My dear Lady G.,
I will cheerfully cause to be transcribed for you the conversation you
desire, between myself, Mrs. Towers, and Lady Arthur, and the
three young ladies their relations, in presence of the dean and his
daughter, and Mrs. Brooks; and glad I shall be, if it may be of use
to the two thoughtless Misses your neighbours; who, you are pleased
to tell me, are great admirers of my story and my example; and will
therefore, as you say, pay greater attention to what I write, than to
the more passionate and interested lessons of their mamma.
I am only sorry you should be concerned about the supposed trouble
you give me, by having mislaid my former relation of it. For, besides
obliging my dear Lady G., the hope of doing service by it to a family
so worthy, in a case so nearly affecting its honour, as to make two
headstrong young ladies recollect what belongs to their sex and their
characters, and what their filial duties require of them, affords me
high pleasure; and if it shall be attended with the wished effects, it
will add to my happiness.
I said, _cause_ to be transcribed, because I hope to answer a double
end by it; for, on reconsideration, I set Miss Goodwin to transcribe
it, who writes a pretty hand, and is not a little fond of the task,
nor, indeed, of any task I set her; and will be more affected as she
performs it, than she could be by _reading_ it only; although she is
a very good girl at present, and gives me hopes that she will continue
to be so.
I will inclose it when done, that it may be read to the parties
without this introduction, if you think fit. And you will forgive me
for having added a few observations, with a view to the cases of
your inconsiderate young ladies, and for having corrected the former
narrative in several places.
My dear Lady G.,
The papers you have mislaid, as to the conversation between me and
the young ladies, relations of Mrs. Towers, and Lady Anne Arthur, in
presence of these two last-named ladies, Mrs. Brooks, and the worthy
dean, and Miss L. (of which, in order to perfect your kind collection
of my communications you request another copy) contained as follows.
I first stated, that I had seen these three ladies twice or thrice
before, as visitors, at their kinswomen's houses so that they and I
were not altogether strangers to one another: and my two neighbours
acquainted me with their respective tastes and dispositions, and their
histories preparatory to this visit, to the following effects:
That MISS STAPYLTON is over-run with the love of poetry and romance,
and delights in flowery language and metaphorical flourishes: is about
eighteen, wants not either sense or politeness; and has read herself
into a vein, more amorous (that was Mrs. Towers's word) than discreet.
Has extraordinary notions of a _first sight_ love; and gives herself
greater liberties, with a pair of fine eyes (in hopes to make sudden
conquests in pursuance of that notion), than is pretty in her sex
and age; which makes those who know her not, conclude her bold and
forward; and is more than suspected, with a mind thus prepared for
instantaneous impressions, to have experienced the argument to her
own disadvantage, and to be _struck_ by (before she had _stricken_)
a gentleman, whom her friends think not at all worthy of her, and
to whom she was making some indiscreet advances, under the name of
PHILOCLEA to PHILOXENUS, in a letter which she entrusted to a servant
of the family, who, discovering her design, prevented her indiscretion
for that time.
That, in other respects, she has no mean accomplishments, will have
a fine fortune, is genteel in her person, though with some visible
affectation, dances well, sings well, and plays prettily on several
instruments; is fond of reading, but affects the action, and air, and
attitude of a tragedian; and is too apt to give an emphasis in the
wrong place, in order to make an author mean significantly, even where
the occasion is common, and, in a mere historical fact, that requires
as much simplicity in the reader's accent, as in the writer's style.
No wonder then, that when she reads a play, she will put herself into
a sweat, as Mrs. Towers says; distorting very agreeable features,
and making a _multitude_ of wry mouths with _one_ very pretty one, in
order to convince her hearers, what a near neighbour her heart is to
her lips.
MISS COPE is a young lady of nineteen, lovely in her person, with a
handsome fortune in possession, and great prospects. Has a soft and
gentle turn of mind, which disposes her to be easily imposed upon. Is
addressed by a libertine of quality, whose courtship, while permitted,
was imperiousness; and whose tenderness, insult: having found the
young lady too susceptible of impression, open and unreserved,
and even valuing him the more, as it seemed, for treating her with
ungenerous contempt; for that she was always making excuses for
slights, ill manners, and even rudeness, which no other young lady
would forgive.
That this docility on her side, and this insolence on his, and an
over-free, and even indecent degree of romping, as it is called, with
her, which once her mamma surprised them in, made her papa forbid
_his_ visits, and _her_ receiving them.
That this however, was so much to Miss Cope's regret, that she was
detected in a design to elope to him out of the private garden-door;
which, had she effected, in all probability, the indelicate and
dishonourable peer would have triumphed over her innocence; having
given out since, that he intended to revenge himself on the daughter,
for the disgrace he had received from the parents.
That though convinced of this, it was feared she still loved him,
and would again throw herself in his way; urging, that his rash
expressions were the effect only of his passion; for that she knows he
loves her too well to be dishonourable to her; and by the same
degree of favourable prepossession, she will have it, that his brutal
roughness is the manliness of his nature; that his most shocking
expressions are sincerity of heart; that his boasts of former lewdness
are but instances that he knows the world; that his freedoms with her
person are but excess of love and innocent gaiety of temper; that his
resenting the prohibition he has met with, and his threats, are other
instances of his love and his courage: and peers of the realm ought
not to be bound down by little narrow rules like the vulgar; for,
truly, their _honour_ is in the greatest cases regarded as equal with
the _oath_ of a common gentleman, and is a security that a lady may
trust to, if he is not a profligate indeed; and that Lord P. _cannot_
be.
