A Vindication of the Rights of Woman
Love is, in a great degree, an arbitrary passion, and will reign
like some other stalking mischiefs, by its own authority, without
deigning to reason; and it may also be easily distinguished from
esteem, the foundation of friendship, because it is often excited
by evanescent beauties and graces, though to give an energy to the
sentiment something more solid must deepen their impression and set
the imagination to work, to make the most fair-- the first good.
Common passions are excited by common qualities. Men look for
beauty and the simper of good humoured docility: women are
captivated by easy manners: a gentleman-like man seldom fails to
please them, and their thirsty ears eagerly drink the insinuating
nothings of politeness, whilst they turn from the unintelligible
sounds of the charmer--reason, charm he never so wisely. With
respect to superficial accomplishments, the rake certainly has the
advantage; and of these, females can form an opinion, for it is
their own ground. Rendered gay and giddy by the whole tenor of
their lives, the very aspect of wisdom, or the severe graces of
virtue must have a lugubrious appearance to them; and produce a
kind of restraint from which they and love, sportive child,
naturally revolt. Without taste, excepting of the lighter kind,
for taste is the offspring of judgment, how can they discover, that
true beauty and grace must arise from the play of the mind? and how
can they be expected to relish in a lover what they do not, or very
imperfectly, possess themselves? The sympathy that unites hearts,
and invites to confidence, in them is so very faint, that it cannot
take fire, and thus mount to passion. No, I repeat it, the love
cherished by such minds, must have grosser fuel!
The inference is obvious; till women are led to exercise their
understandings, they should not be satirized for their attachment
to rakes; nor even for being rakes at heart, when it appears to be
the inevitable consequence of their education. They who live to
please must find their enjoyments, their happiness, in pleasure!
It is a trite, yet true remark, that we never do any thing well,
unless we love it for its own sake.
Supposing, however, for a moment, that women were, in some future
revolution of time, to become, what I sincerely wish them to be,
even love would acquire more serious dignity, and be purified in
its own fires; and virtue giving true delicacy to their affections,
they would turn with disgust from a rake. Reasoning then, as well
as feeling, the only province of woman, at present, they might
easily guard against exterior graces, and quickly learn to despise
the sensibility that had been excited and hackneyed in the ways of
women, whose trade was vice; and allurement's wanton airs. They
would recollect that the flame, (one must use appropriate
expressions,) which they wished to light up, had been exhausted by
lust, and that the sated appetite, losing all relish for pure and
simple pleasures, could only be roused by licentious arts of
variety. What satisfaction could a woman of delicacy promise
herself in a union with such a man, when the very artlessness of
her affection might appear insipid? Thus does Dryden describe the
situation:
"Where love is duty on the female side,
On theirs mere sensual gust, and sought with surly pride."
But one grand truth women have yet to learn, though much it imports
them to act accordingly. In the choice of a husband they should
not be led astray by the qualities of a lover--for a lover the
husband, even supposing him to be wise and virtuous, cannot long
remain.
Were women more rationally educated, could they take a more
comprehensive view of things, they would be contented to love but
once in their lives; and after marriage calmly let passion subside
into friendship--into that tender intimacy, which is the best
refuge from care; yet is built on such pure, still affections, that
idle jealousies would not be allowed to disturb the discharge of
the sober duties of life, nor to engross the thoughts that ought to
be otherwise employed. This is a state in which many men live; but
few, very few women. And the difference may easily be accounted
for, without recurring to a sexual character. Men, for whom we are
told women are made, have too much occupied the thoughts of women;
and this association has so entangled love, with all their motives
of action; and, to harp a little on an old string, having been
solely employed either to prepare themselves to excite love, or
actually putting their lessons in practice, they cannot live
without love. But, when a sense of duty, or fear of shame, obliges
them to restrain this pampered desire of pleasing beyond certain
lengths, too far for delicacy, it is true, though far from
criminality, they obstinately determine to love, I speak of their
passion, their husbands to the end of the chapter--and then acting
the part which they foolishly exacted from their lovers, they
become abject wooers, and fond slaves.
Men of wit and fancy are often rakes; and fancy is the food of
love. Such men will inspire passion. Half the sex, in its present
infantine state, would pine for a Lovelace; a man so witty, so
graceful, and so valiant; and can they DESERVE blame for acting
according to principles so constantly inculcated? They want a
lover and protector: and behold him kneeling before them--bravery
prostrate to beauty! The virtues of a husband are thus thrown by
love into the background, and gay hopes, or lively emotions, banish
reflection till the day of reckoning comes; and come it surely
will, to turn the sprightly lover into a surly suspicious tyrant,
who contemptuously insults the very weakness he fostered. Or,
supposing the rake reformed, he cannot quickly get rid of old
habits. When a man of abilities is first carried away by his
passions, it is necessary that sentiment and taste varnish the
enormities of vice, and give a zest to brutal indulgences: but when
the gloss of novelty is worn off, and pleasure palls upon the
sense, lasciviousness becomes barefaced, and enjoyment only the
desperate effort of weakness flying from reflection as from a
legion of devils. Oh! virtue, thou art not an empty name! All
that life can give-- thou givest!
