hat he was not to be a married man. They imagined that
their private affairs would interfere with their public duties. PEIRESC,
the great French collector, refused marriage, convinced that the cares of
a family were too absorbing for the freedom necessary to literary
pursuits, and claimed likewise a sacrifice of fortune incompatible with
his great designs. BOYLE, who would not suffer his studies to be
interrupted by "household affairs," lived as a boarder with his sister,
Lady Ranelagh. Newton, Locke, Leibnitz, Bayle, and Hobbes, and Hume, and
Gibbon, and Adam Smith, decided for celibacy. These great authors placed
their happiness in their celebrity.

This debate, for the present topic has sometimes warmed into one, is in
truth ill adapted for controversy. The heart is more concerned in its
issue than any espoused doctrine terminating in partial views. Look into
the domestic annals of genius--observe the variety of positions into which
the literary character is thrown in the nuptial state. Cynicism will not
always obtain a sullen triumph, nor prudence always be allowed to
calculate away some of the richer feelings of our nature. It is not an
axiom that literary characters must necessarily institute a new order of
celibacy. The sentence of the apostle pronounces that "the forbidding to
marry is a doctrine of devils." WESLEY, who published "Thoughts on a
Single Life," advised some "to remain single for the kingdom of heaven's
sake; but the precept," he adds, "is not for the many." So indecisive have
been the opinions of the most curious inquirers concerning the matrimonial
state, whenever a great destination has engaged their consideration.

One position we may assume, that the studies, and even the happiness of
the pursuits of men of genius, are powerfully influenced by the domestic
associate of their lives.

They rarely pass through the age of love without its passion. Even their
Delias and their Amandas are often the shadows of some real object; for as
Shakspeare's experience told him,

"Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs."

Their imagination is perpetually colouring those pictures of domestic
happiness on which they delight to dwell. He who is no husband sighs for
that tenderness which is at once bestowed and received; and tears will
start in the eyes of him who, in becoming a child among children, yet
feels that he is no father! These deprivations have usually