"Girls are from their earliest infancy fond of dress. Not content

with being pretty, they are desirous of being thought so; we see,

by all their little airs, that this thought engages their

attention; and they are hardly capable of understanding what is

said to them, before they are to be governed by talking to them of

what people will think of their behaviour. The same motive,

however, indiscreetly made use of with boys, has not the same

effect: provided they are let to pursue their amusements at

pleasure, they care very little what people think of them. Time

and pains are necessary to subject boys to this motive.

"Whencesoever girls derive this first lesson it is a very good one.

As the body is born, in a manner before the soul, our first concern

should be to cultivate the former; this order is common to both

sexes, but the object of that cultivation is different. In the one

sex it is the developement of corporeal powers; in the other, that

of personal charms: not that either the quality of strength or

beauty ought to be confined exclusively to one sex; but only that

the order of the cultivation of both is in that respect reversed.

Women certainly require as much strength as to enable them to move

and act gracefully, and men as much address as to qualify them to

act with ease."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Children of both sexes have a great many amusements in common; and

so they ought; have they not also many such when they are grown up?

Each sex has also its peculiar taste to distinguish in this

particular. Boys love sports of noise and activity; to beat the

drum, to whip the top, and to drag about their little carts:

girls, on the other hand, are fonder of things of show and

ornament; such as mirrors, trinkets, and dolls; the doll is the

peculiar amusement of the females; from whence we see their taste

plainly adapted to their destination. The physical part of the art

of pleasing lies in dress; and this is all which children are

capacitated to cultivate of that art."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Here then we see a primary propensity firmly established, which

you need only to pursue and regulate. The little creature will

doubtless be very desirous to know how to dress up her doll, to

make its sleeve knots, its flounces, its head dress, etc., she is

obliged to have so much recourse to the people about her, for their

assistance in these articles, that it would be much more agreeable

to her to owe them all to her own industry. Hence we have a good

reason for the first lessons which are usually taught these young

females: in which we do not appear to be setting them a task, but

obliging them, by instructing them in what is immediately useful to

themselves. And, in fact, almost all of them learn with reluctance

to read and write; but very readily apply themselves to the use of

their needles. They imagine themselves already grown up, and think

with pleasure that such qualifications will enable them to decorate

themselves."

This is certainly only an education of the body; but Rousseau is

not the only man who has indirectly said that merely the person of

a young woman, without any mind, unless animal spirits come under

that description, is very pleasing. To render it weak, and what

some may call beautiful, the understanding is neglected, and girls

forced to sit still, play with dolls, and listen to foolish

conversations; the effect of habit is insisted upon as an undoubted

indication of nature. I know it was Rousseau's opinion that the

first years of youth should be employed to form the body, though in

educating Emilius he deviates from this plan; yet the difference

between strengthening the body, on which strength of mind in a

great measure depends, and only giving it an easy motion, is very

wide.

Rousseau's observations, it is proper to remark, were made in a

country where the art of pleasing was refined only to extract the

grossness of vice. He did not go back to nature, or his ruling

appetite disturbed the operations of reason, else he would not have

drawn these crude inferences.

In France, boys and girls, particularly the latter, are only

educated to please, to manage their persons, and regulate their

exterior behaviour; and their minds are corrupted at a very early

age, by the worldly and pious cautions they receive, to guard them

against immodesty. I speak of past times. The very confessions

which mere children are obliged to make, and the questions asked by

the holy men I assert these facts on good authority, were

sufficient to impress a sexual character; and the education of

society was a school of coquetry and art. At the age of ten or

eleven; nay, often much sooner, girls began to coquet, and talked,

unreproved, of establishing themselves in the world by marriage.

In short, they were made women, almost from their very birth, and

compliments were listened to instead of instruction. These,

weakening the mind, Nature was supposed to have acted like a

step-mother, when she formed this after-thought of creation.

Not allowing them understanding, however, it was but consistent to

subject them to authority, independent of reason; and to prepare

them for this subjection, he gives the following advice:

"Girls ought to be active and diligent; nor is that all; they

should also be early subjected to restraint. This misfortune, if

it really be one, is inseparable from their sex; nor do they ever

throw it off but to suffer more cruel evils. They must be subject,

all their lives, to the most constant and severe restraint, which

is that of decorum: it is, therefore, necessary to accustom them

early to such confinement, that it may not afterward cost them too

dear; and to the suppression of their caprices, that they may the

more readily submit to the will of others. If, indeed, they are

fond of being always at work, they should be sometimes compelled to

lay it aside. Dissipation, levity, and inconstancy, are faults

that readily spring up from their first propensities, when

corrupted or perverted by too much indulgence. To prevent this

abuse, we should learn them, above all things, to lay a due

restraint on themselves. The life of a modest woman is reduced, by

our absurd institutions, to a perpetual conflict with herself: not

but it is just that this sex should partake of the sufferings which

arise from those evils it hath caused us."

And why is the life of a modest woman a perpetual conflict? I

should answer, that this very system of education makes it so.

Modesty, temperance, and self-denial, are the sober offspring of

reason; but when sensibility is nurtured at the expense of the

understanding, such weak beings must be restrained by arbitrary

means, and be subjected to continual conflicts; but give their

activity of mind a wider range, and nobler passions and motives

will govern their appetites and sentiments.

"The common attachment and regard of a mother, nay, mere habit,

will make her beloved by her children, if she does nothing to incur

their hate. Even the restraint she lays them under, if well

directed, will increase their affection, instead of lessening it;

because a state of dependence being natural to the sex, they

perceive themselves formed for obedience."

This is begging the question; for servitude not only debases the

individual, but its effects seem to be transmitted to posterity.

Considering the length of time that women have been dependent, is

it surprising that some of them hug their chains, and fawn like the

spaniel? "These dogs," observes a naturalist, "at first kept their

ears erect; but custom has superseded nature, and a token of fear

is become a beauty."

"For the same reason," adds Rousseau, "women have or ought to have,

but little liberty; they are apt to indulge themselves excessively

in what is allowed them. Addicted in every thing to extremes, they

are even more transported at their diversions than boys."

The answer to this is very simple. Slaves and mobs have always

indulged themselves in the same excesses, when once they broke

loose from authority. The bent bow recoils with violence, when the

hand is suddenly relaxed that forcibly held it: and sensibility,

the plaything of outward circumstances, must be subjected to

authority, or moderated by reason.

"There results," he continues, "from this habitual restraint, a

tractableness which the women have occasion for during their whole

lives, as they constantly remain either under subjection to the

men, or to the opinions of mankind; and are never permitted to set

themselves above those opinions. The first and most important

qualification in a woman is good-nature or sweetness of temper;

formed to obey a being so imperfect as man, often full of vices,

and always full of faults, she ought to learn betimes even to

suffer injustice, and to bear the insults of a husband without

complaint; it is not for his sake, but her own, that she should be

of a mild disposition. The perverseness and ill-nature of the

women only serve to aggravate their own misfortunes, and the

misconduct of their husbands; they might plainly perceive that such

are not the arms by which they gain the superiority."

Formed to live with such an imperfect being as man, they ought to

learn from the exercise of their faculties the necessity of

forbearance; but all the sacred rights of humanity are violated by

insisting on blind obedience; or, the most sacred rights belong

ONLY to man.

The being who patiently endures injustice, and silently bears

insults, will soon become unjust, or unable to discern right from

wrong. Besides, I deny the fact, this is not the true way to form

or meliorate the temper; for, as a sex, men have better tempers

than women, because they are occupied by pursuits that interest the

head as well as the heart; and the steadiness of the head gives a

healthy temperature to the heart. People of sensibility have

seldom good tempers. The formation of the temper is the cool work

of reason, when, as life advances, she mixes with happy art,

jarring elements. I never knew a weak or ignorant person who had a

good temper, though that constitutional good humour, and that

docility, which fear stamps on the behaviour, often obtains the

name. I say behaviour, for genuine meekness never reached the

heart or mind, unless as the effect of reflection; and, that simple

restraint produces a number of peccant humours in domestic life,

many sensible men will allow, who find some of these gentle

irritable creatures, very troublesome companions.

"Each sex," he further argues, "should preserve its peculiar tone

and manner: a meek husband may make a wife impertinent; but

mildness of disposition on the woman's side will always bring a man

back to reason, at least if he be not absolutely a brute, and will

sooner or later triumph over him." True, the mildness of reason;

but abject fear always inspires contempt; and tears are only

eloquent when they flow down fair cheeks.

Of what materials can that heart be composed, which can melt when

insulted, and instead of revolting at injustice, kiss the rod? Is

it unfair to infer, that her virtue is built on narrow views and

selfishness, who can caress a man, with true feminine softness, the

very moment when he treats her tyrannically? Nature never dictated

such insincerity; and though prudence of this sort be termed a

virtue, morality becomes vague when any part is supposed to rest on

falsehood. These are mere expedients, and expedients are only

useful for the moment.

Let the husband beware of trusting too implicitly to this servile

obedience; for if his wife can with winning sweetness caress him

when angry, and when she ought to be angry, unless contempt had

stifled a natural effervescence, she may do the same after parting

with a lover. These are all preparations for adultery; or, should

the fear of the world, or of hell, restrain her desire of pleasing

other men, when she can no longer please her husband, what

substitute can be found by a being who was only formed by nature

and art to please man? what can make her amends for this

privation, or where is she to seek for a fresh employment? where

find sufficient strength of mind to determine to begin the search,

when her habits are fixed, and vanity has long ruled her chaotic

mind?

But this partial moralist recommends cunning systematically and

plausibly.

