Having in my former letters said as much as is necessary to let you
into my notion of the excellent book you put into my hands, and
having touched those points in which the children of both sexes may be
concerned (with some _art_ in my intention, I own), in hope that they
would not be so much out of the way, as to make you repent of the
honour you have done me, in committing the dear Miss Goodwin to my
care; I shall now very quickly set myself about the proposed little
book.
You have been so good as to tell me (at the same time that you
disapprove not these my specimen letters as I may call them), that you
will kindly accept of my intended present, and encourage me to proceed
in it; and as I shall leave one side of the leaf blank for your
corrections and alterations, those corrections will be a fine help and
instruction to me in the pleasing task which I propose to myself, of
assisting in the early education of your dear children. And as I
may be years in writing it, as the dear babies improve, as I myself
improve, by the opportunities which their advances in years will give
me, and the experience I shall gain, I may then venture to give my
notions on the more material and nobler parts of education, as well
as the inferior: for (but that I think the subjects above my present
abilities) Mr. Locke's book would lead me into several remarks, that
might not be unuseful, and which appear to me entirely new; though
that may be owing to my slender reading and opportunities, perhaps.
But what I would now touch upon, is a word or two still more
particularly upon the education of my own sex; a topic which naturally
arises to me from the subject of my last letter. For there, dear Sir,
we saw, that the mothers might teach the child _this_ part of science,
and _that_ part of instruction; and who, I pray, as our sex is
generally educated, shall teach the _mothers_? How, in a word, shall
_they_ come by their knowledge?
I know you'll be apt to say, that Miss Goodwin gives all the promises
of becoming a fine young lady, and takes her learning, loves reading,
and makes very pretty reflections upon all she reads, and asks very
pertinent questions, and is as knowing, at her years, as most young
ladies. This is very true, Sir; but it is not every one that can boast
of Miss Goodwin's capacity, and goodness of temper, which have enabled
her to get up a good deal of _lost_ time, as I must call it; for her
first four years were a perfect blank, as far as I can find, just as
if the pretty dear was born the day she was four years old; for what
she had to _unlearn_ as to temper, and will, and such things, set
against what little improvements she had made, might very fairly be
compounded for, as a blank.
I would indeed have a girl brought up to her needle, but I would not
have _all_ her time employed in samplers, and learning to mark, and
do those unnecessary things, which she will never, probably, be called
upon to practise.
And why, pray, are not girls entitled to the same _first_ education,
though not to the same plays and diversions, as boys; so far, at
least, as is supposed by Mr. Locke a mother can instruct them?
Would not this lay a foundation for their future improvement, and
direct their inclinations to useful subjects, such as would make them
above the imputations of some unkind gentlemen, who allot to their
part common tea-table prattle, while they do all they can to make them
fit for nothing else, and then upbraid them for it? And would not the
men find us better and more suitable companions and assistants to them
in every useful purpose of life?--O that your lordly sex were all like
my dear Mr. B.--I don't mean that they should all take raw, uncouth,
unbred, lowly girls, as I was, from the cottage, and, destroying
all distinction, make such their wives; for there is a far greater
likelihood, that such a one, when she comes to be lifted up into so
dazzling a sphere, would have her head made giddy with her exaltation,
than that she would balance herself well in it: and to what a blot,
over all the fair page of a long life, would this little drop of dirty
ink spread itself! What a standing disreputation to the choice of a
gentleman!
But _this_ I mean, that after a gentleman had entered into the
marriage state with a young creature (saying nothing at all of birth
or descent) far inferior to him in learning, in parts, in knowledge of
the world, and in all the graces which make conversation agreeable and
improving, he would, as you do, endeavour to make her fit company for
himself, as he shall find she is _willing_ to improve, and _capable_
of improvement: that he would direct her taste, point out to her
proper subjects for her amusement and instruction; travel with her now
and then, a month in a year perhaps; and shew her the world, after he
has encouraged her to put herself forward at his own table, and at the
houses of his friends, and has seen, that she will not do him great
discredit any where. What obligations, and opportunities too, will
this give her to love and honour such a husband, every hour, more
and more! as she will see his wisdom in a thousand instances, and
experience his indulgence to her in ten thousand, to the praise of
his politeness, and the honour of them both!--And then, when select
parties of pleasure or business engaged him not abroad, in his home
conversation, to have him delight to instruct and open her views, and
inspire her with an ambition to enlarge her mind, and more and more
to excel! What an intellectual kind of married life would such persons
find theirs! And how suitable to the rules of policy and self-love in
the gentleman; for is not the wife, and are not her improvements, all
_his own_?--_Absolutely_, as I may say, _his own_? And does not every
excellence she can be adorned by, redound to her husband's honour
because she is his, even more than to _her own_!--In like manner as no
dishonour affects a man so much, as that which he receives from a bad
wife.
