From what I have hitherto said it must appear, to all who have the least degree
of understanding, that if the merit of women be weighed by the end of their
production, and the circumstances attending it, by their natural capacity, and the
practice they have applied it to in all ages; by the living variety of instances of
their folly, inconsistency, impotence in good, and propensity to evil, they are
not only wide of the perfection of man, but even almost infinitely beneath him.
So that far from having any just title, or even plausible pretence, to claim an
equality of power, dignity and esteem with him; the very privileges they enjoy
can only be looked upon as so many instances of his generosity to them.
If we trace their conduct through every age, and consider it in all lights, we
shall find them everywhere, even in their seeming differences, the same;
emptily vain, foolishly conceited, and ambitiously groveling; at once covetous
and extravagant to extremes; restless even in indolence, and false in their very
fits of fondness; in their hatred cruel, in their love lascivious, and then most
treacherous, when most industrious to show sincerity.
What else do we find in women but the bane of friendship, an inevitable pain, a
native temptation, a desirable calamity, a domestic snare, a flattering mischief, the
very essence of evil, under the semblance of good? If then there is a heinous
crime in dismissing them when ours, it must surely be owned as heavy grievance
to be forced to retain them, though uncertain of their being only ours. And yet
such the hapless dilemma man is reduced to, when tied to that frail toy of woman;
in danger of becoming an adulterer if he dismisses her, or of harbouring an
adultress if he keeps her.
Nevertheless it must be owned, that woman, though essentially an evil, is a
necessary one: but then so much the more burdensome is she for being so; since
what is most endearing in her makes our danger the more imminent, and our
only security is in what must render her intolerable. The man, who weds a
beautiful woman, measures a mark for every libertine's lechery. But he who
marries a plain one, marries lechery itself. The former will find it an arduous
task to preserve inviolated his private property in the object of public lust. And
how wretched must be the fate of the latter, to be confined to the society of one,
whom none else would condescend to couple with! However upon the whole
there may be, perhaps, much less misery annexed to the possession of a homely
wife, than to the difficulty of keeping a handsome one chaste. But still it is
plain there is misery in both.
Well then might Cato say, that "but for woman the world would be without
woe, and the celestial beings would delight to mingle their conversation with
ours." It is well remarked by a learned author that Cato spoke not by guess but
from his own fatal experience. And who better qualified to give a proper idea
of the artifices of those common mischiefs, than one who was himself the dupe
of them? Their vices and follies alike are carried to such an excess, that nothing
could make them credible but conviction; and nothing but experience could
justify the belief of it in one who were almost conscious of the reality. But
Cato had the trial, and to his sorrow found the fair, delusive flower of venus
like the soft, silky, touch-ensnaring rose, beneath whose beauteous baneful
blossom lies many a pointed thorn.
But I forget, Cato is no oracle with Sophia. Nor would he be such with me, was
he particular in his opinion of the fair-sex. But surely all can never be
mistaken. And do not all, who bear the character of wise, agree, that women
are the shuttle-cocks of vice and folly, impotence and eagerness; the dupes of
others passions, and jilted by their own. Do not all writers, sacred and profane,
without comparing notes, combine in painting them false as they are fair, and
silly as they are sweet; artful in modest guise, and impudent when lewd;
treacherous, ambitious, slaves of avarice, the foes of reason, and never friends
to thought, but when they think on mischief.
If Seneca may be believed, "a woman never muses by herself, but she is musing
on some wickedness." And if we discredit him, we must discredit all who have ever
stooped to write about them. For all are of his mind, and all consider them at best
as flattering, pleasing, desirable evils. Democritus was so convinced of this, that,
being questioned, why he who was himself so big had married a wife so little, he
answered, Methinks, says he, as it is, I have chosen too big a one, when all I
had to choose was evil. But Protagoras went farther still, no evil according to
him exceeds that Evil, Woman. What made him give his daughter in marriage
to his mortal enemy? Ask him, and take his reason from himself, I gave her to
him, says he, because I could give him nothing worse.
I should never have done were I to give a list of all the sages in every age who
have thought like them. But what occasion have we for the authority of others
to confirm a truth our own eyes are daily witnesses to? Let us look round the
female world; what shall we find but weakness of head and corruption of heart,
intolerable trifling, or destructive industry? A giddy tribe of useless things,
made up of noise and nonsense, envy, malice, impertinence, and show? Mere
murderers of time, averse to all that's good, and prone to all that's naught; proud
only of what serves to humble them, and never humble but when 'tis base to be
so; and but a fairer kind of fiends disguised in angels dresses, whose actions are
the best antidote to the poison of their charms?