"Daughters should be always submissive; their mothers, however,

should not be inexorable. To make a young person tractable, she

ought not to be made unhappy; to make her modest she ought not to

be rendered stupid. On the contrary, I should not be displeased at

her being permitted to use some art, not to elude punishment in

case of disobedience, but to exempt herself from the necessity of

obeying. It is not necessary to make her dependence burdensome,

but only to let her feel it. Subtilty is a talent natural to the

sex; and as I am persuaded, all our natural inclinations are right

and good in themselves, I am of opinion this should be cultivated

as well as the others: it is requisite for us only to prevent its

abuse."

"Whatever is, is right," he then proceeds triumphantly to infer.

Granted; yet, perhaps, no aphorism ever contained a more

paradoxical assertion. It is a solemn truth with respect to God.

He, reverentially I speak, sees the whole at once, and saw its just

proportions in the womb of time; but man, who can only inspect

disjointed parts, finds many things wrong; and it is a part of the

system, and therefore right, that he should endeavour to alter what

appears to him to be so, even while he bows to the wisdom of his

Creator, and respects the darkness he labours to disperse.

The inference that follows is just, supposing the principle to be

sound: "The superiority of address, peculiar to the female sex, is

a very equitable indemnification for their inferiority in point of

strength: without this, woman would not be the companion of man;

but his slave: it is by her superiour art and ingenuity that she

preserves her equality, and governs him while she affects to obey.

Woman has every thing against her, as well our faults as her own

timidity and weakness: she has nothing in her favour, but her

subtilty and her beauty. Is it not very reasonable, therefore, she

should cultivate both?" Greatness of mind can never dwell with

cunning or address; for I shall not boggle about words, when their

direct signification is insincerity and falsehood; but content

myself with observing, that if any class of mankind be so created

that it must necessarily be educated by rules, not strictly

deducible from truth, virtue is an affair of convention. How could

Rousseau dare to assert, after giving this advice, that in the

grand end of existence, the object of both sexes should be the

same, when he well knew, that the mind formed by its pursuits, is

expanded by great views swallowing up little ones, or that it

becomes itself little?

Men have superiour strength of body; but were it not for mistaken

notions of beauty, women would acquire sufficient to enable them to

earn their own subsistence, the true definition of independence;

and to bear those bodily inconveniences and exertions that are

requisite to strengthen the mind.

Let us then, by being allowed to take the same exercise as boys,

not only during infancy, but youth, arrive at perfection of body,

that we may know how far the natural superiority of man extends.

For what reason or virtue can be expected from a creature when the

seed-time of life is neglected? None--did not the winds of heaven

casually scatter many useful seeds in the fallow ground.

"Beauty cannot be acquired by dress, and coquetry is an art not so

early and speedily attained. While girls are yet young, however,

they are in a capacity to study agreeable gesture, a pleasing

modulation of voice, an easy carriage and behaviour; as well as to

take the advantage of gracefully adapting their looks and attitudes

to time, place, and occasion. Their application, therefore, should

not be solely confined to the arts of industry and the needle, when

they come to display other talents, whose utility is already

apparent." "For my part I would have a young Englishwoman cultivate

her agreeable talents, in order to please her future husband, with

as much care and assiduity as a young Circassian cultivates her's,

to fit her for the Haram of an Eastern bashaw."

To render women completely insignificant, he adds,--"The tongues of

women are very voluble; they speak earlier, more readily, and more

agreeably than the men; they are accused also of speaking much

more: but so it ought to be, and I should be very ready to convert

this reproach into a compliment; their lips and eyes have the same

activity, and for the same reason. A man speaks of what he knows,

a woman of what pleases her; the one requires knowledge, the other

taste; the principal object of a man's discourse should be what is

useful, that of a woman's what is agreeable. There ought to be

nothing in common between their different conversation but truth."

"We ought not, therefore, to restrain the prattle of girls, in the

same manner as we should that of boys, with that severe question,

'To what purpose are you talking?' but by another, which is no less

difficult to answer, 'How will your discourse be received?' In

infancy, while they are as yet incapable to discern good from evil,

they ought to observe it as a law, never to say any thing

disagreeable to those whom they are speaking to: what will render

the practice of this rule also the more difficult, is, that it must

ever be subordinate to the former, of never speaking falsely or

telling an untruth." To govern the tongue in this manner must

require great address indeed; and it is too much practised both by

men and women. Out of the abundance of the heart how few speak!

So few, that I, who love simplicity, would gladly give up

politeness for a quarter of the virtue that has been sacrificed to

an equivocal quality, which, at best, should only be the polish of

virtue.

But to complete the sketch. "It is easy to be conceived, that if

male children be not in a capacity to form any true notions of

religion, those ideas must be greatly above the conception of the

females: it is for this very reason, I would begin to speak to

them the earlier on this subject; for if we were to wait till they

were in a capacity to discuss methodically such profound questions,

we should run a risk of never speaking to them on this subject as

long as they lived. Reason in women is a practical reason,

capacitating them artfully to discover the means of attaining a

known end, but which would never enable them to discover that end

itself. The social relations of the sexes are indeed truly

admirable: from their union there results a moral person, of which

woman may be termed the eyes, and man the hand, with this

dependence on each other, that it is from the man that the woman is

to learn what she is to see, and it is of the woman that man is to

learn what he ought to do. If woman could recur to the first

principles of things as well as man, and man was capacitated to

enter into their minutae as well as woman, always independent of

each other, they would live in perpetual discord, and their union

could not subsist. But in the present harmony which naturally

subsists between them, their different faculties tend to one common

end; it is difficult to say which of them conduces the most to it:

each follows the impulse of the other; each is obedient, and both

are masters."

"As the conduct of a woman is subservient to the public opinion,

her faith in matters of religion, should for that very reason, be

subject to authority. 'Every daughter ought to be of the same

religion as her mother, and every wife to be of the same religion

as her husband: for, though such religion should be false, that

docility which induces the mother and daughter to submit to the

order of nature, takes away, in the sight of God, the criminality

of their error'.* As they are not in a capacity to judge for

themselves, they ought to abide by the decision of their fathers

and husbands as confidently as by that of the church."

(*Footnote. What is to be the consequence, if the mother's and

husband's opinion should chance not to agree? An ignorant person

cannot be reasoned out of an error, and when persuaded to give up

one prejudice for another the mind is unsettled. Indeed, the

husband may not have any religion to teach her though in such a

situation she will be in great want of a support to her virtue,

independent of worldly considerations.)

"As authority ought to regulate the religion of the women, it is

not so needful to explain to them the reasons for their belief, as

to lay down precisely the tenets they are to believe: for the

creed, which presents only obscure ideas to the mind, is the source

of fanaticism; and that which presents absurdities, leads to

infidelity."

Absolute, uncontroverted authority, it seems, must subsist

somewhere: but is not this a direct and exclusive appropriation of

reason? The RIGHTS of humanity have been thus confined to the male

line from Adam downwards. Rousseau would carry his male

aristocracy still further, for he insinuates, that he should not

blame those, who contend for leaving woman in a state of the most

profound ignorance, if it were not necessary, in order to preserve

her chastity, and justify the man's choice in the eyes of the

world, to give her a little knowledge of men, and the customs

produced by human passions; else she might propagate at home

without being rendered less voluptuous and innocent by the exercise

of her understanding: excepting, indeed, during the first year of

marriage, when she might employ it to dress, like Sophia. "Her

dress is extremely modest in appearance, and yet very coquettish in

fact: she does not make a display of her charms, she conceals

them; but, in concealing them, she knows how to affect your

imagination. Every one who sees her, will say, There is a modest

and discreet girl; but while you are near her, your eyes and

affections wander all over her person, so that you cannot withdraw

them; and you would conclude that every part of her dress, simple

as it seems, was only put in its proper order to be taken to pieces

by the imagination." Is this modesty? Is this a preparation for

immortality? Again. What opinion are we to form of a system of

education, when the author says of his heroine, "that with her,

doing things well is but a SECONDARY concern; her principal concern

is to do them NEATLY."

Secondary, in fact, are all her virtues and qualities, for,

respecting religion, he makes her parents thus address her,

accustomed to submission--"Your husband will instruct you in good

time."

After thus cramping a woman's mind, if, in order to keep it fair,

he has not made it quite a blank, he advises her to reflect, that a

reflecting man may not yawn in her company, when he is tired of

caressing her. What has she to reflect about, who must obey? and

would it not be a refinement on cruelty only to open her mind to

make the darkness and misery of her fate VISIBLE? Yet these are

his sensible remarks; how consistent with what I have already been

obliged to quote, to give a fair view of the subject, the reader

may determine.

"They who pass their whole lives in working for their daily bread,

have no ideas beyond their business or their interest, and all

their understanding seems to lie in their fingers' ends. This

ignorance is neither prejudicial to their integrity nor their

morals; it is often of service to them. Sometimes, by means of

reflection, we are led to compound with our duty, and we conclude,

by substituting a jargon of words, in the room of things. Our own

conscience is the most enlightened philosopher. There is no need

of being acquainted with Tully's offices, to make a man of probity:

and perhaps the most virtuous woman in the world is the least

acquainted with the definition of virtue. But it is no less true,

than an improved understanding only can render society agreeable;

and it is a melancholy thing for a father of a family, who is fond

of home, to be obliged to be always wrapped up in himself, and to

have nobody about him to whom he can impart his sentiments.

