It is said that the Russian ladies were formerly as submissive to their husbands in their families, as the latter are to their superiors in the field; and that they thought themselves ill treated, if they were not often reminded of their duty by the discipline of a whip, manufactured by themselves, which they presented to their husbands on the day of their marriage. The latest travellers, however, assert, that they find no remaining traces of this custom at present.

Russian fathers, of all classes, generally arrange marriages for their children, without consulting their inclinations. Among the peasantry, if the girl has the name of being a good housewife, her parents will not fail to have applications for her, whatever may be her age or personal endowments. As soon as a young man is old enough to be married, his parents seek a wife for him, and all is settled before the young couple know any thing of the matter.

Their nuptial ceremonies are peculiar to themselves; and formerly consisted of many whimsical rites, some of which are now disused. On her wedding day, the bride is crowned with a garland of wormwood; and, after the priest has tied the nuptial knot, his clerk or sexton throws a handful of hops upon the head of the bride, wishing that she might prove as fruitful as that plant. She is then led home, with abundance of coarse ceremonies, which are now wearing off even among the lowest ranks; and the barbarous treatment of wives by their husbands is either guarded against by the laws of the country, or by particular stipulations in the marriage contract.

In the conversation and actions of the Russian ladies, there is hardly any thing of that softness and delicacy which distinguishes the sex in other parts of Europe. Even their exercises and diversions have more of the masculine than the feminine. The present empress, with the ladies of her court, sometimes divert themselves by shooting at a mark. Drunkenness, the vice of almost every cold climate, they are so little ashamed of, that not many years ago, when a lady got drunk at the house of a friend, it was customary for her to return next day, and thank him for the pleasure he had done her.

Females, however, in Russia, possess several advantages. They share the rank and splendor of the families from which they are sprung, and are even allowed the supreme authority. This a few years ago, was enjoyed by an empress, whose head did honor to her nation and to her sex; although, on some occasions, the virtues of her heart have been much suspected. The sex, in general, are protected from insult, by many salutary laws; and, except among the peasants, are exempted from every kind of toil and slavery. Upon the whole, they seem to be approaching fast to the enjoyment of that consequence, to which they have already arrived in several parts of Europe.

THE IDEA OF FEMALE INFERIORITY.

It is an opinion pretty well established, that in strength of mind, as well as of body, men are greatly superior to women.

Men are endowed with boldness and courage, women are not. The reason is plain, these are beauties in our character; in theirs they would be blemishes. Our genius often leads to the great and the arduous; theirs to the soft and the pleasing; we bend our thoughts to make life convenient; they turn theirs to make it easy and agreeable. If the endowments allotted to us by nature could not be easily acquired by women, it would be as difficult for us to acquire those peculiarly allotted to them. Are we superior to them in what belongs to the male character? They are no less so to us, in what belongs to the female character.

Would it not appear rather ludicrous to say, that a man was endowed only with inferior abilities, because he was not expert in the nursing of children, and practising the various effeminacies which we reckon lovely in a woman? Would it be reasonable to condemn him on these accounts? Just as reasonable, as it is to reckon women inferior to men, because their talents are in general not adapted to tread the horrid path of war, nor trace the mazes and intricacies of science.

The idea of the inferiority of female nature has drawn after it several others the most absurd, unreasonable, and humiliating to the sex. Such is the pride of man, that in some countries he has considered immortality as a distinction too glorious for women. Thus degrading the fair partners of his nature, he places them on a level with the beasts that perish.

As the Asiatics have, time immemorial, considered women as little better than slaves, this opinion probably originated among them. The Mahometans, both in Asia and Europe, are said, by a great variety of writers, to entertain this opinion.

Lady Montague, in her letters, has opposed this general assertion of the writers concerning the Mahometans; and says that they do not absolutely deny the existence of female souls, but only hold them to be of a nature inferior to those of men; and that they enter not into the same, but into an inferior paradise, prepared for them on purpose. Lady Montague, and the writers whom she has contradicted, may perhaps be both right. The former might be the opinion which the Turks brought with them from Asia; and the latter, as a refinement upon it they may have adopted by their intercourse with the Europeans.

This opinion, however, has had but few votaries in Europe: though some have even here maintained it, and assigned various reasons for so doing. Among these, the following laughable reason is not the least particular—"In the Revelations of St. John the divine," said one, whose wife was a descendant of the famous Xantippe,[1] "you will find this passage: And there was silence in heaven for about the space of half an hour. Now, I appeal to any one, whether that could possibly have happened, had there been any women there? And, since there are none there, charity forbids us to imagine that they are all in a worse place; therefore it follows that they have no immortal part: and happy is it for them, as they are thereby exempted from being accountable for all the noise and disturbance they have raised in this world."

In a very ancient treatise, called the Wisdom of all Times, ascribed to Hushang, one of the earliest kings of Persia, are the following remarkable words: "The passions of men may, by long acquaintance, be thoroughly known; but the passions of women are inscrutable; therefore they ought to be separated from men, lest the mutability of their tempers should infect others."

Ideas of a similar nature seem to have been at this time, generally diffused over the East. For we find Solomon, almost every where in his writings, exclaiming against women; and, in the Apocrypha, the author of Ecclesiasticus is still more illiberal in his reflections.

Both these authors, it is true, join in the most enraptured manner to praise a virtuous woman; but take care at the same time to let us know, that she is so great a rarity as to be very seldom met with.

Nor have the Asiatics alone been addicted to this illiberality of thinking concerning the sex. Satirists of all ages and countries, while they flattered them to their faces, have from their closets scattered their spleen and ill-nature against them. Of this the Greek and Roman poets afford a variety of instances; but they must nevertheless yield the palm to some of our moderns. In the following lines, Pope has outdone every one of them:

"Men some to pleasure, some to business take; But every woman is at heart—a rake."

Swift and Dr Young have hardly been behind this celebrated splenetic in illiberality. They perhaps were not favorites of the fair, and in revenge vented all their envy and spleen against them. But a more modern and accomplished writer who by his rank in life, by his natural and acquired graces, was undoubtedly a favorite, has repaid their kindness by taking every opportunity of exhibiting them in the most contemptible light. "Almost every man," says he, "may be gained some way, almost every woman any way, can any thing exhibit a stronger caution to the sex?" It is fraught with information; and it is to be hoped they will use it accordingly.

[1] Xantippe, was the wife of Socrates, and the most famous scold of antiquity.

FEMALE SIMPLICITY.

Would we conceive properly of that simplicity which is the sweetest expression of a well-informed and well-meaning mind, which every where diffuses tenderness and delicacy, sweetens the relations of life, and gives a zest to the minutest duties of humanity, let us contemplate every perceptible operation of nature, the twilight of the evening, the pearly dew-drops of the early morning, and all that various growth which indicates the genial return of spring. The same principle from which all that is soft and pleasing, amiable or exquisite, to the eye or to the ear, in the exterior frame of nature, produces that taste for true simplicity, which is one of the most useful, as well as the most elegant lessons, that ladies can learn.

Infancy, is perhaps, the finest and most perfect illustration of simplicity. It is a state of genuine nature throughout. The feelings of children are under no kind of restraint, but pure as the fire, free as the winds, honest and open as the face of heaven. Their joys incessantly flow in the thickest succession, and their griefs only seem fleeting and evanescent. To the calls of nature they are only attentive. They know no voice but hers. Their obedience to all her commands is prompt and implicit. They never anticipate her bounties, nor relinquish her pleasures. This situation renders them independent of artifice. Influenced only by nature, their manners, like the principle that produces them, are always the same.

Genuine simplicity is that peculiar quality of the mind, by which some happy characters are enabled to avoid the most distant approaches to any thing like affectation, inconstancy, or design, in their intercourse with the world. It is much more easily understood, however than defined; and consists not in a specific tone of the voice, movement of the body, or mode imposed by custom, but is the natural and permanent effect of real modesty and good sense on the whole behavior.

This has been considered in all ages, as one of the first and most captivating ornaments of the sex. The savage, the plebeian, the man of the world, and the courtier, are agreed in stamping it with a preference to every other female excellence.

Nature only is lovely, and nothing unnatural can ever be amiable. The genuine expressions of truth and nature are happily calculated to impress the heart with pleasure. No woman, whatever her other qualities may be, was ever eminently agreeable, but in proportion as distinguished by these. The world is good-natured enough to give a lady credit for all the merit she can possess or acquire, without affectation. But the least shade or coloring of this odious foible brings certain and indelible obloquy on the most elegant accomplishments. The blackest suspicion inevitably rests on every thing assumed. She who is only an ape of others, or prefers formality in all its gigantic and preposterous shapes, to that plain, unembarassed conduct which nature unavoidably produces, will assuredly provoke an abundance of ridicule, but never can be an object either of love or esteem.

