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MEHRENDORF MARRIAGES.

For the Literary Magazine.

MEHRENDORF MARRIAGES.

MEHRENDORF is a barony of considerable extent in the Austrian territory, which, however, as to its internal economy, enjoys an entire independence. It has been for some centuries, the property of one famiIr, who stand in a mere feudal relation to the sovereigns of Bohemia. In the travels of Sumlich of Vienna, there is a very curious account of this little state, which deserves a translation into English, as well as any book of the kind I have lately met with. It is not. however, likely to meet with this honcur in America, and we must, therefore, wait with patience, till it falls into the hands of some of the fraternity at Paris or London: meanwhile, I cannot resist the inclination of transcribing some passages, which, Mr. Editor, if they prove as interesting to you as to me, you wili cblige me by inserting in your work.

As remarkable circumstance as occurs in this account, is the law of the country respecting marriages. In this respect, the people of Mehrendorf have modes and customs altogether peculiar to themselves, and as nothing has so much influence on human happiness, as the terms of this contract, it becomes a point of great curiosity to know the effects of their laws, on the happiness of the Mehrendorfans.

As they are catholics, the relative duties of husband and wife are pretty much like those of all christian countries. The same restrictions as to consanguinity prevail, and the same obligations to fidelity, but the points in which they bear little or no resemblance to the rest of the civilized world, are the following:

No woman, says Sumlich, ispermitted to marry who is under thirty years of age, or above forty-five; and no man can claim this privilege who is under thirty-five, or above fifty.

No man can matry a second time. No woman can marry a second time, if more than one child of the

former marriage be alive, nor within
one year and an half of the death of
can she marry a third time.
her former husband.. In no case

solved, except by death, as to allow
Marriages cannot be so far dis-
the parties to marry again, but
parties may be separated for good
cause.

Marriages can be solemnized only day of January, and the first day of on two days in the year, the first July. The intentions of the parties village at least six months before the must be laid before the elders of the celebration.

lected by the lord for the internal The ciders are ten persons segovernment of each district, with a power of appeal in most cases to the lord himself.

refuse the privilege, if they shall It is in the power of the elders to think proper, even if all the above conditions be fulfilled, but the lord only in his own chancery can dispense with any of these conditions.

church, in the presence of the whole All marriages ars solemnized in people, and in the following manner....The parties, after a brief and solemn descant on the duties of marriage by the first of the elders, stand up, in the presence of the congregation, and pronounce their vows of love and fidelity, with the right hands joined together. The priest then steps forth and executes the formulary of the church.

On examining these rules, (says fection that occurs, is the difficulty my author) the most obvious reand delay which they create in the affair of marriage: this contract is loaded with more restrictions and conditions than in any other known community, and the consequence of the people remain unmarried here must be, that a greater proportion than elsewhere. A great deal of vice and a great deal of misery must likewise be the consequence. The passion of the sexes takes root and extwenty years before the laws allow it pands into maturity, fifteen and to be gratified. The dictates of nature are systematically thwarted and

obstructed in this respect; however suddenly the first marriage may terminate, and however ardent the affection may be which a second object may excite, marriage on the man's side is impossible: the lady, indeed, enjoys the privilege of giving her hand to a second lover, but she is subjected to a tedious widowhood of eighteen months, and even then, if she has two or more children living by the former husband, she cannot marry. After all, with all these burdensome conditions realized, having attained the age of thirty herself, and her lover reached the marriagable period of thirty-five, the partics are at the mercy of ten old fellows, who have probably outlived all the feelings incident to youth and love.

It seems, indeed, that the sole object of the legislator was to discourage marriage, and of course to check population, two things, which, on account of their influence on private happiness and public prosperity, are fostered and encouraged with the utmost care by ordinary governors. With restraints like these, it is natural to suppose that great corruption of manners must prevail, since love, if it cannot gain its object by open and lawful means, is in danger of accomplishing it by means illicit and circuitous. In the contest between arbitrary laws and those principles of our nature which are most powerful and universal, the former can scarcely be expected to obtain the victory, or if they succeed in this contest, it must be by such vigilance and such severity as will make the remedy far worse than the disease. These reflections, which occurred to Sumlich, will naturally occur to every reader, and I felt no small part of that curiosity which actuated Sumlich, in examining with his own eyes the real effects of such institutions on the manners and condition of the people. He appears to have spent several months in this province, and to have familiarly conversed with all classes of the inhabitants. In your next number I will

give you the result of his inquiries, and meanwhite am, &c.

