But would you, fair ones, be esteem'd, approved, And with an everlasting ardor loved; Would you in wrinkled age, admirers find, In every female virtue dress the mind; Adorn the heart, and teach the soul to charm, And when the eyes no more the breast can warm, These ever-blooming beauties shall inspire Each gen'rous heart with friendship's sacred fire; These charms shall neither wither, fade, nor fly; Pain, sickness, time, and death, they dare defy. When the pale tyrant's hand shall seal your doom, And lock your ashes in the silent tomb, These beauties shall in double lustre rise, Shine round the soul, and waft it to the skies.



ART OF DETERMINING THE PRECISE FIGURE, THE DEGREE OF BEAUTY, THE HABITS, AND THE AGE, OF WOMEN,

NOTWITHSTANDING THE AIDS AND DISGUISES OF DRESS.

OF FIGURE.

External indications as to figure are required chiefly as to the limbs which are concealed by drapery. Such indications are afforded by the walk, to every careful observer.

In considering the proportion of the limbs to the body—if, even in a young woman, the walk, though otherwise good, be heavy, or the fall on each foot alternately be sudden, and rather upon the heel, the limbs though well formed, will be found to be slender, compared with the body.

This conformation accompanies any great proportional developement of the vital system; and it is frequently observable in the woman of the Saxon population of England, as in the counties of Norfolk, Suffolk, &c.

In women of this conformation, moreover, the slightest indisposition or debility is indicated by a slight vibration of the shoulders, and upper part of the chest, at every step, in walking.

In considering the line or direction of the limbs—if, viewed behind, the feet, at every step, are thrown out backward, and somewhat laterally, the knees are certainly much inclined inward.

If, viewed in front, the dress, at every step, is as it were, gathered toward the front, and then tossed more or less to the opposite side, the knees are certainly too much inclined.

In considering the relative size of each portion of the limbs—if, in the walk, there be a greater or less approach to the marching pace, the hip is large; for we naturally employ the joint which is surrounded with the most powerful muscles, and in any approach to the march, it is the hip-joint which is used, and the knee and ancle-joints which remain proportionally unemployed.

If, in the walk, the tripping pace be used, as in an approach to walking on tiptoes, the calf is large; for it is only by the power of its muscles that, under the weight of the whole body, the foot can be extended for this purpose.

If, in the walk, the foot be raised in a slovenly manner, and the heel be seen, at each step, to lift the bottom of the dress upward and backward, neither the hip nor the calf is well developed.

Even with regard to the parts of the figure which are more exposed to observation by the closer adaptation of dress, much deception occurs. It is, therefore, necessary to understand the arts employed for this purpose, at least by skilful women.

A person having a narrow face, wears a bonnet with wide front, exposing the lower part of the cheeks.—One having a broad face, wears a closer front; and, if the jaw be wide, it is in appearance diminished, by bringing the corners of the bonnet sloping to the point of the chin.

A person having a long neck has the neck of the bonnet descending, the neck of the dress rising, and filling more or less of the intermediate space. One having a short neck has the whole bonnet short and close in the perpendicular direction, and the neck of the dress neither high nor wide.

Persons with narrow shoulders have the shoulders or epaulets of the dress formed on the outer edge of the natural shoulder, very full, and both the bosom and back of the dress running in oblique folds, from the point of the shoulder to the middle of the bust.

Persons with waists too large, render them less before by a stomacher, or something equivalent, and behind by a corresponding form of the dress, making the top of the dress smooth across the shoulders, and drawing it in plaits to a narrow point at the bottom of the waist.

Those who have the bosom too small, enlarge it by the oblique folds of the dress being gathered above, and by other means.

Those who have the lower posterior part of the body too flat, elevate it by the top of the skirt being gathered behind, and by other less skilful adjustments, which though hid, are easily detected.

Those who have the lower part of the body too prominent anteriorly, render it less apparent by shortening the waist, by a corresponding projection behind, and by increasing the bosom above.

Those who have the haunches too narrow, take care not to have the bottom of the dress too wide.

Tall women have a wide skirt, or several flounces, or both of these: shorter women, a moderate one, but as long as can be conveniently worn, with the flounces, &c., as low as possible.

OF BEAUTY.

Additional indications as to beauty are required chiefly where the woman observed precedes the observer, and may, by her figure, naturally and reasonably excite his interest, while at the same time it would be rude to turn and look in her face on passing.

There can, therefore, be no impropriety in observing, that the conduct of those who may happen to meet the women thus preceding, will differ according to the sex of the person who meets her.—If the person meeting her be a man, and the lady observed be beautiful, he will not only look with an expression of pleasure at her countenance, but will afterward turn more or less completely to survey her from behind.—If the person meeting her be a woman, the case becomes more complex. If both be either ugly or beautiful, or if the person meeting her be beautiful and the lady observed be ugly, then it is probable, that the approaching person may pass by inattentively, casting merely an indifferent glance; if, on the contrary, the woman meeting her be ugly, and the lady observed be beautiful, then the former will examine the latter with the severest scrutiny, and if she sees features and shape without defect, she will instantly fix her eyes on the head-dress or gown, in order to find some object for censure of the beautiful woman, and for consolation in her own ugliness.

Thus he who happens to follow a female may be aided in determining whether it is worth his while to glance at her face in passing, or to devise other means of seeing it.