The various artifices of the sex discover themselves at a very early period. A passion for expense and show is one of the first they exhibit. This gives them a taste for refinement, which divests their young hearts of almost every other feeling, renders their tempers desultory and capricious, regulates their dress only by the most fantastic models of finery and fashion, and makes their company rather tiresome and awkward, than pleasing or elegant.

No one perhaps can form a more ludicrous contrast to every thing just and graceful in nature, than the woman whose sole object in life is to pass for a fine lady. The attentions she every where and uniformly pays, expects, and even exacts, are tedious and fatiguing. Her various movements and attitudes are all adjusted and exhibited by rule. By a happy fluency of the most eloquent language, she has the art of imparting a momentary dignity and grace to the merest trifles. Studious only to mimic such peculiarities as are most admired in others, she affects a loquacity peculiarly flippant and teazing because scandal, routs, finery, fans, china, lovers, lap-dogs, or squirrels, are her constant themes. Her amusements, like those of a magpie, are only hopping over the same spots, prying into the same corners, and devouring the same species of prey. The simple and beautiful delineations of nature, in her countenance, gestures and whole deportment, are habitually arranged, distorted, or concealed, by the affected adoption of whatever grimace or deformity is latest or most in vogue.

She accustoms her face to a simper, which every separate feature in it belies. She spoils, perhaps, a blooming complexion with a profusion of artificial coloring, she distorts the most exquisite shape by loads or volumes of useless drapery. She has her head, her arms, her feet, and her gait, equally touched by art and affectation, into what is called the taste, the ton, or the fashion.

She little considers to what a torrent of ridicule and sarcasm this mode of conduct exposes her; or how exceedingly cold and hollow that ceremony must be, which is not the language of a warm heart. She does not reflect how insipid those smiles are, which indicate no internal pleasantry; nor how awkward those graces, which spring not from habits of good-nature and benevolence. Thus, pertness succeeds to delicacy, assurance to modesty, and all the vagaries of a listless to the sensibilities of an ingenuous mind.

With her, punctilio is politeness; dissipation, life; and levity, spirit. The miserable and contemptible drudge of every tawdry innovation in dress or ceremony, she incessantly mistakes extravagance for taste, and finery for elegance.

Her favorite examples are not those persons of acknowledged sincerity, who speak as they feel, and act as they think; but such only as are formed to dazzle her fancy, amuse her senses, or humor her whims. Her only study is how to glitter or shine, how to captivate and gratify the gaze of the multitude, or how to swell her own pomp and importance. To this interesting object all her assiduities and time are religiously devoted.

How often is debility of mind, and even badness of heart concealed under a splendid exterior! The fairest of the species, and of the sex, often want sincerity; and without sincerity every other qualification is rather a blemish, than a virtue, or excellence. Sincerity operates on the moral, somewhat like the sun on the natural world; and produces nearly the same effects on the dispositions of the human heart, which he does on inanimate objects. Wherever sincerity prevails and is felt, all the smiling and benevolent virtues flourish most, disclose their sweetest lustre, and diffuse their richest fragrance.

Heaven has not a finer or more perfect emblem on earth than a woman of genuine simplicity. She affects no graces which are not inspired by sincerity. Her opinions result not from passion and fancy, but from reason and experience. Candor and humility give expansion to her heart. She struggles for no kind of chimerical credit, disclaims the appearance of every affectation, and is in all things just what she seems, and others would be thought. Nature, not art, is the great standard of her manners; and her exterior wears no varnish, or embellishment, which is not the genuine signature of an open, undesigning, and benevolent mind. It is not in her power, because not in her nature, to hide, with a fawning air, and a mellow voice, her aversion or contempt, where her delicacy is hurt, here temper ruffled, or her feelings insulted.

In short, whatever appears most amiable, lovely, or interesting in nature, art, manners, or life, originates in simplicity. What is correctness in taste, purity in morals, truth in science, grace in beauty, but simplicity? It is the garb of innocence. It adorned the first ages, and still adorns the infant state of humanity. Without simplicity, woman is a vixen, a coquette, a hypocrite; society a masquerade, and pleasure a phantom.

The following story, I believe, is pretty generally known. A lady, whose husband had long been afflicted with an acute but lingering disease, suddenly feigned such an uncommon tenderness for him, as to resolve on dying in his stead. She had even the address to persuade him not to outlive this extraordinary instance of her conjugal fidelity and attachment. It was instantaneously agreed they should mutually swallow such a quantity of arsenic, as would speedily effect their dreadful purpose. She composed the fatal draught before his face and even set him the desperate example of drinking first. By this device, which had all the appearance of the greatest affection and candor, the dregs only were reserved for him, and soon put a period to his life.

It then appeared that the dose was so tempered, as, from the weight of the principal ingredient, to be deadly only at the bottom, which she had artfully appropriated for his share. Even after all this finesse, she seized, we are told, his inheritance, and insulted his memory by a second marriage.

THE MILD MAGNANIMITY OF WOMEN.

A late eminent anatomist, in a professional discourse on the female frame, is said to have declared, that it almost appeared an act of cruelty in nature to produce such a being as woman. This remark may, indeed, be the natural exclamation of refined sensibility, in contemplating the various maladies to which a creature of such delicate organs is inevitably exposed; but, if we take a more enlarged survey of human existence, we shall be far from discovering any just reason to arraign the benevolence of its provident and gracious Author. If the delicacy of woman must render her familiar with pain and sickness, let us remember that her charms, her pleasures, and her happiness, arise also from the same attractive quality. She is a being, to use the forcible and elegant expression of a poet,

"Fine by defect, and admirably weak."

There is, perhaps, no charm by which she more effectually secures the tender admiration and the lasting love, of the more hardy sex, than her superior endurance, her mild and graceful submission to the common evils of life.

Nor is this the sole advantage she derives from her gentle fortitude. It is the prerogative of this lovely virtue, to lighten the pressure of all those incorrigible evils which it cheerfully endures. The frame of man may be compared to the sturdy oak, which is often shattered by resisting the tempest. Woman is the pliant osier, which, in bending to the storm, eludes its violence.

The accurate observers of human nature will readily allow, that patience is most eminently the characteristic of woman. To what a sublime and astonishing height this virtue has been carried by beings of the most delicate texture, we have striking examples in the many female martyrs who were exposed, in the first ages of christianity, to the most barbarous and lingering torture.

Nor was it only from christian zeal that woman derived the power of defying the utmost rigors of persecution with invincible fortitude. Saint Ambrose, in his elaborate and pious treatise on this subject, records the resolution of a fair disciple of Pythagoras, who, being severely urged by a tyrant to reveal the secrets of her sex, to convince him that no torments should reduce her to so unworthy a breach of her vow, bit her own tongue asunder, and darted it in the face of her oppressor.

In consequence of those happy changes which have taken place in the world, from the progress of purified religion, the inexpressible spirit of the tender sex is no longer exposed to such inhuman trials. But if the earth is happily delivered from the demons of torture and superstition; if beauty and innocence are no more in danger of being dragged to perish at the stake—perhaps there are situations, in female life, that require as much patience and magnanimity, as were formerly exerted in the fiery torments of the virgin martyr. It is more difficult to support an accumulation of minute infelicities, than any single calamity of the most terrific magnitude.

FEMALE DELICACY.

Where the human race has little other culture than what it receives from nature, the two sexes live together, unconscious of almost any restraint on their words or on their actions. The Greeks, in the heroic ages, as appears from the whole history of their conduct, were totally unacquainted with delicacy. The Romans in the infancy of their empire, were the same. Tacitus informs us that the ancient Germans had not separate beds for the two sexes, but that they lay promiscuously on reeds or on heath, spread along the walls of their houses. This custom still prevails in Lapland, among the peasants of Norway, Poland, and Russia; and it is not altogether obliterated in some parts of the highlands of Scotland and Wales.

In Otaheite, to appear naked or in clothes, are circumstances equally indifferent to both sexes; nor does any word in their language, nor any action to which they are prompted by nature, seem more indelicate or reprehensible than another. Such are the effects of a total want of culture.

Effects not very dissimilar, are, in France and Italy, produced from a redundance of it. Though those are the polite countries in Europe, women there set themselves above shame, and despise delicacy. It is laughed out of existence, as a silly and unfashionable weakness.

But in China, one of the politest countries in Asia, and perhaps not even, in this respect, behind France, or Italy, the case is quite otherwise. No human being can be more delicate than a Chinese woman in her dress, in her behavior, and in her conversation; and should she ever happen to be exposed in any unbecoming manner, she feels with the greatest poignancy the awkwardness of her situation, and if possible, covers her face, that she may not be known.

