To an affectionate disposition like hers belongs, as a natural consequence, a susceptibility for all deep impressions, whether of admiration or of displeasure. One must accept, without cavilling, the offerings of nature as they are presented to us, or rather we should trace the law of harmony and proportion in all that is of God's workmanship. You cannot have the heart of a St. Peter with the frozen kiss of a Judas, or combine the cool politeness of one who is far in the devil's books for obduracy and persistency with woman's love.

The character of Jane Mary presents, no doubt, here an instance in point. She failed in many things which are deemed by some to be very desirable and indispensable to philosophy and all that. Notwithstanding her remarkable prudence and perseverance, she was impulsive, and liable, as people say, to be led away by first impressions and sudden thoughts; but in this respect many eminent men have resembled her. Did not St. Gregory the Great, for instance, show himself as one liable to be led away thus, when he received such an impression from seeing the countenance of the English lads, that he must needs run immediately to the pope, obtain his consent to start off immediately for England, in order to convert the natives, and actually set out and got as far as three days' journey from Rome before they could overtake him? Her ardour, and, without a word, burning resolution in an emergency, could best be described after the manner of the old ballads, which represent the thing as done before one can speak of it; as when, having to relate how May Margaret was to repair to the king to save the life of young Logie, it only says,—

"May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,

And she has curl'd back her yellow hair;

If I canna get young Logie's life,

Farewell to Scotland for evermair

It was the same when any thing occurred to excite her admiration. "Admiration is the label on ignorance," says Balthasar Gracian; "a fine mind is always sparing of admiration; custom deadens admiration." There is a whole choir of such

* Minstrelsy of the S. Border, i. 246.

voices, amongst which Mme. de Lambert may be heard. Be it So. Jane Mary thought differently though; let me tell you, she was in that way very ignorant, and had a deplorably unrefined mind. Utterly void of mistimed doubt and of egotism, she had a passion for what is good. Her wish to praise was boundless. Hers was a nature very capable of admiration, as are all elevated and truly poetic natures. To love and to admire has been the joy of her existence. Do you say she could be angry? I would not dispute about words; I believe as you mean it, that you are in great error. But, undoubtedly, there was not in her society a wearisome uniformity of manner. What you saw was not a statue, of which the beauty, however regular and gentle, will in the end prove monotonous; there were traits of innocent caprice if you will, perhaps instants of humorous impatience; a tinge of playful girlhood, with a military air," imparting that variety which is so essential to every figure that is to inspire love, and which could displease no one with a grain of manhood,-all these "angry " fits, or whatever else you might call them, finishing in a way so contrary to hatred! It is true, also, she did possess "that faculty of honest indignation, that palpitating and involuntary sense of energy, which nothing can cool down to indifference," and which, as Saint-Beuve says, "is a distinctive mark of certain valiant souls, constituting a great portion of their morality." I admit, then, that to her character belonged these spontaneous acts or words of disinterested honour, and those bursts of generous indignation which do the heart good amidst all this prudent egotism and this habit of indifference with which society in our age seems as it were frost-bound. One must admit also I repeat it-that there were occasions when her language was not conformable to that cool tone of Satanic politeness which can be remarked in all the medieval representations of the character of the evil one. "It had been often observed," says Coleridge, "and all my experience tended to confirm the observation, that prospects of pain and evil to others, and in general all deep feelings of revenge, are commonly expressed in a few words, ironically tame and mild. The mind, under so direful and fiendlike an influence, seems to take a morbid pleasure in contrasting the intensity of its wishes and feelings with the

slightness or levity of the expressions by which they are hinted; whereas those who express themselves warmly, may be seen the next hour cordially shaking hands with the very man whom they had been denouncing, and even perhaps risking their lives for him." The good-natured Gratiano with Shakspeare,

too wild, too rude and bold of voice,"

exclaims,

66

O be thou damn'd, inexorable dog,

And for thy life let justice be accused;"

while Shylock only says tranquilly,

"I stand here for law."

