The numberless Treatises of Antiquities, Philosophy, Mathematicks, Natural, and other History (in which I can’t pass silently by, that learned One of Sir Walter Raleigh, which the World he writ of can’t match) written originally in, or translated to our Tongue are sufficient to lead us a great way into any Science our Curiousity shall prompt us to. The greatest difficulty we struggled with, was the want of a good Art of Reasoning, which we had not, that I know of, till that defect was supply’d by the greatest Master of that Art Mr. Locke, whose Essay on Human Understanding makes large amends for the want of all others in that kind.
Thus Madam I have endeavour’d to obviate all our Adversarie’s Objections, by touching upon as great a Variety of things relating to the Subject as I conveniently cou’d. Yet I hope I have troubled you with nothing but what was necessary to make my way clear, and plain before me; and I am apt to think I have made it appear, that nothing but disencouragement or an Idle Uncurious Humour can hinder us from Rivalling most Men in the knowledge of great Variety of things, without the help of more Tongues than our Own; which the Men so often reproachfully tell us is enough. This Idleness is but too frequently to be found among us, but ’tis a Fault equally common to both Sexes. Those that have means to play the Fool all their lives, seldom care for the trouble of being made wise. We are naturally Lovers of our Ease, and have great apprehensions of the difficulty of things untry’d; Especially in matters of Learning, the common Methods of acquiring which are so unpleasant, and uneasie. I doubt not but abundance of noble Wits are stiffled in both Sexes, for want but of suspecting what they were able to do, and with how much facility. Experience shews us every day Blockheads, that arrive at a moderate, nay sometimes a great Reputation by their Confidence, and brisk attempts which they maintain by their Diligence; while great Numbers of Men naturally more Ingenious lye neglected by, for want of Industry to improve, or Courage to exert themselves. No Man certainly but wishes he had the Reputation in, and were Respected and Esteem’d by the World as he sees some Men are for the Fruits of their Pens; but they are loth to be at the pains of an Attempt, or doubt their sufficience to perform; or what I believe is most general, never to enquire so far into themselves, and their own Abilities, as to bring such a thought into their Heads. This last I fancy is the true Reason, why our Sex, who are commonly charged with talking too much, are Guilty of Writing so little. I wish they would shake of this lazy Despondence, and let the noble examples of the deservedly celebrated Mrs. Philips, and the incomparable Mrs. Behn rouse their Courages, and shew Mankind the great injustice of their Contempt. I am confident they would find no such need of the assistance of Languages as is generally imagin’d. |Ignorance of Latine &c. no disadvantage.| Those that have of their own need not graft upon Foreign Stocks. I have often thought that the not teaching Women Latin and Greek, was an advantage to them, if it were rightly consider’d, and might be improv’d to a great heigth. For Girles after they can Read and Write (if they be of any Fashion) are taught such things as take not up their whole time, and not being suffer’d to run about at liberty as Boys, are furnish’d among other toys with Books, such as Romances, Novels, Plays and Poems; which though they read carelessly only for Diversion, yet unawares to them, give ’em very early a considerable Command both of Words and Sense; which are further improv’d by their making and receiving Visits with their Mothers, which gives them betimes the opportunity of imitating, conversing with, and knowing the manner, and address of elder Persons. These I take to be the true Reasons why a Girl of Fifteen is reckon’d as ripe as a Boy of One and Twenty, and not any natural forwardness of Maturity as some People would have it. These advantages the Education of Boys deprives them of, who drudge away the Vigour of their Memories at Words, useless ever after to most of them, and at Seventeen or Eighteen are to begin their Alphabet of Sense, and are but where the Girles were at Nine or Ten. Yet because they have learnt Latin and Greek, reject with Scorn all English Books their best helps, and lay aside their Latin ones, as if they were already Masters of all that Learning, and so hoist Sail for the wide World without a Compass to Steer by. Thus I have fairly stated the difference between us, and can find no such disparity in Nature or Education as they contend for; but we have a sort of ungenerous Adversaries, that deal more in Scandal than Argument, and when they can’t hurt us with their Weapons, endeavour to annoy us with stink Pots. Let us see therefore, Madam, whether we can’t beat them from their Ammunition, and turn their own Artillery upon them; for I firmly believe there is nothing, which they charge upon us, but may with more Justice be retorted upon themselves.
