The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 5, April, 1836

_1st Woman._--Descend to hell, I triumph in thy death! Die, thou accurs'd of every wife and mother! May every orphan's wail ring in thy ears, And every widow's cry, and matron's groan!

_2d Woman._--Thine execution maddens me with joy: Monster, depart--perish, even in thy crimes, And may our curses sink thee into depths Whence even omnipotent mercy will not raise thee! (_they shout and hiss him_.)

_Robes._--Silence awhile these shouts, unfetter'd slaves, Hear his last words, whose name but yesterday Struck terror to your souls! Dare ye so soon Think that your lives are safe, and I still breathing? Deem ye the blow that speeds my dissolution And gives my body to the elements, Will be the signal to call freedom hither? Will peace and virtue dwell among ye _then_? Never! ye bondmen of your own vile passions; For crested serpents are as meet to range At large and poison-fang'd among mankind, As ye who claim a birthright to be free. Thank your own thirst of plunder and of blood, That I, and such as I, could reign in France. A tyrant ye _must_ have. I have been _one_, And _such_ a one, that ages hence shall gaze, Awe-struck on my pre-eminence in blood, And men shall, marvelling, ask of your descendants If that my name and deeds be not a fable. I die--and, Frenchmen, triumph while you may! The man breathes now and walks abroad among ye, Who shall be my successor. I can see Beyond the tomb--and when ye dare to rise And beard the tyrant faction, now victorious, His rule commences. He shall spill more blood In one short day to crush your hopes of freedom, Than I in half my reign--but God himself Ne'er had the homage ye shall render _him_. Champions of freedom, ye shall _worship_ him, And in the name of liberty be plunder'd Of all for which your sons have fought and died; And in the name of glory he shall lead ye On to perdition, and when ye have plac'd Your necks beneath his feet, shall spend like dust Your treasures and pour forth your bravest blood To be the scourge of nations and of kings. And he shall plant your eagles in the west, And spread your triumphs even to northern snow, Tormenting man and trampling every law, Divine and human, till the very name Of Frenchmen move to nought but hate and scorn. Then heaven with storms, and earth with all her armies Shall rise against ye, and the o'erwhelming tide Of your vast conquests ebb in shame and ruin. Then--false to honor, native land, and chief!-- Ye who could swarm like locusts on the earth For glory or for plunder, shall desert, Or Judas-like betray, the cause of freedom, And tamely crouch to your now banish'd king, When foreign swords instale him in his throne: And laugh and sing while Prussians and Cossacks Parade the streets of this vice-branded city, And see without a blush the Austrian flag And England's banner float o'er Notre Dame.

Bye-word among the nations! Fickle France! Distant and doubtful is your day of freedom, If ever it shall dawn, which it ne'er will, Until ye learn, what my hate would not teach ye. On, to the scaffold! May my blood infect With its fierce mania every human heart-- Mourn'd as I am by none! May ye soon prove Another ruler o'er this land like me.

WOMAN.

To woman is assigned the second grade in the order of created beings. Man occupies the first, and to him she looks for earthly support, protection, and a "present help" in time of need. The stations which they occupy--the pursuits which they should engage in--the legitimate aim to which their thoughts and wishes should tend, are widely different, yet inseparably connected. To show the error so prevalent in respect to these subjects, the improper mode of education so generally adopted, and if possible, to assign to woman her proper sphere, privileges and pursuits, is the object of the present sketch. We have stated that woman is second _only_ in the scale of created beings, and proceed to examine, first, the important station which she occupies--secondly, the means usually adopted for preparing her for this station--thirdly, the results produced by those means--fourthly, the proper means--and lastly, endeavor to illustrate the ideas advanced by the testimony of history, and the observations drawn from real life.

1st. The important stations which she occupies. A daughter, a sister--the friend and companion of both sexes and all ages--the wife, the mistress, the mother--stations high, honorable, important.