In the midst of so many discordant appearances, the mind is perplexed, and can hardly fix upon any cause to which female delicacy is to be ascribed. If we attend, however, to the whole animal creation, if we consider it attentively wherever it falls under our observation, it will discover to us, that in the female there is a greater degree of delicacy or coy reserve than in the male. Is not this a proof, that, through the wide extent of creation, the seeds of delicacy are more liberally bestowed upon females than upon males?

In the remotest periods of which we have any historical account, we find that the women had a delicacy to which the other sex were strangers. Rebecca veiled herself when she first approached Isaac, her future husband. Many of the fables of antiquity mark, with the most distinguishing characters, the force of female delicacy. Of this kind is the fable of Actaeon and Diana. Actaeon, a famous hunter, being in the woods with his hounds, beating for game, accidentally spied Diana and her nymphs bathing in a river. Prompted by curiosity, he stole silently into a neighboring thicket, that he might have a nearer view of them. The goddess discovering him, was so affronted at his audacity, and so much ashamed to have been seen naked, that in revenge she immediately transformed him into a stag, set his own hounds upon him, and encouraged them to overtake and devour him. Besides this, and other fables, and historical anecdotes of antiquity, their poets seldom exhibit a female character without adorning it with the graces of modesty and delicacy. Hence we may infer, that these qualities have not been only essential to virtuous women in civilized countries, but were also constantly praised and esteemed by men of sensibility; and that delicacy is an innate principle in the female mind.

There are so many evils attending the loss of virtue in women, and so greatly are the minds of that sex depraved when they have deviated from the path of rectitude, that a general contamination of their morals may be considered as one of the greatest misfortunes that can befal a state, as in time it destroys almost every public virtue of the men. Hence all wise legislators have strictly enforced upon the sex a particular purity of manners; and not satisfied that they should abstain from vice only, have required them even to shun every appearance of it.

Such, in some periods, were the laws of the Romans; and such were the effects of these laws, that if ever female delicacy shone forth in a conspicuous manner, it was perhaps among those people, after they had worn off much of the barbarity of their first ages, and before they became contaminated, by the wealth and manners of the nations which they plundered and subjected. Then it was that we find many of their women surpassing in modesty almost every thing related by fable; and then it was that their ideas of delicacy were so highly refined, that they could not even bear the secret consciousness of an involuntary crime, and far less of having tacitly consented to it.

INFLUENCE OF FEMALE SOCIETY.

The company of ladies has a very powerful influence on the sentiments and conduct of men. Women, the fruitful source of half our joys, and perhaps of more than half our sorrows, give an elegance to our manner, and a relish to our pleasures. They soothe our afflictions, and soften our cares. Too much of their company will render us effeminate, and infallibly stamp upon us many signatures of the female nature. A rough and unpolished behavior, as well as slovenliness of person, will certainly be the consequence of an almost constant exclusion from it. By spending a reasonable portion of our time in the company of women, and another in the company of our own sex, we shall imbibe a proper share of the softness of the female, and at the same time retain the firmness and constancy of the male.

As little social intercourse subsisted between the two sexes, in the more early ages of antiquity, we find the men less courteous, and the women less engaging. Vivacity and cheerfulness seem hardly to have existed. Even the Babylonians, who appear to have allowed their women more liberty than any of the ancients, seem not to have lived with them in a friendly and familiar manner. But, as their intercourse with them was considerably greater than that of the neighboring nations, they acquired thereby a polish and refinement unknown to any of the people who surrounded them. The manners of both sexes were softer, and better calculated to please.

They likewise paid more attention to cleanliness and dress.

After the Greeks became famous for their knowledge of the arts and sciences, their rudeness and barbarity were only softened a few degrees. It is not therefore arts, sciences, and learning, but the company of the other sex, that forms the manner and renders the man agreeable.

The Romans were, for some time, a community without any thing to soften the ferocity of male nature. The Sabine virgins, whom they had stolen, appear to have infused into them the first ideas of politeness. But it was many ages before this politeness banished the roughness of the warrior, and assumed the refinement of the gentleman.

During the times of chivalry, female influence was at the zenith of its glory and perfection. It was the source of valor, it gave birth to politeness, it awakened pity, it called forth benevolence, it restricted the hand of oppression, and meliorated the human heart. "I cannot approach my mistress," said one, "till I have done some glorious deed to deserve her notice. Actions should be the messengers of the heart; they are the homage due to beauty, and they only should discover love."

Marsan, instructing a young knight how to behave so as to gain the favor of the fair, has these remarkable words:—"When your arm is raised, if your lance fail, draw your sword directly; and let heaven and hell resound with the clash. Lifeless is the soul which beauty cannot animate, and weak is the arm which cannot fight valiantly to defend it."

The Russians, Poles, and even the Dutch, pay less attention to their females than any of their neighbors, and are, by consequence, less distinguished for the graces of their persons, and the feelings of their hearts.

The lightness of their food, and the salubrity of their air, have been assigned as reasons for the vivacity and cheerfulness of the French, and their fortitude, in supporting their spirits through all the adverse circumstances of this world. But the constant mixture of the young and old, of the two sexes, is no doubt one of the principal reasons why the cares and ills of life sit lighter on the shoulders of that fantastic people, than on those of any other country in the world.

The French reckon an excursion dull, and a party of pleasure without relish, unless a mixture of both sexes join to compose in. The French women do not even withdraw from the table after meals; nor do the men discover that impatience to have them dismissed, which they so often do in England.

It is alleged by those who have no relish for the conversation of the fair sex, that their presence curbs the freedom of speech, and restrains the jollity of mirth. But, if the conversation and the mirth are decent, if the company are capable of relishing any thing but wine, the very reverse is the case. Ladies, in general, are not only more cheerful than gentlemen, but more eager to promote mirth and good humor.

So powerful, indeed, are the company and conversation of the fair, in diffusing happiness and hilarity, that even the cloud which hangs on the thoughtful brow of an Englishman, begins in the present age to brighten, by his devoting to the ladies a larger share of time than was formerly done by his ancestors.

Though the influence of the sexes be reciprocal, yet that of the ladies is certainly the greatest. How often may one see a company of men, who were disposed to be riotous, checked at once into decency by the accidental entrance of an amiable woman; while her good sense and obliging deportment charms them into at least a temporary conviction, that there is nothing so delightful as female conversation, in its best form! Were such conviction frequently repeated, what might we not expect from it at last?

"Were virtue," said an ancient philosopher, "to appear amongst men in a visible shape, what vehement desires would she enkindle!" Virtue, exhibited without affectation, by a lovely young person, of improved understanding and gentle manners, may be said to appear with the most alluring aspect, surrounded by the Graces.

It would be an easy matter to point out instances of the most evident reformation, wrought on particular men, by their having happily conceived a passion for virtuous women.

To form the manners of men, various causes contribute; but nothing, perhaps, so much as the turn of the women with whom they converse. Those who are most conversant with women of virtue and understanding, will be always found the most amiable characters, other circumstances being supposed alike. Such society, beyond every thing else, rubs off the corners that gives many of our sex an ungracious roughness. It produces a polish more perfect, and more pleasing than that which is received from a general commerce with the world. This last is often specious, but commonly superficial. The other is the result of gentler feelings, and more humanity. The heart itself is moulded. Habits of undissembled courtesy are formed. A certain flowing urbanity is acquired. Violent passions, rash oaths, coarse jests, indelicate language of every kind, are precluded and disrelished.

Female society gives men a taste for cleanliness and elegance of person. Our ancestors, who kept but little company with their women, were not only slovenly in their dress, but had their countenances disfigured with long beards. By female influence, however, beards were, in process of time, mutilated down to mustaches. As the gentlemen found that the ladies had no great relish for mustaches, which were the relics of a beard, they cut and curled them into various fashions, to render them more agreeable. At last, however, finding such labor vain, they gave them up altogether. But as those of the three learned professions were supposed to be endowed with, or at least to stand in need of, more wisdom than other people, and as the longest beard had always been deemed to sprout from the wisest chin, to supply this mark of distinction, which they had lost, they contrived to smother their heads in enormous quantities of frizzled hair, that they might bear greater resemblance to an owl, the bird sacred to wisdom and Minerva.

To female society it has been objected by the learned and studious, that it enervates the mind, and gives it such a turn for trifling, levity, and dissipation, as renders it altogether unfit for that application which is necessary in order to become eminent in any of the sciences. In proof of this they allege, that the greatest philosophers seldom or never were men who enjoyed, or were fit for, the company or conversation of women. Sir Isaac Newton hardly ever conversed with any of the sex. Bacon, Boyle, Des Cartes, and many others, conspicuous for their learning and application, were but indifferent companions to the fair.

