CHAP. I. THE RIGHTS AND INVOLVED DUTIES OF MANKIND CONSIDERED.

IN the present state of society it appears ne⯑cessary to go back to first principles in search of the most simple truths, and to dispute with some prevailing prejudice every inch of ground. To clear my way, I must be al⯑lowed to ask some plain questions, and the answers will probably appear as unequivocal as the axioms on which reasoning is built; though, when entangled with various mo⯑tives of action, they are formally contradicted, either by the words or conduct of men.

In what does man's pre-eminence over the brute creation consist? The answer is as clear as that a half is less than the whole; in Reason.

What acquirement exalts one being above another? Virtue; we spontaneously reply.

[16]For what purpose were the passions im⯑planted? That man by struggling with them might attain a degree of knowledge denied to the brutes; whispers Experience.

Consequently the perfection of our nature and capability of happiness, must be estimated by the degree of reason, virtue, and know⯑ledge, that distinguish the individual, and direct the laws which bind society: and that from the exercise of reason, knowledge and virtue naturally flow, is equally undeniable, if mankind be viewed collectively.

The rights and duties of man thus simpli⯑fied, it seems almost impertinent to attempt to illustrate truths that appear so incontro⯑vertible; yet such deeply rooted prejudices have clouded reason, and such spurious qua⯑lities have assumed the name of virtues, that it is necessary to pursue the course of reason as it has been perplexed and involved in error, by various adventitious circumstances, com⯑paring the simple axiom with casual de⯑viations.

Men, in general, seem to employ their rea⯑son to justify prejudices, which they have im⯑bibed, they cannot trace how, rather than to [17] root them out. The mind must be strong that resolutely forms its own principles; for a kind of intellectual cowardice prevails which makes many men shrink from the task, or only do it by halves. Yet the imperfect con⯑clusions thus drawn, are frequently very plau⯑sible, because they are built on partial expe⯑rience, on just, though narrow, views.

Going back to first principles, vice skulks, with all its native deformity, from close inves⯑tigation; but a set of shallow reasoners are always exclaiming that these arguments prove too much, and that a measure rotten at the core may be expedient. Thus expediency is continually contrasted with simple principles, till truth is lost in a mist of words, virtue, in forms, and knowledge rendered a sounding nothing, by the specious prejudices that as⯑sume its name.

That the society is formed in the wisest man⯑ner, whose constitution is founded on the na⯑ture of man, strikes, in the abstract, every thinking being so forcibly, that it looks like presumption to endeavour to bring forward proofs; though proof must be brought, or the strong hold of prescription will never be forced by reason; yet to urge prescription as [18] an argument to justify the depriving men (or women) of their natural rights, is one of the absurd sophisms which daily insult common sense.

The civilization of the bulk of the people of Europe is very partial; nay, it may be made a question, whether they have acquired any virtues in exchange for innocence, equi⯑valent to the misery produced by the vices that have been plastered over unsightly igno⯑rance, and the freedom which has been bar⯑tered for splendid slavery. The desire of dazzling by riches, the most certain pre-emi⯑nence that man can obtain, the pleasure of commanding flattering sycophants, and many other complicated low calculations of doting self-love, have all contributed to overwhelm the mass of mankind, and make liberty a convenient handle for mock patriotism. For whilst rank and titles are held of the ut⯑most importance, before which Genius "must hide its diminished head," it is, with a few exceptions, very unfortunate for a nation when a man of abilities, without rank or pro⯑perty, pushes himself forward to notice.— Alas! what unheard of misery have thou⯑sands suffered to purchase a cardinal's hat for [19] an intriguing obscure adventurer, who longed to be ranked with princes, or lord it over them by seizing the triple crown!

Such, indeed, has been the wretchedness that has flowed from hereditary honours, riches, and monarchy, that men of lively sensibility have almost uttered blasphemy in order to justify the dispensations of providence. Man has been held out as independent of his power who made him, or as a lawless planet darting from its orbit to steal the celestial fire of reason; and the vengeance of heaven, lurk⯑ing in the subtile flame, sufficiently punished his temerity, by introducing evil into the world.

Impressed by this view of the misery and disorder which pervaded society, and fatigued with jostling against artificial fools, Rousseau became enamoured of solitude, and, being at the same time an optimist, he labours with uncommon eloquence to prove that man was naturally a solitary animal. Misled by his respect for the goodness of God, who cer⯑tainly—for what man of sense and feeling can doubt it!—gave life only to communicate happiness, he considers evil as positive, and the work of man; not aware that he was [20] exalting one attribute at the expence of ano⯑ther, equally necessary to divine perfection.

Reared on a false hypothesis his arguments in favour of a state of nature are plausible, but unsound. I say unsound; for to assert that a state of nature is preferable to civilization, in all its possible perfection, is, it other words, to arraign supreme wisdom; and the para⯑doxical exclamation, that God has made all things right, and that evil has been introduced by the creature, whom he formed, knowing what he formed, is as unphilosophical as impious.

When that wise Being who created us and placed us here, saw the fair idea, he willed, by allowing it to be so, that the passions should unfold our reason, because he could see that present evil would produce future good. Could the helpless creature whom he called from nothing break loose from his pro⯑vidence, and boldly learn to know good by practising evil, without his permission? No.— How could that energetic advocate for immor⯑tality argue so inconsistently? Had mankind remained for ever in the brutal state of na⯑ture, which even his magic pen cannot paint as a state in which a single virtue took root, it would have been clear, though not to the [21] sensitive unreflecting wanderer, that man was born to run the circle of life and death, and adorn God's garden for some purpose which could not easily be reconciled with his attributes.

But if, to crown the whole, there were to be rational creatures produced, allowed to rise in excellence by the exercise of powers implanted for that purpose; if benignity it⯑self thought fit to call into existence a creature above the brutes ^*, who could think and im⯑prove himself, why should that inestimable gift, for a gift it was, if man was so created as to have a capacity to rise above the state in which sensation produced brutal ease, be called, in direct terms, a curse? A curse it might be reckoned, if all our existence was bounded by our continuance in this world; for why should the gracious fountain of life give us passions, and the power of reflecting, only to imbitter our days and inspire us with [22] mistaken notions of dignity? Why should he lead us from love of ourselves to the sub⯑lime emotions which the discovery of his wis⯑dom and goodness excites, if these feelings were not set in motion to improve our nature, of which they make a part ^*, and render us capable of enjoying a more godlike portion of happiness? Firmly persuaded that no evil exists in the world that God did not design to take place, I build my belief on the perfec⯑tion of God.

Rousseau exerts himself to prove that all was right originally: a crowd of authors that all is now right: and I, that all will be right.

But, true to his first position, next to a state of nature, Rousseau celebrates barbarism, and, apostrophizing the shade of Fabricius, he for⯑gets [23] that, in conquering the world, the Ro⯑mans never dreamed of establishing their own liberty on a firm basis, or of extending the reign of virtue. Eager to support his system, he stigmatizes, as vicious, every effort of ge⯑nius; and, uttering the apotheosis of savage virtues, he exalts those to demi-gods, who were scarcely human—the brutal Spartans, who, in defiance of justice and gratitude, sa⯑crificed, in cold blood, the slaves who had shewn themselves men to rescue their op⯑pressors.

Disgusted with artificial manners and vir⯑tues, the citizen of Geneva, instead of pro⯑perly sifting the subject, threw away the wheat with the chaff, without waiting to inquire whether the evils which his ardent soul turned from indignantly, were the con⯑sequence of civilization or the vestiges of bar⯑barism. He saw vice trampling on virtue, and the semblance of goodness taking place of the reality; he saw talents bent by power to sinister purposes, and never thought of tracing the gigantic mischief up to arbitrary power, up to the hereditary distinctions that clash with the mental superiority that natu⯑rally raises a man above his fellows. He did [24] not perceive that regal power, in a few gene⯑rations, introduces idiotism into the noble stem, and holds out baits to render thousands idle and vicious.

Nothing can set the regal character in a more contemptible point of view, than the various crimes that have elevated men to the supreme dignity.—Vile intrigues, unna⯑tural crimes, and every vice that degrades our nature, have been the steps to this distin⯑guished eminence; yet millions of men have supinely allowed the nerveless limbs of the posterity of such rapacious prowlers to rest quietly on their ensanguined thrones ^*.

What but a pestilential vapour can hover over society when its chief director is only instructed in the invention of crimes, or the stupid rotine of childish ceremonies? Will men never be wise?—will they never cease to expect corn from tares, and figs from thistles?

It is impossible for any man, when the most favourable circumstances concur, to acquire sufficient knowledge and strength of mind to discharge the duties of a king, entrusted with uncontrouled power; how then must [25] they be violated when his very elevation is an insuperable bar to the attainment of ei⯑ther wisdom or virtue; when all the feelings of a man are stifled by flattery, and reflection shut out by pleasure! Surely it is madness to make the fate of thousands depend on the caprice of a weak fellow creature, whose very station sinks him necessarily below the meanest of his subjects! But one power should not be thrown down to exalt another—for all power intoxicates weak man; and its abuse proves, that the more equality there is esta⯑blished among men, the more virtue and hap⯑piness will reign in society. But this, and any similar maxim deduced from simple reason, raises an outcry—the church or the state is in danger, if faith in the wisdom of anti⯑quity is not implicit; and they who, roused by the sight of human calamity, dare to at⯑tack human authority, are reviled as despisers of God, and enemies of man. These are bitter calumnies, yet they reached one of the best of men ^*, whose ashes still preach peace, and whose memory demands a respectful pause, when subjects are discussed that lay so near his heart.—

[26]After attacking the sacred majesty of Kings, I shall scarcely excite surprise by adding my firm persuasion that every profession, in which great subordination of rank consti⯑tutes its power, is highly injurious to mo⯑rality.

A standing army, for instance, is incom⯑patible with freedom; because subordination and rigour are the very sinews of military discipline; and despotism is necessary to give vigour to enterprizes that one will directs. A spirit inspired by romantic notions of ho⯑nour, a kind of morality founded on the fashion of the age, can only be felt by a few officers, whilst the main body must be moved by command, like the waves of the sea; for the strong wind of authority pushes the crowd of subalterns forward, they scarcely know or care why, with headlong fury.

Besides, nothing can be so prejudicial to the morals of the inhabitants of country towns as the occasional residence of a set of idle superficial young men, whose only oc⯑cupation is gallantry, and whose polished manners render vice more dangerous, by concealing its deformity under gay orna⯑mental [27] drapery. An air of fashion, which is but a badge of slavery, and proves that the soul has not a strong individual character, awes simple country people into an imitation of the vices, when they cannot catch the slip⯑pery graces, of politeness. Every corps is a chain of despots, who, submitting and ty⯑rannizing without exercising their reason, become dead weights of vice and folly on the community. A man of rank or fortune, sure of rising by interest, has nothing to do but to pursue some extravagant freak; whilst the needy gentleman, who is to rise, as the phrase turns, by his merit, becomes a ser⯑vile parasite or vile pander.

Sailors, the naval gentlemen, come under the same description, only their vices assume a different and a grosser cast. They are more positively indolent, when not discharg⯑ing the ceremonials of their station; whilst the insignificant fluttering of soldiers may be termed active idleness. More confined to the society of men, the former acquire a fond⯑ness for humour and mischievous tricks; whilst the latter, mixing frequently with well-bred women, catch a sentimental cant. —But mind is equally out of the question, [28] whether they indulge the horse-laugh, or polite simper.

May I be allowed to extend the compari⯑son to a profession where more mind is cer⯑tainly to be found; for the clergy have su⯑perior opportunities of improvement, though subordination almost equally cramps their fa⯑culties? The blind submission imposed at college to forms of belief serves as a novi⯑tiate to the curate, who must obsequiously respect the opinion of his rector or patron, if he means to rise in his profession. Per⯑haps there cannot be a more forcible contrast than between the servile dependent gait of a poor curate and the courtly mien of a bishop. And the respect and contempt they inspire render the discharge of their separate func⯑tions equally useless.

It is of great importance to observe that the character of every man is, in some de⯑gree, formed by his profession. A man of sense may only have a cast of countenance that wears off as you trace his individuality, whilst the weak, common man has scarcely ever any character, but what belongs to the body; at least, all his opinions have been so steeped in the vat consecrated by authority, [29] that the faint spirit which the grape of his own vine yields cannot be distinguished.

Society, therefore, as it becomes more en⯑lightened, should be very careful not to esta⯑blish bodies of men who must necessarily be made foolish or vicious by the very con⯑stitution of their profession.

In the infancy of society, when men were just emerging out of barbarism, chiefs and priests, touching the most powerful springs of savage conduct, hope and fear, must have had unbounded sway. An aristocracy, of course, is naturally the first form of govern⯑ment. But, clashing interests soon losing their equipoise, a monarchy and hierarchy break out of the confusion of ambitious struggles, and the foundation of both is se⯑cured by feudal tenures. This appears to be the origin of monarchical and priestly power, and the dawn of civilization. But such combustible materials cannot long be pent up; and, getting vent in foreign wars and in⯑testine insurrections, the people acquire some power in the tumult, which obliges their rulers to gloss over their oppression with a shew of right. Thus, as wars, agriculture, com⯑merce, [30] and literature, expand the mind, despots are compelled, to make covert corrup⯑tion hold fast the power which was formerly snatched by open force^*. And this baneful lurking gangrene is most quickly spread by luxury and superstition, the sure dregs of ambition. The indolent puppet of a court first becomes a luxurious monster, or fasti⯑dious sensualist, and then makes the conta⯑gion which his unnatural state spread, the instrument of tyranny.

It is the pestiferous purple which renders the progress of civilization a curse, and warps the understanding, till men of sensibility doubt whether the expansion of intellect produces a greater portion of happiness or misery. But the nature of the poison points out the antidote; and had Rousseau mount⯑ed one step higher in his investigation, or could his eye have pierced through the foggy atmosphere, which he almost disdained to [31] breathe, his active mind would have darted forward to contemplate the perfection of man in the establishment of true civilization, in⯑stead of taking his ferocious flight back to the night of sensual ignorance.

CHAP. II. THE PREVAILING OPINION OF A SEXUAL CHARACTER DISCUSSED.

TO account for, and excuse the tyranny of man, many ingenious arguments have been brought forward to prove, that the two sexes, in the acquirement of virtue, ought to aim at attaining a very different character: or, to speak explicitly, women are not allowed to have sufficient strength of mind to acquire what really deserves the name of virtue. Yet it should seem, allowing them to have souls, that there is but one way appointed by Pro⯑vidence to lead mankind to either virtue or happiness.

If then women are not a swarm of ephemeron triflers, why should they be kept in ignorance under the specious name of innocence? Men complain, and with reason, of the follies and caprices of our sex, when they do not keenly satirize our headstrong passions and groveling vices. [33] —Behold, I should answer, the natural ef⯑fect of ignorance! The mind will ever be unstable that has only prejudices to rest on, and the current will run with destructive fury when there are no barriers to break its force. Women are told from their infancy, and taught by the example of their mothers, that a little knowledge of human weakness, justly termed cunning, softness of temper, outward obedience, and a scrupulous atten⯑tion to a puerile kind of propriety, will ob⯑tain for them the protection of man; and should they be beautiful, every thing else is needless, for, at least, twenty years of their lives.

Thus Milton describes our first frail mo⯑ther; though when he tells us that women are formed for softness and sweet attractive grace, I cannot comprehend his meaning, unless, in the true Mahometan strain, he meant to deprive us of souls, and insinuate that we were beings only designed by sweet attrac⯑tive grace, and docile blind obedience, to gra⯑tify the senses of man when he can no longer soar on the wing of contemplation.

How grossly do they insult us who thus ad⯑vise us only to render ourselves gentle, domestic [34] brutes! For instance, the winning softness so warmly, and frequently, recommended, that governs by obeying. What childish expressions, and how insignificant is the being—can it be an immortal one? who will condescend to go⯑vern by such sinister methods! ‘Certainly, says Lord Bacon, man is of kin to the beasts by his body; and if he be not of kin to God by his spirit, he is a base and igno⯑ble creature!’ Men, indeed, appear to me to act in a very unphilosophical manner when they try to secure the good conduct of wo⯑men by attempting to keep them always in a state of childhood. Rousseau was more con⯑sistent when he wished to stop the progress of reason in both sexes, for if men eat of the tree of knowledge, women will come in for a taste; but, from the imperfect cultivation which their understandings now receive, they only attain a knowledge of evil.

Children, I grant, should be innocent; but when the epithet is applied to men, or women, it is but a civil term for weakness. For if it be allowed that women were des⯑tined by Providence to acquire human virtues, and by the exercise of their understandings, that stability of character which is the firmest [35] ground to rest our future hopes upon, they must be permitted to turn to the fountain of light, and not forced to shape their course by the twinkling of a mere satellite. Mil⯑ton, I grant, was of a very different opinion; for he only bends to the indefeasible right of beauty, though it would be difficult to ren⯑der two passages which I now mean to contrast, consistent. But into similar incon⯑sistencies are great men often led by their senses.

These are exactly the arguments that I have used to children; but I have added, your reason is now gaining strength, and, till it ar⯑rives at some degree of maturity, you must look up to me for advice—then you ought to think, and only rely on God.

Yet in the following lines Milton seems to coincide with me; when he makes Adam thus expostulate with his Maker.

In treating, therefore, of the manners of women, let us, disregarding sensual argu⯑ments, trace what we should endeavour to make them in order to co-operate, if the expres⯑sion be not too bold, with the supreme Being.

By individual education, I mean, for the sense of the word is not precisely defined, such an attention to a child as will slowly sharpen the senses, form the temper, regu⯑late the passions, as they begin to ferment, and set the understanding to work before the body arrives at maturity; so that the man may only have to proceed, not to begin, the important task of learning to think and reason.

To prevent any misconstruction, I must add, that I do not believe that a private edu⯑cation can work the wonders which some sanguine writers have attributed to it. Men and women must be educated, in a great degree, by the opinions and manners of the [37] society they live in. In every age there has been a stream of popular opinion that has carried all before it, and given a family cha⯑racter, as it were, to the century. It may then fairly be inferred, that, till society be differently constituted, much cannot be ex⯑pected from education. It is, however, suf⯑ficient for my present purpose to assert, that, whatever effect circumstances have on the abilities, every being may become virtuous by the exercise of its own reason; for if but one being was created with vicious inclina⯑tions, that is positively bad, what can save us from atheism? or if we worship a God, is not that God a devil?

Consequently, the most perfect education, in my opinion, is such an exercise of the understanding as is best calculated to strengthen the body and form the heart. Or, in other words, to enable the individual to attain such habits of virtue as will render it independent. In fact, it is a farce to call any being virtuous whose virtues do not result from the exercise of its own reason. This was Rousseau's opinion respecting men: I ex⯑tend it to women, and confidently assert that they have been drawn out of their sphere by false refinement, and not by an endeavour to [38] acquire masculine qualities. Still the regal homage which they receive is so intoxicat⯑ing, that till the manners of the times are changed, and formed on more reasonable prin⯑ciples, it may be impossible to convince them that the illegitimate power which they ob⯑tain, by degrading themselves, is a curse, and that they must return to nature and equa⯑lity, if they wish to secure the placid satis⯑faction that unsophisticated affections im⯑part. But for this epoch we must wait —wait, perhaps, till kings and nobles, en⯑lightened by reason, and, preferring the real dignity of man to childish state, throw off their gaudy hereditary trappings: and if then women do not resign the arbitrary power of beauty—they will prove that they have less mind than man.

I may be accused of arrogance; still I must declare, what I firmly believe, that all the writ⯑ers who have written on the subject of fe⯑male education and manners, from Rousseau to Dr. Gregory, have contributed to render women more artificial, weak characters, than they would otherwise have been; and, con⯑sequently, more useless members of society▪ I might have expressed this conviction in a lower key; but I am afraid it would have [39] been the whine of affectation, and not the faithful expression of my feelings, of the clear result, which experience and reflection have led me to draw. When I come to that divi⯑sion of the subject, I shall advert to the pas⯑sages that I more particularly disapprove of, in the works of the authors I have just alluded to; but it is first necessary to observe, that my objection extends to the whole purport of those books, which tend, in my opinion, to degrade one half of the human species, and render women pleasing at the expence of every solid virtue.

Though, to reason on Rousseau's ground, if man did attain a degree of perfection of mind when his body arrived at maturity, it might be proper, in order to make a man and his wife one, that she should rely entirely on his under⯑standing; and the graceful ivy, clasping the oak that supported it, would form a whole in which strength and beauty would be equally conspicuous. But, alas! husbands, as well as their helpmates, are often only overgrown children; nay, thanks to early debauchery, scarcely men in their outward form—and if the blind lead the blind, one need not come from heaven to tell us the consequence.

[40]Many are the causes that, in the present corrupt state of society, contribute to enslave women by cramping their understandings and sharpening their senses. One, perhaps, that silently does more mischief than all the rest, is their disregard of order.

To do every thing in an orderly manner, is a most important precept, which women, who, generally speaking, receive only a dis⯑orderly kind of education, seldom attend to with that degree of exactness that men, who from their infancy are broken into method, observe. This negligent kind of guess-work, for what other epithet can be used to point out the random exertions of a sort of instinc⯑tive common sense, never brought to the test of reason? prevents their generalizing matters of fact—so they do to-day, what they did yesterday, merely because they did it yes⯑terday.

This contempt of the understanding in early life has more baneful consequences than is commonly supposed; for the little knowledge which women of strong minds attain, is, from various circumstances, of a more desultory kind than the knowledge of men, and it is acquired more by sheer observations on real [41] life, than from comparing what has been in⯑dividually observed with the results of ex⯑perience generalized by speculation. Led by their dependent situation and domestic employments more into society, what they learn is rather by snatches; and as learning is with them, in general, only a secondary thing, they do not pursue any one branch with that persevering ardour necessary to give vigour to the faculties, and clearness to the judgment. In the present state of society, a little learning is required to support the character of a gentle⯑man; and boys are obliged to submit to a few years of discipline. But in the educa⯑tion of women, the cultivation of the under⯑standing is always subordinate to the acquire⯑ment of some corporeal accomplishment; even while enervated by confinement and false no⯑tions of modesty, the body is prevented from attaining that grace and beauty which relaxed half-formed limbs never exhibit. Besides, in youth their faculties are not brought forward by emulation; and having no serious scien⯑tific study, if they have natural sagacity it is turned too soon on life and manners. They dwell on effects, and modifications, without tracing them back to causes; and compli⯑cated [42] rules to adjust behaviour, are a weak substitute for simple principles.

As a proof that education gives this appear⯑ance of weakness to females, we may instance the example of military men, who are, like them, sent into the world before their minds have been stored with knowledge or fortified by principles. The consequences are similar; soldiers acquire a little superficial knowledge, snatched from the muddy current of conver⯑sation, and, from continually mixing with society, they gain, what is termed a know⯑ledge of the world; and this acquaintance with manners and customs has frequently been confounded with a knowledge of the human heart. But can the crude fruit of casual observation, never brought to the test of judgment, formed by comparing specula⯑tion and experience, deserve such a distinc⯑tion? Soldiers, as well as women, practise the minor virtues with punctilious politeness. Where is then the sexual difference, when the education has been the same? All the difference that I can discern, arises from the superior advantage of liberty, which enables the former to see more of life.

It is wandering from my present subject, [43] perhaps, to make a political remark; but, as it was produced naturally by the train of my reflections, I shall not pass it silently over.

Standing armies can never▪ consist of reso⯑lute, robust men; they may be well disci⯑plined machines, but they will seldom con⯑tain men under the influence of strong pas⯑sions, or with very vigorous faculties. And as for any depth of understanding, I will ven⯑ture to affirm, that it is as rarely to be found in the army as amongst women; and the cause, I maintain, is the same. It may be further observed, that officers are also particularly attentive to their persons, fond of dancing, crowded rooms, adventures, and ridicule ^*. Like the fair sex, the business of their lives is gallantry.—They were taught to please, and they only live to please. Yet they do not lose their rank in the distinction of sexes, for they are still reckoned superior to women, though in what their superiority consists, be⯑yond what I have just mentioned, it is difficult to discover.

The great misfortune is this, that they [44] both acquire manners before morals, and a knowledge of life before they have, from re⯑flection, any acquaintance with the grand ideal outline of human nature. The consequence is natural; satisfied with common nature, they become a prey to prejudices, and taking all their opinions on credit, they blindly submit to authority. So that, if they have any sense, it is a kind of instinctive glance, that catches pro⯑portions, and decides with respect to manners; but fails when arguments are to be pursued below the surface, or opinions analyzed.

May not the same remark be applied to women? Nay, the argument may be car⯑ried still further, for they are both thrown out of a useful station by the unnatu⯑ral distinctions established in civilized life. Riches and hereditary honours have made cyphers of women to give consequence to the numerical figure; and idleness has pro⯑duced a mixture of gallantry and despotism into society, which leads the very men who are the slaves of their mistresses to tyrannize over their sisters, wives, and daughters. This is only keeping them in rank and file, it is true. Strengthen the female mind by enlarg⯑ing it, and there will be an end to blind obedience; but, as blind obedience is ever [45] sought for by power, tyrants and sensualists are in the right when they endeavour to keep women in the dark, because the former only want slaves, and the latter a play-thing. The sensualist, indeed, has been the most dangerous of tyrants, and women have been duped by their lovers, as princes by their mi⯑nisters, whilst dreaming that they reigned over them.

I now principally allude to Rousseau, for his character of Sophia is, undoubtedly, a captivating one, though it appears to me grossly unnatural; however, it is not the superstructure, but the foundation of her character, the principles on which her edu⯑cation was built, that I mean to attack; nay, warmly as I admire the genius of that able writer, whose opinions I shall often have oc⯑casion to cite, indignation always takes place of admiration, and the rigid frown of insulted virtue effaces the smile of complacency, which his eloquent periods are wont to raise, when I read his voluptuous reveries. Is this the man, who, in his ardour for vir⯑tue, would banish all the soft arts of peace, and almost carry us back to Spartan disci⯑pline? Is this the man who delights to paint the useful struggles of passion, the triumphs [46] of good dispositions, and the heroic flights which carry the glowing soul out of itself? —How are these mighty sentiments lowered when he describes the pretty foot and enticing airs of his little favourite! But, for the pre⯑sent, I wave the subject, and, instead of se⯑verely reprehending the transient effusions of overweening sensibility, I shall only observe, that whoever has cast a benevolent eye on society, must often have been gratified by the sight of humble mutual love, not dignified by sentiment, nor strengthened by a union in intellectual pursuits. The domestic trifles of the day have afforded matter for cheerful converse, and innocent caresses have softened toils which did not require great exercise of mind or stretch of thought: yet, has not the sight of this moderate felicity excited more tenderness than respect? An emotion similar to what we feel when children are playing, or animals sporting ^*, whilst the contempla⯑tion [47] of the noble struggles of suffering merit has raised admiration, and carried our thoughts to that world where sensation will give place to reason.

Women are, therefore, to be considered either as moral beings, or so weak that they must be entirely subjected to the superior faculties of men.

Let us examine this question. Rousseau declares that a woman should never, for a moment, feel herself independent, that she should be governed by fear to exercise her natural cunning, and made a coquetish slave in order to render her a more alluring object of desire, a sweeter companion to man, when⯑ever he chooses to relax himself. He carries the arguments, which he pretends to draw from the indications of nature, still further, and insinuates that truth and fortitude, the corner stones of all human virtue, should be cultivated with certain restrictions, because, with respect to the female character, obe⯑dience is the grand lesson which ought to be impressed with unrelenting rigour.

What nonsense! when will a great man arise with sufficient strength of mind to puff [48] away the fumes which pride and sensuality have thus spread over the subject! If women are by nature inferior to men, their virtues must be the same in quality, if not in de⯑gree, or virtue is a relative idea; conse⯑quently, their conduct should be founded on the same principles, and have the same aim.

Connected with man as daughters, wives, and mothers, their moral character may be estimated by their manner of fulfilling those simple duties; but the end, the grand end of their exertions should be to unfold their own faculties and acquire the dignity of conscious virtue. They may try to render their road pleasant; but ought never to forget, in com⯑mon with man, that life yields not the feli⯑city which can satisfy an immortal soul. I do not mean to insinuate, that either sex should be so lost in abstract reflections or dis⯑tant views, as to forget the affections and duties that lie before them, and are, in truth, the means appointed to produce the fruit of life; on the contrary, I would warmly re⯑commend them, even while I assert, that they afford most satisfaction when they are consi⯑dered in their true subordinate light.

Probably the prevailing opinion, that wo⯑man was created for man, may have taken [49] its rise from Moses's poetical story; yet, as very few, it is presumed, who have bestowed any serious thought on the subject, ever sup⯑posed that Eve was, literally speaking, one of Adam's ribs, the deduction must be al⯑lowed to fall to the ground; or, only be so far admitted as it proves that man, from the remotest antiquity, found it convenient to exert his strength to subjugate his compa⯑nion, and his invention to shew that she ought to have her neck bent under the yoke; because she, as well as the brute creation, was created to do his pleasure.

Let it not be concluded that I wish to in⯑vert the order of things; I have already granted, that, from the constitution of their bodies, men seem to be designed by Providence to attain a greater degree of virtue. I speak collectively of the whole sex; but I see not the shadow of a reason to conclude that their virtues should differ in respect to their nature. In fact, how can they, if virtue has only one eternal standard? I must therefore, if I reason consequentially, as strenuously maintain that they have the same simple direction, as that there is a God.

[50]It follows then that cunning should not be opposed to wisdom, little cares to great exertions, nor insipid softness, varnished over with the name of gentleness, to that forti⯑tude which grand views alone can inspire.

I shall be told that woman would then lose many of her peculiar graces, and the opinion of a well known poet might be quoted to re⯑fute my unqualified assertion. For Pope has said, in the name of the whole male sex,

In what light this sally places men and women, I shall leave to the judicious to de⯑termine; meanwhile I shall content myself with observing, that I cannot discover why, unless they are mortal, females should al⯑ways be degraded by being made subservient to love or lust.

To speak disrespectfully of love is, I know, high treason against sentiment and fine feel⯑ings; but I wish to speak the simple language of truth, and rather to address the head than the heart. To endeavour to reason love out of the world, would be to out Quixote Cer⯑vantes, [51] and equally offend against common sense; but an endeavour to restrain this tumul⯑tuous passion, and to prove that it should not be allowed to dethrone superior powers, or to usurp the sceptre which the understanding should ever coolly wield, appears less wild.

Youth is the season for love in both sexes; but in those days of thoughtless enjoyment provision should be made for the more im⯑portant years of life, when reflection takes place of sensation. But Rousseau, and most of the male writers who have followed his steps, have warmly inculcated that the whole tendency of female education ought to be directed to one point:—to render them pleasing.

Let me reason with the supporters of this opinion who have any knowledge of human nature, do they imagine that marriage can eradicate the habitude of life? The woman who has only been taught to please will soon find that her charms are oblique sunbeams, and that they cannot have much effect on her husband's heart when they are seen every day, when the summer is passed and gone. Will she then have sufficient native energy to look into herself for comfort, and cultivate [52] her dormant faculties? or, is it not more rational to expect that she will try to please other men; and, in the emotions raised by the expectation of new conquests, endeavour to forget the mortification her love or pride has received? When the husband ceases to be a lover—and the time will inevitably come, her desire of pleasing will then grow languid, or become a spring of bitterness; and love, perhaps, the most evanescent of all passions, gives place to jealousy or vanity.

I now speak of women who are restrained by principle or prejudice; such women, though they would shrink from an intrigue with real abhorrence, yet, nevertheless, wish to be con⯑vinced by the homage of gallantry that they are cruelly neglected by their husbands; or, days and weeks are spent in dreaming of the happi⯑ness enjoyed by congenial souls, till the health is undermined and the spirits broken by dis⯑content. How then can the great art of pleasing be such a necessary study? it is only useful to a mistress; the chaste wife, and serious mother, should only consider her power to please as the polish of her virtues, and the affection of her husband as one of the com⯑forts that render her task less difficult and [53] her life happier.—But, whether she be loved or neglected, her first wish should be to make herself respectable, and not to rely for all her happiness on a being subject to like infirmi⯑ties with herself.

The amiable Dr. Gregory fell into a simi⯑lar error. I respect his heart; but entirely disapprove of his celebrated Legacy to his Daughters.

He advises them to cultivate a fondness for dress, because a fondness for dress, he asserts, is natural to them. I am unable to compre⯑hend what either he or Rousseau mean, when they frequently use this indefinite term. If they told us that in a pre-existent state the soul was fond of dress, and brought this incli⯑nation with it into a new body, I should listen to them with a half smile, as I often do when I hear a rant about innate elegance.— But if he only meant to say that the exercise of the faculties will produce this fondness— I deny it.—It is not natural; but arises, like false ambition in men, from a love of power.

