(Lon. Mag.) WHAT a beautiful Poem, if I may so call it, is the Book of Ruth. Here is one of the few sweet and exquisitely faithful pictures, left us by the Ancients, of that noble tenderness which distinguishes the Female character. Ruth is both the pattern and the copy of the best of her sex. It has often, no doubt, been remarked as a defect among the Poets of Antiquity, that they have so rarely exhibited woman in all the peculiar loveliness of her nature. The Hebrews, the Greeks, and the Romans, though Sophocles and a few others may afford partial exceptions, seem to have regarded the female sex as almost below the dignity of poetical notice. When they are introduced upon the scene, it is almost always in masculine characters: they are men in wo men's apparel. Clytemnestra, Medea, Camilla, Amata, have all the roughness of the other sex, and but little of the tenderness of their own. Or if they are occasionally drawn with a more delicate pencil, it is only to exhibit them at the loom, amongst their maids, or engaged in their household affairs. Not to speak of the Deities, who seem to participate all the vices of the Human race and none of the virtues, Penelope, nay Andromache herself, the most amiable female characters painted by Homer, (who in powers of delineation was the Shakspeare of that age), are but faint and lifeless representations of Woman as she is often to be found upon the great stage of Nature. The draught of the poet was infinitely less poetical than the original, for the cold majestic housewifely deportment of Andromache towards Hector, even in the height of her grief for his departure, is such as no matron who tenderly loves her husband would assume. In this respect the Moderns have not only manifested a more delicate taste and refined sensibility, but have taken a much more philosophical view of human nature. The Ancients evidently seem to have considered women an inferior species of beings to men, which is a doctrine as illiberal as it is unphilosophical. The sneer couched in the very gender of Virgil's "va rium et mutabile semper femina" is sufficient to indicate the opinion of the earlier ages; the literal translation of this sentence being,-Woman is a fickle and changeable animal. Indeed they seldom in their writings give us any reason to suppose that they examined the subject with due attention; they do not appear ever to have justly appreciated the peculiar graces of the female mind, or the characteristic virtues of the female disposition. The Turks are said to hold that women have no souls, and I cannot but conclude the Greeks and the Romans só far barbarians, that they were wholly ignorant of a fact which I am sure needs only be asserted to obtain general assent,-viz. the higher perfection of that quality which we denominate soul, in the female breast than in ours. Whatever we may arrogate in point of Understanding, whatever with respect to the grander emotions of the soul;where the finer dispositions or feelings (which we denominate par excellence, soul) are concerned, it must be allowed that the sex which is pre-eminent for delicacy of outward form, is proportionably endued with these nicer refinements of the spirit. Friendship and Love are two of those gentler passions in which soul is principally concerned. And the story of Ruth appears to confirm an old theory of mine, upon the comparative câpacities of the two sexes for the entertainment of these kindred emotions. It has long been a favourite opinion with me, that in purity of feelings where love is the passion, in devotedness of heart, and strength of attachment to the object preferred, women are, generally speaking, far nobler beings than men. Indeed if the reader agrees with me in the assertion made above, first that women are pre-eminent in soul, and secondly that soul is predominant in love, he must of necessity also agree with me, that women love with more truth and intensity than we do; thus far, my theory is impregnable. But besides the intensity of the feeling, I think its purity in the female breast is for the most part confirmed by observation. In her loves, Woman is seldom more than an ardent friend; in bis, Man is never less than a lover. The last and best quality engaged in this passion,-Constancy, is, however, that in which I think the nobleness of the female heart chiefly remarkable. There is a spirit of peculiar devotedness to the object of her love, in the breast of a woman, a certain fortitude of affection, which no changes or chances of life can discourage, which increases with adversity, and which unkindness itself cannot subdue: Woman's love, like an April flower, seems to bloom most sweetly in tears. Το her, love is a second nature, the business of her life, the motive of her actions, the theme of her waking thoughts, the shadow which her fancy pursues even in slumber; it is the innate principle of her constitution, it is born with her, it grows with her heart-strings, and she rarely parts with it but with her life. Constancy is then, in her, almost an unavoidable virtue, for her happiness consists in loving and be ing loved, which constancy best ensures. By the very delicacy of her constitution