UC^NRUF . , Ilium B 3 13b 516 THE SCOTT LIBRARY. THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN. A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. By Mary Woll- stonecraft. wlth an intro- DUCTION by Elizabeth Robins Pennell London : Walter Scott, 24 Warwick Lane, Paternoster Row A "A CONTENTS. 4/c I ' ) PREFATORY NOTE DEDICATION INTRODUCTION CHAPTER I. # : "i f^. U*A> ^j THE RIGHTS AND INVOLVED DUTIES OF MANKIND CONSIDERED - - - - - - - CHAPTER II. THE PREVAILING OPINION OF A SEXUAL CHARACTER DISCUSSED ----_- CHAPTER III. |ihe SAME SUBJECT — continued - CHAPTER IV. OBSERVATIONS ON THE STATE OF DEGRADATION TO WHICH WOMAN IS REDUCED BY VARIOUS CAUSES CHAPTER V. ANIMADVERSIONS ON SOME OF THE WRITERS WHO HAVE RENDERED WOMEN OBJECTS OF PITY, BORDERING ON CONTEMPT .... CHAPTER VI. CHE EFFECT WHICH AN EARLY ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS HAS UPON THE CHARACTER - 23767 PAGE vii xxv xxxi 14 42 64 '°3 159 VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. MODESTY — COMPREHENSIVELY CONSIDERED, AND NOT AS A SEXUAL VIRTUE - j68 CHAPTER VIII. MORALITY' UNDERMINED BY SEXUAL NOTIONS OF THE IMPORTANCE OF A GOOD REPUTATION CHAPTER IX. OF THE PERNICIOUS EFFECTS WHICH ARISE FROM THE UNNATURAL DISTINCTIONS ESTABLISHED IN SOCIETY - CHAPTER X. PARENTAL AFFECTION CHAPTER XI. DUTY TO PARENTS CHAPTER XII. ON NATIONAL EDUCATION - - . . CHAPTER XIII. SOME INSTANCES OF THE FOLLY WHICH THE IGNOR- ANCE OF WOMAN GENERATES; WITH CONCLUD- ING REFLECTIONS ON THE MORAL IMPROVE- MENT THAT A REVOLUTION IN FEMALE MANNERS MIGHT NATURALLY BE EXPECTED TO PRODUCE - 184 I9S 2i i " 22; 2 53 PREFATORY NOTE. A HUNDRED years ago, women had not begun to make the vindication of their rights the prominent political and social problem it has become to-day. People were still horrified by the doctrine that all men had claims as human beings. Merely to write, even if necessity forced a woman to a literary life, was to defy pub- lic opinion — to step out of the bounds of female reserve, good Mrs Barbauld feared. But boldly and openly to question her social and moral position was to commit the unpardon- able sin, and to be damned for indelicacy. Of both minor offence and deadly crime Mary Wollstonecraft was guilty. When she came to London, and made literature her profes- sion, she was really the first of a new genus, as she wrote in a 'letter to her sister Everina. After the publication of her "Rights of Woman " she was denounced as a social outcast — a'" hyena in petticoats," a " philosophising serpent," Horace N^alpole politely called her. Had she worked, had her most famous book appeared to-day, her reputation might not have outlived her own generation. Her literary merits are srhall, her teachings conservative compared to the more advanced principles now advocated by women. But because she saw the evils in the conception of woman's sphere and duty then accepted even by her own sex, because she had the courage to say what she thought and knew at a time when ^omen were not expected to think or to know anything, she / bust always be remembered and honoured. One need not srree with her to appreciate her strength and independence. Vlll PREFATORY NOTE. For the gospel she preached the age was intellectually, if not socially, prepared. That woman, as a human being, has rights was but the inevitable conclusion of the then new philosophical theory, that "man is born free," which, as inevitably, had been developed from the premises estab- lished by the Reformation. But if for her theory she was indebted to the influence of the age, her immediate practi- cal application of it was in a great measure due to the cir- cumstances of her own life. Had she not seen for herself the unspeakable misery caused by the intellectual and do- mestic degradation of woman, she would not have been so quick to discern the flaw in the reasoning of Rousseau and his French and English disciples. Her book gains in force when it is realised how entirely her arguments and doctrines are based upon experience. Indeed, without this realisa- tion, without a knowledge of her young life's sorrows and responsibilities, it loses half its interest. Mary Wollstonecraft was born on the 27th of April 1750, either in Hoxton or in Epping Forest. Her father was trie son of a successful manufacturer in Spitalfields ; her grand- father, on her mother's side, was a Mr Dixon of Bally- shannon, whose social position was as assured as the wealth of the older Mr Wollstonecraft. The latter left to his son ja fortune of ten thousand pounds— no small sum for thoie days. Mary had two sisters, Everina and Eliza, who never ceased to be heavy drains upon her financial and emotional resources, who were as ready to criticise her actions as to receive her favours, and whose one good quality was the care with which they preserved her letters. Of her three brothers, the eldest, Edward, alone was fairly successful from the first, though by his success she never profited : the others, James and Charles, and more particularly the third and youngest, too often relied upon her for the help which PREFATORY NOTE. [% they, as men, should have afforded a sister in an age when it was no light matter for a woman, more particu- larly a gentlewoman, to gain her own livelihood. That Mr Wollstonecraft, notwithstanding his ten thousand pounds, did nothing for his children is easily explained. He was a spendthrift, through whose fingers money slipped easily; he was a drunkard, with all the drunkard's worst faults ; shift- less and restless, it was impossible for him to stay long in any one place. Mary's early years were spent in wandering from Epping Forest to Barking, from Beverley to Hoxton, from Pembroke to Walworth, picking up whatever crumbs of education she might by the way, and ever) where learning those cruel lessons of life upon which she was later to found her moral creed. Mr Wollstonecraft's temper, ungovern- able at the best of times, was aggravated a hundredfold by drink. The terror and tyrant of his household, he did not spare even his wife ; and many a time, while she was -still a child, Mary had thrown herself between the two that she might receive the blows meant for the mother she lipved. Many a night she had passed crouched at the threshold of her bedroom, on the alert to play, if needed, her part as protector in the next scene of the family tragedy. There was little in this household to impress her with the sanctity of the marriage tie, or the blessings result- ing from the subjection of women. And it seemed as if each new development in her intellectual and social career was destined to confirm her early impressions. The first important event of her youth was her meeting with Fanny Blood, the friend she loved with perhaps the v£rongest passion of her life, and after whom, years later, j,, 'en the latter had long since been dead, she named her „|jdest daughter, the unfortunate Fanny Imlay, or Fanny t ...odwin, as she is better known. Mary was about sixteen x PRE FA TOR Y NO TE. when she first met Fanny Blood, who, though no older than herself, was already contributing to the support of her parents. Affairs with the Bloods were much the same as with the Wollstonecrafts ; the father was a drunken brute, the mother, weak and incompetent, and the children, in consequence, were neglected and ill-treated. In this family Mary was again confronted with the evils from which she so keenly suffered in her own. But, though not without its tragic side, the new friendship brought her her first real happiness, and became a stimulus to her intellectual activity. Her ambition was roused by Fanny's example, and, con- scious that in the near future she must be wholly self- dependent, she devoted herself to study with renewed energy. The time for action came quickly enough. At the age of nineteen she went out into the world to seek her fortunes. Her start in life was not brilliant. She became a lady's companion, an occupation ill suited to her special talents. But shortly afterwards, being called home by the death of her mother, she exchanged this position for that of governess, and during the next nine years she taught, either in a school of her own, or in a private family, all the time hoping that, eventually, literature might become her pro- fession, all the time pursued by those cares from which she was never free. Her sister Eliza, the " poor Bess " of the voluminous Wollstonecraft correspondence, made an unfor- tunate marriage, and it was Mary who had to watch her during her temporary madness, who had to help her to escape from a brutal husband in a wild flight to London. Fanny Blood married a Mr Skeys, though he seems ^ have been but a lukewarm lover, and went with him fe live in Lisbon, where, however, her health rapidly failec^ and again it was Mary who had to set sail for Portugal, ar. ERE FA TORY NOTE. XI nurse her through her last fatal illness. Mr Wollstonecraft was sinking lower and lower to the very depths of dissipa- tion, so that his daughters could no longer live with him. Whenever Everina and Eliza were in want of work to do, they looked to Mary to find it for them. And it was to her also that George Blood, Fanny's brother, and the two younger Wollstonecrafts, James and Charles, turned in their many hours of need. There was but little reason for her to believe with Rousseau and Dr Gregory, that woman's sole duty is to please, little reason to re-echo Mrs Barbauld's amiable sentiment, that the highest aim for woman is to attain knowledge enough to make herself an agreeable companion to husband or brothers. Her duty hitherto had been of a less passive nature, and, whatever a hus- l| band might in his turn ask of her, certainly her brothers I would have been the first to rebel, had she been content \ to accept Mrs Barbauld's definition of feminine usefulness. From girlhood she was forced to support, not only her- self, but others; from girlhood, therefore, she could but realise the inefficiency of a woman's early training, and the many difficulties in her way, owing to the absurd and i artificial sexual distinction set up between men and women. Hc.w keenly she did feel these things she was soon to show in her "Vindication." But before she wrote it, she lived through one more experience which impressed her with the equally cruel and false position of the woman who, after the same demoralising training, had not even the incentive of work to rouse her from her sexual degradation. She was engaged as governess by Lady Kingsborough, an Irishwoman of high rank and fashion, and remained with \ her for a year. It was in Mitchelstown she had her first glimpse into a society of which Lady Kingsborough was a typical member, and there is no doubt that the latter is the r »^ XII PREFATORY NOTE. " fine lady" who figures again and again in the "Vindication," and in whom " the wife, mother, and human creature were all swallowed up by the factitious character which an improper education and the selfish vanity of beauty had produced," but who " was quite feminine according to the masculine acceptation of the word." Mary was as earnest a hater of shams as Carlyle, and, of all, the most odious to her was the woman of sensibility. How great a martyrdom her life at the castle seemed, is shown by the warmth with which, so speedily- after leaving it, she denounced the Lady Kingsboroughs of society. However, there were occasional intervals when she vied with the guests of the house in gaiety ; and, better still, the children in her charge grew to love her. When Margaret, the eldest, as Lady Mountcashel, long years after in Pisa met Mary Shelley, her loving memory of her old governess, the latter's mother, was still fresh. Indeed, it was this affection which was indirectly the cause of Mary's at last going to London to try her fortunes there. Lady Kingsborough became jealous, and made some excuse to be rid of the too clever and attractive teacher. I have dwelt upon Mary's life during the years which immediately preceded the publication of the work for which she is remembered, because they had such a strong and striking influence upon it. To know the few leading facts, her own hard and bitter struggle, her heavy respon- sibilities, the miserable or artificial existence of most of the women with whom she came in contact, is to understand the interesting personal significance of many of her most vehement paragraphs, much of her most scathing rhetoric. When she came to London in 1788, it was to do the work and live the life for which she had always longed. She had already made her maiden attempt in literature, having written a short pamphlet called " Thoughts on the i PREFATORY NOTE. xiii Education of Daughters," and been paid ten guineas for it. It had been issued by Mr Johnson, the well-known and enterprising Fleet Street publisher, and moreover had secured her his friendship. He had doubtless seen in it signs of literary ability, for ever since he had been urging her to give up teaching for literature, and now that she followed his advice, he proved practically how sincere he had been. He employed her as his reader, as a contributor to the Analytical Revieze, though her articles being unsigned, have been virtually lost, and as his translator. Lavater, Salzmann, and Necker were among the foreign authors whose works she translated for him. Perhaps it was because of her first joy in her freedom from the restraints of Mitchels- town Castle, perhaps because the ever increasing demands of her family seriously taxed her income ; but, whatever may have been the reason, in the beginning she seems to have hidden herself in her rooms in George Street, Biackfriars, and to have been utterly indifferent to ordinary comfort or appearance. She warns her sisters in letters not to give her address to any one, and whoever did discover her lodgings, found both them and her shabby and mean — "a philosophical sloven," she was afterwards described. There is a delightful story told of Talleyrand's visit