That excepting these weaknesses, Miss has many good qualities; is
charitable, pious, humane, humble; sings sweetly, plays on the spinnet
charmingly; is meek, fearful, and never was resolute or courageous
enough to step out of the regular path, till her too flexible heart
became touched with a passion, that is said to polish the most brutal
temper, and therefore her rough peer has none of it; and to animate
the dove, of which Miss Cope has too much.
That Miss Sutton, a young lady of the like age with the two former,
has too lively and airy a turn of mind; affects to be thought well
read in the histories of kingdoms, as well as in polite literature.
Speaks French fluently, talks much upon all subjects; and has a great
deal of flippant wit, which makes more enemies than friends. However,
is innocent, and unsuspectedly virtuous hitherto; but makes herself
cheap and accessible to fops and rakes, and has not the worse opinion
of a man for being such. Listens eagerly to stories told to the
disadvantage of some of her own sex; though affecting to be a great
stickler for the honour of it in general: will unpityingly propagate
them: thinks (without considering to what the imprudence of her own
conduct may subject her) the woman that slips inexcusable; and the man
who seduces her, much less faulty; and thus encourages the one sex in
their vileness, and gives up the other for their weakness, in a kind
of silly affectation, to shew her security in her own virtue; at
the same time, that she is dancing upon the edge of a precipice,
presumptuously inattentive to her own danger.
The worthy dean, knowing the ladies' intention in this visit to me,
brought his daughter with him, as if by accident; for Miss L. with
many good qualities, is of a remarkable soft temper, though not so
inconsiderately soft as Miss Cope: but is too credulous; and, as
her papa suspects, entertains more than a liking to a wild young
gentleman, the heir to a noble fortune, who makes visits to her, full
of tenderness and respect, but without declaring himself. This gives
the dean much uneasiness; and he is very desirous that his daughter
should be in my company on all occasions, as she is so kind to profess
a great regard to my opinion and judgment.
'Tis easy to see the poor young lady is in love; and she makes no
doubt that the young gentleman loves _her_; but, alas! why then (for
he is not a bashful man, as you shall hear) does he not say so?--He
has deceived already two young creatures. His father has cautioned the
dean against his son. Has told him, that he is sly, subtle, full of
stratagem, yet has so much command of himself (which makes him more
dangerous), as not to precipitate his designs; but can wait with
patience till he thinks himself secure of his prey, and then pulls off
the mask at once; and, if he succeeds, glories in his villainy. Yet
does his father beg of the dean to permit his visits, for he wishes
him to marry Miss L. though greatly unequal in fortune to his son,
wishing for nothing so much as that he _would_ marry. And the dean,
owing his principal preferment to the old gentleman, cares not to
disoblige him, or affront his son, without some apparent reason for
it, especially as the father is wrapt up in him, having no other
child, and being himself half afraid of him, least, if too much
thwarted, he should fly out entirely.
So here, Madam, are four young ladies of like years, and different
inclinations and tempers, all of whom may be said to have dangers
to encounter, resulting from their respective dispositions: and who,
professing to admire my character and example, were brought to me, to
be benefited, as Mrs. Towers was pleased to say, by my conversation:
and all was to be as if accidental, none of them knowing how well I
was acquainted with their several characters.
How proud would this compliment have made me from such a lady as Mrs.
Towers, had I not been as proud as proud could be before, of the good
opinion of four beloved persons, Mr. B., Lady Davers, the Countess of
C. and your dear self.
We were attended only by Polly Barlow, who in some points was as much
concerned as any body. And this being when Lord and Lady Davers, and
the noble Countess, were with us, 'tis proper to say, they were abroad
together upon a visit, from which, knowing how I was to be engaged,
they excused me. The dean was well known to, and valued by, all the
ladies; and therefore was no manner of restraint upon the freedom of
our conversation.
I was in my closet when they came; and Mrs. Towers, having presented
each young lady to me when I came down, said, being all seated, "I can
guess at your employment, Mrs. B. Writing, I dare say? I have often
wished to have you for a correspondent; for every one who can boast
of that favour, exalts you to the skies, and says, your letters exceed
your conversation, but I always insisted upon it that _that_ was
impossible."
"Mrs. Towers," said I, "is always saying the most obliging things in
the world of her neighbours: but may not one suffer, dear Madam, for
these kind prepossessions, in the opinion of greater strangers, who
will judge more impartially than your favour will permit you to do?"
"That," said Lady Arthur, "will be so soon put out of doubt, when Mrs.
B. begins to speak, that we will refer to that, and to put an end to
every thing that looks like compliment."
"But, Mrs. B.," says Mrs. Towers, "may one ask, what particular
subject was at this time your employment?"
I had been writing (you must know, Lady G.) for the sake of suiting
Miss Stapylton's flighty vein, a little sketch of the style she is so
fond of; and hoped for some such opportunity as this question gave me,
to bring it on the carpet; for my only fear, with her and Miss Cope,
and Miss Sutton, was, that they would deem me too grave; and so
what should fall in the course of conversation, would make the least
impression upon them. For the best instructions, you know, will be
ineffectual, if the manner of conveying them is not adapted to the
taste and temper of the person you would wish to influence. And
moreover, I had a view in it, to make this little sketch the
introduction to some future observations on the stiff and affected
style of romances, which might put Miss Stapylton out of conceit with
them, and make her turn the course of her studies another way, as I
shall mention in its place.
I answered that I had been meditating upon the misfortunes of a fine
young lady, who had been seduced and betrayed by a gentleman she
loved, and who, notwithstanding, had the grace to stop short (indeed,
later than were to be wished), and to abandon friends, country, lover,
in order to avoid any further intercourse with him; and that God had
blessed her penitence and resolution, and she was now very happy in a
neighbouring dominion.
