I 
 
 u 
 
 i 
 
> I ^f^^ 
 
The 
 EXCELLENCY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 TEMALB CHARACTSR 
 
 VINDICATED. 
 
 FEINTED FOR SXJBSCRIBERS. 
 
 THIRD IMPROYED EDITIONf 
 
THE 
 
 EXCELLENCY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 VINDICATED; 
 
 BEI5"G 
 
 AN INVESTIGATION 
 
 tlELATIVE TO THE CAUSE AND EFFECTS 
 OF 
 
 T^HE ENCROACHMENTS OF MEK 
 
 UPON 
 
 THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE TOO FREQUENT BEGRADATION AND COK 
 SEQUENT MISFORTUNES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 FAIR BBX. 
 
 / 
 
 PRINTED FROar THE SECOND EDITIOJT,. 
 
 By the Author of the ^Beauties of Philanthropy. 
 
 HARRISBURG: 
 PRINTED BY FRANCIS WYETV. 
 1828. 
 
ISPISTLX! BEDZCATORir 
 
 ALL that need be said in favor of the subsequent > 
 ivork, (and which should be a sufficient recommenda- 
 tion to entitle it to the patronage of every friend to fe- 
 male virtue, and cspe'fcaHy such parents as intend theit 
 children to be their comfort in life and an honor to them 
 after their decease), is, that it is intended as a coun- 
 terpoise to those vile and vulgar publications which are 
 continually teeming from our presses, and which bc- 
 cretly instil the most destructive moral poison into the 
 minds of the rising generation, and eventually prove 
 the destruction of thousands of the giddy, the volatile, 
 and the gay. There is no doubt but that this perform- 
 ance (if parents would, judiciously, put it into their 
 children's hands) would not only prove an antidote to 
 obviate the influence of such pernicious publications, 
 but also incline the juvenile mind to pursue, admire^ 
 and gain the intrinsic virtue, that pearl of E^reat priceg 
 which alane can adorn the sex, and which is infinitely 
 superior to beauty, riches and fame, ot even honorsj, 
 sceptres, and crowns, for <«beauty unchaste, is beauty 
 in disgrace." In order to prove the authenticity of the 
 above assertion, I would ask, what is a female crowned 
 with beauty, honor, and riches, without virtue? I an- 
 swer, like the painted sepulchre, beautiful without^ 
 but rottenness and putrefaction within; what is slie* 
 without information? I answer, no better than the wild 
 Indian who traverses the banks of the Osage. But to 
 reverse the question, what is a real virtuous and pious- 
 female, adorned with personal beauty and intellectual 
 acquirements? She is no less than the glory of man, 
 the ornament of nature, the favorite of Heaven, and 
 the daughter of Jehovah himself. Another cogent cir 
 
 1* 
 
ADDKESS. 
 
 cumstancD X would suggest, which should irresistlbi/ 
 stimulate parents to put such performances as this ir 
 their daughter's hands, and that is — a thousand snares 
 on every side (in addition to injurious books) are laid 
 to entice them from the flowery paths of virtue, even 
 ivhile their parent?^ive, and more especially after their 
 death. In order to demonstrate the fatality of parents 
 neglecting this precaution, witness the thousands. pf in- 
 continent females who crowd our cities, of all ranks 
 and of all ages, many of whom are the degenerate 
 children of the most respectable parents, and who, 
 through paternal neglect, are the pests of society, in- 
 stead of being the virtuous mothers of respectable and 
 honorable families. Finally, the present performance 
 is enriched with the most elegant selected (and some 
 original) poetry, in order to make it an entertaining as 
 "Well as valuable acquisition to the fair sex, for whose 
 benefit it was composed, and to whom it is dedicated 
 with the most profound respect and veneration, by 
 tlx^ir real friend, and humble servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
iiP'fMEi'aimiimsrm 
 
 THERE is no doubt but many inaccuracies will be 
 discovered by the microscope of criticism, in the sub- 
 sequent desultory performance. Even the most super- 
 ficial observer may descry inadvertent tautology; the 
 author has seen this himself when perusing his manu- 
 script, but he found it difficult to correct it. He was 
 unwilling to obliterate the sentiments alluded to, which 
 were, of course, reassumed, with considerable varia» 
 tions; and, at any rate, were of such importance, as 
 to induce him almost to conclude, they could not be 
 too often repeated, in order to inform the minds, and 
 reform the hearts, of the persons he was solicitous to 
 benefit. ^He conceived it not only excusable, but, in 
 some respects, necessary to repeat sentiments intrinsic- 
 ally momentous and intimately connected with their 
 present and future welfare. -The author's phraseology 
 and animadversions will prove, to a demonstration, that, 
 so far from courting the literary fame, which authors 
 in general are so enamoured with, he turns his back, 
 not only on this intellectual vapour, but even on the 
 road that leads to popularity. His primary object, nay, 
 the happiness, the only heaven he desires to anticipate 
 here, or enjoy hereafter, is in pleasing his munificent 
 Creator, gaining his approbation, promoting his g]ory, 
 3RiJ the real happiness gf mankiixd. With respci^t i'^ 
 
viii 
 
 iiteyary acquirements, he profesies (contrary to the 
 general mode of his cotemporaries) to be a novice, as 
 it respects the radical rules of composition; -and, a? 
 such, acknowledges his work to be beneath the notice 
 of inteliigent \^nd candid critics, who he hopes will 
 consider the subject matter of this performance, and 
 not the arrangement of words, and to whose superior 
 discernment he submits it with the most humble and 
 distinguished deference. But, at the same time, the 
 snarling critic and literary debauchee, who may be in- 
 clined to retail their custon||ft'y aspersions, and, with 
 the Satanic grin of envy, endeavor to invalidate a work 
 that lays the axe to the root of their villainies; though 
 the author would look upon such with a glance of pity, 
 as persons who facilitate their own ruitt;, and enhance 
 their own infelicity (for there is no vice so capable of 
 rendering a human being so completely wretched as 
 envy;) yet their illiberal animadversions and malevo- 
 lent aspersions, he treats with the smile of contemptu- 
 ous disregard; and he thinks it is consistent with his- 
 Xnoral duty, to treat, with a total and deserved neglect, 
 the scurrility of such ingenious calumniators. The auth- 
 or humbly acknowledges that he has been indifferent 
 to the systematical arrangement of this publication; be- 
 cause he is well assured that those who oppose the po- 
 pular vices of the age, will be reprobated with their 
 works, however elegant or correct they may be, by 
 ^he votaries of fashion; and plain honest people^will 
 be as well pleased with unadorned and unaffected ad- 
 monitions, as if they were illustrated with the flowers 
 of rhetoric, the embellishments of fancy, and there- 
 Unement of composition. Yet he has been exceeding- 
 ly solicitous to introduce no matter in this performance, 
 but what is (to say the least of it) calculated to pro- 
 mote the best interests of the hunian family. He, there- 
 fore, earnestly hopes, that his female readers will at- 
 tend, seriously attend, to his admonitions, which are 
 eventually connected with their present honor and fu- 
 ture glory!! Finally, Uq would recommend to their 
 
aolemii cdnsideration, the subsequent beautiful ami 
 appropriate lines of Robert Burns: 
 
 ««The sacred fiame of well plac'd love^ 
 
 liuxuriantly indulge it, 
 
 But never tempt th* illicit rove, 
 
 Tho' nothing should divulge itj 
 
 1 wave the quantum of the sin, 
 
 The hazard of concealing. 
 
 But Oh! it hardens all within^ 
 
 And petrifies the feelingf.'* 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 J THINK, I am correct, when I affirm, that no sub- 
 ject, at the present crisis, can be exhibited for pub- 
 lic inspection, more deserving- serious attention than 
 ihe present: and at no period of the world has the sub- 
 ject befox'e us called more loudly for consideration than 
 it now does. Will any man have the effrontery to de- 
 ny this assertion, or to suggest a contrary sentiment* 
 when it is considered, that on the female part of soci- 
 ety, at first, devolves the important care of the rising 
 generation ^ those who must be the defenders of our 
 natural rights, the supporters of our valuable privile- 
 ges. It is they who form the mind to think, who first 
 'Heach the young, idea how to shoot y" when it is most 
 susceptible of impression. It is they who possess 
 charms to captivate the wisest and enamour the best of 
 men; to lead monarchs in golden chains, and even de- 
 cide the fate of nations. It is they who may be con» 
 oidered the most superlatively amiable, and transcend- 
 jutly charming past of the architecture of the Eternal, 
 it is they, to use the emjihatic language of a scriptural 
 writer, 
 
 '*Who have borne the king and all the people that 
 bare rule by sea and land. Even of them came they; 
 and they nourished them up that planted the vine-yards 
 from whence the wine cometh. These also make gar- 
 ments for men, these bring glory unto men; and with- 
 out women cannot men be. Yea, and if men have ga- 
 thered together gold and silver, or any other goodly 
 thing, do they not love a woman which is comely iu 
 r^Yor ^nd beaiity? And letting ^1 those things gOj> do 
 
XII 
 
 tfiey not gape, and even with open mouth fix their eyes 
 fast on her; and have not all men more desire unto her 
 than unto silver or gold, or any goodly thine: whatsoev- 
 er? A manleaveth his own father that brought him up, 
 and his own country, and cleaveth unto his wife. He 
 sticketh not to spend his life with his wife, and remem- 
 bereth neither father nor mother nor country. By this 
 also ye must know, that women have dominion over your 
 do ye not labor and toil, and give and bring all to the 
 woman? Yea, a man taketh his sword^ and goeth his 
 way to rob, and to steal, to sail upon the sea and up- 
 on the rivers; and looketh upon a lion, and goeth in 
 the darkness; and when he hath stolen, spoiled and 
 robbed, he bringeth it to his love, Wherefore a man 
 loveth his wife better than father or mother* Yea^ 
 many there be, that have run out of their wits for wo- 
 men, and become servants for their sakes. Many also 
 have perished, have erred and sinned, for women. 
 And now, do you not believe me ? Is not the king gr^*t 
 ff^ his poweri* Bo not all regions fear to touch him^ 
 Y'et did I see him and Apome, the king's concubine, 
 the daughter of the admirable Barticus sitting at the 
 right hand of the king, and taking the crown from the 
 king's head, and setting it upon her own head: she al- 
 so struck the king with her left hand. And yet for 
 all this, the king gaped and gazed upon her with open 
 mouth: if she laughed upon him, he laughed alhO: but 
 if she took any displeasure at him, the king was fain to 
 flatter, that she might be reconciled to him again. O^ 
 ye men, how can it be but women should be so strong, 
 seeing they do thus?*'* 
 
 Finally, it is with them that the most profound poli- 
 ticians, the v/isest statesmen, the most invincible cham- 
 pions, the greatest generals, the ingenious artists, and 
 Qven pulpit orators, spend, on an average, two-thirds 
 of their most happy and pleasurable moments. Then, 
 
 *K§4ra3j, iv. 15t-S?, 
 
xin 
 
 .i.iportance to inform the mind and cstabllsk 
 of women; to erect ramparts, in order to 
 ction in its mad, and too successful careerj 
 floodgates of temptation which modern fashions 
 ».- vj <. ^>ened; shelter female innocence from the inno- 
 vations of libertinism; and, finally, nurture the smallest 
 bud of their juvenile virtue to its full blossom, and 
 thereby promote individual tranquillity, domestic feli- 
 city, national prosperity, and the honor and happinQsg 
 ef posterity, 
 
EXCELLENCY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 VINDICATED, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Preliminary Observations on Modern Fashions, and their 
 Effects on Society. 
 
 WHEN so many spurious, futile, and perni-^ 
 pious publications are teeming from our presses, 
 which tend to destroy social intercourse, legiti- 
 mate association, female innocence, and moral 
 obligation; and which are read with avidity, dis- 
 seminated \vith alacrity, and rewarded with po- 
 pularity: wlien it can be proved, to a mathemati- 
 cal certainty, that as soon as depravity of mor- 
 als in a nation becomes general, popular, and 
 fashionable, the seed of destruction is engender- 
 ed, the preliminary to degradation is advancing, 
 and that nation begins to nod to its fall: I say, 
 when this is the case, may I not venture to take 
 lip my pen to endeavor at least to counterpoise tiiie^ 
 deleterious effects which the numerous, popular, 
 though injudicious, p^iblications of this degener- 
 ate age, unquestionably have to des>tr*oy female 
 virtue and domestic tranquillity. I will be bold 
 t^ say, tJiat a dcbaucliee the most artful* or a 
 
6 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 libertine the most proficient in the arts of seduc- 
 tion, could not wish a more efficacious auxiliary, 
 a more effectual stimulous to facilitate his designs, 
 and to accomplish his wishes, than the female 
 fashions, and rnaay of the popular publications 
 which are, a-la-mode^ the order of the day. 
 
 My primary object, in the subsequent stric- 
 
 :res, is t') dcmfonstrate, by arguments as plain 
 as A, B, C, and clear as a ray of light, that 
 the radical causes of the miseries and })rematurc 
 degradation of a large majority of the human 
 race, are the effects of paternal indulgence and 
 fraternal neglect 
 
 Though my talents for composition are not to 
 be compared to those of some, who merely use 
 them for the purpose of exciting the laughter of 
 the volatile and the gay; and, at the same time, 
 meet the disapprobation of the wise and the good, 
 cause a blush on the cheek of modesty, and a 
 groan from the breast of phihinthropy; yet eve- 
 ry friend to the human family will, I am confi- 
 dent, be inclined to approve of my v/ell m^anl 
 endeavors for the good of mankind, though tlu j 
 cannot applaud my qualifications. But it should 
 in justice, be remembered, that while the writ- 
 Oi's alluded to arc abundantly supplied with op- 
 poi'tunities for composition, pecuniary and scho- 
 lastic resources and conveniencies, 1 am destitute 
 of all these accommodations. 
 
 Stimulated by disinterested philanthropy, af- 
 ter the avocatioiis of each day is past, I appropri- 
 ate tliat season which others necessarily spend in 
 sleep to the arrangement and composition of thi- 
 nd my oilier works. 
 
 The following, therefore, may be very proper 
 1y ciII^mIj ''Midnight Thoughts on the JVrdclicd 
 
YINDICATED. l 
 
 ms$ existing in civilised SoGietfj;^^ \yhicli, in? ma- 
 yiy respects, may be considered an abyss of hi 
 man degeneracy, strewed with briars and thorns, 
 instead of a terrestrial paradise^ carpeted with 
 roses, which wo'.ild undoubtedly be ^hc case, ^verc 
 the votaries of civilization as tenacious of main- 
 taining the characters of virtuous and benevolent 
 persons, as they are those of iionorable and right 
 honorable, reverend and right reverend, excel- 
 lency, &:c. ^:c. The most superlicial view of ci- 
 vil!: vage nations, where literature 
 il^»'^ "'* '"»u)rance prevails, williur- 
 nislj viui woeful exhibitions, 
 that L.A cii )ugn lo nuiKO female delicacy shudder, 
 sensibility sigh, and humanity meit into tears; 
 and what enhances the painful sensation is, the 
 inelanch'>ly refiectio!!, that the mis, ries alluded 
 to, are not diminishfng, tliroai^ih the iniiuence 
 and examples of the virtuous, but are, ahis! ac- 
 cumulating through tlie baneful ailurcmeiits of 
 the vicious. 
 
 A\ hen I survey actual scenes, which seem al- 
 most too tragical to be authentic, too romaatr 
 to be real, too horrible to meet the ear or eye oi 
 the humane: and \^iien I reflect thkt it is utterly 
 impossible for me to reiiiedy tliose scenes of hu- 
 man woe, an involuntary desire ruslics into my 
 mind to be lodged in some solitary wilderness, 
 where! might weep for the wretchedness and de- 
 gradatioi» of my fellow -creatures, children of the 
 same original paretits, create i ihv high beatitude 
 in heaven, and to be lords of thi, creation on earthy 
 a little lower than the angels, but, on accminf 
 of mor. 1 evil, reduced one step below tUo brute^ 
 ndbut one above iuferiial spiiits* 
 
B FEMALE CHABACTER 
 
 I profess to be a philanthi^pist. I seek no bet 
 ter niune. And none but siicli can anticipate tlie 
 painful feelings which I endure while surveying, 
 in sympathetic thought, the sufferings of the hu- 
 man family from Adam to his youngest son. And 
 though the retrospect is gloomy and produces 
 sad regret, the mind, unbidden, still recurs to 
 the same melancholy exhibitions, still anticipates 
 the same tragical catastroplies. 
 
 How little think the ricli and tho great, while 
 basking in the sun-shine of prosperity, swimming 
 in wealth, and enveloped in luxuries, while 
 spending their golden moments in useless mirth, 
 if not sensual gratifications; how little dp the} 
 think, that while they are crowned with abun 
 dance, many are bereaved of the necessaries of 
 life! while they are solaced by their friends, ma- 
 ny are cruelly tortured by their enemies, with- 
 out an e} e to pity, or a hand to help! How ma- 
 ny are innocently bound in galling chains, and 
 shut up in dungeons, while they strut in their 
 splendid mansions; who eat the bread of woe and 
 drink the cup of grief, while they are regaled 
 ^vltli the most savory dishes and tlie most deli- 
 cious Viands! Ilov/ many are scorched by the 
 vertical rays of the sun in the torrid zone, while 
 others are pierced by the untimely blasts in the 
 frigid zone; who shrink from shelter in vain into 
 the cheerless abode of penury; while they are ac- 
 commodated with artificial canopies to court the 
 gentle bresze:-;, or with warm reti^eats to beguile 
 theseverity of winter's gloomy reign! How ma- 
 i^y are exposed to all tiie horrors of sanguinary 
 ^varfare, whtn inillon rises against nation, army 
 against army, fiimily against family, and indi- 
 vidual against individual, who armed for the war, 
 and rush with the iui-y of lions, and the impetuo 
 
VINDICATED. 19 
 
 ^ity of demons to sjvjU each otller^s blood; while 
 they are enjoying peace and all its'ccnromitant 
 blessings! How many weeping chiidren stand 
 around the dying beds of their tender, but, alas! 
 expiring parents. Like monumental grief, they 
 stand to take a long and last farewell, while their 
 parents' solicitiide for their welfare continues to 
 the last. A blessing is all their patrimonial in-r 
 heritance; and with it they arc thrown defence- 
 less and forlorn on an unfriendly and unfeeling 
 world! Here [ must cease. My palpitating, tre- 
 mulous heart almost weeps blood at anticipating 
 the nameless and latent woes that await the un- 
 conscious innocents. Fain would I relinquish the 
 painful prospective, but it recurs with redoubled 
 force to my wounded mind. And you, my dear 
 children, my earthly riches, and my all, who 
 are now wrapped in the arms of peaceful slum- 
 ber, unconsciows of your future fate, and dead to 
 future woe, perhaps, these scenes of toil, these 
 incessant sti'uggles with human depravity, de 
 gradation and {poverty; these sad vicissitudes 
 w hich render life one scene of suffering and woe, 
 will be your portion, when your earthly parents 
 are mouldering to their nati^'e dust, the sport of 
 worms and the victims of corruption. What 
 tongue can tell, what imagination can conceive 
 the miseries peculiar to the (iefenceless orphan^ 
 especially if a female; perhaps led into the devi- 
 ous paths of folly by the votaries of seduction.^ 
 those murderers of the human soul, those traitors 
 to the human race, who like the prowling wolf in 
 the woodlands, or the voracious shark in the bri 
 jiy deep, go about seeking whom tliey may des- 
 troy and ruin. Torture of mind, agony of heart, 
 depravity* of moralsj a torpid insensibility to ^1| 
 
00 FEMALE CHARA€TEM 
 
 moral obligations, are the result of their ravages 
 oil the person of the ruined female orphan. 
 
 How much more merciful would it be for the se 
 ilucers and traducers of defenceless female inno- 
 cence, to assassinate the unconscious victims of 
 their brutal lust, and send them guiltless to a 
 world of spirits^,' before they lay the foundation of 
 accumulated crimes and complicated degradation; 
 I had almost said, that /ni^rder was no crime when 
 compared to seditciion; because tlie former may 
 free the soul from terrestrial infelicity, and land 
 it in eternal glory; while the latter produces su- 
 preme wretchedness here, and unutterable tor^ 
 ment hereafter; for, if J have no intention to conx- 
 ruit a crime, but am solicited and persuaded by 
 another to perpetrate it, tliat person is the effi- 
 cient, the virtual cause of whatever sufferings I 
 endure for the perpetration of that crime. How 
 grejit, how enormously great, must the guilt of 
 such characters be, who take a peculiar delight 
 to undermine the foundation of civil society, by 
 committing such sable crimes, as cry to Heaven 
 fcr more plagues than vengeance has in store; for 
 there is a train of evils too horrid to mention con- 
 nected with this crime more than any other: for 
 instance, in the case of murder, one person is on- 
 ly injured: in drunkenness, the delinquent is gen- 
 erally tiic greatest sufferer: in envy, the culprit 
 is always the most tormented: and the thief who 
 iuibs me of my purse, robs me of trash which may 
 easily be replaced with industry and economy: 
 but the villain who robs the innocent defenceless 
 virgin of her virtue, bereaves society of a gem 
 that might become its brightest ornament, and 
 its boast, namely, the virtuous mother of a respec- 
 table family; and lets loose, sends forth, consti- 
 tutes and «iuali£es a pest, a curse, a disgrace to 
 
VINDICATED. U 
 
 society, who will in future live to ensnare and 
 enslave otliers, trample upon her own character, 
 expose her constitution, murder her soul, and at 
 last die the victim of a fearful and fatal disorder, 
 and a tortured mind, cursing with her last breath 
 the murderer of her body and soul. 
 
 This is no theatrical exhibition, no specula- 
 tive reasoning: the misfortune is, these observa- 
 tions are too true. To particularize the real num- 
 ber of prostitutes v^ho crowd our city, (some of 
 fliem not more than tw elve or fourteen years old) 
 would make even a hoary headed debauchee shrink 
 appalled, and shock the most unprincipled liber- 
 tine. And the reason these sJiocking sights arc 
 viewed with indifference by the professors of re- 
 ligion, as well as the profane, is, because they 
 ftre so common and numerous that the heart of cha~ 
 rity is not warmed by viewing them. The social 
 tear of benevolence forgets to flow unbidden, and 
 the wide wish of philanthropy to dilate for them* 
 
 As we inadvertently suggested a few spontanc 
 ons thoughts to those who call themselves the rir' 
 and the great, we will take the liberty to resum 
 the subject by the following desultory remarks. 
 
 The rich, as well as the poor, are particular- 
 ly interested in the subject of our investigation. 
 Indeed, the prosperity^ nay, the very existence, 
 of society, is connected with it. The children of 
 rich parents are, by no means, out of the reach of 
 disaster; and, however they may feed their vani- 
 ty and nurture their pride, they are, in common 
 with othei^, obnoxious to diversified vicissitude^^ 
 misfortunes and temptations. With sympathetii 
 pity, I view the futile, vain, and absurd pursuits 
 of the personages who compose what are called 
 thf higher circles, though many of them are not 
 only the children of poor parents, but were origi- 
 
!2£ FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 iially ipoor themselves; but either by industry oj 
 economy, by fraud or force, have accumulated 
 riches, and of course, popularity; when lo! they 
 forget their origin, and look down with sovereign 
 contempt upon their poor brethren. 
 
 Wlien the rich are so peculiarly favored by Pro 
 vidence above milJions of their fellow creatures 
 how great must their ingratitude be, if they ne 
 gleet to return their thankful acknowledgments 
 to the Author of all their mercies; and with their 
 lives, as well as their lips, celebrate the great 
 Creator's praise. Let us inquire for wkat pur 
 pose does the Deity bestow riches upon a part ol 
 the liuman race. Is it to spend in vanity and su- 
 perfluity? Surely not: but to be appropriated to 
 the most benevolent purposes, to wit, the support 
 of God's poor; for lie sends the poor and needy to 
 the rich man's door, to try his heart; and the 
 same pity which he shows to them, will God shov/ 
 to him at a future day. And every rich man should 
 pray for power to say and feel the force of these 
 fines: 
 
 ^'Teach me to feel another's woe 
 
 And hide the fault I see: 
 The mercy I to others show. 
 
 That mercy show to me = " 
 
 There are three grand objects that the ricL 
 have in view whilst accumulating this world's 
 goods. First, a false notion they entertain of 
 the power and respectability of riches; a desire 
 of making a magnificent appearance in the world; 
 and, above all, a resolution to leave their chil- 
 di*^n independent fortunes. These are the phan- 
 toms which too many live and die in the pursuit 
 of; who spend their short probationary state, iu 
 
VINDICATED, 2§ 
 
 providing with great economy and industpy, for 
 their children, that which proves their ruin and 
 disgrace. Riches cannot produce a moment of 
 real happiness, though all in tlie world were at 
 our disposal. Nay, riclies have the direct ten- 
 dency to destroy all real felicity hy drawing man 
 from the pursuit of religious duties; and are of- 
 ten the source of burdensome cares and perplex- 
 ing disquietudes. 
 
 How preposterous and absurd it is for people to 
 spend tlieir time in hoarding up riches, for the 
 splendid accommodation of their children, when 
 they are in their graves; and yet, forsooth, ne- 
 glect to inculcate the precepts of moral rectitudo 
 and virtue on their juvenile minds. The thought 
 never occurs to them, that wealth can only make 
 them appear externally happy and respectable^ 
 but that virtue alone can make them appear ex- 
 ternally and feel internally happy, amidst all the 
 vicissitudes incident to our mortal state. They 
 will not learn wisdom from experience. We see 
 the extravagant children of parsimonious parents, 
 spend in vanity and dissipation the immense for- 
 tunes accumulated by their progenitors : and whe^i 
 that is gone, having been brought up in idleness, 
 and unaccustomed to industry, the spell d thrift- 
 makes use of unlawful means to replenish his 
 purse; and he is consequently brought to a pre- 
 mature and ignominious end. Thus are they, by 
 the impolicy of their injudicious parents, incapa- 
 citated for performing their duty to society, and 
 to their Almighty Creator. Finally, when a man 
 accumulates riches for the purpose of ofi^ering a 
 sacrifice at the shrine of vani- y and ambition, he 
 falls into sundry temptatior^s, and pierces him- 
 self and his progeny with many sorrows. He 
 >j>ens the floodgates of temptation upon tht m tern- 
 
34 FEMALE CHARACTL.. 
 
 porally, and shuts the gates of Heaven against 
 them eternally. Hence, we find it is not only 
 the children of the poor that excite our sympa- 
 thetic commisseration, hut also those of the rich. 
 It would be too tedious and painful, and perhap$ 
 indelicate to mention the most prominent snares 
 and temptations to which they are exposed. 
 Their education; the examples placed before 
 them: the sentiments inculcated upon their minds, 
 are all too often in open hostility with the best in- 
 terests of their immortal parts, as well as their 
 domestic tranquil! lity. Where there is not suffi- 
 cient virtue found in parents and teacliers^ to ad- 
 minister wholesome instruction, there can be 
 found no aliment for domestic tranquillity. It is 
 among the rich and great tliat not only war, hut 
 those scandalous fashions imported from abroad 
 originate. The middling class soon participate 
 in these fashions however immodest. And, final- 
 ly, the commonality, if they cannot literally im- 
 itate, will, at any rate, mimic their superiors in 
 point of wealth. There is an opprobrious grada- 
 tion in this, as in all other vices. With a super- 
 ficial glance, we may recognize ladies high in es- 
 timation, and in ti e liighest circles, slaves to the 
 fashions in their most obscene and indecent ex- 
 tremes. We may even see the consorts and daugh- 
 ters of the guardians of the public weal strutting 
 through the streets, with the disgraceful and ob- 
 scciic appearances peculiar to lewd women, with 
 appendages and exhibitions which I am ashamed 
 to name. We may then ask, without at present 
 descending to particulars, is there a grade in hu- 
 miliation to which we may not be reduced? Is 
 there a vice we may not render fashionable? Is 
 there a precipice of luxurious indulgence down 
 wkicU we may not precipitate ourselves, when it 
 
VINDICATED. £ 
 
 IS tushi()na^)lc so to do? One of the most peiMiicioiis 
 circumstances attending the vice under consider- 
 ation is, that it is most prevalent amongst the 
 characters that should discourage it most. Were 
 tiiey to discountenance and disapprove, by the 
 most vindictive censures, and condemn the vota 
 ries thereof to the retreats of neglect and con- 
 tempt, the most beneficial consequences would 
 unquestionably result. Were we to take a coun- 
 termarch into the rear of time, and view the ri- 
 gid virtues of our ancestors, we might easily re- 
 fuse to be slaves to fashion; and we need not fear 
 to be outcasts and a derision. But alas! a scru- 
 pulous delicacy towards tlie articles of modern 
 politeness, which too often adhere to the gown and 
 band, the clergy as W'cll as the laity, seems to 
 fetter, in adamantine chains, every circle and 
 rank in society: yes, even the clergy themselves 
 have been veiy dillidcnt in giving umbrage to 
 conscious criminality. They have view^ed, with 
 complacency, that on which they should have 
 looked witii detestation and horror. They have, 
 spoken peace, peace, wlien God had not intended 
 it. Even grave divines, whose appearance com 
 mands respect, and who are celebrated for thcii 
 profound erudition, will view with indidercnce, 
 and even without cautioning, their auditories ai* 
 rayed in all the indelicate fashions and voluptu 
 ous appendages, peculiar to the age iu which we 
 live. 
 
 When, therefore, our spiritual guides exhibi 
 such lassitude iu the discharge of the duty they 
 owe to their fellows-creatures and to their God, 
 and which they have solemnly undertaken to fal- 
 ill; to whom shall we look, or where shall vvc 
 turn to find wholesome admonitions.-' If the sacred 
 temples of the Eternal are periodically crowds 
 
26 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 with the votaries of fashion; and if the ambassa- 
 dors of Heaven suffer them to come in and go out 
 without suggesting even a mild reproof, can we 
 expect any thing betterthan that the most obscene 
 fashions that ever disfigured and disgraced the 
 human family, should become the order of the 
 day. 
 
 I smile to myself when I take a retrospective 
 view of the ludicrous-^ fashions of former times; 
 
 *In confirmation of the above assertion, I will subjoin 
 the following" letter: 
 
 To the Editor of the Jlmerican Mas;azine. 
 
 Sm — I hope to be pardoned, if I find fault with things 
 which are, or have been, or will be. 
 
 The long- trails of the ladies gowns were a fashion in 
 which all regarl to taste was sacrificed. \l appears 
 Impossible, that ladies, who are under no bias, and in- 
 fluenced sclrly hy a regard to elegance, should adopt 
 such afashioji— a fashion that, besides its inconvenience? 
 and the expense it incurs, can hardly be reconciled, 
 with neatr. ss. TL is perfectly right, in manufacturing 
 countries, i.jr ladies to draw fifty or a hundred thou- 
 sand yards of silk upon the grpund:* for the destruc- 
 tion of it is a public benefit. But it betrays a total 
 want of tcate and degance in dress -^ and when the Ame- 
 rican ladies adopted the fashion, they paid fifteen or 
 twenty thousand pounds to foreign nations, for the trou- 
 ble of being very indeganily dressed. 
 
 The enormous head-dresser, which were fashionable^^ 
 a few years ago, were beyond the bounds of taste, and 
 »nd so troviblesome as to be very short-lived. — Huge 
 bonnet'i, lo^^'ed w'th fjnery are equally—But these 
 xnust not te nr.cntioned the present year. 
 
 *The c,.:ldren of the poor might he clothed with ths 
 
VINDICATED. «r 
 
 the diversity and peculiarity of which are too te- 
 dious to mention; but I blush with sliame, and 
 am almost petrified with liorror and solicitude for 
 the honor of human nature, when I survey the fe- 
 male fashions of tornier times, which arc both 
 ludicrous and lascivious to behold. On the com- 
 
 The long'-quartered shoe, for a long* time, kept in 
 countenance a very indelicate custom, of putting" on 
 shoes in the streets and in public assemblies. 
 
 A lady could hardly walk a square, or go down a 
 country dance, without being* obliged to stop and pull 
 up the quarters of her shoes. The gentlemen were 
 often in the same situation. Is this consistent with 
 taste, elegance or convenience? 
 
 But when long-quartered shoes were discarded, largC 
 buckles succeeded; which are not only disproportioned 
 to the foot, but very painful. Such is the size^ that 
 a gentleman cannot wear a buckle without a false strap; 
 and even then it is a chance, that his straps will be 
 ^?[)pirig' aoout his feet, as he walks the streets or is 
 dancing. Besides, it is impossible to suit so large a 
 buckle to the foot-^it must be painful — and it is amus- 
 ing enough to hear a beau damning his buckles forgiv- 
 ing him uneasiness; that is, damning fashion. 
 
 The best proportioned shoe will always keep upon 
 the foot, and the best proportioned buckle will always 
 sit easy. True taste never deviates from these propor- 
 tions. 
 
 Americans could hardly run into absurdities of these 
 kinds, were they to consult their own taste or interest 
 It is the authority of foreign manners which keeps us 
 in subjection, and gives a kind of sanction to follies, 
 which are pardonable in Europe, but inexcusable in 
 America. 
 
 TITUS BLUNT. 
 
£6 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 with the votaries of fashion; and if the ambassa- 
 dors of Heaven suffer them to come in and go out 
 without suggesting even a mild reproof, can we 
 expect any tiiingbetterthan that the most obscene 
 fashions that ever disfigured and disgraced the 
 human family, should become the order of the 
 day. 
 
 I smile to myself when I take a retrospective 
 view of the ludicrous^ fashions of former times; 
 
 *In confirmation of the above assertion, I will subjoin 
 the following" letter: 
 
 To the Editor of the Jimerican Mas;azine. 
 
 Sin — I hope to be pardoned, if I find fault with thing's 
 which are, or have been, or will be. 
 
 The long- trails of the ladies gowns were a fashion in 
 which all regard to taste was sacrificed. It appears; 
 "impossible, that ladies, who are under no bias, and in 
 fiuenced scl. ly hy a regard to elegance, should adopt 
 such a fashion— a fashion that, besides its inconvenience^ 
 and the expense it incurs, can hardly be reconcile4, 
 with neat?v s ,. K is perfectly right, in manufacturing 
 countries, i\jr ladies to draw fifty or a hundred thou- 
 sand yards of silk upon the ground;* for the destruc- 
 tion of it is a public benefit. But it betrays a total 
 want of tu.'tie and thgance in dr^sSy and when the Ame* 
 iucan ladies adopted the fashion, they paid fifteen or 
 twenty thousand pounds to foreign nations, for the irou^ 
 ble of being very inelegantly dressed. 
 
 The enormous head-dresser, which were fashionable,^ 
 a. few years ag-o, were beyond the bounds of taste, and 
 *nd so troublesome as to be very short-lived. — Huge 
 bonnets, loii'ted w'th fjnery are equally— But these 
 must not te nr. .lUioued the present year. 
 
 *7'ae cUdren of the poor might be clothed with thi 
 
 irimmlngs^ 
 
VINDICATED. «: 
 
 the diversity and peculiarity of which are too te- 
 dious to mention; but I blush with shame, and 
 am almost petrified with liorror and solicitude for 
 the honor of human nature, when I survey the fe- 
 male fashions of tornier times, which arc both 
 ludicrous and lascivious to behold. On the com- 
 
 The long*-quartered shoe, for a long* time, kept in 
 countenance a very indelicate custom, of putting* on 
 slioes in the streets and in public assemblies. 
 
 A lady could hardly walk a square, or go down a 
 country dance, without being obliged to stop and pull 
 up the quarters of her shoes. The gentlemen were 
 often in the same situation. Is this consistent with 
 taste, elegance or convenience? 
 
 But when long-quartered shoes were discarded, largC 
 buckles succeeded; which are not only disproportioned 
 to the foot, but very painful. Such is the size» that 
 a gentleman cannot wear a buckle without a false strap; 
 and even then it is a chance, that his straps will be 
 ^.?pplr.g' aoout his feet, as he walks the streets or is 
 dancing. Besides, it is impossible to suit so large a 
 buckle to the foot— it must be painful — and it is amus- 
 ing enough to hear a beau damning his buckles forgiv» 
 ing him uneasiness; that is, damning fashion. 
 
 The best proportioned shoe will always keep upon 
 the foot, and the best proportioned buckle will always 
 sit easyo Trite taste never deviates from these propor- 
 tions. 
 
 Americans could hardly run into absurdities of these 
 kinds, were they to consult their own tavSte or interest. 
 It is the authority of foreign manners which keeps us 
 in subjection, and gives a kind of sanction to follies, 
 which are pardonable in Europe, but inexcusable in 
 America. 
 
 TITUS BLUNTc 
 
28 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 mencement of tlie female fashions alluded to. thro* 
 the instrumentality of which, 
 
 < 'Those charms ulas! that virtue bids them Screen, 
 By every wanton libertine are seen.*' 
 
 Formerly the only criterion wlierehy we could 
 discriminate a virtuous from a lewd woman, was 
 by their apparel; but now that criterion is almost 
 banished to oblivion: indeed, many virtuous, and 
 in other respects, reputable ladies, dress more 
 indecent than even tlie vilest prostitutes. Their 
 appearances are such as not only to entice, but 
 almost to force the male of ardent passions to acts 
 of violence,'^ as well as the aits of seduction. 
 And our wonder will v anish when we remember, 
 that **sti*ong temptation witli the best prevail.'' 
 What temptation, then can be more invincible to 
 a certain description of men, than a beautiful 
 woman dressed with =^=)^^^^; but 1 must cease de« 
 lineating even the outlines of the fascinating sight. 
 It would be unpardonable indelicacy in me to 
 paiiit what priideTice must ctmreal^ or to depic- 
 ture one half of the obscenity of female fashions: 
 but the reader will himself save me the trouble 
 by anticipating the sights which he sees daily ex- 
 hibited: or, let liim take a summer's evening 
 walk in some of oui* towns and cities; and he 
 will see displayed in magnitude what I dare not 
 even depict in miniature. 
 
 There is nothing in nature more capricious, 
 contagious, and. at the same time, contamina- 
 ting, than fashion; hence, appearances and per- 
 sonages, which are now beheld with approbation 
 and complacency, would, twenty years ago, have 
 been seen with shame, disgust anil execration: 
 and hence, mankind, in the different ages of the 
 world have practised the most unnatural and dia^ 
 
VINDICATED. Sl^ 
 
 bolical evils and vices, till they became both fa- 
 miliar and fashionable. To demonstrate the au- 
 thenticity of our assertions, we might adduce a 
 number of examples. The Grecians, the most 
 refined and learned nation of antiquity, were so 
 blinded by custom, as to constitute one thousand 
 priestesses for one temple in th^ city of Corinth, 
 dedicated to Venus, who made prostitution a part 
 of their devotion to that uniiallowed goddess* 
 For the honor of human nature, we will not meit- 
 tion the multitiides of human victims sacrificed to 
 the heathen gods; all of which was considered 
 laudable by the unenlightened orientals, in ma- 
 ny parts of the world, at the present period j, 
 there are ridiculous customs established, which 
 habit renders familiar, and which we would con* 
 sider as degrading to the brutal, much more to 
 the human creation. There are, and have been 
 certain customs and fashions which regard things 
 of pureindiiference: and though tbey may appear 
 ridiculous, they are not injurious to society: tho' 
 they may excite our contempt they should not our 
 reproach. But on the other hand, there are fash- 
 ions that are of intrinsic moment, not only as it 
 respects their prese^it effects, but future tenden- 
 cy. We will ail agree, that to bring up the ris- 
 ing generation in the path of virtue* is an indis- 
 pensable and important duty; for, on the virtue 
 of our cliildren, the prosperity, nay, the very 
 existence of society depends. It will, of course> 
 appear, that whatever precept or example is in- 
 culcated or exhibited in the present age to our 
 youth, will have a deleterious or salutary tenden- 
 cy, according to its merits or demerits in the 
 subvsequent generation. We need not incujirc the 
 effects which modern fashions hive ovi our chil- 
 dren's minds: and indeed, it will be so till the 
 
 3^ 
 
so FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 means are stopped, and then the effects will con-» 
 seqiiently cease. We see female children mimic 
 the fashion; and before nature supplies them with 
 real, they exhibit, as substitutes, in the usual 
 form, artificial breasts. 
 
 <«Tliey first mimic fashions, only armM with smiles. 
 Then fall all ruined by seduction's wiles." 
 
 While their infatuated parents see them go, 
 nay, sometimes lead them into the jaws of des- 
 truction, and virtually tell the libertine to tempt 
 them, how many innocent girls have been utterly 
 ruined through the neglect of their parents, who 
 are insensible of the obligations laid upon them 
 hy the God of nature, till, perhaps, it is too late 
 to remedy the evil! Oh! how will it augment 
 their horror of eternity, when they find that their 
 jieglect and imprudence were the radical cause of 
 the overthrow and infelicity of their offspring in 
 time and in eternity. 
 
 Many complain of disobedient children; but 
 who are to blame for it? L^ndoubtcdly the parents 
 themselves; for children, may be taught almost 
 anything, if they are begun with in time. <;They 
 are imitative animals.^^ They are, or will be, in 
 3tniniature, what their parents or guardians are 
 in magnitude. They will, at least, endeavor to 
 imitate them in all they do: hence, instruction 
 ]by example is more efiicacious than precept; but 
 when both are united, the most salutary effects 
 ensue. With my mind's eye, I view the fashion- 
 able mother at her toilet, with all the apparatus 
 connected with it, particularly the looking-glass 
 before her face. While she is exerting all her in- 
 genuity to beautify her person, and to exhibit 
 tier charms in the most advantageous iflanner, 
 
VINDICATED- 31 
 
 ihe daughters, both young and old, recognize 
 all her movements, surround her toilet, mimic 
 her pride, and become adepts at the business, be- 
 fore they arrive even at the years of accountabili- 
 ty. We must cease drawing this baneful picture, 
 and investigating the secret i'ecesses of female 
 vanity. Were I to draw the picture at full length, 
 and say all that might be said on the subject, Sa- 
 tan himself could scarce refrain from blushing; 
 Heaven would drop a tear; and hell would groan 
 and reverberate the fatal effects of such injudici- 
 ous, vain, and cruel conduct. Is this the way to 
 bring up the most amiable part of God's crea- 
 tion? Is it, or can it be, the v/ill of the Eternal, 
 that parents should spend their time in teaching 
 their children bov</ to decorate their persons lika 
 butterflies? Has God intruste Ifan immortal spirit, 
 created for high beatitude, to your care, O pa- 
 rents! in order to have it taught how to offer sa- 
 crifice at the shrine of vanity? how to prostitute 
 its noble qualifications on the altar of pride and 
 self-consequence? how to obey the suggestions 
 and mandates of Satan? how to hecome slaves to 
 idleness, the fashions, and fopperies of the age? 
 Your own common seuse, your own consciences 
 will answer in the negative, and will testify that 
 the very reverse of what you now do is your duty 
 as rational beings: yon shouid, both by precept 
 and example, endeavor with indeMigabic assi- 
 duity to improve the intellectual and moral facul- 
 ties of your offspring. By this means, you will 
 lay the foundation of a life of happiness and utili* 
 ty; but by a contrary line of conduct, you will 
 facilitvite their ruin; and, I believe, their blood 
 will be required at your hands by the impartial 
 Judge and Sovereign of (he skies. If Wi% for a 
 ?arc)ment, reflect on the shortness of time, tho oer* 
 
34 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 anticipates the afflictions and dismay which his 
 lawless crimes produce, iti thchosoms of virtuous 
 retirement. He thinks little about tlie tears he 
 will cause to flow, and the anguish and despair he 
 will create . Not unlike the spider which spreads 
 his fallacious snare, and w^atches with anxious so- 
 licitude the moment the unconscious fly approach- 
 es it, when he rushes on his innocent prey, w hich 
 struggles to gain its liberty and life, but, alas! 
 in vain; and if it should extricate itself, it is so 
 debilitated and wounded, that it never recovers 
 strength, but lingers life in perfect misery. Thus 
 these pests of society lay wait to entangle and 
 destroy innocent females, who have no friends to 
 defend them, and no relatives to redress their 
 wrongs. If a solitary gleam of pity flushes across 
 his iron mind, it is instantly effaced by the more 
 potent call of lawless passion. If the principles 
 of religion and moral rectitude recur to his me- 
 mory, they are rejected as the offspring of fana- 
 ticism, that do not Uelong to the character of a 
 gentleman. He thinfes he may enjoy the licenfte 
 w hich custom proffers and human laws do not pro- 
 hibit. As for God and his laws, sucb characters 
 pay very little regard to them. Since then tempta- 
 tions and snares stand thick through all the 
 ground, the syren's voice is heard on ev^ery side, 
 to lead the rising generation tp ruin, should not 
 parents, therefore, be perseveringly solicitous to 
 fortify the minds of their children against the ev- 
 il day, when they may be exposed to all the force 
 of temptation from Satan and wicked men, when 
 they are laid in their graves, and can no longer 
 protect and defend them? Surely they should. 
 But, alas! how contrary do many parents act to 
 this line of conduct! They not only suffer their 
 female progeny to go unreproved into the very 
 
VINDICATED. S5 
 
 javrs of destruction, but even fsucilitate their ruin 
 tlieniiselves. Little do they think, that they them- 
 selves will have to ansMer to God for the evils 
 resulting to the rising generation from their neg- 
 ligence; for, surely, cluldren that are formally 
 devoted, by their irifatuated pr.renta, to be the 
 slaves of fashion and idleness, will, of course, 
 become, not the ornaments, but the pests of soci- 
 ety. A folio A'olume would not contain what 
 miglit be said^ in displaying modern fashions, 
 and their deleterious tendencies. And the mis- 
 fortune is, that many parents encourage their 
 children to become tliQ votaries of fashion, long 
 before they arrive at years of maturity. You 
 may see little miss Amelia mimicking the fash- 
 ions, with all the affected airs of a coquette, be- 
 fore she hath seen her twelfth year; and little 
 master Tommy, at the same age, w ith his pan- 
 taloons up to his chin, his waistcoat about six 
 inches long, his half boots with tas:i Is, a watch 
 in his fob, a club under his arm, and a segar in 
 his liiouth, strutting along with his arms a-kiai- 
 bo, with all the self-consequence of a nabob. 
 Can it be possible, that such parents ever recol 
 iect for what purpose man was created. I repeat 
 the sentiment, and it cannot be too often repeat 
 ed, while parents are so thoughtless, for what 
 end God intrusted them with the care of children, 
 I should have said immortal spirits, capable of 
 high beatitude. Was it that they should consid- 
 er them as anim^al machines, and forsooth learn 
 them to dance and sing, and spend their precious 
 time in pursuit of vanity and sensual gratifica- 
 tion, and to prostitute their talents to the most 
 unworthy purposes; in short, their lives in ih-: 
 iier*vice, not of their frienr], but of their enemy 
 jfiot of their Heavenly Father, but of Satau. 
 
3G FExMALE CIIARACTER 
 
 I smile to myself when I take a retrospective 
 view of the routine, of the formalities and ceremo- 
 nies, through which the children of those called 
 the higher class pass, while attaining, and pri- 
 or to their being metamorphosed to what are call- 
 ed ladies and gentlemen; hut that smile is chang- 
 ed to a frown of indignation, when I recollect 
 the dreadful consequences resnlting to the uncon- 
 scious innocents, who are prematurely contamin- 
 ated with pride and vanity; and who become, as 
 it were mechanically, or by instinct, the devo- 
 ted victims of concupiscence, and sensuality, cr, 
 to what leads directly to these evils, namely, 
 fas] » ion. 
 
 When I recollect these gigantic evils, for my 
 inind unhidden still recurs to the same topic, dis- 
 gusted with the baneful retrospect, and alarmed 
 for the consequences, J can only lament the infa- 
 tuation and degradation of my unhappy fellow- 
 travellers to t!ic tomb, who are one (hiy arrayed 
 in all the])ompand pageantry of fashion, and the 
 next day wrapped in tlieir winding-sheets; one 
 day, blooming with healtli and beauty, and burst- 
 ^!'p; with ])ride; and the next inanimate clay; one 
 clay, with all tlie affectation of pedants, the co- 
 quetry of jilts, tlic formality of devotees, and the 
 agility of play-actors, skipping through the ball- 
 room; tlie next, sti*etchcd out on the cooling- 
 hoard. Like the beatiteous iily, waviiig on the 
 /lewy lawn, displaying its snow white face, danc- 
 ing in the winds, and receiving the exhilarating 
 sun-l}eams in full effusions; when lo! in a mo- 
 nier.t, the atmosphere is clouded, the sun shrouds 
 his golden face, the storms arise, the rain des- 
 cends in deluges, overloads the gay plant, till it 
 droops and kisses the ground; when the rud- 
 ^yinds invade and tear up by the roots, it \k 
 
VINDICATED. 37 
 
 exteftded on the lawn, its beauty forcvcF fled,, anil 
 mingles with th^dust. 
 
 'Thus, one month, the proud votary of fashion^ 
 thinks the ground scarcely good enough for her to 
 walk upon; next month, she is deposited six feet 
 below that ground, mouldering to dust, and tho 
 food of worms. But when we extend our ideas to 
 the in<Ielicacy, indecency, and fatality of female 
 fashion, and view its votaries, one day, with all 
 the enticing wiles of Joseph's beauteous,^ though 
 incontinent mistress, and w ith all the charms of 
 a Helen, exhibited to the greatest advantage, in 
 order that she might attract the eyes and pro- 
 voke the lust of the degenerate, and thus causa 
 them to sin against the Eternal; I say, how dread- 
 ful is the thought, yet how true, that, one day, 
 the votary of fashion is thus leading the unguaid- 
 ed into the devious paths of folly; and the next, 
 she is arraigned at the bar of God to answer for 
 the concomitant evils resulting from such impru- 
 dent and wicked conduct, of which nature it un- 
 doubtedly is. Indeed I am bold to say, that some 
 fashionable females would be less fascinating, 
 were they to go altogether naked: for instance, 
 a person may display in part an object, whicli 
 will be truly captivating by exhibiting the most 
 attracting part to view; and screening the rest 
 as still more delightful; whereby the beholder is 
 stimulated, with tenfold solicitude, to recognize 
 that which is screened, his fancy depicting it in 
 imaginary colors, as possessed with intrinsic ex- 
 cellencies, which, were he to b< hold in its native 
 colors, he would be quickly undeceived. Indeed^ 
 some ladies carry fashions to such an extreme, a^ 
 
 ^GenesiSf 39 Chap. 
 
S8 FEMALE GHARACTER 
 
 to be but one degree above nakedness. I have 
 5nyself seen— But here let me stop. Decency^ 
 forbids me to depict what some expose, who per- 
 haps would be offended to be called immodest. 
 
 ^fTheiv robes so fashion'd, that degenerate men 
 
 May fancy aU the wondrous charms within! 
 
 And thus each dame, all beautified by art. 
 
 Attracts the wanton eye, the unhallow'd heart; 
 
 Those charms, alts! that virtue bids them screen; 
 
 Hy every lawless libertine are seen: 
 
 This makes seduction seem both fine and gavy 
 
 While weeping" virtue walks disrob'd away. 
 
 Here all our guilt, and all our sorrows lie. 
 
 Hence youths and maids to certain ruin fly, 
 
 By nature man's deprav'd; this makes him worse* 
 
 Tmpels to guilt that proves an endless curse; 
 
 They fix their eyes upon each swelling breast. 
 
 The vices reigning will declare the rest. 
 
 Oh! what's th' enchanting eye, the ruddy face; 
 
 -'Beauty unchaste, is beauty in d sgrace;*' 
 
 And yet in them is every art and charm. 
 
 To win the wisest, and the coldest warm: 
 
 *I hope the reader will excuse the indelicacy of some 
 expressions used in this work, i am willing to apolo- 
 
 ;-ze for the same: but 1 think, in point of justice, the 
 -notaries of fashion should first make an apology to the 
 public for giving the cause, they being, unquestiona- 
 bly, under more cogent obligations so to do, than I 
 am; for I scarcely exhibit in miniature, what they free- 
 jy display in magnitude. Indeed, it gives me pain to 
 be so pointed in my animadversions, but It is indispen- 
 sably necessary: for, without this, my writing on the 
 4JLiSject will be in vain. When licentious fashions oi* 
 practices become habitual, there is no possible mean?, 
 of exhibiting their deformity, but by painting them 
 
 -'ic most prominent jnann^r^ and lively colors. 
 
VINDICATED. i9 
 
 Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire. 
 
 The kind deceit, and still reviving fire; 
 
 Silence that speaks witli eloquence of e} es, 
 
 That captivate the good, the great, the wise., 
 
 Languor that fascinates, all conq*ring charms, 
 
 That tempts the sage, and e'en the stoic warms 
 
 Yet, 0h! the pride, the glory of our race, 
 
 For want of prudence, is tlie world's disgrace; 
 
 Guilt, which in ages past in darkness lay. 
 
 Is now the pride and order of the day. 
 
 But this degen'racy is big with woe. 
 
 To social order a destructive foe^ 
 
 The race of mankind are by nature frail, 
 
 And strong temptations with the best prevail, 
 
 Th' enticing ladies who their charms expose^ 
 
 At once ensnare, and are ensnared by foes; 
 
 Each am'rous fop with greedy eyes surveys 
 
 Their charms exposed, and covets still to gaze; 
 
 This makes the husband soon forget his spouse^ 
 
 For man is false nor recollects his vows; 
 
 With wild inconstancy for all he burns. 
 
 Each shameless miss subdues his heart by turns; 
 
 He views each true or artificial charm. 
 
 These fatal sights his sleeping passions warm: 
 
 Seduction is his last resource — hence woe. 
 
 Disgrace, and shame overwhelm th' ensnaring foe^, 
 
 And hence. Oh! hence, such num'rous rakes we see^ 
 
 And idle women, plung'd in misery: 
 
 Hence misses who have scarce twelve winters seen. 
 
 Become the victims ofdegen'rate men. 
 
 So lost from shepherd, and its mourning dam, 
 
 Through some lone desert roves a struggling lamb. 
 
 No danger fears, but as she idly strays, 
 
 Round every bush the heedless wanton plays. 
 
 Till raging wolves the beauteous toy surround. 
 
 Or tigers slay her on the crimson ground; 
 
 Then from her guiltless heart the purple flows 
 
 A precious morsel for the hungry foes. 
 
 ^j dire exampld^ruin'd, thus wretched liQfy 
 
40 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Many a youthful dame with streaming eyesj 
 No more their lips like dewy roses glow. 
 Their weary eyes no peaceful slumbers know 
 But left to strike their pensive breasts in vain 
 And curse the authors of their lasting pain. 
 
VINDICATED 4i 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Miscellaneous and desultory strictures, intended to de-^ 
 monstrate the authenticity of the antecedent arg-u- 
 ments, and respectfully submitted to the candid con- 
 sideration of parents generally. 
 
 I Have, in the preceding chapter, delirteated 
 a few desultory and spontaneous thoughts on fash- 
 ion. Refinement in composition, or elegance in 
 arrangement, has been no part of my object and 
 design, which are simply to deliver my senti- 
 ments unadorned and unadulterated, descending 
 to particulars when necessary, and animadvert- 
 ing on the most popular vices, when introduced 
 on the carpet. My primary object is to be use- 
 ful, without paying the least regard to the cri- 
 tic's malicious sneers, the debauchee's vindictive 
 frown, or the fashionable dame's consequential 
 declamations. The adulation of perishing mor- 
 tals, I do not solicit, nor deprecate their cen- 
 sures; for, though I love all men, I fear no man^, 
 being perfectly independent in this respect. 
 
 A large field for contemplation presents to my 
 Tiew a train of interesting common-place thoughts^ 
 connected with my subject, which are so natural, 
 and at the same time so reasonable, that one would 
 suppose it altogether superfluous to suggest them, 
 but if we may judge the people by their relative 
 conduct, we must co ne to this conclusion, that 
 if they are apprised of these thoughts, and well 
 iaformed respecting the subject matter of om- in- 
 
42 PEMAI^E CHARAGTER 
 
 vestigation, they have a queer way of showing 
 their information. For instance, can we, for a 
 moment, suppose, on the most superficial view of 
 the manner in which many parents bring up their 
 children, that they are convinced, when the love 
 of unwarrantable pleasures, imprudent compan- 
 ions, fashionable appendages, however indecent, 
 are allowed to attract the attention, engross the 
 affections, and envelop the practices of children, 
 their degradation, contamination, and, perhaps, 
 even destruction, approaches with long and stea- 
 dy strides. Surely, we cannot believe that they 
 are convinced of this truth, though it is as plain 
 to behold as the beams of the sun in an unclouded 
 atmosphere. We all know, that intemperance, 
 by enervating the mind and debilitating tke body, 
 produces a stat^ of wretchedness, while temper- 
 ance has the contrary effect; and even imprudence 
 in dress, and a deleterious obsequiousness to in- 
 judicious as well as indecent fashions, have 
 brought many a young w oman, in the meridian of 
 youth, to a premature death, by producing the 
 most destructive disorders; while, on the contra- 
 ry, the prudent, judicious female, by pot listen- 
 ing to the solicitations of wayward fancy, and by 
 refusing to expose her constitutipn for the gratifi- 
 cation of her vanity, and in obedience to the ca- 
 pricious mandates of fashion, lives to become an 
 useful and ornamental member of civil society, 
 the virtuous wife of a reputable husband, the pru- 
 dent mother of a happy, as well as numerous 
 progeny; and though her personal charms may 
 not be equal toothers, yet her virtue more than 
 doubly compensates for it; for virtue, like the 
 shining gold, or glistening jewel, the more it is 
 used, the more resplendent it appears, and a moi^e 
 brilliant radiance it actjuires. Thus, the sun, in 
 
VINDICATED. 4s 
 
 Ills western declination, darts his horizontal 
 beams less glittering, but more captivating, than 
 in his meridian glory, when majestically grand 
 he displays at once his magnitude and beauty. 
 This similitude illustrates the characteristic of 
 an amiable woman, possessed with personal 
 charms in mediocrity, without affectation, but 
 blessed with sentimental charms in superabun- 
 dance without pedantry. But, to what shall we 
 liken .the affected coquette, whose very physiog- 
 nomy expresses to every beholder tlie quintessence 
 of vanity and self consequence. Though her beau- 
 ty transcended that of the sun at noon-day; yet 
 would her affectation and haughtiness draw a veil 
 over it, and excite contempt, instead of admira- 
 tion, like the sable cloud, that big with showers^ 
 shrouds the radiant sun in solemn sadness, and 
 causes a glooni to rest even upon the beauteous 
 flower garden. 
 