to her, when they talked politics and sociology over their tea and wine, which they drank from the same tea-cups, wine glasses being an unknown luxury in George Street. This very visit of Tallyrand's shows that she was not allowed for long to live as a recluse. The fact is, she was a woman meant to shine in society. She was handsome ; it was not so many years later that Southey wrote to Cottle, "Of all the lions or literati I have seen here [London], Mary Imlay's face is the best, infinitely the best;" and Opie's portrait of her in the National Gallery justifies his admiration. And she was a > ! xiv PREFATORY NOTE. clever talker, indeed too clever, Godwin thought when they first met, and she monopolised the conversation, while Paine, whom he had come to hear, sat silent. The one house to which she went from her arrival in London was Mr Johnson's, where all the literary men and women of the day were to be found, and once known — to judge from the way these matters are ordered at present — invitations must have poured in upon her. Certainly, before very long, she was forced from her solitude, and became the most talked-about woman in England. Her profession made her notorious in a day when writers like Hannah More and Mrs Barbauld almost apologised for their work as if it were an indiscretion; each book added to this notoriety, until finally she electrified the European world by her " Vindication of the Rights of Woman," published in 1792, and speedily translated into French and German. Before the public had ceased to talk about it, she left London for Paris. This was in the same year, and the French capital, maddened with blood, and in the first ecstasy of liberty, was the dark background for the darkest, saddest episode in all her sad life. It was here she met Captain Gilbert Imlay, an American, apparently of means. Because of her relation to him, even more than because of that indecorous performance, the "Vindication," was hername for years covered with scorn and obloquy. She loved him with the intensity of her intense nature, and he, for a while, seems to have loved her no less well. She was then thirty- two, and, as far as we can be certain, the only strong passion which had as yet come into her life was her friendship for Fanny Blood. It is useless to speculate upon her attach- ment to Fuseli, out of which Knowles, his biographer, evolved a pretty scandal, and Browning, a fine poem. Letters from her to Fuseli, which might explain, ar^ in i ; 1 PREFATORY NOTE. xv existence, but those most interested object to their publi- cation. If she did love him — which is not without the realms of probability — it is far more likely that, instead of pursuing him, as Knowles records, she really went to Paris to try and forget the man who had already pledged himself to another woman. This, at least, is Godwin's version of the affair. She might not attach much importance to the marriage ceremony, but for all that she respected the tie for which a legal sanction was, according to her, unnecessary. Had she wanted to, it would have been difficult in the then troubled state of Paris to marry Imlay, whom, whatever may have been her feelings for Fuseli, there can be no ques- tion she loved sincerely. To marry him, she must have declared herself a British subject, and that just then meant to risk death or imprisonment. It was doubtful, too, whether a ceremony performed in Paris would have been considered legal in England. These are excellent reasons for the steps she took. And yet I think they had little weight with her, and that it was because she believed she was doing what was right that she went to live with Imlay, first in Paris, and then at Havre — as his mistress in the eyes of the world, as his wife in her own. Why tell again the story of her short-lived happiness and his desertion, when she has told it, once and for all, in her letters to him? These were published almost immediately after her death by Godwin, and again, in a modern edition, a few years ago, by Mr Kegan Paul. They reveal her love for Imlay in all its stages,— from happy confidence, through un- willingly admitted doubt, to final despair. For the sake of their child, Fanny, she refused to give him up until it wis simply impossible for her to bear, not only his indif- ference, but his glaring infidelities. Twice in her misery did she seek to kill herself; the world was too cruel. But both — \ XVI PREFATORY NOTE. times she was saved, sorely against her will. I know of nothing so tragic in fiction as her second attempt. She had gone to Battersea Bridge — it was after her return from France — intending to leap from it into the Thames, but there being too many people about, she hired a boat and rowed to Putney. It was a cold, stormy November even- ing, and not until she had walked up and down, up and down, on the bridge, that her clothes, drenched with rain, might make her sink the more rapidly, did she throw herself into the river, only to be rescued, and once more forced to face life and all its bitterness. But this second failure seems to have calmed her, and within a few weeks — two years and six months after the first happy days in Havre — she parted from Imlay for ever. Mary went back to her old life. She had now an estab- lished position as a literary woman ; many of her friends remained true to her, and she made many new ones. As for the sake of her child she still called herself by Imlay's name, the scrupulous, who wished to retain her acquaint- ance, and yet not sacrifice their moral principles, refused to doubt that she was his legitimate wife. Her circumstances were easier than they had ever been before, though the Wollstonecraft sisters seemed as unwilling to spare her feel- ings as they had ever been to spare her purse, and though she was not one to throw off lightly her burden of sorrow. . It was William Godwin, the defender of pure reason, who first helped her to forget Imlay. He was forty, she three years his junior, when they met again at the house of a mutual friend, Miss Hayes. This time her cleverness charmed instead of irritating him. Then, too, he was much struck with her " Letters from Norway and Sweden," published about the same period, in which he thought she had got rid of the defects of style which had ais- ; 1 PREFATORY NOTE. xvii pleased him in her earlier works. In his own words : — " The partiality we conceived for each other . . . grew with equal advances in the mind of each. It would have been impossible for the most minute observer to have said who was before, and who was after. One sex did not take the priority which long-established custom has awarded it, nor the other overstep the delicacy which is so severely- imposed. . . . When, in the course of things, the dis- closure came, there was nothing, in a manner, for either party to disclose to the other." It would be interesting to have Mary's version of their courtship. That she loved Godwin with the passion she had given to Imlay is not likely ; he was not a man to inspire it. But she probably brought him that good friendship and intellectual com- panionship which already, in the " Vindication," she had declared to be of paramount importance in such a union. At first they did not marry. Why should they have gone through a ceremony in which neither believed ? They did not even live together ; and perhaps it would be less often ask:d if marriage is a failure, were people to follow their exam-pie, man and wife occupying his and her separate ap; rtments. Custom quickly stales the limited variety of most human beings. The notes which passed between them at this period — notes from Mary inviting Godwin to dinner, or to pay her a visit, or asking him to lend her a book — are charming in their originality, and in the proof they furnish of the entire independence of each. When Mary found that for the second time she was to become a mother, then, for the child's sake, they went through the form required by society. She felt keenly her little Fanny's false position, and justly, as time showed ; for the realisation of her illegitimacy was probably the cause of the latter's suicide, years afterwards. Strange to say, while Tr— <-»"".» VA XVI11 PRE FA TOR V NOTE. Mary's informal union with Godwin estranged none of her f friends, she lost many by her marriage, — Mrs Siddons and 1 Mrs Inchbald among others. But the fact that she was free to marry Godwin could leave no doubt as to the nature of her previous relation to Imlay. However, not for long was she to suffer from the cruelty of her friends. About twelve months after her illegal marriage, five after the ceremony at St Pancras Church, on the 30th of August 1797, she gave ""? birth to Mary Godwin, destined to become famous as Mary Shelley. On the 10th of September, after a painful illness, during which Godwin nursed her tenderly, but reasoning with her to the end, Mary Wollstonecraft died at the age of thirty-eight. She was buried at Old St Pancras, and, in days that followed, it was by her tomb, under its overshadowing willows, that Mary Godwin and Shelley met and talked and loved. Mary was in the fulness of her powers when she died ; her greatest work seemed to lie before her. Eut at least she escaped a second bitter disappointment that might have awaited her. In those short twelve months she had already grown restive under Godwin's philosophical methods of love, so strangely like indifference. She was happier in death perhaps than she would have been in life. Though the " Vindication of the Rights of Woman " is the one book by which she is known, Mary Wollstonecraft was the author of many others. Before she met Imlay, she had already published, not only her " Education of Daughters," and her numerous translations and articles, but " Original Stories from Real Life," somewhat in the " Sandford and Merton" style, and now prized, in one edition at least, because of the illustrations by Blake; "Mary," a novel, most deservedly forgotten ; and a " Letter to Burke," in answer to his " Reflections on the French Revolution." After the sad Imlay episode she brought out the first I \ \ PREFATORY NOTE. x j x volume of " An Historical and Moral View of the Origin and Progress of the French Revolution, and the Effect it has produced in Europe," at which she had been working while she was in France. This was followed by " Letters Written during a Short Residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark," to which countries she had gone on a mission for Imlay. And when she died, she left unfinished a novel called " Maria ; or, The Wrongs of Woman," which Godwin included in his edition of her posthumous works. But it would be useless here to give extracts from any of these books. From the literary standpoint they are without value, and from the philosophical they have but little more. As Southey said, Mary Wollstonecraft was just beginning to reason when she died. Her " French Revolution," indeed, shows a marked advance in this respect, and is, on the whole, her most finished and workmanlike production. The story "Maria" has been enthusiastically compared to " Les Mise- rables" by Miss Mathilde Blind, but though interesting because unmistakably a record of her own experiences and feelings, it is hysterical, grandiloquent, and melodramatic. -In her stories her Johnsonian periods and " flowery diction " to borrow one of her own phrases— are always most offensive. But on the other hand, the " Vindication of the Rights of Woman," with all its faults, is an epoch-making book, and therefore, if reprinted at all, should be given without an omission, without a correction, — in a word, without the least editing, as it now is in this volume. The " Letters to Imlay," never intended for publication, because of their genuine- ness, their passion, their despair, and despite the somewhat didactic strain which forced itself even into the familiar correspondence of her days, are among the most beautiful and pathetic love-letters ever given to the world. The faults of the " Vindication " are too aggressive to need I XX PREFATORY NOTE. PREFATORY NOTE. XXI I pointing out : they assert themselves on almost every page. That her turgid, bombastic style should have offended a fastidious Godwin/even when her matter must have been so to his taste, is not hard to understand. To the present generation her flowers of rhetoric are still more offensive,— , her exhortations to the Deity, her foolish flights of fancy, still more unbearable. Again, though she was treating a subject which was eminently one of reason and logic, her whole book, as Mr Leslie Stephen has well said, is rhetorical rather than speculative. It is without system, without method. It is full of useless repetitions, and is for ever neglecting the main argument for trifling side issues. It is incoherent in places, sententious in others. Godwin records that it was written in six weeks ; so hurried and careless is it throughout that one could easily believe it to be the work of as few days. But with all its faults, perhaps because of them, it is a book of unusual power. Its virtues far outweigh its defects. Sincerity is stamped upon it; passion breathes through eve/y sentence, and its very earnestness and intensity are convincing, where the well-balanced arguments of the man who knows, but does not feel, the injustice he exposes, fail to carTy conviction with them. r| In Mary's days, the social philosophy inaugurated by /Rousseau, as well as the democratic example of the colonies, /had turned men's thoughts more than ever to the problem / of liberty. The new doctrine of the abstract rights of [ Iranian beings was in every philosopher's mouth. There \w P rTpjm^i ~Ind Godwins , there were French Revolutionists •'to carry it to its extreme conclusion, as far as men were concerned. But only the Abbe" Sieyes (not too eagerly, however) and Condorcet in France, a few emancipated thinkers, a woman among their number, in Hungary, and Mary Wollstonecraft in England, had eyes to see that, if all human b eings had abstra ct rights 1 then womrn, .as .human bdn^J^ejyjthjnen equally. qualified to claim them. It is only lately that Mr Karl D. Bulbring* has revived the memory of the almost forgotten Mary Astell, and reminded all interested in the matter, that it was she who first defended woman's rights, who "took the first decided step out of the narrow limits of tradition," one hundred years before Mary Wollstonecraft's " Vindication" appeared. That Mary Astell's writings are curious and valuable in their way. no one can deny, nor that she really deserves the distinction he upholds for her. One cannot but wonder if her books were known to Mary Wollstonecraft, for many of the tatter's educational suggestions resemble closely theories advocated by the advanced woman of the earlier century. However, Mary Astell's arguments are those of a woman of mind and culture, who throughout her life suffered from the short- comings of her early education, rather than of one whose ideas. were_ based. upon principles of hum an~irBert}\ What she objected to was, " that the other sex, by means of more extensive education . . . have a vaster field for their imaginations to rove in, and their capacities thereby en- larged." She was not without a proper regard for the naturally superior strength, mental and physical, of man, whom woman should please and obey ; and only after her chief work was done, did she seem to realise that there were better reasons for the higher education of women, than that they might thereby more gracefully subject themselves to the other sex But then it would have been impossible for the woman of the seventeenth century to approach the / - Journal of Education, April and May numbers, 1S91. XX11 PREFATORY NOTE. I subject from the standpoint of the woman of th; ighteenth who knew something of the intellectual move: t of her own age, and, when all is considered, I think I.:.