INQUISITOR.

For the Literary Magazine.

THE TRAVELLER...NO. II. IT has been the fate of the traveller to bend over the grave of a friend, to behold the remains of a once amiable, elegant, and high spirited vouth deposited in the earth....This event, while it eloquently declared the inst bility of life and of worldly pleasure, led. him to indulge in the following meditation on th it passion which had received so severe a wound..

Friendship springs from the most amiable dispositions of the mind, and betokens the absence of those selfish and discordant passions which disgrace our nature. The ancient writers and some of the moderns, have ranked friendship among the number of the virtues, and if it be not a virtue, it is something so nearly allied to it, that it can scarcely be distinguished from it. It is a source of a large portion of our happiness; it is the tie of congeni tl souls. Amidst a world ensnaring and deceitful, where so wild and tumultuous are the passions and pursuits of men, where disinterestedness is seldom found, and where justice often holds unequal scales, how necessary to our peace and comfort is that person who wil join with us in our councils, who will repose in us his confidence, who will be the solace of our solitude, the partner of our prosperity, and the support of our adversity... Let none say that friendship is forbidden, or not encouraged by the scriptares......Religion forbids no rational enjoyment... Religion would never preclude us from one of the sweetest consolations that has ever been discovered for the various afflictions of life....iteligion excites us to cultivate every generous and amiable principle, and allows us every indulgence not inconfitent with duty....The examples in the

scriptures of the cultivation of this passion by great and good men are numerous. The souls of David and the princely Jonathan were knit together. The arm of death could only dissever their cords of love. The instances recorded of their attachment are in the highest degree striking and affecting. When Saul and Jonathan were slain, David seized his harp, and from a soul full of sorrow poured forth his inimitable elegy, pursued with his sighs the spirit of his departed friend, and blasted the mountain of Gilboa in the language of poetical indignation.....The example of our Saviour, independent of all other instances, gives a sanction to the cultivation of friendship.....From the world and the number of his disciples, he selected John, on him bestowed his warmest affections, and admitted him to his freest communication.

The silence of scriptural precept concerning friendship, permits no inference to be drawn against its lawfulness. To have made it the subject of divine command would have been absurd, for it cannot be called a duty, and similarity of disposition and coincidence of sentiment and affection, on which friendship is founded, do not depend upon our choice, neither are they under the direction of our will. The propensity in our natures toward this passion is sufficiently strong and operative without the force of a command. The object of our Saviour was to inculcate the plain and pracical duties of piety and morality, those duties which are indispensable, and impose universal obligation, and which are necessary to our everlasting happiness in the future world.

Let none say that the dictates of friendship are opposed to the duties of universal benevolence, that it lavishes on one object that kindness and affection which ought to be diffused through the whole human race: this objection is certainly un

founded: we may discharge every tender office which friendship demands, and still be observant of the duties enjoiued by revelation.... Various are the gradations of affection corresponding with the different relations of life, and each contributing its share to that harmony which should reign throughout society. Parental tenderness, filial reverence, brotherly affection, are all limited in their operation, and yet are the subjects of command. The design of christianity was not to extinguish these, but to regulate them, and to reduce them to their proper dimensions. As the sun is to the planetary system, so love for God, love for men, is the centre, round which all our other affections founded on the world and mortality, should revolve; these are the only restrictions which christianity imposes upon our impartial attachments, and under these restrictions it excites us to indulge them. It strengthens the ties of Friendship, by holding out to our view immortality. "It revives (says an author) that union which death seems to dissolve, it restores us again to those whom we most dearly loved, in that blessed society of just men made more perfect."

Friendship subsisting between persons of a different sex, is of a nature still more refined than that which prevails between men. A brother feels more tenderness for his sister than he can for his brother. There is in the female, more gentleness, more softened amiableness than men possess: she has more sensibility, more influence upon the heart, more eloquence of persuasion. Man finds in her one who sooths him in desertion, who envigorates his hopes, and impels him to laudable enterprizes....she finds in man a provider, a protector, and one who will for her encounter the roughness and jarrings of the world from which her nature would shrink.