 We would compare such a one (and many such 
 there are) to a wolf clothed with a lamb^s skin^ 
 By his mimickry and affectation, the deception 
 is recognized, and he receives contempt and exe- 
 cration. 
 
 The horse is a beautiful and useful animal, and 
 is of course admired and esteemed. The leopard 
 is still more beautiful to behold, yet he is viewed 
 with horror, and avoided with dismay. What a 
 pity it is, that the proud and imperious votaries 
 of fashion, while at their toilets, or strutting a- 
 long the streets, will not ask their own hearts 
 these solemn quCvStions: What are we? Atoms of 
 creation, particles of dust. Where are we? On 
 this terraqueous ball, spending a few revolving 
 moments, as probationary, a:countable, and sen- 
 sitive beings, on whom are bestowed, by the lib- 
 eral h<indi of the Architect of Nature, transcend 
 
44 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 €ntly cxeellfnt and ornamental qualifications, for 
 the express purpose of promoting the glory^ and 
 doing the will of the Eternal Creator, to whom 
 we must account for ttie expenditure of our riches, 
 talents and time ! ! 
 
 W/ieti w£ leave this earthly ball, what will 6e* 
 tome of our immortal parts? We shall undoubted- 
 ly be arraigned at the august tribunal of the Eter- 
 iial; there to receive, from the impartial Judge, 
 rewards or punishments, according to the merit 
 or demerit of our actions. We shall then ascer- 
 tain^ that our probationary state, at least when 
 compared to eternity, is Jike a dream, or a flash 
 of lightning in the atmosphere, one moment seen, 
 the next vanished forever. Is it then right or 
 reasonable for us to spend our fleeting moments in 
 gratifying our capricious passions, in indulging 
 our unwarrantable pleasures, and in offering in- 
 cense at the shrine of vanity? JVb. As we are 
 not only probationary, but social and immortal 
 beings, it is an insult to common sense, a per- 
 version of our nature, and a mortal sin against 
 the eternal Author and supporter of concord and 
 peace, to spend our time in idleness and dissipa- 
 tion, not only neglecting to do good, but in do- 
 ing much evil, prostituting our persons, time, 
 riches, and talents to the most unworthy purpo- 
 ses. These are serious considerations; and how- 
 ever the volatile and gay may flirt and sneer at 
 them, the day is fast approaching when sickness 
 will seize, and medicine fail them. Then they 
 will anticipate all the solemnities of a dying hour,, 
 and feel, as well as know, that Jehovah is inexo- 
 rable in justice, and irrevocable in his decrees, 
 as they respect the proud and impenitent; and, at 
 the same time, great in goodness to the humble 
 and pious; upon whom he showers ia copious a- 
 
45 
 
 tlNDICATEB. 
 
 bundance liis divine blessings and benedictions 
 He is their source of consolation under trouble. 
 He fortifies their minds in temptations; and, when 
 about to take a long and last farewell of all things 
 here below, a convoy of celestial heralds are sent 
 to bear the happy soul exulting and triumphant 
 on their golden wings up to the palace of God and 
 his angels. 
 
 Swift, and more swift the radiant heralds go, 
 As swift as lightning", and as white as snow. 
 
 Parents should always remember, that for eve« 
 ty child the Almighty has intrusted to their charge, 
 tie has assigned a portion of work in his vineyard; 
 for, surely, we must believe, that he has not, 
 will not, and cannot create an immortal spirit 
 <vithout having some glorious end in view. For 
 «ny own part, I am confident in the opinion, that 
 fliere is not an individual of the human family 
 (idiots and lunatics excepted,) who has not one 
 or more talents imparted, and a portion of salu- 
 tary labor appropriated for the exercise of that 
 talent or talents, by the improvement of which 
 lie may, in a greater or less degree, promote the 
 glory of God, the cause of virtue, and the good 
 of mankind. And on parents the important task 
 falls, to cultivate the intellectual faculties of their 
 children at an early age, that they may answer 
 the salutary end of their creation, wlien arrived 
 at the years of accountability. If they neglect 
 this part of their duty to God and their children, 
 they are guilty of the crimes they commit, and of 
 the good the neglect: and let them flatter them- 
 selves as they may, they will have to answer for 
 the same to the God of Nature. The natural con- 
 sequences that result from children'^ being allow 
 
4G FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 ed by their parents or guardians to remain in ig- 
 norance and disobedience, are the contamination 
 of the source of virtue, the perversion of theii 
 natural endowments, and the surrendering of them 
 to the influence and domination of the most dis- 
 cordant passions and jarring dispositions: and 
 when these are allowed to extend their baneful 
 influence, the w hole moral character is poisoned, 
 the motives to laudable actions are annihilated, 
 and disgrace, guilt and misery, are accumulated; 
 by w hich means, the unconscious children of in- 
 judicious parents are too often precipitated into a 
 labyrinth of premature misery, and, perhaps, fi- 
 nal ruin. Swallowed in the vortex of immortali- 
 ty before the principles of moral rectitude were 
 inculcated on their juvenile minds, before the su- 
 per-excellence of virtue had been exhibited to their 
 indiscriminate view", or before its transcendent 
 beauties had been even anticipated. Their un 
 governable passions produce a train of evils. 
 First, intemperance leads the van; complicated 
 disease follows; sloth, pride, poverty, and des 
 pair bring up the rear, and precipitate the unhap 
 py beings loaded with sins of the deepest dye, and 
 enveloped with sorrows of tenfold magnitude, in- 
 to eternity, cursing forever the authors of their 
 lasting wretchedness. But, alas! — it is not on- 
 ly the children of such cruel parents that are pre- 
 maturely contaminated by sentimental or practi- 
 cal seduction, but even those of prudent and vir- 
 tuous people when first setting out in life, while 
 yet strangers to the syren^s voice, the charming 
 fiypocrite^s solicitations; when every unhallowed 
 pleasure entices, and every new object exhibits 
 an air of novelty; the seducing spirit gains the 
 ascendancy; virtue retires disrobed and in tears; 
 tranquillity is forever banished; irregular^ and 
 
VINDICATED. 4? 
 
 -veil criminal desires are gratified, being first 
 metamorphosed to venial weakness; habit grows 
 invincible; guilt grows gigantic; and debauchery 
 is accounted laudable, till death stops the juven- 
 ile wantons in their mad career, and levels them 
 with the clods of the valley; while their discon- 
 solate parents remain uninipeached, having done 
 their duty to them while in their minority. How 
 often has it happened, that young persons have 
 begun the world with blooming prospects and vir- 
 tuous dispositions; but, alas! by associating witli 
 wicked companions, and by indulging in unwar 
 rantable propensities, their blooming prospects 
 are blasted in the bud, like the opening flower 
 scorched by the sun, or blasted by the impetuous 
 whirlwind; and though they bid fair to be tin 
 support, yet they eventually prove to be the pests 
 of civil society. Thus, the sun rises majestically 
 grand, tips the blue mountains with a golden I'ay^ 
 exhilarates the plain, gilds the atmosphere with 
 orient light, and promises a charming day; when, 
 lo! the sable curtains of the sky are let down, the 
 sun is vanished, the showers descend, and con- 
 clude the weeping day witii solemn sadness.— 
 
 Those who call themselves the riclu the great^ 
 and the lords of the creation^ are often envied by 
 the lower class; but, alas! their embarrassing 
 and fleeting situations in life should cohimand our 
 pity, instead of exciting our envy. Many ar 
 aching head reclines upon a downy pillow* Ma- 
 ny a sorrowful licart is conveyed from place to 
 place in a gilded chariot. Many a volatile out- 
 side appearance conceals unutterable wretched- 
 ness within. Riches nurture pride; and pride 
 disorders the heart: and the fountain of happi 
 Hess being poisoned, the streams are consequent 
 ^y affected. Though cvtvy other painful scnsa. 
 
44 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Hon were prolubited from disturbing the rich 
 man's mind, yet the solemn thought of the ap- 
 proach of death, with all his ghastly terrors, to 
 force him to relinquish his splendid possessions 
 in favor of others, to exchange his pompous pal- 
 ace for a loathsome grave, are enough to blast all 
 his pleasures, to imbitter all his sweets, and to 
 annihilate his hopes of future joy: especially wheir 
 he takes a retrospective view of his rare virtues 
 and multiplied crimes; of the good he has omitted 
 to do, and of the evils he has done, he laments 
 that he has let liis golden moments pass without 
 improvement. The concomitants that attend hii^ 
 departure from the paths of innocency and virtue, 
 appear to his wounded mind, as the spectre of a 
 murdered person appears in the midnight hour to 
 the assassin while slumbering on his bed, calling 
 in vain for the comforts of peaceful repose. He 
 curses the unhappy moment he first cast his eyes 
 on the gardens of unhallowed pleasure. He re- 
 members with what timidity and trembling he 
 first ventured to participate the lawless revelling 
 of liis jovial companions, still casting a longing 
 lingering glance on the forsaken path of virtue, 
 with a purpose to return at a future period; but, 
 alas! one enticing snare is followed by another 
 stiilmoreso, and the same with licentious acts, 
 till the remembrance of his former virtue is oblit- 
 erated from his mind, and even a relish for the 
 happiness of innocence and integrity. He then 
 becomes an easy victim of dissipation, is entan- 
 gled in business, immersed in luxury, filled with 
 vanRy, degraded by iniquity* and is easily whirl- 
 ed down the vortex of sensuality into the ocean 
 of complete misery, while the most superficial 
 glance of his former happy days, fills him with 
 Sorror and regret. Thus, the man who in Ws 
 
VINDICATED, 49 
 
 pleasure-boat sails down the river Thames^ views 
 ^iritli delight the bcautiriil country seats and their 
 romantic scenery^ the blushing parterres, the 
 scented meads, the diversified flower-gardens, 
 tjie lofty trees peeping over trees, and waving 
 their verdant foliage; but, lo! while he is delight- 
 ing himself with the enchanting sight, a sudden 
 squall of wind, descending upon his little boat, 
 breaks the mast, and bears the sail away The 
 rising gale still blows the boat down the river, 
 the man not being able to manage her, the sail 
 being lost, she is at length ushered into the foam- 
 ing ocean, where the mountain waves threaten 
 to make the man's pleasure-boat his coffin. Hq 
 laments his folly for coming so far from home 
 mthout making any preparation for incidental 
 dangers. He blames his own neglect for the di- 
 lemma in which he finds himself; and each wave 
 he views augments his horror, while he sees, or 
 thinks he sees, grim death sit frowning on each 
 wave. He casts many a long look on the forsa- 
 ken shore, hoping to gain it; but he hopes in 
 vain. 
 
 Indeed, it often Iiappens, that the accumula- 
 tion of Vvcalth completely metamorphoses many 
 persons from what they were in a state of medio- 
 crity. From being the votaries of virtue, they 
 become the votaries of vanity. From offering 
 the grateful tribute of thanksgiving at the altar of 
 God, they offer the sacrifice of adulation at the 
 shrine of avarice. The case of Hazael presents 
 itself to illustrate my arguments. When the 
 prophet Elisha told him of the barbarous cruel- 
 
 *Thames, a large navigable river in England, gntbe 
 orth side of which London is situated. 
 
50 FEMALE CIIARAGTER 
 
 lies lie would commit, he was petrified with lior-» 
 ror, ahhori'cd Use very idea of such barbarity, 
 jind e.xclaimed in the language of detestation: 
 *'Biit ivhaU is thy servant a dog. that he should 
 ih this great thing?^^ But, alas! following years 
 demonsti ated the truth of the prophet's words. 
 When Jie became king of Syria, ambition and 
 rjTiclly took possession of his rational faculties; 
 lie vras so fur changed, as to take a dire deliglit 
 \n perpetrating wliat he before shuddered to an- 
 Ucipate. He became a monster in the shape of a 
 nan: who^-e delight was violence and murder; for 
 •t appears, he suiote the children of Israel in alt 
 •heir coasts, and oppressed them during all the 
 days of king Jehoahaz. I might also mention 
 ilexander the gi*eat, whose history tends to de- 
 ujoKstrate the authenticity of my arguments. In 
 his yoTith, lie V. as ti'uly a person of an amiable 
 mind; and even on the commencement of liis vic- 
 torious career as a general, he was remarkable 
 Tor his modei-ation aiul virtue; an instance of 
 whic)}, F would beg leave to relate, vvhich does 
 liim irreat lionor, and deserves to be had in dci* 
 petual remembrance. 
 
 ^^The evening alier an engagement with the 
 
 Persians, Alexander invited his cliief officers to a 
 
 least, at which he himself presided, notwith- 
 
 tandinglic had been wounded that day in battle. 
 
 'Hie festivity, howevei% had scarce begun, 
 v;\\Qw they were interrupted by sad lamentations 
 from a neighboring tent, which at iirst they con- 
 sidej'ed as a fresh alarm, but the^/ were soon 
 taught that it came from the tent in wliich tlie 
 "wiie aiid mother of Darius were kept, wlio were 
 expressing their sorrow for the supposed death of 
 Oarius. An eunuch, who had seen his cloak in 
 ihn ha]]ds of a soldiei% imaginiiig he was kill^'^ 
 
MEDICATED. 
 
 broiishl tiicm these iliTJi.'Ifiil tidings, 
 however, sent oue of hig officers to r.ndeceivc: 
 tliem, and to uiforui tr.em tliaV the < 
 still alive. The woiiien, little JLf-ed tv. i -a- ;..>j>v..r 
 anrc of stranuiers, unou tl;c arrival of the Mace 
 donian soldier, iraagiiting he wassent to puttnei; 
 to death, threw themselves at his leet, and eu 
 treated hiiii to spare them a little while. I'hey 
 were ready, they said, to die: aJid only desired 
 to bury Darius, beQ)re t'ley should sufu^r. Th( 
 soldier assured them, that the monarch whoir 
 they deplored, was still living, and he gave S} 
 dgambis his hand to raise lier from the ground. 
 
 •*TIiC next day Alexander, after visiting the 
 wounded, caused the last honors to be paid to the 
 dead in the presence of the whole army, drav*: 
 up in the most spleiidid order of battle. He treat 
 €d the Persians of distinction in the same man 
 ner, and permitted Darius' mother to bury what 
 €ver person sh.e pleased according to the custom- 
 and ceremonies practised in her country. After 
 this, he sertt a message to the queens to inform 
 them, that he was coming to pay them a visit; 
 and accordingly, comuianding all his train to 
 withdraw, he entered the tent, accompanied only 
 hy Ilephaistion, who made so cautious and dis- 
 creet a use of the liberty granted hini;, that he 
 seemed to take it not so much out of inclinatioH, 
 as from a desire to obey the king, who would 
 have it so. They were of the same age, but He 
 phsestion was taller, so that t!ie queens took him 
 first for the king, and paid him their respects as 
 such. But some captive eunuchs shewing them. 
 Alexander, Sysigambis fell prostrate before him, 
 and entreated par^iun for her mistake, but the 
 king raising her from the ground, assured her 
 tbat his friend was also another Alexander; anti 
 
5xJ FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 after comforting her and her attendants, took the 
 son of Dariuh that was vet hrt a child, in liis 
 xirms. The infant, without discovering the least 
 terror, stretched out his arms to the conqueror, 
 who being affected by its confidence, said to He- 
 phrestion, *0h! that Darius liadsorne share, some 
 portion of this infant's generosity.' — This inter- 
 Tiew has done more honor to Alexander's charac- 
 ter, than all the rest of his conquests: the gentle- 
 ness of liis manners to the suppliant captives, 
 his chastity and continence, when he had the pow- 
 er to enforce obedience, were setting an example 
 to heroes, whicli it has been the pride of many 
 since to imitate/' 
 
 Yet, alas! notwithstanding this favorable com 
 menccment, his end was truly wretched: befor^^ 
 ^vhich he degenerated from his antecedent qualifi- 
 cations through tlie influence and medium of un- 
 exampled success; so that he was considered by 
 the surrounding nations as the scourge of God 
 and destroyer of the human ]*ace. And while he 
 enslaved the world, he was himself a slave to in- 
 temperance, by which lie was brought to an un- 
 timely grave, i might adduce a large number oi 
 examples to show that riclies prove a curse to 
 thousands by feeding their imperious vanity and 
 pride; and, at the same time, annihilating their 
 social vit;tue and humility. One would think it 
 impossible for people to be hauglity and proud, 
 Avhen the thoughts of death and the grave rush in- 
 to their minds; but, alas! they suffer not the in- 
 teresting thoughts to rest upon their vitiated 
 hearts till the die is cast, and they feel, as well as 
 Ivnow, that the Almighty is just as well as good, 
 w ise as well as merciful. 
 
 Some suppose that tlie ricli who bask in the sun 
 ti'hine of prosperity, arc happy, without i^ni-ru' 
 
VINOICATKD. 55 
 
 paiiug any degree of sorrow; but, let them know> 
 that the ricli, ia common with the poor, have their 
 portion of human woe to bear; and often the dis- 
 appointments of vice are greater than those of 
 virtue. What self-denial that religion imposes, 
 is more agonizing than the predominant influence 
 of envy, revenge, parsimony, avarice, and a 
 :train of evils too horrid to mention? The Eternal 
 prohibits his children from nothing but what 
 would be injurious to them. Those who obey his 
 requirings, enjoy a paradise on earth, in reflect- 
 ing that they, with a sincere heart, endeavor to 
 do his will. Thus, in the midst of misfortune 
 and disappointment, the virtuous are crowned 
 with joy and peace, while the vicious are tor- 
 mented with the thoughts of their present guilt, 
 and the prospect of their future misery. And let 
 the wicked man think what he may, he can nev- 
 er get to heaven without repentance, nor escape 
 the notice of the all-seeing eye. Though he should 
 vault into the sky, precipitate down to the lower 
 regions, or fly to the uttermost parts of tlie 
 earth, there an omnipotent God would be present 
 to punish him. 
 
 But the most potent argument we can advance 
 to prove the validity of our hypothesis, and the 
 cogency of the duty of parents to their children 
 respecting their intellectual improvement, is the 
 solemn reflection of the immateriality of the soul. 
 And when this reflection presents itself to my 
 mind, I can scarcely avoid being irritated at the 
 murderous folly of those parents, who act towards 
 their children, as if they were animal machines, 
 not immortal spirits; and thus lay the foundation 
 of their present and future misery. Hence, the 
 <many digressions that are observable in this per- 
 forma,nge« Jlowey^r; I am not writing ^^ plea^ffe 
 
FEMALE CIIAHiVGTER 
 
 the car^ but to profit the heart. Truth is, I con- 
 reive, most resplendent wljen most simplified; and 
 to attempt to ganiisli it with the appeiulages oC 
 iiietaphysjcal enidition, in order to enforce and 
 beautify it, is like painting a diamond witli a 
 view to make it more brilliant. Sophistry, not 
 truth, needs these appendages. 
 
 1 conceive it to be the duty of an antlior, \vho 
 pyrites for the good, not for the pi'aise of man,, to 
 make his readers rellect, not laugh; to study u- 
 tility more than elegance; brc\ity more than re- 
 dun?' ance: to forego prolixity and exhibit variety, 
 A \vell-j)oised sentimerit, a simpliried argument, 
 suj>ported by reason and couiinon sense^ an in- 
 stantaneous exhibition of a common fact^ will 
 have a better tendency to convince tlie under- 
 standing, inform the mind, and reform the heart, 
 tlian volumes of elegant, rellned but futile com- 
 position. A literary work possessed of energy, 
 Tivacity and utility can only be useful to a certain 
 descri]}tion of persons. 
 
 is it not virtually coiomitting intellecttml mas- 
 sacre, when parents not only negject to impress 
 on the juvenile minds of tlseir rn^geny the mild 
 precepts of our holy religion, but suffer tliem to 
 i-un through the slip])ery |M-ihs of youth with un- 
 restraineil passions. Thus, the injudicious farm- 
 er su^ii^rs his colt to remain in the woodlands (in- 
 steaii of raiding and nurturing it under his imme- 
 diate inspection) till it has gained its native 
 s with accumulated fiercei^ess. The 
 
 o :.eing pressed by his wants, no w^ pursues, 
 
 endeavoring to recover his horse, but in vain. 
 The ln>ise i^- rer.dered useless to him, and dan- 
 gerous to iht: pulylic thi'ough his neglect. Thus, 
 th'Uisam s of cliiiisren are not only useless to their 
 parents, bat bring their grey hairs with sorrow 
 
ViNDICATEI). 55 
 
 o tlic grave, tliroug'h tlieir wildnesa aiul disobe- 
 difMic(\ And they not only endanger the peace 
 oi' otliers by tlieir blhrd inipetnosity, but hurry 
 themselves headlong into excenses which termin- 
 ate in their ruin. 
 
 The child of a savage* and that of a sage, arc 
 the same by natin*c. By lettini^: them botli re- 
 main uncultivated, they will be equally wiJd, 
 thougli it may be tlieir fjuickncss of cultivation 
 may not be the same on their intellectual improve- 
 ment. There is, therefore, no part of parental 
 iluty more important than bri*Uing the passions 
 of children at an early age: and that parent, 
 whether rich or jioor, noble or ignoble, who suc- 
 ceeds in breaking his child's temper, while in a 
 state of minority, has purchased the most invalu- 
 able blessing for liim» and has gained the highest 
 
 ittainn^ent peculiar to our rational nature. 
 
 Wherever we turn our eyes, we see objects to 
 demonstrate this speculative reasoning. In one 
 direction, we see the virtuous happy man who is 
 master of his passions, sit calm in tumults, and 
 amidst contending j)arties and busy multitudes; 
 while, in the opposite direction, we discover the 
 vicious wretched man mastered by his passions, 
 led from one extreine to another, blasting the e?i- 
 joyments of his neighbors, strewing the patfi of 
 life with thorns, and rendering tlie sacred reces- 
 ses of domestic tranquillity a vale of tears. 
 
 Let us for a moment cast our eyes on tlie thea* 
 tre of war, and ask our hearts the cause of ail 
 such havoc, slaugiiter, discord, devastation, and 
 anarchy, which we behold — While individuals, 
 families, arm for war, and, on the most trifling 
 occasions, rush against each other with the uiry 
 of roaring liojis, and with the inipctuosity of ma- 
 nlags, malevolent and furious to spill each oth- 
 
56 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 ^r's blood, the answer is ready ♦ the reason is oIj- 
 vious, to wit, PAssioiN ! unrestrained, unhallow- 
 ed passion. And it is not the present age only 
 that has been famous, or rather infamous, for 
 the depredations of sanguinary warfare, but also 
 former generations have tinged the verdant green 
 with crimson red; have cast libations of human 
 blood into the briny deep; have raised whole he- 
 eatombs of human bodies, as trophies in honor 
 of the goddess of victory. And when we descend 
 ft'om national to individual suicide, we behold, 
 with an equal degree of horror, the tragical ca- 
 tastrophes resulting from domestic and individu- 
 al discord: here we see revenge, envy, covetous- 
 ness, jealousy, rage, viith unbridled license: 
 here, the outlawed viUain sends the glittering 
 dirk through the guiltless body of the inoffensive 
 traveller; robs him of his money, while his blood 
 is yet warm on the reeking blade* There th^ 
 legal villain, on account of some trifling misun- 
 derstanding, calls his brother into the field, and 
 sends the leaden ball through his body with im- 
 punity, while he screens himself from all impu- 
 tation under the august canopy of public patron- 
 age or popular custom; but we must forbear de- 
 lineating even the outlines of the dreadful picture. 
 However, we will attempt a little farther to 
 ihow^^ the dissimilarity betw^een the man that is 
 a slave to his passions, and him that has con- 
 quered them. By painting the latter character 
 more plainly, we may recognize the infinite ^d- 
 
 *The most effectual method to demonstrate the de- 
 formity of vice, and beauty of virtue, is, by contrast 
 ing them, and by particularizing the dissimilairity.tit f' 
 
 Yov of virtue. 
 
VINDICATED. 5; 
 
 vantages of a virtuous life. The consolatory ef- 
 fect of virtue on tlie human mind, will not admit 
 ©fa shadow of douht, much less of dispute. A 
 thousand volumes would not contain even a spe- 
 cimen of the happiness which tliose persons enjoy 
 who are the possessors of social virtue. There 
 is one sensation of celestial origin which he inher- 
 its, if he ih in afliuent circumstances; and that 
 is, the opportunity given him to spread benefac- 
 tions, and consequent comforts amongst his indi- 
 gent fellow-men; and thus to increase his own^ 
 by establishing their comforts. He rejoices iu 
 the good which tliey enjoy, and they in the good 
 vhich he bestows: but the a])proving voice of his 
 conscience, with the exhilarating smiles of Heav- 
 en which he anticipates, exceeds description. 
 Those heavenly sensations may be felt, but they 
 never can be expressed. What are the pleasures 
 of the voluptuous, of the epicure, or of the vota- 
 ries of fashion, when compared to his? They arc 
 beastly indulgence, and sensual gratification. 
 It is like comparing a drop of water^o the ocean, 
 agrainof sand to tliis terraqueous ball? a candle 
 totliesun, or hell to heaven. 
 
 All nature smiles upon him, and he upon the 
 face of nature. The most superficial view of the 
 bounties and beauties of this expansive creation, 
 dilates his heart, enraptures all iiis intellectaal 
 faculties. Hc^ calls upon the universe, and tlie 
 universe calls upon him, to praise t/.e Divine Be v 
 iiefactor, the Parent of Good. He sees 
 
 f<In native white and red, 
 
 The rose and lily stand, 
 Ind free from pride their beauties sprcati^ 
 
 ^Fo sliow his skilful hand. 
 
58 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 The lark mounts to the sky, 
 
 M'ith unambitious son^, 
 And bears her Maker's praise on high, 
 
 Upon her artless tong-ue,'' 
 
 Wlicn lie sees autumn approacLing majosliraliy 
 grand, loaded with bountic^i, to rcwai'd the farni- 
 or's toil, he lifts an affectionate thouglit, an hum- 
 ble acknowledgment, in pure^ praises to the E- 
 tenial Benefactor from whom all blessings liovr. 
 His enjoyments arc refined: they penetrate tin 
 heart; they ennoble the mind, they produce tlie 
 most lively gratitude. And nothing contributes, 
 in so high a degree, to enliven prosperity, as gra- 
 titude; and nothing is more pleasing to the Deity 
 iiimsehf, than a thankful heart; which is the chief 
 return he ref{uircs for his accumulated benedi^ 
 tions. For, 
 
 *«God Is paid when man receives; 
 To enjoy is to obey/^ 
 
 While the wy^cked man can, or rather will, onl/ 
 trace the source of his prosperity and riches to 
 supernumerary success and local advantages; the 
 good man sees them all coming from the hand of 
 that God, who hath conducted, protected, and 
 preserved him from his cradle, and througli each 
 intervening period of his life. While the wicked 
 only enjoy prosperity tlie short period of the pre- 
 sent state; the righteous reap more solid peace 
 from the anticipation of future glory, and felicity 
 in a world of spirits than from all their earthly 
 possessions. One only participates the pleasure 
 peculiar to midnight robbers, who, in tlieir revel- 
 lings arc haunted with the fear of detection, and 
 consequent punishment: tlie other enjoys pure 
 ^sentimental deliglit, ineifable comfort, without 
 
VINDICATED. 59 
 
 fear or iiithnidation; as tlic virtuous son of a gra- 
 cious king, confiding in Ins father's munificence, 
 participates bis liberality with full assurance of 
 Iris paternal protection" and apj>robation. Tlie 
 case of David, king of Israei, presents itself to 
 prove tbe assertion. See, witli \vhat an amiable 
 simpiiclty and divine assurance be eprcsses bis 
 confidence in, and grateful acknowledgments to, 
 his Fatber and sovereign^, tbe King of kings and 
 I^ord of lords. 
 
 ^•Tiic Lord is my sbeplierd; I sball not want. 
 He maketb me to lie down in green pastui-es; be 
 leadetb me beside tbe still waters. He restoreth 
 my soul; be leadetb me in tbe patbs of rigliteous- 
 iiess for bis name's sake. Yea, tliougb I walk 
 tbrougb tbe valley of tbe shadow of deatb, I will 
 fear no evil; for tbou i^rt with me: tby rod and 
 thy staff tbey comfort me. Tbou p]*eparest a ta- 
 ble before me in the presence of mine enemies: 
 tbou anointest my bead witli oil; my cup run- 
 neth ever. Surely goodness and mercy sball fol- 
 low^ me all tbe days of my life: and I will dwell 
 in tbe bouse of the Lord forever." 
 
 Is it not of tbe \ci'y first importance, that par- 
 ents should inculcate tbe principles of virtuous 
 sensibility and moral obligation upon tbe juvenile 
 minds of tbeir children, since it is evident, that 
 tbe good things of tins world, cannot be enjojed 
 witliout tbe concurring iniluence of religion and 
 virtue, much less those of the world to come. 
 Trtic, tbey mayliourisb in tha eyes of tbe world, 
 swim in wealth, be intoxicated in vanity, and 
 engrossed with tbe formalities of life; but all this 
 T.ilifiot produce an bour's j-eal peace. S msual 
 
 lafincation they may enjoy, but never true 
 
60 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 peace; for if the wretched child of fortune was to 
 appropriate to himself a moment of serious reHec- 
 tion, the fear of death would soon cliastise the 
 latent joy, and bid it hence depart. Thus, he is 
 miserable within, but splendid without; rebuked 
 by his conscience; applauded by his sycopliants* 
 ^ho hope to gain, by their adulation, pecuniary 
 emoluments: but, wlien his riches take wings and 
 fly away, his flatterers will fly away with them. 
 Or, when death snatches him away from them, he 
 will be soon forgotten, and on his monumental 
 i3ti)ne may, w ith propriety^ be written the follow 
 ing epitaph: 
 
 *<IIovvlovM, how valu'cl, once, avails thee not. 
 
 To whom related, or by whom begot; 
 
 A heap of dust alone remains of tliee, 
 
 Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be.*' 
 
 No doubt many will be ready to conclude, that 
 1 degrade, instead of exalting and vindicating, 
 the excellency of the female cliaracter, and Mill 
 be ready to I'cprobate the freedom 1 use in my ani4 
 madversions; but the vices and follies of the age 
 call for them. The female character is excellent 
 indeed, wlien their deportment is consistent with 
 the end and design of their creation, to wit: the, 
 glorj of God, their own peace, and to be man^s 
 help-mate. With respect to the purity and bene- 
 volence of my intentions, J can appeal to the 
 Searcher of all hearts to witness my sincerity, 
 and for the truth ^^' of my assertions 1 appeal to the 
 
 *Though I have been very careles? in the composi- 
 tion ofthis work, 1 liave, on the other hand, been ve 
 ry careful to suggest no sentiments nor give any advic-. 
 bat what will promote th^c best interests of the hunv. 
 
VINDICATED. 6i 
 
 conscience of the most hardened libertine, or the 
 most imprudent votary of female fashion, to de- 
 cide, whetlier they are not consistent with truth 
 
 fkmlly. This is not the case with many ingenious 
 works on education, their authors take much pains to 
 embellish their composition, but pay little regard to 
 the accuracy of the sentiments they develope. The 
 •'Rights of Woman'* in particular, 1 acknowledge, is 
 an elegant written work as it respects its composition, 
 but the sentiments too often tend, in my humble opin- 
 ipn, to consolidate the errings instead of %'indicating 
 the rights of Women. The author, no doubt, took ve- 
 ry great pains in composing that work, and very little, 
 to appearance, in correcting the sentiments therein. 
 
 However, as she was masculijie herself, she perhaps 
 thought all women like her in this respect. One of 
 her sentiments, relative to boys and girls being instruct^ 
 ed and kept in each others company as much as possi- 
 ble, Ithink is calculated to be very injurious. Indeed, 
 I am entirely of a different opinion. Boys and girls, I 
 think, sho\ild be kept apart as much as possible, es- 
 pecially when advanced in years. By neglecting this 
 precaution, many parents and teachers have given the 
 children under their care an opportunity to lay the 
 foundation of a life of dissipation and debauchery. I 
 could mention young apprentice boys and girls, as well 
 as juvenile school-mates, who have been ruined by the 
 neglect of their masters, teachers, and parents. I will 
 ^o farther and affirm, that boys and girls should not be 
 sent to the same school together, and parents should 
 be very cautious how they send their daughters even 
 to boarding schools, could they see the infinite injury 
 children have met with from these quarters, they would 
 weep and tremble by turns for the safety of tbeir off- 
 spring, as well as for the unutterable evils to be seen 
 in society, which eventually had their primary ori^iD 
 in the negUct of parents and teachers. 
 
62 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 and propriety. I do^ indeed, exalt the female 
 character higher than the male, in those qualifi- 
 cations which ennoble human nature, and make 
 it almost angelic; and those are benevolence, sym- 
 pathy, commisseration; and, as it respects every 
 other acquirement which men have, or ever will 
 attain, 1 contend that the natural genius of wo- 
 men can, if improved, make, on an equal par. 
 the same attainments* My object is to show w( 
 men themselves \^hat noble, exalted, glorious, 
 (and I almost said) heavenly beings they are, while 
 they act conformably to their high vocation; and, 
 to reverse the idea, what poor, helpless, and 
 despicable beings they are, when, instead of an- 
 swering the noble end for which they were created, 
 namely, to act a reasonable, judicious, and cha- 
 ritable part in this world; to be a benefit to man- 
 kind, and the glory of their Creator, and to en- 
 joy his beatific presence and giory in eternity; 
 they prostitute their talents in the service of Sa- 
 tan, and their persons mentally, and, alas! too 
 often corporeally, to the promiscuous lust of the 
 votaries of sensuality and libei'tinism. For, cer- 
 tainly, the fashionable female, who exposes pub- 
 licly what prudence should conceal, not only en- 
 tices the male of ardent passions to perpetrate, but 
 also commits the crime of sentimental fornication 
 herself; for, surely, if he who looks upon such a 
 woman to lust after her, is guilty of adultery in 
 liis heart, according to our dear Redeemer's oh- 
 serration; the woman who entices him is equally 
 guilty. These are serious considerations, which 
 the day of judgment will abundantly develope. In 
 ord^n- to prove, that I am not alone m reprobating 
 t ^ ices of men, I will close this chapter with a 
 qaotation from the writing of 1 homas Eilwood, a 
 pious and holy man, who was imprisoned, in 
 
VIJvDlCATEB. 65 
 
 Great liritain, for bearing an honest and uia af- 
 fected testimony to the truth, as it u^ in Jesus^ 
 our dear and precious Redeemer. The follomng 
 lines were written while lie was in prison: 
 
 *^'Why sliorJJ rny modest muse forbidden bcj 
 Fo speak of that which but too many see? 
 Why should she, by conniving", seem t' uphold 
 Men's wickedness, and thereby make them bold 
 Still to persist in't? Why should she be shy 
 To call them beasts, who want hu?nantfi/P 
 Why should she any longer silence keep. 
 And lie secure as one that's fast asleep* 
 Or, how indeed can it expected be. 
 That she should hold her tongue, and daily seb 
 Those wicked and enonnous crimes committed. 
 Which she in modesty has pretermitted.^ 
 Which but to name, would with their filth defile 
 Chaste ears, and cast a blemish on her style; 
 Yet, of so many, she cannot forbear 
 To mention some, which here detected are. 
 
 ''^Loud were the cries, which long" had pierc'd my cSi 
 JFoul the reports, which I did daily hear. 
 Unheard of, new-invented crimes w^ere brought, 
 l&y fa?ne, unto my knowledge, which 1 thought 
 Too foul and loathsome to have found a place 
 In any heart, though ne'er so void of grace. 
 This rcad^ me take a more observant view^ 
 Whether report spake what of meti is true. 
 
 «'But as the celebrated southern atrEEX, 
 When she the court of Solomon had seen. 
 And had, with more than usual diligence. 
 Observ'd his splendor and magnificence, 
 Consider'd well his pomp, his port, bis statCi 
 The great retinue that on him did wait; 
 As one with admiration fiUM (no doubt 
 Not able longer to contain) burst out 
 
04 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Info such xV'ords as these: 'Thrice happy king? 
 Whose fame throughout the universe doth ring-.^ 
 Though of thine acts I thoug-ht report too bold. 
 Yet now I see one half hath not been told.' 
 just so did I, though in another kind. 
 After I had intently fix'd my mind 
 Upon men's actions, and had duly weigh d. 
 Not only what they did, but what they saict 
 
 **Was Sodom ever guilty of a sin. 
 Which England is not now involved in' 
 By custom, drunkenness so common's grovv^n 
 That most men count it a small sin, or none; 
 Manting and roaring they affirm to be. 
 The true characters o^ gentility. 
 Swearing and cursing is so much in fasliiori^ 
 That 'tis esteem'd a badge of reputation. 
 What dreadful oaths/ what direful execrations 
 On others; on themselves what imprecations 
 They tumble out, like roaring" claps of thunder. 
 .As if they meant to rend the clouds asunder' 
 Mockers do so abound in every place. 
 That rare it is to meet a sober face. 
 Ambition, boasting, vanity, and pride. 
 With numbers numberless of sins beside, 
 Are grown, through use, so common that men cal 
 ^Them peccadilloes; small, or none at all. 
 
 <«But, oh! the luxury Siud great excess 
 ^Which by this wanton age is us'd in dress/ 
 What pains do men and women take, alas! 
 To make themselves for arrant bedlam's pass. 
 And he that in a modest garb is drest, 
 Is made the laughing-stock of all thb rest. 
 AH things to lust and wantonness are fitted, 
 Nothing that tends to vanity omitted. 
 To give a touch on every an^tc fashion, 
 Which hath been worn of late within this nation, 
 Might fill a volume, which would tire, no doubt, 
 'The ^EADEu's patience, if not wear it out. 
 
VINDICATED. %i> 
 
 ^<Goiiae uow, ye ranting gallants of the times, 
 Who nothings have to boast of but your crimes. 
 Blasphemous wretches! whose impieties^ 
 With rude assaults have storm'd the very skies. 
 And dar'd the God of heaven; a dreadful stroke 
 -Shall ye receive, by which ye shall be broke. 
 And in the fiery lake those torments find, 
 "Which for such desperadoes are assignM, 
 
 ^«And ye, who take so g'reat delight to curse. 
 As that you think yourselves a deal the worse, 
 tJnless unto the hig-hest strain ye stvell. 
 And wish the devil make your bed in hell; 
 This know, the long* provoked God is come. 
 From whom ye must receive that dreadful doonin; 
 Depart ye cursed^ and forever dwells 
 Where beds of torments are prepared in helL^^ 
 
 ^f Since what precedes was written, I have found 
 An accusation form'd, but without ground, 
 Against me, that with uncontrolled pen, 
 I too severely lash the faults of men; 
 And take upon me in satiric rhymes. 
 To pass a rigid censure on the times. 
 This drew me on to add another linej 
 To show them that the fault's their own, not minq; 
 No crime can justly to my charge be laid. 
 Unless it be a crime, that truth he said. 
 Nor can, without injustice, any blame 
 My muse for echoing the common fame. 
 
 «af any should object, that wise men hold. 
 That truth at all times ought not to be told. 
 Nor that whatever comes into one's head, 
 ShGuld straig^ht, IiQc;iuge 'tis true, b<j published^ 
 
66 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 I readily assent, because I know 
 Pearls before swine we are forbid to throw. 
 Some truths, I grant, may better be conceal'ds 
 Than if they out of season were reveaPd; 
 Yet would I not tliat any, through mistake 
 Should of my words a misconstruction make. 
 Than that should liappen, I had rather be 
 Tax'd by the reader for prolixity. 
 
 **Thus, then, in brief, would I be understood,. 
 If what I know, concerns my brother's good. 
 For him to know; ought 1 not then unfold 
 It to him, rather than from him withhold 
 j\ benefit? So, on the other side. 
 It is, I think, too plain to be deny'd, 
 That if I see what certainly doth tend 
 To the hurt of my neighbor or my friend, 
 I am oblig'd, by christian chariiy. 
 To give them warning of the danger nigh; 
 To shew them, that they stand upon the brink 
 Of certain ruin; and if then they sink. 
 By wilful running on, I shall be free 
 From guilt, their blood on their own heads will bfti> 
 ^Tis plain I think; yet if ye can't believe it 
 "Without a scripture proof, lo, here* I give it. 
 This is the very case; which if well I weigh*d, 
 "Will fully justify what I have said, 
 
 ««I saw men running to a precipice. 
 At foot of which was such a vast abyss, 
 As could have swallow'd nations so inimense^ 
 That 'twas impossible to climb out thence. 
 For if a man we ^ee, but chance to pitch, 
 Overhead and ears into some miry ditchj 
 How quickly is he smothered, unless 
 Some friendly hand assist in that distress! 
 
 "^'fjf.vif^ix, 1T< ' Eztk, xxxiii. 
 
VINDICATED. m 
 
 Ab3 iA with struggling', out iit length he get^ 
 Yet how besmear'd is he with dirt and wet! 
 But into this deep pit who fails, in vain 
 Expects a hand to help him out again. 
 Ho *tis of grace that men forwarned are, 
 And, ere their feet are taken, shewed the snaHe^ 
 
 •«And warned they must be. For so was I, 
 While roving in their paths of vanity^ 
 ToiPdand hewilder'd in a dismal night 
 Of thick Egyptian darkness, from the light: 
 From whence the Lord hath, by his love me drawD^, 
 And in my heart hath caused his day to dawn. 
 His glorious day, his ncver-sttting sun 
 To rise, and darkness to expel begun^ 
 This love, as it arises, w^arms my heartj 
 And fills it with desires to impart 
 <yo others of its goodness, that none may, 
 ^^or waat of good direction^ miss their way* 
 
CHAPTER m. 
 
 The primary Cause of the Encroachments of Men upoii 
 the Rig-hts of Women considered, 
 
 In most parts of the world, females are consid- 
 ered by the male part of society, merely as ob- 
 jects of sensual convenience and domestic accom- 
 modation; possessed with animal, but destitute of 
 immortal spirits, and even in Christendom, many 
 degrade and represent them as inferior, in point 
 of intellectualfaculties to the male. My object 
 .here, is, to investigate the radical cause of thia 
 degradation: and, i.i the first place, I must im- 
 pute this strange infatuation, this unnatural con- 
 clusion, to error in education, a wrong associa- 
 tion of ideas in youth, which is handed down from 
 one generation to another, as it were, by heredi- 
 tary succession; till that hypothesis, which is, 
 in fact, an insult to common sense, daily expe- 
 rience, and the nature of things, is, by custom, 
 reduced to a natural supposition, a received opin- 
 ion. 
 
 I am very confident in the opinion, that this ne- 
 glect is the cause of infinite evil in civil society, 
 and is the parent of accumulated and unnatural 
 crimes. 
 
 I would ask, is not a judicious education the 
 best fortune a child, whether male or female, can 
 receive? Why then, has a large majority of the 
 sons of men adopted the most spurious, the most 
 unjust, and ungenerous sentiments respecting the 
 
70 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 i cm ale character, and the most farcical and ludi 
 crous notions respecting female education? I ask 
 again, why, in the name of wonder, is the culti- 
 vation of the female mind, even hy the refined 
 sons of Europe, considered merely as a matter 
 of secondary consideration, except it is amongst 
 the rich and affluent; and even then one would 
 suppose, by the education that many parents give 
 their daughters, that they intend them to be play 
 actors or dancing girls, instead of being the pru- 
 dent and judicious mothers of respectable fami- 
 lies; and this, I w ill be bold to say, is the radi- 
 cal cause that multitudes of these characters, cal- 
 led ladies, are the most useless beings, the most, 
 vain, capricious, versatile, gaudy, and affected 
 mortals in the creation. Like the useless butter- 
 fly that appears fluttering in the sun on a sum- 
 mer's day, flying from flower to flower in the 
 scented gardens, its beauteous wings are tipt 
 •with gold; the enraptured child views it with de- 
 light and admiration, all glittering to behold, 
 and endeavors to catch the spangled prize, when 
 a shower descends and w raps the lovely toy in a 
 watery grave; the disappointed child views it, 
 languid on the plain, its beauty forever fled. 
 This similitude will hold good with respect to too 
 many female characters, who spend their timp 
 and talents in as useless a manner, and with the 
 same superficial appearance as the painted butter- 
 fly, particularly in cities; indeed, there is a great 
 contrast between the manners and customs of the 
 females of the country and city, as well as in 
 their mode of life; the native grandeur, the un- 
 affected simplicity, the rural felicity peculiar to 
 a country life, are, in my opinion, as much supe- 
 rior to the vicissitudes, fopperies and fashions of 
 ^ city Ufe^ a« the radiance ef the native rose is 
 
VINDICATED. 71 
 
 superior to the artificivil one, I can find no lan- 
 guage to prove my opinion to be correct, more 
 cogently than the following appropriate lines on 
 
 PHILOSOPHIC SOLITUDE, kc. 
 
 •'Let ardent heroes seek renown in arms, 
 l*ant after fame, and rush to war's alarms; 
 To shining palaces let fools resort. 
 And dunces cringe to be esteemM at court; 
 Mine be the pleasure of a rural life. 
 From noise remote, and ignorant of strife; 
 Far from the painted belle, and white glov'd beau,, 
 The lawless masquerade, and midnight show,- 
 From ladies lap-dogs, courtiers, garters, stars^ 
 Fops, fiddlersj tyrants, emperors, and czars, 
 
 *«Full in the centre of some shady grove. 
 By nature formed for solitude and love; 
 On banks array'd with ever blooming flowers. 
 Near beauteous landscapes, or by roseate bowers^ 
 My neat, but simple mansion I would raise. 
 Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern days^ 
 Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness form'd. 
 With savage game, and glossy shells adorn'd. 
 
 «*No costly furniture should grace my hall. 
 But curling vines ascend against the wall, 
 Whose pliant branches should luxuriant twine. 
 While purple clusters, swelled with future wine; 
 'ro slake my thirst, a liquid lapse distil. 
 From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid tUU 
 Along my mansion spiry firs should grow. 
 And gloomy yews extend the shady row. 
 The cedars flourish, and the poplars rise 
 Sublimely tall, and shoot into the skies; 
 Among the leaves refreshing zephyrs play 
 And crowding trees exclude the noon-tide ray; 
 Whereon the birds their downy nests should fonP> 
 :Sccurcly sheltered from the batt'ring storm, 
 
72 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 And to melodious notes their choir apply. 
 Soon as Aurora blush'd along" the sky; 
 "While all around the enchanting music ring's. 
 And every vocal grove responsive eing-s. 
 
 **Me to sequestered scenes, ye muses guide^ 
 Where nature wantons in her virgin pride, 
 To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning flowers, 
 Elysian fields and amaranthian bowers; 
 To ambrosial founts, and sleep-inspiring rills. 
 To herba^'d vales, gay lawns and sunny hills, 
 
 "Welcome ye shades! all hail, ye vernal blooms! 
 Ye bowery thickets, and prophetic glooms* 
 Ye torests, hail! ye solitary woods! 
 Love whispering groves, and silver streaming floods- 
 Ye meads, that aromatic sweets exhale! 
 Ye birds and all ye sylvan beauties, hail! 
 Oh! how I long with you to spend my days^ 
 Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays! 
 
 ^*No trumpets there with martial clangor sound. 
 No prostrate heroes strew the crimson'd ground? 
 No groves of lances glitter in the air. 
 Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war?. 
 But white-robed peace, and universal love 
 Smile in the field and brighten every grove. 
 There all the beauties of the circling year, 
 In native ornamental pride appear; 
 Gay rosy-bosomed Spring and April showers. 
 Wake from tlfe tomb of earth the rising flowers. 
 Jn deeper verdure Su3«»fm clothes the plain, 
 And Autumn bends beneath the golden grain; 
 The trees weep amber, and the whispering gales 
 Breeze oVr the lawn, or murmur through the valeSl 
 The flowery tribes in gay confusion bloom. 
 Profuse of sweets, and fragrant with perfume i 
 On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise, 
 Ai)d varied prospects g-lad the wand'ring eycs^ 
 
VINDICATED. Ta 
 
 In these fair seats I'd pass the joyous day, 
 
 Where meadows flourish and where fields look gay; 
 
 From bliss to bliss with endless pleasure rove, 
 
 Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove. 
 
 Woods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades^ 
 
 Aerial mountains or subjacent glades. 
 
 <*There from the polished fetters of the great, 
 Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state; 
 Prime ministers and sycophantic knaves. 
 Illustrious villains, and illustrious slaves; 
 From all the vain formality of fools. 
 An odious task of arbitrary rules; 
 The ruffling cares which the vex'd soul annoy^ 
 The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy. 
 The visionary bliss* the world can lend, 
 The insidious foe^ and f^lse designing friend. 
 The seven-fold fury o^ Xantippe^s soul, 
 
 And S ^8 rage that burns without control, 
 
 I'd live retir'd, contented, and serene. 
 Forgot^ unknown, unenvied, and unseen, 
 
 <*Yet not a real hermitage I'd choose, • 
 Nor wish to live from all the world recluse^ 
 IJut with a friend sometimes unbend the soul, 
 In social converse, o'er the sprightly bowl. 
 
 With cheerful W , serene and wisely gay, 
 
 I'd often pass the dancing hours away: 
 He skill'd alike to profit and to please, 
 Politely talks with unaffected ease; 
 Sage in debate, and faithful to his trusty 
 Mature in science, and severely just; 
 Of soul diffusive, vast and u?iconfin'd. 
 Breathing benevolence to all mankind — 
 Cautious to censure, ready to commend, 
 A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted friend: 
 In early youth fair wisdom's paths he trod. 
 In early youth a minister of God: 
 
74 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Each pupil lovM him when at Yah he shone> 
 \nd every bleeding- bosom weeps him gone. 
 
 Dear A , too^ should gi-ace my rural seav 
 
 Forever welcome to the green retreat: 
 Heaven for the cause of righteousness designed 
 His florid genius, and capacious mind: 
 Oft have I heard, amidst the adoring throng* 
 Celestial truths devolving from his tongue; 
 High o'er the listening audience seen him stand.v 
 Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his hand. 
 With such becoming grace and pompous sound. 
 "With long rob'd senators encircled round, 
 Before the Roman bar, while Home was free, 
 Nor bow'd to Cxaar'^s throne the servile knee; 
 Immortal Tully plead the patriot cause. 
 While every tongue resounded his applause. 
 
 Kext round my board should candid S appear, 
 
 Of manners gentle, and a friend sincere. 
 
 Averse to discord, party-rage and strife, 
 
 He sails serenely down the stream of life. 
 
 With these three friends^ beneath a spreading shade,, 
 
 Where silver fountains murniur through the glade; 
 
 Or in cool grots, perfum'd with native flowers. 
 
 In harmless mirth I'd spend the circling hpurs; 
 
 Or gravely talk, or innocently sing. 
 
 Or, in harmonious concert, strike the trembling string 
 
 <'Amid seques.ter'd bowers n,ear gliding streams, 
 Druids and Bards enjoy'd serenest dreams. 
 Such was the seat where courtly Horace sung: 
 And his bold harp immoxtal Mara strung: 
 Where tuneful Orpheus* unresisted lay. 
 Made rapid tigers bear their rage away; 
 While groves attentive to the ecstatic sound 
 Burst from their roots, and raptur'd, danced around- 
 Such seats the venerable Seers of old 
 (When blissful years in golden circles rolPd) 
 Chose and admir'd: e'en goddesses and gods 
 (As poets feign) were fond of such abodes 
 
VINDICATED. : 
 
 The imperial consort of fictitious /ov^/ 
 
 For fount-full Ida forsook the realms above. 
 
 Oft to Idalla on a golden cloud, 
 
 VeiPd in a mist of fragrance, Fenus rode; 
 
 There numerous altars to the queen were rear'd, 
 
 And love-sick youths their am'rous vows preferred, 
 
 While fair-hair'd damsels (a lascivious train) 
 
 With A^anton rites ador'd her gentle reign. 
 
 The silver-shafted Huntress of the woods. 
 
 Sought pendant shades, and bathed in cooling floods 
 
 In palmy Deios, by Scammander^s side. 
 
 Or where Cajister rolPd his silver tide, 
 
 Melodious PIkkIjus sang: the Muses round 
 
 Alternate warbling to the heavenly sound. 
 
 E'en the feign'd Monarch of heaven's bright abode^ 
 
 High thronM in gold, of gods the sovereign god. 
 
 Oft time prefer'd the shade of Ida^s grove 
 
 To all the ambrosial feasts, and nectarM cups above 
 
 *<Behold the rosy-finger'd morning dawn. 
 In saffron rob'd, and blushing o^'erthe lawn! 
 Reflected from the clouds, a radiant stream, 
 Tips with ethereal dew the mountain's brim. 
 The unfolding roses, and the opening flowers 
 Imbibe the dew, and strew the varied bowers. 
 Diffuse nectarious sweets around, and glow 
 With all the colors of the showery bow. 
 The industrious bees their balmy toil renew. 
 Buzz o'er the field and sip the rosy dew. 
 But yonder comes the illustrious god of day. 
 Invests the east, and gilds the ethereal way; 
 The groves rejoice' the feathered nations sing, 
 Echo the mountains and the vallies ring, 
 
 <<Hail, orb! array'd with majesty and fire. 
 That bids each sable shade of night retire! 
 Fountain of light! with burning glory crown'd. 
 Darting a deluge of effulgence round! 
 Wak'd by thy genial and prolific ray, 
 Nature resumes her verdure and looks gay 
 
ft) FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Fresh blooms the rose, the drooping plants revive. 
 
 The groves reflourish, and the forests live. 
 
 Deep in the teeming earth, the rip'ning ore 
 
 Confesses thy consolidating power? 
 
 Hence labor draws her tools, and artists mould 
 
 The fusile silver and the ductile gold: 
 
 Hence war is furnished, and the regal shield 
 
 Like lightening flashes o^er th' illumin'd field. 
 
 If thou so fair with delegated light. 
 
 That all heaven's splendors vanish at thy sight; 
 
 With what effulgence must the ocean glow! 
 
 From which thy borrow'd beams incessant flow I 
 
 Th' exhaustless source, whose single smile supplies*, 
 
 Th' unnumbered orbs that gild the spangled skies? 
 
 <*OftwouldI view, in admiration lost, 
 Heaven's sumptuous canopy, and starry host. 
 With levelled tube and astronomic eye, 
 Pursue the planets whirling through the sky: 
 Immeasurable vault f where thunders roll. 
 And forked light'nings flash from pole to pole 
 Say, railing infidelT canst thou survey 
 Yon globe of fire, that gives the golden day. 
 The harmonious structure of this vast machine. 
 And not confess its Architect divine? 
 Then go, vain wretch: tliough deathless be thy soul 
 Go swell the riot' and exhaust the bowl; 
 Flunge into vice, humanity resign, 
 Go, fill the sty, and bristle into swine! 
 
 <«None hvLt a power omnipotent and wise 
 Could frame this earth, or spread the boundless skics. 
 He made the whole; at his omnific call. 
 From formless chaos rose this spacious ball, 
 And one Almighty God is seen in all. 
 By him our cup, is crown'd, our table spread 
 AVith luscious wine, and life-sustaining bread. 
 What countless wonders doth the earth contain: 
 What countless wonders the unfathom'd main! 
 
 i3 SJ 
 
 1 
 
VINDICATED. 
 
 Bedrop'd vvlih gold, their scaly nations shine, 
 Haunt coral groves, or lash the foaming* brine. 
 dEHOVAH'S glories blaze all nature round. 
 In heaven, ofi earth, and in the deeps profound; 
 Ambitious of his name, the warblers sing", 
 And praise their Maker while they hail the spring: 
 The zephyrs breathe it> and the thunders roar. 
 While surge to surge, and shore resounds to shore- 
 But Ma.n, endued with an immortal mind, 
 His taker's image, and for heaven designed! 
 To loftier notes his raptured voice should raise. 
 And chant sublimer hymns to his Creator's praise, 
 
 *<When rising Phxbus ushers in the morn. 
 And golden beams the impurpled skies adorn: 
 Waked by the gentle murmur of the floods, 
 Or the soft music of the waving woods; 
 Rising from sleep with the melodious choir, 
 To solemn sounds I'd tune the hallowed lyre. 
 Thy name, O GOD! should tremble on ray tongue. 
 Till every grove prov'd vocal to my song: 
 (Delightful task, with dawning light to sing* 
 Triumphant hymns to heaven's eternal King.) 
 Some courteous angel should my breast inspire, 
 Attune my lips, and guide the warbled w^re. 
 While sportive echoes catch the sacred sound, 
 'Swell every note, and bear the music round; 
 While mazy streams meandering to the main 
 Hang in suspense to hear the heavenly strain^ 
 And hush'd in silence, all the feathered throng, 
 Attentive listen to the tuneful song. 
 