- Bulbring is right in looking upon Mary Astell as the forerunner of Mary VVollstonecraft and of Mill. As far as I know, Dr Concha of Kolozsvar, in his book on the revolutionary ideas of Hungary in 1790, has been the first to recall the fact that there were advocates for the rights of women— men as well as women— in his country, at very much the same time that the doctrine was being proclaimed in England and France. Hungarians, too, appreciated the truth that women and men are " brethren," or equally human beings, and that, therefore, the former should be educated, should have the same rights as the latter, and should take office in the administration. But the pamphlets then written were lost sight of, until Dr Concha unearthed them from their forgotten corner in the Museum of Budapest ; and the fact remains, that the only works of genuine importance on the woman question, dating back to the eighteenth century, are those of the French philosopher and the half-educated young Englishwoman. The contrast between their respective treatment of the subject is great. Condorcet argued with all the logic of the thoughtful student, Mary Wollstonecraft with all the fire of the impulsive woman. And yet, the Frenchman's essays, though in them he was far the more revolutionary of the two, are practically forgotten, while the Englishwoman's volume still lives as the text-book of the new generation of believers in women's rights. But too many of her followers, unfortunately, have failed to grasp the true meaning of the "Vindication." Mary, were she living to-day, probably would be one of the first to join with Mr Frederick Harrison in his outcry against women disordered by the " fever of a PREFATORY NOTE. xxiii public mission." Her whole book is a protest against shams, and she who was quick to discern the falseness of the doll's life (the phrase was hers before Ibsenism was invented) for the Noras of her time, could not have been deceived by the sham ideals set up by the typical strong- minded woman of the present. She thought women de- graded when, because of their sex, men refused to look upon them as human beings ; she could hardly have thought them emancipated, if, in obtaining recognition as human beings, they ignored their sex altogether. Let woman be her- sdfj_that_w r as what she asked; a human being with certain sexual functions and physical appetites which it was no shame to possess, with certain mental abilities which it was a duty to cultivate. The Sophias of her age were the shams she struggled to suppress. Let woman be herself and not a mere automaton, pretty to look at, with no other object in existence save to gratify the whims and passions of man. Once the absurd sexual barrier was broken down, she would be as free as he was to live her own life, to follow her own profession, whether this was solely domestic or no. Mary agreed with Socrates, that women should take up that work for which they are best qualified by nature. Her suggestion that they are eminently fitted to be doctors, shows what a keen appreciation she had of their special characteristics. If they chose to concern themselves with politics and public affairs, why not if they had the proper knowledge and talents, and were not thereby disqualified as human beings and women ? Once the woman question, as it presented itself to her, was settled in honest straightforward fashion, she believed that all other difficulties would disappear easily and naturally. The main thing was to be done with shams for evermore, not to substitute for the old sham sensibility of puppetdom the new sham sexlessness of emancipation. X xxiv PREFATORY NOTE. It is also worth while to note her excellent hints on the subject of education. Her scheme for national schools, which must have seemed so Socratic at the time, has been very nearly realised in the United States ; her proposed combination of work and play is an anticipation of Froebel. She may have written from impulse ; she may often have sacrificed logic to rhetoric, but sincere partisanship never made her lose her common -sense. She was always an enthusiast, never a fanatic, and this, in our age of sentimental fanaticism, is not the least of her merits. ELIZABETH ROBINS PENNELL. Budapest, 25M October 1891. I I * f DEDICATION TO M. TALLEYRAND-PERIGOR.D, Late Bishop of Antun. SIR, — Having read with great pleasure a pamphlet which you have lately published, I dedicate this volume to you, to induce you to reconsider the subject, and maturely weigh what I have advanced respecting the rights of woman and national education ; and I call with the firm tone of humanity, for my arguments, sir, are dictated by a disinterested spirit— I plead for my sex, not for myself. 1 Independence I have long considered as the grand blessing of life, the basis of every virtue; and independence I will ever secure by contracting my wants, though I were to live Ion a barren heath. It is then an affection for the whole human race that , makes my pen dart rapidly along to support what I believe A to be the cause of virtue ; and the same motive leads me earnestly to wish to see woman placed in a station in which she would advance, instead of retarding, the progress of those glorious principles that give a substance to morality. My opinion, indeed, respecting the rights and duties of woman seems to flow so naturally from these simple prin- ciples, that I think it scarcely possible but that some of the enlarged minds who formed your admirable constitution will coincide with me. In France there is undoubtedly a more general diffusion of knowledge than in any part of the European world, and I attribute it, in a great measure, to the social intercourse c XXVI DEDICA TION. It is true — France the which has long subsisted between the sexes. I utter my sentiments with freedom— that in t ranee tne very essence of sensuality has been extracted to regale the I voluptuary, and a kind of sentimental lust has prevailed, . which, together with the system of duplicity that the whole j tenor of their political and civil government taught, have I given a sinister sort of sagacity to the French character, ' properly termed finesse, from which naturally flow a polish of manners that injures the substance by hunting sincerity out of society. And modesty, the fairest garb of virtue ! has been more grossly insulted in France than even in England, till their women have treated as prudish that attention to decency which brutes instinctively observe. Manners and morals are so nearly allied that they have often been confounded ; but, though the former should only be the natural reflection of the latter, yet, when various causes have produced factitious and corrupt manners, which are very early caught, morality becomes an empty name. The personal reserve, and sacred respect for cleanliness and delicacy in domestic life, which French women almost despise, are the graceful pillars of modesty ; but, far from despising them, if the pure flame of patriotism have reached their bosoms, they should labour to improve the morals of their fellow-citizens, by teaching men, not only to respect modesty in women, but to acquire it themselves, as the only wjy to merit their esteem. Contending for the rights of woman, my main argument lis built on this simple principle, that if she be not prepared [ by educatio n to become the companion of man, she will stop the progress of knowledge and virtue ; for truth must be mramon to all, or it will be inefficacious with respect to its influence on general practice. And how can woman be expected to co-operate unless she know why she ought to DEDICA TION. xxvii be virtuous? unless freedom strengthen her reason till she i comprehend her duty, and see in what manner it is con-_ I nected with her real good. If children are to be educated to understand the true principle of patriotism, their mother must be a patriot; and the love of mankind, from which an orderly train of virtues spring, can only be produced by con- sidering the moral and civil interest of mankind ; but the ed ucat io n and situation of woman at present shuts her out ' from such investigations. In this work I have produced many arguments, which to me were conclusive, to prove that the prevailing notion respecting a sexual character was subversive of morality, and I have contended, that to render the human body and mind more perfect, chastity must more universally prevail, and that chastity will never be respected in the male world till the person of a woman is not, as it were, idolised, when little virtue or sense embellish it with the grand traces of mental beauty, or the interesting simplicity of affection. Consider, sir, dispassionately these observations, for a glimpse of this truth seemed to open before you when you observed, "that to see oneJijil£li.Lthe .human race excluded by the other from all participation of government was a politi- cal phenomenon that, according to abstract principles, it was impossible to explain." If so, on what does your constitution rest ? If the abstract rights of man will bear discussion and explanation, those of woman, by a parity of reasoning, will not shrink from the same test ; though a different opinion prevails in this country, built on the very arguments which you use to justify the oppression of woman — prescription. Consider — I address you as a legislator — whether, when men contend for theui freedom, and to be allowed to jud^e for themselves respecting- their own happiness, it be not in- consistent ar.d unjust to subjugate women, even though you **v XX viii DEDICATION. firmly believe that you are acting in the manner best cal- culated to promote their happiness ? Who made man the exclusive judge, if woman partake with him of the gift of reason? In this style argue tyrants of every denomination, from the weak king to the weak father of a family ; they are all eager to crush reason, yet always assert that they usurp its throne only to be useful. Do you not act a similar part when you force all women, by denying them civil and political rights, to remain immured in their families groping in the dark? for surely, sir, you will not assert that a duty can be binding which is not founded on reason ? If, indeed, this be their destination, arguments may be drawn from reason; and thus augustly supported, the more understanding women acquire, the more they will be attached to their duty— comprehend- ing it— for unless they comprehend it, unless their morals be fixed on the same immutable principle as those of man, no authority can make them discharge it in a virtuous manner. They may be convenient slaves, but slavery will have its constant effect, degrading the master and the abject dependent. But if women are to be excluded, without having a voice, from a participation of the natural rights of mankind, prove first, to ward off the charge of injustice and inconsistency, that they want reason, else this flaw in your new consti- tution will ever show that man must, in some shape, act like a tyrant, and tyranny, in whatever part of society it rears its brazen front, will ever undermine morality. I have repeatedly asserted, and produced what appeared to me irrefragable arguments drawn from matters of fact to prove my assertion, that women cannot by force be confined to domestic concerns; for they will, however ignorant, intermeddle with more weighty affairs, neglecting private DEDICATION. XXIX f duties only to disturb, by cunning tricks, the orderly plans of reason which rise above their comprehension. ) Besides, whilst they are only made to acquire personal accomplishments, men will seek for pleasure in variety, and faithless husbands will make faithless wives ; such ignorant beings, indeed, will be very excusable when, not taught to respect public good, nor allowed any civil rights, they attempt to do themselves justice by retaliation. The box of mischief thus opened in society, what is to preserve private virtue, the only security of public freedom and universal happiness ? Let there be then no coercion established in society, and the