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William Blake (search for this): chapter 35
, like Madame de Florae; Aliss Edgeworth's Lady Davenant in Helen is perhaps the best example of the class. In pictorial art I know of no more impressive representation of feminine old age, of the more commanding sort, than an etching in Mrs. Jameson's Commonplace book from a German artist, Steinle. Eve, in her banishment, prematurely old with care, sits leaning with stately poise against a tree and stretches one strong right arm to uphold Cain, a lovely naked child, upon a low branch. He carelessly drops an apple into her lap, thus unconsciously recalling the sin that forfeited Paradise. Her drooping locks are white, but her noble eyes are undimmed, and seem to look beyond his sin, or hers, into some world where all isolated transgressions are merged in eternal life and disappear. In her other hand she holds a spindle, as if ready to weave the destinies of that world unseen. It is a group that William Blake might have drawn-and one in whose presence it seems a glory to be old.
Cain (search for this): chapter 35
cked, like old Lady Kew, or a little oversentimental, like Madame de Florae; Aliss Edgeworth's Lady Davenant in Helen is perhaps the best example of the class. In pictorial art I know of no more impressive representation of feminine old age, of the more commanding sort, than an etching in Mrs. Jameson's Commonplace book from a German artist, Steinle. Eve, in her banishment, prematurely old with care, sits leaning with stately poise against a tree and stretches one strong right arm to uphold Cain, a lovely naked child, upon a low branch. He carelessly drops an apple into her lap, thus unconsciously recalling the sin that forfeited Paradise. Her drooping locks are white, but her noble eyes are undimmed, and seem to look beyond his sin, or hers, into some world where all isolated transgressions are merged in eternal life and disappear. In her other hand she holds a spindle, as if ready to weave the destinies of that world unseen. It is a group that William Blake might have drawn-and
Lucien Carr (search for this): chapter 35
held its strength even into advanced years. Such opinions as have been brought forward by Diderot in French, and by Godwin in English, impairing the feeling of filial reverence after the son grows to maturity, would have been abhorrent to the feelings of an ancient Greek. Those emotions took form in their reverence for the Graiae --nymphs who were born gray-headed — as did those of the Romans in the honor paid to the Sibyls, some of whom at least were old. Among our American Indians, Mr. Lucien Carr finds that supremacy accorded to women in age which is denied them in youth. Goethe, exhausting all mythology and allegory in the second part of Faust, gives mysterious reverence to the Mothers, makes the Fates the conservators of social order; while he, with keen satire, modernizes the Furies into beautiful and treacherous girls, each of them young and fair, a wheedling kitten. It seems to me clear that neither our literary women nor any others of their sex have any need to be asha
Lydia Maria Child (search for this): chapter 35
, when seventy years old, all the classics of Louis XIV.'s time, in order to preserve her literary style; she died at eighty-four, and the edition of her works published just before her death comprised just eighty-four volumes-one for every year. It is half a century since her death, and it is said that at least twenty of her books are still popular in France. This is to make the fruitage of a life better than the flower, and so is such a beautiful old age as that of Lucretia Mott or Lydia Maria Child. It is the fashion to sneer at old women; the novelists neglect — them: Howells hardly recognizes their existence; Thackeray makes them worldly and wicked, like old Lady Kew, or a little oversentimental, like Madame de Florae; Aliss Edgeworth's Lady Davenant in Helen is perhaps the best example of the class. In pictorial art I know of no more impressive representation of feminine old age, of the more commanding sort, than an etching in Mrs. Jameson's Commonplace book from a German a
Davenant (search for this): chapter 35
ntury since her death, and it is said that at least twenty of her books are still popular in France. This is to make the fruitage of a life better than the flower, and so is such a beautiful old age as that of Lucretia Mott or Lydia Maria Child. It is the fashion to sneer at old women; the novelists neglect — them: Howells hardly recognizes their existence; Thackeray makes them worldly and wicked, like old Lady Kew, or a little oversentimental, like Madame de Florae; Aliss Edgeworth's Lady Davenant in Helen is perhaps the best example of the class. In pictorial art I know of no more impressive representation of feminine old age, of the more commanding sort, than an etching in Mrs. Jameson's Commonplace book from a German artist, Steinle. Eve, in her banishment, prematurely old with care, sits leaning with stately poise against a tree and stretches one strong right arm to uphold Cain, a lovely naked child, upon a low branch. He carelessly drops an apple into her lap, thus unconsc
