INTRODUCTION.

It is with the utmoſt diffidence that the following pages are ſubmitted to the inſpection of the Public: yet, however the limited abilities of the author may have prevented her from ſucceeding to her wiſh in the execution of her preſent attempt, ſhe humbly truſts that the uprightneſs of her intention will procure it a candid and favourable reception. The following little Eſſays are chiefly calculated for the younger part of her own ſex, who, ſhe flatters herſelf, will not eſteem them the leſs, becauſe they were written immediately for their ſervice. She by no means pretends to have compoſed a regular ſyſtem of morals, or a finiſhed plan of conduct: ſhe has only endeavoured to make a few remarks on ſuch circumſtances as ſeemed to her ſuſceptible of ſome improvement, and on ſuch ſubjects as ſhe imagined were particularly intereſting to young ladies, on their firſt introduction into the world. She hopes they will not be offended if ſhe has occaſionally pointed out certain qualities, and ſuggeſted certain tempers, and diſpoſitions, as peculiarly feminine, and hazarded ſome obſervations which naturally aroſe from the ſubject, on the different characters which mark the ſexes. And here again ſhe takes the liberty to repeat that theſe diſtinctions cannot be too nicely maintained; for beſides thoſe important qualities common to both, each ſex has its reſpective, appropriated qualifications, which would ceaſe to be meritorious, the inſtant they ceaſed to be appropriated. Nature, propriety, and cuſtom have preſcribed certain bounds to each; bounds which the prudent and the candid will never attempt to break down; and indeed it would be highly impolitic to annihilate diſtinctions from which each acquires excellence, and to attempt innovations, by which both would be loſers.

Women therefore never underſtand their own intereſts ſo little, as when they affect thoſe qualities and accompliſhments, from the want of which they derive their higheſt merit. "The porcelain clay of human kind," ſays an admired writer, ſpeaking of the ſex. Greater delicacy evidently implies greater fragility; and this weakneſs, natural and moral, clearly points out the neceſſity of a ſuperior degree of caution, retirement, and reſerve.

If the author may be allowed to keep up the alluſion of the poet, juſt quoted, ſhe would aſk if we do not put the fineſt vaſes, and the coſtlieſt images in places of the greateſt ſecurity, and moſt remote from any probability of accident, or deſtruction? By being ſo ſituated, they find their protection in their weakneſs, and their ſafety in their delicacy. This metaphor is far from being uſed with a deſign of placing young ladies in a trivial, unimportant light; it is only introduced to inſinuate, that where there is more beauty, and more weakneſs, there ſhould be greater circumſpection, and ſuperior prudence.

Men, on the contrary, are formed for the more public exhibitions on the great theatre of human life. Like the ſtronger and more ſubſtantial wares, they derive no injury, and loſe no poliſh by being always expoſed, and engaged in the conſtant commerce of the world. It is their proper element, where they reſpire their natural air, and exert their nobleſt powers, in ſituations which call them into action. They were intended by Providence for the buſtling ſcenes of life; to appear terrible in arms, uſeful in commerce, ſhining in counſels.

The Author fears it will be hazarding a very bold remark, in the opinion of many ladies, when ſhe adds, that the female mind, in general, does not appear capable of attaining ſo high a degree of perfection in ſcience as the male. Yet ſhe hopes to be forgiven when ſhe obſerves alſo, that as it does not ſeem to derive the chief portion of its excellence from extraordinary abilities of this kind, it is not at all leſſened by the imputation of not poſſeſſing them. It is readily allowed, that the ſex have lively imaginations, and thoſe exquiſite perceptions of the beautiful and defective, which come under the denomination of Taſte. But pretenſions to that ſtrength of intellect, which is requiſite to penetrate into the abſtruſer walks of literature, it is preſumed they will readily relinquiſh. There are green paſtures, and pleaſant vallies, where they may wander with ſafety to themſelves, and delight to others. They may cultivate the roſes of imagination, and the valuable fruits of morals and criticiſm; but the steepſ of Parnaſſus few, comparatively, have attempted to ſcale with ſucceſs. And when it is conſidered, that many languages, and many ſciences, muſt contribute to the perfection of poetical compoſition, it will appear leſs ſtrange. The lofty Epic, the pointed Satire, and the more daring and ſucceſsful flights of the Tragic Muſe, ſeem reſerved for the bold adventurers of the other ſex.