 < 'Father of Light/ exhaustles's source of good I 
 Supreme, eternal, self-existent God! 
 Before the beamy sun dispensed a ray, 
 Flam d in the azure vault, and gave the day; 
 Before the glimm'ring moon* with borrowed light. 
 Shone queen, amid the silver host of night. 
 High In the Heavens thou reign'dst superior Lord, 
 By suppliant ungels worshipped and ador'd. 
 
 7# 
 
78 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 With the celestial choir then let me join. 
 
 In cheerful praises to the power divine. 
 
 To sing thy praise, do thou, O GOD! inspire 
 
 \ mortal breath with more than mortal fire; 
 
 In dreadful majesty thou sitt'st enthron'd. 
 
 With light encircled, and with glory crown'd; 
 
 Through all infinitude extends thy reign, 
 
 For thee, nor heaven, nor heaven of heaven's contgiin. 
 
 But though thy throne is fix'd above the sky, 
 
 Thy omnipresence fills immensity. 
 
 Saints rob'd in white, to thee their anthems bring, 
 
 And radiant martyrs hallelujahs sing; 
 
 Heaven's universal host their voices raise. 
 
 In one eternal chorus, to thy praise; 
 
 And round thy awful throne, with one accord. 
 
 Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord. 
 
 At thy creative voice, from ancient night, 
 
 Sprang smiling beauty, and yon worlds of light: 
 
 Thou spak'st — the planetary chorus roll'd. 
 
 And all the expanse was star'd with beamy gold: 
 
 Lei there be light, said GOD, — Light instant shohc, 
 
 And from the orient burst the golden sun; 
 
 Heaven's gazing hierarchs, with glad surprise. 
 
 Saw the first morn invest the recent skies, 
 
 And straight the exulting troops thy throne surrountdj 
 
 W^ith thousand thousand harps of heavenly sound: 
 
 Thrones, powers, dominions, (ever shining trains!) 
 
 Shouted thy praises in triumphant strains: 
 
 Great are thy ivorks, they sing, and, all around. 
 
 Great are thy ivorks, the echoing heavens resound* 
 
 The. effulgent sun, insufferably bright, 
 
 Is but a beam of thy o'erflowing light; 
 
 The tempest is thy breath, the thunder hurl'd 
 
 Tremendous roars thy vengeance o'er the world; 
 
 Thou bowest the heavens, the smoking mountains nod^, 
 
 Rocks fall to dust, and nature owns her God; 
 
 Pale tyrants shrink, the atheist stands aghast, 
 
 Aad impious kings in horror breathe their lust. 
 
VINDICATED. 79 
 
 To this great God alternately I'd pay. 
 The evening" anthem, and the morning lay, 
 
 *<Fop sovereign gold, I never would repine. 
 Nor wish the glittering dust of monarchs mine. 
 What though high columns heave into the skies. 
 Gay ceilings shine, and vaulted arches rise. 
 Though fretted gold the sculpter'd roof adorn, 
 The rubies redden, and the jaspers burn! 
 Or what, alas! avails the gay attire, 
 To wretched man, who breathes but to expire! 
 Oft on the vilest, riches are bestow'd. 
 To shew their meanness in the sio-ht of God. 
 High from a dunghill, see a Dives rise. 
 And Titan-lJke, insult the avenging skies: 
 The crowd in adulation, calls him Lord, 
 By thousands courted, flatter'd and ador'd. 
 In riot plung'd, and drunk with earthly joyg. 
 No higher thought his grov'ling soul employs: 
 The poor he scourges with an iron rod, 
 And from his bosom banishes his God. 
 But oft, in height of wealth, and beauty's bloom., 
 Deluded man is fated to the tomb! 
 For, lo! he sickens, swift his color flies. 
 And rising mists obscure his swimming eyes, 
 Aroundhis bed his weeping friends bemoan. 
 Extort the unwilling tear, and wish him gone: 
 His sorrowing heir augments the tender shower_, 
 Deplores his death — yet hails the dying hour. 
 Ah, bitter comfort! Sad relief, to die! 
 Though sunk in down, beneath the canopy ! 
 His eyes no more shall see the cheerful light, 
 Weigh'd down by death in everlasting night: 
 And now the great, the rich, the proud, the gay^ 
 Lies breathless, cold, inanimated clay! 
 He, that just now was flatter'd by the crowd. 
 With high applause, and acclamations loud: 
 That steel'd his bosom to the orphan's cries, 
 Vnd drew down torrents from the widow's eycs^ 
 
IBj^'- 
 
 80 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Whom like a god the rabble did adore — 
 Regard him now — and, lo! he is no more. 
 
 <'My eyes no dazzling vestments should behold, 
 With gems instarr'd, and stiff with woven gold; 
 But the tall ram his downy fleece afford. 
 To clothe, in modest garb, his frugal lord; 
 Thus the great Father of mankind was drest. 
 When shaggy hides compos'd his flowing vest; 
 Doom'd to the cumb'rous load, for his ofl'ence. 
 When clothes supply'd the want ot innocence: 
 But now his sons (forgetful whence they came) 
 Glitter in gems, and glory in their shame. 
 
 <*Oft would I wander through the dewy field. 
 Where clustering roses balmy fragrance yield j 
 Or in lone grots, for contemplation made. 
 Converse with angels and the mighty dead.— 
 For all around unnumbered spirits fly. 
 Waft on the breeze, or walk the liquid sky. 
 Inspire the poet with repeated dreams, 
 Who gives his hallow'd muse to sacred themes: 
 Protect the just, serene their gloomy hours. 
 Becalm their slumbers, and refresh their powers^ 
 Methinks I see th' immortal beings fly. 
 And swiftly shoot athwart the streaming sky: 
 Hark! a melodious voice I seem to hear, 
 And heavenly sounds invade my listening ear! 
 
 <«Be not afraid of us innoxious band. 
 Thy cell surrounding by divine command? 
 fi'er while, like thee, we led our lives below, 
 (Sad lives of pain, of misery and woe!) 
 Long by afiliction's boisterous temptst tost. 
 We reachM at length the ever blissful coast: 
 Now in the embow'ring groves and lawns above. 
 We taste the raptures of immortal love, 
 Attune the golden harp in roseate bowers. 
 Or bind our temples with utufading flowers. 
 
VINDICATED; 8i 
 
 Oft on kind errands bent, we cut the air, 
 
 To guard the righteous. Heaven's peculiar care! 
 
 Avert impending harms, their minds compose, 
 
 Inspire gay dreams, and prompt their soft reposeT 
 
 When from the tongue divine hosannas roll, 
 
 And sacred rapture swell the rising soul. 
 
 To heaven we bear thy prayers like rich perfume»-v 
 
 Where, by the throne,, the golden censer fumes: 
 
 And when with age thy head is silver'd o'er. 
 
 And cold in death thy bo&om beats no morca, 
 
 Thy soul exulting shall desert its clay. 
 
 And mount, triumphant, to eternal day." 
 
 But to improve the intellectual mind, 
 
 Reading should be to contemplation join/^^d 
 
 First I'd collect from the Parnassian spring. 
 
 What muses dictate, and what poets sing, — 
 
 Virgil, as prince, should wear the laurel'd crowDj 
 
 And other bards pay hamage to his throne; 
 
 The blood of heroes now effused so long, 
 
 W^ill run forever purple through his song. 
 
 See! how he mounts towards the blest ahodeS) 
 
 On planets rides, and talks, with demi-geds! 
 
 How do our ravish'd spirits melt away. 
 
 When in his song Sicilian shepherds play f 
 
 But what a splendor strikes the dazzled eye^ 
 
 When Dido shines in awful majesty! 
 
 Embroider'd purple clad the Tyrian queen. 
 
 Her motion graceful, and august her mien^^ ""^^ 
 
 A golden zone her royal limbs embrac'd» %, 
 
 A golden quiver rattled hy her waist 
 
 See her proud steed majestically prance. 
 
 Contemn the trutnpet, and deride the lance! 
 
 In crimson trappings, glorious to behold, 
 
 Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold! 
 
 He «hamps the bit, and throws the foam around. 
 
 Impatient paws, and tears the solid ground. 
 
 How stern Mneas thunders through the field. 
 
 With towering helmet, and refulgent shields 
 
82 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain, 
 Deformed witli gore, lie welt'ring on the plain. 
 Struck through with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie. 
 Frown e*en in death, and threaten as they di^. 
 Through the thick squadrons see the hero bound, 
 (His helmet flashes, and his arms resound!) 
 All grim with rage, he frowns o'er Turjius' head, 
 (Re-kindled ire! for blooming Pallas dead,) 
 Then, in his bosom plung'd the shining blade — 
 The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade ■ 
 
 «<The far fam'd bards that grac'd Briitania^s Isle, 
 Should next compose the venerable pile. 
 Great Milton first, for towering thought renown'd. 
 Parent of son^, and fam'd the world around! 
 His flowing breast divine Urania fir'd. 
 Or God himself th' immortal bard inspired. 
 Borne on triumphant wings he takes his flight, 
 Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light 
 In martial pomp he clothes th' angelic train. 
 While warring myriads shake the ethereal plain. 
 His lays the verdure of the meads prolong. 
 And withered forests blossom in his song; 
 First Michael stalks, high towering o'er the rest, 
 AVith heavenly plumage nodding on his crest, 
 Impenetrable arms his limbs enfold. 
 Eternal adamant, and burning gold! 
 ^^arklin^; to fiery mail, with dire delight, 
 lleb'eUliTis Satan animates the fight: 
 Arrttipotent they sink in rolling smoke. 
 All heaven resounding, to its centre shook, 
 To crush his foes, and quell the dire alarms, 
 Messiah sparkled in refulgent arms; 
 In radiant panoply divinely bright. 
 His limbs incas'd, he flash'd devouring light. 
 On burning wheels, o'er heaven's crystalline road 
 ThunderM the chariot of the Filial God; 
 The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd. 
 With flaming gems the golden axles burnM. 
 
VINDICATED, pa 
 
 I-o! the apostate host, with terror struck, 
 Rollback by millions! the empyrean shook! 
 Sceptres, and orbid shields, and crowns of gold. 
 Cherubs and seraphs in confusion roHM; 
 Till from his hand, the triple thunder hurl'd, 
 CompellM them headlong, to the infernal world* 
 
 •'Then tuneful Pope, whom all the nine inspire 
 With sapphic sweetness, smd pindarlc fire. 
 Father of verse t melodious and divine! 
 Next peerless Milton should distinguished shine. 
 Smooth flow his nambers when he paints the grove^ 
 Th* enraptur'd virgins iist'ning into love. 
 But when the nij^rht and hoarse resounding storm, 
 Rush on the deep, and Neptuiic^s face deform, 
 Rouirh runs the verse, the son'roiis numbers roar 
 Like the hoarse surge that thunders on the shore, 
 But when he sings the' exhilarated swains, 
 Th' embowering groves, and Windsor's blissful plains^ 
 Our eyes are rayish'd with the sylvan scene, 
 Embroider'd fields, and groves in living" ^reen: 
 Thames'^ silver streams his flowing verse admire, 
 A.nd cease to murmur while he tunes his lyre. 
 
 ««Next should apppear great Dryden^s lofty muse^ 
 For who would Dryden^s poIishM verse refuse > 
 ^^s lips were moistened in P^arnassus" spring. 
 And Phmbus taught his laureat son to sino-. 
 How long did Virgil untranslated moan. 
 His beauties fading, and his tiir^*]i s unknown; 
 Till Dryden rose, and, in exalted strain, 
 lie-sang the fortune of the god-like man! 
 Again the Trojan prince with dire deliirht, 
 Dreadful in arms, demands the lini^'ring fi ^ht.- 
 Ao;ain Camilla glows with martial fire. 
 Drives armies back, and makes al^ 7 Voy retire. 
 AVith move than native lustre F^r^./ shines, 
 And gains sublimer heights in Drydcnh lines- 
 
 L 
 
Si FiEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 *«The gentle Watts who strings his silver lyre 
 To sacred odes, and Heaven's all ruling fire; 
 Who scorns th' applause of the licentious stao-e, 
 And mounts yon sparkling worlds with hallow 'd rage. 
 Compels my thoughts to wing the heavenly road. 
 And wafts my soul, exulting, to my God; 
 No fabled iWne, harmonious bard! inspire 
 Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic fire; 
 But prompting Angels warm thy boundless ragCj 
 Direct thy thou;^hts and animate thy pao-e. 
 Blest man! for spotless sanctity rever'd, 
 Lov'd by the good, and by the guijty fear'd; 
 Blest man! from gay delusive scenes remov'd^ 
 Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker lov'd; 
 To God thou tun'st thy consecrated Jays, 
 Nor meanly blush to sing Jehovah'^s praise. 
 O! did, like thee, each laurel) *d bard delight. 
 To paint Religion in her native light. 
 Not then with Plays the laboring press would groan. 
 Nor Vice defy the Pulpit and the Throne; 
 No impious rhymer charm a vicious a»c, 
 J^or prostrate Virtue groan beneath their rage; 
 But themes divine in lofty numbers rise, 
 J^ill the wide earth, and echo through the skies. 
 
 *<These for Delight; — for Profit I would re^id, 
 The labor'd volumes of the learned dead; 
 Sagacious Locke, by Providence designed 
 T' exalt, instruct, and rectify the ipind. 
 Th' unconquerable Sage,* whom virtue fir'd, 
 And from the tyrant's lawless rage retired, 
 When victor Caesar freed unhappy Rome, 
 From Pompey^s chains, to substitute his own. 
 Longinus, Livy^ fam'd Thucydides, 
 Quintillian, Plato, and Demosthenes, 
 Persuasive Tally, and Corduba's Sage,\ 
 Who fell by Nero^s unrelenting rage; 
 
 *€ato, aS^neca, 
 
VINDICATED. 85 
 
 Him* whom ungrateful Athens doom'd to bleed, 
 Despls'd while living-, and deplor'd when dead. 
 RahighVd. read with ever fresh delight. 
 While ages past rise present to my sight. 
 Ahl manunblest! he foreign realms explored, 
 Then fell a victim to his country*s sword! 
 Nor should great Derham pass neglected by, 
 Observant sage! to whose deep piercing eye, 
 Nature^s stupendous works expanded lie. 
 Nor he, Brittania, thy unmatch'd renown! 
 (Adjudg'dto wear the philosophic crown) 
 AVho on the solar orb uplifted rode. 
 And scann'd the unfathomable works of (?od! 
 Who bound the silver planets to their spheres, 
 And trac'd th' ecliptic curve of blazing stars! j 
 Immortal Newton, whose illustrious name 
 AVill shine on records of eternal lame, 
 
 **l]y love directed, I would choose a wife, 
 To improve my bliss and ease the load of life. 
 Hail Wedlock! hail, inviolable tie! 
 Perpetual fountain of domestic joy! 
 Love, friendship, honor, tvuth, and pure delight. 
 Harmonious mingle in the nuptial rite. 
 In Eden first the holy state began. 
 When perfect innocence distinguished man. 
 The human pair th' Almighty Pontiff led, 
 Gay as the morning to the bridal bed; 
 A dread solemnity th' espousals grac'd, 
 Angels the Witnesses and GOD the Priest! 
 All earth exulted on the nuptial hour, 
 And voluntary roses deckel the bower! 
 The joyous birds, on every blohsom'd spray, 
 Sung Hymenials to th' important day. 
 While Philomela swell'd the spousal song. 
 And Paradise with gratulations rung. 
 
 1. 
 
 ^Socrates, 
 
556 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 *<Relate, inspiring muse! where shall I find 
 A blooming- virgin with an angel mind, 
 Unblemish'd as the white robM virgin choir 
 That fed, Rome.' thy consecrated firej 
 By reason aw'd, ambitious to be good. 
 Averse to vice, and zealous for her God' 
 Kf^late, in what blest region can I find 
 Such bright perfections in a female mind' 
 What Ph(£nix-\\om2iV\ breathes the vital air> 
 So greatly good, and so divinely fair? 
 Sure, not the gay and fashionable train, 
 Licentious, proud> immoral, and profane; 
 Who spend their golden hours in antic dress. 
 Malicious whispers and inglorious ease, — 
 
 <<Lo! round the board a ahining train appears, 
 In rosy beauty, and in prime of years! 
 This hates a flounce, and this a flounce approves, 
 This shews the trophies of her former loves; 
 Folly sivcYs that Sylvia drest in green. 
 When last at church the gaudy nymph was seen; 
 Chloe condemns her optics, and will lay 
 'Tvvas azure satin, interstreak'd with grey; 
 Lucy invested with judicial power, 
 
 Awards, 'twas neither— and the strife is o'er. 
 
 Then parrots, lap dogs, monkeys, squirrels, beaus. 
 fans, ribbands, tuckers, patches, furbeloes, 
 (n quick succession, through their fancies run. 
 And dance incessant on the flippant tongue. 
 And when fatigued with every other sport. 
 The belles prepare to grace the sacred courts 
 Tfiey marshall all their forces in array, 
 To kill with glances and destroy in play. 
 Two skilful maids with reverential fear, 
 In wanton wreaths collect their silken hair; 
 Two paint their cheeks, and round their temples poir 
 rhe fragrant unguent, and the ambrosial shower; 
 One pulls the shape-creating stays, and one 
 Knicircles round her waist the golden zone: 
 
Vindicated. 
 
 Xot with more toil tb im|jrove immortal charms, 
 
 Strove Juno, Ventis^ and the Queen of arms^ 
 
 When Friam^s son adjudg'd the golden prize 
 
 To the resistless beauty of the skies. 
 
 At length equip'd in love's enticing arms, 
 
 With all that glitters and with all that charms, 
 
 The ideal goddesses to church repair, 
 
 Peep through the fan and mutter o'er a prayer, 
 
 Or listen to the organ's pompous sound. 
 
 Or eye the gilded images around; 
 
 Or, deeply studied in coquettish rules. 
 
 Aim wily glances at unthinking fools; 
 
 Or show the lily hand with graceful air, 
 
 Or wound the fopling with a lock of hair; 
 
 And when the hated discipline is o'er. 
 
 And Misses tortured with — Repent no more 
 
 They mount the pictur'd coach, and to the play. 
 
 The celebrated idols hie away. 
 
 *<Notso the Lass that should my joys improve, 
 With solid friendship and connubial love: 
 A native bloom, with intermingled white. 
 Should set her features in a pleasing light: 
 Like Helen flushing with unrivall'd charms, 
 Whenraptur'd Paris darted in her arms. 
 But what, alas! avails a ruby cheek, 
 A downy bosom, or a snowy neck! 
 Charms ill supply the want of innocence. 
 Nor beauty forms intrinsic excellence. 
 But in her breast let mortal beauties shin6, 
 Supernal grace and purity divine: 
 Sublime her reason, and her native wit 
 Unstrain'd with pedantry and low conceit; 
 Her fancy lively, and her judgment free, 
 From female prejudice and bigotry: 
 Averse to idle pomp, and outward show. 
 The flattering coxcomb, and fantastic beau. 
 The fop's impertinence she would despise. 
 Though sorely wounded by her radiant eyes. 
 
aa FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 But pay due rev'rence to the exalted mind 
 
 By learnipg polish'd, and by wit refin'd, 
 
 Who all her virtues, without guile, commends 
 
 And all her faults as freely reprehends. 
 
 Soft Hymeri^s rites her passion should approve. 
 
 And in her bosom g'low the flames of love: 
 
 To me her soul, by sacred friendship, turn, 
 
 And I, for her, with equal friendship burn; 
 
 In every stage of life afford relief, 
 
 Partake my joys, and sympathize my grief; 
 
 Unshaken, walk in virtue's peaceful road, 
 
 Nor bribe her reason to pursue the mode; 
 
 Mild as the saint whose errors are forgiven, 
 
 Galm as a vestal, and compos'd as heaven. 
 
 This be the partner, this the lovely wife 
 
 That should embellish and prolong my life; 
 
 A nymph! who might a second fall inspire. 
 
 And fill a glowing Cherub with desire I 
 
 "With her I'd spend the pleasurable day. 
 
 While fleeting minutes gaily dar^o'd away; 
 
 With her I'd walk, delighted, o^e? the green. 
 
 Through every blooming mead, the rural scene. 
 
 Or sit in open fields damask'd with flowers. 
 
 Or where cool shades embrown the noon-tide bowervS, 
 
 Imparadis'd within my eager arms, 
 
 I'd reign the happy monarch of her charms; 
 
 Oft on her panting bosom would I lay, 
 
 And, in dissolving raptures melt away; 
 
 Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy rest, 
 
 >Iy biooming fair should slumber at my breast. 
 
 <«And when decrepidage (frail mortals' doom)' 
 Should bend my wither'd body to the tomb, 
 No warbling Syre'nPs should retard my flight, 
 To heavenly mansions of unclouded light; 
 Though death, with his imperial honors crown'd;^ 
 Terrific grin'd, and formidably frown'd, 
 OflPencespardon'd, and remitted sin. 
 Should form a calm serenity^ within 
 
VINDICATED. 89 
 
 Blessing my natal and my mortal hour, 
 (My soul committed to the eternal power) 
 Inexorable death should smile, for I, 
 Who knew to live, would nQver fear to dik" 
 
 The question still recurs. Why the degrada- 
 tion of the female character? Why are they, or 
 a very great proportion of them, reduced to mere 
 cyphers in the scale of beings? is it because they 
 are devoid of those brilliant qualifications tliat 
 shine so conspicuous in the sons of men? By no 
 means. Those noble qualifications if not superi- 
 or, are at least equal, in the female character; 
 and nothing but the poison of false education, the 
 wrong association of juvenile ideas, are the cause 
 why the native genius and inherent endowments 
 of females do not burst forth and shine with reno- 
 vated splendor 
 
 We might deduce a long deduction of examples, 
 to prove the super-excellence of the female charac- 
 ter, and that they have excelled in many of the 
 departments of civil and savage society, and have 
 eventually proved an ornament not only to their 
 OAvn but to tlie male sex, I refer the reader to 
 the many volumes of female biography, to prove 
 my arguments. 
 
 Though the limits of my plan will not allow me 
 to enlarge much, I will merely give a specimen 
 of the heroic cliaracter of a celebrated female, 
 even in an early age of the world — 1 mean Semi- 
 ramis, the consort ofNinus, the sovereign of the 
 ancient and celebrated city of Nineveh. She was 
 previously the wife of one of his officers, and dis- 
 tinguished herself so much by her heroic exploits, 
 that the king not only married her, but left her 
 his crown at his death. 
 
 This ambitious princess being desirous, in her 
 8^ 
 
!^o FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 turn to render her name immortal, in a very few 
 years built the city of Babylon, to such an ama- 
 zing extent that it far exceeded Nineveh, its 
 walls being of a sufficient thijkness to allow six 
 chariots to go abreast. 
 
 The quays, the bridge over the Euphrates, the 
 hanging gardens, the prodigies of sculpture and 
 architecture, the temple of Belus, which had in 
 it a golden statue forty feet high, though they 
 were not all the works of Semiramis, yet they 
 were much improved and embellished by her. 
 
 The brevity of my plan forbids me to give a 
 circumstantial account of the astonishing magnifi- 
 cence and strength of Babylon; particularly the 
 walls, which were fifty feet wide, 200 high, and 
 50 miles in circumference; and the temple of Be- 
 lus, which is allowed by historians to be the same 
 as the tower mentioned in scripture, called Ba- 
 bel. 
 
 The last and greatest expedition of Semiramis 
 w as against India. On this occasion she raised 
 an innumerable army out of all the provinces of 
 Tier empire, and appointed Bactra for the rendez- 
 vous. 
 
 As the strength of the Indians consisted chief- 
 ly in their great number of elephants, this artful 
 queen had a multitude of camels accoutred in the 
 form of elephants, in hopes of deceiving the ene- 
 my. It is said, that Perseus, long after, used 
 the same stratagem against the Romans. But 
 neither of them succeeded. 
 
 The Indian king having notice of her approach, 
 sent ambassadors to know who she was, and with 
 what right, having never received any injury 
 from him, she came out of wantonness to attack 
 his dominions; adding that her boldness should 
 soon meet with the punishment it deserved. ^*Tell 
 
VINDICATED. 91 
 
 your master," replied the queen, *^that in a little 
 time, I myself will let him know who I am/' 
 
 She advanced immediately towards the river 
 Indus, from which the country takes its name; 
 and having prepared a sufficient number of boats, 
 she attempted to cross it with her army. I'heir 
 passage was a long time disputed, but after a 
 bloody battle, she put her enemies to flight. A- 
 bove a thousand of their boats were sunk, and a- 
 bout a hundred thousand of their men taken pris- 
 oners. 
 
 Encouraged by this success,she advanced direct- 
 ly into the country, leaving sixty thousand men 
 beliind to guard the bridge of boats, which she 
 had built over the river* — This was just what the 
 king desired, who fled on purpose to bring her to 
 an engagement in the heart of his country. When 
 he thought that she had advanced far enough, 
 he faced about, and a seco % engagement en- 
 sued, more bloody than the lirst. The counter- 
 feit elephants could not long sustain the shock of 
 the true ones. These routed her army, crushing 
 whatever came in their way. 
 
 Semiramis did all that could be done, to rally 
 and encourage her troops; but in vain. The 
 king perceiving her engaged in the fight, advanc- 
 ed towards her and wounded her. The wound 
 however did not prove mortal. The swiftness of 
 her horse soon carried her beyond the reach of 
 her enemies. 
 
 As her men crowded to the bridge, to repass 
 the river, numbers of them perished by the disor- 
 der and confusion unavoidable on such occasions. 
 When those that could save themselves were safe- 
 ly over, she destroyed the bridge, and by that 
 means stopped the enemy: the king likewise, in 
 obedience to an oracle, had given orders to his 
 
■3^ FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 troops not to pass the river, nor pursue Semira- 
 mis any farther. 
 
 The queen, having made an exchange of pris- 
 oners, returned to her own dominions, with scarce 
 one-third of her army, which, according to Cte- 
 sias, consisted of three hundred tliousand foot, 
 and fifty thousand horse, besides the camels and 
 chariots armed for war, of wliich she had a very 
 considerable number. 
 
 Time would fail me to mention the many female 
 characters who have signalized themselves by 
 their ingenious, heroic, and invincible achiev- 
 nients, from the reign of this celebrated woman, 
 to that of the empress Catharine of Russian and 
 with respect to philanthropy and munificence, 
 they unquestionably abound n>m*e, far more a- 
 mongst the female than the male part of society; 
 and with reference to the finer feelings which a- 
 dorn human nature, if we candidly consider them 
 on an average, we shall be obliged to relinquish 
 the palm in favor of women: were I inclined, I 
 could, perhaps, trace a line of tender feelings, 
 benevolent emotions, in a direct course, through 
 every generation, and in every clime, not exclu- 
 ding the most savage, fi*om Eve. the mother of 
 the human family, to the members which com- 
 pose that intrinsic ally munificent in^itution, en- 
 titled the TFidow^s Society, and exclusively orga- 
 nized by a number of respectable ladies of ISew- 
 York, for the support and proiection of helpless 
 and disconsolate widows and orphan children. 
 These respectable personages I exhibit with de- 
 light, as living !r:onuments to illustrate my rea- 
 soning, and to consolidate my arguments in fav- 
 or of the native excellency of the female character; 
 and while 1 admire tl'em, moy the grateful tears 
 of the poor unhappy orphan and widow abundant- 
 
VrNDTCA'TED. 95 
 
 ly repay their lib'^rj^lity: and while I look upon 
 tiieiii with revrrinitial sensatioiivS, a^ the friends 
 of those whom I desire to befriend, may that Al- 
 mighty Sovereign of the skies, who delights in 
 each beneficence that assimilates to himself; may 
 he view them with such a smile of approbation as 
 not only to cnrapture^hnt snatch their liearts from 
 terrestrial vicissitudes to celestial delight. In 
 giving this small tribute of respectful eulogium 
 to a society that ennobles human nature, and con- 
 strains even angels to smile with approbation, 
 I must declare that I am actuated by no sinister 
 or interested motives. I have never scon, and 
 perhaps never shall see, an individual of that res- 
 pectable and truly philanthropic society, h 1= le 
 governess whom I called upon one day, iri \V dl 
 street, to recommend to her consideration a poor 
 woman I happened by accident to see in the street, 
 a stranger, in a strange place, among strange 
 people, all destitute and forlorn. The sympa- 
 thetic concern which she testified, and the solici- 
 tude she expressed, for the poor woman's re- 
 lief and accommodation, caused me to entertain 
 the highest degree of respect and veneration for 
 her character; for I almost idolize the few indi- 
 viduals of the human race, who are real friends 
 to the poor and the needy; and. at the same time, 
 to reverse the idea, I feel the most implacable in- 
 dignation, at the conduct of those innumerable 
 characters, who are the traitors and oppressors 
 of mankind, and, of consecjuence, the enemies of 
 God. 
 
 But it is a stubborn fact, as lamentable as it is 
 authentic, that many of the professors of religion 
 are criminally deficient, sordidly parsimonious, 
 palpable delinquents, with respect to their ne» 
 glecting to sympathize with, and relieve, to the 
 
94 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 utmost extent of their influence; and I may add 
 finances, the sons of affliction and the daughter's 
 of misfortune, and those religious devotees, who 
 can behold, with dry eyes, their fellow-travel- 
 lers to the grave enveloped in wretchedness, and 
 wrapped up in complicated disease, and not even 
 anticipate a particle of tender emotion and sym- 
 pathetic commisseration. Yet these characters, 
 who can, with impunity, forego the sacred de- 
 lights peculiar to the philanthropist, and neglect 
 to fulfil the cardinal duties peculiar to Christiani- 
 ty, would feel condemnation if they neglected to 
 attend a social, a ceremonial, or a sacramental 
 meeting, intended for their personal benefit. — 
 And these think, because they attend hypocritic 
 rites and penal creeds, that they will, of course, 
 meet the approbation of the Deity, though they 
 neglect the more important duties of hospitality 
 and benevolence to their brethren — I mean the 
 progeny of Adam collectively. 
 
 This animadversion is by no means intended 
 for any individual character, or denomination. 
 No man can be more divested of party prejudice 
 than I am, political or religious, While I love 
 God supremely, 1 profess to love all men affec- 
 tionately, without any reference to sects or par- 
 ties; these deleterious barriers, which precjude 
 fraternal love from flowing from the centre to the 
 circumference of the earth; and prohibit, with the 
 effrontery of a demon, the social intercourse of 
 heaven-bound and of heaven-born christians. I 
 am sorr;^ to be under the necessity of asserting, 
 that in Cliristendom in general, there seems to 
 be an evident declension in christian charity a- 
 mongst many of the professed votaries of revealed 
 religion: a selfish parsimonious disposition, ut- 
 tfjriy repugnant to the principles of moral recti 
 
VINDICATED. 95 
 
 tude, as well as incompatible with, and not con- 
 genial to, evangelical religion. Can a nelfisb, 
 penurious man be a christian? It is impossible. 
 How different is such a character from the pious 
 philanthropist, whose delight is to bless, .(were 
 his power equal to his affection,) and circle the 
 human family in one kind embrace. The follow- 
 ing parapljrase on a chapter of scripture will 
 prove the validity of this remark: 
 
 A Paraphrase on the Thirteenth Chapter of the 
 First Epistle to the Corinthians. 
 
 *<Did sweeter sounds adorn my flowing" tongue, 
 Than ever man pronounc'd or angel sung; 
 Had I all knowledge, human and divine, 
 That thought can reach, or science can define; 
 And had I power to give that knowledge birth, 
 In all the speeches of the babbling earth: 
 Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire^ 
 To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire; 
 Or had I faith like that which Israel saw. 
 When Moses gave them miracles and law: 
 Yet gracious charity, indulgent guest. 
 Were not thy power exerted in my breast. 
 Those speeches would send up unheeded prayeTj 
 That scorn of life would be but wild despair; 
 A cymbal's sound were better than my voice; 
 My faith were form;^ my eloquence were noise; 
 
 <*Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind. 
 Softens the high, and rears the abject mind; 
 Knows with just reins, and gentle hand, to guide 
 Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride, 
 Not soon provok'd, she easily forgives. 
 And much she suffers, as she much believes. 
 Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives; 
 ^)ie builds our quiet, as slie forms our lives j 
 
96 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Lays the rough puths of peevish nature even; 
 And opens in each heart a little heaven. 
 
 «<Each other g-ift, which God on man bestow^% 
 Its' proper bounds and due restriction knows; 
 To one fix'd purpose dedicates its power. 
 And finishing' its act, exists no more. 
 Thus, in obedience to what heaven decrees. 
 Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease; 
 But lasting charity's more ample sway, 
 Or bound by time, nor subject to decay, 
 In happy triumph shall forever live. 
 And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive 
 
 <*As through the artist's intervening glass, 
 Our eye observes the distant planets pass;, 
 A little we discover; but allow, 
 That more remains unseen, than art can show; 
 So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve, 
 (Its feeble eye intent on things above,) 
 High as we may, we lift our reason up, 
 By faith directed, and confirmed by hope: 
 Yet we are able only to survey 
 Dawnings of beams, and promises of day; 
 Heaven's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight. 
 Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light. 
 
 <'But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd; 
 The Son shall soon be face to face beheld, 
 In all his robes, with all his glory on, 
 Seated sublime on his meridian throne. 
 
 **Then constant faith, and holy hope shall diCj 
 One lost in certainty, and one in joy: 
 Whilst thou, more happy power, fair charity, 
 Triumphant sister, greatest of the three, 
 Thy office and thy nature still the same, 
 Lasting thy lamp, and unconsum'd thy flarae^. 
 
 Shalt still survive 
 
 Shall stand before the host of heaven confest., 
 For ever blessing, and forever blest. '^ 
 
VINDICATED. ' 97 
 
 Another argument still more conclusive strikes 
 my mind, which will demonstrate the futility and 
 fallacy of that man's hopes for heaven, who is 
 destitute of true christian charity, which alone 
 can afford us help to fulfil, with sacred Joy, the 
 subsequent address of the Savior and Judge of 
 the world; which he lias positively and emphati- 
 cally declared, he will apply to the righteous, 
 convened at his august tribunal on the last day: 
 Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit Jhe kingdom 
 prepared for you from the foundation of the world: 
 For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I 
 was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stran- 
 ger, and ye took me in: J\*aked, and ye clothed 
 me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in pris- 
 on, and ye came unto me,^^ Can any man, pro- 
 fessor or profane, who habitually neglects to do 
 these good works, so far insult common sense, 
 shut his eyes against the light of reason, and 
 basely insult his own understanding, as to have 
 the impudence to hope or expect, that God will 
 tell a palpable lie in the presence of assembled 
 worlds, in applying the antecedent address to 
 him, when he in fact, acted diametrically oppo- 
 site to the subject matter of that address? Qr 
 does such a character expect to go to heaven af- 
 ter death? wlbich is virtually expecting tiiat Go:l 
 will tell a falsehood, to save a fugitive delinquent. 
 It is impossible. This argument is of itself sulfi- 
 cient to prove, to a demonstration, the utility 
 and indispensable necessity of social virtue, to 
 capacitate us to meet the approbation of Heaven, 
 by and not for our works of hospitality and love, 
 for after we have done all that is commanded us, 
 we are truly unprofitable servants. 
 
 My object is not to make this a theological 
 work. 1 was led inadvertently to dwell on divi- 
 
 9 
 
98 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 «ity, by suggesting the few anterior tliouglits iii 
 commendation of the Widows^ Society for the re- 
 lief and support of friendless orphans; and Ire- 
 quest, therefore, the reader to pardon the digres- 
 sion, which was not properly connected with the 
 subject of my investigation; but to which I will 
 return after introducing the orphan's grateful 
 prayer, and inscribing it, with respectful consid- 
 eration, to the members of the said society t» 
 Avhom it is addressed. 
 
 THE ORPHAN'S GRATEFUL PRAYER. 
 A POEM. 
 
 Inscribed to the JVidows^ Society of JSTew^York. 
 
 Hail! virtuous few, by heaven and earth approved. 
 True imitators of your gracious Lord; 
 In sacred union may you long^ agree. 
 By grace cemented, and true charity. 
 Oh! may your lives be lengthened out on earth, 
 And every day rejoice to give new birth; 
 May mutual love to mutual good provoke, 
 A three-fold cord that never can be broke; 
 To raise the helpless, and to soothe distress. 
 To bless the sick, the afflicted to redress: 
 To screen the orphan from the threatening blow, 
 To ease the widow's heart of latent woe; 
 To cheer the faint, and gently to reprove 
 The stubborn heart, by offices of love. 
 On acts like these our God, looks smiling down. 
 And to each heir holds out a starry crov/n. 
 May he the sacred Monarch of the skies. 
 Who heard the poor unhappy orphan's cries; 
 Oh! may he hear the grateful orphan's prayer, 
 And give you each celestial crowns to wear. 
 But tears of gratitude can ne'r repay, 
 The debt of thanks I owe, nor half display 
 Your pity when you wip'd the orphan's tears away. 
 
 } 
 
 ay. J 
 
VINDICATED. 9S) 
 
 To tell your kindness, or your love to paint, 
 The muse's sweetest notes appear too faint; 
 To paint the tears that crystalliz'd your eye's, 
 ' Or grief that made your bosoms heave with sighs. 
 When Heaven brought you to see my deep distress, 
 And gave the heart to feel, the power to bless. 
 Not all the gems Columbia's sons convey 
 From the Ionian through the Atlantic sea, 
 K'er seera'd so precious us that pearly tear. 
 Or should with those dear sacred sighs compare. 
 Tour gifts to me essential jov imparts, 
 And proves the gracious feelings of your hearts; 
 Your aid supports a drooping parent's age. 
 And still the widow's poignant woes assuage; 
 Tour aid still soothes the way-worn orphan's grief. 
 And to her artless cries still yields relief, 
 For you my prayers to Heaven shall still be borne. 
 V" . J?!.'""''".^ .*''='' '?'''l* tf-e golden morn; ' 
 «"v, wu.tuuu mighty sire ofthe ciistress'd, 
 Let our protectors be forever bless'd. 
 Their philanthropic deeds to heaven shall rise. 
 Behold, Oh earth! and view, ye sacred skies. 
 And when their useful happy lives shall fade. 
 May hosts of Angels lend their blissful aid 
 And on their golden wings may they arise, ' 
 To praise the sacred Sovereign ofthe skies- 
 To hear the glorious invitation "come," 
 And to receive the plaudit of "well done," 
 To join eternally the angelic lays. 
 And fill the heaven of heavens with grateful praise 
 With glowing lov« my heart within me burns, 
 
 lZSr^''''V'^'''''' "^y >'-rt within me say^ 
 
 B.r'dThr'rgh;v;meif tf '''-'''" r'-' 
 
 Ar.^ fii 8" your means, let me ag-ain proclaim. 
 And still repeat my grateful thanks ajain. ' 
 
 Oh for a qui 1 pluck'd from some angel's wing, 
 Oh! for z mighty trumpet's voice to sing ^' 
 
 II 
 
lent, l 
 
 sn is lent, J 
 
 too FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 The praises of the immortal Sire above, 
 
 IVho movM your hearts to sympathy and love^ 
 
 From heaven's high arch he saw and smiPd to see, 
 
 Your finer feeling's exercis'd towards me. 
 
 He saw the tender tears unbidden flow, 
 
 He saw and lov'd, and angels lov'd you too. 
 
 This is religion, this indeed is love. 
 
 Pleasing to God and all the powers above: 
 
 To bless the orphan and the widow bless. 
 
 And for the stranger spread the couch of rest. 
 
 By Heaven the orphan and the poor are sent 
 
 To try your hearts, and cause them to reler 
 
 Then know what you now give, to Heaver 
 
 God will repay a hundred fold and more 
 
 On earth, and on the bless'd celestial shore; 
 
 While those who view the orphan's dire distre&s, 
 
 Without kind pity nor their woes redress. 
 
 Shall from their Judge, on the eternal shore 
 
 Receive such pity as they gave before; 
 
 Professors who pretend to love the Lord, 
 
 Yet to his poor no succor will afford; 
 
 Their base pretensions are impertinence. 
 
 Hostile to reason and to common sense. 
 
 In future years when reigning with the just, 
 
 And all your frames lie mould'ring in the dust; 
 
 Then may your offspring Heaven's true cause defenu 
 
 And future ages bless the orphan's friend; 
 
 With me may thousands say with joy within, 
 
 I was an orphan and ye took me inj _ 
 
 And may each good which can from heaven descend, 9 
 
 Qrown with eternal joy the orphan's friend, ^ 
 
 But it is not only in such works of benevo- 
 lence, that many females excel; but also in the 
 departments of literature, the republic of letters, 
 many females have acted conspicuous parts; have^ 
 gained the laurel crown; have acquired celebrity,, , 
 and maintained their popularity unadulterated, 
 
VINDICATED. loi 
 
 though candor'^ obliges me to observe, that few, 
 comparatively speaking, have maintained their 
 popularity untarnished, but those who were not 
 only ingenious, but also truly religious, such as 
 Lady Guion, Mrs. Rowe, and a number of oth- 
 ers. There is a certain degree of vanity peculiar 
 to such characters, who exult in the majestic 
 walk^ of science. This, though an unaccounta- 
 ble paradox, is a stubborn fact. That the grov* 
 elling minded, the sordid, the illiterate multitude 
 should be conceited, proud, and vain, seems no 
 matter of astonishment to me, as they know no 
 better, they never recollect what diminutive at- 
 oms of creation they are; haughty worms, dying 
 mortals, probationary intelligences. But, that 
 the literary, the philosophical, the scientific sons 
 and daughters of men, should be proud of their 
 acquirements, seems matter of amazement. For 
 my own part, the more I investigate the book of 
 creation, the more diminutive I appear. I feel 
 almost less than nothing, when I compare myself 
 with the extensive, the wonderful works of God; 
 when 1 view, with my mind's eye, the multipli- 
 city of worlds, in magnitude inconceivable, and 
 radiance inexpressible; that seem, to the naked 
 eye, to spangle the ethereal fields, and to be scat- 
 tered through the milky way; or, when I, in ar- 
 dent thought, soar from this, com])aratively in- 
 signiiicant, terraqueous ball, and tread the star- 
 ry skies; when I take my stand on the star that 
 seems farthest from us at present, and view still 
 farther, through the immea3urable fields of ether, 
 
 *It is a lamentable fact that a majority of females who 
 have talents for composition, prostitute them in the 
 crvice of the novelist and romancer. 
 
 9# 
 
102 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 other stars twinkling, other suns blazing, and 
 other moons (or, as tiiey are philosophically term- 
 ed, satellites) reflecting their borrowed rays; 
 when I, with that inquisitiveness peculiar to mor- 
 tals, proceed in my aerial journey, from star to 
 star, from sun to sun, from system to system, with 
 tlie velocity of light (and light flies at the rate of 
 10,000,000 of miles in a minute,) for one thousand 
 years, and still see more magnificent systems 
 arranged, more brilliant skies expanded, and 
 more enormous comets flying in their eccentric 
 ecliptics; when, after all this astonishing intel- 
 lectual flight, I find by experience, at the end of 
 my journey, that I am only just beginning to en- 
 ter the suburbs of creation, and now only recog- 
 nize a specimen of the works ol the great Archi- 
 tect of Nature. Could I, after this sentimental 
 investigation, this intellectual tour, be haughty, 
 imperious and proud? Surely not. But 1 should 
 rather consider myself merely as a dimiiiutive 
 particle of creation, and, in the language of true 
 Immility, self-debasement, gra<:eful sensations, 
 and reverential av*e, I should cry out with the 
 Psalmist, ^'TV/tat is man that thou art mindful of 
 hwh and the son of man that thou visitest me.^^ 
 
 The female claim to mental equality is ques- 
 tioned, and their reasoning faculties depreciated, 
 not only by Indians and infidels, but even by 
 christian philosophers; and many authors of the 
 most respectable talents. The celebrated Lava- 
 ter, the great physiognomist, has unequivocally 
 asserted, *'that women know not how to think) 
 they perceive, and can associate ideas, but can 
 go no further.'^ How astonishing it is, that a 
 man of Lavater's ingenuity and celebrity could 
 believe or assert such a spurious and fallacious 
 entiment. Had he listened to the captivating 
 
VINDICATED. 103 
 
 brilliancy of the elocution of Aspasia, and ascer- 
 tained tlie depth of her philosophy: the powers of 
 whose mind struck with amazement and admira- 
 tion even the eloquent Pericles; had he recognized 
 the sublime Corinna, corstending with, and win- 
 ning the prize from tlie famous Pindar, of Thehes, 
 by her verse; had iie i>ivc8t''gated with oan lor the 
 ingenious, though abstruse wri rings of Wohton- 
 croft: had he been present in the councils in 
 which queen Elizabeth'^ presided; and in which 
 she displayed p^diti^al ingenuity s iperior to a 
 majority of her preuecesssors, and ail her suc- 
 cessors, he would undoubtedly have been of a 
 different opinion. 
 
 Indeed i cannot help believing, that the con- 
 tempt for the mental capacity of the sex* express- 
 ed b^ many learned autliors, proceeds more from 
 w^aat of candid consideration, than from want of 
 literary penetration. 
 
 I must allow that a village clown, arriving m 
 our city from the country, and surveying the em- 
 ployments, the customs, and fashions of the sex, 
 must be constrained to believe, that they were 
 almovst irrational beings; but were he candidly 
 to examine the biography of a single female, dis- 
 tinguished for her literary acquiremefits.f &c. 
 he would be inclined to allow, that the ignorance, 
 vanity, affectation, and petulance of a large ma- 
 jority of the sex, are the result of neglect, not 
 incapacity: the fatal influence of the tyranny of 
 
 *She was also a proficient in the Greek and Latin 
 ianguag-es* 
 
 f At the chapter, we shall present oiir readers with 
 a list of cotemporary female genius. 
 
104 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 custom* not mental imbecility. They are, in- 
 deed, possessed with great powers and great 
 parts; but, alas! they are neglected and despised, 
 uhile fashions and fopperies are encouraged and 
 countenanced. And why? because, forsooth, it 
 is customary. Many fair ones tremble to launch 
 into the ocean of fashion at tirst; but seeing so 
 many tbousands venturing their delicate barks in- 
 to this tempestuous sea. they tbink the crime 
 cannot be great, and as for the danger they nev- 
 er fear it till too late. 
 
 Imprudence at a distance seems nat such, 
 Tht.> view the sea, yet dread to lautich, or touch; 
 Yet still their hearts beat h;gh for the deiifrlit* 
 They wisli, but dread to plunge where joy.^ jnvjte. 
 To taste they venture first, and then r^Vre; 
 The taste inflames, and not allays desire: 
 Anotljtr taste, and then a drink succeeds, 
 From bad to worse, thus modern fashion leads. 
 
 While so many improvements are taking. place 
 in tue woild, st is distressing to see the most ami- 
 able part of llic creation taking a rerrograde 
 murch, not to improvement, but to greater degra- 
 dation. Is it impossible to break asunder the 
 adamantine fetr^MS, wit)? which custom has shack- 
 led tbeir energetic minds? Why is not tlieir 
 natural efiuality established? Why is it that in 
 the muUipiit ity of revolutions and countr-revo- 
 lutions that have latterly taken ]dace in the world, 
 the scientific improvement of females, lavorable 
 to ihdv intcilectual emancipation, has not been 
 ePerhHi. Even the few who have magnanimous- 
 ly p -s^f! the boundaries of male usurpation, 
 hnve tr. , rTten v.asted their illustrious talents in 
 chimerical and romantic, instead of beneficial 
 
vindicated; 105 
 
 and scientific compositions. We have seen the 
 works of women who were blest with super-emi- 
 nent qualifications and superlative talents, (but 
 too often on subjects of little use) clothed in the 
 most sublime language. 
 
 A hundred instances might be adduced, to 
 show, how grievously the rights of women are 
 infringed: though they themselves are not sensi- 
 ble of it: even in a religious point of view, bow 
 Bnjustly is the female mind shackled? 
 
 In ancient times, prophetesses as well as pro- 
 phets were allowed and encouraged to preach, or 
 as it was then called prophecy; but in modern 
 times, a holy and almost seraphic female, the fav- 
 orite of heaven, and child of God; if her heavenly 
 Father should move her by his spirit, to bear a 
 testimony for him to his guilty creatures, the cler- 
 gy are up in arms and unanimously say it shall 
 not be so. Thus we see, even the will of Heaven 
 is counteracted by the tyranny of custom. But 
 what makes this picture ten-fold more degrading 
 to human nature and i»«ulting to common sense, 
 is the peculiar contrast between the character and 
 conduct of some ministers and some of the con- 
 gregations. Here we see a youth sent to college 
 with his two brothers, one to be instructed for an 
 attorney at law, one for an officer in the army, 
 and the other for a minister of religion; the juv- 
 enile preacher learns a smattering of Latin, how 
 to write a sermon; and, forsooth, skips from the 
 college to the pulpit, with his head full of elocu- 
 tion; but, alas! bis heart is full of corruption: 
 this young manufactured parson assumes the gown 
 and band for liberal wages; and while the holy, 
 and, perhaps, eloquent female we have just de- 
 picted is compelled to silence; she is necessitated 
 to see this metamorphosed clergyman mount the 
 
106 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 rostrum with a skip, adjust his ministerial ap- 
 pendages, cry hem! and after reading a sermon, 
 pel haps he took out of an old book, he skips out 
 of the pulpit again, and with a bow, a polite 
 whisper, or a fashionable nod to a favored miss, 
 the ludicrous, or 1 should rather have said the 
 melancholy scene is closed. The liberality of 
 sentiiiient manifested by the Society of Friends, =^ 
 inth^s resp?ct, is truly admirable and worthy of 
 imitation; und, also, the appearance and appar- 
 el of tlieir young women. How amiable, how 
 modest, aud how bej^rstiful ! 
 
 When it is remem!)i^red, that modesty was made 
 for woman, and womnn was made for modesty, 
 we niustsay, nothing ornaments and embellishes 
 a reiiiaie more t;icin nnHlest apparel and g,,j)rudent 
 d.riieanor, and vice versa, with immodesty and 
 im|;rudence. Amongst these discrCCt {rnmie^, 
 who ennob!«^ human nature, we not only recog- 
 nize the fair sex, but also the cherishing sex, who 
 cherish the widow and orphan, clothe the naked, 
 and feed the poor; the pious sex, who nurture 
 their offspring as the candidates of Heaven, and 
 as sojourners on earth; they teach them to draw 
 the sincere milk of the word with that of the breast. 
 The pacific sex, who delight not in war nor the 
 discord ot nations or societies; the sjmpathetic 
 sex, whose hearts melt at human woe, and who 
 
 *Vide — Barclay's <<Apo]ogy'' — written in Latin, de- 
 dicated to King Charles II. pag-e 328. 
 
 Seeing male and female are'onc in Christ Jesus, and 
 that he hath given his spirit no less to one than to anotk- 
 er; when God moveth by his spirit in a woman, we 
 judge it no ways unlawful for her to preach in the P.s- 
 semblieB of God's people, ^c. 
 
VINDICATED- 107 
 
 arc precipitate to alleviate the sorrows of the chil- 
 dren of affliction; the reverential sex, who appear 
 in social worship, with reverence and godi j iVur, 
 with becoming modesty, and solemn seriousness: 
 but, alas ! what a contrast between them and the 
 votaries of fashion in the house of God. 
 
 } 
 
 When they in splendid robes to chui'ch repair. 
 
 To see, be seen, and say a formal prayer; 
 
 They view the images and pews around. 
 
 Peep throug-h their fans, and eye the beaus around. 
 
 Then listen to the anthem's solemn sound. 
 
 Their breasts swell'd out, their necks and elbows bare. 
 
 Their eyes half screen'd with curls of golden hair; 
 
 Hence, while the parson utters hymns of pra 
 
 The impious fop, with lustful eyes surveys 
 
 Their charms expos'd, and covets still to gaz 
 
 While they unsham'd, against all sacred rules, 
 
 Dart amorous glances at the amorous fools 
 
 :n iiair; 
 aise, ^ 
 
 ize. J 
 
 I would to Heaven this was only a poetical fic- 
 tion: alas! alas! it is too true; nay, only the 
 thousandth part of the degrading tale is told. 
 This degeneracy is owing to corrupt educations, 
 and the wrong association of ideas. For instance, 
 when the young female is taught to adorn and 
 beautify her person and physiognomy, in order 
 to gain admirers, and to select a husband from 
 the number; she is of course mechanically led to 
 pollute the house of God as well as the play house, 
 (pollution it undoubtedly is,) and it is more the 
 fault of parents and teachers than of the delinquent 
 herself; for she, no doubt, thinks it is her prero- 
 gative to exhibit her charms at every j lace and 
 opportunity to advantage, according to tho fash- 
 ion. Hence, she is the virtual cause of virtual 
 
108 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 fornication,^ being committed in the church at 
 divine service, and — but I must cease the deline- 
 ation: the concomitant evils are too indelicate to 
 be named. 
 
 Would it not be an excellent plan for some la- 
 dies of distinction, to organize an university, 
 similar to those established by our sex? A su- 
 perb edifice to he erected for the purpose by sub- 
 scription, which would testify to posterity the 
 philanthropy and in+repidity of its founders and 
 patrons; the institution to be trusted to female 
 philosophers, to the exclusion of our sex. By 
 this means the talents of females would be brought 
 into a right channel; works of utility and science 
 'would be produced to their own Imnor, interest, 
 and the benefit of society. 
 
 *When we remember the words of Christ, that he 
 who looks upon a woman to lust after her, is guilty of a- 
 dultery in his heart; and the appearances of the votaries 
 of fashion, calculated not only to connpel the bad man 
 to sin in this manner; but are formidable and fiery darts 
 in the hands of Satan, to pierce with anguish, to entice, 
 if not pollute even the g-ood man, who is, by nature, 
 prone to such evils, I say, considering" these circum- 
 stances, I am led to fear, that sometimes there is more 
 sin committed than good effected in the house of God. 
 If parents who habitually dress their daughters in such 
 apparel, as to be the instruments of Satan, to lead oth- 
 ers into sin, would recollect, that they are the auxil- 
 iaries and emissaries of hell; and the greatest culprits 
 in the sight of Heaven, when such sins are committed, 
 I am persuaded they would detest the fashions and tlieir 
 concomitant evils; and they are not only guilty in this 
 respect, but also the murderers of their children, when 
 they permit them unreproved to go into the ways of 
 folly in their youth, for evil habits grow with their 
 growth, and strengthen with their strength 
 
VINDICATED. 109 
 
 CONTEMPORARY FEMALE GENIUS. 
 
 At no period of our history has female genius 
 triumphed more than in our days. At the pres- 
 ent time there are living no less than twenty-four 
 ladies of pre-eminent talents, as writers in vari- 
 ous departments of literature and philosophy. 
 
 Mrs. Barbauldj distinguished during fifty 
 years, by her elegant productions in verse and 
 prose. 
 
 Miss Hannah Moore, for nearly an equal peri- 
 od, for various moral and controversial writings; 
 not inferior, for style and energy of mind, to any 
 thing produced by the other sex. 
 
 Mrs. RadcliffCf who as a novelist, may be 
 ranked among the first geniuses of the age and 
 country. 
 
 Miss Edgeworth, a distinguished writer of 
 novels, moral composition, and works on educa- 
 tion. 
 
 Miss Ctdlen, the amiable and ingenious auth- 
 oress of Morton and Home, novels distinguished 
 for their benevolent sentiments, and spirited com- 
 positions, honorable alike to her heart and head. 
 
 Mrs, Opie, whose various works in verse and 
 prose, are distinguished for their originality, 
 good taste, ingenuity, and elegant composition. 
 
 Mrs. Inchbald^ who as a dramatist and novel- 
 ist, has produced various works, which will ev- 
 er rank high among the classics of our language. 
 
 Miss Hiitton, respectable as a novelist, power- 
 ful as a general writer, and able as a philoso- 
 phical geographer, as proved by her recent works 
 on Africa. 
 
 Miss H. J\L Williams, who, though long resi- 
 dent in Paris, may be claimed as an English wo- 
 man, and is an honor to the genius of her coun- 
 
 10 
 
110 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 fry women, in history, politics, eloquence and 
 poetry, 
 
 Mrs. Cappe, a lady whose strength of under- 
 standing, and power of diction, have led her to 
 grapple with subjects of the highest order, as she 
 has published several works on theology, educa- 
 tion and biography. 
 
 Miss Porter, a novelist of the first rank, in 
 the powers of eloquent composition; whose Thad- 
 deus of Warsaw, and other works, will long be 
 standards of the language. 
 
 Miss Benger. who figures with equal distinc- 
 tion as a novelist, historian and poet. 
 
