There are numerous instances on record of the happiness of men of genius in the matrimonial state; in which the tastes of the literary man were reflected in his family. "Persons who live as we do, (said the wife of Klopstock) have no need of two chambers: we are always the same; I with my little work, still, only regarding sometimes my husband's sweet face, which is so venerable at that time, with tears of devotion, and all the sublimity of the subject-my husband reading me his young verses, and suffering my criticisms." The companion of Gesner was the model of wives and mothers; she c eered the desponding mind of her husband, and participated in all his li terary labours and delights. In turning over the instructive pages of Grecian and Roman history, we find many bright examples to illus trate this subject; but perhaps one of the most endearing pictures of a literary wife, has been touched by the tender pencil of Pliny, in speaking of his Calphurnia. "Amidst the re pose and silence of study, delightful to the literary character, (observes a profound and elegant writer,) are the soothing interruptions of the voices of those whom he loves; these shall reanimate his languor, and moments of inspiration shall be caught in the emotions of affection, when a father, or a friend, a wife, a daughter, or a sister, become the participators of his own tastes, the companions of his studies, and identify their happiness with his fame." To recite the various instances of the paramount ascendancy of women in the political world, would be to copy the pages of history. The reigns of Charles II. of Louis XIV. and XV. were the reigns of female favourites, whose importunities and extravagance created the misfortunes under which their country groaned; but the annals of courts present us with more than one tender Monimia* or sentimental La Valliere, who have imbrued with bitter tears the august diadem of their royal masters, before falling victims to misery and despair. Oh woman! thou assemblage of the most astonishing contrarieties! Now a playful nymph dancing in the flowery vale of Tempe, or on the hills of Olympus; now the inconsolable widow ending her days on the funeral pile of her husband! Now a dishevelled Bacchante in the festivals of Adonis, or a fascinating Circe, or a cruel Medea writhing with the agonies of jealousy! Thou delight and ruin of the world: source of life in the hallowed ecstacies of connubial enjoyment, and principle of death in the unlicensed pleasures of unchaste love! To admire and adore thee is natural to all—but to know thee and to unfold the intricate windings of thy heart, is a task reserved for Omnipotence alone! Kotzebue says that women are housewives in Germany; queens in England; ladies in * Vide Racine's Mithridate. France; captives in Italy, and slaves in Spain. Diderot has somewhere imputed to the British fair an apparent pride, coldness and disdain, by which they strive to veil the barrenness of their ideas, and the humiliating consciousness of having nothing to say! If the first impression made by a British lady is an agreeable one, it is more owing to her beauty than her charms and accomplishments; a French woman steals upon your affections by some unknown power, which wins you in spite of yourself; her countenance is "instinct with spirit," and when she speaks, she plays upon your feelings with resistless sway. How fascinating, when compared with the insipid prettiness and regu lar features of an inanimate beauty, is that susceptibility which lights up the countenance of a French lady, even although she be unmoved by any particular passion! Physiognomy is seated in the soul, nature only gives the fea tures. In England, says Miss Edgeworth, mothers go through their part before their intimate friends, in all its diurnal monotony of lessons and caresses; in France, the great painter. sketches the outrine, and touches the principal features, but leaves the subordinate drudgery of filling up the parts, finishing the drapery, &c. to inferior hands. There the insipid details of domestic life are judiciously kept behind the scenes, and women appear as heroines upon the stage, with all the advantages of decoration, to listen to the language of love, and to. receive the homage of public admiration. The English wives (says that admirable writer in another place,) can have no society in the French sense of the word; of course, they must live shut up in their own dismal houses, with their own families, the faithful husband and wife sitting opposite to each other in their own chimney-corners, yawning models of constancy! A Frenchman can form no more idea of a party of pleasure without the fair sex, than an Englishman can entertain the least conception of enjoying himself till the hour of their retreat is sounded. Foreign writers often dwell with ludicrous comments, on the gloom which clouds the spirits of an English company when the ladies remain; indeed the native females frequently wonder what mysteries the men can have to celebrate, so opposite to those of the Bona Dea, that none of the "sequior sexus" can be present at the ceremony! The manners of both parties would be mutually improved by greater intimacy and more frequent communication, and if the men were less reserved, the women would oftener display their native graces and brilliant qualities. "There's some diversion in a talkative blockhead (says Mrs. Sullen, in the play,) and, since a woman must wear chains, I would have the pleasure of hearing them rattle a little!" Society has been aptly compared to a heap of embers, which, when separated, soon lan guish, darken and expire, but, if placed togeth er, glow with a ruddy and intense heat; a just emblem of the strength, the happiness, and the security derived from the union of mankind. In English society, there is generally very little cordiality. Trifles are brought forward every minute, of a galling or unpleasant nature, by which the feelings are grated and hurt; and the repeated inroads made on happiness by the irritability of one and the peevishness of ano. ther, will as certainly destroy affections, as the washing of the sea will undermine the bank against which it is perpetually dashing. English society is also rendered tiresome by the intrusion of odd characters, people who think themselves privileged to be unpolite, and by the perpetual gabbling of antiquated virgins, who resemble their own tabbies in malice and demureness, "Like some old tabby in her mousing fits, Now these venerable vestals, with the gossiping mothers who resemble them, weary one's patience out with their intolerable clack. Addison has described them admirably in the character of Mrs. Fiddle-Faddle, who "launches out into descriptions of christenings, knows every dish of meat that is served up in her neighbourhood, and entertains her company a whole afternoon together, with the wit of her little boy, before he is able to speak!” The routs, drums, and other evening parties, dazzle by their splendour, but they are very stiff and formal. A drum is an assembly of |