They tax us with a long List of Faults, and Imperfections, and seem to have taken a Catalogue of their own Follies and Vices, not with design to correct them, but to shift of the Imputation to us. There is no doubt, but particular Women may be found upon whom every charge may be justified; but our Sex is not answerable for them, till they prove there are no such Men, which will not be before Dooms-day. However, like ill Neighbours they bring the Dirt out of their own Homes not out of Neatness, but out of Envy to their Neighbours, at whose Doors they lay it. But let them remove their Follies as oft as they please, they are still as constant to them, as the Needle to the North Pole, they point them out which way soever they move. Let us see what these Qualities are, they so liberally bestow upon us, and after see how they fit the Donours, and survey ’em in their proper Figures and Colours. The most familiar of these are Vanity, Impertinence, Enviousness, Dissimulation, Inconstancy, &c.
Vanity.
To begin with Vanity, it is a Failing the greatest Part of Mankind are tinctured with, more or less. For all Men are apt to flatter themselves with a Fancy, that they have some one or more good Quallities, or extraordinary Gifts, that raise ’em above the ordinary Level of Men; and therefore hug and cherish, what they think valuable and singular in ’em. It is never commendable, sometimes pardonable, when the excellencies are real, and it is moderate so much must be allow’d to humane frailty. It is ridiculous and intollerable when it is extravagant, misplac’d, or groundless. It is very injudicious, and makes men commonly dote on their Defects, and expose their blemishes by their Fondness, which makes ’em more remarkable by the care and ornament bestow’d on ’em. It persuades hard Favour’d and distorted Fellows to dress, and value their Persons, Cowards to pretend to Courage, and provoke Beatings, Blockheads to set up for Wit, and make themselves ridiculous in Print, Upstarts to brag of their Families, and be reminded of the Garrets they were born, and the Stalls they were brought up in. In Women the object of it is their Beauty, and is excusable in those that have it. Those that have it not may be pardon’d, if they endeavour at it; because it is the only undisputed advantage our Sex has over the other, and what makes ’em respected beyond all other Perfections, and is alone ador’d. In Men it has not only this Object, but all those before mention’d, and a hundred other. It is admirably seen in a Writing, reciting Fop Author, is in full Lustre in a Beau, but its most unlucky Prospect is in a Swaggering Coward, who is a Fool beyond the Conviction of Smart. |Character of a Bully.| His Courage is like an Ague Fit, that leaves him upon a Fright, and returns when he is out of the reach of a Cudgel. He spends much time in the Fencing School, and Fights briskly where there is no danger of Wounds nor Smart. His Hands are instructed, but his Heels do him all the Service. He is a nice observer of Punctilio’s, and takes more Affronts than are given him. He draws first, and runs first, and if ever he makes another Man run, it is after him. He is a Pebble that sparkles like a Diamond, but wants hardness. He talks perpetually of what he will do, but thinks continually of what he shall suffer. He is often in Quarels, yet seldom in Rencounters, and is glad of a Challenge, that he may know whom, and when to avoid. He brings up the Rear at an Engagement, and leads the Van in the Retreat. He is a Man of much Passion, but the most predominant is his Fear. He offers affronts readily, but has too much honour to justifie them, and will submit to any terms of satisfaction rather than occasion Blood-shed. He is so full of Courage, that it boils over when there is no occasion, and his Sword and Person are always at Leisure, and at your Service, till you want them, and then to his great Trouble, he is always indispensably engag’d otherwise. He wears Red, and a long Sword openly to shew his Valour, and Mail, privately to shew his Discretion. He threatens terribly, but he is like a Witch, if you draw Blood of him, he has no power to hurt you. No Man shews or boasts more of his Scars with less Reason. He scorns to take a blow in the Face, and a Back-piece is as good to him as a whole sute of Armour. He is at first the Terrour of all the Young Bullies, at last their Maygame, and they blood their Cub Hectors upon him, as they do young Beagles on a Hare. Good usage makes him insolent, but he fawns like a Spaniel most upon those that beat him. When he is discover’d by all the rest of the World, the Cheat passes still upon himself, and he is pleas’d with the terrible Figure he makes in his Glass, tho’ he is ready to shake at his own Shaddow.
Character of a Scowrer.
