, quickened with that burning electricity which is the only magnetism that unites soul and body . Yet we grant that her father acted wisely if he had given her a stronger impress, h e would have committed a blunder . The unknown and unforeseen fate of his daughter, was this very same future husband it was necessary then that her education should n o t be too definitive , but somewhat elastic. Besides there is no stamina in the family— the mother, very often , still entertains the old superannuated ideas which cannot be those of a young man ; and the father, though more decided , has n ot been able to influence his daughter as to many difficult and dangerous questions, wherein the heart and the j udgment are at stake . H ow many maxims in morality and facts in hi story, has he n ot shown her in profile but it belongs t o the husband to fill them up . Those vague , those incomplete family traditions , the hesita tion and vacillation in the life and words of old persons , are

1 84 She wo u ld be H is Pa rtne r a n d Clie nt . profit by the unbounded devotion , the delicious abandonment of her who gives herself u p, without reservation , that he may be made the happier for it . The man has a hundred ideas, a hundred objects of con centration ; she only one—her husband . Yo u should say to yourself, on going out in the morning, What will my darling, my soul ’ s jo y, do all alone , the many hours she will wait for me ? What shall I bring to her to interest and refresh her ; for it is from me she receives her life . ” Remember this, and never bring back to her, as so many d o , the cares o f the day, the bitter dregs of failure . Yo u are sustained by the excite ment of the struggle, by the necessity of exertion , o r the hope of doing better to - morrow ; but she, this poor woman soul , so sensitive as to all that relates to you, she would be very differently af ected by the blow ; she would retain the wound, and languish o f it long . Be young and brave for both ; return serious, if the misfortune be indeed important , but never overwhelmed— spare , oh ! spare your child . The best way to strengthen her against these chances, is to very gradually initiate her into your business . This is p r acti cable in many professions ; we improperly circumscribe th e circle of those which woman may enter, though many are, doubtless, too laborious for her, requiring effor t , time, and will . Bu t you could not better employ your time . W hat an admirable companion ! what a useful partner ! How much will be gained by it, especially for your hearts , and your domestic happin ess . Thus to be on e is true strength , repose and freedom . Sh e wishes to work with yo u u W ell , take her at her word ; set about it, not with the petty a tte ntion s i of gallantry, but with strong, earnest love . Know that at this time she is capable of great effort, of continued appli cation , that she will do anything to be loved . I can cite the noblest, the most surpris ing examples of this Sh e wo u ld be H is Partner an d Client. 1 85 An illustrious physician , at the head of one of the greatest Schools of the age, had, in his young wife, his favorite dis ciple and his competent assistant , possessed of a mind truly manly in its vigor, and of profound Sagacity . The great physiologist, who discovered and defined the law o f Ovology, often saw, and saw correctly, as has been proved, through the eyes of a woman . This is perhaps the noblest fact of its kind ; that an admirable wife, by persevering devotion , thus contributed to the revelation o f marriage . W ithout this woman would women have ever been understood H er heroic exertions, directed by genius, fathomed the great mys t ery, which has opened a world to us . Hitherto we had loved at hazard , we had loved in the dark . H umanity, which henceforth will love in the light, will not be ungrateful , and in drinking from its wells of affection and happiness, will always remember Madame P o u ch et , of Rouen . Every man , taking into consideration the character of his profession and the capacity of his wife , should establish his community of interests in a greater o r less degree, but it should inevitably be done . The ar tist, , abs o rb ed in his technicalities and his specialties, and in the minute details o f execution , ought n q t to retire within himself, and shut out his wife from the great idea which inspires his work, and which she herself would have fostered and sustained . The lawyer o r the politician cannot afford to keep her in ig n o rance of what makes u p his life ; she can seldom be o f any u se to him, but she shou ld be none the less informed . She is much more at home with the natural sciences . The physi cian , who returns home fatigu ed and harassed with his grave responsibilities, cannot be a society” man ; he will scarcely go to the drawing- room to pass his leisure moments . How com plet ely might he rest on the domestic hearth , pursuing his peaceful study o f the secrets of life , which indirectly may arm h im for his combat against death . Infin itely varied are the sou ls of women ! Men, as I have 1 86 Arts a nd Readi ng — Th e Commo n Fa ith . said before , are cast in the same mould, made uniform by ed u cation ; b u t women are much more natural , and very diverse . Nothing is more charming than the fact that no o n e woman resembles another. V oyager ' s on tropical seas, sometimes b e hold the water, for immense distances, transformed into a bril liant parterre , glowing with an in finite variety of bright - hued creations . Are they plants, flo wers ? Yes— living flowers, a marvellous iris of exquisite lives , seemingly fluid , but organ ize d— moving, active , having volition . It is the same with that social parterre which the female world presents . Are they flowers ? No , they are souls . Most men , sensual and blind , in their flatteries and caresses, say : “ They are flowers ; let us pluck them ; let us inhale and enj oy their perfume ; they bloom only for o u r pleasure . ” Oh ! how much greater the pleasure would be if they would cherish the poor flower, if they would leave it on its stem, and cultivate it accordin g to its nature ! W hat a charm of hap p in ess would it not give back to him wh o would devote his soul to it But as the flowers are varied , so are the modes of nurture . One needs grafting, the introduction of a dif erent sap, for she is as yet young and wild ; anoth er soft and sweet, and thoroughly permeable , needs only imbibition— nothing is want ing but to infiltrate her life ; another is more than fluid , she is fantastic, a fly - away ; the dust of her love is scattered to the w ind ; she must be housed, concentrated, above all, fecu n dated . ARTS AND R EADING. —TH E C O MMO N FAITH . A BIR D- S ONG o f ou r fathers, shows the trivial ideal of their day :

188 Arts and Readi ng — Th e Commo n Fa ith . An idea takes the form of sentiment ; if it is profound, it b e comes nervous emotion . A thought, an invention , some use ful novelty, af ects your brain pleasantly , and makes you smile, as with a n agreeable surprise . But she , she feels at once the good which will result from it, a n ew happiness for humanity. This touches her heart— she trembles— she shivers with agi t ation— she is well - nigh weeping . You hasten to strengthen her, you take her h and tenderly, but her emotion is, not calmed ; like a circle in the water, spreading into ever- widening circles, it extends throughout her whole system, to the very depths of her nature , where it mingles with her tenderness, and, like everything else in her, melts in love for yo u ; so she throws herself on your breast, and clasps you in her arms . W hat boundless happiness will you enj oy in traversing with h er the world of Art ; for each art is but a dif erent way of loving ; each , especially in its perfection , blends itself with love, or with religion, which is the same thing . W hoever initiates a woman in these higher temples, is her priest and lover. The stories of Hé101 se, and the new Helo ' i ' se, do not belong to the past, but to the present, and the future—in a word, to eternity . That is why the maiden can pursue art ' only to a cert ain extent, and why her father is an imperfect guide . He cannot, he wi. l not, allow her to pass with him beyon d certain grave and frigid regions . He leads her there , but when she would advance farther, in her young and pure enthusiasm, he stops draws back ; for she stands on the dangerous threshold of a new world— Love . For instance, in drawing, he gives her the old Florentine school in its grandeur, the Madonnas ofiRaphael , the chaste pictures o f Poussin . It would be impious to place Correggio before her—with his quiverings, and his burning passion . It would be immoral to show her the deep but unwholesome meaning, the feverish and sinister grace of the dying Italy, in the smile of the Jo conda . Arts and Reading — Th e Common Fa ith . 1 89 Life itself, life with its emotions, teaches only by love . When the superb Nereid, the luxurious blonde of Rubens, treads the foaming waters, murmurs the marriag e hymn , and already conceives of the future— so much the worse for the maiden who shall feel that emotion, shall understand that je n e s a is ga oa ’ , which issues from her amorous mouth . In her heart, she would know it too well . Even the master- piece of Greece , pure and sublime in its greatness, so far, so very far from the sensuality of the painter of Antwerp—the fainting women , the swooning mothers of the temple of Theseus— what maiden would dare copy them ? Such the palpitation , such the heart - beating, visible under those beautiful robes, that she would be troubled . The con t ag ion of love and maternity would utterly confuse her . Oh ! better that she wait awhile . Only under the eyes of her lover, in the arms of her husband may she be inspired by these things and appropriate to herself their life— may inhale their efflu via and their warm impregnation , may drink . long draughts of their beauty, adorn herself with it, and endow with it the fruit of her bosom . Music is the true glory, the very spirit of the modern world . I define it, the art of fu sing hearts, the art of mutual penetra tion and an intimacy so close, that by it, into the heart of your beloved, your wife , the mother of your children , you shall penetrate still deeper . What Dumesnil and Alex andre have said of gran d symphonies, of the music of friend ship, of chamber music , I admire t oo much to repeat . I have only this to add ; that between man and woman all is th e music of love, the music of home, and of the closet . A duet is a marriage ; the sin gers do not simply lend themselves to it, but they give up their heart s for the time, give themselves up with even more abandon than they desire . W hat shall I say then of her who every evening sings, with the first comer, th ose moving, pathetic melodies which blend two souls toge ' ther as completely as the first kiss ? The lover, the husband, 1 9 0 Arts an d Re adi ng . — 5 - Th e C o m mo n Fa ith . will come t o o late , she has nothing more to besto w upon him . Happy the man , whose wife renews his heart, day by day, with music in the evening ! “ All that I have, I give to you , ” she says . “ My ideas ? No , I am still so ignorant ; but through yo u I shall in time know everything . All I have to give yo u , is the breath of my heart, th e life o f my life , my soul , without form, in which my love floats like a n unce rtain shadow, a dream . Oh , take both me and my dream ! ” “ Ah ! h ow little I know of music, ” he says . “ W hat a savage life I have l ived . ” Sh e begins, and strives to abandon herself wholly to the inspiration , but cannot satisfy herself— it is so pure , so lofty ! H e soars 011 golden wings into the vast heaven o f love . H e would also accompany her a little with h is voice ; at first, he dares not, but hums lo w, timidly restraining his power . Then , by degrees, launching o u t , he thrills her in his turn . H alf choked, she tries to go on —she trembles— oh , h ow united they are !— but their emotion is t o o strong, their voices fail , the song dies away in an a bys s of p r of ou n d h a rmon y . Music is the crown , the perfect flower o f arts . Bu t to make it the principal basis o f education , as is often done , is senseless and decidedly dangerous . Music is a modern art, alm ost without a past ; the arts o f D esign , on the contrary, are of all times, and are represented in every period of his tory . F o r this reason , alone, they fu rnish r ich i and varied instruction . At every epoch , sculpture and painting afford not only models fo r imitation , but the most fruitful texts for intel lectual improvement . These texts identify themselves won d erfully ' with those of literature , and even supply their place . W hat Rabelais and Sh akspear e could not express of some idea, some nice feature , some aspect o f their age, is told by Da Vi nci , by Correggio , by Michael Angelo , or Gouj on . All the too passionate books which the father avoided , from which , at the utmost, he only dared to make extracts , a re

1 9 2 W o man th e Go ddess o f Go o dness . ries of the world . Analysis h as created the great types of divine simplicity . Thus, marriage in Persia is of a type so heroic, that even in Rome it suffers a prosaic, vulgar de basement . H ence, affection , ardor, the divine power of life and instinctive tenderness, love— sensual it may b e—but diffu sing itself in impulses of universal b en eficence : such is the story o f Egypt . Nothing has ever been added to it , and we can only adore it . TH E GREAT LEGEND O F AFR IC A. W O MAN THE GO DDESS O F GO O DNESS. (Fra gment fr om th e His tory of L ove. ) TH E ch ef - d ’ oeu vre of Egyptian art, the Rameses as it is seen in Ipsamb o u l, in Memphis, and in the museum at Turin , affords a unique example o f goodness in power, and o f sub lime repose . Its expression, which on e might deem peculiar to that face, I have found again , in a degree, in the head of a young man , on a beautiful coin of Leyden . . It is ch ar r acteristic of the race, and very different from the sharp, thin , Arab profile , which seems cut with a razor . In this head there is an extreme gentleness, and a fulness , which , ho w ever, is not heavy, but seems the effect o f a peaceful develop ment of all the moral qualities . Man ’ s heart is in his face, sanctifying, beautifying the external forms by the internal ray . This extraordinary expression of counten ance is more than individual

it is the revelation of a race . In it we perceive th at the great Egypt was as a moral festival

the jo y and the W oman th e Go ddess o f Go o dn ess . 1 93 divine smile o f that deep African world, shut in on every other side . The highest type of the African , above the negro, above the black, appears to be the Egy ptian . So u nfortunate , so constantly kept down , from the time of Joseph to that of Mohammed Ali— even to ou r own time indeed the poor fellah o f Egypt is yet a man -of intelligence and n u common dexterity . A mechanic in the service of the pacha told me that the poor man whom he took into h is workshop s paid the closest attention ; imitated him perfectly, and became in a fortnight as good a workman as a European in two years . This is also owing to their gentleness and their great docility, t o their necessity of pleasing and satisfying . An excellent race of men , they des ire only to love and to be loved . In the cruel immolation of the individual and the family, which power has always compelled, their mutual ten derness seems so much the greater . The premature death of the man yielding to excessive toil , the child snatched away by cruel military razzias, make for them an uninterrup ted suc cession o f tears and sighs and mournin g . The old lamentation of Isis, seeking her Osiris, has never ceased in Egypt ; along her great river, at every moment, you hear it repeated . You find it pain ted and sculptured all through the country . W hat are those monuments o f grief, that infinite care to save what may be saved of the body, that binding the dead with fillets i nscribed with prayers, that commending to the gods the absent o ne ? I have never visited Egypt ; but when I - go over o u r Egyptian museums, I feel that this immense ef o r t o f an entire people , these excessive expenses imposed upon the poorest , are the most ardent expression of aspiration the heart of man has ever shown— to cherish the beloved object , and follow it in death . R eligions u ntil then had dealt in epics ; but hush —here is the Drama ; and a new genius arises over Europe and over Asia . 1 94 W o man th e Go ddess o f Go o dness . Let us lay the scene first . This land of toil and tears, Egypt, is in itself a feast , and a land o f j oy . In the burning bosom of Africa, fervid mother of a swarthy race , is Opened by a breeze from the north a valley of promise . From u n known mountain s the torrent of fertilit y descends . W e share the frantic jo y o f the traveller, well - nigh dying o f thirst, who , overcoming the sands at last, reaches his longed- for oasis Egypt at last, the great oasis of Africa . In Egypt, the first w ol d is “ Isis , ” and “ Isis ” is the last ; foi W oman reigns there . It IS a remarkable saying, that o f Dio d or u s, that in Egypt husbands swear obedience to their wives —a h exaggerated expression of the great fact of female predominance . The lofty genius of Africa, th e queen o f ancient Egypt, is this Isis ; her throne eternally decked with attributes of feca n dation . The lotus is her sceptre , the calyx of the flower of love . Instead o f a diadem, royally on her brow she bears a vulture, the insatiate bird , that never cries enough . ” An d to show that this greediness will not be vain , in her strange headdress the insignia of the fruitful cow rise above the vul ture , to signify maternity . This kind fruitfulness, this in ex h au stible maternal goodness, is what g lorifies and purifies the heats of Africa . Presently come, too thickly indeed , death and mourning, and the eternity of sorrow to sanctify them . Do religions spring only from nature , from climate, from th e inevitable destinies o f race and country ? Oh ! much more fr om the needs of the heart . Almost always they arise out of the suf erings of the wounded soul . In the pangs o f a new dispensation , man plucks from it, as from a tree of sorrows, fresh fruit ofconsolation . Never has any religion borne clearer testimony to this than the faith of old Egypt . It is man ifestly the sublime consolation o f a poor laborious people , wh o, toil ing without respite, fearing death so much the more because family was everything to them, sought their alleviations in immortal nature , trusted themselves to its resurrections, and