"A fine subject," said Miss Stapylton. "Was the gentleman a man of
wit, Madam? Was the lady a woman of taste?" we condemn every man who
dresses well, and is not a sloven, as a fop or a coxcomb?"
"No doubt, when this is the case. But you hardly ever saw a man _very_
nice about his person and dress, that had any thing he thought of
_greater_ consequence to himself to regard. 'Tis natural it should be
so; for should not the man of _body_ take the greater care to set out
and adorn the part for which he thinks himself most valuable? And
will not the man of _mind_ bestow his principal care in improving that
mind? perhaps to the neglect of dress, and outward appearance, which
is a fault. But surely, Madam, there is a middle way to be observed,
in these, as in most other cases; for a man need not be a sloven, any
more than a fop. He need not shew an utter disregard to dress, nor
yet think it his first and chief concern; be ready to quarrel with the
wind for discomposing his peruke, or fear to put on his hat, lest he
should depress his foretop; more dislike a spot upon his clothes, than
in his reputation; be a self-admirer, and always at the glass, which
he would perhaps never look into, could it shew him the deformity of
his mind, as well as the finery of his person; who has a taylor for
his tutor, and a milliner for his school-mistress; who laughs at men
of sense (excusably enough, perhaps in revenge because they laugh at
him); who calls learning pedantry, and looks upon the knowledge of the
fashions as the only useful science to a fine gentleman.
"Pardon me, ladies; I could proceed with the character of this species
of men, but I need not; for every lady present would despise such
an one, as much as I do, were he to fall in her way: or the rather,
because he who admires himself, will never admire his lady as he
ought; and if he maintains his niceness after marriage, it will be
with a preference to his own person; if not, will sink, very probably,
into the worst of slovens. For whoever is capable of one extreme (take
almost the cases of human life through) when he recedes from that, if
he be not a man of prudence, will go over into the other.
"But to return to the former subject" (for the general attention
encouraged me to proceed), "permit me, Miss Sutton, to add, that a
lady must run great risks to her reputation, if not to her virtue, who
will admit into her company any gentleman who shall be of opinion, and
know it to be _hers_, that it is _his_ province to ask a favour, which
it will be _her_ duty to deny."
"I believe, Madam, I spoke these words a little too carelessly; but I
meant _honourable_ questions, to be sure."
"There can be but _one_ honourable question," replied I; "and that is
seldom asked, but when the affair is brought near a conclusion, and
there is a probability of its being granted; and which a single lady,
while she has parents or guardians, should never think of permitting
to be put to herself, much less of approving, nor, perhaps, as the
case may be of denying. But I make no doubt that you meant honourable
questions. A young lady of Miss Sutton's good sense, and worthy
character, could not mean otherwise. And I have said, perhaps, more
than I need upon the subject, because we all know how ready the
presuming of the other sex are, right or wrong to construe the most
innocent meetings in favour of their own views."
"Very true," said she; but appeared to be under an agreeable
confusion, every lady, by her eye, seeming to think she had met with
a deserved rebuke; and which not seeming to expect, it abated her
liveliness all the time after.
Mrs. Towers seasonably relieved us both from a subject _too
applicable_, if I may so express it, saying--"But, dear Mrs. B., will
you favour us with the result of your meditation, if committed to
writing, on the unhappy case you mentioned?"
"I was rather. Madam, exercising my fancy than my judgment, such as
it is, upon the occasion. I was aiming at a kind of allegorical or
metaphorical style, I know not which to call it; and it is not fit to
be read before such judges, I doubt."
"O pray, dear Madam," said Miss Stapylton, "favour us with it _to
choose_; for I am a great admirer of that style."
"I have a great curiosity," said Lady Arthur, "both from the _subject_
and the _style_, to hear what you have written: and I beg you will
oblige us all."
"It is short and unfinished. It was written for the sake of a friend,
who is fond of such a style; and what I shall add to it, will be
principally some slight observations upon this way of writing. But,
let it be ever so censurable, I should be more so, if I made any
difficulties after such an unanimous request." So, taking it out of my
letter-case, I read as follows:
"While the _banks_ of _discretion_ keep the _proud water_ of _passion_
within their natural channel, all calm and serene glides along the
silver current, enlivening the adjacent meadows, as it passes, with a
brighter and more flowery verdure. But if the _torrents_ of _sensual
love_ are permitted to descend from the _hills_ of _credulous hope_,
they may so swell the gentle stream, as to make it difficult, if not
impossible, to be retained betwixt its usual bounds. What then will be
the consequence?--Why, the _trees of resolution_, and the _shrubs
of cautious fear_, which grew upon the frail mound, and whose
intertwining roots had contributed to support it, being loosened from
their hold, _they_, and all that would swim of the _bank_ itself, will
be seen floating on the surface of the triumphant waters.
"But here, a dear lady, having unhappily failed, is enabled to set her
_foot_ in the _new-made_ breach, while yet it is _possible_ to stop
it, and to say, with little variation in the language of that power,
which only could enable _her_ to say it. _Hither, ye proud waves of
dissolute love, although you_ HAVE _come, yet no farther_ SHALL
_ye come;_ is such an instance of magnanimous resolution and
self-conquest, as is very rarely to be met with."
Miss Stapylton seemed pleased (as I expected), and told me, that she
should take it for a high favour, to be permitted, if not improper, to
see the whole letter when finished.
I said, I would oblige her with all my heart.-"But you must not
expect, Madam, that although I have written what I have read to you,
I shall approve of it in my observations upon it; for I am convinced,
that no style can be proper, which is not plain, simple, easy, natural
and unaffected."
