| [introduction] | Page 1 |
| [on dissipation] | 15 |
| [on conversation] | 37 |
| [on envy] | 63 |
| [on sentimental connexions] | 77 |
| [on true and false meekness] | 107 |
| [on education] | 123 |
| [on religion] | 158 |
| [miscellaneous thoughts on wit] | 178 |
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.