FEMALE FRIENDSHIP.

It has long been a question, Which of the two sexes is most capable of friendship? Montague, who is so much celebrated for his knowledge of human nature, has given it positively against the women; and his opinion has been generally embraced.

Friendship perhaps, in women, is more rare than among men; but, at the same time, it must [p110] be allowed that where it is found, it is more tender.

Men, in general, have more of the parade than the graces of friendship. They often wound while they serve; and their warmest sentiments are not very enlightened, with respect to those minute sentiments which are of so much value. But women have a refined sensibility, which makes them see every thing; nothing escapes them. They divine the silent friendship; they encourage the bashful or timid friendship; they offer the sweetest consolations to friendship in distress. Furnished with finer instruments, they treat more delicately a wounded heart. They compose it, and prevent it from feeling its agonies. They know, above all, how to give value to a thousand things, which have no value in themselves.

We ought therefore, perhaps, to desire the friendship of a man upon great occasions; but, for general happiness, we must prefer the friendship of a woman.

With regard to female intimacies, it may be taken for granted that there is no young woman who has not, or wishes not to have, a companion of her own sex, to whom she may unbosom herself on every occasion. That there are women capable of friendship with women, few impartial observers will deny. There have been many evident proofs of it, and those carried as far as seemed compatible with the imperfections of our common nature. It is, however, questioned by some; while others believe that it happens [p111] exceedingly seldom. Between married and unmarried women, it no doubt happens very often; whether it does so between those that are single, is not so certain. Young men appear more frequently susceptible of a generous and steady friendship for each other, than females as yet unconnected; especially, if the latter have, or are supposed to have, pretensions to beauty, not adjusted by the public.

In the frame and condition of females, however, compared with those of the other sex, there are some circumstances which may help towards an apology for this unfavorable feature in their character.

The state of matrimony is necessary to the support, order, and comfort of society. But it is a state that subjects the women to a great variety of solicitude and pain. Nothing could carry them through it with any tolerable satisfaction or spirit, but very strong and almost unconquerable attachments. To produce these, is it not fit they should be peculiarly sensible to the attention and regards of the men? Upon the same ground, does it not seem agreeable to the purposes of Providence, that the securing of this attention, and these regards, should be a principal aim? But can such an aim be pursued without frequent competition? And will not that too readily occasion jealousy, envy, and all the unamiable effects of mutual rivalship? Without the restraints of superior worth and sentiment, it certainly will. But can these be ordinarily expected from the prevailing turn [p112] of female education; or from the little pains that women, as well as other human beings, commonly take to control themselves, and to act nobly? In this last respect, the sexes appear pretty much on the same footing.

This reasoning is not meant to justify the indulgence of those little and sometimes base passions towards one another, with which females have been so generally charged. It is only intended to represent such passions in the first approach; and, while not entertained, as less criminal than the men are apt to state them; and to prove that, in their attachments to each other, the latter have not always that merit above the women, which they are apt to claim. In the mean time, let it be the business of the ladies, by emulating the gentlemen, where they appear good-natured and disinterested, to disprove their imputation, and to show a temper open to friendship as well as to love.

To talk much of the latter is natural for both; to talk much of the former, is considered by the men as one way of doing themselves honor. Friendship, they well know, is that dignified form, which, in speculation at least every heart must respect.

But in friendship, as in religion, which on many accounts it resembles, speculation is often substituted in the place of practice. People fancy themselves possessed of the thing, and hope that others will fancy so too, because they are fond of the name, and have learned to talk about it with plausibility. Such talk indeed imposes, till experience give it the lie.

[p113]
To say the truth, there seems in either sex but little of what a fond imagination, unacquainted with the falsehood of the world, and warmed by affections which its selfishness has not yet chilled, would reckon friendship. In theory, the standard is raised too high; we ought not, however, to wish it much lower. The honest sensibilities of ingenuous nature should not be checked by the over-cautious maxims of political prudence. No advantage, obtained by such frigidity, can compensate for the want of those warm effusions of the heart into the bosom of a friend, which are doubtless among the most exquisite pleasures. At the same time, however, it must be owned, that they often by the inevitable lot of humanity, make way for the bitterest pains which the breast can experience. Happy beyond the common condition of her sex, is she who has found a friend indeed; open hearted, yet discreet; generously fervent, yet steady; thoroughly virtuous, but not severe; wise, as well as cheerful! Can such a friend be loved too much, or cherished too tenderly? If to excellence and happiness there be any one way more compendious than another, next to friendship with the Supreme Being, it is this.