Nor does this aſſertion, it is apprehended, at all injure the intereſts of the women; they have other pretenſions, on which to value themſelves, and other qualities much better calculated to anſwer their particular purpoſes. We are enamoured of the ſoft ſtrains of the Sicilian and the Mantuan Muſe, while, to the ſweet notes of the paſtoral reed, they ſing the Contentions of the Shepherds, the Bleſſings of Love, or the innocent Delights of rural Life. Has it ever been aſcribed to them as a defect, that their Eclogues do not treat of active ſcenes, of buſy cities, and of waſting war? No: their ſimplicity is their perfection, and they are only blamed when they have too little of it.

On the other hand, the lofty bards who ſtrung their bolder harps to higher meaſures, and ſung the Wrath of Peleus' Son, and Man's firſt Diſobedience, have never been cenſured for want of ſweetneſs and refinement. The ſublime, the nervous, and the maſculine, characteriſe their compoſitions; as the beautiful, the ſoft, and the delicate, mark thoſe of the others. Grandeur, dignity, and force, diſtinguiſh the one ſpecies; eaſe, ſimplicity, and purity, the other. Both ſhine from their native, diſtinct, unborrowed merits, not from thoſe which are foreign, adventitious, and unnatural. Yet thoſe excellencies, which make up the eſſential and conſtituent parts of poetry, they have in common.

Women have generally quicker perceptions; men have juſter ſentiments.—Women conſider how things may be prettily ſaid; men how they may be properly ſaid.—In women, (young ones at leaſt) ſpeaking accompanies, and ſometimes precedes reflection; in men, reflection is the antecedent.—Women ſpeak to ſhine or to pleaſe; men, to convince or confute.—Women admire what is brilliant; men what is ſolid.—Women prefer an extemporaneous ſally of wit, or a ſparkling effuſion of fancy, before the moſt accurate reaſoning, or the moſt laborious inveſtigation of facts. In literary compoſition, women are pleaſed with point, turn, and antitheſis; men with obſervation, and a juſt deduction of effects from their cauſes.—Women are fond of incident, men of argument.—Women admire paſſionately, men approve cautiouſly.—One ſex will think it betrays a want of feeling to be moderate in their applauſe, the other will be afraid of expoſing a want of judgment by being in raptures with any thing.—Men refuſe to give way to the emotions they actually feel, while women ſometimes affect to be tranſported beyond what the occaſion will juſtify.

As a farther confirmation of what has been advanced on the different bent of the underſtanding in the ſexes, it may be obſerved, that we have heard of many female wits, but never of one female logician—of many admirable writers of memoirs, but never of one chronologer.—In the boundleſs and aërial regions of romance, and in that faſhionable ſpecies of compoſition which ſucceeded it, and which carries a nearer approximation to the manners of the world, the women cannot be excelled: this imaginary ſoil they have a peculiar talent for cultivating, becauſe here,

The merit of this kind of writing conſiſts in the vraiſemblance to real life as to the events themſelves, with a certain elevation in the narrative, which places them, if not above what is natural, yet above what is common. It farther conſiſts in the art of intereſting the tender feelings by a pathetic repreſentation of thoſe minute, endearing, domeſtic circumſtances, which take captive the ſoul before it has time to ſhield itſelf with the armour of reflection. To amuſe, rather than to inſtruct, or to inſtruct indirectly by ſhort inferences, drawn from a long concatenation of circumſtances, is at once the buſineſs of this ſort of compoſition, and one of the characteriſtics of female genius[1].

