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learned code, held in Persia, any more than it would be held else-
Who weds more wives than one;
These speak his honest heart at rest,
Can make his day of misery bright.'-p. 54.
Mirza Abu Taleb Khan, a man of considerable experience, who visited England several years ago, says,- From what I know myself, it is easier to live with two tigresses than with two wives!' It is a rule never to be dispensed with, that the husband shall allow his better half plenty of cash, that she may enjoy feasts, and excursions, and the bath, and every other kind of recreation. If he stint her in these matters, he will assuredly be punished for all his sins and omissions on the day of resurrection. The woman should invariably assume that her husband's mother, and other relations, are at heart her enemies. She will therefore find it necessary at once to establish her authority over them, by at least once a-day giving them physical proof of her resolution. The husband is to be conquered in a different manner. She must,
on all occasions, ring in his ears the threat of a divorce:
If he still resists, she must redouble all the vexations which she knows from experience irritate his mind, and day and night add to the bitterness and misery of his condition. She must never, whether by day or by night, for a moment relax. For instance, if he condescends to hand her the loaf, she must throw it from her, or at him, with indignation and contempt. She must make his shoe too tight for him, and his pillow a pillow of stone; so that at last he becomes weary of life, and is glad to acknowledge her authority. On the other hand, should these resources fail, the wife may privately convey from her husband's house everything valuable that she can lay her hands upon, and then go to the kázi and complain that her husband has beaten her with his shoe, and pretend to show the bruises on her skin. She must state such facts in favour of her case as she knows cannot be refuted by evidence, and pursue every possible plan to escape from the thraldom she endures. For that purpose, every effort of every description is perfectly justifiable and according to law. pp. 59, 60.
We shall add a few others of the sage precepts laid down, by our authority, as altogether sacred and inviolable:• Among
Among the things forbidden to women is that of allowing their features to be seen by men not wearing turbans-unless indeed they are handsome, and have soft and captivating manners; in that case their veils may be drawn aside without the apprehension of incurring blame, or in any degree exceeding the discretionary power with which they are traditionally invested. But they must scrupulously and religiously abstain from all such liberties with Mullahs and Jews; since, respecting them, the prohibition is imperative. It is not necessary, however, to be very particular in the presence of common people: there is nothing criminal in being seen by singers, musicians, servants of the bath, and such persons as go about the streets to sell their wares and trinkets.'-p. 61.
'On the very day a woman goes to the house of her husband, upon being married, it is necessary that everything of importance relating to her own interest and advantage should be first settled; all arrangements made to secure her own comfort, and the uninterrupted exercise of her own will; so that she may be exonerated from the responsibility which might otherwise attach to her; for it is right that all blame should be invariably laid upon the back of her husband. It is not to be conceived that a woman can live all her life with one husband, in one house. Why should he deprive her of the full enjoyment of this world's comforts? Days and years roll on and are renewed, whilst a woman continues the same melancholy inmate, in the same melancholy house of her husband. She has no renewal of happiness-none.
"The seasons change, and spring
Renews the bloom of fruit and flower;
And birds, with fluttering wing,
Give life again to dell and bower.
But what is woman's lot?
No change her anxious heart to cheer;
Confined to one dull spot
And one dull husband all the year!"'-pp. 65, 66.
For a woman to be without familiar friends of her own sex is reckoned a heavy misfortune; and there is no one so poor who does not struggle hard to avoid so great a curse. A woman dying without friends or gossips has no chance of going to heaven; whereas happy is that woman whose whole life is passed in constant intercourse with kind associates, for she will assuredly go to heaven. What can equal the felicity of that woman whose daily employment is sauntering hand in hand with friends, amidst rose-bowers and aromatic groves, and visiting every place calculated to expand and exhilarate the heart? That woman, at the day of resurrection, will be seen dancing with her old companions on earth, in the regions of bliss. The very circumstance of living in such a state of social freedom and harmony always produces a forgiveness of sins. If a damsel dies before she has established a circle of intimates, to whom she can communicate her most secret thoughts and actions, the other world can never be to her a
scene of happiness and joy. But if she is more favourably circumstanced, every supplication for pardon will have the effect of angelprayers; and this is the reward of those who in this life cultivate social connexions, and are bound in the endearing ties of friendship.' -pp. 74, 75.
Trifling as this little work may appear in itself, yet it is impossible to glance over it without feeling that such gossiping pages as these are calculated to make us better acquainted with Persian female manners than a more grave and learned treatise. Life is composed of really little things-especially domestic life, in which the routine of one day scarcely differs from that which follows or precedes it. Foreigners can seldom penetrate the privacy of oriental families; and native writers too rarely think of describing habits which are of every hour's use, and have therefore no novelty to recommend them.
ART. IX.-Poems by Hartley Coleridge. Vol. I. 8vo. pp. 157. Leeds, 1833.
WO sons of Dryden were clever versifiers; but we are not aware of any instance in our literary history of the son of a great poet achieving for himself the name of poet. Here, however, is such a claim advanced by the son of Coleridge; and, weak and merely imitational as many of the pieces included in this volume are, we are bound to say that we consider its author as having already placed himself on high vantage-ground, as compared with any of the rhymers of these latter years. From the locality of the publication, Leeds, taken together with various melancholy allusions in the verses themselves, we are compelled to believe that the fate of this gentleman has not been such as his birth, education, and talents, with the well-won celebrity of several of his immediate connexions, might have been expected to lead him to. What his actual situation be we know not; but we are grieved to hear the language not only of despondency, but of self-reproach bordering almost on remorse, from one who must be young, and who certainly possesses feelings the most amiable, together with accomplishments rich and manifold, and no trivial inheritance of his father's genius. It is impossible to read the two following sonnets without deep and painful interest :
Too true it is, my time of power was spent
From duty and from hope,-yea, blindly sent
If I have sinn'd in act, I may repent;
If I have err'd in thought, I may disclaim
That makes my hungry passion still keep Lent
In keen expectance of a Carnival;
Where, in all worlds, that round the sun revolve
And shed their influence on this passive ball,
One sinful wish would make a hell of heaven.'-p. 27.
We have no desire to penetrate the mystery in which this unfortunate shrouds his sorrow. Let us rather afford our readers some evidence, that whatever may have been his errors, he has the gentle heart, as well as the power and music of a poet. We remember no sonnets so nearly resembling the peculiar and unaccountable sweetness of Shakspeare's, as the three following, all addressed 'To a Friend.'
When we were idlers with the loitering rills,
Our love was nature; and the peace that floated
In the Great City we are met again,
Where many souls there are, that breathe and die,
The sad vicissitude of weary pain :-
And what hath nature, but the vast, void sky,
'We parted on the mountains, as two streams
Have crept along from nook to shady nook,
Where flow'rets blow, and whispering Naiads dwell.
O'er rough and smooth to travel side by side.'-p. 3.
The following, 'To SHAKSPEARE,' is worthy of being so inscribed: it seems to us hardly inferior to any sonnet in Wordsworth:
'The soul of man is larger than the sky,
The seeds and pregnant forms in essence lie,
Whate'er Love, Hate, Ambition, Destiny,
Or the firm, fatal Purpose of the Heart
Can make of Man. Yet thou wert still the same,
Some stanzas 'To the Nautilus' appear to us full of life and grace. We quote two of them :
Where Ausonian summers glowing,