1 9 6 W oman th e Go dde ss o f Go o dne ss . mother . How does this reassure me I had feared that the black race, governed too much by the beast, impressed in its infancy with terrific images of the lion and the crocodile, would produce only monsters . But thus is it soften ed , h u manized, made feminine . The loving African , in his profound desire , has exalted the most touching object o f all earthly religions . Wh at ? That living reality, a good and faithful w oman . Most ardent this, but so pure ! Ardent, as We compare it with cold, ontological dogmas . Pure , as we contrast it with modern refinements, with ou r faint conceptions, o u r pious corruptions, o u r World of equivocations . All innocent, the j oy bursts forth . Immense and popular, the j oy of exhausted Afric a—a deluge of water, a prodigious sea o f sweet water, comes . I know n o t w hence , but over flowing the land, deluging it with happiness, in filtrating and insinuating itself into the least of its veins, so that n ot , one grain o f sand shall complain that it is thirsty . The little dried u p c anals smile, as th e babbling water visits them with refresh ment . The drooping plant laughs with all its heart, as the welcome wave moisten s its root, and takes possession of its stalk, and mounts upward to its leaves, and han gs upon the stem, which gently sighs— the whole a charming spectacle, and on e wide scene of love and pure delight, for the great Isis is inu ndating her well beloved . The good Osiris works and works . He created Egypt herself, and the land is his child . H e made the worship of Egypt, an d he engendered in her the arts, without which she would have pe rished . Bu t nothing lasts . The gods have disappeared . Th e living Su n of goodness, which planted in th e . b o s om o f Isis all the fruits, and everything that - was salutary, could o f himself cre ate all things except time and duration . One morning he was gone . O, void, immense ! where is he ? Isis , distracted , searches fo r him . W oman th e Go ddess o f Goo dn ess . 197 The sombre d oct1 ine spread throughout all western Asia, that even the gods must die ; but that dogma o f Syria and Asia Minor, and the isles, ec lild not even app1 o ach , it seems , this robust Africa, which has so vivid and so ever- present a sentiment o f life . But why deny it ? F o r everything dies . The Fa ther of Life, old Nile himself, is exhausted and dried u p . At certain times the Su n is no longer himself, but, dejected and pale, has lost his rays . Osiris, life, goodness die together, and by a bar barous death , his limbs all scattered . His weeping wife finds his remains but on e part is w a nting, and she seeks that, tearing her hair. “ Alas that part is Life itself, the energy o f Life , the sacred power o f Life If yo u are wanting, what shall b e come of the world ? W here may you be found again ? Sh e implores the Nile , she cries to Egypt . But Egypt takes care not to give u p h e 1 assurance o f pei petu al fertility Yet, so great a grief well d e s e1 ve d a miracle , and m that fierce combat o f tenderness and death , Osiris, all dismembered as he 1 s, and cruelly mutilated , i e s u s cit ated by an omnipotent will, r etu 1 n s to her . And so g1 eat is the love of the dead, that , by the magic o f the heart, he finds a last d es ir e. H e has retu 1 ned f1 om the tomb on ly to make h e1 a mothe1 again . And , ah , how eag ei ly does she receive the emb 1 ace! But it is only an adieu , and th e glowing bosom of Isis will n ever warm that icy germ . W hat of that The fruit it bears, sad and pale though it be , proclaims no less the supreme victory of love, which was fruitful before life, and is f1 u itfu l afte1 it . Interprete 1 s of this legend ascribe to it a significan ce o f astronomical symbolism , and, certainly, the coincidence of the destiny of m an with the course o f the yeai , the decline of the sun , etc . , has been recognised from the earliest times . But a ll this is secondary, and of later observation . Its primal origin w a s in humanity, the a ctual wound of the bereaved widow of Egypt, and her inconsolable grief. On the other hand, let not the African and material coloring 19 8 W o ma n the Go ddess o f Go o dness . deceive you . Here , truly, is something more than regret fo r physical j oys , and unsatisfied desire . In such suffering doubt less nature demands something . But Isis did not d esire merely a man ; she longed fo r h im whom alone she loved , her own and n ot ~ a noth er— the same , always the same . The sentiment is entirely exclusive , and entirely individual . W e perceive it in the infinite care bestowed upon the body, so that not a single atom shall be lost, so that death may change no part of it, but one day shall restore, in its wholeness, this sole object o f lo ve . “ I long for h im who was mine, who was myself, and my completeness . I desire him, and he shall live again . The beetle reappears, and the ph oenix ; the sun, the year return . And so I long for h im, and he shall arise again . Am I not life and eternal nature Though he disappear some day, he will certainly return to me . I feel him, I carry h im within mys elf. In myself I had h im before I was . I tell you I was his sister and his lover ; but I was his mother also . Simple and profound truth ; and thus under a mythological form the triple mystery of love is expressed for the first time . The wife is a true sister to th e mari in the labors of life— more than s ister, ‘ an d more than wife, t o console him, and t o rest his weary head at night . Sh e comforts his fatigue a nurse , she lulls him to sleep , and taking him again into her bosom, brings him forth with renewed life, forgetful of all things, and r eju ve n ate d fo r the j oyous waking o f the morn . Such is the power of marriage, but not o f transient pleasure . The longer it lasts the more is the wife a mother to the husband, the more is h e her s on . It is their guaranty o f immortality . United thus , who shall disunite them ? Isis contained Osiris, and so inclosed him in her mate rnal tenderness, that all separation was but a phantasy . In this legend , so tender, so pure , so simple , there is a ma r v ellou s intimation of immortality, never surpa ssed . Be hope ful , all afflicted hearts, forlorn widows , and little orphans !

200 H o w W o ma n e xc e l s Man . H O W W O MAN EX C ELS MAN. TH E true happiness of the teacher is in finding himself s u rpa s s ed ' by h is pupil. W oman , constantly cultivated b y man , and enriched by his thought, s o dn beli eves ; and some morning she finds herself superior to him . Sh e becomes superior to him, as well by these new elements as by her personal gifts, which without the in spirations she derives from man would scarcely have come to light . Melo dio u s aspiration s, and sensibility to nature , these were in her; but they have flourished by love . Add on e gift ( so high , that it is the all in all , that which chiefly distinguishes o u r race from others)

a true and charming womanly hea1t , opulent

with compassion; with knowledge to console all, th e divinations o f pity . Sh e is docile , she is modest, she is unconscious of her splen d or ; but at every moment it blazes forth . Yo u take her to th e Jardin des Plantes, and she dreams there of Alps, and virgin forests of America . You take her to the galleries o f pictures, and she dreams of the time when there will no longer be museums, when whole cities shall be galleries, and have their walls painted like the Ca mp o- Sa n to . At the labored concerts of artists, she thinks of the concerts of the people which shall be hereafter— grand confederations wherein the souls o f all the human race will be united in a final harmony o f universal friendship . You are strong ; she is divine— a daughter and a sister o f nature . Sh e leans upon your arm, and yet she has wings . Sh e is feeble, she is in pain ; and it is j ust when her beautiful languishing eyes bear witness that she suffers, that the d ear sibyl soars to lofty heights and inaccessible summits . t knows how she mounts thither ? H ow W o man exce ls Ma n . 2 0 1 Your tenderness has done much towards that . If she h a s this power, if as woman and mother, united with man, she possesses in the midst of marriage the sibyll ine virginity, it is because your anxious love , surrounding the dear treasure , has divided and distributed your life , — for yo u , hard labor and the rude contacts of the world— for her, peace and love , ma te r nity, art, and all the tender cares of domesticity . Ho w well you have done ! and h ow grateful am I for it ! Oh ! woman , fragile globe of incomparable alabaster, wherein burns the lamp o f God, one must care for thee well , bear thee with a pious hand, and guard thee closely in the warmth o f his bosom . It is by sharing with her the miseries of the special labor with which your days are occupied , dear workman , that yo u will preserve her in the nobleness which only children and women have— that amiable aristocracy of the human race . Sh e is your nobleness, your own , to raise yo u above yourself. W hen you return from the forge, panting, fatigued with labor, she, young and fresh , pours over yo u her youth , brings the sacred wave of life to you , and makes yo u a god a gain , with a kiss . W ith so divine an object near you, yo u will n o t blindly follow the temptations which allure yo u from your rugged and narrow path . You will each moment feel the happy necessity o f elevating and extending your conceptions, in order to fol low your dear pupil whither you have elevated her . Your young friend, your scholar, as she modestly calls herself, will not permit you , 0 master, to shut yourself up in your avoca tion . Sh e beseeches you every moment to come out from it, and aid her to remain in harmony with all that is noble and beautiful . To suffice for the humble needs of your little com rade , you will be forced to be great . Sh e is practical , and she is spiritual

she has the most o c taves , above and below. Sh e is a lyre o f ampler range th an yo u , —but n o t complete, for she is not very strong in the middle chords . 2 02 H ow W o ma n e xc e ls Man . She reaches into the details o f matters which escape u s . And on the other hand , at certain times, she sees over our heads, pierces the future, the invisible, and penetrates through the body into the world o f spirits . But the practical faculty she has for small things, and the pr O p h etic faculty that sometimes leads t o great, have rarely a medium, stron g, calm, and melodious, whereby she can fall back upon herself, and fecundate herself. For the most part, she alternates rapidly without change , according to the month . Now her poetry declines to prose , then her prose rises to poetry, often by fierce storms, by sudden gusts of the mistral , like the climate of Provence . An illustrious reasoner laughs at these prophetic powers, and denies them, incontestable as they are . In the effort to depreciate them, he seems to confound the spontaneous insp i rations of the woman with somnambulism, a sickly, dan gerous ( state, a nervous debility, often caused by the arrogance of the man . H e asks what we can do with a faculty so uncertain , besides being physical an d inevitable . ” I kn ow that in spiration , even the most spontaneous, is n ot entirely free . It is always mingled and marked with a measure of fatality . If for that yo u would degrade it , you must con tend that eminent artists are n ot men . You must class with the women Rembrandt, Mozart and Correggio, Beethoven , Dante , Sh akspea r e, Pascal , all the great writers . Is it abso lu t ely certain that even those who believe in relying exclu s ively on logic, never yield to this feminine power of inspira t ion I find traces o f it even among the closest \ reasoners . Let them become ever so little artistic and , they unwittingly fall under the wand of the fairy . W e cannot say ( like Proudhon) that woman is only recep tive . Sh e is productive by her infl u ence upon man , both in the ideal , and in the real . Bu t her thought seldom attains a strong reality ; and that is why she has created s o little . The political world is generally almost inaccessible to her

2 04 H ow W oman e xc e ls Ma n. the effort he makes for her that kills her heart ou t , and th at by deserving more he begins to please her less . “ Let me do what I may, I do not attach her to m e . Sh e has been mine this long time , and yet I shall never truly po s sess her . ” Such was the rather singular remark that a man o f true merit, of a loving and faithful heart, always in love with his wife , made to me one day . Sh e, brilliant, but good and true, complaisant and amiable towards h im, could be the object o f no serious reproach . Sh e had no faults, but her superiority and her ever increasing distinction . H e felt, not wit hout sorrow, that she, h is darling idol , was no longer wrapped u p in him as at first ; and that, m spite of his devotion , she soared into a sphere ind epen dent ‘ of that in which he had concentrated his energies . These words perfectly explain the types I have set up in my chapters on education “ The modern man is essentially a worker, a producer ; the woman a harmony . ” The more the man becomes cr eatiye, the more striking the contrast . It explains much o f that coolness, which we should be wrong to regard as ficklen ess, ennui , satiety— a co olness which is n ot always because the pair are wearied with finding each other ever the same, with never changing—but on the contrary, because they have changed, and progressed and ascended . This progress, which should be a new reason for loving each other, is nevertheless the cause, that finding no longer their old points of union , they have but little influence over each other, and despair of regaining it . W ill they continue , thus coldly apart, indifferent, united only by interests ? No, the danger increases ; the heart will play its part elsewhere . For in France, the heart is very absolute , it demands the closest union , or another love . It says, all o r nothing . ” Indulge me in a paradox . I r ain tain that in spite o f th e reckless gaiety universally feigned, o u r p eriod is that in which H o w W o ma n e xce ls Man. 2 05 love is the most exacting, most insatiate . If it takes hold upon an object , it aspires to penetrate it to its lowest depth . Extremely cultivated , provided with so many new ideas, and new arts, which are as so many senses by which passion is tasted , however little we may have in us, we are sensible o f that by a thousand touches, to which o u r ancestors were insensible . Bu t ' it t o o often happens that the beloved object escapes perhaps from wan t of consistency, the true feminine flu idity p ei ' h a ps by brilliant transformations and the acquisition of dis tin ction s— perhaps, indeed, by friendships, those secondary relations wh ich divide the heart and weaken it . The man is humiliated, discouraged ; very often he perceives the sad consequences of this in his art, and in his en ergy, and depreciates himself on account of it . Then , oftener than on e would suppose , a passionate egotism reanimates and exalts his love . H e longs to regain , to repossess his dear creature, who sometimes, without irony, but with proud coldness, says smiling : Do what you can . ” Ter totum fervid a s ira, lu str at Aventini montem, te r s ai ea t enta t limina n equ icq u am, ter fessus valle r es edit . ” Three times , ardent, he makes the circuit of the mountain , three times shakes the cold rampart of stone, three times falls, and sits down in the valley . The difficulty, the mysterious negative influence, the inva lid ating impediment, comes almost always from outside . But it is not i nvariably found in an en emy ; it may be a mother, a sister , or a drawing - room friend, for aught I know . The most honorable cause has sometimes such effects . Indeed , a vehement friendship , turning aside the strength of love, some times suffices to disturb the harmony of marriage . I knew two accomplished ladies united in a close friendship . One , only, was married . The other remained u nmarried , in order to devote herself entirely to this attachment . The husband, a man of genius, a brilliant, fascinating writer, h a d 2 06 H ow W o man e xc e l s Ma n . evinced remarkable talent . The important question was, would his gift from the fairies become permanent ? would it be strengthened H e felt his inspiration by intervals— I was about to say, by chance . Then , his work eclipsed everything . W hat would he not have performed , if the strange spark had been blessed and watched over by love ? Sh e was extremely b eau tifu l, . an d her heart more lovely still . Sh e had an elevated, but very serious, moral nature, which made her slightly sensible of these capricious gleams ; and to confirm her in that, she had the friendship , the adoration , of a woman , herself adorable . Against this couple , so united and so perfect, could the husband hold his own ? A third person was de tr op there . His fine but wavering qualities, mingled with the sensitive defects which sometimes are attached to geni u s in decline, hardly coincided with the straight line which they applied to them . The two friends, virtuous, pure, and transparent as the light of noontide , indifferently relished his uncertain and sensuous graces, his transient twilight . H is uncertainty increased . H e was very gravely wron ged by not being believed in . His friends had faith in him, and called on h im to make good his promise ; but nothing can take the place of the internal suppor t . The wife is the grand umpire, and the sovereig n j udge . H e would have succeeded better, perhaps, with an inferior woman . Sh e, by her noble beauty, by her open purity, by her estimable talents, com man de d too much respect . Such excessive perfection af ords but little chance of appeal against its j udgments—j udgments al ways benevolent, but frank . This singular and charming man could do nothing save blindly . He needed a beloved hand to bandage h is eyes, and complete the blindness, which rendered him productive . On the contrary, he lived with j udicious reflection ever at his side . Solitary in the inspired moment, he yielded to the pru dence which checks inspiration , and so he fell short of his m ark, and missed his aim .