common law of gravity prevailing, the sexes will fall into their proper places. And now that more equitable laws are forming your citizens, marriage may become more sacred ; your young men may choose wives from motives of affection, and your maidens allow love to root out vanity. The father of a family will not then weaken his constitution and debase his sentiments by visiting the harlot, nor forget, in obeying the call of appetite, the purpose for which it was implanted. And the mother will not neglect her children to practise the arts of coquetry, when sense and modesty secure her the friendship of her husband. But, till men become attentive to the duty of a father, it is vain to expect women to spend that time in their nursery which they, " wise in their generation," choose to spend at their glass ; for this exertion of cunning is only an instinct of nature to enable them to obtain indirectly a little of that power of which they are unjustly denied a share ; for, if \. women are not permitted to enjoy legitimate rights, they will \ render both men and themselves vicious to obiain illicit / privileges. *r"-"] rncvish, sir, to set some investigations of this kind afloat t xxx DEDICATION. in France; and should they lead to a confirmation of my i principles when your constitution is revised, the Rights of ^ Woman may be respected, if it be fully proved that reason , calls for this respect, and loudly demands justice for one- half of the human race. \ INTRODUCTION. I am, Sir, Yours respectfully, M. W. * AFTER considering the historic page, and viewing the living world with anxious solicitude, the most melancholy emotions of sorrowful indignation have depressed my spirits, and I have sighed when obliged to confess that either nature has made a great difference between man and man, or that the civilisation which has hitherto taken place in the world has been very partial. I have turned over various books written on the subject of education, and patiently observed the conduct of parents and the management of schools ; but what has been the result ? — a profound conviction that the neglected education of my fellow-creatures is the grand source of the misery I , depTore7~arid~that women, in particular, are rendered weak and wretched by a variety of concurring causes, originating from one hasty conclusion. The conduct and manners of women, in fact, evidently prove that their minds are not in a healthy state ; for, like the flowers which are planted in too rich a soil, strength and usefulness are sacrificed to beauty; and the flaunting leaves, after having pleased a fastidious eye, fade, disregarded on the stalk, long before the season when they ought to have arrived at maturity. One cause of this'barren blooming I attribute to a false system of_gdiicaiLQn, gathered from the books written on this sub- ject by men who, considering females rather as women than human creatures, have been more anxious to make them alluring" mistresses" than affectionate wives and rational mothers ; and the understanding of the sex has been so .. . . ... ■ — i - xxxii INTRODUCTION. bubbled by this specious homage, that the civilised women of the present century, with a few exceptions, are only! anxious to inspire love, when they ought to cherish a nobler 1 ambition, and by their abilities and virtues exact respect. In a treatise, therefore, on female rights and manners, the , works which have been particularly written for their im- provement must not be overlooked, especially when it is asserted, in direct terms, that the minds of women are enfeebled by false refinement ; that the books of instruction, written by men of genius, have had the same tendency as more frivolous productions ; and that, in the true style of Mahometanism, they are treated as a kind of subordinate beings, and not as a part of the human species, when im- provable reason is allowed to be the dignified distinction which raises men above the brute creation, and puts a natural sceptre in a feeble hand. Yet, because I am a woman, I would not lead my readeis to suppose that I mean violently to agitate the contested question respecting the quality or inferiority of the sex ; but as the subject lies in my way, and I cannot pass it over without subjecting the main tendency of my reasoning to misconstruction, I shall stop a moment to deliver, in a few- words, my opinion. In the government of the physical world it is observable that the female in point of strength is, in general, inferior to the male. This is the law of nature ; and it does not appear to be suspended or abrogated in favour of woman. A degree of physical superiority cannot, therefore, be denied, and it is a noble prerogative ! But not content with this natural pre-eminence, men endeavour to sink us still lower, merely to render us alluring objects for a moment ; and women, intoxicated by the adoration which men, under the influence of their senses, pay them, do not seek to obtain a durable interest in their hearts, or to become > & INTRODUCTION xxxiii the friends of the fellow-creatures who find amusement in their society. I am aware of an obvious inference. From every quarter have I heard exclamations against masculine women, but where are they to be found ? If by this appellation men mean to inveigh against their ardour in hunting, shooting, and gaming, I shall most cordially join in the cry ; but if it be against the imitation of manly virtues, or, more properly- speaking, the attainment of those talents and virtues, the exercise of which ennobles the human character, and which raises females in the scale of animal being, when they are comprehensively termed mankind, all those who view them with a philosophic eye must, I should think, wish with me, that they may every day grow more and more masculine. This discussion naturally divides the subject. I shall first consider women in the grand light of human creatures, who, in common with men, are placed on this earth to unfold their faculties ; and afterwards I shall more particularly point out their peculiar designation. I wish also to steer clear of an error which many respect- able writers have fallen into; for t he instruction wh ich .has hitherto been addressed to women, has rather been applic- able to ladies, if the little indirect advice that is scattered through " Sandford and Merton " be excepted ; but, address- ing my sex in a firmer tone, I pay particular attention to those .in the middle class, because they appear to be in the most natural state. Perhaps the seeds of false refinement, im- morality, and vanity, have ever been shed by the great. Weak, artificial beings, raised above the common wants and affections of their race, in a premature unnatural manner, undermine the very foundation of virtue, and spread cor- ruption through the whole mass of society ! As a class of niankind they have the strongest claim to pity ; the educa- XXXIV INTRODUCTION. •" tion of the rich tends to render them vain and helpless, and the unfolding mind is not strengthened by the practice of those duties which dignify the human character. They only live to amuse themselves, and by the same law which in nature invariably produces certain effects, they soon only affo rd barren amusement. But as I purpose taking a separate view of the different ranks of society, and of the moral character of women in each, this hint is for the present sufficient; and I have only alluded to the subject because it appears to me to be the very essence of an introduction to give a cursory account of the contents of the work it introduces. My own sex, I hope, will excuse me, if I treat them like rational creatures, instead of flattering their fascinating graces, and viewing them as if they were in a state of perpetual childhood, unable to stand alone. I earnestly wish to point out in what true dignity and human happiness consists. I wish to persuade women to endeavour to acquire strength, both of mind and body, and to convince them that the soft phrases, susceptibility, of heart, delicacy of sentiment, and refinement of taste, are almost synonymous with epithets of weakness, and that those beings who are only the objects of pity, and that kind of love which, has been termed its sister, will soon become objects of contempt. Dismissing, then, those pretty feminine phrases, which the men condescendingly use to soften our slavish dependence, d despising that weak elegancy of mind, exquisite sensi- bility, and sweet docility of manners, supposed to be the sexual characteristics of the weaker vessel, I wish to show that elegance is inferior to virtue,' that the first object of laudable ambition is to obtain a character as a human being, regardless of the distinction of sex, and that secondary views should be brought to this simple touchstone. > I INTRODUCTION. XXXV This is a rough sketch of my plan ; and should I express my conviction with the energetic emotions that I feel whenever I think of the subject, the dictates of experi- ence and reflection will be felt by some of my readers. Animated by this important object, I shall disdain to cull my phrases or polish my style. I aim at being useful, and sin- cerity will render me unaffected ; for, wishing rather to per- suade by the force of my arguments than dazzle by the elegance of .my language, I shall not waste my time in round- ing periods, or in fabricating the turgid bombast of artificial feelings, which, coming from the head, never reach the heart. I shall be employed about things, not words ! and, anxious to render my sex more respectable members of society, I shall try to avoid that flowery diction which has slided from essays into novels, and from novels into familiar letters and conversation. These pretty superlatives, dropping glibly from the tongue, vitiate the taste, and create a kind of sickly delicacy that turns away from simple unadorned truth ; and a deluge of false sentiments and overstretched feelings, stifling the natural emotions of the heart, render the domestic pleasures insipid, that ought to sweeten the exercise of those severe duties, which educate a rational and immortal being for a nobler field of action. The educa tion of wome ji.has of late been more attended to than formerly ; yet they are still reckoned a frivolous sex, and ridiculed or pitied by the writers who endeavour by satire or instruction to improve them. It is acknowledged that they spend many of the first years of their lives in acquiring a smattering of accomplishments ; meanwhile strength of body and mind are sacrificed to libertine notions of beauty, to the desire of establishing themselves— the only way women can rise in the world— by marriage. And this x.i.\vi INTRODUCTION. desire miking mere animals of them, when they marry they act as such children may be expected to act, — they dress, they paint, and nickname God's creatures. Surely these weak beings are only fit for a seraglio ! Can they be expected to govern a family with judgment, or take care of the poor babes whom they bring into the world ? If, then, it can be fairly deduced from the present conduct of the sex, from the prevalent fondness for pleasure which tikes place of ambition and those nobler passions that open /and enlarge the soul, that thejnstruetion which women have hithertoj^eceived has only tended, with the constitution of civil society, to render them insignificant objects _of desire — merejjropagators i_of_fool_s !— if it can be proved that in aiming to accomplish them, without cultivating their under- standings, they are taken out of their sphere of duties, and made ridiculous and useless when the shortlived bloom of beauty is over,* I presume that rational men will excuse me for endeavouring to persuade them to become more mas- (culine and respectable. Indeed the wordjnasculine_is^ only a_bugbear ; there is little reason to fear that women will acquire too much courage or fortitude, for their apparent inferiority with respect to bodily strength must render them in some degree dependent on men in the various relations of life ; but why should it be increased by prejudices that give a sex to virtue, and confound simple truths with sensual reveries? Women are, in fact, so much degraded by mistaken notions of female excellence, that I do not mean to add a paradox when I assert that this artificial weakness produces a propensity to tyrannise, and gives birth to cunning, the * A lively writer, I cannot recollect his name, asks what business women turned of forty have to do in the world ? it w INTRODUCTION. XXXVII I nat ural opponen tof strength, w hich leads them to play off those contemptible infantine airs that undermine esteem even whilst they excite desire. TeT men become more chaste and modest, and if women do not grow wiser in the same ratio, it will be clear that they have weaker under- standings. It seems scarcely necessary to say that I now speak of the sex in general. Many individuals have more sense than their male relatives ; and, as nothing preponder- ates where there is a constant struggle for an equilibrium without it has naturally more gravity, some women govern their husbands without degrading themselves, because intel- lect will always govern. o i t J VINDICATION RIGHTS OF WOMAN. S- j NOTE. > WHEN I began to write this work, I divided it into three parts, supposing that "one volume would con- tain a full discussion of the arguments which seemed to me to rise naturally from a few simple principles ; but fresh illustrations occurring as I advanced, I now present only the first part to the public. Many subjects, however, which I have cursorily alluded to, call for particular investigation, especially the laws re- lative to women, and the consideration of their peculiar duties. These will furnish ample matter for a second volume,* which in due time will be published, to elucidate some of the sentiments, and complete many of the sketches begun in the first. • The second volume never appeared. CHAPTER I. s» I ►e THE RIGHTS AND INVOLVED DUTIES OF