She was sure, she was pleased to say, that whatever my observations
were, they would be equally just and instructive.
"I too," said the dean, "will answer for that; for I dare say, by what
I have already heard, that Mrs. B. will distinguish properly between
the style (and the matter too) which captivates the imagination, and
that which informs the judgment."
Our conversation, after this, took a more general turn; which I
thought right, lest the young ladies should imagine it was a designed
thing against them: yet it was such, that every one of them found her
character and taste, little or much, concerned in it; and all seemed,
as Mrs. Towers afterwards observed to me, by their silence and
attention, to be busied in private applications.
The dean began it with a high compliment to me; having a view, no
doubt, by his kind praises, to make my observations have the greater
weight upon the young ladies. He said, it was matter of great surprise
to him, that, my tender years considered, I should be capable of
making those reflections, by which persons of twice my age and
experience might be instructed.-"You see, Madam," said he, "our
attention, when your lips begin to open; and I beg we may have nothing
to do, but to _be_ attentive."
"I have had such advantages, Sir, from the observations and cautions
of my late excellent lady, that did you but know half of them, you
would rather wonder I had made _no greater_ improvement, than that
I have made _so much._ She used to think me pretty, and not
ill-tempered, and, of _course_ not incredulous, where I conceived a
good opinion; and was always arming me on that side, as believing
I might be the object of wicked attempts, and the rather, as my low
fortune subjected me to danger. For, had I been born to rank and
condition, as these young ladies here, I should have had reason
to think of _myself_, as justly as, no doubt, _they_ do, and, of
consequence, beyond the reach of any vile intriguer; as I should have
been above the greatest part of that species of mankind, who, for
want of understanding or honour, or through pernicious habits, give
themselves up to libertinism."
"These were great advantages," said Miss Sutton; "but in _you_, they
met with a surprising genius, 'tis very plain, Madam; and there is
not, in my opinion, a lady of England, of your years, who would have
improved by them as you have done."
I answered, that I was much obliged by her good opinion: and that
I had always observed, the person who admired any good qualities in
another, gave a kind of _natural_ demonstration, that she had the same
in an eminent degree herself, although, perhaps, her modest diffidence
would not permit her to trace the generous principle to its source.
The dean, to renew the subject of _credulity_, repeated my remark,
that it was safer, in cases where so much depended upon the issue, as
a lady's honour and reputation, to _fear_ an _enemy_, than to _hope_ a
_friend_; and praised my observation, that even a _weak_ enemy is not
to be too much despised.
I said, I had very high notions of the honour and value of my own sex,
and very mean ones of the gay and frothy part of the other; insomuch,
that I thought they could have no strength, but what was founded
in our weakness: that the difference of education must give men
advantages, even where the genius is naturally equal; besides, they
have generally more hardness of heart, which makes women, where they
meet not with men of honour, engage with that sex upon very unequal
terms; for that it is so customary with them to make vows and
promises, and to set light by them, _when made_, that an innocent lady
cannot guard too watchfully against them; and, in my opinion,
should believe nothing they said, or even _vowed_, but what carried
demonstration with it.
"I remember my lady used often to observe, there is a time of life in
all young persons, which may properly be called _the romantic_, which
is a very dangerous period, and requires therefore a great guard of
prudence; that the risque is not a little augmented by reading novels
and romances; and the poetical tribe have much to answer for, by
reason of their heightened and inflaming descriptions, which do much
hurt to thoughtless minds, and lively imaginations. For to those, she
would have it, are principally owing, the rashness and indiscretion of
_soft_ and _tender_ dispositions: which, in breach of their duty,
and even to the disgrace of their sex, too frequently set them upon
enterprises, like those they have read in those pernicious writings,
which not seldom make them fall a sacrifice to the base designs of
some wild intriguer; and even in cases where their precipitation
ends the best, that is to say, in _marriage_, they too frequently (in
direct opposition to the cautions and commands of their _tried_, their
_experienced_, and _unquestionable_ friends) throw themselves upon
an _almost stranger_, who, had he been worthy of them, would not, nor
_needed_ to have taken indirect methods to obtain their favour.
"And the misfortune is, the most innocent are generally the most
credulous. Such a lady would do no harm to others, and cannot think
others would do her any. And as to the particular person who has
obtained, perhaps, a share in her confidence, _he_ cannot, she
thinks, be so _ungrateful_, as to return irreparable mischief for
her good-will to him. Were all the men in the world besides to prove
false, the _beloved_ person cannot. 'Twould be unjust to _her own
merit_, as well as to _his views_, to suppose it: and so _design_ on
his side, and _credulity_ and _self-opinion_, on the lady's, at last
enrol the unhappy believer in the list of the too-late repenters."
"And what, Madam," said the dean, "has not that wretch to answer for,
who makes sport of destroying a virtuous character, and in being the
wicked means of throwing, perhaps, upon the town, and into the dregs
of prostitution, a poor creature, whose love for him, and confidence
in him, was all her crime? and who otherwise might have made a worthy
figure at the head of a reputable family, and so have been an useful
member of the commonwealth, propagating good examples, instead of ruin
and infamy, to mankind? To say nothing of, what is still worse,
the dreadful crime of occasioning the loss of a soul; since final
impenitence too generally follows the first sacrifice which the poor
wretch is seduced to make of her honour!"
"There are several gentlemen in our neighbourhood," said Mrs. Brooks,
"who might be benefited by this touching reflection, if represented
in the same strong lights from the pulpit. And I think, Mr. Dean, you
should give us a sermon upon this subject, for the sake of both sexes,
one for caution, the other for conviction."