Dr. Gregory goes much further; he ac⯑tually recommends dissimulation, and advises an innocent girl to give the lie to her feelings, and not dance with spirit, when gaiety of [54] heart would make her feet eloquent without making her gestures immodest. In the name of truth and common sense, why should not one woman acknowledge that she can take more exercise than another? or, in other words, that she has a sound constitution; and why, to damp innocent vivacity, is she darkly to be told that men will draw conclusions which she little thinks of?—Let the libertine draw what inference he pleases; but, I hope, that no sensible mother will restrain the natural frankness of youth by instilling such indecent cautions. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh; and a wiser than Solo⯑mon hath said, that the heart should be made clean, and not trivial ceremonies observed, which it is not very difficult to fulfil with scrupulous exactness when vice reigns in the heart.

Women ought to endeavour to purify their heart; but can they do so when their uncul⯑tivated understandings make them entirely dependent on their senses for employment and amusement, when no noble pursuit sets them above the little vanities of the day, or enables them to curb the wild emotions that agitate a reed over which every passing breeze has [55] power? To gain the affections of a virtuous man is affectation necessary? Nature has given woman a weaker frame than man; but, to ensure her husband's affections, must a wife, who by the exercise of her mind and body whilst she was discharging the duties of a daughter, wife, and mother, has allowed her constitution to retain its natural strength, and her nerves a healthy tone, is she, I say, to con⯑descend to use art and feign a sickly delicacy in order to secure her husband's affection? Weak⯑ness may excite tenderness, and gratify the ar⯑rogant pride of man; but the lordly caresses of a protector will not gratify a noble mind that pants for, and deserves to be respected. Fondness is a poor substitute for friendship!

In a seraglio, I grant, that all these arts are necessary; the epicure must have his pa⯑late tickled, or he will sink into apathy; but have women so little ambition as to be satis⯑fied with such a condition? Can they supinely dream life away in the lap of pleasure, or the languor of weariness, rather than assert their claim to pursue reasonable pleasures and render themselves conspicuous by practising the vir⯑tues which dignify mankind? Surely she has not an immortal soul who can loiter life away [56] merely employed to adorn her person, that she may amuse the languid hours, and soften the cares of a fellow-creature who is willing to be enlivened by her smiles and tricks, when the serious business of life is over.

Besides, the woman who strengthens her body and exercises her mind will, by manag⯑ing her family and practising various virtues, become the friend, and not the humble de⯑pendent of her husband, and if she deserves his regard by possessing such substantial qua⯑lities, she will not find it necessary to conceal her affection, nor to pretend to an unnatural coldness of constitution to excite her husband's passions. In fact, if we revert to history, we shall find that the women who have distin⯑guished themselves have neither been the most beautiful nor the most gentle of their sex.

Nature, or, to speak with strict propriety, God, has made all things right; but man has sought him out many inventions to mar the work. I now allude to that part of Dr. Gre⯑gory's treatise, where he advises a wife never to let her husband know the extent of her sensibility or affection. Voluptuous precau⯑tion, and as ineffectual as absurd.—Love, from its very nature, must be transitory. To [57] seek for a secret that would render it con⯑stant, would be as wild a search as for the philosopher's stone, or the grand panacea: and the discovery would be equally useless, or rather pernicious, to mankind. The most holy band of society is friendship. It has been well said, by a shrewd satirist, "that rare as true love is, true friendship is still rarer."

This is an obvious truth, and the cause not lying deep, will not elude a slight glance of inquiry.

Love, the common passion, in which chance and sensation take place of choice and reason, is, in some degree, felt by the mass of mankind; for it is not necessary to speak, at present, of the emotions that rise above or sink below love. This passion, naturally in⯑creased by suspense and difficulties, draws the mind out of its accustomed state, and ex⯑alts the affections; but the security of mar⯑riage, allowing the fever of love to subside, a healthy temperature is thought insipid, only by those who have not sufficient intellect to substitute the calm tenderness of friend⯑ship, the confidence of respect, instead of blind admiration, and the sensual emotions of fondness.

[58]This is, must be, the course of nature: —friendship or indifference inevitably suc⯑ceeds love.—And this constitution seems per⯑fectly to harmonize with the system of go⯑vernment which prevails in the moral world. Passions are spurs to action, and open the mind; but they sink into mere appetites, be⯑come a personal and momentary gratification, when the object is gained, and the satisfied mind rests in enjoyment. The man who had some virtue whilst he was struggling for a crown, often becomes a voluptuous tyrant when it graces his brow; and, when the lover is not lost in the husband, the dotard, a prey to childish caprices, and fond jealou⯑sies, neglects the serious duties of life, and the caresses which should excite confidence in his children are lavished on the overgrown child, his wife.

In order to fulfil the duties of life, and to be able to pursue with vigour the various em⯑ployments which form the moral character, a master and mistress of a family ought not to continue to love each other with passion. I mean to say, that they ought not to indulge those emotions which disturb the order of society, and engross the thoughts that should [59] be otherwise employed. The mind that has never been engrossed by one object wants vigour—if it can long be so, it is weak.

A mistaken education, a narrow, unculti⯑vated mind, and many sexual prejudices, tend to make women more constant than men; but, for the present, I shall not touch on this branch of the subject. I will go still further, and advance, without dreaming of a paradox, that an unhappy marriage is often very advan⯑tageous to a family, and that the neglected wife is, in general, the best mother. And this would almost always be the consequence if the female mind was more enlarged: for, it seems to be the common dispensation of Providence, that what we gain in present en⯑joyment should be deducted from the treasure of life, experience; and that when we are gathering the flowers of the day and revelling in pleasure, the solid fruit of toil and wisdom should not be caught at the same time. The way lies before us, we must turn to the right or left; and he who will pass life away in bounding from one pleasure to another, must not complain if he neither acquires wisdom nor respectability of character.

[60]Supposing, for a moment, that the soul is not immortal, and that man was only created for the present scene,—I think we should have reason to complain that love, infantine fondness, ever grew insipid and palled upon the sense. Let us eat, drink, and love, for to-morrow we die, would be, in fact, the language of reason, the morality of life; and who but a fool would part with a reality for a fleeting shadow? But, if awed by observing the improvable powers of the mind, we dis⯑dain to confine our wishes or thoughts to such a comparatively mean field of action; that only appears grand and important, as it is connected with a boundless prospect and sub⯑lime hopes, what necessity is there for false⯑hood in conduct, and why must the sacred majesty of truth be violated to detain a de⯑ceitful good that saps the very foundation of virtue? Why must the female mind be tainted by coquetish arts to gratify the sensualist, and prevent love from subsiding into friendship, or compassionate tenderness, when there are not qualities on which friendship can be built? Let the honest heart shew itself, and reason teach passion to submit to necessity; or, let [61] the dignified pursuit of virtue and knowledge raise the mind above those emotions which rather imbitter than sweeten the cup of life, when they are not restrained within due bounds.

I do not mean to allude to the romantic passion, which is the concomitant of genius. —Who can clip its wing? But that grand passion not proportioned to the puny enjoy⯑ments of life, is only true to the sentiment, and feeds on itself. The passions which have been celebrated for their durability have al⯑ways been unfortunate. They have acquired strength by absence and constitutional me⯑lancholy.—The fancy has hovered round a form of beauty dimly seen—but familiarity might have turned admiration into disgust; or, at least, into indifference, and allowed the imagination leisure to start fresh game. With perfect propriety, according to this view of things, does Rousseau make the mis⯑tress of his soul, Eloisa, love St. Preux, when life was fading before her; but this is no proof of the immortality of the passion.

Of the same complexion is Dr. Gregory's advice respecting delicacy of sentiment, which he advises a woman not to acquire, if she has determined to marry. This determination, [62] however, perfectly consistent with his former advice, he calls indelicate, and earnestly per⯑suades his daughters to conceal it, though it may govern their conduct: as if it were in⯑delicate to have the common appetites of hu⯑man nature.

Noble morality! and consistent with the cautious prudence of a little soul that cannot extend its views beyond the present minute di⯑vision of existence. If all the faculties of wo⯑man's mind are only to be cultivated as they respect her dependence on man; if, when she obtains a husband she has arrived at her goal, and meanly proud is satisfied with such a paltry crown, let her grovel contentedly, scarcely raised by her employments above the animal kingdom; but, if she is struggling for the prize of her high calling, let her cultivate her understanding without stopping to con⯑sider what character the husband may have whom she is destined to marry. Let her only determine, without being too anxious about present happiness, to acquire the qua⯑lities that ennoble a rational being, and a rough inelegant husband may shock her taste without destroying her peace of mind. She will not model her soul to suit the frailties of [63] her companion, but to bear with them: his character may be a trial, but not an impedi⯑ment to virtue.

If Dr. Gregory confined his remark to romantic expectations of constant love and congenial feelings, he should have recollected that experience will banish what advice can ne⯑ver make us cease to wish for, when the ima⯑gination is kept alive at the expence of reason.

I own it frequently happens that wo⯑men who have fostered a romantic unnatural delicacy of feeling, waste their ^* lives in ima⯑gining how happy they should have been with a husband who could love them with a fervid increasing affection every day, and all day. But they might as well pine married as single —and would not be a jot more unhappy with a bad husband than longing for a good one. That a proper education; or, to speak with more precision, a well stored mind, would enable a woman to support a single life with dignity, I grant; but that she should avoid cultivating her taste, lest her husband should occasionally shock it, is quitting a substance for a shadow. To say the truth, I do not know of what use is an improved taste, if [64] the individual is not rendered more inde⯑pendent of the casualties of life; if new sources of enjoyment, only dependent on the solitary operations of the mind, are not opened. People of taste, married or single, without distinction, will ever be disgusted by various things that touch not less observing minds. On this conclusion the argument must not be allowed to hinge; but in the whole sum of enjoyment is taste to be denominated a blessing?

The question is, whether it procures most pain or pleasure? The answer will decide the propriety of Dr. Gregory's advice, and shew how absurd and tyrannic it is thus to lay down a system of slavery; or to attempt to educate moral beings by any other rules than those deduced from pure reason, which apply to the whole species.

Gentleness of manners, forbearance and long-suffering, are such amiable Godlike qualities, that in sublime poetic strains the Deity has been invested with them; and, perhaps, no representation of his goodness so strongly fastens on the human affections as those that represent him abundant in mercy and willing to pardon. Gentleness, consi⯑dered [65] in this point of view, bears on its front all the characteristics of grandeur, combined with the winning graces of condescension; but what a different aspect it assumes when it is the submissive demeanour of dependence, the support of weakness that loves, because it wants protection; and is forbearing, because it must silently endure injuries; smiling under the lash at which it dare not snarl. Abject as this picture appears, it is the portrait of an accom⯑plished woman, according to the received opinion of female excellence, separated by specious reasoners from human excellence. Or, they ^* kindly restore the rib, and make one moral being of a man and woman; not for⯑getting to give her all the 'submissive charms.'

How women are to exist in that state where there is to be neither marrying nor giving in marriage, we are not told. For though mo⯑ralists have agreed that the tenor of life seems to prove that man is prepared by various cir⯑cumstances for a future state, they constantly concur in advising woman only to provide for the present. Gentleness, docility, and a spa⯑niel-like affection are, on this ground, con⯑sistently recommended as the cardinal virtues [66] of the sex; and, disregarding the arbitrary economy of nature, one writer has declared that it is masculine for a woman to be melan⯑choly. She was created to be the toy of man, his rattle, and it must jingle in his ears whenever, dismissing reason, he chooses to be amused.

To recommend gentleness, indeed, on a broad basis is strictly philosophical. A frail being should labour to be gentle. But when forbearance confounds right and wrong, it ceases to be a virtue; and, however conve⯑nient it may be found in a companion—that companion will ever be considered as an infe⯑rior, and only inspire a vapid tenderness, which easily degenerates into contempt. Still, if advice could really make a being gentle, whose natural disposition admitted not of such a fine polish, something towards the advancement of order would be attained; but if, as might quickly be demonstrated, only af⯑fectation be produced by this indiscriminate counsel, which throws a stumbling-block in the way of gradual improvement, and true melio⯑ration of temper, the sex is not much benefit⯑ed by sacrificing solid virtues to the attainment of superficial graces, though for a few years [67] they may procure the individuals regal sway.

As a philosopher, I read with indignation the plausible epithets which men use to soften their insults; and, as a moralist, I ask what is meant by such heterogeneous associations, as fair defects, amiable weaknesses, &c.? If there is but one criterion of morals, but one archetype for man, women appear to be sus⯑pended by destiny, according to the vulgar tale of Mahomet's coffin; they have neither the unerring instinct of brutes, nor are allowed to fix the eye of reason on a perfect model. They were made to be loved, and must not aim at respect, lest they should be hunted out of society as masculine.

But to view the subject in another point of view. Do passive indolent women make the best wives? Confining our discussion to the present moment of existence, let us see how such weak creatures perform their part? Do the women who, by the attainment of a few superficial accomplishments, have strengthened the prevailing prejudice, merely contribute to the happiness of their husbands? Do they dis⯑play their charms merely to amuse them? And have women, who have early imbibed [68] notions of passive obedience, sufficient cha⯑racter to manage a family or educate children? So far from it, that, after surveying the his⯑tory of woman, I cannot help, agreeing with the severest satirist, considering the sex as the weakest as well as the most oppressed half of the species. What does history dis⯑close but marks of inferiority, and how few women have emancipated themselves from the galling yoke of sovereign man?—So few, that the exceptions remind me of an ingeni⯑ous conjecture respecting Newton: that he was probably a being of a superior order, ac⯑cidentally caged in a human body. In the same style I have been led to imagine that the few extraordinary women who have rushed in eccentrical directions out of the orbit pre⯑scribed to their sex, were male spirited, con⯑fined by mistake in a female frame. But if it be not philosophical to think of sex when the soul is mentioned, the inferiority must depend on the organs; or the heavenly fire, which is to ferment the clay, is not given in equal portions.

But avoiding, as I have hitherto done, any direct comparison of the two sexes, col⯑lectively, or frankly acknowledging the in⯑feriority [69] of woman, according to the present appearance of things, I shall only insist that men have increased that inferiority till wo⯑men are almost sunk below the standard of rational creatures. Let their faculties have room to unfold, and their virtues to gain strength, and then determine where the whole sex must stand in the intellectual scale. Yet let it be remembered, that for a small number of distinguished women I do not ask a place.

It is difficult for us purblind mortals to say to what height human discoveries and im⯑provements may arrive when the gloom of des⯑potism subsides, which makes us stumble at every step; but, when morality shall be set⯑tled on a more solid basis, then, without be⯑ing gifted with a prophetic spirit, I will ven⯑ture to predict that woman will be either the friend or slave of man. We shall not, as at present, doubt whether she is a moral agent, or the link which unites man with brutes. But, should it then appear, that like the brutes they were principally created for the use of man, he will let them patiently bite the bridle, and not mock them with empty praise; or, should their rationality be proved, [70] he will not impede their improvement merely to gratify his sensual appetites. He will not, with all the graces of rhetoric, advise them to submit implicitly their understanding to the guidance of man. He will not, when he treats of the education of women, assert that they ought never to have the free use of rea⯑son, nor would he recommend cunning and dissimulation to beings who are acquiring, in like manner as himself, the virtues of hu⯑manity.

Surely there can be but one rule of right, if morality has an eternal foundation, and whoever sacrifices virtue, strictly so called, to present convenience, or whose duty it is to act in such a manner, lives only for the pass⯑ing day, and cannot be an accountable creature.

The poet then should have dropped his sneer when he says,

For that they are bound by the adamantine chain of destiny is most certain, if it be proved that they are never to exercise their own rea⯑son, never to be independent, never to rise [71] above opinion, or to feel the dignity of a rational will that only bows to God, and often forgets that the universe contains any being but itself and the model of perfection to which its ardent gaze is turned, to adore attri⯑butes that, softened into virtues, may be imi⯑tated in kind, though the degree overwhelms the enraptured mind.

If, I say, for I would not impress by de⯑clamation when Reason offers her sober light, if they are really capable of acting like rational creatures, let them not be treated like slaves; or, like the brutes who are dependent on the reason of man, when they associate with him; but cultivate their minds, give them the sa⯑lutary, sublime curb of principle, and let them attain conscious dignity by feeling themselves only dependent on God. Teach them, in common with man, to submit to necessity, instead of giving, to render them more pleas⯑ing, a sex to morals.

Further, should experience prove that they cannot attain the same degree of strength of mind, perseverance, and fortitude, let their virtues be the same in kind, though they may vainly struggle for the same degree; and the superiority of man will be equally clear, if not [72] clearer; and truth, as it is a simple principle, which admits of no modification, would be common to both. Nay, the order of society as it is at present regulated would not be in⯑verted, for woman would then only have the rank that reason assigned her, and arts could not be practised to bring the balance even, much less to turn it.

These may be termed Utopian dreams.— Thanks to that Being who impressed them on my soul, and gave me sufficient strength of mind to dare to exert my own reason, till, becoming dependent only on him for the sup⯑port of my virtue, I view, with indignation, the mistaken notions that enslave my sex.

I love man as my fellow; but his scepter, real, or usurped, extends not to me, unless the reason of an individual demands my ho⯑mage; and even then the submission is to rea⯑son, and not to man. In fact, the conduct of an accountable being must be regulated by the operations of its own reason; or on what foundation rests the throne of God?

It appears to me necessary to dwell on these obvious truths, because females have been insulated, as it were; and, while they have been stripped of the virtues that should clothe [73] humanity, they have been decked with artifi⯑cial graces that enable them to exercise a short-lived tyranny. Love, in their bosoms, taking place of every nobler passion, their sole ambi⯑tion is to be fair, to raise emotion instead of inspiring respect; and this ignoble desire, like the servility in absolute monarchies, destroys all strength of character. Liberty is the mo⯑ther of virtue, and if women are, by their very constitution, slaves, and not allowed to breathe the sharp invigorating air of free⯑dom, they must ever languish like exotics, and be reckoned beautiful flaws in nature;— let it also be remembered, that they are the only flaw.

As to the argument respecting the subjec⯑tion in which the sex has ever been held, it retorts on man. The many have always been enthralled by the few; and monsters, who scarcely have shewn any discernment of hu⯑man excellence, have tyrannized over thou⯑sands of their fellow creatures. Why have men of superiour endowments submitted to such degradation? For, is it not universally acknowledged that kings, viewed collectively, have ever been inferior, in abilities and virtue, to the same number of men taken from the [74] common mass of mankind—yet, have they not, and are they not still treated with a de⯑gree of reverence that is an insult to reason? China is not the only country where a living man has been made a God. Men have sub⯑mitted to superiour strength to enjoy with impunity the pleasure of the moment—wo⯑men have only done the same, and therefore till it is proved that the courtier, who ser⯑vilely resigns the birthright of a man, is not a moral agent, it cannot be demonstrated that woman is essentially inferior to man because she has always been subjugated.

Brutal force has hitherto governed the world, and that the science of politics is in its infancy, is evident from philosophers scru⯑pling to give the knowledge most useful to man that determinate distinction.

I shall not pursue this argument any fur⯑ther than to establish an obvious inference, that as sound politics diffuse liberty, man⯑kind, including woman, will become more wise and virtuous.

CHAP. III. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.

BODILY strength from being the distinction of heroes is now sunk into such unmerited contempt, that men, as well as women, seem to think it unnecessary: the latter, as it takes from their feminine graces, and from that lovely weakness, the source of their undue power; and the former, because it appears inimical with the character of a gentleman.

That they have both by departing from one extreme run into another, may easily be proved; but first it may be proper to observe, that a vulgar error has obtained a degree of credit, which has given force to a false con⯑clusion, in which an effect has been mistaken for a cause.

People of genius have, very frequently, impaired their constitutions by study or care⯑less inattention to their health, and the vio⯑lence of their passions bearing a proportion to the vigour of their intellects, the sword's de⯑stroying [76] the scabbard has become almost pro⯑verbial, and superficial observers have inferred from thence, that men of genius have com⯑monly weak, or, to use a more fashionable phrase, delicate constitutions. Yet the con⯑trary, I believe, will appear to be the fact; for, on diligent inquiry, I find that strength of mind has, in most cases, been accompanied by superior strength of body,—natural sound⯑ness of constitution,—not that robust tone of nerves and vigour of muscles, which arise from bodily labour, when the mind is qui⯑escent, or only directs the hands.

Dr. Priestley has remarked, in the pre⯑face to his biographical chart, that the ma⯑jority of great men have lived beyond forty-five. And, considering the thoughtless man⯑ner in which they have lavished their strength, when investigating a favourite science they have wasted the lamp of life, forgetful of the midnight hour; or, when, lost in poetic dreams, fancy has peopled the scene, and the soul has been disturbed, till it shook the con⯑stitution, by the passions that meditation had raised; whose objects, the baseless fabric of a vision, faded before the exhausted eye, they must have had iron frames. Shakspeare never [77] grasped the airy dagger with a nerveless hand, nor did Milton tremble when he led Satan far from the confines of his dreary prison.— These were not the ravings of imbecility, the sickly effusions of distempered brains; but the exuberance of fancy, that 'in a fine phrenzy' wandering, was not continually re⯑minded of its material shackles.

I am aware that this argument would carry me further than it may be supposed I wish to go; but I follow truth, and, still adhering to my first position, I will allow that bodily strength seems to give man a natural supe⯑riority over woman; and this is the only so⯑lid basis on which the superiority of the sex can be built. But I still insist, that not only the virtue, but the knowledge of the two sexes should be the same in nature, if not in degree, and that women, considered not only as moral, but rational creatures, ought to endeavour to acquire human virtues (or perfections) by the same means as men, instead of being educated like a fanciful kind of half being—one of Rousseau's wild chi⯑meras ^*.

[78]But, if strength of body be, with some shew of reason, the boast of men, why are women so infatuated as to be proud of a de⯑defect? [79] Rousseau has furnished them with a plausible excuse, which could only have oc⯑curred to a man, whose imagination had been allowed to run wild, and refine on the im⯑pressions made by exquisite senses;—that they might, forsooth, have a pretext for yielding to a natural appetite without violat⯑ing [80] a romantic species of modesty, which gratifies the pride and libertinism of man.

Women, deluded by these sentiments, some⯑times boast of their weakness, cunningly ob⯑taining power by playing on the weakness of men; and they may well glory in their illicit sway, for, like Turkish bashaws, they have more real power than their masters: but virtue is sacrificed to temporary gratifica⯑tions, and the respectability of life to the triumph of an hour.

Women, as well as despots, have now, perhaps, more power than they would have if the world, divided and subdivided into kingdoms and families, was governed by laws deduced from the exercise of reason; but in obtaining it, to carry on the compa⯑rison, their character is degraded, and licen⯑tiousness spread through the whole aggregate of society. The many become pedestal to the few. I, therefore, will venture to as⯑sert, that till women are more rationally educated, the progress of human virtue and improvement in knowledge must receive con⯑tinual checks. And if it be granted that wo⯑man was not created merely to gratify the appetite of man, nor to be the upper servant, who provides his meals and takes care of his [81] linen, it must follow, that the first care of those mothers or fathers, who really attend to the education of females, should be, if not to strengthen the body, at least, not to destroy the constitution by mistaken notions of beauty and female excellence; nor should girls ever be allowed to imbibe the pernicious notion that a defect can, by any chemical process of reasoning, become an excellence. In this respect, I am happy to find, that the author of one of the most instructive books, that our country has produced for children, coincides with me in opinion; I shall quote his pertinent remarks to give the force of his respectable authority to reason ^*.

[82]But should it be proved that woman is natu⯑rally weaker than man, from whence does it follow that it is natural for her to labour to be⯑come still weaker than nature intended her to be? Arguments of this cast are an insult to [83] common sense, and savour of passion. The divine right of husbands, like the divine right of kings, may, it is to be hoped, in this en⯑lightened age, be contested without danger, and, though conviction may not silence many boisterous disputants, yet, when any pre⯑vailing prejudice is attacked, the wise will consider, and leave the narrow-minded to rail with thoughtless vehemence at innovation.

The mother, who wishes to give true dig⯑nity of character to her daughter, must, re⯑gardless of the sneers of ignorance, proceed on a plan diametrically opposite to that which Rousseau has recommended with all the de⯑luding charms of eloquence and philosophical sophistry: for his eloquence renders absurdi⯑ties plausible, and his dogmatic conclusions puzzle, without convincing, those who have not ability to refute them.

Throughout the whole animal kingdom every young creature requires almost conti⯑nual exercise, and the infancy of children, conformable to this intimation, should be passed in harmless gambols, that exercise the feet and hands, without requiring very minute direction from the head, or the constant at⯑tention of a nurse. In fact, the care neces⯑sary [84] for self-preservation is the first natural exercise of the understanding, as little inven⯑tions to amuse the present moment unfold the imagination. But these wife designs of nature are counteracted by mistaken fondness or blind zeal. The child is not left a mo⯑ment to its own direction, particularly a girl, and thus rendered dependent—dependence is called natural.

To preserve personal beauty, woman's glory! the limbs and faculties are cramped with worse than Chinese bands, and the sedentary life which they are condemned to live, whilst boys frolic in the open air, weakens the muscles and relaxes the nerves. —As for Rousseau's remarks, which have since been echoed by several writers, that they have naturally, that is from their birth, independent of education, a fondness for dolls, dressing, and talking—they are so puerile as not to merit a serious refutation. That a girl, condemned to sit for hours together listening to the idle chat of weak nurses, or to attend at her mother's toilet, will endeavour to join the conversation, is, indeed, very natural; and that she will imitate her mother or aunts, and amuse herself by adorning her lifeless [85] doll, as they do in dressing her, poor inno⯑cent babe! is undoubtedly a most natural consequence. For men of the greatest abi⯑lities have seldom had sufficient strength to rise above the surrounding atmosphere; and, if the page of genius has always been blurred by the prejudices of the age, some allowance should be made for a sex, who, like kings, always see things through a false medium.

In this manner may the fondness for dress, conspicuous in women, be easily accounted for, without supposing it the result of a de⯑sire to please the sex on which they are de⯑pendent. The absurdity, in short, of sup⯑posing that a girl is naturally a coquette, and that a desire connected with the impulse of nature to propagate the species, should ap⯑pear even before an improper education has, by heating the imagination, called it forth prematurely, is so unphilosophical, that such a sagacious observer as Rousseau would not have adopted it, if he had not been accus⯑tomed to make reason give way to his desire of singularity, and truth to a favourite paradox.

Yet thus to give a sex to mind was not very consistent with the principles of a man who argued so warmly, and so well, for the [86] immortality of the soul.—But what a weak barrier is truth when it stands in the way of an hypothesis! Rousseau respected—al⯑most adored virtue—and yet he allowed himself to love with sensual fondness. His imagination constantly prepared inflammable fewel for his inflammable senses; but, in order to reconcile his respect for self-denial, fortitude, and those heroic virtues, which a mind like his could not coolly admire, he labours to invert the law of nature, and broaches a doctrine pregnant with mischief and derogatory to the character of supreme wisdom.

His ridiculous stories, which tend to prove that girls are naturally attentive to their per⯑sons, without laying any stress on daily ex⯑ample, are below contempt.—And that a little miss should have such a correct taste as to neglect the pleasing amusement of making O's, merely because she perceived that it was an ungraceful attitude, should be selected with the anecdotes of the learned pig ^*.

[87]I have, probably, had an opportunity of observing more girls in their infancy than J. J. Rousseau—I can recollect my own feel⯑ings, and I have looked steadily around me; yet, so far from coinciding with him in opi⯑nion respecting the first dawn of the female character, I will venture to affirm, that a girl, whose spirits have not been damped by inactivity, or innocence tainted by false shame, will always be a romp, and the dolls will never excite attention unless confinement al⯑lows her no alternative. Girls and boys, in short, would play harmlessly together, if the distinction of sex was not inculcated long be⯑fore nature makes any difference.—I will go further, and affirm, as an indisputable fact, that most of the women, in the circle of my [88] observation, who have acted like rational creatures, or shewn any vigour of intellect, have accidentally been allowed to run wild— as some of the elegant formers of the fair sex would insinuate.

The baneful consequences which flow from inattention to health during infancy, and youth, extend further than is supposed— dependence of body naturally produces depen⯑dence of mind; and how can she be a good wife or mother, the greater part of whose time is employed to guard against or endure sickness? Nor can it be expected that a wo⯑man will resolutely endeavour to strengthen her constitution and abstain from enervating indulgencies, if artificial notions of beauty, and false descriptions of sensibility, have been early entangled with her motives of action. Most men are sometimes obliged to bear with bodily inconveniencies, and to endure, occa⯑sionally, the inclemency of the elements; but genteel women are, literally speaking, slaves to their bodies, and glory in their sub⯑jection.

I once knew a weak woman of fashion, who was more than commonly proud of her delicacy and sensibility. She thought a dis⯑tinguishing [89] taste and puny appetite the height of all human perfection, and acted accord⯑ingly.—I have seen this weak sophisticated being neglect all the duties of life, yet re⯑cline with self-complacency on a sofa, and boast of her want of appetite as a proof of de⯑licacy that extended to, or, perhaps, arose from, her exquisite sensibility: for it is diffi⯑cult to render intelligible such ridiculous jar⯑gon.—Yet, at the moment, I have seen her insult a worthy old gentlewoman, whom un⯑expected misfortunes had made dependent on her ostentatious bounty, and who, in better days, had claims on her gratitude. Is it possible that a human creature could have become such a weak and depraved being, if, like the Sybarites, dissolved in luxury, every thing like virtue had not been worn away, or never impressed by precept, a poor substi⯑tute, it is true, for cultivation of mind, though it serves as a fence against vice?

Such a woman is not a more irrational mon⯑ster than some of the Roman emperors, who were depraved by lawless power. Yet, since kings have been more under the restraint of law, and the curb, however weak, of ho⯑nour, the records of history are not filled with [90] such unnatural instances of folly and cruelty, nor does the despotism that kills virtue and genius in the bud, hover over Europe with that destructive blast which desolates Turky, and renders the men, as well as the soil, unfruitful.

Women are every where in this deplorable state; for, in order to preserve their innocence, as ignorance is courteously termed, truth is hidden from them, and they are made to as⯑sume an artificial character before their facul⯑ties have acquired any strength. Taught from their infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes itself to the body, and, roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to adorn its prison. Men have various em⯑ployments and pursuits which engage their attention, and give a character to the open⯑ing mind; but women, confined to one, and having their thoughts constantly directed to the most insignificant part of themselves, sel⯑dom extend their views beyond the triumph of the hour. But was their understanding once emancipated from the slavery to which the pride and sensuality of man and their short-sighted desire, like that of dominion in tyrants, of present sway, has subjected them, [91] we should probably read of their weaknesses with surprise. I must be allowed to pursue the argument a little farther.

Perhaps, if the existence of an evil being was allowed, who, in the allegorial language of scripture, went about seeking whom he should devour, he could not more effectually degrade the human character than by giving a man absolute power.

This argument branches into various rami⯑fications.—Birth, riches, and every extrinsic advantage that exalt a man above his fellows, without any mental exertion, sink him in reality below them. In proportion to his weakness, he is played upon by designing men, till the bloated monster has lost all traces of humanity. And that tribes of men, like flocks of sheep, should quietly follow such a leader, is a solecism that only a de⯑sire of present enjoyment and narrowness of understanding can solve. Educated in slavish dependence, and enervated by luxury and sloth, where shall we find men who will stand forth to assert the rights of man;—or claim the privilege of moral be⯑ings, who should have but one road to excellence? Slavery to monarchs and minis⯑ters, [92] which the world will be long in freeing itself from, and whose deadly grasp stops the progress of the human mind, is not yet abolished.

Let not men then in the pride of power, use the same arguments that tyrannic kings and venal ministers have used, and fallaci⯑ously assert that woman ought to be subject⯑ed because she has always been so.—But, when man, governed by reasonable laws, en⯑joys his natural freedom, let him despise woman, if she do not share it with him; and, till that glorious period arrives, in de⯑scanting on the folly of the sex, let him not overlook his own.

Women, it is true, obtaining power by unjust means, by practising or fostering vice, evidently lose the rank which reason would assign them, and they become either abject slaves or capricious tyrants. They lose all simplicity, all dignity of mind, in acquiring power, and act as men are observed to act when they have been exalted by the same means.

It is time to effect a revolution in female manners—time to restore to them their lost dignity—and make them, as a part of the [93] human species, labour by reforming them⯑selves to reform the world. It is time to separate unchangeable morals from local man⯑ners.—If men be demi-gods—why let us serve them! And if the dignity of the female soul be as disputable as that of animals—if their reason does not afford sufficient light to di⯑rect their conduct whilst unerring instinct is de⯑nied—they are surely of all creatures the most miserable! and, bent beneath the iron hand of destiny, must submit to be a fair defect in creation. But to justify the ways of Provi⯑dence respecting them, by pointing out some irrefragable reason for thus making such a large portion of mankind accountable and not accountable, would puzzle the subtilest casuist.