she is bound to home, she is essentially domestic; her temperament therefore must be one which can be satisfied with sameness, else there would be no fitness between the being and its circumstances; in other words, she is of a constant, faithful disposition. Of course I shall be understood as speaking generally; there are many inconstant women. Nay, perhaps, where love is not immediately concerned, the same exquisite sensibility to every thing charming will induce fickleness: new pleasurable objects will excite new feelings. It is from this devotedness of spirit, that I conclude, in opposition to common opinion, that Women are more capable of mutual Friendship than men. The domestic nature of the circumstances in which they are placed, whereby their little weaknesses are perpetually brought into collision, sufficiently accounts for the infrequency or impermanency of their friendship amongst themselves,-if such allegation be true, which I am by no means inclined to admit. Comparing them with ourselves in this particular, I dare say were Female Biography as copious and historical as ours, for every Pylades and Orestes, it would be easy to quote a Naomi and Ruth. The story or poem, as given in the Sacred Writings, is an historical testimony in favour of the above conclusion. As well, therefore, to illustrate my position, as to make a few cursory observations on the beauties of Scripture Poetry, I beg leave to rehearse a few passages of the Book of Ruth. And Naomi said unto her two daughters-in-law, Go, return each to her mother's house: the Lord deal kindly with you, as ye have dealt with the dead and with me. The Lord grant that ye may find rest each of you in the house of her husband. Then she kissed them, and they lift up their voice, and wept. I must interrupt the course of the narrative here, to remark upon the exquisite beauty of the common scriptural phrase, "they lift up their voice, and wept." It is not only a very bold, but a critically just metaphor; and also expresses most aptly that kind of action which generally accompanies loud weeping, where the bosom expands upwards and the head is involuntarily raised or thrown back, to give strength and freedom to the voice. The expression "to raise the voice" is much feebler, and whatever metaphor might once have been in it, is now unperceived by reason of its triteness. with thee unto thy people. And they said unto her, Surely we will return And Naomi said, Turn again, my daughters; why will you go with me? Are there yet any more sons in my womb, that they may be your husbands? And they lift up their voice, and wept again: and Orpah kissed her mother-in-law; but Ruth clave unto her. And she said, Behold thy sister-in-law is gone back unto her people, and unto her gods; return thou after thy sister-in-law. And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried the Lord do so to me, and more also, if anght but death part thee and me. When she saw that she was stedfastly minded to go with her, then she left speaking unto ber. How beautiful, how affecting is this story! and how simply, yet poetically told. The chasteness and concision of the manner is peculiarly adınirable. There is nothing like false ornament or ambitious decoration in the lan guage; all is naturally and expressively related. What a pleasing image of amiability and tenderness does the second verse present; the matron blessing her two daughters, embracing them, and their returning no answer, but weeping. The loneliness, the resignation of the widowed childless Naomi, is also beautifully painted in the first. I would moreover especially point out to the notice of the reader, the mode in which Orpah's departure is made known. The sacred poet says, she "kissed her mother-in-law;" but he does not add, as a less skilful writer would have done,-and went her way. He leaves that to be implied by the remainder of the sentence. This brief way of narrating by implication, is very difficult of attainment, being apt to degenerate into obscurity. And for this best quality of narration,-concise perspicuity, the Scriptures, it must be acknowledged, are remarkable. There is no laborious preparation for a coming incident, no minute detail of worthless circumstantials; the writer directly, yet not abruptly, introduces the next subject at once. Ossian likewise excels in this particular. But the verses quoted above are also as poetical in their measure, as in the imagery they contain. There is a sweet melancholy cadence runs all through them, which is uncommonly delightful to the ear. It is particularly remarkable in the first verse, and in Ruth's answer to Naomi. Indeed, whether we consider the music of the periods, or the strength and pathos of the sentiments, I do not think it possible to point out in any book whatsoever, sacred or profane, a more truly poetical passage than this answer of Ruth. What an eloquence breathes through it, how forcible are the expressions, and how impassioned the manner. That spirit of devotion and determinedness of constancy, which I noted as a characteristic of the female disposition, is here most strikingly displayed. Ruth persists to the verge of obstinacy in accompanying