But when a mixture of minds so beautiful and so sweet takes place, it is generally, or rather always the result of early prepossession, casual intercourse, or in short, a combination of such causes as are not to be brought together by management or design. This noble plant may be cultivated; but it must grow spontaneously.


[p114]
ON THE CHOICE OF A HUSBAND.

Assist me, ye Nine,

While the youth I define,

With whom I in wedlock would class;

And ye blooming fair,

Lend a listening ear,

To approve of the man as you pass.

Not the changeable fry

Who love, nor know why,

But follow bedup’d by their passions:

Such votaries as these

Are like waves of the seas,

And steer’d by their own inclinations.

The hectoring blade

How unfit for the maid,

Where meekness and modesty reigns!

Such a blundering bully

I’ll speak against truly,

Whatever I get for my pains.

Not the dogmatic elf,

Whose great all is himself,

Whose alone ipse dixit is law:

What a figure he’ll make,

How like Momus he’ll speak

With sneering burlesque, a pshaw! pshaw!

Not the covetous wretch

Whose heart’s at full stretch

To gain an inordinate treasure;

Him leave with the rest,

And such mortals detest,

Who sacrifice life without measure.

The fluttering fop,

How empty his top!

Nay, but some call him coxcomb, I trow;

[p115] But ’tis losing your time,

He’s not worth half a rhyme,

Let the fag ends of prose bind his brow.

The guttling sot,

What a conduit his throat!

How beastly and vicious his life!

Where drunkards prevail,

Whole families feel,

Much more an affectionate wife.

One character yet;

I with sorrow repeat,

And O! that the number were less;

’Tis the blasphemous crew:

What a pattern they’ll shew

To their hapless and innocent race!

Let wisdom then shine

In the youth that is mine,

Whilst virtue his footsteps impress;

Such I’d choose for my mate,

Whether sooner or late:

Tell me, Ladies, what think you of this?

“The chief point to be regarded,” says Lady Pennington in her Advice to her Daughters, “in the choice of a companion for life, is a really virtuous principle—an unaffected goodness of heart. Without this, you will be continually shocked by indecency, and pained by impiety. So numerous have been the unhappy victims to the ridiculous opinion, a reformed libertine makes the best husband—that, did not experience daily evince the contrary, one would believe it impossible for a girl who has a tolerable degree of common understanding, to be made the dupe of so erroneous a position, which has not the [p116] least shadow of reason for its foundation, and which a small share of observation will prove to be false in fact. A man who has been conversant with the worst sort of women, is very apt to contract a bad opinion of, and a contempt for, the sex in general. Incapable of esteeming any, he is suspicious of all; jealous without cause, angry without provocation, his own disturbed imagination is a continued source of ill-humor. To this is frequently joined a bad habit of body, the natural consequence of an irregular life, which gives an additional sourness to the temper. What rational prospect of happiness can there be with such a companion? And, that this is the general character of those who are called reformed rakes, observation will certify. But, admit there may be some exceptions, it is a hazard upon which no considerate woman would venture the peace of her whole life. The vanity of those girls who believe themselves capable of working miracles of this kind, and who give up their persons to men of libertine principles, upon the wild expectation of reclaiming them, justly deserves the disappointment which it will generally meet with; for, believe me, a wife is, of all persons, the least likely to succeed in such an attempt. Be it your care to find that virtue in a lover which you must never hope to form in a husband. Good sense, and good nature, are almost equally requisite. If the former is wanting, it will be next to an impossibility for you to esteem the person, of whose behavior you may have cause to be ashamed. Mutual esteem is [p117] as essential to happiness in the married state, as mutual affection. Without the latter, every day will bring with it some fresh cause of vexation, until repeated quarrels produce a coldness, which will settle into an irreconcilable aversion, and you will become, not only each other’s torment, but the object of contempt to your family, and to your acquaintance.