208 Th e H u miliations of Lo ve - Co nfe ssi o n . over, to be sure that it is clean and free, that it contains no forgotten root, n o living h erb , which might claim its share of the sap . The orange tree desires to be alone, Madam - and so does love . TH E H UM ILIATIO NS O F LO V Efi CO NF ESSIO N. LOVE is a very diverse thing, in kind and in degree . It differs very much in different nations . The French woman is an admirable partn er fo r her husband , in business, and even in ideas . If he does n ot employ her, it is possible that she may forget him . But let h im fali into difficulties, and at once she recollects that she loves h im, de votes herself to him, and sometimes ( as in ’9 3 ) dies for him . The English woman is a reliable wife , courageous, indefw tig able, who follows anywhere , and suffers everything . At the first sign she is ready . Lucy, t o - day I set out fo r Aus tralia . ” W ell , only give me time , dear, to put on my bon net . ” Th e ' German woman loves, and loves always . She is hum ble , obedient, and would like to obey still more . She is fitted fo r only dme thing, love—but that is boundless . W ith the German Woman yo u can easily change expedients , and if the on e you have is b ad, emigrate t o the en ds o f the earth . W ith the German woman you may live all alone , at a retired cbu n t ry—seat, in profound solitude . The Fren ch woman is capable o f that, only provided she is occupied , an d you have known h ow to create for her a great a ctivity of mind . H er strong personality is much more embarrassing, Th e H u m i li ati o n s o f Lo v e — Co nfess i on. 2 09 but it renders her capable of going far in a sacrifice, er en t o the extent of i mmblatin g her vanity, and her craving for dis play . Stendhal , an ultra Frenchman , strongly opposed t o Ger many, and ridiculing it every moment, makes this j ust remark : “ The best marriages are those of Protestant Ge r many . ” He saw Germany in 1 8 1 0, I s aw it in 1 8 3 0— and often since . Things have changed in the higher classes, and in some of th e large cities, but not throughout the country ; there is l eve ry where the humble obedient wife , anxious t o obey— in a word , the loving woman . True love , profound love , is recognised by this, that it kills all other passions : pride, ambition , coquetry, all are lost in it, all disappear . It is so far from pride, that it often runs into the other ex treme , and ranges itself on the opposite pole . Anxious to be absorbed, it goes far o u t o f itself, very easily forgets what is called dignity, and without hesitation sacrifices the graceful appearances intended fo r th e public . It conceals n o bad quali ties , but sometimes exaggerates them— aspiring to please by no merit, but by excess o f love Lover and mystic are herein completely blended . In both the humility is excessive—a desire to abase themselves, so much th e more to exalt their g o d ; whether it be a beloved woman , or a favorite saint, the effect is the same . I forget which devotee it wa s who said : If I could only have been the dog o f St . Pauline . ” More than once have I heard a lover say the same thing “ If I were only her dog ! But such disparagements of the soul , such excesses o f humility, love should not indulge in . Its effort, on the co n tra ry, should be to elevate her who loves , at least to hold her up to the man ’ s level , to cultivate a union by that which binds her fast , which alone renders her r ea l— equality . W hen two souls are so disproportionate no interchange, n o blending can 2 1 0 Th e H u m iliati o ns o f Lo ve— Co nfe ssi on. be possible . You cannot harmonize everything and nothing This is the torment which Colonel Selves (Soliman Pacha) did not hesitate to acknowledge . How, ” said he, “ can you know that a n oriental woman loves you ? ” W e wh o have th e happiness to possess in our European women souls and wills, whatever embarrassment these wills may at times cause us, ought yet to avoid Whatever may shatter them, and break the mainspring of the soul . Two things, especially, are infinitely dangerous to them The fir st— by which imprudent women of the present dav are very much abused— is the magnetic power . Their u nf or t u n ate facility of submitting to it is a real disease, which pei man ently inj ures them, and is aggravated by cultivation . This peril should not exist ; it is disgraceful to see a man who is not beloved, and who has no power over her heart, assume an u n limited power over the will o f a woman . Sh e becomes his slave— compelled to move at h is sign , o r disclose before witnesses the most h u miliating secrets . Sh e follows him fatally . Wh y ? Sh e cann ot tell

he is her superio

‘ r neither in talent n o r energy ; but she surrenders herself, under pretext of medical treatment, or for the amusement o f society and behold her abandoned to a thousand unknown chan ces . Have these victims the true medical inspiration ? time will show . Bu t whatever it be, the gift is dearly paid for, since it creates an i nvalid, a humiliated in valid , who parts with the disposi tion o f h er own will . Even h e whom she loves, her lover o r her husband, if she beseeches him to assume this power over h er, ought to consider well before h e does so . Instead of evoking from her this passive slavery, this obscure inspiration , he should associate her with the active faculties, which ar e those o f liberty, and should exercise over her only o n e kind of attraction— open love . Another power which every generous man will beware of exercising, is that o f violence— the fascination of fear . W omen throughout Asia ( I might alm ost say throughout

2 1 2 Th e H u miliatio n s o f Lo ve—Co nfessi o n. truth an amiable one ) which disturbs her, and incites her to provoke the man by sharp words and d efian ce s . French women perfectly unde1 stand this . It i s not a question o f self love, bu t o f love . The 1 e is no need to retaliate ( as they a re too apt to do in England) n or is it wis e i to laugh , o r coax a sudden chan ge from quarrels to caresses . But parry a little, maneuvre a little . In an interval of weakness, of natural r ea c tion , her good- humor returns she confesses that she is wrong, and repays you by being good again . In barbarous times the government of ' the family, like the government of the State, was a system o f coup s d ’eta t. Let us pass on , I beg, t o times that have been civilized and soft ened by mutual understandings, by that freer and milder rule which comes from harmony o f will . Man ’ s domestic coup d ’éta t is that ignoble brutality which lays its hard hand upon a woman , that savage violence which profanes a sacred object ( so delicate and so easily wounded) that impious ingratitude which insults an d outrages one ’ s own altar . The woman ’ s coup d eta t, a w ar o f the feeble against the strong, is her own shame— the adultery which humiliates the husband , imposes u pon h im child ren not his o wn, and degrades both , rendering them for ever miserable . Neither o f these crimes would be common , if the union were every day strengthened by mutual confid en ces , by a per manent communion , wherein the most trifling differences, dis sipate d as soon as perceived, would not have time to swell into such tempests . In their obliga tion ' t o tell each other every thing, they would be more watchful of themselves . Tempta tions, if they are not brooded over, lose thei r force . C oujugal confession ( a sacrament of the future) is the very essence of marriage . As we eme rge from the coarse and bar barous state in which we are still plunged, we shall learn that we are married precisely for that— to unbosom ourselves every day, to disclose all things without reserve, o u r bus i e Th e H u mili a ti o ns o f Lo ve— Co nfe ss ion. 2 1 3J n ess, o u r thoughts, our feelings— to keep nothing to ourselves, to share o u r souls entirely— even those formless clouds, which may become great storms in the heart that nurses instead of expelling them . This, I repeat, is the fo u ndation of marriage . Is gene ra tion essential to it ? No . Even in sterility there may b e, complete union ; without children there may be m a r r ing Does it consist in an interchange of pleasure ? No . Even when the pleasure has died out with age or disease, still ther e is ” m a rr ia ge . But it consists in daily interchanges o f thoug ht and will , in the continual blending and harmony of two souls . Let the beautiful maxim ' of the law— ma rr ia g e is con s en t— b e verified every d a y let the c o n fiden ces o f every moment assure both that they are in the way wherein each consents t o what the other desires and does . W h om should you marry , lady ? The m an who is willing to live before you in the full light of day, concealing no thought or act, conceding and communicating everything . Whom should yo u avoid ? The man who , freely promis ing to give himself up , still holds himself aloof— who , in th e selfish inclosures o f his soul , app 1 op 1 iat es to himself a n exclusive part in What should be common p 1 operty— who keeps on e sentiment under lock arid key, on e thought to himself. Pure, gentle, and faithful women , who have nothing to con ceal and nothing to atone fo r, have yet, even more than others, the need ofloving confessions, of continual o ve rflowin gs into a loving heart . W h y is it that men , generally, profit so little by such an element of happiness ? It must be because a used - u p youth , o r the b ewild e rings of the world , render u s blind and brutish , true enemies of ourselves, th at w e do n ot a t once perceive that so tender a communication is the most exquisite enj oyment a woman can bestow upon 11 s . Oh , as for that, most men are unworthy o f it They smile , they scarcely listen ; sometimes they show that they a r r 2 14 Th e H u miliati o ns o f Lo v e— Co n fe ssi o n. sceptical in regard to simplest revelation s, which sh ould not only be accepted , but adored . And yet there is nothing so very new in it . In matters of business the married pair consult and confide in each other. They should be equally confidential in matters o f the heart, in matters of religion and love, as to agitations, emotions, and all the secret life o f imagination . W e a r e united , married, only by an extreme , conclusive and perilous pledge— to deliver up our last secret, and to put ourselves mutually in each other ’ s power, by telling each other everything . Do w no t pass by the dear creature when she is a little ill , when her heart is troubled with foolish dreams, as will often happen to th e purest ; do not leave her distrustful of h er. husband , whom yet she loves ; teach her t o trust in your indulgence, and ask your advice, rather than deliver up her important secret (which at bottom is j ust nothing at all) to some o n e who henceforth will have a threat for both her and you , wh o will hold her by it , and on the street, without a word, will have but to look at your poor innocent to make her blush , and cast down her eyes . And here again is somethin g to r eflect upon — If a worthy and reasonable woman become some what capricious, h er hus band should ask himself the reason , and if the fault may n o t be in himself. In the midst o f life, with all its intoxication and its folly, we neglect the essential things, we neglect even What we love most . The husband should say to himself : P e rh aps s h e is right ; I am growing tedious, t o o much absorbed in o n e thing . ” Or rather, Do I s u fl ‘ icien tly respect her delicacy in o u r physical relations . Am I not disa greeable to her ? ” o r again , “ Sh e j ustly regards me in a painful aspect, morally ; I am hard and sordid . . Ah , well ! I w ill recover her heart ; I will be more charitable , m ore generous, more m agnanimous . I will be above myself. Sh e must n ecessarily perceive that, after all , I am better than h e who makes himself agreeable to her, an d especially that I love her more . ”

2 1 6 Th e Commu n i o n o f Lo ve . Because we have abandoned the untenable a rgument o f an a rbitrary providence , existing from day to day by personal decrees and little coup s d ’eta t, is that as much as to acknow ledge that we do not perceive that high , impartial Love, which , reigns by its own grand laws ? And being Reason , is it not also Love ? As for me , I feel beneath me the mighty wave that bears me up . From the depths of life a strange fervor arises, a fruitfu l aspiration ; a breath passes before my face, and I feel a thousand deaths in me . ' To reduce all religions to one head , in order to cut that on e off, is a very easy proceedin g . But if you effaced the last trace o f historical religions and established creeds in this world, the Eternal Creed would remain . The Maternal pro viden ce of Nature, adored in th e midst of dead and living religions of the past or of the future , and o f which you do n ot think, remain s immutable ; and when the last great Deluge shall burst over o u r little globe , it will still endure, in d estr u c tible as that W orld o f which it is the charm and the life . This, my , faith in a loving cause , obscured, I could no longer act . W ithout the happiness of feeling that this world is beloved, and that I am beloved in it , I should no longer wish to live . Then lay me in the tomb , for the spectacle of Progress would have no more interest for me ; though Art and Thought should soar higher still , I should no longer have streng th to follow . Thou gh to the thirty sciences that were born but yesterday, you should add thirty more, or a thou sand— as many as ‘ you please— I should not want them . W hat could I do with them, wh en Love is extinguished in me The Orient —humanity in its first beautiful dawn, before the sophistical centuries obscured it— set o u t from an idea which will become dominant again in o u r second childhood, a zenith of wisdom . That idea is, th at the Communion o f Love, sweetest of the mys teries of Go d, is also the highest , and that its clear gleam fo r a moment displays th e Infinite to us Th e Com mu n i o n o f Lo ve . 2 1 7 Dark in an inferior state of bein g ( and such 1s ours at fir st ), it becomes brighter and brighter, in proportion as the flame is fed with refining and sanctifying love . I do not here repeat what I said last year on this subject , so important to all , about the touchin g, the terrible mystery wherein a woman , to impart life, sports with her own— wherein pleasure , happiness , fruitfulness, bring us face to fa ce with death . We feel it in that hour, in our profound agitation we feel it in our quivering flesh , and m o u r icy bones , a thunderbolt falling could add nothing to it . At the momeirt when we are so near losing o u r beloved, when the chill of the agony is u pon u s, if voice remained to u s, we should utter o n e cry, torn from o u r inmost being, an d from th e depths of truth ; W oman is a religion . ” We may utter it n ow, we may utter it always ; for it will be always true . I said it of my own little girl , while yet she was but a child A religion of purity, of mercy, and of poetry . ” H ow much more should I say it now, that, truly a woman and a m other, she, by her grace, radiates on all sides a har monio u s power, which from the family circle projects into society still wider circles A religion of goodness and civilization . ” It is especially in religious eclipses— when the traditions of the past pale on the horizon , when a new world , complicated and fettered even by its own greatness, organizes itself but slowly— that woman can do much to sustain and console . To the support of the central Idea, which , slowly evolving itself, develops the oneness of intelligence , sh e , without kn owin g it, brings the charmin g unity of life , o f love, of religion itself. In the great a ssemblies of mere, Which h ave n o t worship fo r their object , in the popular concerts o f Germany (wherein five or six thousand musicians ar e met), in th e vast political or military fraternities o f Switzerland a n d F ran ce , s u ch as 1 0 2 1 8 Th e Commu n i on o f Lo v e . they have been and will be, the presence of women bestows a holy emotion . Our C ou nti y 1s n ot the1 e , if our mothers and 0m wives m e not there with their ch ildl en . Speaking only of family and of individual happiness, I sh ould , simply say of W oman , in the language a good laborer on e day made use of before me Sh e is the Su nday o f man . ” That is to say, n o t merely the repose, but the charm, the salt o f life , an d the reason why we wish to live . Th e Su n da y the j oy, the freedom, the festival , the cherished, the sacred part of the soul— n ot the half, n o r a third, nor a fourth , but the whole . Ful y to fathom the significance of that word Swadd y, which means much more than idleness, it ' is necessary to know all that passes in the mind of a laborer 011 Saturday evening, all the dreams that float there , all the hopes and aspirations . Is it woman in general , or some pretty mistress, to whom you must look for your Sunday ? No , it must be your own wife, your gentle , amiable , faithful wife , because only with her is a sentiment o f ce1 t ainty mingled with your enj oyment— a feeling of definite possession , which deepens your happiness, and makes it delightful: The penetrating perception and fine appreciation of a woman so devoted, who affords you so many pleasures , far from lessening your co ntent, opens to you, in a ‘ th ou san d delicate forms, a vast unknown o f beatitude . In her is every sweet and sacred emotion . Sh e br ings back ‘ to yo u , even purer than of old , the solemn impressions of your childhood . Your morning awakings, when you were but twelve years old,, which you can yet 1 ecollect —the fi esh nes s o f the early dawn , the silvery bell of the village , as it soun ded then— all seem far away, and vanished, never to return . But , o n Sun day morning, having toiled late into the night, and awaking rather later than usual , yo u are greeted by the soft smile of your wife, who fo r a long time has been gazing on you , and wh o, with h er cheerfu l voice, and h er round fi rms about you,