There are men of an humour directly opposite to this, yet e’ry whit as Mad, Foolish, and Vain; these are your Men of nice Honour, that love Fighting for the sake of Blows, and are never well but when they are wounded They are severe Interpreters of Looks, are affronted at every Face that don’t please ’em, and like true Cocks of the Game have a quarrel to all Mankind at first sight. They are passionate Admirers of scarr’d Faces, and dote on a Wooden Leg. They receive a Challenge like a Billet Douce, and a home thrust as a Favour. Their common Adversary is the Constable, and their usual Lodging the Counter. Broken heads are a diversion, and an Arm in a Scarfe is a high satisfaction. They are frugal in their expences with the Taylor, for they have their Doublets pinkt on their Backs, but they are as good as an Annuity to the Surgeon, tho’ they need him not to let ’em blood. Flanders is their Mistress, and a Clap from her carries ’em off the Stage. If they return, an Hospital is their Retreat, or the Sheriff their Executour. These two, Madam, are very different extravagances, and very strange one’s, yet they are real, and such as appear every day. But, what is most to be wonder’d at, arise both from the same Principle, and the same mistaken Notion, and are only differenc’d by the diversity of Tempers in Men. The common Motive to both is Vanity, and they jointly concurr in this Opinion, that Valour is the most estimable, and most honourable Quality, that Man is capable of; they agree in a desire to be honour’d and fear’d, but they differ in their methods in persuing this common End. The one is naturally active, bold and daring; and therefore takes the true course to arrive at it by shewing what he can do, by what he dare suffer, and his immoderate desire and indiscretion suffer him to know no bounds. The other is mean Spirited and fearful, and seeks by false Fire to Counterfeit a heat that may pass for genuine to conceal the Frost in his Blood, and like an ill Actor, over-does his Part for want of understanding it, which ’tis impossible he shou’d. Among peaceable Men, and those of his own Temper he comes of with Colours flying, and those are the Men he wou’d be valiant amongst only, cou’d he read Men’s hearts. But the first Rencounter betrays the Ass thro’ the Lions Skin, and he is Cudgel’d like an Ass in Spite of his Covering. It is our happiness Madam, that we lie under no manner of Temptation from these two Vanities, |Imitation ridiculous.| whereof one is so dangerous, the other so ridiculous. For all humours that are forc’d against the natural bent of our tempers must be so. Nature is our best guide, and has fitted ev’ry Man for somethings more particularly than others; which if they had the sense to prosecute, they wou’d at least not be ridiculous, if they were not extaordinary. But so prevalent are our Vanity, and this Apish Humour of Imitation, that we persuade our selves, that we may practise with applause, whatever we see another succeed in, tho’ as contrary to the intent of our Nature, as Dancing to an Elephant; so some Men that talk well of serious matters, are so mov’d at the applause some merry Drolls gain, that they forget their gravity, and aiming to be Wits, turn Buffoons; There are others, that are so taken with the actions and grimace of a good Mimick, that they fall presently to making awkard Faces and wry Mouths, and are all their lives after in a Vizor, Maskt tho’ bare fac’d.
These, and innumerable others of the like Nature, are the lesser Follies of Mankind, by which their Vanity makes ’em fit only to be laugh’d at. There are others, who by more studied and refin’d Follies arrive to be more considerable, and make a great Figure and Party among their Sex.
Character of a Beau.