In ſhort, it appears that the mind in each ſex has ſome natural kind of bias, which conſtitutes a diſtinction of character, and that the happineſs of both depends, in a great meaſure, on the preſervation and obſervance of this diſtinction. For where would be the ſuperior pleaſure and ſatiſfaction reſulting from mixed converſation, if this difference were aboliſhed? If the qualities of both were invariably and exactly the ſame, no benefit or entertainment would ariſe from the tedious and inſipid uniformity of ſuch an intercourſe; whereas conſiderable advantages are reaped from a ſelect ſociety of both ſexes. The rough angles and aſperities of male manners are imperceptibly filed, and gradually worn ſmooth, by the poliſhing of female converſation, and the refining of female taſte; while the ideas of women acquire ſtrength and ſolidity, by their aſſociating with ſenſible, intelligent, and judicious men.

On the whole, (even if fame be the object of purſuit) is it not better to ſucceed as women, than to fail as men? To ſhine, by walking honourably in the road which nature, cuſtom, and education ſeem to have marked out, rather than to counteract them all, by moving awkwardly in a path diametrically oppoſite? To be good originals, rather than bad imitators? In a word, to be excellent women, rather than indifferent men?

ON
DISSIPATION.

As an argument in favour of modern manners, it has been pleaded, that the softer vices of Luxury and Diſſipation, belong rather to gentle and yielding tempers, than to such as are rugged and ferocious: that they are vices which increaſe civilization, and tend to promote refinement, and the cultivation of humanity.

But this is an aſſertion, the truth of which the experience of all ages contradicts. Nero was not leſs a tyrant for being a fiddler: He[2] who wiſhed the whole Roman people had but one neck, that he might diſpatch them at a blow, was himſelf the moſt debauched man in Rome; and Sydney and Ruſſel were condemned to bleed under the moſt barbarous, though moſt diſſipated and voluptuous, reign that ever diſgraced the annals of Britain.

The love of diſſipation is, I believe, allowed to be the reigning evil of the preſent day. It is an evil which many content themſelves with regretting, without ſeeking to redreſs. A diſſipated life is cenſured in the very act of diſſipation, and prodigality of time is as gravely declaimed againſt at the card table, as in the pulpit.

The lover of dancing cenſures the amuſements of the theatre for their dulneſs, and the gameſter blames them both for their levity. She, whoſe whole ſoul is ſwallowed up in "opera extacies" is aſtoniſhed, that her acquaintance can ſpend whole nights in preying, like harpies, on the fortunes of their fellow-creatures; while the grave ſober ſinner, who paſſes her pale and anxious vigils, in this faſhionable ſort of pillaging, is no leſs ſurpriſed how the other can waſte her precious time in hearing ſounds for which ſhe has no taſte, in a language ſhe does not underſtand.

In ſhort, every one ſeems convinced, that the evil ſo much complained of does really exiſt ſomewhere, though all are inwardly perſuaded that it is not with themſelves. All deſire a general reformation, but few will liſten to propoſals of particular amendment; the body muſt be reſtored, but each limb begs to remain as it is; and accuſations which concern all, will be likely to affect none. They think that ſin, like matter, is diviſible, and that what is ſcattered among so many, cannot materially affect any one; and thus individuals contribute ſeparately to that evil which they in general lament.

The prevailing manners of an age depend more than we are aware, or are willing to allow, on the conduct of the women; this is one of the principal hinges on which the great machine of human ſociety turns. Thoſe who allow the influence which female graces have, in contributing to poliſh the manners of men, would do well to reflect how great an influence female morals muſt alſo have on their conduct. How much then is it to be regretted, that the Britiſh ladies ſhould ever ſit down contented to poliſh, when they are able to reform, to entertain, when they might inſtruct, and to dazzle for an hour, when they are candidates for eternity!

Under the diſpenſation of Mahomet's law, indeed, theſe mental excellencies cannot be expected, becauſe the women are ſhut out from all opportunities of inſtruction, and excluded from the endearing pleaſures of a delightful and equal ſociety; and, as a charming poet ſings, are taught to believe, that

These act conſiſtently in ſtudying none but exterior graces, in cultivating only perſonal attractions, and in trying to lighten the intolerable burden of time, by the moſt frivolous and vain amuſements. They act in conſequence of their own blind belief, and the tyranny of their deſpotic maſters; for they have neither the freedom of a preſent choice, nor the proſpect of a future being.