Here their insatiable incontinence renders their beauty shocking; there their
modesty is meant a cover to their own lust and an incentive to yours. In one
house, you see a pretty, foolish, lifeless, moving statue; in another, a homely,
bookish, pert prating Doctress, a retailer of cross-cross sentences, whose brain is
a mere lottery-wheel of sense and nonsense drawn alike by chance, five hundred
blanks to one prize, of no worth when examined. In a third you meet with a
housewifely shrew, a sober slut, an ignorant cypher, a gossiping politician, or a
learned slattern. In a fourth a litigious cheat, a virago, bully, or phantom
frighted at the crow of a cock. And everywhere you are sure to find an
inconsistent set of fickle creatures, never for a minute themselves, but when
most unlike us and nearest being unlike themselves; and never steady in
anything but folly, vice and fickleness.
How unlike are these pretty, little-more-than-nothings, to that lordly creature,
whose superiority of merit, as well as power and prerogative, their impotent
ambition to be like him might alone suffice to convince them of, had they but
one degree of understanding more than they have! Man, created by Nature to
rule, was endowed with a soul equal to the task. His body is strong, his mind
vigorous, and his heart resolute; his understanding is fitted for the most sublime
speculations, and his person for the most hardy and important exercises. He can
dive into the inmost secrets of Nature without losing himself; and has art
enough to copy her noblest works, and almost to excel the great Original. He
wants neither fancy to invent, nor Genius to contrive. With quickness to
apprehend and memory to retain, he has judgment to discern, and can by
distinguishing and comparing different ideas form the greatest of designs.
Happy in a Genius for the most glorious enterprises he has both courage and
conduct sufficient to execute them.
For he is not only qualified by his intellectual capacity to be greatly wise, but
naturally prompted to be truly good.
In short, virtue and wisdom are the epitome of his character, where woman
interferes not to corrupt it. If there are a few degenerate creatures, who answer
not this character, they are such only as by conversing with womankind, putting
on their foibles, and affecting to be like them, degrade themselves of manhood,
commence intellectual eunuchs, and, though they are, deserve no more to be
reputed of the same sex with us. But still the bulk of men were designed by
Nature to be both greatly wise and eminently good. And there are as many
instances to prove these characteristics in the men, as there are in women to
prove their want of them, and natural incapacity for them.
How many men might we not point out, whom but to name would force that
daring sex to own the little claim they have to equal merit with that noble
creature, though all the female train should club their several worths to match it.
To know what man is capable of being, examine what he really is when perfect.
And to gain a true idea of all men's real merit, view any man in whom all manly
virtues are blended.
Philanthropus is such, admired, esteemed, beloved by all who know him, and
loving all mankind. Majestic in his person, of a lively understanding, and of
manners gracious, affable and sincere; he is ever cheerful, never light; ever
present to his company, never absent to himself. His voice is all harmony, his
words all sense, his actions answer to his mien, and what he looks he is;
discreetly daring, modest with becoming boldness, sprightily sedate, easy
without levity, solid without solemnity, good by approved principle, and wise
by parts anticipating experience. His virtue not stiffened by austerity, nor his
wisdom foiled by any fondness of showing it.
Never elated by prosperity, adversity cannot depress him; always serene in every
vicissitude of life, not from insensibility, but from thought, resolution, and
conscious worth. Grateful to his maker he has nothing so much at heart as the
true interests of religion, which he is incessantly studious to cultivate in himself,
and frequently happy enough to promote in others. His unblemished conduct
proves him the Christian he professes to be; In him faith free from bigotry and
superstition, zeal according to knowledge, Godliness without ostentation or
severity, and devotion without enthusiasm, give piety such an amiable aspect, as
makes the practice of it inviting. Thus blessed, thus happy, thus worthy to be so,
so far is he from taking pride in any advantages he possesses above others, that
he looks on them as the common property of all. Nor is he more anxious to
communicate those advantages to others, than sure to share in their miseries by
a generous fellow-feeling of their misfortunes.
The widow has a protector in him, the orphan a father; the wretched find him their
relief, and all who are in distress or under oppression, their advocate, support,
and defence. He never thinks himself so rich as when a poor man shares with him
his fortune. His endeavours to surpass others in goodness, never hinder him from
labouring to make them even better than himself. And he never approves his own
wisdom but when it helps him to make others wise, or to discover some excellence
in them. The good are ever sure of his esteem, the sage of his admiration, and
both of his love and praise. For no merit escapes his acknowledgment which
reaches his knowledge, as no demerit incurs his scorn or hatred, though it
cannot elude his penetration.
To the gift of knowing how to applaud the deserving, without putting them out of
countenance, he joins the talent of reasoning or laughing others out of their follies
and foibles, without exposing or offending them; ever sure to gain a friend by the
worth he rewards, never in danger of making an enemy by the vice he
discountenances. The foolish he is industrious to direct, and is indefatigable as
well as informing the ignorant as in reforming the wicked. Those, whom he can
better, he always encourages; and those whom he cannot, he pities, but never
condemns; not more liberal of just commendation than sparing of deserved
censure. He is just to the nicest point of honour, and sets no other bounds to
benevolence than prudence prefixes.
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