MANKIND CONSIDERED. N the present state of society it appears necessary to go back to first principles in search of the most simple truths, and to dispute with some prevailing prejudice every inch of ground. To clear my way, I must be allowed to ask some plain questions, and the answers will probably appear as unequivocal as the axioms on which reasoning is built; though, when entangled with various motives of action, they are formally contradicted, either by the words or conduct of men. In what does man's pre-eminence over the brute creation consist ? The answer is as clear as that a half is less than the whole ; in Reason. What acquirement exalts one being above another? Virtue; we spontaneously reply. For what purpose were the passions implanted? That man by struggling with them might attain a degree of knowledge denied to the brutes ; whispers Experience. Consequently the perfection of our nature and capability of happiness, must be estimated by the degree of reason, virtue, and knowledge, that distinguish the individual, and direct the .laws which bind society : and that from the exercise of reason, knowledge and virtue naturally flow, is equally undeniable, if mankind be viewed collectively. The rights and duties of man thus simplified, it seems almost impertinent to attempt to illustrate truths that appear \ 4 VINDICATION OF THE so incontrovertible; yet such deeply rooted prejudices have clouded reason, and such spurious qualities have assumed the name of virtues, that it is necessary to pursue the course of reason as it has been perplexed and involved in error, by various adventitious circumstances, comparing the simple axiom with casual deviations. Men, in general, seem to employ their reason to justify prejudices, which they have imbibed, they can scarcely trace how, rather than to root them out. The mind must be strong that resolutely forms its own principles ; for a kind of intellectual cowardice prevails which makes many men shrink from the task, or only do it by halves. Yet the imperfect conclusions thus drawn, are frequently very plausible, because they are built on partial experience, on just, though narrow, views. Going back to first principles, vice skulks, with all its native deformity, from close investigation ; but a set of shallow reasoners are always exclaiming that these arguments prove too much, and that a measure rotten at the core may be expedient. Thus expediency is continually contrasted with simple principles, till truth is lost in a mist of words, virtue, in forms, and knowledge rendered a sounding nothing, by the specious prejudices that assume its name. That the society is formed in the wisest manner, whose constitution is founded on the nature of man, strikes, in the abstract, every thinking being so forcibly, that it looks like presumption to endeavour to bring forward proofs; though proof must be brought, or the strong hold of prescription will never be forced by reason ; yet to urge prescription as an argument to justify the depriving men (or women) of their natural frights, is one of the absurd sophisms which daily insult common-sense. The civilisation of the bulk of the people of Europe i I i> »-*- RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 5 very partial ; nay, it may be made a question, whether they have acquired any virtues in exchange for innocence, equi- valent to the misery produced by the vices that have been plastered over unsightly ignorance, and the freedom which has been bartered for splendid slavery. The desire of dazzling by riches, the most certain pre-eminence that man can obtain, the pleasure of commanding flattering syco- phants, and many other complicated low calculations of doting self-love, have all contributed to overwhelm the mass of mankind, and make liberty a convenient handle for mock patriotism. For whilst rank and titles are held of the utmost importance, before which Genius " must hide its diminished head," it is, with a few exceptions, very unfor- tunate for a nation when a man of abilities, without rank or property, pushes himself forward to notice. Alas! what unheard-of misery have thousands suffered to purchase a cardinal's hat for an intriguing obscure adventurer, who longed to be ranked with princes, or lord it over them by seizing the triple crown ! Such, indeed, has been the wretchedness that has flowed from hereditary honours, riches, and monarchy, that men of lively sensibility have almost uttered blasphemy in order to justify the dispensations of Providence. Man has been held out as independent of His power who made him, or as a lawless planet darting from its orbit to steal the celestial fire of reason ; and the vengeance of Heaven, lurking in the subtile flame, like Pandora's pent-up mischiefs, sufficiently punished his temerity, by introducing evil into the world. Impressed by this view of the misery and disorder which pervaded society, and fatigued with jostling against artificial fools, Rousseau became enamoured of solitude, and, being at the same time an optimist, he labours with uncommon eloquence to prove that man was naturally a solitary animal. \ 6 VINDICA TION OF THE Misled by his respect for the goodness of God, who cer- tainly — for what man of sense and feeling can doubt it ! — gave life only to communicate happiness, he considers evil as positive, and the work of man ; not aware that he was exalting one attribute at the expense of another, equally necessary to divine perfection. Reared on a false hypothesis, his arguments in favour of a state of nature are plausible, but unsound. I say unsound; for to assert that a state of nature is preferable to civilisation, in all its possible perfection, is, in other words, to arraign supreme wisdom ; and the paradoxical exclamation, that God has made all things right, and that error has been introduced by the creature, whom He formed, knowing what He formed, is as unphilosophical as impious. When that wise Being who created us and placed us here, saw the fair idea, He willed, by allowing it to be so, that the passions should unfold our reason, because He could see that present evil would produce future good. Could the helpless creature whom He called from nothing break loose from His providence, and boldly learn to know good by practising evil, without His permission? No. How could that energetic advocate for immortality argue so incon- sistently ? Had mankind remained for ever in the brutal state of nature, which even his magic pen cannot paint as a state in which a single virtue took root, it would have been clear, though not to the sensitive unreflecting wanderer, that man was born to run the circle of life and death, and adorn God's garden for some purpose which could not easily be reconciled with His attributes. But if, to crown the whole, there were to be rational creatures produced, allowed to rise in excellence by the exercise of powers implanted for that purpose ; if benignity itself thought fit to call into existence a creature above the V r RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 7 brutes,* who could think and improve himself, why should that inestimable gift, for a gift it was, if man was so created, as to have a capacity to rise above the state in which sensa- tion produced brutal ease, be called, in direct terms, a curse? A curse it might be reckoned, if the whole of our existence were bounded by our continuance in this world ; for why should the gracious fountain of life give us passions, and the power of reflecting, only to imbitter our days and inspire us with mistaken notions of dignity? Why should He lead us from love of ourselves to the sublime emotions which the discovery of His wisdom and goodness excites, if these feelings were not set in motion to improve our nature, of which they make a part.t and render us capable of enjoying a more godlike portion of happiness? Firmly persuaded that no evil exists in the world that God did not design to take place, I build my belief on the perfection of God. Rousseau exerts himself to prove that all was right * Contrary to the opinion of anatomists, who argue by analogy from the formation of the teeth, stomach, and intestines, Rousseau will not allow a man to be a carnivorous animal. And, carried away from nature by a love of system, he disputes whether man be a gregarious animal, though the long and helpless state of infancy seems to point him out as particularly impelled to pair, the first step towards herding. f What would you say to a mechanic whom you had desired to make a watch to point out the hour of the day, if, to show his ingenuity, he added wheels to make it a repeater, &c.,that perplexed the simple mechanism; should he urge— to excuse himself— had you not touched a certain spring, you would have known nothing of the matter, and that he should have amused himself by making an experiment without doing you any harm, would you not retort fairly upon him, by insisting that if he had not added those needless wheels and springs, the accident could not have happened ? r s VINDICATION OF THE & MIGHTS OF WOMAN. originally : a crowd of authors that all if now right : and I, that all will be right. But, true to his first position, next to a state of nature, Rousseau celebrates barbarism, and apostrophising the shade of Fabricius, he forgets that, in conquering the world, the Romans never dreamed of establishing their own liberty on a firm basis, or of extending the reign of virtue. Eager to support his system, he stigmatises, as vicious, every effort of genius ; and, uttering the apotheosis of savage virtues, he exalts those to demi-gods, who were scarcely human — the brutal Spartans, who, in defiance of justice and gratitude, sacrificed, in cold blood, the slaves who had shown them- selves heroes to rescue their oppressors. Disgusted with artificial manners and virtues, the citizen of Geneva, instead of properly sifting the subject, threw away the wheat with the chaff, without waiting to inquire whether the evils which his ardent soul turned from in- dignantly, were the consequence of civilisation or the vestiges of barbarism. He saw vice trampling on virtue, and the semblance of goodness taking the place of the reality ; he saw talents bent by power to sinister purposes, and never thought of tracing the gigantic mischief up to arbitrary power, up to the hereditary distinctions that clash with the mental superiority that naturally raises a man above his fellows. He did not perceive that regal power, in a few generations, introduces idiotism into the noble stem, and holds out baits to render thousands idle and vicious. Nothing can set the regal character in a more con- temptible point of view, than the various crimes that have elevated men to the supreme dignity. Vile intrigues, un- natural crimes, and every vice that degrades our nature, have been the steps to this distinguished eminence; yet millions of men have supinely allowed the nerveless limbs 1 : of the posterity of such rapacious prowlers to rest quietly on their ensanguined thrones.* What but a pestilential vapour can hover over society when its chief director is only instructed in the invention of crimes, or the stupid routine of childish ceremonies? Will men never be wise ? — will they never cease to expect corn from tares, and figs from thistles ? It is impossible for any man, when the most favourable circumstances concur, to acquire sufficient knowledge and strength of mind to discharge the duties of a king, entrusted with uncontrolled power ; how then must they be violated when his very elevation is an insuperable bar to the attain- ment of either wisdom or virtue, when all the feelings of a man are stifled by flattery, and reflection shut out by pleasure ! Sure it is madness to make the fate of thousands depend on the caprice of a weak fellow-creature, whose very station sinks him necessarily below the meanest of his subjects ! But one power should not be thrown down to exalt another — for all power inebriates weak man ; and its abuse proves that the more equality there is established among men, the more virtue and happiness will reign in society. But this and any similar maxim deduced from simple reason, raises an outcry — the Church or the State is in danger, if faith in the wisdom of antiquity is not im- plicit ; and they who, roused by the sight of human calamity, dare to attack human authority, are reviled as despisers of God, and enemies of man. These are bitter calumnies, yet they reached one of the best of menf, whose ashes still preach * Could there be a greater insult offered to the rights of man than the beds of justice in France, when an infant was made the organ of the detestable Dubois ? + Dr Price. 