But in this land of civil and religious liberty, where there is as little deſpotiſm exerciſed over the minds, as over the perſons of women, they have every liberty of choice, and every opportunity of improvement; and how greatly does this increaſe their obligation to be exemplary in their general conduct, attentive to the government of their families, and inſtrumental to the good order of ſociety!

She who is at a loſs to find amuſements at home, can no longer apologize for her diſſipation abroad, by ſaying ſhe is deprived of the benefit and the pleaſure of books; and ſhe who regrets being doomed to a ſtate of dark and gloomy ignorance, by the injuſtice, or tyranny of the men, complains of an evil which does not exiſt.

It is a queſtion frequently in the mouths of illiterate and diſſipated females—"What good is there in reading? To what end does it conduce?" It is, however, too obvious to need inſiſting on, that unleſs perverted, as the beſt things may be, reading anſwers many excellent purpoſes beſide the great leading one, and is perhaps the ſafeſt remedy for diſſipation. She who dedicates a portion of her leiſure to uſeful reading, feels her mind in a conſtant progreſſive ſtate of improvement, whilſt the mind of a diſſipated woman is continually loſing ground. An active ſpirit rejoiceth, like the ſun, to run his daily courſe, while indolence, like the dial of Ahaz, goes backwards. The advantages which the underſtanding receives from polite literature, it is not here neceſſary to enumerate; its effects on the moral temper is the preſent object of conſideration. The remark may perhaps be thought too ſtrong, but I believe it is true, that next to religious influences, an habit of ſtudy is the moſt probable preſervative of the virtue of young perſons. Thoſe who cultivate letters have rarely a ſtrong paſſion for promiſcuous viſiting, or diſſipated ſociety; ſtudy therefore induces a reliſh for domeſtic life, the moſt deſirable temper in the world for women. Study, as it reſcues the mind from an inordinate fondneſs for gaming, dreſs, and public amuſements, is an [oe]conomical propenſity; for a lady may read at much leſs expence than ſhe can play at cards; as it requires ſome application, it gives the mind an habit of induſtry; as it is a relief againſt that mental diſeaſe, which the French emphatically call ennui, it cannot fail of being beneficial to the temper and ſpirits, I mean in the moderate degree in which ladies are ſuppoſed to uſe it; as an enemy to indolence, it becomes a ſocial virtue; as it demands the full exertion of our talents, it grows a rational duty; and when directed to the knowledge of the Supreme Being, and his laws, it riſes into an act of religion.

The rage for reformation commonly ſhews itſelf in a violent zeal for ſuppreſſing what is wrong, rather than in a prudent attention to eſtabliſh what is right; but we ſhall never obtain a fair garden merely by rooting up weeds, we muſt alſo plant flowers; for the natural richneſs of the ſoil we have been clearing will not ſuffer it to lie barren, but whether it ſhall be vainly or beneficially prolific, depends on the culture. What the preſent age has gained on one ſide, by a more enlarged and liberal way of thinking, ſeems to be loſt on the other, by exceſſive freedom and unbounded indulgence. Knowledge is not, as heretofore, confined to the dull cloyſter, or the gloomy college, but diſſeminated, to a certain degree, among both ſexes and almoſt all ranks. The only miſfortune is, that theſe opportunities do not ſeem to be ſo wiſely improved, or turned to ſo good an account as might be wiſhed. Books of a pernicious, idle, and frivolous ſort, are too much multiplied, and it is from the very redundancy of them that true knowledge is ſo ſcarce, and the habit of diſſipation ſo much increaſed.

It has been remarked, that the prevailing character of the preſent age is not that of groſs immorality: but if this is meant of thoſe in the higher walks of life, it is eaſy to diſcern, that there can be but little merit in abſtaining from crimes which there is but little temptation to commit. It is however to be feared, that a gradual defection from piety, will in time draw after it all the bad conſequences of more active vice; for whether mounds and fences are ſuddenly deſtroyed by a ſweeping torrent, or worn away through gradual neglect, the effect is equally deſtructive. As a rapid fever and a conſuming hectic are alike fatal to our natural health, ſo are flagrant immorality and torpid indolence to our moral well-being.