"Besides, how should a woman void of reflection be capable of

educating her children? How should she discern what is proper for

them? How should she incline them to those virtues she is

unacquainted with, or to that merit of which she has no idea? She

can only sooth or chide them; render them insolent or timid; she

will make them formal coxcombs, or ignorant blockheads; but will

never make them sensible or amiable." How indeed should she, when

her husband is not always at hand to lend her his reason --when

they both together make but one moral being? A blind will, "eyes

without hands," would go a very little way; and perchance his

abstract reason, that should concentrate the scattered beams of her

practical reason, may be employed in judging of the flavour of

wine, discanting on the sauces most proper for turtle; or, more

profoundly intent at a card-table, he may be generalizing his ideas

as he bets away his fortune, leaving all the minutiae of education

to his helpmate or chance.

But, granting that woman ought to be beautiful, innocent, and

silly, to render her a more alluring and indulgent companion--what

is her understanding sacrificed for? And why is all this

preparation necessary only, according to Rousseau's own account, to

make her the mistress of her husband, a very short time? For no

man ever insisted more on the transient nature of love. Thus

speaks the philosopher. "Sensual pleasures are transient. The

habitual state of the affections always loses by their

gratification. The imagination, which decks the object of our

desires, is lost in fruition. Excepting the Supreme Being, who is

self-existent, there is nothing beautiful but what is ideal."

But he returns to his unintelligible paradoxes again, when he thus

addresses Sophia. "Emilius, in becoming your husband, is become

your master, and claims your obedience. Such is the order of

nature. When a man is married, however, to such a wife as Sophia,

it is proper he should be directed by her: this is also agreeable

to the order of nature: it is, therefore, to give you as much

authority over his heart as his sex gives him over your person,

that I have made you the arbiter of his pleasures. It may cost

you, perhaps, some disagreeable self-denial; but you will be

certain of maintaining your empire over him, if you can preserve it

over yourself; what I have already observed, also shows me, that

this difficult attempt does not surpass your courage.

"Would you have your husband constantly at your feet? keep him at

some distance from your person. You will long maintain the

authority of love, if you know but how to render your favours rare

and valuable. It is thus you may employ even the arts of coquetry

in the service of virtue, and those of love in that of reason."

I shall close my extracts with a just description of a comfortable

couple. "And yet you must not imagine, that even such management

will always suffice. Whatever precaution be taken, enjoyment will,

by degrees, take off the edge of passion. But when love hath

lasted as long as possible, a pleasing habitude supplies its place,

and the attachment of a mutual confidence succeeds to the

transports of passion. Children often form a more agreeable and

permanent connexion between married people than even love itself.

When you cease to be the mistress of Emilius, you will continue to

be his wife and friend; you will be the mother of his children."

(Rousseau's Emilius.)

Children, he truly observes, form a much more permanent connexion

between married people than love. Beauty he declares will not be

valued, or even seen, after a couple have lived six months

together; artificial graces and coquetry will likewise pall on the

senses: why then does he say, that a girl should be educated for

her husband with the same care as for an eastern haram?

I now appeal from the reveries of fancy and refined licentiousness

to the good sense of mankind, whether, if the object of education

be to prepare women to become chaste wives and sensible mothers,

the method so plausibly recommended in the foregoing sketch, be the

one best calculated to produce those ends? Will it be allowed that

the surest way to make a wife chaste, is to teach her to practise

the wanton arts of a mistress, termed virtuous coquetry by the

sensualist who can no longer relish the artless charms of

sincerity, or taste the pleasure arising from a tender intimacy,

when confidence is unchecked by suspicion, and rendered interesting

by sense?

The man who can be contented to live with a pretty useful companion

without a mind, has lost in voluptuous gratifications a taste for

more refined enjoyments; he has never felt the calm satisfaction

that refreshes the parched heart, like the silent dew of heaven--of

being beloved by one who could understand him. In the society of

his wife he is still alone, unless when the man is sunk in the

brute. "The charm of life," says a grave philosophical reasoner,

is "sympathy; nothing pleases us more than to observe in other men

a fellow-feeling with all the emotions of our own breast."

But, according to the tenor of reasoning by which women are kept

from the tree of knowledge, the important years of youth, the

usefulness of age, and the rational hopes of futurity, are all to

be sacrificed, to render woman an object of desire for a short

time. Besides, how could Rousseau expect them to be virtuous and

constant when reason is neither allowed to be the foundation of

their virtue, nor truth the object of their inquiries?

But all Rousseau's errors in reasoning arose from sensibility, and

sensibility to their charms women are very ready to forgive! When

he should have reasoned he became impassioned, and reflection

inflamed his imagination, instead of enlightening his

understanding. Even his virtues also led him farther astray; for,

born with a warm constitution and lively fancy, nature carried him

toward the other sex with such eager fondness, that he soon became

lascivious. Had he given way to these desires, the fire would have

extinguished itself in a natural manner, but virtue, and a romantic

kind of delicacy, made him practise self-denial; yet, when fear,

delicacy, or virtue restrained him, he debauched his imagination;

and reflecting on the sensations to which fancy gave force, he

traced them in the most glowing colours, and sunk them deep into

his soul.

He then sought for solitude, not to sleep with the man of nature;

or calmly investigate the causes of things under the shade where

Sir Isaac Newton indulged contemplation, but merely to indulge his

feelings. And so warmly has he painted what he forcibly felt,

that, interesting the heart and inflaming the imagination of his

readers; in proportion to the strength of their fancy, they imagine

that their understanding is convinced, when they only sympathize

with a poetic writer, who skilfully exhibits the objects of sense,

most voluptuously shadowed, or gracefully veiled; and thus making

us feel, whilst dreaming that we reason, erroneous conclusions are

left in the mind.

Why was Rousseau's life divided between ecstasy and misery? Can

any other answer be given than this, that the effervescence of his

imagination produced both; but, had his fancy been allowed to cool,

it is possible that he might have acquired more strength of mind.

Still, if the purpose of life be to educate the intellectual part

of man, all with respect to him was right; yet, had not death led

to a nobler scene of action, it is probable that he would have

enjoyed more equal happiness on earth, and have felt the calm

sensations of the man of nature, instead of being prepared for

another stage of existence by nourishing the passions which agitate

the civilized man.

But peace to his manes! I war not with his ashes, but his

opinions. I war only with the sensibility that led him to degrade

woman by making her the slave of love.

...."Curs'd vassalage,

First idoliz'd till love's hot fire be o'er,

Then slaves to those who courted us before."

Dryden.

The pernicious tendency of those books, in which the writers

insidiously degrade the sex, whilst they are prostrate before their

personal charms, cannot be too often or too severely exposed.

Let us, my dear contemporaries, arise above such narrow prejudices!

If wisdom is desirable on its own account, if virtue, to deserve

the name, must be founded on knowledge; let us endeavour to

strengthen our minds by reflection, till our heads become a balance

for our hearts; let us not confine all our thoughts to the petty

occurrences of the day, nor our knowledge to an acquaintance with

our lovers' or husbands' hearts; but let the practice of every duty

be subordinate to the grand one of improving our minds, and

preparing our affections for a more exalted state!

Beware then, my friends, of suffering the heart to be moved by

every trivial incident: the reed is shaken by a breeze, and

annually dies, but the oak stands firm, and for ages braves the

storm.

Were we, indeed, only created to flutter our hour out and die--why

let us then indulge sensibility, and laugh at the severity of

reason. Yet, alas! even then we should want strength of body and

mind, and life would be lost in feverish pleasures or wearisome

languor.

But the system of education, which I earnestly wish to see

exploded, seems to presuppose, what ought never to be taken for

granted, that virtue shields us from the casualties of life; and

that fortune, slipping off her bandage, will smile on a

well-educated female, and bring in her hand an Emilius or a

Telemachus. Whilst, on the contrary, the reward which virtue

promises to her votaries is confined, it is clear, to their own

bosoms; and often must they contend with the most vexatious worldly

cares, and bear with the vices and humours of relations for whom

they can never feel a friendship.

There have been many women in the world who, instead of being

supported by the reason and virtue of their fathers and brothers,

have strengthened their own minds by struggling with their vices

and follies; yet have never met with a hero, in the shape of a

husband; who, paying the debt that mankind owed them, might chance

to bring back their reason to its natural dependent state, and

restore the usurped prerogative, of rising above opinion, to man.

SECTION 5.2.

Dr. Fordyce's sermons have long made a part of a young woman's

library; nay, girls at school are allowed to read them; but I

should instantly dismiss them from my pupil's, if I wished to

strengthen her understanding, by leading her to form sound

principles on a broad basis; or, were I only anxious to cultivate

her taste; though they must be allowed to contain many sensible

observations.

Dr. Fordyce may have had a very laudable end in view; but these

discourses are written in such an affected style, that were it only

on that account, and had I nothing to object against his

MELLIFLUOUS precepts, I should not allow girls to peruse them,

unless I designed to hunt every spark of nature out of their

composition, melting every human quality into female weakness and

artificial grace. I say artificial, for true grace arises from

some kind of independence of mind.

Children, careless of pleasing, and only anxious to amuse

themselves, are often very graceful; and the nobility who have

mostly lived with inferiors, and always had the command of money,

acquire a graceful ease of deportment, which should rather be

termed habitual grace of body, than that superiour gracefulness

which is truly the expression of the mind. This mental grace, not

noticed by vulgar eyes, often flashes across a rough countenance,

and irradiating every feature, shows simplicity and independence of

mind. It is then we read characters of immortality in the eye, and

see the soul in every gesture, though when at rest, neither the

face nor limbs may have much beauty to recommend them; or the

behaviour, any thing peculiar to attract universal attention. The

mass of mankind, however, look for more TANGIBLE beauty; yet

simplicity is, in general, admired, when people do not consider

what they admire; and can there be simplicity without sincerity?

but, to have done with remarks that are in some measure desultory,

though naturally excited by the subject.