It is certain, indeed, that the youth who devotes his whole time and attention to female conversation, and the little offices of gallantry, never distinguishes himself in the literary world. But notwithstanding this, without the fatigue and application of severe study, he often obtains, by female interest, that which is denied to the merited improvements acquired by the labor of many years.

MONASTIC LIFE.

The venerable Bede has given us a very striking picture of Monastic enormities, in his epistle to Egbert. From this we learn that many young men who had no title to the monastic profession, got possession of monasteries; where, instead of engaging in the defence of their country, as their age and rank required, they indulged themselves in the most dissolute indolence.

We learn from Dugdale, that in the reign of Henry the Second, the nuns of Amsbury abbey in Wiltshire were expelled from that religious house on account of their incontinence. And to exhibit in the most lively colors the total corruption of monastic chastity, bishop Burnet informs us in his "History of the Reformation," that when the nunneries were visited by the command of Henry the VIII. "whole houses almost, were found whose vows had been made in vain."

When we consider to what oppressive indolence, to what a variety of wretchedness and guilt, the young and fair inhabitants of the cloister were frequently betrayed, we ought to admire those benevolent authors who, when the tide of religious prejudice ran very strong in favor of monastic virginity, had spirit enough to oppose the torrent, and to caution the devout and tender sex against so dangerous a profession. It is in this point of view that the character of Erasmus appears with the most amiable lustre; and his name ought to be eternally dear to the female world in particular. Though his studies and constitution led him almost to idolize those eloquent fathers of the church who have magnified this kind of life, his good sense and his accurate survey of the human race, enabled him to judge of the misery in which female youth was continually involved by a precipitate choice of the veil. He knew the successful arts by which the subtle and rapacious monks inveigled young women of opulent families into the cloister; and he exerted his lively and delicate wit in opposition to so pernicious an evil.

In those nations of Europe where nunneries still exist, how many lovely victims are continually sacrificed to the avarice or absurd ambition of inhuman parents! The misery of these victims has been painted with great force by some benevolent writers of France.

In most of those pathetic histories that are founded on the abuse of convents, the misery originates from the parent, and falls upon the child. The reverse has sometime happened; and there are examples of unhappy parents, who have been rendered miserable by the religious perversity of a daughter. In the fourteenth volume of that very amusing work, Les Causes Celebres, a work which is said to have been the favorite reading of Voltaire, there is a striking history of a girl under age, who was tempted by pious artifice to settle herself in a convent, in express opposition to parental authority. Her parents, who had in vain tried the most tender persuasion, endeavored at last to redeem their lost child, by a legal process against the nunnery in which she was imprisoned. The pleadings on this remarkable trial may, perhaps, be justly reckoned amongst the finest pieces of eloquence that the lawyers of France have produced. Monsieur Gillet, the advocate for the parents, represented, in the boldest and most affecting language, the extreme baseness of this religious seduction. His eloquence appeared to have fixed the sentiments of the judges; but the cause of superstition was pleaded by an advocate of equal power, and it finally prevailed. The unfortunate parents of Maria Vernal (for this was the name of the unfortunate girl) were condemned to resign her forever, and to make a considerable payment to those artful devotees who had piously robbed them of their child.

When we reflect on the various evils that have arisen in convents, we have the strongest reason to rejoice and glory in that reformation by which the nunneries of England were abolished. Yet it would not be candid or just to consider all these as the mere harbors of licentiousness; since we are told that, at the time of their suppression, some of our religious houses were very honorably distinguished by the purity of their inhabitants. "The visitors," says Bishop Burnet, "interceded earnestly for one nunnery in Oxfordshire, where there was great strictness of life, and to which most of the young gentlewomen of the country were sent to be bred; so that the gentry of the country desired the king would spare the house: yet all was ineffectual."

DEGREES OF SENTIMENTAL ATTACHMENT AT DIFFERENT PERIODS.

In the earlier ages, sentiment in love does not appear to have been much attended to. When Abraham sent his servant to court a bride for his son Isaac, we do not so much as hear that Isaac was consulted on the matter: nor is there even a suspicion, that he might refuse or dislike the wife which his father had selected for him.

From the manner in which Rebecca was solicited, we learn, that women were not then courted in person by the lover, but by a proxy, whom he, or his parents, deputed in his stead. We likewise see, that this proxy did not, as in modern times, endeavor to gain the affection of the lady he was sent to, by enlarging on the personal properties, and mental qualifications of the lover; but by the richness and magnificence of the presents he made to her and her relations.

Presents have been, from the earliest ages, and are to this day, the mode of transacting all kinds of business in the east. When a favor is to be asked of a superior, one cannot hope to obtain it without a present. Courtship, therefore, having been anciently transacted in this manner, it is plain, that it was only considered in the same light as any other negotiable business, and not as a matter of sentiment, and of the heart.

In the courtship, however, or rather purchase of a wife by Jacob, we meet with something like sentiment; for when he found that he was not possessed of money or goods, equal to the price which was set upon her, he not only condescended to purchase her by servitude, but even seemed much disappointed when the tender-eyed Leah was faithlessly imposed upon him instead of the beautiful Rachel.

The ancient Gauls, Germans, and neighboring nations of the North, had so much veneration for the sex in general, that in courtship they behaved with a spirit of gallantry, and showed a degree of sentiment, to which those who called them barbarians, never arrived. Not contented with getting possession of the person of his mistress, a northern lover could not be satisfied without the sincere affection of her heart; nor was his mistress ever to be gained but by such methods as plainly indicated to her the tenderest attachment from the most deserving man.

The women of Scandinavia were not to be courted but by the most assiduous attendance, seconded by such warlike achievements as the custom of the country had rendered necessary to make a man deserving of his mistress. On these accounts, we frequently find a lover accosting the object of his passion by a minute and circumstantial detail of his exploits, and all his accomplishments. "We fought with swords," says King Regner, in a beautiful ode composed by himself, in memory of the deeds of his former days, "that day wherein I saw ten thousand of my foes rolling in the dust, near a promontory of England. A dew of blood distilled from our swords. The arrows which flew in search of the helmets, bellowed through the air. The pleasure of that day was truly exquisite.

"We fought with swords. A young man should march early to the conflict of arms. Man should attack man, or bravely resist him. In this hath always consisted the nobility of the warrior. He who aspires to the love of his mistress, ought to be dauntless in the clash of swords."

The descendants of the northern nations, long after they had plundered and repeopled the greatest part of Europe, retained nearly the same ideas of love, and practised the same methods in declaring it, that they had imbibed from their ancestors. "Love," says William of Montagnogout, "engages to the most amiable conduct. Love inspires the greatest actions. Love has no will but that of the object beloved, nor seeks any thing but what will augment her glory. You cannot love, nor ought to be beloved, if you ask any thing that virtue condemns. Never did I form a wish that could wound the heart of my beloved, nor delight in a pleasure that was inconsistent with her delicacy."

The method of addressing females, among some of the tribes of American Indians, is the most simple that can possibly be devised. When the lover goes to visit his mistress, he only begs leave, by signs, to enter her hut. After obtaining this, he goes in, and sits down by her in the most respectful silence. If she suffers him to remain there without interruption, her doing so is consenting to his suit. If, however, the lover has any thing given him to eat and drink, it is a refusal; though the woman is obliged to sit by him until he has finished his repast. He then retires in silence.

In Canada, courtship is not carried on with that coy reserve, and seeming secrecy, which politeness has introduced among the inhabitants of civilized nations. When a man and a woman meet, though they never saw each other before, if he is captivated by her charms, he declares his passion in the plainest manner; and she, with the same simplicity, answers, Yes, or No, without further deliberation. "That female reserve," says an ingenious writer, [Dr Alexander,] "that seeming reluctance to enter into the married state, observable in polite countries, is the work of art, and not of nature. The history of every uncultivated people amply proves it. It tells us, that their women not only speak with freedom the sentiments of their hearts, but even blush not to have these sentiments made as public as possible."

In Formosa, however, they differ so much from the simplicity of the Canadians, that it would be reckoned the greatest indecency in the man to declare, or in the woman to hear, a declaration of the passion of love. The lover is, therefore, obliged to depute his mother, sister, or some female relation; and from any of these the soft tale may be heard without the least offence to delicacy.

In Spain, the women had formerly no voice in disposing of themselves in matrimony. But as the empire of common sense began to extend itself, they began to claim a privilege, at least of being consulted in the choice of the partners of their lives. Many fathers and guardians, hurt by this female innovation, and puffed up with Spanish pride, still insisted on forcing their daughters to marry according to their pleasure, by means of duennas, locks, hunger, and even sometimes of poison and daggers. But as nature will revolt against every species of oppression and injustice, the ladies have for some time begun to assert their own rights. The authority of fathers and guardians begins to decline, and lovers find themselves obliged to apply to the affections of the fair, as well as to the pride and avarice of their relations.