But where is such a gentleman as Mr. B. to be met with? Look round and
see where, with all the advantages of sex, of education, of travel,
of conversation in the open world, a gentleman of his abilities
to instruct and inform, is to be found? And there are others, who,
perhaps, will question the capacities or inclinations of our sex in
general, to improve in useful knowledge, were they to meet with such
kind instructors, either in the characters of parents or husbands.
As to the first, I grant, that it is not easy to find such a
gentleman: but for the second (if excusable in me, who am one of the
sex, and so may be thought partial to it), I could by comparisons
drawn from the gentlemen and ladies within the circle of my own
acquaintance, produce instances, which are so flagrantly in their
favour, as might make it suspected, that it is policy more than
justice, in those who would keep our sex unacquainted with that
more eligible turn of education, which gives the gentlemen so many
advantages over us in _that_; and which will shew, they have none at
all in _nature_ or _genius_.
I know you will pardon me, dear Sir; for you are so exalted above your
Pamela, by nature and education too, that you cannot apprehend any
inconvenience from bold comparisons. I will beg, therefore, to mention
a few instances among our friends, where the ladies, notwithstanding
their more cramped and confined education, make _more_ than an equal
figure with the gentlemen in all the graceful parts of conversation,
in spite of the contempts poured out upon our sex by some witty
gentlemen, whose writings I have in my eye.
To begin then with Mr. Murray, and Miss Damford that was; Mr. Murray
has the reputation of scholarship, and has travelled too; but how
infinitely is he surpassed in every noble and useful quality, and in
greatness of mind, and judgment, as well as wit, by the young lady I
have named! This we saw, when last at the Hall, in fifty instances,
where the gentleman was, you know, Sir, on a visit to Sir Simon and
his lady.
Next, dear Sir, permit me to observe, that my good Lord Davers, with
all his advantages, born a counsellor of the realm, and educated
accordingly, does not surpass his lady.
_My_ countess, as I delight to call her, and Lady Betty, her eldest
daughter, greatly surpassed the Earl and her eldest brother in every
point of knowledge, and even learning, as I may say, although both
ladies owe that advantage principally to their own cultivation and
acquirement.
Let me presume, Sir, to name Mr. H.: and when I _have_ named him,
shall we not be puzzled to find any where in our sex, one remove from
vulgar life, a woman that will not out-do Mr. H.?
Lady Darnford, upon all useful subjects, makes a much brighter figure
than Sir Simon, whose knowledge of the world has not yet made him
acquainted with himself.--Mr. Arthur excels not his lady.
Mrs. Towers, a maiden lady, is an over-match for half a dozen of
the neighbouring gentlemen I could name, in what is called wit and
politeness, and not inferior to any of them in judgment.
I could multiply such instances, were it needful, to the confutation
of that low, and I had almost said, _unmanly_ contempt, with which
a certain celebrated genius treats our sex in general in most of
his pieces, I have seen; particularly his _Letter of Advice to a new
married Lady_; so written, as must disgust, instead of instruct; and
looks more like the advice of an enemy to the _sex_, and a bitter one
too, than a friend to the _particular Lady_. But I ought to beg pardon
for this my presumption, for two reasons: first, because of the truly
admirable talents of this writer; and next, because we know not what
ladies the ingenious gentleman may have fallen among in his younger
days.
Upon the whole, therefore, I conclude, that Mr. B. is almost the only
gentleman, who excels _every_ lady that I have seen; so _greatly_
excels, that even the emanations of his excellence irradiate a
low cottage-born girl, and make her pass among ladies of birth and
education for somebody.
Forgive my pride, dear Sir; but it would be almost a crime in your
Pamela not to exult in the mild benignity of those rays, by which her
beloved Mr. B. endeavours to make her look up to his own sunny sphere:
while she, by the advantage only of his reflected glory, in _his_
absence, which makes a dark night to her, glides along with her paler
and fainter beaminess, and makes a distinguishing figure among such
lesser planets, as can only poorly twinkle and glimmer, for want of
the aid she boasts of.