There were times, therefore, when she would speak after the fashion of the Roman diplomacy, and hold up treachery and sacrilege not as merely "throwing alarm into scrupulous minds," but as worthy of the execration of mankind. But-I repeat it even psychologically considered, how could it have been otherwise? All this only proves how well, how intensely she could love. As the Count de Maistre says on an occasion somewhat similar no doubt, "the girl who might find fault with her superstition in this, as in every other respect, would be perfectly right as to her expressions; and what she might say to expose its weakness would be quite true;" but one is tempted to add with him, "Tell me, grave philosophers, if you had to marry the one or the other of these two, would you choose the logician, or the superstitious and impulsive creature?" You have already seen what was the warmth, and sanctity, and heroism of her affections. Give her an occasion, and she would exclaim, like Isabella,—

It is true, with all this she was prudent. She has been often. heard to speak like the mother of St. Louis, proving that her prudence extended beyond the limits of this life; and yet, on

the other hand, as Mlle. de Scudéry says of some one else, "there was something in her temperament which does not commonly belong to those who are thus mystically prudent; for she was ardent as a girl, and if her wisdom and docility had not accustomed her to keep a command over her passions, she would have been at times deeply and visibly moved, in a way perhaps to amaze you. But this fire, which she kept under invariably, produced in her a thousand good effects; for it only showed itself in her intense anxiety practically to serve others, and in her resolution always, without disguise or duplicity, to keep the straight road, and accomplish her object by open and direct means." Upon the whole, therefore, I really do not see how the most cautious observer can avoid assenting to the justice of our words, if we were to finish for to-day with our Arabian bird, by exclaiming, after hearing of the defects which injuriously blended with the very graces of others,

IME, that pleases some, tries all.

"Jamais nous ne goûtons de parfaite allégresse. Nos plus heureux succès sont mêlés de tristesse *."

"In hoc mundo non dolere, non timere, non

periclitari impossibile est," saith St. Austin.

It is impossible to live in this world and not to sorrow, not to dread, not to be in peril. Mme. de Sévigné was a cheerful

* Corneille, Le Cid.

creature, and disposed to look always on the bright side of things; and yet I should fear to transcribe the passage in that letter to her daughter, when speaking of life, on which she found herself embarked "without her consent," she describes the fears and thorns with which it is beset; and yet confesses that she would return through them all rather than face that terminus the thought alone of which is enough to make her hate existence *. "Life and sorrow are near relations," says Menander r; and one likes to hear cited together, as forming one immense chorus, those voices that come down to us from all generations. "With the poor, men and sorrow grow up together, and come to old age in company;" but the bond exists also in the midst of opulence, and in the instance as well of a public and illustrious life. Take the rich and prosperous, whom calamity, it would appear, never visits; they only verify, if you could see their hearts, the truth of what the same old poet said,-"There are who externally seem happy, but within they are on a par with every body else,"

τὰ δ ̓ ἔνδον εἰσὶ πᾶσιν ἀνθρώποις ἴσοι.

"Such is the life of man and woman," says Philemon; "we rejoice less often than we grieve,"

Εὐφραινόμεσθ' ἔλαττον ἢ λυπούμεθα.

Such is the natural view of things, which in this respect revelation does not seem to have changed; for, as Philip de Comines says, aucune creature n'est exempte de passion. Tous mangent leur pain en peine et douleur. Nôtre seigneur le promit, dès qu'il fit l'homme, et loyaument l'a tenu à toutes gens." But there remains what the Comte de Maistre passes over in silence +, another perspective seen, in which there will seem to be at first more cause to wonder at the phenomena of human life; for it will seem as if there was a distinction that he did not recognize amongst mortals, and that, too, not in favour of the good. The Christian dispensation, however much we may read

* 188.

+ Soirées de St. Petersbourg, i.