In the second place, we will examine the means usually adopted for preparing her for these elevated and important duties. View her first the helpless infant--her heart uncorrupted by external influences, and her mind, like the unsullied mirror, to be made the reflector of those images and lessons, to which it is to be subjected and exposed. Soon, however, the innocence of the infant gives way to the frowardness and turbulence of the child. Generally, no restraints of a salutary nature have been exercised over her mind. The hacknied axiom, that "she is too young to understand," has prevented any examination into her powers of perception or reflection, and she has been left to follow {310} the desires of her own heart. The petulance of a nurse, impatience or thoughtlessness of a mother, may have frequently thwarted her little plans, or denied her some indulgence. Her feelings were most frequently soured by these restraints, ill humor or obstinacy was the usual result--both either suffered to pass by unnoticed, or treated in a manner calculated to engender feelings and passions, which in future life are destined to exercise a powerful and painful influence over her own happiness and that of others. Soon the child exchanges the nursery for the school room. If her circumstances in life are prosperous and _refined_, humorous studies and indiscriminately selected accomplishments are forced upon her mind, or crowded upon her hands; the former, impaired by early neglect, and enervated by improper indulgences, is wholly incompetent to the task assigned it. A superficial knowledge of many things is the usual result, while her vanity, long fed by the praises of menials and imprudent commendations of friends, visitors, &c. steps in and whispers to her credulous ear, that she _is_, or _will_ be, all that woman _can_ or _ought_ to be. During these school-day exercises, her mind has frequently been edified by relations of future scenes of pleasure in ball-rooms, theatres, assemblies, &c.--that she may shine in them being the object of her present course of study; while tales of rivalry, conquest, hatred and revenge, are frequently related in her presence, or placed in her hands; things which, if not really praiseworthy in themselves, are related and heard with an _eclat_, that induces the belief that they are the inevitable attendants on fashionable pleasures and high life. If a stimulant is applied to urge her on to diligence, it is to excel some companion, or some other like inducement, which must inevitably foster feelings of envy or emulation, calculated to poison the fountain from which is to flow the future stream of life. Such is a fashionable or popular education. The next stage on which we behold her, is the broad theatre of gay life. The duties of the daughter and sister she was never taught, and is now acting under her third station--that of the companion and friend of both sexes and most ages. If possessed of personal attractions, she moves about--the little magnet of her circle. Meeting with no events to arouse evil passions, she contents herself with exercising a petty tyranny over the hearts of the admiring swains, who follow, bow to, and flatter her. After a few brief months or years of pleasure, she determines to marry; and at length selects from her _train_ the wealthiest, handsomest, or most admired of her suitors. Her heart has no part in this transaction. Ignorant of the nature of love--ignorant of the principles necessary to ensure happiness in the married state, she remains ignorant of the exalting, ennobling influence, which it exercises over minds capable of appreciating or enjoying its blessings. She is now the wife--the mistress--the mother. Thus are rapidly crowded on her duties, for which she was never prepared by education, and which she is consequently incompetent to perform. Perhaps, for a season, the current of her life runs smooth. Her husband--either blindly devoted to her, or bent on the gratification of his own pleasures--allows her unrestrained to mingle in the same pleasures and gay scenes in which he found her. She is still seemingly amiable, and perhaps considered quite a notable woman by the most of her companions.

But a change comes! the sun of prosperity withdraws his rays. She is now forced to abandon that, which has hitherto formed all her happiness. Need I describe the result. Her heart, unaccustomed to disappointments or restraints, unfortified by holy principles, unsustained by mental resources, and perhaps too little influenced by conjugal devotion or maternal tenderness, either frets away the smile of peace and rose of health; or, sunk in self-consuming mortification, envy or some unholy passion, abandons itself to the darkness of despair, the rust of inactivity, or the canker of discontent. Her husband, if his pride and principles have survived his ruined prospects, may struggle for a time to keep up the dignity of a man; but his heart is chilled, his exertions are paralyzed--domestic happiness he cannot find, and too frequently he is driven abroad in search of those comforts and that peace, which can be found at home alone.

