e woman.

Pope, in fact, wherever he got it, appears to have understood the sex
well, Bolingbroke, "a judge of the subject," says Warton, thought his
"Epistle on the Characters of Women" his "masterpiece." And even with
respect to the grosser passion, which takes occasionally the name of
"_romantic_," accordingly as the degree of sentiment elevates it
above the definition of love by Buffon, it may be remarked, that it
does not always depend upon personal appearance, even in a woman.
Madame Cottin was a plain woman, and might have been virtuous, it may
be presumed, without much interruption. Virtuous she was, and the
consequences of this inveterate virtue were that two different
admirers (one an elderly gentleman) killed themselves in despair (see
Lady Morgan's "France"). I would not, however, recommend this rigour
to plain women in general, in the hope of securing the glory of two
suicides apiece. I believe that there are few men who, in the course
of their observations on life, may not have perceived that it is not
the greatest female beauty who forms the longest and the strongest
passions.

But, apropos of Pope.--Voltaire tells us that the Marechal Luxembourg
(who had precisely Pope's figure) was not only somewhat too amatory
for a great man, but fortunate in his attachments. La Valiere, the
passion of Louis XIV., had an unsightly defect. The Princess of
Eboli, the mistress of Philip II. of Spain, and Maugiron, the minion
of Henry III. of France, had each of them lost an eye; and the famous
Latin epigram was written upon them, which has, I believe, been
either translated or imitated by Goldsmith:--

"Lumine Acon dextro, capta est Leonilla sinistro,
Et potis est forma vincere uterque Deos;
Blande puer, lumen quod habes concede sorrori,
Sic tu caecus Amor, sic erit illa Venus."

Wilkes, with his ugliness, used to say that "he was but a quarter of
an hour behind the handsomest man in England;" and this vaunt of his
is said not to have been disproved by circumstances. Swift, when
neither young, nor handsome, nor rich, nor even amiable, inspired the
two most extraordinary passions upon record, Vanessa's and Stella's.

"Vanessa, aged scarce a score,
Sighs for a gown of _forty-four_."

He requited them bitterly; for he seems to have broken the heart of
the one, and worn out that of the other; and he had his reward, for
he died a solitary idiot in the hands of servants.

For my own part, I am of the