In declamatory periods Dr. Fordyce spins out Rousseau's eloquence;

and in most sentimental rant, details his opinions respecting the

female character, and the behaviour which woman ought to assume to

render her lovely.

He shall speak for himself, for thus he makes nature address man.

"Behold these smiling innocents, whom I have graced with my fairest

gifts, and committed to your protection; behold them with love and

respect; treat them with tenderness and honour. They are timid and

want to be defended. They are frail; O do not take advantage of

their weakness! Let their fears and blushes endear them. Let

their confidence in you never be abused. But is it possible, that

any of you can be such barbarians, so supremely wicked, as to abuse

it? Can you find in your hearts* to despoil the gentle, trusting

creatures of their treasure, or do any thing to strip them of their

native robe of virtue? Curst be the impious hand that would dare

to violate the unblemished form of Chastity! Thou wretch! thou

ruffian! forbear; nor venture to provoke heaven's fiercest

vengeance." I know not any comment that can be made seriously on

this curious passage, and I could produce many similar ones; and

some, so very sentimental, that I have heard rational men use the

word indecent, when they mentioned them with disgust.

(*Footnote. Can you?--Can you? would be the most emphatical

comment, were it drawled out in a whining voice.)

Throughout there is a display of cold, artificial feelings, and

that parade of sensibility which boys and girls should be taught to

despise as the sure mark of a little vain mind. Florid appeals are

made to heaven, and to the BEAUTEOUS INNOCENTS, the fairest images

of heaven here below, whilst sober sense is left far behind. This

is not the language of the heart, nor will it ever reach it, though

the ear may be tickled.

I shall be told, perhaps, that the public have been pleased with

these volumes. True--and Hervey's Meditations are still read,

though he equally sinned against sense and taste.

I particularly object to the lover-like phrases of pumped up

passion, which are every where interspersed. If women be ever

allowed to walk without leading-strings, why must they be cajoled

into virtue by artful flattery and sexual compliments? Speak to

them the language of truth and soberness, and away with the lullaby

strains of condescending endearment! Let them be taught to respect

themselves as rational creatures, and not led to have a passion for

their own insipid persons. It moves my gall to hear a preacher

descanting on dress and needle-work; and still more, to hear him

address the 'British fair, the fairest of the fair', as if they had

only feelings.

Even recommending piety he uses the following argument. "Never,

perhaps, does a fine woman strike more deeply, than when, composed

into pious recollection, and possessed with the noblest

considerations, she assumes, without knowing it, superiour dignity

and new graces; so that the beauties of holiness seem to radiate

about her, and the by-standers are almost induced to fancy her

already worshipping amongst her kindred angels!" Why are women to

be thus bred up with a desire of conquest? the very epithet, used

in this sense, gives me a sickly qualm! Does religion and virtue

offer no stronger motives, no brighter reward? Must they always be

debased by being made to consider the sex of their companions?

Must they be taught always to be pleasing? And when levelling

their small artillery at the heart of man, is it necessary to tell

them that a little sense is sufficient to render their attention

INCREDIBLY SOOTHING? "As a small degree of knowledge entertains in

a woman, so from a woman, though for a different reason, a small

expression of kindness delights, particularly if she have beauty!"

I should have supposed for the same reason.

Why are girls to be told that they resemble angels; but to sink

them below women? Or, that a gentle, innocent female is an object

that comes nearer to the idea which we have formed of angels than

any other. Yet they are told, at the same time, that they are only

like angels when they are young and beautiful; consequently, it is

their persons, not their virtues, that procure them this homage.

Idle empty words! what can such delusive flattery lead to, but

vanity and folly? The lover, it is true, has a poetic licence to

exalt his mistress; his reason is the bubble of his passion, and he

does not utter a falsehood when he borrows the language of

adoration. His imagination may raise the idol of his heart,

unblamed, above humanity; and happy would it be for women, if they

were only flattered by the men who loved them; I mean, who love the

individual, not the sex; but should a grave preacher interlard his

discourses with such fooleries?

In sermons or novels, however, voluptuousness is always true to its

text. Men are allowed by moralists to cultivate, as nature

directs, different qualities, and assume the different characters,

that the same passions, modified almost to infinity, give to each

individual. A virtuous man may have a choleric or a sanguine

constitution, be gay or grave, unreproved; be firm till be is

almost over-bearing, or, weakly submissive, have no will or opinion

of his own; but all women are to be levelled, by meekness and

docility, into one character of yielding softness and gentle

compliance.

I will use the preacher's own words. "Let it be observed, that in

your sex manly exercises are never graceful; that in them a tone

and figure, as well as an air and deportment, of the masculine

kind, are always forbidding; and that men of sensibility desire in

every woman soft features, and a flowing voice, a form not robust,

and demeanour delicate and gentle."

Is not the following portrait--the portrait of a house slave? "I

am astonished at the folly of many women, who are still reproaching

their husbands for leaving them alone, for preferring this or that

company to theirs, for treating them with this and the other mark

of disregard or indifference; when, to speak the truth, they have

themselves in a great measure to blame. Not that I would justify

the men in any thing wrong on their part. But had you behaved to

them with more RESPECTFUL OBSERVANCE, and a more EQUAL TENDERNESS;

STUDYING THEIR HUMOURS, OVERLOOKING THEIR MISTAKES, SUBMITTING TO

THEIR OPINIONS in matters indifferent, passing by little instances

of unevenness, caprice, or passion, giving SOFT answers to hasty

words, complaining as seldom as possible, and making it your daily

care to relieve their anxieties and prevent their wishes, to

enliven the hour of dulness, and call up the ideas of felicity:

had you pursued this conduct, I doubt not but you would have

maintained and even increased their esteem, so far as to have

secured every degree of influence that could conduce to their

virtue, or your mutual satisfaction; and your house might at this

day have been the abode of domestic bliss." Such a woman ought to

be an angel--or she is an ass--for I discern not a trace of the

human character, neither reason nor passion in this domestic

drudge, whose being is absorbed in that of a tyrant's.

Still Dr. Fordyce must have very little acquaintance with the human

heart, if he really supposed that such conduct would bring back

wandering love, instead of exciting contempt. No, beauty,

gentleness, etc. etc. may gain a heart; but esteem, the only

lasting affection, can alone be obtained by virtue supported by

reason. It is respect for the understanding that keeps alive

tenderness for the person.

As these volumes are so frequently put into the hands of young

people, I have taken more notice of them than strictly speaking,

they deserve; but as they have contributed to vitiate the taste,

and enervate the understanding of many of my fellow-creatures, I

could not pass them silently over.

SECTION 5.3.

Such paternal solicitude pervades Dr. Gregory's Legacy to his

daughters, that I enter on the task of criticism with affectionate

respect; but as this little volume has many attractions to

recommend it to the notice of the most respectable part of my sex,

I cannot silently pass over arguments that so speciously support

opinions which, I think, have had the most baneful effect on the

morals and manners of the female world.

His easy familiar style is particularly suited to the tenor of his

advice, and the melancholy tenderness which his respect for the

memory of a beloved wife diffuses through the whole work, renders

it very interesting; yet there is a degree of concise elegance

conspicuous in many passages, that disturbs this sympathy; and we

pop on the author, when we only expected to meet the--father.

Besides, having two objects in view, he seldom adhered steadily to

either; for, wishing to make his daughters amiable, and fearing

lest unhappiness should only be the consequence, of instilling

sentiments, that might draw them out of the track of common life,

without enabling them to act with consonant independence and

dignity, he checks the natural flow of his thoughts, and neither

advises one thing nor the other.

In the preface he tells them a mournful truth, "that they will

hear, at least once in their lives, the genuine sentiments of a

man, who has no interest in deceiving them."

Hapless woman! what can be expected from thee, when the beings on

whom thou art said naturally to depend for reason and support, have

all an interest in deceiving thee! This is the root of the evil

that has shed a corroding mildew on all thy virtues; and blighting

in the bud thy opening faculties, has rendered thee the weak thing

thou art! It is this separate interest-- this insidious state of

warfare, that undermines morality, and divides mankind!

If love has made some women wretched--how many more has the cold

unmeaning intercourse of gallantry rendered vain and useless! yet

this heartless attention to the sex is reckoned so manly, so

polite, that till society is very differently organized, I fear,

this vestige of gothic manners will not be done away by a more

reasonable and affectionate mode of conduct. Besides, to strip it

of its imaginary dignity, I must observe, that in the most

civilized European states, this lip-service prevails in a very

great degree, accompanied with extreme dissoluteness of morals. In

Portugal, the country that I particularly allude to, it takes place

of the most serious moral obligations; for a man is seldom

assassinated when in the company of a woman. The savage hand of

rapine is unnerved by this chivalrous spirit; and, if the stroke of

vengeance cannot be stayed--the lady is entreated to pardon the

rudeness and depart in peace, though sprinkled, perhaps, with her

husband's or brother's blood.

I shall pass over his strictures on religion, because I mean to

discuss that subject in a separate chapter.