The only solid foundation for morality appears to be the character of the supreme Being; the harmony of which arises from a balance of attributes;—and, to speak with reverence, one attribute seems to imply the necessity of another. He must be just, because he is wise, he must be good, because he is omnipotent. For to exalt one attribute at the expence of another equally noble and necessary, bears the stamp of the warped [94] reason of man—the homage of passion. Man, accustomed to bow down to power in his sa⯑vage state, can seldom divest himself of this barbarous prejudice, even when civilization determines how much superior mental is to bodily strength; and his reason is clouded by these crude opinions, even when he thinks of the Deity.—His omnipotence is made to swallow up, or preside over his other attri⯑butes, and those mortals are supposed to limit his power irreverently, who think that it must be regulated by his wisdom.

I disclaim that specious humility which, after investigating nature, stops at the author. —The High and Lofty One, who inhabiteth eternity, doubtless possesses many attributes of which we can form no conception; but reason tells me that they cannot clash with those I adore—and I am compelled to listen to her voice.

It seems natural for man to search for ex⯑cellence, and either to trace it in the object that he worships, or blindly to invest it with perfection, as a garment. But what good effect can the latter mode of worship have on the moral conduct of a rational being? He bends to power; he adores a dark cloud, [95] which may open a bright prospect to him, or burst in angry, lawless fury, on his devoted head—he knows not why. And, supposing that the Deity acts from the vague impulse of an undirected will, man must also follow his own, or act according to rules, deduced from principles which he disclaims as irreve⯑rent. Into this dilemma have both enthu⯑siasts and cooler thinkers fallen, when they laboured to free men from the wholesome restraints which a just conception of the cha⯑racter of God imposes.

It is not impious thus to scan the attributes of the Almighty: in fact, who can avoid it that exercises his faculties? For to love God as the fountain of wisdom, goodness, and power, appears to be the only worship use⯑ful to a being who wishes to acquire either virtue or knowledge. A blind unsettled af⯑fection may; like human passions, occupy the mind and warm the heart, whilst, to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God, is forgotten. I shall pursue this subject still further, when I consider reli⯑gion in a light opposite to that recommended by Dr. Gregory, who treats it as a matter of sentiment or taste.

[96]To return from this apparent digression. It were to be wished that women would che⯑rish an affection for their husbands, founded on the same principle that devotion ought to rest upon. No other firm base is there under heaven—for let them beware of the fallacious light of sentiment; too often used as a softer phrase for sensuality. It follows then, I think, that from their infancy women should either be shut up like eastern princes, or educated in such a manner as to be able to think and act for themselves.

Why do men halt between two opinions, and expect impossibilities? Why do they ex⯑pect virtue from a slave, from a being whom the constitution of civil society has rendered weak, if not vicious?

Still I know that it will require a considerable length of time to eradicate the firmly rooted pre⯑judices which sensualists have planted; it will also require some time to convince women that they act contrary to their real interest on an enlarged scale, when they cherish or affect weakness under the name of delicacy, and to convince the world that the poisoned source of female vices and follies, if it be necessary, in compliance with custom, to use syno⯑nymous [97] terms in a lax sense, has been the sensual homage paid to beauty:—to beauty of features; for it has been shrewdly observed by a German writer, that a pretty woman, as an object of desire, is generally allowed to be so by men of all descriptions; whilst a fine woman, who inspires more sublime emotions by displaying intellectual beauty, may be over⯑looked or observed with indifference, by those men who find their happiness in the gratifi⯑cation of their appetites. I foresee an obvi⯑ous retort—whilst man remains such an im⯑perfect being as he appears hitherto to have been, he will, more or less, be the slave of his appetites; and those women obtaining most power who gratify a predominant one, the sex is degraded by a physical, if not by a moral necessity.

This objection has, I grant, some force; but while such a sublime precept exists, as, 'be pure as your heavenly Father is pure;' it would seem that the virtues of man are not limited by the Being who alone could limit them; and that he may press forward with⯑out considering whether he steps out of his sphere by indulging such a noble ambition. To the wild billows it has been said, ‘thus far [98] shalt thou go, and no further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.’ Vainly then do they beat and foam, restrained by the power that confines the struggling planets in their orbits, matter yields to the great governing Spirit.—But an immortal soul, not restrained by mechanical laws and struggling to free itself from the shackles of matter, contributes to, instead of disturbing, the order of creation, when, co-operating with the Father of spirits, it tries to govern itself by the invariable rule that, in a degree, before which our imagi⯑nation faints, the universe is regulated.

Besides, if women are educated for depend⯑ence; that is, to act according to the will of another fallible being, and submit, right or wrong, to power, where are we to stop? Are they to be considered as vicegerents al⯑lowed to reign over a small domain, and an⯑swerable for their conduct to a higher tri⯑bunal, liable to error?

It will not be difficult to prove that such delegates will act like men subjected by fear, and make their children and servants endure their tyrannical oppression. As they submit without reason, they will, having no fixed rules to square their conduct by, be kind, or [99] cruel, just as the whim of the moment directs; and we ought not to wonder if some⯑times, galled by their heavy yoke, they take a malignant pleasure in resting it on weaker shoulders.

But, supposing a woman, trained up to obedience, be married to a sensible man, who directs her judgment without making her feel the servility of her subjection, to act with as much propriety by this reflected light as can be expected when reason is taken at second hand, yet she cannot ensure the life of her protector; he may die and leave her with a large family.

A double duty devolves on her; to edu⯑cate them in the character of both father and mother; to form their principles and secure their property. But, alas! she has never thought, much less acted for herself. She has only learned to please ^* men, to depend [100] gracefully on them; yet, encumbered with children, how is she to obtain another pro⯑tector—a husband to supply the place of rea⯑son? A rational man, for we are not treading on romantic ground, though he may think her a pleasing docile creature, will not choose to marry a family for love, when the world [101] contains many more pretty creatures. What is then to become of her? She either falls an easy prey to some mean fortune-hunter, who defrauds her children of their paternal inhe⯑ritance, and renders her miserable; or be⯑comes the victim of discontent and blind in⯑dulgence. Unable to educate her sons, or impress them with respect; for it is not a play on words to assert, that people are never respected, though filling an important station, who are not respectable; she pines under the anguish of unavailing impotent regret. The serpent's tooth enters into her very soul, and the vices of licentious youth bring her with sorrow, if not with poverty also, to the grave.

This is not an overcharged picture; on the contrary, it is a very possible case, and some⯑thing similar must have fallen under every at⯑tentive eye.

I have, however, taken it for granted, that she was well-disposed, though experience shews, that the blind may as easily be led into a ditch as along the beaten road. But sup⯑posing, no very improbable conjecture, that a being only taught to please must still find her happiness in pleasing;—what an example of folly, not to say vice, will she be to her [102] innocent daughters! The mother will be lost in the coquette, and, instead of making friends of her daughters, view them with eyes askance, for they are rivals—rivals more cruel than any other, because they invite a comparison, and drive her from the throne of beauty, who has never thought of a seat on the bench of reason.

It does not require a lively pencil, or the discriminating outline of a caricature, to sketch the domestic miseries and petty vices which such a mistress of a family diffuses. Still she only acts as a woman ought to act, brought up according to Rousseau's system. She can never be reproached for being mascu⯑line, or turning out of her sphere; nay, she may observe another of his grand rules, and cautiously preserving her reputation free from spot, be reckoned a good kind of woman. Yet in what respect can she be termed good? She abstains, it is true, without any great struggle, from committing gross crimes; but how does she fulfil her duties? Duties!—in truth she has enough to think of to adorn her body and nurse a weak constitution.

With respect to religion, she never pre⯑sumed to judge for herself; but conformed, as a [103] dependent creature should, to the ceremonies of the church which she was brought up in, piously believing that wiser heads than her own have settled that business:—and not to doubt is her point of perfection. She there⯑fore pays her tythe of mint and cummin— and thanks her God that she is not as other women are. These are the blessed effects of a good education! These the virtues of man's help-mate^*!

I must relieve myself by drawing a dif⯑ferent picture.

Let fancy now present a woman with a tolerable understanding, for I do not wish to leave the line of mediocrity, whose consti⯑tution, strengthened by exercise, has allowed her body to acquire its full vigour; her mind, at the same time, gradually expanding [104] itself to comprehend the moral duties of life, and in what human virtue and dignity consist.

Formed thus by the discharge of the re⯑lative duties of her station, she marries from affection, without losing sight of prudence, and looking beyond matrimonial felicity, she secures her husband's respect before it is neces⯑sary to exert mean arts to please him and feed a dying flame, which nature doomed to ex⯑pire when the object became familiar, when friendship and forbearance take place of a more ardent affection.—This is the natural death of love, and domestic peace is not de⯑stroyed by struggles to prevent its extinction. I also suppose the husband to be virtuous; or she is still more in want of independent principles.

Fate, however, breaks this tie.—She is left a widow, perhaps, without a sufficient provision; but she is not desolate! The pang of nature is felt; but after time has softened sorrow into melancholy resignation, her heart turns to her children with redoubled fondness, and anxious to provide for them, affection gives a sacred heroic cast to her maternal du⯑ties. She thinks that not only the eye sees her virtuous efforts from whom all her com⯑fort [105] now must flow, and whose approbation is life; but her imagination, a little abstracted and exalted by grief, dwells on the fond hope that the eyes which her trembling hand closed, may still see how she subdues every wayward passion to fulfil the double duty of being the father as well as the mother of her children. Raised to heroism by mis⯑fortunes, she represses the first faint dawning of a natural inclination, before it ripens into love, and in the bloom of life forgets her sex —forgets the pleasure of an awakening pas⯑sion, which might again have been inspired and returned. She no longer thinks of pleas⯑ing, and conscious dignity prevents her from priding herself on account of the praise which her conduct demands. Her children have her love, and her brightest hopes are beyond the grave, where her imagination often strays.

I think I see her surrounded by her chil⯑dren, reaping the reward of her care. The intelligent eye meets hers, whilst health and innocence smile on their chubby cheeks, and as they grow up the cares of life are lessened by their grateful attention. She lives to see the virtues which she endeavoured to plant on principles, fixed into habits, to see her [106] children attain a strength of character suffi⯑cient to enable them to endure adversity with⯑out forgetting their mother's example.

The task of life thus fulfilled, she calmly waits for the sleep of death, and rising from the grave, may say—Behold, thou gavest me a talent—and here are five talents.

I wish to sum up what I have said in a few words, for I here throw down my gauntlet, and deny the existence of sexual virtues, not excepting modesty. For man and woman, truth, if I understand the meaning of the word, must be the same; yet the fanciful female character, so prettily drawn by poets and novelists, demanding the sacrifice of truth and sincerity, virtue becomes a relative idea, having no other foundation than utility, and of that utility men pretend arbitrarily to judge, shaping it to their own convenience.

Women, I allow, may have different du⯑ties to fulfil; but they are human duties, and the principles that should regulate the dis⯑charge of them, I sturdily maintain, must be the same.

[107]To become respectable, the exercise of their understanding is necessary, there is no other foundation for independence of character; I mean explicitly to say that they must only bow to the authority of reason, instead of being the modest slaves of opinion.

In the superiour ranks of life how seldom do we meet with a man of superiour abili⯑ties, or even common acquirements? The reason appears to me clear, the state they are born in was an unnatural one. The human character has ever been formed by the employments the individual, or class, pur⯑sues; and if the faculties are not sharpened by necessity, they must remain obtuse. The argument may fairly be extended to women; for, seldom occupied by serious business, the pursuit of pleasure gives that insignificancy to their character which renders the society of the great so insipid. The same want of firmness, produced by a similar cause, forces them both to fly from themselves to noisy pleasures, and artificial passions, till vanity takes place of every social affection, and the characteristics of humanity can scarcely be discerned. Such are the blessings of civil governments, as they are at present or⯑ganized, [108] that wealth and female softness equally tend to debase mankind, and are pro⯑duced by the same cause; but allowing wo⯑men to be rational creatures, they should be incited to acquire virtues which they may call their own, for how can a rational being be ennobled by any thing that is not obtained by its own exertions?

CHAP. IV. OBSERVATIONS ON THE STATE OF DEGRA⯑DATION TO WHICH WOMAN IS REDUCED BY VARIOUS CAUSES.

THAT woman is naturally weak, or de⯑graded by a concurrence of circumstances, is, I think, clear. But this position I shall simply contrast with a conclusion, which I have frequently heard fall from sensible men in favour of an aristocracy: that the mass of mankind cannot be any thing, or the obsequious slaves, who patiently allow themselves to be penned up, would feel their own consequence, and spurn their chains. Men, they further observe, submit every where to oppression, when they have only to lift up their heads to throw off the yoke; yet, instead of asserting their birthright, they quietly lick the dust, and say, let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. Women, I argue from analogy, are degraded by the same propensity to enjoy the present moment; and, at last, despise the [110] freedom which they have not sufficient vir⯑tue to struggle to attain. But I must be more explicit.

With respect to the culture of the heart, it is unanimously allowed that sex is out of the question; but the line of subordination in the mental powers is never to be passed over ^*. Only 'absolute in loveliness,' the portion of rationality granted to woman, is, indeed, very scanty; for, denying her genius and judgment, it is scarcely possible to divine what remains to characterize intellect.

The stamina of immortality, if I may be allowed the phrase, is the perfectibility of human reason; for, was man created perfect, or did a flood of knowledge break in upon [111] him, when he arrived at maturity, that pre⯑cluded error, I should doubt whether his existence would be continued after the disso⯑lution of the body. But, in the present state of things, every difficulty in morals that escapes from human discussion, and equally baffles the investigation of profound think⯑ing, and the lightning glance of genius, is an argument on which I build my belief of the immortality of the soul. Reason is, conse⯑quentially, the simple power of improvement; or, more properly speaking, of discerning truth. Every individual is in this respect a world in itself. More or less may be con⯑spicuous in one being than another; but the nature of reason must be the same in all, if it be an emanation of divinity, the tie that connects the creature with the Creator; for, can that soul be stamped with the heavenly image, that is not perfected by the exercise of its own reason ^*? Yet outwardly ornamented with elaborate care, and so adorned to delight man, 'that with honour he may love ^†,' the [112] soul of woman is not allowed to have this distinction, and man, ever placed between her and reason, she is always represented as only created to see through a gross medium, and to take things on trust. But, dismissing these fanciful theories, and considering wo⯑man as a whole, let it be what it will, in⯑stead of a part of man, the inquiry is whe⯑ther she has reason or not. If she has, which, for a moment, I will take for granted, she was not created merely to be the solace of man, and the sexual should not destroy the human character.

Into this error men have, probably, been led by viewing education in a false light; not considering it as the first step to form a being advancing gradually towards perfection ^*; but only as a preparation for life. On this sen⯑sual error, for I must call it so, has the false system of female manners been reared, which robs the whole sex of its dignity, and classes the brown and fair with the smiling flowers that only adorns the land. This has ever been the language of men, and the fear of [113] departing from a supposed sexual character, has made even women of superiour sense adopt the same sentiments ^*. Thus under⯑standing, strictly speaking, has been denied to woman; and instinct, sublimated into wit [114] and cunning, for the purposes of life, has been substituted in its stead.

The power of generalizing ideas, of draw⯑ing comprehensive conclusions from indivi⯑dual observations, is the only acquirement, for an immortal being, that really deserves the name of knowledge. Merely to observe, without endeavouring to account for any thing, may (in a very incomplete manner) serve as the common sense of life; but where is the store laid up that is to clothe the soul when it leaves the body?

This power has not only been denied to women; but writers have insisted that it is inconsistent, with a few exceptions, with their sexual character. Let men prove this, and I shall grant that woman only exists for man. I must, however, previously remark, that the power of generalizing ideas, to any great extent, is not very common amongst men or women. But this exercise is the true cultivation of the understanding; and every thing conspires to render the cultiva⯑tion of the understanding more difficult in the female than the male world.

I am naturally led by this assertion to the main subject of the present chapter, and shall [115] now attempt to point out some of the causes that degrade the sex, and prevent women from generalizing their observations.

I shall not go back to the remote annals of antiquity to trace the history of woman; it is sufficient to allow that she has always been either a slave, or a despot, and to remark, that each of these situations equally retard the progress of reason. The grand source of female folly and vice has ever appeared to me to arise from narrowness of mind; and the very constitution of civil governments has put almost insuperable obstacles in the way to prevent the cultivation of the female under⯑standing:—yet virtue can be built on no other foundation! The same obstacles are thrown in the way of the rich, and the same conse⯑quences ensue.

Necessity has been proverbially termed the mother of invention—the aphorism may be ex⯑tended to virtue. It is an acquirement, and an acquirement to which pleasure must be sacrificed —and who sacrifices pleasure when it is within the grasp, whose mind has not been opened and strengthened by adversity, or the pursuit of knowledge goaded on by necessity?—Happy [116] is it when people have the cares of life to struggle with; for these struggles prevent their becoming a prey to enervating vices, merely from idleness! But, if from their birth men and women are placed in a torrid zone, with the meridian sun of pleasure dart⯑ing directly upon them, how can they suffi⯑ciently brace their minds to discharge the du⯑ties of life, or even to relish the affections that carry them out of themselves?

Pleasure is the business of woman's life, ac⯑cording to the present modification of society, and while it continues to be so, little can be expected from such weak beings. Inheriting, in a lineal descent from the first fair defect in nature, the sovereignty of beauty, they have, to maintain their power, resigned the natural rights, which the exercise of reason might have procured them, and chosen rather to be short-lived queens than labour to obtain the sober pleasures that arise from equality. Ex⯑alted by their inferiority (this sounds like a contradiction), they constantly demand ho⯑mage as women, though experience should teach them that the men who pride them⯑selves upon paying this arbitrary insolent re⯑spect to the sex, with the most scrupulous [117] exactness, are most inclined to tyrannize over, and despise, the very weakness they cherish. Often do they repeat Mr. Hume's senti⯑ments; when, comparing the French and Athenian character, he alludes to women. ‘But what is more singular in this whimsical nation, say I to the Athenians, is, that a frolick of yours during the Saturnalia, when the slaves are served by their masters, is, seri⯑ously continued by them through the whole year, and through the whole course of their lives; accompanied too with some circum⯑stances, which still further augment the absurdity and ridicule. Your sport only elevates for a few days those whom fortune has thrown down, and whom she too, in sport, may really elevate for ever above you. But this nation gravely exalts those, whom nature has subjected to them, and whose inferiority and infirmities are abso⯑lutely incurable. The women, though without virtue, are their masters and so⯑vereigns.’

Ah! why do women, I write with affec⯑tionate solicitude, condescend to receive a degree of attention and respect from strangers, different from that reciprocation of civility [118] which the dictates of humanity and the po⯑liteness of civilization authorise between man and man? And, why do they not discover, when 'in the noon of beauty's power,' that they are treated like queens only to be deluded by hollow respect, till they are led to resign, or not assume, their natural prerogatives? Confined then in cages like the feathered race, they have nothing to do but to plume themselves, and stalk with mock majesty from perch to perch. It is true they are pro⯑vided with food and raiment, for which they neither toil nor spin; but health, liberty, and virtue, are given in exchange. But, where, amongst mankind has been found sufficient strength of mind to enable a being to re⯑sign these adventitious prerogatives; one who, rising with the calm dignity of reason above opinion, dared to be proud of the privileges inherent in man? And it is vain to expect it whilst hereditary power chokes the affec⯑tions and nips reason in the bud.

The passions of men have thus placed wo⯑men on thrones, and, till mankind become more reasonable, it is to be feared that wo⯑men will avail themselves of the power which they attain with the least exertion, and which [119] is the most indisputable. They will smile, —yes, they will smile, though told that—

But the adoration comes first, and the scorn is not anticipated.

Lewis the XIVth, in particular, spread fac⯑titious manners, and caught, in a specious way, the whole nation in his toils; for, esta⯑blishing an artful chain of despotism, he made it the interest of the people at large, indivi⯑dually to respect his station and support his power. And women, whom he flattered by a puerile attention to the whole sex, ob⯑tained in his reign that prince-like distinction so fatal to reason and virtue.

A king is always a king—and a woman always a woman ^*: his authority and her sex, ever stand between them and rational converse. With a lover, I grant, she should be so, and her sensibility will naturally lead her to endeavour to excite emotion, not to gratify [120] her vanity, but her heart. This I do not allow to be coquetry, it is the artless impulse of nature, I only exclaim against the sexual desire of conquest when the heart is out of the question.

This desire is not confined to women; ‘I have endeavoured, says Lord Chesterfield, to gain the hearts of twenty women, whose persons I would not have given a fig for.’ The libertine, who, in a gust of passion, takes advantage of unsuspecting tenderness, is a saint when compared with this cold-hearted rascal; for I like to use significant words. Yet only taught to please, women are always on the watch to please, and with true heroic ardour endeavour to gain hearts merely to resign, or spurn them, when the victory is decided, and conspicuous.

I must descend to the minutiae of the subject.

I lament that women are systematically degraded by receiving the trivial attentions, which men think it manly to pay to the sex, when, in fact, they are insultingly support⯑ing their own superiority. It is not conde⯑scension to bow to an inferior. So ludicrous, in fact, do these ceremonies appear to me, [121] that I scarcely am able to govern [...] mus⯑cles, when I see a man start with [...], and serious solicitude to lift a handkerchief, or shut a door, when the lady could have done it herself, had she only moved a pace or two.

A wild wish has just flown from my heart to my head, and I will not stifle it though it may excite a horse-laugh.—I do earnestly wish to see the distinction of sex confounded in society, unless where love animates the behaviour. For this distinction is, I am firmly persuaded, the foundation of the weak⯑ness of character ascribed to woman; is the cause why the understanding is neglected, whilst accomplishments are acquired with sedulous care: and the same cause accounts for their preferring the graceful before the heroic virtues.

Mankind, including every description, wish to be loved and respected for something; and the common herd will always take the nearest road to the completion of their wishes. The respect paid to wealth and beauty is the most certain, and unequivocal; and, of course, will always attract the vulgar eye of com⯑mon minds. Abilities and virtues are abso⯑lutely necessary to raise men from the middle [122] rank of life into notice; and the natural con⯑sequence is notorious, the middle rank con⯑tains most virtue and abilities. Men have thus, in one station, at least, an opportunity of exerting themselves with dignity, and of rising by the exertions which really improve a rational creature; but the whole female sex are, till their character is formed, in the same condition as the rich: for they are born, I now speak of a state of civilization, with cer⯑tain sexual privileges, and whilst they are gratuitously granted them, few will ever think of works of supererogation, to obtain the esteem of a small number of superiour people.

When do we hear of women who, start⯑ing out of obscurity, boldly claim respect on account of their great abilities or daring vir⯑tues? Where are they to be found?— ‘To be observed, to be attended to, to be taken no⯑tice of with sympathy, complacency, and approbation, are all the advantages which they seek.’ —True! my male readers will probably exclaim; but let them, before they draw any conclusion, recollect that this was not written originally as descriptive of wo⯑men, but of the rich. In Dr. Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, I have found a [123] general character of people of rank and for⯑tune, that, in my opinion, might with the greatest propriety be applied to the female sex. I refer the sagacious reader to the whole comparison; but must be allowed to quote a passage to enforce an argument that I mean to insist on, as the one most conclusive against a sexual character. For if, excepting war⯑riors, no great men, of any denomination, have ever appeared amongst the nobility, may it not be fairly inferred that their local situa⯑tion swallowed up the man, and produced a character similar to that of women, who are locallized, if I may be allowed the word, by the rank they are placed in, by courtesy? Women, commonly called Ladies, are not to be contradicted in company, are not al⯑lowed to exert any manual strength; and from them the negative virtues only are ex⯑pected, when any virtues are expected, pa⯑tience, docility, good-humour, and flexibility; virtues incompatible with any vigorous exertion of intellect. Besides, by living more with each other, and being seldom absolutely alone, they are more under the influence of sentiments than passions. Solitude and reflection are necessary to give to wishes the force of passions, and to [124] enable the imagination to enlarge the object, and make it the most desirable. The same may be said of the rich; they do not sufficiently deal in general ideas, collected by impassioned thinking, or calm investigation, to acquire that strength of character on which great re⯑solves are built. But hear what an acute observer says of the great.

‘Do the great seem insensible of the easy price at which they may acquire the publick admiration; or do they seem to imagine that to them, as to other men, it must be the purchase either of sweat or of blood? By what important accomplishments is the young nobleman instructed to support the dignity of his rank, and to render himself worthy of that superiority over his fellow-citizens, to which the virtue of his ances⯑tors had raised them? Is it by knowledge, by industry, by patience, by self-denial, or by virtue of any kind? As all his words, as all his motions are attended to, he learns an habitual regard to every circumstance of ordinary behaviour, and studies to perform all those small duties with the most exact propriety. As he is conscious how much he is observed, and how much mankind are [125] disposed to favour all his inclinations, he acts, upon the most indifferent occasions, with that freedom and elevation which the thought of this naturally inspires. His air, his manner, his deportment, all mark that elegant and graceful sense of his own su⯑periority, which those who are born to infe⯑rior station can hardly ever arrive at. These are the arts by which he proposes to make mankind more easily submit to his autho⯑rity, and to govern their inclinations ac⯑cording to his own pleasure: and in this he is seldom disappointed. These arts, sup⯑ported by rank and pre-eminence, are, upon ordinary occasions, sufficient to govern the world. Lewis XIV. during the greater part of his reign, was regarded, not only in France, but over all Europe, as the most perfect model of a great prince. But what were the talents and virtues by which he acquired this great reputation? Was it by the scrupulous and inflexible justice of all his undertakings, by the immense dangers and difficulties with which they were at⯑tended, or by the unwearied and unrelent⯑ing application with which he pursued them? Was it by his extensive knowledge, [126] by his exquisite judgment, or by his heroic valour? It was by none of these qualities. But he was, first of all, the most powerful prince in Europe, and consequently held the highest rank among kings; and then, says his historian, ‘he surpassed all his cour⯑tiers in the gracefulness of his shape, and the majestic beauty of his features. The sound of his voice, noble and affecting, gained those hearts which his presence intimidated. He had a step and a deport⯑ment which could suit only him and his rank, and which would have been ridicu⯑lous in any other person. The embarrass⯑ment which he occasioned to those who spoke to him, flattered that secret satis⯑faction with which he felt his own supe⯑riority.’ These frivolous accomplish⯑ments, supported by his rank, and, no doubt too, by a degree of other talents and virtues, which seems, however, not to have been much above mediocrity, esta⯑blished this prince in the esteem of his own age, and have drawn, even from posterity; a good deal of respect for his memory. Compared with these, in his own times, and in his own presence, no other virtue, [127] it seems, appeared to have any merit. Knowledge, industry, valour, and benefi⯑cence, trembled, were abashed, and lost all dignity before them.’

Woman also thus 'in herself complete,' by possessing all these frivolous accomplishments, so changes the nature of things

And all this is built on her loveliness!

In the middle rank of life, to continue the comparison, men, in their youth, are pre⯑pared for professions, and marriage is not con⯑sidered as the grand feature in their lives; whilst women, on the contrary, have no other scheme to sharpen their faculties. It is not business, extensive plans, or any of the excursive flights of ambition, that engross their attention; no, their thoughts are not employed in rearing such noble structures. To rise in the world, and have the liberty of running from pleasure to pleasure, they must marry advantageously, and to this object their [128] time is sacrificed, and their persons often le⯑gally prostituted. A man when he enters any profession has his eye steadily fixed on some future advantage (and the mind gains great strength by having all its efforts directed to one point), and, full of his business, plea⯑sure is considered as mere relaxation; whilst women seek for pleasure as the main purpose of existence. In fact, from the education, which they receive from society, the love of pleasure may be said to govern them all; but does this prove that there is a sex in souls? It would be just as rational to declare that the courtiers in France, when a destruc⯑tive system of despotism had formed their cha⯑racter; were not men, because liberty, vir⯑tue, and humanity, were sacrificed to plea⯑sure and vanity.—Fatal passions, which have ever domineered over the whole race!

The same love of pleasure, fostered by the whole tendency of their education, gives a trifling turn to the conduct of women in most circumstances: for instance, they are ever anxious about secondary things; and on the watch for adventures, instead of being occu⯑pied by duties.

A man, when he undertakes a journey, has, in general, the end in view; a woman thinks [129] more of the incidental occurrences, the strange things that may possibly occur on the road; the impression that she may make on her fellow-travellers; and, above all, she is anxi⯑ously intent on the care of the finery that she carries with her, which is more than ever a part of herself, when going to figure on a new scene; when, to use an apt French turn of expression, she is going to produce a sensation.—Can dignity of mind exist with such trivial cares?

In short, women, in general, as well as the rich of both sexes, have acquired all the follies and vices of civilization, and missed the useful fruit. It is not necessary for me always to premise, that I speak of the con⯑dition of the whole sex, leaving exceptions out of the question. Their senses are inflamed, and their understandings neglected, conse⯑quently they become the prey of their senses, delicately termed sensibility, and are blown about by every momentary gust of feeling. They are, therefore, in a much worse con⯑dition than they would be in were they in a state nearer to nature. Ever restless and anx⯑ious, their over exercised sensibility not only renders them uncomfortable themselves, but troublesome, to use a soft phrase, to others. [130] All their thoughts turn on things calculated to excite emotion; and feeling, when they should reason, their conduct is unstable, and their opinions are wavering—not the wavering produced by deliberation or progressive views, but by contradictory emotions. By fits and starts they are warm in many pursuits; yet this warmth, never concentrated into perse⯑verance, soon exhausts itself; exhaled by its own heat, or meeting with some other fleet⯑ing passion, to which reason has never given any specific gravity, neutrality ensues. Mi⯑serable, indeed, must be that being whose cultivation of mind has only tended to inflame its passions! A distinction should be made between inflaming and strengthening them. The passions thus pampered, whilst the judg⯑ment is left unformed, what can be expected to ensue?—Undoubtedly, a mixture of mad⯑ness and folly!

This observation should not be confined to the fair sex; however, at present, I only mean to apply it to them.

Novels, music, poetry, and gallantry, all tend to make women the creatures of sensa⯑tion, and their character is thus formed dur⯑ing the time they are acquiring accomplish⯑ments, the only improvement they are ex⯑cited, [131] by their station in society, to acquire. This overstretched sensibility naturally re⯑laxes the other powers of the mind, and prevents intellect from attaining that sove⯑reignty which it ought to attain to render a rational creature useful to others, and con⯑tent with its own station: for the exercise of the understanding, as life advances, is the only method pointed out by nature to calm the passions.

Satiety has a very different effect, and I have often been forcibly struck by an em⯑phatical description of damnation:—when the spirit is represented as continually hovering with abortive eagerness round the defiled body, unable to enjoy any thing without the organs of sense. Yet, to their senses, are women made slaves, because it is by their sensibility that they obtain present power.

And will moralists pretend to assert, that this is the condition in which one half of the human race should be encouraged to remain with listless inactivity and stupid acquiescence? Kind instructors! what were we created for? To remain, it may be said, innocent; they mean in a state of childhood.—We might as well never have been born, unless it were ne⯑cessary [132] that we should be created to enable man to acquire the noble privilege of reason, the power of discerning good from evil, whilst we lie down in the dust from whence we were taken, never to rise again.—

It would be an endless task to trace the variety of meannesses, cares, and sorrows, into which women are plunged by the pre⯑vailing opinion, that they were created ra⯑ther to feel than reason, and that all the power they obtain, must be obtained by their charms and weakness: 'Fine by defect, and amiably weak!' And, made by this amiable weakness entirely dependent, excepting what they gain by illicit sway, on man, not only for protection, but ad⯑vice, is it surprising that, neglecting the duties that reason alone points out, and shrinking from trials calculated to strengthen their minds, they only exert themselves to give their de⯑fects a graceful covering, which may serve to heighten their charms in the eye of the voluptuary, though it sink them below the scale of moral excellence?

Fragile in every sense of the word, they are obliged to look up to man for every com⯑fort. In the most trifling dangers they cling [133] to their support, with parasitical tenacity, piteously demanding succour; and their natu⯑ral protector extends his arm, or lifts up his voice, to guard the lovely trembler—from what? Perhaps the frown of an old cow, or the jump of a mouse; a rat, would be a seri⯑ous danger. In the name of reason, and even common sense, what can save such be⯑ings from contempt; even though they be soft and fair?

These fears, when not affected, may be very pretty; but they shew a degree of imbecility that degrades a rational creature in a way women are not aware of—for love and esteem are very distinct things.

I am fully persuaded that we should hear of none of these infantine airs, if girls were allowed to take sufficient exercise, and not confined in close rooms till their muscles are relaxed, and their powers of digestion de⯑stroyed. To carry the remark still further, if fear in girls, instead of being cherished, per⯑haps, created, was treated in the same man⯑ner as cowardice in boys, we should quickly see women with more dignified aspects. It is true, they could not then with equal pro⯑priety be termed the sweet flowers that smile [134] in the walk of man; but they would be more respectable members of society, and discharge the important duties of life by the light of their own reason. ‘Educate women like men, says Rousseau, and the more they resemble our sex the less power will they have over us.’ This is the very point I aim at. I do not wish them to have power over men; but over themselves.

In the same strain have I heard men argue against instructing the poor; for many are the forms that aristocracy assumes. ‘Teach them to read and write, say they, and you take them out of the station assigned them by nature.’ An eloquent Frenchman has answered them, I will borrow his senti⯑ments. But they know not, when they make man a brute, that they may expect every instant to see him transformed into a ferocious beast. Without knowledge there can be no morality!