10 VINDICATION OF TFIE o peace, and whose memory demands a respectful pause, when subjects are discussed that lay so near his heart. After attacking the sacred majesty of kings, I shall scarcely excite surprise by adding my firm persuasion that every profession, in which great subordination of rank con- stitutes its power, is highly injurious to morality. A standing army, for instance, is incompatible with freedom ; because subordination and rigour are the very sinews of military discipline; and despotism is necessary to give vigour to enterprises that one will directs. A spirit inspired by romantic no tions of hnnnnr, n imp] n f moralit y fcjunded on the Lukion of the a^e, can only be felt by a few officers, whilst the main body must be moved by com- mand, like the waves of the seaj for the strong wind of authority pushes the crowd of subalterns forward, they scarcely know or care why, with headlong fury. ""Besides, nuilling'Tilm" be so prejudicial to the morals of the inhabitants of country towns as the occasional residence of a set of idle^super_ncial_young men, whose only occupa- tion is gallantry, and whose polished manners render vice more dangerous, by concealing its deformity under gay ornamental drapery. An air of fashion, which is but a badge of slavery, and proves that the soul has not a strong individual character, awes simple country people into an imitation of the vices, when they cannot catch the slippery graces, of politeness. Every corps is a chain of despots, who, submitting and tyrannising without exercising their reason, become dead-weights of vice and folly on the com- munity. A man of rank or fortune, sure of rising by interest, has nothing to do but to pursue some extravagant freak ; whilst the needy gentleman, who is to rise, as the phrase turns, by his merit, becomes a servile parasite or vile pander. Sailors, the naval gentlemen, come under the same f ^ R /GUTS OF WOMAN. n description, only their vices assume a different and a grosser cast. They are more positively indolent, when not dis- charging the ceremonials of their station ; whilst the insigni- ficant fluttering of soldiers may be termed active idleness. More confined to the society of men, the former acquire a fondness for humour and mischievous tricks ; whilst the latter, mixing frequently with well-bred women, catch a sentimental cant. But mind is equally out of the question, whether they indulge the horse-laugh, or polite simper. May I be allowed to extend the comparison to a pro- fession where more mind is certainly to be found, — for the clergy have superior opportunities of improvement, though subordination almost equally cramps their faculties ? The blind submission imposed at college to forms of belief serves as a novitiate to the curate, who must obsequiously respect the opinion of his rector or patron, if he mean to rise in his profession. Perhaps there cannot be a more forcible contrast than between the servile dependent gait of a poor curate and the courtly mien of a bishop. And the respect and contempt they inspire, render the discharge of their separate functions equally useless. It is of great importance to observe that the character of every man is, in some degree, formed by his profession. A man of sense may only have a cast of countenance that wears off as you trace his individuality, whilst the weak, common man has scarcely ever any character, but what belongs to the body ; at least, all his opinions have been so steeped in the vat consecrated by authority, that the faint spirit which the grape of his own vine yields, cannot be distinguished. Society, therefore, as it becomes more enlightened, should be very careful not to establish bodies of men who must necessarily be made foolish or vicious by the very constitu- tion of their profession. 1 2 VINDICA TION O F THE In the infancy of society, when men were just emerging out of barbarism, chiefs and priests, touching the most powerful springs of savage conduct, hope and fear, must have had unbounded sway. An aristrocracy, of course, is naturally the first form of government. But, clashing in- terests soon losing their equipoise, a monarchy and hierarchy break out of the confusion of ambitious struggles, and the foundation of both is secured by feudal tenures. This appears to be the origin of monarchical and priestly power, and the dawn of civilisation. But such combustible mate- rials cannot long be pent up; and, getting vent in foreign wars and intestine insurrections, the people acquire some power in the tumult, which obliges their rulers to gloss over their oppression with a show of right. Thus, as wars, agri- culture, commerce, and literature, expand the mind, despots are compelled to make covert corruption hold fast the power which was formerly snatched by open force.* And this baneful lurking gangrene is most quickly spread by luxury and superstition, the sure dregs of ambition. The indolent puppet of a court first becomes a luxurious monster, or fastidious sensualist, and then makes the contagion which his unnatural state spread, the instrument of tyranny. It is the pestiferous purple which renders the progress of civilisation a curse, and warps the understanding, till men of sensibility doubt whether the expansion of intellect pro- duces a greater portion of happiness or misery. But the nature of the poison points out the antidote ; and had Rousseau mounted one step higher in his investigation, or * Men of abilities scatter seeds that grow up and have a great influence on the forming opinion ; and when once the public opinion preponderates, through the exertion of reason, the overthrow of arbitrary power is not very distant. o RIGHTS OF WOMAN. '3 could his eye have pierced through the foggy atmosphere, which he almost disdained to breathe, his active mind would have darted forward to contemplate the perfection of man in the establishment of true civilisation, instead of taking his ferocious flight back to the night of sensual ignorance. i4 VINDICATION OF THE CHAPTER II. THE PREVAILING OPINION OF A SEXUAL CHARACTER DISCUSSED. TO account for, and excuse the tyranny of man, many ingenious arguments have been brought forward to prove, that the two sexes, in the acquirement of . virtue, ought to aim at attaining a very different character; or, to speak explicitly, women are not allowed to have sufficient strength of mind to acquire what really deserves the name of virtue. Yet it should seem, allowing them to have souls, that there is but one way appointed by Provi- dence to lead mankind to either virtue or happiness. If then women are not a swarm of ephemeron triflers, why should they be kept in ignorance under the specious name of innocence ? Men complain, and with reason, of the follies and caprices of our sex, when they do not keenly satirise our headstrong passions and grovelling vices. Be- hold, I should answer, the natural effect of ignorance ! The mind will ever be unstable that has only prejudices to rest on, and the current will run with destructive fury when there are no barriers to break its force. Women are told from their infancy, and taught by the example of their mothers, that a little knowledge of human weakness, justly termed cunning, softness of temper, outward obedience, and a scrupulous attention to a puerile kind of propriety, will obtain for them the protection of man ; and should they be beau- tiful, everything else is needless, for at least twentyyears' of their lives. O RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 15 I k ~t. Thus Milton describes our first frail mother ; though when he tells us that women are formed for softness and sweet attractive grace, I cannot comprehend his meaning, unless, in the true Mahometan strain, he meant to deprive us of souls, and insinuate that we were beings only designed by sweet attractive grace, and docile blind obedience, to gratify the senses of man when he can no longer soar on the wing of contemplation. How grossly do they insult us who thus advise us only to render ourselves gentle, domestic brutes ! For instance, the winning softness so warmly and frequently recommended, that governs by obeying. What childish expressions, and how insignificant is the being— can it be an immortal one?— who will condescend to govern by such sinister methods ? " Certainly," says Lord Bacon, " man is of kin to the beasts by his body ; and if he be not of kin to God by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature ! " Men, indeed, appear to me to act in a very unphilosophical manner, when they try- to secure the good conduct of women by attempting to keep \ them always in a state of childhood. Rousseau was more" v consistent when he wished to stop the progress of reason in both sexes, for if men eat of the tree of knowledge, women will come in for a taste ; but, from the imperfect cultivation which their understandings now receive, they only attain knowledge of evil. -Children, I grant, should be innocent; but when the epithet is applied to men, or women, it is but a civil term for weakness. For if it be allowed that women were destined by Providence to acquire human virtues, and, by the exercise of their understandings, that stability of character which is the firmest ground to rest our future hopes upon, they must be permitted to turn tr>-U\ iO acqu.n.--j;.*.k>_.. 1 nH not forced to s^cire regal homage which they receive is so J B i6 VINDICATION OF THE 4 satellite. Milton, I grant, was of a very different opinion ; for he only bends to the indefeasible right of beauty, though it would be difficult to render two passages which I now mean to contrast, consistent. But into similar inconsisten- cies are great men often led by thfjr senses : — "To whom thus Eve with perfect beauty adorn'd. My author and disposer, what thou bid'st Unargued I obey ; so God ordains ; God is thy law, thou mine : to know nd more Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise." These are exactly the arguments that I have used to children ; but I have added, your reason is now gaining strength, and, till it arrives at some degree of maturity, you must look up to me for advice, — then you ought to think, and only rely on God. Yet in the following lines Milton seems to coincide with me, when he makes Adam thus expostulate with his Maker :— " Hast Thou not made me here Thy substitute, And these inferior far beneath me set ? Among umquals what society Can sort, what harmony or true delight? Which must be mutual, in proportion due Given and received ; but in disparity The one intense, the other still remiss Cannot well suit with either, but soon prove Tedious alike : of fellowship I speak Such as I seek, fit to participate All rational delight " In treating therefore of the manners of women, let us, disregarding sensual arguments, trace what "we should •wda, everything else is rictla. order to co-operate, if the of their lives. "^mor EIGHTS OF WOMAN. i 17 By individual education, I mean, for the sense of the word is not precisely defined, such an attention to a child as will slowly sharpen the senses, form the temper, regulate the passions as they begin to ferment, and set the understanding to work before the body arrives at maturity ; so that the man may only have to proceed, not to begin, the important task of learning to think and reason. To prevent any misconstruction, I must add, that I do not believe that a private education can work the wonders which some sanguine writers have attributed to it. Men and women must be educated, in a great degree, by the opinions and manners of the society they live in. In every age there has been a stream of popular opinion that has carried all before it, and given a family character, as it were, to the century. It may then fairly be inferred, that, till society be differently. constituted, much cannot be expected from edu- cation. It is however, sufficient for my present purpose to assert that, whatever effect circumstances have on the abili-- ties, every being may become virtuous by the exercise of its own reason ; for if but one being was created with vicious inclinations, that is positively bad, what can save us from atheism ? or if we worship a God, is not that God a devil ? Consequently/the most perfect education, in my opinion, is such an exercise of the understanding as is best calculated ' to strengthen the body and form the heart. Or, in other words, to enable the individual to attain such habits of virtue as will render it independent. In fact, it is a farce to * call.any being virtuous whose virtues do not re sult fromtb^e exercise of its own reason. This was Rousseau's opinion respecting men; I extend it to women, and confidently awn- tW rhT» y fay a been drawn out of their sphere by false ^ refinement, and not by an endeavour to acquire masculine qualities. J Still the regal homage which they receive is so -* B M- ■»' ' ■ » ; iS VINDICATION OF THE intoxicating, that until the manners of the times are changed, and formed on more reasonable principles, it may be impos- sible to convince them that the illegitimate power which they obtain by degrading themselves is a curse, and that they must return to nature and equality if they wish to secure the placid satisfaction that unsophisticated affections impart. But for this epoch we must wait— wait perhaps till kings and nobles, enlightened by reason, and, preferring the real dignity of man to childish state, throw off their gaudy hereditary trappings ; and if then women do not resign the arbitrary power of beauty — they will prove that they have less mind than man. I may be accused of arrogance ; still I must declare what | \ I firmly believe, that all the writers who have written on the subject of female education and manners, from Rousseau to Dr Gregory, have contributed to render women more artifi- cial, weak characters, than they would otherwise have been ; and consequently, more useless members of society.f I l\ might have expressed this conviction in a lower key, but I am afraid it would have been the whine of affectation, and not the faithful expression of my feelings, of the clear result which experience and reflection have led me to draw. When I come to that division of the subject, I^hall advert to the "S passages that I morej)articulaHy__disappr ove of , in the works ' of tfielujthlirsThay e just allude d to ; but it is first necessary to observe that my objection extends to the whole purport of those books, which tend, in my opinion, to degrade one- half of the human species, and render women pleasing at the expense of every solid virtue. Though, to reason on Rousseau's ground, if man did attain a degree of perfection of mind when his body arrived at maturity, it might be proper, in order to make a man and his wife one, that she should rely entirely on his under- / RIGHTS OF WOMAN. '9 4* standing; and the graceful ivy, clasping the oak that sup- ported it, would form a whole in which strength and beauty would be equally conspicuous. But, alas ! husbands, as well as their helpmates, are often only overgrown children, — nay, thanks to early debauchery, scarcely men in their outward form, — and if the blind lead the blind, one need not come from heaven to tell us the consequence. Many are the causes that, in the present corrupt state of society, contribute