I am generally an advocate for my own sex—but when they suffer themselves to fall a prey to seducers, their pusillanimity admits no excuse. I am bold to affirm that every woman, by behaving with propriety on all occasions, may not only resist temptation, but repel the first attempts upon her honor and virtue.
That levity of deportment, which invites and encourages designers, ought studiously to be avoided. Flattery and vanity are two of the most dangerous foes to the sex. A fondness for admiration insensibly throws off their guard, and leads them to listen and give credit to the professions of those who lie in wait to deceive.
The following remarks, though severe, perhaps can hardly be deemed inconsistent with the character which their author assumes.[[5]] “Women would do well to forbear their declamations against the falsity and wickedness of men; the fault is theirs, to fall into such coarse-spun snares as are laid for them.
[5]. The Ladies’ Friend.
“That servile obsequiousness which woman should immediately look upon as the mark of fraud, and which should make them apprehend a surprise, is the very thing which allures them, and renders them soon the victims of perjury and inconstancy; the just punishment of a disposition which fixes their inclinations on superficial qualities. It is this disposition which draws after them a crowd of empty fops, who if they have any meaning at all, it is only to deceive. Something pleasing in a man’s person, a giddy air, a perpetual levity, supply the place of valuable endowments.”
A recent and singular adventure has rendered observations of this sort peculiarly striking to my mind; which may account for the subject and the length of this letter.
I will give you a detail of it, though I must conceal the real names of the parties concerned.
Yesterday, the weather being very fine, and the sleighing excellent, several of our family, with two or three friends, were induced to make an excursion a few miles in the country. We stopped at a house which had formerly been a tavern, and in which we had often been well entertained on similar occasions. As we were in haste to receive the benefit of a good fire, we did not notice the removal of the sign, nor advert to the possibility of its being converted into a private mansion. Being very cold, I stepped first out of the sleigh and ran hastily in; leaving the gentlemen to exercise their gallantry with the other ladies. The room I entered had no fire. I therefore opened the door which led to the next apartment, when I beheld the beautiful and admired Clarinda sitting in an easy chair, pale and wan, with an infant in her arms! I stood mute and motionless, till the woman of the house appeared, to conduct me to another room. Confusion and shame were visibly depicted in Clarinda’s countenance; and, unable to meet my eye, she threw her handkerchief over her face, and fell back in the chair.
I followed the good woman, and apologising for my intrusion, told her the cause. She recollected my having been there before, and readily excused my freedom.
By this time the rest of the company, who had been shown into a decent parlour, were inquiring for me; and I could scarcely find opportunity to request my conductress to ask Clarinda’s forgiveness in my name, and to assure her of my silence, before I had joined them. I assumed an appearance of cheerfulness very foreign to the feelings of my heart, and related my mistake without any mention of the melancholy discovery I had made. We prevailed on the woman to accommodate us with tea and coffee, as we wished to ride no further. While preparations were making she came in to lay the table, and as she withdrew, gave me a token to follow her; when she informed me that Clarinda had been extremely overcome by my detecting her situation, but being somewhat recovered desired a private interview. I accordingly repaired to her apartment, where I found her bathed in tears. Pity operated in my breast, and with an air of tenderness I offered her my hand; but she withheld hers, exclaiming in broken accents, O no! I am polluted—I have forfeited your friendship—I am unworthy even of your compassion.