Ignorance is a frail base for virtue! Yet, that it is the condition for which woman was organized, has been insisted upon by the writers who have most vehemently argued in favour of the superiority of man; a supe⯑riority not in degree, but essence; though, [135] to soften the argument, they have laboured to prove, with chivalrous generosity, that the sexes ought not to be compared; man was made to reason, woman to feel: and that to⯑gether, flesh and spirit, they make the most perfect whole, by blending happily reason and sensibility into one character.

And what is sensibility? ‘Quickness of sen⯑sation; quickness of perception; delicacy.’ Thus is it defined by Dr. Johnson; and the definition gives me no other idea than of the most exquisitely polished instinct. I discern not a trace of the image of God in either sen⯑sation or matter. Refined seventy times se⯑ven, they are still material; intellect dwells not there; nor will fire ever make lead gold!

I come round to my old argument; if wo⯑man be allowed to have an immortal soul, she must have, as the employment of life, an understanding to improve. And when, to render the present state more complete, though every thing proves it to be but a fraction of a mighty sum, she is incited by pre⯑sent gratification to forget her grand desti⯑nation, Nature is counteracted, or she was born only to procreate and rot. Or, grant⯑ing brutes, of every description, a soul, though [136] not a reasonable one, the exercise of instinct and sensibility may be the step, which they are to take, in this life, towards the attain⯑ment of reason in the next; so that through all eternity they will lag behind man, who, why we cannot tell, had the power given him of attaining reason in his first mode of existence.

When I treat of the peculiar duties of wo⯑men, as I should treat of the peculiar duties of a citizen or father, it will be found that I do not mean to insinuate that they should be taken out of their families, speaking of the majority. ‘He that hath wife and children, says Lord Bacon, hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men.’ I say the same of women. But, the welfare of society is not built on extraordinary exertions; and were it more reasonably organized, there would be still less need of great abilities, or heroic virtues.

In the regulation of a family, in the edu⯑cation of children, understanding, in an un⯑sophisticated [137] sense, is particularly required: strength both of body and mind; yet the men who, by their writings, have most earnestly laboured to domesticate women, have endeavoured, by arguments dictated by a gross appetite, that satiety had rendered fastidious, to weaken their bodies and cramp their minds. But, if even by these sinister methods they really persuaded women, by working on their feelings, to stay at home, and fulfil the du⯑ties of a mother and mistress of a family, I should cautiously oppose opinions that led wo⯑men to right conduct, by prevailing on them to make the discharge of a duty the business of life, though reason were insulted. Yet, and I appeal to experience, if by neglecting the un⯑derstanding they are as much, nay, more detached from these domestic duties, than they could be by the most serious intellectual pursuit, though it may be observed, that the mass of mankind will never vigorously pur⯑sue an intellectual object ^*, I may be allowed to infer that reason is absolutely necessary to [138] enable a woman to perform any duty pro⯑perly, and I must again repeat, that sensibi⯑lity is not reason.

The comparison with the rich still occurs to me; for, when men neglect the duties of humanity, women will do the same; a com⯑mon stream hurries them both along with thoughtless celerity. Riches and honours prevent a man from enlarging his understand⯑ing, and enervate all his powers by reversing the order of nature, which has ever made true pleasure the reward of labour. Pleasure— enervating pleasure is, likewise, within wo⯑men's reach without earning it. But, till hereditary possessions are spread abroad, how can we expect men to be proud of vir⯑tue? And, till they are, women will govern them by the most direct means, neglecting their dull domestic duties to catch the plea⯑sure that is on the wing of time.

'The power of the woman,' says some author, 'is her sensibility;' and men, not aware of the consequence, do all they can to make this power swallow up every other. Those who constantly employ their sensibi⯑lity will have most: for example; poets, [139] painters, and composers ^*. Yet, when the sensibility is thus increased at the expence of reason, and even the imagination, why do philosophical men complain of their fickle⯑ness? The sexual attention of man particu⯑larly acts on female sensibility, and this sym⯑pathy has been exercised from their youth up. A husband cannot long pay those at⯑tentions with the passion necessary to excite lively emotions, and the heart, accustomed to lively emotions, turns to a new lover, or pines in secret, the prey of virtue or pru⯑dence. I mean when the heart has really been rendered susceptible, and the taste formed; for I am apt to conclude, from what I have seen in fashionable life, that vanity is oftener fostered than sensibility by the mode of edu⯑cation, and the intercourse between the sexes, which I have reprobated; and that coquetry more frequently proceeds from vanity than from that inconstancy, which overstrained sensibility naturally produces.

[140]Another argument that has had a great weight with me, must, I think, have some force with every considerate, benevolent heart. Girls who have been thus weakly educated, are often cruelly left by their parents without any provision; and, of course, are dependent on, not only the reason, but the bounty of their brothers. These brothers are, to view the fairest side of the question, good sort of men, and give as a favour, what children of the same parents had an equal right to. In this equivocal humiliating situation, a docile fe⯑male may remain some time, with a tolerable degree of comfort. But, when the brother marries, a probable circumstance, from being considered as the mistress of the family, she is viewed with averted looks as an intruder, an unnecessary burden on the benevolence of the master of the house, and his new partner.

Who can recount the misery, which many unfortunate beings, whose minds and bodies are equally weak, suffer in such situations— unable to work, and ashamed to beg? The wife, a cold-hearted, narrow-minded, wo⯑man, and this is not an unfair supposition; for the present mode of education does not tend to enlarge the heart any more than the [141] understanding, is jealous of the little kindness which her husband shews to his relations; and her sensibility not rising to humanity, she is displeased at seeing the property of her chil⯑dren lavished on an helpless sister.

These are matters of fact, which have come under my eye, again and again. The consequence is obvious, the wife has recourse to cunning to undermine the habitual affec⯑tion, which she is afraid openly to oppose; and neither tears nor caresses are spared till the spy is worked out of her home, and thrown on the world, unprepared for its dif⯑ficulties; or sent, as a great effort of genero⯑sity, or from some regard to propriety, with a small stipend, and an uncultivated mind, into joyless solitude.

These two women may be much upon a par, with respect to reason and humanity; and changing situations, might have acted just the same selfish part; but had they been differently educated, the case would also have been very different. The wife would not have had that sensibility, of which self is the centre, and reason might have taught her not to expect, and not even to be flattered, by the affection of her husband, if it led him to [142] violate prior duties. She would wish not to love him merely because he loved her, but on account of his virtues; and the sister might have been able to struggle for herself instead of eating the bitter bread of de⯑pendence.

I am, indeed, persuaded that the heart, as well as the understanding, is opened by cul⯑tivation; and by, which may not appear so clear, strengthening the organs; I am not now talking of momentary flashes of sensibility, but of affections. And, perhaps, in the edu⯑cation of both sexes, the most difficult task is so to adjust instruction as not to narrow the understanding, whilst the heart is warmed by the generous juices of spring, just raised by the electric fermentation of the season; nor to dry up the feelings by employing the mind in investigations remote from life.

With respect to women, when they re⯑ceive a careful education, they are either made fine ladies, brimful of sensibility, and teeming with capricious fancies; or mere notable wo⯑men. The latter are often friendly, honest creatures, and have a shrewd kind of good sense joined with worldly prudence, that often render them more useful members of society [143] than the fine sentimental lady, though they possess neither greatness of mind nor taste. The intellectual world is shut against them; take them out of their family or neighbour⯑hood, and they stand still; the mind finding no employment, for literature affords a fund of amusement which they have never sought to relish, but frequently to despise. The sen⯑timents and taste of more cultivated minds appear ridiculous, even in those whom chance and family connections have led them to love; but in mere acquaintance they think it all affectation.

A man of sense can only love such a woman on account of her sex, and respect her, because she is a trusty servant. He lets her, to preserve his own peace, scold the servants, and go to church in clothes made of the very best mate⯑rials. A man of her own size of understanding would, probably, not agree so well with her; for he might wish to encroach on her prero⯑gative, and manage some domestic concerns himself. Yet women, whose minds are not enlarged by cultivation, or the natural selfish⯑ness of sensibility expanded by reflection, are very unfit to manage a family; for, by an undue stretch of power, they are always ty⯑rannizing [144] to support a superiority that only rests on the arbitrary distinction of fortune. The evil is sometimes more serious, and do⯑mestics are deprived of innocent indulgences, and made to work beyond their strength, in order to enable the notable woman to keep a better table, and outshine her neighbours in finery and parade. If she attend to her chil⯑dren, it is, in general, to dress them in a costly manner—and, whether this attention arises from vanity or fondness, it is equally pernicious.

Besides, how many women of this descrip⯑tion pass their days; or, at least, their even⯑ings, discontentedly. Their husbands ac⯑knowledge that they are good managers, and chaste wives; but leave home to seek for more agreeable, may I be allowed to use a significant French word, piquant society; and the patient drudge, who fulfils her task, like a blind horse in a mill, is defrauded of her just reward; for the wages due to her are the caresses of her husband; and women who have so few resources in themselves, do not very patiently bear this privation of a na⯑tural right.

A fine lady, on the contrary, has been [145] taught to look down with contempt on the vulgar employments of life; though she has only been incited to acquire accomplishments that rise a degree above sense; for even corpo⯑real accomplishments cannot be acquired with any degree of precision unless the understand⯑ing has been strengthened by exercise. With⯑out a foundation of principles taste is superfi⯑cial; and grace must arise from something deeper than imitation. The imagination, however, is heated, and the feelings rendered fastidious, if not sophisticated; or, a counter⯑poise of judgment is not acquired, when the heart still remains artless, though it becomes too tender.

These women are often amiable; and their hearts are really more sensible to general be⯑nevolence, more alive to the sentiments that civilize life, than the square-elbowed family drudge; but, wanting a due proportion of reflection and self-government, they only in⯑spire love; and are the mistresses of their hus⯑bands, whilst they have any hold on their affections; and the platonic friends of his male acquaintance. These are the fair de⯑fects in nature; the women who appear to be created not to enjoy the fellowship of man, but [146] to save him from sinking into absolute bruta⯑lity, by rubbing off the rough angles of his character; and by playful dalliance to give some dignity to the appetite that draws him to them.—Gracious Creator of the whole hu⯑man race! hast thou created such a being as woman, who can trace thy wisdom in thy works, and feel that thou alone art by thy nature, exalted above her,—for no better purpose?—Can she believe that she was only made to submit to man, her equal; a being, who, like her, was sent into the world to acquire virtue?—Can she con⯑sent to be occupied merely to please him; merely to adorn the earth, when her soul is capable of rising to thee?—And can she rest supinely dependent on man for reason, when she ought to mount with him the arduous steeps of knowledge?—

Yet, if love be the supreme good, let wo⯑men be only educated to inspire it, and let every charm be polished to intoxicate the senses; but, if they are moral beings, let them have a chance to become intelligent; and let love to man be only a part of that glowing flame of universal love, which, after encircling humanity, mounts in grateful in⯑cense to God.

[147]To fulfil domestic duties much resolution is necessary, and a serious kind of persever⯑ance that requires a more firm support than emotions, however lively and true to nature. To give an example of order, the soul of virtue, some austerity of behaviour must be adopted, scarcely to be expected from a being who, from its infancy, has been made the weathercock of its own sensations. Who⯑ever rationally means to be useful must have a plan of conduct; and, in the discharge of the simplest duty, we are often obliged to act con⯑trary to the present impulse of tenderness or compassion. Severity is frequently the most certain, as well as the most sublime proof of affection; and the want of this power over the feelings, and of that lofty, dignified affection, which makes a person prefer the future good of the beloved object to a present gratification, is the reason why so many fond mothers spoil their children, and has made it questionable whether negligence or indulgence is most hurtful: but I am inclined to think, that the latter has done most harm.

Mankind seem to agree that children should be left under the management of women dur⯑ing their childhood. Now, from all the ob⯑servation [148] that I have been able to make, wo⯑men of sensibility are the most unfit for this task, because they will infallibly, carried away by their feelings, spoil a child's temper. The management of the temper, the first, and most important branch of education, requires the sober steady eye of reason; a plan of con⯑duct equally distant from tyranny and indul⯑gence: yet these are the extremes that peo⯑ple of sensibility alternately fall into; always shooting beyond the mark. I have followed this train of reasoning much further, till I have concluded, that a person of genius is the most improper person to be employed in education, public or private. Minds of this rare species see things too much in masses, and seldom, if ever, have a good temper. That habitual cheerfulness, termed good-humour, is, per⯑haps, as seldom united with great mental powers, as with strong feelings. And those people who follow, with interest and admira⯑tion, the flights of genius; or, with cooler approbation suck in the instruction which has been elaborately prepared for them by the profound thinker, ought not to be disgusted, if they find the former choleric, and the lat⯑ter morose; because liveliness of fancy, and [149] a tenacious comprehension of mind, are scarcely compatible with that pliant urbanity which leads a man, at least, to bend to the opinions and prejudices of others, instead of roughly confronting them.

But, treating of education or manners, minds of a superior class are not to be consi⯑dered, they may be left to chance; it is the multitude, with moderate abilities, who call for instruction, and catch the colour of the atmosphere they breathe. This respectable concourse, I contend, men and women, should not have their sensations heightened in the hot-bed of luxurious indolence, at the expence of their understanding; for, unless there be a ballast of understanding, they will never be⯑come either virtuous or free: an aristocracy, founded on property, or sterling talents, will ever sweep before it, the alternately timid, and ferocious, slaves of feeling.

Numberless are the arguments, to take an⯑other view of the subject, brought forward with a shew of reason; because supposed to be deduced from nature, that men have used morally and physically, to degrade the sex. I must notice a few.

[150]The female understanding has often been spoken of with contempt, as arriving sooner at maturity than the male. I shall not answer this argument by alluding to the early proofs of reason, as well as genius, in Cowley, Mil⯑ton, and Pope ^*, but only appeal to expe⯑rience to decide whether young men, who are early introduced into company (and ex⯑amples now abound), do not acquire the same precocity. So notorious is this fact, that the bare mentioning of it must bring before peo⯑ple, who at all mix in the world, the idea of a number of swaggering apes of men, whose understandings are narrowed by being brought into the society of men when they ought to have been spinning a top or twirling a hoop.

It has also been asserted, by some natural⯑ists, that men do not attain their full growth and strength till thirty; but that women ar⯑rive at maturity by twenty. I apprehend that they reason on false ground, led astray by the male prejudice, which deems beauty the perfection of woman—mere beauty of fea⯑tures and complexion, the vulgar acceptation of the word, whilst male beauty is allowed to [151] have some connection with the mind. Strength of body, and that character of countenance, which the French term a physionomie, wo⯑men do not acquire before thirty, any more than men. The little artless tricks of chil⯑dren, it is true, are particularly pleasing and attractive; yet, when the pretty freshness of youth is worn off, these artless graces become studied airs, and disgust every person of taste. In the countenance of girls we only look for vivacity and bashful modesty; but, the spring⯑tide of life over, we look for soberer sense in the face, and for traces of passion, instead of the dimples of animal spirits; expecting to see individuality of character, the only fas⯑tener of the affections ^*. We then wish to converse, not to fondle; to give scope to our imaginations as well as to the sensations of our hearts.

At twenty the beauty of both sexes is equal; but the libertinism of man leads him to make the distinction, and superannuated coquettes are commonly of the same opinion; for, when they can no longer inspire love, [152] they pay for the vigour and vivacity of youth. The French, who admit more of mind into their notions of beauty, give the preference to women of thirty. I mean to say that they allow women to be in their most perfect state, when vivacity gives place to reason, and to that magestic seriousness of character, which marks maturity;—or, the resting point. In youth, till twenty, the body shoots out, till thirty the solids are attaining a degree of density; and the flexible muscles, growing daily more rigid, give character to the countenance; that is, they trace the operations of the mind with the iron pen of fate, and tell us not only what powers are within, but how they have been employed.

It is proper to observe, that animals who arrive slowly at maturity, are the longest lived, and of the noblest species. Men can⯑not, however, claim any natural superiority from the grandeur of longevity; for in this respect nature has not distinguished the male.

Polygamy is another physical degradation; and a plausible argument for a custom, that blasts every domestic virtue, is drawn from the well-attested fact, that in the countries [153] where it is established, more females are born than males. This appears to be an indication of nature, and to nature, apparently reason⯑able speculations must yield. A further conclusion obviously presented itself; if po⯑lygamy be necessary, woman must be inferior to man, and made for him.

With respect to the formation of the fetus in the womb, we are very ignorant; but it appears to me probable, that an accidental physical cause may account for this pheno⯑menon, and prove it not to be a law of na⯑ture. I have met with some pertinent obser⯑vations on the subject in Forster's Account of the Isles of the South-Sea, that will explain my meaning. After observing that of the two sexes amongst animals, the most vigor⯑ous and hottest constitution always prevails, and produces its kind; he adds,— ‘If this be applied to the inhabitants of Africa, it is evi⯑dent that the men there, accustomed to polygamy, are enervated by the use of so many women, and therefore less vigorous; the women, on the contrary, are of a hotter constitution, not only on account of their more irritable nerves, more sensible organization, and more lively fancy; but likewise because [154] they are deprived in their matrimony of that share of physical love which, in a mono⯑gamous condition, would all be theirs; and thus, for the above reasons, the generality of children are born females.’

‘In the greater part of Europe it has been proved by the most accurate lists of morta⯑lity, that the proportion of men to women is nearly equal, or, if any difference takes place, the males born are more numerous, in the proportion of 105 to 100.’

The necessity of polygamy, therefore, does not appear; yet when a man seduces a wo⯑man, it should, I think, be termed a left-handed marriage, and the man should be legally obliged to maintain the woman and her chil⯑dren, unless adultery, a natural divorcement, abrogated the law. And this law should re⯑main in force as long as the weakness of wo⯑men caused the word seduction to be used as an excuse for their frailty and want of prin⯑ciple; nay, while they depend on man for a subsistence, instead of earning it by the exer⯑tion of their own hands or heads. But these women should not, in the full meaning of the relationship, be termed wives, or the very purpose of marriage would be subverted, and [155] all those endearing charities that flow from personal fidelity, and give a sanctity to the tie, when neither love nor friendship unites the hearts, would melt into selfishness. The woman who is faithful to the father of her children demands respect, and should not be treated like a prostitute; though I readily grant that if it be necessary for a man and wo⯑man to live together in order to bring up their offspring, nature never intended that a man should have more than one wife.

Still, highly as I respect marriage, as the foundation of almost every social virtue, I cannot avoid feeling the most lively compas⯑sion for those unfortunate females who are broken off from society, and by one error torn from all those affections and relationships that improve the heart and mind. It does not frequently even deserve the name of er⯑ror; for many innocent girls become the dupes of a sincere, affectionate heart, and still more are, as it may emphatically be termed, ruined before they know the difference be⯑tween virtue and vice:—and thus prepared by their education for infamy, they become infamous. Asylums and Magdalenes are not the proper remedies for these abuses. It [156] is justice, not charity, that is wanting in the world!

A woman who has lost her honour, ima⯑gines that she cannot fall lower, and as for recovering her former station, it is impossible; no exertion can wash this stain away. Losing thus every spur, and having no other means of support, prostitution becomes her only re⯑fuge, and the character is quickly depraved by circumstances over which the poor wretch has little power, unless she possesses an un⯑common portion of sense and loftiness of spirit. Necessity never makes prostitution the busi⯑ness of men's lives; though numberless are the women who are thus rendered systemati⯑cally vicious. This, however, arises, in a great degree, from the state of idleness in which women are educated, who are always taught to look up to man for a maintenance, and to consider their persons as the proper return for his exertions to support them. Meretricious airs, and the whole science of wantonness, has then a more powerful stimu⯑lus than either appetite or vanity; and this remark gives force to the prevailing opinion, that with chastity all is lost that is respect⯑able in woman. Her character depends on [157] the observance of one virtue, though the only passion fostered in her heart—is love. Nay, the honour of a woman is not made even to depend on her will.

When Richardson ^* makes Clarissa tell Love⯑lace that he had robbed her of her honour, he must have had strange notions of honour and virtue. For, miserable beyond all names of misery is the condition of a being, who could be degraded without its own consent! This excess of strictness I have heard vindicated as a salutary error. I shall answer in the words of Leibnitz—'Errors are often useful; but it is commonly to remedy other errors.'

Most of the evils of life arise from a desire of present enjoyment that outruns itself. The obedience required of women in the marriage state comes under this description; the mind, naturally weakened by depending on autho⯑rity, never exerts its own powers, and the obedient wife is thus rendered a weak indo⯑lent mother. Or, supposing that this is not always the consequence, a future state of exist⯑ence is scarcely taken into the reckoning when [158] only negative virtues are cultivated. For, in treating of morals, particularly when women are alluded to, writers have too often considered virtue in a very limited sense, and made the foundation of it solely worldly utility; nay, a still more fragile base has been given to this stupendous fabric, and the wayward fluctuating feelings of men have been made the standard of virtue. Yes, vir⯑tue as well as religion, has been subjected to the decisions of taste.

It would almost provoke a smile of con⯑tempt, if the vain absurdities of man did not strike us on all sides, to observe, how eager men are to degrade the sex from whom they pretend to receive the chief pleasure of life; and I have frequently with full conviction retorted Pope's sarcasm on them; or, to speak explicitly, it has appeared to me applicable to the whole human race. A love of pleasure or sway seems to divide mankind, and the hus⯑band who lords it in his little harem thinks only of his pleasure or his convenience. To such lengths, indeed, does an intemperate love of pleasure carry some prudent men, or worn out libertines, who marry to have a safe bed-fellow, that they seduce their own [159] wives.—Hymen banishes modesty, and chaste love takes its flight.

Love, considered as an animal appetite, cannot long feed on itself without expiring. And this extinction, in its own flame, may be termed the violent death of love. But the wife who has thus been rendered licentious, will probably endeavour to fill the void left by the loss of her husband's attentions; for she cannot contentedly become merely an upper servant after having been treated like a goddess. She is still handsome, and, in⯑stead of transferring her fondness to her chil⯑dren, she only dreams of enjoying the sun⯑shine of life. Besides, there are many hus⯑bands so devoid of sense and parental affection, that during the first effervescence of voluptuous fondness they refuse to let their wives suckle their children. They are only to dress and live to please them: and love—even innocent love, soon sinks into lasciviousness when the exercise of a duty is sacrificed to its in⯑dulgence.

Personal attachment is a very happy foun⯑dation for friendship; yet, when even two vir⯑tuous young people marry, it would, per⯑haps, be happy if some circumstances checked [160] their passion; if the recollection of some prior attachment, or disappointed affection, made it on one side, at least, rather a match founded on esteem. In that case they would look beyond the present moment, and try to ren⯑der the whole of life respectable, by forming a plan to regulate a friendship which only death ought to dissolve.

Friendship is a serious affection; the most sublime of all affections, because it is founded on principle, and cemented by time. The very reverse may be said of love. In a great degree, love and friendship cannot subsist in the same bosom; even when inspired by dif⯑ferent objects they weaken or destroy each other, and for the same object can only be felt in succession. The vain fears and fond jealou⯑sies, the winds which fan the flame of love, when judiciously or artfully tempered, are both incompatible with the tender confidence and sincere respect of friendship.

Love, such as the glowing pen of genius has traced, exists not on earth, or only resides in those exalted, fervid imaginations that have sketched such dangerous pictures. Danger⯑ous, because they not only afford a plausible excuse, to the voluptuary who disguises sheer [161] sensuality under a sentimental veil; but as they spread affectation, and take from the dignity of virtue. Virtue, as the very word imports, should have an appearance of serious⯑ness, if not austerity; and to endeavour to trick her out in the garb of pleasure, because the epithet has been used as another name for beauty, is to exalt her on a quicksand; a most insidious attempt to hasten her fall by apparent respect. Virtue and pleasure are not, in fact, so nearly allied in this life as some eloquent writers have laboured to prove. Pleasure prepares the fading wreath, and mixes the intoxicating cup; but the fruit which virtue gives, is the recompence of toil: and, gradually seen as it ripens, only affords calm satisfaction; nay, appearing to be the result of the natural tendency of things, it is scarcely observed. Bread, the common food of life, seldom thought of as a blessing, sup⯑ports the constitution and preserves health; still feasts delight the heart of man, though disease and even death lurk in the cup or dainty that elevates the spirits or tickles the palate. The lively heated imagination, in the same style, draws the picture of love, as it draws every other picture, with those glow⯑ing [162] colours, which the daring hand will steal from the rainbow that is directed by a mind, condemned in a world like this, to prove its noble origin by panting after unattainable perfection; ever pursuing what it acknow⯑ledges to be a fleeting dream. An imagina⯑tion of this vigorous cast can give existence to insubstantial forms, and stability to the shadowy reveries which the mind naturally falls into when realities are found vapid. It can then depict love with celestial charms, and dote on the grand ideal object—it can imagine a degree of mutual affection that shall refine the soul, and not expire when it has served as a 'scale to heavenly;' and, like de⯑votion, make it absorb every meaner affection and desire. In each others arms, as in a tem⯑ple, with its summit lost in the clouds, the world is to be shut out, and every thought and wish, that do not nurture pure affection and permanent virtue.—Permanent virtue! alas! Rousseau, respectable visionary! thy pa⯑radise would soon be violated by the entrance of some unexpected guest. Like Milton's it would only contain angels, or men sunk be⯑low the dignity of rational creatures. Hap⯑piness is not material, it cannot be seen or [163] felt! Yet the eager pursuit of the good which every one shapes to his own fancy, proclaims man the lord of this lower world, and to be an intelligential creature, who is not to re⯑ceive, but acquire happiness. They, there⯑fore, who complain of the delusions of pas⯑sion, do not recollect that they are exclaim⯑ing against a strong proof of the immortality of the soul.

But leaving superior minds to correct them⯑selves, and pay dearly for their experience, it is necessary to observe, that it is not against strong, persevering passions; but romantic wavering feelings that I wish to guard the female heart by exercising the understanding: for these paradisaical reveries are oftener the effect of idleness than of a lively fancy.

Women have seldom sufficient serious em⯑ployment to silence their feelings; a round of little cares, or vain pursuits frittering away all strength of mind and organs, they be⯑come naturally only objects of sense.—In short, the whole tenour of female education (the education of society) tends to render the best disposed romantic and inconstant; and the remainder vain and mean. In the present state of society this evil can scarcely be reme⯑died, [164] I am afraid, in the slightest degree; should a more laudable ambition ever gain ground they may be brought nearer to nature and reason; and become more virtuous and useful as they grow more respectable.

But, I will venture to assert that their rea⯑son will never acquire sufficient strength to enable it to regulate their conduct, whilst the making an appearance in the world is the first wish of the majority of mankind. To this weak wish the natural affections, and the most useful virtues are sacrificed. Girls marry merely to better themselves, to borrow a sig⯑nificant vulgar phrase, and have such perfect power over their hearts as not to permit them⯑selves to fall in love till a man with a supe⯑riour fortune offers. On this subject I mean to enlarge in a future chapter; it is only neces⯑sary to drop a hint at present, because women are so often degraded by suffering the selfish prudence of age to chill the ardour of youth.

From the same source flows an opinion that young girls ought to dedicate great part of their time to needle-work; yet, this employ⯑ment contracts their faculties more than any other that could have been chosen for them, by confining their thoughts to their persons. [165] Men order their clothes to be made, and have done with the subject; women make their own clothes, necessary or ornamental, and are continually talking about them; and their thoughts follow their hands. It is not indeed the making of necessaries that weakens the mind; but the frippery of dress. For when a woman in the lower rank of life makes her husband's and children's clothes, she does her duty, this is her part of her business; but when women work only to dress better than they could otherwise afford, it is worse than sheer loss of time. To render the poor virtuous they must be employed, and women in the middle rank of life, did they not ape the fashions of the nobility, without catching their ease, might employ them, whilst they themselves ma⯑naged their families, instructed their children, and exercised their own minds. Garden⯑ing, experimental philosophy, and literature, would afford them subjects to think of and matter for conversation, that in some degree would exercise their understandings. The conversation of French women, who are not so rigidly nailed to their chairs to twist lappets, and knot ribbons, is frequently superficial; but, I contend, that it is not half so insipid as that of those English women whose time [166] is spent in making caps, bonnets, and the whole mischief of trimmings, not to mention shopping, bargain-hunting, &c. &c.: and it is the decent, prudent women, who are most degraded by these practices; for their motive is simply vanity. The wanton who exercises her taste to render her person alluring, has something more in view.

These observations all branch out of a general one, which I have before made, and which cannot be too often insisted upon, for, speaking of men, women, or professions, it will be found that the employment of the thoughts shape the character both generally and individually. The thoughts of women ever hover round their persons, and is it sur⯑prising that their persons are reckoned most valuable? Yet some degree of liberty of mind is necessary even to form the person; and this may be one reason why some gentle wives have so few attractions beside that of sex. Add to this, sedentary employments render the majority of women sickly—and false notions of female excellence make them proud of this delicacy, though it be another fetter, that by calling the attention conti⯑nually to the body, cramps the activity of the mind.

[167]Women of quality seldom do any of the manual part of their dress, consequently only their taste is exercised, and they acquire, by thinking less of the finery, when the business of their toilet is over, that ease, which sel⯑dom appears in the deportment of women, who dress merely for the sake of dressing. In fact, the observation with respect to the middle rank, the one in which talents thrive best, extends not to women; for those of the superior class, by catching, at least, a smat⯑tering of literature, and conversing more with men, on general topics, acquire more know⯑ledge than the women who ape their fashions and faults without sharing their advantages. With respect to virtue, to use the word in a comprehensive sense, I have seen most in low life. Many poor women maintain their chil⯑dren by the sweat of their brow, and keep together families that the vices of the fathers would have scattered abroad; but gentle⯑women are too indolent to be actively vir⯑tuous, and are softened rather than refined by civilization. Indeed, the good sense which I have met with, among the poor women who have had few advantages of education, and yet have acted heroically, strongly confirmed [168] me in the opinion that trifling employments have rendered woman a trifler. Men, tak⯑ing her ^* body, the mind is left to rust; so that while physical love enervates man, as being his favourite recreation, he will endea⯑vour to enslave woman:—and, who can tell, how many generations may be necessary to give vigour to the virtue and talents of the freed posterity of abject slaves ^†?

In tracing the causes that, in my opi⯑nion, have degraded woman, I have con⯑fined my observations to such as universally act upon the morals and manners of the whole sex, and to me it appears clear that they all spring from want of understanding. Whe⯑ther this arise from a physical or accidental weakness of faculties, time alone can deter⯑mine; for I shall not lay any great stress on the example of a few women ^‡ who, from hav⯑ing [169] received a masculine education, have ac⯑quired courage and resolution; I only con⯑tend that the men who have been placed in similar situations, have acquired a similar character—I speak of bodies of men, and that men of genius and talents have started out of a class, in which women have never yet been placed.

CHAP. V. ANIMADVERSIONS ON SOME OF THE WRI⯑TERS WHO HAVE RENDERED WOMEN OB⯑JECTS OF PITY, BORDERING ON CON⯑TEMPT.

THE opinions speciously supported, in some modern publications on the female character and education, which have given the tone to most of the observations made, in a more cur⯑sory manner, on the sex, remain now to be examined.

CHAP. VI. THE EFFECT WHICH AN EARLY ASSOCIA⯑TION OF IDEAS HAS UPON THE CHA⯑RACTER.

EDUCATED in the enervating style recom⯑mended by the writers on whom I have been animadverting; and not having a chance, from their subordinate state in society, to re⯑cover their lost ground, is it surprising that women every where appear a defect in na⯑ture? Is it surprising, when we consider what a determinate effect an early association of ideas has on the character, that they neglect their understandings, and turn all their atten⯑tion to their persons?

The great advantages which naturally re⯑sult from storing the mind with knowledge, are obvious from the following considerations. The association of our ideas is either habitual or instantaneous; and the latter mode seems rather to depend on the original temperature of the mind than on the will. When the [260] ideas, and matters of fact, are once taken in, they lie by for use, till some fortuitous cir⯑cumstance makes the information dart into the mind with illustrative force, that has been received at very different periods of our lives. Like the lightning's flash are many recollec⯑tions; one idea assimilating and explaining another, with astonishing rapidity. I do not now allude to that quick perception of truth, which is so intuitive that it baffles research, and makes us at a loss to determine whether it is reminiscence or ratiocination, lost sight of in its celerity, that opens the dark cloud. Over those instantaneous associations we have little power; for when the mind is once enlarged by excursive flights, or profound reflection, the raw materials will, in some degree, ar⯑range themselves. The understanding, it is true, may keep us from going out of draw⯑ing when we group our thoughts, or transcribe from the imagination the warm sketches of fancy; but the animal spirits, the individual character, give the colouring. Over this subtile electric fluid ^*, how little [261] power do we possess, and over it how little power can reason obtain! These fine intract⯑able spirits appear to be the essence of genius, and beaming in its eagle eye, produce in the most eminent degree the happy energy of associating thoughts that surprise, delight, and instruct. These are the glowing minds that concentrate pictures for their fellow-creatures; forcing them to view with interest the ob⯑jects reflected from the impassioned imagina⯑tion, which they passed over in nature.