“This quality of good nature is, of all others, the most difficult to be ascertained, on account of the general mistake of blending it with good-humor, as if they were in themselves the same; whereas, in fact, no two principles of action are more essentially different. But this may require some explanation. By good nature, I mean that true benevolence, which partakes in the felicity of every individual within the reach of its ability, which relieves the distressed, comforts the afflicted, diffuses blessings, and communicates happiness, far as its sphere of action can extend; and which, in the private scenes of life, will shine conspicuous in the dutiful son, in the affectionate husband, the indulgent father, the faithful friend, and in the compassionate master both to man and beast. Good humor, on the other hand, is nothing more than a cheerful, pleasing deportment, arising either from a natural gaiety of mind, or from an affection of popularity, joined to an affability of behavior, the result of good breeding, and from a ready compliance with the taste of every company. This kind of mere good humor is, by far, the most striking quality. It is frequently mistaken for [p118] and complimented with the superior name of real good nature. A man, by this specious appearance, has often acquired that appellation who, in all the actions of private life, has been a morose, cruel, revengeful, sullen, haughty tyrant. Let them put on the cap, whose temples fit the galling wreath!

“A man of a truly benevolent disposition, and formed to promote the happiness of all around him, may sometimes, perhaps, from an ill habit of body, an accidental vexation, or from a commendable openness of heart, above the meanness of disguise, be guilty of little sallies of peevishness, or of ill humor, which, carrying the appearance of ill nature, may be unjustly thought to proceed from it, by persons who are unacquainted with his true character, and who, take ill humor and ill nature to be synonymous terms, though in reality they bear not the least analogy to each other. In order to the forming a right judgment, it is absolutely necessary to observe this distinction, which will effectually secure you from the dangerous error of taking the shadow for the substance, an irretrievable mistake, pregnant with innumerable consequent evils!

“From what has been said, it plainly appears, that the criterion of this amiable virtue is not to be taken for the general opinion; mere good humor being, to all intents and purposes, sufficient in this particular, to establish the public voice in favor of a man utterly devoid of every humane and benevolent affection of heart. It is [p119] only from the less conspicuous scenes of life, the more retired sphere of action, from the artless tenor of domestic conduct, that the real character can, with any certainty be drawn. These, undisguised, proclaim the man. But, as they shun the glare of light, nor court the noise of popular applause, they pass unnoticed, and are seldom known till after an intimate acquaintance. The best method, therefore, to avoid the deception in this case, is to lay no stress on outward appearances, which are too often fallacious, but to take the rule of judging from the simple unpolished sentiments of those whose dependent connections give them undeniable certainty; who not only see, but who hourly feel, the good or bad effect of that disposition, to which they are subjected. By this, I mean, that if a man is equally respected, esteemed, and beloved by his dependants and domestics, you may justly conclude, he has that true good nature, that real benevolence, which delights in communicating felicity, and enjoys the satisfaction it diffuses. But if by these he is despised and hated, served merely from a principle of fear, devoid of affection, which is ever easily discoverable, whatever may be his public character, however favorable the general opinion, be assured, that his disposition is such as can never be productive of domestic happiness. I have been the more particular on this head, as it is one of the most essential qualifications to be regarded, and of all others the most liable to be mistaken.

“Never be prevailed with, my dear, to give [p120] your hand to a person defective in these material points. Secure of virtue, of good nature, and understanding, in a husband, you may be secure of happiness. Without the two former it is unattainable. Without the latter in a tolerable degree, it must be very imperfect.

“Remember, however, that infallibility is not the property of man, or you may entail disappointment on yourself, by expecting what is never to be found. The best men are sometimes inconsistent with themselves. They are liable to be hurried, by sudden starts of passion, into expressions and actions, which their cooler reason will condemn. They may have some oddities of behavior, and some peculiarities of temper. They may be subject to accidental ill humor, or to whimsical complaints. Blemishes of this kind often shade the brightest character; but they are never destructive of mutual felicity, unless when they are made so by an improper resentment, or by an ill-judged opposition. When cooled, and in his usual temper, the man of understanding, if he has been wrong, will suggest to himself all that could be urged against him. The man of good nature will, unupbraided, own his error. Immediate contradiction is, therefore, wholly unserviceable, and highly imprudent; an after repetition is equally unnecessary and injudicious. Any peculiarities in the temper or behavior ought to be properly represented in the tenderest and in the most friendly manner. If the representation of them is made discreetly, it will generally be well taken. But [p121] if they are so habitual as not easily to be altered, strike not too often upon the unharmonious string. Rather let them pass unobserved. Such a cheerful compliance will better cement your union; and they may be made easy to yourself, by reflecting on the superior good qualities by which these trifling faults are so greatly overbalanced.

“You must remember, my dear, these rules are laid down on the supposition of your being united to a person who possesses the three qualifications for happiness before mentioned. In this case no farther direction is necessary, but that you strictly perform the duty of a wife, namely, to love, to honor, and obey. The two first articles are a tribute so indispensably due to merit, that they must be paid by inclination—and they naturally lead to the performance of the last, which will not only be easy, but a pleasing task, since nothing can ever be enjoined by such a person that is in itself improper, and a few things will, that can, with any reason, be disagreeable to you.