Denis Diderot (search for this): chapter 35
an are the trophies of age, not of youth. The utmost beauty leaves the Oriental woman but a petted toy in youth; yet when a mother she has a life-long slave in her son, and an Eastern emperor will declare war or make peace at her bidding. So close was among the Greeks the tie between the mother and her sons — the father, as Plato implies in his Protagoras, very rarely interfering with them — that it held its strength even into advanced years. Such opinions as have been brought forward by Diderot in French, and by Godwin in English, impairing the feeling of filial reverence after the son grows to maturity, would have been abhorrent to the feelings of an ancient Greek. Those emotions took form in their reverence for the Graiae --nymphs who were born gray-headed — as did those of the Romans in the honor paid to the Sibyls, some of whom at least were old. Among our American Indians, Mr. Lucien Carr finds that supremacy accorded to women in age which is denied them in youth. Goethe, <
Aliss Edgeworth (search for this): chapter 35
It is half a century since her death, and it is said that at least twenty of her books are still popular in France. This is to make the fruitage of a life better than the flower, and so is such a beautiful old age as that of Lucretia Mott or Lydia Maria Child. It is the fashion to sneer at old women; the novelists neglect — them: Howells hardly recognizes their existence; Thackeray makes them worldly and wicked, like old Lady Kew, or a little oversentimental, like Madame de Florae; Aliss Edgeworth's Lady Davenant in Helen is perhaps the best example of the class. In pictorial art I know of no more impressive representation of feminine old age, of the more commanding sort, than an etching in Mrs. Jameson's Commonplace book from a German artist, Steinle. Eve, in her banishment, prematurely old with care, sits leaning with stately poise against a tree and stretches one strong right arm to uphold Cain, a lovely naked child, upon a low branch. He carelessly drops an apple into her
English (search for this): chapter 35
outh. The utmost beauty leaves the Oriental woman but a petted toy in youth; yet when a mother she has a life-long slave in her son, and an Eastern emperor will declare war or make peace at her bidding. So close was among the Greeks the tie between the mother and her sons — the father, as Plato implies in his Protagoras, very rarely interfering with them — that it held its strength even into advanced years. Such opinions as have been brought forward by Diderot in French, and by Godwin in English, impairing the feeling of filial reverence after the son grows to maturity, would have been abhorrent to the feelings of an ancient Greek. Those emotions took form in their reverence for the Graiae --nymphs who were born gray-headed — as did those of the Romans in the honor paid to the Sibyls, some of whom at least were old. Among our American Indians, Mr. Lucien Carr finds that supremacy accorded to women in age which is denied them in youth. Goethe, exhausting all mythology and allegor<
Florae (search for this): chapter 35
ne for every year. It is half a century since her death, and it is said that at least twenty of her books are still popular in France. This is to make the fruitage of a life better than the flower, and so is such a beautiful old age as that of Lucretia Mott or Lydia Maria Child. It is the fashion to sneer at old women; the novelists neglect — them: Howells hardly recognizes their existence; Thackeray makes them worldly and wicked, like old Lady Kew, or a little oversentimental, like Madame de Florae; Aliss Edgeworth's Lady Davenant in Helen is perhaps the best example of the class. In pictorial art I know of no more impressive representation of feminine old age, of the more commanding sort, than an etching in Mrs. Jameson's Commonplace book from a German artist, Steinle. Eve, in her banishment, prematurely old with care, sits leaning with stately poise against a tree and stretches one strong right arm to uphold Cain, a lovely naked child, upon a low branch. He carelessly drops a
French (search for this): chapter 35
trophies of age, not of youth. The utmost beauty leaves the Oriental woman but a petted toy in youth; yet when a mother she has a life-long slave in her son, and an Eastern emperor will declare war or make peace at her bidding. So close was among the Greeks the tie between the mother and her sons — the father, as Plato implies in his Protagoras, very rarely interfering with them — that it held its strength even into advanced years. Such opinions as have been brought forward by Diderot in French, and by Godwin in English, impairing the feeling of filial reverence after the son grows to maturity, would have been abhorrent to the feelings of an ancient Greek. Those emotions took form in their reverence for the Graiae --nymphs who were born gray-headed — as did those of the Romans in the honor paid to the Sibyls, some of whom at least were old. Among our American Indians, Mr. Lucien Carr finds that supremacy accorded to women in age which is denied them in youth. Goethe, exhausting <
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