I dare not, Sir, conjecture whence arises this more than parity in
the genius of the sexes, among the above persons, notwithstanding the
disparity of education, and the difference in the opportunities of
each. This might lead one into too proud a thought in favour of a sex
too contemptuously treated by some _other_ wits I could name, who,
indeed, are the less to be regarded, as they love to jest upon all God
Almighty's works: yet might I better do it, too, than anybody, since I
am so infinitely transcended by my husband, that no competition, pride
or vanity, could be apprehended from me.
But, however, I would only beg of those who are so free in their
contempts of us, that they would, for _their own sakes_ (and that,
with such generally goes a great way), rather try to _improve_ than
_depreciate_ us: we should then make better daughters, better wives,
better mothers, and better mistresses: and who (permit me, Sir, to
ask them) would be so much the better for these opportunities and
amendments, as our upbraiders themselves!
On re-perusing this, I must repeatedly beg your excuse for these proud
notions in behalf of my sex, which, I can truly say, are not owing to
partiality because, I have the honour to be one of it; but to a far
better motive; for what does this contemptuous treatment of one half,
if not the better half, of the human species, naturally produce, but
libertinism and abandoned wickedness? for does it not tend to make
the daughters, the sisters, the wives of gentlemen, the subjects of
profligate attempts?--Does it not render the sex vile in the eyes of
the most vile? And when a lady is no longer beheld by such persons
with that dignity and reverence, with which perhaps, the graces of her
person, and the innocence of her mind, should sacredly, as it were,
encompass her, do not her very excellencies become so many incentives
for base wretches to attempt her virtue, and bring about her ruin?
What then may not wicked wit have to answer for, when its possessors
prostitute it to such unmanly purposes! And as if they had never had
a mother, a sister, a daughter of their own, throw down, as much as in
them lies, those sacred fences which may lay the fair inclosure open
to the invasions of every clumsier and viler beast of prey; who,
though destitute of _their_ wit, yet corrupted by it, shall fill
their mouths, as well as their hearts, with the borrowed mischief,
and propagate it from one to another to the end of time; and who,
otherwise, would have passed by the uninvaded fence, and only shewed
their teeth, and snarled at the well secured fold within it?
You cannot, my dearest Mr. B., I know be angry at this romantic
painting: since you are not affected by it: for when at worst,
you acted (more dangerously, 'tis true, for the poor innocents) a
_principal_ part, and were as a lion among beasts--Do, dear Sir, let
me say _among_, this one time--You scorned to borrow any man's wit;
and if nobody had followed your example, till they had had your
qualities, the number of rakes would have been but small. Yet, don't
mistake me, neither; I am not so mean as to bespeak your favour by
extenuating your failings; if I _were_, you would deservedly despise
me. For, undoubtedly (I _must_ say it, Sir), your faults were the
greater for your perfections: and such talents misapplied, as they
made you more capable of mischief, so did they increase the evil of
your practices. All then that I mean by saying you are not affected
by this painting, is, that you are not affected by my description
of clumsy and sordid rakes, whose _wit_ is _borrowed_, and their
_wickedness_ only what they may call _their own_.
Then, dear Sir, since that noble conversation you held with me at
Tunbridge, in relation to the consequences that might, had it not been
for God's grace intervening, have followed the masquerade affair, I
have the inexpressible pleasure to find a thorough reformation, from
the _best_ motives, taking place; and your joining with me in my
closet (as opportunity permits) in my evening duties, is the charming
confirmation of your kind and voluntary, and I am proud to
say, _pious_ assurances; so that this makes me fearless of your
displeasure, while I rather triumph in my joy for your precious soul's
sake, than presume to think of recriminating; and when (only for this
once) I take the liberty of looking back from the delightful _now_, to
the painful _formerly!_
But, what a rambler am I again! You command me to write to you all
I think, without fear. I obey, and, as the phrase is, do it without
either _fear_ or _wit_.
If you are _not_ displeased, it is a mark of the true nobleness of
your nature, and the sincerity of your late pious declarations.
If you _are_, I shall be sure I have done wrong in having applied a
corrosive to eat away the _proud flesh_ of a _wound_, that is not
yet so thoroughly _digested_, as to bear a painful application, and
requires balsam and a gentler treatment. But when we were at Bath, I
remember what you said once of the benefit of retrospection: and you
charged me, whenever a _proper_ opportunity offered, to remind you,
by that one word, _retrospection_, of the charming conversation we had
there, on our return from the rooms.
If this be not one of them, forgive, dearest Sir, the unreasonableness
of your very impertinent, but, in intention and resolution, _ever
dutiful_,