I. 0.

For the Literary Magazine.
CRITICAL NOTICES. -

NO. II.

I have been lately looking into the Eneis of Virgil, and will hazard the declaration, that as a narrative poem it does not stand in the first rank. It has little originality as an epic; it is a copy both of the Iliad and Odyssey....it's failure in pourtraying characters has been frequently remarked....It's battles are but feebly described....it does not hurry the mind rapidly along with the onset of hosts, and it appears to me that Maro, amidst his scenes of war, sighed for the beachenshade beneath which Tityrus reclined. Virgil was not a bard which Homer muing his mighty young, could train successfully to deeds of blood. I am not always pleased with his attempt to excite terror. I like not the prodigy which Æneas describes at his landing in Thrace. The bleeding myrtles are not equal to Tasso's enchanted forest. Could not the imagination have represented an omen more grand and terrific, which forbade the settlement of the Trojans in that country. I find great fault with the character of Encas....He is not an hero sufficiently interesting....His conduct on many occasions is base and detestible....He might, however, have answered a heathen's idea of excellence....He falls vastly below Homer's Hector, Sarpedon and Achilles in interest.... Achilles, though more cruel than Eneas....yet still has more imposing qualities.

Dr. Beattie has endeavoured to shew in his essays, that the hero of the Iliad is the most perfect of epic characters: his arguments are grounded upon the following representations of the poet....Achilles was the bravest, the strong est, the swiftest, the most beautiful of mortals...his friendship was ardent....he had the most vehement love for his father, and so great was his magnanimity, that although told that if he departed from the

VOL. I....NO. II.

siege of Troy, he should in old age
fall peacefully into the grave....yet
he, notwithstanding he was wrong-
ed by Agamemnon, refused to go.
I am not, however, satisfied with
this reasoning of Dr. Beattie, and
think the answer to it is sufficient....
that Hector, if not the universal,
is the general favourite of the read-
ers of Homer. The celebration of
the games in the Æneid, I think a
very feeble imitation of those of the
Iliad, indeed the copy appears to
me to be servile. It may be an-
swered, that notwithstanding these
objections, the celebrity of the Æ-
neid is a confirming evidence of its
excellence...that it has stood the test
of years, and that one might as well
deny its superiority to modern po-
ems,as well as the strength of a tower
which has warred with the elements
during the lapse of several centu-
ries, and still bids defiance to their
rage....Such an answer might carry
conviction to the minds of many,
and overthrow all that I could urge
in opposition; but still I will retain
my opinion that Virgil, as a nar-
rative poet, is surpassed by more
than one of our modern writers....
Paradise Lost.....Fenelon's Tele-
machus....Tasso's Jerusalem De-
livered, in this respect I place be-
fore it;....and were not the rust of
years so very venerable, did not
distance diminish errors and mag-
nify excellencies, I think that my
decision would be acknowledged as
just. The sixth book of the Æneid
has been supposed by some critics
to be the most precious remnant of
antiquity. I am not disposed to
make any formal dissent from this
opinion. It certainly unfolds, in a
satisfactory and pleasing manner,
the Roman idea of the state of de-
parted men, and leads to inquiries
gratifying to the curious mind. The
following picture of the Sibyl at the
opening of this book is striking,
and prepares us for the exposition
which is to follow:

All this with wondering eyes Æneas
view'd:

Each varying object his delight re

new'd.

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She said no more: the trembling Trojans hear:

O'erspread with a damp sweat, and holy fear.

The prince himself, with awful dread possess'd,

His vows to great Apollo thus address'd.

Indulgent god, propitious pow'r to Troy,

Swift to relieve, unwilling to destroy: Directed by whose hand, the Dardan dart

Pierc'd the proud Grecian's only mortal part:

Thus far, by fate's decrees, and thy commands,

Thro' ambient seas, and thro' devouring sands,

Our exil'd crew has sought th' Ausonian ground:

And now, at length, the flying coast

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Her staring eyes with sparkling fury Nor shalt thou want thy honours in

rowl;

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my land,

For there thy faithful oracles shall stand,

Preserv'd in shrines: and ev'ry sacred

lay,

Which by my mouth, Apollo shall

convey.

And shall be treasur'd, by a chosen

train

Of holy priests, and ever shall remain.

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