This is no ideal picture--it is only one of the thousands which may be found in real life. If we leave our own land and direct our attention to those countries where women hold the reins of state, we will only see the principles of early education more powerfully displayed. Among savage nations (and what but want of early culture makes a savage?) see the horrid Zingha, queen of Matamba and Angola. Nursed in scenes of carnage and blood, what could she be but a monster, the existence of whom would fain be believed to have sprung but in the heated imagination of a dream? In a more civilized country, behold Christina of Sweden. She was reared by her father to be any thing but a useful woman. She knew no restraint when young, and when she ascended the throne, knew no law but her own will--and what was the result? Despised at home, and finding that even on a throne she must in self-defence yield some of her feelings to demands of others, rather than do so she abdicated it, and leaving her native land, roamed among other nations, a reproach to her sex and a general object of disgust. Look at Mary, Queen of England. Her first lessons were malice and revenge, and faithfully did she practise them when exalted to power. And we may name the beautiful Anne Boleyn. Ambition was the goal to which all her early energies were directed, and to ambition she sacrificed honor, humanity, and eventually her life. In more modern times, the lovely lady Mary W. Montague may be noticed. Endowed with talents, accomplishments, beauty, rank, fortune, she seemed formed to move a bright and favored star in the world's horizon. But no early discipline had prepared her to be happy. United to a man who idolized her, and whom she loved--what but the want of self-control and submission to the will of others, caused her separation from a husband every way worthy of her? But why enumerate other cases? These are but a few, taken from among thousands of both modern and ancient times.

In the fourth place, we proceed to point out the remedy for these evils, by briefly shewing some of the proper plans to be adopted in education. We again assert, that in the nursery are first sown the seeds of future character. Where is the prudent and observing parent, that will not acknowledge, that at a very early age the infant is capable of forming good or bad habits, and of discriminating between the approbation or {311} displeasure shown towards it. None, we presume, will gainsay this point. As soon then as this intelligence on the part of a child is discovered, so soon does a parent's duties begin, and if faithfully discharged, the task of rearing up a useful and ornamental member of society, will be found comparatively easy.

If taught then to yield its desires to parental wishes and commands--taught that the path of duty is the path of pleasure--convinced by every day's experience that the object of all restraints is her good, and proving continually that her happiness is her parent's great delight, she soon becomes, both by habit and nature, submissive,--and consequently is at peace with herself and all around her. If a sister, early does she learn, that affection and tenderness to those so closely united to her, is a duty, the performance of which, brings a sweet reward. Gradually are her duties enlarging, and gradually is she prepared by judicious government and good habits, to fulfil them.

When the nursery is exchanged for the school room, easy is the task to lead that child on from knowledge to knowledge. The mind is not crowded with many and incongruous studies--but gradually is it enlarged, and its wants supplied by a well regulated course. If in a situation to permit the acquirement of ornamental branches, she is taught to regard them as the light dressings of the mind, intended not to interfere with what is useful and solid, but as a recreation and source of future pleasure to herself and friends. When the mental powers are sufficiently expanded, to digest what is presented to them, books of general knowledge and taste are allowed, while the manners have been formed by good society, and the ideas arranged by conversation, &c. If intended to mingle in a gay circle for a season, her character is so formed as to be able to resist, in a great degree, the snares to which such scenes usually expose the young and thoughtless. Taught to regard these things as trifles compared to the other pursuits of life, she enjoys without abusing them, and willingly returns to the sweet domestic fireside, and the pleasures and amusements within her own bosom.

The feelings which will exist between that daughter and her parents, deserve to be considered. The filial care and tenderness which was exercised over her mind, will not be forgotten or unrepaid. In all times of doubt or difficulty, to a parent's bosom and counsel will she fly, as her surest refuge. If about to settle in life, prudence and the heart directs her choice. To her parents she confides the feelings and hopes that agitate her bosom. On their judgment she relies, and knowing their sentiments are governed by the desire to see her happy, she is prepared to weigh all their reasons, and to act with prudence. She was early taught to reflect, and is now capable of acting, with dignity. Her heart is capable of _love_--she has been taught the nature of the flame, and the only solid grounds on which it could be reared. She is capable of discriminating between a man of _ton_ and a man of worth. Most generally, such a woman will marry well. The man of lightness, dissipation and folly, rarely seeks her hand. He may and does admire her, but he feels his own inferiority, and rarely wishes to form such an alliance.