 Miss Grants who has distinguished herself in 
 morals, phih)sophy, and the belles lettres* 
 
 Mrs. Marcet, who has proved her powers of 
 mind in lier Conversations on Natural Philoso- 
 phy, &c. &c, 
 
 Mrs. Lowry, wlio writes and lectures with 
 great ability on mineralogy and geology. 
 
 Miss Owenson, (Lady Morgan) whose eloquent 
 writings, moral and political reasonings, are not 
 surpassed by any author of her time. 
 
 Mrs. Wakefield, compiler of many useful and 
 ingenious works for the use of children and 
 schools. 
 
 Mrs. Ibietsoiiy whose discoveries with the mi- 
 croscope in the physiology of plants, rank her 
 high among experienced philosophers. 
 
 Miss HtrschelU \vhose ingenuity and industry 
 in astronomical observations, have obtained her 
 a splendid reputation throughout tlie civilized 
 world. 
 
 Miss Mkhh niece of Mrs. Barbauld, who, soar- 
 ing above productions of mere taste and fancy, 
 hks in her memoirs of Elizabeth, proved her pow 
 rs in history and philosophy. 
 
)j/^ 
 
 VINDICATED. ill 
 
 Miss Grahaviij the able writer of several vol- 
 times of travels, which are distinguished for tlieir 
 sound philosophy and enlightened views of socie- 
 ty 
 
 M. D^Jlrhly^ (Miss Burney) whose Evelina, 
 
 Cecilia, Camilla, and other novels, place her 
 among the first and most original writers of any 
 age. 
 
 Miss iBaiWie, whose plays on the passions, and 
 other productions, are highly esteemed by every 
 person of taste. 
 
 Besides others of less celebrity, but perhaps e- 
 qual merit, whose names are not present to the 
 recollection of the writer. 
 
 Few persons till they behold this enumeration, 
 will have suspected that our days could boast such 
 a galaxy of genius in the fair sex; and it may al- 
 so be questioned whethei* the other sex can pro- 
 duce a list, in many respects of superior pretcn 
 mons. 
 
f\v/^ 
 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Lihe Cause and Consequences resulting to Society froiu 
 Female Degradation and incontinence investigated. 
 
 1 HAVE in the preceding pages, snggested some 
 truly momentous, though desultory reflections: 
 important, though unmethodical sentiments: in- 
 teresting, though spontaneous animadversions, 
 connected with the suhject of our investigation. 
 1 come now to discuss the most interesting part 
 of my suhject, and which the heads of every fam- 
 ily wUl find essentially connected with their in- 
 terest, honor and prosperity. I would here ob- 
 serve, thi^t the antecedent and subsequent ani- 
 mad versions are by no means intended to apply 
 to the sex in general. The prudent and modest 
 are by no means implicated, none but: those ob- 
 scene votaries of fashion, wlio are too often car- 
 ried beyond the bounds of common decency. 
 Heaven forbid that I should speak disrespectful- 
 ly of those individuals of Adam^s family, who are 
 the ornaments of human nature and the glory of 
 man, especially when I remember that my moth- 
 er, sisters, and my wife, are women, and that 
 the God of Nature intended man to be their pro- 
 tector and defender. No person can be a more 
 ardent and indefatigable defender of the sex than 
 I am, when I find them the votaries of virtue, 
 modesty, and delicate sensibility. And no man, 
 perhaps, beholds, with more painful sensations 
 than myself, those persons who arc the objects of 
 10=^ 
 
H FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 !Tiy highest admiration, sacrificing at the altar 
 of fashion their virtuous accomplishments, men- 
 tal qualifications, and native innocence, which 
 alone can render them worthy of our ardent re- 
 gard and reverential esteem. 
 
 There are many of the sentimental votaries of 
 seduction, and even itinerant lihertines, who will, 
 with the effrontery of a demon, attempt to ap- 
 plaud and vindicate the cause of females, who ri- 
 ot in the unrestrained licentiousness of their wan- 
 ton desftes, at the expense of modesty and virtue; 
 who have sacrificed their honor to the gross pleas- 
 ures of sense, and these libertines will make no 
 distinction between tlie virtuous and the vile, the 
 innocent and the jewd; they cannot, or rather 
 w ill not, ascertaj^n the infinite superiority and in- 
 trinsic excellem^y of a virtuous woman, that a 
 man of sense and honor, would delight to take as 
 the protector of his interest, the repository of his 
 secrets, th^cabinet of his earthly riches, the sol- 
 ace of his sorrows, the darling of his bosom, the 
 admired companion of his whole life, and the 
 another of his sweet babes; the little cherubs whose 
 infantile smiles and artless prattle, render, in 
 one moment, more real and refined delight, than 
 years sacrificed in the pursuit of sordid pleasures 
 and voluptuous gratifications. However, with 
 men of sense and discernment, the adulation of 
 these hypocritical calumniators (who would,, per- 
 haps, be inclined to censure me for my candid 
 boldness, in thus admonishing the votaries eJf 
 sensuality,) will be treated with contemptuous 
 disgust, and well deserved execration. 
 
 In attempting to investigate the cause of female 
 degradation, my mind is led imperceptibly to con- 
 template the miserable state of millions af poor 
 unhappy females, who, at this very moment, are 
 
VINDICATED. 115 
 
 ih^ victims of the avarice, and consequently the 
 promiscuous lust of the traitors and tyrants of 
 mankind; I mean the exiled daugi}ter-:j of the A- 
 frican race, from whose chains death alone is ex- 
 pected to relieve them. 
 
 O, death! the negro's welcome friend. 
 
 '*The dearest and the best,*^ 
 How joyful'is the hour you bring' 
 
 The weary slave to rest. 
 
 When from the cruel tyrant's grasp, 
 
 By friendly death he's torn; 
 To taste the blest relief of those, 
 
 Who cease on earth to mourn. 
 
 His tyrant, though he seems thus vain. 
 
 In fortune's lap carest; 
 Vet think not while he seems thus great. 
 
 That he is trufy blest. 
 
 The thought, he'll sooi> be food for worms. 
 
 From all his pleasures torn; 
 Blasts ev^ry op'ning bud t>f joy. 
 
 And makes the tyrant mourn. 
 
 To persons who have perused my antecedent 
 publications, it will not, perhaps, be necessary 
 to say, that the cause of those abject victims of 
 legal barbarity, is, and ever will be uppermost 
 in my mind: the circumstance of my witnessing 
 so much cruelty exercised towards them during 
 my voyages to Africa, and several of the West 
 India Islands, has made such an impression on 
 my mind, as time can never erase, nor mortal 
 eloquence depict. I need not, in this place, re- 
 capitulate tl]e unparallelled suiferings of these 
 wretched victims of our avaiice; this Ihate^^l- 
 
116 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 ready done in my other performances, to the bes^ 
 of my poor abilities. Suffice it to say: The sou 
 and sire are daily and hourly tormented by their 
 cruel task masters, who force them to undergo 
 extremity of toil and hardship: to forego not only 
 the comforts, but even the necessaries of life. 
 While they endure severity of toil, they receive 
 only penury of food; and, to aggravate their 
 miserable doom, they are forced, with w^eeping 
 eyes and agonizing hearts, to see their wives and 
 daughters, not only the victims of the avarice, 
 but subjected to the promiscuous lust of their op- 
 pressors. 
 
 *«Ah! how can he whose daily lot is grief*^ 
 Whose mind is vilified beneath the rod; 
 Suppose his Maker has for him relief^ 
 Can he believe the tongues that speak of God»^ 
 
 For when he sees the female of his heart, 
 And his lov'd daughters torn by lust away: 
 His sons the poor inheritors of smkrt. 
 Had he religion, think ye he could pray. 
 
 E'en at this moment on the burning gale. 
 Floats the weak wailing of the female tongue,- 
 And can that sex's softness nought avail? 
 Must feeble women shriek amid the throng' 
 
 Haste, haste ye winds on swifter pinions fly. 
 Ere from this world of misery they go; 
 Tell them their wrongs bedew a nation's eye. 
 Tell them Columbia blushes for their woe.* 
 
 *As an apology for introducing this matter, which 
 some will consider as not strictly connected witli my 
 subject, I would affirm it as my solemn belief, that the 
 
VINDICATED, 117 
 
 An individual ruffian, that is t1\e owner of an 
 estate of 200 slaves, appropriates all the young 
 females for his seraglio; there is, of course, a 
 motly race of half white and half black children^ 
 produced by the owner, yet not considered as le- 
 gitimate; they are, of course, continued as slaves; 
 hence these promiscuously begotten children, 
 when arrived at the years of maturity, being ig- 
 norant of their progenitors, promiscuously and 
 unwittingly commit incest, with all its beastly 
 concomitants; but I must cease delineating this 
 truly degrading picture of human depravity, as 
 being too shocking for the ear of delicacy to hear, 
 the eye of philanthropy to view, or the heart of 
 humanity to recognize. But I would beg leave 
 to make a short digression, in order to suggest 
 a few of the effects produced by this deleterious 
 cause: and, first, the human nature, is degraded 
 to the brutal for the pleasure of the voluptuous 
 epicure; the laws of nature are inverted, though 
 Bot the laws of grace: for while the tyrant is 
 chaining the mangled limbs and lacerated bodies 
 of his slaves, their souls, perhaps, are, at the 
 self-same moment, holding sweet converse with 
 God. 
 
 The foundation of civil liberty and social vir- 
 tue is shaken to maintain the superiority of dem- 
 ons in human form. I will prove the validity of 
 this assertion, by exhibiting the premature fate 
 
 4;ruelty of Americans to the African race, will sooner 
 or later brings the vengeance of Heaven upon our coun- 
 try. Hence, I feel it my indispensable duty, to warn, 
 faithfully and affectionately, my unthinking fellowci- 
 i^izens, on every opportunity, without regarding formali? 
 ty, *<Ti9 conscience calls, and conscience I pbev,'^ 
 
118 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 of Hayti,* which presents itself at once to prove 
 to a demonstration the force of my hypothesis. 
 The thousands of white planters, who, some few 
 years ago, were scourging, with unrelenting cru- 
 elty, the exiled sons of Africa, in that unhappy 
 country, have been cruelly massacred by the same 
 exiled and exasperated Africans. Only 700, out 
 
 *Hayti or St. Doming'o, one of the largest and most 
 fertile of the West India islands, extending in length, 
 from E. to W. 390 miles, and in breadth from 60 to 150^ 
 situated between Jamaica and Cuba on the west, and 
 Porto Rico on the east. 
 
 The country is diversified with extensive plains and 
 elevated mountains, and has a great variety of soil, but 
 for the most part very fertile, consisting of a rich clay, 
 in some places mixed with light gravel lying on a sub- 
 stratum of rock — it is well watered — full of woods — 
 contains mines of iron and silver. 
 
 The famous decree of the French National Conven- 
 tion, that, *'a// men are horn equal and free ,*' led to the 
 revolution in St. Domingo. Contests arose between 
 the white and free people of color, when they were 
 overwhelmed by their common enemy, the slaves, who, 
 in August 1791, rose against their masters by common 
 consent, and rendered the whole French part of the 
 island a scene of massacre and devastation. , 
 
 The island was taken possession of by a British force 
 in 1793, but they were compelled to evacuate it in 1798, 
 and the inde4>^ndence of St. Domingo was declared on 
 the 1st of July, 1801. It was afterwards divided be- 
 tween two chiefs, Christophe ruling over the northern 
 part, his capital being Cape Francois; and Petion rul- 
 ing the southern districts. These chiefs are both dead, 
 and the parts of the island are now united under Pres- 
 ident Boyer — Ppi^-au-Prince is the present seat of gov- 
 ernment* 
 
VINDICATED. 119 
 
 of several thousand, were spared for a time, and 
 afterwards were butchered by order of Dessa- 
 lines, except a few artificers retained for local 
 purposes . 
 
 Can any impartial man take the most superfi- 
 cial view of that devoted country, and not ac- 
 knowledge that it is intended by the Almiglity as 
 an example and warning to the other tyrannical 
 nations of Christendom r But, I would ask, who 
 takes the tragical warning? Is it t\\^ republi- 
 cans of America? No; they rivet, instead ot 
 breaking asunder the manacles of slavery.^ In- 
 stead of obviating they consolidate its influence.': — 
 Witness the thousands of slaves imported into 
 anS from thence scattered through the different 
 states. Yet the fate of Hayti proves, that these 
 are mortal enemies to the public weal, and are 
 continually gnawing the vitals of the body politic 
 But I anticipate the answer which the citizens of 
 the northern states will make to the above asser- 
 tion; namely, that the Africans in our states are 
 treated with such mildness and generosity* that 
 they would, in case of intestine commotion or 
 foreign invasion, be the defenders and not the 
 destroyers of their benefactors. Such a supposi- 
 
 *Slavery was a part of the civil constitution of most 
 countries when Christianity appeared; yet no passage 
 is to be found in fhe Christian scriptures by which it is 
 condemned or prohibited. This is true: for Christian- 
 ity, soliciting admission into all nations of the world, 
 abstained, as behoved it, from intermeddling with civ- 
 il institutions of any kind. But does it follow, trotn 
 the silence of scripture concerning them, *that all the 
 civil Institutions which then prevailed were right ^ or 
 that tlie bad should not be exchanged for better^ — Vi- 
 '^- Faiey's Mor. Phil. on'^Slavery. Book III. Chap. iii. 
 
 IB 
 
120 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 tion i$the first-born of absurdities. Can the mo- 
 ther forget her suckling child ? No more can the 
 sons of Africa, in what part of the world, or in 
 whatever situation they maybe, forget the suffer- 
 ings they have, in conjunction with their ances- 
 tors, endured from the hands of the cruel and a- 
 varicious whites. The fact is, they would be 
 worse than the worst of traitors, if tHey did not 
 espouse the cause of their degraded countrymen. 
 But facts step forward to prove the solidity of 
 my arguments; and, of course, render specula- 
 tive reasoning unnecessary. Great numbers of 
 blacks and mulattoes, on the commencement of 
 intestine commotion in Cape Francois, when^he 
 flames of rebellion were kindling, who were both 
 comfortably and respectably situated among the 
 whites; who, notwithstanding, on the commence- 
 ment of hostilities, were the greatest enemies 
 they had to encounter. And this must be the fate 
 of America at a future period. Unless we forego 
 the cause, the effects will undoubtedly be the 
 same. 
 
 At a former period, the citizens of America 
 were enabled, by Divine assistance, to conquer 
 their enemies and consolidate their liberties. But 
 can we have the assurance to ask, or the impu- 
 dence to expect. Divine assistance, in attempting 
 to vindicate our national honor, by endeavoring 
 to reorganize our federal government, on Ihe e- 
 ventof intestine commotion and foreign invasion, 
 a million of infuriated Africans in the bowels of 
 our country, and an army of veterans on our fron- 
 tiers? Surely not. The moment we are robbing 
 others of their liberty, can we ask or expect God 
 tjo secure our own? It is impossible. It would be 
 blasphemy against tbejrectitudc of heaven to ask, 
 and an insult to its Sovereign, to expect such a 
 
VINDICATED. 121 
 
 thing. Conversing with my next door neighbor, 
 respecting the cause why so many children were 
 not only disobedient and refractory, in their mi- 
 nority, but even a curse to their parents when 
 arrived at the years of maturity, she very judi- 
 ciously asserted, that the radical cause was their 
 giving their children their own way, and letting 
 their self-will be unrestrained, while young. 
 When they grow older, their wills become so in- 
 vincibly stubborn, that they are unconquerable; 
 and that those parents, who were thus neglectful^ 
 generally felt the consequences of their credulity 
 and impolicy. In proof of which, she adverted 
 t^ another neighbor, who was more than once 
 cruelly beaten by her son, till she was black and 
 blue; and, at the same time, contrasted the case 
 of this undutiful son with her own children, six 
 of whom were married, and most. of them had 
 children. Yet they were as submissive, dutiful, 
 and affectionate as when they were in a state of 
 minority; and that they had always continued in 
 the same state. Indeed, I took notice several 
 times myself of the social intercourse and affec- 
 tionate regard existing between her and her chil- 
 dren, the youngest of whom is now nineteen years 
 of age, and none of them, though persons of res- 
 pectability, will undertake, even now, any bus- 
 iness, or enter upon any important pursuit, with- 
 out first askiftg her advice, and gaining her con- 
 sent. I asked her how she attained the happy, 
 the heavenly art, of thus bringing up, and not 
 only gaining, but keeping the affections of her 
 children? She said, her primary object, with 
 respect to her children, w as, from their infancy, 
 to break their wills. To begin at one year old, 
 and let them know that her word was a law, and 
 that her will shouW not be disputed with impum- 
 
ISS FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 ty. The infants, having these elementary prin- 
 ciples of submission instilled into their minds, o- 
 bedience became natural to them. T'hey scarce- 
 ly ever deserved or received a whipping. The 
 cause being taken away at first, the effect ceased. 
 Hence her children have been, and, to my cer- 
 tain knowledge, are a blessing to her; and she 
 has nurtured ten, and raised seven, with more 
 facility, with more ease and pleasure, than oth- 
 er parents have raised one; though a widow for 
 sixteen years. This is a lesson better than vol- 
 umes of metaphysical reasoning and philosophical 
 disquisitions on education. The sentiments are 
 familiar to the most illiterate, and which I h^e 
 endeavored to simplify. Ye injudicious parents, 
 whose children are an intolerable burden, if you 
 want to learn the sacred art of gaining happiness 
 for yourselves and for them, view this woman as 
 in a looking glass, and see tlie way to gain this 
 happy end. By indulging your children, you 
 make yourselves infinite trouble, and give them 
 infinite pain, both here and hereafter; in this 
 world and that which is to come. You are in 
 short, raising them up to be your tormentors, 
 tlieir own murderers, and enemies of the state. 
 I would illustrate this assertion by a circumstance 
 that took place yesterday. Walking past the 
 court house, I stept in, for a few moments, to 
 hear the trials then under discussion; and, to my 
 no small surprise, I saw and heard an old wom« 
 man, bending with age, give testimony against 
 her undutiful son, who had robbed her of her 
 house and property (by getting a false deed mad€ 
 in his own name) the only support of her old age, 
 and afterwards turning her out of doors, to seek 
 refuge in the public bounty. 
 It is now past tweive o'clock at night: the s(* 
 
VINDICATED. 125 
 
 leninity of the time, connected with the singula- 
 rity of the above adventure, causes a train of 
 spontaneous and momentous reflections to strike 
 my mind. How many parents, now wrapped in 
 the close embraces of slumber, circle in their 
 arms the children who one day will bring their 
 grey hairs with sorrow to the grave, and yet, a- 
 las! these same parents perhaps will peruse and 
 approve of these sentiments respecting their chil- 
 dren, but will not take one step in reforming the 
 abuses thetr neglect has, and perhaps will still 
 produce. If such persons suffer for their credul- 
 ity and imbecility, their sufferings are the just 
 fruit of their foll^ and neglect, but, alas! their 
 ruined, contaminated, unconscious offspring, al- 
 so suffer loss, the floods of destruction are pour- 
 ed upon them by the impetuosity, the invincibili- 
 ty, and virulence of their unbridled passions and 
 unrestrained desires, which, like the river Nile^ 
 whose source is a small spring or rivulet, but 
 which ends in a mighty river that is supplied by 
 supernumerary streams and winding lakes, which 
 all unite to augment the magnitude, and stimu- 
 late the impetuosity of this amazing river, till it 
 empties itself into the boundless ocean: thus the 
 little unconscious prattling infant's desires and 
 passions are suffered to run unrestrained, at first 
 indeed diminutive, but accumulating by degrees 
 from bad to Avorse, as from youth to age, aug- 
 mented by itinerant vicissitudes, local circum- 
 stances, and relative situations in life, till we 
 see the sullen infant metamorphosed to a potent 
 demagogue, a vindictive despot, wliose mandate 
 makes legions, armed with power and pride, 
 march majestically fierce, at whose approach 
 nations tremble, or, nod to their fall, and to gra- 
 tify whose will, thousands of human brings must 
 
1^4 FEMALE CHARACtER 
 
 be sacrificed at the shrine of imj^rial authority* 
 I'his is a degrading but a true picture of the pre« 
 sent state of civilized as well as savage nations, 
 for turn our eyes which ever way we will, we see 
 violence and oppression prevail, produced by ma- 
 ternal indulgence and paternal neglect. Though 
 I am unequivocally prejudiced against elaborate 
 and refined composition and literary embellish- 
 ment in discussing a subject of this nature, and 
 therefore endeavor to avoid all unnecessary am- 
 plification; yet, as a reference to facts is the only 
 way to render argument by theory unnecessary, 
 the elucidation of the subject requires some de- 
 gree of systematical arrangement and connection; 
 though a profusion of imagery is apt to distract 
 the reader*s attention, and hring it into a wrong 
 channel^ yet some portion is necessary to njain- 
 tain a chain of reasoning, anil make the mind re- 
 cognize the connecting links in that chain. Alas! 
 how many truly valuable and intrinsically mo- 
 mentous as well as scientific performances onthi^ 
 useful subject, are perfectly useless to all out phi- 
 losophical readers, on account of extraneous mat- 
 ter connected with the ^^rubbish of hypothesis.^* 
 
 I would ask from whence do the savages of our 
 own continent receive that invincible composure, 
 that unconquerable patience in the midst of the 
 greatest agonies and hodily tortures; when their 
 enemies burn them by a slow fire, beginning at 
 their feet, and thus consume their whole bodies. 
 While they exult and triumph in the midst of their 
 pain, and deride and defy their foes, and even so- 
 licit them to augment their torments; and thus 
 expire without a single murmur or complaint: it 
 is the force of example connected with precept 
 which endues them with such stubborn magna-* 
 Bimity. The young Indian is taught by his par- 
 
VINDICATED. it5 
 
 ftnts to consider flindiing and betraying signs of 
 terror in the moments of danger or death, as the 
 most detestable cowardice, the most disgraceful, 
 and at the same time, the most humiliating pic- 
 ture of a w retch unfit to live on earth, and asso- 
 ciate with mortals, or to be received into the am- 
 brosial habitation of their patriotic ancestors af- 
 ter deatli. The children even take a pleasure in 
 putting lighted coals of fire on their bodies by 
 way of experiment, to ascertain who has the most 
 courage: — in the same manner children might, 
 if begun with in time, be taught to abhor vice 
 and admire virtue. 
 
 Education, if properly directed, may not only 
 subdue wayward appetite, conquer the feelings 
 of nature, subjugate hereditary depravity, but 
 even aniiihilate physical sensations. In the same 
 manner might sentiments be inculcated, and 
 practi es exhibited to the indiscriminate inspec- 
 tion of young females, that might impress their 
 minds with such invincible disgust at t^e pros-^ 
 pects of certain fashionable crimes, that they 
 would hold tliem in the greatest abhorrence to 
 the period of their dissolution; and the same might 
 be said, with great propriety, of other vices. 
 
 By pursuing the idea, we may ascertain the 
 most eligible metliod to call the juvenile mind, 
 not only to investigate and admire, but even 
 
 i practice and participate social virtue, particu- 
 arly that of benevolence; for instance, when the 
 child is attempting to kill a fly, or any other in- 
 sect, by appearing to pity and sympathize for 
 the sufferings of the fly, and, at the same time, 
 showing that cruelty is wrong and displeasing to 
 God. By inculcating such sentiments, the child 
 may be led to feel mercy, and show clemency to 
 all the animal creation. I caii also assert from 
 11# 
 
126 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 my own experience, that sentimental love to God 
 may be begotten, by representing the Almighty 
 as a good and gracious being; as the father of the 
 human family; that wills the good of all, and the 
 harm of none of his children; and to reverse the- 
 idea, the malevolent passions may be engender- 
 ed by an opposite line of conduct in parents and 
 teachers, which unhappily is too often the case. 
 But some persons will be ready to deny the above 
 supposition, respecting children being early im- 
 pressed with a sense of the love of God, and will 
 bring forward the cases of many children, of ex- 
 emplary pious parents, who aie, notwithstanding, 
 the most zealous votaries of infidelity, and cham- 
 pions of dissipation, though they received a truly 
 religious education, and had the most upright 
 sentiments inculcated upon their minds, by pa- 
 ternal solicitude and assiduity« All I can say in 
 contradiction to this sentiment is, that too many 
 good men use the most injudicious means to make 
 their children such. First, the nurse begins with 
 the infant almost as soon as he can lisp, to terri- 
 fy him with the idea of a superior being, that will 
 l^unish with vindictiveness. His heavenly par- 
 ent, by such imprudent nurses, is metamorphose 
 ed to a raw head and bloody bones, or to a hob- 
 goblin, or some other phantom of the brain, to 
 inghten the child to sleep: thus a foundation is 
 laid at the most important period of life, for the 
 most invincible prejudices, the most unconquera- 
 ble superstitions to be built upon. Aversion and 
 terror are engendered, while love and trnderness 
 ure annihilated; that love which can be implant- 
 ed, 1 had almost said sooner than any other pas- 
 sion, for daily experience proves that it is gmer- 
 ally the easiest thing in life, to gain the aScition 
 oi a cliild by acts of love and tenderiie.s^) whilc^f 
 
riNDICATElX m 
 
 on the other hand, hy hardness and moroseness, 
 we as easily imbibe in thorn hatred and disgust; 
 and perhaps, at the same time, a manner of fear 
 and terror. 
 
 It therefore appears evident, that the only way 
 to induce them to place their juvenile affection on 
 the Deity, is by exhibiting him as their friend, 
 net as their enemy; as one that loves them su- 
 premely, and not as one that will punish them in- 
 exorably. But it is not only by nurses, but alsq 
 by parents truly religious, and even ministers of 
 religion, that sentiments have been depictured in 
 children's minds, that have a direct tendency to 
 connect gloom and horror with religion, restraint 
 and infelicity with godliness: hence these prema- 
 ture insinuations beget a secret disgust and detes- 
 tation, and when the rein^i of paternal restraint 
 are loosened, the juvenile prisoner precipitates 
 into the forbidden iields of pleasure and sensuali- 
 ty. Like the young foal that rushes into the fields 
 when the stable door is opened, he skips about 
 every bush, he crops the verdant green, uncon- 
 scious of his danger: whenlo! a lion precipitately 
 across the lawn, and rends the panting victim, 
 while the atmosphej»e reverberates with his hollow 
 groans. Thus they continue to gratify their un- 
 hallowed passions, till death, in conjunction with 
 complicated disease, destroys the volatile wan- 
 derer in the interdicted fields of pleasure. Were 
 children impressed with a sense of the native cle- 
 mency of God from their youth, with diligence 
 and perseverance, and the idea of punishment and 
 future woes, n.>t to bo connected with religion, 
 at least, not till they could associate the ideas of 
 God's justice and goodness together — the effects, 
 I am morally CTiain, would be salutary: divine 
 love would be begotten in infancy, and would ac« 
 
i£8 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 cumulate, from youth to age, strength and influ* 
 encc in the juvenile mind, which wouhl be, no 
 doubt, the best preservative against vicious prac- 
 tices- 
 Much might be said to show the fatality and 
 futility of associating religion with monastic 
 gloom^ afic! the infinite injury parents do their 
 children by this common practice. But 1 must 
 pass on, to mention a fashion prevalent amongst 
 the great, at least, those who call themselves the 
 great: a fasliion that 1 will be bold to ^ay, is in 
 open hostility with all the interests oi benevolence 
 and paternal munilicence: and that is the fashion- 
 able njode'^ of rich people prematurely separating 
 their ( hildren soon alter their birth, and giving 
 them in cliarge to itinerant nui'ses* who cannot 
 be supjiosed to Icel the same tender solicitude for 
 their welfare as their parents must unquestiona- 
 bly feel; they are* of course, resigned to the ca- 
 price of persons, who often punish them in the 
 most cruel manner, while the poor little sufferers 
 canaot tell who injured and imposed upon th.em; 
 and female children often, very often, receive the 
 seeds of unchastity from their nurses; which will 
 prove in Ibllowing ^ears, the cause of their des- 
 truction: for it is well known, that many wet 
 nurses are merely cai>acitated for their employ- 
 ment through the meoium of unchastity. Par- 
 ents taking such cliaracters into their families^ 
 and suifering them to associate with their daugh- 
 ters, is one priiicipal cause that so many common 
 prostitutes crowd our cities; thousands of inno- 
 cent girls have been ruined by this means. And 
 
 ^Hoiv many ladies would-be seen carryings ft iftp-dog 
 la Ihc street, before their ofisprin^. 
 
VINDICATED. 129 
 
 with respect to parents putting out their little in- 
 fants from under their paternal roofrj to nurse, I 
 consider the practice not only cruel hut unnatural: 
 it tends to annihilate the social affections. Fili- 
 al and paternal tenderness, by this means are al- 
 most erased from botli parents and children* This 
 assertion, I think, I can authenticate, not only 
 from hypothesis, and the nature of things, but 
 also from experience; for my parents had adopt- 
 ed, and uniformly practised the unnatural custom, 
 of sending their children at our birth, from under 
 their inspection, and giving us in charge to nurs- 
 es in their own houses; and I recollect one of my 
 sisters was almost starved before it was found out 
 by my father, who instantly had her taken home^ 
 We were generally taken from our nurses under 
 our paternal roof again, when about three or foux- 
 years old; if we had any affection it was for our 
 nurses; for my own part I loved my nurse much 
 more than my parents before and after I left her; 
 indeed, l never, to my recollection, felt any affec- 
 tion for ii\y father, while in a state of minority; 
 my mother died when I was about five years old, 
 I consequently could not exercise much social af^ 
 fcction towards her; but my father, with whom 
 I lived till I was sixteen years old, I al\\ ays dis« 
 regarded, on account of the appearance of mo- 
 roseness in Iris physiognomy, and the distance 
 he kept his children at, though he was by no 
 means severer but seemed to be as destitute of 
 paternf^l tenderi^ess, as I w as of filial piety. I 
 would, therefore, recommend parents, who wish 
 to gain, and keep their children's affections, to 
 attend to the old proverb, ^*Love begets love,'* 
 whether human or divine. I admire God for his 
 jnagnificence; I venerate him for his holiness; I 
 yeverence him for his matchless p^wer; I est^Qia 
 
ISO FEMALE CHARACTEH 
 
 him for his justice; but I love him supremely for 
 his goodness, which is infinite, amazing and di- 
 vine! 
 
 I may, with some little modification, apply 
 the sentiment to my fellow-travellers to a world 
 of spirits; I, therefore, admire the statesman that 
 acts a judicious part in the cabinet; I eulogize 
 the author who displays his ingenuity in the re- 
 public of letters for useful purposes: but that man, 
 and that man alone I love, with the lovfj of com- 
 placency, who directs his taients with tender so- 
 licitude to the purposes, and for the accomplish- 
 ment of the happiness of his fellow creatures; but 
 alas! how seldom these philanthropic individuals 
 are to be found: how often do we see vanity and 
 ambition manufacture authors, who prostitutes 
 tliemost illustrious talents to the most unworthy 
 purposes, with the brilliancy of diction, the ap- 
 pearance of tender emotion, the flippancy of lan- 
 guage, and the flowers of rhetoric; they exhibit 
 resplendent performances, which flatter to des- 
 troy; which, under the profe^ion of respect for 
 the cause of virtue, hide the most deadl;^^ poi^on,^ 
 \vho kiss^ like Judas, and stab like Joab; and 
 yet, those who profess to be critics and reviewers, 
 applaud, as delicious trifles, those voluptuous 
 performances; the authors of which,, exert their 
 ingenuity to mislead the unguarded, and, with 
 sacrilegious profanity, undermine the founda- 
 tions of social virtue, overturn the ramparts of 
 female innocence, and ransack the repository of 
 divine revelation; perhaps a deviation from the 
 
 *At the end of this chapter, onr readers are present^ 
 ed with an Essay on the f*lnjit*ence of fictitious turitin£$ 
 9'n thfC mini^^^ 
 
t^INDICATED. f3X 
 
 radical rules of composition, tlie critics and re- 
 viewers would recognize with the microscope of 
 criticism, and yet, forsooth, they can let these 
 Ingenious murderers of the human soul, not only 
 pass with impunity, but heap encomiums upon 
 them, and crown them with popularity. As well 
 might they applaud the beautiful leopard that de- 
 vours a man, or the ingenious fascinating serpent 
 that charms and destroys the innocent bird. Just 
 as reasonable would it be for them to recommend 
 the assassin for his ingenuity, who, by a secret 
 process, a new plan, most ingenious and profound, 
 destroys the lives of his fellow men, at the mo- 
 ment he appears to be saving them, and sends 
 them off the stage of action with a smile on their 
 countenances; without a sigh or a groan, and in- 
 sensible of bodily or mental pain; which must of 
 course, be reserved for their anticipf»tion in a fu- 
 ture world, where no such libidinous deceptions 
 and sophistry can be practised. Without any 
 comment, for in fact it needs none, I will illus- 
 trate tlie anterior remarks by transcribing a pa- 
 ragraph published in a London newspaper, res- 
 pecting the most popular poet of the age. 
 
 *'A meeting has taken place, at Chalk -farm, 
 between Francis Jeffries, Esq. of Edinburgh, 
 and Thomas Moore, Esq. commonly called Ana- 
 creon Moore: but by the timely appearance of the 
 Bow-street officers, mischief was prevented. This 
 meeting was produced by a literary quarrel: Mr» 
 Jeffries having written an article, which was pub- 
 lished in the Edinburgh Review, reflecting on 
 the poems, of the modern An acrcon; in which he 
 is charged with 'imposing corruption upon iiis 
 readers, by concealing it under the mask ot re- 
 finement, to reconcile them insensibly to the most 
 vile and vulgar sensuality^ by biending its i^m 
 
132 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 guage with that of exalted feeling, and tender e* 
 motion. How true a degcHption is this of one 
 half of the poems and novels of the duy/^ 
 
 1 would here mention a circumstance, which 
 has a particular tendency to degiade the female 
 character, and which encourages m^n to encroach 
 upon the natural rights of women; and that is^ 
 the ridiculous partiality of mothers in particular, 
 and parents in general, to their male, in prefer- 
 ence to their female children. One would sup- 
 pose, that such characters were virtually if not 
 practically, the votaries of Mahometan ism; that 
 they did not helieve in the immateriality of the 
 souls of females; hut that they were created and 
 put into the world, merely for the sensual conve- 
 nience of men and for their domestic accommoda- 
 tion, and, of course, that men are of decided and 
 transcendent superiority to women. 
 
 The mothers who profess to be proselytes to 
 the christian religion, and who, of courjse, be- 
 lieve their female offspring to be the heirs of im- 
 mortality, and rewardable or punishable accord- 
 ing to the merit or demerit of their actions, and 
 their belief or unbelief in the Son of God and Sav- 
 iour of the world; 1 think such mothers should 
 blush, when they reflect on the moral mischief 
 they produce (in the rising generation,) by their 
 mental imbecility; they virtually teach their sons 
 to despise their sisters, and pay no respect to 
 their feelings, they destroy that urbanity of dis* 
 position which tends to produce domestic felicity; 
 they sow the seeds of unsociability, which prove 
 a barrier to preclude the introduction of recipro- 
 cal tenderness and all the social and sentimental 
 affections; they implant in their boys imperious 
 pride, with all its subordinate auxiliaries, its 
 gubdivisious and concomitants; and in their girls, 
 
VINDICATED. 133 
 
 self degradation, mortification, and disgust: 
 they impregnate their juvenile minds witli such 
 unsocial and deleterious sentiments, so invincible 
 as to defy even the power of religion to eradicate. 
 Yet stubborn facts authenticate the assertion- 
 There are men, and good men too, not pagans, 
 but real christians, the prejudices of whose edu 
 cation remain unconquered; notwithstanding the 
 influence of religion on their minds, has^made a 
 thorough revolution and reformation in their mor- 
 al deportment: yet so powerful are first impres- 
 sions, that even such men (though affectionate in 
 ether respects,) consider their wives merely as^ 
 domestic beings, whose element is a nursery, and 
 whose business is exclusively confined to domes- 
 tic economy, and maternal solicitude, without 
 any reference to theological vocations, scientific 
 improvement, or intellectual refinement; but with- 
 out religion, men of this description are capable 
 of blasting the domestic peace, and casting a 
 mental gloom over the women, who are so unfor- 
 tunate as to be united with tliem in the bands of 
 holy matrimony. 
 
 A female of refined sensibility would enjoy as 
 much sentimental pleasure in the company, and 
 from hearing the conversation of a rustic, as that 
 of such a character; an ignorant person, she would 
 be inclined to pity; but a philosophical pedant 
 she would despise. 
 
 Women, who are thus unhappily united, can 
 best tell the infelicity of such marriages, the 
 mental languor produced thereby, the painful sen- 
 sations resulting from the recollection of the per- 
 manency of the conjugal state, and the impossi- 
 bility of ever anticipating a moment's refined 
 pleasure, or intellectual gratification, in the com- 
 muiiion and intercourse of persons so different iu 
 
134 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 their opinions and associations — wliere one partj 
 are exalted to demigods, and the other degraded 
 to brutes. 
 
 Finally, the consequences resulting from these 
 inimical prejudices, have been, still are, and it 
 is to be feared will long continue, to plant with 
 thorns the nuptial bed, which ought to be a bed of 
 roses; and strew the intermediate path between 
 marriage and the grave with briars; instead of its 
 being carpetted with flowers. 
 
 I will, therefore, with boldness assert, that 
 mothers, above all other people, should be well 
 informed in all the branches of polite literature, 
 in order that they may be capacitated to inform 
 their children.^ When this is not the case, the 
 
 *The following- passage is from Buckminster: *^If any 
 thing in life deserves to be considered as at once the 
 exquisite bliss, and pre-eminent duty of a mother, it 
 is tliis — to watch the drawing disposition and capacity 
 of a favorite child; to discover the earliest buds of 
 thought, to feed with useful truths the inquisltiveness 
 of a young and curious mind; to direct the eyes, yet 
 unsullied with the waters of contrition, to a bounteous 
 benefactor, to lift the little hand yet unstained wit!^. 
 vice in prayer to their Father who is in Heaven, But 
 so it is. The child, as soon as it is released from tlie 
 bondage of the nurse, a^^d needs no longer a careful 
 eye to look after its steps and guard it from external in- 
 jury, is too often surrendered to instructors, some of 
 whom are. employed to polish the surface of the charac- 
 ter, and regulate motions of the limbs, others to 
 furnish the memory, and accomplish the imagination, 
 while religion gets admission as she can, sometimes in 
 aid of authority, and sometimes in a Saturday's task, 
 ©r a Sunday's peculiarity, but how rarely as a sentiment. 
 Their little hearts are mad,« to ill; tter with ranity, en- 
 
VINDICATED. i35 
 
 children who receive a classical education, are 
 too apt to look down with contempt, upon their 
 illiterate mothers, when they return from col- 
 leges; and other seminaries of learning. They 
 should, therefore, consider prudence and propri- 
 ety, not as sexual virtues; but should inculcate 
 sentiments of delicacy upon the minds of their 
 male, as well as female progeny; by this means 
 tliat unnatural contempt for the female character, 
 which 1 have been execrating, will be done away; 
 and that hereditary prejudice, produced by the 
 father's impropriety, and mother's imprudence? 
 would be obviated; we should no more see the laws 
 of prudence outraged; and common decency vio- 
 lated in females: or, for distinction sake, I will 
 call them ladies, who appropriate to themselves 
 the name of virtuous, and profess to be the vota- 
 ries of modesty; but I would ask such characters, 
 what kind of modesty is it which can bow at the 
 shrine of fashion, however obscene and capri- 
 tious. If it can be called modesty, it surely 
 must be that peculiar to lewd women. 
 
 Another grand reason I assign for the ^obvious 
 degradation of a great majority of the sex, is the 
 indelicacy with Avhich infants are treated by ser- 
 vants and underlings; and the censurable inatten- 
 tion of parents to this important point, which has 
 
 couraged to pant for emulation, persuaded to contract 
 with parsimony, allowed to glow with revenge, or re- 
 duced to absolute numbness by worldliness and cares 
 before they have ever felt a sentiment of devotion, or 
 gratitude for a benefit in the presence of God. Believe 
 me mothers, you have no right to expect that the sensfc 
 pf religion wilf be infused by the labors of others. 
 
 • «When parents have ceased to be teachers, religiou 
 has ceased to be ^aught/- 
 
136 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 been the means of bringing many a respectable 
 man^s child to premature prostitution: and, while 
 we ])ity the child, we must reproach the parent, 
 as the primary cause of the same: for, no pains 
 w ere taken at an early period of life by the par- 
 ents, to associate the ideas of delicacy and chas- 
 tity, with honor and propriety; and, on the oth- 
 er hand, immodesty and indelicacy, with shame 
 and contempt. 
 
 I say again, in unequivocal terms, that this 
 neglect in mothers is one of the radical causes, 
 why so many prostitutes crowd our cities and 
 principal sea-port towns. If the mother j^uffeis 
 her daughter to go into the very jaws of tempta- 
 tion, and, at the same time, never takes any 
 pains to guard her against those temptations, and 
 the fatality and remorse connected with yielding 
 to them: is it therefore any wonder they should 
 become the victims of seduction or wayward ap- 
 petite? It is only by exciting disgust and abhor- 
 rence at the prospect of every thought that can 
 corrupt a pure imagination, that- we can inspire 
 the genuine sentiments of true chastity, and un- 
 affected delicacy. Again, how often does it hap- 
 pen, that the foolish pride, and self-distinction 
 of peo])le, in the middling ranks of society, pre- 
 maturely poison the juvenile minds of their chil- 
 dren, by causing them to consider gi'andeur and 
 honor, indigence and insignificance, poverty and 
 disgrace, as synonymous terms.' 
 
 When, therefore, these children, by the extrav- 
 agance of their parents, are reduced to the pain- 
 ful necessity of taking their stand in the lowest 
 rank of society; what agonizing sensations must 
 they experience; resulting from the wrong asso- 
 ciation of ideas in the first instance; and what 
 aggravates their mortification at the change of 
 
VINDICATED. 137 
 
 arcumstances, is the melancholy consideration, 
 that they consider themselves in the same light, 
 ^i. e. with contempt) in which they formerly view- 
 ed poor people, in^ the humble ranks of virtuous 
 mediocrity; and they conceive the world views 
 them in the same point of view. These unreason- 
 ably supeixilious, and destructive sentimeats,^^ 
 prove the harbingers of their downfall, from the 
 flow^cry paths of virtue, to the devious paths of 
 folly. Alas! how often has, and I may add, how^ 
 often do the children of respectable people (in the 
 event of their parents death, or reduction in a pe- 
 cuniai'y sense,) precipitate themselves into the 
 abyss of degradation and prostitution: hence the 
 juvenile companions of virtuous sensibility be- 
 come forever separated: — as two beautiful virgins 
 walking hand in hand through the vernal grove, 
 they pluck the ambrosial fruit, they exhale the 
 fragrance of the scented mead, they listen to the 
 songs of the lark, and view the silver stream run 
 thrilling by them, and crown each other with 
 laurel garlands; when lo! clouds surcharge with 
 double darkness, the lowering atmosphere; the 
 thunder bellows, and the forked lightnings flash 
 from pole to pole; while each of the terrified maid- 
 ens seek for safety in different directions: one re- 
 turns to the peaceful habitation of virtuous medio- 
 crity, while the other seeks for shelter under the 
 spreading foliage of the sovereign oak; when lo! 
 a lion, ranging o'er the lawn, spies the tremb- 
 ling maid: he rears his main, he runs, he flys up- 
 on the devoted victim; he tears her to pieces; and 
 bears her in his grim paws to his sequestered den, 
 in the gloomy forest. 
 
 Thus are the companions of youth forever sep- 
 arated by vice, the influence of evil communica- 
 tions, and paternal uegHgence and folly. 
 12# 
 
38 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 if we want a proof of the authenticity of these 
 remarks, we need only turn our minds to the 
 numerous haunts of debaucliery and dissipation; 
 and the lamentable proof will appear, in the per- 
 sons of the most beautiful women, clear as the 
 sun beam. Can -any mother, wlio is possessed of 
 a particle of patriotism and maternal sensibility, 
 feel unalTected at viewing, even superficially, this 
 true, though degrading picture? Let her look up- 
 on her infant, with eyes of maternal sensibility, 
 and then view, with sympathetic commisseration, 
 the daughters of respectable parents, who were 
 wrecked on the rocks and slioals which the object 
 of this woj'k is to exhibit to \iew, that they may 
 he avoided by the rising generation. 
 
 Before I conclude this chapter. I must observe, 
 that young women bring themselves to ruin and 
 disgrace, by too imjdicitly believing the vague 
 promises of men, who flatter to deceive. Parents 
 arc certainly extremely reprehensible, for en- 
 couraging too much familiarity between the sex; 
 as well as for not carefully explaining to their 
 daughters, the dangers that will result therefrom. 
 Thousands of virgins have been ruined by this 
 means: but as some freedom is justifiable, and as 
 a prudent intercourse is commendable, females 
 should act witli the most becoming reservedness 
 and modesty, in the presence of their suitors: as- 
 suiing themselves, that no man of real honor, or 
 virtuous sensibility, ever did, ever will, or ever 
 can marry a woman who has given him reason to 
 believe she is destitute of modesty. If the female 
 gives iier suitor such liberty, at which modesty 
 w ould blush to behold, and virtue would weep to 
 witness; he, of course, supposes she would, if 
 opportunity served, and importunity solicited, 
 give another man the same liberties; and, conse 
 
VINDICATED. 159 
 
 quently, that she is by no means worthy to be 
 marte the partner of his life and fortune; if he lov^ 
 cd her before ever so ardently, liis antecedent 
 love will be changed to subsequent contempt, mix- 
 ed with pity; and if his pity should be paramount 
 to Iiis honor, yet the recollection of her past im- 
 modesty would be the cause of periodical jealousy 
 on the one part, and misery on the other. Yet, 
 notwithstanding the simplicity and plainness of 
 these remarks, how many young women have, and 
 how many do, become the victims of their own 
 credulity, and nlan^s hypocrisy. 
 
 AH tlie reason I can assign for this prodigious 
 folly, palpable stupidity, shameful imbecility, 
 and flagrant unchastity in many thousands, who 
 were previously virtuous young women, is the 
 neglect of their parents, in not impressing on 
 their minds, from their infancy, tliese intrinsi- 
 cally momentous reflections. Incited there are 
 many men, who make it their particular business 
 in choosing a wife, to irj and prove her virtue; 
 if she resists with becoming detestation and ab- 
 horrence, the least innovations on her delicacy, 
 it will cause lier su;tor not only to love, but also 
 to venerate her m^re than he did before; for all 
 men, however loose in their own morals, feel the 
 most revereiitial respect and veneration for fe- 
 male virtue, when untarnished and unadultera- 
 ted, wiiich their sagacity soon discriaiinates. 
 But there is not only the prefixed obvious evils 
 attending female imprudence, resulting from pa- 
 ternal negligence, but more tragical catastr.^phes 
 often are the fruits thereof. What immense num- 
 bers of young women have, when their foolish 
 and injudicious conduct, has produced the effect 
 I have above described; namely, to cause the 
 men they loved, and who also; perhaps, loved 
 
140 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 them, to renounce them forever; I say, how of- 
 ten has it happened, that these unhappy females 
 have puf^n end to their own wretched existence, 
 or have thrown themselves as abandoned prosti- 
 tutes upon the town. I will venture to affirm tliat 
 there are now thousands living; who could sub- 
 scribe to the authenticity of this assertion with 
 weeping eyes and agonizing hearts: I therefore 
 tlo not conceive how 1 can be more beneficial to 
 society in general, and my fair readers in parti- 
 cular, than by exhibiting to their view, in a plain 
 and pointed manner, these obvious rocks of se- 
 duction, on which thousands of beautiful, respec- 
 table, and previously virtuous females have been 
 dashed to pieces; and many too, who never 
 thought themselves, nor even their companions or 
 relatives, that they ever would have come to so 
 tragical an end; but beauty has produced vanity, 
 vanity pride, and pride has paved the way for the 
 successful innovations of the votaries of seduc- 
 tion. 
 
 Some persons, no doubt, will think tbat I am 
 too plain and pointed in my animadversions; and 
 that I, in some instances, even use asperity of 
 language in my admonitions and reproofs; to 
 such I will say, that admitting their thoughts 
 were correct, yet even the purity of my motives, 
 and my affectionate and ardent solicitude for tlic 
 present and eternal happiness of my fellow mor- 
 • tals, should plead my excuse, and cover my in- 
 discretion in this respect, with the mantle of love; 
 but I positively deny the correctness of their ideas 
 on the subject, which 1 will prove to the satisfac- 
 tion of every candid mind, by tiie following sim- 
 ilitudes. 
 
 A certain polite gentleman descries his neigh- 
 bor^ house wrapt in flames at midnight, while 
 
VINDICATED. 141 
 
 the family are all slumbering on their bedvS, in 
 sensible of their danger; this polite gentleman, 
 instead of forgetting for a moment the etiquette 
 of politeness, and rushing into their bed-chamber^ 
 and warning them of their imminent danger, raps 
 gently at the door and calls, but calls in vain; 
 till the flames surround, and consume them iit 
 their beds. Suppose the same man saw a lady^ 
 who happened to fall out of a pleasure boat, drown - 
 ing, she sinks, her head rises again on the sur- 
 face of the water, but thinking it indelicate to 
 catch her by the hair of her head, he neglects 
 his opportunity, and lets her drown; would not 
 such a man be virtually a murdbrer? Surety he 
 would. 
 
 By these similitu(\es we may see the necessity 
 of warning souls fainifully, who are standing on 
 the brink of present and eternal woe. The mag- 
 nitude of the evil may be ascertained by its dread- 
 ful concomitants: and we may see the moral tur- 
 pitude of the sin, by its prohibition in sacred and 
 profane history, and the most signal and severe 
 punishment annexed to the commission of it. Ac- 
 cording to the Mosaic economy, the maid who 
 committed whoredom in her father's house, ^'was^ 
 surely to be put to deathJ^ And there are exist- 
 ing laws among many of the heathen nations, e- 
 qually, and in some instances more severe, than 
 even that; particularly among the Chinese,'* 
 
 *As childrew have nothing but what they receive by 
 nature and education from their parents, tutors, and 
 companions, the infamy rests ultimately on their par- 
 ents and those who have the care of their edncation, 
 (especially when they live among those of their own 
 Profession) and not on themselves, who are ignorant 
 
14 ; FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 whose penal laws, in this and other instances, arft 
 extremely salutary, judicious and equitable; par- 
 ticularly as it respects their tracing the crime to 
 its source, and recognizing the cause as well a.^ 
 the ejdbcts. The parents are punislied as we have 
 already hinted, as the primary cause of the evil; 
 and the child as the secondary cause; and I would 
 ask if the laws of man judiciously traces a crime 
 from its commission to its source, will the laws 
 of ut)d be less judicious? Surely not. >yhat a 
 pity it is tliat the laws organized by the Christian 
 governments s! ould not criminate those who are 
 the perpetrators of crimes: surely, then, parents 
 would be more particular how they instructed 
 their cliildren, w hen tliey would be answerable 
 for their negligence in this respect; if this was 
 the case, our prisons would not be so crowded 
 witli vagrants of various descriptions; surely so 
 many prostitutes would not crowd and disgrace 
 our^ cities; incomparably more so, than in the 
 most uncivilized and savage countries. Surely 
 a less number of culprits would be executed, less 
 suicide committed, less seduction effected, less 
 disobedience to parents recognized, less contempt 
 of religion, artd moral obligation shown, fewer 
 
 of their own weakness and of the evil consequences 
 that will attend, until it is too late to prevent them 
 The Chinese l&ws make communities answerable for of 
 fences committed within their respective authorities, 
 parents for the misbehavior of their children, conclu- 
 ding" that they must have neglected their education? and 
 mag-istrates are severely punished for those crimes com 
 initted within the districts of their authority. Moderr 
 Universal History, vol. viii. pag^js 153, 172. AncicT^ 
 ' T n i V c rs al H i story, vol. yii i . pag-e 266 
 
VINDICATED. 145 
 
 •obscene ami scandalous fashions prevalent; and, 
 ill short, a less numhei* of nuirders, tiicfts, and 
 robberies committed, in what are called chris- 
 tian countries. However, if the laws of short- 
 sighted man w ill not take cognizance of the de- 
 linquency of parents for the disobedience of their 
 children, God will assuredly do it, and that with 
 a vengeance; and the punishment will be superi- 
 or to that of their children, according to the na- 
 ture of their negligence, and deleterious prece- 
 dence: for instance, I would ask any man of com- 
 mon sense and candor, does not that parent ob^ 
 viously deserve more contempt and execration, 
 for the clandestine perpetration of crimes commit- 
 ted™ by her child, than the child herself; if she 
 never suggested to her that those crimes were 
 incompatible with the principles of moral recti- 
 tude; and especially if the mother was the only 
 vehicle of information to which the daughter could 
 have access? Witlmut any matter of doubt. 1 
 have myself known the daughter of respectable 
 parents, who exhibited the indelible fruits of il- 
 licit love; the blame was exclusively thrown up- 
 on the actual delinquents, while the virtual cul- 
 prits, namely, the parents, were considered guilt- 
 less: yet, forsooth, the wickedness was trans- 
 acted under their roof, and almost under their 
 own eyes. And I am now acquainted with re- 
 putable j^arents, who profess religion, and who 
 arc in otlier respects friendly, generous neigh- 
 bors; yet act with as much indifference to their 
 children, w ith respect to their moral improve- 
 ment, as if they were merely domestic animals; 
 particularly their eldest daughter, a young wo- 
 man, who is allowed such liberties, as well as 
 her gallant, that if she is not ruined, it will bo 
 more by good luck than good guiding. A prac- 
 
144 FEMALE CFIARACTER 
 
 titioner in the arts of seduction could not desire 
 more opportunities for the operation of his dele- 
 terious designs, than is given in this family. 
 
 I was grieved, tohehold female innocence and 
 beauty brought to the verge of destruction: and, 
 from a sense of duty, personally, but privately 
 expostulated with and admonished the father, and 
 pointed out the danger of giving his daughter 
 such liberties; and particularly depicted the case 
 of widows, who lived the virtuous wives of res- 
 pectable husbands, yet on their death, they have 
 thix)ugh tlie invincible arts of seduction, been led 
 (even such characters who, perhaps, previously 
 thought they would sooner Suffer the most painful 
 death, tlian disgrace the memory of their deceas« 
 ed husbands and living cliildren,) from the flow- 
 ery paths of chastity; but, notwithstanding all 
 my expostulations and animadversions, he seem- 
 ed callous and insensible to the cogent solicitude 
 I manifested for the safety of his child. He, in 
 fact, I thought, seemed to be morally dead to the 
 future woe of his children. Is it possible such 
 parents can be guiltless in the siglit of that wise 
 Being, who scrutinizes the cause as well as the 
 effect of eviP It is impossible. I will be bold to 
 say, that this destructive negligence, this pater- 
 nal insensibility is the cause of the ruin of more 
 females, than any other cause whatever. For 1 
 w ould ask, how can a young w oman, unconsci- 
 ous and unguarded, w ho has never been apprised 
 of her danger, by her parents, the only personis 
 %vho ought to admonish her on so delicate a sub- 
 ject; how can she escape pollution, Avhen oppor- 
 tunity, importunity and the invincibility of se- 
 duction, are all combined against her? She par- 
 leys, she reasons with her seducer; but, alas! in 
 Tain: his sophistry is paramount to all her artle^; 
 
VINDICATED , i^o 
 
 logic. The libertine hears but will not under- 
 stand. She falls a martyr, I will not say, to 
 the arts of seduction, but to paternal neglect. 
 While the female, who has been taught in tlio 
 school of maternal experience, on whose juvenile 
 mind has been impressed the indispensible duties 
 peculiar to the female character, to whom has 
 been pointed out the many formidable plans laid 
 to ensnare the sex and fascinate the unguarded, 
 the sure and certain way, also, to shun these 
 snares and vanquish every innovation, when the 
 adept at seduction appears with all his wiles in 
 the presence of such a character, she views him 
 with scorn; and, as she considers the smallest at- 
 attempt on her chastity, or the least insinuation 
 stamped with the signature of indelicacy, as au 
 unpardonable insult, she replies to the same with 
 magnanimous contempt and execration, and 
 frow^ns the reptile to his native insignificance; 
 while she insinuates that she would sooner sacri- 
 fice a thousand lives, than forego her untarnish- 
 ed chastity. He will shrink from the presence ot 
 the virtuous fair one, with self condemnation, 
 mixed with reverential admiration, as an owl from 
 the face of day. 
 
 *Many alas! too many of those fashlonabis females 
 who may, with great propriety be called affected prude?, 
 would apparently be shocked and petrified with horror 
 at the bare mention of some words in this work; and 
 yet, forsooth, these very modcBt fair ones, the very 
 same moment they thus blush, are not ashamed to Ap- 
 pear in the presence of youn^ men, both in private and 
 public, clothed in such a lascivious manner, and as- 
 suming such wanton attitudes, as to cause the burning 
 bl'ish of shame to ting-e the cheek of the beholder. 
 
