A Vindication of the Rights of Woman
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