Even when the face is seen, as in meeting in the streets or elsewhere, infinite deception occurs as to the degree of beauty. This operates so powerfully, that a correct estimate of beauty is perhaps never formed at first. This depends on the forms and still more on the colors of dress in relation to the face. For this reason, it is necessary to understand the principles according to which colors are employed at least by skilful women.

When it is the fault of a face to contain too much yellow, then yellow around the face is used to remove it by contrast, and to cause the red and blue to predominate.

When it is the fault of a face to contain too much red, then red around the face is used to remove by contrast, and to cause the yellow and blue to predominate.

When it is the fault of a face to contain too much blue, then blue around the face is used to remove it by contrast, and to cause the yellow and red to predominate.

When it is the fault of a face to contain too much yellow and red, then orange is used.

When it is the fault of a face to contain too much red and blue, then purple is used.

When it is the fault of a face to contain too much blue and yellow, then green is used.

It is necessary to observe that the linings of bonnets reflect their color on the face, and transparent bonnets transmit that color, and equally tinge it. In both these cases, the color employed is no longer that which is placed around the face, and which acts on it by contrast, but the opposite. As green around the face heightens a faint red in the cheeks by contrast, so the pink lining of the bonnet aids it by reflection.

Hence linings which reflect, are generally of the teint which is wanted in the face; and care is then taken that these linings do not come into the direct view of the observer, and operate prejudicially on the face by contrast, overpowering the little color which by reflection they should heighten. The fronts of bonnets so lined, therefore, do not widen greatly forward, and bring their color into contrast.

When bonnets do widen, the proper contrast is used as a lining; but then it has not a surface much adapted for reflection, otherwise it may perform that office, and injure the complexion.

Understanding, then, the application of these colors in a general way, it may be noticed, that fair faces are by contrast best acted on by light colors, and dark faces by darker colors.

Dark faces are best affected by darker colors, evidently because they tend to render the complexion fairer; and fair faces do not require dark colors, because the opposition would be too strong.

Objects which constitute a background to the face, or which, on the contrary, reflect their hues upon it, always either improve or injure the complexion. For this and some other reasons, many persons look better at home in their apartments than in the streets. Apartments may, indeed, be peculiarly calculated to improve individual complexions.

OF MIND.

External indications as to mind may be derived from figure, from gait, and from dress.

As to figure, a certain symmetry or disproportion of parts (either of which depends immediately upon the locomotive system)—or a certain softness or hardness of form (which belongs exclusively to the vital system)—these reciprocally denote a locomotive symmetry or disproportion—or a vital softness or hardness—or a mental delicacy or coarseness, which will be found also indicated by the features of the face.

These qualities are marked in pairs, as each belonging to its respective system; for, without this, there can be no accurate or useful observation.

As to gait, that progression which advances, unmodified by any lateral movement of the body, or any perpendicular rising of the head, and which belongs exclusively to the locomotive system—or that soft lateral rolling of the body, which belongs exclusively to the vital system—or that perpendicular rising or falling of the head at every impulse to step, which belongs exclusively to the mental system—these reciprocally indicate a corresponding locomotive, or vital, or mental character, which will be found also indicated by the features of the face.

To put to the test the utility of these elements of observation and indication, let us take a few instances.—If, in any individual, locomotive symmetry of figure is combined with direct and linear gait, a character of mind and countenance not absolutely repulsive, but cold and insipid, is indicated. If vital softness of figure is combined, with a gentle lateral rolling of the body in its gait, voluptuous character and expression of countenance are indicated.—If delicacy of outline in the figure, be combined with perpendicular rising of the head, levity, perhaps vanity, is indicated.—But there are innumerable combinations and modifications of the elements which we have just described. Expressions of pride, determination, obstinacy, &c., are all observable.

The gait, however, is often formed, in a great measure, by local or other circumstances, by which it is necessary that the observer should avoid being misled.

Dress, as affording indications, though less to be relied on than the preceding, is not without its value. The woman who possesses a cultivated taste, and a corresponding expression of countenance, will generally be tastefully dressed; and the vulgar woman, with features correspondingly rude, will easily be seen through the inappropriate mask in which her milliner or dressmaker may have invested her.

OF HABITS.

External indications as to the personal habits of women are both numerous and interesting.

The habit of child-bearing is indicated by a flatter breast, a broader back, and thicker cartilages of the bones of the pubis, necessarily widening the pelvis.

The same habit is also indicated by a high rise of the nape of the neck, so that the neck from that point bends considerably forward, and by an elevation which is diffused between the neck and shoulders. These all arise from temporary distensions of the trunk in women whose secretions are powerful, from the habit of throwing the shoulders backward during pregnancy, and the head again forward, to balance the abdominal weight; and they bestow a character of vitality peculiarly expressive.

The same habit is likewise indicated by an excess of that lateral rolling of the body in walking, which was already described as connected with voluptuous character. This is a very certain indication, as it arises from temporary distensions of the pelvis, which nothing else can occasion. As in consequence of this lateral rolling of the body, and of the weight of the body being much thrown forward in gestation, the toes are turned somewhat inward, they aid in the indication.

The habit of nursing children is indicated, both in mothers and nursery-maids, by the right shoulder being larger and more elevated than the left.