 13 
 
146 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 AN USSAir 
 
 O^^ THE 
 
 Iirftiiences of fictitious Wfithig^ on the mincL 
 
 Tqo great an indulgence, in those pleasures of 
 taste which tragic recitals arc adapted to impart, 
 must he admitted to have a decidedly prejudicial 
 influence on the mind. The effect of novel read- 
 ing is more deleterious than that of poetry, he- 
 cause the excitement is in general moi^e powerful; 
 and that the novelist relies more simply on the 
 passion of cu}*iosity for producing gratification, 
 t!ian the poet does, v^ho seeks to please by more 
 refined means. The consequence is, that by the 
 practice of novel reading, the imagination be- 
 comes diseased, as the eflfect of an unnatural ex- 
 citement whicl), not being carried o.T by any cor- 
 respondant exertion of a practical kind, is thrown 
 back as it were on itself. In real life, the mind 
 becomes strengthened by being accustomed to the 
 contem])Iation of danger and suffering. In other 
 woi'ds, fear and j)ity are lessoned and become 
 weaker in our minds, in proportion as we iearn 
 to govern and siqj'press imaginations in encoun- 
 tering danger and relieving misery. Indefinite 
 objects excite the strongest emotions, because 
 they are viewed through the medium of imagina- 
 tion; but let us become acquainted with their true 
 shape and nature, and we begin to wonder how 
 they affected us so powerfully. But there is no 
 analogy between the influence of real sorrows, 
 5ind the effect produced by the contemplation of 
 
VINDICATED. 147 
 
 imaginary ones. The mind i:-? not strengthened 
 by being ina<!e to feel, but by the exertion requi- 
 site to subdue and govern the feeling. Bis}u)p 
 Butler has a striking passage bearing on this sub- 
 ject. *'As habits belonging to the body are pro- 
 duced by external acts, so/"' remarks the learned 
 prelate, *'habits of tfie mind are produced by the 
 exertion of inward practical principles: that is, 
 by carrying them into action; ihe principles of 
 obedience, of veracity, Justice and charity. Res- 
 olutions to do well are properly acts. But going 
 o\^er the theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking 
 well, and drawing fine pictures of it, — this is so 
 far from necessarily or certainly conducing to 
 form a habit of it in him who thus employs him- 
 self, that it may harden the mind in a contrary 
 course, and form a habit of insensibility to all 
 moral considerations. For, from our \evy facul- 
 ty of habits, passive impressions, by being re- 
 peated, grow weaker. Thoughts, by often pas- 
 sing through the mind, are felt less sensibly. Be- 
 ing accustomed to danger, begets intrepidity; that 
 is, lessens fear; to distress, lessens pity; to in- 
 stances of other's mortality, lessens the sensible 
 apprehension of our own. And from tliese two 
 observations taken together, that practical habits 
 are formed and strengthened by repeated acts, and 
 that passive impressions grow weaker by being 
 repeated upon us; it must follow, that active hab- 
 its may be gradually forming and strengthening 
 by a course of acting upon such and such motives 
 and excitements, while these motives and excite- 
 ments themselves are, by proportionate degrees, 
 growing less sensible. And experience confirms 
 this; for active principles, at the very time that 
 they are less lively in perception than they were, 
 arc found to be somehow wrought more thorough- 
 
14B FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 ly into the temper and cliaracter, and become more 
 eflectual in influencing our practice. Perception 
 of distress in others is a natural excitement, pas- 
 .sivelj to pity, and actively to believe it; but let 
 a man set liimself to attend to, enquire out and 
 I'elievc distressed persons, and he cannot but grow 
 less and less sensibly affected with the various 
 miseries of life Vvith which he must become ac* 
 qiiainted, Avhen yet, at tlie same time, benevo- 
 lence, considered not as a passion, but as a prac- 
 tical principle of action, will strengthen; and 
 while lie passively compassionates the distressed 
 less, he will acquire a greater aptitude actively 
 to assist and befriend them.'^ — In the mind of the 
 novel rcadei', a totally different, not to say oppo- 
 riite result takes place, as the effect of being ac- 
 customed to receive impressions which induce no 
 ])ractical exertion. The principle of benevolence 
 is weakened by the habit of contemplating scencsr^ 
 of distress and objects of pity, when no opportu- 
 nity is afforded for the exercise of that principle. 
 At the same time, while an insensibility to moral 
 considerations is thus produced, the mind, accus- 
 tomed to cherish and yield to the emotions which 
 ire produced by such impressions, instead of act- 
 ing upon the excitement, and learning to resist 
 their influence On the imagination, becomes in 
 time the victim of a morbid sensibility, and is 
 less able to cope with the real sorrows of life. 
 
 On these grounds, then, and from the convic- 
 tion that, by the sorrows of imagination, neither 
 is the mind strengthened nor the heart bettered, 
 we deprecate such works as aim at harrowing up 
 the feelings, and familiarizing the thoughts with 
 terrific and tragical subjects. Indeed, if there 
 be any truth in the remark, that the pleasure de 
 vived from such sources is in part attributable to a 
 
VINDICATED. 149 
 
 3ticret comparison of tlie danger or suffering ol 
 others with our own ease or securitj;, as the plea- 
 sure is, so far, of a selfish character^ so, its ten- 
 dency must be to foster selfishness. Accordingly, 
 though the writers and readers of pathetic novels 
 may be persons of much sensibility, they do not 
 in general rank among the foremost in works of 
 benevolence; nor is the poet always found a prac- 
 tical philanthropist. The unfeeling and unnatu- 
 ral character of the sentimental Sterne is not a 
 solitary instance. The author of Childc Harold 
 presents another frightful specimen of a man of 
 sentiment, devoid of feeling, of sensibility, but 
 with paralysed affections, a man whose imagina- 
 tion had eaten out his heart. In a mind that is 
 under the softening and regulating influence of 
 true piety, no such dii^astrous effect as this will 
 ensue from the indulgence of the imagination; but 
 we think that experience will bear us out in the 
 assertion, that, as the being conversant with the 
 dark pictures and tragical catastrophe of fiction 
 has no tendency to prepare the mind to meet w ith 
 cheerfulness, or to endure with fortitude the trials 
 of life, so, a practical acquaintance with real sor- 
 rows and sufferings, and the habit of contempla- 
 ting them with the feeling of active benevolence, 
 will generally produce a distaste for the pathetic 
 details of the novelist. We cannot conceive, for 
 instance, of Howard weeping over a novel, or of 
 Mrs. Fry melted to tears by a tragedy or a tale. 
 There may be persons, then, who ^*meet with too 
 much of the dolorous" in the w^lks of daily life, 
 to relish or bear with it in fiction, yet, Against 
 whom the charge of morbid feeling cannot be 
 brought The fact is, that their affections being 
 in full play, the action of the imagination is di- 
 minished; whereas, in the sentimentalist^ all the 
 
150 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 energy of the mind, as it were determined to that 
 faculty, and the action of the aifections is ren- 
 dered languid. We do not deny tiiat there are 
 cases in which the imagination needs a stimulus, 
 and in which the gentle excitement of the emo- 
 tions of pity, terror, or melancholy by means of 
 works of taste, may be innocent and even bene- 
 ficial. But then let not the poet or writer of fic- 
 tion mistake his office and his proper business. 
 Let him avail himself of every opportunity of con- 
 veying moral instruction; but moral discipline is 
 not to be learned in his school. To expect that a 
 familiai'ity with gibbets and death beds in eithep 
 poetry or prose, will conduce to the promotion of 
 benevolence, of fortitude, or of pious principle^ 
 is just as reasonable as it would be to imagine, 
 that a poring over stories of gliosts and goblins 
 has a tendency to beget courage, and that a fa- 
 miliarity With ideal objects of terror i^ the best 
 remedy for t!ie passion of fear. 
 
VINDICATED. 151 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Advice to mothers on the importance of the intellectu- 
 al improvement of their daughters. 
 
 In suggesting the anterior remarks on educa- 
 tion, I have, nu ilojibt, widely deviated tVo:n that 
 systematic plan and metltodical arrangement pe- 
 culiar to other autiiurs, who Iiave wj'ittcn on the 
 subject. My senri.nents, in m?Jiy respects, are 
 spontaneous, and the (*ov^i[osid)ri precipitate, de- 
 sultory, arid chi'^ilY i;nti-jHSCf'i'>ed. Though I 
 have not studied motho » h\ the elucidr^u>»^ a-id 
 ampiincatk>n of the subject, 1 have, though m an 
 eccentric manner, stu'^ied utiiity accorairig t;> the 
 best of my poor uatural alMl^t?;'s, I b'i?evc the 
 commoiiHlity of my reahis, will he far sooner 
 benelitted by thai unai'Vcteci and shnpllned style 
 and arrangement, whicii exhibits varijiy a^ ;1 a- 
 voids prolixity, thougli iinaivriiodical, UikOi the 
 most reilned an^T cmr)e!ii->hed composition, when 
 too elaborate and scientiiic. In addressing that 
 venerable and truly respectab'e class of people, 
 the mothers of the rising generation I feel tliose 
 dihident sensations, which a conscious sense of 
 their importance in society, and my own inabili- 
 ty naturally inspire; however, convinced as I am 
 of the rectitude of my own intentions, and well 
 meant endeavors to promote social intercourse 
 and domestic ti*anquilUty, I am emboldened to 
 proceed with distinguished deference to the per- 
 
15^ FEMALE CHARACTl^R 
 
 sons to whom I now address the following stric 
 tures. 
 
 Civil society is divided into three distinct clas- 
 ses, to wit: the higher, the middlings and the 
 lower. The Jirst enjoy the good things of this life 
 in destructive abundance; the second, in blissful 
 mediocrity; the third often in deleterious indi- 
 gence. — The middling state is the most secure, 
 most capacitated for enjoying the benefactions of 
 Providence, and consequently most preferable. 
 In high life, a thousand temptations continually 
 intervene to draw the juvenile mind astray, and 
 to pierce the votaries of pleasure with many sor- 
 rows. It is in vaiii to say, that their enjoyments 
 are more than paramount to theit disquietudes; 
 this is not a fact; their enjoyments are merely i- 
 deal, while their infelicities are real: their abun- 
 dant riches cannot afford them happiness; for, 
 
 « 'Abundance cloys of riclie^, love, or song", 
 We want but little, nor want that little long.'* 
 
 as they cannot enjoy their riches with gratitude, 
 nor, of course, with satisfaction, they manufac- 
 ture to themselves real out of imaginary evils, and 
 perplex themselves with vexations, which mere- 
 ly, and exclusively originate in their own proud 
 imperious hearts; indeed it seems to me, that 
 this restless, unhappy disposition is the offspring 
 of their own ingratitude and pride. 
 
 Such proud imperious foes their toils will know. 
 And every hand shall work its share of woe. 
 
 I never formed an idea of the deep debauchery 
 (or to call it by its refined name, gallantry) and 
 the routine of dissipation prevalent amongst t\m 
 
VINDICATED. 
 
 class, almost in general till I read the niemoirs^^ 
 of Mrs. Robinson. =^' She has portrayed the splen- 
 did wretchedness, the satanic vanity, the pom- 
 pous ostentation, the systematical coquetry, the 
 
 *The misfortunes, the writings, and adventures of 
 •Ills lady (who is only one of thousands which might be. 
 adduced) present themselves to consolidate my arg-u- 
 ments, establish my hypothesis* and put it out of the 
 power of even duplicity to doubt, effrontery to preva- 
 ricate, or profiig-acy to equivocate, respecting" the co- 
 g-ency of my familiar arguments. The lady alluded to 
 was, perhaps, the handsomest woman in England, She 
 was emphatically called <*The beautiful Mrs. Robinson." 
 The ingenuousness and purity of her heart, v/hen she 
 first launched into the boisterous sea of fashion, with 
 the profound ingenuity of her head, were only equalled 
 by the unparalleled charms of her person. Her litera- 
 ry performances, particularly her poetical pieces are^, 
 in my opinion, equal, if not superior, to the produc- 
 tions of any of her sex. I will not even except the in- 
 genious Madame Dacier, who translated Homer from 
 the Greek into the French language; or Miss Francis^, 
 who translated from the Hebrew the songs of SolomoHi. 
 Vs'ith notes, critical and explanatory. 
 
 The names of these ingenious women I mention with 
 the greatest respect; and would eochibit them as lite- 
 rary models for those young females, who wish to make 
 a proficiency in erudition; and, in addition, I would 
 enumerate the names of Mrs. Cowley, Griffiths, Bar- 
 bauld, Dobson, Carter, Montague, Chapone, Smith, 
 Inchbald, Leaper, Madan, Masters, Monk, Phillips, 
 Rowe, Countess of Winchelsea, Dutchess of New-Cas- 
 tie, Miss Moore, Seward, Williams, Lee and Burney. 
 While I exhibit these characters for the young female 
 to imitate, in their scientific researches, I would add, 
 that were it possible for her to possess the information 
 of them all, with the personal beauty of an angel, and 
 
154 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 deep and black crimes which are not only fre-- 
 qucnt, but also fashionable amongst the right 
 honorable, the right worshipful, and right rever- 
 end votaries of seduction. However, 1 w ill for- 
 
 yet be destitute of virtue, her beauty and learning* would 
 only tend to make her more despicable in tlie eyes of 
 the world, inexcusable in tlie cstmiation of the honor- 
 able and virtuous part of society, and a hundred-iold 
 more guilty in the sig-lit of Ht:aven; for where much in' 
 formation is given the more virtue is required by the Al- 
 mighty, who will punish those who know their master's 
 will and do it not, with many stripes. I need not say 
 much respecting the series of misfortunes and splendid 
 calamities that chequered Mrs. Robinson's life, which 
 was short indeed, but full of sorrow. I would refer 
 the reader to her memoirs in 2d vol. written by herself. 
 For my part i confess, that I never perused the life and 
 misfortunes of any person that has more sensibly mov- 
 ed my sympathy. The resolute manner in which she, 
 for a long time, repelled the attacks on her virtue (af- 
 ter she entered the fashionable world,) by right hon. 
 villains, lordly debauchees, and illustrious, libertines; 
 and the apparent reluctance with which she surrender- 
 ed her honor, though assailed by the Prince of Wales, 
 who, after using every stratagem that an adept at se- 
 duction could devise, presented her with a bond of 
 20,000 pounds sterling, professing much love and vow- 
 ing eternal constancy. I say the long and vigorous 
 stand she made, though assailed by such invincible, 
 such potent temptations, and the neglect, profligacy, 
 and barbarity of a scornful Iiusband, which tended to 
 sharpen the darts of seduction, very much prepossess- 
 ed me in her favor and inspired me with pity for her 
 misfortunes. But the Tneanness her seducer manifested 
 after he ruined her (for who«e sake she not only sacri 
 ficed her honor, but also a lucrative establisment,) beg 
 gars all description. He, soon after her degradatior. 
 
VINDICATED. ibo 
 
 bear to particularize them, but vsubstitute more 
 interesting matter. Pursuing therefore, my stric- 
 tures, the dishonor resulting particular!} to the 
 female character, recurs in defiance of every ef- 
 fort to suppress it. Hence, it seems impossible 
 almost to avoid tautology. The alarmist. 1 know, 
 sees evils which never will he realized; but on 
 the other hand, the slavish dupe of seductive fash- 
 ion never sees them till they iiave taken effect. 
 In which case the magnitude of the evils, is ac- 
 cording to the degeneracy of the fashion. It is 
 certain, that a host of infelicities with their con- 
 scripts, recruits, and auxiliaries, crowd upon 
 the votaries of fashion and dissipation, line after 
 line, and rank- after rank, in swift succession. 
 
 When a distinguislied female persor^age, eleva- 
 ted to the first dignity in the commiinity, and, of 
 course, popular and powerfuK introduces fash- 
 ions, however* ludicrous and obscene, those fan- 
 tastical females placed near her, or even her most 
 distant associates, will necessarily more and more 
 
 forsook her. and even had the baseness to get the bond 
 of 20,000 ponnds returned, and gave in its room an an- 
 niiit)' of 5U0 pounds. Lord Lyttleton behaved towards 
 lier with artifice, Fitzg-erald with violence, and many 
 other rig-ht honorable and noble debauchees with dis- 
 simulation^ but none behaved with such baseness as his 
 royal hig-hness. The imprudence of her parents, a 
 premature and precipitate marriag-e, the early intro- 
 duction into the fashionable world, laid the foundation 
 of her subsequent calamities, and premature death, 
 which happened in the bloom of her youths Her con- 
 stitution participated in the ruin of her honor. She 
 languished till reduced almost to a skeleton; and died.j 
 I believe, a true penitent. 
 
156 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 asshiiulatc, though at first shocked with the ob- 
 ^cenity of sucli fashions. These debasing fash- 
 ions, progiTHsiug like a gangrene, will extend 
 from one female to another, tlirongh every grade* 
 
 We need not look far to prove the authenticity 
 of these remarks- is it not a stubborn fact, that 
 the conduct of these first rate fashionables, pai^a- 
 lyze and infatuate every grade of society? I would 
 ask these fashionable matrons, where is the pru- 
 dence that animated your ancestors? Dispelled 
 before the baneful notions of false refinement. 
 Where is the prudence that characterized your 
 ancestors? Dispelled before the baneful notions of 
 false refinement. Where is the prudence that 
 characterized your progenitors, who taught you 
 (though in vain) lessons of discretion? Where is 
 the energy^and invincibility that triumphed over 
 female imbecility and vanity? In short, where is 
 the domestic economy and virtue which signalized 
 your mothers? Lulled, gently lulled to fatal slum- 
 l)er in the lap of venality, and voluptuous fash- 
 ionable theory. 
 
 What virtuous mother does not iiang her head 
 in solemn sadness at the thought! what cheek 
 does not wear the crimson blush, at the degener- 
 acy of the sex! In the bosoms that beat with the 
 vital force of female virtue, a noble disdain should 
 arise, at the remembrance of their domestic be- 
 trayers and seducers. Mothers, this is not a 
 time to sit inactive, and see the last struggles of 
 every thing dear to you — the expiring honors of 
 your female progeny. You should endeavor, w ith 
 more than maternal solicitude to snatch from ru- 
 in, or preserve entire their sacred virtue. As the 
 manner, with anxious solicitude throws out any 
 floating pieces of the w reck to save his drowning 
 shipmate; who swept aw^ay by a foaming billow^ 
 
VINDICATED. t5r 
 
 while the decks are white with foam, and the rude 
 winds howl about the masts, and sing through 
 every shroud : he struggles with the angry waves, 
 and whistling winds, till he is at last saved thro' 
 the assiduity and perseverance of his faithful com- 
 -l)anion. Thus, let mothers use every effort to 
 save the honor and virtue of their daughters, who 
 are almost enveloped in the vortex of popular de- 
 gradation and infamy. I am not speaking of 
 those females who liavc plunged into the dreadful 
 abyss of personal prostitution; but rather of those 
 who pursue the direct patli tliat leads thereto: 
 which is, to become the slavish dupes of the ob- 
 scene, the depraved fasliions of the day. Let 
 therefore, such virtuous mothers, who have a 
 spark of ancient prudence untarnished and unex- 
 tinguished, shed resplendent light on the benight'- 
 cd paths of the juvenile females of the rising gen 
 eration. Sometimes, when I view parading the 
 streets, ladies of the first respectability, dressed 
 in such an obscene manner, as almost enough to 
 make an harlot blush, I ask myself, can these 
 ladies be really prudent, who can thus sacrifice 
 every virtuous and modest feeling at the shrine of 
 fasliion, and excite a blush on the cheek even of 
 lewdness?— -surely not. "The tree is kiioivn by 
 itsfruit.^* — Actions speak louder than professions 
 — a woman may profess to be cxem])}ary and vir- 
 tuous; but surely when we see tliat a woman ap- 
 pears in the most immodest attire, and displays 
 her charms indiscriminately, in tlie most obvious 
 manner, to the eager and amorous inspection of 
 thousands of gazing and criticising libertines; we 
 cannot believe, thougli we liear vociferated daily, 
 that this woman is a virtuous and respectable 
 character; and though she displayed elegance in 
 her figure, sind enchanting beauty in her counie* 
 
 14 
 
158 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 nance, to surpass the beautiful Helen; every iM^a- 
 sonabie man would admire the smallest share of 
 personal symmetry in a prudent female, more 
 than all her exposed charms. 
 
 ^*Not for such ladies we would sigb, 
 r^oving" only fashion's dye, 
 And their charms to evtry eye 
 
 Revealing, 
 
 But we love the prudent nnaid 
 
 In sweet modesty array 'd, 
 
 JS.11 her beauty 'neath her shade 
 
 Concealing. 
 
 Lady, when with graceful care 
 You would deck your bosom fair. 
 Or your golden curling hair 
 
 With roses. 
 
 Ah! you throw the flower away 
 
 When it glares in open day: 
 
 The modest bud more sweets, we say 
 
 Discloses. 
 
 The lily trampled in the street. 
 The rose beneath the travUer's feet 
 ^r beauty sold too cheap, ne'er meet 
 
 Our praise's. 
 
 Thus chririr.s expos'd are in disgrace, 
 The sparkling eye, and ruddy face, 
 if void of prudence, all your race 
 
 Disgraced. 
 
 Such nymphs may charm th' unhallow'd hearti 
 But confidence can ne^er impart. 
 Nor captivate with beauty's dart, 
 
 A husbaD<l^ 
 
VINDICATED. i 5.) 
 
 And should he be ensnar'd by show, 
 The spark of love he'll soon forego, 
 And blame his partner lor his woe, 
 
 And her bran<ll 
 
 For beauty soon familiar grows, 
 And fades as hourly fades the rose; 
 But virtue still more sweets disclose 
 
 Till doomsdaV. 
 
 And then the virtuous shall enjoy 
 
 Celestial peace without alloy. 
 
 And with bright saints their hours employ 
 
 In their lay.*' 
 
 These are only a few of the most obvious evilg 
 resulting from the sacrifice too many females make 
 at the shrine of fashion. A train of evils still 
 more tragical succeeds, and it must be an under* 
 standing benumbed by repeated deviations fro^B 
 the paths of female rectitude, that would fail t« 
 discern them, a heart that has banished con- 
 scious propriety, that would refuse to feel them, 
 and a cojiscience opposed to the rules of modesty, 
 as well as the laws of God, that would neglect to 
 regard them. I am well convinced, that by de- 
 claiming against the vices of the age, particular- 
 ly our darling fashions, I erect an impregnable 
 barrier to preclude praise and profit, and in their 
 room accumulate formidable enemies. Let oth- 
 ers flatter*to deceive and gain praise and profit 
 thereby, I will faithfully point out)jiccording to 
 my ability the devious paths of folly; and though 
 I am well apprised, that many parents will put 
 books into the hands of their children, that will 
 tend to entice them from the paths of female recti- 
 tude, in preference to mine, yet this considera- 
 tion, or Jndeed any other, shall not hinder me 
 
ibO FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 from giving the uritliougiitfiil and unconscious lie- 
 male afaitliful warning, hoping that this perform- 
 ance may be presented to some, even of the gay 
 votaries of fashion, by those v, ho are more seri- 
 ously inclined, and being perused, though j^er- 
 haps only superficially, may stop them in their| 
 mad career. 
 
 Where my propositions are not supported by 
 the most reasonable arguments, and my hypothe- 
 sis proved from experience, I do not wish any to 
 believe them; but, where this is the case, I flat- 
 ter myself, I shall be heard by the unprejudiced, 
 Ihougli my strictures are unadorned with the flow- 
 ers of rhetoric. Indeed, truth is most beautiful, 
 when most simple. Fiction and poetic poison, 
 jiot truth, require the embellishment of fancy. 
 And, alas! how many females have been ruined 
 by these means, namely, the splendid exhibition 
 ef sterling talents and moral poison, connected 
 by the ingeiiious murderers of the human soul, by 
 ''^roetic panders, rlsyniing debauchees,"' 
 
 "Here! let us glance at Little's songs of lovCj 
 .r\nd famous Moore, -tiie poet of the grove; 
 And thank the honest Scot, who drew the veil 
 WhicK hid the moral poison of his tale. 
 May specious vice thus ever meet its fate, 
 And bear the public scorn, the public hate. 
 He ware Columbia's fair, and never move^ 
 A heart to cherish interdicted love. 
 Oh! may you never have the fate to please 
 Poetic panders, rhyming debauchees; 
 -But still let modesty her banners rear, 
 And give the signal when such foes appear." 
 Ingenious murderers, sland'rers of the wise, 1 
 
 While grasping fame they break all social ties, |» 
 '^And own no rites, bwt such as vice supplies." j 
 
VINDICATED. lt)l 
 
 To gain that phantom, intellectual fame, 
 
 They nvostltute their souls and their good name: 
 
 Nay, Jhand it down to ages yet unborn, 
 
 The object of their hate, disgust, and scorn, 
 
 Who, it* contaminated by the tale, 
 
 Or moral poison which their works conceal; 
 
 They'll curse their ashes mould'ring in the tomb, 
 
 And blame them for their woes and latent doom; 
 
 And at Jehovah's bar, they'll them impeach 
 
 As the first cause of vice their writings teach; 
 
 Whose poison makes their fame* a doubtful meed, 
 
 *• Whose censure is our best applause indeed." 
 
 Ye motiiers, who are indifTerent and regard- 
 less of the iutellectaal improvement ol'your daugh- 
 ters, it is you who are most culpable, when your 
 daughters imbibe the moral poison of such auth- 
 ors: it is you that have most opportunities to put 
 books of a contrary description into their hands; 
 and, it is you, in particular, who wiilha^eto 
 answer at the august tribunal of Jehovah, for the 
 pernicious consequences of your neglect and im- 
 prudence; do not, I conjure you, treat these ob- 
 servations with a fatal and fool-hardy indiiier- 
 ence; the observance of them will i>romote your 
 social haj)piness through life, enable you to leave 
 a virtuous offspring behind you at your death, 
 without any forebodings of mind respecting their 
 future conduct, and \\\\\ capacitate you, o!i the 
 day of resurrection, to be enabled to say, **Herej 
 
 *But admitting that they were rendered the most fa- 
 mous and popular aftl^ their decease, what a poor sa- 
 tisfaction it would be to know, that degenerate mortals 
 eulogized their writings, while they had to answer at 
 the bar of God for their pernicious tendencies. 
 
i^ii^ FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Lortl, are the cliildrcn thou intrusted to my care,^ 
 and I have not lost one through my neglect or 
 imprudence;'' and the consequence \vill be, vice 
 versa, in the event of j)ursuing a contrary line of 
 conduct. If your daughters were mere crea- 
 tures of solitude, in whose vice or virtue, happi- 
 ness or misery, life or death, no human being 
 was interested, if their moral contamination did 
 not tend to contaminate otliers; were they even, 
 as the Mahometans suppose, material beings, di- 
 vested of immortal pai*ts; if no bosom glowed at 
 their prosperity, or bled at their misery; if no 
 mourner wei)tin the event of tlteirdejiarting from 
 tlie paths of female virtue; or, if they did not 
 ])rove a most formidable snare to others w hen they 
 thus de{)arted; if all, or any of these suppositions 
 Avere facts; yet then, even then they are creatures 
 susceptible of feelings; and, by being put in a 
 wrong channel in youth, may spend their follow- 
 ing years in misery: and, vice versaAi' they are di- 
 rected in the right path: for, even leaving futuri- 
 ty out of view, A irtue is happiness and vice is 
 misery in this our mortal state. 
 
 It is my firm belief, (and that belief is support- 
 ed by scripture, reason, and common sense,) that 
 it is the duty of every one, w ho exi)ects to meet 
 the approbation of our merciful God, to be merci- 
 ful, not only to tlieir own, but the children of 
 the heljiess w idow . Our commisseration we can- 
 not withdraw from them without sin, and tjjyp for- 
 feiture of future happiness; for, surely, we can- 
 not be so void of common sense as to suppose, 
 that a God of unsullied veracity will tell a jklse- 
 liood, in the presence of assembled worlds, to 
 save a cruel, guilty, impenitent culprit. 
 
 How often is it tJie case, that mothers, either 
 virtually, or literally, by their neglect or impru 
 
VINDICATED. 163 
 
 dencc, lay stumbling blocks before their children; 
 and, when they turn aside from the paths of fe- 
 male rectitude, they exclaim against them alone, 
 and impute a?l their sorrows to tiieir disobedient 
 children; their heftrts are pierced with agony; 
 their grey hairs are brought with sorrow to the 
 grave; they have lost from the paths of virtue 
 their only daughtej*; and with her the support 
 and delight of their declining years. Instead of 
 giving the rich reward (for all their parental toil 
 and tender solicitude) of a discreet and dutiful 
 life, she gives her body to prostitution, her char- 
 acter to infamy, and her soul to endless torment. 
 She has destroyed the domestic happiness of her 
 parents, and caused their rising hopes to set in 
 f=»orrow; but, perhaps, it is almost, if not alto- 
 gether, t'ue parents fault, for the premature ruin 
 of their only daughter; did they not let her have 
 her own will gratified in infancy? and, at the 
 dawn of reason, did they not suffer her to peruse 
 the most vile and volujituous poems and novels? 
 did they not liarbor the adept at seduction under 
 their roof, and suffer him to take such liberty 
 with their daughter, in private and public, as he 
 choose, till slie was 
 
 •*LurM by the vUJaln from her native homel" 
 
 Did they not suffer; nay, pehaps, encourage her 
 to follow the most obscene and vulgar fashions? 
 or, perh^aps, (which is sometimes the case) forc- 
 ed her, though only 17, to marry a rich old man, 
 70 years of age, contrary to her inclinations and 
 
 ^^ections, which were previously bestowed upon 
 
 ^^Hfcore worthy object! 
 
 ^^^f all or any of this imprudent and injudicious 
 conduct was applicable to the wretched parents 
 I have been depicting, they arc themselves th^ 
 
164 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 primary cause of their daughter's disgrace; and, 
 no doubt, will have to answer for tlie same at the 
 I)ar of God. It were not to be wondered at, if 
 the shrieking spectre of their ruined child raised 
 up before the anguished eyes of her ])arents, the 
 enormous complication of nameless crimes, which 
 eventually became the offspring of their neglect, 
 and w hen deleterious disease hurries her from pre- 
 sent degradaticn to future condemnation; it were 
 not to be wondered at, if she escaped her trocibied 
 giave, to impeach them with her blood; to haunt 
 their bed through declining life; to chill their 
 waking moments, and alarm them in their mid- 
 liight slumbers. 
 
 Ye cruel and injudicious mothers, who act in 
 this manner to your daughters, how can you re- 
 concile such conduct to common prudence, com- 
 mon sense, or rationality? I will not say reli- 
 gion. If you bring them up the slaves of indo- 
 lence, how can you expect that they will mecha- 
 nically become industrious, when suddenly their 
 riches take wings and fly away? But, admitting 
 their riches were to remain stationary, which 
 no man can boast of, yet even then industry is 
 the main prop of life, braces the nerves, and in- 
 Yiii:orates the whole system; while idleness relax- 
 es and debilitates it. Do you not know^ that the 
 parents who do not ])rovide for the safety of their 
 children, are worse than infidels? Canyon, with- 
 out feeling tlie yearnings of your bowels towards 
 your oifspring, lead them to the slippery j>reci- 
 pice of fashion, down which if they fall, they arc 
 plunged into an abyss of irrecoverable despair, 
 perpetual inliimy, with the signature of their de- 
 gradation stamped upon their foreheads, prosti- 
 tution, desolation, and woe! Concuj)iscence is 
 the preliminary, if not the foundation, of the 
 
VINDICATED- 16 
 
 vile and vulgar fashions of the day, which are au 
 insult to common sense, and an outrage to com- 
 mon decency; for what else can induce a woman 
 of an enlightened understanding, to expose those 
 parts that virtue bids her screen. I will not say, 
 that it is this propensity which stimulates the 
 young, thoughtless, volatile, and gay, as they 
 merely imitate their progenitors. Their appear- 
 ance is the appearance of wantonness; their dis- 
 position we must believe to be the disposition of 
 wantonness; and, though their motives are labo- 
 riously varnished over, and imputed to a love of 
 elegance and grandeur, they cannot conceal the 
 gross materials thereof, or deceive the most su- 
 perficial observer. For nothing can be more 
 plain, than, that the female who used such atti- 
 tudes, appearances, and appendages as will tend 
 to excite lust in, and awake the sleeping passions 
 of amorous men, must, in some measure, partici- 
 pate these destructive feelings; and, w^erc it not 
 for tlie popularity of the fashions I deprecate and 
 invalidate, the woman that would thus expose 
 herself, would, unquestionably, be ranked as a 
 lewd character, if not the most common prosti- 
 tute. Remove, therefore, only the popularity of 
 the fashion, and you make its votaries lewd wo- 
 men, even in the eyes of the world. Thus, the 
 popularity of African slavery renders the man 
 innocent that enslaves man; and thus the popu- 
 larity of female fashion, renders the female who 
 appears in the garb, and with the attitudes of las- 
 civiousness, unimpeachably virtuous and modest. 
 But I would ask, does, or can vice (because po- 
 pular among the wicked.) be metamorphosed to 
 virtue; or lewdness to modesty? It is impossi- 
 ble. If, therefore, my reasoning is correct, and 
 Lcanuot see how it can be inconect; women who 
 
166 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 become votaries of lascivious fashion, are* in the 
 estimation of every reasonable and discerning 
 man, as reprehensible as if the fashion was not 
 countenanced by public degeneracy of manners. 
 But the evil tendency of this depravity is most 
 sensibly felt by the rising generation, who prac- 
 tise the evil unconscious of the effects thereof, 
 They swallow the fatal bait, but see not tlie hook 
 with which tliey are caught by libertinism, till it 
 is .too late. Oh, ye cruel mothers ! you must shut 
 your eyes against the truth, and basely insult 
 your own understandings and common sense, not 
 to see the cogency of this remark. We turn with 
 disgust and abhorrence at the appearance of the 
 infamous character of a hoary headed woman, 
 whose business it is to trepan and ruin the un- 
 guarded, the friendless, the fatherless young fe- 
 male; but what a striking similarity is there be- 
 tween snz\\ a wretch and too many parents! She 
 ensnares literally; they virtually. The latter 
 accomplishes in the long, what the former does 
 in the short run. And one is in miniature what 
 the other is in magnitude. It is a melancholy, 
 a stubborn fact, that the cruelty of mothers, and 
 obscenity of female fashions, manufacture a super 
 abundance of prostitutes, without the aid of such 
 detestable auxiliaries as the hoary headed dame 
 we have just glanced at. 
 
 If all I have said has not moved the sympathy, 
 awakened the sensibility, aroused the finer feel- 
 ings of maternal solicitude, and illuminated th^ 
 understandings of the characters to whom these 
 strictures are particularly addressed; let me then 
 request you to accompany me, in sympathetic 
 thought, to the scenes of debauchery and prostitu- 
 tion, which you perhaps have, or at least will 
 feelp to create, if you persist in pursuing that line 
 
Vindicated, icr 
 
 of conduct which infallibly leads to ruin. View, 
 I conjure you, the smiling, the beauteous coun- 
 tenances of your female infants; and then with 
 your mind's eye, survey the moral mischief which 
 indelicate fashions produce in society, and ask 
 your own hearts this pathetic question: can I, 
 shall I, by my neglect or imprudence, consign 
 these innocents to such a woeful, such a shameful 
 end? 
 
 But, in order to illustrate my arguments, from 
 facts, as well as speculative reasoning, go with 
 me to yonder part of the city. ^ is well known 
 for the multitudes of unfortunate females that flock 
 thither, in which numbers of the unhappy per- 
 sons i am exhibiting to view reside. 
 
 As it would only confuse our ideas, and preclude 
 us from reasoning correctly on the subject, to ex- 
 amine the wretchedj degraded group collectively, 
 or even to select an individual of them, who de- 
 formed by habitual prostitution, and debilitated 
 by complicated disease, is now metamorphosed 
 from a beautiful young woman (which she was in 
 her happy days, while under the paternal and re- 
 putable roof of her affectionate parents) to an ob- 
 ject of deformity, the glimpse of whom is enough 
 to excite horror and consternation in the breast 
 of a midnight J^ssassin. 
 
 Passing by, therefore, the most gloomy and 
 horrible part of the tragical scene, we will view 
 the most favorable side of the picture, by selects 
 ing a young and beautiful female just launched 
 into the gulph of di.-ssipation, from tlie interdict- 
 ed walks of fashion; we will not take her portrait 
 in the midst of her reprobate companions or noc- 
 turnal revellings, as the scenes of debauchery 
 there lisplayed would shock female delicacy; but 
 we will behold her in a sequestered grove, near 
 
16& FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 the vestibule of her prison, the repository of dis- 
 sipation. See the tears of remorse stealing si- 
 lently down her way-woi«» cheeks. Read, for 
 you may read, in her faded countenance, the 
 torturing anguish of her breaking heart. Read- 
 er, canst thou survey the intellectual, nay, the 
 real picture I am drawing, and not feel tender 
 pity melt your glowing heart, and the tears of 
 commisseration drench your strc<aming eyes? For 
 my part, w hile I write, my heart palpitates with 
 anguish at the consideration, that thousands of 
 such portraits are to be found in real life. But to 
 return, for sympathy retarded me in giving the 
 portrait of a debased ruined fellow creature. 
 
 She still weeps with her head reclined upon 
 her hand, and her elbow propped on her book, 
 her soul detests the line of life she has commenc- 
 ed. She abhors herself, her companions, her 
 crimes; but above all her vile seducer. But a 
 few days ago, she shared all the blessings and 
 joys of life: and, what is the best of all, an un- 
 blemished reputation. She was surrounded by 
 neighbors who respected, friends who loved, and 
 jiarents who adored her. Tiicy found in her their 
 rvcry joy, and the balm of their sorrow. She 
 hung on their hands, and received their benedic- 
 tions. Slie inspired all their enjoyments, and 
 animated all their hopes. But now, alas! for- 
 ever banished from all these scenes of delight and 
 exultation, by the artifice of a villain; who, en- 
 ticed by her fashionable appearance, thought lier 
 a suitable person to try liis arts upon. He too 
 soon succeeded in his diabolical designs; for she 
 was artles, nor suspected danger to be near. Be- 
 ing once seduced from the paths of virtue, filled 
 with conscious guilt and shame, she flies the in- 
 dignant presence o£ her honorable parents, aiid 
 
VINDICATED. 160 
 
 seeks that refuge in a brothel, \vhich she relin- 
 quished in lier paternal home. She mourns and 
 pines, but pines and mourns in vain. Now left 
 abandoned, desolate, depraved. 
 
 <*No eye to mark her sufferings with a tear, 
 No friends to pity her, nor hope to cheer;*' 
 
 she seeks, as her only alternative, to drown her 
 sorrows in repeated dilutions of ardent spirits, 
 as the antidote of her woes, as the solace of her 
 anguish, as the most efficacious means of obliter- 
 ating the remembrance of her former happiness, 
 her better days. But, alas! she mistakes the 
 poison for the medicine; and, while attempting 
 to erase from her mind iha remembrance and 
 guilt of one crime, she perpetrates another- 
 
 <*Thus sin has aUvays this attending cursej 
 To back the first transgression with a worse^ 
 Thus rivulets grow larger by degrees. 
 From creeks to rivers, rivers into seas." 
 
 Thus she becomes tlie premature martyr of in- 
 toxication as well as prostitution^ View her, at 
 the door of tlie tippling shop, extended on the 
 gr(Hyid; not only stupid, but senseless through 
 ebriety; a prey to every unprincipled ruffian^ 
 and a spectacle for evei'y unpitying passenger. 
 But here I must cease giving this, and take a- 
 nothcr part of her portrait; for my heart begins 
 almost to weep tears of blood, at the true and 
 tragical picture I am drawing. I will also for- 
 bear delineating the scandalous and beastly crimes 
 which attend her footstep.'^, from the present pe- 
 riod to that in which she is arrested, in the mad 
 career, by that del^^terious disorder peculiar to 
 Jgr profession. Hey delicate constittition cannot 
 
170 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 support itself, under t1)e scenes of debaudiery and 
 infamy in which she is necessarily iiivolved. Her 
 emaciated and languid appearance, bespeak her 
 disorder, and is the mittimus to have her convey- 
 ed to the Poor-house. Here I will draw her pic- 
 ture, as it really happened in the Alms-house in 
 Philadelphia, where myself and a bosom friend 
 (as exemplary for Isis disinterested philanthropy 
 as lie was for his unaffected piety) attended eve- 
 ry Sunday, and visited the sick and afflicted in 
 their a])artments, exhorting them to repentance 
 and reformation, and praying with and for them. 
 We w ould often, in one forenoon, address hun- 
 <lreds of poor unhappy children of misfortune- 
 One part of this chai'itable institution v»e particu- 
 larly attended, called *'the surgical ward,'* on ac- 
 count of the wretched beings who were accommo- 
 dated there, whicli generally consisted of worn 
 down and emaciated prostitutes, who were taken 
 n\) by tl)C overseers of the poor, and sent to the 
 Alms-house to die there, unknown and forgotten 
 by every relative a;id friend. We have often ad^ 
 dressed, and endeavored to console, twenty at a 
 time of tliese wretched females, on their beds, in 
 lows round their apartment, wiiile the silent tears 
 of shame and regret would steal from tlieir eyes 
 and trickle down their cheeks. One day as I was 
 visiting tiie patients in the surgical ward, I saw 
 a young female, about seventeen years of age, 
 wL*o was literally reduced to a skeleton, by the 
 fashionable disease peculiar to her profession. 
 Tart of her face, particularly her nose, w as eat- 
 en away, and slie w as in other respects, an ob- 
 ject that was truJy shocking to behold. Her ad- 
 Ventures and misfortunes, prior to entering the 
 Alms-house, were nearly similar to the portrait 
 J have already di-awn. Soon after her deviation 
 
VINDICATED. 171 
 
 tVoni female rectitude, site was poisoned by tlie 
 fatal disease in its most vimlent form. She ^vas 
 $oon forsaken by her companions in iniquity, 
 and was carried to the Alms-house; where she 
 continued under the physician's care for several 
 months, still unrecovered from her fall, either 
 mentally or corporeally. Such was her situa- 
 tion when I first approaclied her bed-side; dead in 
 sin, pierced with sorrow, and on the confines of 
 eternity. During tlie time she remained in this 
 repository of human misery, no relative, friend 
 or acquaintance once consoled her with a pitying 
 look, cheered her with friendly a^yice, or parti- 
 cipated her anguish with a tender tear. As I 
 approached her bed-side, she lifted up her hope- 
 less eye towards me; and, in an instant, as if 
 transfixed with conscious shame, slio cast them 
 down again, shook her head significantly, and 
 sighed as it were, mechanically. She seemed to 
 be so worn down with grief and sorrow, as al- 
 most to be petrified witli the painful recollectiou 
 of her happier days, and bereaved of her intellec- 
 tual faculties. I visited her, and spoke the most 
 consoling words my commisseration could sug- 
 gest, for many days, viewing her with astonish- 
 ment mixed witli distress, before she seemed to 
 attend to my admonitions. At last, awakend as 
 from a reverie, she looked wistfuily at me, while 
 the big round tears stole from her languid eyes. 
 She asked me, if she was not out of the reach of 
 mercy? if she was not abandoned by heaven, 
 earth, relatives, and friends; as her lover pro- 
 ved faithless, and her parents implacable and 
 inexorably severe? I viewed, witli ^palpitating 
 heart, her hollow eye§, sunk in their sockets, 
 and there I could almost read, that her parent^s 
 anguish wounded her more deeply thaa her lover^s 
 
ir^z FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 trcacliery: her lover, who flattered to deceivct 
 and was so woven with serpentine deceit and V\\ 
 iainy, 
 
 No human foe her fatal tale could bear. 
 Nor Satan's self relate without a tear. 
 
 Nature would melt» and savage ferocity would 
 relent, were the Ijalf of her sufferings and his vil- 
 lainy uttered. In short, she became more antl 
 m^re sensible of the ruinous state of her soul, as 
 also the emaciated state of her body, while she lis- 
 tened and attended to our periodical admonitions, 
 which she did with lively gratitude and peniten- 
 tial sorrow; and every time she adverted to her 
 degraded state the tears of regret would start 
 from her eyes, and trickle down her cheeks. She 
 continued in this penitent state of mind for some 
 weeks, praying hourly to the Almighty to par- 
 don her manifold offences, and returning ns a 
 thousand thanks for our successful admonitions; 
 and a few nights previous to her dissolution, she 
 called the nurse and told her tliat the Almiglity 
 had blessed her with a divine sense of his accep- 
 tance and pardoning love; that she was supreme- 
 ly happy, and ready and willing to be dissolved, 
 that she might be with Christ. Before this change 
 she was afraid to die. She got the nurse to r^ad 
 in the hymn book such hymns as were applicable 
 to her condition; and thus the penitential delin- 
 quent departed this life w ithout a sigh or a groan, 
 and with a placid smile that almost beautified her 
 deformed countenance, in full hope of a glorious 
 immortality, through the atonement and inter- 
 cession of the Friend of sinners, about the I/th 
 year of her age. Her remains were conveyed, 
 without form or ceremony, to Potter's-field buriai 
 ground. 
 
VliNDICATED. 1^3 
 
 No friends, no parents, there in sad arra} ^ 
 Saw her remains in silent sadness borne; 
 No tear was shed upon her grave that day. 
 Her name, her memory, consigned to scorn. 
 
 Ah! hapless maid, how many like you g-roan^ 
 A life of sorrow, and disgrace, and shame; 
 No friend to stop the melancholy moan, 
 Nor cheer the mind transfixVl with mighty pain. 
 
 Her nearest friend refuses to protect. 
 Although the lonely corpse is buried nigh; 
 Whose solitary clay remains undecked. 
 Nor marks her grave, nor begs a passing' sigh 
 
 Yet may'st thou read this girl's pathetic lay. 
 And, if possess'd of pity, drop a tear; 
 She was once sparkling as Sol's golden ray, 
 Crown'd with delight, and void of guilty fear. 
 
 Qut, ah! her morning sun was set at noon, 
 Sntic'd by fashion to the devious way; 
 Where artful libertines, alas! too soon. 
 Led ther mistaken maiden more astray. 
 
 Ye nymphs, \yho boast this sacred pearl we call 
 rhe crown of virtue; woman^s pride and boast; 
 if now you stand, oh! tremble lest you fltll. 
 And prove, indeed, what hapless Anna lost. 
 
 Oh! bear in mind the melancholy da}-, 
 That robb'd her of all she accounted dear; 
 And read for thou may's read the plaintive lay, 
 And drop for her a sad, and silent tear, 
 
 THE EPITAPH. 
 
 Here lies the relics of a child of woe. 
 Born in the lap of fortune and of fame 5 
 15* 
 
n4 . FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Who, lui-'d from home by a seductive foe. 
 Relinquished fortune, and an honest name. 
 
 Soon in the interdicted fatal way, 
 She felt the poisoji reach her youthful heart, 
 Nor friend, nor comforter she found that day^ 
 To stop its progress, or allay her smart. 
 
 To fashion first a victim she became, 
 The libertine then found an easy prey; 
 Enamour'd by the fascinating dame, 
 Thus am'rous fops defenceless maidens slay. 
 
 Her fatal downfal we no more disclose, 
 Since God has view'd her with a pitying eyej 
 Wliose pard'ning mercy is her sure repose, 
 The pardon of the Sov'reign of the sky. 
 
 She lies forgot, this all her monument^ 
 This the spontaneous tribute of a sigh; 
 Approach and read, and while your hearts relent, 
 Alas! poor Anna, let e^ch reader cry. 
 
 The reader, I hope, will excuse me for detain- 
 ing her so long with the prefixed account of poor 
 Anna. I did not intend to say more than a few 
 words on the occasion, without the addition of 
 any of the lines of poetry, which were composed 
 inadvertently, as I pursued the subject. Her 
 sufferings and penitence v\ould not have made,, 
 such a lasting impression upon my mind, hsid I 
 not been a personal witness of them. 
 
 I will conclude the picture by delineating, as 
 its counter-part, the profile of the viHain who 
 caused all this misery; hoping it may fall into the 
 hands of some adept at the arts of seduction, or 
 be presented to him by some friend to female in- 
 .nocenoe. For the sordid pui'pose of gratifying 
 
VINDICATED. i7i> 
 
 liis carnal propensities, he dares, by the most 
 vile and treacherous method*}, to attack the un- 
 suspecting virtue of a daughter, and annihilates 
 the domestic peace and honorable name of a vir- 
 tuous family; and, by abandoning a female to 
 iu^tamy, he makes her the instrument of enticing 
 and vanquishing the virtuous intentions of many 
 young men, who, in their turn, delude and ruin 
 other innocent females, who would have remain- 
 ed virtuous had it not been for the fascinating 
 snares of the female, who was previously sedu- 
 ced by this villain, What complicated crimes 
 will he have to answer for at the bar of God ? and 
 what curses are^ heaped upon his guilty head, by 
 the wretched parents of the girl he has ruined? 
 Letus approach their distressed habitation; which, 
 previous to this catastrophe, diffused respectabil- 
 ity, tenderness and domestic peace; enter the 
 door and see what vexation and anguish are de- 
 pictured on every countenance— rthe hoary father 
 is pacing the room with hasty steps and downcast 
 looks, and with emotions unutterable, sorrovv in- 
 conceivahle, and whose resentful eyes forbid the 
 rising tears to ease his grief — the tears that would 
 unbidden flow on any other pathetic occasion; but 
 his lioiior is wounded; his pride is mortified; thti 
 pride of his declining age is sunk in the sink of 
 infamy and prostitution; the agonizing thought 
 willsoon bring his grey hairs with sorrow to the 
 grave. Viev/, seated in an armed chair, with 
 her head reclining on her hand, the mother of the 
 unhappy girl; she was the staff of her declining 
 years; to her she looked to baffle the evils peculiar 
 to old age; to close her eyes in death; to enhance 
 her joys m eternity. — But all these promiseJ bles- 
 sings iiave been consigned to oblivion; they have 
 vanistiod with the honor of her daughter^: like a 
 
1t6 female character 
 
 tapering vapor in the aftnosphere. But how must 
 the libertine's guilt be enhanced, if, in addition 
 to all these woes; he has produced the eternal 
 ruin of the soul as well as the body of liis victim; 
 and where we find one real penitent prostitute, 
 surely we find scores that are impenitent, and die, 
 as well as live, incoirigible sinners: — Hence the 
 utility of a Magdalen Society. Is she cut off in 
 the bloom of life in her sins, surely the reflection 
 of such an event will not only imbitter the walks 
 of life, but arm with triple fury and horror the 
 pangs of death to her merciless destroyer. 
 
 Libertine, be assured the day of retribution is 
 at hand; the blood of a murdered fellow-creature 
 cries to heaven for vengeance against you, and 
 the cry will assuredly be heard, unless prevent- 
 ed by a speedy repentance and reformation. The 
 bed of death, the yawning grave, and the pit of 
 destr action, are open and ready to receive you. 
 
 Wlien you ^mticipate the solemnities of a dying 
 hour, and feel the icy hand of death seizing you; 
 oh! how dreadful will the reflection be, that you 
 have been the destroyer, the fell murderer of those 
 helpless persons, which laws, human and divine, 
 enjoined you to protect and defend. Oh! how 
 dreadful will you feel when about launching into 
 a boundless eternity, loaded with guilt; and, as 
 it were, drenched in the blood. of your fellow 
 creatures: and when you have entered the gates 
 of death, and are approaching the mighty gtilph, 
 without bottom or shore, what horror must seize 
 your naked and forsaken soul, when the first ob- 
 ject that faces you, with a grin of fury, in eterni- 
 ty, is the screeching ghost of the girl you have 
 robbed of her virtue, and plundered of her life. 
 She is eagerly waiting to pour on your guilty head 
 iho vengeance of Heaven, and the Wrath of etev 
 
VINDICATED. izr 
 
 nity. But time would fail me in giving a glimpse 
 of the thousandth part of the horrors of such a 
 soul; to enhance whose misery he will see the 
 baneful effects of his crimes in society, ages af- 
 ter his decease, the contagion will spread wide 
 and more wide to future generations: But in the 
 day of final decision, to be impeached by his coun- 
 try, whose laws he trampled under his feet; by 
 the families, whose peace he had destroyed; the 
 nu'ividuals whom he had murdered; and even the 
 Almighty Judge himself, whose laws he despised, 
 and flung his death and agonies away; intercept- 
 ed his glorious rays, and forbid them to shine up- 
 on the object he murdered; and finally, helped 
 to people the gloomy regions ttf darkness and ('' s- 
 pair; what tongue can express, or mind conceive 
 his guilt, and its consequent punishment. 
 
 I have been depicting the crimson crimes of the 
 impenitent libertine, that I might have an oppor- 
 tunity to prove, that not only the guilt of this 
 female delinquent, but even the guilt of the liber- 
 tine himself, is in a great measure the guile of 
 that cruel and injudicious mother, wlio not only 
 suffered her children to go into the 'jaws of temp-' 
 tation, but led them into the paths of destruction 
 herself, both by precept and example. Surely 
 that motijer, who (by actions which S])cak louder 
 frhan words) tempts the libertine to tempt her 
 daughti^r, and gives him every opportunity to lay 
 snares for her desrniction, is the primary cause 
 of the iniquity of both parties; therefore, all the 
 woes I have denounced, and ten times as many, 
 must be the portion of tliese parents, gentle or 
 simple, noble or ignoble, rich or poor, who thus 
 virtually give their unconscious and defenceless 
 offspring, a prey to temporal and eternal destrqc- 
 tion. Let such consider themselves the blackest 
 
Ua FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 and most horrible figures in the intellectual pi{ 
 ture I have delineated. 
 
 I have already hinted, that the children of what 
 are called the higher ?nd lower classes of people, 
 w ere in most danger of being whirled into the vor- 
 tex of popular degeneracy and personal dissipa- 
 tion: — The first on account of their abundance, 
 which sharpens every illicit appetite, and invi- 
 gorates every versatile solicitation: — the latter, 
 on account of their indigence and wants, which 
 necessitates them to expose themselves and their 
 children to a variety of vicissitudes and tempta- 
 tions. For instance, that poor, but virtuous fa- 
 mily, who have more children than they can well 
 support/ are under the necessity of binding out 
 their oldest children-— -if they are daughtei^s, their 
 virtue will be severely tried. 
 
 I know a rich merchant who is considered res- 
 pectable, whose children are men and women 
 grown, that cannot, or rather will not, let any 
 of his female servants, young or old, pass, with- 
 out using his utmost endeavors to seduce and ruin 
 them. I would ask, how can a young girl that is 
 bound to such a man, escape pollution ? — and ma- 
 ny, too many there are, of this same disposition, 
 whose ajipearance would forbid the sujposition: 
 and not only masters, but sons, and even men 
 servants, are always on the alert, to decoy the 
 unguarded female, and ruin her forever. Hf, 
 therefore, the mothers of sucJi children do not in- 
 culcate the principles of female virtue upon their 
 juvenile minds w ith assiduity, they may reasona- 
 bly expect, tliat sooner or later they w ill fall vic- 
 tims, not to seduction, but maternal neglect:'*-^ 
 whereas, if the mother (as it is her province so to 
 do,) was to point out diligently, the beauty of 
 chastity^ and the deformity of its contrary; and 
 
VINDIGATED. 179 
 
 ihat, from the first dawning of their understand- 
 ings, virtue would become mechanically charm- 
 ing to them, and vice, particularly debauchery, 
 "would be the object of their implacable disgust 
 and detestation: and, trims prepared, they might 
 pass through a host of libertines, with unsullied 
 virtue: but how can that mother be so unaccount- 
 ably stupid, as to expect that her daughter, whom 
 she never warns of the fascinating snares by Avhich 
 she is surrounded, will shun these snares, the 
 invincible snares of vseduction, by which even the 
 dame, who has counted SO revolving years, is 
 vanquished; but it is not only the loiver class of 
 people whose children are thus exposed, but the 
 middle class, who are cro\^ned with blest medio- 
 crity, sometimes participate the dangers, the sor- 
 rows, and sufferings of the poor. There are a 
 thousand vicissitudes periodically intervening, 
 which not only levels this class, but even the high- 
 er, on an equality with the lower class. 
 
 How dreadful will it be for such, who have 
 raised their children in idleness and vanity, to 
 be cursed, with too unsuitable companions; to 
 W'it, a beggar's purse, and a proud lieart. Alas! 
 how many daughters of such families have on 
 such events, sacrificed their chastity sooner than 
 their pride: but even those, v»ho have preferred 
 liibor to prostitution, how liable are they to be 
 led astray, by the persuasions, insinuations and 
 seductions of designing men, if the sacred seed of 
 virtue, has not taken deep root. Such a reduced 
 female, who prefers virtue clothed in rags, and 
 working in a kitchen, to vice arrayed in silks, 
 fringed with flowers of gold, and dwelling in a 
 palace, is transcendently amiable, and worthy 
 to be a princess. 
 
 From these simple^ familiar, and friendly re 
 
180 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 marks, all that will, may see the necessity of fe- 
 male virtue, to produce domestic peace, personal 
 tranquillity, and national prosperity; and that 
 mother, let her be who she may, that brings up 
 her daughters without ever attempting to improve 
 their intellects, nurture their virtue, defend their 
 chastity, and promote their future honor and pros- 
 perity, is, (excuse my plainness,) a pest to soci- 
 ety, and the virtual destroyer of her family, whom 
 she is bound, by all laws human and divine, to 
 protect and defend. 
 