"I will think of it," replied he, "but I am sorry to say, that we have
too many among our younger gentry who would think themselves pointed
at were I to touch this subject ever so cautiously."
"I am sure," said Mrs. Towers, "there cannot well be a more useful
one; and the very reason the dean gives, is a convincing proof of it
to me."
"When I have had the pleasure of hearing the further sentiments of
such an assembly as this, upon the delicate subject," replied this
polite divine, "I shall be better enabled to treat it. And pray,
ladies, proceed; for it is from your conversation that I must take my
hints."
"You have only, then," said Mrs. Towers, "to engage Mrs. B. to speak,
and you may be sure, we will all be as attentive to _her_, as we
shall be to _you_, when we have the pleasure to hear so fine a genius
improving upon her hints, from the pulpit."
I bowed to Mrs. Towers; and knowing she praised me, with the dean's
view, in order to induce the young ladies to give the greater
attention to what she wished me to speak, I said, it would be a
great presumption in me, after so high a compliment, to open my lips:
nevertheless, as I was sure, by speaking, I should have the benefit of
instruction, whenever it made _them_ speak, I would not be backward to
enter upon any subject; for that I should consider myself as a young
counsel, in some great cause, who served but to open it and prepare
the way for those of greater skill and abilities.
"I beg, then, Madam," said Miss Stapylton, "you will _open the cause_,
be the subject what it will. And I could almost wish, that we had as
many gentlemen here as ladies, who would have reason to be ashamed
of the liberties they take in censuring the conversations of the
tea-table; since the pulpit, as the worthy dean gives us reason to
hope, may be beholden to that of Mrs. B."
"Nor is it much wonder," replied I, "when the dean himself is with us,
and it is graced by so distinguished a circle."
"If many of our young gentlemen, were here," said Mrs. Towers, "they
might improve themselves in all the graces of polite and sincere
complaisance. But, compared to this, I have generally heard such trite
and coarse stuff from our race of would-be wits, that what they say
may be compared to the fawnings and salutations of the ass in the
fable, who, emulating the lap-dog, merited a cudgel rather than
encouragement.
"But, Mrs. B.," continued she, "begin, I pray you, to _open_ and
_proceed_ in the cause; for there will be no counsel employed but you,
I can tell you."
"Then give me a subject that will suit me, ladies, and you shall see
how my obedience to your commands will make me run on."
"Will you, Madam," said Miss Stapylton, "give us a few cautions and
instructions on a theme of your own, that a young lady should rather
_fear_ too much than _hope_ too much? A necessary doctrine, perhaps;
but a difficult one to be practised by one who has begun to love, and
who supposes all truth and honour in the object of her favour."
"_Hope_, Madam," said I, "in my opinion, should never be unaccompanied
by _fear_; and the more reason will a lady ever have to fear, and to
suspect herself, and doubt her lover, when she once begins to find in
her own breast an inclination to him. For then her danger is doubled,
since she has _herself_ (perhaps the more dangerous enemy of the two)
to guard against, as well as _him._
"She may secretly wish the best indeed: but what _has been_ the fate
of others _may be_ her own; and though she thinks it not _probable_,
from such a faithful protester, as he appears to her to be, yet,
while it is _possible_, she should never be off her guard: nor will a
prudent woman trust to his mercy or honour; but to her own discretion:
and the rather, because, if he mean well, he _himself_ will value her
the more for her caution, since every man desires to have a virtuous
and prudent wife; if not well, she will detect him the sooner, and so,
by her prudence, frustrate all his base designs.
"But let me, my dear ladies, ask, what that passion is, which
generally we dignify by the name of love; and which, when so
dignified, puts us upon a thousand extravagances? I believe, if
examined into, it would be found too generally to owe its original
to _ungoverned fancy;_ and were we to judge of it by the consequences
that usually attend it, it ought rather to be called _rashness,
inconsideration, weakness_, and thing but _love;_ for very seldom,
I doubt, is the solid judgment so much concerned in it, as the _airy
fancy._ But when once we dignify the wild mis-leader with the name of
_love_, all the absurdities which we read in novels and romances take
place, and we are induced to follow examples that seldom end happily
but in _them._
"But, permit me further to observe, that love, as we call it, operates
differently in the two sexes, as to its effects. For in woman it is
a _creeping_ thing, in a man an _incroacher;_ and this ought, in
my humble opinion, to be very seriously attended to. Miss Sutton
intimated thus much, when she observed that it was the man's province
to ask, the lady's to deny:--excuse me. Madam, the observation was
just, as to the men's notions; although, methinks, I would not have a
lady allow of it, except in cases of caution to themselves.
"The doubt, therefore, which a lady has of her _lover's_ honour,
is needful to preserve _her own_ and _his_ too. And if she does him
wrong, and he should be too just to deceive her, she can make him
amends, by instances of greater confidence, when she pleases. But if
she has been accustomed to grant him little favours, can she easily
recal them? And will not the _incroacher_ grow upon her indulgence,
pleading for a favour to-day, which was not refused him yesterday, and
reproaching her want of confidence, as a want of esteem; till the
poor lady, who, perhaps, has given way to the _creeping, insinuating_
passion, and has avowed her esteem for him, puts herself too much in
his power, in order to manifest, as she thinks, the _generosity_
of her affection; and so, by degrees, is carried farther than she
intended, or nice honour ought to have permitted; and all, because,
to keep up to my theme, she _hopes_ too much, and _doubts_ too little?
