rather. They find their way, at last, to light and air, but the world will not take off the brand it has set upon them. The champion of the Rights of Woman found, in Godwin, one who would plead that cause like a brother. He who delineated with such purity of traits the form of woman in the Marguerite, of whom the weak St. Leon could never learn to be worthy, a pearl indeed whose price was above rubies, was not false in life to the faith by which he had hallowed his romance. He acted as he wrote, like a brother. This form of appeal rarely fails to touch the basest man. “Are you acting towards other women in the way you would have men act towards your sister?” George Sand smokes, wears male attire, wishes to be addressed as “Mon frère;”—perhaps, if she found those who were as brothers, indeed, she would not care whether she were brother or sister.[1]
- ↑
Since writing the above, I have read with great satisfaction, the following
sonnets addressed to George Sand by a woman who has precisely the
qualities that the author of Simon and Indiana lacks. It is such a
woman, so unblemished in character, so high in aim, and pure in soul,
that should address this other, as noble in nature, but clouded by error, and
struggling with circumstances. It is such women that will do such justice.
They are not afraid to look for virtue and reply to aspiration, among those
who have not “dwelt in decencies forever.” It is a source of pride and
happiness to read this address from the heart of Elizabeth Barrett.
TO GEORGE SAND.
A DESIRE.
Thou large brained woman and large-hearted man, Self-called George Sand! whose soul, amid the lions Of thy tumultuous senses moans defiance, And answers roar for roar, as spirits can I would some mild miraculous thunder ran Above the applauded circus, in appliance Of thine own nobler nature's strength and science,