I must be allowed to explain myself. The generality of people cannot see or feel poeti⯑cally, they want fancy, and therefore fly from solitude in search of sensible objects; but when an author lends them his eyes they can see as he saw, and be amused by images they could not select, though lying before them.

Education thus only supplies the man of genius with knowledge to give variety and [262] contrast to his associations; but there is an habitual association of ideas, that grows ‘with our growth,’ which has a great effect on the moral character of mankind; and by which a turn is given to the mind that com⯑monly remains throughout life. So ductile is the understanding, and yet so stubborn, that the associations which depend on adven⯑titious circumstances, during the period that the body takes to arrive at maturity, can sel⯑dom be disentangled by reason. One idea calls up another, its old associate, and me⯑mory, faithful to the first impressions, parti⯑cularly when the intellectual powers are not employed to cool our sensations, retraces them with mechanical exactness.

This habitual slavery, to first impressions, has a more baneful effect on the female than the male character, because business and other dry employments of the understanding, tend to deaden the feelings and break associations that do violence to reason. But females, who are made women of when they are mere chil⯑dren, and brought back to childhood when they ought to leave the go-cart for ever, have not sufficient strength of mind to efface [263] the superinductions of art that have smo⯑thered nature.

Every thing that they see or hear serves to fix impressions, call forth emotions, and asso⯑ciate ideas, that give a sexual character to the mind. False notions of beauty and delicacy stop the growth of their limbs and produce a sickly soreness, rather than delicacy of or⯑gans; and thus weakened by being employed in unfolding instead of examining the first associations, forced on them by every sur⯑rounding object, how can they attain the vigour necessary to enable them to throw off their factitious character?—where find strength to recur to reason and rise superiour to a sys⯑tem of oppression, that blasts the fair promises of spring? This cruel association of ideas, which every thing conspires to twist into all their habits of thinking, or, to speak with more precision, of feeling, receives new force when they begin to act a little for themselves; for they then perceive that it is only through their address to excite emotions in men, that pleasure and power are to be obtained. Be⯑sides, all the books professedly written for their instruction, which make the first im⯑pression on their minds, all inculcate the same [264] opinions. Educated then in worse than Egyp⯑tian bondage, it is unreasonable, as well as cruel, to upbraid them with faults that can scarcely be avoided, unless a degree of native vigour be supposed, that falls to the lot of very few amongst mankind.

For instance, the severest sarcasms have been levelled against the sex, and they have been ridiculed for repeating 'a set of phrases learnt by rote,' when nothing could be more natural, considering the education they re⯑ceive, and that their ‘highest praise is to obey, unargued’ —the will of man. If they are not allowed to have reason sufficient to govern their own conduct—why, all they learn—must be learned by rote! And when all their ingenuity is called forth to adjust their dress, 'a passion for a scarlet coat,' is so natural, that it never surprised me; and, allowing Pope's summary of their character to be just, ‘that every woman is at heart a rake,’ why should they be bitterly censured for seeking a congenial mind, and prefer⯑ring a rake to a man of sense?

Rakes know how to work on their sensibi⯑lity, whilst the modest merit of reasonable men has, of course, less effect on their feel⯑ings, [265] and they cannot reach the heart by the way of the understanding, because they have few sentiments in common.

It seems a little absurd to expect women to be more reasonable than men in their likings, and still to deny them the uncontrouled use of reason. When do men fall-in-love with sense? When do they, with their superiour powers and advantages, turn from the person to the mind? And how can they then expect women, who are only taught to observe be⯑haviour, and acquire manners rather than morals, to despise what they have been all their lives labouring to attain? Where are they suddenly to find judgment enough to weigh patiently the sense of an awkward vir⯑tuous man, when his manners, of which they are made critical judges, are rebuffing, and his conversation cold and dull, because it does not consist of pretty repartees, or well turned compliments? In order to admire or esteem any thing for a continuance, we must, at least, have our curiosity excited by know⯑ing, in some degree, what we admire; for we are unable to estimate the value of quali⯑ties and virtues above our comprehension. Such a respect, when it is felt, may be very [266] sublime; and the confused consciousness of humility may render the dependent creature an interesting object, in some points of view; but human love must have grosser ingre⯑dients; and the person very naturally will come in for its share—and, an ample share it mostly has!

Love is, in a great degree, an arbi⯑trary passion, and will reign, like some other stalking mischiefs, by its own au⯑thority, without deigning to reason; and it may also be easily distinguished from esteem, the foundation of friendship, because it is often excited by evanescent beauties and graces, though to give an energy to the sen⯑timent, something more solid must deepen their impression and set the imagination to work, to make the most fair—the first good.

Common passions are excited by common qualities.—Men look for beauty and the sim⯑per of good-humoured docility: women are captivated by easy manners; a gentleman-like man seldom fails to please them, and their thirsty ears eagerly drink the insinuating no⯑things of politeness, whilst they turn from the unintelligible sounds of the charmer—rea⯑son, charm he never so wisely. With re⯑spect [267] to superficial accomplishments, the rake certainly has the advantage; and of these fe⯑males can form an opinion, for it is their own ground. Rendered gay and giddy by the whole tenor of their lives, the very aspect of wisdom, or the severe graces of virtue, must have a lugubrious appearance to them; and produce a kind of restraint from which they and love, sportive child, naturally revolt. Without taste, excepting of the lighter kind, for taste is the offspring of judgment, how can they discover that true beauty and grace must arise from the play of the mind? and how can they be expected to relish in a lover what they do not, or very imperfectly, pos⯑sess themselves? The sympathy that unites hearts, and invites to confidence, in them is so very faint, that it cannot take fire, and thus mount to passion. No, I repeat it, the love cherished by such minds, must have grosser fewel!

The inference is obvious; till women are led to exercise their understandings, they should not be satirized for their attachment to rakes; nor even for being rakes at heart, when it appears to be the inevitable conse⯑quence of their education. They who live [268] to please—must find their enjoyments, their happiness, in pleasure! It is a trite, yet true remark, that we never do any thing well, unless we love it for its own sake.

Supposing, however, for a moment, that women were, in some future revolution of time, to become, what I sincerely wish them to be, even love would acquire more serious dignity, and be purified in its own fires; and virtue giving true delicacy to their affections, they would turn with disgust from a rake. Reasoning then, as well as feeling, the only pro⯑vince of woman, at present, they might easily guard against exteriour graces, and quickly learn to despise the sensibility that had been excited and hackneyed in the ways of women, whose trade was vice; and allurements, wan⯑ton airs. They would recollect that the flame, one must use appropriated expressions, which they wished to light up, had been exhausted by lust, and that the sated appetite losing all relish for pure and simple pleasures, could only be roused by licentious arts or variety. What satisfaction could a woman of delicacy pro⯑mise herself in a union with such a man, when the very artlessness of her affection [269] might appear insipid? Thus does Dryden de⯑scribe the situation,

But one grand truth women have yet to learn, though much it imports them to act accordingly. In the choice of a husband, they should not be led astray by the qualities of a lover—for a lover the husband, even suppos⯑ing him to be wise and virtuous, cannot long remain.

Were women more rationally educated, could they take a more comprehensive view of things, they would be contented to love but once in their lives; and after marriage calmly let passion subside into friendship—into that tender intimacy, which is the best refuge from care; yet is built on such pure, still affections, that idle jealousies would not be allowed to disturb the discharge of the sober duties of life, nor to engross the thoughts that ought to be otherwise employed. This is a state in which many men live; but few, very few women. And the difference may easily be accounted for, without recurring to a sexual character. Men, for whom we are told wo⯑men [270] were made, have too much occupied the thoughts of women; and this association has so entangled love with all their motives of action; and, to harp a little on an old string, having been solely employed either to prepare them⯑selves to excite love, or actually putting their lessons in practice, they cannot live without love. But, when a sense of duty, or fear of shame, obliges them to restrain this pampered desire of pleasing beyond certain lengths, too far for delicacy, it is true, though far from criminality, they obstinately determine to love, I speak of the passion, their husbands to the end of the chapter—and then acting the part which they foolishly exacted from their lovers, they become abject woers, and fond slaves.

Men of wit and fancy are often rakes; and fancy is the food of love. Such men will inspire passion. Half the sex, in its present infantine state, would pine for a Lovelace; a man so witty, so graceful, and so valiant: and can they deserve blame for acting accord⯑ing to principles so constantly inculcated? They want a lover, and protector; and, be⯑hold him kneeling before them—bravery prostrate to beauty! The virtues of a hus⯑band [271] are thus thrown by love into the back ground, and gay hopes, or lively emotions, banish reflection till the day of reckoning comes; and come it surely will, to turn the sprightly lover into a surly suspicious tyrant, who contemptuously insults the very weak⯑ness he fostered. Or, supposing the rake reformed, he cannot quickly get rid of old habits. When a man of abilities is first car⯑ried away by his passions, it is necessary that sentiment and taste varnish the enormities of vice, and give a zest to brutal indul⯑gences; but when the gloss of novelty is worn off, and pleasure palls upon the sense, lasciviousness becomes barefaced, and enjoy⯑ment only the desperate effort of weakness flying from reflexion as from a legion of de⯑vils. Oh! virtue thou art not an empty name! All that life can give—thou givest!

If much comfort cannot be expected from the friendship of a reformed rake of supe⯑riour abilities, what is the consequence when he lacketh sense, as well as principles? Verily misery, in its most hideous shape. When the habits of weak people are consolidated by time, a reformation is barely possible; and actually makes the beings miserable who have [272] not sufficient mind to be amused by inno⯑cent pleasure; like the tradesman who retires from the hurry of business, nature presents to them only a universal blank; and the restless thoughts prey on the damped spirits ^*. Their reformation, as well as his retirement, actually makes them wretched because it deprives them of all employment, by quenching the hopes and fears that set in motion their slug⯑gish minds.

If such is the force of habit; if such is the bondage of folly, how carefully ought we to guard the mind from storing up vicious asso⯑ciations; and equally careful should we be to cultivate the understanding, to save the poor wight from the weak dependent state of even harmless ignorance. For it is the right use of reason alone which makes us independent of every thing—excepting the unclouded Reason —'Whose service is perfect freedom.'

CHAP. VII. MODESTY.—COMPREHENSIVELY CONSIDER⯑ED, AND NOT AS A SEXUAL VIRTUE.

MODESTY! Sacred offspring of sensibility and reason!—true delicacy of mind!—may I unblamed presume to investigate thy nature, and trace to its covert the mild charm, that mellowing each harsh feature of a character, renders what would otherwise only inspire cold admiration—lovely!—Thou that smooth⯑est the wrinkles of wisdom, and softenest the tone of the sublimest virtues till they all melt into humanity;—thou that spreadest the ethe⯑real cloud that surrounding love heightens every beauty, it half shades, breathing those coy sweets that steal into the heart, and charm the senses—modulate for me the language of persuasive reason, till I rouse my sex from the flowery bed, on which they supinely sleep life away!

In speaking of the association of our ideas, I have noticed two distinct modes; and in [274] defining modesty, it appears to me equally proper to discriminate that purity of mind, which is the effect of chastity, from a sim⯑plicity of character that leads us to form a just opinion of ourselves, equally distant from vanity or presumption, though by no means incompatible with a lofty consciousness of our own dignity. Modesty, in the latter signifi⯑cation of the term, is, that soberness of mind which teaches a man not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think, and should be distinguished from humility, because hu⯑mility is a kind of self-abasement.

A modest man often conceives a great plan, and tenaciously adheres to it, conscious of his own strength, till success gives it a sanc⯑tion that determines its character. Milton was not arrogant when he suffered a sug⯑gestion of judgment to escape him that proved a prophesy; nor was General Washington when he accepted of the command of the American forces. The latter has always been characterized as a modest man; but had he been merely humble, he would probably have shrunk back irresolute, afraid of trusting to himself the direction of an enterprise, on which so much depended.

[275]A modest man is steady, an humble man timid, and a vain one presumptuous:—this is the judgment, which the observation of many characters, has led me to form. Jesus Christ was modest, Moses was humble, and Peter vain.

Thus, discriminating modesty from humi⯑lity in one case, I do not mean to confound it with bashfulness in the other. Bashful⯑ness, in fact, is so distinct from modesty, that the most bashful lass, or raw country lout, often becomes the most impudent; for their bashfulness being merely the instinctive timi⯑dity of ignorance, custom soon changes it into assurance ^*.

The shameless behaviour of the prostitutes, who infest the streets of this metropolis, rais⯑ing [276] alternate emotions of pity and disgust, may serve to illustrate this remark. They tram⯑ple on virgin bashfulness with a sort of bra⯑vado, and glorying in their shame, become more audaciously lewd than men, however depraved, to whom this sexual quality has not been gratuitously granted, ever appear to be. But these poor ignorant wretches never had any modesty to lose, when they consigned themselves to infamy; for modesty is a virtue not a quality. No, they were only bashful, shame-faced innocents; and losing their in⯑nocence, their shame-facedness was rudely brushed off; a virtue would have left some vestiges in the mind, had it been sacrificed to passion, to make us respect the grand ruin.

Purity of mind, or that genuine delicacy, which is the only virtuous support of chas⯑tity, is near akin to that refinement of hu⯑manity, which never resides in any but cul⯑tivated minds. It is something nobler than innocence; it is the delicacy of reflection, and not the coyness of ignorance. The reserve of reason, which, like habitual cleanliness, is seldom seen in any great degree, unless the soul is active, may easily be distinguished from rustic shyness or wanton skittishness; and, so [277] far from being incompatible with knowledge, it is its fairest fruit. What a gross idea of modesty had the writer of the following re⯑mark! ‘The lady who asked the question whether women may be instructed in the modern system of botany, consistently with female delicacy?—was accused of ridiculous prudery: nevertheless, if she had proposed the question to me, I should certainly have answered—They cannot.’ Thus is the fair book of knowledge to be shut with an ever⯑lasting seal! On reading similar passages I have reverentially lifted up my eyes and heart to Him who liveth for ever and ever, and said, O my Father, hast Thou by the very constitution of her nature forbid Thy child to seek Thee in the fair forms of truth? And, can her soul be sullied by the knowledge that awfully calls her to Thee?

I have then philosophically pursued these reflections till I inferred that those women who have most improved their reason must have the most modesty—though a dignified sedateness of deportment may have succeeded the playful, bewitching bashfulness of youth ^*.

[278]And thus have I argued. To render chas⯑tity the virtue from which unsophisticated modesty will naturally flow, the attention should be called away from employments which only exercise the sensibility; and the heart made to beat time to humanity, rather than to throb with love. The woman who has dedicated a considerable portion of her time to pursuits purely intellectual, and whose affections have been exercised by humane plans of usefulness, must have more purity of mind, as a natural consequence, than the ignorant beings whose time and thoughts have been occupied by gay pleasures or schemes to conquer hearts ^*. The regula⯑lation [279] of the behaviour is not modesty, though those who study rules of decorum are, in ge⯑neral, termed modest women. Make the heart clean, let it expand and feel for all that is human, instead of being narrowed by selfish passions; and let the mind frequently con⯑template subjects that exercise the understand⯑ing, without heating the imagination, and artless modesty will give the finishing touches to the picture.

She who can discern the dawn of immor⯑tality, in the streaks that shoot athwart the misty night of ignorance, promising a clearer day, will respect, as a sacred temple, the body that enshrines such an improvable soul. True love, likewise, spreads this kind of mysterious sanctity round the beloved object, making the lover most modest when in her presence ^*. So reserved is affection that, receiving or returning personal endearments, it wishes, not only to shun the human eye, as a kind of profanation; but to diffuse an [280] encircling cloudy obscurity to shut out even the saucy sparkling sunbeams. Yet, that affection does not deserve the epithet of chaste, which does not receive a sublime gloom of tender melancholy, that allows the mind for a moment to stand still and enjoy the present satisfaction, when a consciousness of the Di⯑vine presence is felt—for this must ever be the food of joy!

As I have always been fond of tracing to its source in nature any prevailing custom, I have frequently thought that it was a senti⯑ment of affection for whatever had touched the person of an absent or lost friend, which gave birth to that respect for relicks, so much abused by selfish priests. Devotion, or love, may be allowed to hallow the garments as well as the person; for the lover must want fancy who has not a sort of sacred respect for the glove or slipper of his mistress. He could not confound them with vulgar things of the same kind. This fine sentiment, perhaps, would not bear to be analyzed by the experi⯑mental philosopher—but of such stuff is hu⯑man rapture made up!—A shadowy phan⯑tom glides before us, obscuring every other object; yet when the soft cloud is grasped, [281] the form melts into common air, leaving a solitary void, or sweet perfume, stolen from the violet, that memory long holds dear. But, I have tripped unawares on fairy ground, feeling the balmy gale of spring stealing on me, though november frowns.

As a sex, women are more chaste than men, and as modesty is the effect of chastity, they may deserve to have this virtue ascribed to them in rather an appropriated sense; yet, I must be allowed to add an hesitating if:—for I doubt whether chastity will produce mo⯑desty, though it may propriety of conduct, when it is merely a respect for the opinion of the world ^*, and when coquetry and the love⯑lorn tales of novelists employ the thoughts. Nay, from experience, and reason, I should be led to expect to meet with more modesty amongst men than women, simply because men exercise their understandings more than women.

But, with respect to propriety of behavi⯑our, excepting one class of females, women have evidently the advantage. What can be [282] more disgusting than that impudent dross of gallantry, thought so manly, which makes many men stare insultingly at every female they meet? Is this respect for the sex? This loose behaviour shews such habitual depra⯑vity, such weakness of mind, that it is vain to expect much public or private virtue, till both men and women grow more modest— till men, curbing a sensual fondness for the sex, or an affectation of manly assurance, more properly speaking, impudence, treat each other with respect—unless appetite or passion gives the tone, peculiar to it, to their behaviour. I mean even personal respect— the modest respect of humanity, and fellow-feeling—not the libidinous mockery of gal⯑lantry, nor the insolent condescension of protectorship.

To carry the observation still further, mo⯑desty must heartily disclaim, and refuse to dwell with that debauchery of mind, which leads a man coolly to bring forward, without a blush, indecent allusions, or obscene witticisms, in the presence of a fellow creature; women are now out of the question, for then it is brutality. Respect for man, as man, is the foundation of every noble sentiment. How much more [283] modest is the libertine who obeys the call of appetite or fancy, than the lewd joker who sets the table in a roar!

This is one of the many instances in which the sexual distinction respecting modesty has proved fatal to virtue and happiness. It is, however, carried still further, and woman, weak woman! made by her education the slave of sensibility, is required, on the most trying occasions, to resist that sensibility. ‘Can any thing, says Knox, be more ab⯑surd than keeping women in a state of ig⯑norance, and yet so vehemently to insist on their resisting temptation?’ —Thus when virtue or honour make it proper to check a passion, the burden is thrown on the weaker shoulders, contrary to reason and true mo⯑desty, which, at least, should render the self-denial mutual, to say nothing of the genero⯑sity of bravery, supposed to be a manly virtue.

In the same strain runs Rousseau's and Dr. Gregory's advice respecting modesty, strangely miscalled! for they both desire a wife to leave it in doubt whether sensibility or weakness led her to her husband's arms.— The woman is immodest who can let the [284] shadow of such a doubt remain on her hus⯑band's mind a moment.

But to state the subject in a different light. —The want of modesty, which I principally deplore as subversive of morality, arises from the state of warfare so strenuously supported by voluptuous men as the very essence of modesty, though, in fact, its bane; because it is a refinement on lust, that men fall into who have not sufficient virtue to relish the innocent pleasures of love. A man of deli⯑cacy carries his notions of modesty still fur⯑ther, for neither weakness nor sensibility will gratify him—he looks for affection.

Again; men boast of their triumphs over women, what do they boast of? Truly the creature of sensibility was surprised by her sensibility into folly—into vice ^*; and the dreadful reckoning falls heavily on her own weak head, when reason wakes. For where art thou to find comfort, forlorn and discon⯑solate one? He who ought to have directed thy reason, and supported thy weakness, has betrayed thee! In a dream of passion thou consentedst to wander through flowery lawns, [285] and heedlessly stepping over the precipice to which thy guide, instead of guarding, lured thee, thou startest from thy dream only to face a sneering, frowning world, and to find thyself alone in a waste, for he that triumphed in thy weakness is now pursuing new con⯑quests; but for thee—there is no redemption on this side the grave!—And what resource has thou in an enervated mind to raise a sink⯑ing heart?

But, if the sexes are really to live in a state of warfare, if nature has pointed it out, let men act nobly, or let pride whisper to them, that the victory is mean when they merely vanquish sensibility. The real con⯑quest is that over affection not taken by sur⯑prise—when, like Heloisa, a woman gives up all the world, deliberately, for love. I do not now consider the wisdom or virtue of such a sacrifice, I only contend that it was a sacri⯑fice to affection, and not merely to sensibility, though she had her share.—And I must be allowed to call her a modest woman, before I dismiss this part of the subject, by saying, that till men are more chaste women will be immodest. Where, indeed, could modest women find husbands from whom they would [286] not continually turn with disgust? Modesty must be equally cultivated by both sexes, or it will ever remain a sickly hot-house plant, whilst the affectation of it, the fig leaf bor⯑rowed by wantonness, may give a zest to voluptuous enjoyments.

Men will probably still insist that woman ought to have more modesty than man; but it is not dispassionate reasoners who will most earnestly oppose my opinion. No, they are the men of fancy, the favourites of the sex, who outwardly respect and inwardly despise the weak creatures whom they thus sport with. They cannot submit to resign the highest sensual gratification, nor even to relish the epicurism of virtue—self-denial.

To take another view of the subject, con⯑fining my remarks to women.

The ridiculous falsities ^* which are told to children, from mistaken notions of modesty, [287] tend very early to inflame their imaginations and set their little minds to work, respecting subjects, which nature never intended they should think of till the body arrived at some degree of maturity; then the passions natu⯑rally begin to take place of the senses, as in⯑struments to unfold the understanding, and form the moral character.

In nurseries, and boarding-schools, I fear, girls are first spoiled; particularly in the lat⯑ter. A number of girls sleep in the same room, and wash together. And, though I should be sorry to contaminate an innocent creature's mind by instilling false delicacy, or those indecent prudish notions, which early cautions respecting the other sex naturally engender, I should be very anxious to pre⯑vent their acquiring nasty, or immodest ha⯑bits; and as many girls have learned very nasty tricks, from ignorant servants, the [288] mixing them thus indiscriminately together, is very improper.

To say the truth women are, in general, too familiar with each other, which leads to that gross degree of familiarity that so fre⯑quently renders the marriage state unhappy. Why in the name of decency are sisters, fe⯑male intimates, or ladies and their waiting-women, to be so grossly familiar as to forget the respect which one human creature owes to another? That squeamish delicacy which shrinks from the most disgusting offices when affection ^* or humanity lead us to watch at a sick pillow, is despicable. But, why wo⯑men in health should be more familiar with each other than men are, when they boast of their superiour delicacy, is a solecism in man⯑ners which I could never solve.

In order to preserve health and beauty, I should earnestly recommend frequent ablu⯑tions, to dignify my advice that it may not offend the fastidious ear; and, by example, girls ought to be taught to wash and dress alone, [289] without any distinction of rank; and if cus⯑tom should make them require some little assistance, let them not require it till that part of the business is over which ought never to be done before a fellow-creature; because it is an insult to the majesty of human na⯑ture. Not on the score of modesty, but de⯑dency; for the care which some modest wo⯑men take, making at the same time a display of that care, not to let their legs be seen, is as childish as immodest ^*.

I could proceed still further, till I animad⯑verted on some still more nasty customs, which men never fall into. Secrets are told —where silence ought to reign; and that regard to cleanliness, which some religious sects have, perhaps, carried too far, especially the Essenes, amongst the Jews, by making that an insult to God which is only an insult to humanity, is violated in a beastly manner. How can delicate women obtrude on notice that part of the animal oeconomy, which is [290] so very disgusting? And is it not very rational to conclude, that the women who have not been taught to respect the human nature of their own sex, in these particulars, will not long respect the mere difference of sex in their husbands? After their maidenish bashfulness is once lost, I, in fact, have generally ob⯑served, that women fall into old habits; and treat their husbands as they did their sisters or female acquaintance.

Besides, women from necessity, because their minds are not cultivated, have recourse very often to what I familiarly term bodily wit; and their intimacies are of the same kind. In short, with respect to both mind and body, they are too intimate. That de⯑cent personal reserve which is the foundation of dignity of character, must be kept up be⯑tween women, or their minds will never gain strength or modesty.

On this account also, I object to many fe⯑males being shut up together in nurseries, schools, or convents. I cannot recollect with⯑out indignation, the jokes and hoiden tricks, which knots of young women indulge them⯑selves in, when in my youth accident threw me, an awkward rustic, in their way. They [291] were almost on a par with the double mean⯑ings, which shake the convivial table when the glass has circulated freely. But, it is vain to attempt to keep the heart pure, un⯑less the head is furnished with ideas, and set to work to compare them, in order to ac⯑quire judgment, by generalizing simple ones; and modesty, by making the understanding damp the sensibility.

It may be thought that I lay too great a stress on personal reserve; but it is ever the handmaid of modesty. So that were I to name the graces that ought to adorn beauty, I should instantly exclaim, cleanliness, neat⯑ness, and personal reserve. It is obvious, I suppose, that the reserve I mean, has nothing sexual in it, and that I think it equally neces⯑sary in both sexes. So necessary, indeed, is that reserve and cleanliness which indolent women too often neglect, that I will venture to affirm that when two or three women live in the same house, the one will be most re⯑spected by the male part of the family, who reside with them, leaving love entirely out of the question, who pays this kind of habitual respect to her person.

[292]When domestic friends meet in a morning, there will naturally prevail an affectionate se⯑riousness, especially, if each look forward to the discharge of daily duties; and, it may be reckoned fanciful, but this sentiment has frequently rose spontaneously in my mind, I have been pleased after breathing the sweet-bracing morning air, to see the same kind of freshness in the countenances I particularly loved; I was glad to see them braced, as it were, for the day, and ready to run their course with the sun. The greetings of affec⯑tion in the morning are by these means more respectful than the familiar tenderness which frequently prolongs the evening talk. Nay, I have often felt hurt, not to say disgusted, when a friend has appeared, whom I parted with full dressed the evening before, with her clothes huddled on, because she chose to indulge herself in bed till the last moment.

Domestic affection can only be kept alive by these neglected attentions; yet if men and women took half as much pains to dress habi⯑tually neat, as they do to ornament, or rather to disfigure, their persons, much would be done towards the attainment of purity of mind. But women only dress to gratify men [293] of gallantry; for the lover is always best pleased with the simple garb that sits close to the shape. There is an impertinence in or⯑naments that rebuffs affection; because love always clings round the idea of home.

As a sex, women are habitually indolent; and every thing tends to make them so. I do not forget the spurts of activity which sensibility produces; but as these flights of feelings only increase the evil, they are not to be confounded with the slow, orderly walk of reason. So great in reality is their mental and bodily indolence, that till their body be strengthened and their understanding enlarged by active exertions, there is little reason to expect that modesty will take place of bash⯑fulness. They may find it prudent to assume its semblance; but the fair veil will only be worn on gala days.

Perhaps, there is not a virtue that mixes so kindly with every other as modesty.— It is the pale moon-beam that renders more interesting every virtue it softens, giving mild grandeur to the contracted horizon. Nothing can be more beautiful than the poetical fiction, which makes Diana with her silver crescent, the goddess of chastity. [294] I have sometimes thought, that wandering with sedate step in some lonely recess, a mo⯑dest dame of antiquity must have felt a glow of conscious dignity when, after contemplat⯑ing the soft shadowy landscape, she has in⯑vited with placid fervour the mild reflection of her sisters beams to turn to her chaste bosom.

A Christian has still nobler motives to incite her to preserve her chastity and acquire modesty, for her body has been called the Temple of the living God; of that God who requires more than modesty of mein. His eye searcheth the heart; and let her remember, that if she hopeth to find favour in the sight of purity itself, her chastity must be founded on mo⯑desty and not on worldly prudence; or verily a good reputation will be her only reward; for that awful intercourse, that sacred com⯑munication, which virtue establishes between man and his Maker, must give rise to the wish of being pure as he is pure!

After the foregoing remarks, it is almost superfluous to add, that I consider all those feminine airs of maturity, which succeed bashfulness, to which truth is sacrificed, to secure the heart of a husband, or rather to force him to be still a lover when nature [295] would, had she not been interrupted in her operations, have made love give place to friendship, as immodest. The tenderness which a man will feel for the mother of his children is an excellent substitute for the ar⯑dour of unsatisfied passion; but to prolong that ardour it is indelicate, not to say immo⯑dest, for women to feign an unnatural cold⯑ness of constitution. Women as well as men ought to have the common appetites and pas⯑sions of their nature, they are only brutal when unchecked by reason: but the obliga⯑tion to check them is the duty of mankind, not a sexual duty. Nature, in these respects, may safely be left to herself; let women only acquire knowledge and humanity, and love will teach them modesty ^*. There is no need of falsehoods, disgusting as futile, for studied rules of behaviour only impose on shallow observers; a man of sense soon sees through, and despises the affectation.

[296]The behaviour of young people, to each other, as men and women, is the last thing that should be thought of in education. In fact, behaviour in most circumstances is now so much thought of, that simplicity of cha⯑racter is rarely to be seen: yet, if men were only anxious to cultivate each virtue, and let it take root firmly in the mind, the grace resulting from it, its natural exteriour mark, would soon strip affectation of its flaunting plumes; because, fallacious as un⯑stable, is the conduct that is not founded upon truth!

Would ye, O my sisters, really possess modesty, ye must remember that the pos⯑session of virtue, of any denomination, is incompatible with ignorance and vanity! ye must acquire that soberness of mind, which the exercise of duties, and the pursuit of knowledge, alone inspire, or ye will still remain in a doubtful dependent situation, and only be loved whilst ye are fair! The downcast eye, the rosy blush, the re⯑tiring grace, are all proper in their sea⯑son; but modesty, being the child of rea⯑son, cannot long exist with the sensibility that is not tempered by reflection. Besides, [297] when love, even innocent love, is the whole employ of your lives, your hearts will be too soft to afford modesty that tranquil retreat, where she delights to dwell, in close union with humanity.

CHAP. VIII. MORALITY UNDERMINED BY SEXUAL NO⯑TIONS OF THE IMPORTANCE OF A GOOD REPUTATION.

IT has long since occurred to me that advice respecting behaviour, and all the various modes of preserving a good reputation, which have been so strenuously inculcated on the female world, were specious poisons, that incrusting morality eat away the substance. And, that this measuring of shadows produced a false calculation, because their length depends so much on the height of the sun, and other adventitious circumstances.

From whence arises the easy fallacious be⯑haviour of a courtier? From his situation, undoubtedly: for standing in need of depend⯑ents, he is obliged to learn the art of deny⯑ing without giving offence, and, of evasively feeding hope with the chameleon's food: thus does politeness sport with truth, and [299] eating away the sincerity and humanity natu⯑ral to man, produce the fine gentleman.

Women in the same way acquire, from a supposed necessity, an equally artificial mode of behaviour. Yet truth is not with impu⯑nity to be sported with, for the practised dis⯑sembler, at last, become the dupe of his own arts, loses that sagacity, which has been justly termed common sense; namely, a quick perception of common truths: which are con⯑stantly received as such by the unsophisticated mind, though it might not have had suffi⯑cient energy to discover them itself, when obscured by local prejudices. The greater number of people take their opinions on trust to avoid the trouble of exercising their own minds, and these indolent beings naturally adhere to the letter, rather than the spirit of a law, divine or human. ‘Women, says some author, I cannot recollect who, mind not what only heaven sees.’ Why, in⯑deed should they? it is the eye of man that they have been taught to dread—and if they can lull their Argus to sleep, they seldom think of heaven or themselves, because their repu⯑tion is safe; and it is reputation, not chas⯑tity and all its fair train, that they are em⯑ployed [300] to keep free from spot, not as a virtue, but to preserve their station in the world.

To prove the truth of this remark, I need only advert to the intrigues of married wo⯑men, particularly in high life, and in coun⯑tries where women are suitably married, ac⯑cording to their respective ranks, by their parents. If an innocent girl become a prey to love, she is degraded for ever, though her mind was not polluted by the arts which married women, under the convenient cloke of marriage, practise; nor has she violated any duty—but the duty of respecting herself. The married woman, on the contrary, breaks a most sacred engagement, and becomes a cruel mother when she is a false and faithless wife. If her husband has still an affection for her, the arts which she must practise to deceive him, will render her the most contemptible of human beings; and, at any rate, the contrivances necessary to pre⯑serve appearances, will keep her mind in that childish, or vicious, tumult, which destroys all its energy. Besides, in time, like those people who habitually take cordials to raise their spirits, she will want an intrigue to give life to her thoughts, having lost all relish for [301] pleasures that are not highly seasoned by hope or fear.

