ling, in its outline, that which the author has produced, immediately becomes evident.

FABLE.

The scene is laid in an imaginary village, called Bustleburg (supposed to be situated in Germany), and in a neighbouring for tress. In this village, Maurice, the nephew of Gruntrum, resides. The former is a fine spirited young man, strongly attached to the muses; the latter, a Sir John Falstaff in person, and, in mind, a composition of knave and fool. The abode of Adela, a lovely and interesting girl, is next to that of Gruntrum. She is here kept in a state of vassalage by her step-mother, Mrs. Tuffendorff, who joins to the most profound ignorance a strong desire to be thought exceed ingly learned, and whose blunders (a la malaprop), in the earlier scenes, excited laughter in every part of the house. No young poet is ever without a mistress. Manrice has selected Adela, from amongst the rival beauties of the village, and she, flattered by the distinction, returns his passion with ardour. Poverty, however, forms a bar to their union. To remove it, Maurice exerts his literary abilities, and writes a Poem, The Siege of Saragossa, with the produce of which he hopes to realise those fairy prospects which his fancy has painted. The scheme is a wild one; but he who forms it is a young Poet, and an enthusiastic lover. Gruntrum, who has lived a bachelor to a very advanced age, suddenly resolves, for a variety of weighty reasons, and chiefly the florins of Mrs. Tuffendorff, to pay his addresses to that lady; and, after a good scene of equivoque with Maurice (who, from his declaration that the object of his af.

fections resides in the adjoining cottage, he at first fears has form. ed a plan to rob him of his intended bride), employs the eccentric Poet to plead his cause. The old Lady mistakes the intention of Maurice, and receives the kind things he says for his uncle, as arising from a passion he feels himself. The entrance of Gruntrum puts an end to the delusion. Mrs. Tuffendorff, however, readily yields to his suit; but, by declaring that she has been insulted by Maurice, induces her new admirer to discard him. A distant firing is now heard

the enemy are said to be approaching. Gruntrum flies to a neighbouring wood for concealment, and while lying perdue, observes his nephew secreting a box in a hollow tree. In this box Maurice has carefully packed his only treasure, The Siege of Saragossa. Gruntrum supposing that the enemy had plundered the village, and that Maurice, in the confusion, bad secured something for himself, breaks open the box, and find nothing but verses. A party of troops from the neighbouring fortress, who have driven the enemy back, in passing through the wood, discover Gruntrum in his lurking place. He is suspected as a spy-and that suspicion is confirmed, when one of the soldiers, casually opening The Siege of Saragossa, reads the contents of one of the Cantos-which, speaking of the siege being continued, and a stratagem to blow up the fortress, convinces the party that their suspicion is correct, and poor Grumtrum is made prisoner. The Commandant of the fortress, when apprised of the circumstances, immediately discovers the error; but, as he thinks the poem has merit, he directs the person in whose posses

sion it was found, to be brought before him. He is convinced, in a few minutes, that Gruntrum is not the author, although, when complimented on that score, he had not declined the honour. The Commandant, as a matter of jest, orders him to be confined in the prison of the fortress. Scarcely has he been removed, when Maurice enters, having discovered the loss of his manuscript, and traced it to the fortress. Seeing it in the hands of the Commandant, he snatches it from him, and is about to make his exit-when he is detained by that officer, who beholding in him the author of the poem, promises to protect him. Maurice here discovers that Greenstoff, a subaltern in the garrison, is the father of Adela, and consequently the hushand of Mrs. Tuffendorff, whose shrewish temper had compelled him to fly, leaving his child to her protection. Greenstoff promises the hand of Adela to Maurice, provided he accompanies him as a volunteer, on an expedition which was that evening to be un dertaken. With this proposition, of course, the lover complies-and behaves so gallantly, that he is appointed Aide-du-Camp to the Commandant. Meantime Gruntram is conveyed to the strong room, where he is surprised to find an old acquaintance, Reynard Vanderscamp, who had assisted him in various petty rogueries. Vanderscamp, under the assumed title of Baron Wheedleberg, had entrapped the affections of Lindemira, the Commandant's sister; but the Commandant having some reason to believe him to be an impostor, had placed him in "durance vile." Vanderscamp is rejoiced at the appearance of Gruntrum, by clambering on whose VOL. XLVI.-No. 272.

shoulders he through an

contrives to escape opening in the wall, having first conveyed into his friend's pocket a plan of one of the bastions of the fortress, which being found on him, he had no doubt would lead to his destruction, and thus give him an opportunity of paying his addresses, without mo lestation, to Gruntrum's intended bride. Susette, the femme de chambre of Lindemira, at this critical moment enters the prison, by the command of her mistress, who is desirous that Baron Wheedleberg should be conducted to her presence. As she had never seen him, she supposes Gruntrum to be the person-and him she conveys to an adjoining chamber, while she goes to apprise her mistress of her suc cess. Gruntrum, during her ab, sence, hearing some person ap proach, extinguishes the light, and lies down on the sofa, where Susette was accustomed to repose, and where the Commandant, who now makes bis appearance, hoped to find her. His disappointment is extreme, when, instead of a young beauty, he perceives a corpulent old man.

