Chapter II: Part 2

She broke the bread into two fragments, and gave them to the
children, who ate with avidity. "She has kept none for herself,"
grumbled the sergeant. "Because she is not hungry," said a soldier.
"Because she is a mother," said the sergeant.--_Ninety-Three._

Extreme simplicity touches on extreme coquetry.... They did not
speak, they did not bow, they did not know each other, but they
met; and like the stars in the heavens, they lived by looking at
each other. It was thus that she gradually became a woman, and was
developed into a beautiful and loving woman, conscious of her
beauty and ignorant of her love. She was a coquette into the
bargain, through her innocence.--_Les Misérables._

Does not beauty confer a benefit upon us, even by the simple fact
of being beautiful?--Here and there we meet with one who possesses
that fairy-like power of enchanting all about her; sometimes she is
ignorant herself of this magical influence, which is, however, for
that reason only the more perfect. Her presence lights up the home;
her approach is like cheerful warmth; she passes by, and we are
content; she stays awhile, and we are happy.--_Toilers of the Sea._

To behold her is to live; she is the Aurora with a human face. She
has no need to do more than simply to be, she makes an Eden of the
house; Paradise breathes from her: and she communicates this
delight to all, without taking any greater trouble than that of
existing beside them. Is it not a thing divine to have a smile
which, none know how, has the power to lighten the weight of that
enormous chain which all the living, in common, drag behind
them?--_Toilers of the Sea._

On the day when a woman who passes before you emits light as she
walks you are lost, for you love. You have from that moment but one
thing to do: think of her so intently that she will be compelled to
think of you.--_Les Misérables._

The soul only needs to see a smile in a white crêpe bonnet in order
to enter the palace of dreams.--_Les Misérables._

She had upon her lips almost the light of a smile, with the fulness
of tears in her eyes.... The reflection of an angel was in her
look.--_Toilers of the Sea._

ROBERT BROWNING.

There is a vision in the heart of each
Of justice, mercy, wisdom, tenderness
To wrong and pain, and knowledge of its cure:
And these embodied in a woman's form
That best transmits them, pure as first received,
From God above her, to mankind below.

_Colombe's Birthday._

This woman ...
... Being true, devoted, constant--she
Found constancy, devotion, truth, the plain
And easy commonplace of character.

_The Inn Album._

... The good and tender heart,
Its girl's trust and its woman's constancy,
How pure yet passionate, how calm yet kind,
How grave yet joyous, how reserved yet free
As light where friends are--how imbued with lore
The world most prizes, yet the simplest.
* * * * *
Herself creates
The want she means to satisfy.

_A Blot on the 'Scutcheon._

Truly, the woman's way
High to lift heart up.

_Agamemnon._

And Michal's face
Still wears that quiet and peculiar light
Like the dim circlet floating 'round a pearl.
* * * * *
And yet her calm sweet countenance,
Though saintly, was not sad; for she would sing
Alone ... bird-like,
Not dreaming you were near.--Her carols dropt
In flakes through that old leafy bower.

_Paracelsus._

... Such a lady, cheeks so round and lips so red,--
On her neck the small face buoyant like a bell-flower on its bed.

_Lyric._

There's a woman like a dew-drop, she's so purer than the purest;
And her noble heart's the noblest, yes, and her sure faith's the surest;
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre
Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster,
Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck's rose-misted marble;
Then her voice's music ... call it the well's bubbling, the bird's warble!

_A Blot on the 'Scutcheon._

How twinks thine eye, my Love,
Blue as yon star-beam.

_Ferishtah's Fancies._

That flower-like love of hers;
* * * * *
She was true--she only of them all!
True to her eyes, ... those glorious eyes.
* * * * *
With truth and purity go other gifts.
All gifts come clustering to that.

_The Return of the Druses._

Good as beautiful is she,
With gifts that match her goodness, no faint flaw
I' the white;--she were the pearl you think you saw.

_Daniel Bartoli._

Since beneath my roof
Housed she who made home heaven, in heaven's behoof
I went forth every day, and all day long
Worked for the world. Look, how the laborer's song
Cheers him! Thus sang my soul, at each sharp throe
Of laboring flesh and blood--"She loves me so!"

_A Forgiveness._

It is conspicuous in a woman's nature
Before its view to take a grace for granted:
Too trustful,--on her boundary, usurpature
Is swftly made;
But swftly, too, decayed,
The glory perishes by woman vaunted.

_Agamemnon._

That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers;
And the blue eye
Dear and dewy,
And that infantine fresh air of hers!
* * * * *
Eyes and mouth too,
All the face composed of flowers....
* * * * *
... The sweet face ...
Be its beauty
Its sole duty!

