Another used as highest praise, in speaking of a character in literature, the words “a manly woman.”
So in the noble passage of Ben Jonson:
| “ | I meant the day-star should not brighter ride, |
| Nor shed like influence from its lucent seat; | |
| I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet, | |
| Free from that solemn vice of greatness, pride; | |
| I meant each softest virtue there should meet, | |
| Fit in that softer bosom to abide, | |
| Only a learned and a manly soul, | |
| I purposed her, that should with even powers, | |
| The rock, the spindle, and the shears control | |
| Of destiny, and spin her own free hours.” |
“Methinks,” said I, “you are too fastidious in objecting to this. Jonson in using the word ‘manly’ only meant to heighten the picture of this, the true, the intelligent fate, with one of the deeper colors.” ‘And yet,’ said she, ‘so invariable is the use of this word where a heroic quality is to be described, and I feel so sure that persistence and courage are the most womanly no less than the most manly qualities, that I would exchange these words for others of a larger sense at the risk of marring the fine tissue of the verse.’ Read, ‘a heavenward and instructed soul,’ and I should be satisfied. Let it not be said, wherever there is energy or creative genius, ‘She has a masculine mind.’
This by no means argues a willing want of generosity toward woman. Man is as generous toward her, as he knows how to be.
Wherever she has herself arisen in national or private history, and nobly shone forth in any form of excellence, men have received her, not only willingly, but with triumph. Their encomiums indeed, are always, in some sense, mortifying; they show too much sur-
