given to Matilda's mind, by the present views of marriage, and from the truly noble and immortal character of the “hump-backed Sempstress” in the “Wandering Jew,” may be gathered much that shall elucidate doubt and direct inquiry on this subject. In reform, as in philosophy, the French are the interpreters to the civilized world. Their own attainments are not great, but they make clear the past, and break down barriers to the future.
Observe that the good man of Sue is pure as Sir Charles Grandison.
Apropos to Sir Charles, women are accustomed to be told by men that the reform is to come from them. “You,” say the men, “must frown upon vice, you must decline the attentions of the corrupt, you must not submit to the will of your husband when it seems to you unworthy, but give the laws in marriage, and redeem it from its present sensual and mental pollutions.”
This seems to us hard. Men have, indeed, been, for more than a hundred years, rating women for countenancing vice. But at the same time, they have carefully hid from them its nature, so that the preference often shown by women for bad men, arises rather from a confused idea that they are bold and adventurous, acquainted with regions which women are forbidden to explore, and the curiosity that ensues, than a corrupt heart in the woman. As to marriage it has been inculcated on women for centuries, that men have not only stronger passions than they, but of a sort that it would be shameful for them to share or even understand. That, therefore, they must “confide in their husbands,” i. e., submit implicitly to