“The being united to a man of irreligious principles, makes it impossible to discharge a great part of the proper duty of a wife. To name but one instance, obedience will be rendered impracticable, by frequent injunctions inconsistent with, and contrary to, the higher obligations of morality. This is not a supposition, but is a certainty founded upon facts, which I have too often seen and can attest. Where this happens, the reasons for non-compliance ought to be [p122] offered in a plain, strong, good natured manner. There is at least the chance of success from being heard. But should those reasons be rejected, or the hearing them refused, and silence on the subject enjoined, which is most probable, few people caring to hear what they know to be right, when they are determined not to be convinced by it—obey the injunction, and urge not the argument farther. Keep, however, steady to your principles, and suffer neither persuasion nor threats to prevail on you to act contrary to them. All commands repugnant to the laws of christianity, it is your indispensable duty to disobey. All requests that are inconsistent with prudence, or incompatible with the rank and character which you ought to maintain in life, it is your interest to refuse. A compliance with the former would be criminal, a consent to the latter highly indiscreet; and it might thereby subject you to general censure. For a man, capable of requiring, from his wife, what he knows to be in itself wrong, is equally capable of throwing the whole blame of such misconduct on her, and of afterwards upbraiding her for a behavior, to which he will, upon the same principle, disown that he has been accessary. Many similar instances have come within the compass of my own observation. In things of less material nature, that are neither criminal in themselves, nor pernicious in their consequences, always acquiesce, if insisted on, however disagreeable they may be to your own temper and inclination. Such a compliance will evidently prove [p123] that your refusal, in the other cases, proceeds not from a spirit of contradiction, but merely from a just regard to that superior duty which can never be infringed with impunity.

“As the want of understanding is by no art to be concealed, by no address to be disguised, it might be supposed impossible for a woman of sense to unite herself to a person whose defect, in this instance, must render that sort of rational society, which constitutes the chief happiness of such an union, impossible. Yet here, how often has the weakness of female judgment been conspicuous! The advantages of great superiority in rank or fortune have frequently proved so irresistible a temptation, as, in opinion, to outweigh, not only the folly, but even the vices of its possessor—a grand mistake, ever tacitly acknowledged by a subsequent repentance, when the expected pleasures of affluence, equipage, and all the glittering pageantry, have been experimentally found insufficient to make amends for the want of that constant satisfaction which results from the social joy of conversing with a reasonable friend!

“But however weak this motive must be acknowledged, it is more excusable than another, which, I fear, has sometimes had an equal influence on the mind—I mean so great a love of sway, as to induce her to give the preference to a person of weak intellectuals, in hopes of holding, uncontrolled, the reins of government. The expectation is, in fact, ill grounded. Obstinacy and pride are generally the companions of folly. [p124] The silliest people are often the most tenacious of their opinions, and, consequently, the hardest of all others to be managed. But admit the contrary, the principle is in itself bad. It tends to invert the order of nature, and to counteract the design of Providence.

“A woman can never be seen in a more ridiculous light than when she appears to govern her husband. If, unfortunately, the superiority of understanding is on her side, the apparent consciousness of that superiority betrays a weakness, that renders her contemptible in the sight of every considerate person, and it may, very probably, fix in his mind a dislike never to be eradicated. In such a case, if it should ever be your own, remember that some degree of dissimulation is commendable, so far as to let your husband’s defects appear unobserved. When he judges wrong, never flatly contradict, but lead him insensibly into another opinion, in so discreet a manner, that it may seem entirely his own, and let the whole credit of every prudent determination rest on him, without indulging the foolish vanity of claiming any merit to yourself. Thus a person of but an indifferent capacity, may be so assisted, as, in many instances, to shine with borrowed lustre, scarce distinguishable from the native, and by degrees he may be brought into a kind of mechanical method of acting properly, in all the common occurrences of life. Odd as this position may seem, it is founded in fact. I have seen the method successfully practised by more than one person, [p125] where a weak mind, on the governed side, has been so prudently set off as to appear the sole director; like the statue of the Delphic god, which was thought to give forth its own oracles, whilst the humble priest, who lent his voice, was by the shrine concealed, nor sought a higher glory than a supposed obedience to the power he would be thought to serve.”