person beloved; he wishes to suffer pain, to meet danger, to risk his life
for her sake. Therefore Tennyson, in speaking of that time, beautifully
said:

Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might,
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.

Unselfishness is, of course, a very noble feeling, independently of the
cause. But this is only one of the emotions of a higher class when
powerfully aroused. There is pity, tenderness--the same kind of tenderness
that one feels toward a child--the love of the helpless, the desire to
protect. And a third sentiment felt at such a time more strongly than at
any other, is the sentiment of duty; responsibilities moral and social are
then comprehended in a totally new way. Surely none can dispute these
facts nor the beauty of them.

Moral sentiments are the highest of all; but next to them the sentiment of
beauty in itself, the artistic feeling, is also a very high form of
intellectual and even of secondary moral experience. Scientifically there
is a relation between the beautiful and the good, between the physically
perfect and the ethically perfect. Of course it is not absolute. There is
nothing absolute in this world. But the relation exists. Whoever can
comprehend the highest form of one kind of beauty must be able to
comprehend something of the other. I know very well that the ideal of the
love-season is an illusion; in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of
the thousand the beauty of the woman is only imagined. But does that make
any possible difference? I do not think that it does. To imagine beauty is
really to see it--not objectively, perhaps, but subjectively beyond all
possibility of doubt. Though you see the beauty only in your mind, in your
mind it is; and in your mind its ethical influence must operate. During