The habits of the seamstress are indicated by the neck suddenly bending forward, and the arms being, even in walking, considerably bent forward or folded more or less upward from the elbows.

Habits of labor are indicated by a considerable thickness of the shoulders below, where they form an angle with the inner part of the arm; and, where these habits are of the lowest menial kind, the elbows are turned outward, and the palms of the hands backward.

OF AGE.

External indications of age are required chiefly where the face is veiled, or where the woman observed precedes the observer and may reasonably excite his interest.

In either of these cases, if the foot and ankle have lost a certain moderate plumpness, and assumed a certain sinewy or bony appearance, the woman has generally passed the period of youth.

If in walking, instead of the ball or outer edge of the foot first striking the ground, it is the heel which does so, then has the woman in general passed the meridian of life. Unlike the last indication, this is apparent, however the foot and ankle may be clothed.—The reason of this indication is the decrease of power which unfits the muscles to receive the weight of the body by maintaining the extension of the ankle-joint.

Exceptions to this last indication are to be found chiefly in women in whom the developments of the body are proportionally much greater, either from a temporary or a permanent cause, than those of the limbs, the muscles of which are consequently incapable of receiving the weight of the body by maintaining the extension of the ankle-joint.



THE IDEAL OF FEMALE BEAUTY;

OR A DESCRIPTION OF THE FAMOUS STATUE OF THE VENUS DE MEDICI.

The Venus de Medici at Florence is the most perfect specimen of ancient sculpture remaining; and is spoken of as the Model of Female Beauty. It was so much a favorite of the Greeks and Romans, that a hundred ancient repetitions of this statue have been noticed by travellers. This statue is said to have been found in the forum of Octavia at Rome. It represents woman at that age when every beauty has just been perfected.

"The Venus de Medici at Florence," says a distinguished writer, "is like a rose which, after a beautiful daybreak, expands its leaves to the first ray of the sun, and represents that age when the limbs assume a more finished form and the breast begins to develop itself."

The size of the head is sufficiently small to leave that predominance to the vital organs in the chest, which, as already said, makes the nutritive system peculiarly that of woman. This is the first and most striking proof of the profound knowledge of the artist, the principles of whose art taught him that a vast head is not a constituent of female beauty. In mentioning the head it is scarcely possible to avoid noticing the rich curls of hair.

The eyes next fix our attention by their soft, sweet, and glad expression. This is produced with exquisite art. To give softness, the ridges of the eyebrows are rounded. To give sweetness, the under eyelid, which I would call the expressive one, is slightly raised. To give the expression of gladness or of pleasure, the opening of the eyelids is diminished, in order to diminish, or partially to exclude, the excess of those impressions, which make even pleasure painful. Other exquisite details about those eyes, confer on them unparallelled beauty. Still, this look is far from those traits indicative of lasciviousness, with which some modern artists have thought to characterize their Venuses.

Art still profounder was perhaps shown in the configuration of the nose. The peculiar connexion of this sense with love was evidently well understood by the artist. Not only is smell peculiarly associated with love, in all the higher animals, but it is associated with reproduction in plants, the majority of which evolve delicious odors only when the flowers or organs of fructification are displayed. Connected, indeed, with the capacity of the nose, and the cavities which open into it, is the projection of the whole middle part of the face.

The mouth is rendered sweet and delicate by the lips being undeveloped at their angles, and by the upper lip continuing so, for a considerable portion of its length. It expresses love of pleasure by the central development of both lips, and active love by the especial development of the lower lip. By the slight opening of the lips, it expresses desire.

These exquisite details, and the omission of nothing intellectually expressive that nature presents, have led some to imagine the Venus de Medici to be a portrait. In doing so, however, they see not the profound calculation for every feature thus embodied. More strangely still, they forget the ideal character of the whole: the notion of this ideal head being too small, is especially opposed to such an opinion.

Withal, the look is amorous and languishing, without being lascivious, and is as powerfully marked by gay coquetry, as by charming innocence.

The young neck is exquisitely formed. Its beautiful curves show a thousand capabilities of motion; and its admirably-calculated swell over the organ of voice, results from, and marks the struggling expression of still mysterious love.

With regard to the rest of the figure, the admirable form of the mammae, which, without being too large, occupy the bosom, rise from it with various curves on every side, and all terminate in their apices, leaving the inferior part in each precisely as pendent as gravity demands; the flexile waist gently tapering little farther than the middle of the trunk; the lower portion of it beginning gradually to swell out higher even than the umbilicus; the gradual expansion of the haunches, those expressive characteristics of the female, indicating at once her fitness for the office of generation and that of parturition—expansions which increase till they reach their greatest extent at the superior part of the thighs; the fulness behind their upper part, and on each side of the lower part of the spine, commencing as high as the waist, and terminating in the still greater swell of the distinctly-separated hips; the flat expanse between these, and immediately over the fissure of the hips, relieved by a considerable dimple on each side, and caused by the elevation of all the surrounding parts; the fine swell of the broad abdomen which, soon reaching its greatest height immediately under the umbilicus, slopes neatly to the mons veneris, but, narrow at its upper part, expands more widely as it descends, while, throughout, it is laterally distinguished by a gentle depression from the more muscular parts on the sides of the pelvis; the beautiful elevation of the mons veneris; the contiguous elevation of the thighs which, almost at their commencement rise as high as it does; the admirable expansion of these bodies inward, or toward each other, by which they almost seem to intrude upon each other, and to exclude each from its respective place; the general narrowness of the upper, and the unembraceable expansion of the lower part thus exquisitely formed;—all these admirable characteristics of female form, the mere existence of which in woman must, one is tempted to imagine, be even to herself, a source of ineffable pleasure—these constitute a being worthy, as the personification of beauty, of occupying the temples of Greece; present an object finer, alas! than nature seems even capable of producing; and offer to all nations and ages a theme of admiration and delight.

