VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN by Mary Wollstonecraft

[Callisto]

'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.

  * What is to be the consequence, if the mother's and husband's
opinion should chance to not 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.'

[Callisto]

After thus cramping a woman's mind, if, in order to keep it fair, he
have 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 to be 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, that 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, descanting 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
minutae of education to his helpmate, or to 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.

[Callisto]

'Would you have your husband constantly at your feet? keep him at
some distance from your person. You will long maintain the authority
in 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 connection
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 tenour 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 women 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?

[Callisto]

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 be 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, or 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.

[Callisto]

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 seems
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.

                        SECT. II.

  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 meekness 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 inferiours, and always had the command of money,
acquire a graceful case 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.

  * 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.

[Callisto]

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 word, used in this sense. gives
me a sickly qualm! Do 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, &c. &c. 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.

[Callisto]

 SECT. III.

  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 have 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 uncivilized 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, be 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.

  * 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.

[Callisto]

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 straightforward 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
pictures, 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 are 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.

[Callisto]

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!-

                        SECT. IV.

  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!'-*

[Callisto]

* 'He is the true man, whom truth makes free!'- Cowper.

  The being who can govern itself has nothing to fear in life; but
if any thing be 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 mutable 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.

  * 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.

[Callisto]

'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 truly 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 Medicean
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 person, 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 shew
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.

[Callisto]

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, or afterwards
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.*

  * 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 as
defiance? With the same view she represents an accomplished young
woman, as ready to marry any body that her mama 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.

[Callisto]

I will not call hers 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.*

  * 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!

                        SECT. V.

  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
epistles- 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.*

  * That children ought to be constantly guarded against the vices and
follies of the world, appears, to me, a very mistaken opinion; for
in the course of experience, and my eyes have looked abroad, I never
knew a youth educated in this manner, who had early imbibed these
chilling suspicions, and repeated by rote the hesitating if of age,
that did not prove a selfish character.

  For every thing, saith the wise man, there is a season;- 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, instill 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.

[Callisto]

* I have already observed that an early knowledge of the world,
obtained in a natural way, by mixing in the world, has the same
effect: instancing officers and women.

  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 shewn 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 be 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, abstractedly, 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 shew mercy to the weak creatures, who are learning to know him,
never implanted a good propensity to be a tormenting ignis fatuus.

[Callisto]

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 shewn the follies and vices
of man, that be 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, to 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.