on her first joining the army. They had much to mourn, and their great
impulses did not find due scope. But with time enough, space enough,
their kindred appear on the scene. Across the ages, forms lean, trying
to touch the hem of their retreating robes. The youth here by my side
cannot be weary of the fragments from the life of Sappho. He will not
believe they are not addressed to himself, or that he to whom they
were addressed could be ungrateful. A recluse of high powers devotes
himself to understand and explain the thought of Eloisa; he asserts
her vast superiority in soul and genius to her master; he curses the
fate that casts his lot in another age than hers. He could have
understood her; he would have been to her a friend, such as Abelard
never could. And this one Woman he could have loved and reverenced,
and she, alas! lay cold in her grave hundreds of years ago. His sorrow
is truly pathetic. These responses, that come too late to give joy,
are as tragic as anything we know, and yet the tears of later ages
glitter as they fall on Tasso's prison bars. And we know how
elevating to the captive is the security that somewhere an
intelligence must answer to his.

The Man habitually most narrow towards Woman will be flushed, as by
the worst assault on Christianity, if you say it has made no
improvement in her condition. Indeed, those most opposed to new acts
in her favor, are jealous of the reputation of those which have been
done.

We will not speak of the enthusiasm excited by actresses,
improvisatrici, female singers,--for here mingles the charm of beauty
and grace,--but female authors, even learned women, if not
insufferably ugly and slovenly, from the Italian professor's daughter
who taught behind the curtain, down to Mrs. Carter and Madame Dacier,