have you seen the second part, which has not been printed here, and which contains memoirs of her life from the earliest period to the death of her mother, when she was one-and-twenty? It is surely the most singular book that has appeared since the ‘Confessions of Rousseau,' a book that none but a French woman could write, and wonderfully entertaining. I began it with a certain fear upon my mind: What is this woman going to tell me? Will it be anything but what will lessen my esteem for her? If, however, we were to judge of the female and male mind by contrasting these confessions with those, the advantage of purity will be greatly on the side of our sex.”
“Madame Roland,” says Margaret Fuller, “is the fairest specimen we yet have of her class; as clear to discern her aim, as valiant to pursue it, as Spenser's Britomarte; austerely set apart from all that did not belong to her, whether as woman or as mind. She is an antetype of a class to