Sometimes married women act still more audaciously; I will mention an instance.

A woman of quality, notorious for her gal⯑lantries, though as she still lived with her hus⯑band, nobody chose to place her in the class where she ought to have been placed, made a point of treating with the most insulting con⯑tempt a poor timid creature, abashed by a sense of her former weakness, whom a neigh⯑bouring gentleman had seduced and after⯑wards married. This woman had actually confounded virtue with reputation; and, I do believe, valued herself on the propriety of her behaviour before marriage, though when once settled, to the satisfaction of her fa⯑mily, she and her lord were equally faithless, —so that the half alive heir to an immense estate, came from heaven knows where!

To view this subject in another light.

I have known a number of women who, if they did not love their husbands, loved no⯑body else, give themselves entirely up to vanity and dissipation, neglecting every do⯑mestic duty; nay, even squandering away all the money which should have been saved [302] for their helpless younger children, yet have plumed themselves on their unsullied reputa⯑tion, as if the whole compass of their duty as wives and mothers was only to preserve it. Whilst other indolent women neglecting every personal duty, have thought that they deserved their husbands' affection, because they acted in this respect with propriety.

Weak minds are always fond of resting in the ceremonials of duty, but morality offers much simpler motives; and it were to be wished that superficial moralists had said less respecting behaviour, and outward observances, for unless virtue, of any kind, is built on knowledge, it will only produce a kind of insipid decency. Respect for the opinion of the world, has, however, been termed the principal duty of woman in the most express words, for Rousseau declares, ‘that reputa⯑tion is no less indispensable than chastity. A man, adds he, secure in his own good conduct, depends only on himself, and may brave the public opinion; but a wo⯑man, in behaving well, performs but half her duty; as what is thought of her, is as important to her as what she really is. It follows hence, that the system of a wo⯑man's [303] education should, in this respect, be directly contrary to that of ours. Opinion is the grave of virtue among the men; but its throne among women.’ It is strictly logical to infer that the virtue that rests on opinion is merely worldly, and that it is the virtue of a being to whom reason has been denied. But, even with respect to the opinion of the world, I am convinced that this class of reasoners are mistaken.

This regard for reputation, independent of its being one of the natural rewards of vir⯑tue, however, took its rise from a cause that I have already deplored as the grand source of female depravity, the impossibility of regain⯑ing respectability by a return to virtue, though men preserve theirs during the indulgence of vice. It was natural for women then to en⯑deavour to preserve what once lost—was lost for ever, till this care swallowing up every other care, reputation for chastity, became the one thing needful to the sex. But vain is the scrupulosity of ignorance, for neither religion nor virtue, when they reside in the heart, require such a puerile attention to mere ceremonies, because the behaviour must, upon [304] the whole, be proper, when the motive is pure.

To support my opinion I can produce very respectable authority; and the authority of a cool reasoner ought to have weight to enforce consideration, though not to establish a sen⯑timent. Speaking of the general laws of mo⯑rality, Dr. Smith observes,— ‘That by some very extraordinary and unlucky circum⯑stance, a good man may come to be sus⯑pected of a crime of which he was altogether incapable, and upon that account be most unjustly exposed for the remaining part of his life to the horror and aversion of man⯑kind. By an accident of this kind he may be said to lose his all, notwithstanding his integrity and justice, in the same manner as a cautious man, notwithstanding his utmost circumspection, may be ruined by an earthquake or an inundation. Accidents of the first kind, however, are perhaps still more rare, and still more contrary to the common course of things than those of the second; and it still remains true, that the practice of truth, justice, and humanity, is a certain and almost infallible method of [305] acquiring what those virtues chiefly aim at, the confidence and love of those we live with. A person may be easily misrepre⯑sented with regard to a particular action; but it is scarce possible that he should be so with regard to the general tenor of his con⯑duct. An innocent man may be believed to have done wrong: this, however, will rarely happen. On the contrary, the esta⯑blished opinion of the innocence of his man⯑ners will often lead us to absolve him where he has really been in the fault, not⯑withstanding very strong presumptions.’

I perfectly coincide in opinion with this writer, for I verily believe that few of ei⯑ther sex were ever despised for certain vices without deserving to be despised. I speak not of the calumny of the moment, which hangs over a character, like one of the dense fogs of November, over this metropolis, till it gra⯑dually subsides before the common light of day, I only contend that the daily conduct of the majority prevails to stamp their character with the impression of truth. Quietly does the clear light, shining day after day, refute the ignorant surmise, or malicious tale, which has thrown dirt on a pure character. A false light distorted, for a short time, its sha⯑dow [306] —reputation; but it seldom fails to be⯑come just when the cloud is dispersed that produced the mistake in vision.

Many people, undoubtedly, in several re⯑spects obtain a better reputation than, strictly speaking, they deserve; for unremitting in⯑dustry will mostly reach its goal in all races. They who only strive for this paltry prize, like the Pharisees, who prayed at the corners of streets, to be seen of men, verily ob⯑tain the reward they seek; for the heart of man cannot be read by man! Still the fair fame that is naturally reflected by good ac⯑tions, when the man is only employed to direct his steps aright, regardless of the lookers-on, is, in general, not only more true, but more sure.

There are, it is true, trials when the good man must appeal to God from the injustice of man; and amidst the whining candour or hissings of envy, erect a pavilion in his own mind to retire to till the rumour be overpast; nay, the darts of undeserved censure may pierce an innocent tender bosom through with many sorrows; but these are all excep⯑tions to general rules. And it is according to these common laws that human behaviour ought to be regulated. The eccentric orbit [307] of the comet never influences astronomical calculations respecting the invariable order established in the motion of the principal bo⯑dies of the solar system.

I will then venture to affirm, that after a man is arrived at maturity, the general out⯑line of his character in the world is just, al⯑lowing for the before-mentioned exceptions to the rule. I do not say that a prudent, worldly-wise man, with only negative vir⯑tues and qualities, may not sometimes obtain a more smooth reputation than a wiser or a better man. So far from it, that I am apt to conclude from experience, that where the virtue of two people is nearly equal, the most negative character will be liked best by the world at large, whilst the other may have more friends in private life. But the hills and dales, clouds and sunshine, conspi⯑cuous in the virtues of great men, set off each other; and though they afford envious weakness a fairer mark to shoot at, the real character will still work its way to light, though bespattered by weak affection, or in⯑genious malice ^*.

[308]With respect to that anxiety to preserve a reputation hardly earned, which leads sagacious people to analyze it, I shall not make the obvi⯑ous comment; but I am afraid that morality is very insidiously undermined, in the female world, by the attention being turned to the shew instead of the substance. A simple thing is thus made strangely complicated; nay, sometimes virtue and its shadow are set at variance. We should never, perhaps, have heard of Lucretia, had she died to preserve her chastity instead of her reputation. If we really deserve our own good opinion we shall commonly be respected in the world; but if we pant after higher improvement and higher attainments, it is not sufficient to view our⯑selves as we suppose that we are viewed by others, though this has been ingeniously ar⯑gued, as the foundation of our moral senti⯑ments ^*. Because each by-stander may have his own prejudices, beside the prejudices of his age or country. We should rather endea⯑vour to view ourselves as we suppose that Being views us who seeth each thought ripen into action, and whose judgment never [309] swerves from the eternal rule of right. Righ⯑teous are all his judgments—just as merciful!

The humble mind that seeketh to find favour in His sight, and calmly examines its conduct when only His presence is felt, will seldom form a very erroneous opinion of its own vir⯑tues. During the still hour of self-collection the angry brow of offended justice will be fearfully deprecated, or the tie which draws man to the Deity will be recognized in the pure sentiment of reverential adoration, that swells the heart without exciting any tumul⯑tuous emotions. In these solemn moments man discovers the germ of those vices, which like the Java tree shed a pestiferous vapour around—death is in the shade! and he per⯑ceives them without abhorrence, because he feels himself drawn by some cord of love to all his fellow-creatures, for whose follies he is anxious to find every extenuation in their nature—in himself. If I, he may thus argue, who exercise my own mind, and have been refined by tribulation, find the serpent's egg in some fold of my heart, and crush it with difficulty, shall not I pity those whose have stamped with less vigour, or who have heed⯑lessly nurtured the insidious reptile till it poisoned the vital stream it sucked? Can I, [310] conscious of my secret sins, throw off my fellow-creatures, and calmly see them drop into the chasm of perdition, that yawns to receive them.—No! no! The agonized heart will cry with suffocating impatience—I too am a man! and have vices, hid, perhaps, from human eye, that bend me to the dust before God, and loudly tell me, when all is mute, that we are formed of the same earth, and breathe the same element. Humanity thus rises naturally out of humility, and twists the cords of love that in various convolutions en⯑tangle the heart.

This sympathy extends still further, till a man well pleased observes force in arguments that do not carry conviction to his own bo⯑som, and he gladly places in the fairest light, to himself, the shews of reason that have led others astray, rejoiced to find some reason in all the errors of man; though before con⯑vinced that he who rules the day makes his sun to shine on all. Yet, shaking hands thus as it were with corruption, one foot on earth, the other with bold stride mounts to heaven, and claims kindred with superiour natures. Virtues, unobserved by man, drop their balmy fragrance at this cool hour, and the thirsty [311] land, refreshed by the pure streams of comfort that suddenly gush out, is crowned with smiling verdure; this is the living green, on which that eye may look with complacency that is too pure to behold iniquity!

But my spirits flag; and I must silently indulge the reverie these reflections lead to, unable to describe the sentiments, that have calmed my soul, when watching the rising sun, a soft shower drizzling through the leaves of neighbouring trees, seemed to fall on my languid, yet tranquil spirits, to cool the heart that had been heated by the passions which reason laboured to tame.

The leading principles which run through all my disquisitions, would render it unneces⯑sary to enlarge on this subject, if a constant attention to keep the varnish of the character fresh, and in good condition, were not often inculcated as the sum total of female duty; if rules to regulate the behaviour, and to pre⯑serve the reputation, did not too frequently supersede moral obligations. But, with re⯑spect to reputation, the attention is confined to a single virtue—chastity. If the honour of a woman, as it is absurdly called, is safe, she may neglect every social duty; nay, ruin [312] her family by gaming and extravagance; yet still present a shameless front—for truly she is an honourable woman!

Mrs. Macaulay has justly observed, that ‘there is but one fault which a woman of honour may not commit with impunity.’ She then justly, and humanely adds— ‘This has given rise to the trite and foolish obser⯑vation, that the first fault against chastity in woman has a radical power to deprave the character. But no such frail beings come out of the hands of nature. The human mind is built of nobler materials than to be so easily corrupted; and with all their disadvantages of situation and educa⯑tion, women seldom become entirely aban⯑doned till they are thrown into a state of desperation, by the venomous rancour of their own sex.’

But, in proportion as this regard for the reputation of chastity is prized by women, it is despised by men: and the two extremes are equally destructive to morality.

Men are certainly more under the in⯑fluence of their appetites than women; and their appetites are more depraved by unbridled indulgence and the fastidious contrivances of [313] satiety. Luxury has introduced a refinement in eating, that destroys the constitution; and, a degree of gluttony which is so beastly, that a perception of seemliness of behaviour must be worn out before one being could eat im⯑moderately in the presence of another, and afterwards complain of the oppression that his intemperance naturally produced. Some wo⯑men, particularly French women, have also lost a sense of decency in this respect; for they will talk very calmly of an indigestion. It were to be wished that idleness was not allowed to generate, on the rank soil of wealth, those swarms of summer insects that feed on putrefaction, we should not then be disgusted by the sight of such brutal excesses.

There is one rule relative to behaviour that, I think, ought to regulate every other; and it is simply to cherish such an habitual respect for mankind as may prevent us from disgust⯑ing a fellow-creature for the sake of a present indulgence. The shameful indolence of many married women, and others a little advanced in life, frequently leads them to sin against delicacy. For, though convinced that the person is the band of union between the sexes, yet, how often do they from sheer in⯑dolence, [314] or, to enjoy some trifling indul⯑gence, disgust?

The depravity of the appetite which brings the sexes together, has had a still more fatal effect. Nature must ever be the standard of taste, the gauge of appetite—yet how grossly is nature insulted by the voluptuary. Leav⯑ing the refinements of love out of the ques⯑tion; nature, by making the gratification of an appetite, in this respect, as well as every other, a natural and imperious law to pre⯑serve the species, exalts the appetite, and mixes a little mind and affection with a sen⯑sual gust. The feelings of a parent ming⯑ling with an instinct merely animal, give it dignity; and the man and woman often meeting on account of the child, a mutual interest and affection is excited by the exer⯑cise of a common sympathy. Women then having necessarily some duty to fulfil, more noble than to adorn their persons, would not contentedly be the slaves of casual lust; which is now the situation of a very considerable number who are, literally speaking, standing dishes to which every glutton may have access.

[315]I may be told that great as this enormity is, it only affects a devoted part of the sex—de⯑voted for the salvation of the rest. But, false as every assertion might easily be proved, that recommends the sanctioning a small evil to produce a greater good; the mischief does not stop here, for the moral character, and peace of mind, of the chaster part of the sex, is un⯑dermined by the conduct of the very women to whom they allow no refuge from guilt: whom they inexorably consign to the exer⯑cise of arts that lure their husbands from them, debauch their sons, and force them, let not modest women start, to assume, in some degree, the same character themselves. For I will venture to assert, that all the causes of female weakness, as well as depravity, which I have already enlarged on, branch out of one grand cause—want of chastity in men.

This intemperance, so prevalent, depraves the appetite to such a degree, that a wanton stimulus is necessary to rouse it; but the pa⯑rental design of nature is forgotten, and the mere person, and that for a moment, alone engrosses the thoughts. So voluptuous, in⯑deed, often grows the lustful prowler, that he refines on female softness. Something [316] more soft than woman is then sought for; till, in Italy and Portugal, men attend the levees of equivocal beings, to sigh for more than female languor.

To satisfy this genus of men, women are made systematically voluptuous, and though they may not all carry their libertinism to the same height, yet this heartless intercourse with the sex, which they allow themselves, depraves both sexes, because the taste of men is vitiated; and women, of all classes, natu⯑rally square their behaviour to gratify the taste by which they obtain pleasure and power. Women becoming, consequently, weaker, in mind and body, than they ought to be, were one of the grand ends of their being taken into the account, that of bearing and nursing children, have not sufficient strength to dis⯑charge the first duty of a mother; and sacri⯑ficing to lasciviousness the parental affection, that ennobles instinct, either destroy the embryo in the womb, or cast it off when born. Nature in every thing demands re⯑spect, and those who violate her laws seldom violate them with impunity. The weak enervated women who particularly catch the attention of libertines, are unfit to be mo⯑thers, [317] though they may conceive; so that the rich sensualist, who has rioted among women, spreading depravity and misery, when he wishes to perpetuate his name, receives from his wife only an half-formed being that inherits both its father's and mother's weakness.

Contrasting the humanity of the present age with the barbarism of antiquity, great stress has been laid on the savage custom of ex⯑posing the children whom their parents could not maintain; whilst the man of sensibility, who thus, perhaps, complains, by his pro⯑miscuous amours produces a most destructive barrenness and contagious flagitiousness of manners. Surely nature never intended that women, by satisfying an appetite, should frustrate the very purpose for which it was implanted?

I have before observed, that men ought to maintain the women whom they have seduced; this would be one means of reforming female manners, and stopping an abuse that has an equally fatal effect on population and morals. Another, no less obvious, would be to turn the attention of woman to the real virtue of chas⯑tity; for to little respect has that woman a [318] claim, on the score of modesty, though her reputation may be white as the driven snow, who smiles on the libertine whilst she spurns the victims of his lawless appetites and their own folly.

Besides, she has a taint of the same folly, pure as she esteems herself, when she studi⯑ously adorns her person only to be seen by men, to excite respectful sighs, and all the idle homage of what is called innocent gal⯑lantry. Did women really respect virtue for its own sake, they would not seek for a com⯑pensation in vanity, for the self-denial which they are obliged to practise to preserve their reputation, nor would they associate with men who set reputation at defiance.

The two sexes mutually corrupt and im⯑prove each other. This I believe to be an indisputable truth, extending it to every vir⯑tue. Chastity, modesty, public spirit, and all the noble train of virtues, on which social virtue and happiness is built, should be un⯑derstood and cultivated by all mankind, or they will be cultivated to little effect. And, instead of furnishing the vicious or idle with a pretext for violating some sacred duty, by terming it a sexual one, it would be wiser to [319] shew that nature has not made any difference, for that the unchaste man doubly defeats the purpose of nature, by rendering women barren, and destroying his own constitution, though he avoids the shame that pursues the crime in the other sex. These are the physical consequences, the moral are still more alarm⯑ing; for virtue is only a nominal distinction when the duties of citizens, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, and directors of families, be⯑come merely the selfish ties of convenience.

Why then do philosophers look for public spirit? Public spirit must be nurtured by private virtue, or it will resemble the facti⯑tious sentiment which makes women careful to preserve their reputation, and men their honour. A sentiment that often exists unsup⯑ported by virtue, unsupported by that sublime morality which makes the habitual breach of one duty a breach of the whole moral law.

CHAP. IX. OF THE PERNICIOUS EFFECTS WHICH ARISE FROM THE UNNATURAL DISTINCTIONS ESTABLISHED IN SOCIETY.

FROM the respect paid to property flow, as from a poisoned fountain, most of the evils and vices which render this world such a dreary scene to the contemplative mind. For it is in the most polished society that noisome reptiles and venomous serpents lurk under the rank herbage; and there is volup⯑tuousness pampered by the still sultry air, which relaxes every good disposition before it ripens into virtue.

One class presses on another; for all are aiming to procure respect on account of their property: and property, once gained, will procure the respect due only to talents and virtue. Men neglect the duties incumbent on man, yet are treated like demi-gods; reli⯑gion is also separated from morality by a cere⯑monial veil, yet men wonder that the world [321] is almost, literally speaking, a den of sharpers or oppressors.

There is a homely proverb, which speaks a shrewd truth, that whoever the devil finds idle he will employ. And what but habi⯑tual idleness can hereditary wealth and titles produce? For man is so constituted that he can only attain a proper use of his faculties by exercising them, and will not exercise them unless necessity, of some kind, first set the wheels in motion. Virtue likewise can only be acquired by the discharge of relative duties; but the importance of these sacred duties will scarcely be felt by the being who is cajoled out of his humanity by the flattery of sycophants. There must be more equality established in society, or morality will never gain ground, and this virtuous equality will not rest firmly even when founded on a rock, if one half of mankind are chained to its bot⯑tom by fate, for they will be continually un⯑dermining it through ignorance or pride.

It is vain to expect virtue from women till they are, in some degree, independent of men; nay, it is vain to expect that strength of natural affection, which would make them good wives and mothers. Whilst they are absolutely dependent on their husbands they [322] will be cunning, mean, and selfish, and the men who can be gratified by the fawning fondness of spaniel-like affection, have not much delicacy, for love is not to be bought, in any sense of the words, its silken wings are instantly shrivelled up when any thing be⯑side a return in kind is sought. Yet whilst wealth enervates men; and women live, as it were, by their personal charms, how can we expect them to discharge those ennobling duties which equally require exertion and self-denial. Hereditary property sophisticates the mind, and the unfortunate victims to it, if I may so express myself, swathed from their birth, seldom exert the locomotive faculty of body or mind; and, thus viewing every thing through one medium, and that a false one, they are unable to discern in what true merit and happiness consist. False, indeed, must be the light when the drapery of situa⯑tion hides the man, and makes him stalk in masquerade, dragging from one scene of dis⯑sipation to another the nerveless limbs that hang with stupid listlessness, and rolling round the vacant eye which plainly tells us that there is no mind at home.

I mean, therefore, to infer that the society is not properly organized which does not [323] compel men and women to discharge their respective duties, by making it the only way to acquire that countenance from their fel⯑low-creatures, which every human being wishes some way to attain. The respect, consequently, which is paid to wealth and mere personal charms, is a true north-east blast, that blights the tender blossoms of affec⯑tion and virtue. Nature has wisely attached affections to duties, to sweeten toil, and to give that vigour to the exertions of reason which only the heart can give. But, the affection which is put on merely because it is the appropriated insignia of a certain cha⯑racter, when its duties are not fulfilled, is one of the empty compliments which vice and folly are obliged to pay to virtue and the real nature of things.

To illustrate my opinion, I need only ob⯑serve, that when a woman is admired for her beauty, and suffers herself to be so far intoxi⯑cated by the admiration she receives, as to neglect to discharge the indispensable duty of a mother, she sins against herself by neglect⯑ing to cultivate an affection that would equally tend to make her useful and happy. True happiness, I mean all the contentment, and [324] virtuous satisfaction, that can be snatched in this imperfect state, must arise from well regulated affections; and an affection in⯑cludes a duty. Men are not aware of the misery they cause, and the vicious weakness they cherish, by only inciting women to ren⯑der themselves pleasing; they do not consider that they thus make natural and artificial duties clash, by sacrificing the comfort and respectability of a woman's life to volup⯑tuous notions of beauty, when in nature they all harmonize.

Cold would be the heart of a husband, were he not rendered unnatural by early de⯑bauchery, who did not feel more delight at seeing his child suckled by its mother, than the most artful wanton tricks could ever raise; yet this natural way of cementing the matrimonial tie, and twisting esteem with fonder recollections, wealth leads women to spurn. To preserve their beauty, and wear the flowery crown of the day, that gives them a kind of right to reign for a short time over the sex, they neglect to stamp impressions on their husbands' hearts, that would be remem⯑bered with more tenderness when the snow on the head began to chill the bosom, than [325] even their virgin charms. The maternal so⯑licitude of a reasonable affectionate woman is very interesting, and the chastened dignity with which a mother returns the caresses that she and her child receive from a father who has been fulfilling the serious duties of his station, is not only a respectable, but a beau⯑tiful sight. So singular, indeed, are my feel⯑ings, and I have endeavoured not to catch factitious ones, that after having been fatigued with the sight of insipid grandeur and the slavish ceremonies that with cumberous pomp supplied the place of domestic affections, I have turned to some other scene to relieve my eye by resting it on the refreshing green every where scattered by nature. I have then viewed with pleasure a woman nursing her children, and discharging the duties of her station with, perhaps, merely a servant maid to take off her hands the servile part of the household business. I have seen her prepare herself and children, with only the luxury of cleanliness, to receive her husband, who re⯑turning weary home in the evening found smiling babes and a clean hearth. My heart has loitered in the midst of the group, and has even throbbed with sympathetic emotion, [326] when the scraping of the well known foot has raised a pleasing tumult.

Whilst my benevolence has been gratified by contemplating this artless picture, I have thought that a couple of this description, equally necessary and independent of each other, because each fulfilled the respective duties of their station, possessed all that life could give.—Raised sufficiently above abject poverty not to be obliged to weigh the con⯑sequence of every farthing they spend, and having sufficient to prevent their attending to a frigid system of oeconomy, which nar⯑rows both heart and mind. I declare, so vulgar are my conceptions, that I know not what is wanted to render this the happiest as well as the most respectable situation in the world, but a taste for literature, to throw a little variety and interest into social converse, and some superfluous money to give to the needy and to buy books. For it is not plea⯑sant when the heart is opened by compassion and the head active in arranging plans of use⯑fulness, to have a prim urchin continually twitching back the elbow to prevent the hand from drawing out an almost empty purse, whispering at the same time some [327] prudential maxim about the priority of justice.

Destructive, however, as riches and inhe⯑rited honours are to the human character, women are more debased and cramped, if possible, by them, than men, because men may still, in some degree, unfold their facul⯑ties by becoming soldiers and statesmen.

As soldiers, I grant, they can now only gather, for the most part, vain glorious lau⯑rels, whilst they adjust to a hair the Eu⯑ropean balance, taking especial care that no bleak northern nook or sound incline the beam. But the days of true heroism are over, when a citizen fought for his country like a Fabricius or a Washington, and then returned to his farm to let his virtuous fer⯑vour run in a more placid, but not a less salutary, stream. No, our British heroes are oftener sent from the gaming table than from the plow; and their passions have been rather inflamed by hanging with dumb suspense on the turn of a die, than sublimated by pant⯑ing after the adventurous march of virtue in the historic page.

The statesman, it is true, might with more propriety quit the Faro Bank, or card-table, to [328] guide the helm, for he has still but to shuffle and trick. The whole system of British po⯑litics, if system it may courteously be called, consisting in multiplying dependents and con⯑triving taxes which grind the poor to pamper the rich; thus a war, or any wild goose chace is, as the vulgar use the phrase, a lucky turn-up of patronage for the minister, whose chief merit is the art of keeping himself in place.

It is not necessary then that he should have bowels for the poor, so he can secure for his family the odd trick. Or should some shew of respect, for what is termed with ignorant ostentation an Englishman's birth-right, be expedient to bubble the gruff mastiff that he has to lead by the nose, he can make an empty shew, very safely, by giving his single voice, and suffering his light squadron to file off to the other side. And when a question of hu⯑manity is agitated he may dip a sop in the milk of human kindness, to silence Cerberus, and talk of the interest which his heart takes in an attempt to make the earth no longer cry for vengeance as it sucks in its children's blood, though his cold hand may at the very moment rivet their chains, by sanctioning [329] the abominable traffick. A minister is no longer a minister than while he can carry a point, which he is determined to carry.—Yet it is not necessary that a minister should feel like a man, when a bold push might shake his seat.

But, to have done with these episodical observations, let me return to the more spe⯑cious slavery which chains the very soul of woman, keeping her for ever under the bond⯑age of ignorance.

The preposterous distinctions of rank, which render civilization a curse, by dividing the world between voluptuous tyrants, and cun⯑ning envious dependents, corrupt, almost equally, every class of people, because respec⯑tability is not attached to the discharge of the relative duties of life, but to the station, and when the duties are not fulfilled the affections cannot gain sufficient strength to fortify the virtue of which they are the natural reward. Still there are some loop-holes out of which a man may creep, and dare to think and act for himself; but for a woman it is an herculean task, because she has difficulties peculiar to her sex to overcome, which require almost super⯑human powers.

[330]A truly benevolent legislator always endea⯑vours to make it the interest of each indivi⯑dual to be virtuous; and thus private virtue becoming the cement of public happiness, an orderly whole is consolidated by the tendency of all the parts towards a common centre. But, the private or public virtue of woman is very problematical; for Rousseau, and a nu⯑merous list of male writers, insist that she should all her life be subjected to a severe restraint, that of propriety. Why subject her to propriety—blind propriety, if she be capable of acting from a nobler spring, if she be an heir of immortality? Is sugar always to be produced by vital blood? Is one half of the human species, like the poor African slaves, to be subject to prejudices that brutalize them, when principles would be a surer guard, only to sweeten the cup of man? Is not this indi⯑rectly to deny woman reason? for a gift is a mockery, if it be unfit for use.

Women are, in common with men, ren⯑dered weak and luxurious by the relaxing pleasures which wealth procures; but added to this they are made slaves to their persons, and must render them alluring that man may [331] lend them his reason to guide their tottering steps aright. Or should they be ambitious, they must govern their tyrants by sinister tricks, for without rights there cannot be any incumbent duties. The laws respecting woman, which I mean to discuss in a future part, make an absurd unit of a man and his wife; and then, by the easy transition of only considering him as responsible, she is reduced to a mere cypher.

The being who discharges the duties of its station is independent; and, speaking of wo⯑men at large, their first duty is to themselves as rational creatures, and the next, in point of importance, as citizens, is that, which includes so many, of a mother. The rank in life which dispenses with their fulfilling this duty, necessarily degrades them by making them mere dolls. Or, should they turn to something more important than merely fitting drapery upon a smooth block, their minds are only occupied by some soft platonic at⯑tachment; or, the actual management of an intrigue may keep their thoughts in motion; for when they neglect domestic duties, they have it not in their power to take the field and march and counter-march like soldiers, [332] or wrangle in the senate to keep their facul⯑ties from rusting.

I know that as a proof of the inferiority of the sex, Rousseau has exultingly exclaimed, How can they leave the nursery for the camp! —And the camp has by some moralists been termed the school of the most heroic virtues; though, I think, it would puzzle a keen casuist to prove the reasonableness of the greater number of wars that have dubbed heroes. I do not mean to consider this ques⯑tion critically; because, having frequently viewed these freaks of ambition as the first natural mode of civilization, when the ground must be torn up, and the woods cleared by fire and sword, I do not choose to call them pests; but surely the present system of war has little connection with virtue of any deno⯑mination, being rather the school of finesse and effeminacy, than of fortitude.

Yet, if defensive war, the only justifiable war, in the present advanced state of society, where virtue can shew its face and ripen amidst the rigours which purify the air on the mountain's top, were alone to be adopted as just and glorious, the true heroism of an⯑tiquity might again animate female bosoms.— [333] But fair and softly, gentle reader, male or female, do not alarm thyself, for though I have contrasted the character of a modern soldier with that of a civilized woman, I am not going to advise them to turn their distaff into a musket, though I sincerely wish to see the bayonet converted into a pruning-hook. I only recreated an imagination, fatigued by contemplating the vices and follies which all proceed from a feculent stream of wealth that has muddied the pure rills of natural affection, by supposing that society will some time or other be so constituted, that man must neces⯑sarily fulfil the duties of a citizen, or be de⯑spised, and that while he was employed in any of the departments of civil life, his wife, also an active citizen, should be equally in⯑tent to manage her family, educate her chil⯑dren, and assist her neighbours.

But, to render her really virtuous and use⯑ful, she must not, if she discharge her civil duties, want, individually, the protection of civil laws; she must not be dependent on her husband's bounty for her subsistence during his life, or support after his death—for how can a being be generous who has nothing of its own? or, virtuous, who is not free? [334] The wife, in the present state of things, who is faithful to her husband, and neither suckles nor educates her children, scarcely deserves the name of a wife, and has no right to that of a citizen. But take away natural rights, and there is of course an end of duties.

Women thus infallibly become only the wanton solace of men, when they are so weak in mind and body, that they cannot exert themselves, unless to pursue some frothy pleasure, or to invent some frivolous fashion. What can be a more melancholy sight to a thinking mind, than to look into the nu⯑merous carriages that drive helter-skelter about this metropolis in a morning full of pale-faced creatures who are flying from themselves. I have often wished, with Dr. Johnson, to place some of them in a little shop with half a dozen children looking up to their languid countenances for support. I am much mis⯑taken, if some latent vigour would not soon give health and spirit to their eyes, and some lines drawn by the exercise of reason on the blank cheeks, which before were only undulated by dimples, might restore lost dignity to the character, or rather enable it to attain the true dignity of its nature. Virtue is not to [335] be acquired even by speculation, much less by the negative supineness that wealth natu⯑rally generates.

Besides, when poverty is more disgraceful than even vice, is not morality cut to the quick? Still to avoid misconstruction, though I consider that women in the common walks of life are called to fulfil the duties of wives and mothers, by religion and reason, I cannot help lamenting that women of a superiour cast have not a road open by which they can pur⯑sue more extensive plans of usefulness and independence. I may excite laughter, by dropping an hint, which I mean to pursue, some future time, for I really think that wo⯑men ought to have representatives, instead of being arbitrarily governed without having any direct share allowed them in the deliberations of government.

But, as the whole system of representation is now, in this country, only a convenient handle for despotism, they need not complain, for they are as well represented as a numer⯑ous class of hard working mechanics, who pay for the support of royalty when they can scarcely stop their children's mouths with bread. How are they represented whose very [336] sweat supports the splendid stud of an heir apparent, or varnishes the chariot of some fe⯑male favourite who looks down on shame? Taxes on the very necessaries of life, enable an endless tribe of idle princes and princesses to pass with stupid pomp before a gaping crowd, who almost worship the very pa⯑rade which costs them so dear. This is mere gothic grandeur, something like the barba⯑rous useless parade of having sentinels on horseback at Whitehall, which I could never view without a mixture of contempt and indignation.

How strangely must the mind be sophisti⯑cated when this sort of state impresses it! But, till these monuments of folly are levelled by virtue, similar follies will leaven the whole mass. For the same character, in some de⯑gree, will prevail in the aggregate of society: and the refinements of luxury, or the vicious repinings of envious poverty, will equally ba⯑nish virtue from society, considered as the characteristic of that society, or only allow it to appear as one of the stripes of the harle⯑quin coat, worn by the civilized man.

In the superiour ranks of life, every duty is done by deputies, as if duties could ever [337] be waved, and the vain pleasures which con⯑sequent idleness forces the rich to pursue, ap⯑pear so enticing to the next rank, that the numerous scramblers for wealth sacrifice every thing to tread on their heels. The most sacred trusts are then considered as sinecures, because they were procured by interest, and only sought to enable a man to keep good company. Women, in particular, all want to be ladies. Which is simply to have no⯑thing to do, but listlessly to go they scarcely care where, for they cannot tell what.