Well might Thomson say:—

"So stands the statue that enchants the world, So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece."

And Byron, in yet higher strain:—

"There, too, the goddess loves in stone, and fills The air around with beauty; within the pale We stand, and in that form and face behold What Mind can make, when Nature's self would fail; And to the fond idolaters of old Envy the innate flash which such a soul could mould.

We gaze and turn away, and know not where, Dazzled and drunk with beauty, till the heart Reels with its fulness; there—forever there— Chained to the chariot of triumphal Art, We stand as captives, and would not depart."

THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE.

BY LORD BYRON.

Away with those fictions of flimsy romance! Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove! Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.

Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow, Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove, From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow, Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love!

I hate you, ye cold compositions of art; Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove, I court the effusions that spring from the heart Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love.

Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth, From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove; Some portion of paradise still is on earth, And Eden revives in the first kiss of love.

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past— For years fleet away with the wings of the dove— The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.



THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA.

See Frontispiece.

The Princess of antiquity, most renowned for her personal charms, was in her unrivalled beauty, her mental perfections, her weaknesses, and the unhappy conclusion of an amorous existence the counterpart of the most beautiful queen of later times, the unfortunate Mary of Scotland.

Cleopatra was the daughter of Ptolemy Auletes, king of Egypt. She was early given to wife to her own brother, Ptolemy Dionysius, and ascended the throne conjointly with him, on the death of their father. It was doubtless the policy of the kingdom thus to preserve all the royal honors in one family—the daughter being the queen, as well as the son king of the country. But her ambitious and intriguing spirit, restrained by no ties of reciprocal love to her husband, who was also her brother, sought for means to burst a union at once unnatural and galling: and the opportunity at length arrived. Julius Caesar, the conqueror of the world, having pursued the defeated Pompey into Egypt, there beheld Cleopatra in the zenith of her beauty; and he before whose power the whole world was kneeling, prostrated himself before a pretty woman. The following is the account of her first introduction to Caesar, as given by the historian. It shows that she had no maidenly scruples as to the mode of attaining her ends.

Her intrigues to become sole monarch, had made her husband-brother banish her from the capital. Hearing of the arrival of Caesar, she got into a small boat, with only one male friend, and in the dusk of the evening made for the palace where Caesar as well as her husband lodged. As she saw it difficult to enter it undiscovered by her husband's friends, she rolled herself up in a carpet. Her companion tied her up at full length like a bale of goods, and carried her in at the gates to Caesar's apartments. This stratagem of hers, which was a strong proof of her wit and ingenuity, is said to have first opened her way to Caesar's heart, and her conquest advanced rapidly by the charms of her speech and person. The genius of Shakspeare has well depicted the power of her beauty at this time. He makes her to say, at a later period of life, when chagrined at the expected desertion of another lover,—

"Broad-fronted Caesar! When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch: And great Pompey Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he fix his longing gaze, and die With looking on his life."

But Cleopatra, who was not less remarkable for her cunning than for her beauty, knowing that Caesar was resolved to be gratified at whatever cost, determined that the price should be a round one: the terms of his admission to her arms, were that Caesar should expel her brother from the kingdom, and give the crown to her; which Caesar complied with. Cleopatra had a son by Caesar called Caesarion.

In the civil wars which distracted the Roman empire after the death of Caesar, Cleopatra supported Brutus, against Antony and Octavius. Antony, in his expedition to Parthia, summoned her to appear before him. She arrayed herself in the most magnificent apparel, and appeared before her judge in the most captivating attire. Though somewhat older than when she drew Caesar to her arms, her charms were still conspicuous;

"Age could not wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetite they feed. But she made hungry Where most she satisfied."

Her artifice on this occasion succeeded; Antony became enamoured of her, and publicly married her, although his wife the sister of Octavius was living. He gave Cleopatra the greater part of the eastern provinces of the Roman empire. This behaviour was the cause of a rupture between Octavius and Antony; and these two celebrated generals met in battle at Actium, where Cleopatra, by flying with sixty sail of vessels, ruined the interest of Antony, and he was defeated. Cleopatra had retired to Egypt, where soon after Antony followed her. Antony stabbed himself upon the false information that Cleopatra was dead; and as his wound was not mortal, he was carried to the queen, who drew him up by a cord from one of the windows of the monument, where she had retired and concealed herself.

Antony soon after died of his wounds, and Cleopatra, after she had received pressing invitations from Octavius, and even pretended declarations of love, destroyed herself by the bite of an asp, not to fall into the conqueror's hands. She had previously attempted to stab herself, and had once made a resolution to starve herself. But the means by which she destroyed herself, is said to produce the easiest of deaths: the Asp is a small serpent found near the river Nile, so delicate that it may be concealed in a fig; and when presented to the vitals of the body, its bite is so deadly as to render medical skill useless, while at the same time it is so painless, that the victim fancies herself dropping into a sweet slumber, instead of the arms of death. So Cleopatra, while she is applying the venomous reptile to her bosom, (as represented in the Frontispiece,) is supposed to use language like the following,—

"Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep?"

