patching themselves. Unlike their great originals, the Romans, who had reduced self-murder to a system of good breeding, and used to send cards to their acquaintance to notify their intention. Part of the duty of the week in Rome was to leave one's name at the doors of such as were starving themselves. Particular friends were let in; and if very intimate, it was even expected that they should use some common-place phrases of dissuasion. I can conceive no foundation for our shabby way of bolting into the other world, but that obsolete law which inflicts a cross-road and a stake on self-executioners; a most absurd statute; nor can I imagine any penalty that would be effectual, unless one could condemn a man who had killed himself to be brought to life again. Somewhere indeed I have read of a successful law for restraining this crime. In some of the Grecian states, the women of fashion incurred the anger of Venus....I quite forgot upon what occasion; perhaps for little or none: goddesses in those days were scarce less whimsical than their fair votaries....Whatever the cause was, she inspired them with a fury of selfmurder. The legislature of the country, it seems, thought the resentment of the deity a little arbitrary ; and to put a stop to the practice, devised an expedient, which one should have thought would have been very inadequate to the evil. They ordered the beauteous bodies of the lovely delinquents to be hung up naked by one foot in the public squares. How the fair offenders came to think this atttitude unbecoming, or why they imagined any position that discovered all their charms, could be so, is not mentioned by historians; nor, at this distance of time, is it possible for us moderns to guess: certain it is, that the penalty put a stop to the barbarous

custom.

But what shall one say to those countries, which not only allow this crime, but encourage it, even in

that part of the species whose softness demands all protection, and seems most abhorrent from every thing sanguinary and fierce? We know there are nations, where the magistrate gravely gives permission to the ladies to accompany their husbands into the other world, and where it is reckoned the greatest profligacy for a widow not to demand leave to burn herself alive. Were this fashion once to take here, I tremble to think what havock it would occasion. Between the natural propensity to suicide, and the violence of conjugal engagements, one should not see such a thing as a lozenge, or a widow. Adieu jointures! adieu those soft resources of the brave and necessitous! What unfortunate relict but would prefer being buried alive to the odious embraces of a second passion? Indeed, Mr. Fitz-Adam, you must keep a strict eye on our fair country-women. I know one or two who already wear pocket pistols, which, considering the tenderness of their natures, can only be intended against their own persons. And this article leads me naturally to the only case, in which, as I hinted above, I think self-murder always to be allowed. The most admired death in history is that of the most incomparable Lucretia, the pattern of her sex, and the eventual foundress of Roman liberty. As there never has been a lady since that time, in her circumstances, but what has imitated her example, I think, sir, I may pronounce the case immutably to be excepted: and when Mr. Fitz-Adam, with that success and glory which always has and must attend his labours, has decried the savage practice in vogue, I am persuaded he will declare that she is not only excusable, but that it is impossible any woman should live after having been ravished.

I am, sir,
Your truly obliged

humble servant, and admirer,

H. M.

IT is a vulgar notion, and worthy of the vulgar, for it is both false and absurd, that passionate people are the best-natured people in the world. "They are a little hasty, it is true; a trifle will put

them in a fury; and while they are in that fury, "they neither know nor care what they say or do : "but then as soon as it is over, they are extremely sorry and penitent for any injury or mischief they "did." This panegyric on these choleric good-natured people, when examined and simplified, amounts in plain common sense and English to this: that they are good-natured when they are not ill-natured; and that when, in their fits of rage, they have said or done things that have brought them to the jail or the gallows, they are extremely sorry for it. It is indeed highly probable that they are; but where is the reparation to those whose reputations, limbs, or lives they have either wounded or destroyed? This concern comes too late, and is only for themselves. Self-love was the cause of the injury, and is the only motive of the repentance.

Had these furious people real good-nature, their first offence would be their last, and they would resolve at all events never to relapse. The moment they felt their choler rising, they would enjoin themselves an absolute silence and inaction, and by that sudden check rather expose themselves to a momentary ridicule (which, by the way, would be followed by universal applause) than run the least risk of being irreparably mischievous.

I know it is said in their behalf, that this impulse to wrath is constitutionally so sudden and so strong, that they cannot stifle it, even in its birth: but expe

rience shows us, that this allegation is notoriously false for we daily observe that those stormy persons both can and do lay those gusts of passion, when awed by respect, restrained by interest, or intimidated by fear. The most outrageous furioso does not give a loose to his anger in presence of his sove reign, or his mistress; nor the expectant heir in the presence of the peevish dotard from whom he hopes for an inheritance. The soliciting courtier, though perhaps under the strongest provocations, from unjust delays and broken promises, calmly swallows his unavailing wrath, disguises it even under smiles, and gently waits for more favourable moments: nor does the criminal fly in a passion at the judge or his jury.

There is then but one solid excuse to be alleged in favour of these people; and if they will frankly urge it, I will candidly admit it, because it points out its own remedy. I mean, let them fairly confess themselves mad, as they most unquestionably are: for what plea can those that are frantic ten times a day, bring against shaving, bleeding, and a dark room, when so many much more harmless madmen are confined in their cells at Bedlam for being mad only once in a moon? Nay, I have been assured by the late ingenious doctor Monro, that such of his patients who were really of a good-natured disposi tion, and who in their lucid intervals were allowed the liberty of walking about the hospital, would frequently, when they found the previous symptoms of their returning madness, voluntarily apply for confinement, conscious of the mischief which they might possibly do, if at liberty. If those who pretend not to be mad, but who really are so, had the same fund of good-nature, they would make the same application to their friends, if they have any.

There is in the Menagiana a very pretty story of one of these angry gentlemen, which sets their extravagancy in a very ridiculous light.

inTwo gentlemen were riding together, one of whom, who was a choleric one, happened to be mounted on a high-mettled horse. The horse grew a little troublesome, at which the rider grew very angry, and whipped and spurred him with great fury; to which the horse, almost as wrong-headed as his master, replied with kicking and plunging. The companion, concerned for the danger, and ashamed of the folly of his friend, said to him coolly, "Be quiet, be quiet, and show yourself the wiser of "the two."

This sort of madness, for I will call it by no other name, flows from various causes, of which I shall now enumerate the most general.

Light unballasted heads are very apt to be overset by every gust, or even breeze of passion; they appreciate things wrong, and think every thing of importance, but what really is so; hence those frequent and sudden transitions from silly joy to sillier anger, according as the present silly humour is gratified or thwarted. This is the never-failing characteristic of the uneducated vulgar, who often in the same half-hour fight with fury, and shake hands with affection. Such heads give themselves no time to reason; and if you attempt to reason with them, they think you rally them, and resent the affront. They are, in short, overgrown children, and continue so in the most advanced age. Far be it from me to insinuate, what some ill-bred authors have bluntly asserted, that this is in general the case of the fairest part of our species, whose great vivacity does not always allow them time to reason consequentially, but hurries them into testiness upon the least opposition to their will. But at the same time, with all the par