 Little do such mothers think, that their neglect 
 and indolence will materially affect, nay, will 
 literally eclipse, the usefulness, as well as under- 
 mine the respectability of not only their children, 
 but their children's children, to the third and 
 fourth generation: for instance, those daughters 
 who are brought up, and educated merely as if 
 they were intended to be statues to gaze upon, or 
 to grace tlie seraglio of some eastern nabob, or 
 to flutter about, in conduct and appearance, like 
 painted butterflies, that skip from flower to flow- 
 er, to display their useless variegated colours; I 
 say, these daughters, when they become mothers, 
 very naturally bring their children up in the same 
 manner they were theniselves, as useless beings, 
 cumberers of tho ground; and thus one generation 
 after another are contauiinated through the ma- 
 ternal neglect of their progenitors; and it is vice 
 versa with tlie females ol those ancestors, wlio 
 brouglit up and educated their offspring, not as 
 animal machines, but as reasonable and intelli- 
 gent beings, created for the most exalted purpo- 
 ses, and with the most benevolent design. They 
 |)roved by experience the ineffable deligiits spring- 
 ing from a self approving conscience, the recol- 
 kction of their fraternal and indefatigable endeav- 
 
VINDICATED, 181 
 
 wsfor the glory of their God, and tlieir families 
 weal, diffused tlic most pleasurable serenity 
 through their souls. They ascertained, by prac- 
 tice as well as theory, that riches, void of virtue, 
 can never purchase an hour's ical happiness, o^r 
 a moment's real peace: but that virtue^ without 
 riches, can render us truly liappy, not only in 
 this world, but that which js to come: and, in 
 short, that nothing but the practice of vii'tue and 
 piety, can render a human being truly happy, 
 andcapacitate the human mind to anticipate the 
 joys peculiar to the first born sons of glory. 
 While, with gratitude, we receive the blessings 
 ^f nature; v/hile, with humility, we follow the 
 dictates of reason; while, with affection unsullied 
 and sincere, we return to God the grateful tri- 
 bute of thanksgiving for his benedictions, we se- 
 cure a paradise on earth. But, on the contrary, 
 while we suffer our carnal appetites to subjugate 
 our reason, captivate our hearts, and fascinate 
 ©ur understandings: while we suficr our turbulent 
 passions to degrade and subdue us, either senti- 
 mentally or practically; sorrow and sadness, 
 shame and disgrace, infamy and Jjorror, will in- 
 tercept the smiles of heaven, and unfold its male- 
 dictions; will darken all our j)rospects on earth, 
 and prohibit us from ])articipating her profuse 
 bounties witii gi'atitude; and, of course, with 
 pleasurable sensations. In sliort, while virtue 
 strews the path to heaven with flowers, vice car- 
 pets the road to destruction with briars and thorns; 
 for, as virtue has its own Reward, in this as well 
 as the world of spirits; so has vice its punishment 
 here, as well as hereafter. 
 
 While I am advising motliers to bring up their 
 <^hildren in the nurture and admonition of the 
 Xord. I am well convinced of the difficulties that 
 
 IG 
 
t'M FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 occur tbei*ein. I know tliat kings, who have gov- 
 erned nations; ministers, who liave led their con- 
 gregations heaven-ward; generals, who have van- 
 quished armies, and subjugated nations; could 
 not, (or, perliaps, I more properly miglit say, 
 would not) govern their children; lead them in 
 the flowery paths of piety, or conquer their tui'- 
 bulent passions. 
 
 The scholar may give a correct definition of the 
 theory of navigation; but would make a poor 
 hand of navigating a ship across the pathless o- 
 cean, encountering the dangers peculiar to a ma- 
 riner's life. The theoretical politician may be 
 able to delineate the judicious plan, and suggest 
 the most wholesome laws for governing a subju- 
 gated nation; but little does he know what difli- 
 culties attend the practical operation of these 
 laws, and the opposition that will be made before 
 the boisterous passions, long standing prejudice, 
 and sentimental prepossessions of the people are 
 subdued. 
 
 One thing is necessary, and all persons who 
 are intrusted with the education of children, should 
 attend with great punctuality to it; and that is, 
 to study the tempers, dispositions, and constitu- 
 tions of children. Without this consideration, 
 the most indefatigable measures, the most solici- 
 tous exertions will be in vain, as there is a diver- 
 sity of tempers, notonly in nations and communi- 
 ties; but 0'en in families. Hence, w hat would 
 prove intellectual food for one child, would be 
 poison for another. In short, it will be almost 
 impossible to train them up so as to. answer the 
 end for which they were created, unless instruct- 
 ors suit their discipline to the dispositions of their 
 pupils. As every man's face has its peculiar fea- 
 tiires; so has every juvenile mind its particular 
 
viNl)I€ATEJ3. iB> 
 
 iiias; even tlie twin children of tiic same parents 
 cannot be conducted to the paths of virtue by the 
 same method; both time and patience are requi- 
 site to ascertain the preponderating bias of chil- 
 dren's minds: take them by this handle, and you 
 may lead them with success and facility; but by 
 a contrary one, your labor will be not only in 
 vain, but you will materially injure your pupil. 
 
 When I went first to school, my teachers were 
 inflexibly morose and severe: all was severity* 
 and no encouragement; the consequence of which 
 >vas, instead of being constituted a scholar by at- 
 tending this seminary, I was n\ade a dunce; I 
 was so stupified by corporeal correction and men- 
 tal intimidation, that I was rendered stupid botli 
 in and out of school. I went about nine years, 
 and much money was expended during that time, 
 for my tuition. Yet I firmly believe, nay, I am 
 confident, I could learn more now^ in nine weeks, 
 than I did in that nine years. I feel irritated al- 
 most when I reflect on the cruel manner in which 
 I was used; I not only say for trivial faults, but 
 also for no faults at all. I well remember to have 
 received such a severe whipping, as to be left in 
 a gore of blood, because I could not repeat my 
 grammar lesson verbatim, which I had done to 
 Tiij school-fellow, with great facility, a few mo- 
 ments before I received my correction; but, being 
 terrified at the presence of my unfeeling instruct- 
 or, I had forgot every word whe^l he examined 
 me; I consequently was always designated by the 
 opprobrious epithet of dunce: and, in fact, I was 
 rendered such by the cruelty and impolicy of my 
 instructors: for I hope I will not be considered a 
 pedant, when I aftirm that nature never formed 
 such a character. Hence, I believe a cruel 
 injudicious teacher is a pest to society, and 
 
184 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 an intellectual murderer. I do not, by any niean»^* 
 wish to insinuate, that a teacher should not cor- 
 rect his pupils; there is a variety of ways without 
 corporeal punishment: but, at any rate, I must 
 say, gentleness should always be mingled with 
 severity; mildness with chastisement. A teach- 
 er in my opinion, should never inflict coi'poreal 
 punishment on his pupils; as it tends to debase 
 their minds, break their spirits, and stupify them; 
 to mortify their pride, would do better than la- 
 cerate their backs.^ 
 
 The teacher iie^er should use the harsher way. 
 When love, or gentle means will bear the sway. 
 
 This advice is not so often applicable to parents^ 
 particularly to mothers, as they too frequently 
 verge on the opposite extreme. They suffer vice 
 too often to grow luxuriantly in their children, 
 before they attempt to stop its growth; when, a- 
 las! it is too late to stop its progress when arriv- 
 ed near maturity, As the monarch of the moun- 
 tains, the sturdy oak, when it has extended its 
 spreading foliage, and taken deep root in the 
 ground, and its iofty top begins to nod in the air, 
 in token of approaching maturity; in vain will 
 the laborious farmer try to bend it, so as to an- 
 swer his domestic use. I would' ask, what dis- 
 tinguishes the human from the brute creation? 
 Some will say, reason is the cliaracteristic: but I 
 say, I'eason united with religion. Some brute« 
 exceed many men in sagacity and ingenuity; but 
 none, no not one in devotion; to this they are all 
 utter strangers. Should not parents, therefore, 
 strive, judiciously strive, to cultivate that heav- 
 enly power, that divine plant which designates 
 the superiority of the human over the brutal, U^ 
 
VINDICATED. 18o 
 
 be greater than the angelic over the liuman crea- 
 tion. I feel jealous and ffearful for the rising gen- 
 eration^ perhaps I have partly anticipated this 
 sentiment before; hut I will, if even so, repeat it 
 again; too often it cannot be repeated. I would 
 ask, what is it that civilizes savage nations? I 
 answer, the cultivation of reason and religion. 
 And what is it that metamorphoses civilized peo- 
 ple to barbarians? 1 answer, the relinquishing 
 their religion and reason, and surrendering their 
 common sense to be the subjugated vassals of their 
 vile and vulgar passions. 
 
 The present generation have become adepts in 
 tlie practice of the most unhallowed sensuality, 
 systematical cruelty, refined debauchery, and 
 fashionable indelicacy, which the antecedent gen- 
 oration, were they to arise from the dead, w ould 
 blush to witness. 
 
 Could they behold their dauf^hters thus adorn'd. 
 By fops admired, but by good men scorn"d; 
 Some sentimental jilts, and some the slaves 
 Of fashions lewd, or prostitutes of knaves; 
 Disg-usted with the sad, the hateful sight, 
 rhey*d fly to earth down from the realms of light. 
 Reprove with frowns their vile degen'rate race. 
 And then return back to their heav'nly place. 
 
 If we may judge of the next generation by the 
 present, we must conclude that they will approx- 
 imate to a state of sensuality and debauchery, 
 that will naturally assimilate to barbarism,^ that 
 is, if our children continue to incj'ease in degen- 
 eracy as we have. If they imitate the present 
 
 ♦History will justify the above sentiment. 
 16# 
 
i86 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 vices and fashions of their parents; and, in addi- 
 tion, loose the reins to the domination of their 
 unhallowed passions, in the same quota and eti- 
 quette as we have done hefore them, where will 
 social virtue find a shelter, after we leave, per- 
 haps, our offspring to fill up the measure of their 
 iniquity, and force the slumbering vengeance 
 from the skies? In the event of such a crisis, or 
 even at the tribunal of Jehovah, how will our 
 childi^en accuse us in these, or words like these: — 
 *'0h! ye, our degenerate ancestors, you are the 
 radical cause of our wretchedness and woe, as 
 Avell as your own shame and disgrace; for your 
 imprudent neglect, m not instructing your chil- 
 dren, was the means of laying up, in our profliga- 
 cy and disobedience, the sharpest pangs of grief, 
 regret, and sliame for your own grey hairs; by 
 your bad example you made us bad citizens, and 
 scattered a wicked race to corrupt the virtuous 
 part of society, and thus remove the bariier that 
 kept back the just vengeance of Heaven; where- 
 fore, by your negligence you became guilty; and, 
 by your bad example you become doubly guilty. 
 jVow^ you participate our anguisi), for you have to 
 bear your own, and feel the weight of our sins, 
 while your own consciences, and the signature 
 of God's displeasure, seals the authenticity of our 
 accusation. You knew we were illiterate, and 
 yet you did not instruct us; you saw that we were 
 born in sin, and, of course, prone to evil; and 
 yet }ou did not restrain us; you saw us go into 
 the very jaws of destruction with indifference; 
 nay, you invited us to participate in the illicit 
 pleasures and vanities of a guilty world. That 
 great and good Being, who is now our impartial 
 Judge, you never held up to our view as the ob^ 
 ject of our affections, and the author of our lives: 
 
VINDICATED U7 
 
 yoii thought no moreof hirii and his glorious law» 
 than the ilust under your feet; and you taught us^ 
 by your example, to despise hini. Finally, you 
 saw us working out our destruction with greedi- 
 ness; and yett alas! you never so much as once 
 suggested to us the consequence of our folly; we 
 are, therefore, consigned to eternal misery, and 
 unutterable woes; but you are the primary cause 
 of tliem all; it would have been well for us, if we 
 never had been born of such cruel and inconsider- 
 ate parents/^ 
 
 Serious, solemn considerations — Oh! that par- 
 ents would lay them to heart, and act towards 
 their children, as they will wish they had done, 
 when they come to bid them an eternal adieu here^ 
 or appear at the bar of God in company with them 
 hereafter; if so, happy parents. The salutations 
 and congratulations they wi)l then receive from 
 their offspring, when launched into eternity, will 
 be so diametrically opposite to what I have first 
 depicted, will be so transcendently glorious and 
 exquisitely divine, as to beggar description, and 
 mock all human conception. 
 
 Before I conclude, 1 will suggest a few spon- 
 taneous thoughts relative to matrimonial allian- 
 ces, between what the world calls people of quali- 
 ty. 
 
 It often happens, that such persons consider 
 riches as the nerves of the conjugal state; hence, 
 we often find parents sacrificing their children's 
 present peace and future prosperity at the shrine 
 of that greedy god> Mammon. How often does 
 it happen, that an avaricious person will marry 
 his daughter, perhaps not more than sixteen 
 years of age, to a man old enough to be her grand- 
 father, merely because he is rich; for the sake of 
 filthy lucre, the girl is tbrced contrary to her in- 
 
188 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 clinations (which, by the by in such cases as these 
 arc never consulted,) and previous engagements, 
 to give her hand and person to one man, while 
 another possesses her heart; the consequence of 
 which is, she is plunged into a labyrinth of mise- 
 ry, from which nothing but death can relieve 
 her — she is almost compelled to be unfaithful to 
 her hoary headed husband, though she may be, 
 by nature and education, virtuous. For, how is 
 it possible she can live happy with a man 60 year* 
 older than herself? Oh ! how many beautiful young 
 women have been ruined in this manner, by their 
 parsimonious parents! Such parents, I will be 
 bold to say, are more guilty in the sight of heav- 
 en, than the highway robber; for, he only takes 
 the traveller's money; but they rob their child of 
 peace and tranquillity here, and place such stumb- 
 ling-blocks, such invincible temptations, before 
 her, that it is almost impossible for her to retain 
 her integrity,'^ and, of course, she is plundered 
 at the shrine of avarice, of her present and eter- 
 nal peace. The vengeance of eternity will sure- 
 ly be hurled on the heads of such cruel and avari- 
 cious parents: — far, far more guilty than the mid- 
 night assassin, whose dagger, perhaps, is the 
 mittimus that conveys his victim to that glorious 
 world where the wicked cease from troubling, and 
 rhe weary are forever at rest. 
 
 It almost always happens, on such marriages, 
 that the lady, notwithstanding her virtue is un- 
 sullied, and her prudence is unimpeachable, loos- 
 
 *I believe many young women have been thus plun- 
 dered of their present and future happiness. Oh! how 
 mortifying-, to be forced, in the presence of the man 
 f^hc adores, to give her 'hand to the one she detests. 
 
VINDICATED. 189 
 
 es her good name; as people consider it impossi- 
 ble for her to be sentimentally, as well as practi- 
 cally virtuous, placed in such an indelicate situa- 
 tion; and her old husband, well considering cir- 
 cumstances, naturally suispccts her of coquetry; 
 for such men generally prove jealous husbands 
 when possessed of young wives; and, indeed, the 
 young libertine will naturally lay siege to such a 
 lady^s virtue, as he suspects, that she has every 
 reason to encourage an intrigue. Thus is she 
 brought into the sery jaws of destruction by her 
 murderous parent?^, and if she miraculouisly es- 
 capes the many snarers by which she is surround- 
 ed, without b«^ing contaminated, her good name, 
 which is more pivcious than gold or silver, wiM 
 undoubtedly be tarnished by cftlumny, and adul- 
 terated b}^ the censorious: thus, at all events, she 
 is robbed of lier inward peare, and outward res- 
 pectability, by her unrelenting parents, to whom 
 the subsequent lines of Shakspeare, are truly ap- 
 plicable: — 
 
 *^Who steals my purse, steals trasli; 
 
 'Tis something, nothing- — 'twas mine, 'tishis^ 
 
 And has been slave to thousands; 
 
 But he who filches from me my good name, 
 
 Robs me of that, which not enriches him. 
 
 But makes me poor indeed." 
 
 It sometimes happens, that very young women 
 willingly marry old men, and thus sacrifice their 
 own persons at the shrine of Mammon; they are 
 therefore, not to be pitied, as they bring wretch- 
 edness upon themselves; they think when they get 
 riches they will get hapfiy; but, alas! they find 
 themselves wretchedly mistaken; they find to their 
 
190 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 sorrow, that a palace, when changed to a prisow. 
 loses all its worth. 
 
 However, it happens to them, just as it befel ' 
 Elijah's servant, who took from Naaman, the 
 Assyrian general, the talents and changes of rai- 
 ment, which his master nobly refused to accept. 
 When he returned to his master, the pro])h(^t, a 
 curse was denounced upon him for his covetous- 
 1M3SS, and the leprosy of Naaman was that curse: 
 so, with liis riches, he received a disease that 
 rendered them of no utility. Thus it is with 
 those avaricious fair ones; they have to live with 
 men they cannot love, as it were in a perpetual 
 prison; they must submit to their caprice and jeal- 
 ousy, and all for the love of money, which they 
 cannot enjoy; for what are riches when compared 
 to peace and tranquillity of mind? The charac- 
 ters of such silly avaricious fair ones are pointed 
 ly described by Lord Lyttleton: 
 
 '<The most abandoned prostitutes are they, 
 Who not to love, but avarice fall a prey: 
 And naught avails a maid so wedded.'' 
 
 But while these cases excite our contempt, the 
 misfortunes of tlie former ones excite our warm- 
 est commiseration; and not only for the females 
 thus forced against their inclinations and prior 
 engagements, but also for the young men who 
 have the cruel mortification to see their lovers 
 forced from their embraces, by paternal inflexi- 
 bility. Such cruel proceedings have produced 
 many a suicide: and brought many a loving cou- 
 ple through complicated scenes of sorrow and 
 woe, to a premature death. 
 
 I'hose who are unacquainted with the force id 
 
VINDICATED. 19i 
 
 juvenile attachments, will laugh at the supposi 
 tion as chimerical and romantic; for, 
 
 None know their grief but they who lov'd so well* 
 They, only they can half their sorrows tell; 
 These, only these can pity, weep, and melt, 
 Those cannot sympathize who never felt. 
 
 However superficial or imaginary it may be in 
 itself, I will not attempt to define. This much 
 I can confidently assert, as a stubborn and melan- 
 choly fact, authenticated by the experience of a- 
 ges, that disappointed love has slain it^ thous- 
 ands of the human family; and a great proportion 
 of them, through the inflexibility and capricious- 
 ness of maternal impolicy, penurious solicitude, 
 or family pride. How many cruel parents, with 
 more than savage insensibility, have sacrificed 
 their children^s present and eternal happiness, be- 
 fore tliey would relinquish a particle of their sen- 
 timental pride and hereditary pretensions! Cruel 
 parents! Surely tlie tyranny of a Manasseh, the 
 haughtiness of a Nebuchadnezzar, or the volup- 
 tuousness of an Alexander, will be more tolerable 
 in the day of judgment than the conduct of such 
 parents. 
 
 I will take the liberty to close this chapter with 
 a description of the ill-fated love and tragical end 
 of Palemon, abridged from Falconer's Shipwreck. 
 The writer, no doubt, drew the incidents of his 
 pathetic tale from real life, and it is more than 
 probable, from his own experience, as he was a 
 common sailor when he wrote it, and undoubted- 
 ly say better days. The erudition, masterly 
 style, and sterling merit displayed in his wri- 
 ^^igs, demonstrate that he was a man of classi- 
 I^W education, as well as extraordinary poetical 
 
m FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 talents, Avhich would do honor to a Pope, or even 
 a Milton, especially when we contrast the advan- 
 tages of the one party for displaying their talents, 
 with the disadvantage of the other. 
 
 Our author, wliosc name was William Falcon- 
 er, Johnson, in his Lives of the Poets, informs 
 lis *'was a native of Scotland, hred to the sea ser- 
 vice, in w hich he spent the greatest part of his life 
 in a very low situation. He displayed his poeti- 
 ral talents, at an early age, hy the puhlication, 
 at Edinhurg, of ''A Poem, sacred to the Memory 
 of His Royal Highness, Frederick, Prince of 
 Wales,*^ 8 vo. 1751. In the course of his sea life 
 he appears to have really experienced the dangers 
 so feelingly described in his poem, entitled *^Tftc 
 Shijnvreck,^^ printed in 1762. The publication 
 of this work drew him from the obscurity of his 
 situation; he was patronized by the Duke of York, 
 to whom he addressed an ode, on'liis second de- 
 parture from England as Rear Admiral, and soon 
 after received the appointment of Purser to the 
 Royal George. In 1769 he published a ''Marine 
 Dictionary,'^ an acknowledged useful v^ork, and 
 soon afterwards embarked on board the Aurora 
 to settle in the East Indies. In December, 1769, 
 he arrived at the Cape of Good Hope, from whence 
 he sailed soon after. These were the last tidings 
 <if the ship, whicli was never heard of afterwards. 
 It is geiicrally supposed to have taken fire, and 
 that all the crew perished. 
 
 *«Palemon's heart for beauteous Anna bled, 
 Tor- her a secret fiame his bosom fed, 
 Nor let the wretched slaves of folly scorn 
 7'his g-enuine passion, Nature's eldest born! 
 'Twas his wU!i lasting" ang'uish to complain, 
 HVhile blooming" Annti mourn'd the cause in vain. 
 
VINDICATED. i^O 
 
 •iiiraceful of form, by nature taught to please, 
 power to melt the female breast with ease: 
 :u herPalemon told his tender tale, 
 Soft as the voice of Summer's evening gale. 
 O'erjoy'd, he saw her lovely eyes relent^ 
 The blushing maiden smilM with sweet consent. 
 Oft in the mazes of a neighb'ring grove, 
 Unheard, they breath'd alternate vows of love 
 By fond society their passion grew, 
 Like the young blossom fed with vernal dew 
 In evil hourth' ofr.cious tongue of Fame 
 Betray'd the secret of their mutual flame. 
 With grief and anger struggling at his breast^ 
 Palemon's father heard the tale confest. 
 Long had he listen'd with suspicious ear, 
 And learnt, sagacious, this event to fear. 
 Too well, fair youth thy liberal heart he knew 
 A heart to nature's warm impressions true! 
 Full oft his wisdom strove w^ith fruitless toil 
 With avarice to pollute that generous soil. 
 Thai soil, impregnated with nobler seed. 
 Refused the culture of so rank a weed. 
 Elate with wealth, in active commerce wor,- 
 And basking in the smile of Fortune's sun. 
 With scorn the parent ey'd the lowly shade, 
 That vcil'd the beauties of this charming maid 
 Indignant he rebuk'd the enamour'd boy, 
 The flattering promise of his future joy ! 
 He sooth'd and menac'd, anxious to reclaim 
 This hopeless passion or divert its aim: 
 Oft led the youth where circling joys delight 
 The ravish'd sense, or beauty charms the sigiir. 
 With all her powers enchanting music fail'd, 
 And pleasure's syren voice no more prevail'd. 
 The merchant kindling then with proud disdain. 
 In look and voice assum'd a harsher strain. 
 In absence now his only hope remain'd; 
 And such the stern decree his will ord.ain'd, 
 Deep anguish^ while Palemon heard his doqift, I J 
 
 ^ 17 
 
■. I 
 
 iign'J. J 
 
 194 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Drew o'er his lovely face a saddening' gloom 
 In vain w^^^^ bitter sorrow he reprn'd. 
 No tender pity touch'd that sordid mind; 
 To thee, brave Albert, was the charge consi 
 The stately ship forsaken England's shore. 
 To regions far remottv Palemon bore. 
 Incapable of change th' unhappy youth 
 Still lavM fair Anna with eternal truth; 
 From clime to clime an exile doom'd to roam* 
 His heart still panted for its secret home, 
 
 <«The moon had circled twice her wayward zone. 
 To him since young Arion first was known: 
 Who, wandering here through many a scene renownM 
 In Alexandria's port the vessel found; 
 Where, -anxious to review his native shore. 
 He on the roaring wave embarked once more^ 
 Oft, by pale Cynthia's melan^iholy light. 
 With him Paleraon kept the watch of night; 
 In whose sad bosom many a sigh supprest. 
 Some painful secret of the soul confest. 
 Perhnps Arion soon the cause divin'd, 
 Tho' shunning still to probe a wounded mind. 
 He felt the chastity of silent woe, 
 Tho' glad the*balm of comfort to bestow; 
 He, wit]! Palemon, oft recounted o"er 
 The talcs of hapless, love in ancient lore, 
 Recatl'd to memory by th' adjacent shore. 
 The scene thus present, audits story Ijnown, 
 The lover sighM for sorrows not his ow». ' 
 Thus, tho' a recent date their friendship bore," 
 Soon th^ ripe metal own'd the quick'ning ore; 
 Tor in one tide their passions seem'd to rollj> ' 
 By kindred age, and sympathy of soul. 
 
 ''These o'er th' inferior naval train preside 
 The course determine, or the commerce guidt 
 O'er all the rest, an undistinguish'd crew ! 
 Her win^ of deepest shade oblivioji dz»e^/. 
 
 } 
 
VINDICATED. 195 
 
 ««A sullen languor still the skies op'prest 
 And held th' unwilim;:; ship in strong* arrest, 
 High in his chariot glowM the lamp of day. 
 O'er Ida flaming with meridian ray. 
 KelaxM from toil the sailor's range the shore,' 
 Where famine, war, and storm are felt no morvT 
 The hour to social pleasure they resign, 
 And black remembrance drown in generous win^- 
 On deck, beneath the shading canvass spread 
 Rodmonda rueful tale of wonders rea<i. 
 Of dragons roaring on the enchanted coast^, 
 The hideous goblin and the yelling ghost — 
 But with Arion, from the sultry heat 
 ©f noon, Palemon sought a cool retreat. 
 And lo! the shore w-ith mournful prospects crown'cl'' 
 The rampart torn with many a fatal wound; 
 The ruiu'd bulwark tottering d^er the strand^ 
 iBewail the stroke of war^s tremendous hand. 
 What scenes of woe this hapless isle overspread I 
 Where late thrice fifty warriors bled. 
 Full twice twelve summers were }'on towers assail'd; 
 Till barbarous Ottoman at last prevailed; 
 Willie thundering mines the lovely plains o'erturn'd; 
 While heroes fell, and domes and temples burn'd = 
 
 «*But now before them happier scenes arise! 
 Elysian vales salute their ravish'd eyes: 
 Olive and cedar form'd a grateful shade. 
 While light with gay romantic error stray'd. 
 The myrtles here with fond caresses twine, 
 There^ rich with nectar, melts the pregnant vine. 
 And, lo! the stream, renown'd in classic song>. 
 Bad Lethe, glides the silent vale along, 
 
 * The intelligent reader will readily discover, that thesr 
 remarks allude to the ever memorable sies^e af Candia, 
 which was taken fromihe Venetians by the Turks, in 
 1669; being then considered as impregnable, and e^iieciny 
 cd the most formidable fortress in the universe. 
 
i9tj FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 On mossy banks, beneath the citron grove. 
 
 The youthful wanderers found a wild alcove .- 
 
 Sott o'er the fairy region languor stole. 
 
 And with sweet melancholy charmed the soul. 
 
 Here first Palemon, while his pensive mind 
 
 For consolution on his friend reclin'd. 
 
 In pity's bleeding bosom pour'd the stream 
 
 Of love's soft anguish, and of grief supreme — 
 
 Too true thy words!— by sweet remembrance taught. 
 
 My heart in secret bleed3 with tender though- ' 
 
 In vain it courts the solitary shade. 
 
 By every action, every look betray'd' — 
 
 The pride of generous woe disdains appeal 
 
 To hearts that unrelenting frosts congeal. 
 
 Yet sure, if right Palemon can divine. 
 
 The sense of gentle pity dwells in thine. 
 
 Yes! all his cares thy sympathy shall know» 
 
 And prove the kind companion of his woe, 
 
 ^'Albert, thou know'st with skill and science grac^cf. 
 In humble station tho" by fortune placM-, 
 Yet never seaman more serenely brave 
 Led Britain's conquering squadrons o'er the wave, 
 Wliere full in view Augusta's spires are seen, 
 "With flowery lawns, and waving woods between, 
 A peaceful dwelling stands in modest pride, 
 Where Thames, slow winding, rolls his ample tic- 
 There live the hope and pleasure of his life^ 
 A pious daughter, with a faithful wife. 
 For his return, with fond officious care. 
 Still every grateful object these prepare.. 
 Whatever can allure the smell or sight. 
 Or wake; the drooping spiritsi to delight. 
 
 <«This blooming maid in virtue's path to guide* 
 Her anxious parents all tlieir cares apply'd. 
 Her spotless soul, where soft compassion reign'd. 
 No vice untun'd, no sickening folly stain'd* 
 Not fairer grows the lily of the vale, 
 Whose bosom opens to the vernal gale: 1 
 
} 
 
 VINDICATED. 19r 
 
 Her eye's unconscious of their fatal charms, 
 Thriird every heart with exquisite alarms: 
 Her face, in beauty's sweet attraction drestj 
 The smile of maiden innocence -express'd; 
 While health, that rises with the new-born day, 
 Breath'd o'er her cheek the softest blush of May. 
 Still in her look complacence smil'd serene, 
 She mov'd the charmer of the rural s<;ene. 
 
 **Twas at that season when the fields resumb 
 Their loveliest hues, array'd in vernal bloom; 
 Yon ship, rich freighted from the Italian shore, 
 To Thame's fair banks her costly tribute bore; 
 "While thus my father saw his ample hoard, 
 from this return, with recent treasures stor'd; 
 Me, with affairs of commerce charged he sent 
 To Albert's humble mansion; soon I went. 
 Too soon, alas! unconscious of th' event — 
 ^rhere, struck with sweet surprise and silent awe, 
 The gentle mistress of my hope I saw: 
 There wounded first by love's resistless arms. 
 My glowing bosom throbb'd with strange alarms. 
 My ever, charming Anna! who alone 
 Can all the frowns of cruel fate atone; 
 Oh! while all conscious memory holds her power, 
 Can I forget that sweetly painful hour. 
 When from those eyes, with lovely lightning fraugh|» 
 My fluttering spirits first the infection caught; 
 When, as I gaz'd, my faltering tongue bet*ray'd 
 The heart's quick tumults, or refus'd its aid; 
 While the dim light my ravish'd eyes forsook, 
 And every limb unstrung with terror shook! 
 With all her powers dissenting reason strove 
 To tame at first the kindling flame of love; 
 She strove in vain! subdu'd by charms divine>' 
 My soul a victim fell at beauty's shrine, 
 •Oft from the din of bustling life I stray'd. 
 In happier scenes, to see my lovely maid* 
 ^H^ull oft, where Thames his wandering current leads, 
 i^^BTeifov'd at evening hour thro' flowery meads. 
 
198 FEMALE CHARACTEU 
 
 There, while my heart's soft anguish I rcveal'd. 
 
 To her with tender sighs my hope appeai'd. 
 
 While the sweet nymph my faithful tale believ'u, 
 
 Her snowy breast with secret tumult heav'd: 
 
 For, train'd in rural scenes from earliest youth. 
 
 Nature was hers, and innocence and truth, 
 
 She never knew the city damsel's art, 
 
 Whose frothy pertness charms the vacant heart* 
 
 My suit prevail'd^ for love inform'd my tongue^ 
 
 And on his votary's lips persuasion hung-. 
 
 Her eyes with conscious sympathy withdrew, 
 
 And o*er her cheek the rosy current flew. 
 
 Thrice happy hours! where with no dark allay, 
 
 Life's fairest sunshine gilds the vernal day! 
 
 For here the sigh that soft affection heaves, 
 
 From stings of sharper woe the soul relieves. 
 
 Elysian scenes, too happy long to last! 
 
 Too soon a storm the smiling dawn o'ercast! 
 
 Too soon some demon to my father bore 
 
 The tidings that his heart with anguish tore. — 
 
 My pride to kindle with dissuasive voice, 
 
 A while he labor'd to degrade my choice? 
 
 Then, in the whTrlingwave of pleasure, sought 
 
 From its lov'd object to divert my thought. 
 
 With equal hope he might attempt to bind. 
 
 In chains of a^^amant, the lawless wind: 
 
 For love had aim'd the fatal shaft too surej 
 
 Hope fed the wound, and absence knew no cure. 
 
 W^ith alienated look, each art he saw 
 
 Still baffled by superior Nature's law. 
 
 His anxious mind on various schemes revolv'd,; 
 
 At last on cruel exile he resolv'd. 
 
 The rigorous doom was fix'd! alas! how vaiiv 
 
 To him of tender anguish to complain! 
 
 His soul, that never love's sweet influence felt. 
 
 By social sympathy could never melt; 
 
 With stern command to Albert's charge he gave> 
 
 To waft Palemon o'et the distant wave. 
 
1 
 
 VINDICATED. IQfi 
 
 * ^»The ship was laden and preparVl to sail. 
 And only waited now the leaduig gale, 
 'Twas ours, in that sad period, first to prove 
 The heart-felt torments of despairing* lover 
 Th* impatient wish that never feels repose; 
 Desire that with perpetual current flows; 
 The fluctuating" pangs of hope and fear; 
 joy distant still, and sorrow ever liear! 
 Thus, while the pangs of thought severer grew. 
 The western breezes inauspicious blevv-, 
 Hastening the moment of our last adieu. 
 The vessel parted on the falling tide; 
 Yei time one sacred hour to love suppiy*d. 
 The night was silent, and advancing fast, 
 The moon o*er Thames her silver mantle cast. 
 Impatient hope the midnight path explored. 
 And led me to the nymph my soul adorM. 
 Soon her quick footsteps struck my listening ear-^ 
 She came confest! the lovely maid drew near! 
 But ah! what force of language can impart 
 Th' impetuous joy that glovv'd in either heart! 
 O! ye, whose melting* hearts arc form"d to prove 
 The trembling ecstacies of genuine love! 
 AVhen with delicious agony, the tliought 
 Is to the verge of high delirium wrought; 
 Your secret sympathy alone can tell 
 What raptures then the throbbing bosom swell«: 
 O'er all the nerves what tender tumults roll. 
 While love with sweet enchantment melts the souf! 
 
 <'In transport lost, by trembling hope imprest^ 
 The blushing virgin sunk upon my breast; 
 While her's congenial beat with fond alarms. 
 Dissolving softness! paradise of charms; 
 Flash'd from our eyes in warm transfusion flew 
 Our blending spirits, that each other drew! 
 O, bliss supreme! where virtue's self can melt 
 Withjoys that guilty pleasures never felt! 
 Formed to refine the thought with chaste desired 
 Andk^indle sweet aflfection's purest fire? 
 
SOO fEMALE CHARACTEII 
 
 Ah! wherefore should my hopeless love, she cri^i 
 While sorrow burst with interrupting* sighs, 
 Forever destinM to lament in vain, 
 Such flattering" fond ideas entertain^ 
 My heart thro* scenes of fair illusion stray'd 
 To joys decreed for some superior maid. 
 ^Tis mine to feel the sharpest stings of grief 
 Where never gentle hope affords relief- 
 Co then, dear youth! thy father's rage atone; 
 And let this tortur'd bosoiu beat alone! 
 The hovering anger yet thou may'st appease; 
 Go then, dear youth! nor tempt the faithless SQas, 
 Find out some happier daughter of the town. 
 With fortune's fairer joys thy love to croAvn; 
 Where smiling o'er thee with indulgent ray, 
 Prosperity shall hail each new-born day. 
 Too well thou know'st ^ood Albert's niggard fate, 
 JU fitted to sustain thy father's hate: 
 Clo then, I charge thee, by thy generous love^ 
 That fatal to my father thus may prove! 
 On me alone let dark affliction fall! 
 WMiose heart for thee will gladly suffer all. 
 Then haste thee hence, Palemon, ere too late, 
 2s[or rashly hope to brave opposing fate. 
 
 **She "CeasM; while anguish in her angel face 
 O^er all her beauties show'd celestial grace, 
 Iviot Helen, in her bridal charms .array'd, 
 Was half so lovely as this gentle maid. 
 O, soul of all my wishes! Ireply'd, 
 Can that soft fabric stem affliction's tide! 
 Canst thou, fair emblem of exalted truth! 
 To sorrow doom the summer of thy youthj 
 And I, perfidious! all thy sweetness see 
 ConsignM to lasting misery for me? 
 Sooner this moment may the eternal doom 
 palemon in the silent earth entomb! \ 
 
 Attest thou moon, fair regent of the nights 
 Whose lustre sickens at this mournful sightf 
 
VINDICATED. .0 
 
 Hy all the pangs divided lovers feeU 
 
 That sweet possession only knows to heal; 
 
 By all the horrors brooding* o'er the deep^ 
 
 Where fate and ruin sad dominion keep; 
 
 Tho' tyrant dutyx)*er me threat'ning stand?, 
 
 And claims obedience to her stern commands. 
 
 Should fortune cruel or auspicious prove, 
 
 Her smile or frown shall never change my Iovg! 
 
 My heart that now must every joy resign. 
 
 Incapable of change is only thine!— 
 
 O, cease to weep! this storm will yet decay. 
 
 And these sad clouds of sorrow melt away, 
 
 "While through the rugged path of life we go, 
 
 All mortals taste the bitter draughts of woe^ 
 
 The fam'd and great, decreed to equal pain. 
 
 Full oft in splendid wretchedness compl:iin, 
 
 For this prosperity, with brighter ray. 
 
 In smiling contrast gilds our vital day. 
 
 Thou too, sweet raaid! ere twice ten months art; o'er\ 
 
 Shalt hail Falemon to his native shore, j- 
 
 \yhere never interest shall divide us morc» j 
 
 <«Her struggling souf, o^crwhelm'd with tender grief 
 Now found an interval of short relief; 
 So melts the surface of the frozen stream^ 
 Beneath the wintry sun's departing beam. 
 With warning haste the shades of night withdrew. 
 And gave the signal of a- sad adieu. 
 As on my neck th' afflicted maiden hung", 
 A thousand racking doubts her spirits, wrung". 
 She wept the terrors of the fearful w;ive. 
 Too oft, alas! the wandering lover's grave! 
 With soft persuasion I dispell'd her fear, 
 And from her cheek beguil'd the falling tear. 
 While dying fondness languished in her eyes, 
 §.lie pour'd her soul to heaven in suppliant sighs^ 
 
 *<Look down with pity, oh! ye powers above. 
 Who hear the sad complaint of blee^in-g love! 
 
202 FEMALE CHARACl'ER 
 
 Ye, who the secret laws of fate explore, 
 
 Alone can tell if he returns no rcore; 
 
 Or, if the hour of future joy remain, 
 
 I^ong- wish'd atonement of long sufl'erM pain! 
 
 Bid every guardian minister attend, 
 
 And from all ill the much lov\i youth defend! 
 
 With g-rief o'erwhelm'd we parted twice in vain, 
 
 And urg-'d by strong attachment met again. 
 
 At last, by cruel fortune torn apart, 
 
 While tender passion streani'd in either hearty 
 
 Our eyes transfix'd with agonizing look. 
 
 One sad farewell, one last embrace we took. 
 
 Forlorn of hope the lovely maid I left. 
 
 Pensive and pale, of every joy bereft. 
 
 She to her silent couch retir*d to weep. 
 
 While her sad swain embark'd upon the deep^ 
 
 **His tale thus clos'd, from sympathy ofgrie^ 
 Faleraon's bosom felt a sweet relief. 
 The hapless bird, thus ravish'd from the skies^, 
 Where all forlorn his lovM companion flies. 
 In secret long bewails his cruel fate, 
 With fond remembrance of his ringed iniate: 
 Till grown familiar with a foreign train. 
 Composed at leng-th, his sadly warbling strain 
 In sweet oblivion charms the sense of pain. 
 
 <*Ye tender maids, in whose pathetic souU 
 ^Compassion's sacred stream impetuous rolls; 
 Whose warm affections exquisitely feel 
 The secret wound you tremble to reveal! 
 Ah! may no wanderer of the faithless main 
 Four throu2:h your breast the soft delicious ban^! 
 May never fatal tenderness approve 
 The f©nd eflPusions of their ardent love. 
 OI warn'd by friendship's counsel learn to shun 
 4rhe fatal path where thousands are undone! 
 
 *«Now as the youths, returning o'er the plain, 
 Appr»a.ch''d the lonely i^argln of tUc niain^ 
 
 i 
 
VINDICATED. m$ 
 
 First, T\'ith attention roas'd, Arion ey*d 
 The graceful lover, form'd in Nature's prlde^ 
 His frame the happiest symmetry dispiay\I; 
 And locks of waving ^ojd his neck array M. 
 In every look the Paphian graces shine, 
 Soft-breathins: o'er his cheek their bloom divine. 
 With lightened heart he smil'd serenely gayj 
 Like young Adonis or the son of May, 
 Not Cytherea from a fairer swain 
 Receiv'd her apple on the Trojan plain! 
 
 **The sun's bright orb declining, all serene, 
 Now glanc'd obliquely o'er the woodland scene* 
 Creation smiles around, on every spray 
 The warbling birds exalt their evening lay. 
 Blithe skippinii: o'er yon liillj the fleecy train 
 Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain: 
 The golden lime and. orange there were seen^ 
 On fragrant branches of perpetual green. 
 The crystal streams that velvet meadows lavs,. 
 To the o^reen ocean roll with chiding wave. 
 The glassy ocean ivushM for^^ets to roar. 
 But trembling murmurs on the sandy shore': 
 And lo! his surface, lovely to behold. 
 Glows in the v/est, a sea of I i vino: sold! 
 While all above, a tliousand Hveries gay 
 The skies with pomp ineffable array. 
 Arabian sweets perfume the happy plains: 
 Above, beneath, aground inchantment reigns ■ 
 While ye,t the shades, on time's, eternal scal?^ 
 With long vibration deepen o'er the vale; 
 While yet the songsters of the vocal grove 
 With dying numbers tune the soul to love; 
 With joyful eyes th' attentive master sees 
 Th' auspicious omens of an eastern breeze-^ — 
 Now radiant Vesper leads the starry train, 
 And night slow draws her veil o'er land and maiH^^ 
 Round the charg'd bowl the sailors form a ring, 
 By turns recount the wondrous tale or sing; 
 
€04 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 As love or battle, hardships of the main, "* 
 Or g-enial wine, awake their homely strain,- 
 Then some the watch of nig-ht alternate keep, 
 The rest lie busied in oblivious sleep. 
 
 *<Deep midnight now involves tlie liquid skies; 
 While infant breezes from the shore arise. 
 The waning moon behind a watery shroud, 
 Pale glimmer'd o'er the long-protracted cloud. 
 A mighty ring around her silver throne, 
 With parting meteors crossed, portentous shone. 
 This in the troubled sky full oft prevails, 
 Oft deemed a signal of tempestuous gales.— 
 While young Arion sleeps, before his sight 
 Tumultuous swim the visions of the niirht. 
 Now blooming Anna, with her happy swain, 
 Approach'd the sacred hymeneal fane: 
 Anon tremendous liphtninos flash between. 
 And funeral pomp and weeping Loves are seen:. 
 Now with Palemon up a rocky steep, 
 Wjjose summit trembles o'er the roaring deep. 
 With painful step he climb'd: while far above 
 Bweet Anna charm'd them with the voice of love, 
 Then sudden from the slippery height they fell. 
 While dreadful yawn'd beneath the jaws of hell. 
 Amid this fearful trance, a thundcrinoj sound 
 He hears-?— and thrice the hollow decks rebound. 
 Upstarting from his couch, on deck he sprung, 
 Thrice with shrill note the boatswain'.s whistle rung' 
 All hands unmoor! proclaims a boisterous cry: 
 All hands unmoor! the cavern rocks reply! 
 Rous*d from repose, aloft the sailors swarm. 
 And with their levers soon the windlass arm.* 
 
 *The windlass is a sort of !aro;e roller, used to wind 
 In the cable, or heave up the anchor. It is turned about 
 "V^ertically by a number of long bars or levers; in which 
 operation it is prevented from recoiling, by the paulsv 
 
VINDICATED. 205 
 
 1 
 
 The order g^iren, up-springing whh a bound, 
 
 They lodge the bars, and wheel their engine round: 
 
 At every turn the clanging pauls resound, 
 
 Uptorn reluctant from its oozy cave, 
 
 The ponderous anchor rises o'er the wave. 
 
 Along their slippery masts the yards ascend,. 
 
 And high in airt he canvass wings extend. 
 
 Redoubling cords the lofty canvass guide. 
 
 And thro' inextricable mazes glide. 
 
 The lunar rays with long reflection gleam. 
 
 To light the vessel o'er the silver stream; 
 
 Along the glassy plain serene she glides, 
 
 While azure radiance trembles on her sides. 
 
 From east to north the transient breezes play,. 
 
 And in th' Egyptian quarter soon decay. 
 
 A calm ensues; they dread th' adjacent shorev 
 
 The boats with rowers arm'd are sent before; 
 
 With cordage fasten'd to the lofty prow. 
 
 Aloof to sea the stately ship they tow.* 
 
 The nervous crew their sweeping oars extend. 
 
 And pealing shouts the shore of Candia rend. 
 
 Success attends their skill; the danger's o'er. 
 
 The port is doubled and beheld no more» 
 
 "Now morn, her lamp pale-glimmerings on the sights 
 Scattered before her van reluctant Night. 
 She comes not in refulgent pomp array'd. 
 But sternly frowning, wrapt in sullen shade> 
 Above incumbent vapors, Idah's height. 
 Tremendous rock! emerges on the sight. 
 North-east the guardian isle of Standia lies, 
 And westward Frcschin's woody capes arise. 
 
 «<The natives, while the ship departs the land;, 
 Ashore with admiration gazing stand. 
 
 *Towing is the operation of drawing a ship forward^, 
 ^y means of ropes, extended from her forepart, to ode 
 ©T nioTe of the boat$ rowing before hei^. 
 
 18 
 
W6 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Majestically slow, before the breeze. 
 
 In silent pomp she inarches on the seas. 
 
 Her milk white bottom casts a softer gleam. 
 
 While trembling thro' the green translucent stream. 
 
 High o'er the poop, the flattering winds unfurl'd 
 
 Th' imperial flag that rules the watery world. 
 
 Deep-blushing armors all the tops invest^ 
 
 And warlike trophies either quarter dress'd; 
 
 Then lowered the masts; the canvass swelPd on high 5 
 
 And waving streamers floated in the sky. ^ 
 
 Thus the rich vessel moves in trim array, 
 
 I..ike some fair virgin on her bridal day. 
 
 Tiius, like a swan she cleaves the wat'^ry plain^ 
 
 The pride and wonder of the -.^gean main! 
 
 **Now, while on high the freshening gale she feeU 
 The ship beneath her lofty pressure reels. 
 Th' auxiliar sails that court a gentle breeze. 
 From their high stations sink by slow degrees. 
 The watchful ruler of the helm no more, 
 "With fix'd attention, eyes the adjacent shore; 
 But by the oracle of truth below. 
 The wondrous magnet guides the wayward prow. 
 The wind, that still th' impressive canvass swell'd. 
 Swift and more swift the yielding bark impell'd. 
 Four hours the sun his high meridian throne 
 Had left, and o'er ailantic regions shone; 
 Still blacker clouds, that all the skies invfide. 
 Draw o'er his sullied orb a dismal shade. 
 A squall deep lowering blots the southern sky, 
 Before whose boisterous breath the waters fly. 
 Its weight the topsails, can no more sustain, 
 Heef topsails, reef, the boatswain calls again! 
 
 <«Now, borne impetuous o'er the boiling deeps, 
 Her course to Attic shores the vessel keeps: 
 The pilots, as the waves behind her swell, 
 Still A^ith.the wheeling stern their force repeL 
 High o'er the poop th' audacious seas aspire^ 
 tlproU'd in hills of fluctuating fire. 
 
VINDICATED. 20 
 
 As some fell conqueror, frantic with success* 
 
 Sheds o'er the nations ruin and distress; 
 
 So while the wat'ry wilderness he roams, 
 
 Incens'd to sevenfold rage the Tempest foams; 
 
 And o'er the trembling" pines, above, below, 
 
 Shrill thro' the cordage howls, with notes of woe. 
 
 Now thunders, wafted from the burning zone, 
 
 Growl from afar, a deaf and hollow groan! 
 
 The ship's high battlements, to either side 
 
 For ever rocking, drink the briny tide: 
 
 It seem'd, the wrathful angel of the wind 
 
 Had all the horrors of the skies combin'df 
 
 And here, to one ill-fated ship oppos'd. 
 
 At once the dreadful magazine disclosed. 
 
 But lo! at last, from tenfold darkness borne. 
 
 Forth issues o'er the wave the weeping morn. 
 
 Hail sacred vision! who on orient wing. 
 
 The cheering dawn of light propitious bring. 
 
 All nature smiling hail'd the vivid ray. 
 
 That gave her beauties to returning dayt 
 
 All but our ship that, groaning on the tide, 
 
 No kind relief, no gleam of hope descry'd. 
 
 For now, in front, her trembling inmates see 
 
 The hills of Greece, emerging on the lee. 
 
 So the lost lover views that fatal morn. 
 
 On which forever from his bosom torn, 
 
 The nymph ador*d resigns her blooming charms> 
 
 To bless with love some happier rival's armSi 
 
 So to Eliza dawn'd that cruel day, 
 
 That tore JEneas from her arms away; 
 
 That saw him parting, never to return, 
 
 Herself in funeral flames decreed to burn: 
 
 yet in clouds, thou genial source of light. 
 
 Conceal thy radiant glories from our sight! 
 
 Go, with thy smile adorn the happy plain. 
 
 And gild the scenes where health and pleasure reign; 
 
 But let not here, in scorn thy wanton beam 
 
 Insult the dreadful grandeur of my theme! 
 
208 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 <«Biit now the Athenian mountains they descry. 
 And o'er the siirg-e Colonna frowns on high; 
 Besides the cape's projecting* verge are plac'd 
 A range of columns, long by time defac'd; 
 First planted by devotion to sustain. 
 In elder times, Tritonia's sacred fane. 
 Foams the wild beach below with mad'ning rage^ 
 Where waves and rocks a dreadful combat wage. 
 
 *«With mournful look the seamen ey'd the strand. 
 Where death's inexorable jaws expand? 
 Now, on the trembling shrouds, before, behind. 
 In mute suspense they mount into the wind.—- 
 The genius of the deep on rapid wing. 
 The black eventful moment seem'd to bring. 
 The steersmen now received their last command 
 To wheel the vessel sidelong to the strand. 
 Twelve sailors on the foremast who depend. 
 High on the platform of the top ascend; 
 Fatal retreat! for while the plunging prow 
 immergcs headlong in the waves below, 
 Down prest by watVy weight the bowsprit bends^, 
 And from above the stem deep-crashing rends. 
 Beneath her beak the floating ruins lie; 
 The foremast totters, unsustain'd on high: 
 And now the ship, fore-lifted by the sea, 
 Hurls the tall fabrick backward o'er her lee; 
 While in the general wreck, the faithful stay 
 Brags the main topmast from its post away. 
 Flung from the mast the seamen strive in vain] 
 Thro' hostile floods their vessel to regain. 
 The waves they buffet, till bereft of strength^ 
 O'erpower'd they yield to cruel fate at length, 
 The hostile waters close around their head. 
 They sink forever, number'd with the deadt 
 Those who remain their fearful doom await, 
 Nor longer mourn their lost companions' fate. 
 The heart that bleed^ with sorrows all its own, 
 forgets the pangs of friendship to bemoan.^ 
 
VINDICATED. 209 
 
 "And now lash'd on by destiny severe. 
 With horror fraught, the dreadful scene drew near! 
 The ship hangs hovering on the verge of death. 
 Hell yawns, rocks rise, and breakers roar beneath. 
 In vain, alas! the sacred shades of yore 
 Would arm the mind with philosophic lore; 
 In vain they'd teach us, at the latest breath. 
 To smile serene amid the pangs of death. 
 E'en Zeno's self, and Epictetus old. 
 This fell abyss had shudder'd to behold- 
 Had Socrates, for godlike virtue fam'd. 
 And wisest of the sons of men proclaimed. 
 Beheld this scene of frenzy and distress. 
 His soul had trembled to its last recess! — 
 O yet confirm my heart, ye powers above, 
 This last tremendous shock of fate to prove. 
 The tottering frame of reason yet sustain! 
 Nop let this total ruin whirl my brain! 
 
 *<In vain the cords and axes were prepar'd. 
 For now th' audacious seas insult the yard? 
 High o'er the ship they throw a horrid shade. 
 And o'er her burst in terrible cascade. 
 Uplifted on the surge, to heaven she flies. 
 Her shatter'd top half buried in the skies; 
 Then head long plunging thunders on the ground, 
 Earth groans! air trembles! and the deep resound. 
 Her giant bulk the dread concussion feels, 
 And quivering with the wound, in torment reels. 
 So reels convuls'd with agonizing throes. 
 The bleeding bull beneath the murd'rer's blows. 
 Again she plunges! hark! a second shock 
 Tears her strong bottom on the marble rock! 
 Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries, 
 The fated victims shuddeVmg roll their eyes. 
 In wild despair; while yet another stroke, 
 /With deep convulsion, rends the solid oak: 
 Till like the mine, in whose infernal cell 
 The lurking demons of destruction dwell, 
 
 18# 
 
^la FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 At length asunder torn, her frame divides^ 
 And crashing" spreads in ruin o'er the tides. 
 
 *'0! were it mine with tuneful Maro's art, 
 To wake to sympathy the feeling- heart; 
 Like him the smooth and'mpurnful verse to dress 
 In all the pomp of exquisite distress! 
 Then too severely taught by cruel fate 
 To share in all the perils I relate. 
 Then might I with unrival'd strains deplore 
 Th' impervious horrors of a leeward shore. 
 
 «<As o'er the surge the stooping mainmast hung. 
 Still on the rigging thirty seamen clung^ 
 Some, struggling, on a broken crag were cast. 
 And there by oozy tangles j^rappled fast; 
 Awhile they bore th' o'erwhelming billows rage. 
 Unequal combat with their fate to wage; 
 TilJ all benumb'd and feeble they forego 
 Their slippery hold, and sink to shades below. 
 Soaie from the main-yard-arm impetuous thrown 
 On iiarble ridges, die withouta groan. 
 Three with Palemon on their skill depend. 
 And from the wreck on oars and rafts descend. 
 Now on the mountain wave on high they ride. 
 Then downward plunge beneath th* involving tide; 
 Till one who seems in agony to strive. 
 The whirling breakers heave on shore alive; 
 The rest a speedier end of anguish knew. 
 And prestthe stony beach, a lifeless crew! 
 
 ««Next, O, unhappy chief! th* eternal doom 
 Of Heaven decreed thee to the brin}'^ tomb! 
 What scenes of misery torment thy view! 
 "W^hat painful strug-gles of thy dying crew! 
 Thy perish'd hopes all buried in the flood, 
 O'crspread with corses! red with human blood! 
 So pierc'd with anguish hoary Priam gazM, 
 When Troy's imperial domes in ruin blaz'd,- 
 
VINDICATED. gil 
 
 "While he, severest sorrows dootnM to feel, 
 
 Bxpir'd beneath the victor's murdering steel. 
 
 Thus with his helpless partners to the last, 
 
 Sad refuge! Albert hugs the fioat<ng mast,* 
 
 His soul could yet sustain this mortal blow. 
 
 But droops alas! beneath superior woe; 
 
 Tor now soft nature's sympathetic chain 
 
 Tugs at his yearning heart with powerful strain,; 
 
 His faithful wife forever doom'd to mourn 
 
 For him, alas! who never shall return; 
 
 To black adversity's approach expos'd, 
 
 With want and hardships unforeseen enclosed? 
 
 His lovely daughter left without a friend, 
 
 Her innocence to succour and defend: 
 
 By youth and indigence set forth a prey 
 
 To lawless guilt, that flatters to betray — 
 
 While these reflections rack his feehng mind, 
 
 Rodmond, who hung bes"de, his grasp rcsign'd; 
 
 And, as the tumbling waters o'er him roll'd. 
 
 His outstretch'd arms the master s legs enfold — 
 
 Sad Albert feels the dissolution near, 
 
 And strives in vain his fetterM limbs to clear; 
 
 For death bids every clinching joint adhere. 
 
 All faint to heaven he throws his dying eyes. 
 
 And, <<0, protect my wife and child! ■' he cries.' 
 
 The gushing streams roll back th" unfinished sound! 
 
 He gasps! he dies! and tumbles to the ground! 
 
 "Five only left of all the perish'd throng. 
 Yet ride the pine which shoreward drives along; 
 With these Arion still his hold secures, 
 And all the assaults of hostile waves endures. 
 O'er the dire prosp«-ct3 as for life he strives. 
 He looks if poor Palemon yet survives. 
 Ah! wherefore, trusting to unequal art, 
 Didst thou, incautious! from the wreck depart' 
 Alas! these rocks all human skill defy. 
 Who strikes them once beyond relief must die; 
 And now sure wounded thou perhaps art tost 
 <!^n these, or in somct oozy cavera lost; 
 
 ! 
 
^12 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Xhus thought Arion, anxious gazing. round. 
 
 In vam, his eyes no more Palemon found. 
 
 The Daemons of destruction hover nigh. 
 
 And thick their mortal shafts commissioned fly: 
 
 And now a breaking surge, with forceful sway, 
 
 Two next Anon furious tears away. 
 
