Iphigenia! Antigone! you were worthy to live! _We_ are fallen on
evil times, my sisters; our feelings have been checked; our thoughts
questioned; our forms dwarfed and defaced by a bad nurture. Yet hearts
like yours are in our breasts, living, if unawakened; and our minds
are capable of the same resolves. You we understand at once; those who
stare upon us pertly in the street, we cannot--could never understand.
You knew heroes, maidens, and your fathers were kings of men. You
believed in your country and the gods of your country. A great
occasion was given to each, whereby to test her character.
You did not love on earth; for the poets wished to show us the force
of Woman's nature, virgin and unbiased. You were women; not wives, or
lovers, or mothers. Those are great names, but we are glad to see
_you_ in untouched flower.
Were brothers so dear, then, Antigone? We have no brothers. We see no
men into whose lives we dare look steadfastly, or to whose destinies
we look forward confidently. We care not for their urns; what
inscription could we put upon them? They live for petty successes, or
to win daily the bread of the day. No spark of kingly fire flashes
from their eyes.
Pages:
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476