302

SOME FAMOUS NAMES.

her group of "Ulysses and his Dog" obtained admission to the Royal Academy. Marrying Mr. Thornycroft, a former pupil of her father's, she accompanied him on a visit to Rome, where she executed her "Sappho" and "Sleeping Child," drew the favourable notice and profited by the counsels of Thorwaldsen and John Gibson. She has since produced numerous art works of much excellence, pure and graceful in idea, finished in execution: among them we may refer to “A Girl Skipping," and to the statues, commissioned by the Queen, of the late Princess Alice, the Princess Imperial of Germany, the Prince of Wales, and the Duke of Edinburgh, as "The Four Seasons."

The names of Madame Ristori, a tragic actress of unquestionable power, the rival, perhaps the superior, of Rachel, the eloquent personator of such characters as Medea, Lady Macbeth, Bianca, Camilla, Judith, and Phædra; of Madame Miola Carvalho, a soprano singer of finished style; and of Clara Novello (Countess Gigliucci), the most brilliant scion of a great musical family, are duly "blazoned on the "gloryroll" of art. The last-named has for some years ceased to seek the suffrages of enthusiastic audiences; and the papers have but recently recorded the death of Mrs. Sartoris (Miss Adelaide Kemble), who formerly drew all London to see and hear her in "Norma," the "Sonnambula," "Semiramide," and other great operas, and proved that England at need could produce a prima donna of the first class. Her sister, Frances Anne Kemble, won scarcely less distinction on the dramatic stage, but will be remembered chiefly by her literary writings, her" Poems," "Year of Consolation," and "Records of a Girlhood." To a past generation of operatic singers belongs the Dowager Countess of Essex, once, as Miss Stephens, the popular representative of "Polly" in the "Beggars' Opera," and afterwards one of our finest artists in oratorios and on the concert platform.

1 Suggested by that well-known passage in the “Odyssey” (book xvii.) :—
"Thus near the gates, conferring as they drew,
Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew;
He, not unconscious of the voice and tread,
Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his head.

He knew his lord; he knew, and strove to meet.
In vain he strove to crawl and kiss his feet;
Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his eyes,
Salute his master, and confess his joys."

"No post of policy or pride

Does Heaven from her holding grudge;
Miriam and Anna prophesied,

In Israel Deborah was judge.

How many Christian heroines

Have blest the world, and still do bless!
The praise their equal courage wins
Is tenfold through their tenderness."

-Coventry Patmore.

"You will begin to know what a serious matter our life is; how unworthy and stupid it is to trifle it away without heed; what a wretched, insignificant, worthless creature one comes to be who does not as soon as possible bend his whole strength, as in stringing a stiff bow, to doing whatever task first lies before him."-John Sterling.

"Like other such lives, like all lives, this is a tragedy; high hopes, noble efforts; under thickening difficulties and impediments, ever-new nobleness of valiant effort; and the result death, with conquests by no means corresponding."-Carlyle.

"Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long;
And so make Life, Death, and that vast For-Ever
One grand sweet song."

-Kingsley.

304

WOMAN AS THE HEROINE, ETC.

"It is a little thing to speak a phrase

Of common comfort, which by daily use
Has almost lost its sense; yet on the ear
Of him who thought to die unmourned, 'twill fall
Like choicest music; fill the glazing eye
With gentle tears; relax the knotted hand
To know the bonds of fellowship again."

-Thomas Noon Talfourd.

"The mill-streams that turn the clappers of the world arise in solitary places."-Sir Arthur Helps.

"Enthusiasm is the genius of sincerity; and truth accomplishes no victories without it."-Bulwer Lytton.

"One 1 I beheld, a wife, a mother, go

To gloomy scenes of wickedness and woe;

...

She sought her way through all things vile and base,
And made a prison a religious place :
Fighting her way-the way that angels fight
With powers of darkness-to let in the light.
The look of scorn, the scowl, th' insulting leer
Of shame, all fixed on her who ventures here,
Yet all she braved; she kept her steadfast eye
On the dear cause, and brushed the baseness by."
-Crabbe.

S courage a womanly virtue? Who that remembers the noble deeds of women blazoned on the record of history, who that recalls the instances in his own experience of female patience, self-denial, and chivalrous enterprise, will venture to doubt it? Yet it has been fashionable to treat it as peculiarly the grace and gift of manhood. In the lower kinds of physical courage, that is, in the quality sometimes designated "valour," the constitution of women may sometimes place her at a disadvantage. She may be more easily surprised by sudden ness of attack or a novel form of danger; though it is possible that this is simply the evil result of the training she generally receives. Whether she would lead a forlorn hope or a desperate charge, whether she would preserve her composure in the press of battle, it is impossible to say, because she has never been accustomed to military discipline, and the traditions and associations of the sex are not such as would afford her any support. Yet when we think of the Maid of Zaragoza, we are inclined to believe that even in the lower forms of courage women are not necessarily or naturally deficient, and that the timidity which is supposed to be a sexual characteristic, originates in an imperfect and casual system of education. Women, for instance, will "ride to the hounds " with as much "pluck" as men. However this may be, of that true courage which endures the sharpest arrows of pain without a murmur, which sacrifices itself uncomplainingly for another's sake, which gives up everything willingly for a cherished cause, which can behold without flinching the worst accesses of human

U

306

WOMAN'S COUrage.

agony for the purpose and in the hope of affording it relief, which can take unto the heart a life-long sorrow, and yet do its duty zealously and present to the world a cheerful countenance, which can adventure the greatest risks to render help to those beloved, which can bear unjust contumely and wrong with a tranquil and forgiving spirit:-of this divine courage who is more capable than woman? What will not a wife suffer, attempt, or achieve for her husband, or a mother for her son? Who watches most vigilantly by the bed of anguish? Who binds up the ghastly wound with the greatest nerve and yet with the greatest tenderness? Courage, true courage,-I should call it pre-eminently the woman's virtue! There are lowly homes where, every day, women perform in obscurity such heroic actions as, if known and done by men, would cover them with glory. There are homes where, every day, women take up new burdens of anxiety and sorrow, and carry them bravely, with a smile in their fond eyes, as if they were some subtle and indescribable happiness. The sublimest patience, the most pathetic tenderness, the most exalted generosity, the most absolute self-command,—if these are the constituents of true courage, then with true courage women are lavishly endowed. In truth, it seems quite natural to men to expect and demand of women such acts of unselfishness and renunciation, such proofs of endurance and intrepidity, as, when examined, are seen to belong to the highest and noblest heroism.

Yet there is a difference between the courage of women and the courage of men. The latter is more entirely physical, more matter of fact; the former more purely moral and impulsive. The courage of men is based upon custom, discipline, ordinary habit; that of women is inspired by some elevated motive or strong passion. Hence women always rise to the occasion; men frequently fall below it. Let us take the celebrated example of Grace Darling. She was the daughter of the lighthouse keeper on Farne Island, which lies amid the wild waters of the Northumbrian coast. Towards dawn on the 6th of September 1838, she was awakened by cries of distress; at daylight, the shattered timbers of a wrecked ship were seen on the Longstone, an adjacent rock. Immediately she roused her father, but as the tide was rising, and the storm raged fiercely, the old man refused to comply with her request