The remarks relative to behaviour, though many of them very

sensible, I entirely disapprove of, because it appears to me to be

beginning, as it were at the wrong end. A cultivated

understanding, and an affectionate heart, will never want starched

rules of decorum, something more substantial than seemliness will

be the result; and, without understanding, the behaviour here

recommended, would be rank affectation. Decorum, indeed, is the

one thing needful! decorum is to supplant nature, and banish all

simplicity and variety of character out of the female world. Yet

what good end can all this superficial counsel produce? It is,

however, much easier to point out this or that mode of behaviour,

than to set the reason to work; but, when the mind has been stored

with useful knowledge, and strengthened by being employed, the

regulation of the behaviour may safely be left to its guidance.

Why, for instance, should the following caution be given, when art

of every kind must contaminate the mind; and why entangle the grand

motives of action, which reason and religion equally combine to

enforce, with pitiful worldly shifts and slight of hand tricks to

gain the applause of gaping tasteless fools? "Be even cautious in

displaying your good sense.* It will be thought you assume a

superiority over the rest of the company-- But if you happen to

have any learning keep it a profound secret, especially from the

men, who generally look with a jealous and malignant eye on a woman

of great parts, and a cultivated understanding." If men of real

merit, as he afterwards observes, are superior to this meanness,

where is the necessity that the behaviour of the whole sex should

be modulated to please fools, or men, who having little claim to

respect as individuals, choose to keep close in their phalanx.

Men, indeed, who insist on their common superiority, having only

this sexual superiority, are certainly very excusable.

(*Footnote. Let women once acquire good sense--and if it deserve

the name, it will teach them; or, of what use will it be how to

employ it.)

There would be no end to rules for behaviour, if it be proper

always to adopt the tone of the company; for thus, for ever varying

the key, a FLAT would often pass for a NATURAL note.

Surely it would have been wiser to have advised women to improve

themselves till they rose above the fumes of vanity; and then to

let the public opinion come round--for where are rules of

accommodation to stop? The narrow path of truth and virtue

inclines neither to the right nor left, it is a straight-forward

business, and they who are earnestly pursuing their road, may bound

over many decorous prejudices, without leaving modesty behind.

Make the heart clean, and give the head employment, and I will

venture to predict that there will be nothing offensive in the

behaviour.

The air of fashion, which many young people are so eager to attain,

always strikes me like the studied attitudes of some modern prints,

copied with tasteless servility after the antiques; the soul is

left out, and none of the parts are tied together by what may

properly be termed character. This varnish of fashion, which

seldom sticks very close to sense, may dazzle the weak; but leave

nature to itself, and it will seldom disgust the wise. Besides,

when a woman has sufficient sense not to pretend to any thing which

she does not understand in some degree, there is no need of

determining to hide her talents under a bushel. Let things take

their natural course, and all will be well.

It is this system of dissimulation, throughout the volume, that I

despise. Women are always to SEEM to be this and that--yet virtue

might apostrophize them, in the words of Hamlet--Seems! I know not

seems!--Have that within that passeth show!--

Still the same tone occurs; for in another place, after

recommending, (without sufficiently discriminating) delicacy, he

adds, "The men will complain of your reserve. They will assure you

that a franker behaviour would make you more amiable. But, trust

me, they are not sincere when they tell you so. I acknowledge that

on some occasions it might render you more agreeable as companions,

but it would make you less amiable as women: an important

distinction, which many of your sex are not aware of."

This desire of being always women, is the very consciousness that

degrades the sex. Excepting with a lover, I must repeat with

emphasis, a former observation--it would be well if they were only

agreeable or rational companions. But in this respect his advice

is even inconsistent with a passage which I mean to quote with the

most marked approbation.

"The sentiment, that a woman may allow all innocent freedoms,

provided her virtue is secure, is both grossly indelicate and

dangerous, and has proved fatal to many of your sex." With this

opinion I perfectly coincide. A man, or a woman, of any feeling

must always wish to convince a beloved object that it is the

caresses of the individual, not the sex, that is received and

returned with pleasure; and, that the heart, rather than the

senses, is moved. Without this natural delicacy, love becomes a

selfish personal gratification that soon degrades the character.

I carry this sentiment still further. Affection, when love is out

of the question, authorises many personal endearments, that

naturally flowing from an innocent heart give life to the

behaviour; but the personal intercourse of appetite, gallantry, or

vanity, is despicable. When a man squeezes the hand of a pretty

woman, handing her to a carriage, whom he has never seen before,

she will consider such an impertinent freedom in the light of an

insult, if she have any true delicacy, instead of being flattered

by this unmeaning homage to beauty. These are the privileges of

friendship, or the momentary homage which the heart pays to virtue,

when it flashes suddenly on the notice--mere animal spirits have no

claim to the kindnesses of affection.

Wishing to feed the affections with what is now the food of vanity,

I would fain persuade my sex to act from simpler principles. Let

them merit love, and they will obtain it, though they may never be

told that: "The power of a fine woman over the hearts of men, of

men of the finest parts, is even beyond what she conceives."

I have already noticed the narrow cautions with respect to

duplicity, female softness, delicacy of constitution; for these are

the changes which he rings round without ceasing, in a more

decorous manner, it is true, than Rousseau; but it all comes home

to the same point, and whoever is at the trouble to analyze these

sentiments, will find the first principles not quite so delicate as

the superstructure.

The subject of amusements is treated in too cursory a manner; but

with the same spirit.

When I treat of friendship, love, and marriage, it will be found

that we materially differ in opinion; I shall not then forestall

what I have to observe on these important subjects; but confine my

remarks to the general tenor of them, to that cautious family

prudence, to those confined views of partial unenlightened

affection, which exclude pleasure and improvement, by vainly

wishing to ward off sorrow and error--and by thus guarding the

heart and mind, destroy also all their energy. It is far better to

be often deceived than never to trust; to be disappointed in love,

than never to love; to lose a husband's fondness, than forfeit his

esteem.

Happy would it be for the world, and for individuals, of course, if

all this unavailing solicitude to attain worldly happiness, on a

confined plan, were turned into an anxious desire to improve the

understanding. "Wisdom is the principal thing: THEREFORE get

wisdom; and with all thy gettings get understanding." "How long ye

simple ones, will ye love simplicity, and hate knowledge?" Saith

Wisdom to the daughters of men!

SECTION 5.4.

I do not mean to allude to all the writers who have written on the

subject of female manners--it would in fact be only beating over

the old ground, for they have, in general, written in the same

strain; but attacking the boasted prerogative of man--the

prerogative that may emphatically be called the iron sceptre of

tyranny, the original sin of tyrants, I declare against all power

built on prejudices, however hoary.

If the submission demanded be founded on justice--there is no

appealing to a higher power--for God is justice itself. Let us

then, as children of the same parent, if not bastardized by being

the younger born, reason together, and learn to submit to the

authority of reason when her voice is distinctly heard. But, if it

be proved that this throne of prerogative only rests on a chaotic

mass of prejudices, that have no inherent principle of order to

keep them together, or on an elephant, tortoise, or even the mighty

shoulders of a son of the earth, they may escape, who dare to brave

the consequence without any breach of duty, without sinning against

the order of things.

Whilst reason raises man above the brutal herd, and death is big

with promises, they alone are subject to blind authority who have

no reliance on their own strength. "They are free who will be

free!"*

(*Footnote. "He is the free man, whom TRUTH makes free!" Cowper.)

The being who can govern itself, has nothing to fear in life; but

if any thing is dearer than its own respect, the price must be paid

to the last farthing. Virtue, like every thing valuable, must be

loved for herself alone; or she will not take up her abode with us.

She will not impart that peace, "which passeth understanding," when

she is merely made the stilts of reputation and respected with

pharisaical exactness, because "honesty is the best policy."

That the plan of life which enables us to carry some knowledge and

virtue into another world, is the one best calculated to ensure

content in this, cannot be denied; yet few people act according to

this principle, though it be universally allowed that it admits not

of dispute. Present pleasure, or present power, carry before it

these sober convictions; and it is for the day, not for life, that

man bargains with happiness. How few! how very few! have

sufficient foresight or resolution, to endure a small evil at the

moment, to avoid a greater hereafter.

Woman in particular, whose virtue* is built on mutual prejudices,

seldom attains to this greatness of mind; so that, becoming the

slave of her own feelings, she is easily subjugated by those of

others. Thus degraded, her reason, her misty reason! is employed

rather to burnish than to snap her chains.

(*Footnote. I mean to use a word that comprehends more than

chastity, the sexual virtue.)

Indignantly have I heard women argue in the same track as men, and

adopt the sentiments that brutalize them with all the pertinacity

of ignorance.

I must illustrate my assertion by a few examples. Mrs. Piozzi, who

often repeated by rote, what she did not understand, comes forward

with Johnsonian periods.

"Seek not for happiness in singularity; and dread a refinement of

wisdom as a deviation into folly." Thus she dogmatically addresses

a new married man; and to elucidate this pompous exordium, she

adds, "I said that the person of your lady would not grow more

pleasing to you, but pray let her never suspect that it grows less

so: that a woman will pardon an affront to her understanding much

sooner than one to her person, is well known; nor will any of us

contradict the assertion. All our attainments, all our arts, are

employed to gain and keep the heart of man; and what mortification

can exceed the disappointment, if the end be not obtained: There is

no reproof however pointed, no punishment however severe, that a

woman of spirit will not prefer to neglect; and if she can endure

it without complaint, it only proves that she means to make herself

amends by the attention of others for the slights of her husband!"

These are true masculine sentiments. "All our ARTS are employed to

gain and keep the heart of man:"--and what is the inference?--if

her person, and was there ever a person, though formed with

Medicisan symmetry, that was not slighted? be neglected, she will

make herself amends by endeavouring to please other men. Noble

morality! But thus is the understanding of the whole sex

affronted, and their virtue deprived of the common basis of virtue.