And there have been cases, where a man himself, pursuing the dictates
of his _incroaching_ passion, and finding a lady _too conceding_, has
taken advantages, of which, probably, at first he did not presume to
think."
Miss Stapylton said, that _virtue_ itself spoke when _I_ spoke; and
she was resolved to recollect as much of this conversation as she
could, and write it down in her common-place book, where it would make
a better figure than any thing she had there.
"I suppose, Miss," said Mrs. Towers, "your chief collections are
flowers of rhetoric, picked up from the French and English poets, and
novel-writers. I would give something for the pleasure of having it
two hours in my possession."
"Fie, Madam," replied she, a little abashed, "how can you expose your
kinswoman thus, before the dean and Mrs. B.?"
"Mrs. Towers," said I, "only says this to provoke you to shew your
collections. I wish I had the pleasure of seeing them. I doubt not but
your common-place book is a store-house of wisdom."
"There is nothing bad in it, I hope," replied she; "but I would
not, that Mrs. B. should see it for the world. But, Madam" (to Mrs.
Towers), "there are many beautiful things, and good instructions,
to be collected from novels and plays, and romances; and from the
poetical writers particularly, light as you are pleased to make of
them. Pray, Madam" (to me), "have you ever been at all conversant in
such writers?"
"Not a great deal in the former: there were very few novels and
romances that my lady would permit me to read; and those I did,
gave me no great pleasure; for either they dealt so much in the
_marvellous_ and _improbable_, or were so unnaturally _inflaming_ to
the _passions_, and so full of _love_ and _intrigue_, that most of
them seemed calculated to _fire_ the _imagination_, rather than to
_inform_ the _judgment._ Titles and tournaments, breaking of spears
in honour of a mistress, engaging with monsters, rambling in search
of adventures, making unnatural difficulties, in order to shew the
knight-errant's prowess in overcoming them, is all that is required
to constitute the _hero_ in such pieces. And what principally
distinguishes the character of the _heroine_ is, when she is taught to
consider her father's house as an enchanted castle, and her lover as
the hero who is to dissolve the charm, and to set at liberty from one
confinement, in order to put her into another, and, too probably, a
worse: to instruct her how to climb walls, leap precipices, and do
twenty other extravagant things, in order to shew the mad strength of
a passion she ought to be ashamed of; to make parents and guardians
pass for tyrants, the voice of reason to be drowned in that of
indiscreet love, which exalts the other sex, and debases her own. And
what is the instruction that can be gathered from such pieces, for the
conduct of common life?
"Then have I been ready to quarrel with these writers for another
reason; and that is, the dangerous notion which they hardly ever
fail to propagate, of a _first-sight_ love. For there is such a
susceptibility supposed on both sides (which, however it may pass in
a man, very little becomes the female delicacy) that they are smitten
with a glance: the fictitious blind god is made a _real_ divinity:
and too often prudence and discretion are the first offerings at his
shrine."
"I believe, Madam," said Miss Stapylton, blushing, and playing with
her fan, "there have been many instances of people's loving at first
sight, which have ended very happily."
"No doubt of it," replied I. "But there are three chances to one,
that so precipitate a liking does not. For where can be the room for
caution, enquiry, the display of merit and sincerity, and even the
assurance of a _grateful return_, to a lady, who thus suffers herself
to be prepossessed? Is it not a random shot? Is it not a proof of
weakness? Is it not giving up the negative voice, which belongs to the
sex, even while she is not sure of meeting with the affirmative one
from him whose affection she wishes to engage?
"Indeed, ladies," continued I, "I cannot help concluding (and I am the
less afraid of speaking my mind, because of the opinion I have of the
prudence of every lady that hears me), that where this weakness is
found, it is no way favourable to a lady's character, nor to that
discretion which ought to distinguish it. It looks to me, as if a
lady's _heart_ were too much in the power of her _eye_, and that she
had permitted her _fancy_ to be much more busy than her _judgment_."
Miss Stapylton blushed, and looked around her.
"But I observe," said Mrs. Towers, "whenever you censure any
indiscretion, you seldom fail to give cautions how to avoid it; and
pray let us know what is to be done in this case? That is to say, how
a young lady ought to guard against and overcome the first favourable
impressions?"
"What I imagine," replied I, "a young lady ought to do, on any the
least favourable impressions of the kind, is immediately to _withdraw
into herself_, as one may say; to reflect upon what she owes to her
parents, to her family, to her character, and to her sex; and to
resolve to check such a random prepossession, which may much more
probably, as I hinted, make her a prey to the undeserving than
otherwise, as there are so many of that character to one man of real
merit.
"The most that I apprehend a _first-sight_ approbation can do, is to
inspire a _liking_; and a liking is conquerable, if the person will
not brood over it, till she hatches it into _love_. Then every man
and woman has a black and a white side; and it is easy to set the
imperfections of the person against the supposed perfections, while it
is only a _liking_. But if the busy fancy be permitted to work as it
pleases, uncontrolled, then 'tis very likely, were the lady but to
keep herself in countenance for receiving first impressions, she will
see perfections in the object, which no other living soul can. And it
may be expected, that as a consequence of her first indiscretion, she
will confirm, as an act of her judgment, what her wild and ungoverned
fancy had misled her to think of with so much partial favour. And too
late, as it probably may happen, she will see and lament her fatal,
and, perhaps, undutiful error.
"We are talking of the ladies only," added I (for I saw Miss Stapylton
was become very grave): "but I believe first-sight love often operates
too powerfully in both sexes: and where it does so, it will be very
lucky, if either gentleman or lady find reason, on cool reflection, to
approve a choice which they were so ready to make without thought."