The nightly musical serenades of mistresses by their lovers are still in use. The gallant composes some love sonnets, as expressive as he can, not only of the situation of his heart, but of every particular circumstance between him and the lady, not forgetting to lard them with the most extravagant encomiums on her beauty and merit. These he sings in the night below her window accompanied with his lute, or sometimes with a whole band of music. The more piercingly cold the air, the more the lady's heart is supposed to be thawed with the patient sufferance of her lover, who, from night to night, frequently continues his exercises for many hours, heaving the deepest sighs, and casting the most piteous looks towards the window; at which if his goddess at last deigns to appear, and drops him a curtsey, he is superlatively paid for all his watching; but if she blesses him with a smile, he is ready to run distracted.

In Italy the manner of addressing the ladies, so far as it relates to serenading, nearly resembles that of Spain. The Italian, however, goes a step farther than the Spaniard. He endeavors to blockade the house where his fair one lives, so as to prevent the entrance of any rival. If he marries the lady who cost him all this trouble and attendance, he shuts her up for life: If not, she becomes the object of his eternal hatred, and he too frequently endeavors to revenge by poison the success of his happier rival.

In one circumstance relating to courtship, the Italians are said to be particular. They protract the time as long as possible, well knowing that even with all the little ills attending it, a period thus employed is one of the sweetest of human life.

A French lover, with the word sentiment perpetually in his mouth, seems by every action to have excluded it from his heart. He places his whole confidence in his exterior air and appearance. He dresses for his mistress, dances for her, flutters constantly about her, helps her to lay on her rouge, and to place her patches. He attends her round the whole circle of amusements, chatters to her constantly, whistles and sings, and plays the fool with her. Whatever be his station, every thing gaudy and glittering within the sphere of it is called in to his assistance, particularly splendid carriages and tawdry liveries; but if, by the help of all these, he cannot make an impression on the fair one's heart, it costs him nothing but a few shrugs of his shoulders, two or three silly exclamations, and as many stanzas of some satirical song against her; and, as it is impossible for a Frenchman to live without an amour, he immediately betakes himself to another.

There is hardly any such thing among people of fashion as courtship. Matters are generally so ordered by parents and guardians, that to a bride and bridegroom, the day of marriage is often the second time of their meeting. In many countries, to be married in this manner would be reckoned the greatest of misfortunes. In France it is little regarded. In the fashionable world, few people are greater strangers to, or more indifferent about each other, than husband and wife; and any appearance of fondness between them, or their being seen frequently together, would infallibly make them forfeit the reputation of the ton, and be laughed at by all polite company. On this account, nothing is more common than to be acquainted with a lady without knowing her husband, or visiting the husband without ever seeing his wife.

GERMAN WOMEN.

Of all the German females, the ladies of Saxony are the most amiable. Their persons are so superiorly charming and preferable in whatever can recommend them to be notice of mankind, that the German youth often visit Saxony in quest of companions for life. Exclusive of their beauty and comeliness of appearance, they are brought up in a knowledge of all those arts, both useful and ornamental, which are so brilliant an addition to their native attractions. But what chiefly enhances their value, and gives it reality and duration, is a sweetness of temper and festivity of disposition, that never fail to endear them on a very slight acquaintance. To crown all, they are generally patterns of conjugal tenderness and fidelity.

As they are commonly careful to improve their minds by reading and instructive conversation, they have no small share of facetiousness and ingenuity. From their innate liveliness, they are extremely addicted to all the gay kind of amusements. They excel in the allurements of dress and decoration, and are in general skilful in music.

The character, however, of the women in most other parts of Germany, particularly of the Austrian, is very different from this. Notwithstanding the advantages of size and make, their looks and features, though not unsightly, betray a vacancy of that life and spirit, without which beauty is uninteresting, and, like a mere picture, becomes utterly void of that indication of sensibility, which alone can awaken a delicacy of feeling.

As their education is conducted by the rules of the grossest superstition, and they are taught little else than set forms of devotion, they arrive to the years of maturity uninstructed in the use of reason, and usually continue profoundly ignorant the remainder of their days, which are spent, or rather loitered away, in apathy and indolence.

The principal happiness of the Austrian ladies of fashion consists in ruminating on the dignity of their birth and families, the antiquity of their race, the rank they hold, the respect attached to it, and the prerogatives they enjoy over the inferior classes, whom they treat with the utmost superciliousness, and hold in the most unreasonable contempt. In the mean time, their domestic affairs are condemned to the most unaccountable neglect. They dwell at home, careless of what passes there; and suffer disorder and confusion to prevail, without feeling the least uneasiness. Great frequenters of churches, their piety consists in the strictest conformity to all the externals of religion. They profess the most boundless belief in all the silly legends with which their treatises of devotion are filled; and these are the only books they ever read. The coldness of their constitution occasions a species of regulated gallantry, which is rather the effect of an opinion that it is an appendage of high life, than the result of their natural inclination.

It must, at the same time be allowed, that the Austrian women are endowed with a great fund of sincerity and candor; and, though too much on the reserve, and prone to keep at an unnecessary distance, are yet capable of the truest attachment, and always warm and zealous in the cause of those whom they have admitted to their friendship.

Though the Germans are rather a dull and phlegmatic people, and not greatly enslaved by the warmer passions, yet at the court of Vienna they are much given to intrigue: and an amour is so far from being scandalous, that a woman gains credit by the rank of her gallant, and is reckoned silly and unfashionable if she scrupulously adheres to the virtue of chastity. But such customs are more the customs of courts, than of places less exposed to temptation, and consequently less dissolute; and we are well assured that in Germany there are many women who do honor to humanity, not by chastity only, but also by a variety of other virtues.

The ladies at the principal courts, differ not much in their dress from the French and English. They are not, however, so excessively fond of paint as the former. At some courts, they appear in rich furs: and all of them are loaded with jewels, if they can obtain them. The female part of the burgher's families, in many of the German towns, dress in a very different manner, and some of them inconceivably fantastic, as may be seen in many prints published in books of travels. But, in this respect, they are gradually reforming, and many of them make quite a different appearance in their dress from what they did thirty or forty years ago.

The inhabitants of Vienna lived luxuriously, a great part of their time being spent in feasting and carousing. In winter, when the different branches of the Danube are frozen over, and the ground covered with snow, the ladies take their recreation in sledges of different shapes, such as griffins, tigers, swans, scallop-shells, etc. Here the lady sits, dressed in velvet lined with rich furs, and adorned with laces and jewels, having on her head a velvet cap. The sledge is drawn by one horse, stag or other creature, set off with plumes of feathers, ribbons and bells. As this diversion is taken chiefly in the night time, servants ride before the sledge with torches; and a gentleman, standing on the sledge behind, guides the horse.

A VIEW OF MATRIMONY IN THREE DIFFERENT LIGHTS.

The marriage life is always an insipid, a vexatious, or a happy condition, the first is, when two people of no taste meet together, upon such a settlement as has been thought reasonable by parents and conveyancers, from an exact valuation of the land and cash of both parties. In this case the young lady's person is no more regarded than the house and improvements in purchase of an estate; but she goes with her fortune, rather than her fortune with her. These make up the crowd or vulgar of the rich, and fill up the lumber of the human race, without beneficence towards those below them, or respect towards those above them; and lead a despicable, independent, and useless life, without sense of the laws of kindness, good-nature, mutual offices, and the elegant satisfactions which flow from reason and virtue.

The vexatious life arises from a conjunction of two people of quick taste and resentment, put together for reasons well known to their friends, in which especial care is taken to avoid (what they think the chief of evils) poverty; and ensure them riches with every evil besides. These good people live in a constant restraint before company, and when alone, revile each other's person and conduct. In company they are in purgatory; when by themselves, in hell.

The happy marriage is, where two persons meet, and voluntarily make choice of each other without principally regarding or neglecting the circumstances of fortune or beauty. These may still love in spite of adversity or sickness. The former we may in some measure defend ourselves from; the other is the common lot of humanity. Love has nothing to do with riches or state. Solitude, with the person beloved, has a pleasure, even in a woman's mind, beyond show or pomp.

BETROTHING AND MARRIAGE.

At a very early period, families who lived in a friendly manner, fell upon a method of securing their children to each other by what is called in the sacred writings Betrothing. This was agreeing on a price to be paid for the bride, the time when it should be paid, and when she should be delivered into the hands of her husband.

