centre of the bundle that she might appear to carry as much as they, yet
carry nothing; she is as old as the first man who threw away his shield in
battle, and yet, when it was over, gathered with the victors to share the
spoils, as old as cowardice and lust in the human and animal world; only to
cease from being when, perhaps, an enlarged and expanded humanity shall
have cast the last slough of its primitive skin.

Every army has its camp-followers, not among its accredited soldiers, but
who follow in its train, ready to attack and rifle the fallen on either
side. To lookers on, they may appear soldiers; but the soldier knows who
they are. At the Judean supper there was one Master, and to the onlooker
there may have seemed twelve apostles; in truth only twelve were of the
company, and one was not of it. There has always been this thirteenth
figure at every sacramental gathering, since the world began, wherever the
upholders of a great cause have broken spiritual bread; but it may be
questioned whether in any instance this thirteenth figure has been able to
destroy, or even vitally to retard, any great human movement. Judas could
hang his Master by a kiss; but he could not silence the voice which for a
thousand years rang out of that Judean grave. Again and again, in social,
political, and intellectual movements, the betrayer betrays;--and the cause
marches on over the body of the man.

There are women, as there are men, whose political, social, intellectual,
or philanthropic labours are put on, as the harlot puts on paint, and for
the same purpose: but they can no more retard the progress of the great
bulk of vital and sincere womanhood, than the driftwood on the surface of a
mighty river can ultimately prevent its waters from reaching the sea.


Chapter IV. Woman and War.