The philoſophical doctrine of the ſlow receſſion of bodies from the ſun, is a lively image of the reluctance with which we firſt abandon the light of virtue. The beginning of folly, and the firſt entrance on a diſſipated life coſt ſome pangs to a well-diſpoſed heart; but it is ſurpriſing to ſee how ſoon the progreſs ceaſes to be impeded by reflection, or ſlackened by remorſe. For it is in moral as in natural things, the motion in minds as well as bodies is accelerated by a nearer approach to the centre to which they are tending. If we recede ſlowly at firſt ſetting out, we advance rapidly in our future courſe; and to have begun to be wrong, is already to have made a great progreſs.

A constant habit of amuſement relaxes the tone of the mind, and renders it totally incapable of application, ſtudy, or virtue. Diſſipation not only indiſpoſes its votaries to every thing uſeful and excellent, but diſqualifies them for the enjoyment of pleaſure itſelf. It ſoftens the ſoul ſo much, that the moſt ſuperficial employment becomes a labour, and the ſlighteſt inconvenience an agony. The luxurious Sybarite muſt have loſt all ſenſe of real enjoyment, and all reliſh for true gratification, before he complained that he could not ſleep, becauſe the roſe leaves lay double under him.

Luxury and diſſipation, ſoft and gentle as their approaches are, and ſilently as they throw their ſilken chains about the heart, enſlave it more than the moſt active and turbulent vices. The mightieſt conquerors have been conquered by theſe unarmed foes: the flowery ſetters are faſtened, before they are felt. The blandiſhments of Circe were more fatal to the mariners of Ulyſſes, than the ſtrength of Polypheme, or the brutality of the Læſtrigons. Hercules, after he had cleanſed the Augean ſtable, and performed all the other labours enjoined him by Euriſtheus, found himſelf a ſlave to the ſoftneſſes of the heart; and he, who wore a club and a lion's ſkin in the cauſe of virtue, condeſcended to the moſt effeminate employments to gratify a criminal weakneſs. Hannibal, who vanquiſhed mighty nations, was himſelf overcome by the love of pleaſure; and he who deſpiſed cold, and want, and danger, and death on the Alps, was conquered and undone by the diſſolute indulgences of Capua.

Before the hero of the moſt beautiful and virtuous romance that ever was written, I mean Telemachus, landed on the iſland of Cyprus, he unfortunately loſt his prudent companion, Mentor, in whom wiſdom is ſo finely perſonified. At firſt he beheld with horror the wanton and diſſolute manners of the voluptuous inhabitants; the ill effects of their example were not immediate: he did not fall into the commiſſion of glaring enormities; but his virtue was ſecretly and imperceptibly undermined, his heart was ſoftened by their pernicious ſociety; and the nerve of reſolution was ſlackened: he every day beheld with diminiſhed indignation the worſhip which was offered to Venus; the diſorders of luxury and prophaneneſs became leſs and leſs terrible, and the infectious air of the country enfeebled his courage, and relaxed his principles. In ſhort, he had ceaſed to love virtue long before he thought of committing actual vice; and the duties of a manly piety were burdenſome to him, before he was ſo debaſed as to offer perfumes, and burn incenſe on the altar of the licentious goddeſs[3].

"Let us crown ourſelves with roſebuds before they be withered," ſaid Solomon's libertine. Alas! he did not reflect that they withered in the very gathering. The roſes of pleaſure ſeldom laſt long enough to adorn the brow of him who plucks them; for they are the only roſes which do not retain their ſweetneſs after they have loſt their beauty.

The heathen poets often preſſed on their readers the neceſſity of conſidering the ſhortneſs of life, as an incentive to pleaſure and voluptuouſneſs; leſt the ſeaſon for indulging in them ſhould paſs unimproved. The dark and uncertain notions, not to ſay the abſolute diſbelief, which they entertained of a future ſtate, is the only apology that can be offered for this reaſoning. But while we cenſure their tenets, let us not adopt their errors; errors which would be infinitely more inexcuſable in us, who, from the clearer views which revelation has given us, ſhall not have their ignorance or their doubts to plead. It were well if we availed ourſelves of that portion of their precept, which inculcates the improvement of every moment of our time, but not like them to dedicate the moments ſo redeemed to the purſuit of ſenſual and periſhable pleaſures, but to the ſecuring of thoſe which are ſpiritual in their nature, and eternal in their duration.