If much comfort cannot be expected from the friendship of a
reformed rake of superior abilities, what is the consequence when
he lacketh sense, as well as principles? Verily misery in its most
hideous shape. When the habits of weak people are consolidated by
time, a reformation is barely possible; and actually makes the
beings miserable who have not sufficient mind to be amused by
innocent pleasure; like the tradesman who retires from the hurry of
business, nature presents to them only a universal blank; and the
restless thoughts prey on the damped spirits. Their reformation as
well as his retirement actually makes them wretched, because it
deprives them of all employment, by quenching the hopes and fears
that set in motion their sluggish minds.
If such be the force of habit; if such be the bondage of folly, how
carefully ought we to guard the mind from storing up vicious
associations; and equally careful should we be to cultivate the
understanding, to save the poor wight from the weak dependent state
of even harmless ignorance. For it is the right use of reason
alone which makes us independent of every thing--excepting the
unclouded Reason--"Whose service is perfect freedom."
CHAPTER 7.
MODESTY COMPREHENSIVELY CONSIDERED AND NOT AS A SEXUAL VIRTUE.
Modesty! Sacred offspring of sensibility and reason! true delicacy
of mind! may I unblamed presume to investigate thy nature, and
trace to its covert the mild charm, that mellowing each harsh
feature of a character, renders what would otherwise only inspire
cold admiration--lovely! Thou that smoothest the wrinkles of
wisdom, and softenest the tone of the more sublime virtues till
they all melt into humanity! thou that spreadest the ethereal cloud
that surrounding love heightens every beauty, it half shades,
breathing those coy sweets that steal into the heart, and charm the
senses--modulate for me the language of persuasive reason, till I
rouse my sex from the flowery bed, on which they supinely sleep
life away!
In speaking of the association of our ideas, I have noticed two
distinct modes; and in defining modesty, it appears to me equally
proper to discriminate that purity of mind, which is the effect of
chastity, from a simplicity of character that leads us to form a
just opinion of ourselves, equally distant from vanity or
presumption, though by no means incompatible with a lofty
consciousness of our own dignity. Modesty in the latter
signification of the term, is that soberness of mind which teaches
a man not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think,
and should be distinguished from humility, because humility is a
kind of self-abasement. A modest man often conceives a great plan,
and tenaciously adheres to it, conscious of his own strength, till
success gives it a sanction that determines its character. Milton
was not arrogant when he suffered a suggestion of judgment to
escape him that proved a prophesy; nor was General Washington when
he accepted of the command of the American forces. The latter has
always been characterized as a modest man; but had he been merely
humble, he would probably have shrunk back irresolute, afraid of
trusting to himself the direction of an enterprise on which so much
depended.
A modest man is steady, an humble man timid, and a vain one
presumptuous; this is the judgment, which the observation of many
characters, has led me to form. Jesus Christ was modest, Moses was
humble, and Peter vain.
Thus discriminating modesty from humility in one case, I do not
mean to confound it with bashfulness in the other. Bashfulness, in
fact, is so distinct from modesty, that the most bashful lass, or
raw country lout, often becomes the most impudent; for their
bashfulness being merely the instinctive timidity of ignorance,
custom soon changes it into assurance.*
(*Footnote. "Such is the country-maiden's fright,
When first a red-coat is in sight;
Behind the door she hides her face,
Next time at distance eyes the lace:
She now can all his terrors stand,
Nor from his squeeze withdraws her hand,
She plays familiar in his arms,
And every soldier hath his charms;
>From tent to tent she spreads her flame;
For custom conquers fear and shame.")
The shameless behaviour of the prostitutes who infest the streets
of London, raising alternate emotions of pity and disgust, may
serve to illustrate this remark. They trample on virgin
bashfulness with a sort of bravado, and glorying in their shame,
become more audaciously lewd than men, however depraved, to whom
the sexual quality has not been gratuitously granted, ever appear
to be. But these poor ignorant wretches never had any modesty to
lose, when they consigned themselves to infamy; for modesty is a
virtue not a quality. No, they were only bashful, shame-faced
innocents; and losing their innocence, their shame-facedness was
rudely brushed off; a virtue would have left some vestiges in the
mind, had it been sacrificed to passion, to make us respect the
grand ruin.
Purity of mind, or that genuine delicacy, which is the only
virtuous support of chastity, is near a-kin to that refinement of
humanity, which never resides in any but cultivated minds. It is
something nobler than innocence; it is the delicacy of reflection,
and not the coyness of ignorance. The reserve of reason, which
like habitual cleanliness, is seldom seen in any great degree,
unless the soul is active, may easily be distinguished from rustic
shyness or wanton skittishness; and so far from being incompatible