to enslave women by cramping their un- derstandings and sharpening their senses. One, perhaps, that silently does more mischief than all the rest, is their disregard of order. To do everything in an orderly manner is a most im- portant precept, which women, who, generally speaking, receive only a disorderly kind of education, seldom attend to with that degree of exactness that men, who from their infancy are broken into method, observe. This negligent kind of guesswork — for what other epithet can be used to point out the random exertions of a sort of instinctive common-sense never brought to the test of reason ? — pre- vents their generalising matters of fact ; so they do to-day what they did yesterday, merely because they did it yes- terday. This contempt of the understanding in early life has more baneful consequences than is commonly supposed ; for the little knowledge which women of strong minds attain is, from various circumstances, of a more desultory kind than the knowledge of men, and it is acquired more by sheer observations on real life than from comparing what has been individually observed with the results of experience gene- ralised by speculation. Led by their dependent situation and domestic employments more into society, what they learn is rather by snatches ; and as learning is with them in general L 20 VINDICATION OF THE only a secondary thing, they do not pursue any one branch with that persevering ardour necessary to give vigour to the I faculties and clearness to the judgment. In the present 1 state of society a little learning is required to support the 1 character of a gentleman, and boys are obliged to submit to la few years of discipline. But i n the educ ation of women, the cultivation of the understanding is always subordinate to ^the acquirement of some corporeal accomplishment. Even while enervated by confinement and false notions of modesty, the body is prevented from attaining that grace /■ and beauty which relaxed half-formed limbs never exhibit. / Besides, in youth their faculties are not brought forward by ( emulation ; and having no serious scientific study, if they have natural sagacity, it is turned too soon on life and manners. They dwell on effects and modifications, without • tracing them back, to causes ; and complicated rules to ^ adjust behaviour are a weak substitute for simple principles. ^> f As a proof that education gives this appearance of weak- ' ness to females, we may instance the example of military ; men, who are, like them, sent into the world before their minds have been stored with knowledge, or fortified by principles. The consequences are similar ; soldiers acquire a little superficial knowledge, snatched from the muddy current of conversation, and from continually mixing with society, they gain what is termed a knowledge of the world ; and this acquaintance with manners and customs has fre- quently been confounded with a knowledge of the human heart. But can the crude fruit of casual observation, never brought to the test of judgment, formed by comparing speculation and experience, deserve such a distinction? Soldiers, as well as women, practise the minor virtues with punctilious politeness. Where is then the sexual difference, when the education has been the same ? All the difference <> RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 21 % that I can discern arises from the superior advantage of liberty which enables the former to see more of life. It is wandering from my present subject, perhaps, to make a political remark ; but as it was produced naturally by the train of my reflections, I shall not pass it silently over. Standing armies can never consist of resolute robust men; they may be well-disciplined machines, but they will seldom contain men under the influence of strong passions, or with very vigorous faculties ; and as for any depth of under- standing, I will venture to affirm that it is as rarely to be found in the army as amongst women. And the cause, I maintain, is the same. It may be further observed that officers are also particularly attentive to their persons, fond of dancing, crowded rooms, adventures, and ridicule.* Like the fair sex, the business of their lives is gallantry ; they were taught to please, and they only live to please. Yet they do not lose their rank in the distinction of sexes, for they are still reckoned superior to women, though in what their superiority consists, beyond what I have just men- tioned, it is difficult to discover. The great misfortune is this, that they both acquire manners before morals, and a knowledge of life before they have from reflection any acquaintance with the grand ideal out- line of human nature. The consequence is natural. Satisfied with common nature, they become a prey to prejudices, and taking all their opinions on credit, they blindly submit to authority. So that if they have any sense, it is a kind of in- * Why should women be censured with petulant acrimony because they seem to have a passion for a scarlet coat ? Has not education placed them more on a level with soldiers than any other class of men? 22 VINDICATION OF THE stinctive glance that catches proportions, and decides with respect to manners, but fails when arguments are to be pur- sued below the surface, or opinions analysed. May not the same remark be applied to women? Nay, the argument may be carried still further, for they are both thrown out of a useful station by the unnatural distinctions established in civilised life. Riches and hereditary honours have made cyphers of women to give consequence to the numerical figure ; and idleness has produced a mixture of gallantry and despotism into society, which leads the very men who are the slaves of their mistresses to tyrannise over their sisters, wives, and daughters. This is only keeping them in rank and file, it is true. Strengthen the female mind by enlarging it, and there will be an end to blind obedience; but as blind obedience is ever sought for by power, tyrants and sensualists are in the right when they endeavour to keep women in the dark, because the former only want slaves, and the latter a plaything. The sensualist, indeed, has been the most dangerous of tyrants, and women have been duped by their lovers, as princes by their minis- ters, whilst dreaming that they reigned over them, i I now principally allude to Rousseau, for his character of > Sophia is undoubtedly a captivating one, though it appears to me grossly unnatural. However, it is not the super- structure, but the foundation of her character, the principles ) on which her educatio n was built, that I mean to attack ; nay, warmly as I admire the genius of that able writer, whose opinions I shall often have occasion to cite, indignation always takes place of admiration, and the rigid frown of insulted virtue effaces the smile of complacency which his eloquent periods are wont to raise when I read his voluptuous reveries. Is this the man who, in his ardour for virtue, would banish all the soft arts of peace, and almost carry us RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 2 3 fc back to Spartan discipline? Is this the man who delights to paint the useful struggles of passion, the triumphs of good dispositions, and the heroic flights which carry the glowing soul out of itself? How are these mighty sentiments lowered when he describes the pretty foot and enticing airs of his little favourite ! But for the present I waive the subject, and instead of severely reprehending the transient effusions of overweening sensibility, I shall only observe that whoever has cast a benevolent eye on society must often have been gratified by the sight of humble mutual love not dignified by sentiment, or strengthened by a union in intellectual pursuits. The domestic trifles of the day have afforded matters for cheerful converse, and innocent caresses have softened toils which did not require great exercise of mind or stretch of thought ; yet has not the sight of this moderate felicity excited more tendernsss than respect? — an emotion similar to what we feel when children are playing, or animals sport- ing ; * whilst the contemplation of the noble struggles of suffering merit has raised admiration, and carried our thoughts to that world where sensation will give place to reason. Women are therefore to be considered either as moral beings, or so weak that they must be entirely subjected to the superior faculties of men. * Similar feelings has Milton's pleasing picture of paradisiacal happi- ness ever raised in my mind ; yet, instead of envying the lovely pair, I have with conscious dignity or satanic pride turned to hell for sublimer objects. In the same style, when viewing some noble monument of human art, I have traced the emanation of the Deity in the order I admired, till, descending from that giddy height, I have caught myself contemplating the grandest of all human sights ; for fancy quickly placed in some solitary recess an outcast of fortune, rising superior to passion and discontent. 24 VI N DIC A TIOX OF THE ^^ Let us examine this question. Rousseau declares that a woman should never for a moment feel herself independen t. hat she should be governed by fear to exercise her natural cunning, and made a coquettish slave in order to render her a more alluring object of desire, a sweeter companion to iftan, whenever he chooses to relax himself. He carries the arguments, which he pretends to draw from the indications of nature, still further, and insinuates that truth and forti- tude, the corner-stones of all human virtue, should be culti- vated with certain restrictions, because, w ith respect to the female character, obedience is the, grand Lesson which ought to be impressed with unrelenting rigour. What nonsense ! When will a great man arise with suffi- cient strength of mind to puff away the fumes which pride and sensuality have thus spread over the subject? If women are by nature inferior to men, their virtues must be the same in quality, if not in degree, or virtue is a relative idea; consequently, their conduct should be founded on the same principles, and have the same aim. Connected with man as daughters, wives, and mothers, their moral character may be estimated by their manner of fulfilling those simple duties ; but the end, the grand end, of their exertions should be to unfold their own faculties, and acquire the dignity of conscious virtue. They may try to render their road pleasant; but ought never to forget, in common with man, that life yields not the felicity which can atisfy an immortal soul. I do not mean to insinuate that either sex should be so lost in abstract reflections or distant views as to forget the affections and duties that lie before them, and are, in truth, the means appointed to produce the fruit of life ; on the contrary, I would warmly recom- mend them, even while I assert, that they afford most satis- ction when they are considered in their true sober light. RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 25 Probably the prevailing opinion, that woman was Created for man, may have taken its rise from Moses' poetical story ; yet as very few, it is presumed, who have bestowed any serious thought on the subject ever supposed that Eve was, literally- speaking, one of Adam's ribs, the deduction must be allowed to fall to the ground, or only be so far admitted as it proves that man, from the remotest antiquity, found it convenient to exert his strength to subjugate his companion, and his invention to show that she ought to have her neck bent under the yoke, because the whole creation was only created for his V convenience or pleasure. x Let it not be concluded that I wish to invert the order of things. I have already granted that, from the constitution - of their bodies, men seemed to be designed by Providence to attain a greater degree of virtue. I speak collectively of the whole sex ; but I see not the shadow of a reason to conclude that their virtues should differ in respect to their nature. In fact, how can they, if virtue has only one eternal standard ? I must therefore, if I reason consequentially, as strenuously maintain that they have the same simple direc- tion as that there is a God. £ It follows then that cunning should not be opposed to wisdom, little cares to gTeat exertions, or insipid softness, varnished over with the name of gentleness, to that fortitude which grand views alone can inspire. I shall be told that woman would then lose many of her peculiar graces, and the opinion of a well-known poet might be quoted to refute my unqualified assertion. For Pope has said, iu the name of the whole male sex : — " Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create, As when she touch'd the brink of all we hate." > In what light this sally places men and women I shall 26 VINDICA TION OF THE leave to the judicious to determine. Meanwhile, I shall content myself with observing, that I cannot discover why, unless they are mortal, females should always be degraded by being made subservient to love or lust. To speak disrespectfully of love is, I know, high treason against sentiment and fine feelings ; but I wish to speak the simple language of truth, and rather to address the head than the heart. To endeavour to reason love out of the world would be to out-Quixote Cervantes, and equally offend against common-sense; but an endeavour to restrain this tumultuous passion, and to prove that it should not be allowed to dethrone superior powers, or to usurp the sceptre which the understanding should ever coolly wield, appears less wild. Youth is the season for love in both sexes ; but in those days of thoughtless enjoyment provision should be made for the more important years of life, when reflection takes place of sensation. But Rousseau, and most of the male writers who have followed his steps, have warmly inculcated that the whole tendency of female education ought to be directed _to_pne point — to render them pleasing. Let