_A Pretty Woman._

Women hate a debt as
Men a gift.

_In a Balcony._

A pretty woman's worth some pains to see,
Nor is she spoiled, I take it, if a crown
Complete the forehead pale and tresses pure.

_Colombe's Birthday._

Sure, 'tis no woman's part to long for battle;
* * * * *
Who conquers mildly
God from afar benignantly regardeth.

_Agamemnon._

Man's best and woman's worse
Amount so nearly to the same thing.

_Daniel Bartoli._

Nature's law ...
Given the peerless woman, certainly
Somewhere shall be the peerless man to match.

_The Inn Album._

Show me where's the woman won without
The help of one lie which she believes--
That--never mind how things have come to pass,
And let who loves have loved a thousand times--
All the same he now loves her only, loves
Her ever....

_The Inn Album._

Girl with sparkling eyes....
* * * * *
What an angelic mystery you are--
* * * * *
You have a full fresh joyous sense of life
That finds you out life's fit food everywhere;
* * * * *
By joyance you inspire joy.

_The Inn Album._

Now makes twice
That I have seen her, walked and talked
With the poor pretty thoughtful thing,
Whose worth I weigh; she tries to sing:
Draws, hopes in time the eye grows nice;
Reads verse and thinks she understands;
Loves all, at any rate, that's great,
Good, beautiful....

_Dis Aliter Visum._

Wave my lady dear a last farewell,
Lamenting who to one and all of us
Domestics was a mother, myriad harms
She used to ward away from every one,
And mollify her husband's ireful mood.

_Balaustion's Adventure._

Men? say you have the power
To make them yours, rule men, throughout life's little hour,
According to the phrase: what follows?
Men, you make,
By ruling them, your own; each man for his own sake
Accepts you as his guide, avails him of what worth
He apprehends in you to sublimate his earth
With fire; content, if so you convey him through night,
That you shall play the sun, and he, the satellite,
Pilfer your light and heat and virtue, starry pelf,
While, caught up by your course, he turns upon himself.

_Fifine at the Fair._

Any sort of woman may bestow
Her atom on the star, or clod she counts for such,--
Each little making less bigger by just that much.
Women grow you, while men depend on you at best.

_Fifine at the Fair._

Woman, and will you cast
For a word, quite off at last
Me your own, your You,--
Love, if you knew the light
That your soul casts in my sight,
How I look to you
For the pure and true,
And the beauteous and the right,--
Bear with a moment's spite
When a mere mote threats the white!

_A Lover's Quarrel._

Love, you did give all I asked, I think--
More than I merit, yes, by many times.
And perfect eyes, and more than perfect mouth,
But had you--oh, with the same perfect brow,
And the low voice my soul hears, as a bird
The fowler's pipe, and follows to the snare--
Had you, with these the same, but brought a mind!
Some women do so. Had the mouth there urged,
"God and the glory! never care for gain;
The present by the future, what is that?
Live for fame, side by side with Agnolo!
Rafael is waiting: up to God, all three!"
I might have done it for you. So it seems;
Perhaps not. All is as God overrules.

_Andrea Del Sarto._

All women love great men
If young or old; it is in all the tales;
Young beauties love old poets who can love--
* * * * *
Who was a queen and loved a poet once
Humpbacked, a dwarf? ah, women can do that!

_In a Balcony._

For women
There is no good of life but love--but love!
What else looks good, is some shade flung from love;
Love gilds it, gives it worth. Be warned by me.
Never you cheat yourself one instant! Love,
Give love, ask only love, and leave the rest!

_In a Balcony._

Oh, the beautiful girl ...
... Her flesh was the soft seraphic screen
Of a soul that is meant ...
To just see earth, and hardly be seen,
And blossom in heaven instead.
Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair?
One grace that grew to its full ...
... She had her great gold hair.

Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss,
Freshness and fragrance--floods of it, too!
Gold, did I say? Nay, gold's mere dross!

_Gold Hair._

She had
A heart--how shall I say?--too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed: she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
* * * * *
'Twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her,--all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush at least ...
... Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling?