"'Tis allowed," said Mrs. Towers, "that rash and precipitate love
_may_ operate pretty much alike in the rash and precipitate of both
sexes: and which soever loves, generally exalts the person beloved
above his or her merits: but I am desirous, for the sake of us maiden
ladies, since it is a science in which you are so great an adept,
to have your advice, how we should watch and guard its first
incroachments and that you will tell us what you apprehend gives the
men most advantage over us."
"Nay, now, Mrs. Towers, you rally my presumption, indeed!"
"I admire you, Madam," replied she, "and every thing you say and do;
and I won't forgive you to call what I so seriously _say_ and _think_,
raillery. For my own part," continued she, "I never was in love yet,
nor, I believe, were any of these young ladies." (Miss Cope looked a
little silly upon this.) "And who can better instruct us to guard _our
hearts_, than a lady who has so well defended _her own_?"
"Why then, Madam, if I must speak, I think, what gives the other sex
the greatest advantage over even many of the most deserving ones,
is that dangerous foible, the _love of praise_, and the desire to be
_flattered_ and _admired_, a passion I have observed to predominate,
more or less, from sixteen to sixty, in most of our sex. We are too
generally delighted with the company of those who extol our graces of
person or mind: for, will not a _grateful_ lady study hard to return
a_ few_ compliments to a gentleman who makes her so _many_! She is
concerned to _prove_ him a man of distinguished sense, or a polite
man, at least, in regard to what she _thinks_ of herself; and so the
flatterer shall be preferred to such of the sincere and worthy, as
cannot say what they do not think. And by this means many an excellent
lady has fallen a prey to some sordid designer.
"Then, I think, nothing can give gentlemen so much advantage over our
sex, as to see how readily a virtuous lady can forgive the capital
faults of the most abandoned of the other; and that sad, sad notion,
_that a reformed rake makes the best husband_; a notion that has
done more hurt, and discredit too, to our sex (as it has given more
encouragement to the profligate, and more discouragement to the sober
gentlemen), than can be easily imagined. A fine thing, indeed I as
if the wretch, who had run through a course of iniquity, to the
endangering of soul and body, was to be deemed the best companion
for life, to an innocent and virtuous young lady, who is to owe
the kindness of his treatment to her, to his having never before
accompanied with a modest woman; nor, till his interest on one hand
(to which his extravagance, perhaps, compels him to attend), and
his impaired constitution on the other, oblige him to it, so much
as _wished_ to accompany with one; and who always made a jest of the
marriage state, and perhaps, of every thing either serious or sacred!"
"You observe, very well," said Mrs. Towers: "but people will be apt
to think, that you have less reason than any of our sex, to be severe
against such a notion: for who was a greater rake than a certain
gentleman, and who is a better husband?"
"Madam," replied I, "the gentleman you mean, never was a common
town rake: he is a man of sense, and fine understanding: and his
reformation, _secondarily_, as I may say, has been the natural effect
of those extraordinary qualities. But also, I will presume to say,
that that gentleman, as he has not many equals in the nobleness of
his nature, so he is not likely, I doubt, to have many followers, in
a reformation begun in the bloom of youth, upon _self-conviction_, and
altogether, humanly speaking, _spontaneous_. Those ladies who would
plead his example, in support of this pernicious notion, should find
out the same generous qualities in the man, before they trust to it:
and it will then do less harm; though even then, I could not wish it
to be generally entertained."
"It is really unaccountable," said Mrs. Towers, "after all, as Mrs.
B., I remember, said on another occasion, that our sex should not as
much insist upon virtue and sobriety, in the character of a man, as
a man, be he ever such a rake, does in that of a lady. And 'tis
certainly a great encouragement to libertinism, that a worn-out
debauchee should think himself at any time good enough for a husband,
and have the confidence to imagine, that a modest woman will accept
of his address, with a_ preference_ of him to any other."
"I can account for it but one way," said the dean: "and that is,
that a modest woman is apt to be _diffident_ of her own merit and
understanding and she thinks this diffidence an imperfection. A rake
_never_ is troubled with it: so he has in perfection a quality she
thinks she wants; and, knowing _too little _of the world, imagines she
mends the matter by accepting of one who knows_ too much_."
"That's well observed, Mr. Dean," said Mrs. Towers: "but there is
another fault in our sex, which Mrs. B. has not touched upon; and that
is, the foolish vanity some women have, in the hopes of reforming a
wild fellow; and that they shall be able to do more than any of their
sex before them could do: a vanity that often costs them dear, as I
know in more than one instance."
"Another weakness," said I, "might be produced against some of our
sex, who join too readily to droll upon, and sneer at, the misfortune
of any poor young creature, who has shewn too little regard for
her honour: and who (instead of speaking of it with concern, and
inveighing against the seducer) too lightly sport with the unhappy
person's fall; industriously spread the knowledge of it--" [I would
not look upon Miss Sutton, while I spoke this], "and avoid her, as
one infected; and yet scruple not to admit into their company the vile
aggressor; and even to smile with him, at his barbarous jests, upon
the poor sufferer of their own sex."
"I have known three or four instances of this in my time," said Mrs.
Towers, that Miss Sutton might not take it to herself; for she looked
down and was a little serious.
"This," replied I, "puts me in mind of a little humourous copy of
verses, written, as I believe by Mr. B. And which, to the very purpose
we are speaking of, he calls
_"'Benefit of making others' misfortunes our own._
"'Thou'st heard it, or read it, a million of times,
That men are made up of falsehood and crimes;
Search all the old authors, and ransack the new,
Thou'lt find in love stories, scarce one mortal true.
Then why this complaining? And why this wry face?