There were, according to the Talmudists, three ways of betrothing. The first by a written contract. The second, by a verbal agreement, accompanied with a piece of money. And the third, by the parties coming together, and living as husband and wife; which might as properly be called marriage as betrothing.

The written contract was in the following manner—"On such a day, month, year, A the son of B, has said to D the daughter of E, be thou my spouse according to the law of Moses and of the Israelites; and I give thee as a dowry the sum of two hundred suzims, as it is ordered by our law. And the said D hath promised to be his spouse upon the conditions aforesaid, which the said A doth promise to perform on the day of marriage. And to this the said A doth hereby bind himself and all that he hath, to the very cloak upon his back; engages himself to love, honor, feed, clothe, and protect her, and to perform all that is generally implied in contracts of marriage in favor of the Israelitish wives."

The verbal agreement was made in the presence of a sufficient number of witnesses, by the man saying to the women, "Take this money as a pledge that at such a time I will take thee to be my wife." A woman who was thus betrothed or bargained for, was almost in every respect by the law considered as already married.

Before the legislation of Moses, "marriages among the Jews," say the Rabbies, "were agreed on by the parents and relations of both sides. When this was done, the bridegroom was introduced to his bride. Presents were mutually exchanged, the contract signed before witnesses, and the bride, having remained sometime with her relations, was sent away to the habitation of her husband, in the night, with singing, dancing, and the sound of musical instruments."

By the institution of Moses, the Rabbies tell us the contract of marriage was read in the presence of, and signed by, at least ten witnesses, who were free, and of age. The bride, who had taken care to bathe herself the night before, appeared in all her splendor, but veiled, in imitation of Rebecca, who veiled herself when she came in sight of Isaac. She was then given to the bridegroom by her parents, in words to this purpose: "Take her according to the law of Moses." And he received her, by saying, "I take her according to that law." Some blessings were then pronounced on the young couple, both by the parents and the rest of the company.

The blessings or prayers generally run in this style: "Blessed art thou, O Lord of heaven, and earth, who has created man in thine own likeness, and hast appointed woman to be his partner and companion! Blessed art thou, who fillest Zion with joy for the multitude of her children! Blessed art thou who sendest gladness to the bridegroom and his bride; who hast ordained for them, love, joy, tenderness, peace and mutual affection. Be pleased to bless not only this couple, but Judah and Jerusalem, with songs of joy, and praise for the joy that thou givest them, by the multitudes of their sons and of their daughters."

After the virgins had sung a marriage song, the company partook of a repast, the most magnificent the parties could afford; after which they began a dance, the men round the bridegroom, the women round the bride. They pretended that this dance was of divine institution and an essential part of the ceremony. The bride was then carried to the nuptial bed, and the bridegroom left with her. The company again returned to their feasting and rejoicing; and the Rabbies inform us, that this feasting, when the bride, was a widow, lasted only three days, but seven if she was a virgin.

At the birth of a son, the father planted a cedar; and at that of a daughter, he planted a pine. Of these trees the nuptial bed was constructed, when the parties, at whose birth they were planted, entered into the married state.

The Assyrians had a court, or tribunal whose only business was to dispose of young women in marriage, and see the laws of that union properly executed. What these laws were, or how the execution of them was enforced, are circumstances that have not been handed down to us. But the erecting a court solely for the purpose of taking cognizance of them, suggests an idea that they were many and various.

Among the Greeks, the multiplicity of male and female deities who were concerned in the affairs of love, made the invocations and sacrifices on a matrimonial occasion a very tedious affair. Fortunate omens gave great joy, and the most fortunate of all others was a pair of turtles seen in the air, as those birds were reckoned the truest emblems of conjugal love and fidelity. If, however, one of them was seen alone it infallibly denoted separation, and all the ills attending an unhappy marriage.

On the wedding day, the bride and bridegroom were richly dressed, and adorned with garlands of herbs and flowers. The bride was conducted in the evening to the house of her husband in a chariot, seated between her husband and one of his relations. When she alighted from the chariot the axle-tree of it was burnt to show that there was no method for her to return back. As soon as the young couple entered the house, figs and other fruits were thrown upon their heads to denote plenty; and a sumptuous entertainment was ready for them to partake of, to which all the relations on both sides were invited.

The bride was lighted to bed by a number of torches, according to her quality; and the company returned in the morning to salute the new married couple, and to sing epithalamia at the door of their bed-chamber.

Epithalamia were marriage songs, anciently sung in praise of the bride or bridegroom, wishing them happiness, prosperity and a numerous issue.

Among the Romans there were three different kinds of marriage. The ceremony of the first consisted in the young couple eating a cake together made only of wheat, salt and water. The second kind was celebrated by the parties solemnly pledging their faith to each other, by giving and receiving a piece of money. This was the most common way of marrying among the Romans. It continued in use, even after they became Christians. When writings were introduced to testify that a man and a woman had become husband and wife, and also, that the husband had settled a dower upon his bride, these writings were called Tabulae Dotales (dowry tables;) and hence, perhaps the words in our marriage ceremony, "I thee endow."

The third kind of marriage was, when a man and woman, having cohabited for some time and had children, found it expedient to continue together. In this case, if they made up the matter between themselves, it became a valid marriage, and the children were considered as legitimate.

Something similar to this is the present custom in Scotland. There, if a man live with, and have children by a woman, though he do not marry her till he be upon his death-bed, all the children are thereby legitimated and become entitled to the honors and estates of their father. The case is the same in Holland and some parts of Germany; with this difference only, that all the children to be legitimated must appear with the father and mother in church at the ceremony of their marriage.

FEMALE FRIENDSHIP.

It has long been a question, Which of the two sexes is most capable of friendship? Montague, who is so much celebrated for his knowledge of human nature, has given it positively against the women; and his opinion has been generally embraced.

Friendship perhaps, in women, is more rare than among men; but, at the same time, it must be allowed that where it is found, it is more tender.

Men, in general, have more of the parade than the graces of friendship. They often wound while they serve; and their warmest sentiments are not very enlightened, with respect to those minute sentiments which are of so much value. But women have a refined sensibility, which makes them see every thing; nothing escapes them. They divine the silent friendship; they encourage the bashful or timid friendship; they offer the sweetest consolations to friendship in distress. Furnished with finer instruments, they treat more delicately a wounded heart. They compose it, and prevent it from feeling its agonies. They know, above all, how to give value to a thousand things, which have no value in themselves.

We ought therefore, perhaps, to desire the friendship of a man upon great occasions; but, for general happiness, we must prefer the friendship of a woman.

With regard to female intimacies, it may be taken for granted that there is no young woman who has not, or wishes not to have, a companion of her own sex, to whom she may unbosom herself on every occasion. That there are women capable of friendship with women, few impartial observers will deny. There have been many evident proofs of it, and those carried as far as seemed compatible with the imperfections of our common nature. It is, however, questioned by some; while others believe that it happens exceedingly seldom. Between married and unmarried women, it no doubt happens very often; whether it does so between those that are single, is not so certain. Young men appear more frequently susceptible of a generous and steady friendship for each other, than females as yet unconnected; especially, if the latter have, or are supposed to have, pretensions to beauty, not adjusted by the public.

In the frame and condition of females, however, compared with those of the other sex, there are some circumstances which may help towards an apology for this unfavorable feature in their character.

The state of matrimony is necessary to the support, order, and comfort of society. But it is a state that subjects the women to a great variety of solicitude and pain. Nothing could carry them through it with any tolerable satisfaction or spirit, but very strong and almost unconquerable attachments. To produce these, is it not fit they should be peculiarly sensible to the attention and regards of the men? Upon the same ground, does it not seem agreeable to the purposes of Providence, that the securing of this attention, and these regards, should be a principal aim? But can such an aim be pursued without frequent competition? And will not that too readily occasion jealousy, envy, and all the unamiable effects of mutual rivalship? Without the restraints of superior worth and sentiment, it certainly will. But can these be ordinarily expected from the prevailing turn of female education; or from the little pains that women, as well as other human beings, commonly take to control themselves, and to act nobly? In this last respect, the sexes appear pretty much on the same footing.

This reasoning is not meant to justify the indulgence of those little and sometimes base passions towards one another, with which females have been so generally charged. It is only intended to represent such passions in the first approach; and, while not entertained, as less criminal than the men are apt to state them; and to prove that, in their attachments to each other, the latter have not always that merit above the women, which they are apt to claim. In the mean time, let it be the business of the ladies, by emulating the gentlemen, where they appear good-natured and disinterested, to disprove their imputation, and to show a temper open to friendship as well as to love.

To talk much of the latter is natural for both; to talk much of the former, is considered by the men as one way of doing themselves honor. Friendship, they well know, is that dignified form, which, in speculation at least every heart must respect.