Thus, after having chained in her embrace the two greatest generals that the Roman empire had produced, Julius Caesar and Mark Antony, at the periods when they were respectively arbiters of the world's fate, perished Cleopatra by her own hand.

Cleopatra was a voluptuous and extravagant woman, and in one of the feasts she gave to Antony at Alexandria, she melted pearls into her drink to render the entertainment more sumptuous and expensive. She was fond of appearing dressed as a goddess; and she advised Antony to make war against the richest nations, to support her debaucheries. Her beauty has been greatly commended, and her mental perfections so highly celebrated, that she has been described as capable of giving audience to the ambassadors of seven different nations, and of speaking their various languages as fluently as her own.

How vain are the possessions of beauty, power, personal and mental accomplishments, if to these are not united virtuous principles. All history, as well as all experience, is full of examples calculated to impress the great lesson that

"VIRTUE alone is HAPPINESS below."



AN ESSAY ON MATRIMONY.

Socrates, being asked, whether it were better for a man to marry, or to remain single, replied,—"Let him do either, he will repent of it."

The philosopher spoke 'like an oracle,' leaving the world as much in the dark as to his views of the comparative advantages of matrimony and celibacy, as they could have been before. But a vast majority of men have chosen, since they must repent of one or the other, to repent of marrying, deeming perhaps that this repentance is "the repentance which needeth not to be repented of."

We shall conclude our little treatise on "the sex," with a few remarks on the subject of—we were about to say—Happiness,—but as we are content that every married man and woman should judge for themselves as to the happiness of the married state, we will simply style it an ESSAY ON MATRIMONY.

No event is more important, and none is conducted, on many occasions, with less prudence, than Marriage. Providence has allowed the passions to exercise a powerful influence in this matter, otherwise the cares and anxieties with which it is attended would deter most persons from launching their bark of earthly happiness on the great ocean of matrimony. But too frequently the passions are the only guide, and these stimulate to bewilder: they exhibit pleasing and attractive imagery, and then the possession destroys the bliss.

Love is a pleasing but exciting passion. The eye is delighted by form, manners, and the expression of the features, the ears by musical language, and the imagination paints future joys; all of which contribute to one great principle, that of receiving happiness from those we love, and evincing love for those from whom we derive our happiness. As the crystal streams are absorbed by the sun, and distributed as brilliant clouds in the heavens, and then fall and run in their accustomed channels, and thus the rivers supply the clouds, and the vapors the rivers, so is the interchange between love and happiness. This will agree with the opinion that love may be occasioned suddenly, because enjoyment is expected; or it may arise gradually, because the unattractiveness which first existed, may be succeeded by attraction.

There was no appointment by nature of particular persons for each other; but we may expect among a great variety of occurrences to meet with some singular and astonishing coincidences. Human beings appear to be left in this respect, as in many others, to their own judgment. If they act discreetly, they enjoy the comfort of it; but if otherwise, they bring upon themselves a disadvantage.

The happiness arising from an union depends chiefly on the character of the persons who are concerned in it. If men and women were as consistent and virtuous as they should be, the connubial bond would be soft and pleasant; but as these effects do not always arise, where is the fault? Which is better, or more worthy, the male or the female sex? This is rather a difficult question; and let the palm of superior merit be awarded to either, the imputation of prejudice would be connected with the decision. But fortunately there is little difference: one varies from the other in particular qualities; but if the aggregate of merit be taken in each, the amount will not differ much. Education forms the principal variation: men are instructed in the more active and laborious employments, women in the more sedentary and domestic. Dr Southey says, that "if women are not formed of finer clay, there has been more of the dew of heaven to temper it." Richard Flecknoe, a contemporary with Dryden, observes of the female sex,—"I have always been conversant with the best and worthiest in all places where I came; and among the rest with ladies, in whose conversation, as in an academy of virtue, I learnt nothing but goodness, and saw nothing but nobleness." It must be granted, that women in general possess more of the sweetness and softness of human nature, while men are endowed with more vigorous virtues; women are gifted with more fortitude, and men with more valor.

Jeremy Taylor says,—"Marriage hath in it the labor of love, and the delicacies of friendship; the blessings of society, and the union of hands and hearts."

Cowper has also alluded to the advantages of a matrimonial settlement,—

"O friendly to the best pursuits of man, Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace, Domestic life in rural pleasure pass'd."