her mother-in-law, and will not be persuaded even by the person she loves so ardently. The expression "Ruth clave unto her," denotes this amiable persistence very happily. In the several accounts which historians have given us of Friendship between man and man, we see much no bleness of mind, much firmness of purpose displayed. Pylades and Orestes, Damon and Pythias, are splendid examples of honour, magnanimity, courage, and fidelity, But yet, if we curiously examine these stories, we shall find that the peculiar devotedness of spirit which I am inclined to attribute to the female sex, is never dwelt upon by the historian, never brought out into the foreground, never particularly insisted on as the sole ruling motive of action. There is always some other inducement, some selfish principle leading one or other of the parties to the commission of the said act of friendship, some motive of action beside the apparent one. Thus we are told in the story of Theseus and Pirithous, that one of these heroes accompanied his friend to hell (by which some difficult adventure was figured). Here is fidelity to be sure, but this was clearly not the only motive. The principle of honour was another incitement, and quite distinct from love or friendship. The glory of the action was a third. It is to the Book of Ruth we must turn, if we look for an historical example of pure and disinterested friendship. This fidelity of Ruth was built upon the single motive, love; there was here no debt of honour to be paid, no fame or glory to be won. She followed Naomi from the sole and simple impulse of generous affection. And how beautifully this is set forth by the sacred poet, it is needless to ob serve. And Naomi had a kinsman of her husband's, a and his name was Boaz. mighty man of wealth, of the family of Elimelech, And Ruth the Moabitess said unto Naomi, Let me now go into the field, and glean ears of corn after him, in whose sight I shall find grace. And she said unto her, Go, my daughter. Here is another remarkable instance of that direct and simple brevity which renders the style of these writings so animated; "And she said unto her, Go, my daughter." Ruth goes into the field to glean after the reapers, and there it was "her hap to light on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz." Boaz inquires of his servant, "What damsel is this ?" and learning her story, addresses her: Then said Boaz unto Ruth, Hearest thou not, my daughter? Go not to glean in another field, neither go from hence, but abide here fast by my maidens. Let thine eyes be on the field that they do reap, and go thou after them: Have I not charged the young men, that they shall not touch thee! And when thou art athirst, go unto the vessels and drink of that which the young men bave drawn. Then she fell on her face and bowed herself unto the ground, and said unto him, Why have I found grace in thine eyes, that thou shouldest take knowledge of me, seeing I am a stranger. And Boaz answered, and said unto her, It hath fully been shown to me, all thou hast done to thy mother-in-law, since the death of thine husband: and how thou hast left thy father and thy mother, and the land of thy nativity, and art come unto a people which thou knewest not heretofore. What an excellent moral lesson is here conveyed; Ruth's virtuous fidelity to Naomi is rewarded by the protection of Boaz. Indeed the whole story is a striking exemplification of retributive justice; Ruth is preferred not only to be the wife of "a mighty man of wealth," but to be the ancestress in a direct line to the Messiah, for her goodness of heart and innate amiability of disposition, as displayed towards Naomi. But let the historian speak: And when she was risen up to glean, Boaz commanded his young men, saying, Let her glean even among the sheaves, and reproach her not. And let fall also some of the handfuls on purpose for her, and leave them that she may glean them, and rebuke her not. There is a kind of rude delicacy in this proceeding of Boaz, which perhaps would be but ill exchanged for the more refined gallantry of modern times. His attentions towards Ruth are quite in the spirit of simplicity which prevailed in those unpolished ages, yet Raleigh himself could not have more adroitly contrived to furnish the Beautiful Gleaner with an abundant gathering. Ruth then returns with her gleanings to Naomi, who upon hearing the faYour she had obtained in the sight of Boaz, advises her to solicit his protecfion according to the ceremonial of the Jews. Ruth accordingly performs this ceremonial, and, as the reader is doubtless aware, is finally married to Boaz: So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife............. and she bare a son. And the women said unto Naomi, Blessed be the Land which hath not left thee this day without a kinsman, that his name may be famous in Israel. And he shall be unto thee a restorer of thy life, and a nourisher of thine old age: for thy daughter In-law which loveth thee, which is better to thee than seven sons, hath borne him. And Naomi took the child, and laid it in her bosom, and became nurse unto it. With this beautiful image of the grateful widow