But in friendship, as in religion, which on many accounts it resembles, speculation is often substituted in the place of practice. People fancy themselves possessed of the thing, and hope that others will fancy so too, because they are fond of the name, and have learned to talk about it with plausibility. Such talk indeed imposes, till experience give it the lie.

To say the truth, there seems in either sex but little of what a fond imagination, unacquainted with the falsehood of the world, and warmed by affections which its selfishness has not yet chilled, would reckon friendship. In theory, the standard is raised too high; we ought not, however, to wish it much lower. The honest sensibilities of ingenuous nature should not be checked by the over-cautious maxims of political prudence. No advantage, obtained by such frigidity, can compensate for the want of those warm effusions of the heart into the bosom of a friend, which are doubtless among the most exquisite pleasures. At the same time, however, it must be owned, that they often by the inevitable lot of humanity, make way for the bitterest pains which the breast can experience. Happy beyond the common condition of her sex, is she who has found a friend indeed; open hearted, yet discreet; generously fervent, yet steady; thoroughly virtuous, but not severe; wise, as well as cheerful! Can such a friend be loved too much, or cherished too tenderly? If to excellence and happiness there be any one way more compendious than another, next to friendship with the Supreme Being, it is this.

But when a mixture of minds so beautiful and so sweet takes place, it is generally, or rather always the result of early prepossession, casual intercourse, or in short, a combination of such causes as are not to be brought together by management or design. This noble plant may be cultivated; but it must grow spontaneously.

ON THE CHOICE OF A HUSBAND.

Assist me, ye Nine, While the youth I define, With whom I in wedlock would class; And ye blooming fair, Lend a listening ear, To approve of the man as you pass.

Not the changeable fry Who love, nor know why, But follow bedup'd by their passions: Such votaries as these Are like waves of the seas, And steer'd by their own inclinations.

The hectoring blade How unfit for the maid, Where meekness and modesty reigns! Such a blundering bully I'll speak against truly, Whatever I get for my pains.

Not the dogmatic elf, Whose great all is himself, Whose alone ipse dixit is law: What a figure he'll make, How like Momus he'll speak With sneering burlesque, a pshaw! pshaw!

Not the covetous wretch Whose heart's at full stretch To gain an inordinate treasure; Him leave with the rest, And such mortals detest, Who sacrifice life without measure.

The fluttering fop, How empty his top! Nay, but some call him coxcomb, I trow; But 'tis losing your time, He's not worth half a rhyme, Let the fag ends of prose bind his brow.

The guttling sot, What a conduit his throat! How beastly and vicious his life! Where drunkards prevail, Whole families feel, Much more an affectionate wife.

One character yet; I with sorrow repeat, And O! that the number were less; 'Tis the blasphemous crew: What a pattern they'll shew To their hapless and innocent race!

Let wisdom then shine In the youth that is mine, Whilst virtue his footsteps impress; Such I'd choose for my mate, Whether sooner or late: Tell me, Ladies, what think you of this?

"The chief point to be regarded," says Lady Pennington in her Advice to her Daughters, "in the choice of a companion for life, is a really virtuous principle—an unaffected goodness of heart. Without this, you will be continually shocked by indecency, and pained by impiety. So numerous have been the unhappy victims to the ridiculous opinion, a reformed libertine makes the best husband—that, did not experience daily evince the contrary, one would believe it impossible for a girl who has a tolerable degree of common understanding, to be made the dupe of so erroneous a position, which has not the least shadow of reason for its foundation, and which a small share of observation will prove to be false in fact. A man who has been conversant with the worst sort of women, is very apt to contract a bad opinion of, and a contempt for, the sex in general. Incapable of esteeming any, he is suspicious of all; jealous without cause, angry without provocation, his own disturbed imagination is a continued source of ill-humor. To this is frequently joined a bad habit of body, the natural consequence of an irregular life, which gives an additional sourness to the temper. What rational prospect of happiness can there be with such a companion? And, that this is the general character of those who are called reformed rakes, observation will certify. But, admit there may be some exceptions, it is a hazard upon which no considerate woman would venture the peace of her whole life. The vanity of those girls who believe themselves capable of working miracles of this kind, and who give up their persons to men of libertine principles, upon the wild expectation of reclaiming them, justly deserves the disappointment which it will generally meet with; for, believe me, a wife is, of all persons, the least likely to succeed in such an attempt. Be it your care to find that virtue in a lover which you must never hope to form in a husband. Good sense, and good nature, are almost equally requisite. If the former is wanting, it will be next to an impossibility for you to esteem the person, of whose behavior you may have cause to be ashamed. Mutual esteem is as essential to happiness in the married state, as mutual affection. Without the latter, every day will bring with it some fresh cause of vexation, until repeated quarrels produce a coldness, which will settle into an irreconcilable aversion, and you will become, not only each other's torment, but the object of contempt to your family, and to your acquaintance.

"This quality of good nature is, of all others, the most difficult to be ascertained, on account of the general mistake of blending it with good-humor, as if they were in themselves the same; whereas, in fact, no two principles of action are more essentially different. But this may require some explanation. By good nature, I mean that true benevolence, which partakes in the felicity of every individual within the reach of its ability, which relieves the distressed, comforts the afflicted, diffuses blessings, and communicates happiness, far as its sphere of action can extend; and which, in the private scenes of life, will shine conspicuous in the dutiful son, in the affectionate husband, the indulgent father, the faithful friend, and in the compassionate master both to man and beast. Good humor, on the other hand, is nothing more than a cheerful, pleasing deportment, arising either from a natural gaiety of mind, or from an affection of popularity, joined to an affability of behavior, the result of good breeding, and from a ready compliance with the taste of every company. This kind of mere good humor is, by far, the most striking quality. It is frequently mistaken for and complimented with the superior name of real good nature. A man, by this specious appearance, has often acquired that appellation who, in all the actions of private life, has been a morose, cruel, revengeful, sullen, haughty tyrant. Let them put on the cap, whose temples fit the galling wreath!

"A man of a truly benevolent disposition, and formed to promote the happiness of all around him, may sometimes, perhaps, from an ill habit of body, an accidental vexation, or from a commendable openness of heart, above the meanness of disguise, be guilty of little sallies of peevishness, or of ill humor, which, carrying the appearance of ill nature, may be unjustly thought to proceed from it, by persons who are unacquainted with his true character, and who, take ill humor and ill nature to be synonymous terms, though in reality they bear not the least analogy to each other. In order to the forming a right judgment, it is absolutely necessary to observe this distinction, which will effectually secure you from the dangerous error of taking the shadow for the substance, an irretrievable mistake, pregnant with innumerable consequent evils!

"From what has been said, it plainly appears, that the criterion of this amiable virtue is not to be taken for the general opinion; mere good humor being, to all intents and purposes, sufficient in this particular, to establish the public voice in favor of a man utterly devoid of every humane and benevolent affection of heart. It is only from the less conspicuous scenes of life, the more retired sphere of action, from the artless tenor of domestic conduct, that the real character can, with any certainty be drawn. These, undisguised, proclaim the man. But, as they shun the glare of light, nor court the noise of popular applause, they pass unnoticed, and are seldom known till after an intimate acquaintance. The best method, therefore, to avoid the deception in this case, is to lay no stress on outward appearances, which are too often fallacious, but to take the rule of judging from the simple unpolished sentiments of those whose dependent connections give them undeniable certainty; who not only see, but who hourly feel, the good or bad effect of that disposition, to which they are subjected. By this, I mean, that if a man is equally respected, esteemed, and beloved by his dependants and domestics, you may justly conclude, he has that true good nature, that real benevolence, which delights in communicating felicity, and enjoys the satisfaction it diffuses. But if by these he is despised and hated, served merely from a principle of fear, devoid of affection, which is ever easily discoverable, whatever may be his public character, however favorable the general opinion, be assured, that his disposition is such as can never be productive of domestic happiness. I have been the more particular on this head, as it is one of the most essential qualifications to be regarded, and of all others the most liable to be mistaken.

"Never be prevailed with, my dear, to give your hand to a person defective in these material points. Secure of virtue, of good nature, and understanding, in a husband, you may be secure of happiness. Without the two former it is unattainable. Without the latter in a tolerable degree, it must be very imperfect.