Marriage is frequently an union of interest: the happiness of one is made a source of enjoyment to the other. It is for life, because it is most agreeable with the inclination of mankind that friendship, esteem and love should be permanent. In this instance a continuance of the union constitutes no small part of the bliss. The expectation of a durable connection makes men careful, otherwise they would marry and unmarry every week. There is, by the arrangement of the Almighty, a comparative power or influence vested in the man, because, agreeably with all good government,—

"Some are, and must be, greater than the rest;"

but then, as Dr Beattie observes, "the superiority vested by law in the man is compensated to the woman by that superior complaisance which is paid them by every man who aspires to elegance of manners." And besides this, the husband has frequently the nominal, while the wife has the actual power:—

"Like as the helme doth rule the shippe,"

so she regulates all the household affairs. This is proper, when the husband allows it; and he ought to do so, when his wife is capable of managing these things; but when the inclinations of his Eve run perversely, when he is conscious that he has reason on his side, and she only folly, and yet he is vacillating and yielding, he is unmanly and inconsistent; he sacrifices future happiness to present peace. Every woman, it must be granted, is not a sensible one; and "there is nothing," as Lord Burleigh observed to his son, "more fulsome than a she foole." If Socrates had properly controlled his Xantippe before her disorder had increased beyond cure, it would have contributed to her happiness and his own. Prince Eugene observed, on one occasion, rather satirically, that love was a mere amusement, and calculated for nothing more than to enlarge the influence of the woman, and abridge the power of the man. Goldsmith's Hermit said to his lovely visiter,—

"And love is still an emptier sound, The modern fair one's jest; On earth unseen, or only found To warm the turtle's nest."

But love is an actual, a powerful, and a beneficial principle, if it be properly regulated. Among married persons there ought to be as much love as would induce either to yield in trifling matters; and there ought to be as much reason as would enable both to act correctly. Matrimony should be something like the union of the ivy and the oak: the latter is firm, and capable of supporting its more tender companion; the ivy, however, must follow in some measure the humors and windings of the oak; but they grow together, and the longer they continue the more closely they are united. There have been many instances of great attachment. Porcia, the wife of Brutus, when she heard of her husband's death swallowed burning coals that she might go with him. Alceste, wife of Admetus king of Thessaly, sacrificed herself for the safety of her husband. This monarch was ill; and when the oracle was consulted, it was declared that he would not recover except some friend would die for him; and as no one else would do so, the wife heroically drank a cup of poison. Paulina the wife of Seneca in his old age, was young, beautiful, and accomplished; and she was so much attached to her husband, that when the veins of Seneca were opened by the command of Nero, she caused her own to be cut, that she might also bleed to death. When Conrad III. had taken the town of Winsberg in Bavaria, he allowed only the women to go out; but they had leave to carry with them as much as they pleased. They loaded themselves, therefore, with their husbands and children, and brought them all out on their shoulders! When love is genuine; when professions are sincere, and the practice agreeable therewith; when health is enjoyed, and as many comforts as are necessary for this life; when children grow up in vigor, good behaviour, and mental improvement; when old age is solaced by the company of each other, and the kind attention of daughters and sons; then matrimony is a cause of happiness.

But if all these enjoyments were the lot of every married person, men would become too much contented with the present life, and they would scarcely think, as they sail on smoothly, of the haven, for which they are bound. Besides, the fascinations of domestic life would attract them from many duties which they owe to their fellow creatures. There are then many disadvantages connected with matrimony. There is so much ignorance, perverseness, undue inclination for power, disposition to contradict, anger, jealousy, hatred, and versatility among human beings that many unpleasant occurrences will necessarily arise, and especially in the marriage state, because here most of these feelings are brought into action, and are most sensibly felt by those who are subject to their influence. He that paints the experience of human life in brilliant colors only gives a flattering and deceptive representation,—he may just as well pretend that the heavens are always cloudless. People soon discover that there are sorrows in the world as well as joys, unpleasant as well as pleasant events; hence arises the advantage of examining, of pointing out, and endeavoring to avoid "the ills which flesh is heir to." The perpetuity of marriage, under pleasing circumstances, is its most lovely character; but the same peculiarity, under a different aspect, is its principal source of misery. It is too frequently a state of bondage, "which thousands once fast-chained to quit no more." But what exists, and cannot be removed, should always be borne as patiently as possible; and thus we may keep a cheerful heart, when another, less prudent, would be gloomy. Besides, an ill temper makes every condition of life unhappy; a cheerful disposition will throw a gleam of sunshine over the scenery of a November day. Some people, very foolishly, make themselves uneasy because they are bound. Sir Jonah Barrington seems to think it a natural propensity. He says,—"The moment any two animals, however fond before, are fastened together by a chain they cannot break, they begin to quarrel without any apparent reason, and peck each other solely because they cannot get loose again." But it must be remembered that people enter into marriage with a knowledge of the permanency of the union, and perhaps they seldom repent, except they had been deceived; and this we may hope would not occur frequently. After the Romans had introduced a law of divorce, no respectable person, for the space of forty years, availed himself of it. Divorcement was much practised among the Jews, and was productive of great evil. One of the Jewish doctors asserted, that if a man beheld a woman who was handsomer than his wife, he might put away his wife and marry her; and thus all the wives in Judea, except the handsomest, might have been divorced. Josephus observes, on one occasion, very coolly,—"About this time I put away my wife, who had borne me three children, not being pleased with her manners."