 Hurl 'd on the crags, behold, they grasp! they blee^l 
 
 And groaning, cling upon th' elusive weed! 
 
 Another billow bursts in boundless roar! 
 
 Arion sinks, and memory views no more! 
 
 *<Ah! total night and horror here preside! 
 My stun'd ear tingles to the whizzing tide! 
 It is the funeral knell! and gliding near, 
 Methinks the phantoms of the dead appear! 
 
 '*But, lo, emerging from the watery rave. 
 Again they float incumbent on the wave. 
 Again the dismal prospect opens round, 
 The wreck, the shores, the dying, and the drowned I 
 And see! enfeebled by repeated shocks. 
 These two who scramble on th^ adjacent rocks, 
 Their faithless hold no longer can retain. 
 They sink o'erwhelm'd, and never rise again; 
 
 «<T>vo with Arion yet the mast upbore 
 That now above the ri^'ges reach\i the shore; 
 Still trembling to descend they downward gaze 
 "With horror pale, and torpid with amaze: 
 The floods recoil! the grounds appear below 1 
 And life's faint embers now rekindling glow; 
 Awhile they wait th' exhausted waves retreat. 
 Then climb slovf up the beach with hands and feetc 
 O, heaven! deliver'd by whose sovereign hand. 
 Still on the brink of hell they shuddering stand, 
 Keceive the languid incense they bestow, 
 That damp with death appears not yet to glow' 
 To thee each soul the warm oblation pays, 
 "With trembling ardor of unequal praise^ 
 
VINDICATED. SIS 
 
 In every heart dismay with wonder strives^ 
 And hope the sickeji'd spark of life revives j 
 Her mag-ic powers their exil'd health restore. 
 Till horror and despair are felt no more. 
 
 <*A troop of Grecians who inhabit nigh. 
 And oft these perils of the deep descry, 
 Eous'd by the blust'ring" tempest of the night, 
 Anxious had climb'd Colonna's neighboring height;- 
 When gazing downward on th' adjacent flood. 
 Full to their view the scene of ruin stood. 
 The surf with mangled bodies strew'd around* 
 And those yet breathing on the sea-washM ground? 
 Tho* lost to science and the nobler arts. 
 Yet nature's lore informed their feeling hearts; 
 Straight down the vale wiih hastening steps they hied, 
 Th' unheppy sufferers to assist and guide. 
 
 *<Meanwhile, those three escapM, beneath explore 
 The first adventurous youth who reach'd the shore: 
 Panting, with eyes averted from the day, 
 Prone, helpless, on the tangly beach he lay-** 
 It is Palemon! — Oh! what tumults roll 
 With hope and terror in Arion's soul! 
 If yet unhurt he lives again to view 
 His friend and this sole remnant of our crewS 
 With us to travel through this foreign zone. 
 And share the future good or ill unknown, 
 Arion thus; but, ah! sad doom of fate, 
 'That bleeding memory sorrows to relate^ 
 While yet afloat on some resisting; rock, 
 His ribs were dash'd, and fractur'd with the »hock'|/ 
 Heart piercing sight! those cheeks so late array'd 
 In beauty's bloom, are pale with mortal shade 1 
 Distilling blood his lovely breast o'erspread. 
 And clogg'dthe golden tresses of his head! 
 Nor yet the lungs by this pernicious stroke 
 Were wounded, or the vocal organs broke, 
 Down from his neck, with blazing gems array'i;^ 
 Thy image, lovely Anaa: hung p or tray 'd| 
 
214 FEMALE CHARACTER . 
 
 Th' unconscious figure smiling^ all serene. 
 Suspended in a golden chain was seen. 
 Hadstthou, soft maiden! in this hour of woe, 
 Beheld him writhing from the deadly blow. 
 What force of art, what language could express 
 Thine agony,, thine exquisite distress? 
 But thou, alas! art doomM to weep in vaia 
 For him thine eyes shali never see again! 
 With dumb amazement pale, Arion gaz'd, 
 And cautiously the wounded youth upraisM: 
 Palemonthen, with cruel pangs opprest. 
 In faltering accents thus his friend address'd* 
 
 «*0! rescu'd from destruction late so nigh* 
 Beneath whose fatal influence doom'd I lie; 
 Are we then exil'd to this last retreat 
 Of life unhappy! thus decreed to meet? 
 Ah! how unlike what yester-morn enjoy'd^ 
 Enchanting hopes, for ever now destroyed! 
 For wounded far beyond all healing power, 
 Palemon dies, and this his final hour; 
 By those fell breakers, where in vain I strove^ 
 At once cut off from fortune, life and love! 
 Far other scenes must soon present my sight. 
 That lie deep buried yet in tenfold night. 
 Ah! wretched father of a wretched son, 
 Whom thy paternal prudence has undone! 
 How will remembrance of this blinded care 
 Bend down thy head with anguish and despair I 
 Such dire effects from avarice arise. 
 That, deaf to nature's voice, and vainly wise. 
 With force severe endeavors to control 
 The noblest passions that inspire the soul. 
 But, O, thou sacred Power! whose law connects; 
 Th' eternal chain of causes and effects. 
 Let not thy chastening ministers of rage 
 Afflict with sharp remorse his feeble age! 
 And you, Arion! who w;th these the last 
 ©f all our crew survive the shipwreck past-* 
 
VINDICATED. 215 
 
 Ab, cease to mourn! those friendly tears restrain. 
 
 Nor ^ive my dying moments keener pain! 
 
 Since Heaven may soon thy wandering steps restore. 
 
 When parted hence, to Engiand^s distant shore; 
 
 Siiou'id'st thou the unwilling messenger of fate, 
 
 To him the tragic story first relate. 
 
 Oh! friendship's generous ardor then suppress. 
 
 Nor him the fatal cause of my distress; 
 
 Nor let each horrid incident sustain 
 
 The lengthened tale to aggravate his pain. 
 
 Ah! then remember well my last request. 
 
 For her who reigns forever in my breast; 
 
 Yet let him prove a father and a friend, 
 
 The helpless maid to succour and defend. 
 
 Say, I this suit implor'd with partinoj breath. 
 
 So Heaven befriend him at his hour of death! 
 
 But, Oh! how lovely Anna should'st tliou tell 
 
 What dire untimely end thy friend befel, 
 
 Draw o'er the dismal scene soft pity*s veil, 
 
 And lightly touch'd the lamentable tale; 
 
 Say, that my love, inviolably true. 
 
 No change, no diminution ever knew,- 
 
 LiOl her bright image pendent on my neck, 
 
 IsallPaiemon rescuM from the wreck; 
 
 Take it and say, when panting in the wave, 
 
 I strQo:2:led, life and this alone to save! 
 
 *<My soul that fluttering hastens to be free. 
 Would then a train of thoughts impart to thee. 
 But strives in vain! — the chillino; ice of death 
 
 o 
 
 Congeals my blood, and choaks the stream of deatk. 
 
 Kesign'd she quits her comfortless abode. 
 
 To course that long, unknown, eternal road. — 
 
 O, sacred source of ever living light! 
 
 Conduct the weary wanderer in her flight! 
 
 Direct her onward to that peaceful shore. 
 
 Where peril, pain, and death are felt no more! 
 
 «*When thow some tale of hapless love shall heai> 
 That steals from pity's eye the melting tear^ 
 
 k 
 
216 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Of two chaste hearts by mutual paasion join*d/ 
 To absence, sorrow, and despair consigned. 
 Oh! then to swell the tides of social woe. 
 That heal the afflicted bosom they o'erilow. 
 "While memory dictates, this sad shipwreck tell, 
 And what distress thy wretched friend befel! 
 Then wliile in streams of soft compassion crown'd. 
 The swains lament, and maidens weep around: 
 While lisping children, touched with infant fear. 
 With wonder gaze, and drop the unconscious tear: 
 Oh! then this moral bid their souls retain, 
 **All thoughts of happiness on earth are vain.'* 
 
 «<The last faint accents trembled on his tonguC/^ 
 That now inactive to the palate clung; 
 His bosom heaves a mortal groan — he dies! 
 And shades eternal sink upon his eyesl 
 
 **As thus defac'd in death Palemon lay, 
 Arion gaz*d upon the lifeless clay; 
 Transfix'dhe stood, with awful terror fill'd, 
 While down his cheek the silent drops distiU'iv 
 
 <<0h, ill star'd vot'ry of unspotted truth! 
 Untimely perish'd in the bloom of youth. 
 Should e'er thy friend arrive in Albion's land? 
 He will obey tho' painful thy demand: 
 His tongue the dreadful story shall display^ 
 And all the horrors of this dismal day! 
 Disastrous day! what ruin hast thou bred! 
 What anguish to the living and the dead! 
 How hast thou left the widow all forlorn. 
 And ever doom'd the orphan child to mourn; 
 Through life's sad journey hopeless to complaJn'| 
 Can sacred justice these events ordain? 
 But, O, my soul! avoid that wond'rous mazc^ 
 Where reason, lost in endless error, stray«l 
 Asthrough this thorny vale of life we run, , 
 '^rcat cause of all effects, Thy will he don^ 
 
? w£L H jk X 1« 
 
^il^ Z4'J)DmilS^SJ 
 
 TO 
 
 YOUNG W^OMBN. 
 
 Impressed with tenfold solicitude for your wel- 
 fare, deeply sensible of your jrreat importance and 
 respectability in society, and convinced that on 
 your intellectual improvement and prosperity, nay 
 the very existence of society depends; seeing the 
 hosts of dangers which attend you in your journey 
 through life, and beins; assured that unless you take 
 prudence for your guide you will undoubtedly be 
 enveloped in the vortex of vanity and sensuality ; 
 which will infallibly imbitter your future days, and 
 cause shipwreck at last. 1 say, being cogently im- 
 pressed with these sentiments, as authentic as they 
 are important, I take the liberity, with the most re- 
 spectful considerations and the purest intentions, to 
 suggest a few thoughts for your serious considera- 
 tion, which, like beacons to the mariner, may point 
 out the dangerous rocks and shoals that are profuse- 
 ly interspersed through the devious paths of folly. 
 I hope you will lay aside, for a little time the novel 
 and the romance, and read before you judp*e of the 
 merits or demerits of my arguments. You must 
 not suppose from my animadversions, that I cherish 
 an antipathy to the sex. JNo man can he a more sin- 
 cere admirer of them than myself; wl^ile virtuous 
 1 admire and venerate them : but w^hen vicious I 
 pity them. 
 
«2I, FEMALE CHARACtER 
 
 ** Thcheedless fair, who stoops to guiJty joys, 
 A man may pity— but he must despise.'* 
 
 You will, perhaps, glance indifferently and super- 
 ficially over the subsequent strictures, as if they 
 were not intimately connected with your future 
 prosperity. The volatile fair one, while under the 
 parental roof, seldom forms an estimate, or even an- 
 ticipates the losses by which her paternal fortune 
 v/ill be assailed ; the seduction with which her hon- 
 or will be environed ; the pestilential vapours pro- 
 ceeding from the mouth of calumny and defamation, 
 with which her sacred character will be attacked by 
 coup-de-main^ or the innovations of popular degen- 
 eracy, and vile and vulgar fashion, which will lay 
 siege, not only to property, honor and character, but 
 also the more important interest of that immortal 
 spark of heavenly flame, the soul ; and will, no 
 doubt, without the utmost caution and discretion, 
 carry all by storm, without suffering the besieged 
 party to make even an honorable capitulation. For 
 the potency of custom, and (I had almost said) tha 
 omnipotence of fashion, precludes resistance, and 
 
 f guarantees success to the innovators of female de- 
 icacy. 
 
 The invincible solicitude I impressivly feel for 
 th^ social and celestial happiness of my fair readers, 
 and that they may escape the moral mischief which 
 mental incontinency, and fashionable obscenity 
 necessarily engender, bears a striking similarity 
 to the parental ardour which I anticipate, when 
 with my mind's eye, I peep into futurity, and en- 
 deavor to recognize the fate of my two darling boys 
 who are the sole comfort of my declining years, the 
 solace of my sorrows, and the promoters of my 
 earthly joy. To express the tender solicitude I feel 
 Ib.r their future prosperity and eternal felicity, 
 w^ould exceed human conception ; when I, with rap- 
 "L^x^y gaze upon their smiling countenances,, the- agcH. 
 
VINDICATED. SSS 
 
 nizing thought darts spontaneously into my wounds 
 ed mind, that, perhaps, these smiling, unconscious 
 boys, when 1 am deposited in my solitary grave, and 
 mouldering to my native dust, will unhappily be- 
 come the destroyers of female virtue, the murderers 
 of human kind, and the ministers of woe; as per- 
 haps, they will inherit, by hereditary succession, all 
 the native depravity, without a particle of the senti- 
 mental philanthopy of their father. 
 
 While thus in thought I view their future woe, 
 And from their eyes behold their sorrows flow; 
 When the unthinking cherubs joyful spring. 
 Climb on my knees, or to my bosom cUng, 
 Or stretch their infant arms with fond desire, 
 And prattling call their melancholy sire. 
 While round my neck their loving arms they throw, 
 And kiss my cheeks v/here tears unbidden flo\7^ 
 "Unconscious of my grief — their future woe. 
 Their dear caresses meet a sad return, 
 For while they smile their joyless parents raouri:^^ 
 While imag'd to my boding thought appears^ 
 The many woes that wait their future years* 
 
 Gladly would I accompany them through all the 
 intricate windings and vicisitudes peculiar to their 
 mortal state. With what ineffable delight would I 
 ward off the blows directed by the unwearied ene- 
 my of man, or the machinations of his mortal auxili- 
 aries ! But this is impossible. All I can give is my 
 benedictions, flowing from a heart bursting witn 
 anxiety ; and sending up ejaculations to the Eternal, 
 for their prosperity and preservation. 
 
 But, to return to my fair readers. The object of 
 
 your pursuits, on commencing actors on the stage 
 
 of life, will, no doubt, be happiness. This we as 
 
 naturally pursue as we do food when hungry, drink 
 
 A 2 
 
22S FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 when dry, rest when fatigued, and consolation when 
 transfixed with sorrow. But, alas ! the reason why 
 so many millions of Adam's descendants miss the 
 liappiness they by native instinct de^^ire; and, in its 
 place, nurture the most formidable evils, which pro- 
 duce their present infelicity and eternal misery; 
 is, first they miss the ri^ht road to happiness; se- 
 condly, they want procaution, and rush too pre- 
 cipitately into the busy scenes of the fashionable 
 world. As moral agents, as intelligent, account- 
 able beings, the Eternal enjoins, as our reason- 
 able service, that we look to him for direction; 
 and serve him with affection ; not only in our pur- 
 suits, but even by oar intentions previous to our 
 commencing t)iese pursuits ; ''/or the?n that honor 
 me (says the piophet, personating the Almighty) / 
 will ho nor ^ and they that desjnse 7ne shall be light- 
 ly esteemed ; and how can we despise God more than 
 entering upon the all-important business, on the 
 event of which our future destiny hangs, not only 
 in this world, bat in that which is to come, with- 
 out ever praying for his benediction, or soliciting 
 his advice. The admonition given b}'^ David to his 
 L.on, on his entering the theatre of life, is full of 
 meaning; and should he perused by every young 
 person, with the most filial solicitude, '' Jlnd thou^ 
 Solomon ray son^ know thou the God oj thy fa- 
 ther, and serve him zvith a perfect hearty and 
 vnlh a ivilling m^nd : for the Lord searcheth all 
 heartSy and under btandeth nil the imaginations 
 of , the thoughts: if thou seek hirn^ he will be 
 found of thee ; but if thou forsake Mm, he will 
 cast thee off for ever^ To. precipitate into the 
 bnsy scenes of life unthoughtful and regardless of 
 the event, (which is too often the case with young 
 people), is not only irrciigious, but also irrational. 
 
 The animal creation, by natural instinct, pursues 
 the path by which their natures will be gratified^ 
 ^vhicli I had an opportunity of ascertaining./ 0,n^ 
 
VINDICATED. 22^4 
 
 day,as'l was takina a solitary walk on the margin 
 of a mie;hty forest, near the river Amazon, in South 
 America, surveying the rural wild, and romantic 
 beauties thereof, \ saw an a.;perture in the sand, 
 where a tiger had been previously digging for a 
 nest of turtle's eggs; on perceiving it I turned up 
 the sand, took up an egg, and opened it when a 
 small turtle, about the size of a Spanish dollar, 
 made its appearance, I placed it gently on the 
 sand beach, when it instantly made tow^ards the sea 
 which was some yards off, with great alacrity, and 
 precipitated into its native element with apparent 
 exultation. 
 
 In this manner natural instinct teaches the irra- 
 tional creation to pursue that unerring path which 
 the w^isdom of Providence has pointed out. They all 
 answer the law of their natures ; and, consequently, 
 the will of their munificent Creator : but we, sure- 
 ly, must conclude, that the laws by which the hu- 
 man and animal creation are governed, must be es- 
 sentially different. I do not wish by any means to 
 enter into a metaphysical disquisition, or scientific 
 dq;finition, of the dissimilarity between the human 
 and brutal creation, as that would be deviating 
 from my plan ; which is, to introduce my proposi- 
 tions in the most obvious, familiar, and friendly 
 manner ; regardless of censure or praise. But at 
 the same time, it will be necessary, in order to elu- 
 cidate the subject, and point out the road which 
 leads to happiness, to investigate the character of 
 man, analyze his capability for particpating celes- 
 tial, as well as terrestrial happiness. His mortal 
 and immortal powers should also be developed, in 
 order to ascertain his capacity for enjoyment; by^ 
 which the unreasonableness and irrationality of 
 such epicures as c^eek, in the interdicted revels of 
 sensuality, unsullied delight, will be made mani- 
 fest For instance, the enjoyment of the brutal 
 :'eation is exclusively confined^- to sense : bui 
 
225 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 with the human, the pleasures of sense are the' 
 most diminutive and superficial parts of their 
 feelings: their composition consists partly of mat- 
 ter and partly of spirit 5 the preponderating in- 
 fluence and superiority is unquestionably confined 
 to the latter. The first is corruptible; the latter in- 
 corruptible. The combination is truly a mysteri- 
 ous phenomenon of animal and perishable matter, 
 connected with intellectual and moral powers. 1 
 would ask, was not tlie circumstance of the little 
 turtle, taking a direct course down to the sea, a phe- 
 Bomenon, unaccountable on just philosophical prin- 
 ciples. We should not, therefore, with material- 
 ists, doubt the unity of flesh and spirit, because we 
 cannot ascertain the utility thereof by speculative 
 reasoning, and philosophical hypothesis. It, there* 
 fore, plainly follows, that human happiness does 
 not consist exclusively in the pleasure of sense. 
 
 As we are partly animal, and partly spiritual be- 
 ings, we uniformly require a portion of natural and 
 preternatural enjoyments, Thus, without nutri* 
 ment, the body becomes feeble and dies : and with- 
 out spiritual food the soul becomes languid : the 
 intellectual principle torpid; and piety and virtue, 
 by degrees, expire. 
 
 Is not the soul of more importance than the 
 body? The one is the same as the shell of a nut, 
 and the other as the kernel. Are not the enjoy- 
 ments of the one, admitting they were without in- 
 terruption, (which experience proves not to be a 
 fact,) sensual, transitory, and sordid, while those of 
 the other are superlative, transcendent, and dur- 
 able? without any manner of doubt : consequent- 
 ly, if our premises are correct, it is unreasonable tc 
 spend all our golden moments, in pursuing, with 
 avidity, sublunary and superficial delights, while 
 we forego the pursuit of intellectual and celf^stial 
 gratification. It is a melancholy fact, authentica- 
 ted by woeful experience, that the children of met 
 
VINDICATED. ftm 
 
 too often attend entirely to the solicitations of way- 
 ward appetite, whieh tends to destroy their intel- 
 lectual powers. 
 
 The experience and misfortunes of mankind, as 
 exhibited in protane as well as sacred history, 
 proves that sensual gratifications, though enjoyed 
 m their greatest plenitude, and, with the most pro- 
 fuse abundance, cannot yield a moment^s uninter 
 rupted happiness. 
 
 The epicure who strives his taste to please. 
 May feel the brate^s d^llg-ht, but not his ease. 
 
 because the brute enjoys the gratification which the 
 epicure so much prizes without any future forebo- 
 dings, or present upbraidings of conscience; and, 
 consequently, with the most pleasurable feelings* 
 But this is far from being the case with the epicure. 
 We will wave mentioning the calls of his con- 
 science, and the forebodings of eternity, and only 
 hint the agonizing reflection that often recurs to 
 his mind, while eating his animal food : to wit, that 
 after a few more rising and setting suns, his own 
 body, which he takes so much pains to accommo- 
 date, will, m its turn, become the prey of putrefac- 
 tion and greedy worms. 
 
 1 appeal not only to the epicure for the confirma- 
 tion of my arguments, but to the debauchee, who 
 eagerly dissipated his patrimonial inheritence, and 
 conjugal felicity; to the victim of sensuality, who 
 sacrificed his health ; to the martyr of sordid avar- 
 ice, who starved himself to death ; to the votary of 
 fashion who perished herself to death ; to the slave 
 of ambition and pride who sacrificed his life to gra- 
 tify his vanity, and with all these characters, I 
 might appeal to an Alexander, a Nebuchadnezzarj 
 la Xerxes, a Nero, a Cataline, a Cleopatra, who 
 would, methinks, were it possible, arise from their 
 graves to consolidate my arguments ; but I may 
 
£27 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 save myself the trouble, as their histories will 
 speak for them. Even Ovid tells us, 
 
 '* All thoug-lits of happiness on ecirth are vain/' 
 
 I humbly hope the reader will excuse my ei- 
 larging so much on this part of the subject; my 
 reasons are, first, 1 conceive that by this means 
 alone, I can inform my juvenile reader^s mind, and 
 reform her heart ; by reasoning the case with her, 
 in her own florid language, and upon her own de- 
 sultory ground, not altogether by theological, but 
 reasonable and perspicuous references. If I saw a 
 man going in a road which led directly to a preci- 
 pice, down which, if he fell, he would be dashed to 
 pieces : if he really thought he was pursuing the 
 road to happiness, should it not be my first and 
 principal olDject to endeavor to convince that man 
 (in the style, and with the language most familiar 
 and agreeable to him) that the road he was in, led 
 to inevitable ruin, and not to real happiness ? — cer- 
 tainly it should. If I succeeded, by the most judi- 
 cious and conclusive arguments, to convince him 
 that he was treading the interdicted road that led 
 to present and future misery ; and not only con- 
 vinced his understanding, but also exhibited to the 
 indiscriminate inspection of his mind's eye the fa~ 
 tal precipice, the banks of which seemed to be car- 
 petted with flowers, interspersed with the vernal 
 products of spring and the blushing fruits of au- 
 tumn, and even the ambrosial blossoms of paradise ; 
 but alas ! because I was an ignoramus, not a phi- 
 losopher; a savage, not a sage ; a peasant, not a po- 
 tentate ; a iaj^man, not a reverend man; he would 
 not be influenced hy my aguments, or led from the 
 fatal road by my admonitions, but continued to 
 pursue it till he was hurled down the precipice 
 with the velocity of lightening, or like the tremen- 
 
VINDICATED. 228 
 
 vlous rock that overhangs the ocean, being invaded 
 by the impetuous torrent, is rent froni its hold, and 
 instantly whirls down, thundering, crashing, and 
 tumbling into the foaming, swelling ocean, and 
 sinks to the bottom. 
 
 I make this remark, as I fear some of my fel- 
 low travellers to the tomb will not attend to the 
 force of my arguments, because they are not intro- 
 duced under the patronage of some honorable^ or 
 right reverend fellow worm ; though it seems al- 
 most impossible that any rational being can be so 
 far sunk in the sink of Satanic pride and gigantic 
 vanity, as to merit this animadversion. Yet it is 
 certain, that too much deference is paid, and adula- 
 tion offered at the shrine of pedantry ; as well as 
 unbounded plaudits, fulsome panegyric, and vocifer- 
 ous huzzas bestowed, not only on the political, but 
 also the poetical murderers of the human family. 
 
 But to return to the subject of our investigation. 
 We allow, that the great Creator, who delights to 
 make all his intelligent and animate creatures hap- 
 py, as far as their diversified natures and capacities 
 will admit, wills, that the pleasures of sense should 
 be a part, though a very small part indeed,of the en- 
 joyment of his rational creatures; and as he well 
 knew that the too profuse participation of earthly 
 pleasures, and the gratification of sense when carried 
 to an extreme, had a direct tendency, not only to 
 subvert his sacred law^s of order and concord, but also 
 was supremely prejudicial to the individuals them- 
 selves; he, therefore, in his infinite wisdom and 
 goodness, fixed a barrier, to preclude the introduc- 
 tion ot discord and dissipation amongst his crea- 
 tures : the boundaries when fixed had their coun- 
 terpart also organized or annexed, which was, that 
 the man who passed the limits and transgressed 
 the Eternal mandate, should in so doino;," secure 
 misery to himself, and relinquish tranquility <and 
 felicity. Here I would particularly observe, that 
 xio gopd thing that the earth does, or indeed can 
 
^29 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 produce, is forbidden man to enjoy in moderatioKU 
 It is the abuse^ and not the use of good things of 
 life that are prohibited; and why? I answer, be- 
 cause God. who is particularly great in goodnesB 
 and good in greatness^ in this respect, knows, and 
 every intelligent person may know the same, that 
 abundance of any earthly substance only tends to 
 cloy, or captivate, and infelicitate the possessor, and 
 destroy his relish for more substantial and perma- 
 nent delight; even nature herself corroborates and 
 consolidates the inqusitions and requisitions of 
 Heaven. She dictates in reason's ear, that disgust, 
 langour, and infelicity, are the offspring of intern^ 
 perance : that one hour spent in paternal and con- 
 gugal enjoyments^ outweighs years spent in revel- 
 ling and debauchery : that one meal of wholesome 
 and nutrimental food, participated with content 
 and a thankful heart, counterpoises all the luxuri- 
 ous dainties of the voluptuous and dissipated. 
 
 I feel more solicitude for the welfare of my fair 
 readers, as I am convinced that the preponderating 
 bias of the unexperienced mind, will be for sally- 
 ing forth into the very road which I endeavor to 
 invalidate, when they are delivered from the mana- 
 cles of maternal restraint, if they have not begun 
 to travel that delecterious road already How sel- 
 dom do they consider the astonishing ingenuity 
 displayed in the formation of their mortal bodies 
 and immortal minds: and thai they ^x^ ^'fearfully 
 and wonderfully made?'* The delicacy and in- 
 tricate windings of the arteries and sinews, the 
 regularity with which ever}^ part of this astonish- 
 ing system performs its function, are truly admi- 
 rable. The wisdom manifested in the formation 
 of the most diminutive quadruped, or reptile, and 
 even the least insect that breaths the vital air, is 
 sufficient to excite the reverential astonishment 
 and humble adoration of a savage. But, alas ! how 
 few, while they admire their own formation, re^ 
 
VINDICATED. ^>30 
 
 fleet on the delicacy as well «as the ingenuity of it* 
 How easily destroyed by precipitating into the 
 abyss of sensuality and intemperate gratification. 
 And, on the other hand^ what superlative delight, 
 and transcendent pleasure it is capable of enjoying, 
 by being obedient to the requisitions of the Crea- 
 tor. I had almost said, that a faithful and grateful 
 soul is capable of anticipating theecstaciesof anccels 
 and hearing the empyrean symphony. This much 
 I will positively assert, that even in this world, 
 the real good man, who maintains his integrity 
 in the midst of accumulated difficulty and compli- 
 cated temptations, though mighry sorrows thicKen 
 round him, and clouds and darkness rest upon his 
 prospects; every thing conspiring to discourage 
 him from the practice of virtue, and to encourage 
 him in the practice of vice ; not only his external, 
 but his internal enemies, his native depravity and 
 hereditary corruptions, all combining to entice him 
 from the paths of rectitude, in atidition to which 
 the iron hand of despotism, with consequent pover- 
 ty and chilling disease, assail him; thus, although 
 every thing, celestial and terres rial, seem to com- 
 bine against him; yet, notwithstanding all these 
 discouragements, his in'egrity is untarnished ; his 
 faith is unadulterated, and the love he feels for his 
 Creator unsullied : I say, such a character brings 
 more glory to God th<^n a legion of angels. But 
 the philosophical unbeliever may ask, what are 
 angels? I answer, created intelligenctrs who are 
 in their primeval state of paradisiacal purity; their 
 faith lost in sight; their hope in full fruition. What 
 are men? they are also created beings, placed in a 
 state of probation and trial, short indeed, and ran- 
 sitory, prior to their introduction into the conp^ny 
 of superior beings. But the question i-, l)ow are 
 these divine enjoyments to be attained ? I answr, 
 merely by asking for them. ^'./^.9/i,'' says the dear 
 
231 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Redeemer, "ancf it shall be given unto you; seek 
 and ye ^hall f.nd ; knock^ and it shall be opened 
 unto youP Thus, while others are sacrificing 
 their lives, fortunes, and tranquility in the pursuit 
 of imaginary happiness, you may find real happi- 
 ness on the most easy terms. How invincible is 
 the passion of love, between parents and children, 
 as well as between the sexes: and how much more 
 invincible is the love of God for his creatures ! 
 Your earthly parents are not so near, and ouo;ht not 
 to be so dear to you as your heavenly Parent. 
 They are but the secondary cause of your existence; 
 he is the first. When I seethe ^^ heaven erected 
 face^^ of a beautiful woman bedaubed with paint, 
 and depicted with affected airs, and detestable 
 pride^ I blush for the honor of human nature. Can 
 any thing be more unreasonable and degrading, 
 than for such amiable, such fascinating beings thus 
 to p7*ostitute their intellectual powers to such un- 
 worthy purposes. Perhaps your soul recoils at 
 the degenerate exhibition of such a vain and florid 
 fem&le : but remember that there is but a little 
 space between the paths of innocent and guilty 
 indulgence; and when that boundary is passed, the 
 vortex of sensuality appears in view, to whirl you 
 down the labyrinth of popular degeneracy and 
 degradation ; where you may with apparent, but 
 not real pleasure, pursue the same vile, and vulgar, 
 or at least vain routine of splendid wretchedness, 
 and magnificent folly, without tasting a particle of 
 intellectual pleasure, till death meets you in the 
 mad career ; presen^ts the unwelcome summons for 
 you to leave all your grandeur behind : your body, 
 which you have worshipped more than God, will 
 be deposited in the silent grave, while the wretched 
 soul, so long neglected, must account to that God 
 for the follies of an ill spent life. How unwillingly 
 the soul will leave the body on this awful occasion, 
 is beautifully described by Blair. 
 
VINDICATED; 
 
 "How shocking must thy summon be, O death! 
 To him that is at ease in his possessions: 
 AYho, counting on long years- of pleasure here, 
 Is quite unfurnished for that world to come ! 
 In that dread moment, how tlie frantic soul 
 Raves round the walls of her clay tenement. 
 Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help. 
 But shrieks in vain ! — How wistfully she looks 
 On all she's leaving, now no longer her's ! 
 A little longer, yet a little longer, 
 O ! might she stay, to wash away her stains. 
 And fit her for her passage. Mournful sight ! 
 Her very eyes weep blooo ; and every groan 
 She heaves is big with horror. But the foe. 
 Like a staunch murd'rer, steady to his purpose. 
 Pursues her close through every lane of life. 
 Nor misses once the track, but presses on ; 
 Till forcM at last to the tremendous verge, 
 At once she sinks to everlasting ruin. 
 
 ** Sure 'lis a serious thing to die/ My soul. 
 What a strange moment must it be, when near 
 Thy journey's end, thou hast the gulph in view I 
 That awful gulph, no mortal e'er repass 'd 
 To tell what's doing on the other side ! 
 Nature runs back, and shudders at the sight, 
 And every life-string bleeds at thoughts of parting; 
 For part they must: bodi/ and soul must part ; 
 Fond couple ; link'd more close than wedded pair 
 This wings its way to its Almighty source. 
 The witness of its actions, now its judge ; 
 That drops into the dark and noisome g'-avsp ■. 
 Like a disabled pitcher of no usev 
 
233 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 *' IC death was nothing, and nought after death. 
 If, when men died, at once they ceas'd to be, 
 Returning to the barren womb of nothing, 
 Whence first they sprung, thea might the debauchee 
 Untrembiing mouth the heavens:— -Then might the 
 
 drunkard 
 Reel over his full bowl, and, when His drain'd. 
 Pill up another to the brim and laugh 
 At the poor bugbear death: Then might the wretch 
 That's weary of the world, and tir'd of life, 
 At once give each inquietude the slip, 
 By stealing out of being when he pleas'd. 
 And by what way, whether by hemp or steel, 
 Death^s thousand doors stand open. Who could force 
 The ill-pleasM guest to sit out his full time, 
 Or blame him if he goes. Sure he does well^ 
 That helps himself as timely as he can. 
 When able. But if there is a hereafter. 
 And that there is, conscience, uninfluencM, 
 And suffered to speak out tells every man ; 
 Then must it be an awful thing to die- 
 Mot^ horrid yet to die by one's own hand. 
 Self murder! name it not; our island's shame. 
 That makes her the reproach of neighboring stated 
 Shall nature, swerving from her earliest dictate.. 
 Self-preservation, fall by her own act.? 
 Forbid it, heaven '.—Let not, upon disjust. 
 The shameless hand be fully crimson'd o'er 
 With blood of Us own lord. Dreadful attempt* 
 Just reeking from self-slaughter, in a rage 
 To rush into the presence of our Judge; 
 As if we challeng'd him to do his worst. 
 And matter'd not his wrath. Unheard-of torture 
 Muiit be rescrv'd for such: these herd together ? 
 
•vindicated: ,334 
 
 The common damn'd shua their society, 
 
 Hnd look upon themselves as fiends less foul. 
 
 Our time is fix'd, and all our days are number'd; 
 
 How long", how short, we know not ; — This we know 
 
 Duly requires we calmly wait the summons,- 
 
 Nor dare to stir till heaven shall give permission: 
 
 Like sentries that must keep their destin'd stand. 
 
 And wait th' appointed hour, till they're reliev'd, 
 
 Those only are the brave that keep their ground. 
 
 And keep it to the last. To run away 
 
 Is but a coward's trick.- to run away 
 
 From this world's ills, that at the very worst 
 
 Will soon blow o'er, thinking to mend ourselves 
 
 By boldly vent'ring on a world unknown. 
 
 And plunging headlong in the dark; — 'tis mad; 
 
 No phrenzy half so desperate as this. 
 
 ^*Tell us, ye dead; will none of you in pity 
 To those you left behind, disclose the secret? 
 Oh ! that some courteous ghost would blab it out; 
 What 'tis you are, and ive must shortly be. 
 Tve heard that souls departed, have sometimes 
 Forewarn'd men of their death; — 'Twas kindly done, 
 To knock and give the alarm. But what means 
 This stinted charity.? — 'Tis but lame kindness 
 That does its work by halves. Why might you not 4. 
 
 Tell us what 'tis to die? — Do the strict laws 
 Of your society forbid your speaking 
 Upon a point so nice ? — I'll ask no more; 
 Sullen, like lamps in sepulchres, your shine 
 Enlightens but yourselves. Well— 'tis no matter, 
 A very little time will clear up all. 
 And make us learn'd as you are, and as close. 
 
 ^^Decth'a shafts fly thick.- Here falls the village swaiD, 
 And there his pamper'd lord. The cup goes round; 
 
 35 £ 
 
335 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 And who so artful as to put it by ? 
 
 *Tis long since death had the majority. 
 
 Yet strange ! the living lay itjiot to heart. 
 
 See yonder maker of the dead man's bed, 
 
 The 6<?jrron, hoary headed chronicle, 
 
 of hard unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole 
 
 A gentle tear, with mattock in his hand 
 
 Digs through the whole rows of kindred andacquaintantt? 
 
 By far his juniors. Scarce a scull's east up, 
 
 But well he knew his owner, and can tell 
 
 Some passage of his life. Thus hand in hand. 
 
 The sot has walk'd with death twice twenty years: 
 
 And yet ne'er yonder on the green laughs !ouder. 
 
 Or clubs a smuttier tale.- When drunkards meet; 
 
 None sings a merrier catch, or lends a hand 
 
 More willing to his cup. Poor wretch I he minds not- 
 
 That soon some trusty brother of the trade 
 
 Shall do for him what he has^ done for thousands. 
 
 •* On this side, and on that, men see their friends 
 Drop off, like leaves in autumn; yet launch out 
 Into fantastic schemes which the long livers 
 In the world's hale and undegen'rate days 
 Could scarce have leisure for. Fools that we are. 
 Never to think o^ death and of ourtelves 
 At the same time: as if to learn to die 
 ^ Were no concern of ours. Oh! more than sottish, 
 For creatures of a day, in gamesome mood. 
 To Frolic on eternity's dread brink, 
 Unapprehensive; when for ought we know. 
 The very first swoln surge shall sweep us in. 
 Think we, or think we not, time hurries on 
 With a resistless unremitting stream ; 
 Yet treads more soft th^n e'er did midnight thiel\ 
 That slides his hand under the miser's pillow. 
 And carries off his prize. What is this tvorhi:^ 
 What but a spacicas bzirial field nnwall'd. 
 
VINDICATED. 236 
 
 Strew'd with death's spoils, the spoils of animals^ 
 
 Savage and tame, and full of dead men's bones. 
 
 The very turf on which we tread once liv*d •, 
 
 And we that live must lend our carcasses 
 
 To cover our own offspring: in their turns 
 
 They too must cover their's. Tis here all meet.- 
 
 The shiv'ring Icelander, and sunburnt Moore^ 
 
 Men of all crimes, that never met before; 
 
 And of all creeds, the Jeio the Turk the Christian^ 
 
 Here the proud prince, and favourite yet prouder, 
 
 His sovereign's keeper, and the people's scourge, 
 
 Are huddled out of sight. Here lie acash'd. 
 
 The great 7ieg9tiators of the earth. 
 
 And celebrated masters of the balance. 
 
 Deep read in stratagems, and wiles of courts. 
 
 Now vain their treaty skill. Death scorns to treat. 
 
 Here the overloaded slave flings down his burden 
 
 From his gall'd shoulders; and when the stern tyrant 
 
 Wiih all his guards and tools of power about him. 
 
 In meditating new unheard-of hardships, 
 
 Mocks his short arm; — and quich as thought escapcE 
 
 "Where tyrants vex not, and the weary rest. 
 
 Her^e the warm lover, leaving the cool shade. 
 
 The tell-tale echo and the babbling stream 
 
 (Time out of mind the fav'rite seats of love) 
 
 Fast by his gentle mistress lays him down, 
 
 Unblasted by foul tongue, ^^re friends and foes 
 
 Lie close; unmindful of their former feuds. 
 
 The lawn Yoh*d prelate^ and plain j5>7'e«%^er. 
 
 Ere while that stood aloof, as shy to meet. 
 
 Familiar mingle here, like sister streams 
 
 That some rude interposing rock has split. 
 
 Here is the large limb'd peasant; — Here the cJdld 
 
 Of a span long,, that never saw the sun, 
 
 Nor press'd the nipple, strangled in life's porcho 
 
 Hcve ia the mother^ with her sons and daughters ^ 
 
*3T FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 The barren w//^'and long-demurring viaidt 
 
 Whose lonely, iinappropnated svvt-ets 
 
 Smil'd like yon knot of cowslips on the cliff, 
 
 Not to be conf)e at by the willing hand. 
 
 J/ere are Xhe prude severe, and gay coquette^ 
 
 Tije sober -widows and the young green virgin^ 
 
 Cropped like a rose before 'tis fully blown, 
 
 Or half its worth dibclosM. Strange medley her^: 
 
 Here garrulous o/t/age winds up his tale ; 
 
 And jovial youth of lightsome vacant heart, 
 
 Whose ev'ry day was made of melody, 
 
 Hears not the voice of mirth. The shrill-tongu'd shretv. 
 
 Meek as the turtle-dove, forgets her chiding. 
 
 Here are the wise, the generous, and the brave ; 
 
 The just, the good, the worthless, and profane. 
 
 The downright clown, and perfectly well bred ; 
 
 The fool, the churl, the scoundrel, and the mean,^ 
 
 The supple statesman and the patriot stern ; 
 
 The wrecks of nations and the spoils of time; 
 
 With all the lumbe? of six thousand years. 
 
 Poor man! how happy once in Xhy Jirst state J 
 
 When yet but warm from thy Great Maker's hand, 
 
 He stamped thee with his image, and, well pleas'd, 
 
 3mil'd on his last fair work. Then all was well. 
 
 Sound was the bodyt and the soid serene ; 
 
 Like two sweet instruments, ne'er out of tune, 
 
 That play their several parts. Nor head, nor heart, 
 
 Offer'd to ache : nor was there cause they should ; 
 
 For all was pure within : no fell remorse. 
 
 Nor anxious castings up of what might be, 
 
 Alarm'd his peaceful bosom. Summer seas 
 
 Shew not more smooth, when kiss'd by southern wind:3 
 
 Just ready to expire —Scarce importuned. 
 
 The generous soil, with a luxurious hand, 
 
 Offer'd the various produce of the year. 
 
\^INDICATED. ^38 
 
 And ev'ry thing most perfect in iis kind. 
 Blessed ! thrice blessed days !— But, ah! how short t 
 Bless'd as the pleasing dreams of holy men, 
 Bat fugitive like those, and quickly gone. 
 Oh ! slipp'ry state of things !—what sudden turns* 
 What strange vicissitudes in the first leaf 
 Ofinan's sad history ! — To-day most happy. 
 And ere to-morrow's sun has set, most abject. 
 How scant the space between these vast extremes I 
 Thus far'd it with our sire .—Not long enjoy*d 
 His paradise. Scarce had the happy tenant 
 Of the fair spot, due time to prove its sweets. 
 Or sum them up, when straight he must begone, 
 Ne'er to return again. And must he go ? 
 Can nought compound for the first dire oflTencc 
 Of erring man .? Like one that is condemn'd. 
 Fain would he trifle time with idle talk, 
 And parley with his fate ; but 'tis in vain, 
 Xot all the lavish odours of the place, 
 Offer'd in incense, can procure his pardon, 
 Or mitigate his doom— a mighty angel. 
 With flaming sword, forbibs his longer stay, 
 And drives the loiterer forth; nor must he take 
 One last farewell round. At once he lost 
 His glory and his God. If mortal now, 
 And sorely maim'd no wander — man has sinned. 
 Sick of his bliss, and bent on new adventures. 
 Evil he would needs try ; — nor tried in vain, 
 (Dreadful experiment ! destructive measure ! 
 Where the worst thing could happen, is success,) 
 Alas ! too well he speed:— the ^-oocf he scorn'd 
 Stalk'd of reluctant like an ill us'd ghost, 
 Not to return i— or if it did, its visits, 
 
239 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Like those of angels, short, and far between .• 
 
 Whilst the black demon with his hell-scap*d train^ 
 
 Admitted once into its better room, 
 
 Grew loud and mutinous, nor would begone ; 
 
 Lording it o*er the man ; who now too late 
 
 Saw the rash error which he could not mend • 
 
 An error, fatal not to him alone, 
 
 But to his future sons, his fortunes heirs. 
 
 Inglorious bondage ! — Human nature groans 
 
 Beneath a vassalage so vile and cruel, 
 
 And its vast body bleeds through every vein, 
 
 " What havoc hast thou made, foul monster, un 
 Greatest and first of illg— the fruitful parent 
 Of woes of all dimensions !— But for thee 
 Sorrow had never been ! All noxious thing. 
 Of the vilest nature, other sorts of evils 
 Are kindly circumscrib'd; and have their bounds, 
 The fierce volcano, from its burning entrails, 
 That belches molten stone, and globes of fire ; 
 Involv'd in' pitchy clouds of smoke and stench. 
 Mars the adjacent fields for some leagues round, 
 And there it stops, rhe big swoln ifiundation. 
 Of mischief more diffusive, raving loud. 
 Buries whole tracts of country, threatening more : 
 But that, too, has its shore it cannot pass. 
 More dreadful far than these ! Sin has laid waste, 
 T^ot here and there a country but a tiforld ; 
 Dispatching at a wide extended blow 
 Entire mankind ; and for their sakes defacing 
 A whole creation's beauty with rude hands ; 
 Blasting the foodful gain, and loaded branches, 
 And marking all along its way with ruin. 
 Accursed thing ! — Oh ! where shall fancy find 
 A proper name to call thee by, expressive 
 Of all thy horrors ?— Pregnant womb of ills * 
 
VINDICATED, MQ 
 
 }f temper so transcendently malign, 
 
 I hat toads and serpents of most deadly k'lndj 
 
 ComparM to thee, are harmless — sicknesses . 
 
 Of every size and symptom,, racking" pains 
 
 And bluest plagues are thine. See now the fiend 
 
 Profusely scatters the contagion round ! 
 
 Whilst deep mouth'd slaughter, bellowing at her heels, 
 
 Wades deep in blood new spilt; yet for to-morrow 
 
 Shapes out new work of great uncommon daring, 
 
 \nd inly pines till the dread blow is struck. 
 
 ^* But hold ; — i*ve gone too far: too much discover*d 
 My father's nakedness, and nature's shame. 
 Here let me pause and drop an honest tear. 
 One burst of filial duty and condolence. 
 O'er all those ample deserts fleath hath spread. 
 This chaos of mankind. O, great man-eater / 
 Whose every day is carnival, not sated yet ! 
 Unheard of epicure / without a fellow ! 
 The veriest gluttons do not always cram , 
 Some intervals of abstinence are sought 
 To edge the appetite ; thou seekest none. 
 Methinks the countless swarms thou hast dcvour'd, 
 
 nd thousands that each hour thou gobblest up. 
 This, less than this, might gorge thee to the full, 
 Butj ah ! rapacious still, thou gap'est for more; 
 Like one whole days defrauded of his meals. 
 On whom lank hunger lays her skinny hand, 
 And w^ets to keenest eagerness his cravings, 
 As if diseases, massacre, and poison. 
 Famine and war, were not thy caterers. 
 
 ** Dut, know that thou must render up the dead. 
 And with high interest too. They are not thine ; 
 But only in thy keeping for a reason. 
 Till the great promis'd day of restitution. 
 When loud diffusive sound from brazen trump. 
 
241 FEMALE CHARACTEE 
 
 Of strong" lung'd cherub, sliall alarm thy captives, 
 And rouse the long-, long sleepers Into life, 
 
 Day-light and liberty. — 
 
 Then must thy doors fly opeOj and reveal 
 
 The minds that lay long forming' under ground, 
 
 \x\ their dark cells immur'd ; but now full ripe, 
 
 And pure as silver from the crucible. 
 
 That twice has stood the torture of the fire. 
 
 And inquisition of the forge. We know 
 
 Th* illustrious deliverer of mankind, 
 
 The son of God, thee foil'd. Him in thy pow'r 
 
 Thou couldest not hold : — Self-vigorous he rose, 
 
 And shaking off thy fetters, soon retook 
 
 Those spoils his voluntary yielding lent ; 
 
 (Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall!) 
 
 Twice twenty days he sojourn'd here on earth, 
 
 And show'd himself alive to chosen rvitiiesses, 
 
 Bv proofs so strong, that the most slcvw assenting 
 
 Had not a scruple left. This having done, 
 
 lie mounted up to Heaven. Metliinks 1 see him 
 
 Climb the aerial iiights, and glide along 
 
 Athwart the severing clouds : but the faint eye, 
 
 Flung backwards in the chase, soon drops its hold , 
 
 Disabled quite, and jaded with pursuing. 
 
 Heaven's portals wide expand to let him in ; 
 
 Nor are bis friends shut out: as a great prince. 
 
 Not for himself alone procures admission. 
 
 But for his train. It was his royal will. 
 
 That where he is, there should his followers be. 
 
 Death only lies between. A gloomy path ! 
 
 Made yet more gloomy by our coward fears j 
 
 But not untrod, nor tedious : the fugitive 
 
 Will soon go off. Besides there's no by-road 
 
 To bliss. Then why, like ill-condition*d childreij. 
 
VliNDICATEB. 242 
 
 Start we at transient hardships in the way 
 
 That leads to purer air, and softier skies, 
 
 And a ne'er setting sun ! — Fools that vve are ! 
 
 We wish to be where sweets unwither'ing bloom r. 
 
 But straight our wish revoke, and will not go. 
 
 So have I seen, upon a summer's ev'n, 
 
 Fast by the riv'lets brink, a youngster plj^^ : 
 
 How wishfully he looks to stem the tide ! 
 
 This moment resolute, next unresolv'd : 
 
 At last he dips his foot ; but as he dips. 
 
 His fears redouble, and he runs away 
 
 From th* inoifensive stream, unmindful now 
 
 Of all the flowers that paint the further bank, 
 
 And smil'd so sweet of late. Thrice welcome death:, 
 
 That after many a painful bleeding step 
 
 Conducts us to our home, and lands us safe 
 
 On the long wish'd for shore. Prodigious change! 
 
 'Our bane turn'd to a blessing ! death disarm*d. 
 
 Loses his fellness quite. All thanks to him 
 
 Who scourg'd the venom out. Sure the last end 
 
 Of the good man in peace! How calm his exit! 
 
 Night dews fall not more gently to the ground. 
 
 Nor weary worn out winds expire so soft. 
 
 Behold him in the evening tide of life, 
 
 A life well spent, wljose early care it was 
 
 His riper years should not upbraid his green : 
 
 By unperceiv'd degrees he wears away ; 
 
 Yet, like the sun, seems larger at his setting. 
 
 (High in his faith and hopes) look how he reaches. 
 
 After the prize in view ? and, like a bird 
 
 Whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded 
 
 To let new glories in, the first fair fruits 
 
 Of the fast coming harvest. Then! oh then! 
 
 Each earth-born joy grows vile or disappears. 
 
 Shrunk to a thing of nought. Oh ! how he longt 
 
 To have his passpoi*t sign'd, and be dismissed ! 
 
•^f > FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 ' Tii done, and now he's happy !— the glad soul 
 
 Has not a wish uncrown'd. Ev'n the la^ flesh 
 
 Meats too in hope of meeting once again 
 
 its better half, never to sunder more. 
 
 Nor shall it hope in vain .-—The time draws on, 
 
 When not a single spot of burial earth, 
 
 Whether on laud, or in the spacious sea. 
 
 But must give back his long committed dust 
 
 Inviolate.— And faithfully sliall these 
 
 -Make up the full account : not the least atom 
 
 RmbezzPd or mislaid, of the whole tale. 
 
 Each soul shall have a body ready furnisli*d 
 
 And each shall have his own. Hence, ye profane 
 
 As not how can this be ?— Sure the same jDOw'r 
 
 That rear'd the piece at first, and took it down 
 
 Can re-assemble the loose scatterM parts. 
 
 And put them as they were. Almighty God 
 
 lias done much more, nor is his arm impair'd 
 
 Through length of days ; and what he can he will, 
 
 His faithfulness stands bound to see it done. 
 
 When the dread trumpet sounds, the slumbering dust, 
 
 (Not in attentive to the call) shall wake; 
 
 And evVy joint possets its proper place, 
 
 With a new elegance of form unknown 
 
 To its first state Nor shall the conscious soul 
 
 Mistake its partner, but amidst the crowd 
 
 Singling its other half, into its arms 
 
 Shall rush with all the impatience of a man 
 
 That's nevv come home, and having long been absent 
 
 With haste runs over ev'ry difft^rent room, 
 
 In pain to see the whole. Thrice happy meetings ' 
 
 Nor time nor death^\\^\\ ever part them more. 
 
 'Tis but a night, a long and moonless night ; 
 
 We make W\& grave our bed, and then are gone. 
 
 ** Thus at the shut of ev'n. the weary bird 
 ireaves the wide air, and in same lonely brake 
 
VINDICATED. 244 
 
 OowVs down, and dozes till the dawn of da)^ 
 Then claps his weil-fledgM wings and bears away.-' 
 
 We have jast witnessed the exit of the vain and 
 volatile votary of fashion ; we will now take our 
 eyes from this gloomy picture of human depravity 
 and wretchedness, and place them on the more re- 
 fulgent delineation of the pursuits, the pleasures, 
 and the end of the votary of religion and virtue. 
 
 We have already said, that the appetites of the 
 body are soon cloyed, and the most delicious and 
 luxurious banquets soon become, if not disgustful, 
 at least common and insipid. But the mind can 
 never be cloyed with the plenitude of intellectual 
 gratification, Which the charming female proves to 
 be the case, who turns a deaf ear to the syren's 
 song, despises the harmonious hypocrite, and re- 
 linquishes all the illicit, the vile, the fashionable 
 follies of the age ; nay, all the vain things that 
 charms her most, she sacrifices them for the ardent 
 love she cherishes for her Almighty Parent. Her 
 love augments with her years, and her divine en- 
 joyments, still increase, with all the luxuriancy of 
 Inental delight: yet she is so t^r iVoni being siu'- 
 feited with their accumulation, tliat she still pant > 
 for more of those holy, hcavenhs happy pleasures: 
 Her listening to the commands of her gracious Pa- 
 rent, with her intellectual ear, or viewing the glo- 
 ries of his kingdom, or the superlative beauties of 
 his person wMth her intellectual eye, does not pre- 
 dude her from viewing, with admiration and vene- 
 ration, the handy works of the Architect of nature; 
 the flowery gardens, the vernal groves, the scented 
 meadows, the fragrant woods, the chrystal stream?, 
 the terraqueous globe itself teeming with abun- 
 dance for man and beast; the firmament sprinkled 
 with golden planets, all either interspersed with 
 numerous worlds and irradiated with innumerable 
 comets and constellaiions-; the whole universe 
 
245 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 pregnant with life ; all these ihings she views with 
 the most reverential devotion and sentimental de- 
 light : hut her views are not confined to visible ob- 
 jects. She enters the intellectual world majesti- 
 cally bold. She views with one comprehensive 
 glance of her rnind's eye, dominions^ thrones^ prin- 
 cipalities^ virtues and powers, arranged in imperi- 
 al order : with starry hosts, and myriads of smiling 
 cherubs ; and hears the m.elodious lays of the celes- 
 tial world ; and tho'.*vgh it is through a glass darkly^ 
 yet she sees the eternal great First Cause shroud- 
 ed ^vith refulgent and inaccessible glory, from 
 whose sacred presence, streams of light, life, and 
 love, incessantly distil, and enrapture the heaven- 
 ly hosts, who continually see more of his munifi- 
 cence developed, and more of his clemency exer- 
 cised over all his creatures, celestial and terrestrial,,^ 
 at whose liead ho sits majestically glorious, holds 
 the helm of aflairs, keeps in motion the machinery 
 of the universe, and looks from high arch with in- 
 dignation upon that pitiful, that sordid, that volup- 
 tuous wretch, in his sp'endid mansion, who, for the 
 sake of indulging his appetite, sacrifices the intel- 
 lectual pleasures peculiar to the first born sons of 
 heaven ; while, with the same glance he descries, 
 under the embowering shade of the lofty oak, and 
 at the door of his rustic hovel, the unlettered sav- 
 age, surveying with admiration the rude scenery 
 and romantic beauties of the forest, the transparen-^ 
 cy of heaven's blue arch, the velocity of the vivid' 
 lightning, and listening to the distant bellowing of 
 llie rolling thunder : while with reverential a"we he 
 renders his Creator the grateful offering of untutor- 
 ed homage. 
 