"Remember, however, that infallibility is not the property of man, or you may entail disappointment on yourself, by expecting what is never to be found. The best men are sometimes inconsistent with themselves. They are liable to be hurried, by sudden starts of passion, into expressions and actions, which their cooler reason will condemn. They may have some oddities of behavior, and some peculiarities of temper. They may be subject to accidental ill humor, or to whimsical complaints. Blemishes of this kind often shade the brightest character; but they are never destructive of mutual felicity, unless when they are made so by an improper resentment, or by an ill-judged opposition. When cooled, and in his usual temper, the man of understanding, if he has been wrong, will suggest to himself all that could be urged against him. The man of good nature will, unupbraided, own his error. Immediate contradiction is, therefore, wholly unserviceable, and highly imprudent; an after repetition is equally unnecessary and injudicious. Any peculiarities in the temper or behavior ought to be properly represented in the tenderest and in the most friendly manner. If the representation of them is made discreetly, it will generally be well taken. But if they are so habitual as not easily to be altered, strike not too often upon the unharmonious string. Rather let them pass unobserved. Such a cheerful compliance will better cement your union; and they may be made easy to yourself, by reflecting on the superior good qualities by which these trifling faults are so greatly overbalanced.

"You must remember, my dear, these rules are laid down on the supposition of your being united to a person who possesses the three qualifications for happiness before mentioned. In this case no farther direction is necessary, but that you strictly perform the duty of a wife, namely, to love, to honor, and obey. The two first articles are a tribute so indispensably due to merit, that they must be paid by inclination—and they naturally lead to the performance of the last, which will not only be easy, but a pleasing task, since nothing can ever be enjoined by such a person that is in itself improper, and a few things will, that can, with any reason, be disagreeable to you.

"The being united to a man of irreligious principles, makes it impossible to discharge a great part of the proper duty of a wife. To name but one instance, obedience will be rendered impracticable, by frequent injunctions inconsistent with, and contrary to, the higher obligations of morality. This is not a supposition, but is a certainty founded upon facts, which I have too often seen and can attest. Where this happens, the reasons for non-compliance ought to be offered in a plain, strong, good natured manner. There is at least the chance of success from being heard. But should those reasons be rejected, or the hearing them refused, and silence on the subject enjoined, which is most probable, few people caring to hear what they know to be right, when they are determined not to be convinced by it—obey the injunction, and urge not the argument farther. Keep, however, steady to your principles, and suffer neither persuasion nor threats to prevail on you to act contrary to them. All commands repugnant to the laws of christianity, it is your indispensable duty to disobey. All requests that are inconsistent with prudence, or incompatible with the rank and character which you ought to maintain in life, it is your interest to refuse. A compliance with the former would be criminal, a consent to the latter highly indiscreet; and it might thereby subject you to general censure. For a man, capable of requiring, from his wife, what he knows to be in itself wrong, is equally capable of throwing the whole blame of such misconduct on her, and of afterwards upbraiding her for a behavior, to which he will, upon the same principle, disown that he has been accessary. Many similar instances have come within the compass of my own observation. In things of less material nature, that are neither criminal in themselves, nor pernicious in their consequences, always acquiesce, if insisted on, however disagreeable they may be to your own temper and inclination. Such a compliance will evidently prove that your refusal, in the other cases, proceeds not from a spirit of contradiction, but merely from a just regard to that superior duty which can never be infringed with impunity.

"As the want of understanding is by no art to be concealed, by no address to be disguised, it might be supposed impossible for a woman of sense to unite herself to a person whose defect, in this instance, must render that sort of rational society, which constitutes the chief happiness of such an union, impossible. Yet here, how often has the weakness of female judgment been conspicuous! The advantages of great superiority in rank or fortune have frequently proved so irresistible a temptation, as, in opinion, to outweigh, not only the folly, but even the vices of its possessor—a grand mistake, ever tacitly acknowledged by a subsequent repentance, when the expected pleasures of affluence, equipage, and all the glittering pageantry, have been experimentally found insufficient to make amends for the want of that constant satisfaction which results from the social joy of conversing with a reasonable friend!

"But however weak this motive must be acknowledged, it is more excusable than another, which, I fear, has sometimes had an equal influence on the mind—I mean so great a love of sway, as to induce her to give the preference to a person of weak intellectuals, in hopes of holding, uncontrolled, the reins of government. The expectation is, in fact, ill grounded. Obstinacy and pride are generally the companions of folly. The silliest people are often the most tenacious of their opinions, and, consequently, the hardest of all others to be managed. But admit the contrary, the principle is in itself bad. It tends to invert the order of nature, and to counteract the design of Providence.

"A woman can never be seen in a more ridiculous light than when she appears to govern her husband. If, unfortunately, the superiority of understanding is on her side, the apparent consciousness of that superiority betrays a weakness, that renders her contemptible in the sight of every considerate person, and it may, very probably, fix in his mind a dislike never to be eradicated. In such a case, if it should ever be your own, remember that some degree of dissimulation is commendable, so far as to let your husband's defects appear unobserved. When he judges wrong, never flatly contradict, but lead him insensibly into another opinion, in so discreet a manner, that it may seem entirely his own, and let the whole credit of every prudent determination rest on him, without indulging the foolish vanity of claiming any merit to yourself. Thus a person of but an indifferent capacity, may be so assisted, as, in many instances, to shine with borrowed lustre, scarce distinguishable from the native, and by degrees he may be brought into a kind of mechanical method of acting properly, in all the common occurrences of life. Odd as this position may seem, it is founded in fact. I have seen the method successfully practised by more than one person, where a weak mind, on the governed side, has been so prudently set off as to appear the sole director; like the statue of the Delphic god, which was thought to give forth its own oracles, whilst the humble priest, who lent his voice, was by the shrine concealed, nor sought a higher glory than a supposed obedience to the power he would be thought to serve."

A LETTER TO A NEW MARRIED MAN.

I received the news of your marriage with infinite delight, and hope that the sincerity with which I wish you happiness, may excuse the liberty I take in giving you a few rules, whereby more certainly to obtain it. I see you smile at my wrong-headed kindness, and, reflecting on the charms of your bride, cry out in a rapture, that you are happy enough without any rules. I know you are. But after one of the forty years, which I hope you will pass pleasingly together, is over, this letter may come in turn, and rules for felicity may not be found unnecessary, however some of them may appear impracticable.

Could that kind of love be kept alive through the marriage state, which makes the charm of a single one, the sovereign good would no longer be sought for; in the union of two faithful lovers it would be found: but reason shows that this is impossible, and experience informs us that it never was so; we must preserve it as long, and supply it as happily as we can.

When your present violence of passion subsides, however, and a more cool and tranquil affection takes its place, be not hasty to censure yourself as indifferent, or to lament yourself as unhappy; you have lost that only which it was impossible to retain, and it were graceless amid the pleasures of a prosperous summer to regret the blossoms of a transient spring. Neither unwarily condemn your bride's insipidity till you have recollected that no object however sublime, no sounds however charming, can continue to transport us with delight when they no longer strike us with novelty. The skill to renovate the powers of pleasing is said indeed to be possessed by some women in an eminent degree; but the artifices of maturity are seldom seen to adorn the innocence of youth: you have made your choice, and ought to approve it.

Satiety follows quickly upon the heels of possession; and to be happy, we must always have something in view. The person of your lady is already all your own, and will not grow more pleasing in your eyes I doubt, though the rest of your sex will think her handsome for these dozen of years. Turn therefore all your attention to her mind, which will daily grow brighter by polishing. Study some easy science together, and acquire a similarity of tastes while you enjoy a community of pleasures. You will by this means have many images in common, and be freed from the necessity of separating to find amusement. Nothing is so dangerous to wedded love as the possibility of either being happy out of the company of the other: endeavor therefore, to cement the present intimacy on every side; let your wife never be kept ignorant of your income, your expenses, your friendships, or aversions; let her know your very faults, but make them amiable by your virtues; consider all concealment as a breach of fidelity; let her never have any thing to find out in your character; and remember, that from the moment one of the partners turns spy upon the other, they have commenced a state of hostility.

Seek not for happiness in singularity; and dread a refinement of wisdom as a deviation into folly. Listen not to those sages who advise you always to scorn the counsel of a woman, and if you comply with her requests pronounce you to be wife-ridden.

I said that the person of your lady would not grow more pleasing to you; but pray let her never suspect that it grows less so: that a woman will pardon an affront to her understanding much sooner than one to her person, is well known; nor will any of us contradict the assertion. All our attainments, all our arts, are employed to gain and keep the heart of man: and what mortification can exceed the disappointment, if the end be not obtained? There is no reproof however pointed, no punishment however severe, that a woman of spirit will not prefer to neglect; and if she can endure it without complaint, it only proves that she means to make herself amends by the attention of others for the slights of her husband. For this, and for every reason, it behoves a married man not to let his politeness fail, though his ardor may abate, but to retain at least that general civility towards his own lady which he is so willing to pay to every other, and not show a wife of eighteen or twenty years old, that every man in company can treat her with more complaisance than he, who so often vowed to her eternal fondness.