with her daughter's child in her bosom, the sacred author concludes his interesting, his pathetic, his incomparable story. Reverting to my theory concerning Friendship, it may be asked, Is not Orpah's departure as unfavourable to your opinion, as Ruth's permanence is the contrary? No: no more than the comparative weakness of Cæsar's boatmen, is an argument against the courage of our sex, because he was not as brave as Cæsar himself. A much more plausible objection. would be, that although friendships amongst women are, from their spirit of constancy, more permanent when made, yet that there is no natural tendency in that sex towards mutual friendship. This may be very true, and when I see it proved I shall be lieve it. To say, however, that Wo man's love for the other sex interferes with her love for our own, goes but a very little way in advancing this proof, for is not Man in an exactly similar predicament? We are told: Men, after marriage, frequently preserve their friendships as close as before; women generally, after the same cere mony, sacrifice theirs. Granting the fact, what does it prove? That wo men are more inconstant than men? Certainly not: but that their domestic duties prevent them cultivating friendship as sedulously as before, and that this noble feeling declines, and perhaps gradually dies, as all feelings will, which are thus cut off from exercise. Those also who assert that women tain friendship, would do well to recolhave not greatness of mind to enterlect that they have softness and amia bility of disposition, which is much better. Besides, I have Shakspeare on my side, whose Which they upon the adverse faction want. — name is a tower of strength, We cannot, surely, forget Helena's address to Hermia, when Oberon had thrown his enchantments around them. Is all the counsel that we two have shared, All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ?-- We Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our neelds created both one flower, Both warbling of one song, both in one key, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : Midsummer-Night's Dream. Here is Shakspeare, who seems to have made for himself a window in every human breast, here is the Grand Inquisitor who penetrates with an intuition almost supernatural the mysteries of this "little world of man," here is the infallible interpreter of Nature, Shakspeare himself, delineating a picture of friendship the most perfect; and who compose the group on the foreground? Women! Now I put it to the candour of the reader, would Shakspeare have drawn such a vivid picture of female friendship, unless the propriety of it had been suggested to him by his previous observation of human nature? Why did he never think of depicting two boys in such an attitude? ANTIGONE is another instance of female devotedness. In defiance of the king's edict, she piously inters the body of her brother Polynices, and according to the penalty denounced, is buried alive! Moreover ELECTRA sacrifices her own mother to avenge her father's death; and it is especially worthy of notice, that her brother Orestes, who had the same reason to perform this revolting deed of justice, is quite a secondary personage in the tragedy, he is little more than a passive instrument in the hands of Electra. So that in both these cases, whether considered as matters of history or poetical fiction, fidelity of spirit is assigned to the female sex, as a characteristic attribute distinguishing them above other men. I do not however adduce either deed as a proof of woman's constancy of affection; they were rather acts of heathen piety. Much less are the Antigone and Electra of Sophocles to be looked upon as favourable pictures of the sex in general, nor as exonerating the poets of antiquity from the imputation of apathy with respect to the peculiar beauty of the female character. They are both, especially the latter, marked by a spirit of fierceness, which is by no means amiable. Antigone in the Edipus Coloneus (which affords another instance of devotedness, in the same person,) is a far more faithful copy of woman in the best array of her virtues. But where shall we find the tenderness, the delicacy of soul, the fineness of sensibility, and all the mild excellencies of the female character, pourtrayed with such exquisite truth and feeling, as in our own Juliet, Desdemona, Ophelia, Cordelia, Imogen, Hermione, and Miranda? RUTH is alone worthy to join such a band of sister Perfections. LAMENT FOR THE PAST YEAR. Farewell, thou shadowy Year, farewell; That passing wind thy funeral moan. Glorious was the blue midnight, False sky! false stars! showed they their light That sought in their bright page to read Why looked they beauty, looked they hope, How many clouds were on the wind, All that has been may be again, Come, thou new Year! I doubt thy life A desolate and darkened scene. There is now but one only thing Which I can wish, or thou canst bring. A deep, a lone, a silent grave, Is all I ask, dark Year, of thee; To others hope and pleasure bring, But only bring the grave to me! The wearied heart, in its despair, Will seek and find a haven there. Jau. 1, 1821.. L. E. L. |