2 2 0 Th e Co mmu n io n o f Lo ve . little picture of the Carpenter ; at least , if he does n ot plane like him, he reads and r e - reads a book . But as he reads, he is conscious that the children are out there , because from time to time they utter something very low . Behind him he per c eives, ' n ot with his eyes, but with his heart, something that makes no noise—her gentle , wavy movements, and her light step . Sh e / d o es only what is indispensable , and, with her finger o n her lip, makes a sign to them to be very good, and n ot disturb him . And what are the children doing ? I am curious to know . They are reading a good book . . They are reading of the bold adventures, the hardihood and sacrifices of the old travellers, who Opened the world for u s, an d suffered s o much fo r us . This cofl ' e e, children , that your father drinks, the sugar you put into your milk so freely ( perhaps t o o much of it), were all bought with heroism and suffering be grateful , then . To Providence we owe thos e other providences, the great souls who slowly bind this globe together, who enligh ten it and make it fruitful , who bring it, o r soon will bring it, into the harmony and unity o f one single manly soul . ” By degrees she tells them of those material communions which prepare them for the moral o n e— of navigation , commerce , roads, canals, railroads, and the electric telegr aph . Material ! I conform to the foolish phraseology of the time b u t they are in no respect material . These things c ome. from the mind and they return t o the mind, of which they are th e means and shapes . In introducin g n ations t o each other, sup pressing ignorances and blind antipathies, I maint ain that they a re equally moral and religious powers, or as I have said, commun ions . To teach them gradually, according to their intelligence, w ith suitable slowness and precaution , is to impart to childre n r elig 10u s instruction , to train them in a divine spirit , in th e spirit of goodness and tenderness . Wh o does n ot feel th ese ‘ r evelation s in h is hea rt wh en they Th e ' Commu n io n o f Lo v e . 2 2 1 come to him from beloved lips ? The children are amused but he, wh o knew all this before , in receivin g it again from h er , with such asoftening charm, is silent in his perfect ecstasy, and feels that all our n ew arts are but powers of love . Father and children are alike nourished by her soul and her sweet wisdom . They listen, and w hen she has finished , they awake as from a dream . A slight noise, a little tic - tac, is heard o n the window. ‘ It is the remonstrance of a winged neighbor the house - sparrow says , in his frank, petulant way : What , you little selfish things ! when the weather is so bad do you take care only o f yourselves . ” This speech has a tre mendou s efl ' e ct they open the window and throw h im bread . But what an excitement when on e of their guests, bolder than the rest, taking advantage o f the chance, enters and bravely hops to the farther end of the room . 0 thank yo u , cousin R e d Breast, who, without ceremony, remind us of what we had forgotten— the universal relation ship . You are right ; is not our home indeed yours also ? ” They hardly dare to breathe their mother throws him some crumbs, very carefully, so as n ot to frighten him . And he, not at all abas hed, having picked t hem all up, and even approached the hearth , flies off, leaving this adieu behind him “ Good by, my good little brothers If dinner- time were n o t so near, their mother would have much to say ; but they must have something t o eat, and you too , little robins . At dessert, she tells them o f the banquet of - nature, to which God invites all his creatures, ” great and small , to sit down , placing them accordin g to thei r intelligence, their industry, their activity and labor—the ant high u p, and some giant like the rhinoceros or hippopotamus low do wn . If m an sits in the ‘ highest seat, it is because o f one thing alone—his perception of the grand harmony and the Love divine , his tender sympathy with all that emanates from it, his sublime gift of Pity . 2 2 2 Th e O fliees o f Na tu re . Why is it that this discourse , which at another time might pass unheeded, enters the hearts of the children ? W ha t engraves this hour o n their memory, and why are they . touched ? Because their parents consummate before them that act of fraternity which their , mother ’ s p r a yer ~b espoke in the morning the laborer will share his toil with his brothe r — even his life and his soul . W ith tearful eyes she embraces him, and the table is sanctified . Enough fo r one day . No w children , gladden yo u 1 father s heart by a double song h a song of th e French land m its days of great sacrifices, which , i n the hour of need , you would imitate ; and a hymn of gratitude to God, the benefact01 o f the world, who has given yo u thi s day, an d perhaps his own tomorrow . N ow let us go to bed . Your father, very tired, is almost asleep n ow. He sat up so late last night, to finish his Satur day ’ s rk ! Sleep , my own—sleep , my children ; and Go d keep you while yo u sleep . ” And so blessing them all , she carefully covers up the fire, making no noise, hardly breathing, and quietly lies down near him, very careful n ot to wake him . Though he sleeps, he well knows sh e is there ; for she is his spring- time of love, his summer in the midst of gloomy winter . In herself ar e all season s . What is all nature to her sacred charm ? X IV. TH E O FFIC ES O F NAT URE. TH E two natural and 1 ea son able aspects of 1 eligion a1 e demonstrated in the tendencies of the man and the woman , as they are displayed by each . Ma n perceives the infinite 1n the invariable Laws of the universe , which are the ways of God ’ s

2 2 4 Th e Offic es o f Na t u re . This explanation was necessary to introduce us to the inmost heart of the man and the woman , an d to their t wo religions, wherein each plays a distinct and very delicate part, each fearing to wound th e other ; fo r generally they do n o t know howmuch , after all , they harm onize—hence th e gropings, t h e hesitations fu ll of fears, the faint contest between t wo souls which in reality are but o ne . Never in the daytime , before witnesses, is this tender struggle ; the children must be asleep , even the light put out . It is their last thought on the pillow . But although each maintains a tru e and sacred aspect of religion ( he the Laws, she the Cause) , there is this material difference : that in God th e man perceives rather His modes o f existence , His laws of action the woman H is love , which continually prompts His actions . She is more in the sanctuary o f God, I should say, and nearer . to his heart . Thus, having the Love, she has all the rest and understands it all . She touches at will every note o n the grand key- board, while man for the most part knows but a few. Sh e comprehends by intuition all the natural manifestations o f Go d, from grave ' to gay, from lively to severe . She is sovereign mistress of this divine art, and teaches it to man . “ W hence, indeed, does she get all this ? ” he asks . “ Where finds she this treasure of loving things, this torrent of enchantments W here, but in thine own love , and in the love she bears to thee, in the reserved riches of a heart which no outpourings, no genera tions can empty . Every day it gives out a world, but still the universe remains . So simple , so modest, and yet so superior ! From day to day you go on \ blindly, never marking the course of time , your eye fixed on the earth , by the necessities of toil ; but she perceives more clearly the progress o f time , for she is in harmony with it . She follows it hourly, ch a r ged with the duty of foreseeing for you, your n eeds , your pleasures , your repasts, and your repose; in every moment a duty, but also Th e Offic es o f Natu re . 2 2 5 a poetical delight . From month to month , warned by th e pangs of love, she scans the passing time , and watches its sacred march . When the solemn hours of the ye ar are struck , in the flight of seasons, she hears the impressive chant uprising from the depths of nature . She has her ritual , in no wise arbitrary, which to h e r expresses the life of her country, in its immutable relations with the life divine . It is no easy matter to meddle with that . The traditions, the authority, which impose upon on e people the rites of another, tend to produce n aught but jar ring discord . The songs o f the exalted Orient, beautiful as they are, are discordant in Gaul , for has she not her son g of the lark, which as bravely rises to Go d . Our sunrise is not the sunrise of America nor of J udea, nor are our fogs the heavy mists of the Baltic ; an d all these have their voices . Our climate , our hours, our seasons, all sing after their own fashion ; and the woman , with her fine French ear, has ca u g h t ‘ th em all . Yet, do not ask her fo r them ; she would sing you only the conventional strain . But when she is at hom e alone , somewhat saddened by your absence , and quietly working— in her pensive mood, she hums in an undertone , a simple and holy strain that comes of itsel f of the day and the hour, her own humble vespers, her heart song for Go d and for thee . How well she knows the festivals, the true festivals, o f the year ! In that, be guided by her ; for she alone perceives th e days of grace wherein heaven is loving towards the earth , the high divine indulgences . She knows them, because she makes them— she , the kindly smile of Go d, the festival and the Christmas, the everlastingEaster, of love , wherein the heart lives, and lives, an d lives . NVith o u t her, w h o would care fo r spring ? H o w sickly, then , and sad , would be the fruitful warmth with which all life ferments . But with her— enchantment ! Freed from their winter confinement , they go forth into th e 1 0* 2 2 6 Th e Offic es o f Natu re . air . She in a white dress, although ‘ at times the warm sun is chilled by a touch of the north Wind ’ s breath . All is life, but all is combat, t o o . In the meadow, growing green again , there is sport and contest ; kids against kids try their sprouting horn s ; the nightingales, that have come a fortnight before their mistresses, co ‘ ntend in duels o f song for priorities of love . In the midst of this pleasant combat, o u t of which p r o ceeds a seeming peace, s h e appears— she, the truce, the goodness, the beauty, the living j oy o f this world ! As she advances, her tender heart is divided between ‘ two loves . From both sides they appeal to her . W ith brimming hands her children bring her youn g flowers, and cry, Mamma see! see ! ” wh ile / a n oth er whispers in her ear, and still she smiles . Not, with impunity may one ‘ thus have a charming woman on his arm, so near his bosom and his heart . Very sweetly he urges her, and she is n ot insensible . Devoted and tender, she hearkens to all , s o ti uly does she wish to make them all happy . “ Yes, my little ones —yes, my darling . ” She says to them, “ Let us play, then ; and to him, “ 0, whatever yo u wish ! ” But in her extreme goodness, which renders her even weakly obedient t o her children , whoever knows h owto observe her may detect behind her smile a pensive abstrae tion . H er husband thinks only o f her, but she thinks of Go d . W hen th e pretty festival of field flowers , and the lab ors of g h aymakin g, return with the warmth and mildness, she , like the others, comes with her rake to ’ work . But beautiful as she always is, her form has n ow a ssumed a sweet luxuriance , which , w hile it 1 enews her freshness, yet weighs h er down . H er white bosom, whence her children have drawn their life , those t i ea su r es which even he wh o knows them best woul d hide away, these render her a little lan guid , a little indolent . She 1s soon fatigued , and they fe i bid her to work , but they work for her . He1 children , gay and happy—:h er husband,

2 2 8 Th e Offic es o f Natu re . o n the promised day he reminds her. But, my dear, should not the work be ’ finished first This gray, uncertain weather, veiled by a transparent ‘ gauze of mist, is so admirable fo r the vintage ! Let us make haste . This mild, pale sun , p1 er c1n g through the haze , to bestow a part ing kiss o n the amber grape , w ill kiss away the dew from it . Now is j ust the time to gather them . In the evening we shall no longer be separated . It is n ot so warm n ow ; I shall return to thee and take refuge with thee all the winter — H ere is joy indeed ! In certain countries the apes and the bears are fud dled with g rapes . W hy should n ot the wits of man be stag ger ed ? As for this on e, he is drunk before he h a s drunk ; but she is sober . Softly, softly, let us set a goo d example , and work . ” In the vintage there is complete fraternizing ; all are equal there, and your smart werker is your only aristocrat . To her it is a great pleasure t o sup in friendship with the people . All are welcome, even those who have not helped . She will be truly happy to have them . _ She knows all the village well , and misses the absent . So and so, what about him H e is unwell . W ell , we will send for him . An d another is travel ling . Thus she inquires for all , wishing she could have them all together, united and friendly . Th e place is ample— one of those amphitheatres of hills from which some vineyards look down upon the se ’ a— the weather so mild, you may dine in the Open air . A gentle breeze favors the departure of the winged travellers that flit ath wart the sky . Th e day is short although not old, it s eerris already to assume the pensiveness o f evening . Never was she more beautifu l

her eyes beam with im

pressive sweetness and each feels that she looks o n h im, and wishes him well , that she thinks of him, and o f all . By her tender regards the whole country is blessed . Her daughter had twined for her a charming crown of vine branches, delicate heliotropes, and the red vervain— a royal and right feminine crown , which perfumes all the air around . She declines it at first, but her husband insists ; he w ould crown her, if he could , with all the crown s o f earth . Yet she seems sad . “ What is the matter “ Ah , I am too happy ! ” All our friends, all our kindred, are here . And all these good people— not one has stayed away . ” “ Alas ! my dear, those, only those, who suffer and who weep are absent . Pardon Sh e can say no more ; her emotion chokes her . To hide a falling tear she bends over her glass, and that adorable pearl is mingled with the blood of the vine . H er husband snatches the !glass from her lips, and empties it at a draught . Bu t those who do not understand, and ” only know she weeps, are moved in sympathy with her . And all are in communion with her heart . Bo ox III. - WOMAN IN So crs r v. W O MAN AN ANGEL O F PEAC E AND C IV ILI! AT IO N. W OM AN, in her superior aspect, is the mediator o f love . A profound and delightful influence which is manifested in two revelations . In proportion as the first, the attraction of sex , and plea sure— the sanguine storm of life— fades out and dies, the second appears in all its celestial sweetness— the influence of peace, consolation , and mediation . Man is, most o f all , an agent of cr ea tion . H e p r odu ces , but in two senses ; for he also produces wars, discords, and combats . In the midst o f the arts and the ideas, the torrent of benefactions; that flow from his fruitful hand, flows also a flood of evils, which woman follows, to soften , con s ole, /a n d heal . I am traversing a dangerous forest, and I hear a stealthy step . Surely that must be a man , I say, and I stand on my guard . But behold , it is a woman . “ H ail , gentle angel o f peace ! ” An Englishman who made a benevolent tour throug h Ire land , thirty years ago , to inquire into th e evils o f the land

2 3 2 W oman an Ang e l o f Peac e . of fine genius has j ustly described and appreciated mature ag e, and even the approach of old age , which n o woman con templates without a shudder . This formidable period see ms to h er to have its own charms— a tranquil grandeur which youth has not . “ Youth , ” she says, very nearly ( I regret that I cannot recall her exact words ), “ is an Alpine country , full of sur prises, with its rocks, its torrents, its cascades . But old a ge is a majestic French garden , with noble shadows and beautiful long stretches of promenade, wherein we may see afar off the friends who are coming to meet u s— wide walks, where several may go abreast and talk together— indeed a pleasant place for social converse . ” W e should be wrong to conclude from this beautiful com parison that old age is samely and monotonous ; it is just the contrary . W oman has privileges then which she has not had at any other age . The customs of society held her cap tive; sh e was required to avoid certain conversations—certain associations were forbidden her ; even the walks of charity were often difficult and dangerous to her . An u nj ust world was prone to speak evil of her . Bu t as she grows old she is enfranchised, and enj oys all the privileges o f an honest liberty . The result is, that the whole scope o f her mind is brought into play , she thinks and speaks m an original and independent manner . Thus she becomes h er s elf. All you ng and pretty women are at liberty to be fools, because they are always sure o f being admi red . But not so with the old woman . Sh e must have wit ; and because she has it, she is generally agreeable an d amusing . Madame de Sevigne expresses this idea v ery prettily ( I quote from memory)