_My Last Duchess._

W. M. THACKERAY.

To be doing good for some one else, is the life of most good women.
They are exuberant of kindness, as it were, and must impart it to
some one.--_Henry Esmond._

Who ever accused women of being just? They are always sacrificing
themselves or somebody for somebody else's sake.--_Pendennis._

I think it is not national prejudice which makes me believe that a
high-bred English lady is the most complete of all Heaven's
subjects in this world. In whom else do you see so much grace, and
so much virtue; so much faith, and so much tenderness; with such a
perfect refinement and chastity? And by high-bred ladies I don't
mean duchesses and countesses. Be they ever so high in station,
they can be but ladies, and no more. But almost every man who lives
in the world has the happiness, let us hope, of counting a few such
persons amongst his circle of acquaintance,--women, in whose
angelical natures there is something awful, as well as beautiful,
to contemplate; at whose feet the wildest and fiercest of us must
fall down and humble ourselves, in admiration of that adorable
purity which never seems to do or to think wrong.--_Pendennis._

What kind-hearted woman, young or old, does not love
match-making?--_The Newcomes._

Who does not know how ruthlessly women will tyrannize when they are
let to domineer? And who does not know how useless advice is?... A
man gets his own experience about women, and will take nobody's
hearsay; nor, indeed, is the young fellow worth a fig that
would.--_Henry Esmond._

Stupid! Why not? Some women ought to be stupid. What you call
dullness I call repose. Give me a calm woman, a slow woman,--a
lazy, majestic woman. Show me a gracious virgin bearing a lily;
not a leering giggler frisking a rattle. A lively woman would be
the death of me.... Why shouldn't the Sherrick be stupid, I say?
About great beauty there should always reign a silence. As you look
at the great stars, the great ocean, any great scene of nature, you
hush, sir. You laugh at a pantomime, but you are still in a temple.
When I saw the great Venus of the Louvre, I thought,--Wert thou
alive, O goddess, thou shouldst never open those lovely lips but to
speak lowly, slowly; thou shouldst never descend from that pedestal
but to walk stately to some near couch, and assume another attitude
of beautiful calm. To be beautiful is enough. If a woman can do
that well; who shall demand more from her? You don't want a rose to
sing. And I think wit is as out of place where there's great
beauty; as I wouldn't have a queen to cut jokes on her
throne.--_The Newcomes._

And so it is,--a pair of bright eyes with a dozen glances suffice
to subdue a man; to enslave him, and inflame him; to make him even
forget; they dazzle him so that the past becomes straightway dim to
him; and he would give all his life to possess 'em.--_Henry
Esmond._

She is as good a little creature as can be. She is never out of
temper; I don't think she is very wise; but she is uncommonly
pretty, and her beauty grows on you.... I look at her like a little
wild-flower in a field,--like a little child at play, sir. Pretty
little tender nursling. If I see her passing in the street I feel
as if I would like some fellow to be rude to her that I might have
the pleasure of knocking him down. She is like a little songbird,
sir,--a tremulous, fluttering little linnet that you would take
into your hand, and smooth its little plumes, and let it perch on
your finger and sing.--_The Newcomes._

That fine blush which is her pretty symbol of youth, modesty, and
beauty.... I never saw such a beautiful violet as that of her eyes.
Her complexion is of the pink of the blush-rose.--_The Newcomes._

He thought and wondered at the way in which women play with men,
and coax them and win them and drop them.--_Pendennis._

It was this lady's disposition to think kindnesses, and devise
silent bounties and to scheme benevolence, for those about her. We
take such goodness, for the most part, as if it were our due; the
Marys who bring ointment for our feet get but little thanks. Some
of us never feel this devotion at all, or are moved by it to
gratitude or acknowledgment; others only recall it years after,
when the days are past in which those sweet kindnesses were spent
on us, and we offer back our return for the debt by a poor tardy
payment of tears. The forgotten tones of love recur to us, and kind
glances shine out of the past--O so bright and clear!--O so longed
after! because they are out of reach; as holiday music from
with-inside a prison wall--or sunshine seen through the bars; more
prized because unattainable, more bright because of the contrast of
present darkness and solitude, whence there is no escape.--_Henry
Esmond._

In houses where, in place of that sacred, inmost flame of love,
there is discord at the centre, the whole household becomes
hypocritical, and each lies to his neighbor.... Alas that youthful
love and truth should end in bitterness and bankruptcy.... 'Tis a
hard task for women in life, that mask which the world bids them
wear. But there is no greater crime than for a woman who is ill
used and unhappy to show that she is so. The world is quite
relentless about bidding her to keep a cheerful face.--_Henry
Esmond._

O, what a mercy it is that these women do not exercise their powers
oftener. We can't resist them if they do. Let them show ever so
little inclination and men go down on their knees at once; old or
ugly it is all the same, and this I set down as a positive truth. A
woman with fair opportunities, and without an absolute hump, may
marry whom she likes. Only let us be thankful that the darlings are
like the beasts of the field and don't know their own powers. They
would overcome us entirely if they did.--_The Newcomes._