He orders him to be set at liberty, but first directs that he should be searched. Here Gruntrum is again unfortunate-the plan of the bastion is taken from his pocket, and he is once more in danger of being hanged as a spy. His nephew, however, places the business in its true light-and, accompanied by him and Greenstoff, he proceeds to Bustleburg; the appearance of the party destroys the hopes of Vanderscamp, who bad made good use of his time, and was on the point of a matrimonial connection with Mrs. Tuffendorff, who is disagreeably surprised by the arrival of a husband she had long supposed dead, The piece concludes

K

fiot imply a stooping to, instead of á raising towards? Can women have any thing given theu in the shape of deference that can atone for the loss of equality? Is it humouring they are fond of? We humour a child, and spoil it by so doing; we humour the sick and the weak; we humour eccentricity and folly; but we never humour sound sense and propriety. The first instance of humouring had very unlucky consequences.

"Wouldst thou had hearkened to my words, and staid

With me, as I besought thee, when that strange

Desire of wandering this unhappy morn, I know not whence, possess'd thee; we

had then

Remain'd still happy; not, as now, despoil'd Of all our good; shamed, naked, misera

ble."

Paradise Lost, Book IX.

The women of Paris are entirely creatures of management and manner: the chief business of society is left to them to transact; a trades 'man entrusts the concerns of his shop to his wife-a gentleman asks no guests to his house but with her permission. There is every where an affectation of placing every thing at the discretion and disposal of the females; but it is still evident, that their empire is granted to their weakness, and they are thus taught to make a parade of their sexual peculiarities, that they may gain pampering and indulgence at the expence of their respectability. They are raised above their helpmates, as men and Women raise children on high chairs, and help the young folks first to pudding. In this very preference there is an insult; but there is worse degradation in the employment to which they are put. They are taught to make the most of their influence as women, in or

der to gain for themselves and those connected with them, the mercenary ends which arise out of the competitions, hazards, desires, and necessities of daily life. The bad effect of this on the delicacy of their minds, requires no exposure, and their artificial, active, adroit, and intriguing habits, have, in fact, given to their physiogno mies and manner, an acute, watching, attacking sort of air, which, however powerful it may be in its way, is not the power which most properly belongs to woman, or that most exquisitely becomes her in its exercise.

The system of educating and training young women in France, is open to the most serious objections. Girls, in respectable life, are placed, as they grow up, under a strict surveillance they are never entrusted beyond the eye of the mother or governess. If they are permitted to pay a visit to a female friend of the family, the hostess is sensible she incurs the heaviest responsibility. The youthful guest must not sleep beyond the immediate superintendance of her entertainer; a bed is made up for her in the cabinet of the lady of the house. She must not dance but with the partner selected by her friends; she must not sit down with her partner after she has danced:-in short, strictness and guardianship are the substitutes for formation of character, and, without paying any regard to the mind, the body is pampered and preserved for the accomplishment of the future views of a mercenary and cold authority, that looks but to sordid interests, and is careless of virtue and of happiness.

This degrading system of watch and ward, is absolutely necessary according to the habits of Paris,

K. 2

for

for they are directly levelled against whatever would warrant confidence in the sense of integrity and honour in the young female mind. Mothers will not, indeed, instruct their daughters to intrigue after they are married-and they will not, probably, talk of their own licentious indulgencies before their daughters; but their conversation with their intimates, in the bearing of their children, is sufficiently instructive, that connubial constancy is in little estimation, and less pracfice. Such a lady, they will say, speaking of one who has a husband and children, is not now on terms with that gentleman--that affair is over long ago it is now Monsieur

These breaches of nuptial fidelity, it is affirmed, are less universal at present than they were be fore the revolution; but, I believe, it is doing no injustice to the state of French morals to say, that they now constitute the majority of cases of conduct after wedlock in the genteel circles of Paris; before the revolution a case of post-nup tial chastity in these circles was neither known nor expected. At present, the indulgence is managed with no needless display of inde cency, but it is perfectly well understood, both by the husband and society, and the indulging party is not severely treated by either.

It is not thought an insult in Paris, if a man, sitting down by a married lady, immediately commences making love to her. His language is divested of all unnecessary explicitness; but it has a sufficiently palpable tendency to the fast favour that a woman can grant. It is in fact, a mere matter of course almost, to address a French married lady in those terms of gallantry, which, in England, are em

ployed to females whose persons are still disposable. The woman to whom they are directed may not be inclined to listen to them-she may be engaged at the moment, or the application may be disagreeable; but she never thinks of resenting the application as offensive. In short, à husband here cannot rationally calculate on his wife's fidelity, and I believe, very seldom does. If the parties, after marriage, feel themselves very much attached to each other, their reciprocal fidelity is secured by a mutual pledge on honour, which is added to the compact made at the altar, as an extra obligation, not necessarily included in the original engagement.

In Paris, it is the regular business of parents to marry their children; the idea of the latter conducting so serious an affair for themselves, would shock every father and mother in that capital, For this purpose, they announce every where what portion they can afford to their son or daughter, and, without hesitation, enquire of all persons whom they know, that have progeny of which a match may be made, what portions they intend to give. The most incessant attention is given to this grand affair, and a Parisian mother devotes a degree of industry, dexterity, and frequently artifice, to effecting the settlement of her children in the world, which no wo◄ man but a French woman could display, and which reflect much credit on her talents, although the view taken of the real interest of those for whom she concerns herself is far from a judicious one.

The sole object to which they direct their efforts is, to accomplish a match which may be ade vantageous to their child in worldly

matters