“ Youth and spring, ” she says , “ are green , uniformly green ; but we autumn al people are o f all colors . ” Such a woman has it in her power to exert , 011 all around her, those amiable social influences which are a peculiarity o f W oma n an Ang e l o f Peac e . 2 3 3 France . These , 1n fact, are but manifestations of that bene volent and sympathizing disposition which puts a man at his ease, which lends wit even to those who have it n ot , and gives them confidence, overawing the gigglers, who take thought less pleasure in embarrassing the timid . This royalty of goodness fills her parlor with a gentle r a dia nce . Especially does ' she encourage the man whom the fine talkers silence, and who, under the protection of a woman of esprit, who lends him her countenance , assumes a modest confidence . The conversation there is , n ot ’ th e vacant badi nage we find everywhere else, that eternal gossip in which empty heads have all th e advantage . W hen some well - in formed man has stated his point clearly, without prolixities o r pedantry, she adds . j ust o n e word from the heart, which often makes it clearer to himself, imparting warmth as well as light to what he has said, and rendering it agreeable and easy to understan d . Then they look at each other, and smile, and there is mutual appreciation . W e ar e not sufficiently sensible of the fact that sometimes a simple word from a woman can save a man , and raise him u p, teach him to respect himself, and give him an abiding strength , which until then he had not . I one day saw a forlorn , sickly child, with a timid, sly, pitiful co u ntenance— and yet he had talent . His mother, who was a hard woman , said to me : “ I cannot imagine what is the matter with him . ” I can , madam, ” I replied ; he has never been kissed ” and that was only too true . W ell , in Society, that capricious mother of genius, there are many wh o fail ( and not the smallest number either), because they have never been kissed , applauded, encouraged . No one knows h ow this happens . N 0 o n e has a grudge against them ; but no sooner do they timidly venture a word, than every one turns a cold shoulder to them ; or worse— they take no notice of it, or very likely laugh at it . 2 3 4 Last . Lo ve —W omen ’ s Fri endsh ip s . Beware lest this snubbed and flou te d ’ stranger be anx angel o f genius unawar es . Oh , if at such a moment some woman , influential by h er wit , her grace, h e1 culture , had caught u p the 1 ema1 k ( often forcible, sometimes profound), as it escaped f1 cm the lips of the pariah— if taking him by the hand, she had distinguished him, and shown the sneerers and the jeerers that this pebble was a diamond— what a change would have been there . Justified, e xalted, triumphant, he would soon have shown that in such company he alone was a man , and the rest—nothing . LAST LO V E — W O MEN ’ S F R IEND SH IPS. TH E great divorce of death is so overwhelming to , the wife, left alone and unconsoled, it is so bitter to her , that she de sires and hopes to follow her husband to the tomb . It will kill me, ” sh e says . Bu t alas ! it is but rarely that sh e can die . If the widow does not mount the funeral pile o f her husband , as they do in India, slie 1 8 m danger of surviving h im a long time . Nature seems to take pleasure in h umiliating the sincerest, and doing her a spite, by preserving her in all her youth and beauty . Th e physical effects o f grief are various, even directly opposed, according to temperament . I have seen a lady buried in grief and dro wned in tears, hopelessly pros tr a ted fo r life, yet in a flourishing plenitude of health . Her entire engrossment in he r sorrow, her fixity of grief, had lent h er beauty what it lacked— a lovely luxury . Sh e blushed , she groaned for it, and the shame of her seeming heartlessness added t o her despair . "Tie a decree of nature , ’ tis the will of God, that this pleaso

2 3 6 Last Lo ve . —W o me n ’ s Frie n dship s . qui ckly dies out , in a pur e woman , on the contr ar y, is p ro longed, and often aggravated A less r apid cir culation , a life less gay and less cer ebr al less dive r sified by fancy, a slight e mbonpoint, by which ( even in spite of h er fasting and h er tears ) she is strengthened and b ea u tified— all this agitates and Oppresses h er . The determinations of blood ‘ to the head, the extreme n er vous excitements, the d welling o n the past, by which th ey have profited so little, fill their lives with pains and humilia tions, which are their secret they are martyrs to their o wn unprofitable reveries . Punished by their very virtue , and their postponed du ty, they too often become victims to the cruel diseases of thei r time of life . Or perhaps the poor lonesome creatures, toys of fate , for all their strictness, fall into some sudden shame, at which the world ruthlessly laughs . He who has loved his wrfe and is dying now, should look into the future for her ; fo r he can see better than she can , through her tears . H e should foresee and prepare for her, should im pose no obligations uponh er , ‘ b u t rath er deliver her from her scruples— i sh o u ld even , magnanimously, constitute himself her father, to liberate the dear child, to direct and instruct her beforehand, and arrange h er future life fo r her . Thus the first union is never quite dissolved . It is main t ain ed by obedience , by gratitude and affection . If she mar ries again, far from forgetting him, o n the contrary living by his law, in the calm of her heart she says to herself, I did what he wished ; whatever happiness is mine now I owe to him . To his forethought I am indebted for the consolations and the tranquillity o f the last love . It is for the highest interest o f the widow, if she must r e s rg n herself to a second marriage, to take th e nearest— I do not mean the next of kin , as in the Jewish law— b u t the kin dred Spirit . I mean o n e who loved the dead, one wh o was part and parcel of the husband ’ s o wn soul , and for whom, the widow, from the very fact ' that she once belonged to him, La st Lo v e . - W omen ’ s Fri endsh ip s . far from losing, on the contrary possesses additional charms . That power o f transformation , inherent in marriage, through which the woman at length contains physically and morally another existence , would perhaps distress the irreproachable wife, if the second husband were not identical with the first in love and friendship . Why is the widow generally prettier than the young girl Some on e h a s said, because Love has passed over her . ” But he should also have said because “ love still abides with her we see in her its beautifying traces . In cultivating such a flower time has not been wasted . Promising but little in the bud, love has created -from it a rose, a hundred- leaved rose, in each leaf a seductive charm . Sh e is , all grace , all soul . Does possession detract from her attractions No , it rather adds to them . If she was happy while watched over by a worthy heart, render h er happy again . In the brilliant freshness of her middle age , so m uch richer, yo u will have little cause to gret th e meagre , frail beauty of her first youth . Maidenhood, itself, blooms again in a pure woman whom a tranquil life has consoled and b ea u t ifie d . Sh e is innocently attuned to the harmony of her two loves . H a s a man only one life , has th e soul but on e mode of per petu ating itself Apart from the persistent influ ence ' o f our immortal energy, do we n ot at the same time bestow some emanation from ourselves, upon the friends w h o receive our thoughts, and sometimes prolong the dearest affections of o u r hearts ? The glowing historian who inherited the last love o f his master, Bernardin de Saint Pierre, caught a reflection from him and in . the critical austerity of an eminent lrist o ' r ian of o u r o wn time , o ne may recogn ise a great inheritance, if it be true that he had the glorious happiness o f communicating with the soul of the eighteenth century , in the person of Ma dame . de C orrd or cet . Many , either already aged or perfectly free from the r e straints of youth, would n o t accept a second marriage . 2 3 8 Last Lo ve . — W omen ’ s Frien dsh ip s . An adoption satisfies them . The widow can per petuate the soul of h e r firs t husband m an adopted son , whom he may have recommended to her . Such an interest will fill h e r h eart and give h er an object 1 i1 life . There are so many children without parents, so many whose parents are far away . W e d o n o t realize h ow much , in o u r severe schools, a forl or n child has need o f a woman ’ s pity . For a lad lost in one of those immense colleges which are almost armies, the best o f good genii is a lady to keep a maternal eye upon him, t o visit and comfort him, to intercede for him when he is punished , above all ‘ t o take him out into the fields and walk with him, and teach him, more perhaps than he would learn in a week ’ s s tudy, and to w atch his play and choose his playmates . Sh e will be still more useful to him when he is transferred to the high schools . Sh e will preserve him there from many perils that even a mother could n ot avert for he will confide t o h er a thousand things of which his more timid mother would n ever have known . H er skilful tact will guide h im safely through that intermediate epoch , when the blind fury of indulgence sometimes ruins the man . A delicate mission , in truth , which often imparts to the young man an admirable refinement, tho ugh a little effeminate perhaps— but which , on th e oth er hand sometimes steeps a poor woman ’ s heart in bittern ess . Sh e finds it difficult to r e gard herself altogether as his mother ; and sometimes sh e loves him with a different love . For her o wn sake , I would that this good and tender creatur e would devote herself r ather t o the maternal pr otection of aclass, the most unhappy and the least consoled— I speak o f women themselves . Women , who so well know what women suffer , should love and help each other . But they do n o t

t heir ri valri es , their jealousies are so very strong— an instinctive hostility, which even survives youth . F e w ladies can fo rgive a poo r work woman , o r a servant, fo r being young and pretty ; and thus ' they deprive themselves o f a very sweet privilege which b e

2 4 0 Last Lo ve . —W o men ’ s Fri endsh ip s . will listen to nothing, will w ait for nothing, but flies into a passion , and insists o n going home . He r influential family take her part, and the servants, her own creatures, testify against her husband . She will have her dowry back, but n ot her liberty ; though still so young, she is virtually a wido w. And can she take back the intinra cies sh e has share d , that defin ite communion which involved the yielding o f her per son , and which transformed her ? Alas, no ! that she ca n never take back, more ’ s the pity ! Is there , then , indeed no alternative— cannot the young man be reclaimed ? His - faults belong only to his age, he is neither wicked nor avaricious . Let her parents have her dowry then it is she alone whom he loves and regrets . H e sees plainly and , especially since he is separated from her, that he can never find another to please him . And in her very pr ide , so fatal to their happiness, is there not something to attract love ? “ Love ! we have nothing but love rn this world. To - mo rr ow we must die ; love then to day, fo r I know you still love each other ! ” This is what her thoughtful friend says to her, and she does mer e than she says . W hile she car esses ‘ and consoles the little wife at her country- house, she attires her on e day, whether or n o , and makes her beautiful . Visitors are coming . But for her only on e is coming, and who is he ? Guess, if you can . The husband ? ” No , a lover . In countenance perhaps they may resemble , but in soul they are quite different persons . If it were the husband , would h e manifest such a charming em b ar r a ssm ent , so much love and ardor, so violent a return of passion ? W ell , why don ’ t they explain themselves ? Neither knows what to say ; they stammer, they promise , they protest —in short, both have lost their wits . Their friend laughs, and tells them they haven ’ t even com mon sense left . It is late ; supper is soon over, for sh e has a headache , ” she cannot entertain th em, ‘ an d th ey are ver y will ing to excu s e h er , them selves so exhausted with emotion . The W o ma n Pro tec t i ng W oman. 2 4 1 new lovers may safely be left alon e n ow, no danger that they will quarrel . Give them a hearing at your earliest con ven i ence , but now— let them repose . And does it end here ? N o . The ami able friend who has r e - united them is determin ed that the storm shall not again cloud their horizon . So she extract s from them two promises . First, that they will abandon the influences in which this storm was brewed , for such misunderstandings d o not often arise b e tween those who love, except from outside, influences . If on e of the married pair commits an indi scretion it is almost always exaggerated by the interference o f some unl u cky friend, from whom they must get away . Chan ge of place will sometimes effect a chan ge rn everything else . Another prevailing evil , which th e friend will seek to r e medy, 1s want of occupation . An idle , vacant existence is necessarily productive of melancholy, morbid reveries , and b a d temper . To blend their souls and lives together, the husband and wife should co - operate , should work together as much as they can— but at all events work ; when apart, each will regret the other, and suffer a little fo r being separated ; and in that way they will continue to desire each other— full of impatience fo r the hour when they shall meet , an d longing for the coming of nig ht . W O MAN PRO TECT ING W O MAN. —CARO LINE CHISH O LM. TH E fifth part of the world, Australia, h as, up to this time only one saint, one legend— an Engl i sh woman , who died I believe this year . With out fortun e or a s s i stance , she achieved more fo r that 1 1 2 4 2 W oman Pro tecting W oman. new world than the British government and all its Emigration societies The richest and most powerful among the king doms o f the earth , mistress o f the Indies and an empire o f a hundred and twenty millions o f men , failed in the coloniza tion which was to have redeemed her losses, while an u n p r e t ending woman succeeded and carried the affair by her o wn intrepid courage . An d in her let us render homage to her persevering race . A French o r German ‘ woman might have possessed equal cou rage, and generous pity ; t hat I doubt if she would have per sisted against so many obstacles with such admirable stub b ornn ess in a good cause— such sublime obstinacy . Caroline Jones was born about 1 8 00, o n a farm in Nor th ampto n county . At twenty she was married to an officer in the East India Company, and accompanied him to India. Brought up in the decent, serious orthodoxy of English coun try life , her lot was cast in those military Babylons where license has full sway . The orphan daughters of the soldiers were for sale in the streets o f Madras ; she collected them, and filled her house with them ; and - in defiance of ridicule, continued her charitable work, till her dwelling became a royal orphan asylum . The health of h er husband , Captain Chisholm, demanding a change o f climate, he obtained leave to recr uit for a season in Australia, and went ther e in 1 8 3 8 , taking his wife and chil dr en . Bu t soon obliged to r etu r n to his post, he left her there alone ; and it was then that she began her courageous enterprise . Everybody knows that Sidney and Australia were princi pally peopled by convicts , and criminals o f a class that with u s would be convicts . Constant transportations took crowds o f men there , but comparatively few women . You may imagine h o w much these few were sought after, and pursued . Every vessel that arrived loaded with women , was waited for at the landin g, and saluted with wild rej oicin gs, clamorou s as

