Elizabeth Oakes Smith, from Bertha and Lily;
or, the Parsonage of Beech Glen
(New York: Phillips, Sampson, 1854), 282–83.
“You look rich, and fresh, and seductive, even to me [said Bertha to Julia]. Were I a man, I could not fail to love you.” (Here Bertha turned her clear eyes to my face, and the blood mounted to my temples.) “For myself, poets and artists call me beautiful; but the common observer sees nothing in any way attractive in my looks.”
“But these are the highest authority. They would paint you for a Sibyl, me for a Venus,” whispered Julia to herself.
“I am glad to suggest beauty always. I believe it a great and desirable gift. It is a part of the harmonies.…
“I love to think lilies belong to me … the beautiful water-lily, I mean. This flower is so lovely to me, that I find no words to express what it suggests. A soul-life, an inner consciousness, a sphere of unstained purities—of translucent, transparent harmonies—away from the external senses, which I cannot describe.… If I place my hands upon each side of my head, over the region of hope, and love, and ideality (according to Dr. Buchanan’s theory), I fall into a soft, dreamy state. This is so delicious, that one of less integrity of life might be tempted to repeat it. I seem to float in air—my senses are cottoned upon me—faint music and exquisite odors float about me. The Lily at once throws me into the same state.”