me reason with the supporters of this opinion who have any knowledge of human nature. Do they imagine that marriage can eradicate the habitude of life? The woman who has only been taught to please will soon find that her charms are oblique sunbeams, and that they cannot have much effect on her husband's heart when they are seen every day, when the summer is passed and gone. Will she then have sufficient native energy to look into herself for comfort, and cultivate her dormant faculties? or is it not more rational to expect that she will try to please other men, and, in the emotions raised by the expectation of new conquests, endeavour to forget the mortification her RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 27 love or pride has received ? When the husband ceases to be a lover, and the time will inevitably come, her desire of pleasing will then grow languid, or become a spring of bitterness; and love, perhaps, the most evanescent ol all passions, gives place to jealousy or vanity. I now speak of women who are restrained by principle or prejudice. Such women, though they would shrink from an intrigue with real abhorrence, yet, nevertheless, wish to be convinced by the homage of gallantry that they are cruelly neglected by their husbands ; or, days and weeks are spent in dreaming of the happiness enjoyed by congenial souls till their health is undermined and their spirits broken by discontent. How then can the great art of pleasing be such a necessary study ? it is only useful to a mistress. The chaste wife and serious mother should only consider her power to please as the polish of her virtues, and the affection of her husband as one of the comforts that render her task less difficult, and her life happier. But, whether she be loved or neglected, her first wish should be to make herself respectable, and not to rely for all her happiness on a being subject to like infirmities with herself. v — The worthy DrGiegory fell into a similar error. I respect his heart, but entirely disapprove of his celebrated " Legacy to his Daughters." , He advises them to cultivate_ajbndness for dress, because a fondness for dress, he asserts, is natural to them. I am u^SBlitoMmprehend'^hareiffieniror Rousseau mean when they frequently use this indefinite term. If they told us that in a pre-existent state the soul was fond of dress, and brought this inclination with it into a new body, I should listen to them with a half-smile, as I often do when I hear a rant about innate elegance. But if he only meant to say- that the exercise of the faculties will produce this fondness, . 28 VINDICATION OF THE y MGHTS OF WOMAN. 29 I deny it. It is not natural ; but arises, like false ambition in men, from a love of power. Dr Gregory goes much further ; he actually recommends dissimulation, and advises an innocent girl to give the lie to her feelings, and not dance with spirit, when gaiety of heart would make her feet eloquent without making her gestures immodest. In the name of truth and common-sense, why should not one woman acknowledge that she can take more exercise than another? or, in other words, that she has a sound constitution ; and why, to damp innocent vivacity, is she darkly to be told that men will draw conclusions which she little thinks of? Let the libertine draw what inference he pleases ; but, I hope, that no sensible mother will restrain the natural frankness of youth by instilling such indecent cautions. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh ; and a wiser than Solomon hath said that the heart should be made clean, and not trivial ceremonies observed, which it is not very difficult to fulfil with scrupu- lous exactness when vice reigns in the heart. Women ought to endeavour to purify their heart; but can they do so when their uncultivated understandings make them entirely dependent on their senses for employ- ment and amusement, when no noble pursuits sets them, above the little vanities of the day, or enables them to curb the wild emotions that agitate a reed, over which every passing breeze has power ? To gain the affections of a virtuous man, is affection necessary ? Nature has given woman a weaker frame than man; but, to ensure her husband's affections, must a wife, who, by the exercise of her mind and body whilst she was discharging the duties of a daughter, wife, and mother, has allowed her constitution to retain its natural strength, and her nerves a healthy tone, — is she, I say, to condescend to use art, and feign a sickly delicacy, in order * to secure her husband's affection? Weakness may_£xcile tenderness, and gratify the arrogant pride of man ; but the lordly caresses of a protector will not gratify a noble mind that pants for and deserves to be respected^ Fondness is a poor substitute for friendship ! ^TfTa seragTfo, T grant, that all these arts are necessary; the epicure must have his palate tickled, or he will sink into apathv ; but have women so little ambition as to be satisfied with such a condition? Can they supinely dream life away in the lap of pleasure, or the languor of weariness, rather than assert their claim to pursue reasonable pleasures, and render themselves conspicuous by practising the virtues which dignify mankind? Surely she has not an immortal soul who can loiter life away merely employed to adorn her person, that she may amuse the languid hours, and soften the cares of a fellow-creature who is willing to be enlivened by her smiles and tricks, when the serious business of life is over. Besides, the woman who strengthens her body and exer- cises her mind will, by managing her family and practising various virtues, become the friend, and not the humble, dependent of her husband ; and if she, by possessing such substantial qualities, merit his regard, she will not find it necessary to conceal her affection, nor to pretend to an unnatural coldness of constitution to excite her husband's passions. In fact, if we revert to history, we shall find that the women who have distinguished themselves have neither been the most beautiful nor the most gentle of their sex. Nature, or, to speak with strict propriety, God, has made all things right ; but man has sought him out many inven- tions to mar the work. I now allude to that part of Dr Gregory's treatise, where he advises a wife never to let her husband know the extent of her sensibility or_ affection. 3° VINDICATION OF THE Voluptuous precaution, and as ineffectual as absurd. Love, from its very nature, must be transitory. To seek for a secret that would render it constant, would be as wild a search as for the philosopher's stone, or the grand panacea ; and the discovery would be equally useless, or rather perni- cious, to mankind. The most holy band of society is friend- ship. It has been well said, by a shrewd satirist, " that rare as true love is, true friendship is still rarer." This is an obvious truth, and, the cause not lying deep, will not elude a slight glance of inquiry. Love, the common passion, in which chance and sensa- tion take place of choice and reason, is, in some degree, felt by the mass of mankind; for it is not necessary to speak, at present, of the emotions that rise above or sink below love.^ This passion, naturally increased by suspense and difficulties, draws the mind out of its accustomed state, and exalts the affections ; but the security of marriage! allowing the fever of love to subside, a healthy temperature is thought insipid only by those who have not sufficient intellect to substitute the calm tenderness of friendship, the confidence of respect, instead of blind admiration, and Che sensual emotions of fondness. This is, must be, the course of nature. Friendship or indifference inevitably succeeds love. And this constitution seems perfectly to harmonise with the system of government which prevails in the moral world. Passions are spurs to action, and open the mind; but they sink into mere appe- tites, become a personal and momentary gratification when the object is gained, and the satisfied mind rests in enjoy- ment The man who had some virtue whilst he was struggling for a crown, often becomes a voluptuous tyrant when it graces his brow ; and, when the lover is not lost in the husband, the dotard, a prey to childish caprices and fond r RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 31 1 jealousies, neglects the serious duties of life, and the caresses which should excite confidence in his children are lavished on the overgrown child, his wife. In order. to fulfil the duties of life, and to be able to pursue with vigour the various employments which form the moral character, a master and mistress of a family ought not to continue to love each other with passion. I mean to say that they ought not to indulge those emotions which disturb the order of society, and engross the thoughts that should be otherwise employed. The mind that has never been engrossed by one object wants vigour— if it can long be so, it is weak. A mistaken education, a narrow uncultivated mind, and many sexual prejudices, tend" to make women more con- stant than men ; but, for the present, I shall not touch op_J this" branch of the subject. I will go still further, and advance, without dreaming of a paradox, that an unhappy marriage is often very advantageous to a family, and that the neglected wife is, in general, the best mother. And this would almost always be the consequence if the female mind were more enlarged ; for, it seems to be the common dis- pensation of Providence, that what we gain in present enjoyment should be deducted from the treasure of life, experience ; and that when, we are gathering the flowers of the day, and revelling in pleasure, the solid fruit of toil and wisdom should not be caught at the same time. The way lies before us, we must turn to the right or left ; and he who will pass life away in bounding from one pleasure to another, must not complain if he acquire neither wisdom nor respectability of character. Supposing, for a moment, that the soul is not immortal, and that man was only created for the present scene,— I think we should have reason to complain that love, infantine 32 VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 33 fondness, ever grew insipid and palled upon the sense. Let us eat, drink, and love, for to-morrow we die, would be, in fact, the language of reason, the morality of life ; and who but a fool would part with a reality for a fleeting shadow? But, if awed by observing the improbable powers of the mind, we disdain to confine our wishes or thoughts to such a comparatively mean field of action, that only appears grand and important, as it is connected with a boundless prospect and sublime hopes, what necessity is there for falsehood in conduct, and why must the sacred majesty of truth be violated to detain a deceitful good that saps the very foundation of virtue? Why must the female mind be tainted by coquettish arts to gratify the sensualist, and prevent love from subsiding into friendship, or com- passionate tenderness, when there are not qualities on which friendship can be built ? Let the honest heart show itself, and reason teach passion to submit to necessity ; or, let the dignified pursuit of virtue and knowledge raise the mind above those emotions which rather embitter than sweeten the cup of life, when they are not restrained within due bounds. I do not mean to allude to the romantic passion, which is the concomitant of genius. Who can clip its wing? But that grand passion not proportioned to the puny enjoy- ments of life, is only true to the sentiment, and feeds on itself.. The passions which have been celebrated for their durability have always been unfortunate. They have ac- quired strength by absence and constitutional melancholy. The fancy has hovered round a form of beauty dimly seen ; but familiarity might have turned admiration into disgust, or, at least, into indifference, and allowed the imagination leisure to start fresh game. With perfect propriety, accord- ing to this view'of things, does Rousseau make the mistress V \ of his soul, Eloifa, love St Preux, when life was fading before her; but this is no proof of the immortality of the passion. Of the same complexion is Dr Gregory's advice respecting delicacy of sentiment, which he advises a woman not to acquire, if she have determined to marry. This deter- mination, however, perfectly consistent with his former advice, he calls indelicate, and earnestly persuades his daughters to conceal it, though it may govern their conduct, as if it were indelicate to have the common appetites of human nature. Noble morality! and consistent with the cautious prud- ence of a little soul that cannot extend its views beyond the present minute division of existence. If all the faculties of woman's mind are only to be cultivated as they respect her dependence on man ; if, when a husband be obtained, she have arrived at her goal, and meanly proud, rests satisfied with such a paltry crown, let her grovel contentedly, scarcely raised by her employments above the animal kingdom ; but, if struggling for the prize of her high calling, she look beyond the present scene, let her cultivate her understanding without stopping to consider what character the husband may have whom she is destined to marry. Let her only determine, without being too anxious about present happi- ness, to acquire the qualities that ennoble a rational being, and a rough inelegant husband may shock her taste without destroying her peace of mind. She will not model her soul to suit the frailties of her companion, but to bear with them ; his character may be a trial, but not an impediment to virtue. If Dr Gregory confined his remark to romantic expecta- tions of constant love and congenial feelings, he should have recollected that experience will banish what advice can never make us cease to wish for, when the imagination is kept alive at the expense of reason. 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