2 44 W oma n Pro tec ti ng W o man. as young lambs, driven into that community of convicts. Pursued in the streets of Sidney, they only escaped continual outrage by going outside o f the town at night, to sleep on the r ' ocks, under the beautiful stars . Caroline was insulted , both as to her woman ’ s heart and h er “ English modesty, by this revolting spectacle . Sh e a p pealed to the authorities : but they, wholly occupied with the surveillance of so many dangerous men , had too much t o do to trouble themselves about those miserable women . She appealed to the clergy : b u t the English Church , like every thing English , believes too much in the inherent depravity o f human n ature , to repose confidence in human remedie s . She appealed to the press, and provoked from the j ournals ironical answers . Yet so positively she insisted that it should n ot cost a cent, that finally the government magnificently placed at her dis posal an old magazine . In this she immediately gave shelter t o o n e hundred girls, who thus had at least a roof over their heads . Married women , in the absence o f their husbands, were permitted to encamp in the court, to be out of the reach o f night attacks. Birt how to feed this troupe of girls, most of whom could do nothing, Caroline, a plain captain ’ s wife , and bur dened with three children , was sorely at a loss . So she explored the coun try for - married people with families, who would employ them, and thus made room fo r more . In less than a year she had saved seven hundred girls : three hundred English Protestants , a n d four hundred Irish Catholics . Many o f these married, and in their turn threw open their o wn h omes to their poor tran s ported sisters . H aving supplied all the families near Sidney, she had to go far ther for asylums . Travelling is scar cely practicable for a young woman in a country thus peopled, where the dwellings , often many miles apart , render all public oversight and pro tection impossible . Bu t she wa s n ot afraid ; mounted on a W oman Pro te c t ing W o man. 245 good 1 ar se, which she called Captain” ( in remembrance o f her absent husband), she set ou t in search of charity, travelling by the roads sometimes, but oft en where there were n one , an d frequently crossing rapids . The boldest feature of these j our neys was that she tdok her young girls with her, sometimes as many as sixty, to hire them as servants in families, o r to marry them . Sh e was everywhere received , by men n ot so bad as they seemed , as a very Providence, with love and reve rence . But she n ever slept except in a sure place , and always with her girls, preferrin g to pass the night in her badly covered wagons, to being separated from them . Then the people began to perceive the grandeur, the beauty o f her en terprise . Up to that time they had done n othing ; everything was in a transition state , for they had continually renewed their fruitless colonies only to see them again and a gain de stroyed . Moreover, there was no improvement in intelligence, manners, o r customs among them . Vice remained vice ; pros titu tion was even more shameful and wasteful than in Lon d on . The revolution effected by this excellent woman m ay be thus summed up : Death to sterility, and to unchaste ba ch elor z ’ sm I The Governor h a d replie d to the first petitions she addressed to him, “ Ho w does it concern me ? Is it my business to find wives for them And yet everything depended upon that ; fo r it contained the secret o f life, of progress, fo r that new world . So this woman , ch a st e and holy before all men , did not hesitate to constitute herself the u niversal match - maker of the colony, a very minister of marriage . She end eavored to advise j udiciou sly as t o choice in these hasty matches . But what could she do ? Sh e believed that in complete solitude , where , th ere was n o third person to intrigue and make mis chief, kind nature w ould arran ge everything— the pair would try t o love each other ; in time they would become attached , and they would end by adoring each other . Especially did she endeavor to bring families together again 24 6 W oman Pro tec ting W o man. She would assist a young girl , who was well married, an d mistress o f a house , to send fo r her parents . Sh e also sent t o England for unfor tunate needle - women , 'wh o were dying there o f hunger, as ours are t o - day . ~ And for her recompense, they came near killing her . The populace of Sidney were ind ig nant because sh e brought o u t so many emigrants, which reduced their wages . Bands of ruffians collected rrn d e r her windows and demanded h er life , but she coura geously a p pear e d before them, talked to them, and made them listen to reason . They reti r ed , full of respect for her . At the expiration of seven years she went to London to convert the ministry to her ideas, and gave a course o f lectures to diffuse them . Lord Grey, the minister, and the committees o f the House o f Lords, s aw fit to give her audience, and consult with her . H er husband became her first disciple , and returned alone to Australia—:a rare and beautiful circumstance . This couple , so attached t o each other, impos ed upon themselves a painful separation fo r the sake of doing the m ore good . She was on her way to rej oin him when she fell ill , and it is said mortally . (Blosseville , ii , H er s is on e of the world ’ s stories, and her memory will grow the brighter with time . One ‘ peculiarity which we must not overlook, is th at this inspired woman was of a most practical mind, wholly devoid of chimeras and exaggerations . Sh e had, in the highest degr ee , the executive talent ; did all her o wn writing, and kept in order endless details of business and personal accounts, with the utmost exactness . And here follows a trait of character purely English : Believing herself responsible to her husband and children for the small family patrimony, she estim ated that, on the whole, notwithstandin g the large advances she had made, all had been returned to her except a very trifling sum . During h er entire apostleship, she h a d impo v er ish ed her family only to the amount of sixteen pounds . That was not dear for the making of a world .

s 2 48 Co nso latro n fo r Irn p rrso ned W o men . Most of them are good , affection ate , charitable creatures . The poor are well aware o f that, and appeal to them with confidence and from choice . Among these d regs of the city, there is abundant benevolence ; in th e country , o n the co n t r a ry, much cruelty— the people give a little lest they should be burned o u t ; but they let their parents die of hunger . The true and frequent cause, which drives , these women to vice, and even to crime, is the ennui and sadness of their lives . Virtue, for a poor girl , means, to sit fourteen hours a - day making th e same stitch for ten sous— her head down , her chest bent, h er ben ch h ot and tiresome . S edet ceter n u m gu e s edebz ’ t. Add to this, in winter, that miserable charcoal pan , all the fuel sh e has, though shivering with cold— which is the cause of so many di seases . One fifth of all the female crimin als are seamstresses . W oman , poor child that she is, requires constant moving about, constant change of position ; every new sensation is delightful to her . Still she does ‘ not need much novelty to make her happy . H er paradise is in the trifling variety that th e household affords her, With its nra ny little cares, and the rearing of children . Love her— m ake h er life a little more pleasant, a little less fatiguin g, and she will d o n o evil . Take o u t o f her fingers, for at least a few hours in the day, the everlasting needle, that penance of eternal monotony . Which of us could endure it ? Madame Mallet has thoroughly, explored ou r prisons , fo r which she is greatly to be praised . W ould that more of o u r ladies would imitate her, that they would overcome their rep 1 g11 ance, and enter that hell , which , h a d as it is , contains many angels— fallen angels— some of them nearer heaven than yo u r comfo rtable " saint . The defect of her good book, is its timidity, its caution . Conso lat io n fo r Imp rison ed W omen. 2 4; She approves, and she does n ot approve , i r elig iou s su perin tendence . She follows the custom of the time and the opinion of its j udges, for the most part favorable to the “ cellular ” system, which produces, by its deficiency of air and light emaciated and entirely artificial beings . The remedy, on the contrary, is to tear down the walls , and to let in fresh air and sunshine ; for light mora lizes . Another remedy is labor, under very different condition s severe , but somewhat varied, and lightened with music . (This plan has been successful in Par is, through th e liberality o f some Pr otestant ladies . ) Imprisoned women ar e crazy for music , it soothes them, restores their moral equilibrium, and calms their hear t - burnings . Léon Faucher has wisely said , that “ Prisoners fr omthe country, men and women , should be put to field labor, not immured in your horrible walls, which are only consumption factories . Yes, set the peasant to tilling the earth again— in Algeria at least . ” I would add, that even the working woman can be very profitably colonized under a semi - agricultu ral sys tem, where, several hours in the day , she might d o a little gardening, which would co ntribute to her support . We have no need of cos tly penitentiaries at the antipodes, as the English have. Let us colonize the shores of the Medi terranean . Africa supported the Empire ; and sh e will again be populous and fruitful , from the day that we seriously try to render her healthy . Bu t the great , th e decisive, the sovereign reme dy, is— love and marriage . Marriage ! and wh o would desire that Many a thought ful person . Br o u s sais said : “ The disease which is excess of stren gth in o n e man may be weakness in another ; or in a dif eren t temper ament , and under dif erent physical circumstances, it is no longer disease . ” I also think that a per son who, 111 the suffocation o f ou r cities, 1 1

2 50 Co n so latio n fo r Imp riso n ed W o nren. and in a society so contracted , has sinned by violence and ex cess of strength , would be precisely in the right placc , — and perhaps estimable , in the freedom o f the Atlas, o r the a d ven turons life of a military colony . Madame Mallet remarks, that In general , passionate wom en , who , excited by rage or jealousy, have committed a criminal act , are not at all de praved . ” Place them, then , where they may h ealthily expend their energy ; they would concentrate it on love and a family, and become the veriest lambs of gentleness . And those martyrs, those sain ts o f prostitution , who have yielded fro m filial piety or maternal lo ve—who will believe them irredeemable ? Ah ! those u nfortunates, on wh om vir tue itself has inflicted such tortures, may be virgins among the purest . Their broken but pure hearts, more than any other woman ’ s, long for honor and love ; and none have a better right to be loved . Even th e truly gui lty, if they are sent ou t of Europe, and placed under a new sky, in a land which knows nothing of their faults—if they feel that Society, though a mother who punishes, is s till a mother—if they see, at the end of their trial , forgetfulness of the past , and love perhaps— their hearts will melt, and in their abunda nt tears th ey will be purified . W hen I behold those bald Mediterranean shores , those mountains, arid indeed , but which , retaining their springs, m ay always be r ewo o d e d, I feel that twen ty new nation s might be founded there with little difficulty . Instead of returning home a miserable workman , o u r soldier may become a pro prietor in Africa o r Asia . He will like much better to take , as a wife and h elprn eet , not some statue from th e Orient , but a true living wife, a soul and a mind , an energetic French woman , softened by trial and pretty with happiness . This is my romance for the future . It pre - supposes , I con fess, on e condition—f th at Medicine will busy itself with the great objects of this century : the art o f a cclinra tin g man , and of improving races by irrtermar rying among different

2 5 2 Co nso latio n fo r Imp ri so n e d W o me n. moulded in certain general forms, in which he possesses infi nit ely less o f that special and individual character which is everything in the medicine of souls . A man , even a layman , w ith o u r uniformity of education , is much less ~ fitted fo r this duty than a woman . I mean a woman of the world, who has age and experience, wh o has s e en and felt much , who knows life, who has more than on e heart at x h er finger ends, who is acquainted with a thousand delicate secrets that men would never imagine “ Do yo u believe, then , that you could find many ladies devo ted and courageous enough to visit these s q d places often , and come face to face with these u nh appy creatures ? Um doubtedly, it is a grand thing to feel that on e is doing good ; but the strength to persevere is also very necessary . ” I dare say that this necessary strength w ill be found , not in the heart only, b u t in ’ the mind . To an elevated , pure , enlightened woman , who has reached the age w hen she may command , it is a marvellously instructive study, an d in the highest degree affecting, to read in this living book Lay aside your dramas and your theatricals— the great play is here . Reserve your interest and your tears— all fiction palls in th e pre sence o f such realities ; so tragic, alas ! so delicate also, are the destinies of these women . W ill it n ot be a true happi ness for you , madam, to gently unravel these tangled skeins that I put into your hands, and if it be possible, with y our skill to take up these poor br ‘ oken threa ds and bind them ' together again O, madam, the angels would e nvy you . Angel of goodness, pardon me for speaking to you on a most sa d, harrowing, and terrible subject . But all is purified in the fire of chari ty, with which your heart is aglow . There can be no reformation rn prisons if mean s cannot be fo u n d to restore the state of nature there , and put an end to that execrable tyranny of the stron g over the weak, who are beaten and made sport of. All the world knows it, but no on e likes to say it . A Co n so la ti o n fo r Imp ri so ned Wo men . 2 53 man of sad memories ( of great political faults, but he had a h eart), the man best acquainted with prison s, when we were fri ends, more than once explained to me , with blushe ’ s and tears, that mystery of Tartarus— those bottomless pits of despair. Th e ef ects are different ; the man falls so low that a little child can make him tremble , the woman becomes a fury : It is not by walls and dungeon - bars that we should put an end to that . There would be instead only the shameful sui o cide, the cripple , and the idiot . W hat is necessary is air and labor— fatiguing labor . And for the married prisoner , it is n ecessary to restore what no one has a right to take away from him— marriage . I submit to the lawyers , my illustri ous colleagues of the Academy of Moral Sciences, the following question : “ Does the law, in committing this man to prison , in suppressing the civil effects of his ma rriage, mean to con demu him to celibacy As for me , I do not beli eve it . Many of these unfortunate people cling tenaciously to their families, and continue to make honorable sacrifices fo r them . I saw, at Mont - Saint - Michael , a convict, a very skilful hatter , who , in the depths of his prison , by depriving himself o f everything, worked to maintain his wife, and waited patiently fo r the time when he should be re united to her, The Catholic Church believes marriage to be indissoluble ; then its rights should be permanent . Why has she not expos tu lat ed here , in the name of religion , of morality, and pity ? The thing has practical difficulties, I know . A wise ce nsi deration is necessary ; we should n o t indiscreetly introduce to the prisoner a perverse husband , wh o might exercise an evil influence u pon her . An administration burden ed with so m any generalities can ire t easily enter into the minute information which this would demand , such as seeking at a distance fo r information , and keep ing up , for o n e w oman , a delicate and disagreeable corres pon den ce . It is here that the services of a woman of kind heart 2 54 Th e H ea li ng Art in W o ma n. a n d approved virtues are necessary . If th e prisoner is in a great city, o r n o t t oo far o ff, she should procure work for her husband there , so that the pri soner may have the plea sure o f his visits on such days o f the month as the intelligent superintendent may indicate . W oman is love itself. Give that back to her, and you may make her a ll yo u wish . They are worth the trou ble ; they retain a great elasticity, are sometimes exalted a n d very capricious in their loving, b u t never cast down like nrerr, n or ignobly pusillanimous . She who should bestow o n this weak flock o n e ray o f happiness, would be so beloved and adored that she could lead them at her will . Madame Mallet u nderstands this well

it is her great means of discipline and regeneration . She advises that it should be employed— and that the husband should be admitt ed to the prisoner . But she imposes upon the pri vilege so many fetters and restrictions, that, t o see him thus would be , perhaps, to suffer still more . Ifbestow ed at all, it should not be grudgingly . Surveillance , if there is any, should n ot be exercised by officials, rn o cker s, who would be all eyes and ears fo r their raptures, an d whose very faces would freeze them . It should be left to the sagacious goodness o f a reliable and respected la dy , wh o will take everything upon h erself, whose indulgent virtue will guard her poor h u ' rn iliated sister in her supreme consolation , and wh o should be responsible only to Go d . TH E H EALING ART IN W O MAN. EVER Y BO D Y knows that my good and learned fri end , Dr . Lortet, o f Lyons, h a s the most bountiful heart in the world , in its benevolent devotion . His moth er wa s his insp rr er . Such