One cause of unhappiness in a married state, is too little affection; and in other instances, although affection may be possessed, it is not shown. Montesquieu observes, "that women commonly reserve their love for their husbands until their husbands are dead." Sometimes a mortal hatred springs up, which induces a man, like Henry VIII., to cause the murder of those whom he has sworn to love and preserve; or a woman, like Livia, to poison her husband. Not only is a great dissimilarity of rank and condition a cause of dislike, but a great variation in age is frequently the cause of distrust and unhappiness. The proportion which Aristotle suggests (a man of thirty-seven to a woman of eighteen,) may be appropriate in one respect, but it is objectionable in others. The life of the female is just as long as that of the male; and the union of middle age and youth, where the one is twice as old as the other, will not always allow an uniformity of feelings and disposition. The case of Seneca (to which we have alluded,) and that of Sir Matthew Hale, are exceptions. Youth is generally gay, thoughtless, and frivolous; but life, in more advanced periods, is sober, thoughtful, and dignified. A husband should not be deemed a teacher or guardian for the wife so much as a companion; and the wife should not be considered as guardian for the husband: there ought to be a mutual sympathy, and in most respects an equality of influence.

Jealousy is a passion which allows the hapless possessor to enjoy neither rest nor confidence. It is frequently the companion of love. Shakspeare says,

"For where love reigns, disturbing jealousy Doth call himself affection's sentinel."

When this principle obtains possession of the breast, it destroys the health and spirits: the streams which gladden the heart become corrupted, and productive of rage and melancholy. Jealousy is like the snake which insidiously entwines itself around its victim; or like the bohun upas of Java, which diffuses death. The bright beams of hope, which cheered the possessor, and carried his vision to distant days and distant scenes of enjoyment, are all eclipsed by this pillar of darkness. Moliere the poet was endowed with an eminent genius—he was esteemed as the first wit in Europe; but his wife was faithless, and no enjoyment, or success, or honor could tranquillize his mind, and make him happy. The attractions of youth and beauty will sometimes excite an illicit passion, but the indulgence of this feeling is the path to anxiety and degradation. The female may be less faulty; but she will be the greater sufferer; for, with regard to her lawful companion, confidence is changed to timidity, love to hypocrisy, and a continual fear torments her, lest accident or malice should discover her imprudence. How dearly is the pleasure of a moment procured when it is purchased by years of unhappiness! On the other hand, it is extremely unreasonable for some persons to indulge as they do, their natural disposition of suspicion, and thus make others unhappy. Where virtue only exists, it is a most grievous hardship that the possessor should be subject to the penalty of vice. Nothing should be made with more caution than a decision in which the innocent may receive the odium which belongs to the guilty.

Sometimes the worst sort of accomplishments are brought by a lady into the marriage state: she may be capable of singing admirably, of dancing, of painting, of performing skilfully on the harp or piano, of making ingenious trinkets and ornaments; all this may be well enough for an unmarried lady, but of what use are they in a state of matrimony? It is true, that if she be favored with a handsome fortune, she may indulge herself agreeably with her inclination, and employ others to manage her household affairs; but not many are thus situated; and, even in this case, there are duties which belong to the wife, in regard to her husband and children, which would occupy pretty much of her time. It is still worse if she be fond of dissipation,—of routs, balls, and public amusements; if she fly abroad in pursuit of a phantom while domestic enjoyment is neglected. A good wife will endeavor to make herself happy at home, and she will try to make all at home happy: she should endeavor to make the pathway of life cheerful by her smiles and attention, so that her husband may be delighted with his dwelling, and find it his happiest place; and that the children may be regulated with all necessary care.

A good temper is essential for matrimonial happiness. An habitually irritable or gloomy disposition is a source of misery to the possessor and to others. A dark and murky cave could as well throw out a cheerful lustre, as a surly person communicate happiness to those around him. Obstinacy must not be indulged by either party; for, as the bond of union cannot be easily broken, if one be perverse the other must bend. If two trees be bound tightly together, and both be stiff, the cords will probably break; if not immediately, they will when the cords become weaker: and thus with regard to matrimony, what God has joined together, the perversity of human beings will put asunder. Obstinacy in trifling matters in the marriage state is an evidence of little love and a bad heart; but if trifling matters appear important, and the gaining of every point be as the taking of a citadel, the person is wrong in his judgment; he is insane, or partially so. Many worthy women have been cursed with worthless husbands; but, unfortunately, the grievances of the female sex have been less frequently known than those of the men; for women are not authors, and men are frequently so; consequently, in all estimates of the comparative merit of the sexes, it must be remembered that more has been said on the one side than on the other. Home, however, is the castle of the wife, if she be a good one; here she keeps her permanent abode, agreeably with the injunction of St. Paul. The husband is absent the principal part of his time, may there not therefore, on some occasions, be too greet an inclination in the lady to consider herself as the governor of the establishment, while the husband may be deemed a visiter, rather than the master? This would not arise in the breast of an amiable and affectionate wife, but it has sometimes arisen; for, unfortunately, all wives have not been good ones. Jerome Cardan was so unfortunate as to have a wife who was proverbial for her ill temper and arbitrary conduct. John Knox said of Lord Erskine, "He has a very Jezebel to his wife." Salmasius, the opponent of Milton, was made perpetually uneasy by a similar thorn. The unfortunate husband was a Frenchman, and Milton said (as Dr Johnson observes,) "Tu es Gallus, et, ut aiunt, nimium gallinaceus." Milton himself seems to have suffered from a similar cause, for he evinces so much hostility to the female sex, that no other reason would so naturally account for it. He exclaims,

"O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest Heaven With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men and angels without feminine?"

Milton adds a great deal more, which, if he had a high opinion of woman, even his anxiety to make his character of Adam consistent would not have demanded. An amiable temper on the part of a wife, with her own natural softness, and an inclination to yield in unimportant matters, will not only increase love, but power; for in this respect, agreeably to the opinion of Prince Eugene, love is power.