If, indeed, like the miſerable[4] beings imagined by Swift, with a view to cure us of the irrational deſire after immoderate length of days, we were condemned to a wretched earthly immortality, we ſhould have an excuſe for ſpending ſome portion of our time in diſſipation, as we might then pretend, with ſome colour of reaſon, that we propoſed, at a diſtant period, to enter on a better courſe of action. Or if we never formed any ſuch reſolution, it would make no material difference to beings, whoſe ſtate was already unalterably fixed. But of the ſcanty portion of days aſſigned to our lot, not one ſhould be loſt in weak and irreſolute procraſtination.

Those who have not yet determined on the ſide of vanity, who, like Hercules, (before he knew the queen of Lydia, and had learnt to ſpin) have not reſolved on their choice between virtue and pleasure, may reflect, that it is ſtill in their power to imitate that hero in his noble choice, and in his virtuous rejection. They may alſo reflect with grateful triumph, that Chriſtianity furniſhes them with a better guide than the tutor of Alcides, and with a ſurer light than the doctrines of pagan philoſophy.

It is far from my deſign ſeverely to condemn the innocent pleaſures of life: I would only beg leave to obſerve, that thoſe which are criminal ſhould never be allowed; and that even the moſt innocent will, by immoderate uſe, ſoon ceaſe to be ſo.

The women of this country were not ſent into the world to ſhun ſociety, but to embelliſh it; they were not deſigned for wilds and ſolitudes, but for the amiable and endearing offices of ſocial life. They have uſeful ſtations to fill, and important characters to ſuſtain. They are of a religion which does not impoſe penances, but enjoins duties; a religion of perfect purity, but of perfect benevolence alſo. A religion which does not condemn its followers to indolent ſecluſion from the world, but aſſigns them the more dangerous, though more honourable province, of living uncorrupted in it. In fine, a religion, which does not direct them to fly from the multitude, that they may do nothing, but which poſitively forbids them to follow a multitude to do evil.

THOUGHTS
ON
CONVERSATION.

It has been adviſed, and by very reſpectable authorities too, that in converſation women ſhould carefully conceal any knowledge or learning they may happen to poſſeſs. I own, with ſubmiſſion, that I do not ſee either the neceſſity or propriety of this advice. For if a young lady has that diſcretion and modeſty, without which all knowledge is little worth, ſhe will never make an oſtentatious parade of it, becauſe ſhe will rather be intent on acquiring more, than on diſplaying what ſhe has.

I am at a loſs to know why a young female is inſtructed to exhibit, in the moſt advantageous point of view, her ſkill in muſic, her ſinging, dancing, taſte in dreſs, and her acquaintance with the moſt faſhionable games and amuſements, while her piety is to be anxiouſly concealed, and her knowledge affectedly diſavowed, leſt the former ſhould draw on her the appellation of an enthuſiaſt, or the latter that of a pedant.

In regard to knowledge, why ſhould ſhe for ever affect to be on her guard, leſt ſhe ſhould be found guilty of a ſmall portion of it? She need be the leſs ſolicitous about it, as it ſeldom proves to be ſo very conſiderable as to excite aſtoniſhment or admiration: for, after all the acquiſitions which her talents and her ſtudies have enabled her to make, ſhe will, generally ſpeaking, be found to have leſs of what is called learning, than a common ſchool-boy.

It would be to the laſt degree preſumptuous and abſurd, for a young woman to pretend to give the ton to the company; to interrupt the pleaſure of others, and her own opportunity of improvement, by talking when ſhe ought to liſten; or to introduce ſubjects out of the common road, in order to ſhew her own wit, or expoſe the want of it in others: but were the ſex to be totally ſilent when any topic of literature happens to be diſcuſſed in their preſence, converſation would loſe much of its vivacity, and ſociety would be robbed of one of its moſt intereſting charms.

Howdiſtraite