2 5 6 Th e H ea l in g Art in W o ma n . concealed , and served the wounded o f both sides . In . all things she was associated with the adventurous g e n e r o s rty of the young doctor . If she had lived w ith h im in the centre o f a great medical community, sh e would have pursued th e study of medicine, and confined herself less to botany . Now, she was th e herbalist of the poor ; she would then have been their physician . I have been reminded of all this by what I h ave now under u ry o wn observation . I am writing in a very beautiful place 011 the banks of the Gironde . Neither here n o r in the neigh boring villages is there a physician ; but they are all gathered in a small town , by no means central , where they have almost nothing to do . Before on e can be obtained , an d his expensive j ourney paid for , the poor patient dies . In many cases the disease, if attacked in time, would have been but a trifle —a fever, which a little quinine would have arrested— a croup , which , cauterized at once , would have disappeared ; but they are very slow, and the child dies . Where is Ma d am e ' L or t et An American lady, with an income ofa thousand livres— rich , too , in heart, and general information , and wh o , moreover, had the delicate m ind and timid ' reserve o f English modesty resolved, notwithstanding, \ to give her daughter a medical education . In that land of action and immigration , where circumstances often carry on e very far from the great civilized centres, suppose her daughter should marry a manufacturer , established on o n e of the western ri vers ; the thousand opera t ives , the thousands of laborers engaged in cleari ng the land , should be provided with medical aid on the spot, and n ot be suffered to die while waiting fo r a doctor, wh o , perhaps , would be a hundred leagues of . In those very severe winters , n o a id is to be expected ; and h ow much less in other countri es , Russia fo r example , where the muddy g rounds o f spring and autumn interrupt all communication fo r at least six months . In the United States, lectures on anatomy are atten ded by both sexes indiscriminately . If prej udice debars them from Th e H ea li ng Art in W oman . 2 57 dissection , they have a substitute in the admirable models of Auzoux. H e told me that h e made a s many o f these for the United States as for all the rest of the world together . Supposing th e knowledge equal , who is the best physician ? Th e on e wh o loves m os t. This beautiful sayin g o f a great teacher would lead us to infer that woman is the true physi cian. So she is, in all barbarous n ations ; there it is the woman who knows and applies the secret virtues of srmples . So has she been in other nations n ot barbarous, but o f high civilization— in Persia, fo r instance, the guardian of all the sciences, and mother of the magi . In fact, man , much less sympathetic, as a result of his phi losoph ic and gen er afizing culture, so easily , consoled himself, inspires the sick with much less confidence than a woman . Sh e is nror e easily l t ou ch ed, but , the misfortune is, too easily— she is liable to be gravely affected, to contract a nervous malady from the suffering she beholds, and become ill herself. Then there are those cruel , bloody, shocking accr dents, which , at times, it would be dan gero ’ us for a woman to look upon . So we must relinquis h the pleasing prospect . Although woman certainly bri ngs a consoling, healing power into the world, she is n o physician But how useful would she be as an auxiliary . How much would her intuition , as to a thousand delicate things, take the place of man ’ s education . In him, instruction develops more than one faculty, but in her it smothers many . This is espe cially n oticeable in the diseases of women . To penetrate their elusive secret, that mysterious Proteus, one must be th e woman herself, or love her dearly . The priest of medicine requires gifts so various, and even so opposed , that to exercise them successfu lly , he must be double , o r rather, complete— a man - woman— the wife asso cia t e d with the husband, like Madame P o u ch et , o r Madame Hahnemann— o r the mother associated w ith the son , like Madame Lortet . I can conceive also that a widow lady of 2 58 Th e H ea ling Art in W oman. advanced age might practise medicine with an adopted son. whom she herself has formed . hVill ou r physicians, incontestably the first men in France the most enlightened, be willing that an ignorant person , whom they themselves have instructed and taught to think , should say what on e has in his heart As to that, here is the t r u e aspect of the ca se . To th e physician belong two o flic es, not sufficien tly considered . 1 s t . Confession— the ar t of drawing from the patient those disclosures of antecedent circumstances which throw light on the physical crisis l d . Moral intui t iorr —to complete such confessions, to s ee beyond them, and force the patient to deliver up the tiny kernel , often imper cep tible , which is at the very bottom of the trouble, an d which , as lon g as it remains there, will , in spite o f all the most successful remedies, continually produce relapse . 0 h ow much better could a woman , a good woman , n ot too young, but with a young, emotion al , and tender heart (who has tact and patience even in her pity) perform this office . Man is naturally stern . He must coldly, gra vely Observe , and decide from the physical appearances and , the little the patient may choose to say . But if the wife of the doctor were there , if she could remain near the invalid, h ow much more would she discover ! H ow much more would her compassion elicit , especially from an other woman ! Sometimes a few tears would suffice to melt the ice and get at all the story . I had fo r a neighbor at P aris, a collier, about thirty years of age , who had an estate in Auvergne , and a stall here, which was quite profitable . In his own country he had married a pretty Auvergne woman , rather short, but handsome , wh ose countenance , clouded at times; her flaming eyes in a mo ment rendered the more bri lliant . She was good enough , but she knew that she was much noticed, and was not displeamd . They d welt in a dirty, narrow, dark , and unwh olesome street . Sometimes the collier, young and strong as h e was , had spells of fever ; and these became more frequent , till he g rew pale

2 6 0 Th e H ea ling Art in W o man. trouble , has still the happiness to see around her a beautiful familv. She has her husban d ; she has the consolations o f his love , revived, r e - animated by this very loss . SO she com ‘ pares herself with the lady, and says : “ I have still a great deal left . ” W e are advancing towards a better time , a time nror e in t ellig ent , more humane . This very year the Academy o f Medicine has discussed a most important question— the reno vation of hospitals . They would do away with those lugu brion s structures, reservoirs of disease, impregnated with the miasmas of so many generations, where sickness an d death are aggravated and multiplied tenfold, by terrible Obstructions ; they would attend the poor patient at his own house— nu 1m mense advantage fo r him, fo r there they become acquainted with him, and see him in his needs, amid th e surroundings which cause his disease, and renew it as soon as he returns from the hospital . Finally, for those rarer cases, in which it is necessary to remove the patient, they would erect small hospitals around the c ity, where the sick person , n o longer swallowed up and lost in a crowd, would be regarded in a dif erent light— would become a man again , and n o longer be a number . I never enter without terror those old and gloomy con vents, which to this day serve fo r hospitals . The admir able cleanness of the beds, the floors, the ceilin gs, is useless . It is the walls I fear ; for there is the spirit o f the dead , th e trace o f so many departed generations . DO yo u think it is fo r nothing that so many dying people have fixed on th e s a me spots their melancholy eyes and their last earthly though ts , as though they s aw some imperious beckoner there , to whom, in the wor ds o f the R oman gladiator, th ey said, “ Ave , C aesar ! Moritur i te salu ta n t ! ” Small , he althy hospitals, outside of th e city, surrounded by gardens, would be a humane r eform— and, first of all , fo r we men . Crowds of women are carri ed O ff by contagious fevers Th e H ea ling Art in W oma n. 2 6 1 during con finement, because woman is much more liable to c o n t ag io u s than man . Sh e is more imaginative , more quickly affected by the thought o f being there , lost in an ocean of disease, among the dying and the dead ; that alone is enough to kill her . H e r relatives, if she has ' any, can visit her but twice a week . The sisters are occupied with their professional duties, and rather worn out besides with seeing so much misery . The house - surgeon is but a young man— but that is well ; precisely because he is young and n ot yet hardened, can he , if he is good, ef ect the most, morally . And what an immense amount of instr uction may he draw from it all ! what en noblings o f the heart ! Dr . L . , then a young surgeon in a Paris h ospital , saw a girl of twenty, in the last stage Of consumption , come into the hall . No woman fri end had she, nor relations . In her absolute loneliness, a urid that dismal crowd , in the shadow of her ap pr oa ch ing end, she surely s aw, without a word from him to h er, a gleam o f compassion in his eyes— and thenceforth sh e always watched him, going and coming through the hall , and never again thought herself quite alone . And so, with this pure and solitary sympathy, she gently departed . One d ay as he was passing, sh e made a sign . W hat do you wish he said . “ Your hand, ” — and then sh e died . That pressure of the hand was not for nothing ; it was the token of a passing soul , and a tarry ing soul profited by it . ‘Even before I knew of this circumstance , in looking on this man , as charming as h e is skilful , I have felt that he was o n e of those whom woman has endowed; and who find treas u res of healing in the tenderness of their hearts. The best man is still a man , and a woman cannot tell \ him everything . There are times especially when the patient , doubly ill , is vulnera ble to everyth i ng—weak, easily affected , and yet not daring to speak . Sh e rs ashamed , then she is afraid ; she weeps, she dreams ; n o t even t o the sister of charity , the offi cial sister, ca n she tell .all

a sworn

celibate , she could n ot understand , and has no trme to lrsten . Th e Simples . No, she needs a g o o d woman , a true woman , who knows all about it, who feels it all , who can make her tell all— wh o will cheer her up , and say to her, Don ’ t fret , I will go see your children , I will find you work ; you shall not want hereafter . ” Such a woman , as delicate and penetrating as she is good , would also guess what she would not dare to tell , that having j ust seen her neighbor die , she is afraid of death . Never tear, yo u shall not die , my dear ; we will sav e you . ” And a thousand other simple, tender things out o f a mother ’ s heart . The sick woman is like ' a child ; you must talk to her as t o a child , an d caress a n d soothe her ; a woman ’ s caress, her tender embrace, h as often a marvellous power . And if the lady has influence , authority, acknowledged intellectual ascendency, from that position her benevolence is so much the more effi cient . The invalid is very happy in her bed, quickly recovers strength and courage, and gets well , to p lea se h er . TH E SIMPLES. TH E good often die in solitude, an d those wh o would console are n ot always consoled . Their sweetness, their resignation , their harmony, preserve them longer than th ey desire . To o often does the pure woman who has lived only to do good , and who should be surrounded and supported when her o w n hour comes, behold then all friendships and relationships depart , a nd find hers elfleft t o app r oach the solemn bo urn e alon e . Bu t she n eeds no suppo rt ; and by herself she goes . Sh e has n o thought but to obey Go d ; she knows that sh e is in good hands, and so she hopes and trusts . All that she still has of tender and holy aspiration , all that sh e h a s dreamed

264 Th e Sim p le s . feebleness o f age and sex from operating o ct n sio n ally to pro duce melancholy hours . At such times she goes o u t to s e e her flowers ; and she talks t o them, because she trusts them . He r thoughts grow calmer in such discreet society, for they are not in qu isit iveh —they smile , but they are silent . At least they speak so low, these flowers , that we can hardly hea r them . They are earth ’ s silent children . As she fondles them, she says : “ My dumb darlings, in me , wh o have so much to say to you , you may have perfect con fid en ce . If yo u brood over some mystery of the future , speak ! I will not tell . ” And o n e o f the wisest of them, some Old sibylof th e Gauls ( vervain or heather, no matter which), replies . “ Thou lovest u s ; and we, too , love thee, an d wait on thee . W e are thy future, thy immortality here below. Thy spotless life , thy pure breath , thy sacred person , shall return to us . And when the superior part o f thee , set free, shall spread its wings, the gift of o u r friend will remain to us : thy precious and hallowed remains, widowed o f the e , shall flouri sh again in us . ” No vain poetry is this, but literal truth . Our physical death is but a return to vegetable life . There is but little of solid matter in this changing envelope ; most o f it is .flu id and evaporates . Thus exhaled , in a little while we are eagerly appropriated by the greedy absorption of herbs and leaves . The various world of verdure by which we ar e sur rounded , is the mouth and the absorbing lung s of natu r e , which has continual need of u s, and finds her renewal rn ou r physical di ssolution . She lies in wait, an d is eager . She does n ot let that escape which is so necessary to h er

sh e attracts it by her love , transmutes it by her desire , and blesses it with happy processes of appropriation . She inhales u s in the sprout , and exhales us in the blossom . F or the body as well as for the soul , to die is but to live ag ain . There is n othing but life in this world . Th e Simp les . 2 65 A barbarous ignorance has made death a spectre . The loathing, the terrors of the grave should di sappear . Man , who made the tomb, is afraid of it . Nature makes nothing o f th e sort . W h y do you talk to me of shadows, of outer darkness, and the cold bosom o f earth ? Thank Go d I ca n smile at that . There is nothing there to detain me ; ~I shall hardly leave my trace in it . Go on , then , and pile u p stone, marble , and brass ; you cannot hold me . Even while yo u weep, and look fo r me below, I am already a shrub , a tree, a flower, a child of light— and have uprisen to th e dawn . Antiquity, so far - seeing, so enlightened , so advanced by a kind gleam from Go d, expressed this simple mystery by a p p r op r iat e images : Daphne became a laurel , and was n o t the less beautiful ' for it ; Narcissus, melted in tears, remains the charm of fountains . This is poetry, but it is no d eceit . La voisier might have said it ; Berzelius could not have put it better . Science ! science ! sweet consoler of the world , and true mother o f content, thou hast been called cold, indifferent, 11n sympathetic for the Moral

but what repose was there for

the heart in th e night o f ignorance, thick with chimeras a n d monsters ? There is no j oy but in the True , the light from Go d . The toug hest o f anrmal remains, those which most ob sti h ately preserve their forms, even shells, yield at last, and dissolving into dust and atoms, enter upon the vegetable life . Even now I have an example ' of this under my eyes . In the very place where I am wri ting, at that port of France where th e ocean and the great Gironde meet in a combat of love , that everlastin g wrestle that continually unites them, the torn rocks give up to the waves their old stony race, and become sand . Then a hundr ed vigorous plants fix their roots in this sand , to appropriate it t o themselves, and take strength from it

and they become so wildly fragrant that the traveller on the road , th e sailor in his bark, inhale the Odor and are 1 2 2 66 Th e Simp les . delighted , and the very sea is intoxicated . W hat, then , are these potent plants ? The least , the most humble of our Galli c simples— rosemary, sage, mint, wild th yme in abundance — an d so many, so very many immortelles, that whether they live or die is neither here n or there . Old Gaul hoped and believed . The first word she ever wrote Wa s “ H ope , ” on an antique medal

the second , in the great book which inaugurates the Ren aissance : H ere li es H ope ! ” May not you and I, then , find it in the tomb ? But the good, sweet woman who is left alone , who, without fault o f her own , has been betrayed by fate, where shall she find H ope H ere , among these sands, on this poor but perfumed land, which in deed is not even land , but only sea sand that once lived ; no earth at all— nothing but life . The poor little soul of all these marine lives becomes a flower, and is exhaled in odors . In bright, sunny places, screened by oaks from the north wind, very late in the season she breathes again in the fra granee and life- giving virtues o f simples . Their wholesome perfumes, sharp but agreeable, do not cloy the heart as those of the south d o . These , ou r spirits, are true souls, per sistent beings, which convey to the brain the d esire of life . The phantasmagoria of tropical plants, their ephemeral qua lities, inspire us with languor . It is only here in the north that a vir tu ou s vegetation counsels 11 s to create in o u r works new reasons for existing . And not to exist alone , but t o continue in n atural groups— groups of souls— loving and beloved, acting o u t together a composite immortality, wherein many are united . Though separately feeble , they combine and live by force o f love . Medicine may laugh at ou r simples . Yet , though they act but slightly on constitutions hardened by heroic reme dies, and burnt by “ heroic ” alimentation , they are enough