As for women--O my dear friends and brethren in this vale of
tears--did you ever see anything so curious and monstrous and
annoying as the way in which women court Princekin when he is
marriageable!--_The Newcomes._

She was as gentle and amenable to reason, as good-natured a girl
as could be; a little vacant and silly, but some men like dolls for
wives.--_The Newcomes._

She had been bred to measure her actions by a standard which the
world may nominally admit, but which it leaves for the most part
unheeded. Worship, love, duty, as taught her by the devout study of
the sacred law which interprets and defines it--if these formed the
outward practice of her life, they were also its constant and
secret endeavor and occupation. She spoke but very seldom of her
religion, though it filled her heart and influenced all her
behavior. What must the world appear to such a person?--_The
Newcomes._

There are ladies, who may be called men's women, being welcomed
entirely by all the gentlemen, and cut or slighted by all their
wives.... But while simple folks who are out of the world, or
country people with a taste for the genteel, behold these ladies in
their seeming glory in public places, or envy them from afar off,
persons who are better instructed could inform them that these
envied ladies have no more chance of establishing themselves in
"Society," than the benighted squire's wife in Somersetshire, who
reads of their doings in the _Morning Post_. Men living about town
are aware of these awful truths. You hear how pitilessly many
ladies of seeming rank and wealth are excluded from this "Society."
The frantic efforts which they make to enter this circle, the
meannesses to which they submit, the insults which they undergo,
are matters of wonder to those who take human or woman kind for a
study; and the pursuit of fashion under difficulties would be a
fine theme for any very great person who had the wit, the leisure,
and the knowledge of the English language necessary for the
compiling of such a history.--_Vanity Fair._

I can fancy nothing more cruel than to have to sit day after day
with a dull handsome woman opposite; to answer her speeches about
the weather, housekeeping, and what not.... Women go through this
simpering and smiling life and bear it quite easily. Theirs is a
life of hypocrisy. What good woman does not laugh at her husband's
or father's jokes and stories time after time and would not laugh
at breakfast, lunch, and dinner if he told them? Flattery is their
nature,--to coax, flatter, and sweetly befool some one is every
woman's business. She is none, if she declines this office.--_The
Newcomes._

He had placed himself at her feet so long that the poor little
woman had been accustomed to trample upon him. She didn't wish to
marry him, but she wished to keep him. She wished to give him
nothing, but that he should give her all. It is a bargain not
unfrequently levied in love.--_Vanity Fair._

Every woman would rather be beautiful, than be anything else in the
world,--ever so rich, or ever so good, or have all the gifts of the
fairies.--_The Virginians._

If a man is in grief, who cheers him; in trouble, who consoles
him; in wrath, who soothes him; in joy, who makes him doubly happy;
in prosperity, who rejoices; in disgrace, who backs him against the
world, and dresses with gentle unguents and warm poultices the
rankling wounds made by the stings and arrows of outrageous
Fortune? Who but woman, if you please? You who are ill and sore
from the buffets of Fate, have you one or two of these sweet
physicians? Return thanks to the gods that they have left you so
much of consolation. What gentleman is not more or less a
Prometheus? Who has not his rock, his chain? But the sea-nymphs
come,--the gentle, the sympathizing; ... they do their blessed best
to console us Titans; _they_ don't turn their backs upon us after
our overthrow.--_The Virginians._

Is not a young mother one of the sweetest sights which life shows
us? If she has been beautiful before, does not her present pure joy
give a character of refinement and sacredness almost to her beauty,
touch her sweet cheeks with fairer blushes, and impart I know not
what serene brightness to her eyes?--_The Newcomes._

This lady moved through the world quite regardless of all the
comments that were made in her praise or disfavor. She did not seem
to know that she was admired or hated for being so perfect, but
went on calmly through life, saving her prayers, loving her family,
helping her neighbors, and doing good.--_Pendennis._

She had a fault of character which flawed her perfections. With
the other sex perfectly tolerant and kindly, of her own she was
invariably jealous; and a proof that she had this vice is, that
though she would acknowledge a thousand faults that she had not, to
which she had she could never be got to own.--_Henry Esmond._

She was a critic, not by reason, but by feeling. Feeling was her
reason.--_Henry Esmond._

Her eyes were gray; her voice low and sweet: and her smile when it
lighted up her face and eyes as beautiful as spring sunshine, also,
they could brighten and flash often, and sometimes though rarely
rain.--_Pendennis._

End of Project Gutenberg's What Great Men Have Said About Women, by Various