A woman must know, that her person cannot be as pleasing to her

husband as it was to her lover, and if she be offended with him for

being a human creature, she may as well whine about the loss of his

heart as about any other foolish thing. And this very want of

discernment or unreasonable anger, proves that he could not change

his fondness for her person into affection for her virtues or

respect for her understanding.

Whilst women avow, and act up to such opinions, their

understandings, at least, deserve the contempt and obloquy that

men, WHO NEVER insult their persons, have pointedly levelled at the

female mind. And it is the sentiments of these polite men, who do

not wish to be encumbered with mind, that vain women thoughtlessly

adopt. Yet they should know, that insulted reason alone can spread

that SACRED reserve about the persons which renders human

affections, for human affections have always some base alloy, as

permanent as is consistent with the grand end of existence--the

attainment of virtue.

The Baroness de Stael speaks the same language as the lady just

cited, with more enthusiasm. Her eulogium on Rousseau was

accidentally put into my hands, and her sentiments, the sentiments

of too many of my sex, may serve as the text for a few comments.

"Though Rousseau," she observes, "has endeavoured to prevent women

from interfering in public affairs, and acting a brilliant part in

the theatre of politics; yet, in speaking of them, how much has he

done it to their satisfaction! If he wished to deprive them of

some rights, foreign to their sex, how has he for ever restored to

them all those to which it has a claim! And in attempting to

diminish their influence over the deliberations of men, how

sacredly has he established the empire they have over their

happiness! In aiding them to descend from an usurped throne, he

has firmly seated them upon that to which they were destined by

nature; and though he be full of indignation against them when they

endeavour to resemble men, yet when they come before him with all

THE CHARMS WEAKNESSES, VIRTUES, and ERRORS, OF their sex, his

respect for their PERSONS amounts almost to adoration." True!--For

never was there a sensualist who paid more fervent adoration at the

shrine of beauty. So devout, indeed, was his respect for the

person, that excepting the virtue of chastity, for obvious reasons,

he only wished to see it embellished by charms, weaknesses, and

errors. He was afraid lest the austerity of reason should disturb

the soft playfulness of love. The master wished to have a

meretricious slave to fondle, entirely dependent on his reason and

bounty; he did not want a companion, whom he should be compelled to

esteem, or a friend to whom he could confide the care of his

children's education, should death deprive them of their father,

before he had fulfilled the sacred task. He denies woman reason,

shuts her out from knowledge, and turns her aside from truth; yet

his pardon is granted, because, "he admits the passion of love."

It would require some ingenuity to show why women were to be under

such an obligation to him for thus admitting love; when it is clear

that he admits it only for the relaxation of men, and to perpetuate

the species; but he talked with passion, and that powerful spell

worked on the sensibility of a young encomiast. "What signifies

it," pursues this rhapsodist, "to women, that his reason disputes

with them the empire, when his heart is devotedly theirs." It is

not empire--but equality, that they should contend for. Yet, if

they only wished to lengthen out their sway, they should not

entirely trust to their persons, for though beauty may gain a

heart, it cannot keep it, even while the beauty is in full bloom,

unless the mind lend, at least, some graces.

When women are once sufficiently enlightened to discover their real

interest, on a grand scale, they will, I am persuaded, be very

ready to resign all the prerogatives of love, that are not mutual,

(speaking of them as lasting prerogatives,) for the calm

satisfaction of friendship, and the tender confidence of habitual

esteem. Before marriage they will not assume any insolent airs,

nor afterward abjectly submit; but, endeavouring to act like

reasonable creatures, in both situations, they will not be tumbled

from a throne to a stool.

Madame Genlis has written several entertaining books for children;

and her letters on Education afford many useful hints, that

sensible parents will certainly avail themselves of; but her views

are narrow, and her prejudices as unreasonable as strong.

I shall pass over her vehement argument in favour of the eternity

of future punishments, because I blush to think that a human being

should ever argue vehemently in such a cause, and only make a few

remarks on her absurd manner of making the parental authority

supplant reason. For every where does she inculcate not only BLIND

submission to parents; but to the opinion of the world.*

(*Footnote. A person is not to act in this or that way, though

convinced they are right in so doing, because some equivocal

circumstances may lead the world to SUSPECT that they acted from

different motives. This is sacrificing the substance for a shadow.

Let people but watch their own hearts, and act rightly as far as

they can judge, and they may patiently wait till the opinion of the

world comes round. It is best to be directed by a simple

motive--for justice has too often been sacrificed to

propriety;--another word for convenience.)

She tells a story of a young man engaged by his father's express

desire to a girl of fortune. Before the marriage could take place

she is deprived of her fortune, and thrown friendless on the world.

The father practises the most infamous arts to separate his son

from her, and when the son detects his villany, and, following the

dictates of honour, marries the girl, nothing but misery ensues,

because forsooth he married WITHOUT his father's consent. On what

ground can religion or morality rest, when justice is thus set at

defiance? In the same style she represents an accomplished young

woman, as ready to marry any body that her MAMMA pleased to

recommend; and, as actually marrying the young man of her own

choice, without feeling any emotions of passion, because that a

well educated girl had not time to be in love. Is it possible to

have much respect for a system of education that thus insults

reason and nature?

Many similar opinions occur in her writings, mixed with sentiments

that do honour to her head and heart. Yet so much superstition is

mixed with her religion, and so much worldly wisdom with her

morality, that I should not let a young person read her works,

unless I could afterwards converse on the subjects, and point out

the contradictions.

Mrs. Chapone's Letters are written with such good sense, and

unaffected humility, and contain so many useful observations, that

I only mention them to pay the worthy writer this tribute of

respect. I cannot, it is true, always coincide in opinion with

her; but I always respect her.

The very word respect brings Mrs. Macaulay to my remembrance. The

woman of the greatest abilities, undoubtedly, that this country has

ever produced. And yet this woman has been suffered to die without

sufficient respect being paid to her memory.

Posterity, however, will be more just; and remember that Catharine

Macaulay was an example of intellectual acquirements supposed to be

incompatible with the weakness of her sex. In her style of

writing, indeed, no sex appears, for it is like the sense it

conveys, strong and clear.

I will not call her's a masculine understanding, because I admit

not of such an arrogant assumption of reason; but I contend that it

was a sound one, and that her judgment, the matured fruit of

profound thinking, was a proof that a woman can acquire judgment,

in the full extent of the word. Possessing more penetration than

sagacity, more understanding than fancy, she writes with sober

energy, and argumentative closeness; yet sympathy and benevolence

give an interest to her sentiments, and that vital heat to

arguments, which forces the reader to weigh them.*

(*Footnote. Coinciding in opinion with Mrs. Macaulay relative to

many branches of education, I refer to her valuable work, instead

of quoting her sentiments to support my own.)

When I first thought of writing these strictures I anticipated Mrs.

Macaulay's approbation with a little of that sanguine ardour which

it has been the business of my life to depress; but soon heard with

the sickly qualm of disappointed hope, and the still seriousness of

regret--that she was no more!

SECTION 5.5.

Taking a view of the different works which have been written on

education, Lord Chesterfield's Letters must not be silently passed

over. Not that I mean to analyze his unmanly, immoral system, or

even to cull any of the useful shrewd remarks which occur in his

frivolous correspondence--No, I only mean to make a few reflections

on the avowed tendency of them--the art of acquiring an early

knowledge of the world. An art, I will venture to assert, that

preys secretly, like the worm in the bud, on the expanding powers,

and turns to poison the generous juices which should mount with

vigour in the youthful frame, inspiring warm affections and great

resolves.

For every thing, saith the wise man, there is reason; and who would

look for the fruits of autumn during the genial months of spring?

But this is mere declamation, and I mean to reason with those

worldly-wise instructors, who, instead of cultivating the judgment,

instil prejudices, and render hard the heart that gradual

experience would only have cooled. An early acquaintance with

human infirmities; or, what is termed knowledge of the world, is

the surest way, in my opinion, to contract the heart and damp the

natural youthful ardour which produces not only great talents, but

great virtues. For the vain attempt to bring forth the fruit of

experience, before the sapling has thrown out its leaves, only

exhausts its strength, and prevents its assuming a natural form;

just as the form and strength of subsiding metals are injured when

the attraction of cohesion is disturbed. Tell me, ye who have

studied the human mind, is it not a strange way to fix principles

by showing young people that they are seldom stable? And how can

they be fortified by habits when they are proved to be fallacious

by example? Why is the ardour of youth thus to be damped, and the

luxuriancy of fancy cut to the quick? This dry caution may, it is

true, guard a character from worldly mischances; but will

infallibly preclude excellence in either virtue or knowledge. The

stumbling-block thrown across every path by suspicion, will prevent

any vigorous exertions of genius or benevolence, and life will be

stripped of its most alluring charm long before its calm evening,

when man should retire to contemplation for comfort and support.

A young man who has been bred up with domestic friends, and led to

store his mind with as much speculative knowledge as can be

acquired by reading and the natural reflections which youthful

ebullitions of animal spirits and instinctive feelings inspire,

will enter the world with warm and erroneous expectations. But

this appears to be the course of nature; and in morals, as well as

in works of taste, we should be observant of her sacred

indications, and not presume to lead when we ought obsequiously to

follow.

In the world few people act from principle; present feelings, and

early habits, are the grand springs: but how would the former be

deadened, and the latter rendered iron corroding fetters, if the

world were shown to young people just as it is; when no knowledge

of mankind or their own hearts, slowly obtained by experience

rendered them forbearing? Their fellow creatures would not then be

viewed as frail beings; like themselves, condemned to struggle with

human infirmities, and sometimes displaying the light and sometimes

the dark side of their character; extorting alternate feelings of

love and disgust; but guarded against as beasts of prey, till every

enlarged social feeling, in a word--humanity, was eradicated.