The man of sense, of virtue, and of solidity, would seek such a companion to share his pleasure and sooth his pain. Mutual sympathies would engender mutual esteem, and on that foundation it is easy, very easy to rear the altar of love. A union formed with such feelings would most generally prove a happy one. If prosperous, such a woman is qualified to use without abusing her blessings. The lessons learnt at her first _home_ would be practised in her second, and she would be likely to discharge with credit the duties of a wife, a mother, and a mistress. If misfortunes came, she would be prepared to brave the storm. Her affections, never set on earthly pleasures and splendid scenes, would relinquish them without grief. Her mind, stored with useful and ornamental information, would furnish a treasury from whence her family and herself could draw with profit and delight. In the humblest vale of poverty, such a woman would be a blessing to her whole circle of associates, and in most cases preserve the affection of her husband and raise a family, respectable and useful. This too is no ideal picture. Such women have been found in all ages, and such women may be raised up in almost every circle of society. If denied the extended advantage meant by a liberal or elegant education, the principles here laid down may be carried to the peasant's cottage, as well as to the splended domes of the rich and great. Among the biographies of women in all civilized nations, many beautiful examples might be adduced.

Among the wives and mothers of our own land a rich collection might be found. One thing is here worthy of record. In tracing the history of nearly all the great men, with whose history we are acquainted, whether remarkable for valor, piety, or any other noble attribute, to a mother's influence is their eminence to be attributed, in a greater or less degree. But it is needless to enumerate instances on this occasion, as our sketch is already extended beyond the intended limits. Should it give rise to inquiry and serious investigation on this important subject, or furnish a hint worthy the attention of the serious and anxious parent, the utmost ambition of the author will be realized.

PAULINA.

LINES TO ----.

While yet the ling'ring blush of day Hangs sweetly on the brow of even, And birds and flowers their homage pay In song and incense breathed to heaven, Accept this tribute of a friend, Whose heart of hearts for thee is glowing; Who prays thy path of life may wend Through light, and flowers forever blowing.

I've seen the midnight Cereus bloom; Th' admiring throng around it gathered, And ere they dreampt its rapid doom, It breathed, it bloomed, collapsed and withered! Thus youth and beauty fill the eye, Dear lady! oft in bloomy weather, And time scarce rolls the season by, When with the leaf they fade together.

Though nature 'wails the dying leaf, And sorrows o'er her silent bowers, She soon forgets her gloom and grief When dew-eyed spring revives her flowers; {312} But when affection weeps for one, Whose daily life new charms imparted, Alas! what power beneath the sun Can cheer the lone--the broken-hearted!

Friendship and love must ever mourn The faded wreath of promised pleasure, And though the flow'ers of hope lie torn Fond mem'ry hoards the heart's lost treasure. Oh! cherish then, that vestal flow'r! Simplicity, dear maiden, cherish! 'Twill shed a fragrance o'er the hour When all thy mortal charms shall perish!

M.

READINGS WITH MY PENCIL.

No. III.

Legere sine calamo est dormire.--_Quintilian_.

21. "There is a pride, in being left behind, to find resources within, which others seek without."--_Washington Irving_.

I have pondered a good deal on this passage, and find a beautiful moral in what, when I first read it, I was fain to fancy but a misanthropic, or, at the least, an unsocial sentiment. I now feel and acknowledge its truth. "There _is_ a pride in being left behind, to find resources within, which others seek without." What concern have I in the greater brightness that another's name is shedding? Let them shine on whose honor is greater. Their orbit cannot interfere with mine. There may be something very grand and sublime in the wide sweep of Herschel and Saturn: but planets, whose path is smaller, are more cheered by the rays of light and warmth from the sun, which is the centre of their revolutions.

22. "Oh the hopeless misery of March in America. Poetry, taste, fancy, feeling,--all are chilled by that ever-snowing sky, that ever snow clad earth. Man were happy could he be a mole for the nonce, and so sleep out this death-in-life, an American six months' winter."--_Subaltern in America_.