and to say, that he never knew one woman capable of reasoning or of acting consequentially for four-andtwenty hours together.

It is not my intention at present to enter the lists with the Earl of Chesterfield. I flatter myself it is an unnecessary task, and that few of my readers require any other argument than their own feelings and observation, to be satisfied of the injustice of his lordship's invective against the loveliest part of the creation, the last, best work of Heaven.'

This injustice of our sex towards the other often arises from a want of duly considering the different conditions of each. The law, in some instances, considers women in a state of pupillage-and they frequently may be reckoned so in conduct. They are necessarily under the tutelage of circumstances and of situation, governed by the decorum of sex, by the forms of the world. If we picture to ourselves a woman divested of that pliability of mind, firm in resolve, unshaken in conduct, unmoved by the delicacies of situation, by the fashions of the times, by the fear even of common-place obloquy, or of flippant censure; in the delineation of such a character, we immediately change the idea of the sex, and, like the son of Peleus discovered amidst the daughters of Lycomedes, we see under the form of woman the virtues and qualities of a man.

There is one particular in which we hear the sex daily blamed, and in which their conduct has afforded matter for much severe censure; I mean, a predilection they are supposed to bear to frivolous men, possessing no one valuable talent, no one quality sufficient to procure either respect or esteem. In this, as in other things, I am inclined to believe, that it is not always in the freedom of choice, but in that vassalage of situation and circumstances which I mentioned, that their society is formed. But were I

even to admit that women are apt to prefer the society of men of light and showy parts to that of men of more cultivated minds; I cannot, for my part, allow, that they merit all the obloquy that has been thrown upon them on that account.

There is in the female character a fear of offending, a self diffidence, a delicate sense of propriety, which renders a woman unhappy when she says or does, or thinks she has said or done, a thing not perfectly as it ought to have been. A quick perception, and a delicate sensibility, render her feelingly alive to the opinions of those around her. Hence proceeds that modest shyness, that bewitching softness, the most attractive charm which Heaven has bestowed on womankind. Afraid of an inferiority, a woman of sensibility feels a certain degree of uneasiness in the company of men of high ability and profound learning. Diffident of being able to converse with such men on equal terms, she fancies she is contemned by them; she feels a disagreeable restraint in their presence, from which she is glad to be relieved, and to find herself in a circle where, though she may meet with less genius, less knowledge, and less wit, she is more upon a footing with those around her, and less afraid of betraying any defect in herself.

Perhaps, too, men possessed of uncommon talents and great genius are apt to trust too much to their intrinsic merit, and to despise, as beneath their regard, those graces and accomplishments, the sole end of which is to render a man agreeable in society. As gold, without being highly polished, will always be valued, they seem to think they may rest secure upon their sterling merit, as sufficient to procure them the esteem and consideration of mankind. How many men of genius and of knowledge could we name, whose manners are disgusting, and to whon. nothing could reconcile us but a consciousness of

their superiority in the higher endowments of the mind? A Locke or a Newton may be very unpleasing companions, and may be deficient in every quality requisite to render a man agreeable in the common intercourse of life. But the same quick and delicate perception which gives pain to a woman when she imagines she herself has been guilty of any impropriety in behaviour or in manner, leads her to observe with attention the manners of others, to be charmed with the ease, the elegance, the politeness of a well-bred man, and to be disgusted with the first appearance of any thing harsh, vulgar, or illiberal.

It may also be observed, that there is something in the female mind which delights more in the beautiful than the sublime, more in the amiable than the splendid, more in what engages and captivates than in what awes with its grandeur or astonishes with its vastness. A woman must be masculine to a certain degree before she can prefer Homer to Virgil, Milton to Tasso, and Shakspeare to Metastasio, or the bold strokes of Michael Angelo to the graceful touches of Guido. May not the same softness and delicacy dispose her to prefer those gentle manners and amiable qualities which adorn private and domestic scenes, to the more splendid talents which fit a man to shine in public life, in the senate, or in the field, to those which qualify him to instruct and inform mankind by philosophical inquiry or deep investigation?

In this, as in every thing else, we have reason to admire the wisdom and benevolence of the Author of nature. It falls to the lot of a very small portion of the human race to possess those talents which enable a man to read his history in a nation's eyes.' Were the regard, the esteem, the confidence of the women, confined to such alone, the bulk of mankind would be deprived of the best, the purest source of happiness which this world affords. What enjoyment can be

compared with the felicity flowing from a union with a virtuous woman, who pours out her soul into the bosom of him she loves, who reposes in him with unbounded confidence, and whose great object of ambition it is to soften every care, to alleviate every calamity? What object can be more beautiful, or more engaging, than such a woman in the midst of her family, diffusing happiness on all around her? There, to use the words of the eloquent Rousseau, Son empire est un empire de douceur, d'addresse, et de complaisances ses ordres sont des caresses, ses menaces sont des pleurs.'

Considerable use, however, might be made of the difference, in disposition, in feeling, and in situation, between the sexes, if, in their intercourse with one another, those qualities which are most estimable in each were allowed their influence in a beneficial, not an extravagant degree. Were the men to drive from the society of the women gentleness, complaisance, sensibility; were the women to borrow from that of the men steadiness, deliberation, and fortitude; characters might be formed not less amiable than useful, not less engaging than enlightened. Wisdom could no longer be accused of severity, nor sprightliness censured for levity. Virtue would assume her most winning as well as her most respectable form; and many votaries would be fixed by her smiles, whom her precepts had been unable to retain.

M.

No. 24. SATURDAY, JULY 16, 1785.

SIR,

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE LOUNGER.

Dis ille adversis genitus, fatoque sinistro.

JUVENAL.

I AM one of that class of men called valetudinarians, people whose ordinary state of health is sickness, and who are never well enough to live without the aid of a physician. My father, who was a cadet of a family of quality, died of old age at thirty-four. I was born in the seventh month, and passed the first three years of my life in a basket lined with cotton, which was carefully placed by the fire-side of my mother's bedchamber, and carried with great caution round the room once a day for the sake of exercise. In my fourth year I was allowed to breathe the fresh air in the arms of my nurse; and by the time I had reached my seventh was able to walk round the parlour by the aid of a go-cart. But to record

minutely the transactions of my infancy is not to my present purpose. Suffice it to say, that by the care of the excellent parent I have mentioned, and the power of medicine, I attained to the age of thirtyfive; and bating my asthma and a nervous atrophy, enjoyed, thank God, a very tolerable state of health. At this unlucky period, death deprived me of the best of mothers, and left me a helpless orphan with a fortune of £20,000.

Among the gentlemen of the faculty, whom, from my unhappy constitution, it was necessary to keep in constant pay, there was one whose attentions