In life, on the contrary, as we gradually discover the

imperfections of our nature, we discover virtues, and various

circumstances attach us to our fellow creatures, when we mix with

them, and view the same objects, that are never thought of in

acquiring a hasty unnatural knowledge of the world. We see a folly

swell into a vice, by almost imperceptible degrees, and pity while

we blame; but, if the hideous monster burst suddenly on our sight,

fear and disgust rendering us more severe than man ought to be,

might lead us with blind zeal to usurp the character of

omnipotence, and denounce damnation on our fellow mortals,

forgetting that we cannot read the heart, and that we have seeds of

the same vices lurking in our own.

I have already remarked, that we expect more from instruction, than

mere instruction can produce: for, instead of preparing young

people to encounter the evils of life with dignity, and to acquire

wisdom and virtue by the exercise of their own faculties, precepts

are heaped upon precepts, and blind obedience required, when

conviction should be brought home to reason.

Suppose, for instance, that a young person in the first ardour of

friendship deifies the beloved object--what harm can arise from

this mistaken enthusiastic attachment? Perhaps it is necessary for

virtue first to appear in a human form to impress youthful hearts;

the ideal model, which a more matured and exalted mind looks up to,

and shapes for itself, would elude their sight. He who loves not

his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God? asked the

wisest of men.

It is natural for youth to adorn the first object of its affection

with every good quality, and the emulation produced by ignorance,

or, to speak with more propriety, by inexperience, brings forward

the mind capable of forming such an affection, and when, in the

lapse of time, perfection is found not to be within the reach of

mortals, virtue, abstractly, is thought beautiful, and wisdom

sublime. Admiration then gives place to friendship, properly so

called, because it is cemented by esteem; and the being walks alone

only dependent on heaven for that emulous panting after perfection

which ever glows in a noble mind. But this knowledge a man must

gain by the exertion of his own faculties; and this is surely the

blessed fruit of disappointed hope! for He who delighteth to

diffuse happiness and show mercy to the weak creatures, who are

learning to know him, never implanted a good propensity to be a

tormenting ignis fatuus.

Our trees are now allowed to spread with wild luxuriance, nor do we

expect by force to combine the majestic marks of time with youthful

graces; but wait patiently till they have struck deep their root,

and braved many a storm. Is the mind then, which, in proportion to

its dignity advances more slowly towards perfection, to be treated

with less respect? To argue from analogy, every thing around us is

in a progressive state; and when an unwelcome knowledge of life

produces almost a satiety of life, and we discover by the natural

course of things that all that is done under the sun is vanity, we

are drawing near the awful close of the drama. The days of

activity and hope are over, and the opportunities which the first

stage of existence has afforded of advancing in the scale of

intelligence, must soon be summed up. A knowledge at this period

of the futility of life, or earlier, if obtained by experience, is

very useful, because it is natural; but when a frail being is shown

the follies and vices of man, that he may be taught prudently to

guard against the common casualties of life by sacrificing his

heart--surely it is not speaking harshly to call it the wisdom of

this world, contrasted with the nobler fruit of piety and

experience.

I will venture a paradox, and deliver my opinion without reserve;

if men were only born to form a circle of life and death, it would

be wise to take every step that foresight could suggest to render

life happy. Moderation in every pursuit would then be supreme

wisdom; and the prudent voluptuary might enjoy a degree of content,

though he neither cultivated his understanding nor kept his heart

pure. Prudence, supposing we were mortal, would be true wisdom,

or, to be more explicit, would procure the greatest portion of

happiness, considering the whole of life; but knowledge beyond the

conveniences of life would be a curse.

Why should we injure our health by close study? The exalted

pleasure which intellectual pursuits afford would scarcely be

equivalent to the hours of languor that follow; especially, if it

be necessary to take into the reckoning the doubts and

disappointments that cloud our researches. Vanity and vexation

close every inquiry: for the cause which we particularly wished to

discover flies like the horizon before us as we advance. The

ignorant, on the contrary, resemble children, and suppose, that if

they could walk straight forward they should at last arrive where

the earth and clouds meet. Yet, disappointed as we are in our

researches, the mind gains strength by the exercise, sufficient,

perhaps, to comprehend the answers which, in another step of

existence, it may receive to the anxious questions it asked, when

the understanding with feeble wing was fluttering round the visible

effects to dive into the hidden cause.

The passions also, the winds of life, would be useless, if not

injurious, did the substance which composes our thinking being,

after we have thought in vain, only become the support of vegetable

life, and invigorate a cabbage, or blush in a rose. The appetites

would answer every earthly purpose, and produce more moderate and

permanent happiness. But the powers of the soul that are of little

use here, and, probably, disturb our animal enjoyments, even while

conscious dignity makes us glory in possessing them, prove that

life is merely an education, a state of infancy, of which the only

hopes worth cherishing should not be sacrificed. I mean, therefore

to infer, that we ought to have a precise idea of what we wish to

attain by education, for the immortality of the soul is

contradicted by the actions of many people, who firmly profess the

belief.

If you mean to secure ease and prosperity on earth as the first

consideration, and leave futurity to provide for itself, you act

prudently in giving your child an early insight into the weaknesses

of his nature. You may not, it is true, make an Inkle of him; but

do not imagine that he will stick to more than the letter of the

law, who has very early imbibed a mean opinion of human nature; nor

will he think it necessary to rise much above the common standard.

He may avoid gross vices, because honesty is the best policy; but

he will never aim at attaining great virtues. The example of

writers and artists will illustrate this remark.

I must therefore venture to doubt, whether what has been thought an

axiom in morals, may not have been a dogmatical assertion made by

men who have coolly seen mankind through the medium of books, and

say, in direct contradiction to them, that the regulation of the

passions is not always wisdom. On the contrary, it should seem,

that one reason why men have superiour judgment and more fortitude

than women, is undoubtedly this, that they give a freer scope to

the grand passions, and by more frequently going astray, enlarge

their minds. If then by the exercise of their own reason, they fix

on some stable principle, they have probably to thank the force of

their passions, nourished by FALSE views of life, and permitted to

overleap the boundary that secures content. But if, in the dawn of

life, we could soberly survey the scenes before us as in

perspective, and see every thing in its true colours, how could the

passions gain sufficient strength to unfold the faculties?

Let me now, as from an eminence, survey the world stripped of all

its false delusive charms. The clear atmosphere enables me to see

each object in its true point of view, while my heart is still. I

am calm as the prospect in a morning when the mists, slowly

dispersing, silently unveil the beauties of nature, refreshed by

rest.

In what light will the world now appear? I rub my eyes and think,

perchance, that I am just awaking from a lively dream.

I see the sons and daughters of men pursuing shadows, and anxiously

wasting their powers to feed passions which have no adequate

object--if the very excess of these blind impulses pampered by that

lying, yet constantly-trusted guide, the imagination, did not, by

preparing them for some other state, render short sighted mortals

wiser without their own concurrence; or, what comes to the same

thing, when they were pursuing some imaginary present good.

After viewing objects in this light, it would not be very fanciful

to imagine, that this world was a stage on which a pantomime is

daily performed for the amusement of superiour beings. How would

they be diverted to see the ambitious man consuming himself by

running after a phantom, and, pursuing the bubble fame in "the

cannon's mouth" that was to blow him to nothing: for when

consciousness is lost, it matters not whether we mount in a

whirlwind or descend in rain. And should they compassionately

invigorate his sight, and show him the thorny path which led to

eminence, that like a quicksand sinks as he ascends, disappointing

his hopes when almost within his grasp, would he not leave to

others the honour of amusing them, and labour to secure the present

moment, though from the constitution of his nature he would not

find it very easy to catch the flying stream? Such slaves are we

to hope and fear!

But, vain as the ambitious man's pursuit would be, he is often

striving for something more substantial than fame--that indeed

would be the veriest meteor, the wildest fire that could lure a man

to ruin. What! renounce the most trifling gratification to be

applauded when he should be no more! Wherefore this struggle,

whether man is mortal or immortal, if that noble passion did not

really raise the being above his fellows?

And love! What diverting scenes would it produce--Pantaloon's

tricks must yield to more egregious folly. To see a mortal adorn

an object with imaginary charms, and then fall down and worship the

idol which he had himself set up--how ridiculous! But what serious

consequences ensue to rob man of that portion of happiness, which

the Deity by calling him into existence has (or, on what can his

attributes rest?) indubitably promised; would not all the purposes

of life have been much better fulfilled if he had only felt what

has been termed physical love? And, would not the sight of the

object, not seen through the medium of the imagination, soon reduce

the passion to an appetite, if reflection, the noble distinction of

man, did not give it force, and make it an instrument to raise him

above this earthy dross, by teaching him to love the centre of all

perfection! whose wisdom appears clearer and clearer in the works

of nature, in proportion as reason is illuminated and exalted by

contemplation, and by acquiring that love of order which the

struggles of passion produce?

The habit of reflection, and the knowledge attained by fostering

any passion, might be shown to be equally useful though the object

be proved equally fallacious; for they would all appear in the same

light, if they were not magnified by the governing passion

implanted in us by the Author of all good, to call forth and

strengthen the faculties of each individual, and enable it to

attain all the experience that an infant can obtain, who does

certain things, it cannot tell why.