Of the first rank of these is the Beau, who is one that has more Learning in his Heels than his Head, which is better cover’d than fill’d. His Taylor and his Barber are his Cabinet Councel, to whom he is more beholding for what he is, than to his Maker. He is One that has travell’d to see Fashions, and brought over with him the newest cut suit, and the prettiest Fancy’d Ribbands for Sword Knots. His best Acquaintance at Paris was his Dancing Master, whom he calls the Marquiss, and his chief Visits to the Opera’s. He has seen the French King once, and knows the name of his cheif Minister, and is by this suffciently convinc’d that there are no Politicians in any other Part of the World. His improvements are a nice Skill in the Mode, and a high Contempt of his own Country, and of Sense. All the knowledge he has of the Country, or Manners of it, is in the keeping of the Valet that follow’d him hither, and all that he retains of the Language is a few modish words to lard his discourse with, and shew his Breeding, and the names of his Garniture. He shou’d be a Philosopher, for he studies nothing but himself, yet ev’ry one knows him better, that thinks him not worth knowing. His looks and gestures are his constant Lesson, and his Glass is the Oracle that resolves all his mighty doubts and scruples. He examines and refreshes his Complexion by it, and is more dejected at a Pimple, than if it were a Cancer. When his Eyes are set to a languishing Air, his Motions all prepar’d according to Art, his Wig and his Coat abundantly Powder’d, his Gloves Essenc’d, and his Handkercher perfum’d and all the rest of his Bravery rightly adjusted, the greatest part of the day, as well the business of it at home, is over; ’tis time to launch, and down he comes, scented like a Perfumers Shop, and looks like a Vessel with all her rigging under sail without Ballast. A Chair is brought within the door, for he apprehends every Breath of Air as much, as if it were a Hurricane. His first Vesit is to the Chocolate House, and after a quarter of an Hours Compliment to himself in the great Glass, he faces about and salutes the Company, and puts in practice his Mornings Meditations; When he has made his Cringes round, and play’d over all his Tricks, out comes the fine Snush Box, and his Nose is Regal’d a while: After this he begins to open, and starts some learned Arguments about the newest Fashion, and hence takes occasion to commend the next Man’s Fancy in his Cloths, this ushers in a discourse of the Appearance last Birth Night, or Ball at Court, and so a Critick upon this Lord, or that Ladies Masquing Habit. From hence he adjourns to the Play-house, where he is to be met again in the side Box, from whence he makes his Court to all the Ladies in general with his Eyes, and is particular only with the Orange-Wench. After a while he engages some neighbouring Vizor, and together they run over all the Boxes, take to Pieces every Face, examine every Feature, pass their Censure upon every one, and so on to their Dress; here he very Judiciously gives his opinion upon every particular, and determines whose Colours are well chosen, whose Fancy is neatest, and whose Cloths fit with most Air; but in conclusion sees no Body compleat but himself in the whole House. After this he looks down with contempt upon the Pit, and rallies all the slovenly Fellows, and awkard Beau’s (as he calls them) of t’other End of the Town, is mightily offended at their ill scented Snush, and in spight of all his Pulvilio and Essences, is overcome with the stink of their Cordovant Gloves. To close all, Madam, in the Mask must give him an account of the Scandal of the Town, which she does in the History of abundance of Intrigues real or feign’d; at all which he laughs aloud and often, not to shew his satisfaction, but his Teeth. She shews him who is kept by such a Lord, Who was lately discarded by such a Knight, for granting favours too indiscreetly to such a Gentleman: who has lately been in the Country for two or three Months upon extraordinary Occasions. To all which he gives great attention, that he may pass for a Man of Intelligence in another Place. His next Stage is Locket’s, where his Vanity, not his Stomach, is to be gratified with something that is little and dear, Quails and Ortalans are the meanest of his Diet, and a Spoonful of Green Pease at Christmass, are worth to him more than the inheritance of the Feild where they grow in Summer. Every thing falls in his Esteem, as it falls in price, and he wou’d not so much as tast the Wine, if the hard name, and the high rate did not give it a relish. After a glass or two, (for a Pint is his stint) he begins to talk of his Intrigues, boasts much of the Favours he has receiv’d, and shews counterfeit Tokens, and in Conclusion, slanders some Lady or other of unquestion’d Vertue with a particular fondness for him. His Amours are all profound Secrets, yet he makes a Confidence of ’em to every Man he meets with. He pretends a great reverence for the Ladies, and a mighty tenderness of their Reputations; yet he is like a Flesh Flye, whatever he blows on is tainted. He talks of nothing under Quality, tho’ he never obtain’d a Favour, which his Man might not have for half a Crown. He and his Footman in this Case are like English and Dutch at an Ordinary in Holland, the Fare is the same, but the Price is vastly different. Thus the Show goes forward, till he is beaten for Trespasses he was never guilty of, and shall be damn’d for Sins he never Committed. At last, with his Credit as low as his Fortune he retires sullenly to his Cloister, the King’s-Bench, or Fleet, and passes the rest of his days in Privacy, and Contemplation. Here, Madam, if you please wee’l give him one Visit more, and see the last Act of the Farce; and you shall find him (whose Sobriety was before a Vice, as being only the Pimp to his other Pleasures, and who fear’d a lighted Pipe as much as if it had been a great Gun levell’d at him) with his Nose Flaming, and his Breath stinking of Spirits worse than a Dutch Tarpawlin’s, and smoking out of a short Pipe, that for some Months has been kept hot as constantly as a Glass-House, and so I leave him to his Meditation.