Is it 'cause thou'rt affected _most_ with thy own case?
Had'st thou sooner made _others'_ misfortunes thy own,
Thou never _thyself_, this disaster hadst known;
Thy _compassionate caution_ had kept thee from evil,
And thou might'st have defy'd mankind and the devil.'"
The ladies were pleased with the lines; but Mrs. Towers wanted to know
at what time of Mr. B.'s life they could be written. "Because," added
she, "I never suspected, before, that the good gentleman ever took
pains to write cautions or exhortations to our sex, to avoid the
delusions of his own."
These verses, and these facetious, but severe, remarks of Mrs. Towers,
made every young lady look up with a cheerful countenance; because it
pushed the ball from _self_: and the dean said to his daughter, "So,
my dear, you, that have been so attentive, must let us know what
useful inferences you can draw from what Mrs. B. and the other ladies
so excellently said."
"I observe. Sir, from the faults the ladies have so justly imputed to
some of our sex, that the advantage the gentlemen _chiefly_ have over
us, is from our own weakness: and that it behoves a prudent woman
to guard against _first impressions_ of favour, since she will think
herself obliged, in compliment to _her own_ judgment, to find reasons,
if possible, to confirm them.
"But I wish to know if there be any way that a woman can judge,
whether a man means honourably or not, in his address to her!"
"Mrs. B. can best inform you of that, Miss L.," said Mrs. Towers:
"what say you, Mrs. B.?"
"There are a few signs," answered I, "easy to be known, and, I think,
almost infallible."
"Pray let's have them," said Lady Arthur; and they all were very
attentive.
"I lay it down as an undoubted truth," said I, "that true love is one
of the most _respectful_ things in the world. It strikes with awe and
reverence the mind of the man who boasts its impressions. It is chaste
and pure in word and deed, and cannot bear to have the least indecency
mingled with it.
"If, therefore, a man, be his birth or quality what it will, the
higher the worse, presume to wound a lady's ears with indecent words:
if he endeavour, in his expressions or sentiments, to convey gross
or impure ideas to her mind: if he is continually pressing for _her
confidence_ in _his_ honour: if he requests favours which a lady ought
to refuse: if he can be regardless of his conduct or behaviour to her:
if he can use _boisterous_ or _rude_ freedoms, either to her _person_
or _dress_--" [Here poor Miss Cope, by her blushes, bore witness to
her case.] "If he avoids _speaking_ of _marriage_, when he has a
_fair opportunity_ of doing it--" [Here Miss L. looked down and
blushed]--"or leaves it _once_ to a lady to wonder that he does not:--
"In any, or in all these cases, he is to be suspected, and a lady
can have little hope of such a person; nor, as I humbly apprehend,
consistent with honour and discretion, encourage his address."
The ladies were so kind as to applaud all I said, and so did the dean.
Miss Stapylton, Miss Cope, and Miss L. were to write down what they
could remember of the conversation: and our noble guests coming
in soon after, with Mr. B., the ladies would have departed; but he
prevailed upon them to pass the evening; and Miss L., who had an
admirable finger on the harpsichord, as I have before said, obliged
us with two or three lessons. Each of the ladies did the like, and
prevailed upon me to play a tune or two: but Miss Cope, as well as
Miss L., surpassed me much. We all sung too in turns, and Mr. B.
took the violin, in which he excels. Lord Davers obliged us on the
violincello: Mr. H. played on the German flute, and sung us a fop's
song, and performed it in character; so that we had an exceeding gay
evening, and parted with great satisfaction on all sides, particularly
on the young ladies; for this put them all in good humour, and good
spirits, enlivening the former scene, which otherwise might have
closed, perhaps more gravely than efficaciously.
The distance of time since this conversation passed, enables me to add
what I could not do, when I wrote the account of it, which you have
mislaid: and which take briefly, as follows:
Miss Stapylton was as good as her word, and wrote down all she could
recollect of the conversation: and I having already sent her the
letter she desired, containing my observations upon the flighty style
she so much admired, it had such an effect upon her, as to turn
the course of her reading and studies to weightier and more solid
subjects; and avoiding the gentleman she had begun to favour, gave
way to her parents' recommendations, and is happily married to Sir
Jonathan Barnes.
Miss Cope came to me a week after, with the leave of both her parents,
and tarried with me three days; in which time she opened all her heart
to me, and returned in such a disposition, and with such resolutions,
that she never would see her peer again; nor receive letters from him,
which she owned to me she had done clandestinely before; and she is
now the happy lady of Sir Michael Beaumont, who makes her the best
of husbands, and permits her to follow her charitable inclinations
according to a scheme which she consulted me upon.
Miss L., by the dean's indulgent prudence and discretion, has escaped
her rake; and upon the discovery of an intrigue he was carrying on
with another, conceived a just abhorrence of him; and is since married
to Dr. Jenkins, as you know, with whom she lives very happily.
Miss Sutton is not quite so well off as the three former; though
not altogether so unhappy neither, in her way. She could not indeed
conquer her love of dress and tinsel, and so became the lady of Col.
Wilson: and they are thus far easy in the marriage state, that, being
seldom together, they have probably a multitude of misunderstandings;
for the colonel loves gaming, in which he is generally a winner; and
so passes his time mostly in town. His lady has her pleasures, neither
laudable nor criminal ones, which she pursues in the country. And
now and then a letter passes on both sides, by. the inscription and
subscription of which they remind one another that they have been once
in their lives at one church together,
And what now, my dear Lady G., have I to add to this tedious account
(for letter I can hardly call it) but that I am, with great affection,
_your true friend and servant_,