I descend from my height, and mixing with my fellow creatures, feel

myself hurried along the common stream; ambition, love, hope, and

fear, exert their wonted power, though we be convinced by reason

that their present and most attractive promises are only lying

dreams; but had the cold hand of circumspection damped each

generous feeling before it had left any permanent character, or

fixed some habit, what could be expected, but selfish prudence and

reason just rising above instinct? Who that has read Dean Swift's

disgusting description of the Yahoos, and insipid one of Houyhnhnm

with a philosophical eye, can avoid seeing the futility of

degrading the passions, or making man rest in contentment?

The youth should ACT; for had he the experience of a grey head, he

would be fitter for death than life, though his virtues, rather

residing in his head than his heart could produce nothing great,

and his understanding prepared for this world, would not, by its

noble flights, prove that it had a title to a better.

Besides, it is not possible to give a young person a just view of

life; he must have struggled with his own passions before he can

estimate the force of the temptation which betrayed his brother

into vice. Those who are entering life, and those who are

departing, see the world from such very different points of view,

that they can seldom think alike, unless the unfledged reason of

the former never attempted a solitary flight.

When we hear of some daring crime--it comes full upon us in the

deepest shade of turpitude, and raises indignation; but the eye

that gradually saw the darkness thicken, must observe it with more

compassionate forbearance. The world cannot be seen by an unmoved

spectator, we must mix in the throng, and feel as men feel before

we can judge of their feelings. If we mean, in short, to live in

the world to grow wiser and better, and not merely to enjoy the

good things of life, we must attain a knowledge of others at the

same time that we become acquainted with ourselves-- knowledge

acquired any other way only hardens the heart and perplexes the

understanding.

I may be told, that the knowledge thus acquired, is sometimes

purchased at too dear a rate. I can only answer, that I very much

doubt whether any knowledge can be attained without labour and

sorrow; and those who wish to spare their children both, should not

complain if they are neither wise nor virtuous. They only aimed at

making them prudent; and prudence, early in life, is but the

cautious craft of ignorant self-love. I have observed, that young

people, to whose education particular attention has been paid,

have, in general, been very superficial and conceited, and far from

pleasing in any respect, because they had neither the unsuspecting

warmth of youth, nor the cool depth of age. I cannot help imputing

this unnatural appearance principally to that hasty premature

instruction, which leads them presumptuously to repeat all the

crude notions they have taken upon trust, so that the careful

education which they received, makes them all their lives the

slaves of prejudices.

Mental as well as bodily exertion is, at first, irksome; so much

so, that the many would fain let others both work and think for

them. An observation which I have often made will illustrate my

meaning. When in a circle of strangers, or acquaintances, a person

of moderate abilities, asserts an opinion with heat, I will venture

to affirm, for I have traced this fact home, very often, that it is

a prejudice. These echoes have a high respect for the

understanding of some relation or friend, and without fully

comprehending the opinions, which they are so eager to retail, they

maintain them with a degree of obstinacy, that would surprise even

the person who concocted them.

I know that a kind of fashion now prevails of respecting

prejudices; and when any one dares to face them, though actuated by

humanity and armed by reason, he is superciliously asked, whether

his ancestors were fools. No, I should reply; opinions, at first,

of every description, were all, probably, considered, and therefore

were founded on some reason; yet not unfrequently, of course, it

was rather a local expedient than a fundamental principle, that

would be reasonable at all times. But, moss-covered opinions

assume the disproportioned form of prejudices, when they are

indolently adopted only because age has given them a venerable

aspect, though the reason on which they were built ceases to be a

reason, or cannot be traced. Why are we to love prejudices, merely

because they are prejudices? A prejudice is a fond obstinate

persuasion, for which we can give no reason; for the moment a

reason can be given for an opinion, it ceases to be a prejudice,

though it may be an error in judgment: and are we then advised to

cherish opinions only to set reason at defiance? This mode of

arguing, if arguing it may be called, reminds me of what is

vulgarly termed a woman's reason. For women sometimes declare that

they love, or believe certain things, BECAUSE they love, or believe

them.

It is impossible to converse with people to any purpose, who, in

this style, only use affirmatives and negatives. Before you can

bring them to a point, to start fairly from, you must go back to

the simple principles that were antecedent to the prejudices

broached by power; and it is ten to one but you are stopped by the

philosophical assertion, that certain principles are as practically

false as they are abstractly true. Nay, it may be inferred, that

reason has whispered some doubts, for it generally happens that

people assert their opinions with the greatest heat when they begin

to waver; striving to drive out their own doubts by convincing

their opponent, they grow angry when those gnawing doubts are

thrown back to prey on themselves.

The fact is, that men expect from education, what education cannot

give. A sagacious parent or tutor may strengthen the body and

sharpen the instruments by which the child is to gather knowledge;

but the honey must be the reward of the individual's own industry.

It is almost as absurd to attempt to make a youth wise by the

experience of another, as to expect the body to grow strong by the

exercise which is only talked of, or seen.

Many of those children whose conduct has been most narrowly

watched, become the weakest men, because their instructors only

instill certain notions into their minds, that have no other

foundation than their authority; and if they are loved or

respected, the mind is cramped in its exertions and wavering in its

advances. The business of education in this case, is only to

conduct the shooting tendrils to a proper pole; yet after laying

precept upon precept, without allowing a child to acquire judgment

itself, parents expect them to act in the same manner by this

borrowed fallacious light, as if they had illuminated it

themselves; and be, when they enter life, what their parents are at

the close. They do not consider that the tree, and even the human

body, does not strengthen its fibres till it has reached its full

growth.

There appears to be something analogous in the mind. The senses

and the imagination give a form to the character, during childhood

and youth; and the understanding as life advances, gives firmness

to the first fair purposes of sensibility--till virtue, arising

rather from the clear conviction of reason than the impulse of the

heart, morality is made to rest on a rock against which the storms

of passion vainly beat.

I hope I shall not be misunderstood when I say, that religion will

not have this condensing energy, unless it be founded on reason.

If it be merely the refuge of weakness or wild fanaticism, and not

a governing principle of conduct, drawn from self-knowledge, and a

rational opinion respecting the attributes of God, what can it be

expected to produce? The religion which consists in warming the

affections, and exalting the imagination, is only the poetical

part, and may afford the individual pleasure without rendering it a

more moral being. It may be a substitute for worldly pursuits; yet

narrow instead of enlarging the heart: but virtue must be loved as

in itself sublime and excellent, and not for the advantages it

procures or the evils it averts, if any great degree of excellence

be expected. Men will not become moral when they only build airy

castles in a future world to compensate for the disappointments

which they meet with in this; if they turn their thoughts from

relative duties to religious reveries.

Most prospects in life are marred by the shuffling worldly wisdom

of men, who, forgetting that they cannot serve God and mammon,

endeavour to blend contradictory things. If you wish to make your

son rich, pursue one course --if you are only anxious to make him

virtuous, you must take another; but do not imagine that you can

bound from one road to the other without losing your way.*

(*Footnote. See an excellent essay on this subject by Mrs.

Barbauld, in Miscellaneous pieces in Prose.)

CHAPTER 6.

THE EFFECT WHICH AN EARLY ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS HAS UPON THE

CHARACTER.

Educated in the enervating style recommended by the writers on whom

I have been animadverting; and not having a chance, from their

subordinate state in society, to recover their lost ground, is it

surprising that women every where appear a defect in nature? 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 attention to their persons?

The great advantages which naturally result 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 ideas, and matters of fact,

are once taken in, they lie by for use, till some fortuitous

circumstance 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

recollections; 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,

arrange themselves. The understanding, it is true, may keep us

from going out of drawing 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 power do we possess, and over

it how little power can reason obtain! These fine intractable

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 objects

reflected from the impassioned imagination, which they passed over

in nature.

(*Footnote. I have sometimes, when inclined to laugh at

materialists, asked whether, as the most powerful effects in nature

are apparently produced by fluids, the magnetic, etc. the passions

might not be fine volatile fluids that embraced humanity, keeping

the more refractory elementary parts together--or whether they were

simply a liquid fire that pervaded the more sluggish materials

giving them life and heat?)

I must be allowed to explain myself. The generality of people

cannot see or feel poetically, 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 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 commonly remains throughout life.

So ductile is the understanding, and yet so stubborn, that the

associations which depend on adventitious circumstances, during the

period that the body takes to arrive at maturity, can seldom be

disentangled by reason. One idea calls up another, its old

associate, and memory, faithful to the first impressions,

particularly 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 children, and

brought back to childhood when they ought to leave the go-cart

forever, have not sufficient strength of mind to efface the

superinductions of art that have smothered nature.

Every thing that they see or hear serves to fix impressions, call

forth emotions, and associate 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 organs; and thus weakened by being employed in unfolding instead

of examining the first associations, forced on them by every

surrounding 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 superior to a system 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. Besides, all the books professedly written for their

instruction, which make the first impression on their minds, all

inculcate the same opinions. Educated in worse than Egyptian

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 receive, 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 preferring a rake to a man of sense?

Rakes know how to work on their sensibility, whilst the modest

merit of reasonable men has, of course, less effect on their

feelings, 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 uncontroled use of

reason. When do men FALL IN LOVE with sense? When do they, with

their superior powers and advantages, turn from the person to the

mind? And how can they then expect women, who are only taught to

observe behaviour, 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 virtuous 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

knowing, in some degree, what we admire; for we are unable to

estimate the value of qualities and virtues above our

comprehension. Such a respect, when it is felt, may be very

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 ingredients; and the person very

naturally will come in for its share--and, an ample share it mostly

has!