the sight. In her the self-love of man is replaced by love; ambition
pales its ineffectual fires in the light of that pure, undying flame of
aspiration which her soul feeds; patriotism, ashamed of its narrowness,
unfolds shining pinions over humanity, and becomes philanthropy;
pleasure retreats in her wornout, patched-up harlequin robes; and
happiness, pure, clean, bright from the sweet inner chambers of the
soul, takes her place.

Life acknowledges a higher fealty. With the new sovereign, new aims, new
standards, new methods for the improvement of humanity.

Under the masculine dynasty we have had force, organization,
investigation, discovery, experiment--methods violent, harsh, selfish,
slow, confused, chaotic: a magnanimous career at intervals spanning the
wide weltering strife, as a bow the stormy heavens; noble deeds, not a
few, shining out of the darkness here and there; real victory crowning
the crests of the rolling sea now and then, and casting where they have
shone long shadows over the waters darkened with selfish contention
around them. Power under this reign has been applied to the
multiplication of external resources, means, opportunities for the race.
It has clothed the earth with them in forms so numerous, so varied--so
good, so bad, so indifferent--so noble, so mean--so rich, so poor--so
high, so low, that the most active memory of the longest life fails to
furnish the catalogue of them. It professes human good; it cultivates
personal good, family good, community good, or, at the largest, national
good. But whatever the stature it attains, its methods are through
external appeals to the soul--influences from without. Its common
theology steadily refused for eighteen hundred years to credit the union
of the divine with the human in the soul of mankind. Its deductive
intellect is blind to truth till her presence is proved by facts--as if
we would hale an archangel, with the shining light of the upper world
yet flowing adown him, before the police magistrate, and swear the
butchers and the newsboys on the question of identity. Its Art is
timid, thin, and self-distrusting, because the Ideal is flouted as
worthy only of women, dreamers, and liberal ministers--the silver wing
of imagination is rarely loosed but to be soon folded in humiliation
before the reproof of the exacting senses. Its statesmanship is smart,
crafty, treacherous, because it cherishes a state, a nation, rather than
humanity. Its jurisprud