CH IL DREN— LIGH T— TH E FUTUR E. O UR cradle impressions are omnipotent on o u r death beds . Light, that univer sal mother, by whom the child was warmly car essed at its life waking, wh o r eceived it before its own mother , who even revealed its mother to it, in the fir st inter change of glances— ligh t warms and blesses its decline , with the mildness of this life ’ s twi light, and the dawn of the fu ture life . We have the fri ture , th e vita n u ova in advance, in the society of children . They are already the angels, th e pure souls we hope to see . Life is so active in these moving flowers, these eager birds, so indefatigable in t heir sport, that a sort of youth seems to emanate from them . The most afflicted heart , o n e that b r e e ds most over the lost tr ea s u r es ' of its memory, and cherishes its wounds, is, in spite of itself, refreshed and renewed by them . W o n from itself by their innocent gaiety, it exclaims, astonished : “ Is it possible that I h ad forgotten all this It would seem that Go d permits the misfortune of orph an age , expressly for the con s olation . of childless women . True , they love all children, bu t much more those whose a ffec tions a .moth er does n ot engross . The unexpectedness , ‘ the lu cky ch a n ce, of this late maternity, the exclusive possession of a young heart , happy to recline o n the bosom o f a loving woman , is to them a felicity more intense than any other happiness in nature . To the j oy of being a mother after all , is ad ded something ardent, like the raptures o f the last love . Nothing approaches nearer to in fancy, o r loves it more , than that second infancy, full o f experien ce and reflection , which we call old age , and which by its wisdom best understa nds the voice of the youn g age . By a natural inclination , children Ch ildren— Lig h t—QTh e Fu tu re; 69 and aged persons are drawn toward each other— these charmed by the s pectacle o f innocence , those attracted by the in d u l gence they are sure to find . And herein is on e o f the most beautiful o f ' ear th ’ s harmonies . To realize it , I should wish indeed it is my dream— that orphans might n o longer be col lected in great establishments, but distributed in small houses in th e country, each under the moral direction of a lady who would find h er true happiness in her office . The studies, the sewin g, and the husbandry ( I mean a little gardenin g for the family, as the E nf a n ts of Rouen do), should be conducted by a young schoolmistress, assisted by her husband . But the religious and moral part of the education , its - freer part; read ing for amusement and instruction , recreations and walks, should be the business of the lady . For ch ildren , especially for girls, there must be certain indulgences, a certain elasticity, and everything cannot be provid ed fo r . The mistress, r epr e senting as she does absolute order, would hardly be th e best j udge of th ese . There should be by her side th e children ’ s fii end, Wh o would never decide without the mistress, but would obtain from h er such concessions, such reasonable in d u lg ences as nature might seem to require . A woman of tact would thus leave to her upon whom devolved all the care and all the ‘ trouble , the honors o f government ; b ut at the same time making herself beloved by her, and rendering good offices t o the whole household , she would exert a quiet influ ence , would control without appe aring to do so, and a t length form the mistress herself, and set her own moral s eal upon h er s Never - called upon to punish— on the contrary interfering only to soften the severities of disciplin e— this lady would win the complete confidence of the little ones . They wo u ld be happy to open their little hearts to her, concealing from her none Q of. their troubles, n one of their faults even— se that she could advise them . To know is eve rything . As r so on as we kn ow, and see to the bottom of the difficulty, we may, by 2 7 0 Ch ildren fl Lig ht— Th c Fu tu re . modifying habits a little , render punishment superfluous, and induce the child to reform himself. H e will do so by choice especially if he wishes to please and be loved . There are , in such a house , a hundred delicate matters which the mistress cannot attend to, which require the exer cise of goodness, patience, a n d ingenious tenderness . Ima gine a child of four years old brought to such a place . In its di straction of grief, the imaginary fears with which its for lornness fills it, it will be a wonder if it lives . It must have some on e to envelop it with kindness and caresses, and gra dually calm it with quiet diversions, until the stricken flower, torn from its parent stem, shall thrive on another by a kind of graft . This is difficult, an d is never effected by general rules . I saw on e of these poor desolates who died in a great establi shment at Paris . The kind sisters had put some toys on his bed, but he would n ot touch them . H e wanted a woman to hold him in her arms, kiss him, mingle her heart with his, and take him back again into the maternal bosom . W hen they live and grow, then comes another danger—‘ a kin d of hardening . All who feel deserted, and know that their friends have been cruel to them, enter upon life by th e iron gate of war, and are prone to regard society as their enemy . Other children fling in their faces the odious bas tard ; ” and they are soured, embittered, filled with hate for their comrades and all human nature . Thus are they on the high road to crime , and in a fair way to deserve the scorn that at first was so unj ust . Such is misanthropy at ten . If the child is a girl , the scorn of any one is enou gh t o make her self- abandoned, reckless, and ripe fo r evil . Oh ! for a good heart to care for her young soul , to make her feel by tender ness all the good there still is in her, to show her that in spite of her misfortune the world is still her friend , t o teach her to resp ect herself and honor those who love her . There comes a time , a peculiarly critical time , wh en collee tive kindnesses are entirely inadequate , and personal affection is

2 7 2 Ch ildren— Lig ht— Th e Fu tu re . dan gers than this for her if, fo r i nstance, she is drawn into some great industrial vortex , if h ‘ er lo t is to confront the cor ruption o f cities, that pitiless world wherein every woman is fair game . A girl without relatives is so little respected ! Even the head of the family to which she has been entrusted , will often abuse his au thority ; the man will make spo r t o f h er, the women will drive her in, the young gentleman will run h er down ; and so behold her ta ken . Otherwise she will find her selfengaged in an implacable war—a very hell— while outside , there is another hunt, of passers - by and all , and (worst of all ) o ff r ien ds , who attract, console , caress , only t o betray h er . I do not kn ow o n the face of the earth anything more pitiful than this poor bird, without a nest, without a refuge this innocent young flower, ignorant of all thin gs, incapable o f protecting itse lf— this poor little woman ( fo r she is o n e already), abandoned to chance , j ust at the critical moment when n ature endows her with a charm a n d a peril . Behold her, alone, on the threshold of the hospital which she has never passed before, and which now she steps over t r emblin g, ' h er little bundle in her hand ; already tall and pretty, and , alas ! so much the more exposed, she goes whither ? Go d only knows . N 0, she sh all n ot go ! The good fairy who serves her for a godmother shall save her . If ou r orphan , having led a half rural life , can support herself, partly by the n eedle , partly by gardening , it will cost the establishment but little t o keep for a while a skilfu l , industrious young girl

who can maintain

herself. And meantime her protectors will cultivate her , ‘ an d complete in her that sort of education which will render “ her a desirable wife for some worthy laborer, manufacturer , mer Ch i ldren— Lig ht —Th e Fu tu re . . 2 73 happy, a hundred times gayer and more charming than the young lady who always thinks she is conferrin g a favor, and is never satisfied . At present, o u r good farmers are at a loss to find wives in their own class, o r if they do find them they are ruined ; fo r their women look higher— to marry a black coat o r a clerkship ( that is gone t o - morrow) . They have not the simple, energetic habits, nor the intelligence , that the noble life of agricu lture requires . But our orphan , instructed in all useful things , zealous for her husband , proud to manag e a large farm - house , would make the man ’ s happi ness and his fortune also . If ou r good lady were only good, she would simply adopt the child, and take this nice girl home, to make a jewel of her, that she herself might every hour have a festival o f inno cence and gaiety in the possession of a daughter who adored her, and who, under her hands, would be come an elegant young lady . But she is wary of that ; she chooses rather to deny her self, and not force the child into a condition where marriage would be difficult . Let her but put on a hat some day, and all would be lost . So sh e leaves her to her cap , or better still , her own pretty hair ; she leaves her half peasant , with all the possibilities of reading and music, as we see in Switzer land and Germany . And thus the future is rendered easy to her

midway of all

, she may easily rise, or descend, if it be necessary . To see what has not yet come to pass, is a gift of advanced age , of a various experience an d a pure life . Now the admi rable and delightful woman of whom this book is a biography, is clearly impressed w ith the approaching future o f European societies . Great and profound renewals there are to be . W omen and families will necessarily be surrounded by n ewr circumstances . W ill the rudimentary woman of L ’ Amour, ” o r the cultivated lady o f La Femme , ” suffice By no means . The latter , h erself, clearly perceives that the w ife of the com 1 2

Children— Lig ht— Th e Fu t u re . ing man must be more complete and stronger, harmonized with him in thought and action ; and such she would have her orphan b e . H er prudent effort, is to render this beloved child difler ent from herself, and ready for a better state o f things, for a society more masculine by labor and equality . And what then ? is this b u t a dream of hers in the reali ties around us we note already the forecast shadow, the imper fect image , of the coming beauty . In the Backwoods of the west, on the very confines of a savage world, the American woman— wife or widow— wh o works and tills the ground all day, in the evening n one the less reads, n one the less explains the Bible to her children . Once passing into Switzerland, over the dreariest of fron tiers, the fir forests of J ura, I was surprised to see in the fields the daughters o f watchmakers, beautiful and well - bred girls, well - informed, and quite ladies, workin g in velvet bodices, at hay- making . Nothing could be more charming . By that amia ble alliance of art and agriculture , th e earth seemed to flourish under their delicate hands, and evidently the flowers were proud to be handled by a clever person . But what impressed me most, and made me fancy for . a moment that I was already “ assisting ” at the next century, wa s a meeting I had , on Lake Lucerne , with a wealthy family o f Alsatian peasants . The picture was in no respect unworthy o f the sublime frame in which I had the happiness to see it . The father, mother, and young daugh ter wore , with proud simpli city, the ancient but beautiful costume o f their country . The parents were true Alsatians, of stout hearts , fair talents , and wise heads, square and solid ; the daughter much more French , refined at Lorraine, her iron changed to steel . De cid edly youn g, she was slender, active , and full of vitality ; with a slight figu 1 e and yellow arms , astonishingly strong ; but they were very brown . Her father said : “ That is b e cause she will work in the fields ; she lives in the fields , labors t here, and reads there .

2 7 6 Ch ildrenfi Lig ht— Th e Fu tu re . vain— dlmmer and dimmer . A kind of twilig ht has tinted her pale cheeks, and her hands arej oined . Then herlittle ones speak very low : Oh ! how she has changed ! And h ow young an d beautiful she is ! ” A youthful smile has indeed passed over her lips, as though she communed with an invisible spiri t . For her own spirit, emancipated by God , has taken its free flight , and soared upwards into light .

2 80 No tes . NOTE 3 . J u sr rcs i n Love, AND THE HUSBAND ’ S DUTY. In this age, apparently a cold one, love h as nevertheless revealed itself under countless new a spects of pas sion . Never b efore h a s it spoken in such mig hty tones ; never h a s it s o longed fo r th e infinite. Sh e w as living only yesterday—sh e w h o wrote such burning measures —sh e, th e mus e of eternal love, with its tempests and its tears, Ma dame Va lmore . Th e s trikmg fea ture of ou r time is, that love n ow suffers and weeps for a p rofound a nd a bsolute pos s ession, which hitherto w as neither d esired n or thou ght of. To this demand Science replies with h er s e cre d revela tion : “ You long for perfect u nity ; an d you have it already, in tha t absolu te interchange of lives , th attransmutation of b eings w hich constitutes marriage . ” Bu t is love sa tisfied with this ? No, not yet th e ordained oneness of th e flesh is a sacrilege if there b e n ot with it a free union of hearts. An d in order tha t this may exist, lovers should create in thems elves, by life - lon g s tudy, a common b asis of idea s, an d a language which will incite them continually to communica te with each other. Th e silent tongue of love, its communion, mus t again a ssume its sacred function, which, ignoring all selfish pleasure, implies th e alliance of two wills . Th e cas u is t, without heart or soul , h as ma de n o stipulation on behalf of th e woman . Bu t to - day it is th e man himself, wh o in magnanimou s justice mus t plea d h er cause—e ven, if necessary, a gainst himself; for sh e h as a right to three things l s t. Sh e should never b e impregnated w ithout h er unqualified a ssent. It is for h er to say whether or not sh e is strong enou g h to accep t that chance of death. If sh e is ill , feeble, or ba dly formed, h er h hsban d should spare h er—especially a t th e time when th e ovu m is exposed ( du ring mens tru ation and th e ten days following) . Is th e in termedia te period s terile ? It certa inly ought to be, since th e ovum is wanting ; b u t pa ssion may cau se its reappearance . M. Coste thinks it is in this condition for a t least three days previous to mens truation, which is also th e op inion a dvanced in th e Memoir approved by th e Aca demy of Sciences. 2d . Th e husb and owes his wife enough of th e etiquette of love not No tes . 2 8 1 to make h er a passive minister to his p leasu re ; there should b e none fo r h im unless shared by h er . A Ca tholic physicia n of Lyons, a reg u ~ la r profes s or, gives it as h is deh bera te opinion, in a popular work pu b lished this yea r, th a t ‘ th e s courge which decimates women origina tes chiefly in th e fact, that th e g reater p art of them, thou gh married, are in reality widows . Sohtary in p leasure itself, th e selfish impati ence of th e man, desiring only s elfg ra tifica tion, and that for a single instant, a rouses h er emotions only to disappoint. To excite, bu t always in vain, is to p rovoke d1sease, irritate th e b ody, and desicca te th e soul . The wife submits to it ; b u t sh e b ecomes melancholy and sa rcas tic, a nd h er bitterness afl ' ects h er blood. With the exception of occasiona l bu smess talk, there is no conversation b etween them ; a t heart, no mar riage . F or marria ge exis ts only through th e sustained study of th e heart ' s duties, in th e interchange of those s alutary raptures which re new hfe . If this be wanting, th e espous ed pair b ecome es tranged, and ill a t ease with each other; th e children of such a marria ge are to be pitied, for th e family is dissolved . Does th e man pretend to b e satisfied with th e brief pleasure h e takes by force from ice a nd marble ? He derives from it only wretchednes s , for though p ractically a materialis t, his m1nd h as all th e requirements of a far - advanced age, w hich demands in everything th e very depths of th e profound ; in a word, h e would penetrate even to th e s oul. 3 d. Another physician, himself an e xcellent husband, said to me Th e best thing in your work (L ’Amou r ) is wha t everybo dy h as laughed a t—that portion ab out th e half- ma ternal du tie s of love, those W 1il1ng offices which suppress th e dres sin g - maid . Tha ttiresome and dan gerou s third person is a s a wall b etween husb and and wife, rendering th eir rela tions q uitefortuitous ; so th a t a man gets to visiting h is wife, a s 1f sh e were h is kep t mistres s . Th e adva n tage of marria ge is to b e able to b e together at all times , a n d consequen tly a t those rare mo ments when your wife—like all women, somewh at cold —may b e in sp ire d by a natural long ing. Aflection an d g ra titude have much effect W ith women in this re spect. They ar e much more promptly moved by h im w h o u nders ta nds th e ma n a g em en t o f t heir little mysteries, a n d w h o tenderly nu rs es th em during their periods of weakn es s . 0 If you wish to u n ders tan d women , rememb er h ow , in na tu ral h r s tory, mou ltmg e nfe ebles , an d des troys life among an imals . Terr 1ble i n th e infe rio r spe c ies , it leaves th em wholly a t th e mercy of the1r ene 2 82 No tes . mies . Man , in whom, fortunately, it is no t violent, changes continu ally as to h is skin, and even h is internal ep idermis . In his intes tinal proces ses , day by d ay h e she ds ” pa rt of h 1ms elf, a nd is enfeeble d by it. IVoma n loses fa r more tha n h e, having i n a dditio n h er peculia r fu nction every month. Sh e h as a t such time s, in common with all animals d u ring th eir moultin g s ea s o n, a desire to h ide hers elf, b u t als o to lea n u pon s ome thing . Sh e is th e Melusina of th e fa iry tale : th e b e a u tiful fay, w h o on earth often a s sume d th e form of a pretty, timid, little a dder, a nd h id hers elf to ca s t h er skin. H appy h e w h o can s o o th e his Melu sina, w h o ca n comfort h er , a nd make himself h er nurs e . W h o, inde ed, can supply his pla ce ? It is profana tion to expose h er b elove d pers on, so timid ab out s o innocent a ma tter, to th e tricks of a silly maid, w h o would make a jes t of h er . Such a n extreme of inti ma cy s h ould b e grante d o nly to h im to whom it can b e a joy and a f avor— a fa vor, which a t firs t cos ts h er s ome pain, but which, little by li ttle, sh e will find s o full of comfort, tha t sh e would on n o a ccoun t with draw it. Na ture loves habit ; a nd sh e makes free u se of th e per fect liberties of childh ood . Those are happy moments of grace an d comp laisance, a nd ea sy com plia nce, when h er cherished confida nt enthrals h er with h is harmless magnetism. Th e charming humility of h er wh o knows s o well th a t sh e is qu een, is with ou t defence, and yields without a stru gg le—in pro found forgetfulness , ab andonmen t without reserve 1 Love, hitherto experien ce d only as a half- co nscious dream, h a s now a chance to as sert its elf in complete blis s—in that salutary crisis ( s o p rofound with woma n) in which sh e gives u p h er ve ry h fe, to have it returned to h er a thou sa nd fold, in n ew b eauty a nd new embellishments according to th e law of Nature . NOTE 4 . WOMAN IN Socrs r r . Wha t s oc1ety ? P as t or fu ture ? I have n ot spoken of th e firs t , n or repeate d th e his tory o f th e Salons , which is g iven a t sufficient length in my Lou is X IV. The1 e 1s much talk of th e good thes e Sa lo ns e f ected, non e of th e goo d they prevented, of th e genius they stifled . Madame Henriette exerted a happy influence for ten years . Bu t Madame de Mo ntespa n, by h er viciousnes s , and Madame de Ma inte

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