 All these pleasures, and more than tongue can 
 axpress, are the sure inheritance of this virtuous 
 and pious female. Wherever she goes, she dis- 
 seminates benefactions, and receives in return be- 
 t^.edietions-, she is, the orphan's mother, the poor 
 
%vidow's comforter, and the social and sympathetic 
 friend of the poor in general. If sunden danj>;er 
 threatens, her eyes are constantly fixed upon her 
 Ahnighty Friend: if sudden hlessinp de-eend, 
 her heart, h<^r grateful heart, is instinctive in pour- 
 ing out praises and thanksgivings in the ears of her 
 Heavenly King, 
 
 Thus she continues, *' for ever blessing and for 
 ever hlessed," till the period arrives 'in which 
 death, with heavenly smiles, v»dll give her a pass- 
 port to her Father's kingtlom, where she ascends 
 with glorious exultation, borne on the golden wings 
 of arch-angels, and is congratulated by the heaven- 
 ly hosts, and conducted to the presence of God to 
 enjoy his smiles and sublime approbation, for '' eye 
 hath not seen^ nor ear hear d^ neither hathit enter- 
 ed into the heart of mem to concieve^^ the glori- 
 ous brilliancy of that starry diadem, with which 
 this virtuous female is crowned in the celestial 
 world 
 
 There is another powerful motive I would sug- 
 gest, to stimulate my juvenile readers in the pur- 
 suit of piety and virtue; and that is^ the impossi^ 
 bility of avoiding the malediction and penalties of 
 that august tribunal, that omnipresent monitor, 
 that inexorable reprover, conscience ; though you 
 may escape the laws and censures of men, you 
 cannot escape his divinity (if T may call it so,} 
 planted in your own breast, who is always accu- 
 sing or excusing, commending or reprehending 
 you according to the merit or demerit of your ac- 
 tions If you take the wrings of an angel and ffy 
 into the heavens, the pit of hell; or the uttermost 
 parts of the earth, you cannot possibly escape the 
 scrutiny of this impartial judge, this good monitor, 
 who will always watch you wherever you go- as 
 dose as a tiger watches his prey, and will seize you 
 vith the impetuousity and fury, when you acf 
 ^ounterto the mandates of the Eternal. Even i 
 G £ 
 
'Ml FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 there vvere no future rewards and punishmenh^ 
 would it not be wisdom in you to live a virtuous 
 life in order to avoid the lashes of a guilty con- 
 science ? 1 would ask, which of the faculties of the 
 human mind are improved by lollowiug the fash- 
 ions and fopperies of the present age ? For my part 
 I do not know of any. It rather poisons their en- 
 ergies, prevents their useful tendencies and con- 
 taminates eventually the innocent pleasures of life ; 
 nay, ruins the canstitutions of its voteries. That 
 young women, who caui^ht a cold a consumption^ 
 and 2^ premature death, by following the fashions, 
 proves i\\(d force of my arguments ; as well as her 
 companion, whose pallid countenance and e?nacia- 
 iedbody, declares to every candid mind that the 
 shrine oi fashion commonly called the temple of 
 pleasure, is rather the receptacle of pollution, the 
 repository of disorder^ and the sepulchre of death. 
 Survey it, therefore, with horror, and avoid it with 
 ^.vidity. Remember, tl.at those who expose their 
 odies and prostitute their n/mds, counteract the 
 Aaws of nature, and bid defiance to nature's God, 
 If, therefore, your vain and volatile (I will not say 
 vile and vulgar,) companions or relatives, solicit 
 you incessantly and importunately to participate 
 the unhallowed pleasure, the superficial delights, 
 the interdicted indulgencies which depraved fash- 
 on legalize?, and depravation of manners has ren^ 
 .iered popular: C\<:i not, my young readers, do not, 
 I conjure 3 ou. lisien to the seductive, the enchant- 
 ing the syren voice: it leads to the chambers of 
 death, and poor satisfa?iion will it be In the event 
 if your participating the chimerical and romantic 
 Measure with real and perpetual pain, to reflect that. 
 Lhousands of fellow creatures have acted in the 
 same manner. But rush from the enchanting, the 
 fascinating voice, as the innocent dove precipitates 
 her flight from the infatuating presence of the spec- 
 kled serpent, which she beholds charming, and dc- 
 
VINDICATED. M's 
 
 stroying her contemporary warblers of the vernal 
 groves ! she seeks the deep recesses of the embow- 
 ering shade, and though seated on the lofty bough 
 of the spreading foliage, and In perfect security, 
 yet still her heart beats ngxinst the branches.- 
 
 Thusj shii7i the dreadful i^nare; and thus, irem- 
 A/£» for your subsequent satety. A flood of inter- 
 esting thoughts, intimately c>nnected with your 
 future tranquility, crowd profusely on my mind, 
 the majority ot which 1 must reject, as I havo 
 almost exceeded my limits already ; some of which, 
 however, are of such magnitude and importance, 
 that I must humbly beg the reader to exert her 
 patience and maintain composure, while I merely 
 hint them. 
 
 I wo jid first, therefore, warn you from the com- 
 mission of a Q,QYiiiin diabolical crime ^S, infernal 
 origin, which, alas! too often is the companion of 
 the convivial associations of your sex, as well as 
 their TEA PARTIES. I mean intellectual assassina- 
 ion. Uh ! how often is the character of an un&us- 
 meeting neighbour^ acquaintance, or ^yen relative^ 
 n such ptirtie.^, dissected^ scrutinized, scandaliz- 
 \d, and analyzed, with as much insensibility as 
 that of theb .tcher when he is cutting up the inro- 
 oent lamb for market ; and as void of the finer 
 feeings which ennoble human nature, as the lion 
 while devouring his mangled prey. Shun, I 
 beseech you, this pestilential vapour, that breathes 
 defamation ; it springs spontaneously from the 
 bottomless pit, and is tiie emissary, the auxiliary, 
 or, I might spvy, the prime minister Satan, by which 
 his malevolence is displayed in miiiiature, dissem- 
 inated in superabundance, an<i retaih*d with avidi- 
 t}'. The impetuosity and fury of the lion, and 
 t;he subtil ity and vileness of the serpent, are united 
 reciprocally in this offspring of hell. Yet, alas! 
 notwithstanding the blackness and deformity of 
 this banelul crime^ it pervades every grade^ and 
 
^49 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 contaminates every party in society with its pesti- 
 lential effluvia. It finds admission into the rustic, 
 and resplendent habitations oi the poorand rich, the 
 noble and ignob-e, the peasant a(»d potentate, the 
 philosopher and the divine; it hovers over the 
 courts of judicature, visits periodically the pulpit 
 and presidential chair, resides in the imperial 
 throne ; is depictured on the lawyer's physiogno- 
 iny, the poet's brain, and the itinerant scribbler's 
 closet is its perpetual and welcome habitation. It 
 ^vas his hell- born fury that kmdled the fires which 
 consumed the martyrs; that blows the clarion of 
 war; that drenches the earth with human blood : 
 that peoples and re-peoples the reo^ions of eternal 
 death ; that promotes ana«chy and intestine com- 
 motion in nations, discord and inquietude in fami- 
 lies, and all the boisterous and turbulent passions - 
 in the breasts of individuals: — in one word, it ren- 
 ders this earth an hospital, the land of sickness and 
 sorrow; which would otherwise be a terrestrial 
 paradise, the land of concord and peace. Instead, 
 therefore, of encouragmg, theoretically, by sil-ence, 
 or by lending your name, hands, or tongue,! t ac- 
 celerate this work of mtelle' tual massacre, use 
 your utmost power to extirpate it from every cir- 
 cle you move in, from every house you enter; re- 
 member the proverb, * -Silence speaks consent.^' 
 If you listen with composure or complacency to 
 the voice of sl-inder, you are virtually its abettor, 
 in this respect sufferance is pusillanimity, silence 
 inhumanity, and forbearance treason ; for, even by 
 silence you re-animate, if you do not retail, this 
 exicrable filth of hell. 
 
 There is anorher gigantic foe, which I would 
 warn you above all things to beware of: I mean 
 the proselyte and votary of seduction. He has 
 already been held up to popular animadversion and 
 contempt in this performance, which is principa ly 
 intended to defend you from his innovations zni 
 
VINDICATED. 250 
 
 inachinations. I need not say m ch to on this sub- 
 ject, only to advise you to avoid vile and vulgar 
 fashion; and in so doing, you v;i]l avoid those 
 innovators. For the adept at seduction is encour- 
 aged by the voluptuous appearance of the fashion- 
 able female, to comence his attack on her virtue 
 Dress prudently and modestly, and they will not 
 dare to attempt it; but will view you with respect 
 and admiration. For, no man admires a prudent 
 and modest woman, and despises an unciiaste and 
 vicious woman, more than a libertine. Before I 
 conclude this subject 1 would wish to inculcate on 
 the minds of my fair readers, one truly important 
 lesson ; which is, to view w^ith horror, and repulse 
 with magnanimity and scorn, the man who makes 
 the smallest attack upon your virtue. Let it shock 
 you with the quickness of electricity, and letthere- 
 pulse be instantaneous, and the battle is won. Bui 
 alas! how many thousands of unsuspecting, uncon- 
 :^cious, and virtuous females, have been ruined by 
 neglecting this precaution. The lover, or suitor, 
 iirst appears with diffidence and conscious shame, 
 to assault the delicacy of the silly fair one. She 
 repulses him, indeed, with gentle reproof, but not 
 vvith suitable indignation, and horror of heart ; and 
 er pusillanimity only tends to render still more 
 invincible the guilty intentions of the amorous 
 iover. Her coyness, in short, only tends to inflame 
 his unhallowed passions to the highest pilch of 
 voluptuous delirium. The seqncl verifies the pro- 
 verb, ''give an inch and he tvill take an elL^^ And 
 r will be bold to affirm, that such a man, though 
 his intentions, affections, and resolutions, be ever 
 so ardent, disinterested, and sincere, towards the 
 girl he ruined, prior to that tragical event; yet 
 posterior to it, his good intentions and resolutions 
 will be eventually vanquished, and nothing, I am 
 confident, not even the loss of fortune, friends and 
 health, or even life itself^ will so effectually anni- 
 
251 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 ; 
 
 hilate the love that man entertains, as imprudence 
 and immodesty on the part of that woman; and this 
 is very natural, [f I love a woman ardently and 
 alTectionately, and really intend to make her my 
 wedded wife; if that woman will allow me, pre- 
 vious to the matrimonial alliance, to take liberties 
 incompatible with their chastity — this imprudence 
 on her part destroys all confidence on mine; and, 
 consequently, vanquishes my love, though not my 
 pity: for I must believe, indeed 1 cannot help be- 
 lieving, that she \vould give another person, under 
 the same circumstances, and with the same oppor- 
 tunity and importunity, the same liberties she gave 
 to me ; and she is not, of course, a fit person for an 
 honotirable man's wife: and, indeed, 1 could not 
 marry her without sacrificing my future mentd and 
 domestic peace ; for I never could have real con- 
 fidence in her; and, consequently, jealousy would 
 be always, on the most trivial occasions, lifting up 
 its distracted head, and, with the keenest pang, 
 imbittering my future days. 
 A great deal might be said to elucidate this topic, 
 and a long dedaetion of examples might be addu- 
 ced to consididate what has already been said ; 
 but, I very much fear that I am enlarging the sub- 
 ject too much ; suffice it, therefore, to add, that the 
 only sure and certain means you can successfully 
 use to secure your lover's heart and hand, is by an 
 exemplary modest demeanor, a prudent reserved- 
 ness, an open cheerfulness, void of even the appear- 
 ance of coquetry ; and, to crown all, a modest inge- 
 auiousness, which, in the sight of an intelligent 
 man, is a pearl of great price. Again, the most 
 effectual means you can possibly use to cause jour 
 lover, through virtuous and honorable, /*for strong 
 temptations with the best prevail,'' to forsake you 
 forever, is by allowing him to take liberties incom- 
 patible with your delicacy; and, if you let bin? 
 50 a step farther, and storm the ramparts that de 
 
VINDICATED. 2i2 
 
 ?nds your chastity, the moment this is effected he 
 is flejd, however ardent and pure his passion may 
 have been before; for ever fled, and leaves you in 
 silent sadness to bewail your credulity, imbecility, 
 duplicity, and premature prostitution. 
 
 ^* Ruin ensues, reproach, and endless siiame. 
 And this false step for ever blasts her fame ! 
 In vain with tears the loss she may deplore. 
 In vain look back, to what she was before, 
 She sets like stars, that fall to rise no more." 
 
 You see the dreadfully formidable precipice 
 extended beneath you ; therefore beware and 
 approach it not on your peril, as its environs 
 are enchanted p!;round. Remember, also, tiie 
 magnitude of the crime, and that according to 
 the Mosaic dispensation, the female who suffered 
 herself to be violated, when it was in her power to 
 call for help, and receive assistance, was inmsidered 
 guilty of the crime of whoredom, and stoned to 
 death for the same. 
 
 There is one sentiment 1 would particularly wish 
 to inculcate upon your minds, whert? it should al- 
 ways hold a distinguished place ; and that is, the 
 great danger resulting to your sex, from pecipitate 
 and imprudent associations Yoa should compare 
 your character to a clean sheet of white papei*, 
 which, if once stained, will be always visibly un- 
 clean and unfit for use, unless for the most common 
 purposes. Remember your reputation may as 
 easily be stained by as?>ociating with vain and vi- 
 cious companions, as a clean sheet of paper, when 
 deposited with unclean materials Many unsus- 
 pecting innocent fenmles have been ruined by 
 keeping company with vicious person* of their 
 own sex, wl)ose cr^^dulity proved a prelude to their 
 degradation andinfamv. I'his is beautifully exem- 
 plified in the pathetic History of Charlotte Temple^ 
 
^m FEMALE eHARACTER 
 
 a tale of truth, written by Mrs. Rowson; and per- 
 haps, 1 might say, without stepping over the line 
 of veracity, thousands of unhappy, unconscious 
 females, for the want of this caution, are led to de- 
 struction in the same manner. A secret desirCj» 
 which lurks iu the breast of most y^ung women, 
 often is the cause of innumerable evils to them- 
 selves in particular, and society in general : and that 
 is, the love of being admired. They are stimulated 
 by this propensity, to embrace every opportunity 
 of attending places of public resort. Many a beau- 
 teous f^ male appears in the temple of God, for the 
 sake of seemg, and being seen and admired ; as 
 well as the theatre and ball room : but, alas ! the 
 incense, the adulation, the admiration they receive, 
 is too often from the characters they should avoid 
 and despise; namely, coxcombs 'and libertines, 
 who flatter in order to ru^n them. Too many of 
 your sex, wnile they feel the most cogent ambition 
 to be admired for their personal charms, pay no 
 respect whatever to their mental qualifications; 
 by this neglect they become the dupes of their own 
 designs, the victims of the artful rake, and the con« 
 tempt of the discerning part of both sexes ; and, 
 while they are admired by the licentious many, 
 they are disesteemed by the virtuous few. 
 
 Were young females convinced of the dangers 
 by which they will l>e surrounded, the moment 
 they shake off the manacles of maternal restraint, 
 they would tremble for their safety ; but, alas ! this 
 they seldom think of, till environed by seductive 
 foes, like the beauteous lamb that wonders from 
 the fold into the woodlands, it seeks the vernal 
 groves and embowering shades, \\ crops the ver- 
 dant green, and skips about every bush; when, lo! 
 the beast of prey surround and devour it; while 
 its dam bleats and laments its loss in vain. No 
 tongue can tell the danger resulting to young wo- 
 men from this fatal propensity; too many unhap- 
 
VINDICATE©. ^54 
 
 py (1 will not say infamousj women arc the most 
 beautiful to be found, as it respects personal 
 charms : their beauty proves their destruction. 
 Hence the more beautiful a woman is, the more 
 fearful and guarded f not vain and proud,) she ought 
 undoubtedly to be* 
 
 "The prudent nymph whose cheeks disclose, 
 
 The lily and the blushing rose, 
 
 From public view her charms will screen, 
 
 And rarely in the crowd be seen; 
 
 This simple truth shall keep her wise, 
 
 The fairest fruits attract the flies.'* 
 
 It is not a fact, that females, when making choice 
 of what are called lovers, do not select prudent, 
 discreet, and honourable persons of oar sex, to 
 place their affections upon; but rather the most 
 volatile and dissipated ; so that the loquacious fop, 
 versatile rake, and artful villian, who can laugh, 
 sing, swear, dance, and dress fashionably, Is prefer- 
 red as a female favourite; while the prudent unas- 
 suming young man is sent in silent sadness away. 
 Is it not truly astonishing, that a young woman, 
 with a particle of common sense in her head, or 
 generosity in her heart, would prefer a libertine 
 newly returned from a brothel, to the most discreet 
 of our sex. Yet it is a lamentable fact that such 
 connections are frequently the cause of everlasting 
 distress and misery to the unhappy injudicious 
 female, who has to endure a life of woe for the im- 
 prudence and indiscretion of a moment. The only 
 way, therefore, to avoid the misery resulting from 
 such imprudent connections, is, for the unexperien- 
 ced female not to give (I will not say her heart or 
 hand, but even) her company for a moment in pri- 
 vate, to a man of dissipated character; for, if she 
 gives one indulgence the rest will be taken of course* 
 
 D 
 
MS FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 In order to demonstrate the fatality of indulging 
 injudicious attachments, and allowing men of loose 
 morals too much familiarity, I need only point to 
 the histories of many unhappy females, v^ho became 
 the victims of matrimonial infecility through mju- 
 Tlicious prepossessions ; and (I had almost said,) the 
 omnipotence of first impressions, and of premature 
 attachments, with our sex. Some females, who 
 profess to be discerning and discreet, will not hesi- 
 tate to affirm, that '•a reformed rake makes the best 
 husband. I am truly astonished that a woman of 
 common discretion and virtue, would harbour 
 such a thought, much less express such a sentiment! 
 Surely she ca«not be acquainted with human na- 
 ture, the depravity ot the heart and tjie invincibility 
 of bad habits, or she would not suppose that such a 
 man can make a good virtuous husband, without 
 the converting grace of God. I will be bold to say, 
 that it is utterly impossible, without that all-con- 
 quering grace, for any man who may properly be 
 denominated a libertine, to make (I will not say a 
 good, but even) a just husband. No evil propen- 
 sity is more unconquerable when consolidated by 
 habit, and constitutional weakness, than inconti- 
 nence; and though such men when they place their 
 affections on women, and find seduction impracti- 
 cable to accomplish their wishes, they of course 
 marry them, previousl} making promises of eternal 
 constancy ; but, alas ! the moment opportunity of- 
 fers (^for by the by, they will not require importu- 
 nity to solicit,^ they turn the dog to his vomit, or 
 the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the 
 mire; and, indeed, I will say this much for then;, 
 they cannot conquer their inclinations, while under 
 the influence of this dreadful depravity. 
 
 I refer to facts to prove my arguments : — witness 
 how many wives are neglected and despised by 
 their husbands, who are the uniform attendants of 
 brothels and places of infamous resort, and the vio 
 lent votaries of seduction. But w^e will admit, f?*- 
 
VINDICATED. 256 
 
 argument's sake, that the reformed rake proves al- 
 waj^s faithful to the bridal bed; yet then, even then, 
 let the virtuous female make a compi^rative estimate 
 of his character, and that of a uniformly modest 
 man — the latter of whom has a pure heart and un- 
 adulterated aflections, to present to the woman of 
 his choice; who can never, in the moments appro- 
 priated to reflection, think or say of her husband, 
 as follows: — he has by intemperance corrupted his 
 principles, vitiated his taste for domestic enjoy- 
 ments, enslaved himself to the most detestable 
 crimes, often laid the snares of seductioii, ruined 
 female innocence, and abandoned to shame the 
 girls who adored him, and whom he seduced from 
 the paths of virtue; he has haunted all the broth- 
 els within his reach, and, after all, presented me 
 with the leavmgs of strumpets, a ruined constitu- 
 tion, a depraved heart, and a corrupt taste, which 
 only requires an opportunity when it will be im- 
 mediately gratified. — In short, the bitter lamenta- 
 tions and unutterable sorrow of thousands of slight- 
 ed consorts, will give the lie in form to the absurd 
 assertion, that a "a reformed rake makes the best 
 husband." 
 
 With respect to the necessary directions, which 
 might be given you to facilitate your safe and hap- 
 py passage throuei;h the changing scenes of life, ma- 
 ny volumes would not contain them ; suffice it to 
 recommand to your constant perusal, our dear Re- 
 deemer's inimitable sermon on the mount; it is 
 full of matter the most judicious, advice the most 
 appropriate, and reproofs the most heavenly and 
 divine; and I might recommend the most attentive 
 imitation of his unblemished life ; take him for 
 your model, for he has commanded you so to do. 
 " Learn of me^'^ says he ^^ for I am meek andloiv- 
 ly in hearty and ye shall find rest unto your 
 souls^ Attend to all his precepts with religious 
 '^ninctuality; but above all. to that where dutv t(^ 
 
257 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 parents is enforced ; love them affectionately, obey 
 them diligently, and serve them unweariedly. Let 
 me tell you, that filial ingratitude is more enormous 
 than the sin of witchcraft. What have they done ; 
 or, rather what have they not done, to promote 
 your happiness ! How great, therefore, is the debt 
 of love you owe them. And you, whose, parents 
 unhappy lead you astray, far from the fold of Christ; 
 Oh ! pity and pray for them *, being blinded by the 
 god of this world, the prince of darkness, they 
 lead you where they think you will find happiness 
 and pleasurable sensations ; but which, alas ! prove 
 to be the chambers of pain and pollution. 
 
 Though you are bound with great deference to 
 obey your parents in every thing else, yet you must 
 not on any account obey them, when their injunc- 
 tions tend to cause you to disobey God, and mur- 
 der your own souls. You should forego your pa* 
 rental home, and even sacrifice your life, before 
 you should obey them in this instance ; yet not- 
 withstanding their degeneracy and depravit}'-, you 
 are to remember they are still your parents, and 
 you should nurture, cherish, love and serve them, 
 to the utmost extent of your power, and to the last 
 moment of their lives. Remember how they sup- 
 plied your wants in helpless infancy, bore with the 
 peevishness of your childhood, and protected and 
 directed you while in the slippery paths of youth. 
 They warded off the danger by which you vvere 
 threatened ; and^ perhaps," risked their own lives 
 to save your's. They pitied and pardoned your 
 tvayward indiscretions, and youthtul folly; and, 
 when they used the rod, it was with parental tears 
 trickling down their cheeks; and even novy, when 
 they lead you on the stage of fashionable life, tho' 
 it is as slippery as glass, while iiery billows roll 
 below it ; they do it, I am confident^ with the most 
 earnest desire, and anxious solicitude to promote 
 your happiness. Do not detest, but pity them ^ let 
 
the magnitude of your filial and sympathetic com- 
 passion" run parallel, with their blindness and de- 
 generacy, their fashionable follies and splendid 
 wretchedness. Remember what anxiety and labor 
 they endured, while making provision for your 
 comfortable and respectable accommodation. You 
 are now in the morning of life ; but, remember 
 your sun may set at noon. View the churchyardj 
 and it will teach you an useful lesson, relative to 
 the shortness of time, and certainty of the approach 
 of death : yet, if you should live to see many years^ 
 and in the morning of your life unhappily prove 
 disobedient to your parents, perhaps, in your own 
 turn also, you will be cursed with disobedient chil- 
 dren, and all the woes connected with filial ingrati- 
 tude: you will then feel, as well as know, how in- 
 cumbent it is upon children to honor their parents^ 
 to attend to their precepts, to reverence their grey 
 hairs, support their declining natures, as well as to 
 solace their minds in sickness, and close their eyes 
 in death; you will then abhor your unfilial con- 
 duct, and blush at the remembrance of your diso- 
 bedience : arnl were liot the dead regardless of the 
 cries of the living, you would approach, with so- 
 lemn sadness^ the solitary tombs of your sainted 
 parents, and lament, with tears of penitential soi'«> 
 row, your filial ingratitude ; and with those tears 
 would you bedew the graves which contain their 
 ashes ! This you would doy I know, and judge from 
 my own feelings, for I have myself proved (I speak 
 it to my shame) an undutiful child. 
 
 Finally, remember you were created for the spe° 
 cial purpose of being the temples of the Holy 
 Ghost here on earth, and the celebra^ors of the glo- 
 rious praises of the Holy Trinity hereafter in hea- 
 ven ; therefore, let your conduct correspond with 
 your high vocation. 
 
 I will now conclude, by illustrating the caution I 
 have already given, respecting prudence you must 
 
i>^ FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 use in your intercourse with the other sex, with au 
 appropriate poem. It is from the writings of a wo- 
 man who was blessed with an ingenious head, but 
 an erring heart: let thi^ also be a lesson to teach 
 you, that the most inimitable talents incomparable 
 personal charms^ literary acquirements, with arti- 
 ficial brilliancy, riches and fame, will be like a 
 feather, when put in competition with female de- 
 licacy ; therefore avoid not only the just censures 
 of the world, but also be so scrupulously circum- 
 spect and religiously discreet, as to leave it out of 
 tne power of calumny itself to stain your good 
 name, or depreciate your moral character, and take 
 Ihe epostle's advice by avoiding even the appear- 
 ance of evil. 
 
 May the Almighty Parent of Good render these 
 friendly admonitions a tenfold blessing to you, and 
 a benediction to thousands of your sex, when I am 
 wrapped in the cold embraces of the tomb. 
 
 The danger to which the female sex is exposed^ 
 from implicitly trusting to the professions and pro- 
 testations of libertines, is beautifully exemplified in 
 the following poem written by the celebrated Mrs 
 FilkingtoDj a sketch of whose biography precedes 
 
 Mrs. Pilkington was daughter to Dr. John Vaii 
 ^>ewen, and was born in Dublin, in the year 171^* 
 She had a lively genius, and natural turn to poetry^ 
 vhich qualifications very early gained her the 
 ^Mendship of Dn Swift, and several other persons 
 of learning and distinction in Ireland. But as this 
 "idy has been her own biographer. We shall refei" 
 he curious reader, for further particulars concern^ 
 ngher, to her own memoirs : and shall only ob- 
 serve, that it is a pity this lady was not bfessed 
 vith discretion, and, we may add, good fortune^ ia 
 n^m& «>ronortion to her gf aius.'^ 
 
THE 
 
 STATUJBS:, 
 
 OR 
 
 IfRULl* OF CONST AXTC7. 
 
 ** In a fair Island in the Southern main, 
 Slest with indulgent bkie«, and kindly rain, 
 A princess liv'd, of origin divine, 
 Of bloom celestial, and imperial line. 
 
 ** In that sweet season, when the mountain sui] 
 Prepares with joy his radiant course to run. 
 Led by the graces, and the dancing hours. 
 And wakes to life the various race of flowers j 
 The lovely queen forsook her shining court, 
 For rural scenes, and healthful sylvan. sport. 
 
 " It so befel, that as, in cheerful talk, 
 Her nymphs and she pursued their evening walk; 
 On the green margin of the oozy deep. 
 They found a graceful youth dissolved in ^leep. 
 Whose charms the queen surveyM with fond delight^ 
 And hung enamourM o'er the pleasing sight ; 
 By her command the youth was straight convey'dr^ 
 ^nd, sleeping, softly in her palace laid. 
 
8S1 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 " Now ruddy morning purpled o'er the sklesv 
 And beamy light unseal'd the stranger's eyes. 
 Who cried ah)ud, ye gods, unfold this scene f 
 Where am I ! what can all these wonders mean ? 
 
 ** Scarce had he spoke, when with officious care^ 
 Attendant nymphs a fragrant bath prepare ;. 
 He ro>ie, he bath'd, and on his lovely head 
 Anibrosial sweets, and precious oil they shed. 
 To deck his polish'd limbs, a robe they brought. 
 In all the various dies of beauty wrought : 
 Then ltd him to the queen, who on a throne 
 Of burnish'd gold, and beamy diamonds shone ; 
 But, Oh 1 what wonder seized her beauteous guest? 
 What love, what ecstacy his soul possess'd ! 
 Entranc'd he stood, and on his falt'ring tongue 
 Imperfect words, and half formed accents hung ; 
 Nor less the queen the blooming youth admired. 
 Nor less delight and love her soul inspired, 
 
 ** O stranger ! said the queen, if higher driven 
 By adverse winds, or sent a guest from heaven. 
 To me the wretched never sue in vain. 
 This fruitful isle acknowledges my reign ; 
 Then speak thy wishes and thy wants declare, 
 And no denial shall attend your pray'r ; 
 She paus'4 and blush'd, — the youth his silence broke 
 And kneeling, thus the charming queen bespoke : 
 
 ** O goddess ! for a form so bright as thine 
 Speaks thee descended of celestial line : 
 Low at your feet a prostrate king behold, 
 Whose faithless subjects sold his life for gold ; 
 I fly a cruel tyrant's lawless hand. 
 And shipwreck drove my vessels on your strand* 
 But why do I complain of fortune's frowns ? 
 0r what are titles, honours, sceptres, crownss, 
 
VINDICATED, UH 
 
 Vo this sweet moment ? while In fond amaze 
 On such transporting excellence I gaze ! 
 Such symetry of shape ! so fair a face ! 
 Such finished excellence ! such perfect grace ^ 
 Hear then my only wish^ and oh ! approve 
 The ardent prayer which supplicates thy love. 
 
 ** From JSTeptime know, O Prince, my birth I claim. 
 Replies the queen, and Ljicida^s my name ; 
 This island, these attendant nymphs he gave. 
 The fair-hair*d daughters of the azure wave : 
 But he whose fortune gains me for a bride 
 Must have his constancy severely tried, 
 One day each moon am I compell'd to ga 
 To my great father's wat'ry realms below, 
 Where coral groves, celestial red display, 
 And blazing diamonds emulate the day. 
 In this short absence, if your love endures^ 
 My heart and empire are for ever your's ; 
 And hoary JVepttme to reward your truth, 
 Shall crown you with immortal bloom and youth ; 
 3ut instant death will on your falsehood wait, 
 N"or can my tenderness prevent your fate. 
 Twice twenty times in wedlock's sacred band 
 My royal father joined my plighted hand ; 
 Twice twenty noble youths, alas t are dead, 
 Who in my absence stain*d the nuptail bed ; 
 ^our virtues, prince, may claim a nobler thi-one, 
 3ut mine is yielded on these terms alone. 
 
 "Delightful terms \ replied the raptur'd youth. 
 Accept my constanc)'^ my endless truth. 
 Perfidious, faithless men ! enrag'd, he cried, 
 XTaey merited the fate by which they died ;^ 
 
263 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Accept a heart incapable of change. 
 
 Thy beauty shall forbid desire to range ; 
 
 No other fornti shall to mine eye seem fair, 
 
 3^0 other voice attract my listening ear, 
 
 No charms but thine shall e'er my soul approve^ 
 
 3o aid thy vot'ry potent god of love. 
 
 *• Now loud applauses through the palace ringj 
 ■file duteous subjects hail their godlike king : 
 To feastfui mirth they dedicate the davj 
 vVhile tuneful voices chant the nuptial lay. 
 Love ditied airs, hymnM by the vocal choir. 
 Sweetly attemper*d to the warbling lyre ; 
 But when the sun descending sought the main. 
 And low brow*d night assum'd her silent reign i 
 They to the marriage bed conveyed the bride. 
 And laid the raptur*d bridegroom by her side, 
 
 *^' Now rose the sun, and with auspicious ray 
 Bispell'd the dewy mists, and give the day ; 
 When Luclday with anxious care opprest. 
 Thus wak*d her sleeping lord from downy rest 
 
 " Soul of my soul and monarch of my heart. 
 This day she cried, this fatal day we part ; 
 Alas ! my boding soul is lost in woe. 
 And from mine eyes tears unbidden flow 
 
 " Joy of my life, dismiss those needless fears. 
 Replied the king, and stay those precious tears ; 
 Should lovely Venus leave her native sky. 
 And, at my feet, imploring fondness, lie. 
 E'en she, the radiant queen of sofi desires. 
 Should, disappointed, burn with hopeless fires. 
 
 " The heart of man the queen's experience knew 
 Ferjur'd and false, yet wish'd to find him t?Vl€ - 
 
VINDICATES. 304 
 
 "She si^M retirirrg, and in regal state. 
 The king conducts her to the palace gate; 
 Where sacred JVepiune^s chrystal chariot stands, 
 The wondrous work of his celestial hands .• 
 Six harness'd sv/ans the bright machine convey 
 Swift through the air, or pathless wat'ry way , 
 The birds with eagle speed the air divide. 
 And plunge the goddess in the sounding tide. 
 
 ** Slow to the court the pensive king returns. 
 And sighs in secret, in silence mourns ; 
 So in the grove sad Philomel complains 
 In mournful accents, and melodious strains i- 
 Iler plaintive woes fill the resounding lawn, 
 from starry vesper to the rosy dawn. 
 
 ** The king, to mitigate his tender pain. 
 Seeks the apartment of the virgin train. 
 With sportive mirth sad absence to beguilC;, 
 And bid the melancholy moments smile ; 
 But there deserted lonely rooms he found. 
 And solitary silence reign'd around. 
 
 "He call'd aloud, when lo ! a hag appears. 
 Bending beneath deformity and y( ars. 
 Who said, my liege, explain your sacred will, 
 With joy your sovereign purpose 1 fulfil. 
 My will ! detested wretch ! avoid my sight. 
 And hide thy hedious shape in endless night. 
 What ! does thy queen, o'er-run with rude distrust 
 Tlesolve by force to keep a husband just ? 
 
 " You wrong, replied the hag, your royal wife. 
 Whose care is love, and love to guard your life. 
 The race of mortals are by nature frail. 
 And strong temptations with the best prevail 
 
^65 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 Be Ibat my care he said, be thine to send 
 The virghi trahi, let them my will attend. 
 
 ** The beldam fled— The cheerful nymphs advance 
 And tread to measured airs the mazy dance ; 
 The enraptur'd prince with greedy eye surveys 
 The blooming maids; and covets still to gaze* 
 
 " At length a maid, superior to the rest, 
 Arra>*d ia smiles, in virgin beauty drest^ 
 Received his passion, and returned his love, 
 And softly woo'd him to the silent grove. 
 Enclosed in deepest shades of full grown wood. 
 Within the grove a spacious grotto stood, 
 Where forty youths in marble seem to mourn, 
 Each youth reclining on a fun*ral urn ; 
 Thither the nymph directs the monarch's way, 
 He treads her footsteps, joyful to obey. 
 There, fir*d with passion, clasp'd her to his breast, 
 And thus the transport of his soul confest. 
 
 ** Delightful beauty ! deck'd with every charm 
 High fancy paints ! or glowing love can form ! 
 I sigh, I gaze, I tremble, I adore ! 
 Such lovely looks ne'er blest my sight before ! 
 Here, under covert of th' embowering shade, 
 For love's delights and tender transports made. 
 Ko busy eye our raptures to detect. 
 No envious tongue to censure or direct ; 
 Here yield to love, and tenderly employ 
 The silent season in ecstatic joy. 
 
 " With arms enclosed, \\\s treasure to retain, 
 He sigh'd and woo'd, but woo'd, and sigh'd in vain 
 She rush'd indignant from his fond embrace, 
 \^niile rage with blushes paints her virgin face ; 
 
VINDI€ATEDo me 
 
 Vet still he sues with suppliant hands and cye», 
 While she to raagie charms for vengeance flies. 
 
 " A limpid fountain murinur.d through the cave : 
 She iiird her palm with translucent wave. 
 And sprinkling erred, receive, false man, in time. 
 The just reward of th}' detested crime. 
 Thy changeful sex in perfidy delight, 
 Depise perfection, and fair virtue slight 5 
 False, fickle, base, tyrannic, and unkind. 
 Whose heart no vows can chain, nor honor bind 
 Slaves to the bad, to the deserving worst. 
 Sick of your twentieth love, as of your first. 
 The statues, which this haliow'd grot adorn. 
 Like thee were lovers, and like thee foresworn ^ 
 Whose faithless hearts no kindness could securet; 
 Nor for a day preserve their passion pure ; 
 Whom neither love nor beauty could restrain. 
 Nor fear of endless infamy and pain. 
 In me behold thy queen ; for know, with ease. 
 We deities assume each form we please ; 
 Nor can the feeble ken of mortal eyes 
 perceive the goddess through the dark disguise. 
 Now feel the force of heaven's avenging hand. 
 And here inanimate for ever stand. 
 
 ** She spoke— Amaz'd the listening monarch stood^ 
 And icy horror froze his ebbing blood ; 
 Thick shades of death upon his eyelids creep. 
 And clos'd them fast in everlasting sleep ; 
 No sense of life, no motion he retains, 
 But fix'd, aiireadful monument remains . 
 A statute now, and if revivM once more, 
 Would prove, no doubt, perjur'd as beforev 
 
 P 
 
^IPIPM^^DII^ 
 
 Since closing the prefixed desultory strictures, 
 vvhich has been some months ago, a variety oi' 
 thoughts, connected with the subject, have period! 
 caily struck my mind. I neglected to attend to 
 them, as I feared I had been too prolix already : 
 however, the return of these reflections, which 
 were sufficiently distinct from the antecedent, 
 seemed to impress my mind with the idea, that 
 something more should be said on the subject. 
 Wishing, therefore, to obey the dictates of con- 
 science, without attending to the formality of the 
 literati ; indeed were I to attend to them, 1 would 
 lop oflf two-thirds of the most useful matter in the 
 performance, in order to render the remainder sys- 
 tematic, and thus please the vitiated taste of pe- 
 dants ; I will in this appendix suggest some of the 
 thoughts alluded to, assured that it will unburthen 
 the vvriter's mind, if it fails in reforming the rea- 
 ders heart. 
 
 In the first place, I have not only anticipated the 
 acrimony which the votaries of fashion will mani- 
 fest towards my performance; but, I almost alrea- 
 dy hear, vociferated and reverberated, the hue and 
 cry of legions of libertines, coquettes, and prudes, 
 against my hypothesis. Say they — behold the 
 bombastical rhapsody of that sentimental moralist 
 which eventually tends to rob us of innocent plea- 
 sures, and darken the atmosphere of the juvenile, 
 and volatile mind, with the gloom of solemn sad- 
 ness, or monastic restramt ! Nothing can be more 
 
 false, nothing can be more uneandid, than such a 
 
 liS; 
 
^UB FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 t!onelusion. The very reverse of the above suppo^- 
 sition is the triie case. 
 
 The primary object of the performance is to bring 
 the versatile sons and daughters of folly, into the de- 
 lectable path in which true pleasure abounds. Plea- 
 )ure is the first gift of the Eternal, the most amiable 
 undmostbeloveddaughter of Heaven; but, alas! the 
 fugitive sojourner on earth, the inmate of the social 
 -lad sentimental philanthropist, which expands, h«- 
 .nanizsG, and exhilerates his heart: but, the exile 
 .ind outcast of the unsocial, the selfish, the parsi- 
 vnonious and the penurious votaries of sensuality, 
 rhe pleasure I allude to, is not what \vas taught in 
 'he school of Epicurus. The pleasure I preach is 
 ot the offspring of sordid or voluptuous gratifica- 
 Aon; but the child of God, the first born of the 
 kies. The epicurean philosophy teaches the sons 
 Q.f foily to seek pleasure, exclusively, in the grati- 
 fication of sense, and perpetration of crimes; the 
 <loctrine is, of course, selfish and devilish, without 
 any reference to futurity or moral justice, and de- 
 ^^rades its votaries to brutes. Is pleasure to be 
 found at the table of riotous festivity, in the venial 
 arms oi illicit love, in the haunts of debauchery 
 and disgust, meanness and madness? Surely noL 
 Pleasure was made for man, and man was made for 
 pleasure : for we cannot suppose that God, who is, 
 was, and ever will be, great in goodness, and good 
 n greatness, would make man for pain, and pain 
 ior'man — it is impossible. The moment we form 
 such an estimate of the Deity, w^e literally insinuate 
 that he is great in badness, and bad in greatness. 
 The pleasure 1 advocate is of a delicate temperature. 
 She is social, not sensual; she is god-like, and not 
 Satanic ; she disclaims consanguinity with indelica- 
 cy and excess, and is always solicitous to maintaipc 
 the honour of human nature ; promotes at all times 
 in all places, and upon all occasions, the pleasurable 
 feelings DQt only ©f humanity, but of the whole- 
 
VINDICATED. 2tb 
 
 sensitive cre^^tion. She views, with a tender tear, 
 the bleating Jamb^ and wooing turtle dove, con* 
 signed to death by the ruthless band of power and 
 pride. Her language is^ 
 
 * No flocks that range the valley free 
 To slaughter I condemn ; 
 Taught by that power that pities mc 
 I learn to pity them." 
 
 Liove is her partner: wisdom, modesty, delicacy,^ 
 cheerfulness, benignity, tenderness, aad temper- 
 ance, are her attendants. She enables her voteries 
 to participate measurably the supreme delight, and 
 taste the ineffable transports peculiar to the first 
 born sons of glory, and even the sovereign of the 
 Universe. 
 
 Wisdom commands, and love her lectures teach ^ 
 With more than mortal eloquence they preach^ 
 Ye connoisseurs and epicures come hercp 
 ' Tis pleasure calls, lend an attentive ear. 
 
 She delights to dwell in the sympathetic bosom ol 
 the fair philanthropist ; she nurtures luxuriancy of 
 thought, benevolence ofsentiment,and munificence, 
 practically as well as theoretically ; she shrinks with 
 horror from the rude alarms of war, from the clarion 
 and clangour of anarchy, and rushes precipitate and 
 disrobed from the panting, boisterous, and turbu' 
 lent bosom of the ardent and impetuous warrior^ 
 and seeks in the sequestered abode of female modes- 
 ty, the shelter she is bereaved of in the habitations 
 of men : she makes the bed of death a bed of roses ; 
 she carpets the intermediate space between the 
 j^rave and paradise, with ambrosial flowers, and her 
 votary is transplanted from an earthly to a heavenly 
 garden : as a gardener, when he sees the atma?^ 
 
 B 9. 
 
iTi FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 phere big with showers, and hears the bellowing 
 of the distant thunder, removes his tender flowers 
 from the exposure of the descending delugCj, 
 the pattering haiJ, orthe howling whirlwinds, to 
 the safe temperature of the summer house. In 
 short, the pleasure of the sensualist, when compa- 
 red to those of the philanthropist, is like compa- 
 ring the rattling of mighty thunder to the noise of 
 a death; watch. 
 
 ** Who aids the cause of innocence oppress'd,. 
 Is by the act alone supremely blest. 
 No greater rapture man on earth can know, 
 Than that of feeling and. relieving" woe." 
 
 An interesting thought strikes my mind, which I 
 will put down at once, lest it slips my memory^ 
 which is very treacherous, and that is, that women 
 in their sphere are more capacitated, and by the 
 endowments of nature, are more qualified to obtain 
 a proficiency in all the diversified luxuriancies of 
 this sacred pleasure, than our sex, who are too ofteuj 
 and I was going to add, almost naturally estranged 
 Srom the divine compasssion, that tender sensibili- 
 ty, that sacred charity, which is necessarily produc- 
 tive of the pleasure under consideration. 1 would, 
 therefore, encouragie my amiable readiers to nurture 
 this sacred plant of heavenly growth; which, per- 
 haps, lies dormant for want of cultivation in their 
 tender breasts. Without hesitation, therefore, lay 
 it under contribution, for you will find many inter- 
 vening causes for so doing: you need not walk 
 many steps to find objects to bestow your liberality 
 and sympathy upon, and to receive in return the 
 pleasure, as you enjoy the emplo)rment, which the 
 highest and most exalted angels in heaven would 
 he ambitious to participate; and which would re- 
 animate the pleasurable feelings they now inherit, 
 and wkieh you will thea enjay. Believe me^. you 
 
VINDICATfiB. 2m 
 
 rfiould think for yourself, and think at lar2:e, how 
 noble you are by nature, susceptible of transcendent 
 improvements, fearfully and wonderfully made. 
 Liberty of opinion is as much your pr«vilege as 
 ours, and is your natural inheritance, as much as 
 your personal liberty. 
 
 Human nature has long groaned, and still groans 
 under the tyranny of custom. By this mean<i, the 
 female mind is imprisoned in christian, as well as 
 pagan countries. Vindicate, therefore, the trans- 
 cendent prerogatives of your nature, and magnani« 
 mously resolve no more to be the slaves of fashion? 
 and the dupes of our sex It is the interest of our's 
 to encourage freedom of investigation among your 
 sex. Some of us have had the effrontery to assert^ 
 that women should be confined to domestic avoca- 
 tions alone, and should leave the pursuits ofarts^ 
 sciences, and politics, to men ; and, of course, re- 
 
 frobated the freedom of investigation for which 
 contend. In order to demonstrate the cogency 
 of this remark, and the fallacy, fatality, and absurdity 
 ©fsuch subterfuges, I would as^k, what kind of a part- 
 ner, or, to use scriptural language, helpmate, will 
 a woman, who has been educated as they generally 
 are at present, make for an intelligent and benevo- 
 lent man? What harmony can exist between them 
 in a social point of view? Surely none at all. He 
 can take no more pleasure in her conversation than 
 if she was of another species ; consequently, though 
 their connubial tenderness maybe reciprocal, their 
 intellectual and social intercourse is far from being 
 so What pleasure can a man have in conversatoio: 
 with his consort, when all her thoughts, and talk, 
 and gestures, are about fine cloths, fashionable ap- 
 pendages, and splendid equipage ? I answer, as 
 much as he would enjoy in conversation with his 
 dog. Surely then social and sentimental intercourse 
 cannot exist between such a couple. They are, of 
 conaeq^uence, necessitated to seek in other circles}^ 
 
ms FEMALE CHARACTEK 
 
 and in other company, the enjoyment they wisb 
 for, but cannot find at home. By this means, con- 
 jugal lave is infringed if not annihilated. Hence 
 men consider such a woman merely as the appara- 
 tus of a seraglio. As a lafional cotiipanion she can- 
 not be esteemed ; and sucl» a woman, to such a man, 
 is, in fact, nothing else but a domestic ; not for 
 want of capacity, but through neglect; for, surely, 
 the one is by nature as susceptible of improvement 
 as the other ; if, therefore, you wish to be united to 
 a man of parts^ first qualify yourself for his com- 
 pany. 
 
 I hope my fair readers will excuse my candid and 
 pointed phraseology, m the present momentous 
 discussion. What subject can be more interesting 
 to them ? It is intended to teach them, in the most 
 compendious way, how to be respectable, happy, 
 and glorious in this life, and that which is to come 
 Ignorance is the characteristic ot the savage in the 
 Wi'derness; and the civilian in his palace, if ignor- 
 ant, is no better. The mind that is uninformed^ 
 though in a body propped on a staff, and shaking as 
 it goes, is in a puerile and pitiable state. Attend to 
 the economy of Providence, and the curiosity of 
 the human mind : thoughts of futurit}^ the contem- 
 plation of the great First Cause. All these will de- 
 monstrate, that for something more noble and ex- 
 alted were you formed, than to offer incense at the 
 shrine of fashion, and to adorn the perishing body 
 while the immortal soul lies' in ruins. 
 
 The inauiries are worthy af a rational creature^ 
 worthy of the genius with which the liberal hand 
 of nature has endowed you. Use her prolific gifts 
 as it becomes intelligent beings ; despise the sneer 
 of the supercilious pedant, who will flatter to de- 
 ceive you ; they are jealous of superior attainments 
 in, and dread the knowledge of a woman. Let 
 the pedantic libertine once believe a female is intel- 
 Mgent, and he can not, he dare not^ intellectually. 
 
Vindicated. 274^ 
 
 much less actually, meditate an attack on her vir- 
 tue: and, you will generally find, that those siily 
 fair ones, who become the victims of their artifice, 
 were previously the foolish and illiterate votaries 
 of fashion. 
 
 I would ask, for what was every faculty adapted 
 to scientific improvement given you, in the same 
 quota as to us? Were they given by another god, 
 or by a discriminating hand? Surely not. God is 
 not, and why shall man be, a respecter of persons. 
 These qualifications and capacities were given to 
 you for improve ment ; and, by neglecting to im- 
 prove them, you .-in against the law of nature, and 
 nature's God. And, believe me to be your friend, 
 when I tell you, that he is a fallacious ibe to your 
 sex, who attempts .to establish the worst kind of 
 tyranny over tnem — I mean the tyranny of the 
 mind. What illiberal monopolizers' of dignity are 
 to be found amongst the sons of men, in every 
 
 Eart of the world. How can they be such implaca- 
 le enemies to your charming sex? But it is your 
 business to counteract their malevolent machina- 
 tions, by using unwearied assiduity, in attaining ot 
 liberal education : and, if you should already have 
 arrived at the years of maturity, and cannot attend 
 to scholastic resources and researches, you may at- 
 tain, notwithstanding, by indefatigable perseve-- 
 rance, a sufficieney of polite information, to put you 
 on arx equality, in point of intellectual improve- 
 ment, with a great majority of our sex. For my 
 part, I have attained more information in nin^ 
 months, by my individual endeavors, than I did 
 from the most ingcenious tutors, in one of the prin- 
 eipal towns in Europe in the same number of years 
 1, therefore, can speak with certainty o« this head. 
 The study of astronomy is my greatest delight ; or 
 this vsubject have I written and on it do I still con- 
 template, not only with inefliable delight, but with 
 great benefit^ nothing can g^ive us more glorioits 
 
£75 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 ideas of the creation, more humiliating thoughts of 
 ourselves, or more confidence in the goodness of 
 our Heavenly Father, than astronamical contem- 
 plations. 
 
 I would, therefore, encourage my fair readers, to 
 appropriate less time to the decoration of their per- 
 sons, and more to the improvement of their minds. 
 The study of astronomy will be to them a most 
 useful as well as entertaining source of luxurious 
 investigation. The perusal of sacred and civil his- 
 tory will greatly enrich the mind ; while the light- 
 er study of belles lettres will embellish and orna- 
 ment it. I would caution them to avoid the volup- 
 tuous rhapsody of the novelist, the romancer, and 
 the new philosophy, as they would the face of a fiery 
 serpent. These deleterious vehicles have ruined 
 their millions of the human race ; yet works of phi- 
 lanthropy, morality, and christian philosophy^ 
 W^hich develope what is harmonious and amiable 
 in moral life, may be read with avidity, and be pro- 
 ductive of utility. From them we derive a degree 
 of mechanical virtue, and leain to abhor systematic 
 vice. The humanizing influence of virtuous poetry, 
 and its pathetic powers, may likewise be produc- 
 tive of cnarming sensibility, enthusiastic tenderness 
 and luxuriancy of sentiment. But in all your lite- 
 rary researches, you should never forget, that the 
 ingenuity ot the head, without ingenuousness of 
 heart, will never render you amiable in the estima- 
 tion of your or our sex. If local circumstances 
 should leave it out of your power to attain any de- 
 gree of proficiency from the treasures of antiquity, 
 remember that the august book of creation is open 
 to all for investigation, in it study the philosophy 
 of nature. By this you may not only embellisjfi 
 3^our natural genius, but replenish your heart with 
 imperishable beauties, from the inexhaustible ma- 
 gazine of benefactions. And you shouldever bear 
 '.n snind^ in your laborious and scientific pur- 
 
VINDICATED. 276 
 
 miiSj that you are not toiling for the acquisitions, 
 fashions, and fopperies which perish in the using : 
 but rather for the bread which endureth unto eter- 
 nal life* 
 
 I think it should prove a fornr^idable stimulus to 
 recollect, that while your corporeal charms lan- 
 guish and fade, your mental accomplishments will 
 be improving to all eternity. 
 
 Here we see and know more, and consequently 
 improve more, from day to day; yet still we can- 
 not ascertain the thousandth part of the uninvesti- 
 gable wonders of creation, and the unfathomable 
 benefits, astonishing munificence, super-eminent 
 privileges, and intrinsic excellencies of the cove- 
 nant of grace and wonders of redeeming love. 
 And it will be the same, no doubt, with us hereaf- 
 ter. We shall see as much more of the immutable 
 architecture and unutterable benevolence of our 
 heavenly Father, as this earth exceeds in magni- 
 tude the clroiimforenco of a particle of dust. And 
 yet what we shall then see (though endowed with 
 the same visual rays as the most exalted cherubims 
 and seraphims,) wher? compared to what is to be 
 seen of his inaccessable glory, brilliancy, magnifi- 
 cence, and munificence, will be like comparing the 
 the thousandth part of a moment to boundless eter- 
 nity. If, then, we are susceptible of such amazing 
 and divine improvement, both here and hereafter, 
 how reprehensible must we be to neglect the im- 
 provement of our minds, not only almost but alto- 
 gether? Instead of promoting, by our conduct, con- 
 versation, or writings, the cause of piety, and facili- 
 tating the intellectual improvement of our fellow 
 travellers to the grave ; we contaminate their minds 
 and poison the whole moral system. Surely, we 
 cannot meet the approbation of a just and holy God^ 
 if the sacred remembrance of the former conduct is 
 pregnant with prolific pleasures, whether in a world 
 of sycophants or a world of spirits ! Surely^ ih/^ 
 
t77 FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 reflection of the latter must be fcig with the triple 
 thundvrs of Jehovah's indignation and the ven- 
 geance of eternity. 
 
 May I humbly and earnestly beg the patience of 
 my fair reader, while I drop a few hints on a subject 
 that I have scarcely suggested in the antecedent 
 strictures, from a tenacious wish to accommodate 
 my matter to the taste of the volatile and gay, who^ 
 I am confident, do not wish to hear or read much 
 about vital religion, having reserved that subject 
 for the consideration of old age. Millions of pro- 
 lix and puerile discourses have been delivered from 
 the pulpit and the press, doctrinal and practical, 
 on this subject, which have tended to lead the mind 
 into a labyrinth of uncertainties, both premises and 
 conclusions having often been equally ambiguous. 
 By such performances, religion is made to appear 
 the greatest mystery and phenomenon in nature; 
 whereas it is, in reality the most simple thing under 
 
 the broad canopy of heaven, which I will endeavor 
 
 to make appear in a few words. 
 
 It is, in short, nothing more than pure love to 
 God and man. This love will stimulate the soul to 
 the performance of actions, which will be well 
 pleasing to God and beneficial to man The omis- 
 sion of duties, or the commission of sins, will grieve 
 such a one more than any pain or punishment; and 
 the performance of duties will be productive of the 
 sacred pleasures which I have pointed out in the 
 prefixed pages. Such a soul love&God for his own 
 intrinsic excellence, and not for what he can give 
 or take away. The religion of such a man is seated 
 in his heart, not his head. 
 
 Few can say this much ; and I will assign an au- 
 thentic reason, namely, a mistaken notion of the 
 severity of Providence, whose despotism is mag- 
 nified at the expense of his munificence. It is un- 
 fenerous and unjust to impute to God the evils we 
 ring upon ourselves, by our imprudence and dis- 
 
VlNDlCA'fED- mb 
 
 obedience. That freedom of will, which is the 
 quintessence of our natural and moral powers^ is 
 perverted and corrupted by our perverseness, and 
 misery is the necessary result. God is not, nor 
 indeed can he be, the author of evil. Could I be- 
 lieve this of him, the supposition would not only 
 shake my confidence, but annihilate my love^ 
 though not my fear. 
 
 Alas! how has religion been dishonoured by 
 blind and bloody zealots, and fanatics, by whom 
 the source of benevolence has been metamorpho- 
 sed to a blood thirsty monster. O, conscience, thou 
 vicegerent of Heaven ! assume thy legal preroga- 
 tives, vindicate the honour of the eternal, and let 
 loose thy tenfold vengeance upon such enthusiastic 
 and impious calumniators. To be blinded by such 
 fanaticism, I might say heresy ; and of course, to 
 be ignorent of the simple religion of Christ ; i. e, 
 repentance towarda God, and faith in our dear Re- 
 deemer, is the greatest curse that can befal a hu- 
 man being. Reader, may the good God open your 
 eyes to see the truth, as it is in Jesus, before you 
 sleep the sleep of death. The most refined plea* 
 sure results from the candid investigation of §a- 
 cred truths. For instance, when I find that God 
 not only loves the whole human family collective- 
 ly but myself as an individual, surely this senti- 
 ment will create love in mine or any generous 
 breast. Gratitude will revive, and tears of peni- 
 tential sorrow will begin to flow; that is, when we 
 readily see, feel, and believe this truth. One ex- 
 pression of gratitude from such a person, will be 
 more acceptable than a thousand volumes of formal 
 declamatory and systematical prayers. One sincere 
 penitential sigh is more efficacious than all the 
 wicked prayers carried by proud, perverse, and 
 petulent devotees to the church militant for a thou- 
 ^nd years. 
 
 How many make a pompous profession of reli- 
 
 F 
 
4lB FEMALE CHARACTER 
 
 gion,and implicitly depend on forms atid ceremo- 
 nresTor salvation, while they are utterly^ destitute 
 ol that christian philanthropy which is the nerve 
 of religion, and without which it is an empty name» 
 Woe be to such professors, if God> shows them n© 
 more compassion than they show to their brethren. 
 
 Before I conclude, I must inform the reader, that 
 I have for many months past been occasionally pre- 
 paring a manuscript work on christian perfection, 
 for the press. What induced me to compose this 
 work, was a happy deliverance I experienced from 
 the manacle of the guilt and power of in-dwelling 
 sin some years ago; and I may add, the false no- 
 tions I entertained of the severity of God whick 
 kept me unutterably wretched ; though I had beea 
 seeking sincerely and striving to serve affectionate- 
 ly my Maker from my minor state. Alas! by 
 looking too much to the ceremonies of men. I 
 neglected to descry the sympathy of God. While 
 listening to the controversial lecture of men, J for- 
 got to listen to his small still voice, who often cried 
 in reason^s ear, ''thXs is the loay^ walk ye in itJ** 
 In short, I rushed upon the immediate prrformaace 
 of the whole moral law, without previously taking 
 Christ and hisrighteousness for my guide and help 
 therein, and of consequence found both wind and 
 tide were against me> I never considered the due 
 place of holiness in the mystery of salvation: nor 
 the impossibility of bringing forth the fruit of the 
 spirit without its aid. I knew that holiness was 
 absolutely necessary to salvation, as^the means to 
 the end ; but never recollected that it was part of 
 the end itself. Such was the madness of my folly 
 that I believed I was sjived by good works, as the 
 procuring cause of my salvation; and forgot that 
 we are saved from bad to good works, as the fruits 
 and effects of grace,, to which alone praise should 
 redound, and not to the miserable creature. 
 
 Now, blessed be God, 1 see that holiness is not 
 
VINDICATED. .>5i> 
 
 anlv a distinguished, but a central part of our salva- 
 tion, where all the means of grace, and ordinances 
 of religion terminate. To be saved from the bon- 
 dage of sm and misery here, i«^ synonimous witli 
 being saved from the punishment of sin hereafter. 
 Attend with scrupulosity to these important 
 truths my amiable readers, and your persons or 
 minds, will not be subject to the usurpation of tem- 
 poral or spiritual invaders. Pardon me for enlarg- 
 ing these strictures, such is the solicitude I feel for 
 your present and eternal welfare, thar when I be* 
 gin to write, I know not when to conclude.