Marriage is sometimes made a matter of mere convenience; people enter into it with as much indifference as they would into any other speculation, and when one companion dies they take another. In the book of Tobit we have an account of Sara, the daughter of Raguel, who had been favored with seven husbands, whom "Asmodeus the evil spirit had killed." Love must be exceedingly pliable, it must be love to man, and not to a man, that would suffer a woman to transfer her affections seven times. It would be a ludicrous occurrence, if, upon any particular occasion, a man's three or four wives, or a woman's three or four husbands, should "burst their cerements," and visit their former dwelling. What astonishment! What uplifted hands and distended eyeballs! What speechlessness and violent speeches,—reproaches and animosities! When the Duke of Rutland was Viceroy of Ireland, Sir John Hamilton attended one of his Grace's levees. "This is timely rain," said the Duke, "it will bring every thing above ground."—"I hope not, my Lord," replied Sir John, "for I have three wives there." Marriage may be well extended to two wives and two husbands in succession; this, in some cases, is necessary; but when it goes to three or four it is objectionable. The man who moves from place, sometimes living here and sometimes there, will never gain a pure and ardent love of home; by the same rule, a succession of wives will only induce an habitual or mechanical regard to the wife for the time being; in the same way as loyalty may be transferred from one sovereign to another. Besides, a family with different degrees of relationship and with different interests is formed, and this contributes nothing towards domestic tranquillity. There may be some particular cases in which the evils to which we have alluded may not arise; these may be deemed exceptions.

There are some sorrows peculiar to matrimony; and some which, though they fall on other conditions of life, are felt more heavily when they intrude themselves within the boundary of connubial love. Poverty and sickness are more grievous evils under circumstances of this sort; because a man feels not only for himself, but for others. How dreadful must it be when the husband beholds his wife in squalid misery. What are the feelings of a mother when she sees her innocent children suffering from hunger! And when the iron hand of affliction presses upon the brow of a husband or a wife, and the sharp arrows of pain occasion groans, is there not an almost equal anguish is the breast of an affectionate partner? And when the heavy clouds of sorrow gather around at the anticipated separation of those who had lived in the bonds of harmony—when the chilly arms of death are held out to clasp him, or her, who had been used to a more tender embrace, how dreadful is that period! Is not the woe of separating generally in the same proportion as the bliss of uniting? And is it not a valuable loan to be paid by a mighty sacrifice?

Unhappiness may be occasioned by indulging an undue degree of love. Sentimental bliss is generally followed by sentimental sorrow; consequently, people may love one another too ardently, so as to make the thought of parting a source of misery. If two plants grow up together, imparting to each other shelter and fragrance, it may contribute to their mutual advantage; but if they become so closely united as to grow from the same stalk, and depend on the same nutriment, then take away one, and both will perish. Connubial love should, therefore, be regulated by reason. Extremes are seldom durable. Violent love in the marriage state may change to hatred; and an unusual quantity expended on the husband or wife, may occasion a lesser degree of regard towards others. It is not an uncommon event for external enemies to occasion harmony at home; and harmony at home, or the yielding to the foolish notions of each other, may occasion enemies without. So difficult is it to act consistently, and to live in peace with all men! But the Scripture demands it, and we have a long period for studying our lesson.

In matrimony it is necessary that many things should contribute to a permanency of enjoyment. A good temper on both sides; property enough to supply the wants of a family; good health; children—not too many, nor too few, nor all of one sex; a continuance in each other's society, till both pass away gradually as the twilight into darkness: but, if chilly poverty exert its influence; if the husband or the wife be ill-tempered; if he or she be unfaithful or jealous; if love be followed by hatred; if one be taken, and the other left in solitude; if children be imperfect in birth, or habitually sickly, or drop off in early years as unripe fruit; if sons prove vicious, and daughters bring disgrace on themselves and their families; if the extravagance of children bring their aged parents in sorrow to the grave; where, then, will be the pleasure of matrimony? The cares of a family, when the family is large and unruly, are more perplexing than the cares of a state. Cardan confessed, that out of four great troubles which he had experienced, two arose from his children. When Thales was asked why he did not marry, he replied, "because I want no children." One of the ancient sages was so much impressed with the disappointments and anxieties of matrimony, that when he was asked, at what time, a man should marry? replied, "If he be young, not yet; if older, not at all."

This sentiment however, so repugnant to all our ideas of social improvement, as well as to the command of our Creator, who presented woman to man as a helpmate, because it was not good that he should live alone, and demanded of them to "be fruitful and multiply," will find no advocates except among the disappointed, the ignorant, and the abandoned. "The love of woman" is a feeling too deeply rooted in the breast of man, and the reality of domestic felicity has been too long tested by experience, for either to be sacrificed on the altar of the revilers of matrimony, whether they be libertines, weak husbands, or misnamed "philosophers."

The dearest boon from Heaven above, Is bliss which brightly hallows home, 'Tis sunlight to the world of love, And life's pure wine without its foam. There is a sympathy of heart Which consecrates the social shrine, Robs grief of gloom and doth impart A joy to gladness all divine.



Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Details are provided in the source of the associated html version. Archaic spellings have been retained.

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