But what have women to do in society? I may be asked, but to loiter with easy grace; surely you would not condemn them all to suckle fools and chronicle small beer! No. Women might certainly study the art of healing, and be physicians as well as nurses. And midwifery, decency seems to allot to them, though I am afraid the word mid⯑wife, in our dictionaries, will soon give place to accoucheur, and one proof of the former delicacy of the sex be effaced from the lan⯑guage.

They might, also, study politics, and settle their benevolence on the broadest basis; for the reading of history will scarcely be more [338] useful than the perusal of romances, if read as mere biography; if the character of the times, the political improvements, arts, &c. be not observed. In short, if it be not considered as the history of man; and not of particular men, who filled a niche in the temple of fame, and dropped into the black rolling stream of time, that silently sweeps all before it, into the shapeless void called— eternity.—For shape, can it be called, ‘that shape hath none?’

Business of various kinds, they might like⯑wise pursue, if they were educated in a more orderly manner, which might save many from common and legal prostitution. Wo⯑men would not then marry for a support, as men accept of places under government, and neglect the implied duties; nor would an attempt to earn their own subsistence, a most laudable one! sink them almost to the level of those poor abandoned creatures who live by prostitution. For are not milliners and mantua-makers reckoned the next class? The few employments open to women, so far from being liberal, are menial; and when a superiour education enables them to take charge of the education of children as gover⯑nesses, [339] they are not treated like the tutors of sons, though even clerical tutors are not al⯑ways treated in a manner calculated to ren⯑der them respectable in the eyes of their pupils, to say nothing of the private comfort of the individual. But as women educated like gentlewomen, are never designed for the humiliating situation which necessity some⯑times forces them to fill; these situations are considered in the light of a degradation; and they know little of the human heart, who need to be told, that nothing so pain⯑fully sharpens the sensibility as such a fall in life.

Some of these women might be restrained from marrying by a proper spirit or delicacy, and others may not have had it in their power to escape in this pitiful way from servitude; is not that government then very defective, and very unmindful of the happiness of one half of its members, that does not provide for honest, independent women, by encou⯑raging them to fill respectable stations? But in order to render their private virtue a public benefit, they must have a civil existence in the state, married or single; else we shall continually see some worthy woman, whose [340] sensibility has been rendered painfully acute by undeserved contempt, droop like ‘the lily broken down by a plow-share.’

It is a melancholy truth; yet such is the blessed effect of civilization! the most respect⯑able women are the most oppressed; and, unless they have understandings far superiour to the common run of understandings, taking in both sexes, they must, from being treated like contemptible beings, become contemp⯑tible. How many women thus waste life away the prey of discontent, who might have practised as physicians, regulated a farm, managed a shop, and stood erect, supported by their own industry, instead of hanging their heads surcharged with the dew of sensi⯑bility, that consumes the beauty to which it at first gave lustre; nay, I doubt whether pity and love are so near akin as poets feign, for I have seldom seen much compassion ex⯑cited by the helplessness of females, unless they were fair; then, perhaps, pity was the soft handmaid of love, or the harbinger of lust.

How much more respectable is the woman who earns her own bread by fulfilling any duty, than the most accomplished beauty!— beauty did I say?—so sensible am I of the beauty of moral loveliness, or the harmonious [341] propriety that attunes the passions of a well-regulated mind, that I blush at making the comparison; yet I sigh to think how few women aim at attaining this respectability by withdrawing from the giddy whirl of plea⯑sure, or the indolent calm that stupifies the good sort of women it fucks in.

Proud of their weakness, however, they must always be protected, guarded from care, and all the rough toils that dignify the mind.—If this be the fiat of fate, if they will make themselves insignificant and con⯑temptible, sweetly to waste 'life away,' let them not expect to be valued when their beauty fades, for it is the fate of the fairest flowers to be admired and pulled to pieces by the careless hand that plucked them. In how many ways do I wish, from the purest benevolence, to impress this truth on my sex; yet I fear that they will not listen to a truth that dear bought experience has brought home to many an agitated bosom, nor wil⯑lingly resign the privileges of rank and sex for the privileges of humanity, to which those have no claim who do not discharge its duties.

Those writers are particularly useful, in my opinion, who make man feel for man, [342] independent of the station he fills, or the drapery of factitious sentiments. I then would fain convince reasonable men of the import⯑ance of some of my remarks, and prevail on them to weigh dispassionately the whole te⯑nor of my observations.—I appeal to their un⯑derstandings; and, as a fellow-creature claim, in the name of my sex, some interest in their hearts. I entreat them to assist to emancipate their companion, to make her a help meet for them!

Would men but generously snap our chains, and be content with rational fellowship in⯑stead of slavish obedience, they would find us more observant daughters, more affectionate sisters, more faithful wives, more reasonable mothers—in a word, better citizens. We should then love them with true affection, because we should learn to respect ourselves; and the peace of mind of a worthy man would not be interrupted by the idle vanity of his wife, nor his babes sent to nestle in a strange bosom, having never found a home in their mother's.

CHAP. X. PARENTAL AFFECTION.

PARENTAL affection is, perhaps, the blindest modification of perverse self-love; for we have not, like the French ^*, two terms to distinguish the pursuit of a natural and reason⯑able desire, from the ignorant calculations of weakness. Parents often love their children in the most brutal manner, and sacrifice every relative duty to promote their advancement in the world.—To promote, such is the perversity of unprincipled prejudices, the future welfare of the very beings whose present existence they imbitter by the most despotic stretch of power. Power, in fact, is ever true to its vital prin⯑ciple, for in every shape it would reign with⯑out controul or inquiry. Its throne is built across a dark abyss, which no eye must dare to explore, lest the baseless fabric should totter under investigation. Obedience, uncondi⯑tional [344] obedience, is the catch-word of ty⯑rants of every description, and to render 'assurance doubly sure,' one kind of des⯑potism supports another. Tyrants would have cause to tremble if reason were to be⯑come the rule of duty in any of the relations of life, for the light might spread till perfect day appeared. And when it did appear, how would men smile at the sight of the bugbears at which they started during the night of ig⯑norance, or the twilight of timid inquiry.

Parental affection, indeed, in many minds, is but a pretext to tyrannize where it can be done with impunity, for only good and wise men are content with the respect that will bear discussion. Convinced that they have a right to what they insist on, they do not fear rea⯑son, or dread the sifting of subjects that recur to natural justice: because they firmly be⯑lieve that the more enlightened the human mind becomes the deeper root will just and simple principles take. They do not rest in expedients, or grant that what is metaphy⯑sically true can be practically false; but dis⯑daining the shifts of the moment they calmly wait till time, sanctioning innovation, silences the hiss of selfishness or envy.

[345]If the power of reflecting on the past, and darting the keen eye of contemplation into futurity, be the grand privilege of man, it must be granted that some people enjoy this prerogative in a very limited degree. Every thing now appears to them wrong; and not able to distinguish the possible from the mon⯑strous, they fear where no fear should find a place, running from the light of reason, as if it were a firebrand; yet the limits of the pos⯑sible have never been defined to stop the sturdy innovator's hand.

Woman, however, a slave in every situation to prejudice, seldom exerts enlightened mater⯑nal affection; for she either neglects her chil⯑dren, or spoils them by improper indulgence. Besides, the affection of some women for their children is, as I have before termed it, fre⯑quently very brutish: for it eradicates every spark of humanity. Justice, truth, every thing is sacrificed by these Rebekah's, and for the sake of their own children they violate the most sacred duties, forgetting the com⯑mon relationship that binds the whole family on earth together. Yet, reason seems to say, that they who suffer one duty, or affection, to swallow up the rest, have not sufficient [346] heart or mind to fulfil that one conscientiously. It then loses the venerable aspect of a duty, and assumes the fantastic form of a whim.

As the care of children in their infancy is one of the grand duties annexed to the female character by nature, this duty would afford many forcible arguments for strengthening the female understanding, if it were properly considered.

The formation of the mind must be begun very early, and the temper, in particular, requires the most judicious attention—an at⯑tention which women cannot pay who only love their children because they are their children, and seek no further for the founda⯑tion of their duty, than in the feelings of the moment. It is this want of reason in their affections which makes women so often run into extremes, and either be the most fond or most careless and unnatural mothers.

To be a good mother—a woman must have sense, and that independence of mind which few women possess who are taught to depend entirely on their husbands. Meek wives are, in general, foolish mothers; wanting their children to love them best, and take their part, in secret, against the father, who is [347] held up as a scarecrow. If they are to be punished, though they have offended the mother, the father must inflict the punish⯑ment; he must be the judge in all disputes: but I shall more fully discuss this subject when I treat of private education, I now only mean to insist, that unless the understanding of woman be enlarged, and her character rendered more firm, by being allowed to go⯑vern her own conduct, she will never have sufficient sense or command of temper to manage her children properly. Her parental affection, indeed, scarcely deserves the name, when it does not lead her to suckle her chil⯑dren, because the discharge of this duty is equally calculated to inspire maternal and filial affection: and it is the indispensable duty of men and women to fulfil the duties which give birth to affections that are the surest preservatives against vice. Natural af⯑fection, as it is termed, I believe to be a very faint tie, affections must grow out of the habitual exercise of a mutual sympathy; and what sympathy does a mother exercise who sends her babe to a nurse, and only takes it from a nurse to send it to a school?

[348]In the exercise of their maternal feelings providence has furnished women with a na⯑tural substitute for love, when the lover be⯑comes only a friend and mutual confidence takes place of overstrained admiration—a child then gently twists the relaxing cord, and a mutual care produces a new mutual sympathy.—But a child, though a pledge of affection, will not enliven it, if both father and mother are content to transfer the charge to hirelings; for they who do their duty by proxy should not murmur if they miss the reward of duty—parental affection produces filial duty.

CHAP. XI. DUTY TO PARENTS.

THERE seems to be an indolent propensity in man to make prescription always take place of reason, and to place every duty on an arbitrary foundation. The rights of kings are deduced in a direct line from the King of kings; and that of parents from our first parent.

Why do we thus go back for principles that should always rest on the same base, and have the same weight to-day that they had a thou⯑sand years ago—and not a jot more? If pa⯑rents discharge their duty they have a strong hold and sacred claim on the gratitude of their children; but few parents are willing to re⯑ceive the respectful affection of their offspring on such terms. They demand blind obe⯑dience, because they do not merit a reason⯑able service: and to render these demands of weakness and ignorance more binding, a mysterious sanctity is spread round the most [350] arbitrary principle; for what other name can be given to the blind duty of obeying vicious or weak beings merely because they obeyed a powerful instinct?

The simple definition of the reciprocal duty, which naturally subsists between pa⯑rent and child, may be given in a few words: The parent who pays proper attention to helpless infancy has a right to require the same attention when the feebleness of age comes upon him. But to subjugate a rational being to the mere will of another, after he is of age to answer to society for his own con⯑duct, is a most cruel and undue stretch of power; and, perhaps, as injurious to mora⯑lity as those religious systems which do not allow right and wrong to have any existence, but in the Divine will.

I never knew a parent who had paid more than common attention to his children, dis⯑regarded ^*; on the contrary, the early habit of relying almost implicitly on the opinion of a respected parent is not easily shook, even when matured reason convinces the child that his father is not the wisest man in the world. This weakness, for a weakness it is, though [351] the epithet amiable may be tacked to it, a reasonable man must steel himself against; for the absurd duty, too often inculcated, of obeying a parent only on account of his being a parent, shackles the mind, and prepares it for a slavish submission to any power but reason.

I distinguish between the natural and acci⯑dental duty due to parents.

The parent who sedulously endeavours to form the heart and enlarge the understanding of his child, has given that dignity to the discharge of a duty, common to the whole animal world, that only reason can give. This is the parental affection of humanity, and leaves instinctive natural affection far be⯑hind. Such a parent acquires all the rights of the most sacred friendship, and his advice, even when his child is advanced in life, de⯑mands serious consideration.

With respect to marriage, though after one and twenty a parent seems to have no right to withhold his consent on any account; yet twenty years of solicitude call for a re⯑turn, and the son ought, at least, to promise not to marry for two or three years, should [352] the object of his choice not entirely meet with the approbation of his first friend.

But, respect for parents is, generally speak⯑ing, a much more debasing principle; it is only a selfish respect for property. The fa⯑ther who is blindly obeyed, is obeyed from sheer weakness, or from motives that de⯑grade the human character.

A great proportion of the misery that wan⯑ders, in hideous forms around the world, is allowed to rise from the negligence of pa⯑rents; and still these are the people who are most tenacious of what they term a natural right, though it be subversive of the birth-right of man, the right of act⯑ing according to the direction of his own reason.

I have already very frequently had occasion to observe, that vicious or indolent people are always eager to profit by enforcing arbitrary privileges; and, generally, in the same pro⯑portion as they neglect the discharge of the duties which alone render the privileges rea⯑sonable. This is at the bottom a dictate of common sense, or the instinct of self-defence, peculiar to ignorant weakness; resembling [353] that instinct, which makes a fish muddy the water it swims in to elude its enemy, instead of boldly facing it in the clear stream.

From the clear stream of argument, in⯑deed, the supporters of prescription, of every denomination, fly; and, taking refuge in the darkness, which, in the language of sublime poetry, has been supposed to surround the throne of Omnipotence, they dare to demand that implicit respect which is only due to His unsearchable ways. But, let me not be thought presumptuous, the darkness which hides our God from us, only respects specu⯑lative truths—it never obscures moral ones, they shine clearly, for God is light, and never, by the constitution of our nature, re⯑quires the discharge of a duty, the reason⯑ableness of which does not beam on us when we open our eyes.

The indolent parent of high rank may, it is true, extort a shew of respect from his child, and females on the continent are parti⯑cularly subject to the views of their families, who never think of consulting their inclina⯑tion, or providing for the comfort of the poor victims of their pride. The consequence is notorious; these dutiful daughters become [354] adulteresses, and neglect the education of their children, from whom they, in their turn, exact the same kind of obedience.

Females, it is true, in all countries, are too much under the dominion of their pa⯑rents; and few parents think of addressing their children in the following manner, though it is in this reasonable way that Heaven seems to command the whole human race. It is your interest to obey me till you can judge for yourself; and the Almighty Father of all has implanted an affection in me to serve as a guard to you whilst your reason is unfold⯑ing; but when your mind arrives at maturity, you must only obey me, or rather respect my opinions, so far as they coincide with the light that is breaking in on your own mind.

A slavish bondage to parents cramps every faculty of the mind; and Mr. Locke very judiciously observes, that ‘if the mind be curbed and humbled too much in children; if their spirits be abased and broken much by too strict an hand over them; they lose all their vigour and industry.’ This strict hand may in some degree account for the weakness of women; for girls, from various causes, are more kept down by their parents, [355] in every sense of the word, than boys. The duty expected from them is, like all the du⯑ties arbitrarily imposed on women, more from a sense of propriety, more out of respect for decorum than reason; and thus taught sla⯑vishly to submit to their parents, they are prepared for the slavery of marriage. I may be told that a number of women are not slaves in the marriage state. True, but they then become tyrants; for it is not rational freedom, but a lawless kind of power resem⯑bling the authority exercised by the favourites of absolute monarchs, which they obtain by debasing means. I do not, likewise, dream of insinuating that either boys or girls are al⯑ways slaves, I only insist that when they are obliged to submit to authority blindly, their faculties are weakened, and their tempers rendered imperious or abject. I also lament that parents, indolently availing themselves of a supposed privilege, damp the first faint glim⯑mering of reason, rendering at the same time the duty, which they are so anxious to en⯑force, an empty name; because they will not let it rest on the only basis on which a duty can rest securely: for unless it be founded on knowledge, it cannot gain suffi⯑cient [356] strength to resist the squalls of pas⯑sion, or the silent sapping of self-love. But it is not the parents who have given the surest proof of their affection for their chil⯑dren, or, to speak more properly, who by fulfilling their duty, have allowed a natural parental affection to take root in their hearts, the child of exercised sympathy and reason, and not the over-weening offspring of selfish pride, who most vehemently insist on their children submitting to their will merely be⯑cause it is their will. On the contrary, the parent, who sets a good example, patiently lets that example work; and it seldom fails to produce its natural effect—filial respect.

Children cannot be taught too early to submit to reason, the true definition of that necessity, which Rousseau insisted on, with⯑out defining it; for to submit to reason is to submit to the nature of things, and to that God, who formed them so, to promote our real interest.

Why should the minds of children be warped as they just begin to expand, only to favour the indolence of parents, who insist on a privilege without being willing to pay the price fixed by nature? I have before had [357] occasion to observe, that a right always in⯑cludes a duty, and I think it may, like⯑wise, fairly be inferred, that they forfeit the right, who do not fulfil the duty.

It is easier, I grant, to command than rea⯑son; but it does not follow from hence that children cannot comprehend the reason why they are made to do certain things habi⯑tually; for, from a steady adherence to a few simple principles of conduct flows that salutary power which a judicious parent gra⯑dually gains over a child's mind. And this power becomes strong indeed, if tempered by an even display of affection brought home to the child's heart. For, I believe, as a general rule, it must be allowed that the affection which we inspire always resembles that we cultivate; so that natural affections, which have been supposed almost distinct from reason, may be found more nearly con⯑nected with judgment than is commonly allowed. Nay, as another proof of the neces⯑sity of cultivating the female understanding, it is but just to observe, that the affections seem to have a kind of animal capriciousness when they merely reside in the heart.

[358]It is the irregular exercise of parental au⯑thority that first injures the mind, and to these irregularities girls are more subject than boys. The will of those who never allow their will to be disputed, unless they happen to be in a good humour, when they relax proportionally, is almost always unreason⯑able. To elude this arbitrary authority girls very early learn the lessons which they af⯑terwards practise on their husbands; for I have frequently seen a little sharp-faced miss rule a whole family, excepting that now and then mamma's angry will burst out of some accidental cloud;—either her hair was ill dressed ^*, or she had lost more money at cards, the night before, than she was willing to own to her husband; or some such moral cause of anger.

After observing sallies of this kind, I have been led into a melancholy train of reflection [359] respecting females, concluding that when their first affection must lead them astray, or make their duties clash till they rest on mere whims and customs, little can be expected from them as they advance in life. How indeed can an instructor remedy this evil? for to teach them virtue on any solid principle is to teach them to despise their parents. Chil⯑dren cannot, ought not, to be taught to make allowance for the faults of their parents, be⯑cause every such allowance weakens the force of reason in their minds, and makes them still more indulgent to their own. It is one of the most sublime virtues of maturity that leads us to be severe with respect to ourselves, and forbearing to others; but children should only be taught the simple virtues, for if they begin too early to make allowance for hu⯑man passions and manners, they wear off the fine edge of the criterion by which they should regulate their own, and become un⯑just in the same proportion as they grow in⯑dulgent.

The affections of children, and weak peo⯑ple, are always selfish; they love others, be⯑cause they love them, and not on account of their virtues. Yet, till esteem and love [358] [...] [359] [...] [360] are blended together in the first affection, and reason made the foundation of the first duty, morality will stumble at the threshold. But, till society is very differently constituted, parents, I fear, will still insist on being obeyed, because they will be obeyed, and constantly endeavour to settle that power on a Divine right which will not bear the in⯑vestigation of reason.

CHAP. XII. ON NATIONAL EDUCATION.

THE good effects resulting from attention to private education will ever be very confined, and the parent who really puts his own hand to the plow, will always, in some degree, be disappointed, till education become a grand national concern. A man cannot retire into a desert with his child, and if he did he could not bring himself back to childhood, and become the proper friend and play-fellow of an infant or youth. And when children are confined to the society of men and women, they very soon acquire that kind of premature manhood which stops the growth of every vigorous power of mind or body. In order to open their faculties they should be excited to think for themselves; and this can only be done by mixing a num⯑ber of children together, and making them jointly pursue the same objects.

[362]A child very soon contracts a benumbing indolence of mind, which he has seldom suf⯑ficient vigour afterwards to shake off, when he only asks a question instead of seeking for information, and then relies implicitly on the answer he receives. With his equals in age this could never be the case, and the subjects of inquiry, though they might be influenced, would not be entirely under the direction of men, who frequently damp, if not destroy, abilities, by bringing them forward too has⯑tily: and too hastily they will infallibly be brought forward, if the child be confined to the society of a man, however sagacious that man may be.

Besides, in youth the seeds of every affec⯑tion should be sown, and the respectful re⯑gard, which is felt for a parent, is very dif⯑ferent from the social affections that are to constitute the happiness of life as it advances. Of these equality is the basis, and an inter⯑course of sentiments unclogged by that ob⯑servant seriousness which prevents disputa⯑tion, though it may not inforce submission. Let a child have ever such an affection for his parent, he will always languish to play and chat with children; and the very respect [363] which he entertains, for filial esteem always has a dash of fear mixed with it, will, if it do not teach him cunning, at least prevent him from pouring out the little secrets which first open the heart to friendship and confi⯑dence, gradually leading to more expansive benevolence. Added to this, he will never acquire that frank ingenuousness of behaviour, which young people can only attain by being frequently in society where they dare to speak what they think; neither afraid of being re⯑proved for their presumption, nor laughed at for their folly.

Forcibly impressed by the reflections which the sight of schools, as they are at present conducted, naturally suggested, I have for⯑merly delivered my opinion rather warmly in favour of a private education; but further experience has led me to view the subject in a different light. I still, however, think schools, as they are now regulated, the hot⯑beds of vice and folly, and the knowledge of human nature, supposed to be attained there, merely cunning selfishness.

At school boys become gluttons and slovens, and, instead of cultivating domestic affections, very early rush into the libertinism which [364] destroys the constitution before it is formed; hardening the heart as it weakens the under⯑standing.

I should, in fact, be averse to boarding-schools, if it were for no other reason than the unsettled state of mind which the expec⯑tation of the vacations produce. On these the children's thoughts are fixed with eager anticipating hopes, for, at least, to speak with moderation, half of the time, and when they arrive they are spent in total dis⯑sipation and beastly indulgence.

But, on the contrary, when they are brought up at home, though they may pur⯑sue a plan of study in a more orderly manner than can be adopted when near a fourth part of the year is actually spent in idleness, and as much more in regret and anticipation; yet they there acquire too high an opinion of their own importance, from being allowed to tyrannize over servants, and from the anxiety expressed by most mothers, on the score of manners, who, eager to teach the accom⯑plishments of a gentleman, stifle, in their birth, the virtues of a man. Thus brought into company when they ought to be seri⯑ously employed, and treated like men when [365] they are still boys, they become vain and effeminate.

The only way to avoid two extremes equally injurious to morality, would be to contrive some way of combining a public and private education. Thus to make men citi⯑zens two natural steps might be taken, which seem directly to lead to the desired point; for the domestic affections, that first open the heart to the various modifications of huma⯑nity, would be cultivated, whilst the children were nevertheless allowed to spend great part of their time, on terms of equality, with other children.

I still recollect, with pleasure, the country day school; where a boy trudged in the morning, wet or dry, carrying his books, and his dinner, if it were at a considerable distance; a servant did not then lead master by the hand, for, when he had once put on coat and breeches, he was allowed to shift for himself, and return alone in the evening to recount the feats of the day close at the parental knee. His father's house was his home, and was ever after fondly remem⯑bered; nay, I appeal to some superiour men, who were educated in this manner, whether [366] the recollection of some shady lane where they conned their lesson; or, of some stile, where they sat making a kite, or mending a bat, has not endeared their country to them?

But, what boy ever recollected with plea⯑sure the years he spent in close confinement, at an academy near London? unless, indeed, he should, by chance, remember the poor scare-crow of an usher, whom he tormented; or, the tartman, from whom he caught a cake, to devour it with the catish appetite of selfishness. At boarding-schools of every de⯑scription, the relaxation of the junior boys is mischief; and of the senior, vice. Besides, in great schools, what can be more prejudicial to the moral character than the system of tyranny and abject slavery which is established amongst the boys, to say nothing of the sla⯑very to forms, which makes religion worse than a farce? For what good can be expected from the youth who receives the sacrament of the Lord's supper, to avoid forfeiting half a guinea, which he probably afterwards spends in some sensual manner? Half the employ⯑ment of the youths is to elude the necessity of attending public worship; and well they may, for such a constant repetition of the [367] same thing must be a very irksome restraint on their natural vivacity. As these ceremo⯑nies have the most fatal effect on their mo⯑rals, and as a ritual performed by the lips, when the heart and mind are far away, is not now stored up by our church as a bank to draw on for the fees of the poor souls in purgatory, why should they not be abo⯑lished?

But the fear of innovation, in this country, extends to every thing.—This is only a covert fear, the apprehensive timidity of indolent slugs, who guard, by sliming it over, the snug place, which they consider in the light of an hereditary estate; and eat, drink, and enjoy themselves, instead of fulfilling the duties, excepting a few empty forms, for which it was endowed. These are the people who most strenuously insist on the will of the founder being observed, crying out against all reformation, as if it were a violation of justice. I am now alluding par⯑ticularly to the relicks of popery retained in our colleges, when the protestant members seem to be such sticklers for the established church; but their zeal never makes them lose sight of the spoil of ignorance, which [368] rapacious priests of superstitious memory have scraped together. No, wise in their genera⯑tion, they venerate the prescriptive right of possession, as a strong hold, and still let the sluggish bell tinkle to prayers, as during the days when the elevation of the host was sup⯑posed to atone for the sins of the people, lest one reformation should lead to another, and the spirit kill the letter. These Romish cus⯑toms have the most baneful effect on the morals of our clergy; for the idle vermin who two or three times a day perform in the most slovenly manner a service which they think useless, but call their duty, soon lose a sense of duty. At college, forced to attend or evade public worship, they acquire an habitual contempt for the very service, the performance of which is to enable them to live in idleness. It is mumbled over as an affair of business, as a stupid boy repeats his task, and frequently the college cant escapes from the preacher the moment after he has left the pulpit, and even whilst he is eating the dinner which he earned in such a dis⯑honest manner.

Nothing, indeed, can be more irreverent than the cathedral service as it is now per⯑formed [369] in this country, nor does it contain a set of weaker men than those who are the slaves of this childish routine. A disgusting skeleton of the former state is still exhibited; but all the solemnity that interested the ima⯑gination, if it did not purify the heart, is stripped off. The performance of high mass on the continent must impress every mind, where a spark of fancy glows, with that awful melancholy, that sublime tenderness, so near akin to devotion. I do not say that these devotional feelings are of more use, in a moral sense, than any other emotion of taste; but I contend that the theatrical pomp which gratifies our senses, is to be preferred to the cold parade that insults the understanding without reaching the heart.

Amongst remarks on national education, such observations cannot be misplaced, espe⯑cially as the supporters of these establish⯑ments, degenerated into puerilities, affect to be the champions of religion.—Religion, pure source of comfort in this vale of tears! how hast thy clear stream been muddied by the dabblers, who have presumptuously endea⯑voured to confine in one narrow channel, the living waters that ever flow towards God [370] —the sublime ocean of existence! What would life be without that peace which the love of God, when built on humanity, alone can impart? Every earthly affection turns back, at intervals, to prey upon the heart that feeds it; and the purest effusions of be⯑nevolence, often rudely damped by man, must mount as a free-will offering to Him who gave them birth, whose bright image they faintly reflect.

In public schools, however, religion, con⯑founded with irksome ceremonies and unrea⯑sonable restraints, assumes the most ungra⯑cious aspect: not the sober austere one that commands respect whilst it inspires fear; but a ludicrous cast, that serves to point a pun. For, in fact, most of the good stories and smart things which enliven the spirits that have been concentrated at whist, are manu⯑factured out of the incidents to which the very men labour to give a droll turn who countenance the abuse to live on the spoil.

There is not, perhaps, in the kingdom, a more dogmatical, or luxurious set of men, than the pedantic tyrants who reside in col⯑leges and preside at public schools. The vacations are equally injurious to the mo⯑rals [371] of the masters and pupils, and the inter⯑course, which the former keep up with the nobility, introduces the same vanity and ex⯑travagance into their families, which banishes domestic duties and comforts from the lordly mansion, whose state is awkwardly aped on a smaller scale. The boys, who live at a great expence with the masters and assist⯑ants, are never domesticated, though placed there for that purpose; for, after a silent din⯑ner, they swallow a hasty glass of wine, and retire to plan some mischievous trick, or to ridicule the person or manners of the very people they have just been cringing to, and whom they ought to consider as the repre⯑sentatives of their parents.

Can it then be a matter of surprise that boys become selfish and vicious who are thus shut out from social converse? or that a mitre often graces the brow of one of these diligent pastors?

The desire of living in the same style, as the rank just above them, infects each indi⯑vidual and every class of people, and mean⯑ness is the concomitant of this ignoble ambi⯑tion; but those professions are most debasing whose ladder is patronage; yet, out of one of these professions the tutors of youth are, [372] in general, chosen. But, can they be ex⯑pected to inspire independent sentiments, whose conduct must be regulated by the cau⯑tious prudence that is ever on the watch for preferment?

So far, however, from thinking of the morals of boys, I have heard several masters of schools argue, that they only undertook to teach Latin and Greek; and that they had fulfilled their duty, by sending some good scholars to college.

A few good scholars, I grant, may have been formed by emulation and discipline; but, to bring forward these clever boys, the health and morals of a number have been sacrificed. The sons of our gentry and weal⯑thy commoners are mostly educated at these seminaries, and will any one pretend to as⯑sert that the majority, making every allow⯑ance, come under the description of tolerable scholars?

It is not for the benefit of society that a few brilliant men should be brought for⯑ward at the expence of the multitude. It is true, that great men seem to start up, as great revolutions occur, at proper intervals, to restore order, and to blow aside the clouds [373] that thicken over the face of truth; but let more reason and virtue prevail in society, and these strong winds would not be necessary. Public education, of every denomination, should be directed to form citizens; but if you wish to make good citizens, you must first exercise the affections of a son and a brother. This is the only way to expand the heart; for public affections, as well as public virtues, must ever grow out of the private character, or they are merely meteors that shoot athwart a dark sky and disappear as they are gazed at and admired.

Few, I believe, have had much affection for mankind, who did not first love their pa⯑rents, their brothers, sisters, and even the do⯑mestic brutes, whom they first played with. The exercise of youthful sympathies forms the moral temperature; and it is the recollection of these first affections and pursuits that gives life to those that are afterwards more under the direction of reason. In youth, the fondest friendships are formed, the genial juices mounting at the same time, kindly mix; or, rather the heart, tempered for the reception of friendship, is accustomed to seek for plea⯑sure in something more noble than the churlish gratification of appetite.

[374]In order then to inspire a love of home and domestic pleasures, children ought to be educated at home, for riotous holidays only make them fond of home for their own sakes. Yet, the vacations, which do not foster domestic affections, continually disturb the course of study, and render any plan of im⯑provement abortive which includes temper⯑ance; still, were they abolished, children would be entirely separated from their parents, and I question whether they would become better citizens by sacrificing the preparatory affec⯑tions, by destroying the force of relationships that render the marriage state as necessary as respectable. But, if a private education pro⯑duces self-importance, or insulates a man in his family, the evil is only shifted, not re⯑medied.

This train of reasoning brings me back to a subject, on which I mean to dwell, the ne⯑cessity of establishing proper day-schools.

But, these should be national establish⯑ments, for whilst school-masters are depen⯑dent on the caprice of parents, little exertion can be expected from them, more than is necessary to please ignorant people. Indeed, the necessity of a master's giving the parents some sample of the boys abilities, which dur⯑ing [375] the vacation is shewn to every visitor ^*, is productive of more mischief than would at first be supposed. For they are seldom done entirely, to speak with moderation, by the child itself; thus the master countenances falsehood, or winds the poor machine up to some extraordinary exertion, that injures the wheels, and stops the progress of gradual im⯑provement. The memory is loaded with un⯑intelligible words, to make a shew of, with⯑out the understanding's acquiring any distinct ideas: but only that education deserves empha⯑tically to be termed cultivation of mind, which teaches young people how to begin to think. The imagination should not be allowed to debauch the understanding before it gained strength, or vanity will become the forerun⯑ner of vice: for every way of exhibiting the acquirements of a child is injurious to its mo⯑ral character.

How much time is lost in teaching them to recite what they do not understand? whilst, seated on benches, all in their best array, the mammas listen with astonishment to the [376] parrot-like prattle, uttered in solemn cadences, with all the pomp of ignorance and folly. Such exhibitions only serve to strike the spreading fibres of vanity through the whole mind; for they neither teach children to speak fluently, nor behave gracefully. So far from it, that these frivolous pursuits might comprehensively be termed the study of affectation; for we now rarely see a simple, bashful boy, though few people of taste were ever disgusted by that awkward sheepishness so natural to the age, which schools and an early introduction into society, have changed into impudence and apish grimace.

Yet, how can these things be remedied whilst school-masters depend entirely on pa⯑rents for a subsistence; and, when so many rival schools hang out their lures, to catch the attention of vain fathers and mothers, whose parental affection only leads them to wish that their children should outshine those of their neighbours?

Without great good luck, a sensible, con⯑scientious man, would starve before he could raise a school, if he disdained to bubble weak parents by practising the secret tricks of the craft.

[377]In the best regulated schools, however, where swarms are not crammed together, many bad habits must be acquired; but, at common schools, the body, heart, and un⯑derstanding, are equally stunted, for parents are often only in quest of the cheapest school, and the master could not live, if he did not take a much greater number than he could manage himself; nor will the scanty pittance, allowed for each child, permit him to hire ushers sufficient to assist in the discharge of the mechanical part of the business. Besides, whatever appearance the house and garden may make, the children do not enjoy the com⯑fort of either, for they are continually reminded by irksome restrictions that they are not at home, and the state-rooms, garden, &c. must be kept in order for the recreation of the parents▪ who, of a Sunday, visit the school, and are impressed by the very parade that renders the situation of their children uncomfortable.

With what disgust have I heard sensible women, for girls are more restrained and cowed than boys, speak of the wearisome confinement, which they endured at school. Not allowed, perhaps, to step out of one broad walk in a superb garden, and obliged to pace with steady deportment stupidly back⯑wards [378] and forwards, holding up their heads and turning out their toes, with shoulders braced back, instead of bounding, as nature directs to complete her own design, in the various attitudes so conducive to health ^*. The pure animal spirits, which make both mind and body shoot out, and unfold the tender blossoms of hope, are turned sour, and vented in vain wishes, or pert repinings, that contract the faculties and spoil the temper; else they mount to the brain, and sharpening the understanding before it gains proportionable strength, produce that pitiful cunning which [379] disgracefully characterizes the female mind— and I fear will ever characterize it whilst wo⯑men remain the slaves of power!

The little respect which the male world pay to chastity is, I am persuaded, the grand source of many of the physical and moral evils that torment mankind, as well as of the vices and follies that degrade and destroy wo⯑men; yet at school, boys infallibly lose that decent bashfulness, which might have ripened into modesty, at home.

And what nasty indecent tricks do they also learn from each other, when a number of them pig together in the same bedchamber, not to speak of the vices, which render the body weak, whilst they effectually prevent the acquisition of any delicacy of mind. The little attention paid to the cultivation of modesty, amongst men, produces great de⯑pravity in all the relationships of society; for, not only love—love that ought to purify the heart, and first call forth all the youthful powers, to prepare the man to discharge the benevolent duties of life, is sacrificed to pre⯑mature lust; but, all the social affections are deadened by the selfish gratifications, which very early pollute the mind, and dry up the [380] generous juices of the heart. In what an unnatural manner is innocence often violated; and what serious consequences ensue to ren⯑der private vices a public pest. Besides, an habit of personal order, which has more ef⯑fect on the moral character, than is, in ge⯑neral, supposed, can only be acquired at home, where that respectable reserve is kept up which checks the familiarity, that sinking into beastliness, undermines the affection it insults.

I have already animadverted on the bad ha⯑bits which females acquire when they are shut up together; and, I think, that the observation may fairly be extended to the other sex, till the natural inference is drawn which I have had in view throughout— that to improve both sexes they ought, not only in private families, but in public schools, to be educated together. If marriage be the cement of society, mankind should all be educated after the same model, or the inter⯑course of the sexes will never deserve the name of fellowship, nor will women ever fulfil the peculiar duties of their sex, till they become enlightened citizens, till they be⯑come free by being enabled to earn their own [381] subsistence, independent of men; in the same manner, I mean, to prevent misconstruc⯑tion, as one man is independent of another. Nay, marriage will never be held sacred till women, by being brought up with men, are prepared to be their companions rather than their mistresses; for the mean doublings of cunning will ever render them contempt⯑ible, whilst oppression renders them timid. So convinced am I of this truth, that I will venture to predict that virtue will never pre⯑vail in society till the virtues of both sexes are founded on reason; and, till the affec⯑tions common to both are allowed to gain their due strength by the discharge of mu⯑tual duties.

Were boys and girls permitted to pursue the same studies together, those graceful de⯑cencies might early be inculcated which pro⯑duce modesty without those sexual distinc⯑tions that taint the mind. Lessons of po⯑liteness, and that formulary of decorum, which treads on the heels of falsehood, would be rendered useless by habitual propriety of behaviour. Not indeed, put on for visitors like the courtly robe of politeness, but the sober effect of cleanliness of mind. Would [382] not this simple elegance of sincerity be a chaste homage paid to domestic affections, far surpassing the meretricious compliments that shine with false lustre in the heart⯑less intercourse of fashionable life? But, till more understanding preponderate in so⯑ciety, there will ever be a want of heart and taste, and the harlot's rouge will supply the place of that celestial suffusion which only virtuous affections can give to the face. Gal⯑lantry, and what is called love, may subsist without simplicity of character; but the main pillars of friendship, are respect and confidence—esteem is never founded on it cannot tell what!

A taste for the fine arts requires great culti⯑vation; but not more than a taste for the virtu⯑ous affections; and both suppose that enlarge⯑ment of mind which opens so many sources of mental pleasure. Why do people hurry to noisy scenes, and crowded circles? I should answer, because they want activity of mind, because they have not cherished the virtues of the heart. They only, therefore, see and feel in the gross, and continually pine after variety, finding every thing that is simple insipid.

[383]This argument may be carried further than philosophers are aware of, for if nature destined woman, in particular, for the dis⯑charge of domestic duties, she made her sus⯑ceptible of the attached affections in a great degree. Now women are notoriously fond of pleasure; and, naturally must be so ac⯑cording to my definition, because they can⯑not enter into the minutiae of domestic taste; lacking judgment, the foundation of all taste. For the understanding, in spite of sensual ca⯑villers, reserves to itself the privilege of con⯑veying pure joy to the heart.

With what a languid yawn have I seen an admirable poem thrown down, that a man of true taste returns to, again and again with rapture; and, whilst melody has almost suspended respiration, a lady has asked me where I bought my gown. I have seen also an eye glanced coldly over a most exquisite picture, rest, sparkling with pleasure, on a caricature rudely sketched; and whilst some terrific feature in nature has spread a sublime stillness through my soul, I have been desired to observe the pretty tricks of a lap-dog, that my perverse fate forced me to travel with. Is it surprising that such a tasteless being [384] should rather caress this dog than her chil⯑dren? Or, that she should prefer the rant of flattery to the simple accents of sincerity?

To illustrate this remark I must be al⯑lowed to observe, that men of the first ge⯑nius, and most cultivated minds, have ap⯑peared to have the highest relish for the sim⯑ple beauties of nature; and they must have forcibly felt, what they have so well de⯑scribed, the charm, which natural affections, and unsophisticated feelings spread round the human character. It is this power of look⯑ing into the heart, and responsively vibrating with each emotion, that enables the poet to personify each passion, and the painter to sketch with a pencil of fire.

True taste is ever the work of the under⯑standing employed in observing natural ef⯑fects; and till women have more understand⯑ing, it is vain to expect them to possess do⯑mestic taste. Their lively senses will ever be at work to harden their hearts, and the emotions struck out of them will continue to be vivid and transitory, unless a proper edu⯑cation stores their mind with knowledge.

It is the want of domestic taste, and not the acquirement of knowledge, that takes [385] women out of their families, and tears the smiling babe from the breast that ought to afford it nourishment. Women have been allowed to remain in ignorance, and slavish dependence, many, very many years, and still we hear of nothing but their fondness of pleasure and sway, their preference of rakes and soldiers, their childish attachment to toys, and the vanity that makes them value ac⯑complishments more than virtues.

History brings forward a fearful catalogue of the crimes which their cunning has pro⯑duced, when the weak slaves have had suf⯑ficient address to over-reach their masters. In France, and in how many other countries, have men been the luxurious despots, and women the crafty ministers?—Does this prove that ignorance and dependence domes⯑ticate them? Is not their folly the by-word of the libertines, who relax in their society; and do not men of sense continually lament that an immoderate fondness for dress and dissipation carries the mother of a family for ever from home. Their hearts have not been debauched by knowledge, nor their minds led astray by scientific pursuits; yet, they do not fulfil the peculiar duties which [386] as women they are called upon by nature to fulfil. On the contrary, the state of warfare which subsists between the sexes, makes them employ those wiles, that frustrate the more open designs of force.

When, therefore, I call women slaves, I mean in a political and civil sense; for, indi⯑rectly they obtain too much power, and are debased by their exertions to obtain illicit sway.

Let an enlightened nation ^* then try what effect reason would have to bring them back to nature, and their duty; and allowing them to share the advantages of education and go⯑vernment with man, see whether they will become better, as they grow wiser and be⯑come free. They cannot be injured by the experiment; for it is not in the power of man to render them more insignificant than they are at present.

To render this practicable, day schools, for particular ages, should be established by government, in which boys and girls might be educated together. The school for the younger children, from five to nine years of [387] age, ought to be absolutely free and open to all classes ^*. A sufficient number of masters should also be chosen by a select committee, in each parish, to whom any complaint of negligence, &c. might be made, if signed by six of the children's parents.

Ushers would then be unnecessary; for I believe experience will ever prove that this kind of subordinate authority is particularly injurious to the morals of youth. What, indeed, can tend to deprave the character more than outward submission and inward contempt? Yet how can boys be expected to treat an usher with respect, when the master seems to consider him in the light of a servant, and almost to countenance the ridi⯑cule which becomes the chief amusement of the boys during the play hours.

But nothing of this kind could occur in an elementary day-school, where boys and girls, the rich and poor, should meet toge⯑ther. And to prevent any of the distinctions of vanity, they should be dressed alike, and all obliged to submit to the same discipline, [388] or leave the school. The school-room ought to be surrounded by a large piece of ground, in which the children might be usefully ex⯑ercised, for at this age they should not be confined to any sedentary employment for more than an hour at a time. But these re⯑laxations might all be rendered a part of ele⯑mentary education, for many things improve and amuse the senses, when introduced as a kind of show, to the principles of which, dryly laid down, children would turn a deaf ear. For instance, botany, mechanics, and astronomy. Reading, writing, arithme⯑tic, natural history, and some simple expe⯑riments in natural philosophy, might fill up the day; but these pursuits should never encroach on gymnastic plays in the open air. The elements of religion, history, the his⯑tory of man, and politics, might also be taught, by conversations, in the socratic form.

After the age of nine, girls and boys, in⯑tended for domestic employments, or mecha⯑nical trades, ought to be removed to other schools, and receive instruction, in some mea⯑sure appropriated to the destination of each indi⯑vidual, the two sexes being still together in the [389] morning; but in the afternoon, the girls should attend a school, where plain-work, mantua-making, millinery, &c. would be their employment.

The young people of superior abilities, or fortune, might now be taught in another school, the dead and living languages, the elements of science, and continue the study of history and politics, on a more extensive scale, which would not exclude polite literature.

Girls and boys still together? I hear some readers ask: yes. And I should not fear any other consequence than that some early at⯑tachment might take place; which, whilst it had the best effect on the moral character of the young people, might not perfectly agree with the views of the parents, for it will be a long time, I fear, before the world is so enlightened that parents, only anxious to render their children virtuous, will let them choose companions for life themselves.

Besides, this would be a sure way to pro⯑mote early marriages, and from early mar⯑riages the most salutary physical and moral effects naturally flow. What a different cha⯑racter does a married citizen assume from the selfish coxcomb, who lives, but for himself, [390] and who is often afraid to marry lest he should not be able to live in a certain style. Great emergencies excepted, which would rarely occur in a society of which equality was the basis, a man can only be prepared to discharge the duties of public life, by the habitual prac⯑tice of those inferiour ones which form the man.

In this plan of education the constitu⯑tion of boys would not be ruined by the early debaucheries, which now makes men so selfish, nor girls rendered weak and vain, by indolence, and frivolous pursuits. But, I presuppose, that such a degree of equa⯑lity should be established between the sexes as would shut out gallantry and coquetry, yet allow friendship and love to temper the heart for the discharge of higher duties.

These would be schools of morality—and the happiness of man, allowed to flow from the pure springs of duty and affection, what advances might not the human mind make? Society can only be happy and free in propor⯑tion as it is virtuous; but the present distinc⯑tions, established in society, corrode all pri⯑vate, and blast all public virtue.

[391]I have already inveighed against the cus⯑tom of confining girls to their needle, and shutting them out from all political and civil employments; for by thus narrowing their minds they are rendered unfit to fulfil the peculiar duties which nature has assigned them.

Only employed about the little incidents of the day, they necessarily grow up cunning. My very soul has often sickened at observing the sly tricks practised by women to gain some foolish thing on which their silly hearts were set. Not allowed to dispose of money, or call any thing their own, they learn to turn the market penny; or, should a hus⯑band offend, by staying from home, or give rise to some emotions of jealousy—a new gown, or any pretty bawble, smooths Juno's angry brow.

But these littlenesses would not degrade their character, if women were led to respect them⯑selves, if political and moral subjects were opened to them; and, I will venture to affirm, that this is the only way to make them properly attentive to their domestic du⯑ties.—An active mind embraces the whole circle of its duties, and finds time enough for [392] all. It is not, I assert, a bold attempt to emu⯑late masculine virtues; it is not the enchant⯑ment of literary pursuits, or the steady inves⯑tigation of scientific subjects, that lead wo⯑men astray from duty. No, it is indolence and vanity—the love of pleasure and the love of sway, that will reign paramount in an empty mind. I say empty emphatically, be⯑cause the education which women now re⯑ceive scarcely deserves the name. For the little knowledge that they are led to acquire, during the important years of youth, is merely relative to accomplishments; and accomplish⯑ments without a bottom, for unless the un⯑derstanding be cultivated, superficial and mo⯑notonous is every grace. Like the charms of a made up face, they only strike the senses in a crowd; but at home, wanting mind, they want variety. The consequence is obvious; in gay scenes of dissipation we meet the arti⯑ficial mind and face, for those who fly from solitude dread, next to solitude, the domestic circle; not having it in their power to amuse or interest, they feel their own insignificance, or find nothing to amuse or interest themselves.

Besides, what can be more indelicate than a girl's coming out in the fashionable world? [393] Which, in other words, is to bring to market a marriageable miss, whose person is taken from one public place to another, richly capa⯑risoned. Yet, mixing in the giddy circle under restraint, these butterflies long to flutter at large, for the first affection of their souls is their own persons, to which their atten⯑tion has been called with the most sedulous care whilst they were preparing for the pe⯑riod that decides their fate for life. Instead of pursuing this idle routine, sighing for tasteless shew, and heartless state, with what dignity would the youths of both sexes form attachments in the schools that I have cur⯑sorily pointed out; in which, as life advanced, dancing, music, and drawing, might be ad⯑mitted as relaxations, for at these schools young people of fortune ought to remain, more or less, till they were of age. Those, who were designed for particular professions, might attend, three or four mornings in the week, the schools appropriated for their immediate instruction.

I only drop these observations at present, as hints; rather, indeed, as an outline of the plan I mean, than a digested one; but I must add, that I highly approve of one regu⯑lation [394] mentioned in the pamphlet ^* already alluded to, that of making the children and youths independent of the masters respect⯑ing punishments. They should be tried by their peers, which would be an admirable method of fixing sound principles of justice in the mind, and might have the happiest effect on the temper, which is very early soured or irritated by tyranny, till it becomes peevishly cunning, or ferociously overbearing.

My imagination darts forward with bene⯑volent fervour to greet these amiable and respectable groups, in spite of the sneer⯑ing of cold hearts, who are at liberty to utter, with frigid self-importance, the damn⯑ing epithet—romantic; the force of which I shall endeavour to blunt by repeating the words of an eloquent moralist.— ‘I know not whether the allusions of a truly humane heart, whose zeal renders every thing easy, is not preferable to that rough and repulsing reason, which always finds in indifference for the public good, the first obstacle to whatever would promote it.’

I know that libertines will also exclaim, that woman would be unsexed by acquiring [395] strength of body and mind, and that beauty, soft bewitching beauty! would no longer adorn the daughters of men! I am of a very different opinion, for I think that, on the contrary, we should then see dignified beauty, and true grace; to produce which, many powerful physical and moral causes would concur.—Not relaxed beauty, it is true, nor the graces of helplessness; but such as ap⯑pears to make us respect the human body as a majestic pile fit to receive a noble inhabi⯑tant, in the relics of antiquity.

I do not forget the popular opinion that the Grecian statues were not modelled after na⯑ture. I mean, not according to the propor⯑tions of a particular man; but that beautiful limbs and features were selected from various bodies to form an harmonious whole. This might, in some degree, be true. The fine ideal picture of an exalted imagination might be superiour to the materials which the paint⯑er found in nature, and thus it might with propriety be termed rather the model of mankind than of a man. It was not, how⯑ever, the mechanical selection of limbs and features; but the ebullition of an heated fancy that burst forth, and the fine senses and en⯑larged [396] understanding of the artist selected the solid matter, which he drew into this glow⯑ing focus.

I observed that it was not mechanical, because a whole was produced—a model of that grand simplicity, of those concur⯑ring energies, which arrest our attention and command our reverence. For only insipid lifeless beauty is produced by a servile copy of even beautiful nature. Yet, inde⯑pendent of these observations, I believe that the human form must have been far more beautiful than it is at present, because ex⯑treme indolence, barbarous ligatures, and many causes, which forcibly act on it, in our luxurious state of society, did not re⯑tard its expansion, or render it deformed. Exercise and cleanliness appear to be not only the surest means of preserving health, but of promoting beauty, the physical causes only considered; yet, this is not sufficient, moral ones must concur, or beauty will be merely of that rustic kind which blooms on the inno⯑cent, wholesome, countenances of some coun⯑try people, whose minds have not been ex⯑ercised. To render the person perfect, phy⯑sical and moral beauty ought to be attained [397] at the same time; each lending and receiving force by the combination. Judgment must reside on the brow, affection and fancy beam in the eye, and humanity curve the cheek, or vain is the sparkling of the finest eye or the elegantly turned finish of the fairest fea⯑tures: whilst in every motion that displays the active limbs and well-knit joints, grace and modesty should appear. But this fair assemblage is not to be brought together by chance; it is the reward of exertions meet to support each other; for judgment can only be acquired by reflection, affection by the discharge of duties, and humanity by the ex⯑ercise of compassion to every living creature.

Humanity to animals should be particularly inculcated as a part of national education, for it is not at present one of our national virtues. Tenderness for their humble dumb domestics, amongst the lower class, is oftener to be found in a savage than a civilized state. For civilization prevents that intercourse which creates affection in the rude hut, or mud cabin, and leads uncultivated minds who are only depraved by the refinements which prevail in the society, where they are trodden under foot by the rich, to domineer over [398] them to revenge the insults that they are obliged to bear from their superiours.

This habitual cruelty is first caught at school, where it is one of the rare sports of the boys to torment the miserable brutes that fall in their way. The transition, as they grow up, from barbarity to brutes to domestic tyranny over wives, children, and servants, is very easy. Justice, or even benevolence, will not be a powerful spring of action unless it be extended to the whole creation; nay, I be⯑lieve that it may be delivered as an axiom, that those who can see pain, unmoved, will soon learn to inflict it.

The vulgar are swayed by present feelings, and the habits which they have accident⯑ally acquired; but on partial feelings much dependence cannot be placed, though they be just; for, when they are not invigorated by reflection, custom weakens them, till they are scarcely felt. The sympathies of our nature are strengthened by pondering co⯑gitations, and deadened by thoughtless use. Macbeth's heart smote him more for one murder, the first, than for a hundred sub⯑sequent ones, which were necessary to [399] back it. But, when I used the epithet vul⯑gar, I did not mean to confine my remark to the poor, for partial humanity, founded on present sensations, or whim, is quite as con⯑spicuous, if not more so, amongst the rich.

The lady who sheds tears for the bird starved in a snare, and execrates the devils in the shape of men, who goad to madness the poor ox, or whip the patient ass, tottering under a burden above its strength, will, ne⯑vertheless, keep her coachman and horses whole hours waiting for her, when the sharp frost bites, or the rain beats against the well-closed windows which do not admit a breath of air to tell her how roughly the wind blows without. And she who takes her dogs to bed, and nurses them, with a parade of sen⯑sibility, when sick, will suffer her babes to grow up crooked in a nursery. This illus⯑tration of my argument is drawn from a matter of fact. The woman whom I al⯑lude to was handsome, reckoned very hand⯑some, by those who do not miss the mind when the face is plump and fair; but her understanding had not been led from female duties by literature, nor her inno⯑cence debauched by knowledge. No, she [400] was quite feminine, according to the mascu⯑line acceptation of the word; and, so far from loving these spoiled brutes that filled the place which her children ought to have occupied, she only lisped out a pretty mix⯑ture of French and English nonsense, to please the men who flocked round her. The wife, mother, and human creature, were all swallowed up by the factitious character which an improper education and the selfish vanity of beauty had produced.

I do not like to make a distinction with⯑out a difference, and I own that I have been as much disgusted by the fine lady who took her lap-dog to her bosom instead of her child; as by the ferocity of a man, who, beating his horse declared, that he knew as well when he did wrong, as a Christian.

This brood of folly shews how mistaken they are who, if they allow women to leave their harems, do not cultivate their under⯑standings, in order to plant virtues in their hearts. For had they sense, they might ac⯑quire that domestic taste which would lead them to love with reasonable subordination their whole family, from their husband to the house-dog; nor would they ever insult [401] humanity in the person of the most menial servant by paying more attention to the com⯑fort of a brute, than to that of a fellow-creature.

My observations on national education are obviously hints; but I principally wish to en⯑force the necessity of educating the sexes to⯑gether to perfect both, and of making chil⯑dren sleep at home that they may learn to love home; yet to make private support, in⯑stead of smothering, public affections, they should be sent to school to mix with a number of equals, for only by the jostlings of equality can we form a just opinion of ourselves.

To render mankind more virtuous, and hap⯑pier of course, both sexes must act from the same principle; but how can that be expected when only one is allowed to see the reason⯑ableness of it? To render also the social com⯑pact truly equitable, and in order to spread those enlightening principles, which alone can me⯑liorate the fate of man, women must be al⯑lowed to found their virtue on knowledge, which is scarcely possible unless they are edu⯑cated by the same pursuits as men. For they are now made so inferiour by ignorance and low desires, as not to deserve to be [402] ranked with them; or, by the serpentine wrigglings of cunning they mount the tree of knowledge, and only acquire sufficient to lead men astray.

It is plain from the history of all nations, that women cannot be confined to merely domestic pursuits, for they will not fulfil fa⯑mily duties, unless their minds take a wider range, and whilst they are kept in ignorance they become in the same proportion the slaves of pleasure as they are the slaves of man. Nor can they be shut out of great enterprises, though the narrowness of their minds often make them mar, what they are unable to comprehend.

The libertinism, and even the virtues of superior men, will always give women, of some description, great power over them; and these weak women, under the influence of childish passions and selfish vanity, will throw a false light over the objects which the very men view with their eyes, who ought to enlighten their judgment. Men of fancy, and those sanguine characters who mostly hold the helm of human affairs, in general, relax in the society of women; and surely I need not cite to the most superficial reader of his⯑tory [403] the numerous examples of vice and op⯑pression which the private intrigues of female favourites have produced; not to dwell on the mischief that naturally arises from the blun⯑dering interposition of well-meaning folly. For in the transactions of business it is much better to have to deal with a knave than a fool, because a knave adheres to some plan; and any plan of reason may be seen through much sooner than a sudden flight of folly. The power which vile and foolish women have had over wise men, who possessed sensibility, is notorious; I shall only mention one instance.

Who ever drew a more exalted female cha⯑racter than Rousseau? though in the lump he constantly endeavoured to degrade the sex. And why was he thus anxious? Truly to jus⯑tify to himself the affection which weakness and virtue had made him cherish for that fool Theresa. He could not raise her to the common level of her sex; and therefore he la⯑boured to bring woman down to her's. He found her a convenient humble companion, and pride made him determine to find some supe⯑riour virtues in the being whom he chose to live with; but did not her conduct during his life, and after his death, clearly shew how [404] grossly he was mistaken who called her a celestial innocent. Nay, in the bitterness of his heart, he himself laments, that when his bodily infirmities made him no longer treat her like a woman, she ceased to have an affection for him. And it was very natural that she should, for having so few sentiments in common, when the sexual tie was broken, what was to hold her? To hold her affec⯑tion whose sensibility was confined to one sex, nay, to one man, it requires sense to turn sensibility into the broad channel of hu⯑manity; many women have not mind enough to have an affection for a woman, or a friend⯑ship for a man. But the sexual weakness that makes woman depend on man for a sub⯑sistence, produces a kind of cattish affection which leads a wife to purr about her husband as she would about any man who fed and caressed her.

Men are, however, often gratified by this kind of fondness, which is confined in a beastly manner to themselves; but should they ever become more virtuous, they will wish to converse at their fire-side with a friend, after they cease to play with a mistress.

[405]Besides, understanding is necessary to give variety and interest to sensual enjoyments, for low, indeed, in the intellectual scale, is the mind that can continue to love when nei⯑ther virtue nor sense give a human appear⯑ance to an animal appetite. But sense will always preponderate; and if women are not, in general, brought more on a level with men, some superiour women, like the Greek courtezans, will assemble the men of abilities around them, and draw from their families many citizens, who would have stayed at home had their wives had more sense, or the graces which result from the exercise of the under⯑standing and fancy, the legitimate parents of taste. A woman of talents, if she be not ab⯑solutely ugly, will always obtain great power, raised by the weakness of her sex; and in proportion as men acquire virtue and delicacy, by the exertion of reason, they will look for both in women, but they can only acquire them in the same way that men do.

In France or Italy, have the women con⯑fined themselves to domestic life? though they have not hitherto had a political existence, yet, have they not illicitly had great sway? corrupting themselves and the men with [406] whose passions they played. In short, in what⯑ever light I view the subject, reason and ex⯑perience convince me that the only method of leading women to fulfil their peculiar du⯑ties, is to free them from all restraint by allowing them to participate the inherent rights of mankind.

Make them free, and they will quickly be⯑come wise and virtuous, as men become more so; for the improvement must be mu⯑tual, or the injustice which one half of the human race are obliged to submit to, retorting on their oppressors, the virtue of men will be worm-eaten by the insect whom he keeps under his feet.

Let men take their choice, man and wo⯑man were made for each other, though not to become one being; and if they will not improve women, they will deprave them!

I speak of the improvement and emancipa⯑tion of the whole sex, for I know that the behaviour of a few women, who, by acci⯑dent, or following a strong bent of nature, have acquired a portion of knowledge supe⯑rior to that of the rest of their sex, has often been overbearing; but there have been in⯑stances of women who, attaining knowledge, [407] have not discarded modesty, nor have they always pedantically appeared to despise the ignorance which they laboured to disperse in their own mind. The exclamations then which any advice respecting female learning, commonly produce, especially from pretty women, often arise from envy. When they chance to see that even the lustre of their eyes, and the flippant sportiveness of refined coquetry will not always secure them attention, during a whole evening, should a woman of a more cultivated under⯑standing endeavour to give a rational turn to the conversation, the common source of con⯑solation is, that such women seldom get hus⯑bands. What arts have I not seen silly wo⯑men use to interrupt by flirtation, a very sig⯑nificant word to describe such a manoeuvre, a rational conversation which made the men forget that they were pretty women.

But, allowing what is very natural to man, that the possession of rare abilities is really calculated to excite over-weening pride, disgusting in both men and women —in what a state of inferiority must the female faculties have rusted when such a small portion of knowledge as those women [408] attained, who have sneeringly been termed learned women, could be singular?—Suffi⯑ciently so to puff up the possessor, and excite envy in her contemporaries, and some of the other sex. Nay, has not a little rationality exposed many women to the severest censure? I advert to well known facts, for I have fre⯑quently heard women ridiculed, and every little weakness exposed, only because they adopted the advice of some medical men, and deviated from the beaten track in their mode of treat⯑ing their infants. I have actually heard this barbarous aversion to innovation carried still further, and a sensible woman stigmatized as an unnatural mother, who has thus been wisely solicitous to preserve the health of her children, when in the midst of her care she has lost one by some of the casualties of in⯑fancy, which no prudence can ward off. Her acquaintance have observed, that this was the consequence of new-fangled notions— the new-fangled notions of ease and cleanli⯑ness. And those who pretending to expe⯑rience, though they have long adhered to prejudices that have, according to the opi⯑nion of the most sagacious physicians, thinned the human race, almost rejoiced at the dis⯑aster [409] that gave a kind of sanction to pre⯑scription.

Indeed, if it were only on this account, the national education of women is of the utmost consequence, for what a number of human sacrifices are made to that moloch prejudice! And in how many ways are children de⯑stroyed by the lasciviousness of man? The want of natural affection, in many women, who are drawn from their duty by the admi⯑ration of men, and the ignorance of others, render the infancy of man a much more pe⯑rilous state than that of brutes; yet men are unwilling to place women in situations pro⯑per to enable them to acquire sufficient un⯑derstanding to know how even to nurse their babes.

So forcibly does this truth strike me, that I would rest the whole tendency of my reason⯑ing upon it, for whatever tends to incapacitate the maternal character, takes woman out of her sphere.

But it is vain to expect the present race of weak mothers either to take that reasonable care of a child's body, which is necessary to lay the foundation of a good constitution, sup⯑posing that it do not suffer for the sins of its [410] fathers; or, to manage its temper so judi⯑ciously that the child will not have, as it grows up, to throw off all that its mother, its first instructor, directly or indirectly taught; and unless the mind has uncommon vigour, womanish follies will stick to the cha⯑racter throughout life. The weakness of the mother will be visited on the children! And whilst women are educated to rely on their husbands for judgment, this must ever be the consequence, for there is no improving an understanding by halves, nor can any being act wisely from imitation, because in every circumstance of life there is a kind of indivi⯑duality, which requires an exertion of judg⯑ment to modify general rules. The being who can think justly in one track, will soon extend its intellectual empire; and she who has sufficient judgment to manage her chil⯑dren, will not submit, right or wrong, to her husband, or patiently to the social laws which make a nonentity of a wife.

In public schools women, to guard against the errors of ignorance, should be taught the elements of anatomy and medicine, not only to enable them to take proper care of their own health, but to make them rational [411] nurses of their infants, parents, and husbands; for the bills of mortality are swelled by the blunders of self-willed old women, who give nostrums of their own without knowing any thing of the human frame. It is likewise proper, only in a domestic view, to make women acquainted with the anatomy of the mind, by allowing the sexes to associate toge⯑ther in every pursuit; and by leading them to observe the progress of the human under⯑standing in the improvement of the sciences and arts; never forgetting the science of mo⯑rality, nor the study of the political history of mankind.

A man has been termed a microcosm; and every family might also be called a state. States, it is true, have mostly been governed by arts that disgrace the charac⯑ter of man; and the want of a just consti⯑tution, and equal laws, have so perplexed the notions of the worldly wise, that they more than question the reasonableness of con⯑tending for the rights of humanity. Thus morality, polluted in the national reservoir, sends off streams of vice to corrupt the con⯑stituent parts of the body politic; but should more noble, or rather, more just principles [412] regulate the laws, which ought to be the government of society, and not those who execute them, duty might become the rule of private conduct.

Besides, by the exercise of their bodies and minds women would acquire that mental activity so necessary in the maternal character, united with the fortitude that distinguishes steadiness of conduct from the obstinate per⯑verseness of weakness. For it is dangerous to advise the indolent to be steady, because they instantly become rigorous, and to save themselves trouble, punish with severity faults that the patient fortitude of reason might have prevented.

But fortitude presupposes strength of mind; and is strength of mind to be acquired by in⯑dolent acquiescence? by asking advice instead of exerting the judgment? by obeying through fear, instead of practising the for⯑bearance, which we all stand in need of our⯑selves?—The conclusion which I wish to draw, is obvious; make women rational crea⯑tures, and free citizens, and they will quickly become good wives, and mothers; that is—if men do not neglect the duties of husbands and fathers.

[413]Discussing the advantages which a public and private education combined, as I have sketched, might rationally be expected to pro⯑duce, I have dwelt most on such as are par⯑ticularly relative to the female world, be⯑cause I think the female world oppressed; yet the gangrene, which the vices engendered by oppression have produced, is not confined to the morbid part, but pervades society at large: so that when I wish to see my sex be⯑come more like moral agents, my heart bounds with the anticipation of the general diffusion of that sublime contentment which only morality can diffuse.

CHAP. XIII. SOME INSTANCES OF THE FOLLY WHICH THE IGNORANCE OF WOMEN GENE⯑RATES; WITH CONCLUDING REFLECTIONS ON THE MORAL IMPROVEMENT THAT A REVOLUTION IN FEMALE MANNERS MIGHT NATURALLY BE EXPECTED TO PRODUCE.

THERE are many follies, in some degree, pe⯑culiar to women: sins against reason of com⯑mission as well as of omission; but all flowing from ignorance or prejudice, I shall only point out such as appear to be particularly injurious to their moral character. And in animad⯑verting on them, I wish especially to prove, that the weakness of mind and body, which men have endeavoured, impelled by various motives, to perpetuate, prevents their dis⯑charging the peculiar duty of their sex: for when weakness of body will not permit them to suckle their children, and weakness of mind makes them spoil their tempers—is wo⯑man in a natural state?